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sushireads · 4 years

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jungkook fic recs

this is a list of jungkook fics i’ve read and loved very much! enjoy. <3

ps. all fics with 🍙 are the ones i loved a little bit more.

2! 3! by @gimmesumsuga

smut, fluff | one shot | 3K words

The one at the end of Jungkook’s Wembley Vlive.

IDOL au

a dangerous game by @goldngguk

horror | series

You were in love with him. Jeon Jeongguk was everything you’d ever dreamed of and more. He was wealthy, kind, gentle, and most importantly, he loved you dearly. You knew he would always be there for you to guide you and protect you. You’d been together for just over a year and knew he had made plans to propose to you. But you found it strange that he had never brought you home to meet his parents.

KILLER, HUNTER, YANDERE au

About Time by @yoonia

ON-GOING | 🍙, angst | series

Be careful for what you wish for, because you may never know how to deal with them once it comes true. What would you do when your wish for a second chance actually came true? But was it really a fulfilled wish? Too many questions lie when it actually happened. Were they real memories? Or perhaps a part of a past life? Was it only a dream all along? Will everything be different this time?

SOULMATE, TIME LEAP, TIME TRAVEL au

ALL I WANT FOR COCKMAS by @junqkook

fluff, crack, smut | one shot | 3.6K words

you tell santa exactly what you want for christmas.

CHRISTMAS, SANTA au

Amour by @taesthetes

fluff, fantasy | one shot | 6.1K words

To love would be committing the greatest sin.

ANGEL, DEMON au

aurora. by @krreader

angst, fluff | one shot | 6K+ words

dawn comes after the darkness, and with it the promise that what has been torn by the sea is not lost. - lisa wingate

IDOL au

baecation by @1kook

smut, fluff | one shot | 5.9K words

“Lose the top, or lose the right to present yourself in any low back gown for the next three months.” He truly knew the way to your heart.

RICH, VACATION au

banana milk by @kimnjss

smut | one shot | 6.7K words

sent to the grocery store in the middle of the day, you’d never believe who you ran into in the milk aisle.

STRANGERS TO LOVERS au

bandslam by @ironicarmy

angst, smut | series

Cocky drummer Jeon Jungkook has never been the type to hate on anyone. But when his best friend Taehyung unexpectedly leaves the band and leaves you in his place, he can’t really blame himself when he acts with disdain towards you. Not even when there’s a prize at stake.

COLLEGE, ENEMIES TO LOVERS, ROCK BAND au

Be Mine by @staerrylights

angst, fluff, smut | one shot | 5.5K words

When the worlds of a campus’ star player and ordinary girl collide, sparks will fly.

JOCK, FUCK BOY au

Bells by @taetaesbaebaepsae

fluff | one shot | 1.6K words

SOULMATE au

bitchin’ by @kinktae

🍙, fluff, angst, smut | series

The 80s were a time of choices. Which perm was right for you? What color neon would you wear next? None of these choices, however, were more questionable than a certain deal you made with Jeon Jungkook.

—part of the rewind series

1980s, ENEMIES TO LOVERS, FRAT BOY, FAKE DATING au

black card by @minsprings

🍙, fluff, smut | two shots

a long night at another one of your obligatory high society functions has you desperate to relieve some stress with your husband jungkook, who’s been apparently hiding a kink from you for some time.

CRAZY RICH ASIANS, CEO, ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP, HIGH SOCIETY au

Blackjack by @kpopfanfictrash

smut | series

Bangtan is one of the most vicious mafias on the west coast. Only six members are known by name though, with a mysterious seventh member dubbed only as ‘the shadow.’ When you become indebted to the worst of the worst – how, exactly can you find a way out?

MAFIA au

caught me. by @jeongi

smut | one shot | 13.5K words

you hate your temporary roommate, jungkook and it doesn’t help that he’s been catching you at the most inconvenient of times.

ENEMIES TO LOVERS, ROOMMATE au

Crybaby by @lavishedinjimin

smut | two shots

dangerous love by @seulgiology

smut, light fluff | one shot | 3.7K words

MAFIA au

Departure by @nomnomsik

smut, fluff | one shot | 6.2K words

As a flight attendant for Korean Air, you’re scheduled for a thirteen-hour flight to Japan. However, things get intimate between you and your partner and co-pilot, Jeon Jungkook, when he realizes Park Jimin, the famous idol from Korea, broads the plane and blatantly flirts with you.

FLIGHT ATTENDANT, IDOL, PILOT au

Dumbo by @cinnaminsvga

humor, smut | one shot | 17.2K words

you know what they say about boys with big noses…

{or alternatively: jungkook has a big dick but he doesn’t know how to use it, but luckily you’re there to help.}

Dynasty by @jimlingss

angst, smut, fluff | one shot | 17.4K words

It’s no secret that the Emperor is infertile. But even so, a girl is selected every three months and brought to become his concubine in hopes of conceiving the next heir. This time, it’s you. And in order to prevent execution, Jeon Jungkook might just aid you in conception.

HISTORICAL au

Euphoria by @seokstrivia

fluff, smut, angst | one shot | 7.6K words

There was always a sign on Jungkooks’ door that said something along the lines of, ‘Warning; I am naked in here. Do not enter unless you’re ready to see a whole lot of dick.’

or, that one roommate au where Jungkook is a cocky bastard.

ROOMMATE, SLOW BURN au

fatal attraction by @jungcock

ON-GOING | 🍙, angst, smut | series

Your dangerous ex-boyfriend comes back to haunt you in more ways than one.

SERIAL KILLER au

first time together by @httpjeon

fluff, smut, angst | one shot | 8.4K words

you never thought you’d fall for the charms of jeon jungkook, the campus heartthrob, play boy, and fuck boy.

—part of the together series

COLLEGE, FUCK BOY au

flesh and blood by @kinktae

fluff, smut | series

You are living in a society that is just now picking up the scraps that the Great Outbreak left behind after the government killed off the majority of the zombies. Still, some remain, and fear still lies within society’s walls. So imagine your surprise when the very thing you’ve been taught to fear ends up saving your life, showing you that maybe two beating hearts aren’t always required when it comes to love.

ZOMBIE au

For science by @boymeetsweevil

fluff, smut | series

Jungkook asks you to let him watch you get off. For science.

NERD au

Game Over by @gukgalore

smut, fluff | one shot | 5K words

You try your hand at a certain TikTok trend using your boyfriend.

DOMESTIC COUPLE au

Head in the Clouds by @taequois

one shot | 3.7K words

You were the third wheel for your best friend’s date but why was Jeon Jungkook kissing you instead?

YANDERE au

Hellblazer by @jungkookiebus

smut, fantasy | series

“Few people really think about dying… paranoids worry about it without really understanding it. Victims of fatal accidents and murder don’t have time to think. You only really think about it if you take the time to. And you only take the time if you know it’s going to happen.” -John Constantine, Dangerous Habits Pt. 1: The Beginning of the End, Issue #41.

CONSTANTINE, DEMON au

HIDDEN STARS by @jungblue

angst, smut | series

It started out simple, but when your feelings start to grow for the idol who isn’t allowed to date, things get complicated.

IDOL au

Hiraeth by @darlingwoes

smut, angst, fluff | series

Hiraeth: A longing for a home you can’t return to, or that never was.

It was confusing, the whole ordeal was. But no matter how many times you told yourself to go back, he was always there, taunting you to stay.

ROYALTY, TIME TRAVEL au

His Name by @jimlingss

🍙, angst | series

Jeon Jungkook is a puzzle with too many missing pieces from his past and too many sides. Somehow, it’s become your job to solve him.

MULTIPLE PERSONALITY au

i wish i missed my ex by @angelguk

smut, fluff, angst | one shot | 18K words

COLLEGE, FAKE DATING, FRIENDS TO LOVERS au

It Ain’t Me by @inferno-loop

angst | series

industrial by @taendrils

fluff, smut | one shot | 8.1K words

❝there are lines you shouldn’t cross, things you shouldn’t touch and skin you shouldn’t mark when your hands are missing your gloves.❞

PIERCER au

Jeon Jungkook Must Die by @tayegi

smut | one shot | 14K words

Jungkook is Typing... by @glassbangtan

mild smut, angst, fluff | one shot | 21.1K words

You and Jungkook met online when you were only fourteen years old. Neither of you thought meeting up would be a possibility, until you’re hired as Big Hit’s new editor.

IDOL au

Killjoy by @taequois

smut | one shot | 9.3K words

You thought you’re trapped in the lion’s den when Jungkook kidnaps you. But he’s no lion and unfortunately for him, you weren’t a mouse either.

YANDERE au

Laundry Fairy by @bulletproofbirdy

fluff, smut | one shot | 3.5K words

You wake on Saturday to find that your boyfriend has cleaned your apartment and done your laundry–shenanigans ensue with the help of the spin cycle.

ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP au

love alive by @jamaisjoons

angst, fluff, smut | one shot | 17K words

a year after you and jungkook break up, the two of you meet at your brother’s party.

—part of the mixtape series

EXES, POST-BREAKUP au

Making of a lover by @smileyoongle

angst | one shot | 2.4K words

CHEATING, YANDERE au

mask by @onherwings

🍙, angst, fluff, smut | one shot | 32.1K words

Perhaps you signed up for more than you expected when you agreed to pretend you were just Jungkook’s roommate when his (female) childhood friend comes to visit.

BOYFRIEND, COLLEGE au

mastur-bait by @kookswife

🍙, smut, fluff, humor | two shots

you drunkenly touch yourself in front of your neighbour, hoping he’ll take notice. you can’t help but do a double take when he actually does.

—part of The Connotation trilogy

BAD BOY au

Meeting their soulmate for the first time by @sunyoonandstars

🍙, fluff | one shot | 2.1K words

Jungkook is driven by the desire to, one day, meet his soulmate. However, he had not imagined it to happen so soon …

“Jungkook’s eyes met yours only for a brief moment. Still, this split second was all it took to send a surge of thrilling heat through his entire body, the intensity of your gaze leaving every last fiber of his being vibrating and his veins tingling with what felt like a million of tiny electric shocks. He could have sworn his heart literally skipped a beat. Or two. At least. Because those eyes weren’t just any eyes. They were the eyes. The eyes which had been haunting his dreams …”

IDOL, SOULMATE au

melomaniac. by @jeonscript

smut | one shot | 13K words

you’re wholeheartedly, madly in love with jungkook and yet you shouldn’t be because he’s supposed to be your best friend and nothing more. worst part of it all is that you know he’s in love with you too.

BAND, FRIENDS TO LOVERS, PUNK au

Mind in the Gutter by @kpopfanfictrash

smut, fluff, humor | one shot | 18K words

Starting over is never fun. Especially not when you decide to take the phrase fully to heart; new job, new city, new coworkers and new relationships. When you are dragged to a happy hour by your new co-worker, Taehyung, you end up sitting beside a (very) cute, (very) shy IT worker named Jungkook. Several drinks later, he mentions he is in a professional bowling league with his friends and you rather enthusiastically invite yourself along. As time passes and you begin to grow closer, you still find it impossible to read Jungkook. Working in the same company and seeing each other so often, it is only so long before one of you snaps. But who?

BOWLING, WORKPLACE au

more than friends by @matchakoo

smut, angst, tiny fluff | two shots

you and jungkook have been roommates and close friends for a couple years, and you’re oblivious to the fact that the only reason why he hates your recent fuck-buddy is because he has the fattest crush on you.

ROOMMATE au

morning rush. by @atdawnsuga

smut | one shot | 3.2K words

You develop a strange relationship with the boy you share your morning commute with.

COLLEGE au

Movin’ by @mygsii

smut | one shot | 3.9K words

you’re moving to a new place and have called up some movers to help. you didn’t expect to find one of them extremely attractive, nor did you expect to have him all over you as soon as break time rolled around.

MOVER au

Mutual by @seokjxnnie

smut | one shot | 2.7K words

Your boss was always talking about how her son would be perfect for you, promising that he was going to the staff holiday party. He turned out to be the hook up that happened a couple months ago, who you kept around for some good dick.

OFFICE au

My Type by @shadowsremedy

smut | one shot | 6K words

Never judge a book by its cover.

COLLEGE au

neighbour by @imagniation

fluff, smut | one shot | 4K words

‘you think I can afford a plumber?’ your endearing neighbour jeongguk has magic hands that fix toilets and make you orgasm.

NEIGHBOURS au

one thing right by @hobios

🍙, fluff, angst, smut | series

“i’ve been wrong about a million times, but i’ve got one thing right.”

or, desperate to get your ailing mother into the best care possible, you ask your childhood friend turned enemy to marry you for his health insurance benefits. the only problem is it’s illegal. and he’s the sheriff. and you swore to hate him since the day he broke your best friend’s heart.

ENEMIES TO LOVERS, FAKE MARRIAGE, SHERIFF, SLOW BURN au

One Year, My Love by @hayjeon

🍙, angst, fluff, smut | two shots

You forge a marriage contract with the strangely speaking man who suddenly stumbled into your town with memory loss, but little do you know that he’s actually the lost Crown Prince, and a lot can happen between a married man and woman in one year.

FAKE MARRIAGE, ROYALTY au

Orange Tulips by @kainks

angst, fluff, light smut | one shot | 10.2K words

You’d remember Jungkook with every life you lived. Only he’d never remember you, never recall how your fates were written in the stars since the beginning of time.

REINCARNATION, SOULMATE au

Pay by Play by @yoonia

smut | one shot | 3.6K words

—part of @bangtansmutcentral‘s Made With Love Project

CAM BOY au

Pen Pal by @chinkbihh

angst | series

As a lonely person, the idea of exchanging letters with someone apart from society was actually quite appealing to you. In a random act of charity and desperation, you sign up for a pen pal and get paired up with an inmate named Jungkook. The letters were meant to help him cope with prison life, but little did anyone know it was actually driving him more mad.

PRISONER, SERIAL KILLER, YANDERE au

Piss Off Your Parents by @littlemisskookie

smut | one shot | 16.4K words

In an effort to piss off your parents you move in with their worst nightmare- a boy with tattoos, a rock band, and an irresistible charm.

BAD BOY, FAKE DATING, RICH, ROOMMATE au

Play Pretend by @seokoloqy

smut, angst | one shot | 8.6K words

walking under ladders, splitting the pole, breaking mirrors, going near black cats—just to name a few things Jeon Jungkook doesn’t do before his soccer games.

And after Jungkook catches his girlfriend cheating on him, he’s going to need a little more than luck to get her back. He needs you.

FAKE DATING, FRIENDS TO LOVERS, SOCCER PLAYER au

Quarter Quell by @chinkbihh

ON-GOING | 🍙 | series

Every 25 years there is a Quarter Quell edition of the Hunger Games. Quells mark the anniversaries of the districts’ defeat by the Capitol, and include special celebrations. The Games involves some sort of twist that makes them even more disastrous or difficult to compete in, or watch.

HUNGER GAMES, YANDERE au

Redolent by @baeseoul

ON-GOING | angst, smut | series

You and Jungkook have a past, but the biggest mistake of his life has him losing you in every way. It isn’t until the smell of the unique combination of vanilla and pear blossom for the first time in over a year reminds him of you and your endearing candle obsession that he’s forced to reminisce about what he had, and what he lost. He wants to reconcile, but what if you’re doing just fine without him?

INDIE ROCKER, MUSICIAN au

Rigor Mortis by @readyplayerhobi

smut, angst, horror, fluff | one shot | 28.5K words

A night out at a bar results in you going home with a young and attractive police officer. But if you think the night was something to remember, that’s nothing compared to waking up to find a zombie outbreak in the city. A chance encounter with Officer Jeon leads to him helping you escape from the plague infested city.

POLICE OFFICER, ZOMBIE au

ROTTENFOLK by @junqkook

🍙, smut, fantasy | one shot (in dire need of a part two though!!!) | 13.5K words

a look was as hazardous as chemicals, a kiss as perilous as poison; his eyes and lips felt akin to a cure, but he was purely venom.

—part of BTS Smut Club’s The Heatwave Project

FAIRIE, ROYALTY au

roulette. by @taesthetes

light fluff, angst | one shot | 1.2K words

noun : a gambling game of chance.

he loves me, click, he loves me not, bang.

ASSASSIN, MAFIA au

Ruin the Dress... Shirt by @fortunexkookie

smut, fluff | one shot | 4.8K words

What could possibly go wrong during a romantic Valentine’s Day dinner with your brand new boyfriend? Let’s be honest, you shouldn’t have even asked.

NEW RELATIONSHIP au

Scum’s Wish by @bobagukk

angst, smut | one shot | 4.8K words

Secret Slut by @jeonsweetpea

🍙, smut | two shots

Jungkook accidentally gifts you, his boss, a sex toy for Secret Santa.

ASSISTANT, CEO au

skype sex by @floralseokjin

smut, fluff | one shot | 2.9K words

—part of the first love, last love drabble series

CYBER SEX au

Somnolent by @forgottenpasta

fluff | one shot | 3.5K words

After spending one night in bed with you, Jeongguk finds out he is unable to sleep unless you’re sleeping with him.

ROOMMATE au

Sprout by @hugseoks

fluff, crack | one shot | 1.2K words

After a nice evening out with your friends, you find yourself coming home to your sleeping toddler and the new hairstyle she had tried on your husband.

DAD, HUSBAND au

stand-in by @gvksp4ce

angst, smut, fluff | one shot | 10K words

frat parties always suck to a certain degree, especially when you walk in on your best friend’s partner nailing your own boyfriend on said buddy’s bed. However, drowning in self-pity was not on Jeon’s watch.

COLLEGE, FAKE DATING, FRIENDS TO LOVERS au

strawberry lips by @personasintro

fluff | drabble | 2.8K words

it’s not your fault your professor is extremely young and oh, so hot

PROFESSOR au

Summer Solstice by @brokenspinez

smut | one shot | 6K words

Down on your luck and desperate for a successful harvest, you pray to the gods. You figure no one in heaven was listening to your prayers when nothing happens immediately. But one fateful night, your prayers are answered. Are you willing to pay the price? The sacrifice might not be what you were expecting….

GOD au

Tangsuyuk Love by @full-of-jams

fluff, smut | one shot | 11.5K words

College student Jungkook flirts with a customer who always orders take-out tangsuyuk at his part-time job. Meanwhile he’s miserably trying not to fail his Math class, while hiding his ever-growing crush on you.

COLLEGE, FRIENDS TO LOVERS au

tell me no lies by @jeongi

angst, smut, minimal fluff | one shot | 15.1K words

You chose to rob your boss, however; you never expected to fall in love with him.

—part of BTS Smut Club's Under Fire Summer Project

CEO, CRIMINAL, ROBBERS au

the beast hidden inside by @harvcore

smut | one shot | 1.5K words

never come home smelling like another man, especially when it’s mating season.

or 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐣𝐞𝐨𝐧 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤, 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐥𝐩𝐡𝐚, 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐩 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐥 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐭𝐬…

ALPHA au

the best part of me is you by @yourdelights

fluff, smut, angst | one shot | 9K words

Having been best friends since childhood, you’re an expert in all things Jungkook. You know everything about him, from how he took his coffee to the sound of his laugh after a successful prank. There was no part of him that you didn’t know like the back of your hand, or so you thought. Your view on things gets a bit skewed after discovering the one secret Jungkook had kept from you: he’s a camboy.

BEST FRIEND, CAM BOY au

the coffee shop contract by @gukyi

fluff | one shot | 18K words

apparently, having an instagram profile with a different girl in every picture is reason enough for your friends to strike up a deal where they’ll pay you to have a relationship. well, jeon jungkook’s no good at relationships, but a fake relationship isn’t a real relationship. is it?

COLLEGE, FAKE DATING au

the engagement by @virgoknj

angst | drabble | 3.4K words

in where your ex jungkook appears at your engagement party

EXES au

the jeon twins by @krreader

fluff, angst | one shot | 3.2K words

jk thought he was doing this for his twin’s good. falling in love with you while pretending to be kookie was never something he planned on doing and he hated himself for it.

COLLEGE, TWINS au

The Jorts by @gukslut

fluff, smut | one shot | 6.5K words

ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP au

the sea & the storm by @jamaisjoons

angst, fluff, smut | one shot | 20K words

the sea is a powerful mistress. she is calm and beautiful. she is mysterious and alluring. she is a force to be reckoned with. above all, however, she is lonely. until she meets him.

—part of the Fantastical Stories for Curious Souls collaboration

SEA SPIRIT au

the train of lost souls by @inktae

angst, fantasy, fluff | one shot | 13.6K words

The moment you step inside the train, you are given two options.

You can choose to live, to be given a second and a last chance in life, in exchange for your memories and your previous existence. You can choose to be alive again, but it can only be an entirely new life. Everyone you’ve ever crossed paths with would forget your name. All the pain and the love you knew, all the ups and downs that made you hurt and made you smile — all of it, completely gone.

Or you can choose to move on, to give your life away while keeping your memories until the end of time. To step out of the world of the living and to embrace a new kind of loneliness, but with the warmth of your past always safe between your cold hands.

You are dead, but it’s up to you to do something about it.

The choice is solely yours.

The Truth About Forever by @thedefinitionofbts

romance, implied smut, angst | one shot | 6.3K words

There are a lot of things you know. You knew the water in the lake was the clearest, most fresh tasting in the world and that lavender hyacinth graced every hillside, peeking through patches of wild grass and forest green shrubbery. You knew the weather was pleasant enough and the air clean enough even for someone with a body as weak as yours to sleep peacefully under clear moonlit nights. You know a lot of things, but there was one thing you didn’t know…

“Jungkook and Y/N forever…” Seokjin reads the little inscription on the corner. “Hey, this person even has the same name as you, how weird.”

SLICE OF LIFE au

the universe of us. by @taesthetes

🍙, fluff, angst, fantasy | one shot | 21.1K words

nefelibata : (noun) lit. “cloud-walker”; the one who lives in the clouds of their own imagination or dreams

The story of Icarus tells of a naive being who loved the sun and flew too close, leading to his untimely descent into the ocean. But what the tale didn’t speak of was how the sun and the moon fell in love with him, too. And with the pull of the tides due to the attraction of the sun and the moon, he tosses and turns, torn between two entities.

So if Kim Taehyung embodies the sun, then Jeon Jungkook is the moon.

And you are Icarus.

DREAM, SLICE OF LIFE au

The Virgin Volume by @kpopfanfictrash

smut, angst | two shots

The year? Some point after college. The occasion? Namjoon is getting married and the Rich Man’s Crochet Club has convened once again. Somewhere between the drinks and the laughter, everyone has the same realization: Jungkook has never been in a serious relationship. In the name of all that is holy (Overwatch and booze), the club’s mission is revived. Now though, their goal is much more perilous. Now, they aim to find Jeon Jungkook a girlfriend.

—part of The Rich Man’s Crochet Club series

COLLEGE, FRIENDS O LOVERS, VIRGIN au

the wedding planners by @gukyi

fluff, light smut, light angst | one shot | 28K words

jeon jungkook is three things: cocky, terrible, and your worst enemy. then your best friend hoseok gets engaged to the love of his life, and suddenly jeon jungkook is four things: cocky, terrible, your worst enemy, and the man you will be spending the next seven months with in order to plan your best friend’s wedding.

and then, as if your life couldn’t get any shittier, you make the poor decision of sleeping with him on the first day of the job.

ENEMIES TO LOVERS, WEDDING au

through the night by @nightbts

ON-GOING | 🍙, fluff, angst | series

IDOL au

Travel Diary by @nitaescence

fluff | one shot | 2.5K words

BOYFRIEND, VLOGGER au

way down in bed stuy by @minstrivia

smut, light angst | one shot | 5K+ words

as a final farewell you fuck your sister’s unbelievably attractive knave boyfriend that you definitely do not have feelings for…again.

CHEATING au

Welcome to the Underworld (AO3 Link) by @spookitokki

fluff, smut, fantasy | one shot | 9.6K words

In a dark little second-hand shop downtown, stuffed in an alleyway you only stumbled into because you were lost, you found a charming antique radio. When you turned it on, it began to play what would become your favorite radio show, “Welcome to the Underworld”

DEMON, RADIO SHOW HOST au

youngblood by @jinitude

smut | one shot | 14.6K words

“I don’t care if he’s got the potential to be the next big thing. I’m done trying to chase a story that doesn’t exist. The kid is a wet leaf left on the curb to dry and crumble into pieces the next day. You’re going to send me to five of his concerts and I can already tell you how each one is going to go. He’s a wannabe bad boy who jizzes his pants when he sees a girl looking at him. Assign me someone else.”

ENEMIES TO LOVERS, JOURNALIST, ROCK STAR au

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aurumacadicus · 3 years

Text

The Proposal AU

Y’all this is 14K I die. Watch out for under the cut!

Tony is not an American citizen—Howard had moved to Italy because Maria had refused to leave her family mansion home, so he’s an Italian citizen. Which isn’t a problem! He’s got a work visa to live in America, and he works very hard at his job as a book editor in California, because he’d wanted to escape Italy and his memories there and it was as far away as he could get. His assistant, Steve, works perhaps even harder—while Tony thinks he simply has high standards, Steve thinks he’s really just a difficult, hard-to-work-with, perfectionist asshole. He would have quit, except getting into the industry is hard, and he didn’t want to have to start all over under someone else.

So when Tony is informed that he’s broken the terms of his work visa and he needs to leave, he panics and convinces Steve to marry him. Steve’s not entirely enthused, but Tony reminds him of what he already knows—this business is cutthroat, and he wouldn’t want to have to start all over again with a new editor. Besides, they have a system, and while Steve may hate Tony’s guts, what they have is dependable. So being fake-married so he doesn’t have to restart his career from scratch is fine.

“How… convenient,” Agent Coulson says when they meet him to inform him of this. “That your—” He glances down at the paperwork they’ve handed him. “…Secretary—”

“Assistant,” Steve and Tony cut in at the same time.

“My secretary is Ms. Potts. You’ve met,” Tony adds.

Agent Coulson doesn’t shiver visibly, but Steve and Tony can sense it—Ms. Potts inspires that reaction in a lot of people. “Well. As I’m finding the circumstances very suspect, I’ll be questioning you both to make sure there is no fraud here. You will be asked separately. And I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that if this is proven to be fraud, you, Mr. Stark, will be deported.”

“Remind,” Steve repeats faintly.

“And you, Mr. Rogers, will be convicted with a felony punishable by a two hundred and fifty-thousand dollar fine and five years in prison,” Agent Coulson continues.

“Five years,” Steve repeats, voice growing fainter.

“It’s not fraud,” Tony says, reaching out to take one of Steve’s hands, which he only grips back because suddenly what they’re doing seems very real, both the marriage and the consequences of its failure. “We’re in love.”

“We’re gonna go visit my family in New York,” Steve adds, more on instinct than anything else, because if he’s in trouble he wants to go home. “To let them know. That I’m marrying someone. They have to meet him before we get married, after all.”

Tony turns to give him wide eyes, then looks back at Agent Coulson with a practiced, plastic grin. “Yes. We’re going to visit Steve’s family in New York. I’ve always wanted to visit the east coast.”

“You’re not going to see your family?” Agent Coulson drawls.

Tony’s plastic grin drops, and he looks down, and his voice as he murmurs, “I don’t have any,” makes it clear that it’s probably the only word of truth uttered in the entire meeting. At least Agent Coulson looks uncomfortable enough that he lets them go.

“I can’t go to prison,” Steve says once they leave the office. “Tony. I’m not going to prison for you.”

“You’re not going to prison because he’s not going to find out,” Tony assures him, stepping out of the building and onto the sidewalk. “It’ll be fine.” When he notices that Steve isn’t following, though, he stops, frowning at him. “Steve?”

Steve says nothing for several minutes, lifting a hand to cover his mouth as he frowns at the ground. Finally, though, he lifts his head, saying, “You’re making me an editor.”

“What?!” Tony balks.

“If we do this, you’re making me an editor, and you’re publishing the book I’ve kept trying to get you to read for the last seven months,” Steve repeats. “I’m doing this for your sake. So you’re going to do this for me.”

“Wh—Steve,” Tony begins, laughing nervously. “You can’t just—”

Steve steps up to him and points directly into his face. “Five-year prison sentence, Tony. A quarter of a million dollars in fines. I’m doing you the favor here. So you’re going to do this for me.”

“I—” Tony begins, but the expression on Steve’s face is kind of scary, and it is true that Steve’s doing him this favor, so… he sighs, and crosses his arms, and mutters, “Fine.”

“Fine,” Steve says.

“Fine!” Tony exclaims angrily.

“I’ll see you on the plane,” Steve says, sweeping past him.

Tony spins around to stare after him, horrified. “You mean that wasn’t a—”

“I’m not getting married without my family even if it is a sham wedding,” Steve snaps at him, and then he’s gone, turning the corner and storming away.

The plane ride to New York is tense, mostly because Tony had upgraded them both to business class and it had annoyed Steve. Finally, Tony can’t keep quiet, and he pulls out the sheaf of paper that they’re going to be quizzed on. “We should probably go through all of these questions, so we know the answers.”

“I know everything he wants to know,” Steve answers stiffly, pulling out a sleep-mask.

Tony whips his head around to glare at him, squawking, “No you don’t!” He ducks his head when he gets shushed by a flight attendant and three other passengers. Once he’s certain they’re not paying attention to him anymore, he turns back to Steve, hissing, “No, you don’t!”

Steve sighs, adjusting the straps on the mask. “Try me.”

Tony scowls at him a little longer before looking at the papers. “Okay, you probably know my birthday—”

“I know your social security number, too,” Steve adds, putting the mask on.

Tony opens his mouth to insist he doesn’t, remembers all the paperwork he’d neglected to fill out that Steve had done, and closes it again. He scans the papers with dismay. It looks like a lot of questions that Steve knows and he doesn’t—what his favorite meal is, his typical workout routine, how he likes his bed made. He doesn’t even know how Steve likes his coffee, because apparently, he just gets the same thing Tony gets in case of an accident like the one of the day this whole mess had started.

Finally, he says, “Tattoos. Do I have any tattoos?”

“Two,” Steve says, arms crossed over his chest.

Tony jerks his head up to stare at him in disbelief. “Wh—you don’t know that!”

“You have the Big and Little Dipper over your heart,” Steve says, and Tony’s hand flutters up to cover it. “And a bunch of circles with a heart in the center on the inside of your left ankle.”

Tony stays quiet for several minutes, then mumbles, “It’s an atom. Rutherford’s model.”

“There’s a heart in the nucleus of it then,” Steve says, and Tony sets the papers down on his lap, frowning. He should probably ask Steve some so he can find out his answers, but Steve very obviously doesn’t want to be bothered, if the mask and closed-off body language is any indication.

There’s a brunet and a redhead waiting for them when they step off the plane. Steve rushes over to grab the brunet up in a hug, thumping him on the back, then turns and picks the redhead up to spin her in a circle. Tony hovers behind him, uncomfortable, especially when he notices the brunet giving him a long, skeptical look instead of anything welcoming. He reaches out for Steve’s bag. He doesn’t reach out for Tony’s.

“Bucky, Nat, this is Tony,” Steve says, wrapping an arm around Tony’s shoulders. “Tony, these are my friends, Bucky and Natasha.”

“Your parents named you Bucky?” Tony can’t help but ask, and then immediately regrets it when Bucky scowls at him.

“The name grows on you,” Natasha cuts in, before anything bad can happen, like Bucky punching him in the nose. “There were three other Jameses in his class, apparently, and with a middle name like ‘Buchanan,’ he had to work with what he had.”

“Your parents named you James Buchanan?” Tony blurts out, and then yelps when Steve starts walking. “Steve!”

“Keep walking, keep walking,” Steve says with a warning tone, and Tony obeys, because he’s here to fool Steve’s family and friends into thinking they’re in love, not to get murdered. He gets shoved into the back of a rather nice town car, but doesn’t get much time to appreciate it, because then Bucky is getting in the driver’s seat, and his grip on the wheel is tight enough that his knuckles turn white. He decides to keep his mouth shut around Bucky, forever if it came down to it.

As they drive toward Steve’s family home, though, he notices that a lot of the buildings have the name ‘Rogers’ attached to them in some way. He may not know much about Steve, but he does know his last name is Rogers. “Are these all—yours? Your… businesses?” he asks softly, waving his hand at a small grocery store as they pass.

“Ah, well, hmm,” Steve says, uncharacteristically at a loss for words. Finally, he says, “Well, my great-grandparents came over from Ireland with her own grandmother’s silver, and she sold it for cash, and became sort of a lender, so she made a lot of money, and then she just… bought up all the real estate around her? We don’t own all of the shops,” he adds hastily when he notices Tony staring at him. “But we’ve definitely… footed the loan for most of them at some point or another.”

“You didn’t tell Tony you were rich?” Natasha asks, tipping her head back so she can look at them upside-down. “Wow, Steve.”

“You know how I feel about the money,” Steve says immediately, and she shrugs.

Tony doesn’t know how Steve feels about the money. He doesn’t know how Steve feels about most things. He keeps his head down as Bucky finally loosens up to chat about the party that Steve’s mother planned to welcome him home, and how it’s supposed to be a secret, except he knows that Steve reacts to surprises with punches and he doesn’t want anyone to go to the hospital today.

Sarah Rogers is beautiful, and her smile is kind as she takes the bottle of wine Tony offers her. “Oh, how lovely! Thank you, Tony. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Mama would have dragged herself from her grave to beat me if I didn’t bring you a hostess gift,” Tony tells her. “You know Italians. It’s not right to snub the matriarch, and in return, you get fed your weight in pasta.”

Sarah’s gaze softens even more as she lifts a hand to touch his cheek. “Thank you,” she repeats, more sincerely this time, and then gently places her hand on the small of his back to give him a tour of the grand old house, which she apparently shares with Winifred Barnes now that they’re both widowed, and their children are out on their own.

“What the hell, Steve?!” Bucky asks after he’s finally gotten him pulled aside. “All you ever do is bitch about Stark, and suddenly we get a call saying that you’re dating and you’re bringing him to meet the family?!”

“Tony’s not that bad,” Steve says, even if it isn’t true and Tony is that bad. He still remembers Tony’s soft ‘I don’t have any’ in response to a question about his family, and it isn’t an excuse for why he is the way he is, but it certainly explains a lot about him.

“Steve, the first month you worked for him, you called me in tears every night because you hated him so much,” Bucky points out, glaring at him. “And you still bitch about him to me whenever you call! And you didn’t think to maybe mention you were dating?!”

“Maybe I realized that you wouldn’t believe me after all my bitching,” Steve begins.

“Are you sleeping with him so you can get a promotion?” Bucky cuts in.

Steve stares at him, struck stupid. Then he’s immediately furious. Bucky knows his character. That he could even think that Steve would try to get ahead by using his body like that is so offensive that it’s a miracle he doesn’t pitch Bucky out the window then and there. “Fuck you,” he tells Bucky, voice quiet because the other option is to just scream obscenities at him, and even that seems enough to make Bucky realize he’s made a grave mistake. Then he turns, and he opens the doors to the room they’d been in, and he says, “Ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to make an announcement. Tony and I aren’t visiting just so he can meet my ma. Tony and I are visiting so my ma can meet her future son-in-law. I asked Tony to marry me right before we came on the trip.”

Tony looks like he’s been shot, and Steve will apologize for throwing him into the deep end later, especially as Sarah, Winifred, Natasha, and Bucky’s sisters all descend on him with questions.

“So how did Steve propose?” Sarah finally asks above the din, and everyone quiets, eager for the answer.

“I—well, he,” Tony begins uncertainly, looking from face to face, before he finally murmurs, “You’ll be disappointed.”

Steve has one moment to think that Tony’s going to spill. It’s terrifying, not just because it would break his ma’s heart, but also because Bucky would never let him forget it.

“I’m sure I could never be disappointed in a story about Stevie,” Sarah assures him.

Tony frowns up at her, then scratches his cheek nervously, not meeting anyone’s eyes. “Well, I—I was in my office. At home. Office at home. And he brought over some take-out from the Chinese place I like. I let him pick the TV program while I was getting some last-minute work done on a draft, and he chose—he chose—” He pauses, struggling to figure out what sort of TV show Steve would like, especially considering his TV hadn’t been on for the past seven years.

“It was heist film,” Steve cuts in quickly. “And we got to talking about art. I mentioned that I used to paint in my free time. He asked me why I didn’t anymore.”

“He told me I overwork him,” Tony continues, and he manages to make it sound more like a joke than a reminder of an argument they’d once had. “But he’d been working on something off and on over the past few months. I asked him if I could see it, and he said it was a wedding present. And I said, whose wedding? And he said ours, once I finally agree to it.” He smiles down at his feet, small and sweet and utterly charming. “He’s asked me before, but I always said no. I was always afraid, because I’ve been on my own so long, I was afraid to be vulnerable with him like that. But something about this time… I had to say yes.” He laughs, breaking the spellbound bubble everyone had been in, hanging onto every word he said. “I decided I was more afraid that he’d stop asking me!”

Steve remembers that night. It didn’t go like that. He’d brought over take-out because Tony had ordered him to, and then he’d been so frustrated by Tony’s immediate brush-off that he’d sat down and turned on the TV just to annoy him, and some slow-moving heist was on and he’d left it there to make Tony’s eye twitch. Tony had been the one to start talking about art, an offhand comment about how Pepper—Ms. Potts—was regularly spending his money on art to decorate his spartan apartment because she didn’t like how impersonal it was. ‘I guess I like the portraits from the romanticism era,’ he’d said, which at that point had been the most he’d ever said about himself out loud. He wonders if that’s how Tony remembers it. Wonders if Tony wishes he’d really gotten a proposal like that.

But before he can dwell on it too much, he finds himself being drawn into conversations about his faux-posal, and he allows it, taking his mind off of how vulnerable Tony had looked for a moment.

At the end of the night, there’s a moment where they struggle with bedding arrangements. All of Bucky’s sisters are home, and a couple of them could double up, but Steve and Tony have a hard time saying that they sleep separately, especially with both Sarah and Winifred raising their eyebrows at them in disbelief. Eventually they accept a room together. Tony grabs a blanket and a pillow and starts to set them on the floor.

“What are you doing?” Steve asks, surprised.

“…Bedding down?” Tony replies hesitantly. “We locked the door, so they have to knock first. I’ll just wake up and climb into bed with you if we need to.”

“Tony,” Steve sighs. “You don’t have to sleep on the floor. It’s a big bed.”

Tony looks unconvinced. “I still think it would be better if I…”

“Tony,” Steve says sharply.

“Fine,” Tony answers, sour-faced, and throws his pillow back onto the bed with a little more force than necessary.

“Fine!” Steve sighs, exasperated, and crawls in on the opposite side.

When Steve wakes up, Tony is curled up against his chest, and Steve has his face tucked into Tony’s hair. He smells nice, like coconut. He tries to move back, but Tony makes this soft, wounded noise and moves after him. He wonders if this was why Tony had tried to insist to sleep on the floor—wonders if he puts off the impression of someone who would be disgusted by it, if Tony was prepared to sleep on the floor to avoid it.

Then there’s a knock on the door, and Tony wakes up with a start, clawing at anything he can reach.

“Ow fuck!” Steve exclaims, trying to bat him away.

Tony’s struggles slow to a stop, and he utters an anxious, “Steve?”

“Yeah,” Steve mutters, trying not to be too angry. It’s a new house. He doesn’t know anyone. It’s probably just a fight-or-flight response to the knock on the door.

Tony, realizing what happened, looks miserable. “This is why I wanted to sleep on the floor.”

“This is how you always wake up?!” Steve sputters.

The knock comes again, and then Sarah’s voice calling out, “Rise and shine! We have a lot to do today!”

“Do?” Tony asks. He looks scared.

“I brought pancakes and coffee!” Sarah adds.

Steve hops out of bed and goes to the door to unlock it. “Morning, Ma.”

“You know, Bucky’s sisters are adults now. They’re not going to come barging into your room like they did as children,” Sarah says, amused, then frowns, reaching up to touch his neck, where there are three reddening lines from Tony’s clawing. “Honey, what—”

“I’m sorry,” Tony exclaims immediately. “I got—I wasn’t—”

“We’re not used to being around a lot of people, so he was startled awake,” Steve cuts in. Before his mother can get guilty, he adds, “I usually just waft coffee in his general direction until he wakes up.”

Luckily, she buys it, offering him a rueful smile as she says, “I hate to think how many alarm clocks he goes through.” She taps at a rolling cart she’d brought with her. “I saved some from Natasha. I’m almost certain she has a black hole for a stomach. Eat up before she sniffs them out, and then Natasha and I are taking Tony out.”

“Out where?” Steve asks suspiciously.

“Just out,” Sarah replies.

They stare each other down long enough that Tony comes over and fixes himself a plate of pancakes with jam and start eating it. Finally, Steve sags. “Okay. Don’t scare him.”

“I would never,” Sarah gasps, offended, and turns to look at Tony. “Tony, you believe I wouldn’t—Is that all you’re eating? Two pancakes? Honey.”

Tony’s eyes dart between them in confusion, because even Steve looks dismayed. “…I don’t eat much in the mornings? It makes me feel queasy. I eat big dinners.”

“You should have told me, Steve! I could have made something lighter!” Sarah exclaims.

“You don’t have to put yourself out for me,” Tony assures hurriedly. “I usually just have a yogurt or fruit. If we’re going out, I can pick some up—”

“Nonsense. I’m your hostess,” Sarah scoffs. “I’ll send one of the girls out for it. Natasha and I have big plans for today. Steve can go hang out with Bucky. I know he’s missed you while you were gone,” she adds to Steve.

Steve remembers Bucky’s accusation and has to keep from scowling. “Of course,” he says instead, because he doesn’t want to tell her that he still very much wants to punch Bucky in the face.

They take Tony to a strip club for a ‘bachelor party,’ since last night he’d mentioned that he probably wouldn’t have one.

“I’m not dressed for this,” Tony squeaks, and doesn’t know why that’s his first complaint. He’s mortified. Sarah and Natasha just tease him and say he’s not supposed to be the sexy one there, and he doesn’t really feel like he can say no, so he lets himself be dragged inside. He figures after fifteen minutes, he can fake a headache from the music and they can leave.

It’s a male strip club. He doesn’t know why he’s surprised. He would like the exotic dancer giving him a lap dance to stop giving him bedroom eyes. Luckily, he can escape when the dancer gets called over to someone else, and he rushes outside for some fresh air while Natasha goes to get them more drinks.

“You doing okay?” Sarah asks gently, coming up beside him.

“It’s… a lot,” Tony has to admit. “I don’t—I’m a homebody. I like to read. It’s why I like my job,” he adds quietly. “I can stay at home and read, and everyone thinks I’m just extremely dedicated. I was alone a lot growing up, so I don’t really… socialize well.”

Sarah hums thoughtfully, reaching out to pat his hand. “That must be why you and Steve get along. He’s so outgoing and friendly, I think it’s good for him to have someone to be tethered to. I think you ground him.”

“Or stifle him,” Tony can’t help but mutter, thinking about how he’d blackmailed Steve into this in the face of her kindness.

“No, you’re good for him,” she says firmly. “He’s never been the type to settle down. I think he only had one serious girlfriend besides you, and their relationship… it fizzled out when she turned down his proposal.”

Tony feels his heart sink down to his toes. “Oh.”

“Steve always wanted to break out into the editing business and make his own life, but New York was so competitive, and the one job that he was offered, they told him it was because of his father’s name,” Sarah continues. “So he decided to move to California to do it, and Sharon… she loves New York. She didn’t want to go. So she turned him down.”

“Sharon,” Tony repeats. “The, um—the blonde lady. She said she worked for a government agency, I think? She didn’t really—want to talk about herself. Wanted to talk about me and Steve.”

“Yes. And I think she’s happier, that she turned Steve down,” Sarah replies. “She had her own dreams of working for the federal government. She wasn’t going to be able to do what she wanted in California.” She turns to give him a gentle smile. “And Steve found you. And you’re good for him.”

“I guess,” Tony says, feeling vaguely sick to his stomach.

“Uh oh,” Sarah and Natasha murmur when they get home and find Steve chopping wood.

Tony frowns at them in confusion. “Uh oh?”

“Steve’s chopping wood. He and Bucky must have gotten into a fight,” Sarah sighs.

Natasha groans and pinches the bridge of her nose. “Okay. I’ll go talk to Bucky.”

“Should I go talk to Steve?” Tony asks Sarah in concern.

She immediately shakes her head. “No. He needs to work his anger out before he can talk. We’d just upset him more. I’m going to go get started on supper.”

“Oh,” Tony says. “I think… I’m going to go wash the glitter off of my body.”

Sarah lifts her hand to cover her smile. “Of course.”

The shower is nicer than even the one he has, and Tony spends a half an hour just standing under the spray, trying to ease his stiff muscles. Finally, though, he has to get out, and he realizes with dismay that he’d forgotten to grab a towel. “Fuck,” he whispers, with feeling. Maybe there’s some in a cupboard in the room, or he can dry off with a blanket and then admit to Steve why they needed a new one. Maybe he’d find it comical enough to forget whatever had made him mad.

So of course he comes rushing out of the bathroom just in time to smack face-first into Steve’s naked chest and go toppling to the ground.

It takes a minute for them to realize what happened, and Tony is the first to snap to attention, getting to his feet and shouting a frantic, “Why are you naked?!?!”

“Why are you wet?!” Steve shouts back, grabbing a throw pillow off of the chair to cover himself as Tony quickly covers himself with a blanket from the bed.

“I was—showering off all the glitter!” Tony exclaims defensively.

“Glitter,” Steve repeats, clearly not understanding how that could be a sensible answer. Then he throws his hands up. “Whatever! I’m getting in the shower.”

Tony shouts again and ducks behind the bed to keep from staring at the full view of Steve’s exasperated expression (and his very, very muscular body, who knew he hid that under his suits). “Where are the towels?!”

Steve walks over to the cupboard to grab one, and also chucks one over the bed to where Tony is. He knows he’s hit his mark because there’s an offended squawk and a thud. “There you go,” he deadpans, then turns and heads into the bathroom. “Do you need help with your clothes, too?”

“Go shower! You stink!” Tony snaps at him.

“Fine!” Steve snarls back.

“Fine!” Tony shouts, then sits back, scowling. He rubs the spot on his head that thunked into the wall, then reaches out to pick up the towel, quietly adding a mulish, “Asshole.”

Dinner that night is a much quieter affair… kind of. The Barnes girls chatter with Tony about wedding plans (he has none and they have many ideas) but Bucky and Steve are very carefully silent, even with Sarah, Winifred, and Natasha trying to urge them into talking to each other. Tony wonders what he should do. Sarah had said that the Rogers and Barnes had been very close growing up, so much so that all of the children will react to an angry first-middle-last from both mothers, and Steve and Bucky had been thick as thieves. Now they can’t even look each other in the eye.

Tony insists on sleeping on the floor that night, and Steve, exhausted and still faintly angry at Bucky, just lets him, even though they hadn’t locked the door. He forces another blanket on him when Tony only takes one, then flops back on his pillow with a long, slow sigh.

Tony is quiet for a moment, then cautiously asks, “Long day?”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Tony,” Steve says sharply.

“Okay,” Tony answers, going quiet again. He fidgets, staring up at the ceiling, then says, “It’s not the Big and Little Dipper, by the way.”

Steve tips his head, then lets his eyes dart down to the foot of the bed, which is hiding Tony from view. “Oh?”

“I mean, I guess it is, technically,” Tony says, shrugging. “But the Big Dipper is just a piece of the whole constellation. My tattoos are of Ursa Major and Ursa Minor.”

“A mama bear and her cub,” Steve murmurs.

Tony nods, swallowing thickly. “Got it and the atom after the accident.”

“Accident,” Steve mouths to himself.

“I figured, what better way to remember her? She was so protective of me. She wasn’t always the best mother, but she was when it counted, and that’s what mattered to me.” His smile gets a little more wistful. “Your mom is really great. She’s so kind to me. I think I’m gonna miss her, after this is all done.”

Steve swallows thickly, then says, “Maybe. Maybe the divorce will be amicable. And you can still hang out with her.”

Tony takes a moment to feel endlessly grateful for Steve, then says, “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Steve.”

“We’re going to be married for at least a few years. That’s enough time for that to look normal,” Steve insists.

It reminds Tony all over again that this is a sham, and they’re tricking all of Steve’s family and friends. “Steve—”

“It could,” Steve says firmly.

Tony feels suddenly, endlessly tired. “Fine,” he sighs, knowing it won’t.

“…Fine,” Steve agrees when he doesn’t say anything more.

Sarah doesn’t knock the next morning, but she does tap her fingertips softly on the door until Tony snuffles awake, rubbing his eyes and looking around blearily.

“Tony, get in the bed,” Steve hisses at him.

“Hmm?” Tony says, then realizes where he is and grabs his blankets and pillows and launches onto the bed.

He elbows Steve in the stomach with almost all of his weight, but Steve still somehow prefers this to the morning before, when Tony had tried to scratch his face off. “Oof!”

“Sorry,” Tony mumbles, punching one of the pillows and then flopping down on it.

“’s okay,” Steve grunts, then calls out, “Come in!”

Sarah opens the door a crack and peeks into the room and, seeing both of them awake, smiles and opens it the rest of the way. “Good morning, sleepy heads!”

“G’morning,” Steve begins, and then squawks when he realizes Winifred and Natasha are following her in, throwing an extra blanket over Tony protectively as he yelps, “Ma!”

“I’m wearing clothes,” Tony says in confusion.

“Steve’s always been a bit possessive,” Natasha says, smirking, and raises her eyebrows in challenge when Steve scowls at her.

“Children,” Sarah sighs chidingly, and both Steve and Natasha duck their heads.

Tony just blinks at everyone, bewildered. “Um. What’s the party for?”

Sarah perks up, and she beams as she tells him, “Winifred and I were talking, about how it’s been so long since we’ve seen Stevie and what a nice boy you are. And we thought, wouldn’t it be wonderful if you got married here?”

“Ma,” Steve says again weakly.

“Here?” Tony repeats breathlessly.

Winifred puts her hand on Sarah’s arm before she rockets herself up into orbit from glee. “We thought it might be nice, while you’re here,” she says. “Everyone is in town, and you’ll be here until the end of next week, right? That’s plenty of time for you to invite your own friends and family. We’ll pay for anyone who can’t afford to come on their own, of course—we understand it’s short notice—”

“That’s so—sudden,” Steve chokes out. “Ma, Winnie, it’s sweet, but—”

“I only have three friends,” Tony cuts in. “And one can’t come. He’s deployed.”

The room quiets, and even Natasha looks struck speechless. Finally, Sarah asks, “Sweetheart, you have no family at all?”

“No,” Tony says firmly, in a way that makes it clear he doesn’t want to talk about it. “I’ll text Pepper and Happy. I think they’ll be able to make it, even if it is short notice.”

“We’ll cover their flights,” Sarah offers again breathlessly.

“Thank you. I think they’d appreciate that,” Tony says.

“Um. Just let us know the details,” Winnie adds weakly.

“We brought you yogurt,” Natasha blurts out.

Tony pops to his feet like he hadn’t just admitted his social circle is Steve and three other people, making grabby hands.

Steve waits until everyone has left, and Tony has stuffed his face with two spoonsful of yogurt before he states, “Pepper’s your secretary.”

“She’s my friend sometimes, too,” Tony mumbles, scowling. “Steve. I’m eating.”

“Happy is your driver,” Steve adds.

“And?”

“They’re your employees, Tony,” Steve sputters in disbelief.

Tony stares at him for a moment, silent, then sets his bowl of yogurt and fruit in his lap. “Steve,” he says seriously. “Just because they’re my employees doesn’t mean they’re not also my friends. Besides, I wasn’t going to tell your mother that I’m too abrasive for friends. You’re already stuck with a workaholic asshole. I don’t want them to think I’m a sociopath, too.”

“They don’t think you’re a workaholic asshole,” Steve begins weakly.

“I was working during our fake proposal, Steve,” Tony points out, and then returns his attention to his food, effectively ending anymore conversation about it. “Anyway, we should get together so I can learn the answers I need to know about you. I’ve been trying to guess at your favorite food, but mostly it just looks like you inhale everything.”

“Tony,” Steve tries.

“I don’t need to hear how pathetic you think I am, Steve,” Tony snaps, finally looking back up at him to give him a glare. “I don’t have any family, and I don’t have any friends because all I do is work, and I had to blackmail you into marrying me so I don’t get kicked out of the fucking country. I’m well aware that of the two of us, you’re getting the short end of the stick, so can you just leave it?”

“I’m not—” Steve begins, offended, but Tony is already up and walking into the bathroom. He doesn’t slam the door, but he thinks that’s only because Tony doesn’t want to draw attention from the rest of the house.

“Where are the Mas?” Steve asks, having looked all over the house for them and Tony. “I wanted to talk to them about Tony.”

Natasha shrugs, carefully pressing herself down into a yoga pose that looks, quite frankly, painful. “They said something about getting him fitted.”

Steve has the thought ‘Tony in a wedding dress’ and then immediately has to forget it. “Oh. Well, if you see them before I do when they get back, will you let them know I’m looking for them?”

“Sure,” she replies, shrugging. “Did you wanna talk about why you and Bucky aren’t talking? Or are we ignoring that, too.”

Steve scowls. “I don’t want to talk about Bucky.”

“He’s your best friend,” Natasha begins.

“Best friends don’t accuse you of sleeping with your boss for a promotion,” Steve snaps, cutting her off. “Sure, I complained about Tony to him a lot, but that was seriously his first thought?”

Natasha finally looks up at him, raising her eyebrows. “…You complained about Tony,” she finally says slowly. “To your overprotective best friend. And then expected him to like Tony. After hearing every bad thought you had about him.”

Steve takes a deep breath, then lets it back out slowly before he says, very coldly, “I’m not mad about him not liking Tony. I’m mad that he accused me of sleeping with him for a promotion. And if you think I’d do that, then fuck you too.”

“I don’t think that,” Natasha answers. “But Steve, did it ever occur to you that Bucky was trying to hurt you? You left for six years and never came back, and when you finally did, you brought someone that you’ve spent the last six years complaining about. Did it ever occur to you that, after feeling abandoned for six years, Bucky might be angry that the only reason you came back was not to actually visit your family, but to introduce them to your beau?”

Steve considers this, then quietly replies, “It doesn’t make it right. I’ve worked hard. I always planned on transferring back to New York once I got a position as an editor and had the leverage to do so. I’m so glad that all of you had the time to stew in your hurt and not consider that maybe staying here was hurting me.”

“Steve,” Natasha begins.

“Steve Rogers, I knew your father,” Steve barrels on angrily. “Steve Rogers, not Sarah’s son by any chance? Steve Rogers, whose family basically owns its own town? I was never just Steve. I was always an extension of someone else.”

“You know we never saw you like that,” Natasha says, voice soft.

“But not everything is about you guys,” Steve snaps. “And that’s why I left. Because none of you took the time to understand why I was so frustrated, why I wanted to do things on my own. You acted like this was just a job, that I could always get another one doing something else if this didn’t work out, but I was clear at the beginning that I wanted editing to be my career. None of you took my dreams seriously, and that’s on you guys. Not on me.”

Natasha stares at him, quiet, then reaches out and very carefully takes his hands. “I’m sorry, Steve,” she finally says. “It’s just that, your mother has been so lonely—”

Steve lifts his hand to cut her off. “And you guys honestly think that I would have left my mother without her blessing? You think I didn’t sit down for hours with Ma and talk about the pros and cons before I left? You think that just because I’m not here physically, I don’t have any contact with her? She told me to go. I call her every Friday night, and on Sundays we video chat. I don’t just FaceTime you guys for the holidays. I talk to my ma a lot.” He scowls. “I don’t talk to you guys as much because you always ask me ‘when are you coming home.’ You say it with a joking tone, but we all know it’s not really a joke.”

She stares up at him, quiet, considering. Finally, though, she simply says, “I miss you, Steve. Do you miss me?”

“I miss all of you, every day that I’m away,” Steve answers immediately. “I love you. You’re my family. But if you ever decided that you wanted to leave town to try and strike out on your own, I’d support you. It hurt, that you guys wouldn’t do the same for me.”

“I’m sorry, Steve,” Natasha says again. “I’ll try to do better.” She lifts her hand to cup his cheek. “But maybe… maybe you and Tony can visit more than once every six years.”

Steve manages a smile. “I think that can be arranged.”

“A suit will do,” Winifred and Sarah finally decide after having a twenty-minute argument about it.

Tony doesn’t know why they were arguing about it. They were agreeing with each other. Maybe that’s just something he doesn’t understand though. They’re a very close family. He doesn’t really know what that’s like. Howard had only had his parents, and they’d died when Tony was still a child. A majority of his mother’s family had been fractured by the war, and the only survivors had been a handful of cousins who she didn’t seek out, but if they met on the street, they’d talk for hours.

They’d offered condolences at the funeral. Hadn’t looked shocked when he said he was leaving Italy. Probably knew he was doing it to escape the memories.

Steve’s family is close—he’s heard Steve talk about Sarah before, at the office, when he’d been talking to Pepper about what to send her for Christmas. The Barnes and Natasha are close, too—apparently Natasha had been orphaned young, and Sarah had taken her in so she wouldn’t be sent away to family she didn’t know, and she and Bucky had fallen in love in high school, and now they were playing proposal chicken.

Tony thinks that Natasha likes him, probably. She’d been really nice at the strip club, and then at the coffee shop they went to afterward. Maybe… maybe she can put in a good word with Bucky. At least so they can be civil. Tony can continue to keep his head down and his mouth shut, and Bucky can just… ignore he exists. He’s used to that, unfortunately. It’ll only be for a few years—after all the time Steve’s missed out on with his family, he can suck it up long enough for him to get citizenship.

“Now, I know it’s probably too soon to be asking,” Sarah says, breaking into his thoughts. “But you know, seeing Steve in person after so long, it’s made me realize how much I’ve missed him. And I was thinking, maybe I could come visit for the holidays. If that’s not too much to ask.”

“Oh,” Tony says, surprised. “Oh, that—yes, that would be nice.” He remembers how happy everyone had been to see Steve. “Or—maybe, we could even come and visit you again.”

Sarah blinks at him, mouth opened in a little ‘o’ of surprise, before her eyes go a little misty and she reaches out to give his hand a squeeze. “I’d like that very much, Tony.”

“Ma,” Steve says as soon as she gets home, and then adds, “Winnie. Ma, I wanted to—where’s Tony? Isn’t he with you?”

“I think he got a bit overwhelmed with all the wedding plans,” Sarah admits, frowning. “We got his suit, we picked out flowers for centerpieces, and we snuck in to try cake flavors at the bakery even though we know you’ll just want chocolate, and—”

“Ma, that’s a lot,” Steve cuts in. “Where is he?”

She waves her hand back out the door awkwardly. “Well, he said you looked like you enjoyed chopping wood, so. Please go get him.”

“He’s chopping—he’s chopping wo-? He’s gonna cut his fucking leg off,” Steve mutters, rushing out the door.

Luckily, Tony hasn’t chopped his leg off, but he has gotten the head of the ax stuck in a log and looks like he is clearly considering chucking the entire lot of it.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Steve says hastily, grabbing the ax handle before Tony can lift it back up and pushing it away from him. “Hey. What’s wrong?”

“I don’t—Steve, your family loves you so much,” Tony chokes out, hands shaking. “And Sarah’s so kind, and Natasha likes me, I think—”

“She does,” Steve assures him.

“—And the Barnes are so nice, and everything is so loud, and—”

Steve reaches out to grab his shoulder, but Tony ducks his hand, shivering, as he begins to pace. “Tony, come on.”

“I’m wasting everyone’s time,” Tony bursts out. “I’m wasting your time. You shouldn’t have to be stuck with me when you could be trying to woo the person who you’re going to spend the rest of your life with. I should have just stayed alone.”

Steve approaches him cautiously, because every time Tony notices, he skitters away from him again, like he’s going to burst out of his own skin. “Tony, what are you talking about? What’s wrong?”

“I forgot, okay?!” Tony shouts, and Steve jerks back in surprise. “I’ve been on my own since I was sixteen years old and I forgot what a loving family is supposed to feel like! And then we came here, and everyone loves you, and I’ve kept you from that! I’ve kept you from that for six years! But they don’t even care! They just want me to be included, and I forgot what that was like!”

“Tony,” Steve says firmly, advancing on him. “Look at me.”

“No!” Tony exclaims, and jerks his gaze to his feet as he backs up. “You’re gonna do that thing where you make me feel like I’m wrong but I’m not this time! I’m not! I don’t deserve their kindness! I’m using you and I’m using them and I don’t deserve any of—”

“Tony,” Steve snaps, grabbing his face and forcing him to look up at him. He only feels slightly guilty when he sees tears gathered on Tony’s lashes. “Tony,” he repeats, softer, loosening his grip. “You deserve kindness.”

“I don’t,” Tony croaks.

“You do,” Steve assures him, using his thumbs to carefully brush the tears away before they have the chance to fall. “You deserve kindness.”

“Not from you,” Tony whispers, lifting his hands to grab Steve’s wrists. “Not after all I’ve done to you.”

“Tony,” Steve says seriously. “You haven’t done anything to me. I chose to stay. If I was really put out by the long hours and being ordered around and called in at all hours of day and night, I easily could have found a different job, because I know, down to my bones, that if they called you for a reference, you wouldn’t sabotage it, and someone with a recommendation from Tony Stark? They would have snapped me up.”

“Then why did you stay?” Tony croaks, brows furrowing together in confusion.

“Because you gave me a chance to work for you even though I didn’t have any experience, and I see things through,” Steve answers, voice firm. “And I’m going to see this through too, Tony.”

“Steve,” Tony whispers, and finally ducks his head with a sniffle.

Steve brushes his hair out of his wet eyes, then curls his arm around Tony’s shoulders to gently lead inside. “Come on.”

Tony sniffles and motions at the wood. “But I told Sarah I’d chop some of this.”

Steve laughs a little. “Tony. She never actually expected you to do it. If I hadn’t been looking for you, she would have come told me to collect you before you hurt yourself.”

“I wouldn’t have-!” Tony begins, scandalized.

“You got the ax stuck in the wood,” Steve points out, and then laughs again when Tony crosses his arms and pouts.

Pepper and Happy arrive the next day, and they look politely bewildered. “I didn’t have time to get you guys a gift, so I’ll have to get one when we go back to Malibu,” Pepper says as they put their bags in the trunk.

“My presence is your present,” Happy deadpans, and both Pepper and Steve are offended until he also pulls a box of chocolate out of his suitcase. “This is for Tony. He can share it with you I guess,” he adds to Steve.

“If I don’t eat all of them first,” Tony agrees, already reading the back to see what kind are in it.

Pepper glances between Tony and Happy, then reaches out to grab Tony’s wrist and very sweetly asks, “Tony, I think I might need some feminine products. Would you mind if I ran in an—”

“I’ll grab them for you,” Tony cuts in, handing the box of chocolates to her and striding back into the airport.

They watch him leave, waiting until he gets through the doors, before Pepper turns and deadpans, “Say what you need to say, gentlemen.”

Steve pauses, awkward, then says, “Not that I expected a gift, but…”

“I don’t care for you, Steve,” Happy tells him flatly.

Steve gapes back at him. “What the hell?”

“Do you think I don’t know what’s going on?” Happy snaps. “Tony told me and Pepper as soon as it happened. We know what this is. And I’ve heard the things you’ve said to people while we were waiting on Tony to go. Don’t think I’m going to forget them just because you’re doing Tony a favor.”

Steve frowns at him, then ducks his head. “Yeah. I wouldn’t expect you to. For what it’s worth… I’m sorry. I’ve learned a lot about Tony, and… and I’ve come to realize that I was really unfair.”

“That’s big of you, Steve,” Happy answers. “I still don’t care.” Then he opens the back door to the town car. “Get in.”

“Ma’s gonna throw a fit if she sees I’m not driving you,” Steve says.

“I will bodily heave you into the back of the car,” Happy replies.

Pepper grabs Steve by the arm and drags him into the back seat with her, hastily saying, “Don’t test him, Steve. One time I tried to get in the front seat during working hours and he actually got out of the car, pulled me out, and put me in the back seat.”

“This is supposed to be a vacation for you,” Steve says.

“I still don’t care,” Happy tells him, and then waits patiently for Tony to come trotting back out of the airport. “Took you long enough.”

“They didn’t have Pepper’s brand,” Tony complains immediately, and then slithers up to him to get him in a hug. “Thanks for coming, Hap.”

“I wouldn’t miss your wedding for the world,” Happy says, and somehow, he looks like he means it, even as he gives Steve some lethal side-eye.

Tony crawls into the car after Happy gives him one last thump on the back, placing his hands on his knees as he looks between Steve and Pepper. “So, what was that all about?”

“Just a pissing contest,” Pepper replies before either Steve or Happy can respond.

Tony doesn’t look surprised. “Oh. Who won?”

“Me,” Pepper says pleasantly.

Steve and Happy both give her some side-eye, but neither of them try to deny it, because they both know she would have left them bleeding by the side of the road if it came down to it.

“Anything we should know before we get there?” Pepper continues.

“Everyone likes me except Bucky,” Tony answers immediately. “So be nice to everyone.”

Pepper turns to look at Steve, and Happy glances at him in the rearview mirror. Steve sighs, then shrugs helplessly. “He’s got issues that are bigger than Tony and I being together.” Suddenly, he brightens. “Do you think we could get Bucky and Happy in a room alone together and—”

“Happy, if you punch anyone at this wedding, I’m breaking up with you,” Pepper says quickly, before Happy can look too excited.

Happy sags, disappointed, but mutters a petulant, “Fine.”

Steve sags as well, crossing his arms with a pout.

“Ugh,” Pepper says, disgusted. “I hate men so much.”

“Have a pecan cluster,” Tony says, offering her the box of chocolates, and she plucks it out with more force than really necessary.

Natasha and Pepper immediately get along as thick as thieves. Tony looks mildly concerned by this. Steve is half-tempted to tell Pepper that Bucky is Natasha’s boyfriend, but decides that the fireworks when Pepper finds out that Natasha’s boyfriend is the-Bucky-who-dislikes-Tony will be spectacular and well-deserved.

“Steve,” Bucky says quietly when everyone’s distracted. “Can I talk to you?”

Steve turns to look at him. “Are you going to apologize for what you said?”

Bucky sucks in a slow breath, then says, “I guess I can do that, too.”

“So it’s an afterthought?” Steve asks. “Then no. No, I’m not going to talk to you.”

“Steve, it’s important,” Bucky insists.

Steve raises his eyebrows at him. “Oh! It’s important. So important you can’t be bothered to apologize to me for that absolutely vile thing you accused me of. Hmm.”

“Steve,” Bucky sighs, frustrated.

“Get fucked,” Steve hisses, and then turns his back on him before he can try to convince him. “Ma. I’m sure Pepper and Happy are famished.”

“Oh, we ate on the plane,” Pepper begins.

“Yeah, and it was shit,” Happy finishes. “I will literally just take a box of cereal.”

Sarah scoffs at him with all the derision of a hostess who loves hosting can. “Absolutely not. I’ve made mutton stew! And have several vegetarian sides in case you don’t like meat.”

Bucky manages to corner them the next day when they come back from cake tasting again (Sarah was right, Steve had wanted chocolate cake, but Tony had convinced him to try a lemon chiffon so moist that it melted in his mouth, and with a white chocolate frosting, it was heavenly). “Steve. I want to talk to you,” he says, in a tone that brooks no argument. His eyes land on Tony hovering at Steve’s side, and his voice is flat as he adds, “You, too.”

Tony grabs Steve’s arm and clenches down tight. Steve puts his hand over his, then sighs, because apparently they’re not getting out of this. “Fine,” he says. “But make it fast.”

Bucky leads them into one of the outhouses, and Tony nearly leaps onto Steve when they find someone else in there. “Oh holy shit.”

“Mr. Stark,” Agent Coulson greets. “Mr. Rogers.”

“What the actual fuck,” Steve breathes, then jerks the arm Tony is still clutching so he’s behind him. “What are you doing here?!”

“Mr. Rogers, Mr. Barnes expressed concern that your marriage seemed out of place, considering some of the things you were saying to him even a week before you flew home.” Agent Coulson raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. “And now I hear that you’re getting married in… two days? This is all moving very fast, considering that Mr. Stark found out he would be deported a week ago if his marriage status didn’t change.”

Tony frowns, brows furrowing together, and looks up at Steve. “What were you saying about me?”

“Tony,” Steve says stiffly. “Go stand by Agent Coulson.”

Tony’s eyes go big and hurt. “Steve…”

“Go.”

Tony sort of shrinks as he takes a step toward Agent Coulson. “Okay.”

Once Tony has gotten clear, though, Steve lets out roar and lunges at Bucky, who goes down with a yelp.

“STEVE OH MY GOD WHAT THE FUCK!” Tony shouts, rushing to stop him.

“Get off me, Tony!” Steve snaps, trying to pull his arm free of Tony’s grip.

“Steve, stop, stop,” Tony says frantically. “Stop!”

“GET OFF ME,” Steve finally shouts at him, and Tony skitters back in terror.

Agent Coulson grabs Steve then, face thunderous, and says, “Knock it off, Rogers.”

“This isn’t about you,” Steve snaps.

“Knock. It. Off,” Agent Coulson repeats, and he tightens his grip on Steve’s arm.

Steve glares back at him for a moment, then directs his glare to Bucky. “You were supposed to be my best man,” he hisses, and then his face crumples, and his voice cracks as he repeats, “You were supposed to be my best man.”

“Steve,” Bucky breathes, shocked, as Agent Coulson heaves Steve to his feet.

Steve sucks in a deep, shuddering breath, lifting a hand to wipe his eyes, then looks at Agent Coulson and says, “Get off my property.”

“You’re not going to murder him as soon as I leave, are you?” Agent Coulson asks, raising an eyebrow skeptically. His eyes dart over to Tony, then back to Steve, expression going stern. “I’ll leave in a minute.”

Steve doesn’t even have it in him to fight it, just nods, exhausted.

Agent Coulson eyes him a moment longer before turning and going over to Tony, who is curled in on himself and shivering. “Mr. Stark,” he asks softly. “Are you alright?”

“I—” Tony begins helplessly, eyes darting between Steve and Bucky nervously. “I—”

“I’ll take you up to the main house,” Agent Coulson decides, placing a hand on the small of Tony’s back and gently easing him toward the door. “We’ll give Mr. Rogers and Mr. Barnes a moment.”

Steve watches them go, stunned, then lifts his shaking hands to run them through his hair. He feels a hand on his arm and can’t help but flinch away, spinning around.

“Steve,” Bucky says, holding his hands up placatingly. “I don’t want to fight.”

“Well, you could have fooled me,” Steve snaps, turning his back on him again.

“Steve,” Bucky sighs. “I didn’t do this to hurt you. You have to believe that.”

Steve whips back toward him. “You’ve been hurting me since the day we got here, Bucky.”

“Because I was worried!” Bucky bursts out. “Because you spent six years complaining to me about how much of an asshole your boss is, suddenly you’re dating him, and then you’re marrying him?! Steve. Tell me how that looks. Tell me how it would look if I showed up to Malibu with Rumlow on my arm, saying I was going to marry him.”

Steve swallows thickly, then croaks, “That’s different. He literally tried to kill you.”

“It’s really not,” Bucky counters. “Because to me, it sounded like Tony was sucking the life out of you, too. And then you called to say you were coming, and you didn’t mention anything to me. You didn’t tell me anything.” He sags, just as exhausted as Steve. “Did you think I wouldn’t have supported you if you just told me the truth? That I wouldn’t help sell the lie? If you’d just told me the truth from the beginning, I would have helped you, Steve.”

“It happened so fast, and I was so focused on what needed done,” Steve says, voice soft. “And he’s… He’s not so bad, Bucky. I’ve learned so much about him since this started. And he told me—” He sucks in a wet breath. “Bucky, he’s been alone for so long. He doesn’t even remember what being in a family is.”

Bucky scrubs his hands over his face, then sighs, letting his hands drop to his sides. “You always were such a hopeless romantic, Steve.”

“Yeah,” Steve admits, hunching his shoulders.

“Let’s go back up to the house,” Bucky mutters. “And I’ll—I’ll apologize to Tony. He looked real shaken up.”

“He saw me like that,” Steve whispers. “And I yelled at him.”

“I’ll tell him that I drove you to it,” Bucky offers, rubbing the back of his head. He sighs quietly when Steve just covers his face, reaching out to grab his shoulder. “Come on, Steve. It’s getting cold.”

Agent Coulson isn’t there when they get to the house, but Sarah, Natasha, and Pepper are wide-eyed as they watch Steve and Bucky come in.

“…Where’s Tony?” Steve asks tiredly.

Sarah wordlessly points toward the room they’re staying in. “Steve,” she says as they begin to walk past her. “I know things between you and Bucky have been strained, but getting into a physical fight? Unacceptable.” The ‘we will be talking about this’ goes unspoken, but it is very, very clear.

Both Steve and Bucky wince, and utter ashamed ‘yes ma’am’s, and then make their ways to Steve and Tony’s room. Steve considers just going in, then thinks better of it and knocks. There’s no answer, so he peeks inside, wincing a little when he sees Tony frantically throwing blankets and a pillow back onto the bed. “Tony, it’s us,” he says gently.

“Oh. Do I need to call Sarah?” Tony asks, twitching toward the door before very deliberately going still.

“No,” Steve answers hastily. “No. Please don’t call Ma.”

Tony’s eyes dart between them, and he takes a careful step back. “Okay,” he says, unconvinced.

“We wanted to apologize,” Steve begins, and then sighs, shoulders sagging. “I wanted to apologize to you.”

Tony’s eyes dart between them again before he hesitantly asks, “Um, okay. For what?”

“For what,” Bucky repeats in disbelief, as if Tony had personally just reached out and punched him in the gut.

Steve can’t say he doesn’t know the feeling. “For yelling at you when you were trying to keep me from pounding Bucky’s face in. It looked like I really scared you.”

“Oh. I—well. It’s fine. It’s fine,” Tony says, trying not to fidget too much. “Nothing happened. It’s fine.”

“…I,” Bucky begins, then crosses his arms uncomfortably when Tony’s eyes land on him, somehow resigned and terrified at the same time. “I’m sorry. For making things difficult on you. You an’ Stevie.” He works his jaw when Tony says nothing, then adds, “I’m sure you’re not that bad.”

“I am,” Tony answers quietly.

Bucky’s face goes through a series of feelings at the admission. Steve can’t help feeling a tad smug, even if it does break his heart a little.

“Are you… um,” Tony begins, playing with his fingers. He looks down at his feet. “Should I pack?”

“We’re still getting married,” Steve cuts in, taking a step toward him, but thinks better of it and eases back, because Tony still looks a little anxious.

Tony looks back up at them, frowning. “That’s okay?”

“…Why wouldn’t it,” Steve begins.

“It’s okay,” Bucky cuts in quietly. “If Steve is sure, you’re both adults. I trust Steve to know what’s good for him, even if it doesn’t always seem like it.”

Steve takes a deep breath, then lets it back out slowly, feeling as if a weight has been lifted off of his shoulders, even though he also still feels guilt sitting heavy and solid in his gut. “Can I talk to Tony alone, Buck?”

“Yeah,” Bucky answers immediately, lifting a hand to rub the back of his head. “Yeah.” He gives Tony one last look before he turns and leaves the room.

Tony watches him go, then hesitantly looks back up at Steve. “What is it?”

“Agent Coulson, he—you looked really shaken up,” Steve sighs, fighting the urge not to flush in shame. “He brought you back to the house. Did he… say anything?”

“He said your mother has a lovely home,” Tony answers immediately.

Steve frowns at him, disbelieving. “That’s it?”

“I—he asked if I felt safe here,” Tony admits, looking back down at his feet. “He seemed worried. I told him this was the first time I’d seen you like this. He still looked concerned, but he did end up leaving after that.”

Steve had never thought he’d feel so low. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “That I shouted at you. That you had to see me like that. Please know, Tony, that that actually had nothing to do with you. Not really. It’s been bubbling up ever since I left six years ago. I’m sorry, Tony.”

“It’s fine,” Tony says again.

“It’s really not,” Steve begins.

“It’s fine,” Tony repeats, steel in his voice this time.

Steve sucks in a sharp breath, then decides he’s in no position to push, at least not right now, when everything is so raw. “Fine.”

The next day is spent with last minute fittings and rehearsals, to the point that they don’t get a chance to talk about what happened. Even if they did get a moment alone together, it didn’t last long, with other people bustling in to ask a question or make sure they knew something about the ceremony, or just to remind them to take a break. Luckily, everyone in town is very excited about Steve being home and getting married, so they’re happy to make sure that things go as smoothly for the wedding as they can.

Steve notices Agent Coulson lingering at the edges of the crowd whenever they’re in town, and he scowls at him every time. Somehow, Agent Coulson doesn’t look perturbed in the slightest. “I can’t believe you called that guy,” he mutters to Bucky as they go to pick up their suits.

Bucky blinks at him, bewildered. “I didn’t call him. He called me.”

“What?!” Steve exclaims, but then he’s pulled into a discussion about corsages, and he doesn’t get a chance to question him further.

Sarah and Winifred (and literally every other woman in their family, at least Bucky had rolled his eyes) insist that Steve and Tony sleep apart the night before their wedding, because neither of them may be a bride, but it would still be bad luck if they saw each other. Luckily, they do allow them to say goodnight to each other, and Steve finds himself smiling as Sarah and Winifred giggle over the timer they’ve set for him.

“—my apartment? Yeah, I won’t—” Tony is saying into his cellphone when Steve walks into the bedroom, and then his eyes go big and surprised. “Uh. I have to go.”

“I can come back,” Steve offers, because Tony actually looks sorry about having to get off the phone.

“No, I can pick this up later,” Toy hurries to assure him, then scowls, offended, and says, “Platypus! I’m going to call you right back!”

“Platypus,” Steve repeats, mostly out of surprise, then frowns. “Ah. Your friend. Colonel Rhodey, you said?” He’d heard about him—he was the only person Tony ever smiled on the phone for, and if he hadn’t known that the Colonel had a long-term girlfriend (because Tony talked about both of them), he’d have assumed that that was who Tony was in love with.

“It’s Rhodes. I just call him Rhodey,” Tony admits, then tips his head. “Yeah, I’ll call you back soon. Steve needs to talk to me. Bye.”

“I guess we are gonna have to figure out where we’re going to live when we go back to California,” Steve muses. “How’s the amenities in your complex?”

Tony blinks at him, surprised, then admits, “I’ve never used them. People try to talk to me.”

“Ah,” Steve says, trying not to sound like an asshole, because… yeah, Tony avoided socializing even at work with his colleagues. “Well. We can figure that out after the wedding, I guess. Anyway. Ma and Winnie are timing me, so they know when to come in and roust me out if I take too long. I just wanted to say goodnight, and I guess… see you tomorrow?”

Tony frowns, considering, then manages a small smile. “I want to see your mother pull you out. She’s so tiny and you’re so big.”

“No she grabs my ear,” Steve whines immediately, then scowls when Tony laughs at him. “You laugh, but once you feel those nails digging into your ear, you’ll learn my pain.”

“I don’t know, I don’t think it can really compare to a wooden spoon,” Tony muses, and looks pleased when Steve actually starts to fret about which is worse. “See you tomorrow, Steve.”

Steve opens his mouth to say goodnight again, then pauses, squinting at Tony skeptically. Something doesn’t sound right in the way he says it, but he can’t really put his finger on it. Finally, at a loss for anything else, he repeats, “See you tomorrow.”

Tony reaches out to pat his chest before lifting his phone again. “I’m trying to work out a video call so Rhodey can watch me get married. I’ll go to bed soon,” he assures, misinterpreting Steve’s response.

“…Okay,” Steve says somewhat reluctantly. “Maybe let Natasha know tomorrow, so that you don’t have to worry about it when we’re actually doing the vows and everything.”

“Sounds good. Thanks, Steve,” Tony adds, patting his chest again, before returning his attention to his phone.

Steve stares at him for a long moment, then takes a step forward, opening his mouth again.

“Time’s up!” Sarah exclaims cheerfully, popping into the room like a jack-in-the-box and latching onto his ear.

“Ma no please,” Steve chokes out, but she’s got a vice grip, and Tony is laughing at him, so he lets himself be dragged willingly. He doesn’t think too much about the fact that Tony has a nice laugh.

Steve is just unzipping his garment bag when his mother bursts into the room. He blinks at her ashen face in surprise, but it quickly fades into concern. “Ma?”

“Steven,” Sarah whispers, and he knows from the use of his full first came that things are bad.

“…What’s going on, Ma?” he asks.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” Sarah says, lashes growing wet.

Steve stares at her, confused, then rushes past her to get to Tony’s room. It’s telling, that everyone he passes stops talking when they see him and rush to clear a path for him. Even Happy looks a little sorry for him as he yanks Pepper out of the way. He doesn’t bother to knock, just shoves the door to the room open, Tony’s name dying in his throat when he sees the room is empty. The pillows are perfectly fluffed at the head of the bed, extra blankets folded at the bottom. Tony’s toiletry bag is gone from the bathroom, and the laptop he’d had on the night table is gone, alarm clock and book back in place.

It’s like Tony had never been there at all, except for what looks like a manuscript on the desk. Steve swallows thickly and walks over to it.

Thank you, Steve. And thank your family for being so kind and welcoming. But I can’t do this to you, or to them. You all deserve so much better than that. I’ve talked to Agent Coulson, and told him that it was all my doing, that I was blackmailing you. You won’t get in trouble, a note on top of it says. I read the book you wanted to publish, and I’ve pushed it forward. I’m sorry I didn’t take you seriously sooner. When you get back to work after your vacation, you’ll be a full-fledged editor. I hope that makes up for the way I’ve treated you for the last six years. You’ll be able have coffee you actually like in the mornings, now. Goodbye, Steve. Good luck.

“…What the fuck,” Steve chokes out, reading and rereading the note, as if it might have some sort of secret message hidden in it. “What is—Tony, what—”

“Apparently he hadn’t talked to Jim about this at all. He knew Jim would tell him it was a bad idea,” Pepper explains quietly from the door.

Steve turns toward her, confused. “Why?”

“From what I can gather, Tony got into America from Italy with a student visa. He met Jim at MIT,” Pepper says. “And the Rhodes family took him in. Then Tony got his job in the publishing industry, and it became his life, and he forgot that work wasn’t everything.”

“It was what kept him in the country,” Steve argues. “His work visa. He needed—”

“Steve, if Tony hadn’t been panicking, he would have gone to HR for a lawyer from the beginning,” Pepper sighs, lifting her hands to rub her temples in an attempt to stave off a headache. “He was one of the people who started our west coast branch. He was invaluable to the company. They would have made sure his visa got back in order. Marrying someone was the first thing that came to mind, so he kept up with it. Jim was the one who pointed out that he didn’t need to do that, and that was he was doing was awful to you. Even if he did have feelings for you, it was clear that you wouldn’t return them. So he had to do what was right.”

Steve stares at her, then asks, “How did he know I wouldn’t return them? How do you?”

Pepper blinks at him in confusion. “Steve, what are you saying?”

“He’s a fucking dumbass and fell in love with him,” Bucky says, and they both jerk to find Sarah, Winifred, Bucky, Natasha, and Happy hanging in the door.

“What,” Pepper says, horror coloring her voice.

“Steven Grant Rogers, you are so fucking stupid,” Sarah hisses, coming into the room to cup his cheeks.

Steve drops his gaze to the floor with a wince. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. You haven’t disappointed me yet. You can still go get your boy,” she tells him.

Steve meets her eyes hesitantly. “That’s okay?”

“Steve, when I asked to come visit for the holidays, he offered for you two to come back instead,” Sarah whispers. “He wants you to be happy.”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees helplessly. “Yeah, he does.” He swallows thickly, then clears his throat, standing up straight again. “Happy, how’s your New York driving?”

“I can get you on the next plane to California,” Happy says, determined, so Steve sprints back to his room and grabs his wallet, and he runs out of the house just as Happy is pulling up the car.

Steve misses him. He fucking misses him.

He should have known it wouldn’t take Tony long to pack up. He’d mentioned how the apartment had come fully furnished, and he didn’t cook much, and Pepper was the one decorating his place. Even his office at work was pretty spartan, except for a bowl chair in the corner and a lamp for when he was working late and wanted to be comfortable. Even those are gone, carefully packed into neat boxes and left in the corner of the main floor, waiting for a shipping company to come pick them up.

Agent Coulson is there, too, and it takes everything in Steve not to walk over and punch him in the mouth. “You.”

“Mr. Rogers,” Agent Coulson replies mildly, jotting something down on his clipboard. “Mr. Stark has done his level best to make sure no blowback falls upon you. I’d still suggest you’d do well to keep your head down—”

“Joke’s on you, asshole,” Steve snaps, pointing directly in his face. “I’m going to marry Tony if it’s the last thing I fucking do, and you’re not gonna stop me.”

Agent Coulson stares at him for a moment, then lets out a long sigh. “Are you telling me that you actually fell in love with him over a week and a half?”

“I’m an idiot,” Steve tells him. “But that’s okay, because Tony’s an idiot too.”

Agent Coulson takes in a deep breath, then lets it out with a hissed, “God damn it Fury I know you did this to punish me specifically.”

Steve is big enough to admit that he’s a pretty excellent punishment for people even as he tries to finagle Tony’s forwarding address from him.

The Carbonell estate is a beautiful thing, Steve thinks, sucking in a startled breath as he lets his gaze travel past the villa. There are a few acres of grape vines behind it, and giant olive trees in the front yard. Apparently, the Carbonells were known for growing grapes and letting the locals come and take some to make their own wine. They’d used to own a larger expanse of vineyard, but they had downsized after The Accident.

That’s how all the locals refer to it, anyway. Maria Carbonell had been a well-loved local figure, and her husband was charismatic enough for his rough edges to be overlooked as he tried to assimilate to their culture, and then one day a tourist had been driving recklessly while Howard and Maria had been driving home from a local festival, and both cars had gone tumbling down a hill. “Antonio had been sixteen then,” they whisper, and Steve feels his heart leap into his throat, that he’d been left alone on this big estate.

He’d been told he could just go up to the door and knock, but he still feels weird about it.

The door opens just as he’s considering knocking again, and Steve opens his mouth to tell whoever answers who he is, but his voice freezes in his throat when he actually registers who he’s looking at.

He looks like Tony, but older—same sharp features, same facial hair, same hair curling at his ears and nape like Tony’s does before a cut, even if it is more gray than black. Steve had no idea what to say. Tony had said he had no family, but if this man isn’t related to Tony in some way, he’ll eat his fucking ballcap.

“Papa,” a familiar voice says, more gently than Steve’s ever heard it. “Papa, please. You were eating. You’ll waste your lunch.”

The man continues to stare at Steve, and it’s only then that he realizes the man’s gaze is vacant, like he’s not really seeing Steve at all. He motions at the door.

“Yes, you’ve gotten the door, Papa,” Tony agrees. “Thank you. Please go finish your lunch. Then we’ll go out on the balcony and have some wine.”

The man stares at Steve, then scowls and mutters ‘blond’ under his breath like an insult before he turns and leaves back into the house. Steve watches him go, stunned, even as his hand flies self-consciously to his hair.

“…Sorry,” Tony says, sniffing awkwardly as he comes to stand in the doorway. “He has nothing against blonds, really. We think he’s looking for Mama’s hair and is always upset that it’s not her.”

“Oh,” Steve replies, lump forming in his throat. “That’s sad.”

“Yes, well,” Tony says with a shrug. “Traumatic brain injuries are sad.” He blinks up at Steve for a moment, then asks, “What are you doing here?”

“I came to get you,” Steve says. “So we can get married.”

“We have civil unions in Italy,” Tony answers immediately, before the words catch up with him and he stares up at Steve in confusion. “What?”

“I love you,” Steve says. “And I know you probably don’t believe me, but it’s true. I love you, and I want to be with you, and I came to the office to stop you but you were gone. So I came all the way over here.” Steve pauses, then looks over Tony’s shoulder, adding, “I, um. I didn’t know about your dad. Should I get a hotel?”

Tony blinks at him. “Um. No, we have the room. Dad mostly keeps to himself, and he typically has a carer nearby. I just… wanted to spend some time with him when I got home, so I told Carmella to take the afternoon off.”

“I can come back,” Steve offers. “If you want to be alone with him.”

“Come in, Steve,” Tony orders, and opens the door further for him.

Steve understands why Tony went into the job he did as soon as he follows him out onto the balcony with Howard. Howard sits, and he stares out at the vines, holding a glass filled with ‘wine’ that’s really just grape juice. Tony sits down across the table from him and opens a book, and he starts to read.

It’s Dune. Tony reads it like an old friend, eyes casually sliding from the pages to his father every few minutes without a single stutter. Steve remembers, suddenly, that a copy of it had been laid out on the coffee table whenever he had to go to Tony’s apartment. Was this what Tony did, read Dune to his father? How often? When?

“Mr. Stark,” someone says softly, and Steve turns to see an older woman coming out onto the balcony. “It’s almost time for your father’s nap.”

Tony tips his head, acknowledging her, and finishes up the page he’d been reading before he turns to his father and says, “Papa, how did you like it?”

Howard says nothing for a long moment, then manages, “Fine.”

“I’m glad, Papa,” Tony says, smiling sadly. “Carmella says it’s time for your nap.”

“You’ve had a lot of excitement since Antonio came home,” the woman, Carmella, adds gently. “You’ll want to be refreshed for supper.”

Howard somehow conveys that he doesn’t believe her even as he allows her to ease him out of his seat and take his glass. He pauses in the doorway to turn and give Tony a minute wave. Then he narrows his eyes at Steve, mutters to himself, and turns his back on them both, allowing himself to be led away.

“…Is this why you said you didn’t have family?” Steve asks softly.

Tony sighs, shrugging one shoulder. “For the most part, he died in that accident with my mom. You wouldn’t know it from speaking to him, but he was a world-renowned scientist before the accident.”

“That atom with the heart,” Steve realizes.

“Yeah. Both of my parents effectively died in the accident,” Tony says with a shrug. “They left a sizeable inheritance, and I was able to save a lot from my job, so I’ve been paying for someone to care for him.”

“And you’ve been alone since the accident,” Steve adds. “Except for the entire Rhodes family, Pepper, and Happy.”

“The Rhodes have their own lives. Rhodey’s always deployed or his girlfriend is, and I don’t want them to waste their leave coming to visit me,” Tony explains, shrugging again. “And his parents took custody of their granddaughter. They don’t need to worry about me and my problems.”

“And me,” Steve says.

Tony opens his mouth, then closes it again, turning to frown at him. “What?”

“And you have me,” Steve repeats.

Tony stares at him a moment longer, then smiles a little, confused. “Steve. I’m back in Italy. There’s no reason to pretend anymore.”

Steve reaches out to take his hand. “You’re right. There isn’t.”

“…You’re holding my hand,” Tony points out after a moment, at a loss for anything else. “Steve, what on earth are you—”

“I fell in love with you,” Steve says. “And I want to prove it to you. And what better way than now, when there really isn’t a reason to pretend anymore?”

“…I… I don’t understand,” Tony finally answers. “What could you possibly even like about me, after all I’ve done? You don’t even really know me.”

“I know you like yogurt in the mornings, but you’ll eat third helpings at dinner,” Steve replies, lifting his other hand to cover Tony’s. “I know that you don’t really get art, but you know it makes Pepper happy, so you let her purchase what she wants to put in your spaces. I know that you prefer red wine over white and any wine over beer, but you’ll accept any of it because you don’t like to make a fuss. I know you loved your job because you loved seeing people get wrapped up in a new story and I know that you wanted writers to succeed. And I know—” He hesitates, but Tony looks more overwhelmed than upset, so he forges on, “And I know that you must care about me, too, since you left instead of carrying through with the marriage. So. So please give us a chance. A real one, this time.”

Tony stares at him, clearly stunned. Finally, though, he whispers, “How can I face your family again, Steve?”

“Tony, they loved you,” Steve assures him. “They just want to make sure you’re okay. They really want to see you again. Ma mentioned us coming for the holidays.” He pauses, then adds, “Well. If we can get back to the States that soon.”

“We?” Tony asks, voice shaking.

Steve frowns. “Tony, I’m in love with you. I’m not going to just leave you here. Not unless you send me away.”

“Steve,” Tony whispers, leaning in to hide his face in Steve’s chest.

Steve pulls him closer, burying his face in Tony’s hair. “I want to really give this a try, Tony. Please say you’ll try, too.” Tony is quiet for a very long time, but Steve doesn’t mind. He’s been alone for so long, he’d give Tony all the time in the world. Instead, he strokes his hand up and down Tony’s back, basking in the fact that he’s allowed to hold him now, and there’s no reason other than that he wants to.

“Maybe…” Tony begins quietly. “Maybe your family would want to come visit us here. We’ve got room. Only if they wanted to, of course,” he adds hurriedly.

Steve snorts. “Yeah, I’m sure a picturesque villa in Italy will be a hard sell, Tony.”

Tony tucks his face into Steve’s chest again. “Steve?”

Steve looks down at him. “Yeah?”

“…I’m glad you’re here,” Tony admits, then hides his face in Steve’s neck, embarrassed.

Steve nearly glows with happiness at the admission. “I’m glad I’m here, too.”

“Stay?” Tony asks shyly.

“That’s fine with me,” Steve answers, smiling.

“Fine,” Tony agrees, and Steve swears he feels a kiss being placed to his throat.

#ideas #stony #long post

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rmnamjoons · 5 years

Text

Love Language [KNJ]

summary: Exactly one year before one meets their soulmate, their love’s first words spoken to them appear as a tattoo on their wrist. When Namjoon’s tattoo appears, however, it’s not of words, but of the most beautiful set of eyes he’s ever seen.

pairing: Namjoon x reader

genre: smut, fluff, soulmate au

word count: 14k

tags: soft dom namjoon, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, praise kink, just a little bit rough, overstimulation, first time, spanking (only a little), loving possessiveness (i.e. lots of “you’re mine” during sex), like 10k of this is just smut

[read on ao3]

Namjoon was sitting in class when it happened. He suddenly hissed in pain, grabbing his wrist, catching the attention of a few people around him. They all realized what was happening and watched with wide eyes, the professor continuing the lecture without noticing.

Namjoon’s heart was racing. He breathed hard, afraid to take his hand off his wrist. Before checking, he looked up at the clock on the wall — it was almost 10:30 in the morning. He needed to remember to write that down, along with the date. He wanted to know exactly when he was going to find his love.

Namjoon slowly took his hand off his wrist, holding his breath.

He tilted his head in confusion.

It was supposed to be words. That’s what everybody always said. Your soulmate’s first words to you appear on your wrist. That’s all he’d ever heard of. That’s what’s in all the movies and songs about it.

Namjoon’s wrist had a tattoo of eyes. A beautiful, black and white set of eyes, sideways on his wrist, eyelashes long, the expression soft and curious. They looked about life size, one over his pulse on his wrist and the other further down his arm. Namjoon couldn’t take his eyes off of them.

After class, Namjoon decided to skip the rest of the day, figuring it was a special occasion. He went back to his dorm and spent hours researching on his computer for other cases like his. He found ones where their soulmate’s words were in a different language, which had been his first guess — just that they didn’t speak the same language. But that proved to be a bust.

Not everybody in the world had a soulmate. It only happened to maybe twenty percent of the population, but Namjoon had always suspected he was one of them. He usually kept that to himself and chalked it up to him just thinking he was special, as everybody did, but now he had the proof, he had the timing, all he had to do was wait.

Namjoon made an appointment with a specialist. There were people who studied the concept of soulmates, the science behind it, what caused the marks to appear and how free will was connected to it. He figured somebody out there had to know why his wasn’t words.

And yet, even after seeing two specialists, then three — none of them had ever heard of a case where it was eyes instead of words.

It was now only one month away. Namjoon had graduated and was almost halfway through his two year masters program, majoring in philosophy, his goal to get a doctorate and end up a professor. He thought about you constantly, wondering how you’d fit into his life. He bought you things sometimes, though he didn’t know anything about you yet. He’d gotten you a necklace he saw one day, books, trinkets, jewelry, and more, and he wrote you poems. He’d always loved writing, and he loved you so much already, he wanted to write you a whole collection of books full of poems, all for you. He swore he could write a thousand poems dedicated just to the eyes tattooed on his wrist.

Sometimes he would stare at the tattoo and try to imagine what the rest of your perfect face looked like. At first he was scared by his tattoo not being of words, thinking something was wrong, but now he was thankful. It meant he already knew a little of what you looked like. Nothing else mattered — he’d find out why he just had your eyes later. All that mattered was you.

The week before the meeting, Namjoon was so nervous he couldn’t sleep. He hung out with his friends a lot, who all teased him, saying that they were about to not see him for a while because he’d take his soulmate into his bedroom and never come back out. Namjoon rolled his eyes, but he knew they were right. He was so overwhelmingly in love with you, and he hadn’t even met you yet. Sometimes he imagined the first meeting and saw himself hugging you so tight and never letting go, carrying you off into the sunset bridal style.

The day before the meeting, Namjoon couldn’t even get himself to eat anything. He skipped his classes tomorrow and planned to do the same the next, and was thankful that it was almost Friday and he’d have his whole weekend dedicated to you.

He laid in his bed that night, his heart and mind both racing. He was so excited, every ten minutes or so he’d just flap his hands or thrash around and grin, his veins overflowing with the pure excitement and joy and nerves of knowing tomorrow was finally the day. He should be sleeping, knowing he should be his best when meeting you, but he didn’t care. He thought about how this time tomorrow, he’d be able to hold you, hear your perfect voice, touch your perfect skin, see those perfect eyes in person, in color. He was planning on kissing every inch of your body, letting you know right away that he was going to dedicate his life to loving and pleasing you.

His alarm went off at eight. He hadn’t slept, but he felt refreshed, excited, ready for you.

Namjoon took a shower, looking down at his wrist every few seconds. He was extra thorough getting ready today, wanting to be perfect for you. He tried to do his hair nicer than usual, but it didn’t look right no matter what he did, so he went back into the shower and rinsed off all the product he’d put in and started over.

He tried to dress nice for you, but didn’t want to overdo it. He ended up choosing his favorite red flannel shirt, rolling the sleeves up for the warm May weather, and his dark unripped jeans he wore most days. Keep it simple, he told himself.

By the time he was finished, it was almost nine thirty. He had an hour to go somewhere, anywhere, and he had no idea where.

Namjoon left his apartment, slowly walking down the street with nowhere in mind. He walked toward campus, wondering if you were a student too. On his way into town, he passed the flower shop he always walked past on his way to class. He took about ten steps past it, not paying it much mind, before he suddenly turned around, entered the little shop, bought a dozen roses, and then continued on his way. Always best to be prepared.

When ten o’clock came around, he was hit with an overwhelming urge to go to the campus library. He’d spent a lot of time there in his undergrad years, but hadn’t been there much since getting his own apartment and getting out of the dorms. He became worried for a moment, wondering if his soulmate was an undergrad — he didn’t want to be with someone significantly younger than him, like an eighteen year old. He tried to hold on to the fact that it was almost finals, so more people than the usual stressed freshmen were here, studying and cramming.

Namjoon stood in the lobby for a moment, turning around slowly, looking at the different doors leading outside, the large window in front of him, the first floor of the library behind him.

He stopped spinning, facing the expanding first floor. There were mostly just computer stations here, and Namjoon felt himself drawn to the grand staircase at the back of the room. He needed to go up. He had no idea what section, but he felt himself being pulled.

His hand on the stems of the flowers was squeezing too hard, his knuckles white, and he had to focus on relaxing his grip. He could barely hear anything besides his own heartbeat. He made it to the third floor before walking out of the stairway, out into a much less crowded part of the library. Namjoon glanced at a clock on the wall, his heart stopping when he saw it was 10:20.

He knew it had been almost but not quite 10:30 when his tattoo had appeared — he didn’t get the exact time, that day one year ago. But he knew it was so close; his hands were shaking, his breathing rugged. God, you’d probably think he was pathetic.

Namjoon walked slowly down one of the aisles of books, trying to distract himself and calm himself down. He was on the fiction floor, the aisle he was walking down full of older books not special enough for the rare books room. That was probably why nobody was here — English majors were pretty much the only ones who read fiction books, and his friend, an English major, said that their finals were just writing papers, so not much time spent in the library with books.

Namjoon stopped at a section dedicated to Jane Austin, the Brontë sisters, and other similar books. He’d read Pride and Prejudice a few years ago for a class, but none of the others. He wondered if his soulmate liked books like these. If you did, he’d read every single one of them, starting with your favorites.

Namjoon decided to leave that section, turning around the corner of the aisle and immediately running straight into a person.

“Oh, fuck,” he said, jumping back. “God, I’m so sorry—” Namjoon had been holding his flowers up, so they’d become crushed between him and this person, a few petals falling to the floor.

The person turned around, and Namjoon swore his heart stopped. He’d know those eyes anywhere. Namjoon’s breath caught in his throat, his expression softening, his lips parting as he looked at you in awe.

Your beautiful eyes he’d spent so long staring at were behind big, almost-round glasses, the rims thin and gold. You wore a little red sweater with a white collar sticking out. You were staring at him with wide eyes, the same look of recognition and love on your face that he knew he had to have too. You were perfect.

“God,” he said, dropping his hands to his sides, forgetting about the abused flowers he held. “You’re her… I found you.” Namjoon knew he must look dazed, looking at your eyes, your lips, your perfect face.

“My name is Namjoon,” he said, and as he waited for your response, he sighed dreamily, a dumb smile on his face, never wanting to take his eyes off of you ever again. He had no idea now why he’d been so nervous. He knew he’d love you immediately, that he’d loved you already, even before meeting you. Now you were here and everything was all right.

Your expression turned shy, then embarrassed. You bit your lip and looked down, wanting to hide your face. Namjoon felt a surge of emotion; protectiveness, love, adoration.

He watched as you pulled out a folded piece of paper from your little purse. You held it out to him, your eyes full of emotion, almost as if you were scared. Namjoon raised an eyebrow, taking the paper from you, ready to do whatever you asked but not wanting to stop looking at you.

Namjoon unfolded the letter in his hands, awkwardly trying to hold it and the flowers.

“Oh, here,” he said quickly, holding the flowers out to you. “I got these for you.” You took them, smiling shyly, your eyelashes fluttering and Namjoon’s chest feeling tight with emotion just at your cuteness.

Namjoon opened your letter, seeing your beautiful, careful handwriting.

To my soulmate,

I know that we’ll be meeting soon, and I’m so excited to meet you, my heart can barely stand it. I know you’ll be perfect. I feel joy when I think of you, but I also feel fear.

I want to give you this letter as soon as possible, but you’ll probably have already noticed me not speaking. My love, my soulmate, I wish for nothing more than to be perfect for you. Not to get too into disability activism now, but there is nothing inherently wrong or broken about the way that I am. Despite this, I’m still scared of your reaction to finding out your soulmate is mute. I can hear, but you will never be able to hear my voice. I can explain this more to you later.

I want to be able to give you everything, and I know that speaking and conversations are a huge part of a relationship, obviously. We can find other ways to communicate! I can teach you sign language, we can write, we can text, and more. I know that I have done nothing wrong, but I still want to apologize to you.

You’ll probably have questions about me, so I’ll answer some of them now so that it’ll be easier. My name is Y/N. I’m a grad student, I work in the library, and I want to work in the library forever. I am mute due to a condition that affects the way my brain communicates with my vocal cords. I can make some noises occasionally (not on purpose), and I can hear perfectly fine. I like plants and flowers and nature and being outside. I like art, cooking, and reading and writing. I wonder sometimes if you’re a bad boy (in a good way!) because your first words to me are “oh fuck.” Are you a bad boy, cursing at your soulmate?

I can’t wait to meet you. I think about you so much, wondering what you look like, how you’ll react to me, what we’ll be like together. I think I love you already. Is that weird?

Love, your soulmate

PS: You owe me, for making me have to walk around for a year with “fuck” on my wrist, you naughty boy. I work in a school setting!

Namjoon was a fast reader, so he went back through and read it again as soon as he finished it. His eyes welled up when he read your apologies and fears. How could you ever think he’d do anything but love you? He needed to dedicate every moment to showing his love to you from now on. And to learning sign language as fast as possible.

“Princess,” he said, looking up at you. He stepped forward slowly, motioning for a hug but stopping for a moment to gauge your reaction. When you looked up at him, not backing away or showing any sign of not wanting it, Namjoon took the final step forward and hugged you, bringing a hand up to stroke your hair.

“Never ever apologize to me,” he said softly, holding you so close. “Never, especially not for that. You’re so perfect, Y/N,” he said, tasting your name on his tongue for the first time, knowing that name would be said by him so many times in the future in just as many ways.

He felt you shudder a little at that and wondered if you’d started crying, knowing that seeing you upset would definitely make him cry too. But you looked up at him, your big eyes wide and hopeful.

“God, you’re perfect,” he said, bringing a hand up to your cheek. He didn’t realize what he was doing until he was doing it, but he moved in and kissed your forehead, then over your hairline, then your temple, anywhere he could reach, covering you in soft little kisses, holding you close. You giggled soundlessly, closing your eyes, and Namjoon touched the tip of his nose to yours playfully.

At that, you got shy and buried your face in his chest, giggling more as you covered your face with the hand not holding the flowers. Namjoon kept his arms around you loosely, his heart singing as he felt his soulmate against his chest. You were maybe six inches shorter than him, the perfect height, he thought, for easy-access kisses but also for you being able to hide in his chest like this.

Namjoon kissed the top of your head, stroking your hair again. He’d felt so protective of you before meeting you, but now, he felt like he’d kill or die for you already. He’d go through anything for you, dedicate his life to keeping you safe, physically and emotionally. He knew that it was old-fashioned and not necessarily in a good way, but you were his, and he now considered himself your protector. He’d read about soulmates being overwhelmed with feelings like this when meeting, but he’d never thought he’d feel like such a caveman, possessive and ready to fight anything or anyone who’d threaten you. You hiding against his chest made him feel like he mattered, like the entire purpose of his existence was to protect and worship you. The person he was before today didn’t matter; he was your soulmate, first and foremost.

You looked up at him, blinking a few times as you searched his eyes. You parted your lips slightly, and Namjoon had never seen anything so breathtaking in his life.

Mine, he thought, looking from your eyes to your lips and back up.

Namjoon brought one of his hands down and held your free hand.

“Sweetheart, squeeze my hand once for yes and twice for no, okay?” he said softly, leaning in again to touch the tip of his nose to yours again.

You squeezed his hand once, nodding.

“Can I kiss you, baby?” he asked, watching carefully for your exact initial reaction.

You smiled, looking down shyly as you nodded and squeezed his hand once. You looked back up at him through your eyelashes, and Namjoon thought he might die. How could something so perfect be his?

Namjoon slowly closed the distance between your mouths, pressing his lips to yours so gently, he almost couldn’t feel you at all. He heard your soft gasp, and could almost hear your voice in it. That noise made him see stars, and he pressed his lips to you more firmly, parting your lips with his own, taking you.

He felt you drop the flowers and grab onto him, and he smiled into the kiss. How could you be this adorable and precious? Namjoon felt and heard your little noises, your sighs, your almost-whimpers, and he moved his lips, parting yours even further, asking permission as he slowly ran his tongue along your lower lip.

You opened your mouth for him, and he felt you squeeze your fists where you held onto his collar, pulling just slightly. Namjoon slipped his tongue into your mouth, and you touched yours to it. He swore he could pick you up right now and carry you off to a church and marry you, or off to a bedroom to worship and ravage you for days. You’re so sweet, your mouth so soft, your little noises too good.

Namjoon moved one of his hands up to the back of your head, holding you in place as he tilted his head, his tongue diving deeper, swirling around your mouth. He took a step forward, and then another, and then your back was against a bookcase and Namjoon’s body was pressing into you.

“Fuck, baby,” he said against your mouth, and you sighed, looking dazed.

Namjoon was already harder than he’d ever been in his life, but he didn’t want your first time together to be like this. He wanted to make it so special for you and to take his time, worshipping every inch of you. He moved his hands along your back and then up to your arms, feeling your skin, pressing his body against yours more.

“Do you wanna go home?” he asked, trying to make his voice gentle, but it’s deep and gravely and rough. He watched as your eyes widened at that, your lips parting again, and you nodded eagerly.

“Your house or mine?” he asked, taking both of your little hands with his, swinging them gently.

You pulled your hands away for a moment, and Namjoon already missed you, but he watched as you reached into your bag and pulled out a small notepad and pen. You flipped it open and showed him the first page, where you’d already written something.

I brought this in case you don’t know sign language, since you most likely don’t.

Namjoon knew he had no way of knowing before today, but he wished that he’d magically known so that he could’ve had the whole year to learn sign language and practice.

You flipped to the second page and wrote something down, and then showed it to him.

We can go to whoever’s house is closer. I live near the Bowman dorms.

“Your place is closer, then, I think,” Namjoon said. “I live up past 5th Street.”

You nodded. You bent down quickly, picking up the dropped flowers, and then smiled at him, holding out your free hand to him. He took it immediately, not taking his eyes off yours, feeling his love and adoration for you radiating off of him and hoping you felt it too.

Before leaving the library, you stopped at the front desk and signed something to one of the other library employees.

“Oh, you found him?” the girl said excitedly, standing up and looking at Namjoon.

You nodded, turning to Namjoon and burying your face in his chest, hiding yourself in shyness. Namjoon beamed, immediately wrapping his arm around you. He loved being shown off like this, he loved you being excited and proud of having him as your soulmate and lover, and he still adored how you turned to him and hid in his chest when you felt shy. He could get so used to this, to loving you.

The other library employee yelled for another coworker, who ran out of the back room. The two of them gushed over Namjoon, and you signed some things to them, looking up at Namjoon and smiling, your eyes sparkling. Namjoon wished so badly to know what you were signing, but promised himself that he would learn as fast as he could.

You finished communicating with them, and led Namjoon outside and down the street. He kept watching you turn and smile at him, your eyes so bright. How could anything be so perfect? Namjoon wondered again, feeling your small hand playing with his fingers.

Your apartment was close to the library. You let yourself and Namjoon inside, stepping in and taking off your shoes and motioning for him to do the same as you set the flowers down on a table by the door. As soon as his shoes were off, you stepped forward, grabbing his face with both hands and kissing him again.

Namjoon laughed against your lips, complying with your wants, willing to do anything for you already. He wrapped his arms around you and took the lead in the kiss, slowing you down and setting a teasing pace. You pulled his hair, whimpering, and Namjoon wondered what other noises you were capable of.

He slipped his tongue into your mouth again, this time going for depth, and you opened for him and melted in his arms. Namjoon tilted his head, trying to go even deeper, and brought one hand up to hold the back of your head and knot in your hair. You seemed to really like that, pulling on his hair again and sucking on his tongue, and Namjoon growled into your mouth in response.

Reaching down to your legs, he picked you up and you jumped, wrapping your legs around him instinctively. He put both hands on your ass, feeling you and securing you, and letting you take over the kiss. You stopped for a moment, gasping for air, before turning and covering his cheek and jaw in light kisses over and over.

“Baby…” Namjoon moaned, his eyes closing, focusing on breathing and staying in control of himself.

He heard your soft giggle, and he opened his eyes and tried to look at you, but you hid your face in against his neck.

“I’m gonna get you to stop being so shy around me,” he said gently, teasingly, smiling at your little expression when you pulled back to look at him. “I do love it, though. You’re so cute.”

You crinkled your nose at him, and he did the same back to you, teasing you.

Just to surprise you, he let go of your ass for just a moment with one hand, bringing it back with a soft smack and then squeezing. You gasped, your hold on him tightening, and he watched as your eyes lit up and you looked up at him with wide, almost scandalized eyes.

Namjoon smiled, biting his lip as he looked from your surprised eyes to your parted lips.

“Baby, I want to have a talk before we go any further,” he said, walking carefully over to your couch and sitting down, still holding you and keeping your legs wrapped around him.

You looked at him carefully, tilting your head, questioning.

“You still have your notepad in your purse?” he asked, motioning where the little crossbody thing still hung across you. You pulled it out, along with the pen attached to the spiral, and looked at him, waiting.

“I want you to tell me what you like, baby,” Namjoon said, bringing a hand up to brush your hair back from your face. “I want to know what things you like, and what you don’t like, so I don’t cross any lines. I want to make communication as easy as possible for you. Okay, princess?”

You looked at him carefully, a small smile coming over your face as you processed what he was saying. Namjoon knew that once you two started, he was going to have to pay extra close attention to your facial expressions and reactions, because it would be that much harder for you to tell him to stop if he did something you didn’t like. He wanted to spoil you and treat you like his little princess, but he wanted to know now if there was anything he should never do.

You thought for a moment, and then started writing on your notepad. He tried to read what you were writing, but you pulled it back, hiding it from him and smirking. In response, Namjoon tickled your sides a little, making you gasp and giggle and squirm.

After a moment, you turned the notepad around and held it up for him.

Joon,

Can I call you that? I guess you can’t stop me. Ha!

I already love you so much. Gosh.

Okay, so I guess I don’t really know what I like. I haven’t really done this stuff before. I think I like when you call me pet names, like princess, sweetheart, baby. I like you being sweet to me. I also liked when you spanked me earlier. Is that bad? ;)

Namjoon smiled as he read, his heart swelling at your sweetness.

“I’ll be your first, huh, sweetheart?” he said, fake cocky, and you actually blushed, hiding your face behind your notepad. When you looked at him again, he winked at you, and you hid your face again, your body moving as you laughed.

You quickly wrote something else down, and showed it to him again.

I like you teasing me.

“Yeah?” Namjoon said, smirking. “I like teasing you, baby.” He followed that with a small but sharp pinch on your ass, and you gasped and jumped before realizing what he’d done.

You smacked his chest playfully as he laughed, and he leaned in and gave you a kiss, slowly, which you immediately melted into, dropping your pen and notepad and putting both hands on his chest.

Namjoon surprised you again, this time by biting down on your lower lip, and you whimpered for him, a quiet noise Namjoon already knew he was going to become addicted to getting out of you.

You leaned back and signed something to him, holding out one hand and tapping the fingers of your other hand on that palm. Namjoon’s heart sank, again wishing he could automatically understand you fully.

You repeated the motion, making him carefully watch what you were doing.

You picked up your notepad, and wrote a single word.

Again.

Namjoon swallowed hard, nodding. He brought his hands up and did the motion, and you smiled and leaned in, giving him a quick, sweet kiss. He grinned, knowing he’d learned his first word.

Namjoon listened to you — he leaned in and kissed you again, slowly, and bit your bottom lip, a little harder this time, giving you what you asked and pulling on it, smiling and watching your reaction. Your eyes lit up in delight as he still held your lip, and you let out a small whimper when he ran his tongue along it between his teeth.

He let go of your lip, and you sighed, your breath catching in your throat.

Namjoon stroked your hair again, looking at your eyes and wondering how he’d gotten so lucky. You were so expressive, so curious, so honest in your needs. He felt like you told him more with just your eyes in a moment than most people could communicate in an entire novel. He knew it would take time to adjust to never being able to hear your voice or talk to you in a literal sense, but he knew the two of you would make it work easily. There were so many other ways to communicate, and he was sure you knew of even more ways that he wasn’t even thinking of. Plus, he figured, it would be so much easier for you once he knew sign language.

“Teach me another one, baby,” he said, taking both of your hands and kissing each palm.

Namjoon watched as you took one of your hands and touched your throat, slowly moving the tip of your fingers down to the base of your neck. You repeated it, not breaking eye contact with him, and Namjoon swallowed hard.

You reached for your notepad, and Namjoon picked it up for you, handing it to you carefully and watching as you wrote.

I want you.

You did another sign, spreading out your fingers, your hand up and palm facing your mouth, moving your hand slowly in a small circle in front of your face. Namjoon’s hands rested on your thighs, your legs still wrapped around him, and he wondered if you could feel how hard he was.

You wrote down this new sign quickly, holding it up for him to see.

Make out with me.

Namjoon smiled, not needing to be told twice.

He kissed you slow, tasting your honey lips, waiting until you were holding onto his shirt collar with both hands and whimpering and trying to move in his lap before he dove in deeper. You tasted so good, your lips so soft, now a little red and swollen from his kisses. Namjoon was lost in you, felt your little sighs in his mouth, moved however you wanted him to.

You parted for air, gasping against each other’s lips, and Namjoon thought of something then.

Fingers wrapping around your small hand, he brought your wrist up to look at your soulmate mark. It should fade in the next few days, so he wanted to see it before it left. He knew you were watching him, and he gently moved you to look at your wrist at a better angle. Just as you’d written to him, your wrist said ‘Oh, fuck.’

“I’m sorry, baby,” he said, smiling at you sheepishly. “I should watch my mouth, huh?”

You smiled, waving your free hand in a “no, it’s okay” gesture. As if to illustrate that you were okay with cursing, you flipped him off, and Namjoon fake-gasped in mock offense.

Reaching for him, you took his wrist, wanting to see what his mark was. He showed you, holding it up for you to look back at your own eyes.

“I had never heard of it not being words before,” Namjoon said, watching as you studied the mark, running your fingertips over it. You looked at him, shrugging and making a face. “I thought you might speak another language, but I read that the tattoo just appears in whatever language your soulmate speaks. I was so confused. I was kind of worried you were going to be dead or something,” Namjoon confessed, half-joking, and you looked at him, your expression unreadable.

You picked up your little notepad again, writing something down slowly. Namjoon sensed the shift in mood, and waited patiently for you to write. Fuck, why had he said that?

I was scared you were going to curse at me. That you’d say ‘oh fuck’ because you were angry or upset that I can’t speak. I didn’t know what tone you were saying it with.

Namjoon blinked as he read and reread what you wrote, trying to process it.

“No, baby, never,” he said, bringing both his hands up to yours. “Never, never, never,” he said, taking the notepad from you and setting it beside him, now holding both your hands. “You’re so perfect, baby. How could you not be perfect? You’re my soulmate.”

Namjoon watched as your eyes started to well up, and you dropped his hands and picked up your notepad again. Namjoon noted that from now on he would leave you completely in charge of when to put the notepad down, because right now that was your main form of communication.

You wrote again, this time even longer. Namjoon’s heart ached, looking at your pained expression, watching you sniffle once as you wrote. How had he messed everything up already? He knew you were sensitive about his reaction to you not being able to speak — why the hell did he make a joke about it? Especially about you being dead. Jesus Christ, Namjoon was certain he was the stupidest person alive.

You held up the notepad for him to read, and he swallowed hard.

I know my worth and I know that nothing is wrong with me as a person. I am a different kind of person than what is considered “normal,” and the world is not made for me. I am still afraid, though, because of how I have been treated in the past. My biggest fear was that you would be the same, like them, even though we’re soulmates. It was all I could think about at first when I found out I had a soulmate. I need to learn how to trust that you love me and won’t treat me like that.

Namjoon looked at you, his lips parting when he saw a tear escape your eye. He brought both of his hands up gently, moving around where you still clutched your notepad, and cupped your face with both hands. He wiped your tear away with his thumb, and watched how you pressed your cheek into his palm, closing your eyes as you felt the warmth of him caressing you. He moved his thumb on your cheek gently again, stroking your skin, and he hummed to you, making a small noise in his sad attempt to comfort you, wanting to rip out his heart and give it to you.

��Angel,” he said gently, and you didn’t open your eyes, still feeling his hand hold your face. You let go of your notepad with one hand, bringing your hand up to rest over his on your cheek. Another tear escaped from your closed eyes, and Namjoon caught it, stroking his thumb across your cheek still. His heart ached when he felt you hold in a small sob, your expression looking pained, your eyes squeezed closed tight now as your lips quivered.

“Y/N,” Namjoon said softly. He prayed his voice wouldn’t crack, because seeing you like this made his throat tight, his eyes welling up, his muscles tense. “I could never be mad at you for anything. Let alone something like that. You say you know your worth, and I do too. You’re perfect, and I’m going to spend every day of the rest of my life reminding you of how perfect you are.”

You opened your eyes, looking at him carefully. You were hesitant, and Namjoon understood why, though he knew he couldn’t comprehend what it must’ve felt like to experience whatever made you feel this awful in the past. He felt a surge of protectiveness, possessiveness, something overwhelm him, and he was about to tell you something stupid — like that he would die for you or lead an army for you or kill who ever made you feel like this in your past — when you turned your head and kissed his palm gently, effectively melting every thought in his head.

“I’m sorry,” he said, watching you. You gave him a questioning look, and he continued. “I shouldn’t’ve made that joke about you. It was stupid and insensitive and not funny. I was wrong and I hurt you, and I reminded you of bad feelings. I’m sorry, baby.”

Your eyes welled up again, and Namjoon wondered if he could be any more stupid. All he was doing was hurting your feelings and making you cry, even with his stupid attempt at an apology.

You looked up and must’ve seen the emotions on his face, because you quickly turned the page in your notepad and started writing, glancing up at him with a small reassuring smile, even as you sniffled and wiped away a tear threatening to escape.

You held the notepad out to him, and he read.

I’m crying (now) because I love you and you’re so sweet, you doofus.

He looked up at you, and you made the “I love you” sign with your hand, the one singular piece of sign language he and everybody else definitely knew.

“I love you, too, princess,” he said softly, mirroring your sign back to you as well.

You put the notepad down and brought your hands up to his face, and he watched as you just looked at him, your eyes curious and learning, ignoring the tear still on your cheek. You touched his lips with your fingers, running your fingertips over him, and Namjoon relaxed under your touch. He focused on breathing and calming down, not wanting to cry right now with you watching him so closely.

He leaned back against the couch with a small smile, watching you explore his face. You ran two fingertips down his nose, over the lines of his face, around his jaw, over the swells of his cheeks, again and again over the curve of his lips. He closed his eyes for you as you oh-so-gently touched his eyelids, so light he could barely feel you, touching his eyelashes, the puffiness of his eyes, his monolids, his eyebrows.

Your fingers moved to his dimples. Namjoon felt you giggle a little, which made him smile, and he knew you could play with his dimples even more now that he was grinning. You poked your finger in his left dimple, the one he knew was much deeper and more prominent, and then ran your fingers over his lips again. You touched his lips again for just a moment, and then took your hands off of him, giving him a thumbs up and smiling, signaling to him that you were all done, making Namjoon laugh.

“You’re so cute, baby,” he said, and he almost didn’t recognize himself, his voice so much deeper than usual, like how he sounded in early mornings. Your eyes lit up, and you arched your back slightly, as if you were presenting your chest to him and grinding down on him through your clothes. Namjoon groaned, feeling your warmth and pressure against his erection, and he dug his fingers into your thighs where he held you.

You signed to him again, this time raising your hand and moving it near your chest, palm facing your body, moving your hand in a circular motion in front of your breasts.

“Touch you here?” Namjoon guessed, his lips parting as he glanced down to you, a dazed look on his face at just the idea of getting to touch you.

You giggled, grabbing your notepad again.

That’s the sign for “please.” But you can touch me there all you want, handsome.

Namjoon snorted when he read your words. He copied your motion, practicing so he could commit it to memory. That was definitely a word he wanted you to sign to him often.

“Can I take your sweater off, princess?” he asked, watching your face. You nodded, smiling, your perfect eyes lighting up again, and Namjoon took that for an enthusiastic yes.

Starting at your hips, Namjoon slowly ran his hands up, feeling the curves of your body on each side as he spread his hands wide, trying to touch as much skin as possible. He dragged your sweater higher, exposing stomach, then abdomen, then your little lacy bra. You lifted your arms for him and he threw your sweater off to the side.

“Jesus, Y/N. Did you wear this for me?” Namjoon said, his hands coming back to your breasts and feeling you with both hands over the thin fabric.

You sighed, your head tilting back as you closed your eyes and felt him massaging slowly. Namjoon watched you nod, and he set his jaw and groaned, imagining you picking out your bra and panties this morning, thinking about meeting your soulmate.

The lacy little bra you wore left nothing to the imagination, your hardening nipples poking through already, and Namjoon could see their color and shape through the thin, sheer lace. Without another thought, almost out of instinct, Namjoon leaned in, pressing a sloppy open-mouthed kiss in the valley between your breasts, wrapping his arms around you tight to hold you in place. Your hands came to the back of his head, running your fingers through his hair, and he licked a wide line up your sternum, his eyes closed, tasting your skin, before stopping at your collarbone and sucking, kissing, claiming your skin as his.

You whimpered and signed “please” for him again.

“Yes, baby,” he moaned, his dazed eyes barely even seeing anymore, and he pressed another kiss to you in the same place, this time leaving a trail of kisses up the center of your chest and then down to one of your breasts. He opened his mouth, taking your nipple between his lips through the lacy little bra, sucking on it as he brought a hand up to palm your other breast. Your hands knotted in his hair as you gasped, pulling his hair harder whenever he sucked or used teeth. He pinched your nipple between his fingers and you made a small noise almost like a moan, and he glanced up at you, seeing your lips parted and eyes closed.

“Do you like it, baby?” he asked, squeezing your breast firmly, feeling your nipple press into his palm. “Do you like it when I touch you like this?”

You nodded eagerly, opening your eyes and looking at Namjoon with so much need. You quickly signed “please” and “I want you” to him again, so fast he almost didn’t recognize them, and then you added a third sign. You held out one hand, palm down, and touched the middle finger of your other hand to it. You then pointed at yourself. You repeated the motion, your face desperate, wanting him to understand so badly, and this time followed it with pointing at your chest, then your stomach, then lower.

“What’s this one, angel?” he asked, repeating the sign, practicing the motion.

You sighed, picking up the notepad yet again where it sat beside you on the couch.

Touch me.

You put the notepad down the second he read it, and repeated the sign again, quickly, and then pointed at your chest, then between your legs where you pressed against his erection between both your clothes. You did the sign one more time, this time pouting and letting out a small whiney noise that Namjoon hadn’t known you were capable of.

“My needy little girl,” he said, smirking as he watched you.

You rolled your eyes at him, still smiling.

Namjoon surprised you then, suddenly standing up, holding onto you tightly with both hands. He felt you squeeze him with your legs, holding onto him too.

“Which way’s your bedroom?” he asked, and he watched as you pointed down the small hallway. He walked carefully, holding your body to his, and you tucked your head in against his neck, holding onto his shoulders and peppering his neck with little kisses and squeezing him tighter with your legs wrapped around him. You giggled when he almost tripped over a pile of books, and despite his heart skipping a beat and his hurt toe, he laughed too, holding onto you even tighter now.

Your bedroom was like you. Soft colors, beautiful, peaceful. The walls were light pink, covered in art and shelves. The room had a few plants, a few candles, a few lamps. Your bed was made, your room neat. He wondered if you’d cleaned for him, expecting him to come home with you. He’d definitely done the same to his place.

Namjoon laid you down on your bed, carefully placing your head on your pillow. The sheets were soft and he watched your body sink down into the comforter, and he climbed on top of you, careful to keep his weight mostly off of you.

“Baby, this is important,” he said to you then, catching your attention. “If you want me to stop at any time…” He thought for a moment, trying to come up with something you could do that you wouldn’t ever do normally during sex.

You reached up and very lightly tapped the side of his head three times, smiling up at him.

“Hit the side of my head three times?” he said, smiling when you nodded and did it again.

You wrapped your legs around him, pulling you to him, and he greeted you with a kiss, slipping his tongue into your mouth again, remembering what he’d done last time that made you pull his hair and whimper. He stroked your hair with the hand that he wasn’t propping himself up with, the gesture apparently too tame and loving for what you had in mind.

You pulled his hair, making him look up at you, and repeated the “please” and “touch me” signs to him.

“Okay, okay,” he laughed.

Namjoon moved down your body, taking his time with you. You may want him right now, but he was going to try to get you to teach him the signs for begging. He kissed down your stomach, all over your hipbones, across your ribcage. His kisses were open-mouthed, his tongue tracing your skin.

“You taste so good, baby,” he moaned into the skin just below your bellybutton. “I bet your pussy tastes even better.”

He felt you gasp when he said that, and he smirked, looking up at you. He knew you’d said you were inexperienced, but the look on your face right now killed him, looking equally scared, excited, and turned on.

The two of you made a brief eye contact, and Namjoon, feeling bold, winked at you. You whimpered and let your head fall back on the pillow, letting out a long sigh and spreading your legs for him further.

Namjoon sat back on his legs, pulling your pants slowly down your legs, revealing more of your skin to him. You helped him, lifting your hips and then moving your legs with his hands.

You now laid almost bare before him, your legs spread, showing him your matching little lace panties, your perfect thighs, and your center, which Namjoon’s eyes zeroed in on. He swore he could see your slick wetness soaking through your panties, and wondered just how worked up you were.

You reached out for him, whimpering, and he came back to you without a word. He kissed you deeply, your tongues swirling together, his hand moving up to your hair, his legs spreading to part your thighs further. He was still fully dressed while you were down to just your bra and panties, and you seemed to realize this at the same time he did, reaching for the buttons of his shirt.

He moved back from you enough to get his shirt off, sloppily unbuttoning it and tossing it to the side, and when you tried to pull him back, he instead moved back down your body, kissing your skin again, this time moving slowly down, further and further until he reached the edge of your panties.

You parted your legs, sighing, and Namjoon pressed a kiss where he could see your wetness soaking through. He opened his mouth, sucking on and licking at that spot until your legs parted even further and your fingers came down to knot in his hair.

Namjoon felt cocky. He slipped his tongue around the side of your panties, pulling it out enough to bite it. He brought his hands to your ass, lifting your hips just enough to start sliding your panties down using just where his mouth was latched on, though he used his hands some to help them off of your ass.

You looked down at him with wide eyes, watching him as he moved down your thighs, dragging your panties down too, and he looked up at you and made unbroken eye contact. The wet part of your panties was still in his mouth, and he could taste your sweet wetness and knew he could drown in you if you’d let him.

He sat back on his legs just long enough to drop your panties from his mouth and tuck them in his back pocket. You were watching him closely, your eyes widening when you saw him do that move.

Namjoon moved back between your legs, kissing up your perfect thighs, squeezing them with his hands, feeling them, massaging them, pressing his face into them. He’d always loved big thighs, and yours were exactly what he’d always fantasized about. He wondered if he liked big thighs all along just because that’s what you had.

“Fuck, baby, you’re perfect,” he moaned, rubbing his cheek against your inner thigh, nearly animalistic, just barely holding himself back in his desire to just bury his face between your legs. He turned his head and bit down on your thigh, making you honest to god squeak.

Namjoon turned his attention to your core, where you were spread open and dripping for him. His mouth watered as he looked at you, your clit shining from your wetness coating it. He looked up at you and saw you watching him. Your hands were gripping the sheets on either side of you, your lips parted as you watched him with hooded eyes. Leaning in, Namjoon blew cool air on your center lightly, watching your reaction closely and smiling as you whimpered and writhed and threw your head back. He moved his hands up to hold your thighs apart, pressing your legs down into the mattress.

“Look at me,” he said, sounding more commanding than he’d meant, but you looked up at him immediately, your eyes needy and wanting. “You want me to eat your pussy, princess?” he asked you. He didn’t let you even react before continuing. “I wanna fuck you with my tongue, pretty girl. I bet you taste so good, like honey and candy. Can I taste you, baby?”

You nodded eagerly, and let out a loud gasp when Namjoon just immediately buried his face in your pussy, nuzzling in hard, his mouth open, his tongue diving into you and flicking in and out of your entrance as he sucked up as much wetness as he could.

You were everything Namjoon had ever wanted, and so much more. Your pussy was like warm, wet silk, and he moaned that to you, his mouth still against you so his words were muffled. He moved his lips around, licking and sucking your folds, your entrance, your clitoris. He took your clit into his mouth and sucked as hard as he could, his cheeks hollowing, while flicking it with his tongue. You grabbed his hair with both hands, arching your back dramatically and letting out the loudest noise he’d heard out of you so far, an honest to god moan that made Namjoon want to flip you over and take you as hard as he could.

Namjoon ate you ferociously. He’d never felt so overwhelmed by lust, and he poured his desire into the work he did with his tongue and lips, even moving his head around just to give you that extra stimuli, rubbing the tip of his nose against your clitoris whenever his tongue was fucking your entrance. He drank you like a starving animal, sucking up every last drop, moving his tongue in and out of you as he glanced up to watch your head falling back. You pulled his hair hard, which felt incredible, reminding him of how painful his erection was in his jeans.

Your first orgasm hit you suddenly. You arched your back and stopped breathing, your whole body freezing as you climaxed on his tongue. Namjoon kept his same pace, bringing a hand over from your thigh to rest on your lower stomach, his thumb coming down to rub your clit hard and fast.

He hadn’t known it before, but apparently you were capable of screaming. Your leg that wasn’t being held down moved, your whole body twitching in overstimulation, and Namjoon growled against you and brought his hand that wasn’t on your stomach to the side of your thigh, spanking you once, feeling your skin jiggle and feeling the vibration in his mouth.

“Another. One more for me. Come on, baby, I know you can,” he said against your clit, and he looked up at you and saw tears streaming down your face.

He pulled back then, worried he was pushing you too far, too fast.

“Sweetheart, are you okay?” he asked, his grip on you loosening as he watched your face carefully.

You looked up at him, your eyes dazed, and he’d never seen anything more perfect. You were breathing hard, which made your breasts rise and fall rapidly, and Namjoon cursed himself for not having taken off your bra earlier.

You signed to him the first word you taught him, your hands shaking. Again.

Namjoon smirked. He pressed his face back into your slick heat, this time bringing a hand up to slide two fingers into you. You let out a breathy sigh, and Namjoon moaned, your clit between his lips, as he felt your pussy clench around his fingers.

“Fuck, baby, how are you this tight?” he asked, moving his fingers slowly, curling into you. “Keep squeezing my fingers like this and I might lose it.”

He hadn’t meant it as a threat or challenge, but you looked down at him, your eyes lighting up. He felt you squeeze his fingers as hard as you could, purposefully, and Namjoon’s eyes rolled back in his head as he moaned, his cock now throbbing painfully in his jeans as he involuntarily moved his hips forward against your bed, desperate for friction.

“You want me to lose it, huh?” he said, and he watched you smile down at him, a fake-innocent look on your perfect little face. “You’re gonna kill me, princess.”

Namjoon refocused, moving his fingers inside you and bringing your clit back to his mouth. He held you down by your stomach with his free hand, his arm laying across you like a safety bar, and you held onto his arm with one hand, the other back in his hair.

When Namjoon added a third finger, he felt you clench around him again, this time your pussy fluttering as you neared the edge of your second orgasm.

“Don’t cum until I say you can,” he said suddenly, surprising even himself.

You looked down at him, your eyes wide. He could tell you were surprised by that, and Namjoon winked at you again, not taking his mouth off of your folds.

“Tap my arm when you’re close,” he growled around your clit before sucking it back into his mouth.

You started tapping his arm immediately, which made him smirk against your pussy. He pushed you a little further, curling three fingers into you as deep as he could while flicking his tongue around your perfect swollen clit, before he finally let you have your way, knowing too much more of this would be cruel, especially since this was your first time with someone doing this to you.

“Cum for me, baby,” he said, his voice muffled, not taking his lips off your clit, and you immediately fell apart. Namjoon moved his mouth to catch your wetness, drinking up every last bit of you, trying to get his tongue inside you along with his fingers.

Namjoon drank as if your pussy was the last thing he’d have before trekking through the desert, moaning into you in raw pleasure. Removing his hand, he focused on you with his mouth again, pressing his face in hard and licking and sucking until your legs twitched and you pulled on his hair.

With an obscene wet noise, almost the same sound as someone innocently blowing a kiss, he gave one last parting kiss to your clit before climbing back up to you. He was almost sad to leave it, but he knew he was going to love whatever you wanted him to do next. Namjoon’s mouth and chin were covered in your wetness, nearly dripping from it, and when he came back up to face you, he watched your expression as you looked at how soaked his face was. He saw shame play out in your eyes, which quickly changed to arousal and amusement.

You held his face with both hands and pulled him in for what he thought was a kiss, instead licking at his lips and around his mouth. Namjoon had never in his life imagined a woman licking her own wetness off of his face, but here you were, his soulmate, making his eyes flutter closed as he almost moaned just from you doing this.

“See how good you taste?” he said, his voice deep. He opened his eyes and saw you looking up at him through your eyelashes, looking like you felt shy. “What?” he teased, moving in and touching the tip of his nose to yours.

You giggled and tried to hide your face behind your hands, but Namjoon caught you by your wrists and held them both above your head.

“You’re so cute, baby,” he said, his lips just barely skimming yours. “I could eat you up.”

You smiled at that, clearly interested in his offer. You wiggled a little under his grasp, grinding up against his body, reminding him of his erection that he’d been neglecting.

“Do you want my cock, baby?” he asked, again surprising himself with how direct and dirty he was being with you.

You nodded eagerly, though, and Namjoon swore he could marry you right then.

“Where do you want it?” he asked you, letting go of just one of your hands. “Your mouth, your pussy, your hands? Where, angel?”

You used your now freed hand and took his hand, moving it down your body. You stopped when his hand was resting on your lower stomach.

“You want me inside you, princess?” he asked, and you nodded, biting your lip. He leaned in and gave you a sweet, chaste kiss. Parting from you, he said against your lips, “I wanna be inside you too, baby.”

Namjoon stood then, finally taking off his jeans. His hands fumbled with his belt and zipper, his excitement almost making his hands shake. You watched him closely, propping yourself up on your elbows, and Namjoon reminded himself that he absolutely needed to get that pretty little bra off of you immediately.

He brought his jeans and briefs down together, his hard cock bouncing free and hitting his stomach. He looked at you, your wide eyes glued to his erection. He almost want to blush and hide away under your intense stare, but the way your eyes looked up and down his length, how you licked your lips, the way you spread your legs further, just slightly, made him feel incredible. He’d started working out in the past year, wanting to be perfect for his soulmate whenever he found you, and it was all worth it, seeing you looking at his body now.

You pointed at his chest, then your own.

“You want me on top of you?” he asked, starting to move toward you.

You waved your hand, indicating he’d guessed wrong at what you were trying to say. You smiled and reached out for him with both hands, and he stepped forward, crawling back onto you and holding himself up.

You took both of your hands and touched his chest, feeling him. He knew he’d worked out a lot with chest exercises, but he’d never anticipated this reaction from you. You tapped his chest a few times, looking at his face expectantly.

“You like my chest?” he guessed.

You nodded eagerly, and then did a muscleman pose with your arms, then pointing at him again, grinning and giggling.

Namjoon snorted. “You think I’m strong and muscular?” he teased, and you rolled your eyes, smiling still. “You think I’m sexy?” he asked you, tracing the tip of his nose along your jaw. Your breath caught in your throat in a small gasp with that, and you ran your hands up his upper arms, feeling his taut skin, squeezing his muscles at his biceps.

“What do you want, princess?” he asked you, letting you feel his arms, chest, whatever you wanted. Your small hands were slightly cold compared to the heat radiating off of him, and he shivered as you ran your hands over him.

You looked up at him, blinking your innocent doe eyes, tilting your head a little as you thought. You then did a gesture with your forefinger of one hand and fist with the other that made Namjoon snort. He hadn’t known that one was officially sign language — maybe it wasn’t — but you were signaling to him very clearly and graphically that you wanted his cock inside you.

Namjoon listened to you, ready to give you anything and everything. He stopped only to reach behind you and unhook your bra, carefully helping you out of the thin material and watching as your perfect breasts came into his view. Your skin had lace patterns pressed into it, and he just couldn’t help himself. Namjoon ducked his head, tracing his tongue along the patterns, feeling the grooves and ridges and swirling his tongue around your nipple where a lace pattern was indented into your skin.

You pulled on his hair, bringing him back up to you. Your beautiful expressive eyes conveyed your need to him, how badly you wanted him, and he could never keep you waiting.

“I’m your first, right, angel?” he asked you, double-checking what you’d said earlier, and you looked away from him, frowning and pouting in embarrassment. “No, no, it’s okay, baby,” he quickly added, bringing a hand to your cheek to bring you back to him. “I was just checking, so that I know to be extra careful at first. I don’t want to hurt you, yeah?”

You looked back up at him, your expression unreadable before it shifted and you smiled and nodded. You pointed at him and then held up one finger, telling him yes, he’s your first.

Namjoon nodded, quickly pushing aside all of his caveman ‘taking her virginity’ instincts and instead leaning in to give you a gentle kiss, which you reciprocated eagerly.

“We’ll go slow at first, okay, baby? And if you wanna stop, remember, tap my head three times,” he said against your lips, and you nodded. He didn’t know why he was so into these pet names, calling you his baby and princess, but he wasn’t questioning it. It felt right.

Namjoon reached down, stroking himself a few times before rubbing the head of his cock from your entrance, up to your clit, circling until you whimpered, and back down. He spread his precum around your slit, where you were still soaked for him, a small act of possessiveness, claiming you as his.

“Wrap your legs around me,” he said, and you listened, doing exactly as you were told, making Namjoon’s stupid caveman instincts swell again for just a split second. God, he wanted to just take you. He’d always liked being just a little rough in bed, but he really needed to be gentle at first, before he figured out what you liked. He would match whatever you wanted him to be for the rest of his life.

Namjoon lined himself up with your entrance, and he already knew it was going to be tight. Looking down between your bodies, Namjoon sighed, biting back a long moan at just the sight of his cock teasing your slit, your legs spread for him, your body laid bare for him and him alone.

You reached up and took his face with both hands. You made a small noise, one that Namjoon responded to with a low hum, and then he moved his hips, gently moving into you, only a little at first. You gasped, one of your hands falling to his shoulder, gripping tightly and holding on for your life.

“Fuck, baby…” Namjoon moaned, already feeling you squeeze him and pull him further into you.

Your lips parted, whiney gasps falling out of you, and Namjoon watched you in awe. He cupped your face with his hand, holding you gently, wondering how he ever could’ve been nervous for meeting you when he should’ve known you’d be this perfect. He rocked his hips further, being so gentle with your despite all the foreplay. You hummed softly, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, and Namjoon leaned in, covering your neck in kisses, sucking on your skin with his lips, marking you as his, his, his.

You were his everything. He’d known you for maybe two hours now, but the connection he felt with his soulmate overshadowed every other aspect of his life and mind. Looking at your perfect face, the way your eyes searched his, how your hair splayed out around the pillow like a halo, the way he felt inside you, he knew you would be the only thing in this world he’d ever love this much. He suddenly fully understood the scale and weight of all those songs and movies about soulmates, and thought they were not at all doing justice to the way he felt right now.

Your pussy clenched down on him again and he groaned, instinctively bucking his hips forward in one fluid motion, bottoming out and smacking his pubic bone to your hips and then freezing in place. You gasped, your mouth hanging open, and Namjoon cursed himself — he’d wanted to take it slow. He held your body close to him, feeling your pussy fluttering and adjusting to his size, your breasts pressed against his chest, your legs wrapped around him, the entirety of your small form under him and his body pressing down into you. This feeling was what he was made for, why he had a soulmate.

“You feel incredible, baby, so fucking good,” he moaned, biting his lip, wanting so badly to move his hips but knowing you needed him to wait. He could feel you throbbing, your wet pussy stretching to take him, and he thought he might die from how perfect you felt. Your fingernails dug into his shoulders as he buried his face in against your neck, but you tapped his shoulder twice, wanting him to look at you.

You signed something to him, what he thought looked like letters.

“I’m so sorry, princess, I don’t even know the alphabet,” he said, breathless, stroking your hair back from your face. He was vaguely aware that he was sweating and breathing hard, eyes glazed over, and he wondered what you thought of him like this, already so lost in his pleasure.

You rolled your eyes, flashing him a smile to make sure he knew you weren’t actually mad. Reaching up, you pressed your fingertip to his chest, and started slowly spelling the short word you’d tried to sign to him.

“Big?” Namjoon asked, paying close attention to what you drew on his skin with your finger.

You nodded, smiling like the cat who ate the canary, and Namjoon laughed.

“You think I’m big?” he asked, and before you could answer, he bucked his hips once, quickly sliding almost completely out before slamming back in fully, making your whole body move with the force of it.

You gasped, Namjoon’s favorite noise, and then you gave him a look — your eyes almost watered, your lip pouting, your expression innocent and fake-hurt. He rolled his hips slowly, smiling as the pout on your lips melted into an explicit o-shape before you bit your lip.

“You take me so well, baby,” he said, watching your face closely as he rolled his hips again, this time even slower, trying to make you feel every inch of him. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say we were made for each other.”

You rolled your eyes at him, laughing silently, and Namjoon leaned in and bit your jaw, suddenly picking up his pace and smacking his hips against yours, pulling your thigh up higher to take him. You gasped and held onto him as his thrusts became rough and fast.

“You’re mine,” he growled against your jaw, pressing his face against your cheek hard and bringing the hand he wasn’t supporting himself with up to cup your cheek on the other side, his thumb moving down to rest over your throat. “You hear me, Y/N? You’re all mine, forever. Your tight little pussy belongs to me now. Your pussy was made to take this cock.”

What the hell was coming over him? Namjoon wanted it to be slow and gentle and loving, but he couldn’t stop the words falling out of his mouth as he moved inside you faster and harder.

You moaned, and he felt you nodding, agreeing with his words, which only made his hips move faster. He kept his face pressed against your neck, feeling your racing pulse and every harsh breath you drew in. He could hear the whole bed moving with his thrusts, the headboard smacking against the wall in unison with his hips slamming into yours. He was covered in a thin sheen of sweat and breathed raggedly from his efforts, but he’d always liked working hard to please his partners, and you made him want to give every last drop of his blood, sweat, and tears.

He felt your little fingers knotting in his hair, your other hand on his shoulder, your arm wrapped around him tight. You kept gasping and making small noises in pleasure, and Namjoon pulled his head back just enough to watch your face as he kept up his brutal pace. Your eyes were lost in ecstasy, your kiss-swollen lips parted as you gasped and whimpered, all for him. Your whole body moved with his thrusts, and he glanced down between you and watched your breasts bouncing with the force of his movements, which only made his mouth water.

“Y/N, baby, you feel so good,” he moaned, looking back up at your eyes. He watched you try to focus on him, and he brought his hand up to cup your cheek, much sweeter a gesture than the rest of what he was currently doing to you.

“You’re doing so well for me, baby. You take me so well.” He groaned when he felt your pussy clench down on him. “I think you like being praised,” he said, smirking, but you looked like you weren’t hearing a word he was saying, your eyes closing, your mouth falling open. “Are you close, princess?” he asked, and you nodded quickly. He brought his hand down from your cheek to your hip, his thumb moving to your clitoris and stroking hard and fast.

Your reaction was instantaneous — your entire lower body thrashed, your walls clenched so hard Namjoon almost came, your fingernails digging into his shoulders so hard he swore you broke skin, your back arched up into him as your head tilted back and you let out a long, loud moan that Namjoon felt in his core. He kept his pace with his thumb and hips and watched you fall apart underneath him, your third orgasm making your eyes roll back in your head as you stopped breathing, your whole body shaking.

“Christ, baby,” Namjoon moaned, watching the show you were putting on for him. He made his thrusts harder but slower now, slamming into you purposefully, stopping with his cock fully inside of you at the height of your pleasure, making your feel his full length and letting himself feel you throbbing and squeezing him.

You let out a noise that almost sounded like a sob, and Namjoon nearly came just from that.

“Fuck, I didn’t know you could sound like that,” he said, and your eyes focused again as you looked up at him innocently through your lashes.

Namjoon set his jaw, looking down at his soulmate. You were breathing slowly, steadily, your skin flushed red, your body absolutely glowing. If it wouldn’t be cruel at this point, he swore he could go down on you again right now. He wanted to so badly, but he knew you were way too sensitive at this point for that. Besides, he wasn’t sure he could last much longer. He was trying so hard to hold out and make everything so perfect and all about you, but he was nearing the end of his resolve.

He felt you squeeze him and watched as you smirked so that he knew you did it on purpose. Namjoon brought a hand down to where your legs were wrapped around him, palming the outside of your thigh, before giving your one fast, hard spank.

You moaned, your head lulling to the side as you closed your eyes in pleasure, but Namjoon brought his hand up to your face and turned your head back to look at him.

“Turn over, baby,” Namjoon growled, smiling down at you and watching your eyes light up in delight at his command.

You quickly turned over in his arms, his cock slipping out of you before you laid down on your stomach beneath him. He sat back on his legs between your spread thighs, and he reached out and grabbed your ass with both hands, squeezing hard.

Glancing up at you, Namjoon saw your head was turned as it rested on the pillow. You couldn’t look at him, but you tried to, tilting your head as far as you could. You moaned when he squeezed your ass harder, and then gasped as you felt him kiss your lower spine, then the back of your hip, and finally your ass, between his right thumb and forefinger where he kneaded your flesh. He moved his hand away, kissing your ass again before surprising you with a sharp smack on the other cheek with his left hand. The hit made you moan, and Namjoon’s cock twitched at the sweet sound.

“Do you like it when I spank you?” he asked, his voice low. “Hold one finger up for yes, two for no.”

He looked up at you and watched you weakly hold up one finger, moving it around to make sure he saw it.

He spanked you again, this time massaging your ass gently after the strike. Not even thinking, he leaned in to the spot he’d just kissed and sunk in his teeth, biting your ass as he squeezed again with both hands. He felt you melting under his palms, your back arching so that your ass stuck up for him more, presenting yourself to him.

Sitting up again, Namjoon moved to where he was on his knees behind you and pulled you upward by your hips. You complied, moving exactly as he wanted, and you moaned when you felt his hand move down your spine slowly. He squeezed your hips, grinding his cock against your ass, making you feel how hard he still was for you. You moved back against him, pressing your ass into him, grinding and whimpering and trying so hard to get him to move more.

“You want me to fuck you like this, baby?” he asked, his voice a low growl.

You held up one finger again, burying your face in the pillow and letting out a sob.

“Yes, baby,” he said, taking the noise you’d made as a command for him to pleasure you.

Namjoon reached down and lined himself up with your entrance once again, sinking back into you slowly, back where he belonged. You moaned and squeezed him as hard as you could, only partially on purpose, and he moaned and spanked you again.

“Naughty girl,” he growled, bringing the hand that had just spanked you down to prop himself up as he bent over you, his body perfectly curved to yours. He held himself up with that arm, his hand resting on the bed beside yours, and he kissed your shoulder as he bottomed out, feeling himself fully inside you once again, your pussy throbbing and him feeling every heartbeat. It was so much better like this, so much deeper, and Namjoon could hardly see straight at this point, he was so desperate for release.

“Hit my hand three times if you need me to stop, princess,” he said against your shoulder, turning his head and nuzzling his nose behind your ear. He smiled when he felt you reach out and grab his hand, lacing your fingers with his and squeezing tight.

Namjoon started off slow, letting you get used to the new position and how much deeper he could go. His hand you weren’t holding was wrapped around you, holding your body against his, your ass up and pressed to his pelvis and your head against the bed. He moved gently, each deep stroke with purpose, feeling your shudders and whimpers and gasps. You were so wet, so warm, so soft — the only thing Namjoon could think or feel was how overwhelmingly good his cock felt buried so deep inside you.

“Baby, you feel like heaven,” he moaned against your shoulder between kisses, his lips moving against your skin as he spoke. “All mine, all for me, forever. I could fuck you for days and not need anything else.”

You squeezed his hand, trying so hard to turn your head back to look at him as you let out a small noise, whining to him, and he responded by leaning in and claiming your lips, kissing you as well as he could with the angle. He picked up his pace, his hips smacking against your ass, a wet slapping noise hitting your ears with each hard thrust that shook you to your core and moved the whole bed forward. You were a mess under him now, gasping, breathing hard, nearly in tears. You couldn’t think, you could barely breathe, you just closed your eyes tight and felt your soulmate pumping pleasure into you, your lips parted as you whimpered for him.

You brought your hand not holding his down to your stomach. You didn’t know what you needed, but you whined, pouting, and Namjoon seemed to realize what you wanted before you did, reaching down with the hand that had been holding your body to him and rubbing your clit vigorously.

Your whole body writhed, fucking back against him instinctively, meeting his thrusts as you cried out in ecstasy for him. You were so close again, and Namjoon knew he wasn’t going to last much longer either.

“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna cum,” he groaned, his eyes nearly rolling back in his head, his heart pounding in his chest. His fingers kept up their pace on your clit, rubbing it with two fingers so hard he was pretty sure you were going to be bruised there. You sounded like you were sobbing and god, you were loud, your body writhing as he felt you drawing so close again.

“F-fuck,” Namjoon moaned, his thrusts becoming sloppy. His hips snapped into you once, twice, three more times before he cried out, and you felt him spilling into you, filling you up, his whole body shuddering as he pressed his sweaty forehead against your shoulder. The sensation of his hot cum deep inside you, dripping down between your bodies as he thrust into you a few more times and continued his fingers on your clit, pushed you over the edge one last time, this orgasm much gentler as you gasped and shuddered.

Namjoon was breathing hard and steady, his breath warm on your skin. He gently let you lay down before rolling off of you, collapsing beside you and staring at the ceiling, his mouth open as he just tried to breathe and calm down.

“Oh my god,” Namjoon said, turning his head to look back over at you. You were still laying on your stomach, but you moved so that your head was turned toward him. You had a lazy smile on your face, your expression telling him you were just as thoroughly fucked-out as he was.

You reached out and put your hand on his shoulder, smiling weakly, not having the energy for anything else.

“You were incredible, baby,” he murmured, watching you breathe slowly. He pushed himself up as best he could, moving onto his side so he could face you. Reaching up, he stroked your hair back out of your face slowly, smiling to himself when he could see your eyes properly.

You brought your hand up and cupped his cheek, your thumb stroking his skin as the two of you watched each other for a moment like this.

When you felt you had the energy, you moved onto your side as well, the two of you laying almost nose to nose, touching each other’s faces and looking at each other, smiling.

“I love you,” he said, his deep voice a gentle rumble in his chest. You made the sign for ‘I love you’ with your hand, and Namjoon brought his hand up and touched you softly, feeling the way your fingers were positioned with his large hand.

“I love you, forever,” he said, quieter now, and he reached out and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you to him.

You settled in against his chest, feeling like you were right where you belonged. You closed your eyes as you pressed your forehead against his shoulder, listening to the lulling sound of his slow breathing as he kissed the top of your head gently, over and over, humming quiet promises of forever to you.

#bts smut #namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #namjoon x you #namjoon #kim namjoon #rm smut #bts namjoon smut #mine #my writing #bts scenario #bts fanfic

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blakemetothemoon · 4 years

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Love in a Laundromat - SaifahZon, M, Ch. 4/?

Summary: Zon's favorite place is a laundromat. That is until a certain tall, handsome stranger steals his washer and seems hellbent on making Zon miserable.

Notes: HI SORRY I'M BACK. I finished a book in September where I had to write 14k words in two weeks, so my brain ended up needing a break from writing haha but I'm so excited to write these two again! Thank you for your patience! Also you may notice the rating has bumped up.......

Read below or on ao3! :)

A week later, Zon opens the door to the laundromat and steps into the threshold.

And freezes. At least until the glass door smacks him in the back, sending him stumbling forward.

"Are you serious?" Zon gapes when he finds his bearings.

Saifah grins at him from the bench. Over the hum of the washer he’s using, a pleasant melody as he gently strums his fingers across the strings of the guitar he’s holding. "Very."

"I said it could be fun,” Zon says, doing his best to sound annoyed but excitement flutters in his stomach like obnoxious butterflies. “I didn't mean to bring your guitar!"

"Well, you didn't give me your number so it's not like I could set up a date somewhere else."

Zon chooses to quickly slide past that word and how it doesn't make him giddy. "But here? In the laundromat?"

"I already asked Mrs. Appletil.”

“We won’t even be able to hear each other!”

Zon regrets the words immediately when the smile on those enticing lips pulls wider. “We’ll just need to sit very close to each other.”

Zon sputters and quickly rushes past the bench to his washer. He shoves his clothes in, purposefully focused. Saifah begins to strum again, going from one line of music to another, none of which Zon recognizes so they have to be a Saifah original.

Suddenly, Saifah plays a new melody and Zon's ears perk up.

"Wait!” Zon shouts. The song jerks to a stop as Saifah jumps, startled. “That last one.”

Saifah raises an eyebrow. “This one?” he asks, then strums the notes he’d just played.

"Yeah!” Zon exclaims, nodding his head. “Can you play it again? Is there more?"

Before Saifah can answer, Zon races to his backpack and unzips it. He pulls out his notebook and frantically flips through it. He's practically bouncing with excitement when he turns the tattered page Saifah's way so the other boy can see it. "Do you think these lyrics make sense with it?"

Saifah tilts his head, squinting as he looks over the messy scrawl of Zon’s handwriting. "It's hard to know without hearing them."

Eagerness momentarily pausing, Zon doesn't even need Saifah's challenging little smirk to understand what he's asking him to do. He glances around. The laundromat is as empty as always except them and Mrs. Appletil. And (apparently) Zon singing wouldn't be anything unusual to her.

Still, it takes him a moment to compose and convince himself. He chews on his bottom lip, then sighs. “Okay.”

He settles onto the bench. Saifah is right—they do need to sit closer than normal. Zon tries to tame his racing heart. A blush stings his cheeks when Saifah’s shoulder brushes his. Zon stumbles through the first line, but Saifah gives him a gentle smile, flawlessly replaying the opening notes without missing a beat. His encouraging nod gives Zon the courage to start again.

And you ask, “Do you think in a different time

We could have been happy

And you could stay mine?”

And I hug you close and say, “I hope so.”

But this heartbreak is all we know, for now...

Somehow they read each other perfectly and trail off at the same time. Zon isn’t sure he sounded his best, but he can’t help grinning and his chest is tight and warm, and oh, Zon thinks. that just made me really fucking happy?

"So…,” Zon begins. He’s breathless like he ran twelve miles. “What do you think?"

Saifah's voice sounds hoarse when he says, "I think I need to hear it one more time."

Zon pouts. “Are you making fun of me?”

“Dude, I’m not! Why do you think I’m always making fun of you?”

Because that’s what everybody does. But the words feel too weak and stupid to say out loud.

An awkward silence settles between them as Zon searches for a reply and Saifah waits for one. He must realize he probably won’t get one because he sighs and shakes his head. Zon knows where this is going. Saifah is gonna set down his guitar and pull out his phone, done with Zon’s whiplash, insecurities. The warm feeling Zon had while they played together simmers to a dull ache and Zon already misses it.

But, to Zon’s shock, Saifah doesn’t turn away. He doesn’t set his guitar down and he doesn’t pull out his phone. He just gives Zon another smile and says, “You know, you should come perform with me at the coffee house sometime.”

“M-Me? Performing? In front of people?” Zon’s hands are already sweaty just thinking about it. “You’re crazy.”

There’s another long pause. If Zon didn’t know better, he might think Saifah is leaning in closer to Zon, tilting his head at the same time his eyes seem to trace the plains of Zon’s face—from his brown eyes to nose to his lips. Like breaking himself out of a spell, Saifah pulls away and clears his throat. “Yeah. I’m okay with it, though.”

And then Saifah plays his guitar and invites Zon to sing again before Zon can convince himself he’s imagined the whole thing.

#SaifahZon #SaiZon #ZonSaifah #blakemetothemoon #Why R U #why r u the series #fanfic #fic

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wonderlandmind4 · 4 years

Text

Delicate Stages of Life: 23

Let Me Feel as Hurt as You Do

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC; Platonic Steve Rogers x OFC

Summary: Life in Wakanda is filled with love, laughs, some tears, all emotions, lazy days, goats, hot springs, a soul connection, and something dark that looms over Bucky’s and Ana’s domestic bliss…

Warnings: Language. Angst. Loss, Grief. Anxiety attack. Someone gets mad. A very slight implication of mentioned abortion, but not by word, by context. (This chapter focuses some on Steve and Ana)

Words: 14,639k words. Ha. Ha. I’m sorry.

A/N: Again, sorry for taking so long to update. From Jan-March 12th, I was completely booked soild at work. And then, this virus happened and I got laid off and oh look! A new chapter! I hope everyone is healthy and staying safe and staying inside. Here is a 14k+ chapter for you. (Do not read unless you’ve read Delicate Stages first)

Previously: Ana had a full on energy bursting breakdown. Steve ran after her, causing him to feel his own energy drain, and leaving small cuts and bruises on his arm, left by Ana. Time is told by weeks of pregnancy.

A pounding pressure circles Ana’s entire head, as if her brain is trying to squeeze itself out through her skull. Her nose is clogged, her mouth slightly open to breathe, to taste the air that no longer smells like Bucky; the last thing she had been trying to hold onto. At least this way she can’t smell the scent of him fading away from the fabric of his shirt she’s wearing. Instead, the air faintly tastes like charred earth.

Her eyelids are heavy, swollen from the tears that have yet to stop. Ana sits silently, gaze transfixed through the floor to ceiling windowpanes where the glass had shattered, decorating the ground like crystals.

Wet tracks have stained patterns on her cheeks, tear after tear. Her mind is thankfully blank for the time being. Just focused on watching the glass reflect off the lights in the compound and the glow of the moon. Her vision begins morphing the reflections together like dark watercolors. An odd flutter in her stomach rolls through her, gently pulling her from the depths of her mind; the colors had begun to form a dusty orange landscape.

“Hey, think you feel up to drinking this for me?”

Blinking back to awareness, Ana watches as Carol wiggles a little jar in front of her. That same elixir she had made her drink on occasion; it truly helps her feel better physically. Carol hands her the vial, their fingers touching. The moment of contact stirs the energy within Ana, causing her body to tense up abruptly. It lasts for a moment, before the tension eases into something calmer than she’s ever felt. It’s different, welcoming, and Ana finds her hand covering the other woman’s to chase that odd serenity.

“What?” Ana breathes, confused.

Carol offers her a friendly smile. She leans a tad closer. “You and I, don’t think we’re that different, power wise.”

“I don’t understand?” She blinks a few times.

Ana is utterly exhausted after her outburst, yet she could still feel the light turmoil of her energy prickling just under her skin. Now, her energy is finally beginning to settle, feels similar like the rings Shuri gave her.

“I’m stabilizing your energy levels,” Carol explains smoothly.

“You-you can do that?”

“Didn’t know until right now, figured I’d try it.”

“You’re so powerful,” Ana whispers, inhaling slowly as her body finally relaxes. “Much higher than my level of- this.” She vaguely gestures to her own body with her free hand. She allows herself a few more moments of Carol’s touch before taking the bottle from her.

“Then it’s something we can chat about later, once you’re feeling better,” She promises. Then she smirks. “And when you don’t look like you got swallowed whole then spit back out by a Flerken.”

“What’s a- never mind,” Ana sighs tiredly, opening the jar.

“Slow sips, alright? Rest for a few days. I have more if needed.”

She nods in silent gratitude. Carol pats her shoulder twice, though Ana doesn’t feel the same comforting flow she did just a minute ago. She also doesn’t miss Carol’s head jerk to Natasha as she walks away. Natasha follows her, and if Ana wasn’t as drained as she is, she may had been more curious.

When she finishes the elixir, Rhodes and Steve help her stand and make her way to her room. She briefly notices small spots of blood on Steve’s sleeve. She frowns, but Rhodey asking if he can make a call to Pepper, and would it be okay with her, distracts her. Ana nods, struck aware that she hasn’t spoken to her cousin in two months.

Another realization overcomes her as the men assist her down the hallway. Ana had been unintentionally horrible the past three months to everyone around her. She didn’t just shut off her emotions, she shut out her friends.

Just twenty minutes after she’s in bed, a light tapping sounds at the door as Ana slightly readjusts her sitting position. Apparently being reacquainted with her emotions also comes with new pains and aches; her lower back for one. Ana finally gets her pillows in the right position, nearly forgetting someone is at the door.

It cracks open, Natasha peaking her head in. “Is it alright for me to enter?”

She sounds so formal. Ana can’t blame her. “Uh, y-yeah,” She clears her raw throat. “Yes.”

The corner of Natasha’s mouth cracks with a sad smirk before her face goes back to unreadable. She gently shuts the door behind her, moving toward the bed, Ana shifting her legs over to give her a space to sit. Which she does.

Ana bites her lip hard, nervous about Natasha’s pending anger. Worried Nat will give her a verbal lashing, even though she knows she deserves it. Her skin prickles with the apprehensive energy in the room. She inhales shakily, counts to five in her head before exhaling, rubbing her hands over the bottom curve of her growing stomach.

When Natasha finally speaks, her voice is unreadable. “Ana.”

Ana nearly flinches hearing her name. She makes the briefest of eye contact with the former spy. A single tear escapes Ana’s left eye, despite her efforts to keep them at bay. Natasha slowly reaches out to- what? Would she actually slap a pregnant woman? Flick her off? Make another rude hand gesture? Ana breaks their stare, ashamed- and isn’t that quite amazing to feel that now. Shame for how she’d been for the past three months.

Instead of a sharp stinging slap, or a bruising pinch, the gentle hand laid on her shoulder genuinely shocks her. Ana shoots her gaze up again, another tear overflowing. There’s a softness in Natasha’s eyes that she hasn’t see in so very long, her green eyes glassy. Her fingers apply pressure to Ana’s shoulder a moment before her shoulder is pulled forward a little. The motion makes her chin tremble, biting her lip still, nearly hard enough to draw blood.

Natasha exhales sadly, a little huff of air before she fully pushes Ana closer. Suddenly, she has Ana’s face pressed to her neck, and her other arm is hugging her tightly around her back. A hug. Nat is giving her a hug, one she doesn’t deserve in the least. A comforting, supporting hug. Something Ana hasn’t felt in months.

Tears flow freely down her face once again. Natasha holds her as best as she can, her fingers digging into her skin.

“I…I,” Ana stutters between hiccuping gasps. “Nat-“

“I know, I know,” Natasha replies softly. “Shhhh, I know, Ana. Apology accepted. Just let it out now. I’m here. It’s okay.”

Ana wraps her arms around her as much as she can manage, fingers pressing into the solid form of comfort. She nearly cries herself to sleep that way. Barely conscious enough to realize Natasha moves her back and covers her with a blanket before she succumbs to sleep.

For once, Ana has a dreamless slumber.

Steve rubs his thumb over the already scabbed over crescent marks on his forearm, noticing the faint bruising around them too.

“Glass get ya’?”

Rocket’s voice grabs his attention, going back to sweeping his pile of shattered glass into the dustpan.

“No, just-“ But Steve stops because he doesn’t have an excuse. Not to mention he’s sure everyone witnessed everything.

“She always been strong enough to draw blood from a super soldier?” Rocket continues casually, finishing his pile before jumping up on the arm of the couch. Eye level with Steve’s arm now.

A brief memory flashes through Steve’s mind of Ana accidentally clipping Bucky in a sparring match outside their hut. It led to a busted lip, Ana apologizing profusely while straddling Bucky and him looking up at her with proud adoring eyes as if she hung the moon.

He mentally shakes the memory away. She always had a hidden strength about her, but never enough to physically bruise them with just a grip of her fingers.

“No, this would be new.”

“Has no one noticed her growing strength these past weeks?” Nebula muses lowly, studying a small device in her hands. She fiddles with it, then points it at the first pile large of broken glass. “The minuscule signs of her powers becoming unsteady?”

She presses a button, a short burst of purple light shoots from the device. Suddenly the pile is gone, nothing but a wisp of smoke before it fades. Steve in utter shock, is impressed with the tool, and vaguely thinks if they had that a while back it would have saved them a lot of clean up time in previous home attacks.

“Uh-“ Steve begins.

“Oh, let me do the rest!” Rocket demands, hopping off the couch and grabbing the device as Nebula holds it out.

“The light charred marks on tables,” She continues, her dark eyes locking on Steve’s. “The-

“Dent marks? Yeah,” He says, leaning against the back of the couch. Rocket cackles as three more piles disappear. Steve continues. “Didn’t catch the first signs though.”

“Ana is…fascinatingly powerful. More than any of you realize.”

Crossing his arms tightly, Steve frowns in perplexed curiosity. What has this woman from another planet seen in Ana that no one else had noticed. That he himself hadn’t paid attention to. “Care to elaborate?”

“The sheer amount of energy she released,” Nebula pauses, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. “Was extremely similar to that of-“

“Captain Rogers, you have an incoming call from Mrs. Stark.”

FRIDAY’s interruption could have come at different time than this. Steve drops his arms as he pushes himself off the couch.

“We’ll talk about that later,” He tells Nebula, heading toward the conference room.

She nods, then snatches the device from Rocket just as he was about to test it on a lounge chair. Steve ponders her words over in his head, some pieces coming together from the past month. He did noticed the perfectly scorched hand print on the bedside table in Ana’s room tonight. However, speaking to Pepper takes precedence at the moment.

Five days pass before Ana remembers the details of her breakdown. Five days before she connects the spots of blood on Steve’s arm was her doing; granted, she had slept soundlessly for most of those days. Her body seeming to finally catch up on a decent amount of sleep and beginning to heal from her emotional stunted issues. As in, she’s been overly emotionally now, like her hormones are speeding up to make up the past three months.

It was recommended by Pepper, after Ana had a long overdue conversation with her, that she should watch cute animal videos, or light comedic movies to lift her spirits a little. It worked for one day before she came across a fluffy kitten video and started crying at how cute the little kitty was.

Now, Ana gingerly gets up to use the bathroom, her bladder clearly smaller and being constantly pressed on. Instead of getting back in bed however, she leaves her room in search for Steve herself. That, and she suddenly has a craving for mango pizza again.

“What the hell are you doing walking around?” Rocket greets her as she rounds the corner to the kitchen.

“I’m hungry,” She replies with a pout, slowly moving to the freezer. “Have you seen Steve?”

“There’s plenty of people here to bring you food, take advantage of that, Barnes.”

Ana halts for a moment hearing her last name, the little “space raccoon” as Rhodes likes to call him, only knows her as Ana Barnes. She inhales slowly, then pulls open the door.

“And would you have brought me food on a tray?” She shoots over her shoulder, voice teasing. She nearly forgot how it feels to tease someone.

“What do I look like, a servant? I meant use the others.” He replies flippantly.

For the first time in a long time, Ana cracks a smile. A small chuckle even escaping past her lips. She turns to glance at him, and swears she sees a little smirk from him too.

“Ana? What the in hell are you walking around for?”

Ahh, there he is. She closes the door, but keeps her hand on the handle for support. “Looking for you, and hungry.”

Steve fixes her with his disapproving looking before he suddenly looks surprised. “You’re hungry?”

“Yes.”

He sighs. “Go lay back down and I’ll make you something.”

“No, this is specific-“

“Could’ve just asked FRIDAY to call someone.”

“I disabled FRIDAY from my room, remember?” She reminds him awkwardly as Steve begins to usher her back. “Two months ago.”

“Right. What’s this specific food you want?”

“Mango piz- wait.” Ana stops, wincing at her abrupt movement. She looks over her shoulder again after she takes a steady breath. “Rocket, is that my glock? And my knife set?”

Rocket had gone back to doing his task before she had entered, popping his head up to acknowledge her.

“Oh, yeah,” He answers lightly. “Stole them from that shooting range here. You ain’t using them right, full belly and all? No? Good. Couldn’t find your metaled arm husband’s gun, figured I’d clean these instead. In case you decide to have another cool outburst- I mean, breakdown, they’ll be of use.”

Ana just stares as Steve covers his laugh with a cough.

“That okay?”

There’s no snark coming from him, just a teasing glint in his dark eyes. She can’t pinpoint why, but Rocket cleaning her long forgotten weapons and clearly knowing they were hers, touches Ana more than she thought it would. She recalls him handing her Bucky’s gun after the incident; which is now carefully put away in the closet.

“The smaller knife on the right is spring loaded,” She informs him with a small smile. “Used to be inside the boots I wore. It’s a good knife. Take care of them all.”

Rocket grabs the knife, finds the switch and springs it open. He salutes with it as Ana follows Steve back to her room.

An hour later has Steve serving freshly made pizza with chopped up mango pieces on top. Ana already feels bad the second he came in. He takes one look at her grimacing face and groans, setting the pie down on the bedside tray.

“You’re no longer craving this, are you?” He guesses, dropping the paper plates as well.

She shakes her head. “Sorry.”

“Hungry for anything else?”

“Did I hurt you, that night?” Ana abruptly questions. It’s the whole reason she wanted to find him in the first place. Not for food.

“What are you talking about?” Steve frowns, hands on his hips.

“Nat’s always been right. You’re a terrible liar, Rogers.”

He sighs, sitting down on her bed next to her legs. “Ana, you weren’t aware of draining my energy.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” She replies, then grabs his left arm.

Ana pushes the flannel sleeve up to his elbow, pulling him closer to see better. Five very faint crescent shapes on his arm are barely visibly in the light but they’re there. Four in a row and the fifth just a few centimeters to the left. Ana traces the shapes with her finger, his skin smooth from any scabbing.

“I saw blood on your sleeve that night,” She informs him, raising his arm to her eyes for a better look. She turns his arm side to side, no resistance from him. “Thought maybe it was the glass. It wasn’t.”

There. Ana keeps his arm at a slight angle, and the smallest discoloration of yellow stands out against his usual peachy skin tone. “I held onto your arm.”

“Yeah,” Steve confirms calmly. “Dug your nails in. Had a pretty strong grip there.”

A thought runs through her mind, causing Ana to drop his arm. She very suddenly does not want Steve to put any of his own thoughts together. Calling herself out on the cuts was a bad idea, and anxiety shoots through her chest. She doesn’t want anyone to know or to possibly connect her oddly growing strength. Ana herself has been aware it for weeks.

“Sorry I hurt you,” She rushes out. “Sorry,” Ana repeats kinder. “For everything.”

Steve looks like he wants to continue the subject, then thinks better of it. “Don’t worry about apologies right now, okay? Just take it easy for the next week, try not to stress yourself out, Ana. Once you’re feeling better and off bed rest, we can revisit it.”

“Okay, yeah. Sounds good,” She agrees, mentally breathing a sigh of relief. Though she can’t help feeling like her and Steve are treading on thin ice.

She shifts around, adjusting the pillows. Steve helps her, mainly making sure she doesn’t accidentally fall off the side. Ana feels exhausted again, her lower back aching as she finally finds a position comfortable enough.

“Apparently turning your emotions back on makes you realize you’re actually pregnant.” Ana huffs, half on her side.

“’Bout damn time,” Steve snips instantly. Ana quirks an eyebrow. “I mean! I didn’t mean for that to sound rude. I just meant, sometimes it felt like you didn’t…care.”

“Steve,” Ana begins solemnly after a short pause. She looks him straight in the eye, stressing her next words. “Natasha said the same thing to me. If I did not want or care for this baby. I would not be pregnant anymore.”

It’s silent between them as her words sink in. She can see in his eyes when he comprehends her meaning. Steve drops his head for a moment, before he meets her gaze again. He takes her hands in his, squeezing.

“And we would have supported you with whatever decision you made,” Steve tells her just as serious. “We still do. Support you. That’s all any of us wanted to do. We’re…we’re your family now. We’re here for you and little Barnes in there.”

Ana scoffs to cover the tightness in her throat. “You’ve always been my family, Steve. Well, at least for the past seven years.” That earns her a chuckle. “Thank you.”

“You look tired, get some rest.” He releases her hands and begins to stand.

“Actually, I kinda want the pizza now.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t hide how happy her eating seems to make him.

Ana cautiously makes her way to the bathroom, pressing her hands to her lower back as she walks. She turns on the sink, cupping her hands under the faucet and presses the cold water to her clammy face. Sighing in relief, she repeats the notion until her face feels clean of sweat. Body aches and mild hot flashes bringing the clammy skin, her ankles beginning to swell just a little. It’s almost as if her body is reminding her of the growing human inside her uterus with a vengeance. Payback for now finally feeling everything from her lack of feeling nothing for weeks.

However, she does take comfort in the facts that the baby is healthy and her most of her vitals are back to normal. Ana reaches for a washcloth on the counter, patting her face dry. She catches her gaze in the mirror once she’s finished, and stares.

Dull dark eyes peer back at her, the golden dots just matte specks. Grayish-purple circles are prominent against unusually pale skin tone. Highlights the fine lines of her lower eyelids, lines of exhaustion, stress, loss. Her face has thinned, looks sullen from lack of smiles, of laughter. The white of her eyes bloodshot, either from tears after so long of not shedding them or just lack of sleep.

Ana’s reflection startles her. This is the first time she has truly taken in her appearance in months. Too afraid to see the failure in her eyes of not saving Bucky in time. Of not stopping Thanos. Of the loss of life in her own eyes. She takes a step back, seeing herself entirely.

Smoothing her damp hands over her stomach, she grabs the hem of her- Bucky’s- shirt, lifting the material just under her breast. Which, have also grown bigger in the past three months. It’s not as if she hasn’t noticed her body growing, or seen her belly before, considering she has a top view of it every day, but this. This feels different.

Her skin has obviously accommodated the growing baby, proof of stretch marks on either side of her belly button that now pokes out. The old bullet wounds on her abdomen have stretched out as well, and the last few letters of her rib tattoo just barely affected. Ana traces her fingers over the new marks, then sees the slight movement of her belly in the mirror. A slow smile spreads across her lips, because this is different, and her mind drifts into another memory.

Ana shivers, legs tangled with strong muscular ones on the bed. Clothes long since scattered along the floor, a shirt on the lamp, bra on the mirror.

“Can’t wait to see your belly grow,” Bucky murmurs thickly. Nose grazing around her navel for the umpteenth time.

“Bucky,” Ana whines, breath ragged and pleading.

“Gonna look radiant, love.” He continues to praise, lips burning a trail of flames to her hip. “So fucking beautiful. My girl, my amazing wife.”

He stops his kissing, turning his head to lay his ear and cheek over the lower part of her stomach. His breath hitches as he listens, as her fingers sink into his long thick hair scratching his scalp.

“It’s the most beautiful sound in the world,” Bucky exhales, voice strained with emotion. “That little heartbeat. God, I can’t wait to feel this little jellybean move in there.”

Ana, despite wanting her husband to have his focus between her legs, laughs. “That’s what you can’t wait for?”

Bucky kisses her bellybutton, then her scars. “And many more, but, yes. My ma told me-“ He hesitates for a moment, as if he’s shocked he reminds the memory. “Whenever my sisters moved around, they were waving at me. Like they couldn’t wait to meet me.”

“Bucky, sweetheart,” Ana’s voice is a gentle sigh, fond and full of adoration. “This baby definitely can’t wait to meet you either.”

He hums. “I used to sing to them, when my Ma was pregnant. Said they could hear me. So, I talked to them every day. Like I’m going to talk and sing to our little one every day.”

Overwhelmed with how much she just fucking loves Bucky, Ana tugs him up to her, cupping his cheeks and giving him a deeply passionate kiss. His fingers tracing her stomach, over and over, until he finally lowers them.

A dull jab to the left side of her stomach pulls her back to her reflection. She chuckles wetly, tears escape as she blinks. Because this. This is her finally coming to terms.

“I can’t wait to meet you, little bean,” She whispers. She moves her hand to the same spot, feeling their baby moving around.

This. This is Ana finally connecting.

25 weeks:

Another dream. The same dream. Over and over and over. Each time, ashes slip between her fingers the moment she touches Bucky. Each time he gives her that sad smile. Each time he speaks her name so tenderly. Each time, no matter what she does to try to save him, dust ingrains the lines of her palms, settles heavily in her lungs.

Each time she wakes with tears, panting and struggling to breathe. The only difference now is the ache in her chest, the stabbing pain through her heart, a haunting in her mind, and the shredded frays of her soul. The only thing that comforts her now, is the sound of Bucky’s voice recorded on the kimoyo beads.

Like clockwork every night, Ana hears Steve’s soft footsteps, a defeated sigh. On the eighth night, this changes. Steve finally knocks, cracking the open door she no longer keeps locked. Ana waits with her head in her hands for him to come in and sit on the edge of her bed.

She takes a few calming breaths before speaking. “What made you finally come in?” She inquires, face still hidden in her palms.

“How did you know I was there?” Steve asks bemused. He doesn’t wait for her answer. Instead he says, “Figured it was about time. Your nightmares. It’s what led to your...breakdown.”

Ana remains silent. He’s not wrong.

“I have nightmares too. So does Nat, Rhodey, all of us. Not sure about Nebula though, she’s more stoic than you were.”

She chuckles slightly at that, but still doesn’t look at him. She can feel his nervous energy radiating off him though, and it’s overwhelming to feel her ability again. There’s still an odd sort of tension between Ana and Steve. Makes her skin tingle and nerves jumpy, she almost wishes Carol were here instead.

“You don’t have to talk about them. You don’t have to talk to me about anything.” Steve continues, his voice morphs into a desperate hint of a plea. “Just, please don’t shut me out again, Ana.”

Frowning at her hands, she remains still, allowing him to talk.

“I mean,” He says quietly. “You shut everyone out, but it was worse with Natasha and I. Especially me. You never looked at me. You still can hardly look at me. I think I know why, and…I am so fucking sorry.”

Finally, Ana picks her head up, shocked and confused. But Steve’s eyes are staring off to the side, his hands twisting his fingers around. She follows his line of sight, to the picture of her and Bucky on their wedding day. When she looks at him again, his jaw clenches as he swallows.

Abruptly he stands up, but Ana reaches for his arm, grabbing his wrist. She sees him wince and realizes her grip is too tight. She quickly releases him as he stares wide eyed at her. She opens her mouth to ask why he apologized. Maybe ask why he’s suddenly leaving after he’d been pacing back and forth listening to her nightmares for weeks.

But a strange sensation shoots through her lower stomach and she gasps, hands immediately going to the spot. “Oh, fuck,” Ana whimpers with a wince. “Baby didn’t like that move.”

“Are you okay!? Do I need to call Dr. Hammond?” Steve asks frantically.

“No, no, I’m fine,” She reassures him, the pain fading. “Just moved too fast is all.”

Steve hums like he doesn’t quite believe her as he shakes his wrist out. “You look abnormally pale, lost your tanner complexion.”

Ana shrugs, not mentioning the lack of sun and definitely emotional stress is part of it. Instead, she attempts to reach for the nightstand drawer. Steve beats her too it, pulling out one of the vials of the elixir. He pops open the top, handing it to her. She nods her thanks.

“FRIDAY,” Steve addresses the AI that was reinstalled days ago. “What’s the read on Ana’s vitals?”

“Body temperature is normal, heart rate slightly elevated at 150 bpm. Fetal heart rate is normal range at 153 bpm. Mrs. Barnes blood pressure remains low at 90/60, however there are no other signs of distress at this time.”

“Thank you,” He says, seeming to relax just slightly.

“Mrs. Barnes, you haven’t taken your medication tonight, and your water intake has been minimal today. I can print out some prenatal yoga exercises and breathing techniques for you. I’ve noticed your sleeping pattern hasn’t improved enough to be considered healthy. Your appetite has improved quite a bit though.”

“This is why I disabled you in the first place,” Ana grumbles as Steve’s gaze narrows at her.

“I was truly impressed you bypassed my firewall, I was also hurt by your action-“ FRIDAY responds. Ana makes an indigent noise and swears FRIDAY sounds snippy. “-As I do care for your wellbeing. As does Mr. Stark.”

“Okay, that’s enough, thank you!” She snaps. The AI goes silent. Ana ignores the thick lump forming in her throat at the mention of Tony.

“Drink your water and take your medication.” Steve’s tone leaves no room for agreement as he gives her both her cup of water and the bottle of meds.

She does as she’s told, swallowing the pill and taking slow sips of water. She can feel her body relax and the baby roll around until it decides the position it’s is good enough.

“I don’t mean to continue to shut you out,” Ana confesses suddenly, eyes meeting Steve’s who was about to leave. “I’m still just trying to process feeling again. It’s overwhelming and I’m trying to stay as calm and relaxed as possible. The whole reason I did it in the first place, Steve, to was protect my child from any negative affects through me. You may not believe me, but everything I did, everything I’m trying to do is to protect my baby and keep it healthy.”

Sighing heavily, she puts her cup and bottle down, leaning back against her pillows. “Haven’t done a great job though.” She adds as an afterthought.

“I believe you,” Steve says, staying by the door. A shadow flickers in his blue eyes, and the energy around him changes darkly before it’s gone. “I just…sometimes it just feels like-“

Ana frowns because he just stops talking, shaking his head. Something is bothering him, and she swears it’s more than just shutting him out. He’s anxious about it. “Feels like what?”

“Nothing,” He gives her a nearly convincing smile. “It’s late, you should try going back to sleep.” Steve exists after that, closing the door but stopping the last few inches. “Ana, I’m here. If you need me. For anything.”

“I know,” She whispers as he shuts the door.

Ana covers her face again with her hands, inhaling slowly. She can still smell the faint ashes from her dreams, can still feel a phantom touch and realizes with a start, that she is not the only one to lose Bucky.

Finally, Ana is off bed rest, Dr. Hammond visiting once more for a check up and seemingly much happier with her health. She mentions the pains could possibly be Braxton Hicks contractions, a sign of her body beginning to prepare for birth. There’s only three months left and it’s this information of her body preparing to welcome a tiny human into the world, that Ana is appalled at herself. For a few reasons.

The first is Ana herself is not prepared whatsoever for a baby to arrive in three months. The second is knowing she hasn’t spoken to Pepper hardly at all, and rushes up to Rhodey. She all but interrogates him, asking if Pepper is angry. Demanding to know if Pepper is alright. Inquiring if the family is okay, and quickly questioning about Tony.

“Glad to see your rambling is back,” Rhodes quips, a smirk teasing his mouth.

He has been sitting in one of the conference rooms, apparently talking to whichever US Government leaders were left. Ana had come to find out that Thaddeus Ross was one of the many to disappear in “The Snap” as Rocket now refers bitterly to it. Ana however, doesn’t know how she quite feels about that bit of information. A bitter satisfaction does curl in her chest though.

“You sound a little like yourself again,” He continues, shutting off the holograms.

A deep ache throbs in Ana’s heart, and she doesn’t have the nerve to tell him that she cries almost every night now. That she spends more time watching and listening to a recording of her husband than talking to anyone else. Ana’s heartbreak remains the same as it was three months ago.

“I’ll be your go between just a little longer,” Rhodey says, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. “But you both need to speak to each other on your own. He still doesn’t know.”

“Oh.” Ana startles, feeling oddly hurt that Tony doesn’t know she’s pregnant. “Um…do you know why?”

He shrugs, standing up and adjusting the orthotic around his waist. “Pep thinks it should come from you personally.”

The third reason is the fact that while she shut her emotions off, Ana also deliberately shut off any help. She knows Natasha was hurt by it, knows she was pissed to hell, but her and Ana had a long two hours talk about everything. More apologizes from Ana included.

Ana decides it’s time to let people back in, because, as she swallows some bit of pride, she cannot do this alone. She finally calls Pepper, crying on the phone to her cousin because, fuck does she miss her husband, and this is the first time she’s truly allowing herself to feel every ounce of her pain and heartbreak and emotions. After a good hour of that, she goes back to her first reason; being appalled and angry at herself.

“I don’t have anything, Pepper!” Ana whines into the phone. “I’m not prepared. I don’t have a crib, I don’t have clothes, diapers! Wipes!? I don’t even have a damn blanket or pacifier! Oh my god, what if the baby gets sick and I don’t have that little nose sucker thing or a thermometer!? No little socks! This baby’s poor feet are going to freeze because it’s horrible, emotionless fuck of a mother couldn’t-“

“Whoa, hey! That’s enough, Ana!” Pepper scolds. “Take a breath, bug. You can’t work yourself up again like that. It’s going be okay.”

Pepper’s promise holds up. Within a day of their conversation, Pepper stops by with bags and boxes of baby supplies. Some are hand-me-downs, most everything else is new. Boxes of diapers, wipes, bibs, neutral blankets and little onesie’s. Pacifiers, nail clippers, a soft brush, a bathtub, socks, and beanies.

“Who’s Morgan?” Steve questions as he helps carrying in the last box. That he sets down in the living full of people, Morgan’s Baby Stuff written on the top.

Ana freezes with the veggie fruit smoothie Natasha made her, pressed to her lips. Her eyes shoot over to Pepper. Her cousin looks guilty for all of three seconds, before she sighs and shrugs.

“My two-year-old daughter,” She informs, likes it’s the most casual thing to drop that two-year secret. “Tony- both of us, decided to keep it a secret after your falling out.”

The shock of Tony Stark having a daughter ripples through the room.

“You all went your separate ways, most of you off the grid in hiding.” Pepper explains, hands on her hips. “If anyone is angry, then get over it. It was our decision to keep our privacy and family safe from public knowledge.”

“Oh, um, congratulations?” Steve offers awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.

Ana snorts against her cup, nearly splashing her face with liquid veggies. Pepper mutters her gratitude, and that’s that. They continue to carry the gifts further into the room.

“I already knew,” Natasha confesses quietly to Ana, tilting her glass up to make sure she drinks. Of course she did. The infamous spy she is.

Ana glares at her as she takes over dramatic gulps as Nat, who’s hair is slowly turning red at the roots, rolls her eyes.

It takes a few hours for Pepper to coax Ana to leave the compound and go to a store. Ana makes it halfway down the driveway to the car and stops. Her hearing has grown sensitive, and she knows why, however, she doesn’t hear much of anything.

The birds that used to sing in the trees and woods are silent. There’s zero scurrying feet over the dry leaves on the ground, and the feel of the air around her is…heavy. Broken and hurt. And here she is, about to shop for her child, for her and Bucky’s child.

Without him. Broken and hurt.

“I can’t do this,” She mutters, turning back to go inside.

Pepper doesn’t force her or convince her again. Instead, they pick and order a crib, highchair and anything else she needs.

As Ana rests, watching in a daze as Pepper folds little towels, she places one pile next to Ana. Shifting her eyes, she sees a onesie that says “Little Bean” with three coffee beans decorating the front. Pepper lays matching socks on top, oblivious to Ana’s reaction. She reaches for the tiny socks, the cloth soft in her hand.

“Annie Doll, come look!” Bucky shouts excitedly from the front door. “Ana!”

They had just gotten back from the hut, and she wants to shower the smells of hay and warm weather off. Ana sighs fondly, doubling back from the bathroom. She stops in the living room when she sees a gleeful Bucky holding up a package of six socks. Six, tiny baby socks.

“What in the world?” Ana laughs in bemusement. “Where did you get those? Oh, they’re so cute!”

“Shuri! Well, no-“ Bucky corrects himself as he comes closer. “She helped me navigate one of those baby store websites and I saw these so I ordered them!”

“Bucky, you know I’m only six weeks in right, babe? We have so much time to buy all the socks!” Though as she says it, her heart swells with warmth and love over Bucky’s excitement.

“Yeah…but look!” He nearly shoves the small things in her face. “Baby goats! They had goats on them and I just- what? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Ana can’t control her face, or her suddenly wet eyes. She just grabs her husband by the nape of his neck and kisses him firmly. She drags him to the couch, because she won’t make it back to their bedroom.

Remembering that day, Ana gets up too fast, pausing as a wave of dizziness hits her. She waits until it passes, then begins to frantically pull open drawers, searches through her closet, through boxes. She finds nothing as she throws clothes and drops objects to the floor.

“What are you looking for?” Pepper questions cautiously.

“I-I can’t find them.” Ana says with a shaky voice. “I need to find them. I have to find them.”

“Ana-“

“He bought them,” She mumbles, ignoring the tears falling down her cheeks as she rechecks the top drawer. “He bought them. He was so excited, and I can’t find them. I-I need them for Bucky. He bought them for the baby.”

A hand on her shoulder makes her turn and burry her face into Pepper’s chest. “I can’t find them!”

The socks Bucky bought aren’t in her room, which means. The six little pair of goat socks are somewhere in their home in Wakanda. It’s such a small thing, but it breaks Ana all over again. Feeling like her body is being ripped in two once more.

Reminds her that the black hole in her chest will never be whole again.

27 Weeks:

Nothing gets easier. Ana almost shuts her emotions off again, a few times, until she ends up have a conversation with Nebula one night. It starts off with a game she said her, and Stark played while they were drifting off in space. She takes out a thick triangle, Ana immediately recognizing the little paper football.

Ana smiles sadly at the triangle, remembered when Tony played the same game with her as she recovered in the hospital after her brother had attacked her. The game moves on from light comments, to Ana teaching her simple card games. From there, is transpires deeper. Nebula brings up her suspicions of Ana’s nightmares and growing powers. Unknown as to why she does, Ana opens up to her.

“I thought it was because I was stress free in Wakanda. I was the happiest I’ve ever been.” She recalls somberly. “I was with the person I loved more than anything in my life I had Bucky.” Ana wipes the tears that escape her eyes. She takes a moment to gather herself as Nebula waits patiently.

“I had, have these rings that help regulate my energy. I haven’t been wearing them lately though, maybe that’s why? Or the growth of my hormones with the baby? Or-“

Her right hand slips slightly, her fingers grazing over the stone embedded in the last knuckle of the glove. She yelps, either from pain or the new surge of power coursing through her.

Ana blinks, the memory flashing through her mind. Reminding her.

I touched an Infinity Stone, doesn’t seem to be something Ana should confess just yet. However, Nebula was born on a different planet, and the daughter of that horrible titan. She may possibly know more about the stones than anyone else.

The first time Ana had been in close proximity to Nebula, she felt energy and emotions just as chaotic, and dark as Bucky’s had been; if not a little more. It had to be Nebula’s own moment of vulnerability, suffering so deeply from pain and lose and rage. Since then, she had been stoic enough for Ana to sit close to her, just to feel energy that wasn’t openly heavy. Maybe it’s why Ana decides to tell her.

“Nebula,” Ana begins quietly, urgently, hoping no one is overhearing. “If I tell you something, do you promise to keep it a secret? I’m trusting you here.”

Nebula isn’t one to express her thoughts or emotions, or anything for that matter on her face, but this clearly shocks her. Her dark eyes are wide as she sits back. Nodding once she leans back in, closer to listen to Ana.

“I, I think I touched one of the Infinity Stones,” She mutters, nervously rubbing her hands over her stomach. “I’m sure of it.”

A beat passes. “No Terran can touch a stone without damage. Or death,” Nebula states ominously. “It is not possible.” Though as she says it, her words drift off in thought.

“Don’t you know all about the stones? Does Rocket?” Ana can’t help but inquire.

She shakes her head, eyes looking oddly disappointed. “I only know one of their main functions. Some were simple, straightforward, like the Power Stone. Others were more complicated. My father was never one to spill the secrets of each stone he found.”

“Maybe that’s the one I touched? The Power Stone?” Ana foolishly asks with hope.

“Do you recall the color?”

“No,” She huffs, defeated. Abruptly she doubts herself. “I’m not even sure if it really happened anymore.”

Ana doesn’t elaborate, feeling rather silly for even mentioning it. Maybe she dreamt it. Maybe she was hit so hard it knocked her brain around a little. Maybe she was so emotionally distraught that she just fabricated it. Maybe it doesn’t mean anything.

“You have dreams?” Nebula questions, bringing Ana back.

“I have nightmares,” She corrects. “Always the same, like a strange world.”

“Your physical strength has grown since touching the stone.”

“Yeah,” Ana drawls out, wincing. “That’s…that’s not part of it, I think. Wait. You’ve noticed that? My-my strength?”

“I have. You could be a lethal warrior if you wanted.”

Internal panic tightens her chest. She hoped no one was going to notice; leaving bruises on Steve was one thing, possibly passable and could be forgotten. Even her newly sensitive hearing. But the cracks in objects that aren’t easily crackable? The broken hinge of the door to the roof when Ana pulled to hard? Those aren’t as easy to explain or hide.

“Is that another secret, Barnes? How powerful you have become?”

“Please,” She sags, abruptly feeling tired. “It’s not something I want to talk about yet.”

They don’t speak for a few minutes. Then Nebula makes a tiny smacking noise against the table. “I win.”

Ana looks down at the game of war they paused to talk. Nebula’s duel card is an Ace. Ana flips her over. It’s a Queen.

“I enjoyed that,” Nebula states coolly, gathering the cards messily. “I am going to beat Rhodes now.”

Ana is left laughing softly in the living room. Her panic slowly dying down.

28 weeks:

Entering her seventh month of carrying a human being inside her has really taken affect on Ana. Her hair has gotten much longer, thicker than it was. It’s probably the only thing Ana likes. The heartburn, light sciatic pain, and lower back pain and peeing every five minutes she could all do without. Thankfully, Ana’s vitals and the baby’s have been good enough for Dr. Hammond, who once again stresses the support group for expecting widowed mothers.

Finally relenting, Ana agrees, but with a blush on her face asks Natasha to go with her. The drive isn’t too far, and it’s the first time she has left the compound since Wakanda. There’s a significantly less amount of cars on the road, barely any traffic for a Friday at 5:30pm. The lack of birds and planes flying through the sky. The absence of bikers and runners.

Clenching her hands into fits, Ana rolls her shoulders back, taking a deep breath. Her skin prickles with new energy, new emotions, especially when Natasha stops at a red light. Ana meets the eyes of the person sitting next to them; a middle aged man with vacant eyes. The light turns green and as he drives away, there’s a sticker family on the back of his car; a wife and five kids.

The radio turns to static, then shuts off. Biting her lips, Ana tries not to think of every single person who lost their families, friends, children, the love of their lives. The confusion, the horror, the guilt people must have felt, still feel. Ana’s breathing begins to rapidly pick up, and that same clenching pressure makes itself known in her lower stomach.

“Nat,” She grits out, closing her eyes in an attempt to calm herself.

“Are you going into labor in my car?” Natasha deadpans, a hint of humor behind the flat of her voice.

“No,” Ana huffs a strained chuckle. “But I can’t do this. I thought I could. But my energy…”

“Figured with the radio, just don’t shut car down either. I’m turning around right now, don’t worry. Just count your breathing. Slow inhales and exhales. Touch around you if you need too. You’re alright Ana”

How ironic, Ana thinks vaguely as she follows those instructions, for someone titled an Empathetic Healer to have her own anxiety attacks. To have someone who used to come to her, be the one coaching Ana.

Fuck, she misses Bucky with every aching molecule.

Bucky was so good, so attuned to her, that he was always able to calm her down instantly. All he had to do was gently brush his metal fingers against her hand, or cheek. All he had to do was give her a tight squeeze with his right hand, or press his forehead to hers and silently breath with her until Ana had followed his calming pattern. Or press her hand to his chest like she had done since the beginning. Coo gentle, loving words to her. Even now, she hears that phantom call of her voice.

“Have you picked a name yet?” Nat’s gentle voice provides a slight distraction.

She takes her time to answer. “Not-not really. We considered a few, but it was still too early.”

She hums. “I assume Bucky was excited?”

Remembering how Bucky ran out of the room and spun her after the positive result, Ana smiles to herself. The undeniable glee that lit up his entire beautiful face, his eyes the bluest she had ever seen then, shinning with tears. The kisses her placed on every inch of her body that night, taking his time to set every one of her nerves on fire. Brought her to the highest of highs, just to bring her crashing down into him, safe, happy and loved.

Ana isn’t aware she’s silently crying until the tears drip off her jaw and land on her stomach. Soaks into the fibers of another one of Bucky’s shirt, because when she wears them, it’s like carrying him with her wherever she goes. Ana wipes her tears with trembling fingers.

“Yes,” She answers belatedly. Despite the shuddering breath she takes, she feels like she can breathe better. “Ecstatic.”

“Did you know that little shit Rocket, stole my egg rolls and ate all four of them!” Natasha abruptly informs her. “Nearly threw hands with a raccoon.”

The sudden change from her vicious threatening voice to her pitiful grumble and the story itself, has Ana breaking out in laughter. It’s a liberating feeling, getting to laugh as brusquely as she did. Lessens the tightness in her chest a little more. She laughs for two minutes straight, Nat joining along with her.

“Thank you, Nat.” Ana whispers after they’ve calmed down.

“I swear if another apology follows that, I will punch a pregnant woman in the arm.” Though as she threatens this, Ana can see the coy smirk on her mouth.

Instead, Natasha reaches over, squeezing her hand. She tries not to feel all of Natasha’s anguish, but the little she does get, reminds her that she’s not alone in this aftermath. Ana returns the gesture with a harder grip.

“Now, fix the damn radio, would you?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The next two nights pulls Ana straight to sleep after she gets comfortable on her left side. She’s so tired the past 48 hours, that her mind finally shuts off, and she has dreamless nights. It doesn’t stop her waking up feeling guilty, like she missed the dreams on purpose; it brings the same agonizing ache as always.

It also never stops from calling out to her while she’s conscious. As if her soul is angry that she missed that dream world for two days. Something happens following lunch three days later, while everyone is gathered around the kitchen island.

Annie.

The soft whisper is like a trance caressing her body, a lovers call inside her mind, beckoning her back. Back to sleep, because she knows, without a doubt, she will end up in that world. The strange orange world, where the sky looks like the burning afterglow of raging fires. The odd world with wetless water, an unknown little girl, an ominous door.

There, in that place of illusion, does she hear his voice loud and clear. Calls her by her name, lifts his hand to gently fit his palm along the curve of her cheek. He’s there, always with that sad little smile. His eyes so incredibly blue, so tender, yearning as if he misses her.

In that world, is Bucky.

In that world, Ana can steal just a few moments feeling Bucky. Against her skin, in the air. His breath in her lungs, his beating heart in the empty cavity of her chest. For just five short seconds, begging for time to stretch, pleading for time to freeze, Ana has Bucky in her soul.

Annie.

Her sharp inhale brings her out of her own daze, dropping her face in her hands. She shakes her head, resisting the urge to just take a nap, allow herself to fall into that water once more. Sometimes, she wishes she could just sleep and not wake, to stay forever with Bucky in that world. Then maybe, maybe she could save him.

“Bucky,” Ana barely murmurs under her breath. Tears stinging behind her eyelids. “Bucky. I miss you. I miss you.”

She leans forward, until she rests her head on a solid surface, face now hidden in the crook of her arm. She right hand grips the edge, fingers clenching as she hears his voice in her head again. Her soul cries out for its missing half.

“Ana? Everything okay?”

She makes a noise, can’t tell if it’s a confirmation or not. Her chest feels like it’s tightening. The baby jabs a sharp kick, or a punch, aimed right at her ribs. It’s enough to jolt her back to reality, and she slowly pushes herself up straight. She meets the concerned gazes of six other people.

The lights of the compound are flickering again, the air heavy with dampening energy. Nebula is the closest to her, and carefully reaches over to uncurl Ana’s fingers from the death grip on the counter. Bits of granite and dust sprinkle to the floor, Nebula leans over the cracked spot. Ana gives her a curious look, then quickly meets the gaze of everyone else. She makes eye contact with both Steve and Natasha, keen green and blue eyes not fooled by the cover up.

“Are you feeling alright?” Carol questions, stepping closer. “Your energy levels seem to be spiking.”

“Y-yeah! Yes! I’m fine!” Ana quickly reassures. She inhales and exhales deeply, and the lights steady. “Uh…the baby. Yeah, the baby was just moving around a lot is all. I’m fine, feel fine. Honest.”

Natasha sighs, suddenly looking tired and leaning her hands on the counter. She shakes her head, then her and Steve share a look. A silent conversation. Steve nods once.

“Ana, I think it’s time to talk about something you’ve been trying to hide,” Natasha speaks calmly.

“I’m not hiding anything,” Ana denies. She’s usually better at lying than this. “I told you, pregnancy has thrown my energy off a little, that’s all.”

“Cut the bullshit, Ana!” Steve snaps coldly, eyes flashing.

Ana blinks in shock. Steve angry is…a little frightening. He doesn’t stand to be lied to. “Steve-“

“You have been getting stronger?” It’s a question but it sounds more like observation.

“I’ve gained my strength back now that I’ve been eating more-“

“Not what I am talking about.”

“You have to know, Ana,” Natasha urges, brows pinched together.

She stares at them for a second, then she gets up as quickly and carefully as she can. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

Ana walks out of the kitchen, heading towards her room as fast as she can waddle. Her heart is pounding faster, her own panic about the developing situation coming to the surface. Of course, Ana has noticed herself getting stronger the further she gets into pregnancy. It’s not like the thought has never crossed her mind. She had just been too busy shutting her emotions off and trying to figure out that dream world and trying not to suffocate on ashes and heartbreak.

Of course, she’s noticed the dented fingers marks on wooden and metal surfaces, of the spidering cracks in the toilet bowl, the ripping of several maternity sweatpants as she tugged them up over her stomach. Of the broken pieces of plastic cups and one of the bottles of the elixir. Of course, she knew the bruises she left on a damn super soldier were from her.

Speaking of.

Steve follows her down the hallway, catching up rather quickly. “Ana! Ana, please. Look, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to snap at you, but you have to know. Maybe just get it checked out by Dr. Hammond, or another doctor, run some tests. I’m just worried how this could affect you and the baby.”

Ana halts when she’s in front of her door, rounding on Steve. “No! This doesn’t concern you, Steve!”

“I’m just looking out for your wellbeing!”

She grabs the handle of her door with frustration. “I don’t know why you suddenly seem to have an obligation to me, but-“

Ana stops talking the moment she forcefully pushes the door handle. She didn’t account for how much strength she used as she shoved. She stumbles forward, her arm going straight through the hole, holding the doorknob. It’s splintered with jagged edges from the broken wood. She stares wide-eyed at the shape of the hole, strangely looking like the broken piece would fit back in perfectly like a puzzle.

This is new. Ana slowly moves her gaze to Steve; who gawks at her. Shit.

Awkwardly, she gently tries replacing the section of wood she pushed off. It sticks, not fitting quite right, but she’ll just pretend it did happen, like everything else she had broken.

“Holy fuck,” Steve whispers, stunned.

Deciding to remain silent, considering there’s no way around it, Ana just watches Steve. She can see him mentally gathering the pieces in his head. She only makes it to the count of four as he figures it out.

“I fucking knew it. It is enhancing you.”

“Steve. Please don’t,” Ana pleads, her anxiety making her nerves burn.

“The serum transferred to you. Which means it transferred to-“

“No, no it didn’t!” She desperately disputes. “This is just a weird fluke thing. You know, Nebula accidentally pulled off an entire door last week.”

Steve shakes his head, eyes flashing with concern as he looks her over. “We need to take you to a doctor. Dr. Cho maybe, run tests to confirm it.”

White hot panic surges up her spine. Ana frantically shakes her head. This is exactly why she didn’t want anyone to know, why she didn’t give it much thought. Why she hid it. Drawing blood, conducting tests, being studied; all for the slight chance of her baby possibly having the super soldier serum in its genetic code.

“Absolutely not!” Ana states fervidly, fear rising up in her.

He frowns, expression serious. “Ana, this could be-“

“I know what it could be, Steve!” She yells. “I know exactly what this means!”

Ana places her hands protectively over her stomach. “It’s the serum! It was in Bu- in Bucky’s genetic code. In his DNA. Which means it’s more than likely is in the baby’s genetics! My baby is going to be enhanced, there’s no way it’s not. Bucky is a...was-“

She breaks off, voice shaky, her body trembling. She swallows thickly, knowing she must finally face the truth. She feels movement under her hands, as if the baby is confirming what she’s known since the beginning. All her senses becoming sharper; hearing more sensitive, eyesight slightly better.

“Bucky was enhanced,” Ana continues, voice as panicked as before. “I’m-I’m enhanced. I don’t want anyone to know. I didn’t want anyone to know. I can’t! If doctors or scientists found out, if anyone finds out that this is the child of the Winter Soldier and an Energy Alchemist!? Who the hell knows what exactly they would want to do with our baby!”

“Ana,” Steve looks torn, “We can keep it a secret. Find a trustworthy-“

“Fuck trustworthy, Steve!” She shouts, slicing her hand through the air. “No one is trustworthy! They’re still out there! Hydra, AIM, other organizations and groups just like them!”

“Hey, hey-“ He attempts to interrupt, to calm her down. It doesn’t work.

“Captain Rogers,” FRIDAY’s voice speaks up over them in warning.”

“I know!” He says to the AI.

Ana barely hears their exchange. Her breath begins to shorten, chest tightening. “Thanos didn’t fucking correct the universe like his fucked up brain thought! It didn’t snap away the evil people of the world. It made it easier for them! Hydra- Eric Woods kidnapped us just three year ago! If they knew. They’re still out there. If they find out-“

“That is not going to happen!” Steve promises vehemently, stepping closer.

“They- they can’t! Can’t find out. This is all I have left,” Ana begins to hyperventilate, cradling her stomach. “This is all I have left. This is all I have left.”

“Hey, honey, I’m sorry. Deep breathes, Ana,” Steve coaxes gently. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen.”

Ana is barely aware of her skin beginning to glow brighter. The walls started to tremble, the floor shakes. She feels a chaotic and static energy in the air. There’s a sharp tightening in her chest again and she needs…she needs her husband.

But Bucky isn’t here. Ana is not dreaming; she doesn’t see him. She doesn’t hear the faint haunting murmurs of her name. He’s not gently touching her cheek, gazing at her with those loving blue eyes. She doesn’t feel Bucky and that’s one of the worst things that has been carved out of her soul.

“Okay, okay, no doctors, Ana. I swear it,” Steve says carefully. “Just try breathe, Ana.”

Slowly, he reaches out to her. As if to comfort her, support her, remind her that she is not alone in this. When Steve’s fingers are inches from her skin, she can feel her powers reacting viciously. Ana takes a step back.

“I-I can’t!” She pants heavily. “It feels like. I wake up. Ashes. Dust. It’s- I wake up from ashes and it’s everywhere! Its-It’s in my lungs. My throat. It feels like I’m suffocating! I wake up and I’m suffocating.”

If she was aware enough, Ana could read his expression as broken, maybe a little helpless. Instead, Steve finally touches her. He doesn’t even get his fingers wrapped around her wrist, before he is abruptly, and harshly ricocheted backward.

His body is thrown halfway down the hall, slamming against the end of the wall. He hits it so hard, plaster and cement crack and rain pieces down on his limp form. Ana smacks her hand over her mouth. Light bulbs shatter, the air sizzles hotly, and she covers her head with her arm as bits of glass fall from the lights.

Despite the sight and groaning from Steve, Ana can’t seem to get a handle on her power, her energy, her emotions. It’s what lead to her outburst of power weeks prior. She isn’t wearing the rings Shuri gave her, has no other way of regulating herself. Quickly, she presses her hands to her chest, trying to regain her breathing, to focus, to control her emotions, her powers. Maybe she should turn off her emotions again. It’s better, safer for everyone, and herself.

Something grips her left shoulder, vice and grounding. Abruptly, Ana’s powers halt, then begins to settle. She gasps at the sudden feeling, but she doesn’t push it away, instead she grabs the hand on her shoulder and squeezes.

“I’m right here,” A soothing reminder. Carol’s voice. “You’re okay, you’re alright. I’m here.”

It’s the same feeling Ana had experience before with Carol’s own powers. As if they call out to her, like it wants to comfort her. Remind her that she really isn’t alone; not with this.

Her eyes sting as Ana tightly shuts them. Inhaling slowly, deeply, she nods. Her knees feel weak, her skin hot as she comes down, everything falling silent and settling around her. A sharp jab to the side of her stomach makes her wince; the baby protesting the rise and fall of the energy.

Ana snaps her eyes open, releasing Carol as she takes a shaky step forward. She feels the hands behind her hovering by her arms, a precaution in case she stumbles. Steve is taking his time getting up. A wave of guilt mixed with nausea curls through her.

“S-Steve?” Ana calls out with a trembling voice.

He attempts to push himself up, but his hand slips, and he presses his forehead to the debris covered floor. Ana moves closer. She doesn’t quite understand what happened. Her energy shouldn’t have knocked him back like that without the protective shield. In fact, twice it’s accepted Steve. Once in Wakanda, right after half of everyone vanished, and when he recklessly held her just weeks ago.

When she reaches him, now with Carol’s supporting hands on her arm, she carefully kneels placing a shaky hand on his back. Steve’s panting slightly, groaning low in his throat as he finally gets himself up on all fours. He tilts sideways, sitting back and slumping against the wall.

“Are you- did I hurt you?”

When Steve looks up to meet Ana’s gaze, her heart clenches. The emotion storming in his blue eyes roots her to the spot. His eyes are red, wet, tracks of tears staining his cheeks. The utter guilt, shame, and pain shinning in them renders Ana speechless.

“I’m sorry,” Steve croaks. Ana shakes her head, perplexed. “I’m so sorry, Ana.”

“No, I-“

“This isn’t on you,” He cuts her off, wincing as he straightens himself. “I failed you.”

Lifting his hand, he lays it gingerly on her shoulder. “I promise-I swear on my life. I will keep you and your baby safe. I…I couldn’t keep Bucky...I couldn’t bring him back to you. I broke that promise to you. I won’t break this one.”

Ana feels her face screw up with emotion. “Okay,” She exhales thickly, tears spilling from her eyes. “Okay.”

She drops her forehead to his shoulder, her own shaking as she cries. Through her tears, she listens closely, trying to decipher Steve’s breathing. His heart is slowly settling back to his version of a normal rate, and his breaths even out, no sign of broken ribs.

“Feeling alright?” Steve checks in a few minutes of them sitting there crying.

Sniffling, she wipes her nose on her sleeve and leans back. “Are you?”

“Just bruises, I think. Feeling exhausted, but I’m okay. Didn’t beat me up too bad. I’m actually a little proud.”

It makes Ana chuckle wetly, wiping more tears away.

“You guys okay?” Carol questions behind her. Ana hears the concern hidden in the coolness of her tone. “Didn’t rattle your brain too much, did she Rogers?”

“Nah, I can do this-“

“Yeah, yeah,” Ana cuts him off with a wave of her hand. “He’s got this annoyingly admiring habit of never staying down.”

A smile lights up Carol’s face as she extends a hand out for her. Ana takes it, allowing her new friend to lift her with her majority of her strength. When she looks behind Carol, Natasha is standing right there. There’s no anger or disappointment in her eyes, she just offers her a tiny smile then goes to help Steve up, brushing off rubble from his shirt.

“I,” Ana hesitates, soothing her hands over her belly as the baby wiggles around. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t had tried hiding this from either of you.” She addresses Natasha as well.

She carefully wraps her arms around Ana. “We shouldn’t have pushed. You know we love you. We’ve been nothing but worried about you. And this little one.” Natasha lends down to gently rub Ana’s belly. “Huh? Just being a strong little super soldier in there, aren’t you?”

The baby responds by kicking again. Ana sighs, the sensation it a little weird to her. She can’t help but crack a smile, despite hurting Steve.

“I’m not lying when I say I’m scared.” Ana tells them. She looks at Steve. “But, if you think it’s best I go see-“

“No,” He interrupts her. “How could I ever think I had the right to tell you what to do, to make a decision for you and your baby. It’s your choice, Ana. If you don’t want too, don’t. I’m sorry I pressured you. You have all the right not to trust anyone.”

“I trust you, you know, that right? I trust all of you here. I just don’t want anyone else to know.”

“Yeah, I know,” Steve breathes heavily, and carefully wraps his arm around her.

Ana leans into him, exhausted and suddenly livid at herself for pushing him away for months. Angry that she pushed away people whom she considers family and ignoring their own pain in the process.

“I’m sorry if I’m still a little off,” Ana apologizes shyly. “Having to deal with my emotions again, feeling so much around me. It’s overwhelming.”

“Hey, don’t worry about any of it. We understood, and we still do.” Natasha says. “By the way, a very annoyed AI alerted me of your spiking vitals. I always found it a little creepy how emotional Tony makes his artificial intelligence. Just take it easy the rest of the night, yeah?”

Ana nods as Carol beckons for them to get out of the hallway. She helps them both along, guiding Ana carefully over shattered glass.

Hours later, after the hallway has been cleaned up, both Ana’s and the baby’s vitals checked thoroughly by FRIDAY and a call from Dr. Hammond, Steve finally knocks on Ana’s door. He figures it time to honestly talk to her, lay out his own fears. To truly apologize to her.

“Are you concussed?” Ana asks flatly. She’s propped up against her pillows, with two beneath her knees.

Steve smiles despite himself, making yet another connection between her and when Bucky was a teenager yanking him out of back alley fights. Closing the newly fixed door behind him, he comes to sit on the edge of the bed. He notices in her hands, one of the many journals belonging to Bucky, opened as her fingers trace the written words, like she’s tattooing them on her skin.

“Hard head, remember?” He quips, getting comfortable in his position.

Ana snorts and kicks at his propped up knee. Inhaling to calm his nerves, Steve decides it just best to get right to it, staring straight at those big brown eyes.

Ones that have always seen right through people. Ones that have hardened and burned cold the past several months. He swallows thickly. Her gaze pins him to his spot. The only person to ever make him feel like he’s being picked apart down to his soul has been Natasha, but Ana is a very close second. But then she blinks, the cold lessening as confusion settles in.

“You’re nervous. I can feel it.”

“Everything is my fault,” Steve confesses in a rush, keeping eye contact even though he wants to sink into the earth.

“What are you talking about?”

“There’s been uh, a few things I’ve been too afraid to tell you. To talk to you about.” He rubs his sweaty hands on his jeans. “You said you didn’t know why I have an obligation to care take of you. Well, I made a promise to you in Wakanda, remember. I also made one to Bucky.”

Ana’s frown deepens but she remains silent, waiting for him to elaborate.

Wakanda, fifteen minutes before the battle of Thanos:

Steve had to tear his eyes away from Bucky and Ana’s goodbye, not from discomfort, but if he continued to watch he would have told Bucky to stay with her. He should have told Bucky to just stay with her, for them to protect each other, to help protect Shuri as she works on Vision.

He should tell Bucky now, to just go back where he belongs, right next to his wife. Steve watches Bucky with a keen eye as they ride towards the field; the wind blowing his long hair back from his face. Steve’s known Bucky his entire life. He knows every little sign of distress, anger, no matter how hard Bucky always tried to hide it from him. Only one other person knows Bucky just as much as Steve does- probably knows him even better by this point.

Bucky didn’t want to leave Ana; anyone could see that. Now, as Steve watches Bucky’s new vibranium hand fiddle with a loose thread on his pants, he knows it’s taking everything in his friend to stay on the hovercraft. Bucky’s hips keep shifting his weight side to side. His chest is rising is slow calculating movements, his jaw is clenching, he slowly closes his eyes. Steve swallows thickly. They should have never asked Bucky to join one more fight. He makes up his mind.

“Buck-“

“Steve,” Bucky interrupts what he was about to say. He opens his eyes, stares straight ahead. “If anything happens to me-“

“Don’t fucking talk like that.” Steve reprimands firmly, dread curling in his stomach.

Bucky meets his gaze, serious and, fearful. “We can’t kid ourselves here, pal. If- if anything happens to me-“ He swallows with his brows pinched together. “Can you…can you take care of her?”

“Bucky-“

“I need you to take care of Ana for me. Please. I need to know they will- she. I need to know she’ll be taken care of. Please Steve.”

The begging desperation in Bucky’s eyes nearly breaks his heart. For once, Steve bites back his disagreement and nods. “Of course, I’ll take care of her, Buck.”

A sudden heavy boot presses down atop of Steve’s foot. “Thank you.”

His whisper of gratitude is nearly lost in the sounds of them landing at their destination. They file off the aircraft, but Steve can’t stomach it anymore. He quickly turns to Bucky, who double checks the knives at his thigh holster, and grabs his gun from the crate.

“Go back, Buck. I mean it. Just go back to Ana.” Steve orders. He can hear how frantic he sounds. “You should be together.”

A bitter smile flashes across Bucky’s mouth. “With you til’ the end of line, Stevie.” He lifts his gaze from his gun, that same old mischief back in his eyes. “Plus, Ana’s safest where she is right now. It’s your dumb ass I gotta protect. Like always.”

From his right, Steve hears Natasha snort in humor. He shoots her a glare then shoves Bucky ahead of him, and just like that, they’re leading the march onto the battlefield. It feels way too reminiscent of their time in the Howling Commandos, marching into battle.

Silence follows as Steve finishes telling Ana that bit of information. Watches as she slowly smooths her hands over of her stomach, having put the journal aside. Her left hand pauses for a second, gently tapping her fingers over the spot, presses down, and continues on. Her wedding rings reflect like glitter off the lights as she moves. Steve frowns, curious. She’s been doing that a lot lately and he wonders how often the baby kicks, if it feels the same restlessness as its mother.

“Well, it was a pretty dumbass move when you went after Thanos with your bare fucking hands.” Ana says.

Steve makes a protesting noise. “Didn’t you do that same thing?”

“We’re talking about you here, not me. Plus, I had the shield activated.”

The little humor he hears in her voice makes Steve smiles just a little. At least some of her old self seems to be shining through the broken cracks.

“Of course, Bucky would ask you take care of me,” She whispers solemnly.

“Haven’t kept that promise to him though,” Steve mumbles. “He said “they” at the time, and I didn’t put it together until you told me. But I’ve been doing a shit job, to be honest.”

“To be honest,” Ana repeats his words with firmer tone. “That’s completely on me. I haven’t made this easy for anyone. I am so incredibly sorry again.”

Steve reaches out to grab her hand, giving her fingers a firm squeeze. “No one blames you for what you did. We understand, but your, what is it now? A hundredth apology is accepted.”

Ana offers him a small smile. It falls a second later. “Why do you think it’s all your fault?”

“Because I broke my promise to bring Bucky back to you. I broke my promise to both of you.” Steve lowers his gaze, taking his hand from hers. “If I just. Fuck. If I just defeated him, if I just had killed Thanos with every chance I got, then none of this would have happened. I would have brought Bucky back safe and sound and you wouldn’t be going through this alone. Vision would still be alive. Wanda wouldn’t have had to endure all that pain. Fuck, she was still so young. And Sam-“

Steve hears his voice crack and he pinches the bridge of his nose, trying desperately to hold back his tears. He didn’t come here to have a sob fest on her bed. A soft warm touch rests over his other hand, a gentle trickle beginning to ease his emotions.

“Steve,” Ana speaks so softly.

He slowly pulls his hand from her touch. Finally looking up, he shakes his head. “I don’t need you to do that. You don’t need to change use your ability for me. Don’t exert yourself.”

“But you feel so sad,” She tells him. Steve nods in a mute confession. “You haven’t spoken to anyone about this have you?”

He shakes his head again.

“Then talk to me if you won’t allow me to help you.”

He huffs his exhales, giving her a look. “Have you talked to anyone about how you feel?” Steve challenges, not unkindly.

“No, but what do you think this? Just get it all out. Talk to me.”

This was not what he came here for. He just wanted to wallow in his own self-deprecating pity. To confess to Ana that he had failed her, he failed the universe. The crushing weight of that brings him down in a pit of darkness each night, drowns him in his own horrible nightmares. Watches helplessly as all his friends fall to the ground in piles of ash.

Steve came to Ana, with some oddly placed masochism and a small bit of hope that she would lash out at him again because he deserves it. He deserves her avoiding his eyes. Deserves to nearly have his own life drained from his body, to have her powers injure him as he’s thrown against solid concrete. To have any ounce of her hate, anger, placed all on him.

But the way Ana sits patiently, kindly and not shouting cruses or damnation to him. The way she just tried calming him, helping him, is exactly who is she. Despite the months of shutting off her own emotions. A small piece of herself is still there, if broken and haunted, but there.

It causes Steve to finally break.

“I’m angry!” He spits out, clutching at the sheets. “I am so fucking angry at myself! I could have made Bucky stay with you. I could have saved him.” Steve releases a bitter laugh. “I guess that’s my track record though isn’t it? I could never save Bucky. Not from that damn train, not from fucking Hydra, not from Zemo’s revenge, not from being stolen away from you.

“You know, I thought when I was first got the serum, that I would finally be able to protect the people I love most, to protect my family. What a load of bullshit! I still lost him. I had to watch him die, again. You had to watch Bucky die and I still couldn’t protect him. I couldn’t protect you from losing him. I couldn’t protect my family, my friends, the goddamn world! I couldn’t save anyone from Thanos.”

Tears are freely falling down Steve’s cheeks, tracing into his lips and soaking into his jeans. He licks the saltiness from his lips, taking in a trembling breath. He sniffs hard, shaking his head again.

“I failed. I failed everyone. I failed Tony-“

“Steve-“ Ana attempts to dispute his statement, but he doesn’t allow her.

He continues without giving her an ounce of room to speak. “I did. I betrayed him. He’s right, maybe if we fought together, we could have defeated Thanos. That’s on me. I failed. And I failed Bucky again, time and time again and because of it. I failed you too.”

“That night, when you broke down, I felt every single emotion you had. All your anguish, your loneliness, your pain, your heartbreak. You felt empty. It was crippling, suffocating. That’s not something you should have to deal with or feel by yourself, Ana. None of this is your fault. You didn’t fail. Just put it all on me instead. I deserve that.”

“Hey, stop!”

Steve abruptly scoots forward and quickly grabs her right hand, pressing his solidly against his chest. He ignores her startled, somewhat fearful look. He feels an electric spark shock his chest as her skin glows for a fleeting moment. It fades when she clearly doesn’t feel threatened anymore. If Ana had blasted him back again, he would have welcomed it.

“You shut off your emotions, Ana. There’s a part of me that wonders if it made it easier to shut me out too. Do you hate me because I failed you? Because I failed the entire universe? I’m fucking Captain America, who let the world turn to dust. I want you to hate me, Ana. I want you to lash out at me.”

Ana yanks her hand back, then promptly slaps him across the face.

Steve blinks twice, stunned. His cheek stings and he tastes copper on his tongue for biting the inside of his cheek. His head clears a little, and he thinks yeah, he probably deserved that. When he gathers himself to meet her gaze, there’s fury in her eyes. Something he hasn’t seen in Ana for so long.

“I nearly killed you, Steve!” She hisses at him, shaking out her hand once. “I wasn’t trying to share my pain with anyone else. You just happened to be there, and I almost stole your life energy. You’re the only self-sacrificing idiot that runs headfirst to hold onto to a Life Drainer. How the fuck is that making good on your promise to Bucky to take care of me, if you aren’t even alive!?”

Guilt floods through his veins as Steve realizes she’s right, and he got way into his head just then. Didn’t articulate properly what he was trying to say. He drops his head in shame as she continues to talk.

“I’m sorry I slapped you,” She apologies, but her voice still has a hint of aggravation. “But goddamnit, Rogers. You punishing yourself for thinking you’re the only one who failed? For breaking promises? You aren’t the only one who thinks they failed people, Steven. As for your promise.”

Steve lifts his head, tentatively meeting her gaze. Her eyes are watery, tears brimming along her lower eyelids. She’s stroking her arms over her stomach again, one after the other, blowing out a shaky breath as her tears fall over. Steve feels even worse, having made her distressed yet again.

“I didn’t make it easy for anyone, especially you. I wasn’t thinking of the repercussions of what shutting of my emotions would do. I couldn’t handle it, Steve. I couldn’t handle it at all and I felt like if I didn’t do something about it, then-“ Ana breaks off, shrugging. She hastily wipes her tears away. “I am so, so deeply and incredibly sorry. I should have never-“

Steve carefully takes hold of her wrist. “Hey, no honey, none of that anymore. You needed to protect yourself and your baby first. I understand why you did. I just didn’t know how to help you, and I still don’t. I didn’t mean to stress you out more. I shouldn’t have said what I did, ask you to do something you would never do in the first place.”

“Captain Rogers,” FRIDAY interrupts their conversation abruptly. The AI doesn’t sound happy with him. “I suggest you leave Mrs. Barnes alone for the rest of the night. Her vitals hint at distress that I’m afraid you have caused. Twice now.”

Shit. He definitely did not come here with those intentions, and Steve can’t seem to stop fucking up tonight.

“No, FRIDAY, it’s fine!” Ana quickly reassures her. “I’ll do my breathing exercises. I feel fine.”

There’s a pause. “As you wish, Mrs. Barnes. You have four vials left of the elixir if you decided to drink one now, it wouldn’t hurt to do so as you didn’t take one three hours prior. However, Captain, if you continue to upset her or her baby, I will activate the electric security protocol.”

Steve glares at Ana as she snorts her laughter behind her fist as she takes out a bottle. “I understand.” He tells the AI. “I assume Pepper added that last part?”

“I’m not at liberty to say.” Another Pause. “It was not Pepper.”

FRIDAY goes silent as Ana downs the elixir with wide shocked eyes. Steve shoves his hand through his hair, blowing out a sigh. He stays quiet as he watches Ana calm herself down with the breathing exercises. He waits about five minutes until she finally opens her eyes and flashes him a small smile. He can hear the steady, relaxed beats of each heart rate and relaxes himself.

“This is definitely hypocritical for me to say,” Ana begins, wincing as she touches her stomach. “But you can’t keep that all locked inside. Exhibit A.” She gestures to herself.

“I know,” He huffs out heavily. “Nat and I talked sometimes, drank mostly, but we didn’t talk it about enough. I just, I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to fix this. I don’t know how to help you or anyone else for that matter.”

“But you are you helping yourself?”

“You’re right, you are being a little hypocritical, Barnes.”

In a rare sight of true Ana fashion, she flicks him off, then shrugs. “I’m trying to now. For the sake of this little bean.”

Sorrow weighs heavily in his bones. “You know if I could bring him back. If I had an ounce of an idea to do so-“

“I know, I know. I do.” She sighs tiredly, leaning further back, her eyes suddenly exhausted. “It’s going to take a long time to process this. For everyone. And yeah. I miss him so fucking much, Steve, it hurts to even breathe. But, I don’t think you failed me. I don’t think anyone thinks you failed them.”

Steve wants to believe her so much, but he’s always going to feel his guilt for failing her and Bucky specifically. “I still think I did.” He mutters bitterly.

“Yeah well,” Ana sniffs, wiping her sleeve over her eyes and nose. “As Rocket as said, there’s a lot of that going around, huh? I think we’re all just wallowing in our own personal feelings of self-failure.”

Steve suddenly thinks of Thor, and how he took off in the middle of the night, now word or warning. His heart aches. “I guess so. Little guy seems to have taken a liking to you though. Not as many sarcastic comments.”

Smiling as if she’s proud, she says, “It’s only because I let him clean Bucky’s gun.”

He doubts that. Secretly he thinks Ana may remind Rocket of someone he lost. “Listen. It’s getting late and I stressed you out enough with my emotional turmoil. I’ll let you get some sleep.”

“I literally threw you into a wall earlier, then bitch slapped you, so, we’re even.” She tells him as Steve helps her shimming around, adjusting pillows and pulling the covers down.

“Deal.” He agrees with a small chuckle. He rubs the top of her head, slightly musing up her hair. She glares at him. “Are you sure you’re feeling alright? You and the baby? I’m sorry about-“

“So many apologizes. Yes, I swear. We feel good. Just tired, is all.” Ana insists.

Steve nods, makes sure she’s as comfortable as can be before he makes his way to leave. Ana calling his name one more time turns him around. She looks inches away from sleep, her stomach supported by one of the thicker pillows, and she has what he knows to be Bucky’s pillow clutched to her chest.

“Thank you.” Ana murmurs.

“For what?” He questions, confused.

“For still looking after me. For being there.”

She doesn’t explain further as her eyes flutter shut. Steve however, as he gives her a smile she can’t see, knows exactly what Ana is thanking him for. His talk may not have gone the way he planned, and he still feels like there much more to converse, but Steve thinks they made some progress. He leans back against the door for a few moments, head tilted back as he stares up at the ceiling and the broken light bulbs.

“I’ll keep my promise to you, Buck.” Steve says quietly to the ceiling.

Once more, he recalls Bucky’s little slip up. “Please. I need to know they will-she.”

Bucky was asking Steve to take care of Ana, and their child.

“I swear, pal. They will both be taken care of.”

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

A/N: This was a monster to write. Thank you for sticking with me. This story is definitely going to pick up pace in the next chapter and on. Please stay healthy and safe and inside. Don’t forget to wash your hands, especially after coughing or sneezing and stop hoarding the toilet paper!

Drabbles: Twenty-Two Drabbles: Twenty-Four

Tags: @thecreatiivecorner @buckyland @stressedasalways @watchoutforfrostbite @justreadingfics @keldachick @eurynome827 @elatedmarvel @shesalatesh @paintedgreywriting @boney-and-skinny @buckaroo-blue @afewmarvelousthoughts @crushedbyhyperbole @shesalatesh

#bucky barnes x ana rios #bucky barnes x ana #bucky barnes x ofc #bucky barnes x original female character #bucky barnes fanfic #steve rogers x platonic!ofc #steve rogers x platonic!original female character #steve rogers x platonic!ana #bucky barnes angst #steve rogers angst #fanfiction #delicate stages #delicate stages drabbles #delicate stages of life

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dfcfanfics · 5 years

Text

Stuff I did and do and gonna have done

It’s been so long since I posted a catch-all post to Tumblr that even I’m having trouble scrolling down that far. So, since it’s probably been a couple of years now since that one, I’ll do some Shameless Self Promotion and throw together a catalog.

Shall we, behind the cut?

Longfics:

Someone To Watch Over Me: Adrien is having massive problems at home... and Akumas are headed his way. Marinette notices that he’s not himself, and sets out to help -- in both her identities. A Ladrienette triangle develops, with both of our young heroes hanging on for the ride... and that’s just how it begins. Complete, 24 chapters, 225k words. Original inspiration by @buggachat.

The Marinette Project: The school year ends, and Adrien notices that Marinette seems really down about that. As Chat Noir, he sets out to bring her spirits back up over the summer... and quickly finds himself in way over his head. Mostly Marichat. Complete, 14 chapters, 90k words.

Tyger, Tyger, Burning Bright: A new villain’s attack targets Marinette by chance, and knocks Tikki out of commission indefinitely. Chat Noir gets an opportunity to choose a temporary partner -- and three guesses whose balcony he lands on. But his choice of Miraculous isn’t quite as predictable... and a devilish Tiger Kwami has way too much fun helping Marinette rediscover herself. Marichat-ish. Complete, 9 chapters, 68k words. Comic-ization in progress via @brittsarts!

Let’s Take It From The Top: A reboot AU in which Gabriel brings home the Cat and Moth from Tibet, not the Peacock and Moth... and an overheard conversation sends his son on a path towards disaster, romance, new identities for familiar faces, reworked canon scenes, and perhaps the destruction of all of France. But mostly the romance and disaster parts. Complete, 21 chapters, 125k words.

Mid-length Multi-parters:

Two Hearts That Wax And Wane: Adrien isn’t sure what he said in the car with Marinette, on their way home from the wax museum... but he knows that he screwed up. Badly. His good friend stumbled out of the car almost before it stopped moving. Now he’s retracing his words and steps and trying to figure out what set Marinette off, which will lead him through both of his identities -- and both of hers. Puppeteer 2 response fic. Complete, 4 chapters (one for each Square side), 14k words.

Full Stamen Ahead: It’s Carnation Day at Francoise Dupont, where students can send each other floral tokens of their affection and appreciation. Marinette wants to send one to Adrien, but gets cold feet about sending a red one... which does not go unnoticed. A prank by Chloe, a misstep by Alya and suspicious friends lead to a cavalcade of misunderstandings, romantic drama and surprises. Marvel at my absolute mangling of the French educational system. Complete, 5 chapters, 16k words.

Once in a Lifetime: A concussive villain blasts Ladybug’s earrings right off her ears -- and Marinette into a hospital bed. Her injuries are minor; her loss of her Miraculous is not. While she tries to keep her identity safe, someone she knows finds herself with what she realizes is the most precious jewelry in Paris. Who will be Ladybug during this crisis... and how will the balance be restored? Complete, 4 chapters, 25k words.

Reservations For Two... More May Be Coming: Adrien finally figures out that he’s the one boy Ladybug gets flustered around. He gets up the nerve to ask her out... and she accepts. So how are they going to make this couple thing work, anyway... and will Paris be the same after their first fancy-restaurant date? Complete, 6 chapters, 35k words.

Throw Me Around Like One Of Your French Girls: Marinette reflects on her unpleasant encounter with Felix, and realizes... what might’ve happened if he’d tried to force a kiss on her, rather than Ladybug? She does know a handsome classmate studying martial arts, though, so perhaps she should see if he’ll teach her some things... WIP, 5 chapters so far, 25k words.

It Seemed Like A Good Idea At The Time...: After Season 3′s finales, Adrien makes a go of it with Kagami... but makes a well-meaning-but-big mistake. A weary and despondent Marinette finds a heartbroken Kagami on her doorstep, looking for advice... and one spur-of-the-moment decision on her part sends everything into chaos. NOT an Adrien Salt fic, I promise you! WIP, 13 chapters so far, 53k words.

Serious One-Shots:

Summer Break: My first fanfic. Marinette fractures her leg in a bicycle accident, and has to spend several weeks with a light cast. Chat Noir begins visiting her to cheer her up... and lots of unexpected bonding surprises them both. 6k words.

Forget-Me-Not: “Alternative episode.” A mind-sapping villain makes Ladybug and Chat Noir forget that their super-selves exist... leaving Marinette and Adrien wondering why they’re out together in Halloween costumes.in September. What happens if they don’t get their true memories back -- and what happens if they do? 6k words.

Locked and Loaded: “Alternative episode.” Marinette goes for a walk with Adrien over one of the “love lock” bridges in Paris -- which she hopes will put him in a romantic mood. But a heartbroken woman they encounter becomes corrupted by Hawkmoth, the locks become her weapons, and Our Heroes must face down an army of enslaved romantics. 6k words.

A Little Promise I’d Made Myself: It’s New Year’s Eve at Rose’s house, and a party is in progress. Adrien is having a good time, but something seems missing... until he notices a pretty classmate sitting by herself on a couch. Are midnight fireworks inevitable? 3k words.

After The Storm Breaks: After the Season 3 finales, Kagami and Adrien are dating, and Marinette and Luka are an item... but there’s something awkward in the air. Adrien and Kagami notice that Marinette has grown uncomfortable around them, and Adrien reaches out... and a lot of important things are said for the first time. 5k words.

Just One More Minute...: A tricky Akuma sends Ladybug and Chat Noir on a wild battle all over Paris, spanning several hours. They’ve won, and Paris is safe once more... but the two of them have collapsed onto a rooftop, exhausted beyond belief and barely able to move. Both Miraculous are beeping... so what are they to do? 2.5k words. Inspired by @ladybeug artwork.

Playing a Familiar Chord: After Puppeteer 2′s events, Luka is sitting quietly at home when his phone rings. Someone special to him just underwent an emotional ordeal... and she needs a friendly ear and some male advice. A gentle conversation ensues, with Luka wondering which way this might lead... 3.7k words.

Options Include Like, Comment, Share, Bookmark and Agonize: Adrien posts to Instagram, marveling over his good friends’ relationship... and wistfully wishing for one of his own. Marinette sees his post and wonders what she can do... 1.4k words.

MiracuCrack:

Trouble...Made?: Troublemaker response. Marinette decides that the only thing to do about her crush being revealed is to confess... but there’s something that she should really have known first.

It Wasn’t Plan “A”: A terrible new Akuma has sealed off all of the Kwamis’ powers. With a groan and a sense of dread in his soul, Master Fu leads Marinette and Adrien to a box containing mystic totems best left untouched... the Ridiculous.

The Logical Conclusion: After careful study, Ladybug thinks she’s worked out who Hawkmoth must be, and presents her evidence to Chat Noir. But for some odd reason, she doesn’t seem very happy about the conclusion she’s reached...

Getting Things Backwards: Adrien Agreste sits quietly on the train, rereading what Marinette had handed him for the tenth time. It... looked like a prescription for constipation medication. But inspiration strikes him and he considers it as a metaphor... might it be a love letter after all? Backwarder response.

First Times Are Always Awkward: Ladybug’s first time out against Stoneheart didn’t go quite as she’d planned it, but no one got hurt and everything went pretty well. Didn’t it? But when Alya pulls her aside the next morning, a little oversight of Tikki’s proves troublesome to our heroes’ dignity.

Communication Breakdown: With an Akuma rampaging through Paris, Ladybug came up with a desperate plan... requiring both Adrien and Chat Noir for it to work. Thinking fast, Adrien passes the ring off to one person he could trust with it. Now, Plagg explains how it works as quickly as he can -- but there’s just one problem...

“Busted,” Said the Kwami: Chat Noir found himself very impressed by Multimouse’s debut as a heroine of Paris. So much so that, later that night, he finds himself having the strangest dream... Kwami Buster response.

Nooroo Uses a Swear Word: He absolutely, positively does. But he has a good reason for it, so... let’s hear him out, shall we?

Leave Some Stones Unturned: Wayzz leads Marinette through Master Fu’s abandoned studio, both to make sure everything is as he left it and to walk her through some of the many intriguing items he’d left behind. But some locks are there for a reason, and some secrets are best left hidden...

Reservoir Kwamis: A completely silly Miraculous/Reservoir Dogs mashup. Will only make sense if you know the movie.

What do you think, sirs? (And madams? And whoever else is out there?)

#miraculous #miraculous ladybug #fanfic #shameless self promotion

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gwentoryfics · 5 years

Text

Hot for Teacher, Part 6.

Genre | College Student x College Professor Smut AU

Pairing | Reader x Hongseok x Hyunggu (Kino) x Wooseok

Words | 14k

Summary | You never realized how much one drunken night could color the rest of your college experience until you discover that the handsome stranger from your cousin’s wedding is also the new professor at your university.

Warnings | Mentions of abusive familial relationships. Explicit sexual content. Grinding. Penetrative sex. Swearing. And, as always, poor choices.

Parts | 1 • 2 • 3 • 4 • 5 • 5.5 • 6 • More Coming Soon

Note | Added Wooseok to the official Pairing list because, let’s be real. He’s earned it. Thank you all for your never-ending patience! I love each and every one of you, and I’ll never get over how much love and support you all give me.

The morning brings with it a throbbing headache and a brief moment of surprise when you realize you’ve woken up in an apartment that is not your own. You remember quickly, however, that you ran into Kino last night and ended up crashing at his place, so you’re not alarmed.

You’re sweaty under the blanket that’s draped over you, and your shirt- er, the one you borrowed from Kino- sticks to your back. Vague bits of a dream mix with faded memories of last night, and you have to take a moment to sort everything out.

You went to the club with the seniors from jazz band. The boys were so supportive, and their performance was stellar, and… and they fucking signed you up to play. Right.

And then you ran into Professor Yang, who sent you home. Your whole body had throbbed with want for him, as per usual. But instead…

Wooseok.

You went to Wooseok’s place, and he fingered you on the kitchen counter.

What was that all about? How did you end up making out with him of all people? Not that he was a bad choice or anything, maybe just an unexpected one.

Desperately, you try to piece together what you feel about the whole situation. So you start with the things you know to be true about him:

Wooseok is tall and attractive, especially in a jean jacket.

Wooseok is an incredible kisser.

Wooseok knows how to use his fingers.

And then you think of things that you know to be true about you:

You’re feeling turned on again just by thinking about Wooseok.

You’re blessedly distracted by something that isn’t Professor Yang for once.

You don’t know what you feel towards Wooseok emotionally, but you maybe wouldn’t mind if something like last night happened again. Maybe.

You puff out your cheeks and let the air rush out in a deep sigh. Somehow, you had managed to make a messy semester even messier. Literally all you had to do was just get your shit together. Is that really such a difficult thing for you to accomplish?

Thoughts of Wooseok’s lips, tongue, and fingers swirl in your brain, and it’s weirdly relieving. It feels like there may be hope for you after all - your world doesn’t have to revolve around Professor Yang. You can move on. You can see other people and stop feeling so hung up on him.

Maybe the rest of this semester won’t be so bad.

Grabbing your phone off of the coffee table, you check your notifications. Just a message from Nailah - oops, you forgot to let her know you weren’t coming home last night - and an email in your school account. You send off a quick reply to Nailah letting her know that you’re alive and that you’ll make it up to her, and then you check the email.

“_____,

Because you missed our meeting last week, I would like to reschedule. I have set aside time this Thursday afternoon to meet with you. Please let me know if this time does not work for you.

Thank you,

Professor Hongseok Yang”

The email is so formal, it makes you roll your eyes. You get it - your school email is probably monitored and he doesn’t want to at all hint at any kind of comfortability between the two of you, but it doesn’t have to sound like a fucking dissertation.

You know what? Whatever. You’ll meet with him. It’s not a big deal, anyway, because you’re getting over him.

Without the slightest hint of sass or sarcasm or whatever else, you genuinely write back:

“Professor Yang,

Thursday afternoon works great for me. I’ll see you then.

Thank you!

_____”

Sending the message, you feel relieved. You’re turning over a new leaf. All that’s left for you to do is send a quick text to Wooseok letting him know that you won’t be able to tutor him this week, and once that is on its way to him you feel like you’re ready to start the day.

As you sit up on the couch, about to get up and go to the bathroom, you notice a Kino-sized lump on the floor between the couch and the coffee table. Had he slept there all night?

You reach down, lifting the end of the blanket that covers his head. “Psst.”

He inhales deeply and shifts, eyes opening and squinting at the sunlight pouring in from the windows. Passively, you note that he’s actually really cute when he’s so sleepy.

“Good morning, sunshine,” you coo. You ruffle his hair, and he swats your hand away, emitting a noise that sounds like a cross between a chuckle and a groan.

“Five more minutes.”

“No. I’m up so you should be up, too.”

“Oh, is that how this works?” He peeks up at you, one eye still squinted shut.

“Think so. I am the guest of honor here, so you should probably do what I say.”

“Guest of honor, my ass.”

“I’m not the one sleeping on the floor, so I think that puts me a step above you.”

“Please. I’m only down here because of you.”

You laugh. “Why? Were you worried I might have nightmares out here by myself?”

“No, I thought you’d be fine.” He sits up, stretching his arms and back, which are surely stiff from sleeping on the carpet all night. “You’re the one that asked me to stay with you.”

Your cheeks suddenly warm and your eyes widen. “...I did?”

He nods. “Yeah, I was going to head in because I thought you were asleep, but the second I stood up you asked me to stay. So I stayed.”

“Shit, Kino, I was drunk. You didn’t have to do that for me.” You frown. “You’re probably stiff as hell because of it.”

Kino just shrugs. “Well, now you know what I’m willing to do for you.”

“Would you be willing to make me some eggs?”

With a broad smile, Kino stands. “Anything for you, dear.” And then he pushes you back onto the couch, giggling like a maniac as he runs for the kitchen.

“Shithead!”

***

You’re grateful to find Changgu at the reception desk on Monday. You never actually sent the apology text that you drafted, and at this point it’s probably better to just do it in person - no matter how embarrassing it might be.

“Hey, Changgu.” You approach the desk, greeting him quietly. Shyly.

He looks up from the computer, eyebrows lifting in surprise before a smile settles on his lips. “Quite the weekend, huh?”

Oh, he has no idea. “You’re telling me.”

“How can I help you?”

“I wanted to apologize for everything. You guys could have all had a perfectly good time without me. I shouldn’t have lied to you about my age.”

“Yeah, you probably shouldn’t do that too often. But I’m not going to lecture you.”

“Thanks.” You shift your weight awkwardly, not really sure what else to say. “Anyway, I really appreciate you inviting me to the jazz club, and getting me into the jazz band practice. I really enjoyed it. Both of those things.”

“It’s not a problem.” Changgu smiles warmly. What a gentle ray of sunshine he is. Then he grabs a stack of post-it notes and scribbles something down before handing it over. “I’m supposed to give you this.”

“Oh?” You look at the square of paper to find what looks to be a phone number.

“From Yanan. You don’t have to text him if you don’t want to. He can be a little forward sometimes, but he won’t be weird about it if he doesn’t hear from you. He just always has to try, you know?”

“Oh. Okay.” You slip it into your pocket, not exactly sure what you want to do with it. “Um, I should probably get going. Class and all. You know.”

As you turn to head out, he calls your name. “_____?”

“Yeah?” You look back at him.

If you’re not mistaken, Changgu’s cheeks are the most delicate rose color. “Don’t forget that you have my number, too.”

Is he flirting?

You smile reassuringly. If Bad Choices is becoming your middle name, you may as well embrace it. “I won’t forget.”

***

Thursday afternoon, you find yourself in Professor Yang's office, as he requested. You feel surprisingly level-headed, but you do notice just a hint of nervousness in the back of your mind. After all, you’re getting over him - so you’re not quite over him yet. He’s still beautiful and tempting and damn him for wearing such a delicious cologne all the time.

Professor Yang sits across from you, behind his desk, as always. He’s looking through the two incorrectly-graded assignments you brought in, and he takes the time to correct them.

"I apologize. You were right about my miscalculations." He plugs the updated grades into his computer, and they hardly even affect your total grade. "I assure you that I'll take my time with your midterm and all other assignments from here on out."

"Thank you." You take back your labs and stuff them into your backpack. The midterm you took on Tuesday hadn't been terribly difficult and you're anticipating that you'll get a good grade anyway. But at least you know that he's aware of his mistakes so you won't have to confront him about it again (hopefully).

You stand, ready to leave now that your meeting’s purpose is complete, but he beckons you. "I need to speak with you about something else."

You meet his caramel eyes, and he's just as impossible to read as always. Begrudgingly, you fall back into your chair. "What is it?"

Professor Yang's tongue swipes over his lower lip, but in such a way to indicate that he's thinking, considering where to start. Still, it catches your attention, and you probably look at his lips a hair longer than you should. Damn him.

"About what you said this weekend..." He searches your face. "I don't have a girlfriend."

Why the fuck did he have to say that, of all things?!

"Okay," you spit out, trying to act aloof even though you're fucking mortified that he would even bring that up. You're sure that your furiously warming cheeks give you away. "Good for you."

Professor Yang looks dissatisfied. "Can we perhaps have an adult conversation about this?"

"I don't have to have anything with you." You cross your arms over your chest, defaulting to your usual sass mode that always seems to emerge around him.

His eyes narrow and he scoffs. "See, this is exactly why I said you needed to leave Saturday night. Do you at all notice the childish fit that you're throwing right now?"

With a roll of your eyes (yes, you realize that's still childish), you uncross your arms and take a deep breath. "Fine. Let's talk. What do you want?"

"I want to know what's going on with you. Why did you tell me to say hi to my girlfriend?"

The thing is, you know that he knows exactly why you said it. He just wants you to admit it out loud. "I was heated." That's as much as you'll give him.

"Is that why you left our last appointment? Because you were heated?" Professor Yang recalls the way you stormed off after seeing that woman in his office last week.

"You seemed busy."

"I wasn't. She was leaving."

"Whatever. I didn't feel like talking."

"Did you think she was my girlfriend?"

"I don't care who she is."

"She's my sister."

Somehow, that genuinely catches you off guard. You shift in your seat, curious. "You have a sister?"

Professor Yang nods calmly. "Two. Both younger than me. The sister that you saw was in town for a conference, and she just stopped in to visit. I don't get to see her very often."

Shit. Well that certainly explains why she was so gorgeous, since they share the same gene pool. You try to remain neutral about it all. "I'm glad you got to see her, then."

"The way you've reacted to her is very concerning." His brow furrows. "I knew this would be an issue if we tried to do a class together."

"This has nothing to do with you and me, okay? This..." you gesture between him and yourself, "...is nothing. You can date whoever you want. I literally don't care."

"You want me to believe that after the way you acted?"

"You think I'm jealous or something?" You scoff, laughing, but it's awkward and forced. He notices, and gives you the look of oh-please. Defensively you say, "I'm not jealous!"

Pause. A lull in conversation. You’re both aware that you’re lying, and it’s obvious that you will never admit to it, no matter what he says. You hold each others' gaze, and you wonder which of you will be the first to look away. And then he speaks.

"I wanted to tell you something else. Something honest. But I need you to not read into it, okay? Just take it at face value. Promise me you can do that."

Faintly, you notice the way your heart skips. "Okay. I promise."

"You obviously shouldn't have been at the club over the weekend, but I just thought you should know that you're a really talented pianist. I was very impressed to hear you play like that."

It hadn't even occurred to you that he was in the audience while you were playing. But now that he's acknowledging it, you feel retroactively nervous about your performance. "Thank you... I appreciate that."

He nods once and then turns to his computer, closing out of the grading screen and generally avoiding your gaze.

"I want to say something honestly, too." You get up the nerve to speak, but you have to hold your hands together to keep them from trembling. How could he affect you so much?

His gaze is so intense, full of warning. "Please be careful with whatever it is you want to say."

He doesn't trust you. You can't blame him. You don't really trust him either. You're both tiptoeing around very dangerous territory even allowing yourselves to be in the same room. But this time you want to share with him something genuine, something that has absolutely nothing to do with whatever may have transpired between the two of you in the past.

"I'm truly enjoying your class. And it's not because you're the one teaching it, I swear. The material is really interesting to me and I'm really looking forward to building my dulcimer."

He smiles, and it's almost unguarded. Like he's relieved that you didn't say something else. "That means a lot to me. Thank you."

"You're welcome. I’m not kidding when I say I've been looking forward to this class since I heard about it last year. And I think you're a great teacher, everything else aside."

"Thank you."

"Can I actually ask you a question? About building instruments and stuff."

He sits back a little, as if he's finally able to relax around you, now that you're actually acting like a student speaking with their teacher. "Of course."

"When did you start building instruments? And did you build that guitar?" You gesture to the instrument resting in the corner of the room, with its beautifully stained wood and delicate detailing around the sound hole.

“I did!” He lights up and stands, retrieving the guitar. “I built my first guitar when I was sixteen. Didn’t turn out that great because I was not very skilled. But after honing my craft for a few years, I saw more success in the instruments I built. This little lady came along just two years ago.”

“She’s beautiful,” you praise his handiwork. “Seriously. I’m impressed that it’s actually a handmade guitar.”

Professor Yang looks at you like you just sprouted a second head. “Of course it’s handmade. All of the best instruments are. You expect a machine to produce something that sounds like this?”

He strums the strings gently, an arpeggiated chord ringing sweetly through the room. The warm, buttery sound is enough to raise goosebumps on your arms.

“You’re right. No robot could ever make that.”

“This guitar is my heart and soul.” He smooths his hand over its curves lovingly.

“Can you play that? ‘Heart and Soul’?”

“Why on Earth would I want to play that atrocity on my masterpiece of an instrument? Absolutely not.”

You laugh. “Fair enough. Play something else, then. I want to hear what she can do.”

With no further prompting needed, he dives into a beautiful melody, plucking the strings softly and tapping his nails against the strings to create a beat. The sound is gorgeous, and it’s incredibly special to see him get swept up in the music he’s creating. He’s entirely focused on the movement of his fingers, the swell of each phrase, the gentle groove he’s creating.

Your eyes close so you can hear the music more deeply. It seeps into you, and you can feel him in each note. He is part of the music, giving himself to the melody and turning it into something beyond notes on a page. He breathes life into it.

The song ends, and you wish it never had to. You could listen to him play forever. In the end, all you can manage is a soft wow.

“Nice, right?” Professor Yang grins widely, clearly proud of himself.

“Seriously incredible. And you’re so good at playing it, too.”

“Thank you, thank you.”

You sit up a little more, interested. “The way you were tapping the strings… it reminds me of those people who can, like, play the strings and drum on the guitar body at the same time. Can you do that?”

“I used to. Let’s see…”

He plays something a little more upbeat this time, tapping his fingers, knuckles, and the heel of his palm against the guitar’s body as he strums. It’s not perfect and eventually he stumbles, but it’s still incredibly impressive.

With a short laugh, he gives up. “Like I said, I used to. It has been a while.”

“That’s probably the coolest thing in the world,” you laugh along with him. “I don’t know how you have enough coordination to do that.”

“It’s a skill. Like anything else, you just have to take the time to practice and learn.” Professor Yang drums his fingers against the wood softly. “Clearly I’m a little out of practice.”

“I mean, if you don’t have the time to grade my labs properly, I can’t imagine you have time to sit around drumming on your guitar.”

He cocks his head and purses his lips. “You try teaching a class at a university and we’ll see how easy it is for you to keep up with everything.”

“Hey, I’m not doubting the incredible stress you must be under.” You tease.

It hits you then how incredibly comfortable you feel with him, how easy it is to be with him unguarded. It’s really… nice.

There’s a knock at the door, then, and Professor Yang glances at the clock on his desk. “Ah. Come in!”

The door opens to reveal another student - a boy from your class. “Hi, Professor.” He notices you still sitting in the office. “Am I too early for our meeting?”

Professor Yang reassures him, “Right on time, actually.”

You nod. “I was just getting ready to leave.” Grabbing your bag, you stand and address Professor Yang. “Thank you for meeting with me today. Really.”

“Not a problem. Thank you for making the time to stop in. I’m glad we got everything sorted out.” He nods once to you. “Have a good weekend and I’ll see you in class.”

“You, too.”

The two of you exchange a smile, and it feels delightfully innocent. It feels like it means something different, like an agreement to be okay with each other from now on. An agreement to not be at each others’ throats this semester. It gives you hope that you’ve finally broken through into a more peaceful part of your relationship as student and teacher.

This semester is going to be just fine.

***

“_____.”

Your eyes lift from the keyboard to find that the tallest human you know somehow snuck into the R&B Ensemble rehearsal without you noticing. You forgot that he was allowed to rejoin the group this week. “Oh. Hi.”

“...hi.” Wooseok tries to smile, but it’s small and awkward and he looks kind of concerned.

You haven’t spoken to him at all during the week or so that has passed since you made out with him. The only communication that happened was the text that you sent to let him know you had to cancel tutoring. He hadn’t responded, and now that you think about it, you probably should have reached out to him again at some point.

A smile pulls across your lips, although you’re sure it seems just as ingenuine as his. But if it’s ingenuine, it’s only because you’re actually wildly nervous about being in front of him again. From your seat on the piano bench, he towers over you, tall and handsome and… and he’s wearing that fucking jean jacket. It’s devastating.

The silence between the two of you stretches on for far too long, and he eventually gives up on having a conversation as he retreats to the drumset.

Yikes. You didn’t mean for that to get so weird.

Rehearsal goes much more smoothly now that Wooseok is back, and he drums like he never missed a single practice. Every rhythm and fill is spot on. The whole ensemble falls into a groove that’s just a little bit deeper, a little bit smoother than before. And you can tell that your instructor, Typhanie, is jazzed about it.

After rehearsal, Kino darts over to the keyboard. “_____, your solo was killer tonight!”

“You know I’d say the same to you, but I compliment you every week and eventually you’re going to get a big head about it.”

He pouts. “Nonsense. Compliment me.”

You rise to your feet and pat his head twice. “Well done.”

Kino rolls his eyes, but his smile is bright. He nods his head in the direction of the door, tugging on your sleeve absentmindedly. “Come on, let’s go. I want to ask you something.”

You grab your things and follow him. “Alright. Go on.”

“So, um, two-fold question.” He pushes the door open, and ushers you out of the room. “First, are you free this weekend? Specifically Saturday night?”

“I think so. Are we gonna do something?”

“Yeah, I just wanted-”

“_____! Hold up!” Wooseok’s voice precedes him down the hall as he comes thundering after you. Both you and Kino pause as he approaches. “Sorry, can I talk to you? Please?”

You look over at Kino, who wears a slight frown. As much as you don’t want to do this to Kino, you know you really should talk with Wooseok. “Can I catch up with you later?”

Kino cocks his head, like he’s surprised you would choose Wooseok over him. But you’re not choosing Wooseok over him, you just… you just have to do this. Kino throws on a half-hearted smile and says, “Sure. Later.”

Wooseok pulls you aside as Kino departs, heading down a different hallway to get you away from the other students leaving rehearsal. You don’t protest, but you tell yourself that you will if he tries anything funny.

“What is it?” you ask, knowing full well what this conversation is going to be.

“I was kind of hoping you could tell me.” Wooseok expression is unsettled. “I’ve been dying to talk to you, but I thought you might need space, since you just kind of stormed off and then immediately canceled tutoring.”

Oh shit. You didn’t mean for it to come off that way. You canceled because of Professor Yang, not because things were weird between you and Wooseok. Nevertheless, you had run out of his apartment without any kind of explanation, and that is entirely your fault. “I’m sorry I left like that. And I swear, I didn’t cancel tutoring because of… everything. Something else came up. That’s all.”

The gentle giant takes a deep breath, his eyebrows knitting together in concern. “I’m sorry, too. I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. We were both a little drunk and I shouldn’t have taken it so far. If you don’t ever want to be around me again, I understand. But I just wanted to talk to you about it and let you know that I’m sorry. Honestly.”

Your chest warms. It’s so sweet that he’s worried about you, but it’s also unnecessary. There’s nothing for him to be worried about. “It’s okay. Really. You have nothing to feel bad about. I… I wanted it. And I liked it.” You have to look away from him as you admit it.

It feels like a weight is lifted between you. “I did, too. You’re a good kisser.” He chuckles softly, his hands shyly slipping into his pockets.

“Not so bad yourself,” you chime, still avoiding his gaze. “Um, so even though I enjoyed it, I just felt kind of confused after? I’m…” Go on. You can say it. “I’m getting over someone. So I didn’t know what to feel about all of it. Other than fucking mortified because of your roommate.”

“Don’t worry about him. I promise he doesn’t care.”

Finally, you look up at him. He really is quite handsome, and you fully understand why your drunk self had enjoyed him so much.

“But I totally understand. I didn’t assume that it meant anything, but thanks for letting me know. Oh, by the way…” Wooseok drops his backpack from his shoulder and unzips one of the small side pockets. “I brought something for you.”

You accept the square of tissue, confused about what he could possibly be giving you - until you unwrap it. He had nicely folded your abandoned underwear to return to you, which is simultaneously embarrassing and sweet.

“Oh my God,” you mumble as you recognize the underwear, a stupid little chuckle leaving you. “I… um, thank you.”

“I’ve gotta be honest, I thought about keeping them.”

“W-what?”

Wooseok shrugs nonchalantly, a goofy grin on his face. “I mean, it’s kind of hot to have a girl’s panties. And they’re cute.”

“You really have no filter.” You stuff the panties into your own backpack, flustered.

“Just wanted to see your reaction,” he laughs. “Worth it.”

“Glad you thought so. Can we head out now?”

“Mm.” He nods once, and you both head for the stairs. “So, just to make sure we’re both on the same page, I still want to be your friend and I don’t expect anything else from you.”

“Agreed.” You smile, grateful that he’s so considerate about all of this. But against your better judgment, your words don’t stop there. “But if it happens again…”

Wooseok freezes a few stairs ahead of you, turning to face you exactly at eye level. He peers at you curiously. “If it happens again...?”

You shrug, trying to play it cool. You can’t turn back now, so you may as well embrace it. “Then it happens. But I’m not just a booty call, so don’t even think about treating me that way.”

“So…” He moves up a step towards you, regaining a few inches of height. His voice is low as he asks, “...what exactly are you saying?”

“I’m saying… if it feels right and we’re in the moment, then it is what it is.” You know that you’re still being incredibly vague, but you just can’t bring yourself to say I’m down to fuck if you are. “But no catching feelings because I’m still trying to sort mine out.”

“Right, with the guy you’re getting over and everything.” Wooseok leans in a little, the smallest smirk on his lips. “So I shouldn’t call you up out of the blue. But if we’re both here, and we’re both in the moment…”

He leans in further, and you realize he’s going in for a kiss the second he grabs your hand. But you’re all too aware of the fact that you’re standing on the main staircase of the music building, and anyone could walk past you at any time.

You shake off his hand and put your hand on his chest, holding him back. “Not here, idiot. Someone might see!”

He grins mischievously and shrugs. “Worth a shot.”

After that, Wooseok walks you all the way to your dorm, and he’s a total gentleman. He stands with you in front of your building for a moment, his hands buried in his pockets.

“Just so you know, you’re welcome to come over to my place whenever,” he offers. “Even if you just want to hang out. We could play games or something. We’re friends, after all.”

“That we are. Thanks.” You hold your fist out for him to bump. “See you at tutoring on Thursday, if not before then?”

“Yeah.” He bumps your fist with his own and smiles sweetly. “Catch you later.”

As he walks off, you’re actually really pleased with the way things turned out. Although you didn’t expect to actually bring up the whole maybe-we-could-do-this-again thing, it excites you that he’s at least open to the idea. Who says you can’t have a fling?

You head upstairs and open the door to your room, and you remember that Kino was in the middle of asking you something when he left - and he didn’t seem too pleased by the interruption. So… maybe you should call him to see what’s going on. You do feel kind of bad that he had to leave on his own.

You’re not sure why your impulse is to call and not text, but he answers the phone before you can really question it too much. “Hey, _____.”

“Hey, Kino. Did you make it home?”

“Yeah.”

“Go to your window and look up at my building.”

“...Okay…”

You flicker your bedroom light on and off to catch his attention. “Do you see my room? With the flashing light.”

A quiet chuckle comes across the line. “Yeah, I see it.”

“Now show me where you are.”

A short moment later, you notice one of the windows on the building across the street repeatedly light up and go dark. “Found you!”

“What’s this all about?”

You watch as his silhouette reappears in the window. “You didn’t get to ask me your question. I wanted to know what it was.”

“Oh.” He drags his hand through his hair. “So, I haven’t told you yet, but a piece that I choreographed is going to be performed at the Dance Department Showcase.”

“What? Kino, that’s amazing!” It’s not easy to get work presented at a department-wide showcase, so you know that it’s a huge accomplishment for him. “I’m so proud of you. Oh my gosh, that’s so cool.”

“Thank you! Thank you.” Kino laughs, pleased at your reaction. “So… the showcase is this Saturday night and I’m freaking out. I’m not performing, but I’m still incredibly nervous because it’s like… this project, this baby of mine… it’s being put on display and it’s going to be critically watched by all of my peers and professors. It’s just such a big deal.”

“Can I come?” The question eagerly bursts out of you. You would absolutely love to see what he’s capable of choreographing. If it’s anything like his dancing and singing, you know it’ll be awesome. But then you realize that he’s already freaking out about the people in the audience… maybe you shouldn’t add to that stress. “Actually, would that make it worse? I don’t want to stress you out more by being there.”

“No, no, not at all. That’s actually why I brought it up. I want you to come with me.”

You lean against your window, playing with the hem of your shirt. “I would be honored to go with you.”

He exhales deeply. “I think I’m going to feel much better with you there. Thank you.”

“Of course! What are friends for?”

“Exactly.” Kino’s hand comes to rest on the glass, like he’s reaching out to you. “I’ll see you Saturday, then. Well, and probably before then, too.”

You touch your window, too. “Yeah. I’ll see you soon.”

“Goodnight, _____.”

“Night, Kino.”

***

Your class with Professor Yang has officially moved over to the woodshop, now that your midterms are done. He had gone over standard dress code the week before (no loose, drapey clothing or open-toed shoes), but you hadn’t realized that he would be dressed differently as well.

Up until this point, you’ve only seen him in dress slacks and button-downs. But now that he’s teaching a woodworking class, he’s dressed way more casually than you expected. It makes sense that he would dress down, but it still surprises you to see him in jeans and a fitted t-shirt. His hair is swooped up and back, exposing his forehead and keeping his hair out of his eyes.

It would be great if you could go a day without drooling over him. Seriously.

Professor Yang goes over the basics of the woodshop with everyone, explaining some of the general tools you’ll all use regardless of instrument. You’ve never used any sort of woodworking tools before, and it makes you a little nervous to think that you’ll be responsible for keeping your fingers intact while sawing away at the body of your dulcimer, but you know he’s there to help if you’re struggling (or injured).

If nothing else, you and Shinhye can struggle together.

Beside you, Shinhye observes the slab of wood that is to be the neck of her cigar-box banjo. Her calculations are all finished and she knows exactly how far apart to mark each fret along the neck, but she hesitates. “I don’t know man, I’m going to fuck this up for sure.”

“Look, all you have to do is mark it with pencil, and then Professor Yang will come to check your work. Just don’t make any cuts into the wood without his approval and you’ll be fine.” You start marking up the wood that you’ve been given, confident in your math.

As you measure and make your marks, your ears tune in to the music Professor Yang plays throughout the workshop. He’s playing an old rock station, to be expected, and you perk up when a certain Aerosmith song comes on.

A smile grows on your face as Steven Tyler starts singing, and you remember when you sang “Dream On” in Professor Yang’s office.

You glance up to the front of the room to find Professor Yang looking right at you with a stupid grin on his dumb little face.

Oh, he remembers, too.

You struggle to hide your laughter as he breaks into a huge smile. What a loon you are.

“What are you giggling about?” Shinhye questions, still concentrated way too hard on her little pencil marks.

You’re about to respond with a simple nothing, but then she tucks her short hair behind her ear, revealing a purplish mark just under her jaw. “Oh my God, Shinhye, is that a hickey?”

She looks up at you like a deer in headlights, quickly ruffling her hair out with her fingers. “You didn’t see that.”

“What the hell do you mean? Of course I fucking saw that.” With a shit-eating grin, you lean in close. “Why didn’t you tell me you were hooking up with someone? I need to know these things!”

“It’s not important! I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Dude. Fine. I’ll give you a pass since we’re in class right now but you need to dish later.” Shinhye looks disgruntled at your demand, and you try to make her feel better about the whole situation. “Look, I’m proud of you. I never thought this day would come and I just want to know what happened! This is kind of a big deal.”

“It’s really not.” She rolls her eyes.

A third voice joins the conversation. “How are we doing over here?” Professor Yang stands next to Shinhye, looking over her work.

“Oh, perfect timing. I think I’m just about done. Can you check my marks?” Shinhye hands over her wood, seemingly grateful for the change of topic.

He takes a moment to check her math, but not her measurements. “Your math is good, so as long as you measured according to your numbers you’ll be good to go.”

You don’t even have to ask - he immediately picks up your scrap paper to check your math, too. It astounds you that he doesn’t feel the need to pick up a calculator, as if he could do all of the calculations in his head.

“Your math looks good, too.” He sets your paper down. “Go ahead and put your frets in.”

You cock your head, still surprised that he could be so good at math. “You can do all that math without a calculator?”

“I do have a Bachelor’s and a Master’s degree in Mathematics, so believe it or not, I don’t really need a calculator.” His voice is touched with sass, as if to say I’m your teacher and I shouldn’t have to explain myself to you.

But you can’t help the question. This man has not one but two math degrees, and he still fucked up your grades? The probability of that being an accident is practically zero - as you’re sure Mr. Math Wiz would agree.

So it must have been intentional. No matter how much he denies it.

It doesn’t seem like he was doing it to punish you, though. It doesn’t seem to have any purpose besides getting your attention.

Getting you into his office.

Getting you one-on-one.

And he succeeded - you sat in his office with him for a solid half hour as he re-graded your papers and chatted. He hadn’t tried to make a move or anything, so why did he want that alone time with you?

Could it be as innocent as just wanting to spend time together?

It doesn’t matter, you remind yourself. I’m getting over him. He doesn’t want anything from me, and I don’t want anything from him. The past is the past and I’m moving on.

You avoid his gaze for the rest of class.

***

Wooseok sits next to you in the practice room, working diligently on the exercises you’ve given him regarding figured bass. Overall, not at all an important concept for him as a drummer, but it’s definitely going to be on his final and he needs to know it for the sake of his grade.

You don’t know if it’s just because the nature of your relationship has changed, but you’ve felt so distracted through the whole session by how cute he looks. His hair is ruffled and he’s not wearing anything different than what he usually wears, but he just looks so damn attractive.

You know you shouldn’t say anything. You should let him work like the good little tutee he is. But since when do you pay attention to what you should and should not do?

“I think tutoring you is going to become increasingly more difficult.”

He pauses, his pencil still in his hand as he meets your gaze. “Why’s that? Because of the material? I feel like I’m actually doing pretty well.”

“No, idiot. Because, well…” Jesus, you never really know what to say in these situations. “Things are different between us now, you know?”

“It’s not that different.”

You can tell by the face he’s making that he’s teasing you. “It is! Don’t make me feel stupid.”

“You’re the one calling me an idiot!”

“It’s a term of endearment.”

“How sweet.” Wooseok shifts in his seat, turning towards you and placing his arm across the back of your chair. “So you’re flirting with me?”

“That may or may not be true.”

His fingers brush gently over your shoulder as he silently watches you, letting the air between you thicken with the thought that it would be so easy to close the gap.

Really, there’s nothing stopping you anyway.

“Wooseok… Have you done something like this before?” You ask before you convince yourself to cross the threshold. “Being friends with benefits and all of that?”

“No, actually.” Wooseok’s fingers reach your collar bone, delicately tracing the peaks and valleys. “I don’t have much experience with girls. I had a girlfriend in high school, but that’s it.”

“Really?”

He nods. “Dating’s not my priority.”

“Is this something you want, though?”

“Well yeah. I probably said it when I was drunk, but you’re really cool and you’re hot, so of course I’m down. This is totally different from dating.” He tilts his head minutely. “Have you done this before?”

Almost instantly, an image of Professor Yang flashes in your mind. “Not technically a friends with benefits situation, but I have hooked up before.”

“How’d it go? Were you okay with keeping it casual?”

Big fat fucking no, you were not okay with keeping it casual. Well, maybe you would have been if he hadn’t turned out to be your teacher. Things might have been so different. But the fact of the matter is that you’ve been an absolute wreck for the last two months because of your failure to keep it casual.

You’re fully aware of the fact that you should be honest about your hookup history. You should tell Wooseok that you most definitely caught feelings the last time you hooked up. It’s your duty to stop this trainwreck before it happens.

But… that means that you wouldn’t be able to hookup with Wooseok. And you really want to hookup with Wooseok right now.

“Yeah, it was totally fine,” you lie through your teeth. “No problems at all.”

“Cool.” He reaches out to cup your face. “Let’s stop talking about it then.”

As if they have always belonged together, your lips meet his. The kiss is sweet and gentle, and his hand is warm on your cheek. It feels so, so good to give in to your urges, to do what you want instead of overthinking. A friends-with-benefits situation is exactly what you need.

You don’t stay in your chair much longer as you continue to kiss. His lap is a much more appealing seat. Without pulling away from his lips, you get up and straddle him, your hands sliding behind his neck.

Wooseok’s teeth bite down on your lip and his large hands are quick to venture into less innocent territory. His fingers slip down your sides and into the back pockets of your jeans, cupping your ass and giving a gentle squeeze. You roll your hips to show him that you’re pleased, and he lets out the quietest groan.

“Be careful moving your hips like that,” he warns against your lips, “or you’re signing yourself up for a whole lot of trouble.”

You smirk and roll your hips again as you say, “Maybe I want trouble.”

He responds by claiming your lips, his tongue diving deep into the cavern of your mouth as his fingers dig hard into your ass cheeks.

You feel so alive. And so blissful - especially as you feel him start to harden through his jeans. The extra friction provided by rubbing against his thickness is absolutely delicious, and you shamelessly grind against him.

It’s clear that Wooseok is enjoying himself, too. He kisses you deeply as you grind, and his hand sneaks under your shirt, pushing your bra out of the way so that he can pinch and rub your nipple.

You moan for him, careful to stay quiet - the sound proofing in the practice rooms isn’t perfect, after all. But you sigh and groan to let him know that you feel amazing and you love everything he’s doing to you. You would be totally content to just stay like this for the rest of your session, and it doesn’t seem like Wooseok would mind.

Unfortunately, though, you know this can’t last forever - you have to leave soon for your piano lesson. But he’s just such a good kisser…

You’re not sure what causes it, but suddenly the mood changes. His hurried kisses and touches melt into something much softer. Wooseok’s hand migrates to the small of your back, pulling you in close and embracing you as he kisses you.

It’s mind-numbingly sweet, and you hold him tight, too.

With one last kiss, you part, but you rest your forehead on his as you catch your breath and try to process how he could be such a phenomenal kisser.

“What are you doing after this?” Wooseok asks, his voice low - and you know exactly why he’s asking.

“Piano lesson,” you huff quietly.

“Skip it.” Kiss. “Come back to my place.”

“Ugh, I wish. But I can’t. My lessons are important.” Your fingers glide through his soft hair, your gaze connecting with his sweet eyes. “What about tonight?”

Wooseok shakes his head as his fingers drum a rhythm against your spine. “Minho’s having some guys over. Tomorrow?”

“Girl’s night with my roommate.” You sigh. Who knew it would be so difficult to find time to hook up?

“I’m pretty sure Minho said he was going out of town this weekend, so we’d definitely have the place to ourselves.”

That sounds like a blessedly perfect scenario. “I have a thing with Kino on Saturday, but I could come over later that night?”

“Stellar. I’ll make sure Minho is out of the apartment.” Wooseok presses another kiss to your lips before helping you stand up. “You should probably get going though, since you have your lesson. Right?”

You glance at the clock on the wall and realize you have exactly thirty seconds to get downstairs. “Shit. Yeah, I have to run.”

Wooseok helps you gather your things. “I’ll see you Saturday night then?”

You hoist your backpack onto your shoulder and run a finger down Wooseok’s torso. “You bet.”

***

“Remind me why we’re doing this,” you grumble as you follow Nailah and Shinhye through the gym locker room on Saturday morning. Being physically active has never been your favorite thing, yet Nailah has managed to drag you along.

“Cute boy. You love cute boys, don’t you?” Nailah turns, tucking you under her arm and leading you over to the row of lockers. “This is all for you, baby.”

“But whyyyyy…”

“_____, exercising is good for you.” Shinhye tries to boost your morale as you each claim a locker, tossing your gym bags but keeping your water bottles in hand. “I promise it won’t be as bad as you think.”

“Since when have you become such a gym rat? Little Miss I-Live-On-The-Couch.” You tease her. She never seems to be interested in working out, but she looks like a total natural in her mid-calf leggings and moisture-wicking tank top.

She shrugs, touching the outer rim of her glasses to push them further up her nose. “I don’t know, I just go when Nailah invites me. And I think it’s actually pretty fun.”

“Yeah, Shinhye’s a great gym partner. She doesn’t complain.”

You roll your eyes, ignoring Nailah. “So have you seen this cute guy, then? Is it worth the effort?”

Shinhye shakes her head. “We’ve never seen him when I come along.”

“Okay, hold on.” You close your locker, realizing that this mystery cutie hasn’t been spotted in quite some time. “Are you telling me that it has probably been, like, a month and a half since you last saw him? Does he even go to this gym anymore?”

Nailah sighs exasperatedly. “I don’t know, _____. But we’re here now, so we may as well sweat a little.” She lifts her shirt up over her head, so she’s just in her spandex shorts and a sports bra. The shirt gets tossed into her locker and she holds out her hand to you. “Give me your shirt.”

“What?”

“Do it. We’re gonna go out there looking hot so you can seduce cute guy.”

“He’s probably not even out there!”

“Come on. It’s not even a big deal.” She gestures for you to hand her your shirt, and you begrudgingly do as she asks.

“What about you, Shinhye?” You ask as your shirt disappears into Nailah’s locker.

Her face reddens. “Isn’t it weird to just wear a bra?”

“Not at all,” Nailah reassures her, closing her locker and patting Shinhye on the head as she walks away. “But don’t worry, my little Shinhye doesn’t have to do anything she doesn’t want to.”

You notice Shinhye’s eyes grow wide and her blush deepen, and look at her quizzically. What the hell is that reaction all about? She just avoids your gaze and tails after Nailah.

As you follow them into the equipment room, you try not to feel embarrassed about your lack of shirt. It’s not that unusual for a girl to work out in just her bra and shorts, but you don’t feel particularly confident since you are bound to make a fool out of yourself on the machines, anyway.

The three of you head for the stationary bikes on the opposite side of the room, scoping out all of the other gym-goers along the way. When you reach the bikes, Nailah turns on her heel and pulls you and Shinhye in close.

“Don’t make it obvious, but he’s here. He’s at the bench press.”

What are the odds that he would actually be here today? You take a swig from your water bottle before setting it next to one of the bikes and casually turning around to try to spot him.

Shinhye finds him first. “Oh my God. Him?” She bursts into laughter. “Nailah, you don’t know who that is, do you?”

“Should I?”

“He teaches at our school! _____ and I are both in his class!”

“What?!” You and Nailah respond simultaneously, both for different reasons. Is it really him?

Your eyes scan over the weight machines, and just as you spot the row of bench presses, he sits up and wipes the sweat from his brow with a hand towel.

Fucking Professor Yang is sitting halfway across the room, biceps bulging, a delicious V of sweat forming on the chest of his muscle shirt.

God, you wish you could just melt into a puddle and disappear from this world.

“No way.” Nailah chuckles. “He’s a Professor? Oh, this is gold.”

Shinhye starts giggling, too. “Yeah, and _____ totally has a crush on him. You should have seen them in class this week.”

“Well just look at her now.”

You finally snap out of your trance. “I do not!”

“No shame, girl.” Nailah smirks as she settles onto a bike. “We’ve all had an innocent crush on a teacher before.”

Oh, if only she knew how not innocent this was.

“Yeah, no shame.” Shinhye chimes, climbing onto the bike next to Nailah.

“Whatever. Shouldn’t we stretch first?” You quickly change the subject. You’re going to spend the rest of this hour pretending like the world’s most handsome professor isn’t over there keeping up his gorgeous physique with which you are unfortunately quite familiar.

“It’s bad to stretch cold, so we do an easy five-minute ride just to get things warmed up a bit.” Nailah states.

“Alright, then.”

So you bike, stretch, and tackle a few machines - and you’re incredibly aware of the fact that Nailah’s routine is strategically getting you closer and closer to wherever Professor Yang is stationed.

You trail along behind her from machine to machine, and next thing you know you’re headed straight for him.

As the three of you approach, you hope and pray that he doesn’t notice you. And when you look over, you’re blessed. He grabs the bottom of his shirt and lifts it to wipe his face, but you’re too distracted by his abs to be grateful for his blocked view of you.

Professor Yang is absolutely chiseled under his muscle shirt, and you shouldn’t even be surprised. You’ve seen him shirtless before, you’ve felt the ripples of his muscles, but you’re still taken off guard by the body that hides beneath his clothes.

The glimpse of his abs is so distracting that you actually forget how you’re supposed to act around him. He drops his shirt and looks up just as you’re passing him, and you unintentionally flash him a coy smile. When his eyes widen as he recognizes you, you realize that you do not want to try to look cute right now.

Well, you want to, but you shouldn’t.

Somehow that doesn’t stop you.

Professor Yang’s eyes travel down your body, taking in your shirtless state. But you don’t feel shy or nervous - you feel weirdly confident, and you walk with a little extra sass in the swing of your hips. You hope with all of your might that he’s as flustered by the sight of you as you always are by him.

If your appearance gets to him at all, he certainly doesn’t make it known. Without any hint of what he might be feeling, he gets up and moves to a different machine farther down the row, and he doesn’t look back at you again.

Thankfully, it seems that Nailah and Shinhye did not notice anything that just happened, but you feel suddenly embarrassed about strutting past him the way you did. You need to step out for a second and collect yourself.

“I’m going to grab some more water.” You hold up your mostly empty water bottle for the two girls to see and tear off before either one of them can offer to come along.

That was so dumb. Why did you react that way when he saw you? You know better. You should be avoiding him at all costs, because you’re getting over him. You’ve got Wooseok to keep you entertained now, so you can finally let go of Professor Yang.

He just looked so good… and you want the confidence boost of knowing he thinks you look good, too.

But the thing is, though, you know that he thinks you look good. He’s made it kind of obvious throughout the semester that he’s still attracted to you, so you’re positive that he must have felt something when he saw you in your tight leggings and sports bra. He’s just really good at masking it.

You fill up your bottle and take a sip from it as you turn around, and you accidentally bump into a warm, solid body that immediately fills you with dread.

“_____.”

You’re surprised by the face you see when you look up - this is not the human you were expecting. “Yuto?”

He has a black bandana rolled up and tied across his forehead, and honestly it’s a look. Yuto hardly gives you so much as a smile before his hand comes to rest on your shoulder, gently pushing you aside so he can access the water fountain.

“I didn’t know you worked out here.”

He stands upright after taking a leisurely drink, looking you up and down. “I didn’t know you worked out. Wouldn’t have guessed it.”

“Don’t be rude, asshole.” You huff, stalking off towards the weight room. You don’t need to deal with him if he’s going to be a jerk.

“Hey, wait.” Yuto catches up to you, matching your stride. “I just meant that I haven’t seen you here before.”

“Yeah. Roommate dragged me along.”

“Nailah, right?” He points off to the left, and your eyes follow to that part of the room. Nailah’s hands rest on Shinhye’s hips, guiding your friend into the correct form for squats. You frown, worried about what that could mean.

If she’s starting to crush on Shinhye, she really needs to cut it out before she gets herself hurt. Shinhye’s straight - she’s not going to reciprocate any of Nailah’s feelings. And really, Nailah needs to make sure she’s not making Shinhye uncomfortable by being too forward with her flirting.

“That’s her.” You can’t help your frown as you beeline for them.

“Wait, wait.” Yuto grabs your arm. “I need to talk to you.”

Surprised, you pause. “What about?”

“Wooseok.”

Your frown deepens. Does he know about your agreement? “What about Wooseok?”

“Be careful with him. He’s a kid.”

“We’re the same age...? What are you getting at?”

“He’s naive, okay?” Yuto looks frustrated that you don’t understand what he’s trying to say. “Just try not to hurt him. He’s a lot more delicate than he seems. He told me about you two, and I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“It’s none of your business what we decide to do.” You scoff. “But yeah, okay, I’m the Big Bad Meanie here so I’ll be ‘gentle’ or whatever.”

Yuto’s voice noticeably softens when he realizes you’re upset. “_____…”

“I don’t want to have this conversation with you.” You brush off his hand. “Have a good workout.”

You stomp back over to your friends, and they both watch you quizzically as you approach.

“What was that all about?” Nailah asks.

“It’s nothing.” Your first instinct is to just dismiss all of it, but these are two of your best friends. They deserve to know at least a little bit of the boy drama in your life - but you don’t want to spill the tea in the middle of the gym. “I’ll fill you in later.”

Shinhye chimes in, “Professor Yang left while you were gone. We thought you might run into him out there.”

“No, I didn’t see him. Just Yuto.”

“Who’s Yuto?” She asks. “The guy you were just talking to?”

Nailah responds for you, nodding. “He’s our neighbor, right across the hall.”

“Oh.” Shinhye chews timidly on the inside of her cheek. “He’s kind of cute, too.”

“Shinhye! I didn’t know you liked dark, brooding boys.” Nailah reaches out to smooth Shinhye’s hair, and Shinhye blushes.

“Apparently you really don’t know her type, Nailah.” There’s a slight edge to your voice as you say it. It’s just so weird to see Nailah being so forward with Shinhye, and you feel the need to stop it. Shinhye isn’t particularly vocal, so she probably won’t say anything if she’s feeling uncomfortable.

Seems like you’ll have to have a chat with Nailah later.

***

Kino meets you in your dorm’s lobby at exactly 6:15pm. Doors open for the dance department showcase in fifteen minutes, and you can sense the energy bubbling out of him when he arrives.

“Hi.” He bounces slightly, standing still for a moment before pulling you into a hug.

“Hi,” you echo, a small smile spreading across your lips. “How are you feeling?”

“Nervous. Oh my God, I’m nervous. But let’s not talk about that because I’ll literally die before the show.”

“My CPR skills aren’t exactly stellar, so I guess we should probably do what we can to keep you alive before that becomes necessary.”

“Good call.” He places his hand on the small of your back, guiding you out of the building and into the brisk night air. “You look really nice, by the way.”

“Thank you!” You look down at yourself, taking a second to button up your jacket over the burgundy dress and black tights you’ve chosen for the evening. Your heels click along the sidewalk as you walk, and then you realize how Kino is dressed; his burgundy pants didn’t immediately draw your attention, but you have to laugh at the coincidence now that you’ve noticed. “Oh my God, are we actually matching?”

Kino nods, laughing. “Yeah, we are.”

So this is what it feels like to wear a couple’s outfit... Obviously you’re not a couple, but it’s still kind of cute that you’ve got similar tastes in clothes.

Kino is oddly quiet as you make your way towards the theater, and you know it’s just because of his nerves. You speak up to try to distract him. “Is your family coming tonight?”

He shakes his head. “I didn’t invite them.”

“Oh.” That surprises you. “Why not? This is a big deal. I’m sure they’d love to be here.”

“I don’t really want to talk about that right now.” Kino frowns slightly, clearly bothered by the topic.

Has something happened? He never really talks about his family, so you don’t know what his relationship with them is like.

Wait - he has talked about them before. You remember the first night you talked to him after R&B Ensemble practice, when you both bonded over your unsupportive parents. How could you be careless enough to forget something like that? Are you really that distracted by your own life?

“I’m sorry, Kino. I shouldn’t have brought that up.” You link your arm with his. “I’m here to support you no matter what.”

“Thanks, _____.” He smiles slightly. “And no worries. It’s fine.”

To keep the mood light, you chat with him about your excursion to the gym this morning, leaving out the parts about Professor Yang, of course. Mostly, you just complain about how you have to use the baby weights because everything else is too heavy.

Thankfully you can keep him chuckling until you’re seated in the theater and the lights go down, signaling the start of the show. That’s when the terror sets in - Kino takes a deep, nervous breath, and his leg bounces wildly as the first performers step on stage. His piece isn’t until a little later on in the show, but you know he’s going to feel anxious until then.

Normally it doesn’t bother you when someone else bounces their leg, but his movement shakes your chair and you don’t want to sit through the whole show like that. Without even thinking about it, you place your hand on his thigh, squeezing gently to grab his attention. His movement stalls and he stares at you wide-eyed.

You lean in so he can hear you whisper over the music. “It’s gonna be great, okay? Everyone’s going to love your piece.”

Kino’s gaze flits between your eyes, and it occurs to you just how close your faces are. Then his hand covers yours, and he smiles. “I was right to bring you along.”

His attention returns to the stage and he seems much calmer now, but you struggle to focus on the dancers. Your whole consciousness is alert to the fact that his hand is so warm and secure around yours, and for some reason that makes your heart beat just a little bit faster.

All rational thought goes out the window. When the first performance ends, you don’t want to let his hand go. Kino notices the way you cling to his hand when he tries to let go to clap, and he gives you a funny look - not one of judgment, but one of curiosity.

You’re immediately embarrassed, so you let go and hurriedly clap before the applause ends.

It’s fine. You’re just friends. Friends can hold hands. It’s seriously not a big deal - worst case scenario, Kino’s just going to tease you a little bit after the showcase. You do your best to shake it off.

But then the applause ends, and Kino places his hand on your lap, palm up. It’s an invitation, and his smile makes it so that you cannot refuse. You interlace your fingers with his, your heart beating happily in your chest.

You don’t know what it means, or if it even means anything. But you’ll sort it out later.

That becomes your routine, your hands letting go only to clap between pieces and then quickly returning to each other. It feels foreign yet completely comfortable, exciting yet confusing.

And then he squeezes your hand tightly and leans over, whispering in your ear, “This one is mine.”

For just a brief second you think he’s talking about your hand, but then you realize that he means his piece is next. Your cheeks flush because of the way you misunderstood him, but you pretend that didn’t just happen and whisper back, “I can’t wait.”

A delicate piano melody guides the two male dancers on stage, but it isn’t until the lyrics kick in that you realize just how mournful the performance is going to be.

“Don’t know where I am with you Forgetting time and space with you Oh I wish we had a common view You see my red as blue I don’t belong in your universe For better or for worse…”

The dancers move fluidly across the stage, embodying the story of two people - maybe lovers, maybe friends - who want to be together despite the invisible force that’s keeping them apart.

“I’m the same but I’m bolder You get home, but I’m on my way out now Not the same destinations I will stay when you get off the train…”

No, they don’t want to be together. It’s not mutual - you see that now, how one dancer is caught in the other dancer’s world and he is trying to break free. Is this an abusive relationship?

“You’re safe as a mountain But know that I am dynamite Oh, oh, you’re safe as a mountain But know that I am dynamite…”

The pieces come together, and it suddenly makes sense. Maybe you’re making a huge assumption, but you can’t help but think that this is the story of Kino’s relationship with his family.

It moves you to tears, and you struggle to keep your composure. It feels like you’re watching a little piece of Kino’s soul through these dancers, and it’s devastating to think that someone as sweet and gentle as Kino would ever be caught in such a terrible situation. He deserves so much better than that. He deserves a family that loves him.

When the performance ends the whole audience applauds, but you can only look at Kino as he wipes away his tears, a melancholy smile on his lips.

***

Kino walks you back to your dorm, and you stop just outside the front door. You haven’t said much since the performance because he was immediately bombarded by other students and professors coming up to congratulate him. But now, you finally have his undivided attention.

“Your piece was absolutely beautiful,” you gently praise him. “I think you’re incredibly talented to draw that much emotion out of the audience. Seriously, it was incredible.”

“Thank you.” He looks down, his soft voice accompanied by a shy smile. “I can’t tell you how much it means to me that you came with me tonight. Thank you so much for being there to support me.”

“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world, Kino.” You pull him in for a hug, feeling proud of him and also feeling much closer to him than you were before.

When you pull away, he asks, “Do you want to maybe come over for a little bit? Just to hang out?”

That would be nice, but you remember your plans with Wooseok. For some reason, though, it doesn’t feel right to tell Kino about that. “Ah, I can’t. I told Nailah I’d spend time with her tonight.”

You immediately feel guilty about the lie, but Kino isn’t bothered by your excuse. “Have fun with her, then.”

He reaches out, his hand gliding down your forearm until his fingers interlace with yours. You look down at your intertwined hands, your pulse quickening just as it did in the theater. You’re not sure why you react that way. And then you feel the soft press of lips on your forehead.

Did…? Did Kino just…?

You look up at him, shocked. He had just kissed you. What was that all about?

His eyes scan your face, the sweetest, gentlest smile on his lips. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

You nod, still kind of confused and surprised by what just happened. But he walks off before you can really process it, and you just stand there like an idiot for a minute or two.

Reading into it is probably the worst thing you could do. Kino is a touchy guy, so it shouldn’t seem unusual for him to kiss you on the forehead. It’s just a sweet, friendly gesture, right? He probably doesn’t mean anything by it, so you shouldn’t assume he does.

The last thing you want is to make things weird. He’s a great friend, and you don’t want to lose him. So you’re not going to make a big deal out of this.

Desperate for a distraction, you pull your phone out as you head inside. A few texts from Wooseok are waiting for you, just as you had expected.

Wooseok (8:13pm): Still want to come over?

Wooseok (8:13pm): Minho just left and won’t be back until tomorrow

You respond.

You (9:02pm): Of course. Just got back. Give me 10 to freshen up and I’ll be over.

Wooseok (9:02pm): I’ll give you 5

You (9:03pm): 7?

Wooseok (9:03pm): 6.5 starting now.

Wooseok (9:04pm): see u soon, short stuff 😘

***

You make it to his place in exactly seven minutes because you’re a glutton for punishment, but you think you’ve devised a plan to help you earn back his favor.

“You’re late.” He greets you at the door to his apartment.

“But I brought a gift.” You try your best to look cute as you hide the small ‘present’ behind your back. “Close your eyes and hold out your hands.”

He looks suspicious, but he smiles slightly as he does what you ask. Into his large palms, you place the panties you’ve been wearing all day. If Minseo has taught you anything, it’s that men go crazy for a girl in a dress with nothing on underneath.

“You said you wanted to keep them, so these are for you.”

Wooseok’s eyes shoot open as he realizes it’s silky, lacy fabric puddled in his hands. He looks at them with a sly smile. “Are you wearing any right now?”

You just smile coyly and shake your head. Success.

“Christ, woman, get in here.” He grabs your wrist and pulls you inside, letting the door slam shut behind you. You don’t even have time to kick off your shoes before he picks you up, your legs naturally wrapping around his hips to hold yourself up.

Wooseok’s lips crash into yours like he can’t stand the thought of waiting one more second. He’s way too eager, but you could never complain. You love feeling so wanted.

He presses you against the wall and you lace your fingers into his hair, tugging gently as you bite his lower lip. A deep growl vibrates in his throat, and it immediately shoots pleasure straight to your core.

You let yourself moan as you feverishly return every kiss he offers. You just can’t get enough of him, and it’s making you crazy.

For just a second you pull away, but only because you need more. “Bedroom?” you pant.

Wooseok nods and carries you deeper into the apartment, throwing open the door to the bedroom and dropping you onto the bed.

“Hey! I’m not a doll!” You lecture him, but you can’t help the giggle that escapes you. “Don’t toss me around like that.”

Wooseok just ignores you. “You’re wearing too many clothes.” His long fingers immediately find the buttons of your jacket, fiddling with one after the other until he pulls it off of you.

“It’s freezing outside! What did you expect? That I’d run across the street without a jacket on just so it would be easier for you to strip me? It’s bad enough that I came over without my tights on.”

“I mean… You probably would have gotten here when I asked you to if you hadn’t stopped to put a jacket on.” Wooseok runs his fingers over your bare thighs. “But next time, keep the tights on. They’re hot.”

“You’d like that?”

“Yeah, but you’re hot like this, too.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You’d be hotter with your shirt off, if it counts for anything.”

“Sassy,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your neck. Still hovering over you, he grabs the back of his collar and easily pulls the t-shirt over his head.

You’re right - you definitely like him better without the shirt. His torso and arms are nicely toned, and he just looks so good. Even his face is somehow more attractive than it’s ever been, and you know you’ve made the right choice in coming over here tonight.

You touch his cheek, and you can sense the depth behind his irises as his eyes scan your face. He’s fully present, and you just want to live in this moment with him.

“Why do you have to look at me like that?” he asks.

“Like what?”

“Like… I don’t know, you’re just fucking cute.” Wooseok dives in, laying you back onto the bed as his lips connect with yours. His hand starts at your neck and runs down over your arm before transferring to your hip, his kiss overwhelming your senses. Everything about him feels so good, so nice.

As you wrap your limbs around him, you remember what Yuto said to you at the gym this morning.

Be gentle with him.

Try not to hurt him.

Even though it’s none of Yuto’s business, you can’t help but keep his warnings in mind. The last thing you want to do is hurt Wooseok. This is all supposed to be harmless fun, after all.

You press a hand to his chest, silently asking him to stop kissing you.

“You good?” Wooseok asks, concerned.

“Yeah! I just wanted to make sure… You’re totally cool with this, right? Like, with us just being friends and doing this for fun? This isn’t going to make anything weird, right?”

Wooseok shrugs calmly. “Yeah, it’s cool with me. I don’t mind it at all and I promise I won’t get weird around you. You cool?”

You nod. “I’m cool with it. I just needed to know we were still on the same page. I, um, ran into Yuto today…”

“Shit, did he say something?”

“He told me to be careful with you. Like he thought I was going to break your heart or something.” You search his eyes. “Also, not cool that you told him about us. I thought this was going to be a private thing.”

Wooseok closes his eyes, sighing quietly. “I’m sorry. I should have kept my mouth shut. He’s my best friend and I tell him everything. I didn’t even think about it.”

“It’s okay. Just don’t go telling the rest of the school, okay?” You chuckle quietly, not quite realizing how much you sound like a certain Professor asking someone to keep things a secret.

“I won’t breathe a word of it to anybody else. I promise.” He smiles. “And don’t worry, I’m not gonna catch feelings.”

“Okay, I’m going to trust you on that. But if either one of us starts to feel something, we have to be honest and stop. Deal?”

“Deal. But, not gonna happen. You can’t lock me down, woman.”

You roll your eyes. “You can lock me down, tie me up, whatever you’re into…”

Wooseok lowers himself onto you again with a devilish grin. “You’re bad.”

“What are you gonna do about it?”

“Probably just get you naked and plow you into tomorrow.”

Laughter bursts from you and you can’t control yourself. “Did you really just say that?”

He laughs too, never one to take himself too seriously. “Yeah, I think I did. That was pretty awful.”

You slide your fingers into his hair and pull him down to you, crashing your lips together now that your concerns are alleviated. Your body is already aching for release and you’ve hardly even started.

Wooseok’s large hands roam your body, gliding over your curves and massaging your chest. Your fingers trail down his back and the groan he emits is absolutely precious. It feels like it has been ages since you’ve gotten laid and suddenly you’re starving for it.

Every kiss fuels the fire burning deep within you, your core throbbing with want. Your legs are wrapped around his waist and you wiggle your hips in search of some sort of friction.

Wooseok gets the message loud and clear. His hand glides under the skirt of your dress in search of your folds, which are already delightfully wet by the time he reaches them. Even though you’re more than ready, he teases you, taking his time to caress your most sensitive spot.

A quiet moan escapes you, and you reach down between your bodies in search of his length. You just have to know what it feels like, what kind of fun you should expect for the rest of the night.

Your fingers brush over the front of his jeans until you find an unmistakable bulge, and he sighs deeply as you pass over it. The sound is actually really hot, and you know instantly that you need to get him naked.

“Take off your pants,” you murmur against his lips, your fingers already working to unfasten his jeans. You get the button and zipper of his pants undone, and he steps out of his pants and boxers all at once.

Seeing Wooseok naked is both weird and thrilling, and you realize how incredibly sober you are. The last time you were here in his apartment, you were both a little drunk. But this time you’re not inebriated in the least bit.

You definitely don’t need any alcohol to be convinced that you should have sex with this man right the fuck now.

“Condom?” You seriously hope that he has some, because you definitely didn’t think to bring one over.

“Yeah, hold up.” He opens the top drawer of his dresser and pulls out a rubber from his stash.

You pull him back down onto the bed as soon as he’s within reach, and he chuckles at your eagerness. You climb on top of him, kissing him passionately and wrapping your hand around his cock.

“I don’t want to wait,” you whine as you stroke him. He’s already incredibly hard, and he’s just the perfect size for you. Usually you would insist that foreplay is a good idea, but you are way too impatient at the moment. “I want you inside of me.”

“Then stop waiting.”

Wooseok tears open the condom packet and rolls it on, and you lift yourself up, lining him up with your entrance.

You let out a slightly strained breath as you slide down onto him, your walls stretching around his girth as you finally fill yourself with his cock. You unfortunately have to take it easy since you completely skipped the foreplay bit, but you slowly rock your hips, indulging in every bit of pleasure even the smallest movements bring you.

Eventually you’re able to increase your speed, and you lean back, helping his cock hit just the right spot inside of you, the spot that you know will leave you blinded with ecstasy.

You don’t even realize that you’re still in your dress until Wooseok’s hand pushes your skirt back, bunching it at your hip as you ride him. “Lemme see.”

He fixates on the place where your bodies connect, his gaze full of lust. The sight of him beneath you only serves to turn you on more, and it only gets more perfect when his thumb grazes over your clit.

“Oh my God, yes,” you murmur, placing a hand behind you to hold yourself up as you lean back more. Between Wooseok’s touch and the angle of his cock, you felt yourself very quickly becoming unraveled.

Wooseok’s fingers dig into your hip, his cock sliding deliciously in and out of you. Your walls contract tightly around him as you work yourself up, entirely obsessed with the beautiful pleasure pulsing through you.

“I’m… so close…” You moan for him. “Please, keep going. Don’t change a thing.”

He groans softly. “Already, baby?”

“It feels good,” your voice is absolutely blissful. “Count down from five. Slowly.”

It’s something you like to do when you masturbate - you’ve practiced orgasming on demand because there’s something you absolutely love about forcing yourself to hold off right when you’re ready to explode.

Wooseok doesn’t question. He just keeps rubbing circles into your clit, and he counts. “Five.”

Your chest is already growing warm, your abdomen tight.

“Four.”

You force yourself to take deep breaths, but they’re littered with moans.

“Three.”

Your pussy swells with pleasure, hot and electric.

“Two.”

“Fuck!” You can barely keep yourself together. “Please please please…”

“One, baby-”

“Oh!”

You don’t just explode - you burst like a fucking broken dam. Ecstasy overwhelms you as you unintentionally squirt all over Wooseok’s stomach. You’re an absolute gushing mess for him, but you’re too caught up in your pleasure to care. Your whole body feels bathed in sunshine and you’re convinced there is no better feeling than this.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

You’re brought back to reality when Wooseok finally speaks up. He looks absolutely shocked by what just happened, and you realize that you didn’t give him any sort of warning that you might soak him.

Panicked, you apologize. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“Shut up, you’re so fucking hot.”

Wooseok sits up and pulls you to him, kissing you more roughly than ever. You eagerly return each kiss, grateful that he’s not upset like you originally thought.

“Wooseok,” you smile against his lips at what you’re about to say. “I think now’s the time to get me naked and plow me into tomorrow.”

He laughs loudly, and his smile is adorable. “Hell yeah.”

In no time, your dress is on the floor and Wooseok has you pinned under him. Per his request you’re lying on your stomach, and he straddles your legs. He nestles his cock between your thighs, pressing into your slit with a pleased groan.

“Shit, you feel good.” He holds himself up on his forearms, and his lips find your shoulder as he thrusts into you. He starts slow but very quickly picks up the pace until you’re both panting.

You lift your hips as much as you can to meet him, your fingers deftly working your clit. A second orgasm is definitely feasible at this rate, but you’re not going to try to force it.

Wooseok leaves a trail of bites and sucks from your shoulder up your neck until he reaches your ear. He sucks your earlobe into his mouth, biting and toying with your earring as he pounds into you. The sensation drives you wild, and very suddenly you crash into another orgasm.

A weird half-squeak, half-moan comes out of you as you dissolve beneath him, and you hear a strange series of noises come from Wooseok, too. He starts to laugh, but it’s strained and broken up by strangled, awkward moans as he finishes - then he collapses on top of you, shaking with laughter.

You know he’s definitely laughing at the sound you made, and you’re definitely laughing at the way he just laughed through his orgasm. It’s just such a drastic change of mood, and it’s absolutely endearing the way he clutches onto you as he laughs.

Wooseok is everything you thought he might be in bed, and it doesn’t even phase you that your hookup ended in a less-than-hot circumstance. How could you be bothered when you’re laughing this hard?

Something about the laughter makes his embrace feel exceptionally warm. And you kind of adore that.

You feel lighter than you have in a while, even though you’re sort of being crushed by him.

“Can’t breathe!” You squeal.

“Sorry,” he chuckles, rolling off of you and onto his back. “Hey, whatever the fuck that noise was, it was super cute.”

“I could say the same about your laughing orgasm,” you retort, scooting closer to him to indulge in his warmth.

Wooseok pushes your hair back, his dark chocolate eyes locking with yours. “It’s your fault I laughed through it. I don’t know how the hell your voice even got that high.”

Just for fun, you try to recreate the noise, reaching as high as you can through your vocal range to pull out the most ridiculous note you’re capable of. You both laugh at your attempt, and then Wooseok gives it a try - and somehow far surpasses whatever pitch you had managed.

His eyes get so wide you think they might just fall out of his head, and you laugh more hysterically than you ever have in your life. It has to be physically impossible for him to screech as high as he just did, but he succeeded!

“Wooseok, what the fuck?” It’s impossible to catch your breath, but you manage to get some words out.

“I don’t even know.” He shakes his head and shrugs, laughing right along with you.

Eventually you’re both able to calm down. Your arm is draped across his chest, and his hand glides up and down your spine in a way that soothes you. The friends-with-benefits line is a little blurred because you’re not sure if cuddling is part of that package, but as per usual you tell yourself that you’ll figure it out later. You’d rather just enjoy yourself.

“_____?” Wooseok gently breathes your name into your hair, and you prop yourself up on your elbow so you can look at him. He’s gorgeous and you don’t know how you didn’t see it before. “I’m glad you came over.”

You don’t think - you just act on instinct. Your fingers glide up to his cheek and you lean down to kiss him. Wooseok’s lips are warm and soft, and the kiss is sensual and provocative and...

And it melts deep into your heart, lighting you up from head to toe.

It stirs up every romantic thought that you know you shouldn’t have about him.

Fuck.

Post Script | Thank you for reading! Please stay tuned for Part 7.

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katecarteir · 5 years

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As some of you may know, August 21st is Fanfic Author Appreciation Day. As a fic writer myself, in a fandom that so strongly relies on fan content such as the IT fandom, I know very well how wonderful it is to receive feedback and to feel like a part of the community. And I figured the only proper way to spend Fanfic Author Appreciation Day is the draw attention to my favourite fanfic writers and their works! This fic rec is by no means every fic I’ve read or loved, and to make a very general statement: if you write fics, whether it’s one or a hundred, you’re seen, noticed and somebody loved what you did. Don’t be discouraged from doing it, because you’re doing amazing!

MULTICHAPTERED

faking it by domino_pj. The obnoxiously pretty boy with the filthy mouth across the hall manages to convince Eddie to spend spring break pretending to be his boyfriend at his family’s lake house. Can Eddie put his unrequited crush aside to play up the charade for a week or will his feelings inevitably get in the way? (Pairing: Reddie, Rating: Mature, Word Count: 69k)

maybe, maybe by lysscor. In which two insomniacs who have never met find comfort in the last place they would think to look - each other. (Pairing: Reddie, Rating: NR, Word Count: 50k)

to the guy at the bus stop by ragno. The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence, especially if the other side of the fence is Ireland and the grass is Eddie living his own life for the first time ever away from his mom. An International Students Exchange Program is what he needs to finally stand up for himself and doing what he really wants. Who cares if he won't know anybody there? Who cares if he'll be alone in a foreign country? Who cares if he won't have his car and will need to take the bus to go anywhere?? Okay, maybe Eddie does care about that last one...

kryptonite by hoeziertozier. So, his new roommate was his superhero persona’s fanboy. Yep, that was definitely not going to be a problem.’ (Pairing: Reddie, Rating: Explicit, Word Count: 30k.)

one wave short of a shipwreck by palisadespalisades. The problem began when Eddie decided he was going to make out with Stan Uris. Make out, possibly take on some dates, maybe hook up — the details of what they’d do were still kind of up in the air, but Eddie was sure of one thing: to some degree, he was going to do Stan Uris. (Pairing: Reddie, Rating: Teen, Word Count: 16k)

dreamboat by weepies | @finnwolfhard. In which Eddie Kaspbrak is a writer with no ideas, and Richie Tozier is a coffee shop employee bursting with creativity. (Pairing: Reddie, Rating: NR, Word Count: 47k)

winter break (push and pull) by owlpostagain. Five times Richie and Eddie get it wrong and the one time they just might get it right. (Pairing: Reddie, Rating: Teen, Word Count: 47k)

empty world by sunsetozier | @lo-v-ers. On October 1, 1993, Richie Tozier wakes up to find that everyone else has seemingly vanished into thin air. (Pairing: Reddie, Rating: Explicit, Word Count: 56k)

zero characters left by stellarbisexual | @stellarbisexual. Eddie works in social media at a tech start-up in Boston, and Richie's been hired to do some video production for the company. (Pairing: Reddie, Rating: Explicit, Word Count: 44k)

how to raise a child with your best friend/long time crush by hoeziertozier. A look into Richie and Eddie's lives as they raise a child together. (Pairing: Reddie, Rating: Mature, Word Count: 28k)

pure art by marianhenryk. And in that moment, the exact moment the duo finished their cigarettes and started walking away, Eddie wished he had taken his camera with him. The boy would make such a perfect model, his angular face and the patterns he was covered in (oh the patterns!). He was sitting there and looking at the awfully dressed boy leaving the park, crossing the street while laughing and that’s when it hit him. (Pairing: Reddie, Rating: NR, Word Count: 21k)

and this is who we are by sunsetozier | @lo-v-ers In which Eddie and Beverly lie to their friends for five years before finally coming out, much to the surprise of one supposedly straight Richie Tozier (Pairing: Reddie, Rating: Mature, Word Count: 40k)

tear it with your teeth by belby | @hadersus. "We could leave this place, Eddie," Richie says. "God, imagine that? Not having to live in this trash dump anymore. We could go wherever we wanted. A different place every night." (Pairing: Reddie, Rating: Mature, Word Count: 32k)

havana by chucknovak | @wonderwheelzier. Eddie Kaspbrak, a senior in college, lives a closeted life. That life, however, is challenged when he meets Richie Tozier on spring break. (Pairing: Reddie, Rating: Explicit, Word Count: 32k)

everything you and i have got (it takes so long to find) by reddieforlove. Eddie is in college and wants to pay off his student loan debt before it overwhelms him. He decides to do a few porn films, knowing his friend does it at a safe studio, and gets paired with Richie the first day. They have no idea how much it'll change everything. (Pairing: Reddie, Rating: Explicit, Word Count: 26k)

you can count on me to misbehave by inoubliable | @hanscom. Eddie is hired to model for an alternative lifestyle ad campaign. Richie is the photographer. Eddie tries to be professional. Richie does not. (Pairing: Reddie, Rating: Mature, Word Count: 14k)

you loved me even when i was broken by leighwrites | @aizeninlefox. When Bill went for a series of routine hospital tests he wasn't expecting to meet someone like Richie. (Pairing: Bichie, Rating: Mature, Word Count: 13k)

a little less romeo and juliet, a little more touch me by puddingtown | @tozierpunks. When Eddie has a chance to play a lead role in his theater clubs' take on Romeo & Juliet, he enlists his best friend, Richie Tozier, to pose as his boyfriend and help him snag the part. The only problem? Richie isn't acting. (Pairing: Reddie, Rating: Teen, Word Count: 11k)

ONE SHOTS/STAND ALONES

walk alone or run away by tozier. Richie Tozier is a man, not of lies, but of half-truths and truths said too plainly out in the open that they sound like lies to the untrained ear. He does not lie—he lets others lie for him. (Pairing: Reddie, Rating: Explicit, Word Count: 47k)

stay for the storm by inoubliable | @hanscom . Richie and Eddie had become friends almost on sight. Since they met, most of Eddie's time in Los Angeles has involved Richie in some way. It's a little different, now that they're both famous. It's a little different, now that they're sleeping together. (Pairing: Reddie, Rating: Explicit, Word Count: 20k.)

investigate anonymous by bughead. When musician Richie Tozier gets tired of keeping all his feelings bottled up, he creates anonymous3456789.tumblr.com to vent. The only issue is... what if someone finds it? (Pairing: Reddie, Rating: Teen, Word Count: 21k)

find your fire by endversed. Richie Tozier meets a cute firecracker of a guy when he accidentally sets off the fire alarm in his apartment.It's just too bad that said guy has got a boyfriend - doesn't he? (Pairing: Reddie, Rating: Teen, Word Count: 16k.)

take this sinking boat and point it home by reddies_spaghetti | @eddiefuckinkaspbrak. 3,000 miles separated Eddie and Richie from each other. Not like they let that stand in their way. (Pairing: Reddie, Rating: Explicit, Word Count: 15k)

steady feet don’t fail me now by @richietoaster. “Don’t answer that, dickhead,” Richie says as he gets up, wiping his sweaty palms onto his jeans. “C’mon, get up.” He instructs and holds out a hand to pull Eddie to his feet. “I’m teaching you.” (Pairing: Reddie, Rating: Explicit, Word Count: 9k)

stop calling, stop calling (i don’t wanna talk anymore) by ironicallyinternational. Richie calls each of the Losers at an ungodly hour of the morning. It has everything to do with boredom and nothing to do with his sky-rocketing fears of rejection and loneliness. Coincidentally, Eddie seems to be blowing him off, which is- you know, not so great. It's all good, though. Richie is fine. But he has yet to manage to call him. (Pairing: Reddie, Rating: Teen, Word Count: 12k)

spray my name on the wall of your heart by sweetkisses. Eddie realizes his feelings for Richie while Richie leaves graffiti all over Derry. (Pairing: Reddie, Rating: Teen, Word Count: 16k)

friends, aliens and the art of being okay by innoguilty. So when Richie proposes a quick escapade to Area 51, he sees the perfect opportunity to get away from all the things that have been going on in his head. Well, all except one. Because he still isn't sure what the hell was going on between the two of them. (Pairing: Reddie, Rating: Explicit, Word Count: 12k)

relationship status: dumbass by theonlytraveler. Eddie turns away, but Richie can still see the blush rise to his cheeks, the color deepening when Richie brushes a finger over his knee. Huh. “You’re thinking about me, aren’t you?” Richie grins, the big, toothy one that he knows makes Eddie snort and loosen up. “You want my dick. I knew it.” (Pairing: Reddie, Rating: Explicit, Word Count: 10k)

Tender by leighwrites | @aizeninlefox. (Leigh didn’t put a summary but this soft bottom!richie smut anyways.) (Pairing: Reddie, Rating: Explicit, Word Count: 8k)

moving through the years with you by the_lazy_eye | @reddie-for-anything. Richie doesn’t think he’ll ever admit it but he swears he can feel something in the way they’re pressed together. He feels it when they pass notes back and forth during class or when they share the couch during movie nights. It’s in the way Richie helps her with her fashion designs and Bev volunteers to be the test of one of Richie’s new jokes or Voices. It’s laced in every interaction and every thought. (Pairing: Bevchie, Rating: General, Word Count: 8k)

#reddie #reddie fic #fanfic author appreciation day #fic rec #ALL these fics are completed by the way #theres so many amazing wips out there #but i decided to narrow this list down #by having only complete works

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flowerfan2 · 5 years

Text

Affinity - Ch. 8 (10.08)

We got another gift from the writers of this ep, with the first scene where Steve gets Danny’s texts, and the last where Steve calls Danny. This coda picks up immediately after that last scene.

A continuous story of season 10 episode codas. Steve may describe their relationship as a dysfunctional marriage, but at some point, will he and Danny take a closer look at what it really could be? (The answer is yes).

McDanno, A03. 2k this chapter; 14k total.

Chapter 8 – 10.08

Steve gets off the phone with Danny and scrubs his face with his hands. He takes a few deep breaths, mentally moving away from his conversation with Danny (“Of course you miss her, babe. I know.”), pushing the ache in his chest to the back of his mind. He’d like to act at least relatively together for his team.

Finally he gets out of his truck and walks over to the group at the table. Everyone gives him sympathetic looks, and while some part of his mind appreciates their concern, mostly it’s just a painful reminder of what has happened; that they all know he failed. The only one that it doesn’t hurt to look at is Lou’s niece, who is busy grilling Tani about police work and couldn’t be less interested in Steve’s trauma.

Steve nods his thanks when a plate of food is set in front of him, although he doesn’t try to eat it. Adam and Junior are talking about basketball, and Quinn is joking around with Kamekona. Steve stares out at the ocean and lets the conversation wash over him.

Just a few more minutes, and Danny will be here.

It’s Charlie who jolts Steve out of his daze, barreling into his legs and beaming at him with a toothy smile. Steve feels a rush of emotion, grabbing the boy up and pulling him into his lap. He’s a beautiful little piece of Danny, skinny and fragile and so, so innocent.

Right behind Charlie is Danny, who is wearing a loose-fitting t-shirt and jean shorts that Steve hasn’t seen in ages. He stands just as solidly as always, chest up and chin high. It’s ridiculous how the sight of Danny immediately eases something in Steve. He’s so gone for him, he doesn’t know how to handle it. In place of doing something embarrassing Steve just hugs Charlie tighter and presses a kiss to the little boy’s head.

“Hey, Danny, good to see you,” Lou booms, and introduces the girl at his side. Bonnie, who came to the island to try out for the University of Hawaii basketball team. “Sit down, I’ll tell Kame to bring you two some plates.”

“No, no thanks, we can’t stay,” Danny says, moving next to Steve and putting his hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Just came by to pick up this guy.”

“What? No love for us?” Lou asks in mock offense.

“Sorry, not today. Charlie needs some Uncle Steve time.” Danny gives Steve’s arm a tug, and he gets up from the picnic table, taking Charlie with him as they walk back to Danny’s car. Steve can’t be bothered to care about who is driving, he just gets in the passenger seat. He’ll swing by for his truck later. Right now he needs to be in the same space as Danny, preferably as close as possible.

Danny gets Charlie settled in the back, engrossed in some handheld computer game, and they pull out on to the road. It takes a few minutes for Steve to even wonder where Danny is taking him. He hadn’t known Charlie would be with Danny, but it makes sense, given that he’s the reason Danny was off work today.

They drive by a park, and Steve remembers – it’s little league night. He imagines sitting in the stands with all the parents, all of them excited and anxious in turn. It wouldn’t be the first time Steve watched Charlie play, but… “Danny, I um,” Steve starts. “I don’t know that I’m up for-”

Danny turns to him, somehow anticipating what he’s trying to say. “What? Hanging out with Charlie? No, I know. We’re dropping him at Rachel’s.”

“But isn’t tonight little league?”

“Rachel can take him, he’s gonna stay over with her tonight.”

“It’s your day with him, Danny. You don’t have to do this, just drop me at home.”

“Rachel doesn’t mind, she understands.”

Steve looks back at Charlie again, oblivious to what’s going on around him. He lowers his voice. “But won’t Charlie be upset? If you break your promise?”

They stop at a light, and Danny gives Steve a thoughtful look, the kind that makes Steve think Danny is seeing right into his brain and noticing things that Steve didn’t even know he put there. “Charlie will be fine, Steve. He spends two or three nights with me every single week. He knows I love him. He’s surrounded by people who love him, he’s got more family than he knows what to do with. I never promised that I’d go to every single little league game, or spend a certain number of hours with him, that’s not what being a dad is about. Charlie can handle a change in plans, it happens sometimes.”

“But – what kind of lesson is he going to learn from this, from you” Steve’s voice cracks a little, he’s starting to realize that he’s not really talking about Charlie, “from you not being there?”

Danny’s face is sad as he turns to Steve. “He’s going to understand that when someone you love is hurting, you take care of them.” Danny reaches over and squeezes Steve’s hand, and they drive on in silence.

At Rachel’s house Danny walks Charlie to the door. Danny comes right back to the car, a plastic container in his hands.

“What’s in there?”

“Homemade shortbread cookies with jelly. They’re delicious. Rachel sends her condolences, by the way. She’ll probably stop by in a few days, she gets that this isn’t the right time.”

“Thanks.”

Steve zones out on the drive to Danny’s house. He doesn’t mean to, but he can’t help it, it keeps happening. He can’t seem to stop thinking about his mom, wondering what he could have done differently, running the angles to figure out what went wrong. It all ends up in the same place; his mother is gone. He thought he knew better, but he failed her, and now she’s never coming back.

At Danny’s they go into the kitchen, and Danny sets him up with a cutting board, a bag of carrots, a peeler, and a big knife. He’s vaguely aware that Danny is doing something with a chicken and a really large pot.

“Hey, that’s good babe, that’s enough,” Danny says gently. “Why don’t you sit down?” Steve blinks up at Danny, then looks at the cutting board, where he has succeeded in subduing the carrots into a pile of finely shredded pulp. Maybe not what Danny had intended for the soup.

Danny slides the cutting board out of the way and sets down two bowls of steaming oatmeal. It smells good, sweet and cinnamon-y. “I think chicken soup is too ambitious for tonight. Eat this, and we can call it a day.”

Steve stirs it, watching the swirl of maple syrup on top blend in. “I’m not really hungry.”

“I know,” Danny says. “But you have to eat.” Danny sits with him, scooting his chair a little closer. He takes a spoonful himself, then talks with his mouth half full, pointing his spoon at Steve. “You didn’t eat anything all at since I left you this morning, am I right?”

Steve doesn’t have to answer. He eats a few bites of the oatmeal, ignoring the feeling in his stomach that makes him want to toss it right back up.

“I texted Lou,” Danny says after a few minutes, seemingly out of nowhere.

“Yeah?”

“He’s back in the office tomorrow. You can take a few days, Steve. Get your bearings.”

The implication that he isn’t capable of doing his job stings, but Steve knows that’s not what Danny is saying. Besides, he didn’t feel right today. He clearly missed something with the DEA guy, no matter how consoling Quinn tried to be.

“I’ll think about it.”

When Steve has clearly eaten all he’s going to eat, Danny takes the dishes and rinses them before putting them in the dishwasher. He pokes around in the freezer and moves a large, foil-covered pan into the refrigerator.

“Lasagna,” Danny explains. “One of many; this one has sausage instead of ground beef. I kind of went a little crazy with the cooking when you were gone.”

“Who did you make them for?”

“Us,” Danny says simply. “Figured at some point you’d probably come back and would appreciate some home-cooked food.”

Steve doesn’t miss the “probably” in that sentence. He can’t forget how his actions have affected Danny too, how it worried Danny to have Steve in danger and out of touch for so long.

Danny continues talking about his efforts to cook himself into distraction. “At first I was going to make a variety of stuff, but then I figured, why not stick with what works? It was kind of therapeutic. They started to pile up, though. I gave one to Junior – he may mention it at some point. He didn’t like it.”

“What? Who doesn’t like your lasagna?”

“That’s what I said.” Danny shrugs. “Noelani’s mom liked it.”

“Noelani’s mom?”

“Yeah, she was sick, so I gave her one. And a kid in the lab had a baby, I gave him one too.”

“Is there anyone in HPD who hasn’t tasted your lasagna?”

Danny smirks, and Steve blushes.

“That is not what I meant, Danny.”

“I know.” Danny comes over and touches Steve on the shoulder. “Come on, let’s go to bed.”

Steve glances at the clock on the wall. “It’s not even eight.”

“Tell me with a straight face that you want to do anything right now besides sleep.”

Steve wiggles an eyebrow, and this time Danny blushes. But then Steve shakes his head. “No, you’re totally right,” he admits. “I would love to go to sleep.”

Steve showers, which helps him feel a little more human, and puts on a clean t-shirt and boxers. When he comes out, Danny is already in bed, reading something on his phone. Steve picks up the shirt Danny has tossed on the floor, the one Danny was wearing earlier, and holds it up.

“This is mine, isn’t it?”

Danny looks up, unapologetic. “Yes.”

Steve can hear the “you gotta problem with that?” in Danny’s tone, and Steve smiles. “Okay.” He knew it was his, knew it the moment he saw Danny walking towards him at the shrimp truck. He can’t really put into words how it makes him feel. It’s as if Danny is sending him a message – things are crap right now, but remember there’s something else going on, too. There’s us. Whatever that may be. A hope, a possibility. Something good that will still be there, after all this pain has subsided and Steve can breathe again.

Steve climbs into bed, careful of his arm that still twinges if he moves it wrong. He shuffles under the covers and feels the warmth of Danny’s body heat radiate towards him. Danny puts down his phone and opens up his arms for Steve. Steve leans into him and they kiss, long and slow, with a tenderness that Steve can feel all the way down to his toes.

When Steve pulls back Danny gathers him close, threading his fingers into his hair. Steve wraps his arms around Danny and holds on tight.

“You’ll get through this, babe,” Danny murmurs. “You’ll make it, and I’ll be with you. I’m not going anywhere.”

Steve digs his face into Danny’s chest. He slowly steadies his breathing and concentrates on the smell of Danny’s skin, the weight of his hand on Steve’s back, his heartbeat under Steve’s ear. Here like this, warm and safe and surrounded by Danny, Steve can almost believe that things are going to be okay.

#Hawaii Five-0 #h50 #mcdanno #episode coda #10.08 #my fic

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cupofteaguk · 6 years

Text

exchanges (m)

summary: in which Jeon Jungkook is that friendly neighborhood superhero, you’re the face in the hallway that saved his high school career, and he can’t ever seem to get a grip around you. even when he makes you scream after a fated accident—not for the reason you may be thinking; get the thought out of your head!

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

genre: spiderman au | fluff/smut

warnings: descriptions of bullying, minor injury, unprotected sex

word count: 14k

(the present)

If Jeon Jungkook is against anything in his life, it’s one’s ability to exaggerate certain situations or problems to make those things seem much bigger than they probably were. Well, actually, take that back. It’s not that he’s against it per say, it’s just that his peer’s daily struggles of pop quizzes and missing the morning bus aren’t exactly headliner news—especially in comparison to what he has to go through.

Jeon Jungkook is against exaggeration, probably because he can’t get away with it himself. It’s not that he doesn’t like to exchange his fair share of embellished stories or fabricated events weaved into true experiences, it’s that he can’t afford to do so. Sharing stories of his nightly routines and dashing superhero adventures may seem great, but only if he could manage the burden of a personal life and a masked life intertwining.

As an 18-year-old boy, he can probably say it's safe to assume that he cannot. Manage the overwhelming, opposite pressure both of his lives take him, that is. It's difficult enough being a college freshman, a tiny fish in an ocean of whales and sharks, but throw in his late night Spiderman facade would be too much of a tale to share with other people and peers who probably ask too many questions and know too much about him. He's never liked the exposure that comes with being in the spotlight, and he can't hide behind his mask if people knew who he was.

Oh. Right. Speaking of his Spiderman facade, that's who is he. Haven't heard of him? You know, the dashing hero of Seoul, red and blue spandex attire with a web shooter, fine tuned senses and amazingly quick reflexes? The boy who swings around the city, volunteering for trouble and always coming out right on top? The boy who constantly maintains that casual, slightly amused tone throughout a majority of his rescues?

Yeah, well, that's Jungkook.

It's a role he has occupied gladly for about two years at this point, after an unfortunate accident at a lab he was interning at during his junior year of high school cursed him with these abilities of spider-like sensibility. Rather than run away from his powers, he chose instead to embrace it and it's almost been two and a half years at this point and he doesn't see any signs of stopping. He keeps that shadow of his life private, refusing to indulge, avoiding those conversations like the plague, keeping a wry eye out in a way that usually isn't perceived as paranoia, and for the first two years of his Spiderman role, he actually gets along quite nicely.

Until one eventful night, a day he remembers quite clearly leading up to that point. It's a Tuesday when it happens, a domino effect of bad luck prior to the inevitable in a way that tells Jungkook that perhaps he shouldn't have been all that taken aback that something like this would happen to him. First off, he had overslept his alarm that morning, leaving in a mad rush across the campus to try and get to his art lecture on time. His calculus professor had completely called him out today for his decreased academic performance on the last test—although to be fair, Jungkook actually didn't study for that test, he was too busy stopping an armed robbery at a bank. His history professor had dropped a pop quiz on the class, an assignment that Jungkook is almost 99.99% sure he had failed.

He had known that perhaps after all those things, the best way to spend the rest of his evening would have been to actually pick up a book and actually try to study for history or actually put some effort into a math question that would probably only take 10 minutes to complete. But no. Jungkook wouldn't be Jungkook if he didn't chase the nightlife, didn't chase after the rush and thrill of the powers he still hasn't completely grown accustomed to having. He had decided, instead, to dawn on the red and blue spandex, adjust the web shooters he had to manufacture on his own, before taking to the sky. There's always a difficulty sneaking out of the dorms, and even more so trying to get off the campus. But he moves with a certain stealth and a certain practiced grace that he's learned to embrace that excitement of sneaking off a college campus.

It's returning back that night that changes everything, all because of a dormitory power outrage and just the simple fact that Jungkook doesn't really know the layout of the building (or the placement of his room) as well as he thought he did. The ever-present darkness that encompasses the complex leaves Jungkook with little option but to estimate the area of which he believes his own dorm is located, as he crawls his way up the windows, pretty confident that he lived on the third floor, fourth window over from the edge.

Or was it the third floor, sixth window from the edge?

Fuck.

This momentary lapse in his assurance comes a little too late, however, because he lets down his guard at the sight of seeing an opened window. He always left his window open before leaving, so maybe he's been overthinking the situation and maybe he really does know the location of his dorm from the outside.

So he slides through, landing with a soft plop onto the carpet as he lets the exhaustion of the day finally start to catch up to him. Because of the darkness, the only light coming in through the moonlight, he fails to notice the Captain America posters that line the walls, or the polaroids from strings, or the floral print on the bed as he lets out a sigh into what he thinks is an empty dorm and practically throws himself atop what he thinks is his mattress.

A shift of movement underneath him, a startled scream, jerks Jungkook out of his lapse into dreamland as he springs out of bed at the same time the figure underneath him straightens up as well.

“What the fuck!” A startlingly familiar voice cries from below.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry—I’m sorry, I thought this was my room—!”

At once, the lights overhead turn on and the sight makes Jungkook's heart drop, beat a sudden mile a minute, and also feel as if it might crawl up his throat all at once. He feels his breath catch in his throat, the color flush against his cheeks that would probably match the red of his uniform had it not been for the mask covering his face—but this reaction to seeing someone in a bed is not for the reason one may think.

Because sitting in said bed, blanket pulled up to chest, no makeup, hair reduced to waves and curls that spray out across shoulders, eyes wide, but still the same face that he's spent the past three years admiring and crushing on hard from afar—is you.

Yes, you. The same you he's been crushing on for three years, the same you who smiled at him in the halls as if he was the only person in the room that mattered, the same you who didn't hesitate to help him gather his books back when he was getting shoved into lockers and being told that he would never mean anything to anyone.

You were alway the exception to his tragic high school life, one that is defined by his attempts to get a hang of his powers whist balancing school and his worrying parents, and trying to stop flinching every single time he turned the corner in the school hallway. You were always better, always that shimmering stardust in the pits of his night sky, as cliche as that sounds. To say he's been in love with you for three years would probably be a bit dramatic, given that the pair of you have rarely ever even exchanged a word of conversation since he met you, but the small hellos and shy waves of acknowledgment the pair of you have been exchanging since the very first encounter would probably be enough to say that Jungkook has always been incredibly fond of you and nothing in his right mind was going to change that.

He had heard through the grapevine that you would be attending the same university as him, and felt a mixture of apprehension and excitement at the thought of being able to see more of you around the campus and outside of the embarrassment that was his high school career. Even though the college campus is much bigger, and the differing majors keeps the pair of you apart, he really does learn to cherish the moments he can catch a glimpse of you around the campus. Whether it's walking to your classes, or talking to a friend, or reading a book, or listening to the music, he feels like they're all pieces of the puzzle that make up your life and he wants to learn as much as he can. Is that creepy?

Maybe. But okay. Back to reality.

The reality where he's standing right across from you, close enough where he can see the rapid rise and fall of your chest and the wild look in your eyes. It looks as if you had been seconds away from drifting off to sleep and while he feels bad for interrupting that process, since he can only assume from the bags underneath your eyes that you aren't getting as much sleep as you would probably like, there's also a swelling in his chest and a rapid thumping of his heart because if he had known he was going to be seeing you today, he might have tried to avoid the sight of him in a ridiculously tight spandex attire.

Speaking of the spandex attire.

It's something your eyes brush down upon immediately, taking in the red and blue mix of the fabric to the black spider across his chest and your eyes grow wider, but with a different kind of recognition. You're about to open your mouth to say something, anything, and his heart is in his throat and he thinks you might scream again, but a sudden pounding against the door of your dorm startles the pair of you out of your resolve.

You meet his gaze across the way, eyes alert and a thousand questions packed into a flicker.

Another knock jerks you into movement as you kick off the covers and make your way to the door, leaving Jungkook little choice but to throw himself behind the bed and hope that the boxes and drawers you have packed underneath your bed would do enough to keep him hidden from whoever lay waiting on the other side.

He can hear you throwing open the door. "A-Ah, hey Namjoon, what's up?"

"You alright?" A deep voice inquires immediately, and Jungkook recognizes the voice and your acknowledgment of the figure on the other side as Kim Namjoon, the RA of the hall. Even though he knows he's in absolutely no position to feel this way, Jungkook can't help the pang of jealousy that spikes itself in his heart. Did Namjoon have any idea how difficult it was for Jungkook just to inhale oxygen around you? How could the older boy speak to you with such ease?

But Jungkook keeps his mouth shut. It's not like he's in a position to start snapping about that right now.

"I heard you scream," Namjoon continues from whatever previous conversation you and the older boy had been having while Jungkook was dozing off.

"O-Oh right," You say in a small, slightly squeaky voice. "Sorry for worrying you, I just... fell off the bed," You end lamely. "I was napping and didn't know the power had gone out, so when it did go on I guess I just started freaking out. Sorry about that."

"Oh, alright," Namjoon dismisses, although he doesn't sound entirely convinced. Jungkook wonders just how much time you and Namjoon spend together for the older boy to get accustomed to your tone of voice and how the air around you hangs and the thought only leaves an even more bitter tang in the pit of his stomach. "Just be more careful next time."

"I know," You wave away, and Jungkook can practically hear the smile in your voice, knowing the tone of it from his own personal experience from the handful of small conversations the pair of you have shared in the past. "But it's good now. Thanks for checking up on me."

"Of course. See you tomorrow."

That's the last words Namjoon gets to throw in before you're closing the door, and Jungkook can hear the shift of your movements as you spin on your heel to face the vicinity of your dorm once more. "U-Um," You stammer out. "You can come out now."

Realizing that you're talking about him, Jungkook springs up into a standing position with a little more force than necessary. The sudden gesture leaves him slightly winded and he almost tips over because of the sudden head rush, but he forces himself to keep his ground with the knowledge that if he said something or did the wrong thing then you would figure it all out. Although he has his doubts about your ability to see who he really was under the mask, given that the pair of you haven't exchanged enough conversations or spent enough time around one another to gain the knowledge about certain characteristics such as nervous gestures or a general idea towards the tone of each other’s voices, Jungkook stills finds himself worrying. He uses your momentary lapse of silence to think through his situation. How should he address you? Should he just whip off the mask and announce himself as Spiderman right before your very eyes? Should he keep the mask on and just play the role of the friendly neighborhood superhero? What if he mixed everything up? What if he kept the mask on, but stuttered and stammered so much at the very sight of you that you picked up on his identity immediately?

It’s always been easy to differentiate Jeon Jungkook from Spiderman, always easy to pretend like the mask was a way to actually hide away all the things that made Jungkook Jungkook—but things have never been easy when it came to you, which is ironic given that walking with you and being with you has always as easy as breathing. It’s a difficult sensation to describe.

His heart starts to pound quicker with the realization that his time to come up with a proper response to the issue at hand is gradually starting to dwindle. It’s hard to think and run through his options consistently, especially when you’re standing before him in nothing but an oversized t-shirt that’s about an inch above your thigh. The senses he had been gifted with are of no help, everything around him feeling like the intensity has been dialed to some double feature. It feels as if he’s hyperaware of everything now—from the breeze of the opened window to the movement of footsteps outside the hall to the overwhelming smell of lavender and he stiffens because you smelled like lavender—!

As it turns out, you end up being the one to find your voice first. “Holy shit,” You say by way of greeting, and Jungkook swears he can feel his head growing light from the sound of your voice. He’s pretty certain that you sound as if your vocal chords have been laced with strands of silky gold that float out every single time you open your mouth. “You’re Spiderman.”

He chokes on the next words, physically having to restrain himself from accidentally letting your name slip past his lips with the knowledge that that would bring on a whole other slew of questions. He covers the strangle in his throat with a cough, hoping that you would think he’s merely trying to clear his throat. “Y-Yes I am! Nice to meet you… here in your room.”

You follow the craning of his neck as his gaze flits over your wallpaper and your room. There is another bed next to the door and he briefly frets about your roommate but your next question does good work in ridding of that previous worry.

“Do you… attend school here?” You finally ask, incredulous voice and arms crossed over your chest and oh boy, oh boy, if you knew, if you knew.

Jungkook stands still under the facade, watching you just as intensely as you are watching him, and he wishes he could tell you everything right here but the timing of it all feels distant and awkward enough. If he could barely keep himself together with the mask on, who knows what kind of burning bridge he could create with the mask off.

“D-Don’t tell anyone,” He settles with disclosing, lowering his head slightly. “It’d be really helpful, and I would appreciate it.”

Lips still parted, you nod. “O-Of course.”

Seeing you in a momentary stump gives Jungkook the confidence to carry on with the conversation, finding it easy to not act like himself since you’re not acting like yourself either.

“Great, thanks,” Jungkook takes a few steps away from you to reach the open window. He extends his arms behind him to grip the edge of the ledge, deciding for a moment that he likes seeing you so taken aback at the sight of him—even if not for the reason he wants. “Sorry about the mix up, by the way.”

You’re still staring at him, and although your arms have lowered, your eyes are still widely fixed on him. “It’s okay,” You speak, voice barely just above a whisper.

Jungkook nods towards your walls. “I like your posters, by the way,” He remarks casually, gesturing to the giant photos of Captain America and you follow his head tilt as if you had completely forgotten you had Captain America posters in the first place. “Although I’m a more of an Iron Man fan myself.”

You whip your gaze back towards him. “Now wait a moment—!” You point out, but the rest of your words are swallowed back into your mouth when you turn your attention back to the window only to find that the space where Spiderman once stood is empty.

On the other side of the wall, Jungkook remains stuck to the outside right next to you window, heart stammering as he keeps his hands and feet firmly pressed against the plaster of the building. From his position, he doesn’t see the way your gaze lingers on the window, the way you look back at your Captain America posters, nor the way the corner of your lips turn up at the strange unexpected turn of your Tuesday evening.

(the past)

The first time you ever saw Jeon Jungkook, you are 15 years old, and he is getting shoved into the lockers right next to you.

It’s strange how well you hold this memory to your consciousness.

But it had been an unusual first-day-of-school, granted that you were moving in from a different town in the middle of the year and the experience is not unlike being thrown into the middle of a movie set where the movement and daily routine whirls around you and leaves you breathless and forced for adjustment. You had known before setting foot onto the campus that there was definitely going to be some catching up on your part, but you hadn’t known that you’d be encountering a bully attack right out of the gate.

So, naturally, you jump and make a little noise in the back of your throat as the contact of body meeting metal locker hits your ears. You tighten your grip on your books before it slips from your grasp as you immediately fix your gaze on the source of the noise. Standing next to you with his face scrunched in pain and teeth clenched together, the boy looks to be about your age, a tender 15-years-old, second year at this horror hell of educational means. Your eyes are quick to scan his appearance, gray jacket zipped up with the sleeves frayed from overuse. The hoodie he once wore over his head is knocked clean off the top, revealing a mop of unkempt black hair. He's got soft looking features across the paler complexion of his skin, and the sight makes your heartbeat quicken in your chest as a rush of sympathy and protective nature overcomes your nerves.

You long to open your mouth to say something, anything, but the rough voices behind you cut you off. "Watch where you're going Jeon; the morning excuses no one." The tone is rough and sharp, amused and cruel, before it's gone much too soon as if this type of activity is like clockwork and has been practiced on more than one occasion.

The thought isn't entirely comforting, which is probably what propels you to fix your gaze on the boy pressed against the locker. His eyes are still shut, and he's taking measured breaths. You notice almost immediately that no one lingers near him. No one stops to make sure he's doing okay, or that the shove hadn't caused permanent damage to his back, or if he can still manage a smile after this kind of morning. No one even makes eye contact with him as they rush past him with the excuse of making it to first period. The sight is practically heartbreaking as you watch students avoid the boy like he is the plague, no one desperate enough to catch his bad luck. He opens his eyes, casting them downwards, collecting his thoughts.

Still cradling the books in your hand, you shift in your standing position before attempting to reach an arm out towards the boy to ask if he's okay, but the boy flinches when he catches movement out of the corner of his eye. He fixes his gaze on yours for the very first time and his eyes are like the night sky, a shade of darkness that is surprisingly far from angry or frightened or moody. Instead, there is a loneliness that lingers like glimmers of a night sky, an emotion that you feel brewing in the pit of your own stomach—the idea that it’s possible to be surrounded by people every single day but still feel entirely and inescapably empty.

You don’t know a thing about him, and he doesn’t know a thing about you, but you find yourself gravitating towards him at once. You sympathize for him, but you also relate to his feelings and you wonder if he can see the concern flickering in your wide eyes once the initial shock of a rather unique morning greeting starts to fade away.

You, however, do not get to find out whether or not he’s noted of the emotions in your eyes. As soon as you try to open your mouth to say something, the boy is gone. He is a rush of blurred movements, pulling further and further away from you until he is darting away and not even sparing you a second glance. He leaves you alone, standing in the gradually emptying hallway, questions springing into your mind like wildflower, until the tardy bells rings and you curse. Nothing to start off the first day of a new school by being late.

You wish you could forget the boy as quickly as he could run away from you, run away from the bullies and the pain he’s probably hiding underneath that gray sweatshirt and eyes only you seem to be able to read, but life doesn’t work out in the way you wish it could. The earth continues to rotate, the day continues to pass by, the time continues to tick, and all of those things are like seeds of curiosity that plant themselves in your mind until you can physically feel it festering into a tree.

(the present)

The question of whether or not Jungkook would return the following night becomes a debate in it of itself as he spends a majority of the time leading up to the darkening sky pacing about in his dorm. His roommate has a tendency to let the day slip past his fingers wasting away in the library in desperate attempts to fill up his mind with Philosophical terms and conditional means—not that Jungkook minds the alone time. In fact, the constant absence of his roommate makes sneaking out all the more easier.

But sneaking out to chase trouble and sneaking out to see you, while both situations somewhat involve the same circumstances of Jungkook dressing into the suit and leaping through the opened window, feel different. Would using the Spiderman facade just to see you, and using the opportunity to have you see him not as Jeon Jungkook for once, be an abuse of power?

Maybe. Was that wrong, though? Was it wrong that he can’t get the mental image of you looking so taken by his physical appearance out of his head? Was it wrong to feel like the roles have reversed for once in his life and maybe catch a glimpse of what you saw every time he looked at you? Was it wrong that he finally had the covering he has always so desperately longed for that could help him look you in the eye for once in his life?

He thinks about feelings and validation, and starts out of his chair. He pulls the suit up and over his body, running a hand through his hair one last time before slipping on the mask, grabs the item resting upon his desk, and darting through the opened window. A web shoots out from the slinger, taking him across the way into the adjacent dorm building just a few feet away from his own. He rolls onto the rooftop, straightening and turning back around to face the structure he just escaped from. He stares through the windows, taking in the drawn curtains or the opened ones, the loud conversations and the ones he can’t hear at all.

Drawing only from his memory of yesterday, Jungkook fixes his gaze upon the general area he remembers lingering about in last night. Of course, his only real memory to draw from is the darkened area from the power outage, but maybe if he’s quiet and patient and the timing is right then maybe, just maybe—!

The answer presents itself to him within the next five seconds, when the flicker of movement from the window on the third floor, fourth from the edge, catches his attention and he narrows his eyes on the activity going on inside the room. In spite of the fact that everything he is currently doing is intentional, he can’t help the way his heartbeat quickens at the sight of you opening up the window of your dorm. Your hair falls forward like a curtain as you poke your head outside, as if you’re looking for something, before retreating back in.

The eleven o’clock hour finds you at your desk, as Jungkook watches you slip on your headphones and flip open the pages of a textbook along with opening your laptop. He finds himself tilting his head, curiosity blossoming in his features as he feels this desperate urge to know as much about you as humanly possible overcome him. The nerves grow in his chest at the thought of his arrival having a more negative, more distracting result, but the weight of the item in his hand brings him back.

Stealing away the hesitancy in his features, Jungkook leaps and shoots webbing just above your window, slipping in through and somehow managing a landing on his feet. The ruckus of his movement catches your attention as you jerk up in your seat and immediately pull the headphones out of your ear. “Spiderman?” You inquire incredulously.

He barely misses the way your lips quirk up at the sight of him, because he overshoots the sturdiness of his feet and accidentally tips forward enough to send him faceplanting onto the carpet of your dorm. “Hey—oh, shit!” He scrambles, but of course to no luck as he finds himself, once more, making a giant fool of himself in front of you.

As he tries to ready himself back up into a standing position, he fails to see the way your lips split out into a wider grin. “A-Are you alright?” You try kindly, reaching out for him, only to stop and bring your hands back down to your sides.

“Y-Yeah, of course. I’m great,” He brushes off, trying to keep his cool composure even though his cheeks feel like they’ve just been set aflame. “Thought I’d just drop by real quickly.”

‘Real quickly’. As if the thought of slipping into your room had been a spur of the moment idea, and not something that he has been losing his mind over for the past few hours.

You’re still staring at him, light smile dusting across your face, already looking more relaxed at the sight of his presence, as if you were expecting it, as if you were anticipating his return. “Any particular reason why?”

As soon as Jungkook has straightened up into a proper standing position, he notes the way you take a step closer and he hopes that the way he tenses up at the gesture goes by unnoticed. You’re so close that you have to look up at him through lashes, and he sees how big your eyes are, how many specks dance underneath the colors, and he’s fairly certain that he could get lost in the seemingly vast endlessness of the whole thing.

The way you quirk the corner of your lips leaves Jungkook to return to the fact that you had asked him a question and he coughs, knowing that the phrase ‘Because I was thinking about you’, while true, would probably not be appreciated and he did not want to make you uncomfortable with the knowledge that Spiderman was trying to flirt with you. Which, while may be the case, wasn’t something he was eager to drop on you right out of the fucking gate. As far as you knew, this was only your second encounter with Spiderman.

“Because,” Jungkook fills in after a moment. “I, well, I’ve brought something for you. An exchange of sorts.”

You raise an eyebrow. “An exchange?” You repeat. “I didn’t do anything wrong—you were the one who threw yourself on me—!”

“Alright, fine. Maybe the incident was my fault.” He finds himself smiling a little. “But I only want a small price from you—your name.”

You blink. “My name?”

He feels his lips quirking up into a wider smile. “Well, yes, don’t you have one?”

“Of course I do!” You retort, and he can’t help the laugh that escapes his lips, even though he already knows the answer to the question. “It’s Y/N.”

“See, was that so hard?” He finds himself teasing, heart racing when he catches your lips turning up as well. “Here’s my half of the exchange—an apology gift for scaring you yesterday.”

Suddenly, you laugh—that beautiful melody that makes him crack a smile of his very own. “It wasn’t that terrifying,” You brush off with a shrug. “And I was supposed to be getting up anyways for studying—so in a way, you actually helped out quite a bit.”

He doesn’t know what’s more satisfying: the fact that he’s not falling apart or the fact that you seem to be enjoying the conversation immediately. It’s probably part of your pleasant nature, sure, but he doesn’t feel that desire to say some practiced phrase before throwing himself off a cliff this time. “That’s reassuring to know,” He says, pulling the item from his side anyways. “Regardless, I’ve decided to bring you sometimes anyways.”

“That’s so sweet of you,” You gush, taking the gift from Jungkook. It appears to be a poster of some kind, rolled up into a cylinder shape, but you don’t comment as you unroll the paper. He can see the anticipation drawn heavily in your eyes, lips curled up as your gaze takes in the photo across.

It’s an Iron Man poster.

Your lips part slightly, darting your attention back over to him, already finding him taking a few steps back towards the window once more. “Now wait a minute—!” You retort.

“You’ll thank me later,” Jungkook interjects, raising two fingers towards his forehead to salute you off. “See you around Y/N,” He says, wondering and hoping that you could hear the grin in his tone, the promise in his words, the longing to see you again even before you’ve left his sight.

You’re still standing in the middle of the room, poster in hand, before you look up to smile at him. “See you around, Spiderman,” You return.

He sees your slightly timid wave before turning back around to face the window to hide his own embarrassment, as if the mask alone wasn’t enough to hide his own private smile. He wonders if you’ll hang up the Iron Man poster; but above all he wonders if you mean it.

(the past)

The sight of your second encounter with Jeon Jungkook, while it is so much more different than seeing him getting shoved into a locker, is equally as depressing. It’s enough to make you feel as if all hopes of attempting to rid your memories of the boy have gradually started to fade away.

The days since you’ve seen him—Jeon, they had called him, leaving you with a vague feeling that perhaps that was his last name—slowly start to turn into weeks that you can count with one hand. Your relatively quiet and knowledgeable disposition lands you a small group of friends after a success partnered chemistry lab, girls who keep to themselves just as you do. They give you a place to sit during lunch and invite you into their conversations, supplying backstories and names, sharing their childhood in exchange with yours. It’s the fastest group of friends you ever make, so your smile is one of genuine nature as you finally feel equipped to bring up a question that has been plaguing your mind since your very first day of school.

It’s a question you’re almost afraid to lead into the light until you see him taking a corner table at the far end of the cafeteria during lunchtime, the point furthest away from the crowds of other students. You watch carefully and openly, observing the way he takes nibbles of his sandwich and doesn’t look over his shoulder to see if anyone can see if he’s eating alone. Like he’s use to it.

“Who’s that boy over there?” You find yourself asking before you could think about the gravity of your question. “I saw him on my first day getting shoved into the lockers.”

Karly barely spares a glance at the direction you are gesturing towards. “Oh, that’s Jeon Jungkook,” She answers quietly. “He’s been a target of the bullying since freshman year.”

“Why?” You ask, only tearing your gaze away from Jungkook when Karly tugs hard at the sleeve of your sweater.

“The other boys say he’s too weird, or too smart, or too different…” Karly explains. “Don’t stare for too long, he’ll drag you down.”

Drag you down? You throw Karly an incredulous look at how she uses too much practiced ease to describe Jungkook as an offensive weight rather than an actual human being. Something about the way she says the statement doesn't sit entirely well with you, but the finality in her tone keeps you from saying anything more on the subject.

(the present)

True to the unspoken pact conveyed through words, longing glances, and shy smiles, Jungkook elects to return back the following night without an ounce of hesitation. The desperation to see you is something that he can feel throughout all his nerves, making everything inside of him shake and curl with anticipation. He makes his way to the college, to the dorms, to you, all with a smile tugging broadly at his features.

He brings Thai food that night with the excuse that he merely needed to continue with the apology gifts in the form of food, to which you excitedly exclaimed that you were desperately in need of a pick-me-up at the eleven o’clock hour. His lips quirk up when he sees the Iron Man Poster hanging over your desk, but he doesn’t bring it up and neither do you.

His active participation in your life starts to become a regular occurrence. Always at the same eleven o’clock hour, always accompanied with a gift of some kind, always provided forth with the same excuse of the little exchange game Jungkook has come up with. Always a present as a reward to hear about your day: from the bad to the good and the little small moments in between. Even though he has a full day of classes and studying (or, okay, perhaps not that much studying) much like you, it’s always interesting to hear about a life not threatened by the abnormality of outside robberies or attacks or having to listen to the news constantly or living practically every single day of a life to ensure that he could protect another.

He wants to hear about a day that’s, essentially, normal and untouched by the terrors of horrible people. You provide that reassurance, that comfort, by never asking too much or too little of him. By having his mask on, he gets to see you with yours off—and there is a freeness to your laughs and your smiles, your interesting stories and your ability to always see the positives in every situation. You indulge in your insecurities and it’s in those little moments where he’s Spiderman, but he’s never felt more closer to who he really is. He likes hearing about your classes, about your asshole of a math professor, or the roommate who rarely shows up because of her boyfriend.

“Do you have a totem?” You ask one particular evening, picking up a piece of orange chicken from the Panda Express takeout he had run by before coming over to see you. He’s also come to find that you’ll pretty much eat anything and your dislike of food is quite limited—again, it’s like another piece of the puzzle he has learned to take full advantage of in getting to know you better.

Jungkook stills momentarily. “Ah, what do you mean?”

“I mean,” You start, shifting a little and tugging down on your sweater before it could ride too far up your side. “You put yourself in a lot of danger, right? Sometimes, aren’t you ever afraid?”

He doesn’t say anything to the question. He stares down at the chow mein on your plate. “I-I don’t know,” He lies, because of course he’s been afraid. Who wouldn’t be afraid of the fear that one day, all the sneaking around and the hidden traces of his identity would be for nothing? Who wouldn’t be afraid of the thought that someone would find him and hurt not just him but everyone in his life who he loved and who he held dear to? He doesn’t speak of the nightmares that plague his dreams, the nights where he wakes up in a cold sweat because he hadn’t been careful enough. “I’ve, uh, never really thought of that before.”

You hum, studying him closely and Jungkook can feel himself shifting underneath your attention. How was it that you more often than not had these looks that made him feel that he was without the suit and you could see every raw emotion that danced behind his eyes? “Well, let’s just say that you were afraid,” You reply. “Is there anyone you could think of that could ground you? Or, at least, remind you that there is always a light at the end of the tunnel?”

Light at the end of the tunnel. The last part of your question stirs something inside of Jungkook, who knows the answer to it before processing it in his mind. His mind whirls back three years to that fated encounter in the hallway and the many different instances that followed, the first genuine smile of understanding and not of sympathy he ever got, the only person who made him realize that perhaps he could get through the remaining years of that hellhole called high school.

“Y-Yeah…” He replies rather breathlessly, keeping his eye on you as you lean over to grab another orange chicken. “There’s someone that I have in mind.”

“Aw,” You coo, adjusting your position on the ground, continuing to give him all your attention. “What’s this person like? A family member? A friend?”

“Oh n-no,” He stammers, turning his head to the side to scratch the back of his neck. “It’s this girl that I knew. From high school.”

Your eyes light up. “Oh, well, a crush, huh? Who knew the infamous Spiderman has a soft spot? What’s she like? Do you bombard her with posters of Iron Man as well?”

He laughs tightly at that, because if only you knew, if only you knew. “I-I do, but I doubt she knows that I exist. But she’s—wow. She’s amazing. She’s been through a lot with me and I just, I just wished she knew how much she meant to me. I would do anything for her.”

He sneaks a look back at you, heart stuttering when he sees the glimmer of admiration in his eyes, as if the thought of him finding happiness in the simplest things and the most seemingly insignificant of moments and people made you happy and holy shit. This is it. This is why he’s been in love with you for three years, this is why he’s had and will always have a soft spot for you. “It sounds like you’re really fond of her. Well,” You add, a hint of grand finality in your tone as you take the last orange chicken and grin at his whine of protest. “I hope you’ll get the courage to tell her one day. You should definitely go all We Bought A Zoo on her.”

“We Bought A Zoo?” He repeats, furrowing his eyebrows as he watches you take that last lovely piece of orange chicken.

“Yeah,” You exclaim. “You know, that line.” You swallow, gaping slightly at his blank look. “That line! ‘Sometimes all you need is just twenty seconds of insane courage’. That should be your motto.”

You finish up your chow mein, too preoccupied with the sudden consumption of your food to notice his own dazed disposition. He rolls the quote in his mind. Twenty seconds. It didn’t sound too hard in theory. It could take twenty seconds to pull the mask off, twenty seconds to spill his guts and his love for you, twenty seconds to say it all.

Or, twenty seconds to rip the mask off, kiss your cheek, and throw himself out of the window; never to be seen again.

“I’ll consider it.” That’s all he settles with disclosing, watching as you hum around your bottled water.

(the past)

The third time you see Jeon Jungkook, it's the end of the day and the sound of a body making contact with the ground snaps you out of your resolve as you whip around to see the boy who has been occupying your thoughts for the past few days on the ground. His books and paperwork are scattered about and he suddenly looks smaller than he did getting shoved into a locker or sitting by himself in a sea full of people. The same group of boys from before are towering over Jungkook, equal smirks and snarls across ugly faces as a notebook is kicked away from the boy's grasp. It slides across the floor, hitting the heel of your shoe as you linger near your locker, trying to blend in yet make your feet move at the same time, Karly's previous warning in your mind be damned.

The warnings that leave lips go by completely unheard of by you as you find that the only thing you can focus on is Jungkook and his crumpled figure on the school floor, not moving an inch in or out of place as the boys give each other one last side glance before heading off in the opposite direction. Given that it's the end of another school day, the hallways are completely devoid of students, with the exception of you and Jungkook now. You watch him, and you don't know if he's watching you, but he definitely makes a point not to look up at you as he pushing himself up so he could sit on his knees. He starts reaching out, grabbing for his fallen books and pencils and notebooks, reminding you that one of his own spiral bound journals is near your feet.

You settle with not closing your locker, afraid that the noise of the slamming metal would disturb the unusual peacefulness that has settled between the pair of you, bending down instead to gather the notebook in your arms. The boy is just finishing up his collecting before you kneel down next to him. "Uh, I believe this is yours," You say by way of greeting, cursing the situation at once because out of all the things you could have possibly said in the English dictionary, you just had to say that. Of course the notebook was his, how could it not be after someone thought to kick it out of Jungkook's grasp as he was reaching for it.

You wish you had given yourself a second just to mentally prepare what to say before opening your mouth, if only to make the first words you ever said to this boy to be ones of comfort or reassurance and not ones of obvious means.

Jungkook swallows thickly, flickering his gaze up to you and you see it again: the isolation and loneliness and these different emotions each taking up a glimmer in his dark eyes. There is more of a hopelessness this time that you can read as clear as a book, and you wonder if anyone has ever been close enough to Jungkook physically to see this type of activity. Even more, if anyone has seen his eyes the way you see it and has actually tried to do something about it.

Given that he's still here, alone, probably as he's always been, does not do reassuring things to your stomach.

"Thanks," Jungkook says stiffly, voice low and somewhat cracked from underuse as he takes the notebook without even trying to meet your gaze.

"I-I'm sorry you have to go through this," You say quickly before your mind could stop the words from escaping, not missing the way he visibly stiffens at your apology.

"You don't have to apologize," Jungkook grumbles, tucking the notebook you had given him underneath his arm. "You aren't doing anything wrong."

"I..." You start again, trailing off when the words fail you. For someone with too much to say, there seems to be only silence greeting you on the other side as there are so many things you long to say to Jungkook. But your shyness, your hesitance, your fear of disclosing too much and frightening him, or saying too much only to be met with even more quiet, keeps your throat closed. "No one deserves to go through what you're going through," You mumble instead, actually unsure if Jungkook can hear you or not.

With the way he suddenly turns his head to look at you, you can only assume that he has. Bravely, you lift your head up to meet his gaze, if only to take in that endless shade of darkness with a flickering of light that shimmers like a speck behind his eyes. You keep your eyes on him, even as his eyes roam across your face, clearly trying to gauge your expression for signs of sarcasm or amusement. You wonder if he's worried a group of people will come out with cameras, only to be told that the event going on before him had been nothing more than a means for a horrible, horrible prank. But you keep your silence, you keep your eyes on him to show off your genuine intentions.

Jungkook looks away suddenly, not quite sure how to hold himself in the face of you. You are, essentially, a stranger, yet you're here and you've somehow managed to say the right thing at the right time. He wonders if it would be appropriate to disclose how he recognized you immediately after he almost crashed into you that faithful morning at the lockers. Or, if it would be socially acceptable to blurt out how looking at you made him feel seen for the first time in his entire life.

But he doesn't say anything, and neither do you, as Jungkook straightens up and you quickly follow suit. The pair of you continue with your silence, unsure whether or not to break it, unsure if he should thank you for helping you out, or if you should continue supplying some kind of reassurance to the boy. For some reason, all those things feel excessive and unnecessary; which is why Jungkook leaves you by your locker with a sort of quiet understanding of one another. It's not a bad place to walk away from.

(the present)

Jungkook is no stranger to the white hot agony of physical pain, he’s definitely had his fair share of attacks that don’t always swing his way or enemies that have a lot more backup or quick wit or strength than Jungkook has. This is not new to him. In fact, the boy is actually quite use to returning back from his nightly adventures with bruises along his side or cuts along his face that take more than a few weeks to heal. He’s partially glad that his roommate nor do any peers bother to ask questions about his whereabouts or how he’s acquired certain scars in the first place—and it’s not like there’s anyone around him seeing him without a shirt on or anything of the sort. It helps with keeping his life private.

But this, this is new.

And by this, it means a knife wound right in his side, one that’s much too deep to rely on the healing abilities of his own body that makes every single step and every single flex of his body feel like someone is driving a metal fist right into his gut. A knife wound in the side, a slice along his cheek.

“Fucking shit,” He grunts, staggering out of the alleyway, gripping his side that’s warm and wet with blood—his blood and maybe some of the other guy’s too—but it doesn’t matter because there is pain and there is pain everywhere and he can practically taste it in his mouth and it’s like bile in the pit of his stomach. A part of him wants to roll onto the dirty sidewalk of the city, let the breeze take him away, but he can’t. He has something to return to, he has someone who’s waiting for him.

After a few moments of limping, he leans against a wall and pulls his hand away from the wound, only to be greeted with that burning torment of having a wound that deep so exposed. Immediately, he brings his wrist up and tugs at the fabric, exposing a watch.

12:03AM.

“Fuck,” He curses again, leaning against the wall, gritting his teeth, bringing a hand to his wound that now showed no signs of slowed bleeding. It was serious. He needed to go to a doctor.

He stills in his movement. No. He couldn’t do that.

He can’t even begin to lay out all the risks that come with going to the hospital. Doctors, as professional and careful and effortless they may seemed, asked question. Doctors required personal information. Jungkook didn’t trust doctors. He couldn’t.

He always thought that taking up the role of that friendly neighborhood Spiderman would keep people out of danger. And while it has, he’s put his own life at risk, threatened to bleed to death on the very ground he stood on.

He couldn’t go back home—his parents would have a fit and he wouldn’t survive the drive home.

He couldn’t ask his roommate—the boy would likely sell him out to Kim Namjoon and the whole school would likely find out. He couldn’t text his group from that one science project that one semester.

The boy furrows his eyebrows, but then it stops. His eyes widen.

He did have someone he could ask. He did have someone he could trust—someone he trusted more than was probably appropriate. But trust he did, and that was the best option he had so far. He had no choice. This was the only option.

After all, twenty seconds was all he needed to make up his mind, right?

(the past)

The fourth time you see Jungkook is marked by an aisle of novels and books, silence, and seeing him hunched over in the manga section of the school library. The sight makes you smile, as you are momentarily glad that you had dismissed yourself early from the cafeteria with the excuse that you really needed to check out a particular novel for an upcoming English assignment.

You find him so intensely immersed in his story that you almost feel guilty for breaking him out of his trance. But your need to say something to him is the driver of that last minute reflexive action as you take a step towards him. "Hi," You whisper once you're sure you're within earshot of the boy.

He jerks up at the noise so close to him, nearly dropping his book at the shock of your abrupt visit into his consciousness and you stare at him for a moment before he gives you a quick side glance and seems to deem your presence acceptance. "Uh, hey..." He returns, closing the book and reaching up to rub the back of his neck. "What, uh, what are you doing here?"

You hold up your required novel. "I have to read The Great Gatsby for an extra credit assignment."

He nods slowly, cheeks looking as if they've been set aflame and you wonder if this is the longest conversation he's ever had with another person.

You take in a breath, steering yourself for the alternative routes of direction your new conversation starter could lead to. "How are you feeling? After what happened the other day?"

The other day is something that Jungkook already seems to understand, and although he doesn't look entirely too keen on brushing upon that particular topic, he does look relieved that the responsibility of keeping silence comfortable is no longer something he has to worry about. "I'm okay," He says with the shrug of his shoulders, and you study him closely, having already partially expected him to come up with that sort of answer. “T-Thank you for helping me with that. I don’t think I, uh, got to tell you that.”

You smile a little. "Of course. Like I said, it's not fair what people are trying to put you through." You look at your novel for a moment, before casting another look in his direction. "I'm Y/N, by the way."

Your smile is meant to be one of comfort and reassurance, but it seems to only make him more nervous. "Jungkook," He stammers out, looking over at you through his lashes and the sight is so strangely endearing that you can't help but muster a laugh.

"Well, it's nice to officially meet you, Jungkook," You say, unable to help yourself from speaking his name. It sounds nice on your tongue, a rolling effect, a slightly pouting of your lips. "I hope we'll see more of each other soon."

"M-Me too," He returns, casting another look at you whist reaching up to run a hand lightly through the locks of his hair. You're immediately set on noting that this is gesture Jungkook does when he's nervous and you wonder if you'll ever get the complete puzzle set that is Jungkook.

The pair of you bid each other goodbye with one last shy smile, one last shy wave, before you're turning on your heel and down the aisles. You miss the way Jungkook's eyes seem to follow your departing figure as it grows smaller and smaller the further away you move. Just before you reach the end of the aisle, Jungkook looks back down at the text, fixing his attention back down on the drawings of titans and a certain Eren Jaeger flinging his way to safety.

You do not turn the corner immediately upon reaching the end of the aisle. You stall, lingering in your movement for a moment, before risking one last look over your shoulders. You watch Jungkook, watch the way his lips curl up at the corners as the images on the page before him seem to jump out. You wonder what kind of story he's reading, what kind of pictures draw themselves out in his mind, if he's as brilliant as everyone claims him to be, and you wonder why how someone so calm could call in such a storm.

Your high school experience with Jungkook is categorized in this manner: stepping forward and reaching out, shy glances in the hallways when neither of you think the other is paying attention, shy smiles in the hallways as your gaze pierces Jungkook's from across the span of distance usually always placed between the pair of you and he lets his heart race at how completely tangible he feels when under your gaze.

(the present)

Jungkook never imagined that crawling up a wall would turn into such a struggle, since he's always managed to perform the task as easy as breathing or walking. But, then again, he didn't have a knife wound in the side during those previous times. It feels like needles are pulsing underneath his skin with every movement he takes, every inch he's crawling upwards towards your dorm. The window is opened, but it's the fear that you'll close it and close him out of your life that keeps him propelling forward.

Each reach up, each inch upwards evokes a gritting of teeth and a grunt of pain along every fiber of his nerves that makes everything feel like his body has been set on fire. He doesn't know if he'll make it, because the third floor is almost the same painful and longing sensation as scaling a fucking skyscraper and it's not enough. The bonding movement of his hands to the walls don't feel like enough, his strength doesn't feel like enough, and it feels like he's going to die; he's going to die right here and fall to his death and he's never going to do it. He's never going to tell you how he feels about you, he's never going to kiss your cheek, or use his twenty seconds of insane courage.

Somehow, someway, through the force of his sheer willpower, he crawls in through the opened window and practically falls to the ground.

"You're late!" There it is, that beautiful voice, something that seems to momentarily blind him from the pain and the fact that he's going to be bleeding all over your carpet very soon. "I thought you said you were bringing over Star Wars tonight for our exchange. I was really looking forward to telling you about this really awful thing my History professor said to one of the students today..."

He coughs instead, the weight of the pain making his head spin and holy shit, he's never felt anything like this before. He might pass out if he's not careful, if he lets the pain cloud his vision and his judgment.

"S-Spiderman?" You inquire, voice considerably softer and filled to the brim with concern as he feels a presence kneeling down beside him, a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Are you alright—!" You cut yourself off as soon as Jungkook rolls over to expose all the cuts that decorate his suit. "Oh my god," You whisper.

Jungkook peels open an eye, taking in your panicked expression, gaze wide with worry, and he tries to speak up. "It's... only a scratch," He manages.

You scoff, unable to believe he's trying to mask his pain with layers of humorless amusement. "Doesn't look like a scratch," You protest. "Oh my god. Can, uh, can you sit up for me?" You move closer to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and allowing him to lean on you as you do your best to pull him up into a sitting position. "How bad are the wounds?"

"I think it'll need stitches," He grumbles. "S-Sorry, I didn't mean to drop by like this..."

"Don't apologize," You reassure. "You're lucky, I just finished a first aid class on the campus. Except, I don't know how well I'll be with a needle..."

"It's okay," He cuts in, breathing shallow. "I trust you."

There is a silence that hangs in the air, one that you are quick to break with a noise of understanding that sounds from the back of your throat. "Okay, I'm going to take you to my bed now, so I'm gonna need you to stand up..."

A nod of understanding, another grunt as Jungkook grits his teeth, bites his lip, does anything to keep himself quiet and not worry you even more than he already has. He finds himself leaning heavily on you, the pain making his head spin as he grips onto you with a little more force than necessary. You do not seem to mind, letting him hold you like this as he rests himself down on your mattress.

You disappear for a moment, reappearing from your closet with a first aid kit. Your eyes narrow, taking in the torn fabric of his uniform. You bite your lip suddenly, as if struck by an idea that makes you nervous. "S-Sorry Spiderman. I hate to say this to you but, um, the suit as got to go. I won't be able to reach your wounds otherwise..."

"N-No, it's okay," Jungkook manages, the reality of the situation sinking in at about the same time the words leave his mouth. He really did not think this through, did not think about how those twenty seconds of insane courage he had saving up on would strike him when he least expected it. He should have known that of course he would have to reveal his identity to you someday; just not under these unusual circumstances and not when he's grappling with the pain that feels like needles in his temple now. "I understand."

"I can look away if you want," You offer kindly, but Jungkook just grits his teeth again, shakes his head.

"It’s fine,” Jungkook cuts in. “D-Do you mind helping me with the mask though?”

You swallow, probably knowing the direction this was taking much like him. “Of course.” You slowly place the first aid kit onto the desk next to your bed. You take a step towards him, and he finds himself naturally parting his legs for you to move between them. The close proximity makes both of you very much aware of the natural body warmth both of you seem to be emitting off.

The silence feels tense and suffocating, and Jungkook knows that his time is running out. Although he's not sure he's ready for you to see him for what he is beyond the mask, he remembers your talk about twenty seconds of courage and knows that this is the right thing to do. And he means what he said to you. He trusts you.

"Um," You start hesitantly. "Can I...?" You're gesturing to his mask.

"Y-Yeah," He stammers back, holding his breath as you gently grip the edge of the mask right at the base of his neck. He keeps his gaze locked on you, as you do with him, before you tug off the mask in one swift movement.

He watches you very carefully for your reaction, honestly expecting a look of betrayal for the fact that Jeon Jungkook has been Spiderman this entire time, or maybe even something of hurt, but he doesn't get that look of anger flashing behind eyes or anything else of the sort. He sees something flickering in your eyes, recognition and something else: something deeper and fonder, before that concern comes back with the full force of a train. "Jungkook?" You whisper, his name on your lips like his favorite melody. You haven't stepped away from him, haven't tried to build that wall, instead taking that second of silence to scan his face. Your eyes roam across every inch, from his nose to the cuts along his cheek, to his lips, to his eyes.

He tries for a weak smile. "H-Hi Y/N," He whispers back. His hands twitch, desperately longing to place them on your waist, if only to generate some sort of reaction to the big reveal. But it's at that moment that the pain at his side returns as he hisses between his teeth.

This is enough to startle you out of your previous resolve as you jump slightly and look down. "Do you think you can take the suit off for me?" You inquire quietly. "I-I know it might be difficult I just, I don't want to hurt you anywhere..."

The fact that there is no drastic change in your attention or attitude, even with knowing the truth of his identity, helps Jungkook relax slightly under your care. He manages a nod, and gets to work attempting to peel the suit off his upper body. It's hell trying to get his arms out, and even harder trying to tug the material down his body, but he tries to remain careful as he shifts and rolls his body until the suit is bunched at his waist.

You turn your attention back to him, and he watches the way your eyes trace down, outlining the muscles along his figure, from his arms to his collarbone, down to his chest and finally to the increasingly obvious wound at his side. You start forward, instructing Jungkook to lay on his side as you ready the materials out on your desk. “Have you ever gotten a wound stitched?” You inquire.

He shakes his head. “Just do it,” He manages, gaze roaming across the room and realizing that he should probably try to focus his attention on something. Eventually, he settles on your face. He takes in the furrowed eyebrows and the eyes that study his wound. He grits his teeth, trying to remind himself that he is here and he is alive and he trusts you and your intentions on not hurting him too much, even after you start. There are little pinches of pain, some parts worst than others, but the sight of you here, not running away, is enough to keep Jungkook’s nerves and anxiety on the low. “Are you surprised?” He finds himself asking after a few beats of long silence that take on neither a comfortable or an uncomfortable sensation.

You’re quiet for a moment, clearly trying to decide how to go about his question. “I probably shouldn’t have been,” You finally settle on disclosing. “In hindsight, it should have been obvious. Only you would do something so selfless for the sake of other people.”

He stills at that, turning his attention up to the ceiling of your room, so caught up in your words that he doesn’t notice that you’ve finished healing up his wound until you’re wrapping it up.

“Okay, your side is done,” You say, placing the needle in the alcohol to clean it off. “Can you sit up for me? I want to take care of the cut on your cheek.”

Jungkook does what he is asked, gingerly pushing himself up to resume his position of sitting up on the edge of your mattress. Legs open, you step between them. His gaze continues to follow you as you bring a cloth to his face to start gently dabbing at the cut. It stings, but he keeps his mouth shut, and you can probably see the pain flaring up in his eyes like fireworks. He watches you the whole time, eyes big and adoring and careful all at once, that it’s almost necessary that he has to say the next words. “I’m sorry,” He whispers.

You pause. “For what?”

It’s almost amusing how quiet the pair of you are. It’s the weekend, the halls are probably deserted and your roommate had already given you the heads up that she would be spending all of her time in her boyfriend’s apartment so it’s not like anyone would come bursting in or threatening to break the air that has settled between the pair of you. But it’s like this moment is private, intimate, as Jungkook reveals a part of his life he’s kept hidden in the shadows for two and a half years and you, perhaps his biggest secret of all, telling him that it’s okay.

“For not telling you earlier,” He answers. You shift your gaze from the cut on his cheek to his eyes and the pair of you are so close that he’s fairly confident that you can hear his heartbeat. “I wanted to, it’s just…”

“I know,” You cut in gently and he breathes out, because that air of understanding that had developed in high school has only remained the longer the pair of you look at each other. He wonders if you can read his eyes just as he can, he wonders if you can see the overwhelming amount of affection that curls at his heart, the way he can’t stop flickering his gaze down to your lips, the way he’s practically shaking at the close proximity. “That question about the totem from the other day,” You bring up after a moment, lifting your hand up to cup his cheek, thumb lightly dusting over his skin in a gesture that seems almost mindless but Jungkook doesn’t care. “Who were you talking about?”

But she’s—wow. She’s amazing. She’s been through a lot with me and I just, I just wished she knew how much she meant to me. I would do anything for her. The words that Jungkook had spoken about aforementioned totem come barreling back to him. “I thought it was obvious,” He says, light humor and he averts his gaze. “I was talking about you.”

He turns his attention back to you, heart ramming in his throat, laying everything down on the line. He watches your unreadable expression carefully, before you flit your gaze and you’re staring right back at him. He sees the memories that unfold behind your eyes like flashes of a movie, from the very first time you saw him in the hallway, then the library, and every little moment afterwards that made him feel cared for and watched over.

Without a warning, your grip on his face tightens just the slightest to pull him upwards as you lean forward to deliver a chaste kiss against his mouth. Actually, it should hardly constitute for a kiss. It’s just a brushing of the lips, but it’s enough to send a shiver of electricity through Jungkook’s whole body. It’s like he’s being brought back to life, all the reflexive power returning back to his limbs. Just before you could pull back, he reaches up to grip your waist, pushing you against him so he could crush his lips back to yours. Your lips are just as soft and warm as he’s always pictured it to be, and the sensation of that on top of you lightly tracing patterns along his jawline makes him moan.

You pull away after a moment to catch your breath, but Jungkook keeps your body pressed to yours, hands tight on your waist, overtaken by the desire to plant kisses along your neck. “Jungkook,” You whisper breathlessly, trailing off, tilting your head to the side and getting lost in the sensation of his lips tracing across your skin. “Y-You’re hurt, maybe we shouldn’t—!” You start, already getting an idea for the direction this was heading, if the burning fire starting in the pit of your stomach or the hardness pressing against your stomach is an indication to go by.

“I don’t care,” Jungkook interrupts, hands traveling up to cup your face. “I’ve waited so long for this.” He brings you forward to kiss him again, and you melt underneath his touch, the tenderness you’ve always felt for him coming back to hit you with the full force of a bullet train. You can taste the sweetness on his lips, the softness and the love he holds for you in his touches, which are soft in contradiction to the frantic desperation of his lips.

Although you’re still hesitant about his injuries, Jungkook gives you little choice to dwell on the manner because soon, he’s scooting higher up onto your bed and bringing his hands back down to your waist to attempt to bring you up too. As soon as he settles back down, head on your pillow and body lying completely flat on the bed, does he pull you forward in to straddle his waist. You lean forward, planting both hands on either side of his head to ensure not putting all your weight onto his wounds before kissing him again. He kisses back urgently, angling his head, using a hand to curl around the back of your neck. You emit soft noises from the back of your throat as he continues dragging out your moans.

You’re close, but you’re suddenly not close enough, and he can’t seem to feel enough of you. Your warmth floats from your body, curling around him and blinding his senses to everything but you. He whimpers, using the hand still at your waist to push you against his body and you melt, you fold into his touches and his physical commands—!

Your knee accidentally nudges the wound at his side; a soft tap that feels intensified by a sharp spike of pain. There’s a gasp as Jungkook pulls away, the waves of pain momentarily electrifying a part of his brain that distracts him from the current subject at hand.

You pull away at once. “Are you okay?” You inquire immediately. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, did I hurt you—?”

It feels as if Jungkook is getting sagged back to reality and the question generates a violent shake of his head. “No, no,” He whines, opening his eyes when you cup his cheek with one of his hands, shaking his head again at the concern that floods his features. “I’m okay, just keep kissing me, please.”

He cranes his neck back up to kiss you again, swallowing your protests until you’re too caught up to continue speaking. You yield to him once more, and Jungkook desperately tugging up your sleeping shirt to feel along the hot skin of your waist. It feels like his mind is trying to roll through honey, still quite unable to believe that you’re here, on his lap, kissing him back. He chokes on a moan when you start rolling your hips against his, the additional friction making the blood rush straight down between his legs.

“Y/N,” He stammers, a panting mess as you pull away and immediately start dusting kisses along his jawline, down his neck, below his ear. He’s already a mess, he’s already too sensitive for this onslaught of emotions to his system. Both his hands have now found their way to your waist, holding onto you much too tightly, if only to keep him grounded when it feels like all he wants to do is spin out of control. “I haven’t… I’ve never done this before…” He finds himself confessing in a breath, letting it float in the around the pair of you.

He feels you smile against his neck. “It’s okay.” You shift slightly. “Just relax Jungkook,” You whisper against the shell of his ear, sending vibrations up his spine. “Let me take care of you.”

Suddenly, you push yourself up into a sitting position and tug off your night shirt. Jungkook’s eyes widen, jaw slacking when he realizes that you aren’t wearing a bra underneath. “Holy shit…” He whispers, drawing patterns along your skin as his gaze continues to stare unblinkingly at your exposed upper figure, as if he’s afraid that this is a dream, as if he’s afraid this would all fade away if he didn’t appreciate every second of this moment the way he should have. “You’re so beautiful—mm.” His voice fade away to a moan as you slowly start to rock your hips against his once more, applying pressure over his erection. Even with the cloth of his suit and boxers, it’s like he can feel everything and he whimpers. He cranes his head back, baring his neck towards you, hands curling tighter around your waist. Relying purely on instinct, he finds himself meeting your grinding movements in a way that leaves you breathless.

"You're not so bad yourself," You manage fervently, leaning forward to press your palms against his shoulders in order to steady yourself. The foundation of having something sturdy underneath your touch allows you to press harder, teasing your core over his length.

Jungkook lifts his head up, eyebrows furrowed, cheeks flushed, eyes glazed over, gaze narrowing at the movement of your hips against his. The sight of seeing him so wrecked because you is enough to make the desire pulse through you as you speed up the pace of your rolls.

Sucking in a breath between gritted teeth, Jungkook's head falls back against the pillows. "Y/N," He whines, high pitched and filled with so much need that it makes your head spin. "Y/N, I... I need..."

"What do you need, Jungkook?" You coax, trying to keep your mind together enough to ask him a question. "Tell me what you need."

The flush that dusts his cheeks merely deepens at the gentle request to spell out what exactly he wanted you to do to him. He's never been too eloquent with words, so he stammers. It doesn't help that you continue rolling your hips against his clothed cock, the additional fabric adding to the friction that only seems to dip his mind further into ecstasy. He opens his mouth, closes it again, swallows thickly when you lean down to kiss his cheek, his upper lip, the gesture surprisingly chaste for the hell you're putting him through down below.

You giggle lightly, smiling against his cheek, taking pride and amusement at your ability to render him completely speechless. "Do you want me to take the suit off?"

He nods quickly, thankful that you could not only detect his clear struggle, but also filling in his voice with your own. "Y-Yeah."

You pull back, flashing another reassuring smile as you move down his body just enough, tugging at the suit that has collected at his waist and pulling it down his legs. You only make it down to his ankles before he's pulling you back and using his own feet to rid of the rest of his suit and boxers. He kisses you harder, the excitement and the nervousness and the anticipation of what would follow making his hands shake, as they settle on the waistband of your sleeping shorts. He attempts to tug down once, twice, but he can't seem to get the direction right and you're laughing against his mouth.

"Don't laugh," He whines, tugging on your bottom attire once more time. "Take this off, Y/N."

"You're so assertive Jeon," You tease lightly, but you pull back enough for him to see your own glazed expression. Keeping your eyes on him, you tug down the last remaining articles of clothing separating the pair of you. The shifting in the bed signals the kicking up of your legs to rid of the shorts and panties entirely. Both of you refuse to break eye contact the entire time until finally, you break it to look down to take in the sight of his length, hard and needy with the tip spilling over with precum and the sight is so mouthwatering that a part of you longs to just slide down Jungkook's body to score a taste, to see if perhaps he tastes as sweet as his tongue does.

But the sound of his voice breaks you out of your previous resolve, his hands moving up and down your side to get your attention. "Should we, uh," He starts, clearly embarrassed and nervous and hesitant at the sight of being exposed to one another. "Do we, well, do you have a... um..."

Your face breaks out into another fond smile. You lean down to kiss reassurance onto his lips. "I'm on the pill," You report. "Are you sure about this Jungkook?"

He watches you carefully for a long second, that previous lust and haze in his eyes dissipating for just a moment and being replaced with something more steady, something more confident, something more loving. "I've never been more sure about anything in my life."

Your heart stutters in your chest for just a moment at his trust, at his hope, in you, and in what the pair of you could become. You sit up, lifting yourself up by the knees and gently taking him to rub him over your slit. Jungkook reacts immediately to this by sucking in a breath, and you hardly give him time to think or process or overcome the sensation before you're lining the tip to your entrance and sinking onto him. The stretch is overwhelming that you throw your head back into a whimper, eyebrows furrowing, as Jungkook is emitting something drawn between a desperate whine and a sigh of finally getting to feel you around him.

"Y/N," He chokes out, hands settling back at your waist as soon as you've gone hilt deep, fingers digging into the skin with more force than before, leaving you little doubt that there would be bruising within the next few days. But you don't care, and he doesn't care. Your hands find refuge on his shoulders once more, gripping tightly, finding foundational comfort in the touch, as you use that base to help you rise up his length slowly before sliding down his cock. "O-Oh fuck," Jungkook moans, arching his back at the sensation, just as you're whimpering out his name. "Oh fuck Y/N, do that again. Do that again please."

You're too caught up to reply, so you merely settle with repeating the movement until you've developed a pace that has the both of you whining and groaning in timing to the rhythm. Once Jungkook starts to gain a sense of the tempo of your hips, he acquires half a mind to start returning the thrusts.

"Mm, Jungkook," You whine, driving yourself faster down his length. "Just like that, ah!" You crane your neck up slightly in response to the overwhelming pleasure that floods your system right when Jungkook hits the spot that makes you sees stars. Feeling your release just right there, you bring one hand up to rub at your clit, the sensation making you dub over and Jungkook watches the sight of you adding additional pleasure to yourself with deep interest.

"Y/N," He groans out, trying to focus on helping you reach your end first before he could blow his load right then and there. It vaguely surprises him with just how long he's been able to last up until this point, but he's not going to survive much longer, as he feels himself beginning to get dragged towards the edge at an alarmingly quicker pace. "L-Let me."

You open an eye to peer down in time to see him brushing away your fingers from your clit, immediately replacing them with his thumb. As soon as he touches the bundle of nerves, you tense up, your lips parting slightly as the ecstasy you feel goes beyond the vocal capability. "Yes Jungkook," You whine. "Right there, right there, right there, oh god, I'm gonna—!" Your eyes shut tightly together as your lips part in a silent scream as the white hot pleasure courses through your system and light a fire to every single one of your nerves.Your hips slow down. Your legs tremble on either side of him before the high of your release fades away and is gradually replaced with overstimulation. With a high pitched whimper of protest of Jungkook's fingers still on your clit, he pulls his fingers away. He, however, does not stop pumping in and out of you. His thrusts increase in force, since he no longer has you to meet him halfway.

Overwhelmed with the large amount of pleasure washing over your body like a wash, you fall against the boy's chest, trembling from the new pace that he has set. Feeling you shake against him, Jungkook wraps his arms around your frame to keep you in place and, quickly forgetting the stinging in his side from the adrenaline surging through his body, starts rutting up into you. Still spent and recovering from your earlier release, you are left with no choice but to grip the blankets next to you to try and stop the room from spinning, gasping and whimpering Jungkook's name until he's reaching his own end. He groans loudly, his first release hitting him like a train as he drops a broken version of your name into the void. He rides out his high, slowing down the rhythm of his hips until he's stopping entirely.

The room is filled with the sounds of pants and heavy breathing, the frantic heartbeat against each of your chests gradually starting to slow down into something more normal as the pair of you bask in one another's presence.

Finally, Jungkook pulls himself out of you and you whine momentarily at the loss before you lift yourself from Jungkook's chest to roll onto his side. Your eyes roam his face, taking in the sweaty complexion and the flushed cheeks, the half-lidded way he's watching you, and you reach out to brush some of the hair out of his face.

"That was so..." Jungkook speaks after a moment, staring right back at you. "Wow."

You laugh. "Wow indeed."

"Does this mean..." He speaks suddenly, lowering his head slightly to show his bashfulness on the subject. "Does this mean that you... that we...?"

"Does this mean that I like you?" You fill in softly, soft laughter filling the room. "Well, I don't ask anyone if I could take off their suit."

Jungkook bites his lip, reaching over to take some of your hair and tuck it behind your ear. "I really, really care about you Y/N," He manages thickly. "And I don't think... I wouldn't want... It's just that I..."

You press a finger to his lips. "Did you mean it?" You whisper.

"Mean what?"

"That I was your totem."

He doesn't hesitate to answer. "Yeah." He nods. "I meant it all." He pauses for a moment. “Did you mean it?” He returns. “When you said it should have been obvious that I was Spiderman?”

“Well, maybe not obvious, but… it makes sense,” You explain. “You’ve always been selfless and understanding and thoughtful. You always care so much for other people, even if people might not care for you. And you’re really funny, Jungkook. You’ve always been quiet and trying to hide from the world.”

“But you always saw me,” He fills in.

“Of course I did.” You say this like it should have been obvious, and it’s in that statement that he’s sure. Twenty seconds, right?

"I know that me being Spiderman might... make things complicated,” He starts with a cough. “But, uh, do you think I could... if we could go out some time?"

You look at him, smile dusting along your features as if he's just returned from hanging all the stars in the sky just for you. "I thought you'd never ask, Jungkook." You shift slightly to prop your head up slightly. "Was there something you had in mind?" Your eyes widen as soon as you ask the question before you're leaning forward to rest a hand against his chest. "Wait. Can we go swinging around the city?" You inquire, bright smile reaching every corner of your eyes as you crane your neck up to stare at him fondly.

Jungkook's shoulders shake with his laughter as he moves downwards slightly to kiss your forehead. "Anything for you."

#jungkook x reader #jungkook scenario #jungkook x you #jungkook smut #bts scenario #bts smut #bts x reader #jungkook fluff #repost: workofteaguk #traci writes

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mojoflower · 7 years

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‘Involuntarily Invisible’ Fic Rec List - various fandoms

and with thy lips dispell this curse by paranoid_fridge The Hobbit, Bagginshield, no rating, 10k

In a word where neither the One Ring nor the Arkenstone exists and all survive the battle, Bilbo encounters a strange, magical creature while helping to evacuate Dale for the coming winter. He thinks nothing of it initially – but then he watches his own arm pass through solid wood and sees Thorin’s eyes widen in fear and call for him.

“I’m right here.” Bilbo wants to say, but cannot make a sound.

Not when he has been cursed to disappear.

Wow, turning invisible involuntarily is some scary stuff...

Invisible Man by shinkonokokoro Merlin, Merthur, Teen, 25k.

"You are capable of more?" "More? Your majesty?" "More types of spells. More brain cells as well?" "Yes," he hissed. "Protect yourself." "What?" "Carl, shoot him."

Getting captured by Uther doesn't quite have the results Merlin expect

Lovely story. Modern royalty au, if you will, where, instead of executing Merlin, Uther makes him play invisible bodyguard, with a lot of emphaisis on "You no longer exist." Merlin is terribly amiable, which is funny, and doesn't actually manage to keep his mouth shut when he bodyguards. Arthur creatively names him Voice.

In Visibility by cat_77 Avengers, Clint Barton, Teen, 14k.

He was used to slinking in shadows, hidden from sight. This was just ridiculous, really.

In Plain Sight by oldenuf2nb Harry Potter, Drarry, Mature, 38k.

Draco Malfoy had stopped believing his wishes would be granted long ago. He could perhaps be forgiven for being startled, then, when one of them came true.

Lovely: the Board decides to do away with the Slytherin House and Hogwarts fights back. Meanwhile, Pansy is terribly injured by a curse and that makes Draco the last Slytherin standing. "He's the last," the voice tells Harry. "There isn't much time." Draco starts by using a disillusionment Charm, but it quickly becomes involuntary invisibility. But Harry's watching, and doesn't want him to disappear entirely. UST, although it isn't sex-heavy at all. There are some shining bits, however, like this bit, after Draco's injured and somewhat stoned: ******** “And that mouth…” he exhaled slowly. “Such a pretty mouth, Potter. Such a pretty, pretty mouth. Makes a man want to grab handfuls of your horrible hair and kiss that pretty, pretty mouth until it’s all soft and puffy and swollen.” Malfoy abruptly released the hold on Harry’s jumper and smoothed the bunched fabric with his hand. “I mussed you,” he noted, his eyes drifting closed and the smile returning to pull at his lips. “I mussed Potter. Although, Potter is usually mussed.”

Harry was frozen in place, staring at Malfoy’s face, his heart racing. /What the hell had that been?/ he thought, finally pulling back. Malfoy must be heavily drugged. It was the only explanation for what had just happened.

In Time of Trial by Merlin, Merthur, Mature, 37k.

Uther fears his son's power, and Merlin has helped Arthur flee to escape imprisonment. Now the two of them must fight to regain Arthur's rightful place in Camelot.

Wow, what a fantastic story. 36k words never went so fast. This is the one where Uther's old friend Aelfric comes to visit and slowly drips poison into his ear until he's convinced that Arthur is going to try to depose him and take the crown. When he orders Arthur to be taken to the dungeons as a traitor (and killed on the spot if he struggles), Merlin races ahead of the guards to rescue Arthur. (Luckily, he's been practicing a spell that makes things invisible. Unluckily, he has to spring it on Arthur with no warning at all and convince him to be silent and still while the guards search his room around them.) And thus is magic revealed.

The pair go on the run, and eventually settle near Tintagel, where all the Druids live, and begin preparations to fight back. Arthur allows himself to act on his attraction to Merlin (I'd rate this an M), perhaps because now that he sees that Merlin is a powerful warlock, he sees them as being equals. Also, there's no doubt of Merlin's loyalty, considering how they got out of Camelot.

This isn’t focused on the involutarily invisible aspect, but it does deserve a mention.

Merlin's Moving Castle by KrisEleven Merlin, Merthur, Gen, 49k.

As a result of some very unfortunate decisions, Arthur Pendragon, king of Camelot, is cursed by Morgana (also known as the Witch of the Wastes) and becomes fully invisible to anyone who doesn’t possess magic. Forced to abandon his kingdom, he begins his quest for a remedy to his unfortunate condition and comes across the quite charming - and even more annoying - Merlin who may be the only one able to save Albion, if only Arthur can convince him to try.

What an amazing story. I kind of expected a rehash of the Howl's Moving Castle plot (which would have been fine, as I adore the story), but instead the author used only pieces of it and built something entirely new and totally belonging to Merlin and Arthur and their world from the show. There was a surprising amount of action (Merlin first meets Arthur during a fight and flight) and it culminates in an enormous battle. But in between, it's Arthur, learning to be patient and getting to know some new people... learning about the world through their eyes. It's just beautiful.

Unseen by astolat Harry Potter, Drarry, M, 11k. Not so much involuntarily invisible as voluntary and fucked up, but damn it’s fucking gorgeous.

When he wasn’t wearing it, he got jumpy, always waiting for someone to come at him wanting something—and now they did it even more urgently, if they ever saw him, because most of the time, nobody did.

What it says on the tin, really. Draco is the only one who notices that Harry has turned himself into a ghost and is "haunting them all before his death". He carefully takes the Cloak, just for 24 hours, challenging Harry to see if he can do without it. Of course, Harry's never heard a challenge from Draco that he hasn't immediately and fiercely accepted. But it's HARD. As Draco, in a weird combination of rude and kind, coaxes him through the week, Harry learns to be seen again, is shown how to protect himself, and finds himself falling for Draco.

we are tangled by drunktuesdays Teen Wolf, Sterek, T, 6k.

"Derek was at your house?" "For like ten seconds," Stiles said. "I'd say it was weird, but is anything about Derek ever not weird?"

invisible!derek!!!

Invisible by chappysmom Sherlock,Johnlock, Gen, 86k.

John had had the knack for as long as he could remember.

It wasn’t that he could become invisible, exactly. The laws of physics worked quite well in his vicinity, thank you very much. It was just that people tended … not to see him.

Not involuntary, but my first invisible fanfic, and I adore it.

Who said that? by coconutcranberries (orphan_account) Teen Wolf, Sterek, Unrated, 33k.

Stiles has a very unique superpower, in that he doesn't exist. He's invisible, untouchable, unhearable-is that a word?-and just not there. He feels like a ghost most of the time, although he can't walk through walls (he tried, the wall took offense and his nose paid the price) and he can still trip over his own feet. He blends perfectly into the background and no matter how hard he tries, nobody knows he's there.

It's a lonely life, he's not gonna lie.

But suddenly something changes. Stiles is part of a group project which includes probably the most explosive combination of people in his class. These people don't notice when he waves a hand right in front of their face-how could they when he doesn't exist? The possibilities are endless.

Oh, this is going to be so much fun.

Such an interesting idea: Stiles' power is to make himself not exist... AT ALL. So from the time he's 8, he's vanished from everyone's awareness, all records deleted, everything. Only his dad can see him (and even that is periodically unreliable). But then suddenly, Derek sees him one day, which starts a chain of events that leads to him feeling hopeful once again about being able to interact with the world. It's kind of tragic, I mean, think of the loneliness, the skin hunger, the sense of abandonment involved in being non-existent for 8 years. But it eventually works out.

I have not read these yet, so read at your own risk:

The Invisible Man by Faith Wood (faithwood) Harry Potter, Drarry, E, 10k

Sometimes unforeseen side effects aren't the worst thing that can happen to a person.

The Invisible Iron Man by AnonEhouse Avengers, Tony Stark, Teen, 24k. Due to a lab accident Tony becomes an Eccentric Billionaire Hermit Philanthropist in Iron Man 2, joins the Avengers and becomes good friends with Steve without ever meeting him face to face.

we can go wherever we please by stitchy Sherlock, Johnlock, Teen, 13k.

John is invalided home from Afghanistan, but instead of developing a limp- he becomes invisible.

"You can see me?” “I see everything,” he claims.

To Walk in his Shoes by SassyFanGirl Merlin, Merthur, Teen, 5k.

When a magical enemy of Merlin's decides it's high time Arthur found out about Merlin's magic, he sets a spell forcing Arthur to be bound to Merlin. There was a catch though, Merlin couldn't see him. So Arthur is forced to be Merlin's shadow for a day. He never expected to see this though. The magic was a surprise... But this? Can Arthur get himself visible in time?

Whisper by ace (alia_castiella) Teen Wolf, Sterek, Gen, 2k.

Stiles yawned and crawled out of bed, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. They felt strangely gritty for some reason. It was then that he remembered the odd blue cloud. He trudged toward the bathroom and opened the door, expecting to see his reflection covered in sparkly powder. Instead, he saw... nothing.

(Or, Stiles is invisible because pixies are freaking annoying.)

He That Rides Unseen by Vulgarweed The Hobbit, Bagginshield, Explicit, 6k. Not involuntary:

There is much more to Bilbo than meets the eye – especially on those occasions when none of him does. Thorin has faced down his fears on so many truly dangerous occasions, he will not shrink from the mere uncanniness of being seduced by someone he can't see. A fandom-specific kink: sex with the Ring on.

#involuntarily invisible fic recs #invisible merlin fic rec #invisible draco fic rec #invisible derek fic rec #vicioushyperbolizer #cam-oak-corg #omg y'all #I just spent AN HOUR on this #I hope you appreciate it

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evansandblack · 7 years

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Silent Treatment - Nolan Holloway

Requested by the lovely @froygutierreez “can i request an imagine/one shot of where the reader is liam's younger sister and she has a small crush on nolan? like nolan had always liked her more than she likes him. anyway, and when he and gabe beat up liam, she doesn't talk to him for a while and nolan just keeps trying to apologise? when they do talk, they confess their feelings and have been a secret thing since then? ( im doing this for a story/rp thingy and may need some inspiration! )”

Warnings: Swearing, violence, mentions of blood, mentions of anxiety, death, and an extreme range of emotions.

Word Count: Just over 14k. (This got out of control. I could not. stop. writing.)

Note: The continuity, especially as far as it goes for time of day/general cycles of daylight and night, in S6 was a damn mess so I tried to make it a little more continuous for the sake of everyone reading this. There are still some time frames that don’t make much sense so please forgive, I am doing my best. Also, the reader in this is Liam’s twin sister. And this title made more sense before I actually wrote this whole thing but I’m sticking with it.

My phone was resting on the sofa next to me while I scrolled through Netflix to find a new movie to watch. I’d already watched a few romcoms throughout the day. I didn’t have much better to do since I was throwing up and running a fever, which effectively stopped me from going to school.

A quick succession of text notifications came up so I dropped the tv remote and picked up my phone to read them.

They were all from Corey and Mason.

I opened them up, expecting to see some “hope you’re feeling better” messages but that wasn’t the case. They had both texted me saying that Liam had been in a fight at the end of the day. More specifically, that he’d been beat up by two guys from the lacrosse team.

I immediately tossed the blanket from my lap, stood up, stuffed my feet into a random pair of sneakers, and went to get into my car.

There was a possibility that if I showed up at school after being called out sick that I could get accused of not actually being sick and then end up in trouble but I really couldn’t be bothered to care.

When I pulled into the parking lot, I noticed most of the cars were gone. Mason’s car caught my eye and then I noticed him and Liam standing next to it.

I parked in the spot next to Mason and got out, immediately running over to my twin brother. “Li, what happened? Are you okay?”

There was an absurd amount of blood on his face and I was furious.

“I’m okay, Y/N. I’ll heal.” He said. “You don’t have to worry.”

“The hell I don’t! Who did this?” I asked.

He didn’t respond but I could tell that Mason wanted to tell me.

“Why didn’t you at least defend yourself?”

“They were trying to get me to shift.” Liam stated.

My eyebrows flickered up. “What?! Who? How do they know?”

Liam explained what had happened with Brett and Lori, how he’d shifted in front of people, about the new hunter in town.

“Why didn’t I know about this before?” I snapped, folding my arms across my chest.

“It’s safer for you that way.”

My brother was the werewolf, not me, but I all but growled at him anyway. “If your life is in danger, it involves me. Don’t ever try to hide something like this again.”

He huffed and leaned against the side of Mason’s car. “Fine.”

“Now, tell me who did this.”

“Y/N, leave it alone.” He groaned.

I turned to Mason and glared. “Tell me. Now.”

He crumpled quickly. “Gabe and Nolan.”

At the sound of Nolan’s name, I felt my jaw go slack and my hands begin to shake. I knew Nolan, I’d thought he was my friend. We had a few classes together and we sometimes studied together in the library. We never saw each other outside of school but we had quite the habit of flirting. He was cute and smart and funny. But suddenly everything I thought I knew about him was gone.

Before I spoke, Mason did. He explained to me what had happened, how they’d basically just taken turns punching him until Coach Finstock broke it up.

“Where are they?” I asked.

“Principal’s office.” Mason said, as though it should’ve been obvious.

I nodded once. “Take Liam home while I go take care of this.”

“You’re kind of scary when you’re sick.” Mason muttered.

I narrowed my eyes. “I can get a lot scarier too. Please, just take him home.”

Mason agreed and I took off into the school, ignoring Liam’s shouts telling me not to do anything.

Gabe and Nolan were just walking out of the principal’s office when I made it to the hallway.

“Hey!” I shouted, drawing their attention as I stalked towards them.

They both stopped and stared, seeming more than a little surprised to see me coming at them.

“You started this, right?” I asked Gabe. “You threw my brother on the floor?”

He didn’t respond but I noticed a small smirk flicker across his face.

I walked the last couple of steps towards them, fisting my hand in the taller boy’s shirt and yanking him down so that he was closer to my height. My voice was shaking when I spoke, our faces only an inch or two apart. “I don’t know who the fuck you think you are but if you ever touch him again, I will gut you.”

“Promise?” He teased.

The hand that wasn’t fisted in his shirt went up to grasp him by the jaw, fingertips digging harshly into his skin. “Do you really want to find out?”

The venom in my voice even surprised me.

Gabe’s eyes went wide for a fraction of a second and he didn’t have a witty comeback.

I shoved him away from me and he stumbled backwards a couple of feet. “Go home, Gabe.”

When he disappeared down the hall, I turned my attention back to Nolan.

“As for you,” I pointed one finger at him and he immediately stepped backwards, hitting the lockers behind him, “I thought I could trust you.”

His mouth moved as he tried to sputter out a response but I merely cut him off.

“You’re a liar.” I stepped closer to him. “Don’t come near my brother, don’t come near me, don’t come near any of our friends.”

Even without wolf-hearing, I knew Nolan’s heart was racing in his chest.

“You’re a coward.” I said, giving him a shove that slammed him against the lockers. A bang echoed down the hall and I stepped away from him, turning to leave as tears threatened my eyes.

I left the school and headed home.

Later that night, and for several days after, I got multiple texts from Nolan. He tried to apologize, begged me to talk to him. Whenever he tried to talk to me in the halls or in class, I stared right past him, not reacting to a single thing he said.

No matter what he said, it didn’t change what he did. It didn’t change that he was there at the sheriff’s station with the rest of the hunters, another incident that I had not been informed of until it was all said and done. Rumors kept swirling around after that, ones about Nolan having something to do with Edgar’s death.

He showed up while I was digging my biology book out of my locker. He leaned against the locker next to me, seemingly waiting for me to acknowledge him.

I checked my reflection in the small mirror hanging on the inside of the door and even read a text, all while Nolan stood there.

“Are you going to talk to me ever again?” He asked.

I didn’t respond and I could tell that he was starting to get annoyed. When I shut my locker and headed down the hall towards class, Nolan followed after me. “Y/N, come on. Please just talk to me.”

Still, I refused to answer him.

He must have realized that this was going nowhere and he stopped following me. I was a few feet ahead of him when I heard him speak again, his voice sounded broken. “The silent treatment, really? At least yell at me!”

When I saw Sydney at the end of the hall, I called out to her and she greeted me with a smile before we made our way to class.

I was involved in the next part of the plan. Mason and I had gone to round up a bunch of fake supplies, making sure Nolan saw us, and he followed us to the zoo, just as we were hoping.

When two other hunters showed up, Liam and Theo were listening while they talked to Nolan. When they didn’t believe him, I watched in horror as Liam and Theo started an only half-fake fight to draw attention.

My fingers were laced behind my neck and I was facing the ground, walking in a circle when we noticed someone approaching the spot where we were hiding.

I peeked around the corner and saw Nolan walking around with a crossbow in his hand.

Liam and I kept peeking around to watch Nolan when Theo warmed us that if we didn’t stop, we were going to get caught. Neither of us listened and finally, he grabbed both of us and hauled us away but the sound of our footsteps caught Nolan’s attention.

Theo and Liam were arguing again, this time about Liam’s anger. I was trying to tell them to quiet down and keep moving so that we wouldn’t be found but it was almost as if they didn’t hear me.

I was second away from slapping both of them in the face when I heard an all too familiar voice just a few feet behind me.

“They’re up here!” Nolan called.

Before I could even turn all the way around, my brother had lunged, tackling Nolan right over the small ledge we were standing on.

I could hear them below, I could hear my brother growling and I could hear Nolan, the way his voice was shaking. I could see him point the crossbow unsteadily at Liam. I wanted to run down there and stop them from killing each other but Theo had a tight grasp around my midsection.

I was crying, fighting against him, demanding that he let go.

“If you go down there, he could shoot you too.” Theo said.

I shook my head, still trying to force my way out of his grasp. “No, he wouldn’t do that. Not to me. Please, Theo. I don’t want anyone to get hurt. And I know Liam’s angry. I know what happened here, I know why he’s angry.”

Theo was listening to every word I said but not responding. His grip hadn’t faltered once.

The weight of the situation, everything I felt, came crashing down on me in that moment. My shoulders slumped and I stopped trying to fight him off. I fell against him but he kept me on my feet. “That’s the difference between us, Theo. You can hear Liam’s heart, you can smell his anger, but I don’t have to do that to know. We’re twins, I can feel all of it right now. Please, let me help him.”

He finally caved, letting go of me but watching to make sure I didn’t immediately take off running. “Let me do it. Stay behind me, I’ll stop him.”

I nodded once before we ran down to where they were. Liam had Nolan against the wall. Nolan was crying as my brother repeatedly punched the stone wall beside Nolan’s head. I could hear the crunch of bones breaking in his hand when they made contact.

Then the claws came out and I thought I see Liam freeze for just a second, almost like he was thinking about killing him. And Nolan knew too.

I wanted to yell at Liam to stop but I couldn’t get any words out. I was frozen and speechless. I was terrified of what I was about to see.

Theo walked up behind Liam and knocked him out with a single punch.

My heart hammered in my chest but I could finally move again.

Nolan looked up at Theo and then over to me, his eyes widened when he saw the look on my face.

“Run.” I breathed, begging my voice not to quiver.

When Nolan took off, Theo lifted my brother off the ground and carried him to his truck, I followed behind, asking if it was really necessary to knock him out. Theo didn’t answer so I assumed that he believe that it was, in fact, really necessary.

We’d been driving for a while when Liam finally woke up again. I sat forward from my spot in the backseat, grabbed Liam’s chin and turned him to face me. I examined his face to make sure everything had healed. When I was satisfied with what I saw, I sat back and stared out the window. Theo and Liam were talking in the front but I was too tired to listen.

I ended up falling asleep a few moments later. I didn’t wake up again until Liam woke me. I was surprised to find myself in my bed.

“What’s going on? How’d I get here?” I asked, rubbing my face and leaned up on my elbows. It was too dark for me to be able to read the clock on my wall but it felt like it was either very late or very early.

“I carried you up here. That’s not the point right now.” Liam rushed. “Someone shot up Scott’s house.”

I sat up instantly. “What? Who? Is everyone okay?”

He shook his head and I noticed tears in his eyes. “Li, what happened?”

“Scott’s parents, Lydia, and Mason were all hurt.”

I didn’t know what to say so I grabbed my brother by the shoulders and pulled him in. I wrapped my arms around him and tried to convince myself not to start crying too. “Everyone’s alive though, right? Everyone’s going to be okay?”

“I don’t know. They all have to go in for surgery.” He whispered and I felt tears drip onto my shoulder.

“Should we go to the hospital?” I asked.

He shook his head. “We can’t. Scott’s going to be there, and Malia too. But we have to go to school.”

“We have to go to school while our best friend has a bullet inside him?” I said incredulously.

“We can’t run from this anymore. I’ve got to find out who did this.”

He pulled away and I sat back a little. “What makes you think we can find that out at school?”

“It could’ve been Gabe or Nolan. If not, I’m willing to bet they know who did do it.” Liam explained.

I nodded. “Right. Well, what are we supposed to do after that? Are you going to kill someone, Liam?”

He looked up at me, his eyes wide and his jaw slack. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t kill people, Liam. No matter how much you might want to, no matter what they might do to you. You have to try to solve things peacefully.” I said.

“Are you sure my sister and not Scott’s?” He asked.

I stuck my tongue out and rolled my eyes. “Ha. You know I’m right, Liam.”

“Y/N, you manhandled Gabe and Nolan after they kicked my ass.” He said.

I shrugged. “I’m human. And I wasn’t going to kill either of them.”

“You told Gabe you would gut him.”

I threw my hands up angrily. “What the hell? Were you eavesdropping?”

He nodded sheepishly.

“Oh my god. You’re unbelievable. When are you going to start understanding that I can take care of myself?” I whined.

“As soon as you start understanding that I can.” He shot back.

I groaned and flopped back against my pillows. “Okay, enough bickering. What’s the plan for school?”

“I’ll talk to Gabe if you can talk to Nolan.”

My heart stuttered for a second and I prayed he didn’t hear it. “Why do I have to talk to Nolan?”

“Because he was your friend.”

I shook my head. “I am not speaking to Nolan.”

“You need to talk to Nolan.”

I screeched out an agreement because I knew we were getting nowhere. “Fine! Jesus, whatever. I’ll fucking talk to Nolan.”

“Thank you.”

“Yeah, you’re welcome. Now get the hell out of my room, if we’re doing this, I need some sleep and so do you.” I said, pulling the blankets up around my shoulders and getting comfortable again.

Liam left after muttering a goodnight and I fell back asleep faster than I anticipated.

I woke up a few hours later when the alarm on my phone started blaring. I shut it off and quickly got out of bed before going through my normal morning routine.

When Liam and I left for school, he ran me through the plan again as though it were necessary.

I tried to talk to Nolan several times throughout the day but it seemed that he was now the one ignoring me.

When classes got out, I spent a little bit of time in the library, wondering if Nolan might show up there but he never did. I was walking back to my locker to grab one of my books when I heard footsteps coming from another hallway. I abandoned my locker and quickly ran and hid around the corner.

Gabe and Nolan came into view, talking in hushed tones. I noticed them heading in the direction of the locker rooms so I followed them as quickly as I could. As soon as they went into the room and the door clicked shut, I ran over and pressed my ear against the door.

“They wanted to know who shot up Scott’s house.” Nolan said.

“Yeah, but I didn’t tell them.” Gabe defended.

“Well how do you know who did it?” Nolan asked.

I didn’t hear a response.

“Gabe? What did you do?”

“I did it for you.”

My heart started pounding. I want to run in there and beat the shit out of Gabe but it wasn’t worth blowing my cover. He wasn’t worth it.

“You shot up a house for me?!” Nolan said, sounding surprised. “What are you trying to do? Get me killed?”

It’s a good way to do it. I thought.

“I’m trying to keep you alive. I told Monroe it was you so try being a little grateful.”

“You told her it was me?” The more Nolan spoke, the more scared he sounded.

“Why do you think you’re still alive?”

I heard footsteps approaching the door and I assumed it was Gabe. I took off back down the hall at a sprint. I didn’t stop until I got to my locker. I dropped my backpack to the floor, leaned back against the cold metal, and slid down to the ground. I wasn’t sure why I’d started crying but I didn’t know how to stop.

My sobs were so loud that I didn’t hear someone coming towards me.

“Y/N?” Nolan asked, scaring me enough that I flinched against the wall.

I looked up at him, trying to glare at him through my tears but failing miserably. “What do you want?”

He knelt beside me. “Are you okay?”

“Are you kidding me? You’re asking if I’m okay?” I rolled my eyes and used the sleeve of my sweater to wipe tears from my face. “You beat the shit out of my brother, your psycho friend shoots up Scott’s house for you; and you ask me if I’m okay?”

He didn’t respond, he only looked at me sadly.

“Honestly, of all the things I thought you were, Nolan, I didn’t think stupid was one of them.” I sneered.

“I’m sorry!” He blurted.

I laughed humorlessly. “That’s rich. You pointed a crossbow at my twin brother. And you expect a simple ‘I’m sorry’ to make everything better? Did you know there were humans in Scott’s house when Gabe decided to go Taxi Driver and just start shooting? Both of Scott’s parents got shot, Mason got shot. Humans! The people you’re allegedly so concerned with protecting.”

Again, he didn’t speak. He only stared at the ground.

“That could’ve been me. I could have been in that house. I could have ended up with a bullet in my chest. Do you think Monroe would give a shit? Or Gerard? They don’t care about saving human lives, they only care about killing supernaturals.” I slammed my head back against the lockers. “You really don’t get it. Scott, Malia, my brother – they’re the ones trying to keep you alive. To Monroe and Gerard, you’re disposable.”

His eyes flickered up to me and I could see the realization starting to set in. It seemed like maybe, just maybe, I was starting to get through to him.

“I liked you. God, I thought you were so cute. And funny.” I laughed again. “But now this. It’s ridiculous but I feel so betrayed. Tell me something, Nolan. If I were the werewolf instead of Liam, would you have pointed that crossbow at me?”

Tears sprung up in his eyes and he started to reach for me, his hands freezing in the air before touching me. “Y/N, I… No. I would never do that. Please believe me.”

“But you kind of did, didn’t you? Threatening Liam – hating Liam – is threatening me, too. We are twins. Can you understand that connection? You don’t get to like me and hate my brother. The Dunbar twins are a packaged deal. So if you’re on my team, you’re on his team too. But if you’re against him, you’re against me. And it’s time that you pick a damn side.” I finished, standing up from my spot on the floor. I brushed dirt from my jeans and lifted my backpack onto my shoulder.

He stood beside me. “I – I’m scared.”

I nodded. “I know. And I know why. Do you? It’s not just the wolves. If you wanna find out, if you want to understand, if you want to pick a side, you have my number.”

He smiled shyly. “O-Okay.”

I walked down the hall, towards the door. I’d made it halfway down the hall before he spoke again.

“Did you actually mean it?” He called, his voice sounding more confident that I’d ever heard before.

“Did I mean what?” I asked, turning to face him.

“About liking me?”

I nodded. “Yeah, Nolan. I really did.”

“Then help me.” He pleaded. “Help me understand. Show me what they won’t.”

I smiled a bit. “Okay. Take me to your place and I’ll tell you everything you need to know.”

Nolan walked towards me quickly. “Yeah, okay. Let’s go.”

I followed him out to the parking lot and into his car. We didn’t talk much while he drove but the silence was far from uncomfortable.

There were no cars in the driveway when we pulled up to his house and it was quiet when we went inside.

“Do you want anything to eat or drink?” He asked, shutting the door behind me.

I shook my head. “No, I’m fine.”

“We can go up to my room, if you want.”

I followed him upstairs and to the end of the hall. His room felt oddly comfortable, all soft colors, a large bed, a desk covered with papers and pens, his lacrosse stuff laying in one corner.

“You can sit wherever you want.” He offered. “The bed’s soft but if you’re – if you’re not comfortable, you can sit in the desk chair.”

I dropped my backpack by the door and moved to sit down on the end of his bed.

He sat beside me, leaving enough space that made me aware that he was trying incredibly hard not to freak me out.

“So, what can you tell me?” He asked.

I shifted to face him. “God, where should I even start?”

“Start with Scott.” He prompted.

I nodded and began my speech. I explained how Scott was bit, about how he became an alpha, how incredible and rare it is for someone to become a true alpha. I explained how he bit Liam to save his life. I told him about how Scott saved my life when I was fifteen. I told him about the Beast, how we were all trying to stop it, how it was a product of the Dread Doctors and not a real werewolf. I told him about the anuk-ite, the way it heightens your fear and feeds off of it.

“So that’s why everything’s been so much worse? Why everyone is terrified?” He asked.

I nodded. “It’s not just the wolves, the coyotes, the banshees. It’s that thing. It’s making your fears even worse and Gerard and Monroe are using that fear to manipulate you. They’re scaring the shit out of teenagers, putting guns into your hands, and trying to tell you that the people who are trying to help you, are the ones you need to kill.”

Nolan groaned and fell back on the mattress, his legs still hanging off the end.

“Why did Theo stop Liam that day at the zoo?” He asked.

“For a lot of reasons, Nolan. He didn’t want Liam to become a killer, and neither did I. He knew that if he didn’t stop him, that I would’ve. Theo didn’t want me to get hurt, and I think he didn’t want you to be hurt either.” I explained.

“He doesn’t seem so bad.” Nolan admitted.

I laughed. “He wasn’t always like this. Scott still doesn’t trust him. But I do.”

“Even after what I did, you would’ve stopped Liam from hurting me?”

“Yeah, and I would do it again. Not just for Liam, either, but because I don’t think you deserve to die. Do you deserve a solid punch in the face? Maybe. But to die? Absolutely not.”

“Aren’t you just as scared?” He asked, sitting up again.

I nodded. “Yeah, all the time.”

“So why can you be like this,” his eyes searched mine for answers, “while I’m like this?”

“Fear affects people differently. For some, it makes them angry. Others shut down. I used to get angry, Liam and I have that in common.” I chuckled at the end.

“How did you stop being like that?”

My eyes focused on his, such a beautiful shade of blue. “I learned how to channel it into something else: compassion. I didn’t want other people to feel like I did. I tried to protect Liam and my friends and everyone else. I knew there was a chance people would react like this if they found out so I helped them keep it a secret. And whenever people did find out, I tried to help them to understand. I showed them that they’re not all bad. Are there creatures out there that thrive off of killing humans? Yes. But there are more out there that are like Scott, ones that want to protect you and me. There’s something that Lydia taught me once. ‘Not all monsters do monstrous things.’”

“I wish you would’ve told me this a long time ago.” He breathed.

“I wish you didn’t have to find out about this world the way you did. I wish we could’ve done more to protect you.”

“Are you part of the pack? Even though you’re human?”

I smiled. “Yeah, I am. I don’t have super strength or speed, I can’t heal that fast, I can’t predict death, but I can do other things. I’m smart, I care, and I do know how to fight.”

“So, that’s your super power? Caring about people?”

I laughed. “I think so.”

“What power do you wish you had?”

I didn’t hesitate before I responded because ever since I’d learned about the supernatural, it was the one thing I wished I could do. “To be able to take away pain.”

The way Nolan smiled at me then made my heart pound in my chest.

“Why don’t you ask me what you really want to?” I asked.

His eyes skimmed over my face, noticed my body language, and then flickered away before focusing back on my own eyes. “Y/N, I really like you. I have for a while now, ever since we had classes together last year. I’ve always thought you were beautiful and funny and smart…. And way out of my league.”

“That’s not a question.” I whispered.

“Can I kiss you, Y/N?”

I smiled. “I was hoping you would.”

He turned to face me more and placed his left hand on my face, the pad of his thumb tracing over my cheek as his eyes gazed into mine.

I noticed, in that moment, just how beautiful he was. His eyes were crystal blue, light freckles decorated his skin but the ones on his nose – darker than the others – were perfect, and his lips looked soft and inviting.

He must have noticed the way I looked at his lips because he closed the gap between us and let our lips touch. They were just as soft as I thought they would be.

I melted into the kiss and let my face lean more into his hand.

He pulled away just a fraction of an inch and I could feel his breath against my lips. “Was that okay?”

I didn’t respond. Instead, I grabbed the collar of his shirt and tugged him towards me until our lips met again.

His free hand moved to my waist and his fingertips gently pressed into the skin, keeping me close but not so tightly that I couldn’t move away if I wanted to.

But I didn’t want to move away. I moved closer to him and my hand traced from his collar up to the back of his head and my fingers toyed with his hair.

The sound of my phone ringing startled both of us and we separated with a gasp but I couldn’t convince myself to move away from him or to take my phone out of my pocket.

The ringing stopped but started again just seconds later.

“You should get that.” Nolan chuckled, pecking my lips one more time before moving away.

I pulled the phone from my pocket to see Liam’s face flash across the screen. I hit answer and lifted the phone to my ear. “Hey, Liam, what’s up?”

“Where are you?” He asked immediately.

“With a friend.” I said quickly. “We were studying. Is everything okay?”

“We need to talk. Should I come pick you up?”

“No, no. I’ll get a ride. Are you at home?” I asked.

“Yeah. Um, hurry, by the way.”

I sighed but agreed. “Okay, I’ll be there soon. Bye.”

We hung up and I turned my attention back to Nolan. “I need you to take me home.”

He nodded. “Of course.”

We didn’t talk much again while we were in the car but he did hold my hand while he drove and it felt nice.

When we pulled up in front of my house, I took off my seatbelt and leaned over to press a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you for listening.”

He smiled. “Thank you for teaching me.”

I nodded. “Anytime.”

I didn’t want to get out of the car but I knew Liam probably heard us pull up and he would get suspicious if I didn’t come inside soon.

“Listen, we need to come up with some sort of plan. We’ve got to do something about all of these hunters, for all our sake. We’ll talk tomorrow?” I whispered in case Liam was trying to listen.

“Yeah, you can come to my house again.” Nolan offered.

“Bye, Nolan.” I said, opening the car door and stepping out.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” He whispered before I closed the door.

When I got into the house, my brother was sitting on the sofa. He’d clearly been waiting for me.

“What’s going on?” I asked, taking a seat next to him.

He opened his mouth to speak but stopped. He leaned towards me and sniffed at my shirt. “Who were you with? I know that scent.”

I pushed his shoulders away. “What the fuck, Liam? I know we shared a womb but that doesn’t mean you get to sniff me.”

“Why do you smell like a boy?”

“I told you I was with a friend. I have friends who are boys.”

“You have a boyfriend?” He asked, his voice raising.

I sputtered. “Do you even listen? I said I have friends who are boys, friends who are of the male gender. Why are we even talking about how I smell? I thought you had some important information to share with me. Let’s get to that.”

Thankfully, he dropped the topic of the scent on my shirt. “You know how we found out the anuk-ite has two faces?”

“It’s not just Aaron. There’s another half.” I groaned.

He nodded. “Yeah, and it’s someone like us, like me. Another shapeshifter.”

I ran my hands over my face before letting them fall to my lap. “Okay, so do you have any idea who it is?”

“No, not really. We just know that we have to find them before the two halves merge.” He explained.

“Okay, what happens if they merge?”

He shrugged. “Not sure. We just know it can’t be good.”

“Of course. Nothing is ever good. It’s never positive. For once, why can’t we have some creature that brings happiness and love and positivity to the world instead of something that comes rampaging through the town, causing nothing but death and destruction? Why does it feel like we’re all five minutes away from being brutally murdered?” I realized I’d started yelling and I was thankful we were the only ones home.

Liam frowned. “I wish I could’ve kept you out of all this.”

“Why couldn’t you have just been the more dominant twin and absorbed me in the womb?”

His eyebrows furrowed. “I know I asked you before if you’re sure you aren’t Scott’s sister but now I’m starting to wonder if it’s Stiles instead.”

I glared but my face softened quickly. There was no time to argue, we had a much larger problem at hand. “Moving on… What else do we know about the anuk-ite?”

“Scott and Malia found this phone on a body in the woods and there’s a voicemail on it."

I cut him off. “You guys stole a phone from a dead body in the woods?”

“Malia did.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “That’s not the po- You know, never mind. Just… Continue.”

“Well, one of the bodies was stripped down to the muscle and you could still see the pack tattoo. It was a werewolf. That has to be the other half of the anuk-ite. If we can figure out who the person is that left the voicemail, they could lead us to its other half.”

“Okay. That sounds a lot simpler than it actually is though.” I said.

“Which is why you’re going to help.” He pulled a flip phone from his pocket and held it up. “Maybe you’ll recognize the voice.”

I kicked my shoes off and pulled my legs up onto the sofa, tucking them underneath me. “Okay, let me hear it then.”

He flipped the phone open and played the voicemail.

It was a woman’s voice and she sounded older. I was sure I’d heard her voice before but I couldn’t tell where.

When it ended, Liam immediately played it again. And then twice more after that.

“It’s someone at the school.” I said suddenly.

“How do you know that?” He asked.

I nervously bit at my lip before I answered. “I don’t… I don’t know. It’s just memory. I hear the voice and I can imagine being at school, staring at a chalkboard, being bored out of my mind.”

He played the voicemail one more time and I saw something click in his mind. “I think I know who it is!”

I sat up straighter. “Well, out with it then!”

“I think it’s Mrs Finch.” He stated.

“Play it one more time.” I said quickly.

He did and I could finally match a face to the voice. Liam was right and I knew he was.

“That’s her. That’s absolutely her.” I nodded. “There’s no question. It’s Finch. We’ve got to do something at school tomorrow. Try to prove that she’s a werewolf.”

His eyebrows furrowed. “Are you sure? What about the other students? The hunters? What if we end up just painting a target on her back?”

“Honestly, I think they probably already know about her. I mean, think about it. If she is a werewolf, she can probably smell that you are. And I mean, when Gabe and Nolan jumped you… You and Mason said that she didn’t do anything? She didn’t stop them?”

He nodded once.

“Okay, maybe she was scared? She knows that Gabe and Nolan are working with the hunters and she doesn’t want to give them anymore of a reason to come after her.” I suggested. “I know this could make her a target but think about it. If we can find out who she was calling, who that other body is, then we can find out who the other half is. If we can stop the halves before they merge, if we stop the anuk-ite, the war is over. If people aren’t scared anymore, then she should be safe. You should all be safe.”

“You’re right. If people aren’t scared anymore, they’ll stop trying to kill all of us.”

I let out a small sigh. “Right. So how do we prove it?”

Liam stared at the ground for a moment before his head snapped up. “Wolfsbane.”

“Can’t that kill her?” I asked.

He shook his head and shifted in his seat. “No. Well, yes, but no. If we can expose her to just a little bit of wolfsbane, she’ll react to. She might shift but we should be able to tell.”

“Sounds good. You should call Scott and tell him. Maybe he’ll have another plan if this one doesn’t work.” I said. “Oh, and speaking of plans, I have one. We don’t know how long it’s going to take to find the other half of the anuk-ite or what it’s going to take to stop it. So, until then, I think I know how we can get information about what Gerard’s army is doing.”

“Really?” His sounded almost excited. “What’s the plan?”

I frowned and picked at my nails. “Well, I can’t exactly tell you that yet. But please, just trust me. I have to look into it a little more but I know someone who might be willing to help us.”

“Is this the person you were hanging out with earlier?” He asked.

“Yeah. I know you’re not going to like it when you find out, but just trust that I’m working on something, okay?”

“Y/N, don’t do anything that could get you into trouble. Please.”

I folded my arms across my chest before speaking. “Liam, listen. Whether you like it or not, I’m part of this now. I am fully aware of the danger that I could be getting myself into, okay? But I’m not going to sit by and do nothing.”

He seemed to accept even though I’m sure he didn’t want to.

I stood up and started making my way towards the stairs before stopping halfway there. “You never told me what happened with Gabe.”

“I didn’t get anything.” He admitted.

I ran a hand through my hair. “Well, that’s okay. Because I did.”

Liam jumped up from his seat immediately. “From Nolan?”

I shook my head. “Not exactly. I heard the two of them talking in the locker room. Gabe was the one who shot up Scott’s house. Nolan had nothing to do with it.”

“You’re sure?” He asked.

“Positive. But let’s not worry about that yet. Tomorrow, we deal with Mrs Finch. If we can’t find the other half of the anuk-ite then we get Gabe.”

“Deal.”

I nodded once. “Goodnight, Liam.”

My brother got up early the next morning to go talk to Scott so I texted Nolan and asked him if he could pick me up and we could talk on the way to school.

When he pulled up in front of the house ten minutes later, I was already waiting.

“Good morning.” He said as I got into the car.

“Hi.” I smiled but my face dropped when I noticed the dark circles around his eyes. “Did you sleep at all last night?”

He chuckled at my bluntness but shook his head. “No, not really.”

I sighed and reached for his hand. “I’m sorry, Nolan.”

He cut me off before I could say anymore. “No, you don’t have to apologize. I should. I’ve been a complete ass.”

I nodded. “Hmm, yeah, you have.”

He rolled his eyes playfully. “Seriously, I want to make up for it. I want to help.”

“Well, that’s great! Because I have a really fantastic idea of how you could help. But it’s also really dangerous. And now that I think about dangerous it is, I’m not so sure that I want you to do it.” I rambled.

He squeezed my hand gently. “Just tell me.”

“I was going to suggest that maybe you…” I trailed off, not being able to force the words out. “It’s just… We don’t know anything about what’s happening with…”

“If you want me to be a spy, I can be a spy.”

My shoulders slumped. “I really don’t want you to but I don’t know how else we can do this. There’s no way that we can go at this blind.”

We pulled into the school parking lot then so I knew we didn’t have much more time to talk.

“Monroe is calling a meeting. Everyone’s going to be there. I’m not sure what the point is yet but it must be important. I’ll go and get all of the information to you tomorrow.” Nolan offered.

“No! You can’t tell me.” I said.

His eyebrows furrowed.

“Well, I mean, you can tell me. But Liam doesn’t know you’re on our side yet or that we did that whole kissing thing. Anyway, you need to reach out to Liam. Text him, ask him to meet you somewhere, tell him you have a plan and that you have information. He may not like it but he’ll have to listen.” I stopped to take a breath. “After that, he’ll bring me in on it. Whatever information you give him, he’ll want me to hear too. Then we make our next move.”

“What’s the plan I’m supposed to tell him that I have?”

I chewed on the corner of my lip. “I didn’t get that far. I was hoping you might have an idea. Maybe you should wait until after the meeting to decide. You’ve still got time. Just… Whatever you do, make sure the plan is something you’re willing to actually go through with in case something else falls through. And make it believable.”

“What if he listens to my heart? He could know that I’m lying.”

I ran a hand through my hair and was surprised to realize that my hand was shaking. “He’ll just think you’re nervous or scared. If the plan is believable and you just seem freaked out, he should just go with it. And don’t tell me that plan first, I’ll have to be genuinely surprised when Li tells me about it.”

Nolan grabbed the hand that I had just run through my hair and squeezed both of my hands tightly. “Breathe. It’s going to be okay.”

“Are you telling me that? Or yourself?” I asked, noticing the fear in his eyes.

“Both.” He laughed nervously.

I smiled sweetly at him before looking around to make sure no one was watching us. When I didn’t see anyone, I leaned over the center console and kissed him softly.

When I pulled away, he tried to follow.

“I’ll see you in class, okay? I have to go find my brother now.” I said before hopping out of the car.

I waved to Nolan as I hurried towards the building in search of Liam. When I found him, he was standing outside of Mrs Finch’s classroom with Scott.

“Hey, Y/N.” Scott smiled when I walked up.

“Hi!” I smiled back. “Any new developments?”

Liam unzipped his backpack to show me a transmitter like the ones Argent used. “I have wolfsbane in my pocket, too.”

“Isn’t that uncomfortable?” I asked.

He shook his head. “It’s powder and only a little bit. I’m fine unless I breathe it in.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to take it?”

“No, you’ll take the transmitter.” Scott said.

“Okay, fine.” I unzipped my bag and took the transmitter from Liam before sliding it down between a couple of notebooks and zipping the bag up again. “The transmitter is plan A, I’m assuming?”

Both boys nodded.

I adjusted the straps of my backpack. “Well, alright then. I’m off to English for now. I’ll see you in bio later.”

For the rest of the day, I found it hard to pay attention during my classes. Most of the time I was sitting there with a notebook open in front of me and a pen in my hand but instead of copying notes, I found myself thinking about every little thing that could go wrong with every plan we had.

When I sat down in my math class, I was so distracted that I didn’t even notice Nolan take the empty seat in front of me until he spoke.

“Y/N, are you okay?”

“Huh?” My head snapped up and a I took a deep breath. “Oh, yeah, sorry. I was just thinking. Overthinking, maybe.”

His eyes bored into mine and I noticed him reach a hand towards me before stopping himself. “I don’t know how to help while we’re here.”

I forced a smile onto my face. “I know, Nolan. But it’s fine. I promise I’ll be okay. Just stick to the plan, alright?”

He nodded before turning to face the front of the room just as the bell rang.

The teacher started writing something on the board about trigonometric identities which I already understood so I tuned out the droning of his voice. I pretended to be copying the notes while I was really brainstorming ideas on how to take down Gerard’s army if we weren’t able to stop the anuk-ite before it was too late. The only semi-reasonable idea I had – bombs – was too deadly of one to entertain for much longer than twenty seconds.

When the bell rang at the end of class, I shoved my belongings back into my bag and hurried out of the classroom after muttering a quick goodbye to Nolan.

I ran to my locker to exchange a few books before making my away across the building to Mrs Finch’s room.

When I got there, Liam was sitting at a lab table by himself so I went to take the empty seat beside him. Before I could get there, Gabe took the seat.

I stood in front of Gabe, arms folded across my chest. “Move.”

He didn’t acknowledge me and before I could speak, Mrs Finch did. “Y/N, there are plenty of other seats. I’m sure you can find one.”

I faced her and tried to smile. “Of course.”

There was an empty chair at the lab table next to Liam’s so I sat there, dropping my bag to the floor beside me.

The bell rang and Mrs Finch called the class to attention by telling everyone to put their phones away.

When she turned away from the board, she seemed surprise to see Liam sitting there.

“I didn’t think we’d be seeing you again.” She said.

“Can’t let my GPA go down just because I got beat up in class.” He said, shooting Gabe a look.

Mrs Finch muttered something but nothing of any meaning came out. She then noticed Gabe typing something on his phone and took it away from him.

I wondered if he’d sent someone a text telling them that Liam was back.

When Finch turned her attention back to the board to start teaching, I looked over at Liam who quickly stuffed a pair of earplugs into his ears before giving me a nod. I reached down to lift up my backpack and pretend I was looking for something inside it.

I clicked on the transmitter and the top glowed red, confirming that it was on. I noticed Liam flinch slightly and another girl a few rows back covered her ears before running out of the room. Mrs Finch, however, didn’t react.

She turned away from the board and her eyes scanned the room. “Where did Rebecca go?”

I clicked off the transmitter and dropped my bag back to the floor.

My brother mumbled something, his mouth covered slightly by his hand and I knew he was talking to Scott who was out in the hallway.

When Mrs Finch called three volunteers to the board, a boy sitting behind me stood up and Gabe did. They both walked to the board, followed by Liam a second later. When Liam got to the board, he shoved Gabe to the side so he could stand there.

I had to stifle my laugh when I saw how pissed off Gabe looked.

My brother scribbled something on the board which was completely incorrect before pulling a folded up piece of paper out of his jacket and sprinkling wolfsbane over the eraser sitting at the bottom of the board.

Mrs Finch told Liam that he was doing the problem wrong and to sit down.

When she picked up the eraser to wipe away what Liam had written, she had to have breathed in some of the wolfsbane.

She coughed once and Liam and I could both see her shaking slightly. It looked like she could be close to shifting. Instead, she only sneezed.

I groaned internally and I felt my whole body droop in disappointment.

When I was sure we were getting nowhere, she dismissed the class.

Everyone was confused as to why but we all gathered up other stuff anyway.

“Not you, Liam.” She called. “You stay put.”

Our eyes met across the room.

I dropped my bag back to the floor. If Liam wasn’t leaving, neither was I.

“Y/N, you should go.”

I walked over to Liam and stood by his side. “Liam stays, I stay. We’re a packaged deal, Mrs Finch.”

“I get it. I know what you’re trying to do.” She said, her attention turned back to my brother.

“You do?” He asked.

“You’re upset.” She walked around her desk. “You want to get back at me.”

“Upset?”

“B-Because I stood by and I did nothing. For what Gabe and Nolan did to you. I’m your teacher and I should’ve protected you.”

“No!” Liam said quickly. “No, I-I mean, yeah. But no, that’s not why I’m here.”

Her brows furrowed and eyes narrowed for a millisecond.

“I know about your pack.”

Her forehead creased. “My what?”

“I know what you are.”

“Liam, I…” She looked away before looking back and I analyzed every little movement, her body language, the tiniest idiosyncrasies.

“You’re a werewolf.” He said, cutting her off.

The quirk in her brows gave her away before she responded. When she spoke, it was almost a laugh. “A what?”

“A person who turns into a wolf on a full moon.”

She laughed again. “Oh, god. Right. And I can probably only be killed by a silver bullet.”

“No, no, that’s not totally true.” I said.

“Are you on drugs?” She asked, stepping closer to us.

“Huh?” Liam and I chorused.

Mrs Finch stepped closer still. “I know your father is a surgeon at the hospital.”

“No, I’m not drugs!” Liam began.

“Mrs Finch, you’re a werewolf!” I finished in the same tone.

“Hydrocodone?” She asked.

“You have a pack.” He muttered.

“Oxycodone?”

“You said it on the phone.” I jumped in.

“That’s enough.”

Liam looked like he was fighting the urge to roll his eyes. “You can’t hide what you are.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about but you really need to go now. You need to leave this classroom Right now. You have to leave my class. Go!” Her voice rose almost to a yell when neither of us moved to leave.

A quiet beep behind me caught our attention and I heard the sound of her voice on the voicemail. When we turned around, Scott was standing there with the phone in his hand.

After a few seconds, she grabbed the phone from Scott’s hand and snapped it shut. “Where did you find this?”

I knew she wasn’t the anuk-ite but I was sure they would lead Liam and Scott to who it was.

“Y/N, you should go.” Liam said quietly.

“What?” I snapped. “Why?”

“If it shows up here, the other half, if they merge… We can’t protect you. You have to go.”

I shook my head. “No, Liam. I’m not going.”

“Please.” He begged. “For once, please just listen to me and get out of here.”

“No!”

Liam grabbed my shoulders tightly. “Please. I don’t know if I can keep you safe.”

“I’m part of this now, Liam! I have been ever since you told me what you were. You need me now too.”

He groaned. “Then at least go wait in the car so that if we need to get out of here fast, you can be our getaway driver.”

I rolled my eyes as he shoved his keys into my hand. “I can’t believe this.”

I didn’t say goodbye before grabbing my bag and walking out the door.

When I got to Liam’s truck, I opened the door and climbed into the driver’s seat. I stuck the key into the ignition but didn’t turn it on yet.

I wanted to know what was going on inside, I wanted to know what everyone else was doing. It didn’t know where Theo was or Mason or Lydia or Malia. There were so many other plans that were in action that I didn’t know about.

I wondered if Nolan was already at that meeting Monroe called. I wondered if he was safe.

I waited in the car for what had to be hours. It was starting to get dark and I hadn’t seen or heard anyone come or go from the school.

My hands started shaking and I felt like I was on the verge on an anxiety attack. I didn’t know if Liam was safe. I wanted to run inside to find him but I was scared that if I left the truck, something else might happen. If he was safe, we might not be able to get away. My breathing grew heavier and I leaned forward, resting my head against the steering wheel and trying to calm down but I couldn’t.

I tried every technique I had but I couldn’t stop freaking out. My heart was pounding in my chest and tears streamed down my cheeks. I felt like I might pass out. But that was when I realized it.

The anuk-ite, at least half of it, was close.

From the school, I heard this shrieking sound that made goosebumps come up over my whole body. Minutes later, I heard the same screaming.

I didn’t know what the hell was going on but I turned the key, hoping that Scott and Liam would come running out at any second.

A girl came running out of the building and towards the library. Liam followed soon after her.

Lydia’s car screeched to a halt next to the truck and I almost screamed. I jumped out of the car at the same time as her and Malia. “Lydia! Malia! What are you doing here?”

“They’re both here. Both halves of the anuk-ite. If they merge, you’ll die if you look at them. We have to get Scott and Liam now.”

“Scott is in the school still. But Liam just ran into the library.” I said.

Right after I said my brother’s name, I heard him roar from inside the library and my heart felt like it dropped into my stomach.

I had to ignore the feeling of dread and I took off in a dead sprint towards the library doors. Lydia followed me while Malia went to find Scott. What we didn’t notice was the group of three men with guns walking into the school.

The moment I got inside the library doors, I saw Liam standing there, facing away from me. There was the body of a girl laying lifeless on the floor and it felt like I was on the verge of a heart attack.

Lydia and I grabbed Liam by shoulders and pulled hard, leading to the three of us toppling through the doors and onto the sidewalk outside.

“We have to run!” Lydia said.

We got up and followed her when she ran into the school.

“What are you doing?” Liam asked. “Quinn and Aaron merged, we have to stop them.”

“You can’t” I said, grabbing his arm and pulled him along.

“You can’t look at it. If you do, it will kill you.” Lydia informed. “We have to find Scott and Malia and get out of here.”

We turned down one hallway and I froze. There were two bodies on the floor, two men with guns. But they weren’t just dead, they were turned to stone.

“That’s what it does.” I breathed. “If you look at the anuk-ite, that’s what happens to you.”

“How do we fight something we can’t look at?” Liam asked.

Lydia shook her head slowly. “I have no idea.”

“We have to learn to fight without our eyes.” Scott said as he walked up behind us with Malia.

“Fight without seeing, that means…” Malia trailed off and looked at Scott.

“Deucalion.” Lydia confirmed.

While I’d never actually met Deucalion, I had heard plenty of stories about him. And from the stories I heard, he didn’t seem like the kind of person that I wanted to associate with. Guys who call themselves “Death, destroyer of worlds” don’t often make good company. But I knew he was blind and damn near impossible beat despite that so if he would be willing to help, then I might have to introduce myself.

We all went home that night feeling a wide range of emotions. Mine mostly consisted of fear, anger, and pure exhaustion. I wanted nothing more than to crawl in bed and sleep for two weeks. But when I got into my bed, I couldn’t fall asleep. I tossed and turned for hours.

I finally fell asleep around five a.m., only to be awoken by my brother when he came barging into my room less than two hours later.

The sound of my door being flung open and slamming against the wall jarred me from my sleep and I sat bolt upright in bed. The pocket knife that I kept under my pillow was open and in my hand within a second.

Liam, however, did not seem at all bothered by my weapon. “Get up.”

I glared him but I did not lower the knife. “Even though I now know that you aren’t an intruder, I’m still willing to stab for you the extremely unpleasant wake up call.”

“Then get it over with so I can heal and change clothes before we have to leave.” He sighed.

I rolled my eyes and clicked the knife shut. “What do you want? I never get up this early and you damn well know that.”

“Your buddy texted me.” He said, tossing his phone into my lap.

I picked it up and checked the screen. There was a text message from Nolan asking Liam if he would meet him in the library before class.

“What are you going to say?” I asked, tossing the phone back to him.

“I was going to ask what you think?”

I pretended to think about it for a second even though I had spent most of my time awake during the night deciding what I would say in this kind of situation. “I think you should meet him. I mean, I know him a little better than you so just… Believe me when I say that I don’t believe he’s actually a bad guy. He’s like everyone else, he’s acting out of fear. And you’ve seen him, he was anxious enough before the anuk-ite. Who knows? Maybe he can tell us something we don’t know, something about Monroe or Gerard.”

“If you want me to go, then you’re coming too.”

I faked being annoyed. “Whatever, fine. Get out so that I can get dressed.”

When he left, I got out of bed and headed towards my closet. I pulled out a pair of jeans, a black tshirt, and a pair of boots. I was too tired to try to look any nicer than that. The fact that I’d chosen jeans over leggings or sweats was a feat in itself.

I grabbed my brother’s lacrosse hoodie from my desk chair and pulled it over my head before I grabbed my backpack and headed downstairs.

“Are you ever going to give my hoodie back?” Liam asked around a mouthful of cereal.

“Absolutely not. And have same manners, please.” I said as I grabbed an orange from the fruit bowl and began peeling it.

I only managed to eat half of the orange before the anxiety I’d been feeling made me want to throw up. I tossed the remainder into the trash before pulling out my phone to text Nolan.

The plan is a success so far. We’ll see you at the library in a bit. I typed and hit send.

When Liam finished his cereal, he placed the empty bowl in the sink and we took off.

“Let me do most of the talking.” Liam said when we pulled into the school parking lot and got out of the truck.

I quirked an eyebrow at him. “And why should I do that?”

“Haven’t you noticed that he turns into the physical embodiment of the heart eyes emoji whenever you talk to him?” Liam asked. “If this is going to be successful, we need you not distracting him with your female ways.”

“What the hell does that mean? Female ways? That sounds incredibly sexist, Liam Dunbar.” I smacked his arm.

He stopped walking and I followed suit. “What I’m saying is that he is a 16 year old boy. Every shred of attention that you give him just fuels his hormones.”

I rolled my eyes aggressively and continued walking. “As if you were not a 16 year old boy last year. As if you didn’t act the same damn way with Hayden.”

“That’s not the point.” He defended.

I decided to drop it, knowing that Liam and I could argue for hours at a time and end up with no clear winner.

We walked into the library and found a secluded spot off to one side so that when Nolan showed up, we’d be able to talk more privately.

I was about to text Nolan to tell him we were there when I heard the doors open again and I peeked between a couple of shelves and saw him coming inside. I noticed that a lot of people were shooting weird looks at him and I could see how much it bothered him.

“Doesn’t feel good, does it?” Liam said when Nolan got closer. “You know why they’re all looking at you like that?”

“They’re afraid of me?” He asked.

“They’re afraid of what you’re going to say, and who you’re going to say it to.” Nolan eyes focused on the ground when Liam spoke. “Nobody trusts you anymore.”

“Then why are you here? How come you texted me back?” Nolan asked.

“’Cause maybe this time I’ll kick your ass.” My brother said, beginning to get in Nolan’s face.

I grabbed his elbow and pulled him back a few inches. “Li, don’t. Please.”

“I said I was going to help. I can show you something. Something I know you’re going to want to see.”

“Where?” Liam asked.

“A-At the hospital.” Nolan’s voice quivered and I couldn’t tell for sure if he was acting or if he was actually feeling freaked out.

I noticed my brother turn to look back at me. His eyes narrowed and I felt like he was getting suspicious of how quiet I was being so I decided that I needed to up my own performance a bit. I still had to keep up the lie of not trusting or liking Nolan. “Why can’t you just tell us? Why should we trust you?”

Nolan’s voice was still shaking slightly when he spoke again. “Because I had a plan.”

“You? You have a plan?” Liam asked.

“Yeah, yeah, I..” He stopped to take a deep breath before continuing. “I’m gonna show you what you need to see at the hospital. Then you’re gonna kick my ass so Miss Monroe thinks that you had to beat the information out of me.”

I felt my own heart speed up and since I was standing a bit behind Liam, I mouthed my disdain at Nolan. Are you fucking serious?!

He didn’t respond obviously but I know he noticed.

Liam seemed to think about it for a second before nodding. “Yeah, I’m good with that plan.”

I immediately wanted to slap both of them. “No, what the fuck? We can’t… No one needs to get the shit beat out of them today.”

“Miss Monroe might come after me if it becomes obvious that I’ve switched sides.” Nolan said.

I threw my arms up in the air, holding them there for a second before bringing my hands down on top of my head. “I can’t believe this shit.”

Neither boys responded to me and I felt like I wanted to let out a scream that would make Lydia proud.

“Are we going now?” I asked.

“We can’t skip class.” Liam said.

I furrowed my eyebrows at him. “As if that’s ever stopped either of us before. As if that ever stopped Scott and Stiles. Come on, it’s like being part of the pack means that you have to skip school at least once a week.”

“No, we aren’t skipping school again, Y/N. We’re seniors, we have to stay alive and graduate on time.”

I rolled my eyes. “I literally cannot believe this. I’ll see you in biology unless I decide to drop out, move away from here, and start raising cows in Montana before then.”

I left the library without saying goodbye to either one of them and headed to my first period class.

The day only seemed to drag on and I felt increasingly frustrated with every passing hour. By the last period, when I was sitting in biology with Liam, I was wiggling my leg and tapping my fingers almost constantly. I didn’t know what Nolan was going to show us but I knew it probably wasn’t good and I just wanted to find out so that we could move forward with the next phase of the plan.

When the final bell rang, we hurried out of the school, got into the truck, and followed Nolan to the hospital. Once we were parked, we all headed inside together.

Nolan was leading the way while Liam and I walked side by side behind him.

He opened the door to one of the waiting rooms and we went inside but he stopped Liam and I before we could completely round the corner.

“See that guy?” He asked, pointing to a male nurse who was talking to a little boy. “That’s why we didn’t come in front door.”

“Who is he?” Liam asked.

“He’s with Monroe. He was there last night. They handed him a gun like everyone else.” He then pointed to a blonde. “Do you see that, that nurse right there? She was standing right behind me. There’s more than you think and they’re not just hunters. It’s anyone and everyone who’s willing to pick up a gun. Last night they were teaching them how to use them, how to load clips, what to do if the gun jams.”

“Nurses?” I asked, leaning heavily against the wall.

Nolan nodded. “Everyone.”

“So this is what you wanted to show me? That people hate us? I could’ve figured that out on my own.” Liam was starting to get angry so I grabbed his arm and gave him a quick squeeze, just as a little reminder to try to stay calm.

“But it’s not just that.” Nolan sighed and placed his hand on Liam’s shoulder. “Come with me, okay?”

A phone rang at the nurses’ station and the blonde turned to answer it.

“Now!” Nolan said in a hushed tone and we followed him across the room and down another hallway.

We took an elevator up a couple of floors. Before we stepped out, Nolan held his arm out to stop us. He looked around to make sure we were okay to go in and then let us follow.

We followed him through a set of swinging doors into a dimly lit room containing three beds. There was a man in each bed, all attached to an IV pumping a purple liquid into them.

“They brought them in yesterday.” Nolan told us.

“Who are they?” Liam and I asked.

“I-I don’t know, but they brought them in last night.”

I walked over to one of the IV bags and took a closer look. I immediately knew what the purple tinged liquid was.

“Do you know what that is?” Nolan asked.

“Wolfsbane.” I said, feeling my hands clench into tight fists. “They’re killing them slowly.”

Liam looked over at me. “What do we do? We have to do something.”

I shook my head. “I-I really don’t know, Liam.”

“I’m calling Mason.” He said as he pulled his phone from his pocket.

He walked towards the doors where he stood to talk to Mason while I walked around the room, looking at each man that was hooked up to an IV. I didn’t recognize any of them but I knew that they were probably suffering.

My hands were shaking and I had to force myself not to start crying. Everything was starting to feel like it was too much and I didn’t know what to do anymore.

Liam hung up the phone a minute later and Nolan spoke. “Okay. Uh, I’m going.”

“Whoa, whoa. What about your plan?” Liam asked and stopped him from leaving.

“Nobody saw you come in with me…” He said.

“So?”

“So, I don’t have to get my ass kicked.” Nolan said, an undertone of hope in his voice.

“That was the only part of the plan that I liked.” Liam said.

I walked over from where I was standing. Nolan seemed to have accepted what Liam said but I hadn’t. “Li, come on. Please be nice. He’s trying to help. At least now we have a little bit more information to go off of.”

“Go.” Liam said to Nolan and nodded towards the door.

Nolan chuckled and smirked before walking out.

Liam and I lingered for a minute.

“Mason and Corey are on the way.” He told me.

I nodded. “Okay, good. They can help us figure out what to do next.”

“Can I ask you something?”

I wanted to say no because I was afraid of what he would ask but I nodded. “Yeah.”

“Why do you suddenly seem like you’re protecting him?”

I played with a loose string on my sleeve. “It’s not just him. I’m trying to protect everyone, Liam. I’m tired of people dying and getting hurt constantly. I can’t stand it. And he’s a scared 16 year old. He made some mistakes but I don’t think you need to kick his ass when he’s here, putting himself at risk, trying to do something to help us. I could be in his position if I didn’t know all of the things that I know. If you weren’t my brother, if you weren’t a werewolf, we could be on the other side of this.”

My phone rang from my pocket, interrupting the conversation. When I checked, it was a text from Lydia. When I read what she said, my heart started hammering in my chest and I felt lightheaded.

“What is it?” Liam asked, hearing the change.

“Lydia. It starts tonight, the war starts tonight.” I said, putting my phone away before I dropped it. “We aren’t ready, Liam.”

We walked towards the doors and looked out through the windows. There was no one around, no nurses or doctors in the hallway. And suddenly the power cut out, leaving us in the dark for a few seconds before the emergency lights kicked on.

“I think this was planned. To get us here. You, me, Mason, and Corey. They’re trying to spread all of us out.” I said.

“Nolan.” Liam accused.

I shook my head. “No, Liam. I really don’t think it was him. Monroe and Gerard have been manipulating him, they probably figured out that he’s on our side now. They knew he would pull something like this.”

I pulled my phone out again, ready to text Mason and Corey to tell them to stay as far away from the hospital as possible but I had no signal. “Do you have service?”

Liam checked his phone and shook his head. “No, none.”

“They’re using a cell jammer, I think.”

He put his phone away. “We can’t leave yet. We don’t have a plan. I’m not letting you go out there and get yourself killed.”

I nodded. “Right. Okay, so, we wait a few minutes. See if we can figure something out. If not, we just – we just have to go for it.”

He agreed reluctantly.

We waited by the doors, looking to see if anyone showed up. And we were both trying to figure out what the hell we were supposed to do.

Liam turned around suddenly and I saw one of the men we thought were werewolves pointing a gun at him.

A shot rang out and I screamed, thinking for sure that the bullet was going to hit my brother.

It missed and before I could react further, Liam had grabbed the guy and thrown him through the doors. I watched as he went sliding into the wall and was knocked out when his head hit.

I followed Liam out of the room and to my left, I heard the sound of a gun being cocked. When I turned, I saw five men holding guns. Gabe was one of them.

“Let me do it.” He said, pointing the gun at Liam.

I stepped in front of my brother, blocking his body with my own. “Go, Liam. Get out of here.”

“Y/N, move out of the way.” Gabe said.

In that moment, I wished so desperately that I were a werewolf that so I could rip his throat out. “Fuck you, Gabe. If you want to kill Liam, you’re killing me first. And you better hope you do kill me because I swear to god, I’m hoping to live up to the promise of gutting you.”

I looked behind me for a fraction of a second to see if Liam had moved. “Liam, go, please!”

I heard him start backing up.

“Go ahead, Liam, run! It’ll be more fun that way.” Gabe spoke.

I began backed up, keeping myself in front of Liam.

We were almost to the wall and I didn’t know what we were going to do.

The elevator dinged behind us and the doors slid open. Liam grabbed the back of my shirt, roughly yanking me into the elevator and I fell to the ground, flattening myself out as they started shooting.

The door slid closed and I looked up to see that Theo had pulled Liam and I into the elevator before we could both be killed.

“What are you doing here?” Liam asked, breathing heavily.

“Was just asking myself the same thing.” He replied.

I could hear bullets still hitting the elevator doors when Liam grabbed me and helped me to my feet.

“Are you okay?” He asked. “You’re not hit are you?”

I shook my head, tears filling my eyes. “I’m not hit. But I’m not okay either. None of this is okay.”

He pulled me into his chest. “Hey, just calm down. We’ll get out of here. I’m not letting anything happen to you.”

I sobbed into his shirt and felt one of Theo’s hands on my back.

“We’re getting out of here.” Liam said. “Alive.”

I pulled away from him and wiped my face. I took a deep breath and gave him a nod. “You’re right. We’re getting out of here. And do you know why? I’m tired of being scared. And right now, I’m a lot more fucking pissed off than I am scared.”

Theo chuckled at my words. “I like this side of you.”

I wanted to laugh but I didn’t quite have it in me.

The sound of the bullets had stopped but I wasn’t sure if Gabe and the rest of them were gone. “Are they still out there?”

Liam nodded.

“Look, I’m not dying for you.” Theo said, speaking to my brother.

“I’m not dying for you either.” Liam responded. After a second, he continued. “But I will fight with you.”

“Okay. Let’s fight.” Theo said.

I watched as they both shifted, their eyes began to glow and the claws came out. “I-I can’t do that. What do I do? I can’t do anything.”

“Stay back.” They said at the same time.

Theo pushed me over to the side of the elevator so that when the door opened, I would still be protected.

He pushed the button to open the doors and as soon as they slid open, Theo and Liam ran out as gunshots rang out. A minute later, I could hear various blows landing but there weren’t anymore gunshots.

I peeked my head around and stepped out before the doors slid shut again.

One of the guys was on the floor and he reached for his gun again, he was about to take a shot when Melissa came around the corner with the stun gun Argent had given her and used it on him.

He dropped instantly and Nolan came around the corner next. As another guy moved to get up, Nolan grabbed his gun from the floor and used the end of it to hit him.

I looked toward the end of the hall and saw Gabe standing behind Liam and Theo, getting ready to shoot. I began screaming at them. “Get down!”

Melissa, Nolan, and I all dropped to the floor instantly while Theo and Liam tried to run towards us. Nolan scrambled towards me, pulling me underneath him and blocking me from the chaos.

When I finally looked up, Liam was fighting with Gabe, trying to wrestle the gun away from him. Someone else had come into the hallway, a man I didn’t recognize and he was holding a handgun in one hand and a walkie talkie in the other.

He said something into the talkie that I couldn’t understand and I tried to move to do something, to get the gun away from him but Nolan held me down. “Don’t. Don’t get in the way.”

I heard Monroe’s voice come over the talkie. “Shoot them! Shoot both of them!”

Nolan’s head shot up and he looked at the guy for a second before nodding to Melissa and I and getting up to move up behind him.

The guy opened fire and Liam dove out of the way. I saw one of the bullets go straight into Gabe’s chest and I felt more tears well up in my eyes. What bothered me the most was that he didn’t stop shooting, He kept sending more bullets right into his torso until Nolan hit him in the back of the head with a fire extinguisher.

I watched as Gabe dropped to the ground, not yet dead. He crawled his way over to the wall, groaning the whole time. He propped himself up against it while we all made it to our feet.

Liam and Theo had both been shot but were already starting to heal.

I walked ahead of everyone, watching how blood dripped from Gabe’s mouth, down his chin. His shirt was soaked and I knew he wasn’t going to make it. After everything I’d said, I realized I didn’t mean it. I wouldn’t have killed him, I couldn’t. And no matter what, he didn’t deserve to die like this.

“It hurts.” He choked out, his eyes meeting mine. “It hurts.”

Theo walked towards him while Nolan moved closer to where I stood.

Tears streamed down my face as Theo knelt beside Gabe, pushed his sleeve up his arm, and grabbed his wrist. I watched as their veins both turned black and Theo took away Gabe’s pain.

“Does it hurt anymore?” Theo asked.

Gabe shook his head and breathed out a quiet “no.”

“Good.” Theo said, lowered Gabe’s hand back to his lap as his eyes slid shut and he stopped breathing.

I felt Nolan stumble beside me a bit and I didn’t hesitate to wrap one of my arms around his waist to help steady him. We clung to each other, held each other up. And I didn’t even care if Liam didn’t approve. Nolan needed me in that moment, and I needed him.

After that, it was all over. There were no more gunshots ringing out. I didn’t feel as afraid as before.

My phone rang again and it felt awkward to answer it when Gabe was dead on the floor in front of me but I knew it was probably important.

It was Scott. “Y/N, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, Scott. We’re all okay, I think. What about you? Is anyone hurt?”

Liam moved towards me while I listened to Scott’s response.

“No, not that bad. We’re all going to be okay. The aunk-ite is gone.”

I breathed out a sigh of relief. “Thank god.”

“We’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Yeah.” I nodded. “Soon.”

We said goodbye and hung up.

The sound of a voice coming over the walkie talkie belonging to one of the hunters caught our attention. It was Monroe asking for information at what was going on.

Liam picked up the talkie and pressed the button before speaking. “You lost.”

I almost laughed before turning more towards Nolan, wrapping my other arm around him.

He squeezed my shoulders tightly and held me to his chest. I felt him press a kiss to the top of my head.

“It’s going to be okay.” I whispered. “And we couldn’t have done it without you.”

Liam walked up behind me. “Is this who you were studying with?”

I pulled away and turned to face him. “It was. But we didn’t study. I helped plan a lot of this. I told him everything.”

Liam looked to Nolan. “Is this true?”

Nolan nodded and smiled down at me. “Yeah, she taught me everything I needed to know. She’s the one who told me to text you after that meeting.”

My brother shook his head but smiled. “I should’ve known you had something to do with this. You’re way too protective over this kid.”

I shrugged. “What can I say? I kinda like this one.”

“You’re sure?”

I nodded. “Positive.”

He turned his attention back to Nolan. “I have claws. If you hurt my sister, I will use them on you.”

Nolan gulped. “Message received.”

“Play nice.” I said. “We might not be standing here if it weren’t for him.”

I stepped away from Nolan to hug my brother.

He held me tightly. “I love you.”

I smiled. “Love you too, Li.”

“You saved my life tonight.” He said. “Standing between me and those guys.”

“I would do it again tomorrow if I had to.” I assured him.

When we separated, I walked over to Melissa. She held her arms out and pulled me.

“Thank you for everything.” I said.

“Anytime, sweetheart.”

Mason and Corey had joined us so I pulled both of them in at the same time. “I love you guys. I’m happy you’re okay.”

Theo was the only person left. We locked eyes before I walked over to him. “And you…”

He frowned, probably thinking I would be unhappy with him for whatever reason.

“Thank you. You saved Nolan’s life, you saved my life, you saved my brother’s life. You took away Gabe’s pain. You’ve proved a lot of people wrong recently.”

His eyes went wide and he smiled. “Get over here.”

I ran towards him and he scooped me up in a hug.

“Thanks for always seeing the good in me.” He whispered.

“None of us are all bad, Theo. Not even you.” I said.

He released me a few seconds later and I smiled at all of my friends.

Nolan was gazing at me, one of the biggest smiles I’ve ever seen gracing his face despite the few tears that still lingered in his eyes and on his cheeks.

I grabbed his hand and laced our fingers together as we started making our way out of the hospital.

The moment we got outside into the cool night air, I turned towards him and placed my hands on his face. I stretched up onto my toes and kissed him. His hands landed on my waist as he kissed me back.

Liam cleared his throat from a few feet away. “That’s enough of that.”

Nolan and I both giggled as we separated.

I took a moment to gather my thoughts before I spoke again.

“We did it. We won this. We were scared out of our minds but we still won. We worked together, even some of us that we didn’t expect.”

My lungs pulled in the first steady breath I’d taken in what felt like weeks and I smiled as I finished speaking.

“We can go home.”

#nolan hollway imagine #nolan holloway #nolan imagine #teen wolf #teen wolf imagine #froy gutierrez

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rxbxlcaptain · 7 years

Text

Mi Estrella

Happy May 4th to @emmaawatson!! She gave me the prompt “Cassian and Jyn become neighbors. Jyn has a kid and Cassian falls in love with Jyn and is great with her kid. Fluffy and long please :)” I really hope you meant long, because I just started writing and somehow this ended up to be over 14k words.

Special thanks to @therebelcaptainnetwork for organizing this amazing exchange, to my beta, @wearesuchstuff1, who is the main reason this fic is halfway decent, and also to my followers to jumped up to offer me help on the Spanish translations!

AO3 / Below the cut!

“Sam, watch out!”

Cassian heard the yell half a second before he saw the bike heading straight towards him. With a yelp of his own, Cassian jumped off the sidewalk, scarcely missing the ten-year-old and his speeding bike. The bike tires screeched as the kid hit the brakes, yelling, “Sorry, mister!” over his shoulder.

Cassian’s heart was still racing as a woman – likely the boy’s mother and the woman who’d yelled before – came racing towards him. She wore workout gear, her dark hair tied back in a tight bun, sweat dotting her forehead. No one, Cassian decided, should look that attractive after finishing a workout.

“Are you all right?” She demanded of Cassian, who nodded, still in shock. The woman turned to the boy next, who had approached them sheepishly. If he had a tail to tuck between his legs, Cassian was sure that’s where it would be. “Samuel Galen Erso, what have I told you about speeding down these sidewalks?”

“Sorry, Mom,” he muttered.

“Apologize to the poor man you almost ran over.”

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled, keeping his head down, and his mom rolled her eyes.

“No, an actual apology.”

Cassian wanted to assure the woman it was fine, no blood no foul, but the boy – Sam, had she called him? – listened to her, meeting Cassian’s eye and said in a much clearer tone, “I’m sorry for almost hitting you, sir.”

“I’ll forgive you if you promise not to call me sir again,” Cassian chuckled. “I’m not that old yet.”

Half a grin spread across Sam’s face, and Cassian winked at him. If riding his bike too fast was this kid’s worst crime, Cassian couldn’t find a problem with him.

“I’ll meet you back upstairs, Sam. Let me make sure this guy won’t sue us or something.” Cassian cocked an eyebrow at her. Surely she was joking. “And be careful with your bike!” She called after her son as he darted up the stairs, carrying his bike in front of him.

She turned back to Cassian, sticking out her hand. “Sorry about that again. I’m Jyn Erso, and that little dare devil is my son, Sam. I think we’re neighbors, but this is not how I intended to introduce myself.”

“Cassian Andor,” Cassian said, taking her hand. “Are you the neighbors that are always burning their dinner, or the ones that blast the Tarzan soundtrack at 6 am every morning?” Cassian only moved to Jedha, and this apartment, a week ago so he hadn’t had time to introduce himself to anyone yet. Hopefully Jyn understood he was joking and not bothered by any of it, whether she caused the burnt food smells or an extra alarm clock in the morning.

Jyn gave him a wryly smile. “Tarzan is us, though the only reason you haven’t smelled me burning food is because I haven’t attempted to cook since 2005. Microwaves are your friends. I won’t keep you though,” she gestured to the messenger bag hanging off Cassian’s shoulder. “Looks like you’re heading to work. On a Saturday, too. Poor you.”

“Yeah, well,” Cassian shrugged. “New job, new boss to impress. It was nice to meet you, Jyn. I’ll see you around.”

“Maybe next time won’t almost result in bodily harm.”

Jyn waved as she headed towards the stairs, and Cassian couldn’t help but note the lack of a ring on her finger. Not that he was looking.

Without intending to, Cassian began picking up his next-door neighbor’s routine. Their alarm blared every morning at six o’clock sharp – still playing Tarzan music, which Cassian soon could sing along to – and he could hear them shuffling through their morning routines until leaving for school and work about 7:15. As Cassian returned from work about six, Jyn and Sam were frequently returning from a local trail, Sam on his bike and Jyn running alongside him. The boy seemed built of positive energy himself: always grinning, always moving, always chattering away happily to his mom. Some days they exchanged waves, but Cassian couldn’t find a good excuse to speak to them again, especially after he noticed a man coming and going from Jyn’s apartment most evenings.

As it turned out, rather than Cassian, Sam found the next excuse. He’d been in the middle of browning beef for tacos, when he heard a knock on his door. Upon opening it, Cassian found Sam, staring up with him with wide eyes.

“What,” he emphasized the first word, “are you cooking? Because it smells amazing.”

Cassian couldn’t help but laugh at the awed look on the kid’s face. Jyn must not have been joking when she said the microwave was her main form of cooking if Sam was so fascinated by the smell of seasoned beef.

“It’s just beef right now, but it’ll turn into tacos eventually.”

“Mom would say this is really rude, but can I invite us over for dinner?” Sam asked, and Cassian imagined those puppy dog eyes got him an awful lot in his life, including, it seemed, him and his mom an invitation to dinner this evening. With a bit of quick thinking – and an extra serving of tomatoes and onions thrown in – Cassian could easily extend this dinner to feed three people instead of one.

“Well, I’d hate to get you in trouble again, so I’ve got an idea,” Cassian offered the boy. Flashing Sam a smile, Cassian lowered his voice, as if sharing a secret plan with the boy. “You keep running, act like you never stopped by here. I’ll knock and invite you and your mom to dinner. Act surprised when she tells you, and I’ll throw in some dessert for you, too. Comprendes?”

“Comprendo,” Sam affirmed with a grin, shaking Cassian’s outstretched hand. Cassian watched as Sam scampered down the hallway and thundered down the stairs, figuring it was probably best to wait a few minutes before heading to Jyn’s door. Glancing back at his lazily stashed laptop and disorganized stacks of papers cluttering his coffee table, Cassian used the few minutes to clean his apartment slightly, making sure the small kitchen table was empty enough to sit three people. He’d never invited guests over, but he at least remembered the basics of hosting from his mother.

Ten minutes later, Cassian removed the food from the stove – serving burnt food wouldn’t leave a good impression – and knocked on the door to 3F. Jyn answered, hair wet from a post run shower, and cocked her head at him.

“My son didn’t attempt to run you over again, did he? He ran off to play earlier, but I’m not sure where he’s gone…”

Cassian laughed at Jyn’s unconventional greeting. “No, nothing like that at all. I thought, it’s Friday and I’m new in town, so I wanted to invite you and Sam over for dinner.”

Jyn raised an eyebrow. “Because it’s Friday?”

“Well, no,” Cassian searched for an answer that didn’t include your son specifically requested to come over. “Mainly because you said most of your cooking included a microwave, so I thought you’d enjoy something prepared on a stove for once.” He offered a smile, and hoped the excuse would stand.

“Oh.” Jyn looked surprised, but not entirely reluctant. “That’s … nice of you, but, really, you don’t have to…”

“But, really,” Cassian smiled, hoping to charm Jyn the same way her son charmed him. “I insist.”

“Well,” Jyn sighed and shook her head, a small smile turning up her lips. “Sam would probably enjoy it.” Cassian had a strange feeling that he would. “But I could at least grab drinks?”

“Sounds like an excellent compromise. Dinner will be ready in about an hour, but you can come over whenever.”

“Thanks, Cassian.” Jyn flashed him a smile, and Cassian couldn’t help but return it.

In the two hours Jyn and Sam had been at his apartment, Cassian had learned much about them.

First, Sam was a horrible actor. Cassian didn’t see his reaction to Jyn telling him they were going to Cassian’s for dinner, and, truly, he was thankful.

“Did my son put you up to this?” Jyn asked as Cassian opened the door for her and a guilty looking Sam. She crossed her arms over her chest. “And, before you answer, you should know that he’s already confessed.”

“I’ll have to get used to unconventional greetings from you, aren’t I?” Cassian threw out rather than answering Jyn.

“Don’t avoid the question.”

“Whether or not Sam did, there’s food for three ready now, so you may as well come in.” Cassian opened the door wider, ushering them into the apartment. He gestured to the bags in Jyn’s hand.

“And it looks like you got drinks, so it would be a shame to waste all of this.”

Jyn sighed, looking resigned. “Alright, but only under protest.”

And there was the second fact Cassian learned: Jyn was stubborn. Or, perhaps, dedicated, was the better word, since the third fact he discovered was Jyn’s double life: during the day, she worked as a clerk in a local hospital, getting out in time to pick Sam up from school in the mid afternoon, and while at night, she attended nursing school four evenings a week. More impressively, she shrugged off the workload, claiming all of it was necessary for she and Sam to have a good life.

Fact number four explained Jyn and Sam’s frequent use of the local trail.

“All work and no play makes me extremely dull,” Jyn told him, “So I picked up running when Sam was still in a stroller. He started biking along with me a few years ago. I’ve run three half-marathons and I’m thinking of training for a full.”

“Jyn,” Cassian said, exasperated, “Running is not considered fun.”

“Oh, ye of little faith,” Jyn laughed. “Runner’s high is real, and it is addictive. Besides, it’s a stress reliever, and it prevents me from turning into a couch potato. And the exercise keeps this kid,” Jyn poked Sam in the shoulder and he smiled back at her, salsa dripping out of the corners of his mouth, “From playing video games all day.”

“I don’t do that,” Sam complained, turning to Cassian. “I’m starting soccer this year.” Sam beamed at this news, and though Jyn looked down at her plate to try and hide it, Jyn’s lips tilted up in pride, thus confirming Erso fact number five: no matter what kind of gruff exterior Jyn attempted to put up, Jyn loved her son more than anything, and Sam loved her right back. Anything that made Sam happy made Jyn happy.

“I used to play soccer when I was a kid, back in Mexico,” Cassian told Sam.

“Really?” Sam lit up at the news. “Could you teach me some tricks? Mom’s great at running, but she wasn’t very good at passing and shooting my soccer ball when we practiced last week.”

“Hey,” Jyn complained, sticking out her tongue at him. “I was in flip flops and the ball kept getting away from me.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Cassian winked at Jyn, causing her to scowl again. He turned back to Sam. “It’s been a lot of years since I’ve played, but I could try to teach you some things.”

“Score!” Sam shouted, throwing his arms up in the air. “Can we go right now?”

The adults chuckled. “Sam, you just ate three tacos – which were delicious, by the way,” Jyn thanked Cassian, who nodded. “I think you should wait until tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow morning then?” Sam asked Cassian.

“I need to go to work tomorrow morning, papi,” Cassian apologized. “But if you guys are around in the afternoon, I could play with you then.”

“Awesome!”

“If you’re working tomorrow, we should probably go,” Jyn said, pushing back from the table. “You know, Cassian, if you always cook this well, you may accidentally have created regular house guests out of the two of us.”

Cassian smiled. “That doesn’t sound like such a bad thing to me. I’ll work on the menu for next

Friday and let you know what time to come over.”

Jyn, who had been reaching to pick up her plate, hesitated. Cassian felt his smile falter. Had he overstepped his boundaries, pushed too much? He’d enjoyed his evening with Jyn and Sam – he thought they had been enjoying it as well – but perhaps it had been too much…

Sam didn’t seem to think so, since he was happily chattering on about what Cassian should make the next week (Cassian stored away Jyn’s favorite food being pasta as fact number six), but Jyn had seemed to draw back into herself. She’s been so open the whole evening, laughing with Cassian and sharing stories of crazy situations she and Sam had found themselves in, that the shuttered look in her eyes startled Cassian.

“We’ll see next week, okay, Sam?” Jyn told her son, avoiding making eye contact with Cassian.

She busied herself in picking up the dishes from the table, but Cassian stopped her with a gentle hand on her wrist. “Don’t worry about those, Jyn. I’ve got them.”

She nodded. “I guess we’ll head home, then. Thank you again, Cassian.” Her voice was formal, and she reached out to shake Cassian’s hand. He felt as if he were in a business meeting rather than finishing dinner with his neighbors. Sam, too, glanced at his mom with eyebrows raised.

“You’re welcome, Jyn. Consider yourselves welcome anytime.” Cassian smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring way. “Night, Sam.”

“Good night, Cassian!” Sam repeated back as he and Jyn exited the apartment with a small wave.

Cassian couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed when Jyn didn’t meet his eyes.

As Cassian returned to the apartment complex after work the next day, he noticed Jyn and Sam out on the lawn in front of the building. Jyn was stretching, clearly just finished a run, while Sam dribbled a soccer ball around the grass. Cassian’s first reaction was to go say hi, but, thinking of Jyn’s hurried exit the night before, thought better of it and turned towards the stairs.

“Cassian!”

Jyn’s voice startled him, though he was quick – probably too quick – to react. He turned as Jyn jogged towards him, Sam still dribbling around the field.

“Hi,” Jyn said, stopping a few feet in front of him.

“Hi…” Cassian responded, shifting his bag on his shoulder, not sure how to continue. A few moments of awkward silence ticked by.

“Look, about last night—“ Jyn started at the same time Cassian said, “I’m sorry if—“

They both stopped.

“You can go first,” Cassian hurried to say before they got caught speaking over each other again.

“I shouldn’t have left so quickly last night,” Jyn sighed. “You were really nice to invite us over and I shouldn’t have run out of there.”

“Why did you?” Cassian wondered out loud. “Did I do something or...”

“I just don’t do—“ Jyn’s hands waved through the air as she paused. “I don’t do neighbor stuff, really.”

Cassian nodded, sure he knew where this conversation was going. She wanted to apologize for getting close and cut their ties. Waving at each other in neighborly greetings was copasetic; sharing dinner at their apartment, apparently, was not. He prepared himself to nod, to accept her words, no matter how his heart clenched at the thought of not getting to know Jyn and Sam more. He’d gotten so many details of their life the night before, but there was so much more to learn about them. Jyn had to look out for herself and her son, Cassian reminded himself, and he needed to be okay with that.

“The thing is, though,” Jyn continued, oblivious to Cassian’s internal ramblings. “Sam really likes spending time with you, and I had a good time last night, too. So, I was thinking we could do it again sometime.” She threw a smile his way. “We could even do it at my place, so you know I won’t abruptly end the evening.”

Cassian struggled to school his surprised expression. While he’d been waiting for her rejection, she chose to invite him closer. Jyn Erso, Cassian realized, was not nearly as predictable as he had assumed.

“Besides,” Jyn said when Cassian didn’t respond. “You did promise Sam soccer lessons, and that kid doesn’t forget a promise. Ever.”

A smile spread across Cassian’s face. “I’d hate to disappoint him,” he laughed, glancing over Jyn’s shoulder to see the boy in question, who had stopped dribbling to stare at the adults. “Let me go get changed and I’ll be back down to help him.”

“Thank you, Cassian,” Jyn reached out to squeeze his arm as she spoke, and Cassian felt his heart jump at her touch. “I really appreciate it.”

Ten minutes later, Cassian joined Sam out on the field, having exchanged his suit for athletic shorts and a t-shirt. Cassian was rusty at soccer; besides for the random pick-up game here and there in college, Cassian hadn’t played since he was a teenager, and that was more years ago than he wanted to admit. Still, he managed to awe Sam with a few trick plays, faking his move to the left before dribbling past Sam on the right or scissoring his legs to send the ball in the opposite direction than Sam expected.

Feeling confident at these moves, Cassian tried something a bit riskier: running to the ball, mounting one foot atop and spinning in the opposite direction. Unfortunately, this move was not as successful at the others; he fell backwards, landing flat on his back and knocking his head against the hard ground.

Both Sam and Jyn were at his side in an instant. Sam’s face looked panicked, but Jyn bit her lip, seeming half a second away from bursting out in laughter.

“I’m no expert,” Jyn commented, “But I feel like you did that move wrong, Andor.”

“Shut up, Jyn” Cassian muttered, and Jyn’s laughter burst forth.

“Here,” Jyn helped him sit up, “Let me check you out. It’s handy to have a nurse around occasionally.”

She examined his pupils and felt the back of his head, declaring he did not have a concussion.

“Maybe you should sit out for a minute anyway,” Jyn suggested.

“I’m fine,” Cassian insisted. “I’m not as young as I once was.”

Jyn shook her head with a snort. “Yeah, you’re taking a break, Mr. No-Longer-A-Spring-Chicken.”

Sam took the ball back after assuring Cassian he was glad he was okay and Cassian followed

Jyn. They sat in silence for a few minutes, watching Sam, before Jyn spoke.

“You know,” she began, “I feel like Sam and I dominated the conversation last night. I have no idea what you do. Sam was guessing spy, based on the suits you wear, but my money's on business man.”

“Not a spy, unfortunately,” Cassian snorted. “I’m a data analyst at Alliance Corporation.”

Jyn raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re officially in charge of helping Sam with his math homework, then.”

Across the parking lot, a car door slammed. Jyn and Cassian looked up to see a man walking towards them. Jyn waved, and Cassian recognized him as the same man who came and went from Jyn’s apartment on a frequent basis.

“Uncle Bodhi!” Sam called and ran across the field towards the parking lot. Uncle – not a boyfriend then. Though he didn’t quite look like Jyn’s brother, either. The man’s hair and skin were darker than Jyn’s, and he was several inches taller. He wrapped Sam in a bear hug before continuing over to where Jyn and Cassian sat. Jyn stood as he got closer, and Cassian followed suit, wondering if he should leave.

“I believe I found something of yours,” Bodhi joked as he reached them, placing Sam down on his feet.

“I thought he looked familiar,” she teased back before introducing the two men. “Bodhi, this is Cassian, one of my neighbors. Cassian, this is my best friend, Bodhi.”

“Nice to meet you,” Bodhi smiled as he shook Cassian’s hand.

“He watches Sam for me evenings while I’m at class,” Jyn explained.

“And I occasionally bring take out,” Bodhi said, gesturing to the plastic bag in his hand. “Are you joining us?”

“Yeah!” Sam shouted when Cassian hesitated. “Cassian should join us!”

“Can’t disappoint the little squirt,” Bodhi laughed. “And I’ve got enough fried rice in here to feed a small army, so there’s more than enough. Egg rolls, too.”

Cassian glanced at Jyn, who nodded. “Beats the pizza I was going to order,” Cassian shrugged. “Thanks for sharing.”

Because of the nice weather, and Sam’s reluctance to leave his makeshift soccer field, Jyn brought drinks and paper plates down to one of the picnic benches on the grounds so they could eat outside. Sam chattered away to Bodhi while they ate and bragged to Cassian that Bodhi was a lawyer. Bodhi blushed in response.

“Modest as always,” Jyn scoffed. “Our shy, stuttering Bodhi turns into a beast when he needs to. I almost didn’t recognize him the first time I saw him in court.”

Bodhi explained how he joined the legal team for Mon Mothma, a local politician running for a congressional seat, a few months previous.

“Your last job was hell,” Jyn commented. “I’m still glad you got out of there.”

“Yeah,” Sam affirmed, looking at Cassian to explain. “His last boss was an ass.” He threw his hand over his mouth as the swear word slipped out, casting a sheepish glance at his mom.

“He learns that from you, Jyn,” Bodhi deadpanned, not even looking up from his dinner. “I’m not sure you can even be mad.”

“Mad?” Jyn’s voice dripped innocence, though she smirked. “I wouldn’t be mad…”

She jumped up from the bench, reaching towards Sam who giggled and sprinted away. Entertained, Cassian and Bodhi watched the pair chase each other around the yard.

“She’s a knockout, that woman,” Bodhi said after a moment, taking a long sip of his beer, staring off to where Jyn and Sam had picked up his soccer ball. “Feisty, but you’ll never find anyone more dedicated.”

“So you two have known each other a long time?” Cassian asked.

Bodhi nodded. “We grew up together in foster care after her parents died. I’d always wanted a little sister, so I took her under my wing. Or, at least, tried to keep her out of trouble.” He shook his head lightly, a smile pulling at his lips, likely lost in the memories of a younger Jyn and the chaos she would have caused. If only Cassian had those same memories of a teenage Jyn. “I was out of college by the time she had Sam, so they moved in with me until she could get her feet under her.”

Cassian nodded, but didn’t say anything.

“Sam must like you,” Bodhi continued. “Jyn doesn’t normally do the whole ‘neighbors’ thing.”

“Yeah,” Cassian chuckled, “She’s told me that.”

Bodhi paused. “Don’t let her run on you,” “You seem like a good man, Cassian,” he said after a moment. “She and Sam deserve someone like that in their lives.”

Puzzled, Cassian gave Bodhi a sideways glance. “I appreciate the vote of confidence, but you only just met me. What if I was an assassin or something?”

“Then, trust me, you would be nowhere near Jyn’s son.” Bodhi pointed to where Jyn was still playing with Sam. “No one is more protective than Jyn caring for Sam.”

Sam ran back over to the table then, saving Cassian from replying. He didn’t want to consider how in their lives he was yet, didn’t want to think about these budding feelings for Jyn, and he definitely could postpone discussing them with Jyn’s pseudo-brother.

“Mom suggested going upstairs for ice cream,” Sam announced as he reached the table. “We still have your cookie dough, Uncle Bodhi.”

“Count me in,” Bodhi smiled. “You, too, Cassian?”

“I think I’m too full for ice cream. Sorry, chiquito,” Cassian said to a pouting Sam.

“Some other time, then,” Jyn said as she came up behind Sam.

“After my next soccer lesson?”

“Sure,” Cassian agreed. “After that.”

“I’ll see you around, Cassian,” Jyn said as he stood to head up to his apartment. “And I do mean it this time.”

A frantic knock at the door startled Cassian’s attention away from his TV. Jyn stood on the other side, shifting her weight from foot to foot anxiously, as he opened the door.

“Oh, thank god, you’re home,” Jyn rushed to say, and Cassian smirked at her traditional skip-the-small-talk-and-get-to-the-point greeting. “Do you have plans for the evening?”

Cassian froze for a second – she isn’t asking him out, right? He hadn’t prepared for that at all – before hesitantly answering, “Nothing beyond catching up on Game of Thrones.”

Jyn laughed, a single short sound that seemed more nervous than entertained. “Well, sorry to interrupt those important plans, but I need to go to class, and Bodhi has the flu, and I need someone to watch Sam. Would you mind? It’s just for a few hours and he’s really not a hassle at all and I would pay you –“

“Jyn,” Cassian cut off her rambling by placing his hands on her shoulders. “I can watch Sam for a few hours, no problem.”

Jyn let out a large exhale. “Thank you. I’ve got an exam in a week and I don’t understand the endocrine system at all, so I desperately need to go to class.”

“Watching Sam for an evening sounds much better than whatever that is.” Jyn laughed at his words – much more genuine this time – and Cassian was glad to see the marks of stress fade from her face. “Do you want to send Sam over here or me to come watch him there?”

“He’s halfway through a homework assignment, so if you wouldn’t mind coming to my place…”

Cassian assured Jyn he would be over in a few minutes. He grabbed his laptop and a book off the shelf before heading to Jyn’s apartment. Sam opened the door with eager eyes and waved him inside.

“Can we practice soccer now?” Sam demanded as soon as Cassian walked into the apartment. “I’ve been practicing my fake shot, but I’m still not very good at the spin moves you showed me.”

Cassian’s answer was cut off by the sound of Jyn clearing her throat across the room. “Soccer can wait until after you finish your homework, David Beckham.” She gave Cassian a significant glance. “I’m sure Cassian agrees.”

“I’d listen to your mother, mijito.”

“Glad to see we’re all in agreement,” Jyn chuckled before leaning down to kiss Sam on the cheek. “Be good for Cassian, baby. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

“Mom, gross!” Sam complained, moving to wipe the kiss off his cheek. Jyn shook her head slightly, running her hands over Sam’s head in such a way that Cassian feels like this is their practiced routine. She called one last goodbye over her shoulder as she left, and Sam turned back to Cassian. “You are gunna practice with me, right?”

“And here I thought you liked me coming over occasionally,” Cassian sighed. “That isn’t going to happen if your mom finds out we were playing soccer when you needed to be doing homework.”

Sam’s shoulders drooped as he shuffled back over to his homework. “I guess so…”

Cassian snorted at the thinly veiled attempt to get out of his homework. “None of that cute stuff works on me, mister.”

Sam slumped his way into his seat, sighing quietly as he picked up his pencil. Cassian set up his laptop next to him, hoping that if Sam saw him getting work done, he wouldn’t complain as much about his homework.

The room was quiet for a few minutes before Sam piped up. “Do you like my mom?”

Cassian glanced at Sam, who was still focusing on his homework. “Yeah, Sam, I like both you and your mom. You’re great neighbors.”

“No,” Sam shook his head and met Cassian’s gaze. His cheeks were slightly pink as he clarified, “Do you like my mom? You know, like, want to take her out on dates and everything.”

A protective look shone through the kid’s eyes, the same look Jyn got when she spoke of her son. Seeing that protectiveness and love reflected both ways in their relationship touched Cassian, but it worried him as well. If he was being honest, the answer to Sam’s question was yes, I’d love to take your mother out on a date, but it was so much more complicated than that. Jyn had made it clear that Sam was her priority in life – Cassian could never hold that against her – and Cassian enjoyed spending time with the family as well. Asking Jyn out and attempting a relationship risked losing the friendships he had built in his next-door neighbors. Dating Jyn could mean even more spontaneous cooking nights, or accompanying her to Sam’s soccer matches or cheering her on at her next marathon – but it could also mean losing all of that, if they didn’t work out. Cassian just didn’t know how to explain that to a ten-year old.

“I wouldn’t mind taking your mom on a date,” Cassian began, and Sam’s eyes lit up. “But she’s so busy, I’m not sure it’s such a good idea.”

Sam’s eyes hardened, and, again, Cassian saw so much of Jyn in him. “I don’t think that’s a good reason.”

“Oh yeah?” Cassian leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head, eager to hear Sam’s views on relationships. “What would be a good reason, then?”

“I don’t think there is one.” Sam’s pencil moved over his math homework absently, drawing abstract shapes as he talked. “I think if you want to take my mom on a date, you should take her on a date.”

“Ah, but you’re forgetting the most important part. Your mom would need to agree to that date.”

“She would,” Sam said with utmost assurance. “I heard Uncle Bodhi teasing her about it the other day in the kitchen, but she used the same excuse you did. She’s too busy to go on a date.”

Cassian’s heart leapt in his chest – Jyn did want to go out with him? Sam, unaffected by the bombshell of news he’d dropped on Cassian, chewed on the end of his pencil, considering.

“Which seems stupid, because dates only take a couple hours at most.”

Cassian chuckled at the boy’s wisdom about relationships. “I didn’t know you’d been on a lot of dates.”

Sam shrugged. “Uncle Bodhi told me. But you can’t distract me."

Of course Cassian couldn’t. Sam was Jyn’s son, after all. With a sigh, Cassian leaned towards Sam. “A date only take a few hours, sure, but relationships take a lot of time and work. There’s more to it than two people liking each other.”

Sam cocked an eyebrow at Cassian. “Adults are stupid.”

“Yeah, they are, mijo,” Cassian agreed. “Enjoy your childhood while it lasts.”

“Enjoy it, as in, I should go play soccer rather than finishing my math homework?”

Cassian wasn’t sure if he was impressed or annoyed by Sam’s one-track mind. He did mentally put Sam on track to become a lawyer someday.

After much more complaining, Sam finished his math homework and wasted no time on grabbing his soccer ball. Sam insisted he put on shin guards and proper cleats – Cassian barely stopped him from dressing in his full uniform – even though Cassian still wore khaki shorts and Converse, and ran down to the grassy field in front of the apartment building. It had been years since Cassian played any form of organized soccer, but he remembered the drills. Basic dribbling, passing, shooting between two trees working as a makeshift goal. Occasionally, Sam still tripped over the ball and passed five feet wide of Cassian, but he was determined to improve. He stared in awe as Cassian juggled the ball from his foot to his thigh and up to his head, and Cassian laughed as his first attempt sent the ball flying into a tree.

Jyn found them chasing each other around the field, Cassian with the ball and Sam hot in pursuit, an hour later, covered in the blue glow of the street lights. Cassian wasn’t sure how long she’d been standing there – leaning against the building, watching them with a quiet smile on her face – by the time he caught sight of her. She was dressed for comfort, not to impress – dark hair escaping from a messy bun and wearing yoga pants and a track jacket – but the sight of her distracted Cassian long enough for Sam to steal the ball away from him and shoot for the goal. Cassian still stood, stuck in Jyn’s smile and warm gaze, when Sam finally noticed his mom.

“Mom! Did you see my goal?” He shouted as he ran to Jyn. Cassian couldn’t hear her response, but his heart melted at the sight of Jyn’s loving gaze on her son as she ran her fingers through his sweaty hair and took the soccer ball from him. Cassian jogged over to the pair, glad to see Jyn smiling at him.

“I trust this means the math homework was completed?” She asked, her tone threatening, but in such a way that both Sam and Cassian knew she was teasing.

“Yes, ma’am,” Cassian grinned. “Though, if you want my opinion, soccer only belongs after homework in the dictionary.”

“Yeah!” Same declared, giving Cassian a high five. “I think that too!”

Jyn laughed at the boys. “Unfortunately for you two, it’s my vote that counts the most, and I say soccer comes after homework.”

“Rats,” Sam muttered, and the adults laughed. Jyn’s eyes shone when she laughed, Cassian noticed, and the artificial lights around them highlighted the golden flecks among the green background. Cassian thought he could get lost in those eyes – until Sam coughed loudly and he realized that he was.

“I’m going to head upstairs and take a shower,” Sam continued to speak in an unnecessarily loud voice. “You two can stay and talk.” As if this wasn’t pointed enough, Sam stopped to fake-whisper to Cassian, “You remember what we talked about.”

Jyn watched her son scamper up the stairs to the third floor before turning back to Cassian with her eyebrows raised. “Do I want to know what he meant?”

Cassian rubbed at the back of his neck and prayed Jyn would attribute the red in his cheeks to exertion rather than embarrassment. “I, uh, I really don’t know.”

“I’ve never seen you so flustered,” Jyn snorted. “Now I actually want to know what you two talked about.”

“He, uh, well…” Cassian stammered, cursing the sudden nerves coming over him. “He wanted to know if I wanted to take you out on a date.”

“Oh,” Jyn looked far too composed. Cassian wished she would at least blush, for his sake if not for hers. “Do you?”

Cassian stared at her. “Do I what?”

“Want to take me out on a date?”

Cassian was stammering again. “I… I wasn’t sure you’d want to.”

“You could have just asked, you know,” Jyn said with an eyeroll. How could she be so calm about one of the most mortifying conversations of Cassian’s life?

“If you insist.” Cassian summed all his courage and tried very hard not to choke on his next words.

“Jyn, do you want to go out to dinner on Friday? Maybe about seven?”

Jyn smiled up at him – did she know what she did to him with that smile? – and nodded. “Bodhi should be free to watch Sam, so it’s a date.”

With that, she walked away, passing the ball between her hands. She had made it to the third floor before Cassian realized, since his apartment was right next door, he should have been following her.

“I’m supposed to do that,” Cassian complained as Jyn opened her car door.

She snorted in response. “Cassian, if you haven’t learned how little I care about convention over the past three dates, I don’t think you’ve been paying attention.”

“Can’t have you thinking that,” Cassian chuckled, climbing out the car to meet her. “Because I’ve definitely been paying attention.”

“Hmm,” Jyn hummed, reaching her hands up to Cassian’s shoulders. “Tell me, what have you learned?”

“I’ve learned that the couple that owns the Chinese restaurant we’ve been to give us free desserts because we’re ‘cute,’” Cassian said and Jyn laughed at the memory of the burly waiter who had brought them their dessert, repeating his husband’s phrase in a monotone voice. They had wondered for a moment how the waiter's husband, who had never left the kitchen, knew enough to call them 'cute', but dessert quickly won out over curiosity. “Also, for such a small person, you can eat a lot of food.”

Jyn smacked his arm lightly in response to that. “Damn right I can, and don’t you forget it.”

“Also,” Cassian whispered into Jyn’s ear, “I’ve learned you’re very sensitive right… here.” He nipped at the skin just below her ear, enjoying the way Jyn sighed in response and tilted her head to give him more room. He kissed his way to her jawline and then teased her lips with his.

“Cassian?”

“Yes, mi corazón?”

“We’re in the middle of a parking lot. Our apartment’s parking lot. Our neighbors can see us.”

Cassian took a step back from Jyn but kept her hand locked in his. “We should probably head upstairs.”

“Let’s not,” Jyn said, and pulled on Cassian’s hand. Rather than heading towards the stairs, Jyn walked towards the grass, lying down where Cassian had asked her out for the first time. “If we go upstairs, I go back to being a mother again. I’d like to be your date a few minutes longer.”

“Sounds fine to me,” Cassian murmured against her hair. They laid in the grass for several minutes, content to watch the night sky and be in each other’s company.

“I hate not being able to see the stars,” Jyn whispered after a few minutes. “I always wanted to teach Sam the constellations.”

“I didn’t know you knew them.”

Jyn smile turned wistful. “My father taught them to me when I was young. He was an astronomer. My family would go on long weekend camping trips, and my father and I would stay up late, mapping out the stars.” She sighed. “He and my mother died in a car accident when I was eight, but I can still find Cassiopeia and Canis Major in my sleep.”

Jyn began pointing to the sky, mapping out where the constellations were hidden behind clouds and pollution and city light. Cassian had never lived anywhere but a city, couldn’t picture the night sky littered with the stars the way Jyn saw it with her father, but he loved the quiet reverence Jyn used to teach him. She grew quiet after a few minutes, and Cassian nuzzled his nose into her temple.

“Why didn’t you go into astronomy like your father?” He asked. “You know so much about it.”

“Saw – my foster father – he… Well, he was much more practical than my parents were,” Jyn explained. “My parents were dreamers, loved the stars and history and what ifs, but Saw cared about the here and now, what you were doing to help the world. He taught me how to help people. That’s what I want to do as a nurse.”

“You never talk about your foster family,” Cassian said, hoping he wasn’t prying into a subject that would make Jyn clam up. She’s been so open with him on their dates, he’d almost forgotten how skittish she’d gotten after their first dinner at his apartment.

“Saw didn’t approve of Sam,” Jyn rolled her eyes, though her tone was sharp enough to cut. Her shoulders were tense; a decade later and this betrayal still stung. Cassian threaded his fingers through hers and was grateful when she didn’t pull away. “Didn’t approve me of ‘throwing away my life’ when I could have gotten rid of him. We had a huge argument over it… I haven’t spoken to Saw since.”

Cassian stayed quiet in response to her story. Jyn was tough, but she was only seventeen when she was pregnant with Sam. No matter how independent and strong she was, she would have been scared by the prospect of having a child. Anger surged through Cassian at the thought of Saw – the man who had been entrusted with Jyn’s life and well-being – turning his back on her at such a vulnerable time in her life, followed by thankfulness for Bodhi Rook, who took Saw’s place in being there for her and protecting her and Sam.

“I wasn’t a bad teenage, you know,” Jyn insisted. “A little rebellious, maybe, staying out past my curfew and not taking Saw’s words as law, but I wasn’t a nightmare.” She gave a sort of derisive snort. “Even if I did end up pregnant.”

“Who is Sam’s father?” Until now, Cassian had been hesitant to ask such a sensitive question, but it had been nagging at the back of his mind for weeks. Was Sam’s dad still around? Would he bound into their lives one day, completely unexpected, stealing Sam away for a few hours, and then dumping him back on Jyn? Or did Sam not know him at all?

“No one important. Bodhi normally refers to him as my sperm donor, rather than Sam’s father.” Her laugh was truly amused this time, and Cassian felt some of his worries drift away with the sound. She leaned up on her elbows, eyes on the starry sky as she continued. “Luckily, Bodhi was smart, and already halfway to a law degree, so he knew what papers to get him to sign to give up all custody of Sam. He’s never met Sam.”

“That’s his loss,” Cassian said. “He’s missing out on a great kid.”

“Yeah, but Sam isn’t missing out on anything, and that’s what I’m more worried about,” Jyn replied. “Though sometimes I know I’m not enough. He loves me, but it’s hard being both halves of the equation, you know? Bodhi does a great job, filling in on a lot of ‘dad’ things, but sometimes I worry…”

As Jyn’s voice trailed off, ideas of filling that slot in Sam’s life floated through Cassian’s mind. Cheering for him at soccer games, teach him how to shave or how to drive in a few years, giving him advice on how to ask out a girl… Filling that role seemed like a dream to him, a life he’d long to be a part of, but he and Jyn had only just taken the next step in their relationship. Bringing that up now seemed far too risky.

“I’m sorry,” Jyn piped up. “It’s probably too early to be laying this on you.”

Cassian chuckled at how their thoughts had gone in the same direction. “I understand,” he assured her. “Dating with a kid – it’s different. He’s your top priority, Jyn, and I respect that.”

Jyn looked up at him, smiling, and reached for his hand. She brought their intertwined fingers to her lips, whispering, “Thank you for understanding, Cassian.”

Cassian moved to kiss her; if he didn’t, he feared all his thoughts, the ones too deep and too intimate to say this soon, would come rushing out of his mouth. Just as Jyn’s lips began to move under his and her hand reached up to stroke his hair, Cassian was reminded of another inevitability of dating a single mother – a shout of “Mom, are you home?” came from several floors above. They broke apart, Jyn grinning apologetically and Cassian biting his lip to keep from laughing.

“I should go check on him,” Jyn said, “and then speak to Bodhi about his abilities to keep Sam occupied.”

Cassian wound his way into Jyn and Sam’s routine. The Ersos made a habit of waiting on the lawn for Cassian to return from work; Jyn would greet him with a kiss and Sam with a hug and excited jabber about his school day. Rather than requiring Bodhi to come over and watch Sam while Jyn was in class, Cassian took over watching him. If Jyn needed quiet space to study, Cassian would pull Sam over to his apartment, or take him down the street to grab ice cream. Cooking dinner for three became his regular on weeknights. On Friday nights, Jyn’s night off from school, Cassian would treat the family to the movies or dinner or sometimes just an evening at the park.

Cassian was so content to slip into their lives he hadn’t stopped to consider any impending argument, any looming form of unhappiness in their relationship.

The warning signs had been there, even if his head was too far in a blissful cloud of happiness to notice. Jyn would hesitate when Cassian picked up the bill at the end of dinner and offer to cover it herself. Cassian assured her he never minded, and would brush away the sight of Jyn biting her lip and glancing away. Or, sometimes Sam would turn to Cassian rather than Jyn for help with a homework problem or for a ride to soccer practice, and Jyn would turn silent for a few minutes, seeming to shrink into herself.

Their argument started innocently enough. Jyn and Cassian were relaxing on the couch post dinner while Sam brushed his teeth when Jyn mentioned an upcoming exam she was stressing over.

“I could take Sam for the weekend,” Cassian offered. “He could stay at my place while you spend a few days focusing.”

Jyn’s shoulders stiffened in response. “You don’t need to watch Sam. I’m fine.” Her voice was lower than normal as she spoke, which Cassian would later berate himself for not noticing.

He continued on, insisting, “But if it made things easier for you, I wouldn’t mind having him stay over a few nights—“

“I don’t need you to do this for me, Cassian,” Jyn seethed, and now Cassian noticed the shift in her tone. She moved away from him on the couch, turning so he could see her fiery eyes. “I took care of Sam for plenty of years before you came along and I can still do it now.”

“I know that,” Cassian assured her. He reached a hand towards her arm, but she jerked it away. “I just want what’s best for you, Jyn.”

Her body stiffened and Cassian could hear the breath hitch in her throat. When she looked up at him, her eyes flashed defensively. “I think I know what’s best for me, thank you very much,” Jyn said through clenched teeth. Cassian reached out for her but she yanked away, standing from the couch. “I don’t need you or anyone else telling me that.”

Jyn’s arms tightened around her chest, cutting herself off from Cassian and their conversation. Her chin jutted upward, defiant, but her hands shook as well, though she tried to disguise it by balling them into fists.

“Maybe you should leave.”

Cassian shook his head, confused by this drastic change in her attitude? “Jyn, I was only trying to help.” He didn’t want to get angry with her, but none of this was rational; they were adults, they could sit down and talk about their problems like adults. “I’m not leaving if you’re still angry.”

“Trust me,” Jyn laughed, but instead of humor the sound was loaded with malice. “I don’t think you want to talk about it when I’m angry.”

Again, Cassian shook his head. “Jyn…”

“Before Sam comes back,” Jyn said, not quite pleading, but distinctly urgent. “I don’t want him to see us arguing.”

She had to know Sam would always be the trump card. “Okay, okay.” Cassian held up his hands in surrender. He’d never seen her angry before, not like this, but maybe she was right. Nothing productive would come out of them talking if it only turned into a screaming match. “But, when you want to talk … I’ll be right next door.”

Jyn didn’t come to talk that night. As Cassian settled in to sleep, he assured himself that was alright; allowing themselves time to cool off would prevent a bitter argument. That was fine. He could wait. As was tradition, he woke to the sound of Jyn’s alarm clock next door, though the other sounds that normally accompanied the Erso’s morning routine – Sam’s laughter or the Jyn muttering to herself as she gathered her things – seemed more subdued than normal. Cassian considered opening his door to say good morning was they walked past, but held himself back. Jyn was angry, so she needed to make the next move.

The next move didn’t come that evening – the Ersos weren’t out on the lawn after a run like normal when he returned to work – or the next morning. The next he heard from Jyn was two days after their fight.

Her knock on his door was much more quiet and timid than usual. When he opened the door, his first thought was relief, until he took note of her body language. Her arms were crossed, her eyes cold and looking several inches to the left of Cassian’s face, and she stood a foot back from the doorway, keeping distance between her and Cassian.

“You left this at my apartment,” she said, without emotion, holding out a sweatshirt for Cassian to take.

“Jyn,” Cassian pleaded, “Aren’t we going to talk about this?”

“I don’t have anything to say to you,” Jyn said, pulling her arms tight against her chest. “Please just take the sweatshirt.”

Cassian did. “I wish you wouldn’t do this,” he muttered before she turned away. “Jyn you can’t just walk away from this.”

She paused in her movements and her eyes flickered to his. For a moment, Cassian thought she was going to speak, but she pursed her lips together, heading back to her apartment without another word.

Cassian listened to her door click shut and banged his head back against his door frame. What was he going to do?

Over the next few days, he waited. He tried to focus on work, on the other friends he had made around the office to give Jyn the time she needed, but his heart ached listening to the pair next door or seeing Sam chase his soccer ball around in the field. Their coming and going from the apartment never seemed to overlap, so Cassian hadn’t seen Jyn since she dropped off his sweatshirt on Tuesday evening. By Friday, Cassian was ready to burst, not with anger, but with the sheer uncertainty of whatever was going on between him and Jyn. He’d made a mistake and they’d had an argument; that didn’t need to be the end of it all.

He knew Jyn and Sam would be enjoying their Friday night, maybe with a pizza and some movies, reveling in the idea of no school or work the next day. Taking a chance and risking Jyn’s ire, Cassian walked to her door and knocked.

Jyn answered, already dressed in plaid pajama bottoms and an old t-shirt. Cassian opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off by holding up a single finger. Turning back to the apartment,

“Sam, I’m stepping outside for a minute, but I’ll be back, okay?"

Cassian could hear Sam’s affirmative from inside before Jyn stepped into the hallway and closed the door.

“I thought I told you I don’t have anything to say,” Jyn said as she turned to Cassian.

“And I don’t understand,” Cassian said, fighting to keep his voice level. “Jyn, we had an argument. Just … let’s work this out.”

“Why?” She snapped.

“Because we have something, Jyn, and I don’t want to throw that away because of a stupid argument.”

Jyn didn’t respond, just glared, her lips pressed tightly together.

“Jyn, don’t do this, please,” Cassian pleaded, reaching out to grab her arm. She didn’t resist or pull away, which Cassian took as a good sign. “Please, just talk to me.”

“’I just want what’s best for you,’” Jyn said after a moment. “That’s what Saw said all those years ago, when I was pregnant with Sam.” She seemed to grow taller as she said the words, once the weight of them was removed from her shoulders.

Cassian exhaled slowly, closing his eyes as he did so. He’d quoted Saw. The man who’d taken her in for years, only to turn on her when she needed him most. No wonder she’d been running from him all week; he would have been too.

“Jyn, I’m sorry,” Cassian said. “But I didn’t know that. I had no way to know that.”

“It just—it just reminded me,” Jyn said, “of how many people leave. Even if they say they care.”

“I care, Jyn,” Cassian assured her, “and I’ll prove it, no matter how long it takes.”

Jyn’s fingers uncurled from their fists and her shoulders sagged. Turning away from Cassian, she exhaled deeply before bringing her hand to cover her face. Not until her shoulders shuddered and her breath hitched did Cassian understand – Jyn was crying.

“Jyn,” Cassian said, much softer this time. “Jyn, come here.”

He pulled her into his arms, one hand going to cup the back of her head and the other rubbing circles on her back. He stayed silent, pressing a kiss to her hairline as her body continue to shake.

“I don’t do this,” she insisted, her voice broken.

“You don’t have to be strong all the time, Jyn,” Cassian murmured. “You’re okay.”

After a few minutes, Jyn’s breathing evened out and she stepped back from Cassian’s embrace.

Her dark eyeliner was smudged but Cassian saw, not her usual fire, but a spark in her bright eyes. She eyed Cassian for a moment, one half of her lips curling upwards.

“I’m not used to people sticking around when things get bad,” she told him. “For me or Sam or anyone.”

Cassian took another step towards her, a smile playing at his lips as well. “You need to meet different people.”

Jyn leaned forward, then, to press her lips to his. She met his eyes as she pulled back, resting her hand on his cheek.

“I need to…” Jyn closed for her eyes for a moment, gathering her thoughts. “I need to tuck Sam in and make sure he’s brushed his teeth…”

“I can do that,” Cassian offered, rubbing his hands over her upper arms. Tearstains still marked her face and her eyes drooped with exhaustion. “Get some sleep, Jyn. I’ll make sure Sam’s okay.”

She nodded and turned for her door. Cassian followed, a few steps behind, pausing before the threshold.

“Cassian, I—Thank you,” Jyn said.

“You’re welcome, Jyn.”

The living room was empty as they entered, so Cassian nodded Jyn in the direction of her bedroom, assuring her he would check in on Sam before leaving. Cassian didn’t need to go searching for the boy, because as soon as Jyn’s door closed, Sam’s bedroom door squeaked open.

“Cassian?” Sam, already dressed in his pajamas, called as he poked his head out of his room.

“Yeah, compadre?”

“Is Mama alright?” he asked, shuffling into the room.

“Yeah,” Cassian sighed. “She’s alright, just a little stressed.”

“Did you two have a fight?”

“We did.” Cassian sat down on the couch and waved Sam over. Without hesitation, Sam snuggled into his side, and Cassian wrapped an arm around him. “But we talked about it, and everything is going to be okay.”

“I don’t like it when Mama is sad,” Sam said into Cassian’s chest, muffling his voice.

“Me neither.” Cassian stayed quiet for a moment, thinking over their argument. In a lot of ways Cassian wasn’t sure how best to keep Jyn happy. Scars from her past – from loss and betrayal and the expectation that everyone would leave her – would define their relationship. More than that, it defined her. Nothing was forcing Cassian to stay, if that overwhelmed him, but when he thought about how those struggles had made Jyn who she was – someone who fought for herself, someone who loved wholly and deeply, someone who never ceased to surprise him – Cassian knew he had made up his mind. He didn’t know everything about Jyn Erso, but he wanted to know everything about her – how she took her coffee in the mornings, her favorite childhood vacation and the places she still wanted to visit: the little things that made her her.

If loving those scars, especially when Jyn couldn’t love them herself, became part of their relationship, then Cassian would accept that.

“Sam,” Cassian started, waiting until Sam lifted his sleepy head up from his shoulder to continue. “I’m gonna do everything I can to help keep your mom happy, but I’ll need your help with that. You up for the job?”

“Does it mean you’ll keep coming over?”

“Definitely.” Sam beamed and Cassian ruffled his hair.

“Good. Now, let’s get you into bed.”

Sam brushed his teeth and settled in with few complaints. Before heading back to his apartment for the night, Cassian scrolled through Jyn’s kitchen drawers, rolling his eyes when he found most of them empty or littered with useless knick-knacks, until he found a notepad. Tearing a page off, he scribbled a note and left it outside Jyn’s bedroom door for her to find in the morning.

“Welcome Home, Jyn.”

“I’m clocking out a bit early tonight,” Cassian informed his manager. Davits Draven was known for being a hard ass to his employees, but Cassian had learned quickly that being assertive earned more favors with the man than being submissive. Hence why Cassian merely told him he was leaving early; asking for permission would be denied without a doubt.

Draven looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “Do you have another date tonight?” When Cassian nodded, he prodded further. “Same woman?”

“Why is it so hard to believe that I’m going out with the same woman?” Cassian groaned. “Yes, it’s the same woman I’ve been going out with for three months.”

Draven threw his hands in the air. “Just double checking.” He paused, a speculative look on his face. “Has it really been three months?”

Three months, one week and two days, Cassian thought, but he only nodded as he finished shutting down his laptop.

“Trust me, Davits, you would remember Jyn Erso if you sat next to him all day,” Kay Tuesso, another data specialist, quipped. “She’s his favorite topic of conversation.”

Cassian forced himself to keep a neutral expression at Kay’s cold dismissal and Draven’s raised eyebrows. He spent most of his time outside of work with Jyn and Sam; naturally they were Cassian’s main topic of conversation.

“Sounds like it’s pretty serious,” Draven said, before snorting out a laugh. “Maybe we’ll have more than one company wedding this summer.”

Kay laughed along with the manager – the little kiss ass – but Cassian focused on finishing packing his laptop bag and throwing it over his shoulder. He hadn’t even gotten the nerve to ask Jyn to be his date to Leia and Han’s wedding in a few months; asking her to marry him seemed like a whole different ball game, one that Cassian couldn’t even fathom. Thankfully, Draven wandered back to his office, leaving Cassian and Kay alone.

“Even if you aren’t going to marry her,” Kay stated, “I would still like to meet her.”

Cassian raised an eyebrow at him. “Why?”

Kay huffed, sounding vaguely offended. “You may have only been working here six months, Cassian, but I do consider us good friends.” This much was true; of all the people in the office – of all the people in Jedha besides of Jyn and Sam – Cassian spent the most amount of time with Kay, and they had been become close since Cassian started work here. “And I do believe meeting and evaluating girlfriends is a traditional job of good friends.”

Cassian laughed at that. “I’d be afraid of you rating our compatibility on a scale of one to ten, or evaluating the percent likelihood of our relationship’s demise.”

“I can be civil occasionally,” Kay retorted, his chin in the air.

“Just overly analytical,” Cassian said. “You’ll meet her eventually, Kay, but I do have to go.”

Kay waved him off, returning to his computer. Cassian checked the time on his phone. Good; he still had an hour until he needed to meet Jyn and Sam. Tonight, Cassian admitted, wasn’t much of a traditional date – no candlelight dinners or flowers to give to Jyn – but it was Sam’s first soccer game of the season, and, in many ways, Cassian considered that more important. Making a good impression on his new team was a top priority for Sam, and, therefore, tonight going well was essential to Jyn and Cassian.

By the time Cassian pulled into his assigned parking spot at the apartment complex, Sam was already dressed in his bright orange uniform and sitting on the curb waiting for him. Afraid he had misread the time, Cassian check his phone again. No, his commute hadn’t taken longer than expected; Sam was just ready forty-five minutes early.

“Mijo, what are you doing?” Cassian called as he exited the car. “We’ve still got awhile until we need to leave.”

Sam shrugged, but didn’t move to meet Cassian like he normally would. “I just didn’t want to be late.”

Cassian gave the boy a quick once over, noting his slumped shoulders and jiggling feet. Pre-game nerves must have gotten to him. Cassian sat down beside him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “Are you nervous?”

“Of course not,” Sam scoffed, and Cassian bit back a laugh.

“It’s okay if you are, you know,” Cassian reassured him. “Nerves help you focus.”

“They make me jittery,” Sam groaned, and held up a trembling hand. “See? I’m shaking!”

“Don’t focus on that,” Cassian said. “Focus on all the things we’ve practiced, and all those moves you’ve mastered.”

Sam started to speak, but hesitated for a moment. Cassian nudged his shoulder, and the boy relented. “You or Mom wouldn’t be nervous,” he grumbled, eyes focused on his shoes.

Cassian gave him an incredulous look. “You think I never get nervous before meeting an important client, or that your mom doesn’t get nervous before a big test? Everyone gets nervous, bud. That’s part of life.” Cassian leaned closer to whisper in Sam’s ear. “I even get nervous before I pick your mom for a date.”

“Mom does, too,” Sam whispered back.

“You two whispering makes me worried I’ll come home to find my apartment covered in silly string, or something,” Jyn called from behind them. Cassian grinned back at her, wondering how she magically appeared as the conversation turned to her. Sam, seeming much more confident now, ran up the stairs to give Jyn a hug. “And the ‘have I ever mentioned how much I love you, Mom?’ attitude you’re pulling here isn’t helping.”

“Now, Jyn, would we do something like that to you?” Cassian teased.

“Yeah, Mom, would we?” Sam echoed in the same tone.

Jyn just shook her head, eyes alight with amusement. “You’re lucky you two are so cute.”

Cassian stood and wrapped an arm around Jyn’s waist, kissing her forehead gently. Sam made a noise of disgust, causing Cassian to chuckle and Jyn to roll her eyes.

“Perhaps you should be warming up,” Jyn reminded Sam.

“Mom, I’ll do that with my team!”

Cassian excused himself to go change for the game – “You mean it isn’t normal to attend soccer games in suits?” Jyn teased as he left – and Jyn ran Sam through basic warm up drills. He returned a few minutes later, his suit traded in for jeans and an orange t-shirt to match Sam’s jersey, and slipped his arm around Jyn again.

“Hi,” Jyn smiled, leaning up to kiss him. “I think I sufficiently distracted my son so I could properly say hello.”

“I appreciate that,” Cassian said, capturing Jyn’s lips again.

She pulled away after a moment, raising one eyebrow. “But you only get to keep doing that if you tell me what you and Sam were whispering about.”

Cassian laughed and pulled Jyn in front of him, her back to his chest and his arms around her waist. “We were talking about getting nervous,” Cassian explained. He leaned down and whispered the next part in her ear. “Sam was telling me that sometimes you get nervous before our dates.”

“He must not know what he’s saying,” Jyn replied, defiant. “I’ve never felt nervous in my life.”

“Hmm, I might believe Sam on this one,” Cassian teased, nuzzling the hair behind Jyn’s ear. Jyn reached back to slap Cassian’s arm teasingly.

Jyn sighed and focused her attention back on Sam. “I’m nervous for him,” Jyn admitted, all teasing gone from her voice. “What if the other kids are mean to him, or he trips and falls and breaks his leg?” Her eyes go wide at the idea. “God, that sounds like something I would have done at that age. I broke so many bones as a kid—what if he inherited that?”

“Jyn,” Cassian cut her off, turning her so she faced him, his hands on her shoulders. “Sam will be fine. He’s going to play a game of soccer in a children’s rec league, not staging a revolution.”

“I know, but–“

“Even if he were to get hurt – which he’s won’t,” Cassian clarified at Jyn’s panicked look, “You’re a nurse.”

“Nurse in training,” Jyn corrected, which Cassian ignored.

“You’ll be able to take care of him.” Cassian examined her worried eyes, longing for Jyn to see herself in the same way that he – and Sam, and Bodhi, and most people in her life – saw her. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and she relaxed against him. “I know you will.”

“Thank you, Cassian,” Jyn whispered in the most vulnerable voice Cassian had ever heard her use. He pulled back, loving the way her eyes had gone soft and he longed to whisper something – not I love you, not yet, but something to describe the warm glow of happiness in his chest when she looked like that – to her. He brought his hand up to brush her cheek, pushing her hair behind her ears, and opened his mouth –

“Mom! It’s 5:30! That’s what time you said we should leave!”

The adults startled backwards. Cassian’s hand moved from Jyn’s hair to his own, rubbing awkwardly at the nape of his neck. Jyn bit to her lip to suppress a smile as she turned to her son.

“Yeah, baby, grab your bag and let’s go. Cassian and I will be right there.”

The match went well; the league didn’t kept score (though Jyn certainly did) so neither team officially won (Jyn assured him that Sam’s team won 5-3), but with the way Sam was smiling on the drive home, he may have won the World Cup.

“And then their goalie dove for the ball, but it soared feet over his head, so I scored!” Sam recapped the game for them. Cassian, who was driving with one hand on the wheel and one hand holding Jyn’s, snickered, sharing a quick look with Jyn. He remembered the goal Sam was describing, though he remembered it slightly less dramatically.

“I think,” Jyn declared as they pulled into Cassian’s parking place, “That this victory deserves some ice cream. What do you think, Sam?”

“In a waffle cone?” Sam asked.

“Sure.” Jyn tossed him the keys to her apartment. “You run ahead and get through the shower while Cassian and I grab your bag. We’ll get the ice cream out when you’re done.”

Sam nodded and sprinted up the steps. Cassian grabbed Sam’s bag and Jyn his cleats before following. “I assume I’m invited to this ice cream extravaganza?” Cassian asked as they reached the third floor.

“With how hard you were cheering at that game? You definitely deserve it. Besides,” Jyn winked with her next words. “I need you to see that I can cook – even if it’s only dessert.”

Cassian had to admit, the Ersos knew how to create a beautiful dessert bar. Jyn and Sam worked as a great team, creating an assembly line of ice cream flavors and M&Ms and chocolate chips and sprinkles and whipped cream – any topping an ice cream lover could desire. Jyn’s bowl of mint chocolate chip ice cream was piled high with crushed Oreos, rainbow sprinkles and whipped cream by the time she was done. Before Cassian had the chance to comment, she sent a defensive look his way.

“I run marathons for fun.” She jabbed a finger at his chest. “I can eat this.”

Cassian threw his hands up, laughing. “I was admiring, not judging.”

“Sure,” Jyn snorted, rolling her eyes.

They gathered on the couch, Jyn pulled tightly to Cassian’s side while Sam bounded around the room, sitting beside his mom one moment before hopping in front of them to demonstrate a play from today’s game the next. Once, he fell back dramatically over both Jyn and Cassian’s laps, giggling as the adults rushed to save their ice cream from falling on the floor.

“Alright, Mister Sam, I believe it’s time for bed,” Jyn said about 9:30.

“But, Mom…”

“No buts, Mister. I already let you stay up later than normal to celebrate and it’s a school night.”

Sam looked ready to continue protesting, so Cassian handed Jyn his empty ice cream bowl. “You wash the dishes, and I’ll wrangle the monkey into bed?”

“Deal,” Jyn said, sticking out her hand for Cassian to shake.

“Come on, mijo.” Cassian reached out to grab Sam around the waist, throwing him over his shoulder as he laughed and swung his legs in protest. “Let’s get you to bed.”

Sam protested the entire process – stubbornly refusing the Spiderman pajamas that Cassian pulled out for him, and claiming he didn’t know how to brush his teeth – but by the time Cassian pulled back Sam’s covers, his eyelids were drooping. The fight drained out him as soon as his head hit the pillows.

“Cassian?” Sam mumbled as Cassian pulled the blankets over him.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for coming tonight.” Sam said with a drowsy smile. “I loved having you there.”

“Thanks for letting me come, Sam,” Cassian whispered, running his hands over the boy’s hair. “And thanks for letting me join you and your mom afterwards.”

“You make her happy,” Sam muttered in his pillow. “I don’t think she says it a lot, but you make her really happy.”

“I’m glad, because she makes me happy too.”

Sam didn’t reply to Cassian’s words, and Cassian took his evened breathing to mean he had finally succumbed to sleep. He ran his hand over Sam’s hair once more before turning to leave.

“Goodnight, Sam,” he whispered as he shut off the light and pulled the door closed.

“He didn’t give you too much trouble, did he?” Jyn asked in a hushed tone as Cassian walked back to the kitchen.

Cassian shook his head, leaning on the counter next to where Jyn was loading the dishwasher. “A little bit, but I don’t mind at all.”

Jyn shot a sideways grin at him. “Try doing this every day for ten years, and then we’ll discuss how much you mind doing it.”

“Please,” Cassian laughed. “We both know you would learn to do a handstand if Sam asked you to.”

“Fine, you got me,” Jyn shrugged as she closed the dishwasher. “But don’t tell him that. I have to keep some form of authority over him.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Cassian kept his voice quiet, both not to disturb the sleeping boy only a few rooms away as well as not to break the romantic atmosphere between him and Jyn as she stepped into his arms. She leaned up on her toes to kiss him, throwing her arms around his neck and reaching her fingers into his hair. Cassian’s hands wandered to her lower back, edging down to where her shirt rode up slightly, and pressed her closely to him. He sucked her lower lip into his mouth, feeling slightly triumphant as she moaned against him.

Cassian hitched Jyn up, pulling her onto the counter and stepping between her legs. They continued to kiss, almost lazily, for the next few minutes. Jyn pulled back eventually, her eyes hooded, and rubbed her thumb over Cassian’s ear. Cassian’s hand reach back into her hair, longing to pull her tight against him again, but he had to check with Jyn.

“Is this alright?”

She answered him with a kiss, easing her tongue between Cassian’s lips. Part of Cassian’s brain wanted to take that an answer and never pull away from her; just keep pushing and pulling and learning Jyn, but more of him wanted to hear her say the words.

With difficulty, he pulled away from her lips. “Jyn?”

“Yes, Cassian. This is definitely alright.”

“That’s all I wanted to hear,” Cassian smiled and leaned back into her kiss.

When Jyn’s alarm blared the next morning – Cassian really needed to ask what their obsession with a 90s Disney movie was – he didn’t hear it muffled through the walls separating their apartments. If Cassian ever thought the alarm was loud from his bed, it was nothing compared to its sound from Jyn’s bed.

“Why,” he groaned as Jyn rose to turn it off, “would you possibly have that so loud?”

Jyn shrugged. “It gets both me and Sam up with one alarm. It makes sense.”

Cassian quirked an eyebrow at her. “It wakes your neighbors up, too.”

“Good,” Jyn smirked. “Six A.M. is a perfectly reasonable time to get up, and I’m glad I can encourage my neighbors to get productive starts to their day.” Cassian leaned up on one elbow, smiling as Jyn wandered to her closet. After a moment, she noticed Cassian staring and demanded, “What?”

“Nothing. Just… You’re so beautiful,” Cassian explained.

Jyn’s lips curled, and she teased, “I believe what you’re experiencing is called ‘post-coitial bliss,’ Cassian.”

“Maybe,” Cassian shrugged, “But I’m right.” No matter how many times Cassian awoke to the sight of Jyn with rumpled hair and an easy smile on her face – which hopefully was would be plenty of times – he wanted to remember this, the first time he’d been blessed with such a sight.

Cassian rolled out of bed, intending on wrapping Jyn in his arms and perhaps pulling her back into bed, when a sleepy Sam opened Jyn’s door. Jyn and Cassian exchanged a hurried glance and Jyn jutted her chin towards where Cassian’s shirt lay discarded on the floor. Luckily, Sam was rubbing his eyes and focused on his mom, so Cassian could pull his shirt over his head before Sam even noticed him.

“Cassian?” Sam’s voice was still rough with sleep. “What are you doing here?”

“I…” Cassian floundered for an answer, while Jyn stood there with crossed arms and a playful expression on her face. He was on his own to find an excuse to tell Sam, apparently. “I wanted to make pancakes for you and your mom.”

Jyn mouthed good save to him.

Sam’s eyes went wide. “We never have pancakes on school mornings.”

“That’s why I brought in a specialist,” Jyn told Sam. “Why don’t you go help Cassian while I take a shower?”

Sam nodded and took Cassian’s hand, pulling him into the kitchen. Opening the cupboard, Sam pulled out a box of pancake mix, which Cassian scoffed at.

“Your mom and I have two different ways of making pancakes,” Cassian explained. Pulling out his phone, he found the recipe and showed it to Sam. “We’ll be making them from scratch.”

Cassian reached back into the pantry and pulled out the ingredients. Jyn’s pantry lacked many necessary supplies – Cassian shouldn’t be surprised by this, but he rolled his eyes anyway; who didn’t own baking powder, anyway? – so Cassian tasked Sam with measuring out flour and sugar while he ran to his apartment to gather the remaining ingredients and his electric griddle.

“This weekend,” Cassian told Sam and he poured the batter onto the griddle, “you and I are going to the store to stock your pantry.”

“Bad things tend to happen when Mama cooks,” Sam said. “So maybe we shouldn’t.”

“I heard that!” Jyn yelled from the next room over, and the boys laughed.

By the time Jyn emerged from the bathroom, her hair blown dry and pulled into its customary bun, Cassian and Sam had a plate full of pancakes – including a lopsided C, S, and J shaped pancake for each of them – waiting for her along with a glass of orange juice. Sam pulled out Jyn’s chair, as Cassian had instructed, and proclaimed, “Tu desayuno, madre.”

Jyn laughed as she sat down. “Who is this child and what have you done with my son?” She asked Cassian.

“This lovely gentleman? He’s my sous chef,” Cassian explained as he laid a plate in front of her, pressing a kiss her cheek. “Very essential to the cooking process.”

Jyn pointed her fork in his direction, a chunk of syrupy pancake dangling off the end. “You need to be here in the morning more often, mister, because he has no cooking skills with me.”

Cassian ignored Sam’s shout of protest to smile at Jyn. “Careful what you wish for, Jyn, or I may be here a lot of mornings.”

Rather than responding to Cassian, Jyn directed her next question to Sam. “Would you be okay with that?”

“Are you kidding?” Sam said around a mouthful of pancake. “I’d love that!”

Jyn turned back to Cassian with a smile. “Then I guess that’s an open invitation.”

When someone knocked on his door on a Friday afternoon, Cassian expected to see either Sam or Jyn at the door. Instead, Bodhi Rook stood there.

“Hi,” he waved, a slightly awkward smile on his face. “Do you mind if I come in?”

Cassian opened the door wider and ushered him in. “Do you want something to drink?”

“No, I’m good, thanks.”

Bodhi didn’t continue, and Cassian glanced at him, wondering why he stopped by. Cassian liked Bodhi well enough, but the pair never interacted without Jyn and Sam there with them. With a sudden thought of panic, Cassian wondered if Bodhi had come by to give a customary “big brother” talk – don’t mess with Jyn or they’ll be hell to pay or something to that extent.

Instead of a threat, Bodhi started with, “I have an offer for you.”

“Oh?” Cassian asked, still uncertain where this was going.

“Well, the thing is – well, Mother’s Day is coming up, and Sam and I – me, really, but Sam always tries to help – we like to plan a nice day for Jyn. She rolls her eyes and complains – you know how she is – but it’s always nice to do something good for her, you know?” Bodhi’s words stumbled out quickly, but he paused to take a breath here. “I was wondering if you wanted to take over that planning.”

Apparently Bodhi, like Jyn, knew exactly how to catch Cassian off guard.

“You don’t have to, of course,” Bodhi assured him, catching the surprised look on Cassian’s face. “I know you’ve only been dating a few months, but I know Sam would love it, so I wanted to give you the chance…”

A slow smile spread across Cassian’s face. Jyn’s brother and her son – her family – were offering him the chance to join an important family tradition. How could he pass that up?

“I’d love to do that,” Cassian said and Bodhi’s shoulders relaxed. An idea, spurred on by a conversation he and Jyn had months previous now staring at the starless sky above their apartment, sprung into Cassian’s head. “What do you think are the chances of us getting her away for a whole weekend?”

Bodhi grinned, and though both men agreed convincing Jyn of a weekend getaway would take extraneous planning – and their greatest secret weapon: Sam Erso’s puppy dog eyes.

After explaining the plan to Sam, the trio waited until dinner the next evening to spring the plan on Jyn.

“So, Mom,” Sam began with eyes a little too wide and a smile a little too broad to be inconspicuous. “I couldn’t help but notice that Mother’s Day is coming up in a few weeks.”

“And Bodhi explained you three normally make plans that weekend,” Cassian said next as Jyn stopped eating and began eyeing the three of them warily.

“Cassian, the brilliant man, came up with a great plan,” Bodhi continued, pausing before dropping the bombshell. “But it means being gone the entire weekend.”

Jyn sat back in her chair, crossing her arms. “What is this great plan?”

“Ah,” Cassian chided, “I’m afraid that’s a secret. You’ll have to trust us.”

Jyn examined each of their faces individually. “I don’t have a choice, do I?” She sighed.

“Nope!” Sam replied and beamed at her again.

And thus, the trip was decided.

Cassian and Bodhi agreed to keep details away from Sam – he was much too likely to spill if Jyn promised him extra desserts. Bodhi borrowed some camping supplies from a coworker – “Luke is all about connecting with the force of nature,” Bodhi had explained, “So his garage is practically an outdoors store.” – while Cassian turned to the internet to find the best camping sites with clear night skies. Jyn spent the two weeks attempting to needle information out of them, often using Sam as her main weapon, but by the time Cassian pushed Jyn and Sam’s weekend bags into the trunk of his car, she still had no idea where they were going.

They stopped at the Chinese restaurant Jyn and Cassian frequented for dates – the owner seemed particularly glad to meet Sam – for lunch before hopping on the road. The drive would take four hours and, if Cassian had calculated correctly, they’d arrive in time to set up their tent before the stars came out.

They pulled into the campsite beside Bodhi, who had driven separately with all their equipment. Cassian knew Jyn had figured out what they were doing – perhaps she’d figured it out hours ago in their drive – but she said nothing as she got out of the car and moved to wake Sam, who had dozed off some time earlier.

Bodhi and Cassian struggled to set up the tent, bickering over the instructions while Jyn watched, amused, from a distance, a drowsy Sam sitting beside her in the grass. She started a fire while they finished erecting the tent and pulled out s’mores supplies Cassian had packed in the trunk.

The group gathered in a semi-circle around the fire, toasting marshmallows and swapping stories.

The sky grew dark overhead, violet and pink streaks darkening into navy and indigo, and the bright lights of stars – more than Cassian had ever seen – blinked across the expanse.

“You planned this for me?” Jyn said, awed, as she stared at the sky.

“You said you haven’t been stargazing in years, but you’d always wanted to teach Sam,” Cassian explained to Jyn, rubbing his hand over her shoulder. “So, here’s your chance, mi estrella.”

“You’re an amazing man, Cassian Andor,” she whispered to him, punctuating her words with a quick kiss. “But you’re giving yourself a lot to live up to. How are you going to top this next Mother’s Day?”

“Are you planning for that already?” He teased with a quirk of his eyebrows.

“Naturally. Aren’t you with me?”

Cassian pulled her close and pressed his lips to her forehead, promising, “All the way.”

#kat writes #emmaawatson #rebelcaptainmay4 #therebelcaptainnetwork #modern au #au #single parent au #rebelcaptain #jyn erso #Cassian andor #bodhi rook #I hope you enjoy!

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