#and i mean NONE of them allow me to hold a knife under any circumstances ever

[imabiscuitinthousandworlds]

*the others lamenting in the group chat how they're all gonna die from the math test* me: if it's necessary i'm sure i can do some necromancy :) friend: disturbingly i absolutely believe u

[deepperplexity]

Prompt: 10. Snow Prints

Pairing: Colonel Brandon x Fem!OC

POV: First, OC

Setting: Christmas Market in Town -> The Lake -> Dashwood Home (Not exactly following cannon, moving the time to winter and the manner Brandon visits the Dashwoods for the first time.)

A/N: I thought we’d take a little tiny break from the serial fics - I do feel I need a breath as it takes way more to write several serials at the same time than one shots (for me) 😂 Also, Brandon seems to be very loved this year, so thought I’d give him some more screen time so to say 🥰

I have perhaps spent too much time on this fic but it ended up flowing and turning into this 5k piece - anyway, I really hope you’ll have a splendid time reading this! We are nearing the middle of Rickmas2023 and I feel good about having been able to post at a decent time every day so far 😍👏 (Let’s hope I can keep it up all the way through 👀😂)

Tags/TW’s: Instant Infatuation, Forehead Kisses, Hand Holding, Accidental Meeting, Unintentional Invasion Of Emotional Privacy, Self Derogatory Thoughts, Classicism, Nicknames, Mutual Pining, Confessions Of Adoration/Love, Implied Future Marriage, Slighty Sassy OC, Chivalry, Poverty Hints,

Word Count: 5k+

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

Mrs Jennings laughed by a market stand down the busy street, Margaret squeezed my hand and I could not quite keep a smile from spreading across my lips as she giggled up at me. “She never stops, does she?” Margaret asked with that childlike twinkle in her eye. “I’m afraid not, Maggie,” I chuckled. “She means well, but I do think Miss Markle is quite over her matchmaking attempts, as most of us are.” “Well, you are free of it,” Margaret said with happiness, not knowing the knife it twisted within me. “Indeed, lucky me,” I said as happily as I could. Knowing full well she held little interest of pairing lowly me with anyone at all.

I was an orphan, a mere child-tender for the Dashwoods before Mr Dashwood passed and left the family in ruin - in every manner. Now I was a burden on the kind family, allowed to live with them and dine after them in exchange for not only taking care of Margaret but cleaning and tending to every manner of household chore whenever needed, teaching the child to read and write, to interpret texts as well. No pay given, but a roof over my head and food in my stomach. It was more than I could ask for given the circumstances.

“Mellie,” Mrs Dashwood called, “go buy us some mistletoes and meet us at home!” “Right away, ma’am!” I called back, squeezing Margaret’s hand before ushering her toward one of her older sisters. I trodded off, heading down the market street with vendors filling the space and air with shouts of prices and smells of Christmas. I weaved through the crowd, well-versed in not being in the way.

I found the right vendor and purchased the holly for the Dashwoods, laying them atop the bread and carrots in my basket before turning about. My eyes caught sight of a brilliantly red coat with black and golden details. It stood out in the throng of greys, browns, whites and beige clothes, none as brightly coloured — not even the greens and blues, all in muted saturation. A man of the military? My eyes slid upward only for my breath to catch. He was stunning in profile. Older, with slightly peculiar features — like his hooked nose and thin lips — but more handsome than any other man I had ever laid eyes upon. His grave features and remote manner of looking only made his features shine brighter in the afternoon sun which made the snow glisten on the rooftops.

I stood stock still in the middle of the street, a messenger boy ran right into me, knocking my basket out of my hand — breaking the spell I had been under by the man. I hurried to pick up the greenery, the cloth-wrapped bread, and frost-bit carrots, before scurrying away, throwing one final glance back before entering one of many narrow alleys. His eyes appeared to see me for a second before I turned and hurried away from the market. No matter how handsome the man was, or how my heart had stuttered at his appearance, he was no man for me. I was all too aware of it.

I held on tightly to the basket, the day was beautiful and with the bright sun and lack of wind I managed to keep warm. I sped up my steps as I cleared the town’s border, crossing over a field to take a shortcut through the woods beyond; then it would only be a matter of two more fields to cross, a small hill to hike up, and I would be home once more. I didn’t mind walking through the snow, the boots Mrs Jennings had given me upon winters arrival were far too big but allowed for three pairs of socks which kept me plenty warm as long as I moved about. I was thankful for her gift, even if it were only for them being too small for her but too big for anyone else to wear, and with their shafts reaching nearly to my knees no snow slunk within them even if I pulsed through it at the moment.

I reached the woods, feeling a need to look back toward the town where I had seen the handsome man I was sure to never see again. Even if no man ever finds me to his liking I can at the very least allow the oddity of daydreaming of it to keep me happy, should I not have at least that? I squinted against the direct sunlight as it sank, bathing the sky in orange and pink only making the glittering snow look further magical with the twinkling light of lanterns and candles coming from the town. “A military man, perhaps that would be a grand life.” Not that I shall ever know it for real.

I half giggled to myself, enjoying my little daydream where the man in red would smile sweetly at me and marvelled at the quietly spectacular view. It was interrupted when something came barrelling across the field, someone atop a horse riding at the utmost speed with snow spraying about them yet I could not see any details with the last bit of sun glaring me in the eye and turning them into nothing but a shadow.

I thought little of it, many cut across the field to return home, so I turned and kept walking while wondering what voice would belong to the man in red — a commanding one, an assured one, a powerful one. I could not imagine a man who looked like he had to speak in any meek or bright fashion. No, no a most strong voice ought to belong to such a gentleman.

“Miss!” I spun around in haste at the dark rumble of a call that was somehow heard so clearly. “Miss!” the man called again and I raised a hand to cover my eyes from the sun. My heart stuttered as the man in red came barrelling towards me, his giant black steed’s hooves made the snow spray in magical waves of sparkles all around him.

He halted the horse with great skill, going from a gallop to a near-complete halt in a mere two steps. “Miss,” he said again, his voice a rumble which seemed to shake my insides. “Y-yes?” I asked, bowing my head while curtsying deeply. The thud of feet hitting the snow-covered ground rang out and I looked up. He was a head taller than me, his shoulders stiffly held and his back utterly straight. He looked every bit a stoic gentleman as he inclined his head before reaching out his hand, holding a mistletoe.

“Sir, I— What is this?” I asked while looking between the man who made my heart run rampant and the greenery in his glove-clad hand. “You left this behind, miss.” “Oh… oh!” I rummaged around my basket and indeed, there were only seven when there ought to have been eight of them. “Thank you, sir. I apologize for the trouble you went through for such a small thing.” My cheeks nearly seemed to burn as he handed it over while I spoke and then secured the mistletoe under the towel covering the basket.

The man looked at me, his eyes sweet but his features stoic. “It was no bother, miss. I merely followed the snow prints.” But, I left none behind until I reached the field? “I’m grateful for your kindness and effort, sir.” “Colonel Brandon, miss. At your service,” he said and placed his closed fist atop his chest before bowing slightly. “Melinda Merryweather,” I replied, endeavouring to keep my cheeks from burning up under his stare. “Beautiful Honeybee,” he said in a quiet drone and my eyes widened. “Excuse me, sir?” “Oh, no, miss, your name. Melinda, of Latin origin, meaning sweet. Constructed of mel, meaning honeybee, and Linda, meaning beautiful.”

I was not proud of it, but I gawked at the man. He knew more about my name than me myself. I had been aware of the Latin origin but the meaning of it had never been told to me. “My mother did have a fondness for the buzzing creatures, they fill an important role after all.” “Indeed,” the man said, “there would be little in terms of flowers without them.” “Oh, I was referring to food, Colonel Brandon. Flowers are pretty though.” “Their honey?” “No, they pollinate far more than flowers,” I continued, the education I had been given as a child tender to the Dashwoods far beyond any I would have had in another situation. “You are a woman of education.” “Oh, no, sir. I have merely been most lucky as a tender of children for the lovely Dashwood family.”

I did my utmost to speak calmly, but my entire body seemed caught on fire, the flames growing stronger with each second in his company. Talking is not my issue, remaining silent is. I’m certain he sees me as a know-it-all by now. “Luck plays a grand part in life. I admit, it has not been so graceful to me until now.” “Oh? You appear a most lucky man, sir.” “I shall not ruin said image of me for you, Miss Melinda Merryweather.” What to say to such a statement?

I had no need to think of it though, the man bowed and mounted his steed once more. My heart skipped a beat as he turned the horse about. “Thank you again, Colonel Brandon,” I said and he smiled at me, my skin burned and my breath caught as the last sunlight left the world but it seemed all the brighter when he smiled. “I wish you the best, beautiful honeybee,” he said with a sudden softness to his features and put his horse into motion, setting off in a rushed gallop without looking back once while my heart seemed to race at the same pace as the black horse.

Never had I met a man such as him. He was different, in the most sweet and good manner. I ended up watching him gallop back to town, I simply couldn’t make myself leave before he was gone. Strange sensations filled my chest and the heavy basket in my hand suddenly felt light in comparison to the weight of the newness, or, perhaps it was the knowledge a man such as him were not meant for me. For someone like me. A colonel had little business with a child tender turned into some form of a maid and teacher of reading and writing out of the goodness of my employer of many years. As much as warmth for the man bloomed within me, a sense of hopeless longing grew as well.

***

“I’ll only be an hour!” I called toward the little sitting room where Marianne and Elinor sat, one embroidering and one playing on the forte, while I slipped my boots over the many layers of socks I had adorned. I loved Marianne’s music, and voice, not blessed with either skill myself. Books, poetry, and stories lay me far closer to the heart though.

Reading, writing, and weaving stories of my own were my pleasures. My loves. And the past week my poetry had turned longing and somewhat sappy, to be truthful. I needed a moment with nature, to take a breath and rid my heart and mind of the grand colonel who called me a beautiful honeybee before riding off in a swirl of snow.

I wrapped a second scarf over my shoulders and headed out, the weather was splendid but cold. The midday sun had the world in a sparkle, a winter wonderland to adore and enjoy. I took a deep breath of fresh air and set off down the hidden road few carriages traversed. I followed it down the hill and then began my trodding across the field to reach the ice-covered lake where I was sure the most wonderful view where to be seen.

I had no idea how right I was…

As I came over the little hill, a wonderful view indeed sprawled out before me. But nothing could compare to the man standing right by the edge of the snow-covered beach, holding the reins of his large steed in a loose grip. With the sun shining high I could see him most perfectly, even if he wore no red coat I would have known his posture anywhere. The air about him was that of a single kind. I had spent so many words on the man, writing poetry to expel the feelings I had endeavoured to suppress ever since I had managed to tear myself away from the edge of the forest where I had last seen him galloping away in haste.

I stood still, once more stuck looking at the man from a distance without him being aware, and I felt as if all the feelings I had sought to tamper down and rid myself of through poetry took over completely. Let loose by his appearance where I least expected him. Oh, this is not proper! This is lunacy of the acutest kind. The man is a colonel, for goodness sake. I was about to turn around, play the coward, and run away while my heart ran rampant. “Honeybee!” came the loud rumble of the colonel, stopping me in my tracks (not that I’d begun to actually move).

The sound of boots and hooves walking through snow filled the air as he neared. My mind blanked when his soft gaze landed on me and a small smile spread his lips most sweetly. “Colonel Brandon,” I said and curtsied while hiding my bare hands behind my back. A bit embarrassed I had no gloves to speak of when he wore such fine ones of leather. “What a wonderful surprise,” he said. “What brings you to the lake, miss?” “Oh, umh, well, I was merely out for a walk to— To clear my head a bit, colonel.” “Perhaps a coincidence, I am here for that exact reason. What troubles you, if I may enquire?” You . Not that I could ever admit to such a thing.

“My troubles could not possibly be of any importance to a colonel, sir Brandon.” “I would take great pride in absolving you of any trouble, honeybee.” His voice was honest, his gaze a bit harsher and his voice once more a line rather than a smile, and that nickname set my stomach into an absolute flutter. “Do not tease me, sir.” “Never,” he said while taking a step closer. “I am not a man who would trifle with a beautiful woman,” he continued, taking another step. He was almost too close, yet not close enough.

My fingers fidgeted behind my back, the ends of my scarf swaying lightly in the soft breeze. A gust of wind blew by and my scarf flew off, tumbling along the snow in soft waves. He was off after it before I had a chance to even react. “Colonel!” I called, feeling like a nuisance to the man. “Colonel! Stop! It’s my—” He bent and snagged the thin fabric, holding it up with the sweetest of triumphant smiles before he jogged back. My icy fingers covered my mouth to hide the giggle, or perhaps to cool the heat flushing my face.

“My lady,” he said with a slight bow while holding out my scarf for me. I suffocated the laughter bubbling within me at his theatrics and reached for it. He jolted and grabbed my hand before I could pull away. “No gloves? In this chill?” he asked, concern written all over his handsome face while mine contorted with shame and embarrassment. “Thank you,” I said and wrung my hand free. “For catching it, sir.” I draped it over my shoulders once more but he only tilted his head to study me closer.

“I ought to return,” I said after a moment of silence, a silence far too intense. “They are expecting me at home,” I continued and curtsied swiftly before turning on my heel. “Miss Melinda,” he called, “stay safe!” “I shall, Colonel. I’m quite capable!” I called over my shoulder before waving at him, picking up my pace while leaving deep prints behind which I knew he would not follow this time.

***

It was the tenth of December, another week had passed since I saw the colonel and my little notebook was by now full of poems all revolving around him, around what he made me feel and wished to expel. My silly little heart had no wits about her, my mind just as snagged on his handsomeness — his kindness a lingering torment when there was no world in which I could be anything to such a fine gentleman.

“Mellie,” Margaret whined, “you’ve been writing for hours!” “Huh? Oh, have I really?” “Yes!” she said with a certain oomph to her voice. I merely smiled at her, mustering up the courage to not show her anything at all. “Is there a reason I ought to stop for the moment?” I asked as she leaned on the desk where I had, indeed, been sitting for several hours as lunchtime had arrived. “Mama asked you to fetch a bird for dinner, it’ll be dark if you don’t go soon.” “Oh, oh right! Yes, of course,” I said while shutting my little notebook and standing. “I’ll head out right away.” “But it’s lunchtime, silly goose.” “Well, there will be no goose of any kind, or other bird, if I don’t get a move on, will there?” “I’ll make a sandwich for you,” she said and scurried off with the usual happy spring to her steps. “With cheese and peppers, how you like it!” she called over her shoulder and I smiled at her sweetness.

I was out of the house a few moments later, hurrying towards town once again to get a bird for the family for the evening. Given how cold it was, one could have bought several and just had them in a box outside - they’d keep for weeks if the weather remained. But, again, I was not one to complain about some walking. I was rather fond of being out like that, truth be told. Truth be told, huh? More like give me something to take my mind of the man in a red coat, with a sweet smile, and soft eyes, and— Stop. Just, do not think of him. Simple as that. It was not , however, simple as that.

All the way to town, then through it, and back home again, I thought of the man. When I went down the hill to the house he was really the only thing I thought of at all. The fact I managed to keep my wits about me enough to see snow prints of male shoes unlike any other prints was a miracle. As the Dashwoods had company, obviously of the male kind, I walked around back and took the small servant entrance almost straight into the kitchen.

“Cook, here, I found a fantastic goose for dinner. It’s missing half a wing but the butcher gave me a great price for it.” “My, my, my, that is a good bird,” Cook replied as I held the naked goose up. Plucked and ready for cooking. She grabbed it and my cold fingers flexed with an ache to them. The thing was heavy and with the evening chill I struggled to get my blood flowing again for a moment while undressing my outside clothes only to put on a new scarf over my shoulders and thicker slippers on my feet rather than the boots and tripple socks.

“Here,” Cook said and handed me a tray of tee with some biscuits on a plate. Four cups on it, but it was the pretty china so the fourth one certainly wasn’t for me and Margaret didn’t drink tea. “Who’s visiting?” I asked. “Oh, some upstanding man, the boring type if you ask me. Tense looking. Too old for any of the Dashwoods too, no idea why the lady entertains him for so long.” “Long?” “He’s been ‘ere since one, came right after lunchtime.” “Well, perhaps he fancies one of them, or one of them fancies him. Is he rich?” “Very much so, Mellie.” “Well, there you have it then, Mrs Dashwood couldn’t send a rich man away — no matter his looks or age when she has two daughters she needs to wed.” “Indeed, but we both know the lady cares too much about what her daughters want to ever force a marriage.” “True, maybe she can force a marriage with a rich man upon me?” I laughed, both cook and I perfectly aware I wished for no such thing and nor would it ever happen either. No, love would be my biggest reason for marriage — riches were good, but love far outweighed it in every way.

As I came closer to the parlour I heard Marianne speak, asking whoever was visiting to read another. I didn’t know what she referred to but I gently pushed open the door, not making a sound as I backed in to not wobble the tray. “Snow prints—” My heart stopped in my chest. “—were followed, a path—” My fingers trembled. “—he ought not have taken. She was below—” The tray clattered to the floor, the china breaking and shards scattering all over the floor as I heard Colonel Brandon read my poetry, about him !

“Mellie, goodness me, are you alright?” said Mrs Dashwood with a shriek. I slowly turned, seeing the man who I had written those words for staring at me with wide eyes and slightly parted lips, Marianne sat far too close to him. He was a captivating reader, I could not fault her for her investment, yet my heart ached at the sight of the two.

“I— That’s—” “I gave it to him,” Margaret said with a beaming smile. “You write so well, Mellie!” she kept going and Colonel Brandon looked between me and the notebook containing my most inner thoughts in his hands. His eyes turned wider, his face paled and I felt my insides twist as he stared at me again.

Tears stung my eyes, the shame and embarrassment, the hurt and fear, the ache in my chest at the betrayal of the child I thought so highly of. “Excuse me,” I blurted out before bolting out the door, not staying to clean up the mess. “Mellie!” called Mrs Dashwood. “Mellie, what—” called Marianne with confusion in her tone but I was out of earshot for her sweet, clear voice. Such a contrast to the Colonel’s, so perfectly matched.

I ran out through the kitchen entrance, past Cook who prepared the infernal bird, and out into the snow lit up by the climbing moon as early evening had arrived. “Honeybee!” came the voice I dreaded to hear. “Stop, please!” he called and I stopped, my hand on the gate at the end of the backyard and my slipper-clad feet deeply buried in the white coldness below.

His running steps reached me, and the crunching of snow and slightly panted breaths filled my ears. Warmth wrapped around my shoulders as he hung his coat over me and I spun around in shock at the action. He was stood in only his vest and shirt, the biting wind tossed about his beautiful hair but all I really saw were the sweet, kind eyes staring at me.

“I never knew,” he said quietly while taking a step back. “Knew what?” I asked, attempting to not inhale deeply as his scent wafted up my nose. The perfect scent, the warmest and most comforting of scents. “That is was your beautiful poetry I was reading, the child gave it to me, asked for me to read something out of it. I thought it belonged to one of the ladies present in the room — and they did not object,” he said while looking most forlorn, nearly distressed. “I was not even aware you resided with the Dashwood household.” “I have for many years,” I said. “Marianne will be a perfect match for you,” I continued while thinking of their voices, the way she sat right beside him on the sofa.

Colonel Brandon stepped closer. “I have already found my match,” he said. “I asked you not to tease me, sir. And you said not to be a gentlemen who trifled with women.” “And I have not,” he said, his eyes hardening while coming far too close, forcing me to look up at him. It was all in my head… Only in my heart, not his. Perhaps, perhaps he is merely a most kind man? I have little experience with those.

“Honeybee,” he said, snagging my attention anew. “I have not, and will not, trifle with you, tease you. I am too old for games and life far too dark as is for me to make it any worse.” “Sir!” “I speak true,” he declared. “A gentleman such as you ought to be more aware of your own handsomeness.” He blanched at that, blinking at me before a timid smile stretched his lips in a manner that looked as if he were unable to control it.

“You find me handsome?” “What woman in their right mind would not?” “Oh, I do believe you may be a woman of singular taste, honeybee.” I gasped, gaping at him. “I beg your pardon? Are you accusing me of something?” “I am not a favourable option for most beautiful women, such as yourself. I am well aware of it. My riches perhaps an aid in seeing past it, or my standing in society.” I gasped anew, a mixture of an exhale and a laugh of disbelief.

“You are terrible, sir. You may wish to know I had no idea who you were until you introduced yourself, even then, I am new to this part of the county and have had little to do with the upstanding citize n so I am not aware of your riches. I do recognize the bravery and skill you possess to climb up the ranks, but any silly nilly knows such things,” I said with both hurt and irritation at the man who twisted my insides with warmth and want. “I apologize, miss,” he said, his face held in some sort of shame at the assumption he’d held of me perhaps. “No need, I am but a servant of no importance or value.” “What a foul thing to say…” “Truth is sometimes.”

Time stretched on while we stood in silence, simply looking at each other. “Miss Melinda, your poetry,” he began while looking at me with something I could only describe as respect, perhaps even admiration, “it is most beautiful, passionate, deep .” The change of subject threw me for a loop, a man such as him ought to hold no admiration of any kind for a woman such as I. “Like your voice,” I whispered before I could stop myself. I had thought of hearing my words in his voice, there was no way not to when his voice was such perfection. He chuckled. “My voice is to your liking?” “Everything about you is to my liking, as far as I’m aware. Sir .” I couldn’t help the sass, or the way my face had hardened while my insides were in an uproar over the man. I had to protect myself from the rejection that was sure to come despite his sweet words. It was only a matter of time, surely.

Yet, it did not.

His hands cupped my face, the gesture most intimate and highly improper. “If you are ever made aware of a trait of mine that is not to your liking, I will be very much obliged to correct it, to your liking, honeybee.” “W-What do you mean?” I asked, my breath tumbling out in a shuttering way. “Would you object to me?” My eyes widened while his finger stroked my cheek. “Object to you? Sir?” “I am beyond happy I caught a glimpse of you, heard the vendor call for you about the holly, and found your prints at the edge of town. I rode around quite manically to find you, you know. Following those snow prints, it was the best decision I have ever made.” “Colonel… Stop, we cannot, it’s not proper.” “Propriety can take flight and be on its merry way, honeybee. I have my heart set on you, my beautiful honeybee who writes the most captivating of poetry and smiles with nothing but honesty in her eyes. I have my heart set on you, Melinda Merryweather.” “It was about you…” I whispered while my skin burned under his touch. “Me?” “Yes… For weeks now, I’ve tried all I can to rid myself of these feelings and thoughts…”

Brandon viewed me with a mixture of torment and joy, I chuckled nervously while he released my face and grasped my hands. His coat slid off my shoulders as he tugged me closer — gently — and the cold December air wrapped itself around me. “Would you allow said feelings to grow? Fester? Become an irrevocable part of you?” “Colonel…” “I am already lost to you, honeybee. Allow me the chance to make you happy,” he asked kindly, his hummingly dark voice nothing but an endless promise of said happiness. “Yes. Yes, please,” I whispered as tears of relief and joy wetted my cheeks. “Honeybee… Beautiful Melinda… My Melinda,” he said before he leaned in and kissed my forehead with force, his thin lips perfectly warm against my chilled skin. “You shall not regret this, I promise you my all.”

We leaned back, my heart was aflutter and my stomach a warm ball of knots, and I could not help but smile at the sweet gentleman who had captivated my heart so easily. “I fear any regret I may have will be only a reflection of your own, Colonel.” “Christopher,” he corrected. “My name, is Christopher, honeybee.” “Christopher.” “How sweet a sound you make it. I shall wish to hear it every day for the rest of my life.” I only nodded at that, too stunned to speak when he so brazenly declared I was to be his for all time to come. I held no objections to that as his hands squeezed mine with warmth, his kind eyes a balm to my soul and his smile a thing of beauty far beyond the sparkling snow all around us…

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

A/N: Oh how I hope you enjoyed this One Shot with our dear Brandon 🥰 I had so much fun writing this, and it did indeed turn out to be far longer than I had planned but I enjoyed each word I wrote of this 😍👏

IMPORTANT: Tomorrow I’ll be picking up a story from Rickmas2022! You do not have to read it before reading this years parts, but I do recommend it to get the full story. I will do a small recap before diving into the new parts too. The fics I will be continuing is 14. Icy Roads & 15. Frosty Glass (yes, it’s Hans and Anna-Louisa who are making a comback by super popular demand 😂👏). I've yet to start writing it but, well, guess it'll be a late night today 👀👍

Q: You can only choose one hot drink to consume during December: Coffee, Tea, or Hot chocolate? A: COFFEEEEEEEE all the way for me 😂☕

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[Dec:2023]

[cosmicjoke]

Okay, so here we go!  Chapter 1 of “No Regrets”!  

There’s a few things I want to point out about this chapter, because both visually and textually, we get a lot of information about the Underground and Levi, and his relationship with Isabel and Furlan.  So I’ll just go through it.

The first thing that really caught my attention for this chapter was the opening page, which is a retrospective shot of Levi after he’s joined the SC, thinking about how he can’t ever know what the results of his choices are going to be.  He says here “I trusted in my own strength... I trusted in the decisions of comrades who had earned my faith...”  And this quote from Levi is really important in later understanding why he makes the choice he does, at the end.  He says he trusted in the decisions of comrades who had earned his faith, and that tells us that Levi believes in Furlan and Isabel, that he believes in their strength and their capability, that he believes in them enough to let them choose for themselves and trust in their judgement.  We’ll obviously delve more into this as it becomes more relevant to the story.  But moving on...

The next thing to catch my attention is the panels of the Underground we see.  These are probably the best shots of this place we get in the whole series, as it really depicts a place that is totally run down and dilapidated, with buildings falling apart and crumbling in disrepair, filth ridden streets with literal sewage water coming out of drain pipes, and a actual cave cover overhead, complete with stalactites, blocking out all sunlight except for few and far between pockets which break through holes in the rock ceiling.  The most telling panels though are the ones which depict the violence and poverty of the place.  We see a panel of a homeless man passed out on the street, painfully thin looking, and under him, two men in a fight, one beating the other violently.  And the next panel shows us a little girl, sitting barefoot on the ground between two men who have just blown each other’s brains out with guns.  Truly, this is a violent, dark, poverty-stricken place that breeds crime and depravation.  The pages before this say that BECAUSE of the splendor of the Capital city above the Underground, this place exists, and that’s accurate.  Because of the excesses and decadence of the rich and well off above these people rejected by society, that means fewer resources for the less fortunate.  It’s truly tragic.  

Alright, now I just want to move on to some small, but telling moments here while Levi and the others are being chased by Erwin and his crew.  

When Isabel is bragging about how the MP’s never learn, referring to how they’ll never be able to catch their gang, she asks Levi if what she said was cool.  Levi tells her “Don’t be stupid.”  This might seem like Levi just blowing her off, but the way I read it, it seems more to me like Levi is warning her not to be cocky, not to be over confident, because that’s the kind of thing that can get you killed, or caught.  Big Bro indeed!   We also see how mindful Levi is here as a leader, when he tells them they can’t afford to lead the soldiers following them straight to their hideout, and clearly they have a plan in place for just this sort of thing.

More importantly, Levi is fast to realize these aren’t ordinary soldiers after them, which shows his great instincts, but what’s really interesting is his internal thoughts here.  His logic is telling him regular MP’s wouldn’t work this hard to catch them, and that their skill with the ODM means they must be SC.  But Levi doesn’t really believe it which, given what we later find out about the deal with Lobov, and Lobov warning them of Erwin’s plans, tells us that Levi never really believed the SC would come after them.  He’s clearly surprised here.

Further, after informing Isabel and Furlan and confirming his suspicions, he tells Furlan that he’s got no intention of getting mixed up with “these guys”.  This tells us Levi never wanted to go through with Furlan’s plans, never wanted to join the SC, never wanted anything to do with any of it.  There’s further evidenced in this very chapter, which I’ll get to in a moment.  But it tells us a lot about the dubious feelings Levi had from the start, and how he probably would have simply been happiest to stay in the Underground with his friends, even though it was a hard life.  

Alright, so, this next part is a big deal, and it’s an overlooked detail which speaks volumes about the kind of person Levi is.  I didn’t even notice this the first time I read it, so I want to talk about it.  Levi separates from Isabel and Furlan, and takes Erwin and Mike on a wild chase through the back alley’s and narrow passages of the slums.  He really tries to give them the run around here, until he flips over a door, into another area.  What’s really important here is Levi’s dialog.  He says first “... Lost ‘em, huh?”  And then he says, “That got a little crazy...  I hope... none of them crashed.”  This is kind of amazing.  Levi is showing actual concern for the two soldiers who’d just attempted to catch him and his friends, who were doggedly pursuing them with obviously bad intentions of some kind.  And Levi, after having to resort to some serious ODM skills to shake them, says he hopes that none of them crashed.  He doesn’t want Erwin or Mike to get hurt, he just wants to get away from them.  Considering he doesn’t know either of them at this point, they’re just nameless, faceless military dogs trying to mess things up for him, that shows remarkable character.  

Of course, things go downhill from there, when Mike crashes through the door and tackles him.  All bets are off then, because Levi’s life is now in danger, and when that happens, he’ll resort to physical force.  Still, he only throws Mike off of him and once again attempts to get away, only for it to be Erwin who swoops down and cuts Levi’s cables.  This was actually really dangerous.  Given Levi’s momentum and position, he crashes hard into a nearby wall before falling to the ground.  So we already see some of that ruthlessness from Erwin here.  Of course, that spurs Levi into violence himself.  I have no doubt that when Levi lunges for Erwin and knocks his blade away, bringing his knife to his neck, he truly intended to kill him in that moment.  Levi’s compassion for these soldiers can only go so far, considering the desperation of his own circumstances.  If Mike hadn’t been there to stop it, I think Levi probably would have ripped Erwin’s jugular right out, and that would have been that, lol.  And then, it’s important to note too WHY Levi stops.  Not because Mike was able to physically restrain him, but because he tells Levi to look around himself, directing his attention to the fact that Furlan and Isabel have been caught.  That immediately stays Levi’s hand, and once again, we’re shown how Levi puts the wellbeing of his friends above himself.  He could have ditched Furlan and Isabel right then and there and escaped on his own.  Instead, he allows himself to be restrained and cuffed.  He refuses to abandon them.

Now the next scene is hugely important to a lot of stuff.

Erwin’s got Levi and his friends down on their knees, in the sewage, questioning them about their ODM skills, and the three of them stay silent, obviously defiant.  We really get a good look at Erwin’s abilities as a manipulator here.

He’s pulling the whole good cop/bad cop routine on Levi, when he tells him “I’d like to avoid any rough treatment if I can” before looking to Mike in a clear signal for Mike to pretty damn violently tear Levi’s head back by his hair before smashing his face into the sewage on the ground.  And this really IS sewage.  It’s not mud.  If you look at the panels, we see this brown muck coming out of drain pips attached to the surrounding buildings.  This water is probably, literally, dirty with feces, and Erwin has Mike put Levi’s face in this and hold it there.  Now let’s remember something important about Levi.  He’s a clean freak.  He obviously cares deeply about keeping both himself and his environment clean.  Erwin couldn’t know this about him at the time, but nobody of course would be happy about having their face shoved into literal shit.  But for Levi, I can only imagine this had to be tantamount to a kind of torture.  Erwin keeps questioning him, looking down at him without any kind of emotion, and Levi remains stubbornly silent, despite how awful this must truly be for him.  We get a close up of Levi’s eye in one of the panels, paralleled with Erwin’s own, and Levi’s expression really strikes me as one of awful humiliation.  He goes from looking up at Erwin in rage, to looking away, staring straight ahead, while Erwin keeps looking down at him.

Still, Levi says nothing, and it’s Isabel who finally cracks, telling Erwin that they didn’t learn to use ODM from anyone, with Furlan further explaining that they taught themselves as a means of survival.  He remarks that “anyone who doesn’t know what sewage tastes like couldn’t understand!”.  Clearly, both of them are really upset to see this being done to Levi, and I have to imagine it’s at least in part because they know how awful an experience this has to be for him, given that they know how much he desires to stay clean.  Their shocked expressions when Mike first pushes Levi’s face into the sewage says as much too.

But still, Levi remains silent as Erwin then demands to know Levi’s name.  What Mike does to Levi in the next panel is even worse.  He pushes his face into the sewage and holds him there until Levi literally starts to choke in it, for long enough that, when he finally does pull him up, Levi is gasping for breath.  I really don’t see people talk enough about this scene, but, well...

It’s a torture scene.  Erwin is ordering Mike to torture Levi here.  It may not be the most extreme form of torture, it isn’t the type of physical violence we typically think of when we think of torture, but that’s what it is.  It’s causing Levi both physical and mental degradation, as well as physical distress.  

Even with this though, Levi’s still silent and refuses to answer Erwin at all.  

It’s only when Erwin literally threatens the lives of Furlan and Isabel that he finally talks.  This is such an important detail.  Levi was willing to take what to him must have been truly horrific treatment, but as soon as Erwin gives the signal to the other two Scouts who have hold of his friends, we see Levi’s expression shift from defiant rage to wide eyed fear as they put their blades to Furlan’s and Isabel’s throats.  

Finally Levi talks, calling Erwin a “bastard”, to which Erwin simply asks him again what his name is, and after a slight hesitation, Levi finally gives it.  

I think this entire scene is vital in understanding WHY Levi was so violently pissed at Erwin, to the point of wanting to kill him.

I think it’s a combination of both the humiliation and torture he puts Levi through here, and, worse still, the fact that he threatens Isabel and Furlan’s lives.  Levi already feels looked down upon by Erwin here, he already feels humiliated and embarrassed and as though he’s being treated like he’s worthless, because Erwin IS treating him like that here.  All while Erwin stands there, expressionless, making statements like he doesn’t want to have to use any rough treatment, etc... while at the same time ordering Mike to do just that.  Already, Erwin is sending Levi the message that he’s a liar and a manipulator who thinks nothing of putting another human being’s face in shit.  And then, to top that off, he shows Levi that he’s willing to hurt, maybe even kill, his two friends to get what he wants.

Is it any wonder Levi hated Erwin as much as he did at the beginning?  After a lifetime in the Underground where, from the time of his birth, he had to deal with him and those he cares about being treated like worthless trash.  It would be a miracle if Levi DIDN’T want to kill Erwin at this point.  To have to then submit to him willingly, after all of that, must have been beyond humiliating for him.

Erwin continues to be manipulative here too, when after Levi gives his name, Erwin’s attitude suddenly shifts, and he smiles at Levi and gets down on one knee with him, in the filth, his entire demeanor seeming to shift into an abruptly friendly one as he offers his deal to Levi.  Again, that whole good cop/bad cop thing.  At the same time, he continues to threaten Levi by telling him if he refuses his offer, he’ll hand them all over to the MP’s and that, given their crimes, they shouldn’t expect to be treated with any kind of decency.  What’s kind of funny about this statement from Erwin is that up until now, Erwin and Mike have done anything but treat Levi decently. 

Okay, one more important point to make about this chapter, and it goes back to what I said earlier about Levi not wanting anything to do with the SC, and how that tells us Levi really didn’t want to go through with Furlan’s plans.

After Erwin makes his offer, we see Levi look over at Furlan, who’s giving him an intent look, and in the next panel, we see an almost surprised, or astonished look on Levi’s face, like he can’t believe Furlan is asking him to do this, before he grits his teeth in obvious frustration, and then accepts Erwin’s offer to join the SC.  What this tells us is that Levi only takes Erwin’s offer because Furlan wanted him to.  Because this was all part of Furlan’s plan, to go through with Lobov’s commission, to get caught by the SC, etc...  It’s clear Levi never wanted this, and he’s upset at having to do it.  But the fact he agrees after looking over at Furlan and seeing him implore Levi with his eyes tells us, once again, that Levi is willing to sacrifice his own desires for the desires of others.  That being his two friends.

For them, he’ll join the Survey Corps, even as every one of his instincts is probably screaming at him that this is a bad idea.

Anyway, those are my thoughts for the first chapter of “No Regrets”.  There’s a lot more to unpack in this manga than I think people realize.  I hope whoever took the time to read my long ass post found it at least a little worth while.  I’ll be moving on to chapter two next!

[genesisrose74]

A/n: This idea just popped into my head this morning and I needed to write it out, guess who finished in one day instead of focusing on summer school aha ha...so here’s the next edition of Class 1-A quarantine hc’s! I think I’ll include a bit of background for all of these, just for future reference if anyone likes them lmao. Today we have everyone’s favorite nitroglycerin king, Bakugo Katsuki! Hope y’all enjoy cause I’m honestly so soft for this one okay BYE-

Surprisingly, you’re initially part of the Dekusquad, but you’ve always been close with Kirishima and Mina and feel comfortable hanging out with their group as well so you start gravitating to the Bakusquad 

At first, Bakugo is really standoffish because, “You’re seriously friends with that damn nerd Deku” - wow everyone be hating on our cinnamon roll smh

But then he sees how much the rest of Bakusquad likes you and he starts warming up

It starts with small little things like not hogging all the space on the couches in the dorms and having you sit beside him

Then he notices that you’re very forgetful of your jacket and he ends up keeping a spare in his bag just in case the weather gets really bad

“I mistakenly grabbed two this morning, so lighten my load and carry the jacket—I don’t give a shit if you put it on, just hold it will you!” 

He’s acts all aggressive whenever he tries to be subtle and someone calls him out on it pffft- 

“What the hell are you talking about? You trying to get punched in the face?”

And his feelings are emphasized when the whole class is allowed to use the pool one afternoon and you’re pulling up with Mina and Momo

You’ve got a cute swimsuit and a sun hat on, and King Explosion Murder starts sweating a dangerous amount of nitroglycerin 

Bakugo Katsuki has a thing for soft girls who can pull a one-eighty and kick ass no I do not take criticism

The class wants to play chicken and everyone is choosing partners, but in the corner of his eye Bakugo sees you getting cornered by Mineta 

You’re usually able to handle the horny tornado but you’re feeling a bit too exposed in a bathing suit and start losing your cool

When I tell you the whole Bakusquad BOLTS to come rescue you-

Mineta is literally launched out of the pool by Sero like a rocket ship in orbit and the rest of the group is in this protective barrier formation around you (yes the squad has protocols for this kind of thing don’t even deny it)

Bakugo is beside you in a second with his hands secured on your waist because no one is coming near you like that when he’s around

“Why don’t you be my partner, yeah?”

And that's the story of how y’all destroyed everyone at chicken with absolutely no mercy and Bakugo finds your competitiveness that entire day attractive as hell

Walking back to the dorms afterwards, he pulls you away from the group and the look he gives you is  s e a r i n g

“For the love of God, go out with me” and he does not have to tell you twice

Literally the entire class is SHOOK because you’re actually pretty mellow and Mr. My Only Vocabulary Word Is Die is...ya know...✨volatile✨

But let’s be honest he’s actually a softie if you’re close enough to him (sorry Deku you’re the exception but we still luv u) and everyone ends up adoring y’all being together

When quarantine rolls around and you both have to live back at your respective houses, everything is decently calm for about two days and then you both start getting bored as hell

Honestly longer than you expected 

Bakugo hates social distancing with a passion but he agrees to abide by the rules and ends up asking you to Facetime at least twice a day

His bedroom is actually very tidy ‘cause Bakugo hates clutter, especially when he’s doing schoolwork

I wholeheartedly believe that Bakugo is a beast in the kitchen and y’all can fight me about it because his knife skills are canon and you best believe he learned it to be more independent 

He’s been experimenting with new cooking recipes and is a master at making something out of practically nothing in his fridge, which is really handy when a trip to the grocery store is long overdue

He sends you pictures of his dishes and your responses are all praise and none of it’s exaggerated either; this boy can COOK 

Netflix Parties with the Bakusquad — the chat gets loaded with Denki and Kiri spamming and Bakugo yelling at them in all caps to shut up

Your lock screen is a picture of the group on Facetime and you all have filters on (somehow you got Bakugo to use one don’t ask how); literal friendship goals

And then it’s been about a whole month since quarantine started and Bakugo wants to come visit you, but his mom shuts that down quicker than Barry Allen in the Speed Force

He’s pissed because he and his family feel perfectly healthy but his mother will not let him leave under any circumstances

So when his parents go to visit some relatives who were more susceptible to the virus and needed help with a couple basic tasks you decide to sneak out to see him (in good health of course)

Imagine his surprise when his typically rule-following girlfriend calls and is already standing in his backyard, bags of groceries in your possession

***

Bakugo shot you an incredulous look as you sat at the kitchen table. “You know I could have just opened the front door for you.”

“Yeah, but going through the window was way more fun,” you defended. “It’s not like I’m very rebellious at any other time, so might as well live it up while I have the courage.”

The blond snorted, sifting through the numerous bags you brought along to his house. They were filled with an assortment of foods: vegetables, meat, rice, sauces and the like. 

“What’s all this for?” he inquired, pulling out a bottle of teriyaki sauce.

You couldn’t help the small smile that grew on your face as your boyfriend curiously examined the items. “It’s for you to cook with, duh.”

“And how am I supposed to explain the new abundance of food in the fridge to my parents?”

“Say that I had it sent over through Postmates or something. Even I thought of that, Katsuki.”

He rolled his eyes as he placed down the last bag of items. “I can’t believe you snuck out and brought all this stuff,” he murmured, leaning over to kiss the top of your head. “Thank you, babe.”

A faint blush rises to your cheeks, despite the fact you’ve been dating the first year student for a few months now. Girlfriend or not, verbal thanks from the King Explosion Murder was rare. “You’re welcome.”

Bakugo turned to the stove and started organizing a number of ingredients on the counter beside it, pulling out kitchenware from cabinets as he went.

“Since you’re here and all, I suppose I could make your dumb ass something,” he remarked. 

Your eyes practically sparkled with excitement at the offer; you were hoping the blond would make you one of his iconic dishes eventually. A ghost of a grin was present on Bakugo’s face at the cheer that left your mouth, his back facing you as he got started. 

You were quick to situate yourself on top of the kitchen counter, Bakugo lifting you by the waist to place you farther away from the flaming stove but still allowing you to watch as he worked. His knife skills were almost scary when chopping up the vegetables, the pace at which he was cutting them astonishing you, and the overall aroma of the space had your mouth watering before he was even close to finishing the meal.

“I feel like a judge on Master Chef,” you giggled, and the boy shook his head at the comment as he eyed a timer he had set for the pork he put on the stove. 

“I’m pretty sure my girlfriend of a judge would be a bit biased over the contestants,” he pointed out. 

You hummed thoughtfully. “I mean, if he keeps looking this attractive while making food I think my bias is justified.”

He glanced at you perched on the counter top, and took a few steps in your direction, cupping your cheek in one hand to kiss you quickly. 

“You’re distracting me,” the first year mumbled, running a thumb over your jaw. “Quit being so cute, dummy.”

You saluted playfully. “Yes, chef.”

He let out a soft laugh before moving back to silence the timer that had started beeping, alerting him that the pork on the stove was ready to go. The blond shooed you away and had you sit at the dining table as he took the skillet and turned off the stove flames.

As you waited patiently for Bakugo to finish up, you sang under your breath and set two spots at the table directly across from each other. By the time he was done, two plates of steaming food in hand, you were already sitting down and twirling a fork between your fingers. 

“What did you end up making?” You asked as he set a plate of rice and pork in front of you. 

“Tonkatsu,” he replied nonchalantly. 

It smelled like absolute heaven, and your hunger was only emphasized in the midst of the fast food you had been surviving off of during quarantine. This boy was even good at presentation, and you began to wonder if he was just talented at everything he tried.

Bakugo took the spot across from you and watched as you took the first bite. He wouldn’t admit it, but he felt a bit nervous that you wouldn’t like what he made. But that thought dissipated as quickly as it came once your fork flew into the meal for a second time, and you shot him a wide-eyed look.

“So good!” you exclaimed with a stuffed face, a few grains of rice falling from your mouth and back onto the plate.

“Don’t speak with your mouth full or you’ll choke, stupid,” he reprimanded, but your praise had an evident effect on the male as a smug smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“I expect gourmet lunches from you at least once a week when school starts again.” 

“Not a chance in hell that I’m doing extra work in the mornings.”

“I’ll buy you all the ingredients you want~” 

“...I’ll think about it.”

Next thing you knew, all the food on your plate was gone, gladly relocated to your stomach. Rounding the table, you wrapped your arms around Bakugo’s shoulders as he also finished eating. 

“Thank you for dinner, Katsuki,” you hummed contentedly, resting your chin on his head. “It was seriously masterclass, especially after all the takeout I’ve been eating.” 

“Yeah, yeah, you’re welcome,” he waved it off. “I think a movie of my choosing is in order.”

“After we clean up, hot shot. Your mom would kill you if she realized someone was over.”

“Why wouldn’t she kill you too?”

“Please. Your mom loves me.”

The blond barked out a laugh before standing up and holding your waist, ushering you back to the kitchen. “True.”

Cleaning up was quick and easy with the both of you working together, stocking away dishes and remaining groceries. The evening sky, visible through a large window in the living room, glittered with stars as you sidled next to your boyfriend on the couch, the kitchen and dining room returned to its normal prestige.

“Katsuki?” you murmured, voice laced with a touch of contented sleepiness.

He turned his head from the television screen to face you. “Hm?” 

“I missed you, silly.” 

An arm was thrown around your shoulder and you were pulled closer to the male, who gently kissed your temple. 

“I missed you too, dummy.”

[heyitssmiller]

Chop It Like It’s Hot

Chapter 2: Goodness Gracious, Great Balls of Fire

@lumosinlove Thank you for your lovely characters! This has been so fun to write. :)

Hope you guys enjoy!

Chop It Like It’s Hot Masterlist

Leo took one look one look at his co-star slumped at a table in the break room and changed his trajection to include a stop at the coffee machine. “Morning, Dorcas.”

“You’re not allowed to talk right now.”

He laughed under his breath, pressing the espresso button and opening the fridge to look for any non-expired milk products. “Talking is a big part of our job, you know.”

“Does it look like I’m on the clock right now?”

Leo hummed noncommittally, stirring some whole milk into the coffee before sliding it across the table to Dorcas. “Rough night?”

She grabbed the mug and took a tentative sip. Her shoulders relaxed fractionally and she let out a relieved sigh. “I forgot that you actually know how to make office coffee taste good.”

“I’m offended that you doubted me.” Leo took the empty seat next to her. “Now what happened?”

Dorcas looked down at her hands wrapped tightly around her mug, expression carefully neutral. “I broke up with her.” She laughed humorlessly. “I knew it wasn’t working for a while now, so I don’t understand why I’m so upset about it. Our schedules never lined up and we never really saw each other anymore. So I figured it was best to do it now instead of dragging it out.”

Leo knew she wasn’t one for physical affection, so he just sat by her side. “Still hurts, though. She was a big part of your life for a while now; it’s ok to be upset about it, no matter what the circumstances of the breakup are.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re going to be ok. Might not feel like it right now, but you’re as tough as they come.”

“Relationships are shit.”

“Breakups are shit.” Leo corrected gently.

“You know, sometimes people just want to feel like shit for a while. You don’t have to try and fix everything all the time.” She said, but her voice was teasing instead of accusatory. “How are you not emotionally exhausted all the time?”

“A lifetime of practice and sheer force of will.”

Dorcas laughed and shoved him away. “You suck.”

“If you want someone to just rant to, I can definitely make room for that tonight. You can experiment with your cocktail recipes, then get unbelievably drunk off them and trash talk all night.”

“You just want free drinks.”

“Consider it payment for the coffee and pep talk.” He said, rising to his feet. “Come on, we should get to the studio.”

She smiled and followed Leo out the door. “If there’s one thing guaranteed to cheer me up, it’s watching other people fail spectacularly at cooking.”

Dorcas got the cue from the director and started their cooking segment. “Recruits, today I’ll be showing you how to make perfectly-done mashed potatoes, and chef Leo will be teaching you how to make bone-in ribeye. Make sure you’re taking notes – you can use those when you attempt to recreate this dish later today.” There was a frantic flurry of movement as everyone took their notepads out and tried to find their pens.

“All right,” Leo grabbed a large slab of ribeye from the ingredients counter with both hands and heaved it onto the front table. Several recruits flinched back while others looked sick at the sight of their meat actually resembling the animal it came from. He bit back a smile and picked up a butcher’s knife.

God, he loved this job.

“So we’re just going to cut these and then you’re going to take a towel and just basically tear this portion of the meat off in one big piece. You see that? Then we’re going to add oil to a hot pan and drop the steak in.” The sizzling sound of the Maillard reaction filled the room. “We’re going to be basting this with thyme and half a stick of butter once the meat is cooked.”

A frantic whisper of “What the hell is basting?” rose up as Dorcas took over the lead, starting by bringing water to a boil and then waiting for it to reduce to a simmer. Leo watched as several of the recruits’ eyes glazed over, completely lost as Dorcas peeled potatoes in quick, practiced movements.

Leo recognized Logan’s voice as it carried from his spot in the crowd. “Do they have a medic on this show?”

“I hope so.” Finn murmured back.

“Our steak is done now. See the color on that?” Leo grabbed the steak with a pair of tongs and held it up for the recruits to see. “Now for our sauce. Have you guys ever flambéed anything before?”

“Lo, is that French?”

Logan’s microphone just barely picked up his little chuckle. “Yes.”

“Its literal translation means ‘flamed.’” Leo supplied, watching fear develop on their faces and trying his hardest not to laugh, biting his lower lip in the process.

This was only going to end badly, in a glorious blaze of fire.

“We’ve never had a disaster happen on the show flambéing something. Let’s try to keep it that way.” He grabbed the bottle of cognac at his station. “I’m going to take all of this cognac, add it to our pan with the sauce, and light it.”

He grabbed a lighter, flicked it on, and lightly touched it to the surface of the alcohol. Pink-red flames sprung from the pan, causing several of the recruits to shout and step back in alarm. “We’re just going to let it sit and burn off that alcohol.”

Dorcas grabbed her pan and added shallots to it. “I’m going to start getting my shallots sautéed, and –“

“Shallots?” A recruit asked, confusion etched on her face.

“Yes.”

“What are those?”

Dorcas turned and grabbed a shallot from the counter behind her. “This is a shallot.”

“Oh, so an onion.”

“No.” Dorcas said plainly, grabbing a hand mixer to blend her potatoes, butter, and cream. “Once the shallots are cooked, I add them to the potatoes and mix it all together. Then all you have to do is plate all this and you’re done.”

Leo grabbed his saucepan and spooned some out. “Don’t forget to add your sauce on top of the ribeye.”

“Now it’s your job to recreate this dish on your own. You have an hour to complete this challenge. And your time starts… now!”

Chaos ensued. Knives were waved around haphazardly, chopping skills were slim to none. One recruit was still trying to turn the stove on, while another had grabbed a pan that definitely wasn’t going to be big enough for a ribeye steak.

Leo shot Dorcas a horrified look. “Did we go too fast? I thought we explained everything pretty well, but now I’m not sure.”

“That’s just the way of this show.” Dorcas said with a shrug. “We need to see what level they’re on and what their strengths and weaknesses are before we can really start teaching. It gets better when we’re allowed to get out there and help them.”

Finn and Logan had cut off their own ribeyes first and were headed back to their stations. “Oh god I don’t remember anything they showed us.” Finn stressed, putting his ribeye directly onto the pan without any oil.

Logan looked down at his thyme and butter, seemingly at a loss. “Just look at your notes.”

“I can’t read it. You know I have terrible handwriting. Look,” he flipped his notepad around to show Logan. “That’s all I wrote down.”

“Does that say goat?” Logan asked, not bothering to strip the leaves of thyme off the stems and just throwing the entire sprig of herb into his pan.

Finn turned it back around squinted. “Maybe?”

“I like your smiley faces, though.” Logan said, pressing a quick kiss to Finn’s cheek. The redhead smiled broadly.

“Thanks, baby.”

Dorcas hummed by Leo’s side. “I forgot they’re together.”

“Yeah,” Leo absentmindedly fiddled with the bracelet around his wrist. “Must be hard. Hockey’s not known for being accepting.” He tried not to think too much about his memories of locker rooms, judgmental eyes, and the slurs of his own teammates from years ago.

A shout from one of the recruits snapped him back to attention. The recruit was halfway across the room from her on-fire sauce and refusing to go back to her station. Leo sighed. “Flambéing was a horrible first lesson.”

“Maybe. But it sure is entertaining.” Dorcas raised her voice to be heard by the contestants. “Don’t leave pans on a stove unattended, please!”

“Let it rain!” Finn shouted, throwing salt into his pot of cooking potatoes. Dorcas cackled joyously as she watched.

“How much salt are you going to put in there?” Leo called, eyes wide.

Finn repeated, “Let it rain!” as if it were an actual answer.

“I think he just put a cup of salt in those potatoes.”

Dorcas was wheezing now, hunched over as she laughed.

“Laugh now, but we’re the ones who have to taste that.”

She instantly stopped laughing. “Oh shit.”

“We’re definitely going to need those drinks tonight.”

***

Logan’s dish was up first. Leo looked down at his steak and fished out a thyme stem, holding it up for him to see. “When you’re working with thyme, you really need to just use the leaves. When the stems are cooked they get really tough and can be like swallowing fish bones when they’re like this.” He cut into the ribeye and took a bite. “But your steak tastes really good. It’s perfectly cooked and not too dry.”

Logan flashed them a blinding smile (that might have left Leo a little speechless, but he wasn’t planning on admitting that anytime soon).

“The potatoes have a good consistency, too.” Dorcas added when Leo didn’t say anything else. “Good job, Logan.”

After several raw steaks, burned steaks, and soupy mashed potatoes were tasted, the dish both of the chefs were dreading the most appeared in front of them.

Finn’s potatoes.

Dorcas looked to Leo, then met Finn’s eyes. “Now, I haven’t come across many things I’m genuinely afraid to eat. But these potatoes…”

Finn laughed good-naturedly. “Yikes.”

Leo’s eyes bulged as he tried the potatoes. “I think I’m dehydrated now.”

“I think I have a water bottle somewhere, if you want it.”

“I’m tempted to take you up on that.” Dorcas said, voice strained. “In the future, go light on the salt.”

In the end, they had to eliminate the contestant who gave them burned steak and didn’t serve mashed potatoes at all. The directors called cut shortly after that and people visibly relaxed, chatting with friends while the cleaning crew came through and started dealing with the mess. Leo felt like he should probably help with that; there sure was a lot to clean. The crew would be here until midnight at this rate. So he grabbed a disinfectant spray and a rag, turning to start wiping things down and almost running right into Logan as he did so.

“Hey, chef!” Finn said from his spot next to the brunet. “Have your taste buds recovered yet?”

He laughed with a shrug. “I have a feeling they’ll be messed up from now until a month after this show ends. That might be for the best, anyways.”

“Why in the hell did you sign up for this?” Logan asked, head tilted in confusion. “You’re forced to eat awful food and watch a bunch of amateurs destroy this kitchen. Seems more stressful than anything.”

“I mean, watching you wave around that knife today just about gave me a heart attack-“ Finn interrupted him with a loud burst of laughter, causing Leo to smile as he continued, “But it’s fun teaching y’all. It’s a good change of pace. Doing just competitions gets old after a while.”

“Yeah, especially if you win all of them.”

Leo felt his cheeks heat up. “Not all of them.”

“Most of them, then.” Logan amended. “Don’t sell yourself short; you’re really good.”

“So are you guys.” Leo stammered a little, trying to think of the right words. “I – I just wanted to say it’s really cool that you’re both raising so much awareness for the need for diversity in hockey. It’s going to make a world of difference to a lot of people.”

I wish I’d had someone like the two of you to look up to when I was growing up.

He played with his bracelet again. It wasn’t a secret that he was gay – he’d talked about it a few times on various shows and competitions he’d participated in. That was one of the best things about the cooking industry. It didn’t matter who you were or what your secrets were; as long as you were a good cook, most people didn’t really care. Leo had realized at a young age that, no matter what he ended up doing with his life, he wasn’t going to hide any part of himself. He’d done that dance before, and he didn’t care to relive it any time soon.

Finn smiled, throwing an arm around Logan’s shoulders. “Well, thanks. It hasn’t always been the easiest, but we’re happy.”

Leo resolutely ignored the strange pang in his chest at those words. It wasn’t fair of him to be jealous. “I’m glad.” He glanced around and noticed the progress the crew had made. “I should probably go. We’ve still got a lot to do before we head out.”

“Do you guys need any help?”

Leo couldn’t help but laugh a little at that. “Seeing that you made most of this mess, maybe we should have you clean up,” he teased Finn, who pouted. “But no, we’re fine. Thanks for the offer, though. Y’all have a good night.”

“You too!” Logan called over his shoulder. He leaned over to whisper something to Finn, who threw his head back and laughed.

Leo turned away and started wiping down the nearest counter.

***

Post-Episode Interview

Leo: *gives the camera a pained look* Is cooking really this hard for people? I want to get out there and help them so badly, but I can’t. We’re supposed to just observe for this challenge.

The video switches from Leo talking to footage from the earlier challenge: Leo grimacing and taking an aborted step towards a recruit getting his face way too close to the fire. Leo looking on in horror as another recruit wields a knife incorrectly and nearly loses a finger. Dorcas laughing as a recruit tries to grab her potatoes out of a pot of hot water with her bare hands while Leo reaches out and grabs onto the edge of the table with a white-knuckled grip. “Oh god, this isn’t safe at all.” Dorcas ruffles his hair, standing on her tiptoes to do so. “Poor rookie. You get used to it.”

*Back to Leo in the interview room, pinching the bridge of his nose*

Leo: My hair will be completely gray by the end of this show.

[wienerbarnes]

Play Dead Until You’re Dead

Pairing: Bucky x Reader (Cheek to Cheek)

Word Count: 3,149

Warnings: Lowkey angst ngl but nothing too bad

A/N: YAY im so excited for this part bc I've had this in my head for a while now and it gonna change so much for the story but I'm so excited for one shots in the future! also this is kinda not edited ill go through it again tomorrow :) enjoy!

MAIN MASTERLIST | CHEEK TO CHEEK MASTERLIST

A slow knock interrupts your plant watering and you glance at the time. Bucky said he’d be by in the afternoon, not the morning. You place your cup of water down and walk over to the door and open it cautiously before your eyes widen and a gasp escapes you as you see who awaits you on the other side.

Sam Wilson, dressed in civilian clothing, shoots you a smirk, “Why don’t we go for a drive?”

You don’t have time to answer. You don’t have time to think. Your blood is cold, your hands are cold, and your feet are cold as they slip into the sandals you keep by the door. You silently - and anxiously - step out into the hallway and shut the door behind you, never taking your eyes off of Sam.

“After you.” he gestures with a smile. You walk.

…

Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes have a lot of unspoken conversations. Although the rocky start they got off too all those years ago, they’ve grown incredibly close and trust each other like no one else.

So when Bucky calls him late at night, sounding confused, nervous, and unsure, Sam notices. Especially when Bucky then suddenly forgets why he called and what he needed to talk to him about.

Sam’s first thought was that he was drugged. Bucky was given something that clouded his mind. But when Sam saw him the next day, he seemed perfectly fine. So, he proceeded to his second thought.

Bucky was keeping a secret from him.

When Sam was passed the shield, there was one thing each of them asked of each other. Bucky asked to not be a part of the Avengers full time. Sam asked for no secrets and no lying (which he later asked the same from Sharon).

And since then, Bucky has been solely tasked with training new recruits for their seven week training which occurs twice a year, as well as to help on especially difficult cases called to them by the government. And in return, Bucky has not told a single lie to him or kept a single secret. Until now.

So Sam begins to get unimaginably curious. Bucky hasn’t picked up any new hobbies, and after a quick and encrypted check up, none of his extended family have passed away or had anything big happen to them, either. The last thing that Sam can think of to have caused such an odd change in Bucky is a girlfriend. But, if it is a girlfriend, why wouldn’t he tell Sam? Unless, it was someone he knew Sam wouldn’t like.

And that’s when he knew he had to figure out who it was.

So he waited. Until the perfect clue presented itself.

“No, I can’t tonight, man.”

“Why not? I know it’s Friday night, but, what, you got a hot date, or something?”

“Something like that - look, I just have plans I can’t cancel tonight. How about next Friday we go out?”

That was all Sam needed. The plans he couldn’t cancel. So, he waited until later that night and went over to Bucky’s apartment. He’d figure a harmless cock-blocking will teach him not to keep secrets from him anymore.

Until when he put his car into park and gathered his belongings to put them in his pockets, he noticed someone exiting the front of the apartment building; specifically a head of fiery red hair.

Imagine his surprise when he recognizes the face as you.

It doesn’t take long for Sam to figure out where you were. Everyone had already assumed you to be dead, or at least be far away from the country. But now that he knew you were still in New York, a few hours digging into your past and your file led him to a few key locations. From being so separated from society for so long, chances were that you’d find a place you were familiar with, if not the same place, the same area.

Kathleen Grover’s apartment is the first place he checks, but it’s since been turned into higher end condos, a place you probably wouldn’t be able to get away with staying at considering that you probably don’t have an ID or any money. So he checks for the absolute cheapest and low-lying apartments in the neighborhood. Which gives him two results. He just so happened to be lucky on the first one he chose to look into.

Which leads to now, the two of you riding in complete silence, on the way to the Tower, unbeknownst to you.

The only thing that’s going through your mind is Bucky. You hate the idea that he sold you out, because not only would it hurt your feelings, but it would mean those annoying voices in your head would’ve been right.

Yeah, time to put your big girl pants back on. What, you thought you’d live a normal life at some point? Buy a big house? Go out to fancy, populated restaurants? Maybe DisneyWorld? Get a grip! You were always a mistake and a failure. And you’re going right back where you belong, in that box! And Bucky will be right there in that observation room when they stick the needle in your arm and end you for good.

You swallow down the bile that comes up at the thought of going back to prison.

It was fun while it lasted. Decorating the apartment. The tattoos. The new recipes. The movie nights with Bucky. The sleepovers with Bucky. The list with Bucky. The long road trips with Bucky. The music playlists with Bucky. Bucky.

You’ll miss Bucky the most in prison. You’ll think about him everyday. You won’t be able to write him and he won’t be able to write you, not that he’d want to given the fact that he ratted you out, but there was no paper or writing utensils allowed, especially for you.

You’ll dream about his singing when he’d clean, his hugs after waking up, still warm from the sheets, and the unbelievable comfort his eyes provided.

...

“Hey, Sam, how are you?” Bucky absentmindedly answers as he finishes up watering the plants in his living room.

“Hey, man. You busy? Mind meeting me at the tower?” Bucky can hear his car in the background.

“Uh, yea, sure I can. New case?” He asks, setting down his watering kettle and walking towards his room to put on a fresh pair of socks and sneakers. If it’s a new case, there’s no point in getting all done up to listen to Sam debrief him.

“Something like that. Just get here, yea?”

That’s odd.

Normally when Sam calls Bucky about a case, he gives him at least some of the details. That was a part of their plan, their deal. Bucky only joins on missions on special occasions and with specific circumstances. So why wouldn’t Sam give the tiniest hint of what’s going on?

Unless it’s something Bucky’s involved in.

Is Zemo dead? Has he escaped? Some other big Hydra villain that’s come to light?

Bucky’s mouth goes dry like cotton at the thought of something involving you. Did someone recognize you and turn you in? Did Sam find you? No, no, he couldn’t have. The both of you had been so unbelievably careful, there was no way anyone found you.

Bucky lets out a shaky sigh before grabbing his keys and his wallet and heading out.

…

That phone call hurt. Hearing Bucky’s voice, for what will probably be the last time in a long, long time. Even if he betrayed you, even if he turned you in, even if he used you, backstabbed you, whatever. That fifteen second phone call caused an excruciating pain in your heart and it was so hard to hold back tears.

You didn’t want to cry. Captain America and Bucky Barnes had humiliated you enough for you to be crying on the way to the Avengers Tower. They don’t deserve your tears, and you don’t even deserve to be shedding them. This is exactly what you had coming to you.

Although the car ride felt like it lasted hours, the two of you arrived at the Avengers tower sooner than you would have liked.

Sam drove the car up though a back entrance, the back of the building opening up like recognizing Sam’s car. The ride in the elevator was quiet as Sam flashes a crystal-looking card and presses one of the thirty-seven buttons of the building.

He hadn’t put you in handcuffs and it seems he’s chosen a rather secretive way of transporting you here. Granted, you know you wouldn’t win a fight against Sam Wilson, even if you had Marine and HYDRA training under your belt, but, who knows what if you had a knife? Or were secretly an incredibly skilled fighter? What if your powers allowed you to, like, melt people’s brains and he had no idea? That’d probably be your best bet anyway, considering you're in custody at the Avengers Tower in sandals and no bra under your shirt.

The two of you exit out into an empty hallway, quiet, too, you notice. As the two of you approach the end of the hallway, swaying towards the door on the left wall, an interrogation room you deduct from peeking into the small window, a voice stops you.

“Hey, Sam? F.R.I.D.A.Y. told me you’d be here, what’s-”

His voice catches in his throat seeing you and Sam turn around to face him. He feels his eyes widen, his skin pale, his hands become clammy. This can’t be happening. This can not be happening. He walks closer and his steps slow as he’s standing in front of you. He’s literally speechless and as much as he wants to talk, to scream, to question what’s going on, he doesn’t.

His mouth hangs open even though no words come out, and you spit in his face before he gets the chance. He flinches and Sam pushes you into the room before you can react any further.

Bucky wipes your saliva from his cheek and he wants to cry. He wants to choke. He wants to throw a fucking tantrum in the middle of the hallway because he has absolutely no idea what’s going on. He feels a panic attack coming on and uses all of this strength to push it down as Sam exits the room. Relax. Figure out what’s going on so you can fix it; so you can get her the fuck out of here.

“You are going to tell me everything. And I mean everything. Absolutely no one knows that she’s here, or that she’s even alive. Sharon will remain unaware until you give me an explanation.” Sam tells him, his Captain voice taking over, and Bucky silently nods because he’s scared.

This is all so fucked up. And he hopes the truth he’s about to tell Sam will help you more than hurt you.

…

It’s funny how being in a familiar place affects your mind and body, regardless of how long it’s been. In the time that you’ve been in this interrogation room, your nerves have been completely on edge in a way that they haven’t been since being in prison, the voices have returned in your head, chatty as ever, and you haven’t been so angry since you killed that guard all those years ago in that first prison.

You pick and pull at your cuticles until they bleed and chew at the inside of your cheek until you taste metal.

Think they’ll let you decorate your cell this time? Or do you think they’ll just strap you straight into the medical chair and tie your arm up? No need to waste food, water, and a cot on you. Maybe they’ll bring back the electric chair or the firing squad just for this special occasion! Maybe they’ll have Bucky pull the lever-

“Shut up.” You mumble audibly, already feeling a headache coming on.

Spitting at Bucky felt good and bad at the same time. Good, because he deserves it, and more, after doing this to you; giving you the best and freest two and a half years of your life before snatching it all away from you in a second. Did he do it for fun? Did he like the game, the teasing of befriending you, taking care of you, all because he knew he’d do this and have the last laugh in the end?

It felt bad because as much as this sucks, you can’t find it in you hate Bucky. He’s become your best friend, your only friend, someone you actually trust in this new life you’ve been living. You want to forgive him, hug him, tell him it’s okay, that you’re not mad, that you could never be mad at him. Because you couldn’t. And that might actually be the worst part to all of this.

A click interrupts your thoughts and you stare at the Captain as he pulls out the seat across from you and sits down at the small table. How you wish there was a clock in here; how long had you been waiting for him here?

“What are you feelin’ right now?”

“Sorta like how your little wingman Riley felt when he fell out of the fucking sky.” You snap.

Sam doesn’t react. He remembers the way you’d act during the investigation years ago when they would question you in prison; he’d see the way you snap at them, at the guards, at the other inmates, how you’d really dig deep into people feelings and thoughts to say the worst thing to them in order to bring up bad memories. So, he was kind of already expecting that.

You’re upset, that he can tell from your attitude, your chipped and chewed fingernails, and you slouched sitting position, arms crossed across your chest as you lean against the back of the chair. He doesn’t blame you though, he’d probably be pretty upset, too.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., stop all audio and video recording from this room from today and erase it completely from every system, please.”

“Clearance level 1 or 2 necessary for that, Captain.”

“Clearance level 2; Wilson, Samuel T.”

“Thank you, Captain. All recordings have been erased and stopped.”

Huh?

“I have a proposition for you.” Sam begins. Your confusion clouds your mind and you don’t process his statement fast enough to respond before he continues.

“I will announce to the press that your body has been found along the coast of the Pacific after following a lead on your whereabouts, I will clarify that you have been found dead and that you drowned, closing the case looking for you. I will provide you with a new identity; that includes a false birth certificate, passport, and other forms of identification with a new name, new birth date, new everything.”

“Is this a fucking joke?” He ignores you.

“There will be a few rules you will have to follow in return. You will have to stay completely hidden out of the populated public for one full year after this announcement is made. You will have to change your appearance; cut your hair, dye it, whatever. You will stay here at the tower where you will be monitored.”

He pauses, like he knows this will be the part you hate most.

“And you will be required to use your abilities to help on future cases the Avengers are tasked with; the same way you did when we came to you with those two cases in the past.”

You’re silent for a moment, “And if I say no?” Your voice is small. You really don’t want to do this. You want to go back to your apartment, you want your clothes, your plants, your blankets, your mugs.

“Then you will be arrested and sent back to prison, in the same exact place on death row you were before.” Your eyes shut, the headache hitting fully.

“Why.” You demand.

“I talked to Bucky,” A roll of your eyes. “He didn’t rat you out, if that’s what you're thinking. I found you all by myself. And I made Bucky tell me absolutely everything. And from there I’m making the decision myself to offer this to you. It’s not my first time helping a globally wanted criminal. Or my second. Or my third. And it honestly probably won’t be my last at this point.”

Do you believe him? Does it even matter if he’s telling the truth or not? You clearly don’t have a choice here.

He knows this. And depending on how deep he spoke with Bucky, he knows you won’t go back to prison.

“I’ll show you to your quarters. You’ll have your own bathroom and kitchen. Tomorrow morning you will be briefed with your new identity by myself, Bucky, Agent Carter, and Director Fury. F.R.I.D.A.Y will help you with that in the morning.”

The walk was just as miserable as it was when you arrived. You wonder where Bucky is. Does he have a room here? Is he back home in his apartment? Is he coming back? Is he thinking about you? Is he mad that you spit on him?

I mean, probably a little bit. I would be at least.

You take a moment to look around your new room; your new living quarters for pretty much forever. There’s so much stuff; a large bed covered with folded blankets and soft pillows, a folded pair of clothes, a rug beneath your feet that sits under a desk and a large bookshelf, filled with books of differing genres and notebooks, the desk is bare except for a small lamp and a cup of pens and pencil. The kitchenette is to your left and seems to be pretty modern, you can’t imagine it’s missing anything you’d need. The closed door against the wall you assume is your promised bathroom, but you don’t feel like settling in.

It’s strange, living almost all your life with nothing; as a child being poor with your family, having less than that in the Marines, and having nothing in Hydra. When you had your apartment, you had nothing, you cleaned the apartment building to make money to pay your cheap rent, you’d steal your clothes, food, and decorations, everything that Bucky didn’t buy you, anyway.

And now, you’re standing in a room that has everything you’d need, no need to pay rent, supplies and resources at your request; all that’s needed in return is the use of your powers.

But you hate it. All of it.

The colors are dull. The decor is boring. There’s no light. Nothing happy. No colorful blankets, no wacky mugs, no cute earrings, no mismatched socks and labeled underwear with the days of the week. No Bucky.

No Bucky.

[deeisace]

Alright, let’s see -

In reference to [this post], wherein I transcribed an article copied to the Washington DC Evening Star in 1896, from Pearson’s Weekly 

I couldn’t find that article in Pearson’s - it doesn’t seem to appear in the newspaper records I have access to - but it is in Volume I of Pearson’s Magazine, published as a sort of omnibus of funny stories and the like. 

Pearson’s, I hadn’t realised, has a tagline - “To interest, to elevate, to amuse”.

The article in question (of the opinion that men ought to be allowed to wear skirts when cycling) was part of the series of writings called “Wisdom Let Loose” by WL Alden, and so I believe it was meant to be placed as part of “to amuse”.

WL Alden was a comedic writer, and as such it appears he was not seriously taking that thought, but rather making fun of “rational dress” - the idea at the time that women might wear some form of trousers or knickerbockers instead of skirts, as it was “rational”, it made more sense, was more sensible to wear men’s clothes instead of voluminous skirts and corsets - by flipping the idea on it’s head.

Which is unfortunate, as knowing that rather changes the tone of the article for me - of course it was written so as to be funny, but I hadn’t thought it was from that point of view - which is made clear in this review from 1896, published in Pearson’s on 22nd August.

[ID: a newspaper article titled “An Advertisement”. It reads -

Mr Douglas Sladen, writing in The Queen, says: “The first volume of Pearson’s Magazine is a credit to all concerned in its production. It does what it promised to do, gives a shilling or eighteenpenny magazine for the popular sixpence. The printing, done by Mr Horace Cox, both in the matter of type and blocks, leaves nothing to be desired. The pictures are by the best artists, admirably selected and reproduced, and its literary contents are a triumph of editorial acumen. The most striking of them, perhaps, are Mr Allen Upward’s ‘Secrets of the Courts of Europe’, and perhaps the best single item is Mr Frankfort Moore’s ‘Nell Gwyn’.

“Mr Alden’s ‘Wisdom Let Loose’ is capital, quite as good as Bill Nye, and almost as good a Mark Twain. Indeed, I think if he were to call himself Alden, without any W. L., and hit upon some first-rate title like ‘The Jumping Frog’, there is no reason why a reprint of them should not be as popular as Artemus Ward’s and Mark Twain’s books of American humour.

“He would need a daring and skilful publisher, of course, and luck in catching the eye of the unliterary public. The main object of an author who wants to be successful is, not to catch the eye of readers, but the eye of people who do not read, for the literary public is so hopelessly scanty, while the sporting public, for instance, has hardly any limits.

“The particular character of Mr Alden’s wit is the delicate satire which which he makes his points by saying the converse of what he means. In approaching the subject of rational dress for cycling, for instance, he urges the claims, not of knickerbockers for women, but of skirts for men.

“Mr Alden is really extremely funny, and never transgresses the bounds of good taste. He is especially funny when he is poking gentle fun at the spread-eagleism of his fellow countrymen. For Mr Alden is an American. He was formerly Consul-General in Italy, and if I mistake not, is a cavaliere of the kingdom of Italy.” /End ID]

Anyway, apart from Mr Alden, here are a couple of pieces in Pearson’s referencing men in skirts (or women in trousers) - a warning, of course, for some period-typical attitudes and wording

Pearson’s Weekly, 27th August 1898.

[ID: Women Who Dress Like Men.

There have been not a little talk lately of women who have adopted male costume in order to pose as men. It is, however, well known that several women adopt the costume with no such idea, but merely on account of its convenience for their peculiar avocations, a fact which is sufficiently demonstrated every day in the week, to say nothing of Sunday,, by the hundreds of women who have taken to wearing knickerbockers when on cycling bent.

While our insular notions make the adoption of coat and trousers very rare indeed among the well-known or well-to-do people in England, there is a refreshing radicalism on this subject abroad.

Many people will recall the fact that for many years the greatest woman painter of France, Rosa Bonheur, has adopted a masculine attire for her work, as she found that trousers are far less inconvenient for the painting ladder than are skirts.

In a similar way, at the time when the equally great actress Madame Sarah Bernhardt, took up sculpture as a pastime, she used to wear a suit of white flannel - coat and trousers - in her studio.

Both these women, however, do not habitually appear in public disguised out of all resemblance to their sex, for they are women to whom the skirts, lace, and the frou-frous, which are essentially feminine, are peculiarly becoming. 

On the other hand, Madame Dieulafoi, who has the reputation of being not only one of the most famous women in Paris, but also one of the greatest archaeologists in Europe, never puts off her masculine garments for the accepted ones of her sex. 

Most people will be surprised to learn that she is a married woman, and her husband is not averse to her appearing in clothes cut exactly like his, for she thinks that they are not only comfortable, but convenient for her in her work. It was she who discovered the ruins of the Temple of Darius, which are now in the Louvre, and which won for her the decoration of the Legion of Honour, and well as the privilege from the French Government to wear men’s clothes at all times.

There are none of the external marks of femininity about her, for her hair is cut short in a straight uncurl fringe across her forehead, and it need hardly be added that she wears a silk hat, and insists on her tailor giving her a cut that fits her figure to perfection. On the other hand, she is not at all masculine in her habits or manners, for she is a woman who is essentially feminine, and whose manliness is limited merely to her clothing. /End ID]

I’m not sure at all of the significance of the silk hat, personally, but there follows a sort of reply to this article later that same year -

Pearson’s Weekly, 17th September 1898.

[ID: SILK HAT has been reading the article “Women Who Dress Like Men” that appeared in PW recently, and wonders why in common fairness men may not dress as women. He says: “I am no effeminate, but greatly admire stylish ladies’ dress, which I confess I wish I might adopt in leisure hours, especially on hot days. At present, if I ventured into the street so garbed, I should at once be locked up. This, I hold, is grossly unfair. If a woman is allowed to dress in her husband’s clothes, why should not the husband be allowed to dress in his wife’s and both go for a walk thus attired if they want to?” ----- (In reply) I undertake to say that every man will agree with me, he would not under any circumstances adopt a woman’s dress for comfort alone. Does SILK HAT think that even a white blouse and skirt with their accessories are any cooler that a set of flannels to which there need not be any under-garments? Moreover, the law has very good reasons of its own for preventing men from parading around in female garb. /End ID]

And, further, GAZETTE wrote in November of that year -

Pearson’s Weekly, 12th November 1898.

[ID: It seems that the custom of men wearing women’s apparel is not entirely unknown in India, for a correspondent signing himself GAZETTE, writes from Berar, to say that: “From eleven to three o’clock in the day my house is clear of servants and I always seize this opportunity for discarding male attire for something that is to me infinitely more comfortable. To all intents and purposes I wear the same as that worn by my wife. Don’t think, however, that I care to be seen in my skirts. I don’t. For I admit that I look absurd, and under no circumstances should I wear this costume in the street, although, as a matter of fact, I should certainly never be mistaken for anything but what I am. Do not think that I am effeminate, because I am not. Most of my spare time is spent on horseback, spearing boars, and hunting hyenas and jackals, the latter of which have to be finally dispatched with a hunting knife. I am also keen on panther hunting. Still, I do not mind owning that except for riding and hunting, so far as comfort goes, I would sooner wear skirts than anything else.” /End ID]

Poor GAZETTE, all those qualifiers in place.

[ahtohallan-calling]

all that matters in the end // kristanna post f2 one-shot // angst and hurt/comfort with a happy ending

read on ao3

thank you @gabiwnomagic for once again collabing with me on this fic and for the beautiful art!

One moment, Kristoff has a hand raised in the air to wave a greeting to their hosts, the other pressed casually against Anna’s lower back.

And then the next he’s on his knees and still falling, and the cape she’d been wearing is in tatters, half in his hand and half still hanging from her shoulders as she charges after the assassin with the sword she’d yanked from Kristoff’s belt the second she’d seen the flash of a knife.

It’s meant for decoration more than anything, not sharp enough to kill, but she knows from the way the man gasps and scrabbles at her hands that it still hurts like hell when it’s crushed against an exposed throat.

She can’t look back, only down at the assassin’s purpling face and the scratches his blunt nails leave on her fingers. If she doesn’t look back then that means Kristoff is still alive and not bleeding out, sentenced to death for the crime of standing beside her.

“Mercy,” the man gasps, and she presses harder. 

---

Someone took the sword from her; she’s not sure when. Her fingers itch for it still, curling and uncurling at her side as she waits in an unfamiliar room for him to wake. 

The king and queen have been exceedingly gracious, have cancelled all matters of diplomacy and state and locked down the capital til the would-be murderers are caught.

(Would-be, because he’s going to survive. He has to. When she had turned back he was already unconscious, and she cannot fathom a world where she didn’t get to say goodbye.)

And they’re in a suite of guest rooms now, with guards posted at every door and window, and a revolving team of physicians, and Anna has a bed for herself, but the sheets haven’t even been pulled back.

She brushes her fingers over his cheek again, trails them down to cup his jaw. “Look at me,” she pleads, “wake up and look at me, honey, I promise I’m here. I’m not leaving, not ever again.”

She’s told him that once before, after the forest. She promised. And then she ran after the assassin anyway instead of even lingering long enough to catch Kristoff as he fell.

“Forgive me,” she sobs, begging him now as tears course down her cheeks and she curls forward to rest her cheek against his shoulder. “I mean it this time.”

---

When he does wake, she cries so hard it scares him.

He tries to reach for her out of instinct, but then a hiss of pain tears from him as he falls back against the bed.

“I’m sorry,” Anna gasps as she runs her hands over his face, through his hair, across his shoulders, over and over again. “I’m so sorry, Kristoff.”

He finally catches her wrists and stills them. “For what, baby?” he asks, eyes wide with confusion. 

Before she can give him the answer he deserves, the doctors sweep in, and she backs into a corner of the room, watching from afar and trying to stem the flood. Mattias sees her and stands beside her, putting an arm around her shoulders to steady her. “It’s alright, your majesty,” he says, sounding so paternal that despite his gentle words the tears start all over again. 

He murmurs reassurances and holds her, and she hates herself for accepting them, when all she’s done is sit around feeling sorry for herself. 

And leave, she reminds herself furiously, you fucking left when you said you wouldn’t.

She wants to leave again now, to escape Kristoff’s worried gaze, focused on her even as the doctors poke and prod at him. She doesn’t deserve the kindness in his eyes; she never has, but she’s terrified of what her world would become without it.

---

They go home a few days later; the visit was to forge a stronger bond, and that has been accomplished, at least. Now she knows that Corona will stand with Arendelle under any circumstances, and has assured them that her own kingdom and people owe them a debt that could never be fully repaid.

There’s not going to be a trial; the assassins went down fighting, and all intelligence points to a rogue group that has evaporated after the botched attempt on their lives. Still, there are extra guards onboard the ship with them, posted outside their stateroom doors.

Anna doesn’t see much of them, only catches glimpses when food is brought by. She eats for Kristoff’s sake more than her own; he won’t touch his own supper until he’s watched her force down a few mouthfuls.

They don’t speak much; apologies lay heavy on her tongue like burning coals, stifling any other conversation that would normally flow with such ease between them. Kristoff doesn’t ask for them, doesn’t give any indication at all that he even expects them, only keeps looking at her with those sad, dark eyes, catching her hand and holding it tightly.

“I love you,” she tells him again, the only words she can manage to get out.

For once, he doesn’t say he loves her too. Instead he squeezes her hand a little tighter and says, “You’re scaring me, baby.”

I know, she wants to tell him, I know and I’m sorry for that too, and I’m scared too, and I’m not leaving again, but if you want to now--

“I love you,” she whispers again, and he sighs and closes his eyes.

---

The bandages came off today.

She didn’t even have to tell Gerda she’d make her own bed the next morning, their own secret code, normally delivered with a wink and answered with a fond sigh and shake of the head. But today, the older woman took one look at the expression on the queen’s face and said softly, “I’ll not send anybody up til the afternoon, Anna.”

She wishes she was still just Anna to everybody. Then she wouldn’t be in a bed that still felt too big in a room that felt too stuffy on a night that felt like it would never end.

And Kristoff wouldn’t have a fucking hole in his side.

Not a hole anymore, she reminds herself dully, not like it was a month ago when the assassin’s knife was torn free, spilling spurts of crimson all down the vest she’d had made for him to match her new blue dress. 

After, when Mattias had draped a blanket over her shoulders and pulled her close to try and stop the shaking, she’d asked through chattering teeth, “Why didn’t it turn purple? It’s blue and red, so why didn’t it turn purple? That’s how it works, doesn’t it?”

“Your majesty,” he’d said softly, “I think you need to lie down,” and when she’d refused he’d slipped her a powder that kept her from doing anything else for the next day.

But it’s not a hole anymore; it’s a puckered red scar, one she can feel through the thin fabric of his nightshirt. She tries to focus on something, anything else; brushes her nose against the warm expanse of his back, presses a kiss to the knob of his spine, slips a hand under the shirt to press against the warmth of his stomach as it rises and falls with each sleep-slow breath.

He’s alive, but now it’s in spite of something, and the thought of that is going to haunt her for many more nights to come.

---

She’s been waiting for this a long time. She closes her eyes now, lets it wash over her and soak her to the bone.

“Jesus, Anna,” he says, frustrated. “I just-- I can’t do this anymore. It’s killing me.”

There it is; the dismissal she deserves. She rises so quickly her head spins, and before he can say another word the door is closed behind her. 

She’ll see to it that he’s taken care of, of course, for the rest of his life, though God knows he’s never needed her and all this finery, not when he’s known how to survive on the side of the mountain since he was a child. But she’ll do it, all the same, love him in a way that doesn’t hurt him, as long as he’ll let her. 

The ring, though; that’s the one selfishness he’ll have to allow her. She’ll pay him for it, if he wants, but she can’t stand even the thought of looking down and seeing her left hand bare once more. She’ll not take it off, not for herself or anyone else; she’ll have to talk to her sister, or to Kai and Gerda if she’s no help, find out if there’s some distant cousin who can inherit, because--

She cries out in surprise when a heavy hand settles on her shoulder. “Sorry,” Kristoff says hastily, though he doesn’t let go; instead he leans more heavily on her, taking a moment to catch his breath as his other hand clutches at his side.

“You’re-- you’re not supposed to be overexerting yourself,” she says frantically, turning and setting her hands on his ribs to help him stay upright. 

“And you’re not supposed to leave,” he replies, so seriously she flinches and looks away. “Anna, you promised.”

“I know, and I’m so sorry I broke it, I--”

“No,” he says fiercely, resting his forehead against hers. “I heard you. You said if I woke up you wouldn’t leave again.”

Something in the ruin of her heart stirs at the thought that somehow even unconscious he knew her, heard her calling for him, came back for her-- but the warmth is fleeting, snuffed out by the hurt in his eyes. She shakes her head frantically. “I-- I know-- but it’s better this way, I’m glad you see it now, I--”

“What are you talking about? I don’t want you to go.”

“You said you can’t do it anymore,” she whimpers. “And I-- you’re right, you can’t. I can’t ask you to. This is all my fault, Kris, I’m so sorry.”

He pulls her closer to his chest, resting his cheek on the top of her head as his hand runs soothingly up and down her spine. “It’s not, baby, none of it is.”

“If you-- if you never met me, then you’d still be safe. You’d be with the trolls and Sven and you’d be--”

“I’d be alone, even with them. I don’t want-- I can’t go back to that. I don’t want to.”

“You could have died,” she chokes out, her hands fisting in the front of his shirt. “And it would have been my fault, and I-- I--” She gulps for air, squeezes her eyes shut; she can’t stand to see the tenderness in his expression, not right now. “When they-- when you...I’ve never been more scared, Kris, not of anything. Not ever.”

His hand stills on her back. “But you…”

“I’d-- I’d take freezing to death, and Hans and all his bullshit, and the rock giants and all of it, I’d do it all over again if that would undo this. I can’t imagine anything worse than losing you.”

“Oh,” he manages to say. “Oh, Anna…”

“I love you,” she whispers. “More than anything. You have to believe me.”

He kisses her forehead again, each of her cheeks, even the tip of her nose, and waits until she finally looks at him before speaking again. “I do,” he says softly. “I do.”

They stand there for a while longer, until his breathing is steady once more and the last of the tears on her cheeks dry. She nuzzles her cheek against his chest, letting the warmth of him sink into her. “I’m sorry, Kristoff,” she says for what feels like the millionth time; some days it feels like failure is all she has to offer him, and still he stays.

“Don’t be,” he murmurs. “I know how it feels to be afraid like that.”

And he does; she knows that, knows he tosses and turns at night and calls her name until she’s able to rouse him, knows how his heart pounds under the press of her hand for a while afterward. 

She lets her fingers drift down to his side, to settle lightly over the scar she thinks she can feel even through the layers of his nightshirt and robe. He lowers his own hand to press over hers, large enough to cover it entirely.

“It’s alright, Anna,” he reassures her. “I’m here.”

And so he is, and that’s all that matters, really, in the end.

---

a/n: i want to say another huge thank you to gabi for the inspiration and idea, for helping me develop the story, for the art, and for being such a fantastic friend to me and so many others. love you angel xo

[container-of-apple-juice]

So I wrote something for “The Worst Three-Legged Race.” Because, ykno, queer baiting. I’m queer, I took the bait, I wanted them to experience genuine feelings instead of a shitty joke-kiss, yadda yadda here’s some awkward genin feelings.

This is immediately after the episode ends, their hands are stuck together in a chakra ball, you know what’s up.

(1,825 words)

[[MORE]]

It wasn’t going to get easier any time soon, this Sasuke was sure of. Naruto had managed to settle down after their mission report once Kakashi Sensei and Sakura had taken turns feeding him ramen (Sasuke still had use of his dominant hand and, frankly, wouldn’t be caught dead being spoon fed).

But now, alone in Naruto’s apartment past sunset, came the upheaval of just how awkward things were destined to be for the next three days together.

Three. Whole. Days. AND nights.

Sasuke sighed and closed his eyes, feeling his brows scrunch together and downward for what felt like the millionth time since the crook had sealed their hands together with his unique (and frustratingly solid) chakra.

Kakashi sensei had the good grace to walk them back to Naruto’s apartment (Sasuke had yet to have another living soul join him on his family’s compound following the massacre and he’d be damned if NOW of all times was going to be the time he broke that trend) but once he disappeared from the scene in a flash of smoke, the boys were left alone in the entryway of the dark apartment.

“So, uh, usually I just leave my shoes over here-“ Naruto began to move down the small corridor, already knowing well enough to wait a brief moment for Sasuke to catch on to his movements so as to not send the other boy jerking along behind him.

Once they rounded the corner, just a few feet away from the door Naruto removed his shoes and waited for Sasuke to follow suit.

After that, well…it became very clear that Naruto had absolutely no plan for the evening. Which didn’t surprise Sasuke in the slightest, seeing as this whole bound-at-the-wrist thing was an admittedly new development. Had they been at Sasuke’s home, he was sure that he would fare no better than the blonde.

“Well it’s a good thing we already ate because I’m pretty sure my 24-hour-store produce wouldn’t be up to your standards.” The attempt at light banter was followed by something akin to a huff of breath mixed with an awkward chuckle, as well as with a shuffling of bare feet inches from Sasuke’s own and a barely noticeable tug on their joined hands.

Sasuke suddenly felt an unexpected and immense sympathy for the bewhiskered boy in front of him. So much so that it shocked him, but he was struck with the realization that Naruto likely hadn’t shared his space with another human being in his entire LIFE and that this was a completely foreign and embarrassing situation for the both of them.

“I don’t think instant noodle snacks count as produce, dobe.”

This earned a more genuine bark of laughter from Naruto, who undoubtedly appreciated the reciprocation of their casual-yet-teasing banter that always came so naturally.

“Shut up, teme, or I’ll just have to plan a little ‘grocery’ trip over the next couple days. I’m sure you’d LOVE a tour of my local convenience store. The clerk would LOVE you.” The shit-eating snickers that followed this threat left sasuke almost curious to find out just what kind of person this shop keeper was.

Instead of asking, Sasuke simply rolled his eyes and looked around the small living room. Naruto seemed content chuckling to himself over his seemingly-genius hypothetical scenario, while Sasuke properly took in his new surroundings.

Sasuke’s attention snapped back to his begrudgingly bound companion when the ridiculous giggles turned into an intense yawn.

“We should get to bed. The sooner we get through tomorrow the better.” Sasuke knew the bitterness of his statement was unwarranted, but as he spoke he became acutely aware that he wasn’t in control of this situation. He knew he was better off here with Naruto than with Kakashi or (god forbid) Sakura, but Sasuke wasn’t a fan of situations outside of his control- or at least his willfully consenting participation.

“Yeah, I’m beat. Tomorrow’s gonna be a nightmare.” The shorter boy’s whole body slumped forward as he finished his sentence, shooting Sasuke a brief, sidelong glance before trudging off in the direction of what Sasuke could only assume was his bedroom (please let it not be the bathroom, please let it not be the bathroom, please let it-)

Sasuke had to hold back his sigh of relief as the bed and sparse furnishings (most notably the lack of a toilet) filled his view.

“Huh.” Naruto had stopped in the middle of the room.

“What is it?”

“I mean, I guess changing into pajamas is sorta outta the question isn’t it?”

The hand that wasn’t stuck to Sasuke’s in the chakra ball reached up to scratch the hair behind Naruto’s left ear as he spoke.

“Yeah, unless you want me to cut them off you.” His Kunai knife made a dull sound against his palm through the holster as he brought his free hand down to pat against it in accordance to his threat.

However, what was meant to be a clever and sarcastic threat toward his rival instead left both of their faces burning in the dull lamp light that Naruto had turned on upon entering the room. The blood pumping in Sasuke’s ears did nothing to stop the mantra of regret filling his mind as Naruto began to splutter briefly, tripping over his words.

“S-shut up, bastard, that doesn’t even make any sense. How would I get my pajama shirt on then, huh? What, are you gonna cut it ON to me?”

“That doesn’t make any sense either.”

“None of this makes sense! Let’s just go to bed!” Naruto raised their joined hands into the air in frustration along with his own free hand.

Sasuke simply offered up a “Tch” in response to the admittedly true statement from his team mate. He anticipated Naruto’s movements and began moving toward the bed at the same time that the blonde spun on his heel.

Stopping just shy of the edge of the bed Naruto turned partly back toward sasuke, not quite facing him and blush still firmly in place. Sasuke thought maybe it had actually gotten worse in the three feet they had traveled, not that he was paying attention to that sort of thing.

“I’ve always just slept in the middle, so, I donno....do you have a preference?” The words were spoken in the softest tone Sasuke had perhaps ever heard the younger boy speak, and he found himself taken aback for the second time that night.

Of all the things to be embarrassed by in their current circumstances, choosing which side of the bed they would sleep on hadn’t crossed Sasuke’s mind as one of them. Though he supposed it made sense. Closeness of any kind was a particularly vulnerable experience when all of those close to you had been taken away. Or if you’d never known closeness to anyone at all.

At least Sasuke had experience with sharing a bed in the past. As the younger sibling, he’d not really been allowed a choice, Itachi had always instinctively taken the side of the door to protect him in case of intruders.

Sasuke clenched his jaw at the uninvited memory and felt his hand pull minutely at their joined chakra ball as he tried to physically retreat into himself on impulse.

“Sas-“

“I’ll take the left side.” He looked directly into Naruto’s eyes as he cut him off. His eyes were cold and sharp, daring Naruto to question his brief hesitation and the bodily twitch he had definitely noticed in the dark haired boy.

Naruto’s face sobered immediately in response to the challenging expression.

“Sure, fine by me.” It was mumbled and Sasuke barely made it out as Naruto turned fully toward the bed again, bringing Sasuke with him by association.

The dark haired boy knew immediately that Naruto had misconstrued his reaction to what had clearly been a vulnerable question. But he only felt angrier at this fact, trying to shove his frustration down deep as he climbed into the bed. No point trying to fix it now. He just needed to get through the next three days.

“Please tell me you at least sleep under the covers.”

“Of course, Dobe, it’s freezing at night.” Sasuke gave him a long-suffering look, wrenching the covers aside and forcing Naruto to shuffle out from on top of them.

Once they had settled beneath the covers, bound hands laying between them on the pillow, Sasuke felt himself fighting the urge to squirm under Naruto’s concentrated gaze. It was one he’d met countless times in class or on the training field or even on a mission- but he was caught off guard by the intensity of the bright blue eyes as they watched him through the darkness of this foreign space that Naruto called home.

Sasuke hadn’t dared to share the single pillow with Naruto (although it seemed more than big enough) so he was met with only half the blonde boys face, smooshed into the pillow and blocked partially by the chakra ball. It was decidedly the most vulnerable position he’d been in with Naruto to date so he closed his eyes determinedly.

He needed to sleep. Tomorrow was already going to be difficult, he was not about to add sleep deprivation to the list of road blocks.

Sasuke felt Naruto’s toes brush against his shin as the boy shifted slightly and Sasuke flinched back minutely on instinct.

“..Sorry.” Came the mumble across from him in the darkness.

“..It’s okay.” He whispered back.

Okay. So maybe sleep wouldn’t come as easily as he’d hoped, but he’d dealt with worse nights. Way worse. At least he wasn’t alone this time.

Wait, no, hold on. Wasn’t that the whole problem?

You know what, forget it. He’d deal with these thoughts tomorrow. Or never. He just needed to sleep.

Naruto started to snore softly beside him, but the volume didn’t stay quiet for long.

It was going to be a long three days.

[geronimo-11]

"…to shut them up." for my Pack Parents

Thank you so much!! <3

--------------

Jeremy was used to dancing with the delicate line of authority and diplomacy when the Alpha Council came to Stonehaven.

He knew he was different from the other Alphas, as was made apparent by every snide comment about him being too “soft” in comparison to others in the position before him. The words chipped away at his well maintained composure every time, but he was careful not to let it show too much.

The rest of the Pack was also well accustomed to the barbs and not-so-subtle threats that occurred during the Council’s visits — particularly from Roman Novikov. They knew better than to intervene, or at least not to say anything too damning that would overstep and get them killed.

Katherine, however, was still struggling. 

The Council was as entranced with her as they had been by Elena, but they’d asked to see her twice now. Whereas before they’d wanted to see her for curiosity’s sake, to see the second female werewolf ever in existence, they now wanted to see for themselves if the rumors were true. That Katherine was carrying in the next generation of wolves. 

It would be the first time in the history of their kind that two wolves came together to have a family. Their child would be pure wolf and the Council was beside itself with excitement and curiosity. As much as Jeremy was opposed to showing off Katherine like an animal in a zoo, his protests went ignored.

“Come, Jeremy, let us pay our respects to you and your beautiful wife, hm?” Roman had prodded, and the others quickly agreed.

The second Katherine entered the room all eyes fell to the gentle curve protruding from her stomach, and the air was immediately charged with... something. Jealousy, excitement, curiosity — whatever it was it put them both on edge and Jeremy placed a hand on the small of Katherine’s back.

Roman stepped forward, eyes glued to Katherine’s stomach, and his lips pursed as he slowly came to a stop in front of her. His hands flexed by his sides and for a moment Jeremy thought he was going to reach for Katherine’s stomach — an act he knew would not have been received well, and he wasn’t sure he’d have been fast enough to stop whatever reflex Katherine acted on.

But instead Roman clapped his hands together and smiled. It was a strained, borderline mocking thing, and Jeremy felt his hackles raise in response. He shifted closer to Katherine as Roman began to speak.

“What a blessing it is, to expand your Pack. I know the feeling all too well. But you, well, your child will be the start of an entirely new breed of wolf.” 

Roman chuckled to himself and pointed his finger in Jeremy’s direction. “I certainly hope that was not your intention all along, Jeremy. First Elena, who is with your son, and now your own wife. Both bitten. Both survived. It is, uh...” he shrugged and laughed as if he’d finally reached the punchline of a joke. “It is quite the coincidence, no?”

The implication didn’t go unnoticed, but Jeremy played it off as smoothly as he was able. “Both were unfortunate circumstances that had a happy outcome. We’re all well aware that things could have turned out much worse.”

Katherine bristled beside him, and although she didn’t say anything he could tell what she was thinking plain as day. Her contempt for Roman was written all over her face. He squeezed her hip and she relaxed a little, though she kept a steely gaze on the Russian alpha.

The meeting continued in a similar manner: Roman tried to goad Jeremy, Jeremy countered, and Katherine tried to keep her facial expressions under control every time Roman opened his mouth.

At the end Jeremy invited the Council to use Stonehaven’s grounds to go for a run, if they felt the need before they left the country. Several agreed and said they would take him up on the offer, and Jeremy shook each of their hands as they headed out the front door.

He had only just said his goodbye’s to Roman when Katherine appeared in the doorway to the living room, her arms crossed firmly over her chest. She didn’t say a word, just glared daggers at the closed door before promptly turning and heading down the hallway. Running a hand over his jaw Jeremy followed after her.

When he entered the kitchen, she was pulling a plate of thawed chicken out of the fridge and placing several pieces on a cutting board. Each piece hit the board with a sharp slap and Jeremy watched with a frown as his wife took out her frustration on their dinner. 

“Katherine?” He called gently. She gave a short hum of acknowledgment and he sighed. “What’s wrong?”

She looked at him over her shoulder, face carefully blank. “Nothing.”

Jeremy raised a brow but didn’t press her. She grabbed a knife from a nearby rack and started slicing the chicken on the counter. Walking over to the stove Jeremy put the kettle on a burner and made himself some tea. When he had a steaming mug in hand, he headed to the kitchen table and took a seat.

He’d learned from experience — and the help of Simon —that figuring out what was bothering Katherine was more of a waiting game than anything. She would speak when she was good and ready, and not before. 

So he sat at the kitchen table and waited. And waited. Finally, after a particularly harsh slice sent her knife scraping loudly against the cutting board it seemed she couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“Who does he think he is?” She hissed. Jeremy smirked, sipping at his tea as she started to vent. Katherine grumbled to herself, gradually growing louder as she worked herself up.

“-and then he sat in your chair. Apparently not for the first time, either!” She was recounting the meeting in a fury now, the chicken long since forgotten behind her as she ticked off everything from the evening that had grated on her nerves. As if he hadn’t been standing next to her the entire time. “I wanted to tell him what else he could sit on.”

Jeremy tried and failed to hide his smile. At first he’d thought she was mad that the Council treated her like a bit of a spectacle, but it seemed that was only part of it. She was mad that Roman had disrespected him in their home. He felt warmth kindling in his chest and stood from his spot at the table. He approached her slowly.

“And the way he spoke to you, I just, I wanted to-“ she stammered and threw her hands in the air. Shaking her head, her hands fell absently to the swell of her stomach and she tapped her foot against the floor. “I don’t know.”

He was standing in front of her, not bothering to hide his smile anymore. Katherine still wasn’t looking at him, staring off into the distance and letting her protectiveness boil under her skin. Her brows knitted together in frustration, and she had her lips pressed in a firm line. She clicked her tongue and shook her head.

“‘It is quite the coincidence, no?’,” she mocked. “How has no one ever punched him in his smug-“

She never got the chance to finish as Jeremy placed his hands on either side of her face and kissed her. 

He swallowed her words, his fingers threading through the silky strands of her hair as her hands scrambled briefly before they found their home against his chest. He tilted his head to deepen the kiss and her hands slid up to his neck as she pulled him closer. 

Jeremy let himself linger for a moment, basking in the warm feeling of being protected and loved and wanted, before he pulled away. His thumbs stroked the apples of her cheeks and he smiled at the slightly flustered look on her face. 

“What was that for?” Her breath fanned against his lips and he resisted the urge to kiss her again. 

“For always being so fiercely in my corner,” he told her. He brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear and fixed her with a slightly more serious look. 

“But I also need you to take a moment, and realize that Roman is dangerous. None of the Council are particularly fond of me, but Roman has more of a chip on his shoulder than the others. He wants my territory, and he needs little provocation to try and take it.”

Katherine sighed, her mouth twisting in a frown. She knew where he was going.

“So watch my mouth?” She finished for him.

Jeremy chuckled at her phrasing.

“Only when there are other people in the house. I don’t need word getting back to Roman that my wife is threatening him in our kitchen.” He looked pointedly out the window where some of the wolves that had accompanied their Alphas were still in the yard. 

“But,” he dropped his hands to her shoulders and lowered his voice. “When we’re alone, I personally don’t mind hearing about the different places you think Roman should sit.”

Katherine laughed, swatting playfully at his chest. Jeremy pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“I think I did okay earlier,” she told him. “Not saying anything,” she clarified at the confused look he gave her. Jeremy’s brows rose to his hairline and he nodded slowly.

“Yeah.” His voice was just a pitch too high to be believable and Katherine latched onto it immediately. 

“What do you mean ‘yeah’?” She demanded, though she was still smiling. Jeremy shrugged, giving her shoulders a comforting squeeze.

“Let’s just say your poker face could use some work.”

Katherine gaped at him but then she laughed, seemingly embarrassed. Then she smiled -- a small quirk of the corner of one side of her mouth that always made his insides feel like jelly -- and wrapped her arms around his neck. She pulled him as close as her stomach would allow. 

“Okay, I’ll work on that.” She bumped his nose with her own, her drawl thick as she spoke. He felt the warmth in his chest spread lower. “You gonna watch my mouth for me in the meantime? I’m expecting a fast and thorough intervention.”

Jeremy grinned, reaching up a hand to cup the side of her face.

“With pleasure.”

[bae-roman]

Can you do 54. “They’re not your kids, back the f*ck off.” for Roman or Bill

Ahhh I’m so sorry this took literally 5ever, but as promised, I’m clearing out my inbox so here you go! Hope it was worth the wait  😘

You and Roman had been over for 2 years. As much as you loved him, you couldn’t get past his constant self destructive ways. It was fine when it was just the two of you and Nadia, due to her not being biologically yours, you didn’t have much say despite your many efforts. But when the twins came along, everything changed.

As much as you wanted to stay with him, you had to do what was best for the children so you took the kids and moved out. Though Roman was extremely angry and hurt at what you’d done, he agreed for you to bring Nadia because you were essentially her mother and you both agreed that all the siblings should be raised together.

Despite whatever resentment he had towards you, he shoved it aside and put all his focus into co-parenting your children.

Though he hid it well, Roman was a complete wreck without you. He wallowed in his grief attempting to self medicate with drugs, hookers and alcohol but none of it came close to filling the void you left. You, alternatively, had put all your efforts into being the best mother you could be. You still loved - and believed you always would love- Roman but it wasn’t only about you anymore. You hadn’t even considered dating someone else until your friends made you go out on a date with one of their co-workers, Avery.

Avery was a catch. Steady career, independent, smart, funny, handsome, great in bed… but he wasn’t Roman. You had continued to see Avery, hoping that you would feel something close to how you felt for Roman but that never happened.  If there was a spark between you and Avery, you and Roman had a wildfire and being completely honest with yourself, Avery was nothing more than a placeholder. You knew it was wrong of you to stay with him for so long, lying to him and yourself about your feelings but  you were terrified that if you didn’t move on now you would be stuck on Roman forever.

You waited seven months before introducing Avery to your children. Roman obviously wasn’t thrilled about this, let alone the whole Avery situation altogether, but you allowed him to do all of the security and background checks he wanted until he no longer had any reasonable grounds to object.

In preparation for this new man entering their lives, he took the family on an impromptu trip to disney world and then let them run wild in Toys R’Us, giving them multiple reminders that “Daddy is the best”, “They only have 1 dad” and “Avery sounds like a girl’s name”.

The kids and Avery had gotten along well. You introduced him as a friend that would be spending more time around as opposed to your boyfriend - though the boys were too young to even grasp what a boyfriend was.

As time went on, the children got more comfortable with Avery and Roman became more comfortable with you having another man in your life. He knew that there was no longer anything he could do to change your mind but if it was his decision, you’d still be with him.

On one of the days Roman was meant to pick up the children, he informed you that he was running late. You were out at a work lunch and the kids were at home with the nanny. Despite your offer to pay her extra, she couldn’t stay later due to her own family commitments and even with you leaving now, there’d still be 20 minutes where the children would unsupervised. Desperate, you called Avery and asked if he could go over to your place early. You’d already had plans to spend the weekend together so it wasn’t too much of a hassle. Under normal circumstances, you would never leave your young children alone with anyone but this was an emergency, the kids liked him and you trusted him. You updated Roman, who was already on his way, of what was happening and told him you’d be there as soon as you could.

When Roman arrived to your home, the sight in front of him made his blood boil. The boys were playing on the swing set in the yard with Avery while Nadia was sitting alone on the porch, looking sad.

Roman parked the car and walked up to her, “Hey princess, why aren’t you playing with your brothers?” he asked, while picking her up and kissing her cheek. The 5 year old wrapped her arms around his neck and replied, “Avery said I’m bad and can’t play and I have to sit here…but I wasn’t being bad daddy!”

Roman wanted to kill him.

“I know you weren’t, sweetheart. Go play with your brothers.”

At some point during this exchange, Avery noticed that Roman had arrived and walked up to him. Before he could say anything, Roman cut him off, “You ever try that shit with my kids again, I’ll break every bone in your fucking body, got it?”

“You weren’t here, you don’t know what she did. She’s a fucking brat.”Avery, not one to step down easy shot back while poor Nadia was still in ear shot.

Roman fought back every instinct he had to snap the man’s neck in half solely due to the presence of his children. He did, however, place a firm grip on Avery’s shoulder, hard enough to leave bruises in the shape of his fingers.

“They’re not your kids. Back the fuck off” Roman growled.

“I would, but your ex seems to want a real man around.”

At this point, you came home to see your twins still on the swings and Nadia looking upset while standing near her father who was clearly furious. Knowing Roman, you assumed that whatever situation you were walking in on had something to do with dumb male jealousy so you rushed over to Nadia, grabbed her hand and led her away from the angry men, over to the porch.

Still having no idea about what the argument was really about, you crouched down so that you were eye level with Nadia and brushed her hair behind her ears.

“Don’t worry baby, Daddy and Avery are just… play fighting. Like your brothers do”

Nadia looked down and shook her head, “Am I bad?”

“What? Of course not sweetie, where did you hear that?

“Avery said it. And he said bad words and that I was a brat” she responded sadly.

You instantly saw red.

Giving Nadia a peck on the forehead, you assured her that she was nothing short of an angel before instructing her to get her brothers and take them inside.

You marched over to the adults, in the middle of an increasingly aggravated argument and gave Avery the dirtiest look you could muster.

“Me and you are finished. You fucking piece of shit” you spat at him then turned to Roman, “You have my full permission to do whatever you feel is necessary. Just make sure the kids and the neighbours don’t see.”

Avery tried to say something but before he could form a full word, you slapped him across his face as hard as you could. You rushed to the door, meeting your kids just as they walked into the house.

Roman smirked at Avery and dragged him into the back garage.

It was hours before Roman entered your home. You noticed he had changed his clothes.

“Kids napping?”

You nodded, continuing to make dinner

“How are they?”You sighed, “The boys are fine. Nadia is…. better. I think we should have a talk with her later, both of us. I mean I told her that Avery was just a bad man who lies and that she’s not even close to what he said but I feel like it might be better if she hears it from both of us?”

Roman nodded his head.

It was quiet then, for a bit at least. You could cut the tension in the air with a knife.

You finally broke the silence, “So Avery… he’s gone?”

Roman nodded once again, “Yep. His car too, there shouldn’t be any trace of him around here but incase the cops come knocking-” “- Say nothing and call you, I remember the drill” you both chuckled then, and it was nice. Like old times, when things were good between you two.

“Did he suffer?”

Roman ran a hand through his hair, “You really want to know?”

You debated for a second before nodding

“Yeah, he did.”

“Good” was all you could respond.

Once again it was quiet.

“Are you okay?” Roman asked, genuinely concerned at you lack of reaction.

It wasn’t what he said or how he said it, but you burst into tears. You were trying to hold them back but couldn’t any longer. It wasn’t that you were sad about Avery. Finding out what he said you your little girl was more than enough to make you hate him with every fibre of your being, you just couldn’t get over how blind you had been. You’d been with this man for over a year now, you went on trips with him, slept with him, brought your kids around him thinking he was this great guy but really, you had no clue what he was capable of. You felt so guilty and ashamed and stupid, like you were the worst mother in the world.

Once you broke down, Roman grabbed you and held you in his arms while you let it all out. He rubbed your back and comforted you as best as he could.

“You know you’re like the best mom, right? I would have never let Nadia come with you if that wasn’t true” You sniffled an nodded your head, keeping it buried in his chest.

“And you weren’t stupid you were… in love” Roman continued, audibly grimacing as he said the last part.

You couldn’t help but pull away form him and laugh, “The only person I’ve ever loved is you Roman, he was just….a warm body to keep me company.”

Roman smirked, “Well what did you expect? You already had perfection. It could only go down from me”

You rolled your eyes and playfully smacked his chest before going back to finishing up dinner.

“I know it’s supposed to be your weekend but do you want to just stay over? We can have family time and take the kids to the park or something? Isn’t the carnival in town? That could be fun”

“Yeah, that sounds nice”

[a-memory-of]

After leaving that morning once she had made sure Ruran at least had a bite of breakfast, Ellere Valahan had promised to return later that evening with the balm she had spoke of. It was just getting dark by the time a knock came at his door before she tested the handle.

The door opened easily; the once overly secretive knight had become more absent-minded as the days went on. The aether remained thick in the air. It was good she had gotten away for several bells, else she would have been at risk for headaches and minor aethersickness. Ruran Vas was not in the front room, and there was some soft noise coming from his bedroom.

Ellere frowned at the unlocked door, remember how he once kept it so firmly locked and warded. But she slipped in quietly, shutting (and locking) it behind her. The aether was palpable, and she was already worried. "Ruran dear?" she called out, before the sound drew her to his bedroom door. She tapped her knuckles gently on the wooden frame, "I'm back."

"I am in here," came a voice muffled behind the door, answering with a rather obvious statement to a question that had not been asked. Should she open the door, she would find Ruran standing in front of his desk. Wood shavings littered across the counter-top and down at his feet. A small statuette of Azeyma had been carved--a woman holding a fan and a balance, or at least the rough approximation of one--and stood on the counter top near Ruran. He was already starting on another carving, this block of wood still fairly fresh. He quietly murmured to himself.

Ellere opened the door, smiling that at least he seemed engaged in something, rather than alone and silent on his bed. "Look at you," she praised, eyes finding his little project. "She looks radiant." As she moved closer, one hand rose up and settled on his back, the other dug in her bag for a small jar. "I brought you the balm. And I have a bit of good news, if you'd like to hear." Ruran hardly looked away as she entered, but he seemed aware of her presence. "It does not do Her justice," he mumbled, turning his hand to continue carving a curve. His back was still quite warm, to be expected. At her touch, his focus seemed to finally pull away, and he looked toward her bag. "Good news..?" "Mm," she nodded, setting the jar on his table. But she also drew out an envelope. There was no lettering on the front though there was a wax seal on the back that had already been broken. Ellere passed it to him, and if he looked closer he might note the stamp was a swordfish. "I called in that favor I spoke of as well. 'Tis why I was a bit later coming today." "Favor..." He was hesitant to put down his carving knife and wooden block, but he did and retrieved the envelope. Part of him had already forgotten what the favor was, but the stamp of the fish seemed to stir something in him. He opened it up to see what was inside.

Inside was what appeared to be a simple contract, stamped with the same swordfish insignia as the wax seal on the outside. At a glance, he could likely figure what it was. It spoke of paid passage for an Ellere Valahan, and guest, to the Pearl Isles. It listed the ship name, pier number, and was signed by a man by the name of Eddard Crowther. 

"Some time ago I tended his son in my clinic, he had an accident and nearly lost his leg. Eddard was quite adamant in paying me far more gil than needed, which I declined. However... well. I did remember he has a fine ship, a merchant vessel, and he is a man that will not ask questions of you."

Ruran read the paper over carefully. Twice, since he was certain he had lost focus a time or two along the way the first time. The stone at his chest flickered, a rather rare thing despite the circumstances. He was quiet for a long moment. "This is...very generous," he began, his words slow as he worked his way through them. "I...have been thinking, perhaps you..." His words trailed off as he stared down at the ticket.

“Hm?” she blinked, looking up to him as he trailed off. It was not the reaction she expected, though, the way he was now, she was not certain what she really did expect. Ellere continued after a moment, giving him time to perhaps find the words he wanted to say. “He will be in port for the next sennight, though I did say we would likely not need so much time to prepare. So,” she paused, leaning forward a bit to offer him a smile. 

“You need but say the words, dear, and we’ll be on our way.”

"You are in danger, Ellere," he said softly, keeping his eyes down. "Around me, as I am. Surely you have felt it." His brows furrowed behind the mask, his eyes still occasionally shimmering with gold. "You should...--you should stay. I am capable of doing this." By myself, he didn't say.

Her smile slipped, and her brows furrowed in confusion. Then she shook her head, “Absolutely not. Do not talk nonsense, Ruran. Capable or not, why should you do this alone? How many times must I say that we walk this path together.”

Ruran's free hand reached up and rubbed at his head. He barely knew how to think, let alone how to explain, or how to convince her. "Please trust me." His voice held a frown, and his shoulders fell. "You must...stay away from me." The words didn't feel right, but there they were.

____________________________

With @weepingknight​

“Ruran,” she shook her head again, taking a step forward and trying to guide his shoulders to face her. Her hands squeezed, almost desperately, for a moment. “Ruran, what has gotten into you? I am not going with you because I do not trust you. You are not going to hurt me, and I can take care of myself.” Ruran turned with her hands, still avoiding eye contact, though that was not difficult to do with how his gaze was prone to become distant. "Please... I-I can do this. Cradled--I do not need to be...cradled." He didn't seem to have much more to say, his position weak from the start, and the purpose behind them still unknown.

“I am not cradling you,” Ellere was firm, but her voice still held no hint of anger. “I do not mean to. I know you can do this. I do. Ruran, I believe in you more than you know.” Her hands were still held tight to his shoulders, and she dropped her eyes a moment. “You are strong and brave. But… I’m not.” She paused again, eyes still down.

“I cannot- I cannot watch someone else walk away. I cannot watch someone… die without being there, not knowing I did everything in my power. That there was no other way. Please, Ruran… just let me stay with you a little longer.” Ruran's head tilted in a way that suggested he would speak, but he didn't. He swallowed thickly and looked down. "I...I want you to be there--I do..." His feet fidgeted, and he began to mutter. The soft words hid behind the mask, but grew audible the more he spoke. "--what is easy, what is right. How am I to know..? Everything is more than I thought. Nothing is easy, and now he will be cross with me--with her, and I don't know what to do..." 

He was talking to himself perhaps, or Ari'doram, or one of the hundred other voices in his head.

Ellere looked up at that, brows furrowing again as she caught bits and pieces of one side of a conversation.  Knowing he wanted her there was enough, whatever else they could work through. Her hands dropped from his shoulders to find his hands instead. “Who will be cross with you?” He had never referred to Ari’doram as such, which despite everything was her first guess. “Is someone telling you to go alone?”

Ruran looked up, nearly forgetting where he was. The stone flickered. His head shook. "N-no, not alone... ...My mentor," he answered reluctantly. "He has been teaching me--meditations, ways to keep myself from slipping away..." His gaze moved to the wood whittling tools for a moment.

Frowning, Ellere shook her head slightly. He had never spoken of a mentor before, nor did it fully explain why he had said what he had. "That is all well and good. But this mentor is the one who said I should stay behind? And who will be cross with you if I do not?"

He nodded once, his calloused fingers idly reaching to touch the half-whittled block in front of him. "Yes. He...knows much more than I. About Azeyma, Qarn, perhaps...even about Ari'doram." His brows furrowed, committing more now to divulging more information. "He told me to let none come with us, and he was...quite insistent."

"Ruran," she reached for his hands again, gently covering his as it touched the wood. "I made a promise to you, that I would be there. That I would see this through with you. If you wish for me to be there," she gave a small squeeze, looking down before trying to find his eyes again. 

"Or anyone else, for that matter. No one should tell you no. This mentor of yours is welcome to come with us. But he should not be standing in your way. Pardon, but I don't much care if he thinks he knows better. If he grows cross, you let me handle it."

Ruran turned his attention toward her, studying the determination in her eyes. His head gave small nods, but a glance toward the floor indicated he didn't seem entirely convinced. "I do not wish for either of you to argue. I told him I would try to convince you...and I did try." His feet fidgeted, and he pinched at the contract in his other hand. "I am grateful for you, Ellere. I pray I do not cause more trouble in all this."

One hand moved up from his and tucked under his chin instead. "Eyes forward, dear. Not on the floor," Ellere reminded him gently. "Remember we must face this with no regrets. Azeyma Herself would have a hard time convincing me my place is not right here, with you. Do not worry so."

Ruran allowed his head to be guided back up, and he met her gaze. A glimmer of gold circled around his irises, but it disappeared without any affect on his demeanor. "You know it is impossible for me not to worry." A frown pulls down his tone.

"As it is with me," she smiled, dropping her hand slowly from his chin and toward her own. Two fingers touched her lips, the beginning of an old gesture that she had not done in some time. Those fingers moved up, touching his mask, "But that is why we also have hope."

[blancheludis]

Tagging: @tokky231

Fandom: Marvel, Avengers Characters: Tony Stark/Steve Rogers, James Rhodes, Pepper Potts, Bruce Barton, Steve Rogers Chapters: 20/?, Words: 110.711

Summary: Tony meets his soulmate under the worst possible circumstances. It is not just a kidnapping gone wrong. It turns out Steve and his gang picked him on purpose and they want some personal revenge. If only he had managed to say the words written on his soulmate’s arm before they threw him back out into the streets.

—

Sticking to his notes during a press conference is all nice and good, but that is not enough to prevent further disasters if they allow questions from the audience after the actual statement is over. It does not matter how clever Tony twists his words or how vague he keeps his answers, someone will always get under his skin. And if it is not a single voice in the crowd, it is the thundering mass of them, full of comments and questions cutting enough to topple empires.

Tony endured his first interview when he was only four years old. He has learned to navigate them. That does not mean he will ever get used to them either.

This conference was supposed to be about the new directions they are taking Stark Industries. About their communication program with the plan to develop their own smartphone, and the vague idea of going into green energy.

They all soak that up happily, speculating about the continued stock crash or whether Tony, as the former wunderkind, can pull off another miracle. That is not why they are here, though, why they are watching him with gleaming eyes. They do not want feasible business plans or promises for new jobs. They are simply here for Tony’s personal tragedy.

“We are making advances in green energy because even as my father started this company, human lives have been important,” Tony says, keeping his tone firm and serious as if all of this is already a done deal. “Back then, weapons were needed, but today, we hope to walk into a brighter future together.”

He barely hears the smattering of applause, too busy searching for the trouble makers, the faces twisted with the anticipation of causing mayhem, while hoping to see him flinch.

“Mr. Stark,” a man close to the front is calling out. “What about the rumours that your CFO, Obadiah Stane, has been selling weapons to terrorists?”

It does not surprise Tony that the entire world knows about this business by now. There is no such thing as a quiet scandal, not with the FBI swarming his tower. Everybody has been looking at them closely ever since he announced the end of their weapons manufacturing.

“I cannot comment on a running investigation, and Mr. Stane is currently unavailable.” That earns him a few laughs, although there is no mistaking the hunger behind them. “I can assure you, however, that Stark Industries is doing everything in its power to make sure none of our products are given or remain in the hands of enemies of the state.”

Too late, he notices that is as good as an admission of guilt. He rolls with it, keeping his head high and his expression clear.

“Do you really want to pretend you had nothing to do with Stark Industries’ crooked deals?” a woman shouts. He knows her. Christine Everhart. Likes to hit where it hurts. She looks hungry in a way that tells Tony it does not matter what he answers her. She has her mind made up and he will always be the villain in it.

“I did not know and I still do not the extent of any such possible dealing,” Tony says anyway, looking her right in the eyes, cataloguing every frown and scoff. “I am sure that there is not just a single perpetrator, but I would have never abided with a scheme that goes so fundamentally against the company policy that my father instated when he founded Stark Industries.”

Howard, despite his many flaws, has been a patriot. Even if Tony’s entire world has been turned upside down, he is not going to believe anyone telling him his father knew about this and let it happen.

Everhart apparently wants to see him bleed for she leans forward, preparing for another question. “Mr. Stane is your godfather. Do you –”

“Let me stop you right there,” Tony cuts her off unapologetically. “If the allegations against Mr. Stane are proven to be true, he is not considered family anymore by me or anyone working with Stark Industries.”

That if, of course, is purely for the public’s benefit. Despite his own warring thoughts where it comes to Obadiah, Tony does not think of him as family anymore already. How could he, when everything Obadiah has ever done was lie to him?

The excited murmur of the crowd and the flashing of cameras in front of him suddenly become too much. He is used to this, he should be able to handle a press conference full of hurtful questions without losing any sleep over it. He cannot, however. Not today. Not with how badly he is sleeping. Not with Obadiah still on the run and Tony seeing him lurking in every shadow.

“We are taking no further questions,” Tony says and takes an abrupt step backwards to underline his point.

He watches the group of reporters move like a hungry beast in front of him, rearing its head in disappointment at being denied its prey. Some of them will want to strike nonetheless, always out for blood.

Thor comes up next to him and escorts Tony off the stage, ignoring the cacophony of calls and questions behind them. He cannot make out any details but there is a recurring choir of How and Stane and accusations. He does not need to hear the exact wording for them to cut deep.

He is tired. These things used to be easier when he did not give a damn, when he flashed smiles and nodded all their outrageous questions away, not ashamed of his entire life being a scandal. That was when he was out drinking all night, being seen with new people hanging off his arm every day. That was when he did not have bigger things to worry about than his own amusement.

As soon as he is inside the car and the noise cuts off, Tony sighs in relief. A headache is building that he just knows he is not going to be able to avoid.

His phone buzzes, but Tony does not want to know who it is. Probably Pepper asking about why he has bowed out so quickly. She might be concerned about the company, but she worries about him too. Perhaps it is more bad news, though, and Tony could really do without that.

When it buzzes again, he pulls it out of his pocket and throws it carelessly on the seat next to him, staring resolutely in the other direction. Whatever it is, it can wait until he has gotten his breath back.

A moment later, Thor slides into the driver’s seat but turns around to Tony before he starts the engine.

“Are you all right?”

That is a question Tony has a definite answer to, but one he cannot possibly say out loud without ruining whatever composure he is still clinging to. A simple press conference should not hit him so hard. These people and their opinions mean nothing to him. Yet, their collective readiness to condemn him is like a festering wound he cannot top prodding.

It reminds him that he is not free of Obadiah, and perhaps never will be. He cannot simply cut out a part of his life just because it hurts. He cannot forget the years of trusting a man who was holding a knife behind his back all this time.

Instead of answering, Tony says, “I need a cheeseburger.”

He is not sure where that comes from, but his entire body reacts to the very thought of it. His stomach, which was until now occupied with fighting nausea, growls in sudden interest. Cheeseburgers remind him of college, of going out with Rhodey when they both needed a break from studying, of greasy fingers and happier days.

“We can order something in when we’re back at the tower,” Thor replies and Tony does not need to look up to know he is frowning.

“No,” he decides firmly, against all logic. “I don’t want to hide away in my penthouse while the police tear apart my company some floors down. I want to sit down on a sticky plastic bench in a rundown diner and eat an honest-to-god American cheeseburger.”

What he truly wants is to not be himself for a few hours. And slipping on sunglasses and tipping some lucky waiter an enormous amount of money so they will treat him like any other customer is the closest he can get to that at the moment.

“Since I am responsible for your safety, I must advise against that,” Thor says. He has still not started the car which Tony counts as a victory for some reason.  

“Since I’m your employer, I get veto power,” Tony counters, managing a light tone that he hopes does not convey how very desperate he is to not return to the tower right now.

Looking sternly at him through the back mirror is apparently not enough anymore, so Thor turns around and studies him for a long moment. Tony does not want to know what he sees. Make-up that does not cover his exhaustion from this close. The rough patches where he has bitten his lips bloody again and again over the past days.

Whatever it is, Thor gives in with a sigh. “As long as you don’t tell Pepper.”

It is an illusion that she will not find out, of course, but Tony simply nods happily. Nothing matters as long as he gets away for a few hours.

---

They choose a random diner, out of their way, with no prior connection to Tony. That is the compromise on which Thor allows them to stop. They do not make a Google search, they do not ask for directions. It is just a random stop on a random route. Nobody could know where they are. Nobody could have prepared for this. Despite Thor’s grumbling, they are going to be safe. Killing a man while he is eating a cheeseburger is most likely high treason, anyway.

Thor circles the block another time to make sure they were not followed before he parks the nondescript car, having refused to take any of Tony’s flashier ones.

When Tony opens the car door, he can almost smell the cheeseburger in the air already and feels the tension drain out of him in anticipation. They have not made a single step towards the door of the diner, when Thor perks up and then moves faster than Tony can react, pulling them both down to the ground.

That is when the first shot rings through the air.

Tony ducks behind the car, clinging to the arm Thor is holding before his chest for a moment. With his back pressed against the metal, he breathes, trying to dissuade whether his heart is racing too loudly or whether they are still getting shot at. Pieces of glass surround him that originate from the know broken car window right above him. If they had shot a moment earlier or aimed a little more carefully, Tony might already be dead.

How could they have known? Surely, Thor would have noticed if someone had come after them, which means they must have tracked Tony somehow.

Next to him, Thor moves to peer up over the car, which is followed by another gunshot. Tony flinches violently. He cannot believe his life has turned into this.

“We need to get out of here,” Tony hisses, his voice comically high. He feels panic settling in, grabbing for his heart with an icy hand, squeezing until his breath is shallow and too fast.

Thor shifts, turning his attention mostly on Tony for a second. “You need to stay low.” He looks so calm, Tony is profoundly glad to have someone that familiar close-by. At the same time, it does not help at all to see Thor handling this as if it happens every day, while he is losing his mind.

They need to alert someone, need to call the police. Tony reaches for his phone but finds his pockets empty. Of course, he left it in the car because he wanted to be unavailable for a few short hours. He wanted to avoid being alerted of any new emergencies. Fate must be laughing at him right now.

All is silent for a few precious seconds, in which Thor gets out his gun. The click when he releases the safety is almost as deafening as another shot. Mostly without looking where he is aiming at, Thor fires once himself, then chances another look. His expression, when he sits down again, is grim.

Tony’s brain, which is slowly regaining the ability to think instead of simply cowering, calculates the odds of Thor being able to keep whoever has been following them off with just the few bullets in that gun and no real vantage point. Their chances are not looking so good.

“Nothing is keeping them from closing in on us if they think we can’t defend us,” Tony says, trying to come up with a way they can get at least to the diner without being riddled with bullets on their way there. Although that would put civilians in danger, and Tony is not ready to add that to his conscience.

Thor does not pay him attention as he is trying to adjust the side mirror of the car to help him see what is going on. “And we can’t defend us if we don’t have cover.”

That is true to a certain point. One car, while being sturdy and at least bigger than Tony’s usual vehicle choices, will not keep them safe for long.

When his eyes fall on the way Thor’s fingers curl almost elegantly around his weapon, with nothing of the urgency Tony feels, he has an idea.

“Do you have another gun?” he blurts. Another magazine or two would be helpful too. He wonders whether there is a bodyguard protocol for being ambushed in a parking lot with an employer. If so, he would love to be clued in on it.

“What?” Thor abandons the mirror and looks at Tony, his gaze heavy but at the same time reassuring enough that Tony can take a deep breath and calm himself into thinking more rationally.

“Another gun,” he repeats with some urgency. “I used to make them, remember? I know how to use them too.”

Howard thought it would be a proper bonding experience to take his five-year-old son to the shooting range. While it did not help their relationship at all, it helped take Tony’s fear of the weapons they were building. He has shot at targets plenty of times. This is different, of course, but he will feel much safer with the means to defend himself.

“Have you ever shot at someone?” Thor asks. It does not sound like it is meant to discourage, just like he is carefully calculating whether the risk of getting another gun will be worth the benefit.  

It is questionable whether they will even see more than shadows shooting at them, so the chances of Tony actually hitting something are rather low.

“I’ll schedule my moral crisis for later,” Tony replies. His tone is just a little shaky.

Relief floods him when Thor nods. “It’s under the backseat. Stay where you are and take mine for the time being.”

Within nary a second, Thor hands his gun over to Tony, which weighs more than it has any right to, more than it ever did on the range, Scolding himself for his reaction, he tightens his grip around it, carefully angling it away from himself, ready to turn around and use it.

Meanwhile, Thor moves closer to Tony to be able to open the backdoor. Instead of just reaching in, it looks like he is about to climb into the car. Tony’s hand shoots out and holds him back, gripping the fabric of Thor’s shirt hard enough to turn his knuckles white.

“You can’t go into the car,” he says. It is a hiss more than a tempered argument- Even the few feet it would take Thor away from Tony and further within reach of the attackers are too much.

As if in answer, more shots ring out, making Tony flinch.

With a patience that does not fit their situation, Thor faces Tony. “I can’t hold them off on my own either.”

There is nothing Tony can say to that. It was his idea, but Thor has obviously come to the same conclusion that only one gun and no way to properly aim at whoever has come for them are far from ideal circumstances.

Tony nods tersely and watches as Thor slowly moves into the car while trying to not expose himself. He thinks about simply shooting over the car, but does not want to startle Thor or waste their precious bullets, so he stays quiet, waiting for some kind of resolution for this.

“Get my phone too,” he tells Thor in an urgent whisper as if their attackers are going to hear.

With his phone, he can call JARVIS who will send help and maybe find out more about who is pinning them down. If there is a camera nearby, he could even find out where they are. That would probably take too long, but Tony can dream of being helpful in any way while cowering against the side of his car, while waiting for Thor to emerge from it again.

It is taking too long. Looking at the gun in his hand, Tony attempts to calm his shaking fingers. Then he glances around the side of the car, too quickly to offer a good target. He does not see anything either, but another shot rips through the air. The bullet hits the pavement a few feet to Tony’s side but he knows how to take a warning. He stares at the hole it has left, unable to tear his eyes away.

Finally, Thor comes back out, clutching a gun and a full magazine in one hand and Tony’s phone in the other. He leaves the phone at Tony side before settling back against the car. He breathes more heavily than that manoeuvre warrants, especially since he still seems too calm. Only now does Tony notice that Thor moves strangely carefully like he has bruises. Beneath the suit jacket, he catches a hint of red.

“You’re bleeding,” Tony says, the words leaving his mouth before their meaning catches up with him.

Red means blood means Thor has been shot. He is going to have to watch a friend die right next to him before Obadiah’s men inevitably take him or kill him too.

“It’s nothing,” Thor says, although he does not quite manage to keep his tone even. “I’m not going to pass out on you.”

That does not help to calm Tony down at all. His mind turns from blank and frightened to racing and terrified. Thor is bleeding and there is nothing Tony can do. They are pinned down and exposed.

“You were shot,” Tony says, high-pitched and not even trying to stay calm. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Now that he has seen it, Tony cannot look away from the spot of read spreading over Thor’s side. Shifting, Thor tucks his jacket over it, but Tony does not think he will ever get that red out of his vision again.

“We’re a bit preoccupied at the moment if you hadn’t noticed,” Thor says, an urgency in his tone that finally reaches Tony.

No time to panic, Tony tells himself, even while his breathing turns shallow and his knuckles turn white around his phone and the gun. He needs to think of something. Something that will get them out of here and Thor into a hospital. Something that will end this.

He exhales, glances up at the splintered car windows as if he needs the reminder that this is real.

“All right,” Tony then says, much calmer than he feels. He turns to Thor, carefully keeping his eyes away from the wound. “Shoot at them. Don’t show yourself and you don’t need to be too accurate about it. I need a few moments.”

“What?”

Thor is not going to like this plan. Tony does not like it himself, but Thor’s wound does not leave them with many options. They definitely do not have the time to argue about it.

“Just do it,” Tony says and gets to work.

With practised movements, Tony takes his phone apart and gets out the sim card before putting it back together. He really should have invested in a portable panic button, but for now, this will have to do. Pulling off his left shoe, he hides the card inside his sock. It is far from a good hiding place but he does not have a fake tooth at hand or time to sew the card into his clothes.

He slides the phone over to Thor before looking up at him. This plan, he knows, is pure madness, but the occasional shot is not going to keep the bad guys from closing in much longer. The police might be right around the corner – someone has hopefully alerted them by now – but they do not have time. Thor is bleeding but alive for now. Tony wants to keep it that way.

“I need you to play dead,” Tony says, his voice a careful monotone. He keeps his eyes on his phone for a moment longer, unable to meet Thor’s gaze.  

“What are you talking about?” Thor asks, his incredulity mixed with just a hint of pain. That only reassures Tony that this has to be done.

Taking a deep breath, he elaborates. “I’m going to surrender and –”

“Like hell you will,” Thor cuts him off. The sharpness of his voice mollifies Tony somewhat, even if it does not actually make him reconsider. “This is what you hired me for. We won’t have to hold out for much longer.”

Tony refrains from asking how much longer Thor can hold out, Already, his mind is throwing numbers about gunshot wounds at him. Also, he does not think for a moment that their attackers do not know too that help must be on the way. They will hardly wait that long.

“I don’t think they want to kill me right here.” They could have thrown a small grenade or taken a higher calibre to shoot right through the car. Obadiah will not profit from a public execution and he has shown that he does not care for casualties. At least that is what Tony has to believe to get his legs to work.

“I have the chip, so JARVIS can track me. If you play dead, they should leave you alone. And then they’ll lead you right to Obadiah.”

As far as plans go, this has more holes than their car at the moment. Despite the risk, Tony needs to get Thor out of here. He does not care whether he hired Thor as his bodyguard, whether he should be the one that gets protected here. Thor is a friend, and he is Bruce’s soulmate, and he deserves better than to die for Obadiah’s stupid vendetta against Tony.

“You can’t –” Thor says, but Tony does not let him get any farther.

“Thank you, Thor.” Tony manages a smile, glad that this horrible situation at least gave him another friend. “Don’t let them shoot you again.”

Not wasting any more time, Tony holds up the hand with the gun, biting his lip as he waits for the inevitable bullet. Nothing happens, so he raises the other one and then, slowly, gets to his feet.

“Tony,” Thor hisses but stays down. “Stop this madness.”

“I surrender,” Tony calls out instead of answering. He does not have to put any effort in sounding shaken. He steps to the side, fully exposing himself. The hand with the gun trembles terribly as he puts it down on the ground for everyone watching to see.

For a long moment, nothing happens and Tony is sure he has miscalculated. They might line up the perfect shot to take him out at once. Then, someone moves out from behind a car on the other side of the street. They are masked and clad in dark clothes. It is not Obadiah.

“Tell your little friend to come out too,” the man calls, sounding cocky and cruel in a way that promises nothing good for Tony’s immediate future.

“He’s –” Tony looks to the side but aborts the movement halfway through. He feels Thor’s glare bearing into him, but Tony guesses he is going to follow the plan since he remains quiet. “He’s stopped moving.”

The man contemplates that for a moment before he nods. He has likely realized that they will be able to take Thor out no matter what.

“Come over here.”

Tony does. It might be the stupidest thing he has ever done but he is still not hearing any sirens and he feels like Obadiah is within reach for the first time in weeks. He just wants all of this to be over.

He walks. Small steps. He is barely able to feel the ground beneath his feet, but he sets one foot in front of the other towards the man who has a gun pointed at him.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he can see more movement now, more people coming out from behind cover. It looks like they really wanted to get him this time.

When Tony has almost reached his destination, he sees a sudden movement but by then it is too late to move out of the way. Something hits him in his upper arm. It was not a bullet, there is too little pain for that. Before he can reach up or take a step back, he feels his thoughts growing heavy and uncoordinated. Darkness wells up in front of his eyes. Then he is falling.  

[frgt-me-not]

Marguerite ~ Sorry

Previous part // Part 85 // Next part

(Words: ~3650)

A/N: This is the first time I’ve ever written smut, so I really hope it doesn’t completely suck... 

Despite me leaving the door unlocked I still hear a knock on the door about twenty minutes after I’ve turned off my phone and sunk under the covers.

My mind is racing all the way to the door, and the closer I get the more I feel like my head is beginning to spin.

It’s been several days since the last time I spoke to Jungkook in person, and it was that night I’d left him here in the apartment.

I hadn’t gone home for the next 24 hours and I hadn’t slept either. I hadn’t been able to relax my tense muscles.

I was both relieved and disappointed not to find him still being here.

There were over a dozen missed calls from Tae, Hobi and even a couple from the other boys, but none from Jungkook and I knew he must’ve seen the one missed call from his dad.

Like the chicken I was I didn’t call any of them back, and after the hourly calls, I turned my phone off completely and put it in the fridge.

Tonight, I took it out after an at least two-hour prep talk about how he wouldn’t murder me for not telling him and also that he wouldn’t hate me for what I said, not to mention the pictures.

It hadn’t even surprised me when he told me it was Nari.

She definitely took the cake when it came to the people, I despise most in this world.

The second I open the door, Jungkook’s arms embrace me in a bear hug, lifting my feet straight off the ground, carrying me into the living room.

When he puts me down, his hand cups my cheek and his eyes bore into mine. Under any other circumstance, I would have been trying to tear my gaze away, but there’s something about the way he’s looking at me. As if he’s never seen anything like me before as if he isn’t ever going to see me again. It would be a lie to say it doesn’t scare me as much as it soothes me.

He lets out a breath as if he’s been holding it in. I feel it against my lips, he’s that close.

My body shakes slightly as a shiver courses its way down my spine.

“I’m so fucking sorry,” he mutters finally, his voice is like a knife cutting through the thick silence in the air.

I blink, twice, unable to comprehend his words – it feels like ages since I last heard him speak.

With Jungkook less than a few inches away from me, it’s as if the entire world fades into the background. Everything that has happened disappears for a few sweet moments.

I lift my hand cautiously, mirroring his hand on my cheek with one on his. I can feel his hot skin and the thin coat of sweat on his temple. He has run all the way here.  

I don’t know what to do next, I’m hoping he will do something, anything really.

His eyes drop momentarily to my lips, just as I sink my teeth into my bottom lip.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he mutters under his breath, more to himself than me.

I open my mouth in an attempt to croak out a sentence which will hopefully make sense. However, before I can even form the first word, his mouth has sealed itself over mine.

I know that the sweet caress of his lips against mine isn’t meant to be sexual in any way, but it doesn’t take long before the longing for him bubbles up in my body.

I gasp into his mouth, but I don’t pull back from him, I wouldn’t dream of it.

His other hand lifts and cups my other cheek, so he can hold my face close to his. My hand on his cheek drifts into his hair, clinging onto the soft strands.

Instinctively I lean forwards until my front is pressed against his.

He makes a sound from deep within his chest as if he’s in pain, before he pulls back, eyes still transfixed on my now bruised lips, “I-I didn’t mean to,” he stammers, eyebrows furrowed.

But I’m not listening.

With a rough tug on his hair, my lips are right back on his, this time I don’t give him time to think about whether what he’s doing is right or wrong.

And he doesn’t think anymore, he just acts.

He stalks forwards, pushing me backward until the back of my thighs hit the desk by the window.

His hands leave my face as they reposition themselves around the back of my thighs, lifting me onto the desktop.

Fingers dig into my skin, but I barely notice the slight pain it causes. He pulls me to the edge of the table, stepping in between my legs, close enough to feel the rough material of my jeans rub against him.

He groans as he pushes his warm tongue into my mouth, flicking it over the roof of my mouth.

His hands slip from my thighs and along to my ass, gripping it firmly, which causes me to move even further out onto the edge.

My covered core is now pressed against the still growing bulge in his pants.

A whimper leaves my lips as he unexpectedly grinds into me, igniting every inch of my body.

For a moment I think about the promise I made to myself shortly after I met Jungkook. I would never – and I had meant it in a‘I would rather die’ kind of way – give into the attraction I felt towards Jungkook.

I should see myself now.

The thought makes me laugh.

“Laughing while in the middle of foreplay is usually not what a guy wants to hear,” Jungkook mutters in a low growl, trailing a path of kisses from my lips along my jaw.

“Is this foreplay?” I reply with a smug grin on my face.

“Tell I what you’re thinking about,” he demands, pressing two fingers against my chin to make me look up at him.

I chew on my bottom lip, “Just that I promised myself I would never ever get close to you,” I admit, blood rushing to my cheeks.

“Do you regret it?” he questions, sounding almost unsure, and I can tell he’s thinking about everything that has happened in the last week or so.

I twist my hand in his shirt, fiddling with the material and avoiding his eyes as I reply, “What’s life without a little excitement?”

At the sound of my words, a wide and genuine smile splits his lips, stretching from ear to ear.

He lifts me from the desk and spins around gracefully, heading for my single bed.

When my back hits the bed, my heart jumps into my throat.

His lips make soft, wet kisses along my throat to the spot right behind my ear, “Tell me if I need to stop, okay? I don’t want you to think I came because of this.”

I can’t think straight enough to answer him, so I just nod, without planning on telling him to stop at all.

My body is overly aware of every single brush of his fingers against my heated skin, and when they reach the hem of my shirt, I hold my breath in anticipation.

He doesn’t have to ask me since my sudden squirming is enough of an encouragement. I try to help him get it over my head.  

For a few seconds, he stares at me, shortly at my half naked body and then at my face, admiring every inch of my skin and the blood coloring my cheeks scarlet.

His index finger trails along my skin, right under my bra as he mutters, “We’ve got to do something about this.”

I want to ask him why he doesn’t just do it then, but the only sound I’m able to make is a longing moan.

The grin on his face makes my cheeks turn an even deeper shade of red and I hide my face behind my hands.

“Don’t hide,” he orders and nudges my hands away, “I want to look at you.”

How am I supposed to keep a straight face if he’s going to say stuff like that?

“Am I allowed to touch you?” He asks.

Admittedly, him asking if he’s allowed to do anything in the bedroom surprises me – I’d thought he was the kind of guy who takes what he wants.

I nod swiftly.

My eyes flutter shut as I feel his fingers ghosting down my stomach. My thighs squeeze together in anticipation as he reaches my lower stomach, but he changes course just as he grazes the material of my jeans.

It’s clear he knows what he’s doing, and he also knows exactly how to make small sounds escape me without me noticing.

Each little whimper and moan from me seem to be sounds of encouragement to him.

He especially seems to like the way my eyebrows are knitting together in frustration.

His tongue darts out and wets his lips before he lowers his head to trail a path of kisses from the base of my neck down between my breasts.

I didn’t expect the sensation to be strong while still wearing a bra, but as he kisses right at the center on top of the material, I have to bite my cheek hard.

“Can I–” he begins, but I’m way ahead of him. I arch my back as much as I can, allowing him access to reach under me to snap open the clasps.

The sound both terrifies and excites me – it’s an odd feeling in the pit of my stomach.

He pushes the material away and once more takes a few seconds to admire me before his mouth encircles my nipple.

There’s no way to hold back my whimpers anymore, and as it becomes apparent to me that each time I do so, he sucks just a little bit harder.

My fingers are pulling on his dark hair roughly and my nails dig into his scalp.

After a short while, my nipple becomes overly sensitive, and he seems to know exactly when that is because at that moment he shifts to my other breast.

His tongue swirls around the nub and sucks.

An urgent desire to feel his skin against mine settles in my mind, prickling along my skin, and I begin pulling his shirt over his head frantically.

When I’ve succeeded he smirks again, “So impatient.”

I ignore him deliberately and pull his lips to mine with a sudden yank.

He doesn’t protest.

Part of me wants to take it slow, but every time his fingers squeeze my hip, I feel like I’m about to come undone right then and there.

I hold my breath as I feel his fingers bend under the top of my jeans and I lift my hips, trying to encourage him just to remove my pants.

The sound of the zipper is earsplitting in the room, and I begin to wiggle out of my jeans.

A jolt of electricity shoots through my body when his hand cups me through my underwear, pressing slightly against the unbearable ache which I’m not in control of.

With circular movements, he begins rubbing against the bundle of nerves and I jerk. I’ve definitely never felt anything like that before.

It doesn’t take more than thirty seconds before his hand is on the move again, brushing up the length of me before they begin to tug the underwear down my legs.

“Don’t shut your eyes,” he orders, and my eyes jump open.

His dark eyes pierce right through me, and he doesn’t even comment on it when my eyes fall shut again on their own accord. I can’t keep them open even if I try, not when he’s doing this to me.

An uncontrollably loud moan forces its way out between my teeth as he kisses me just below my belly button, at the same time as he presses his thumb against my clit a lot more firmly than before.

I know what is coming and I’m not about to do anything to stop it from happening.

I hold my breath in anticipation until I feel a wet kiss against my core.

There is no point in trying to keep quiet, so I sincerely hope that the walls of my apartment are a lot thicker than I know they were.

His hands snake around my thighs holding me in place – which is one hell of a job since I’m a squirming mess and there is no way I can lie still.

He pushes a finger into me and it feels like I’m seconds from exploding.

But he doesn’t let me.

He pulls back just as I feel the knot inside me begins to unravel.

I groan in frustration, rubbing my thighs together as if that’ll ease the aching feeling.

He grins at me and I can tell that he knows I’m all his.

I want to make him feel just as great as he has just made me feel – and I also want to tease him in the same way, but when I reach out to unbuckle his belt, he grabs my hand with a warning look, “I know what you’re planning,” he says warningly with a glint in his eye, which tells me he wouldn’t really mind.

I fall back on the bed, “Really?” I grin devilishly, “Don’t you think you should have a little fun too?”

I wink at him.

“I’m having the time of my life,” he says genuinely and glances from me to the dark shadow on the floor, which I know is his jacket.

“Stay where you are,” he orders and begins to back away, but I stop him, “What’s up?”

I don’t even bother to hide the concern in my voice, but he sends me a reassuring smile, “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.”

I sigh as he adds, “I’m just going to make sure we don’t end up having a little kid running around anytime soon.”

“Wait,” I mutter and roll over to the bedside table, feeling his eyes follow my every move, “I have one.”

I throw the small yellow wrapper in front of him and he picks it up with his brows furrowed together.

He examines it for a few seconds before barking out a laugh, “I knew it.”

I knit my brows and he crawls closer to me, “What do you know?” I ask.

He smirks just as his face is level with mine, “That you’re a virgin.”

Okay, maybe I’ve forgotten to tell him directly that I am in fact pretty inexperienced, but I can’t see how a condom makes me seem like a virgin – it should be the exact opposite.

He holds up the small package grinning, “This isn’t even a condom y/n,” he flips it around, so I can read what it says.

It’s a… lemon vitamin?

I feel my cheeks burn even hotter than they’ve done at any point tonight.

He winks at me and pecks my lips, “I’m going to get us a real condom.”

It takes him less than five seconds to retrieve the silver package from his wallet, “Take a good look at it,” he urges, “Because you’re going to be seeing these a lot.”

I want to tell him to shut up, but I don’t because his lips have already pressed down on mine.

His short nails claw into my hips as I feel him grind against me.

“Again,” I croak, unable to form a full sentence.

His lips split into a grin against mine, “Again?”

He doesn’t even wait for an answer before he repeats the torturous movement.

I wrap my legs around his waist.

“Tell me what you want,” he orders, his lips leaving my lips and nibbling on my earlobe.

I want a lot of things right now, but the only thing I’m able to stammer is ‘you’.

The rough feeling of his jeans scrapes against my heels and I move my hands from his shoulders down across his stomach towards his jeans. I feel his stomach tighten under my touch when I pass his belly button.

It takes me an awfully long time to unbuckle his belt, while also trying to enjoy the feeling of his mouth sucking on my neck, definitely leaving a distinct mark.

After a while, he begins to help me.

I can clearly see the outline of him through his grey boxers.

My mouth goes dry and I feel my fingers aching to touch him, and this time he doesn’t stop me.

His eyes fall shut when I reach under the waistband and wrap my hand around him. When I stroke up his length, he drops his head in the crook of my neck, sinking his teeth into my shoulder.

His hips jerk every time I move, and I get the feeling that he’s entirely in my control. That is until he wraps his hand around my wrist and pulls my hand away from him, with a level of self-control I don’t even think I could master.

“Maybe another time, Angel,” he murmurs, “But I have some other things in store for us today.”

I try to swallow.

He reaches out for the silver package and in one swift move he has pulled his boxers off and flung them on top of the clothing pile on the floor.

Watching him put on the condom is almost as erotic as when he was touching me.

He catches my lips again, working them softly until he can slip his tongue inside.

I feel him position himself and my heart jumps in my chest.

“You’re sure you want to do this?” he asks, his lips still ghosting over mine.

“Do you really think I’d be lying here naked underneath you if I didn’t?”

He smiles, “Good point.”

A second ticks by and I feel the tip of him right at my opening.

I take a deep breath, biting my lower lip just as I feel him push inside slowly.

For several moments neither of us move, he lets me get used to the feeling. It definitely isn’t quite what I’d imagined.

I can both feel and see Jungkook shaking with restraint as the veins appear through his silky skin. I know he’s waiting for me to do something, and I’m not about to test how far his self-control goes.

I buckle my hips up towards his encouragingly.

Air weasels out between his teeth, “Are you feeling okay?” he questions.

I nod.

He moves back slowly, watching my face carefully for any signs of discomfort.

I try to ignore the uncomfortable feeling and try to focus on Jungkook and what we’re doing instead.

He continues the slow pace, which gradually begins to drive me insane.

Once more I lock my feet behind him and press down, so he has no choice but to push in all the way.

A soft moan sounds from me, and I see the hair stand up on his arms.

This time he doesn’t pull out slowly, instead he jerks, and I swear I can feel it in my fingertips.

I want to tell him to go faster, but I can’t focus on speaking, so instead, I begin to meet his thrusts halfway.

He groans into my ear, “You’re making it very hard to go slow,” he protests.

I shake my head, “Then don’t go slow.”

He doesn’t accept my invitation with words, instead, he grips my hip roughly, slamming into me so the sensation sets off something inside me.

I’ve completely forgotten about the uncomfortableness from before, and I begin to cling onto him, my nails digging into the soft skin across his shoulder blades.

Our heavy breaths mingle as he speeds up the pace and I become nothing but a moaning mess underneath him.

I get lost in the rhythm of his hips and the soft grunts he makes.

My entire body begins to tingle as the knot from early forms in my stomach, tighter than ever, pulsating and twisting around uncontrollably.

Breathless curses fly past my lips, and they seem to encourage him even more.

When I feel his finger begin to circle my clit, I throw my head back, unable to think straight.

He sucks on the sweet spot right underneath my ear and I hear his words being forced out between his clenched teeth, “Say my name, baby.”

His words do the trick and the knot doesn’t slowly unravel. Instead, it snaps, sending vibrations of sensation through my body in heavy waves.

I cry out a muffled version of what I’m sure is supposed to be his name against his neck.  

His rhythm becomes sloppier as my high begins to settle down again, but I absentmindedly continue to meet his hips, savoring every sweet moment, until he stops abruptly.

His mouth is right next to my ear and his shallow breaths blow through my hair.

We stay like that for several moments before he pulls back and out of me, leaving me with an empty feeling I’ve never noticed before.

He rolls onto his back, pulling me with him, until I’m half on top of him, watching his chest rise and fall in deep breaths.

“I could definitely get used to this,” he breathes.

I turn my head and hide my face against his damp neck as I go through the entire thing in my head again. Too bad he’s leaving in less than twelve hours.

“I’ll get you a wet towel,” he announces and slowly gets out of the bed.

He pulls off the condom, tying a knot on the end and throwing it into the bin.

He climbs into the bed and kisses the back of my hand, “There’s no reason to grow shy on me now,” He pulls my naked back to his chest and kisses the back of my head tenderly.  

Previous part // Part 85 // Next part

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[unfortunate-stranger-losers]

Six Baudelaires AU, Part Two {AO3} {Masterlist} {Part One} 

Chapter One → Prologue - in which Lilac has to Older Sister

“Release Nick, you fiend!”

Violet tackled Klaus to the ground, as both of her brothers burst into giggles. “Never! Nick’s my prisoner of war!” Klaus said, trying (and failing) to push her off.

“I dunno,” Nick said, glancing up. “Violet, can you tie me looser? I think I’m gonna get ropeburn.”

“I don’t think you know what that word means.” said Klaus.

The Baudelaire study room had been converted into a war room for the day, and as Lilac kicked open the door, holding a basket of snacks, she shouted, “I told you to pause while I got food!”

“Yeah, but we got bored, so we decided to continue without you.” Violet shrugged.

Lilac stared at Nick. “Oh, you did not use real ropes!”

“We found real ropes! What else were we supposed to do?” Violet said.

“Yeah!” Klaus said. “We can’t tie up Nick with blankets.”

Nick waved from beneath the ropes that bound him to Father’s desk chair. “I’m the captive!” he cheered.

“I figured that,” Lilac said, “But how’d Klaus capture you so fast?”

“Terabithia’s defenses suck.” Klaus said.

“I fell off the desk.” Nick shrugged.

“And now I’m rescuing him!” Violet said. “Because Klaus is a wimp who can’t beat me!”

“Klaus can’t beat Violet,” Lilac said, “But Irene and Curdie of Gwyntystorm can fight Queen Lucy!”

“Is that how you pronounce Gwen-tea…” Klaus paused, as Lilac raced forwards. “Gwan-ti…”

“Gwyntystorm, moron!” Violet said, as Lilac tackled her off of Klaus.  

“Wait, I thought you were Susan, not Lucy?” Nick frowned.

“Is that important?” Klaus rolled his eyes, as Violet playfully kicked at her older sister.

“Am I Peter or Edmund, then?”

“I thought you were Eragon.” Lilac said, as Violet finally threw off her grip and started running around the room.

“Wasn’t he Aragorn?” asked Klaus.

“We suck!” Violet cheered, as Klaus and Lilac kept chasing her. “And Terabithia forever!”

“Should we pick new names?” Nick asked. “Cause I’ll be Glaedr.”

“Glaedr’s a dragon, that doesn’t count.” Klaus said.

“Can’t I be a dragon?”

“Can you breathe fire?”

“Violet!” Lilac shouted. “Put that down right now!”

The boys turned to see that their sister had managed to climb onto their Father’s desk and find a knife in one of the drawers. She let out a delighted shout as she leapt down, avoiding Lilac’s arms and ducking past a startled Klaus, before starting to cut at the ropes binding Nick.

“Shoot, this is way harder than in the movies.” Violet said.

“I mean, I can just slide out if you loosen it.” Nick shrugged.

“Not as fun.”

“That’s not fair!” Klaus cried. “Lilac said no real weapons!”

“I’m just being resourceful.” Violet shrugged.

“I wanna be Peter Pan!” Nick decided.

“Shut up,” Violet said, “Or I will lock you in the closet again.”

“Violet, put down the knife!” Lilac shouted. “That’s an order!”

“You’re not my Queen, Irene!” Violet stuck out her tongue.

“No, but I am in charge until Mom and Dad get back, and they said you and Nick…” she scrunched up her face, trying to remember the exact words. “They said, ‘Violet and Nick are to not be allowed near sharp objects under any circumstances.’”

“Yeah, well, Mother and Father are replacing us right now,” Violet said, “So…”

“Shut up!” Klaus looked startled. “They’re not replacing us!”

“Naw, they definitely are.” Nick nodded. “When a new baby is born, one of the other children has to die. Everyone knows it.”

“No!” Klaus shouted.

“Stop scaring Klaus!” Lilac hissed. “Violet, put down the knife, or I’m telling Mom you used it!”

“Ugh, fine. Ropes are basically broken anyway.” Violet groaned, placing the weapon back on their Father’s desk. She waved her hands unenthusiastically, and said, “Go, be free.”

“Freedom!” Nick shouted, shaking off the ropes. “Now I’mma fly away!”

“You can’t fly, that’s not fair!” Klaus said. “And Mother and Father aren’t gonna replace us!”

“They are.” Nick said, tossing the ropes to the side and then sitting awkwardly on the chair. “Now, since it’s a girl maybe, they could take out one of them,” he gestured towards Violet and Lilac, “But you’re the most useless, Klaus, so-”

“Don’t be mean to Klaus!” Violet said, moving towards her younger brother and hugging him to her. “He’s the baby!”

“Not anymore!” Nick grinned. “Also, traitor.”

“Game on pause.” Lilac said. She sat on the edge of the desk, pushing the knife back into the drawer. “Look, Mom is just having another baby. It won’t be an issue. We’ve talked about this.”

“But I don’t want another sister! We’re gonna be outnumbered!” Nick huffed, crossing his arms. “Can’t they just leave her at the hospital?”

“No.” Lilac said sternly.

“They did already set up the nursery.” Violet sighed.

“But they already have four kids!” Nick said. “Why do they need more?”

“Maybe it was an accident.” Klaus said.

“You were an accident.” Nick said.

“Shut up!” Lilac shouted.

“Seriously, babies are the worst.” Nick said. “They’re stupid and loud.”

“They’re cute.” Violet protested.

“Nuh-uh.” Nick shook his head. “Our new sister’s gonna wake us up in the middle of the night all the time. All babies do is cry and scream and shit-”

Lilac let out a screech, and Violet jumped to cover Klaus’s ears. “Who taught you that word?”

“Mom!” Nick beamed. “She stubbed her toe and taught me a whole bunch of new words! You wanna hear?”

“No!” Violet and Lilac both shouted.

“But yeah. Babies suck and we should totally throw our sister off the roof.” Nick said.

“You’re not throwing her off the roof.” Lilac said.

“Watch me.” Nick’s eyes lit up. “Wait, no, better plan. You guys remember Moses-”

“You’re gonna be nice to our new sister.” Lilac said.

“No! I’m gonna hate her!” Nick insisted.

“When are Mother and Father getting back?” Violet groaned, sliding to the floor and dragging Klaus with her. “They’ve been gone all day.”

“Giving birth apparently takes a while.” Lilac said.

“Then why couldn’t we be there?”

Klaus looked horrified. “We don’t wanna be!” he insisted. “I read up on what happens during labor, and it’s… bad! I don’t wanna see it!”

“How bad?” Lilac asked, eyes wide.

Klaus shivered. “I don’t wanna think about it, let alone see that happen to Mother!”

“What? Does she explode?” Nick asked.

“Stop saying people are gonna die!” Violet hissed.

“Well, if he’s not gonna tell us, we gotta guess.” Nick shrugged.

“Look it up yourself.” Klaus huffed.

Lilac groaned. “You all are impossible, you know that?”

“You’re impossible, too.” Violet said.

“You know what? Game’s over.” Lilac said. “We should be doing school anyway.”

“No! No school!” Nick and Klaus both shouted.

“Boys, you still gotta finish your math workbook. You said you’d finish it after the game, and the game’s done.” Lilac said. “And Violet, you still gotta study for your bat mitzvah.”

“But we wanna play Kingdoms!” Violet protested. “Come on, Li, we can swap teams! Boys vs girls!”

“That wouldn’t be fair!” Nick protested. “Not only are you two stronger than us, you’re getting reinforcements right now!”

“Lilac and Nick versus me and Klaus.” Violet suggested. “And I think we should start by kidnapping Nick again.”

“Okay, but I get to scream.” Nick said. “I’m great at being a damsel.”

“You suck at damselling.” Klaus said. “You’re never scared enough.”

“I can’t be scared.” Nick shrugged. “None of you are scary. Also, if Lilac’s on my team, she’ll save me.”

“Debatable.” Lilac said.

“Lilac’s better than you.” Nick said.

“Oh, that’s baloney!” Violet said. “Lilac just yells at us, she never has fun.”

“I have fun!” Lilac protested.

“Then why won’t you let me make a sword?”

“Violet!”

Before any of them could say anything more, the phone on the wall rang. They froze a moment, and then Lilac catapulted herself off of the desk, pulling her skirt up as she ran as fast as she could. Violet, Nick and Klaus followed, and Lilac quickly answered the phone, saying, “Baudelaire residence. This is Lilac Emily. To whom am I presently speaking?” She paused, as her siblings struggled to get close enough to the phone to hear the other speaker. “Really?”

“Whozzit?” Violet asked.

“It’s Dad, shh.” Lilac said.

Violet tried to grab the phone, yelling, “Is Mother dead?”

“Nooo!” Klaus wailed.

“She’s not dead, Dad says she fine.” Lilac said. “Get away from the phone! No, Dad, we’re all okay, Violet and Nick are just being mean.”

“Shut up! We’re being great!” Violet shouted. “You hear that, Father? We’re being respectable!”

“We’re sensible and proper!” Nick added.

“Shh!” Lilac insisted. She listened a moment, and then said, “Yeah, we finished school.” She gave death glares to the boys that clearly communicated you better finish your math before they get home. “Overnight? Really? Are you… you’ve been gone all day!”

“Mother has to stay overnight?” Klaus looked worried.

“Shh! Yeah, I know… yeah… uh-huh… yeah, I know where the ice cream is… how is Mom? … and the baby?”

“Are they putting her up for adoption?” Nick asked hopefully.

“Nick, I’m gonna tie you up again!” Lilac threatened. “What was that, Dad? No, no real ropes. Yeah, promise. We’ll go to bed on time, too. But you’ll all be back in the morning? Yeah, I know. Don’t open the windows. You’ll be back tonight and then go pick her up in the morning? I mean, we can stay by ourselves if you… okay. Okay, see you then?”

“Let us talk to him!” Violet protested.

“He’s gotta get back to Mom.” Lilac said. “But we can all say ‘bye.’”

She held out the phone, and all four children shouted variations of “Goodbye!” “Bye, Dad!” “Tell Mother hello!”

Lilac hung up, and Klaus said, “What’d he say?”

“He said we have a new sister.” Lilac reported. “Solitude Theodora Baudelaire.”

“They named her what?” Nick looked disgusted.

“I think it sounds distinguished.” Lilac said.

“She’s a baby. She doesn’t even know what colors are yet.” Nick said. “She’s not distinguished, she’s an idiot.”

“Don’t be rude!”

“Well, I guess it doesn’t matter.” Nick said. “Seeing as I’ll be selling her to the neighbors. They can name her whatever they want.”

“You are not!” Lilac said. “Now, let’s get ice cream! We have permission to eat as much as we want!”

“Oh, heck yeah!” Violet looked excited, “Come on, Klaus! Let’s make towers!”

“This is a bad idea.” Klaus said, adjusting his glasses as Violet dragged him out.

  “Lilac?” Klaus said.

The four children laid on the living room floor, staring at the ceiling and waiting for their Father to get home. The ice cream had long since been finished, and they’d gotten bored of their schoolwork and books.

“Yeah?” Lilac asked.

“I’m tired.”

“Then go to bed.”

Klaus hesitantly glanced towards Nick, who seemed to share his thoughts. “Can we sleep down here with you guys?” Nick asked. “Last time we were home alone, it was really scary.”

Lilac sighed. “I mean, if it’s okay with Violet.”

Violet nodded quickly. “I mean… it’s not like I get scared, but… if it makes you boys feel better.”

“We can get sleeping bags from the closet.” Lilac said. “There’s some pillows over there.”

“Can we make a blanket fort?” Klaus asked. “Like we used to?”

“I don’t see why not.”

Klaus grinned, and Violet said, “I’ll set it up. Nick, Li, you get sleeping bags, Klaus’ll get the pillows cause he can actually carry those.”

“Shut up!” Klaus giggled.

Lilac sat up, and Nick crawled a bit closer to her. While their siblings were distracted, Nick leaned against her and said, “Do you… are you sure they’re not replacing us?”

“I’m sure, bro-bro.” Lilac said, putting an arm around him.

“If they did try, though-”

“They wouldn’t. You’ve just been listening to those dumb kids at the park again.”

“But you’d protect me, right?”

Lilac smiled slightly, as Violet and Klaus wandered over. She glanced at them, and said, “Yeah, of course, Nick. Imma protect all of you from the big scary baby.”

“Shut up.”

Lilac laughed and let her brother lean on her shoulder, and Klaus ran over and put his head on her other shoulder, while Violet ran to get the blankets. And they stayed in the living room, building their fort and giggling to each other, until their father got home.

[linyi-is-dreaming]

One Way Out - Part 16

Story: Hoseok // Y/N // Yoongi // Namjoon // Taehyung // Jin // Jimin // Jungkook

Category: Smut, Mystery, Abusive Relationship, Crime

Summary: After Y/N’s last break up, she tried to get her ex off her mind. Parties, one night stands, nothing helped except only one thing that helped her the most: her now boyfriend Hoseok. They became from friends to friends with benefits and after a while they both confessed their feelings for each other and started dating. But the calculation was made without her ex, Yoongi. Who does not come back on good terms. 

Chapter 16 - Scheduling

Tae is in one of the rooms, which he claimed for himself for over an hour now. The room he picked, is near Jungkook’s room, not to close but also not too far away either. It is closer to the staircase than it is to Jungkook’s room. He is waiting patiently for a chance to get to Y/N, Tae knows he needs only one chance to try if his plan would work as he thinks it would. In his mind he thinks about the plan over and over again for a few times as he sits on the edge of his bed. To have a better access with his fingers to get the needle that he still hides within his belt, he must move his upper body to the back a little more to get it out properly.  While the needle rests between his fingers, he sits back up again. Slowly he plays with the needle as his might is set on a goal. The timing must fit, he cannot be in Jungkook’s room for too long. He should not be too loud and he must inform her without telling her too many details. Jungkook might realize that something is going on, if he changes only a little detail in the room. Tae must watch his steps too and must be even more exact. Nothing can distract him either as he also must pay attention to Jimin, who is supposed to give him the sign when Jungkook is about to go back to his bedroom. Jimin knows he must give Tae the sign at the right time to warn him on time, it is up to Tae to react fast and correctly as soon as he would hear him. Jungkook could come back any time whilst he is in his room and if Jimin cannot keep him in the living room long enough or if he cannot give him the sign on time, he might get caught. Jimin and Tae know that they need to be a hundred percent ready if they want to be successful, no one is allowed to do a little mistake. 

Jimin is sitting on the couch in the living room as he turns on the tv to relax his nerves a little before they would have to start their plan. If he learned one thing of being in Jungkook’s crew, it is to stay calm under any circumstance. When he brought Y/N back to Hoseok in the safety house, he made one mistake. This mistake has been the reason why everything went horribly wrong and Jimin is more than aware of it to not repeat it one more time. The waiting makes him think, what might could happen if something goes wrong. What could happen if he catches Tae in his room. Theories over theories and questions with an if fill his mind. Distraction, that is what he needs to not think about answers to his questions. He looks through the channels until he finds something interesting. As much as he wants to keep watching it, his feeling tells him not to. He crosses his arms whilst he stretches his legs with the remoter still in his hand as he looks to the stairs, just to make sure if their plan has started already. He listens to the news for two more minutes before he switches the channel one more time. 

Tae is already on his feet again to open his bedroom door a little more, so that he could see a shadow of someone who would walk pass his door. Curses are leaving Tae’s lips even more quiet than a whisper, whilst he waits for him to finally leave the room. For a few minutes he walks up and down until he sits down on the bed again. It took another half an hour until the sound of a door brings his attention back to the open gap at his door. Just as he planned, he can see Jungkook’s shadow passing by his door. He waits a little longer, until he cannot hear the steps on the staircase anymore. As the sound of steps seem to be completely gone, he opens his door slowly to check for one last time before he leaves his own room. Carefully he walks to approach the door to Jungkook’s bedroom. For one last time he checks if Jungkook is still downstairs as he touches the door handle, only to be completely sure that he is truly gone for now. It is a strange feeling that he has as he opens the bedroom door. The first thing he sees are Jungkook’s jeans lying on the floor messily and the second thing he sees is Y/N, who is lying on the bed. Quickly he steps into the room and closes the door a little, but not too close to hear Jimin. As he steps closer to her, she starts to sob. 

“Please, my shoulders. Take the handcuffs off me! Just for a minute at least, I beg you!”, she groans as the tears keep streaming down her face. Tae walks quickly towards her to move his hand over her mouth to quiet her down. The face of hers looks pale as her tears stream down her cheeks. Ideas of what might have happened, fill his mind as he watches the tears drop. Her lips were reddish and dry. The movements she makes, do show that she tries to move her shoulder to gain any kind of comfort. At this moment, he does not want to keep thinking about the reason for her tears. Tae shakes his head and his eyes are back on the handcuffs. His body is leaning above her as he tries to whisper into her ear. 

“Relax. It’s me, Tae. Jungkook is downstairs.”, he whispers. As he tries to calm her down, he notices that she is getting even more nervous, when he does sudden movements. “It will not take long. But you need to stay quiet.” Slowly he removes his hand from her mouth. Apparently, Jungkook did not lie about the handcuffs. She must have been in those for hours whilst lying in this position. Y/N's wrists were red, which almost look like little cuts on her wrists and her arms must have become numb from the position she is still in. She has a silk tie on her eyes which seems to be used to blindfold her. On her chest lies a knife which has two very sharp sides. Only a single movement and it could slip off and cut into her skin. Then he starts to notice that she has the blanket up to her waist and that the only thing that he could see her wearing is a bra. “I have to try something. Just hold completely still, okay? Trust me, I will make it quick.” She moves her head up and down to show him that she understood. 

“Tae, whatever you plan. Please, just hurry up! He said he only will get some water from the kitchen.”  

“I know that he will be back soon, but I need to test something. If it works, we could get you out of here, tomorrow or even sooner.” Y/N could not believe her ears. She asks herself, if she heard what she just heard or if she starts to hear things that she wants to hear to comfort herself with. Her heart beats faster by the idea of being away from Jungkook, a trace of joy starts to fill her heart. The hope to be with Hoseok again, just to hug him, starts grow as she keeps thinking about the words that Tae just said. 

“Can’t you get me out already?” She starts to move more and more until Tae could not work on the handcuffs any longer.  

“Hold still. It won’t work if you keep moving.” 

“I need to move my arms. My shoulders hurt so much.” 

“Stop moving.”, he says in a very deep voice. This kind of deep voice sounded like a warning. Y/N mumbles a few none understandable words as she holds still once again, even though she wants nothing else than to put her arms down at the moment. “If we could, we would have done it already.” 

“What do you mean by that? Tell me, what do you mean with if you could?” He does not pay attention to what she is asking as he tries to open the handcuffs with the needle one more time. “Why are you avoiding my question?” The pain in her shoulders hurt more each minute as she could not move them even a little. Whatever Tae meant, it starts to confuse her the more she thinks about when they could have tried to get her out earlier on. 

“I am not. It is just that we don’t have the time to have a tea to talk it all through.” 

“I only wanted an answer.” Not a single answer comes from Tae’s lips, as she starts to wonder why. “I hope it will work out. I don’t have a good feeling about it.” Tae licks his lips as the arrogance in her voice starts to annoy him. 

“Did he leave keys around here? Did you see anything?” Y/N narrows her eyebrows as she starts to think about his question. When she feels that one handcuff is off her, she starts to stretch that arm slowly to her side. 

“I was blindfolded as he handcuffed me. I don’t know… At the other house he kept the key in his pocket. Maybe he hides it there again.” With one last fast movement he opens the other half of the handcuffs.  

“Perfect.” She puts her arms down immediately to move her shoulders. “What are you doing? Put your hands back!” 

“It hurts. I can’t. Give me a few seconds at least.”, she says as she gets up. “Argh.”, she yells in pain as the knife falls off her chest. The knife cut some cuts into her skin which causes her to bleed. His hand is very quickly in front of her lips to stop her from crying out the pain any longer. This fast movement startles her as soon as she feels his hand on her. 

“Could you not just do what you want and listen to what I am telling you? You are destroying the one chance that we have to get you away from here. Do you get that?”, he says as he grabs her upper arms to push her back down. He takes the knife and places it back on her upper body. “Great, now it is your job to find an excuse why you moved. Don’t dare to mess it up!” The cuts were not deep but they were thin, which made it more painful.  

“That burns!”, she says as she bites her bottom lip. To calm herself down from the pain, she takes longer breaths and deeper ones. The sound of her breathing makes Tae to want to take a look at her to see if she is overreacting or if it costs her that much pain. He spares one look and that is when he noticed that her blindfold seems to slip off her face. Tae leans down once more to whisper in her ear whilst he corrects the blindfold. 

“He could come back any time just as you said a minute ago. I need to handcuff you back to the bed again.” He takes her hands and puts them back in the place with strength before he closes the handcuffs. Painful sounds leave her lips as she gets back into the uncomfortable position. 

“Sorry, but you could have also done what I told you to.”, he says as he closes the handcuffs. “Have a little more patience. Yoongi said that he will wait for us on the other side of the forest.”, Tae explains before he steps away from her. 

“Yoongi? What about Hoseok?” As he hears Jimin raising his voice, he walks closer to the door. “Did you hear from him?” 

“See you tomorrow, Y/N.”, he says quickly before he closes the door behind him. Tae can already hear someone coming up the stairs as he was about to walk towards his room. There is only one problem by now, his room is too far away to get in on time and he does not want to cause any suspicion when he meets him in the hall way. Of course, he could say that her scream urged him to check on the situation, but he also knows that Jungkook does not like that someone else is taking care of his doll, especially when Jungkook does not ask for it. His eyes are moving to look for any potential room which he could reach on time. Whilst Tae tries to stay calm, he tries to find an excuse why he could be walking around at that time of the night which would be better than the idea he has momentarily. The bathroom door is open widely and is near enough to reach for him, as he sees that Jungkook is not in sight yet, he walks quickly into the bathroom and turns the lights on. It seems as he has been just on time. The steps on the stairs were no longer hearable and the lights in the hallway are still out. He turns the water on and puts some soap on his hand. Whoever walked in the hallway by now, walked slower and slower until the steps seem to be gone. Tae turns his head slowly towards the hallway to see if someone stopped at the door and he seems to be right. Tae looked at him from his feet to his eyes. Just to see that Jungkook is gazing at him.  

“Still awake?” Tae starts to smirk as he sees the grin on Jungkook’s face. 

“I could not sleep so I tried to relax. Turns out I cannot do any of it.” 

“And I thought you are already sleeping in your room.”, Jungkook says as he watches Tae drying his hands. “We have enough to do soon, maybe you should tell Jimin to catch some sleep too.” 

“Jimin must look like a zombie when you say it like that.” Jungkook shakes his head with a grin. “Besides, you do look rather relaxed.” 

“Well, I have nothing to worry about. Nothing that is stressing me out. In fact, I think I am the most relaxed one even though everything depends on me.” Jungkook licks his lips as he looks towards his bedroom door. “It might have its reasons.” 

“Well, I guess I talk with Jimin. Have you seen what he is doing downstairs?” Jungkook narrows his eyebrows as he looks back at Tae. 

“He’s watching something on the tv, why?” 

“Jimin is supposed to be the one to stay awake tonight. Maybe he can sleep a little. I don’t feel that tired anyway.” 

“Both of you should rest. There is no need that one of you stays awake to watch out. This house is barely known and barely anyone even comes here. Besides, we would have not known this house either if we would have not gone lost inside this wood as kids.” He looks down for a second as he seems to think about something deeply. “My bedroom door will be locked overnight. I need both of you to be more than ready, we will meet up with Yoongi soon.” 

“Soon? Soon as like not tomorrow?”, he asks as he walks up to Jungkook. 

“Eager to see him?” Jungkook leans against the doorframe as he takes a sip of one of the water bottles that he holds in his hands. It would have been enough space to leave the bathroom but his instincts are telling him to not walk that close pass him. “I cannot wait to see his dumb face either.” He starts to laugh before he takes another sip. “Let’s see how much she will like it.”, Jungkook says as he walks away. 

“Jungkook.” Jungkook stops his movements as he looks back at him over his shoulder before he turns his body towards him. “Is the crew making troubles?” 

“Why? Did they contact you too?” 

“They did not contact me at all. Usually I hear from them from time to time, but nothing so far. I just wondered, because you talk a lot on the phone in the annex, barely in front of us lately. That is why I am worried that we might be having some difficulties.” Jungkook’s face darkens as he walks back to Tae.  

“Don’t bother too much.”, he winks as he answers Tae. “Everything is under control. The crew wants to come to the old house. I tried to keep them away and I told them that the members are dead, but I told them also, it was not our fault.” Whimpers are coming from Jungkook’s bedroom. “As there is nothing else for me to say. Leave me alone and stop bothering me with your negativity.” Tae watches Jungkook disappearing into Jungkook’s room with the hope that she does not do anything stupid that might danger their plan. Tae stands in front of the door, but not to close as he tries to hear if there is any conversation between them. A sound of another whimper comes through the bedroom door. “Your own fault. I told you not to move.” Tae is sure, he must talk about the cuts. It sounded like a click of a light switch and a few mumbles by Jungkook. The quieter it becomes, the more he is sure that he can leave to check on Jimin. He puts his hands in his pockets as he walks the stairs down casually. When Jimin sees Tae, he walks into the kitchen immediately. 

“I see you made it out on time.”, Jimin says as he sees that Tae is right behind him. 

“Yeah. It worked, if she is handcuffed in the moment we could escape, I will be able to open them.” 

“Good. I hope you want have to use it.” Jimin watches Tae as he takes a glass from the shelf to fill it with water. “Don’t mean to bother you, but I still heard nothing from Namjoon or Hoseok.” 

“If you ask me, it’s more than weird.” He takes a sip from his glass. “Could you reach at least someone else from Namjoon’s team?” 

“I have tried to reach the others but then I had some connection issues. But I will try again later if I don’t hear from them soon.” Tae nods as he takes another big sip from his glass. “Thirsty, huh?” 

“I am more nervous than thirsty.” His eyes shoot up at Jimin who tries to follow his words. “Some crew members, want to go to the old house. Jungkook seems to have some troubles to keep them away. He told them that they are dead.”  

“He did what?” Tae remains silent as he refills his glass.  

“He also said that he told them that it was not our fault.” 

“I actually thought he would put the blame on you.” 

“Sounds like you would prefer it that way.” 

“No, but why does he come for your defence now? He pretty much wanted to sign your death, now he does not?” 

“For whatever reason, he did not and it did not sound like he plans to do it.”  

“Did they believe him?” 

“I don’t know.” Tae’s eyes stuck at the wooden floor as he points his finger at Jimin before he looks into his face again. “I guess they will, I mean, do they have another choice?” Jimin leans against the kitchen counter as he looks at Tae’s hand. 

“You’re shaking.” 

“I might do. Probably because I have a bad feeling. A very bad one.” 

“About the plan?” 

“Not just about the plan. All this time he was like a hawk, just waiting to attack. And now, it looks like he already knows that no matter what he plans will work out. He is too secure about it.” Tae bites his lips as he looks towards the living room. “I think he is in contact with my replacement who plans everything with him. He said nothing to me except that we will meet up with Yoongi soon. Whoever he is, he seems to be smart one.” 

“Any guesses who?” 

“Nope, I think he might not even be an official crew member. I don’t think it is important to figure it out. I have no plans in staying in his crew either.” He drinks his glass empty before he puts his glass down.  

“You know what will happen if he replaces you, right? You have not forgotten about it?” 

“You mean the part in which he kills me or that part that I will have to make shitty stuff?” 

“I mean the part in which he might kill you.” 

“Listen, he could kill me on the spot. He could kill me whenever he would see me again. Maybe he does not even want to do it by himself, I would not be his right hand at that point anymore.” Jimin sighs as he looks away from Tae. 

“At least our boss has signed the paper to give you another chance at the police academy. A new start is for sure for you.” 

“Why are you speaking like you are the one to die?” 

“Do I? I am just exhausted.”, Jimin says as he starts to yawn.  

“Jungkook said he locks his bedroom door overnight. We should sleep, even if it is just a little.” 

“If he locks the door, we can’t get her out anyway. But you’re right, some sleep sounds nice.” Jimin starts to massage his own neck. “We only have this chance, we won’t get a second one.”, Jimin declares. 

“Therefore, we should get some rest. Do you want to try one more time to reach your boss at least?” 

“I tried after Jungkook walked back up, but like I said. My phone service was having some issues, I could not reach him.” 

“We have to try to reach Yoongi as soon as we are close enough on the other side. Make sure you have the right card inserted.” 

“I will change it later before we start.” Tae places his hand on Jimin’s shoulder to drag him along. 

“Let’s get some rest. We talk about it tomorrow.”

The night felt short as the sun shines through the window at Y/N. She starts to look around if Jungkook is near her, which seems to not be the case. His jeans do not lie on the floor and his shoes are gone too. Before she could even enjoy to be alone for a few minutes, the bedroom door opens. “Good morning, my lovely doll.”, Jungkook says. He only where’s his jeans with no t-shirt on. She can’t stand his smile any longer and the hate for him starts to grow inside of her. Acting is the only way to make it through, so she tells herself to act along for one last day. Y/N smiles at him which works almost like a magnet. He sits down next her with his upper body above her as he rests his body weight on his left arm. “Did you learn your lesson?” 

“I learned my lesson. I promise.” 

“Do you want to get rid of the handcuffs?” 

“Yes, please.” 

“Why do you want to get them off?” 

“I want to be your doll.” Jungkook leans down to place a passionate peck on her lips. “How can I do that when I cannot touch you.” 

“Good answer.” He gets up and walks over to his bed side to get the key for the handcuffs. His eyes never leave her body as he walks around the bed. Another peck is placed on her lips before he opens the handcuffs. “Do you want to show how thankful you are that those handcuffs are removed?” Her arms start to tingle as she tries to move them. She places her arms around his neck to pull him closer to her lips. Jungkook’s hands are immediately on the side of her waist as he positions himself between her legs. “You really are thankful, right?” Y/N nods as she looks into his eyes as she bites her lips. 

“I am always thankful when you play with me.” Her hands move along his chest to his stomach as she keeps the eye contact. “Am I punished enough now?” Jungkook tilts his head as he sits down next to her again as he did before. His right arm is around her waist to pull her closer, to her disgust she lets him do it. “I did what you said so I would not have to choose two people you would kill. I surrendered myself so you don’t do it.” 

“Doll, you know how beautiful you are, right?” 

“Yes, I think so.” Judging on his face, she said the wrong thing. She tries to correct herself, but he interrupts her faster. 

“Do I need to show you how beautiful you are?” Before a sound leaves her lips, she can feel him placing kisses along her neck. “I told you so many times for how long I adore you, but you still don’t think you are that beautiful?” 

“I do. It’s just that I wonder if you kept your word.” His hand is in her hair as he pulls her closer that their noses almost touch. 

“Am I a man of my words?” The questions in her mind becomes visible on her face. “See, that is the thing with you beautiful girls. You might be beautiful but you are nothing else than just beautiful. I don’t know why you worry about them when you have me now. I have the money, which means you won’t have to worry about earning enough for a nice living. I can buy you beautiful clothes or jewelry. Whatever your heart wants. I have time for you whenever you need me to. Do you think or do you truly believe, that someone else would do that for you?” She lowers her head a little. The dislike of her behavior starts to show on Jungkook’s face. “Just forget them. Do it like when we were kids. You ignored me every time we met.” 

“I was a kid. How was I supposed to know better?” Jungkook licks his lips as he looks into her eyes deeply. 

“Will you be happy if I tell you, I will not make you choose who I will kill?” Her eyes shoot up to his immediately. “I guess it does.”, he says as he smiles. “I will not do it, if you promise to not leave my side.” No matter how much she would hate the upcoming words which will leave her mouth, she can be sure that she does not have to lose a loved one if she lets them out. 

“Thank you!” She hugs him, to show him that she is still willingly his doll on the outside. On the inside, she cannot wait to get away from him. The moment to run away, could not come early enough. For a minute he hugs her back tight as he places his face next to her neck. 

“I picked some clothes for you. Get dressed.”, he says as he watches her getting out of bed. When she stands in front of him, he pulls her closer and kisses her stomach. “You know I care about you, right?” She pets his hair as his hands lie on her waist.  

“You have a weird way to show it.” He looks up at her after placing one more kiss on her upper body.  

“It’s just that I care about you. I want to make sure no one is hurting you.” 

“If you kill someone I care about, you hurt me.” 

“I told you, I won’t if you take the punishment. You took the punishment and I will forget that I said you will have to choose two of them.” He stands up to stand in front of her. “Now, get ready. I put your clothes over there.” She looks to where he is pointing to. It’s a dark grey dress with black shoes. Y/N takes the dress in her hands as she stares at it. “Don’t you like it? I think you look amazing in dresses.” 

“It is not that I don’t like it. I would prefer jeans and a top today. Something simpler.” 

“If you cannot stand to be in a dress today, take the clothes you want from your bag.” That he does not try to pressure her seems odd. What he chooses, she must wear. At least that was a rule for the last few days. The clothes she sees first are the clothes that she picks. Once she has her top and her jeans on, he walks over to her. “But you could at least wear your heels, don’t you?” The way he pronounced the words, made it sound like a command. His voice changed again and that makes him unpredictable. He picks up her shoes to hand them to her. 

“Thank you.” She puts them on and walks up and down as she was walking a catwalk. “Does it look good?” 

“You are a perfect doll.” He places a kiss on her head as he leads her to the bathroom. “Clean yourself up, I will wait downstairs. Toast for breakfast?” The idea of toast brings back memories which she rather would get out of her mind. Y/N mistrusts the idea of him doing her breakfast, because the fear of being drugged again, grows. 

“Sounds good.” Y/N smiles as she walks into the bathroom. She opens a package of toothbrushes to take one out and uses one of the toothpastes which lies next to it. When she was done cleaning herself up, she keeps staring at the mirror whilst her hands rest on the sink. Before she can get to lost with her thoughts, a knock brings her back to reality. “Come in.”, she says as keeps looking for something. 

“Jungkook said I should make sure you come for breakfast.”, Jimin says as he closes the door behind him. The closer he gets the more he starts to see what Tae has been talking about this morning. Her wrists are red, her eyes are still puffy. “Are you alright?” 

“Yeah, I guess.” Jimin steps closer and watches her movements. 

“May I can help with something?” For a second, she stops searching. She turns her body into his direction with a questioning face. “What’s wrong?”  

“I am looking for a disinfectant spray. The cuts are pretty red, maybe I should use some. I don’t want to have an infection.” Jimin nods as he opens the bathroom cabinet underneath the sink. It does not take him long to find one. 

“Here. Sorry, I hid it there. I will wait outside until you are done.” She grabs his wrist to hold him back. 

“Wait a minute. Could you do it for me?” 

“I don’t think that this is a good idea. If Jungkook sees me looking at your half naked body-” Jimin was still moving his lips but no voice left him as he watches her taking off her shirt. 

“All you need to do is to spray it on the wounds. That’s it. I would take forever to spray it on myself.” Jimin opens the spray as the door opens at the same time.  

“I said bring her downstairs. What are you doing? Get your shirt back on.” 

“I only-” 

“She asked for this.”, Jimin says as he shows him the bottle. “Y/N wanted me to do it but I declined.” 

“Why did you not ask me?”, he asks Y/N before he turns to Jimin. “Go downstairs, I’ll do it.” Jungkook takes the bottle away from Jimin as he moves his head to give him the sign to leave. Jimin only looks back at her once again as he makes his way out of the bathroom. 

“What are you doing with those?”, Tae asks as Jimin brings Y/N’s sneakers downstairs. “Pretty, but not your size.” 

“Good. Keep the humor, we will need it.”, Jimin answers as he looks back one more time. “We cannot run away with the heels she is wearing. Do we have a plastic bag or something? I think I saw a place to hide in somewhere around here.” 

“Where do you want to hide them?” 

“I thought in the cabinet under the sink for now.” Tae licks his lips nervously as he opens the window widely. 

“Alright. Do that, but quickly. I don’t know how much time we have left.” Jimin takes some bottles and boxes out of the cabinet and hides the shoes behind it. Whilst he puts the boxes and bottles back, her high heels become more audible. Jimin needs more time, therefore Tae rushes into the living room quickly. 

“Jungkook, can we talk for a second?” 

“You want to talk now? My doll needs something to eat and I have to make a phone call soon.” 

“I want to talk about our next move with the crew and our meeting. You did not inform me about anything yet. Normally you always do, but maybe I should remind you that I am still your right hand.” 

“I have not informed you because there is no need to inform you about it already. We have the rest of the day. I’ll do it later.” Jungkook pushes Tae to the side and walks pass him. “Jimin?” Jimin’s reaction has been almost instant. He turns his body to face him. “Why is the window that far open?” 

“You did not inform me, if her condition is any better. Fresh air won’t be bad for her.” 

“Is it not too fresh for you?”, Jungkook asks Y/N as he looks at her.  

“I guess it is alright.”, she answers. “A breeze won’t harm me.” 

“Tell me if we should close it.”, Jimin adds. 

“Like I just said to Tae, I have to do a phone call later. I want you two to watch her then.” Tae and Jimin nod in unison. “Good, uh and Tae. Did Yoongi or Jin contact you?” 

“No, haven’t heard from them. Are you expecting a call?” 

“Jin said that Yoongi will contact me on their terms. Looks like they are finally okay with the situation if they have not contacted us so far.” Y/N takes the plate with toast on it from the kitchen counter to take a sit at the table. “Do you want some water?”, he asks her as he touches her lightly on her shoulders. Jungkook is not waiting for an answer as he gets a water bottle from the fridge. It does not look different from the others, but the only difference Tae sees immediately is the green ‘X’ on the purple label. Whilst Jungkook’s back is towards them, Tae shows her a sign to not drink the water. The confusion of why he would show her to not drink it, ended as he places the water bottle in front of her directly. The pressure he puts on her to drink it, makes it even more strange. “Just drink it.” 

“It is a bit too cold. I will drink it later.” 

“Not even a sip?” 

“No. It’s too cold, my teeth will hurt.” 

“We don’t want that, do we?” He places a kiss on top of her head. “I am in the annex for a few minutes, I have to try to get a hold of Yoongi. Just to see if he finally gave up.” 

“Do your truly believe he gives up?”, Jimin asks. 

“Maybe he starts to realize that my crew is still bigger, I mean who except of Jin is left in his?” Tae looks up at him.  

“Maybe I should try to reach them.” Jimin’s eyes widen as he hears him say those words. Whatever Tae is about to do, has not been discussed. 

“Why?” 

“Maybe I can get my cousin to speak with me.”  

“I will try it now. If I cannot reach him, I will let you know.” Jungkook spares one more look at Y/N who is eating slowly in silence. A little smile appears on his face as he walks out. As soon as the front door closes, Tae shuts the window without locking it close. Jimin sighs deeply as he looks at Tae. 

“Call Yoongi, they need to distract him on the phone!” Jimin takes out his phone, in which he has changed the SIM card already. To their luck, he picks up immediately. 

“Yoongi, listen! Jungkook will call you or Jin in any minute. Keep him on the line as long as you can. We will try to get her out of the house now.” 

“I’ll try. Don’t waste time.” With those words he hangs up. 

“Y/N, ready to go?”, Tae asks as Jimin takes her sneakers out of the cabinet.  

“Put them on.” She changes her shoes very quick whilst Tae opens the window once again and climbs out. “Tae will help you on the other side. Go!” Y/N climbs onto the kitchen counter and with Tae’s help she makes it out. Jimin follows right behind her. Tae shows a way in which they should run to. Tae takes Y/N’s hand and drags her along as they run into the woods. A few meters in and they cannot see the house any longer.  

“How long do we need to the other side?”, Y/N asks. 

“If we run as fast as we did so far, maybe forty minutes maximum.” A silence nod by the others made it clear to Tae, there is no way back anymore. As they keep on running, they can hear someone else in the woods. Without a warning and with no one in sight, a gunshot fills the woods. 

"Jungkook."