#as soon as i work through years of trauma it will be over for y’all

[factual-flittermouse]

Fun fact: this was my childhood!

[apollyonsdarksecrets]

Actions and Consequences

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven

Summery: She’s reserved, emotionally cut off, and spiraling down a dark path; one she can’t get out of on her own. Aaron Hotchner may be her only help, but at what cost? When he shows up to her hotel room, contact in hand, she realizes it may be more than what she bargained for.

Warning: 18+ Only MDNI SMUT. Language, BDSM, Dom Aaron, emotionally detached reader, typical CM violence, childhood trauma, abusive father figure, age gap (reader 25 Aaron 40) doesn’t line up with a specific time line, use of Y/n because story is set in 3rd person for the first half then switches POV, last name for reader is Smith,

Specific Chapter Warnings: implied sex (between reader and ex-boyfriend) past boyfriend being rough and mean to reader, eating, official set up of dynamic and rules, a little bit of spicy for you guys 💋(hint)

7 Years Ago

“Two more weeks… I can’t believe it.” Y/n sighs, leaning her head against the shoulder of the boy laying beside her. He smiles, passing a hand over the top of her head, smoothing down her static hair.

“We’re going to be graduates… fuck it’s crazy.” She cranes her neck, smiling as she meets green eyes. He leans forward, pecking her lips quickly. “Alright, let me up. My moms gonna be home soon.” Y/n rolls over, taking the black sheet with her as he climbs out of bed, searching for his shorts.

“Good, I need to help her finish the desserts for your party tomorrow.” After months of hopping from one house to the next, Y/n has finally been able to settle into the guest bedroom of her boyfriend’s family home with what little belongings she owns. She sits up, letting the sheet fall around her hips as she snags her t-shirt and leggings off the floor.

“Oh yeah? What y’all making?” He tugs on his tank top, running his hand through his spiky blond hair as he eyes the naked expanse of her back.

Y/n shrugs, pulling on her shirt before slipping into her leggings. “Um I think a lemon cake.” The young man flops onto the bed and she laughs, laying back down beside him, her fingers twining together to rest over her stomach.

“I do like lemon.”

She rolls her eyes with a smile, “Trust me, everyone knows Trever.” He nudges her with his elbow and she laughs, a joy filled sound she’s finally getting use to.

“God, I can’t wait, finally get out of high school and we can just… do whatever. Well I mean I’ve got collage next fall but still.” Trever sighs blissfully before turning to look at his girlfriend. “Gonna come be my secret roommate? Get me in all kinds of trouble.”

“You wish,” Y/n scoffs, nudging him back. “You know my classes start a semester before yours.” Trever stays silent for a moment, Y/n staring up at the ceiling unaware of the change in his once easy expression.

“You’re still serious about that?” The question catches her off guard, her head turning to look at him. His face is pinched, like he can’t believe her. Y/n sits up, turning to face him fully.

“Y-yeah… Trever I’ve been serious about this. It’s the whole reason I work three jobs and bust my ass in school every week.”

He pushes himself up, leaning against his head board. “Look, babe, I’m not trying to be mean here but… do you really think you can do it? You’re talking about the FBI here… they don’t just take anyone. Especially…” He hesitates and her temper flares, her eyes narrowing.

“Especially, what?”

Sighing he gestures to her with a splayed hand, “Ya know… little country girls who don’t really know what they are doing. If you really want to work somewhere that makes you feel like you’re making a difference, why not go for something you’re almost guaranteed a job?” His expression shifts like he’s had the most brilliant idea, ignoring the obvious hurt growing across Y/n’s features. “911 dispatcher! You won’t even have to waste your money on-.”

“Fuck you.” She spits, standing and marching from the room, anger filling her chest to the point it almost hurts.

“Hey! Don’t talk to me like that!” Trever follows her out into the hallway, grabbing her by the shoulder as they reach the top of the stairs. She spins and shoves him, but he plants his feet, gripping her painfully by the shoulders. “Don’t you ever fucking talk to me like that again. Not in my goddamn house. You’re lucky my parents are even letting you stay here and you’re gonna act like that?” He shakes her harshly, her teeth slamming together making pain shoot up her jaw.

“At least your parents fucking believe in me! Your moms the one that paid off the rest of my entrance fee last week!” She struggles against him, her hands pushing at his chest but his fingers dig into her muscles. His face reddens but before he can say anything the front door swings open. A short, black haired woman stares up at them in confusion, her mouth open slightly.

Trever steps back quickly and Y/n moves down the stairs, keeping her eyes on her so-called boyfriend. “What is going on? I could hear you screaming from the front porch.” She closes the door behind her, her many bracelets tinkling with the movement as she sets her purse down on the landing.

“Nothing, Mrs. Dwayne.” Y/n says quietly, moving down the stairs until she is beside the woman. “I need to go to work…”

“I thought you were going to bake with me dear?” The sad look that passes across the older woman’s brown eyes makes Y/n’s throat constrict, that hated feeling of pinpricks forming in her nose. In the past five months of her relationship with Trever, Mrs. Dwayne has been nothing short of a mother figure to Y/n. Teaching her to cook, to clean, showing her the basic skills of life without so much as a disgruntled look. She didn’t want to hurt her now.

“I-I will.. I mean I am… I just. I need to go get something for work, I mean. I’ll be back.” Before Mrs. Dwayne or Trever can say a word Y/n is bolting out the front door, towards her run down car, rage and devastation simmering in her chest so heavily she can’t think anymore. The need to be anywhere but here propelling the car into motion.

She wouldn’t break down here, not where anyone could find her, when she’s alone she’ll let the tears run freely and her sobs fill the empty space around her.

Present Day

The rest of Tuesday had crept by silently, nothing like the first half of the day. You had joined Aaron for dinner in the dining room, where he informed you he had a few conference calls to make in the morning and he would check on you when he was done. That was many hours ago.

You had been awake long before the sun rose behind charcoal clouds, listening to the rain pelt your window relentlessly. You sit propped against your pillows, lost in deep thought… shameful deep thoughts. Most of your night was spent tossing and turning, what little sleep you did get wasn’t filled with the usual empty darkness, or the occasional bad dream; instead Aaron had taken up every unconscious thought.

You had dreamt of his hands on your body, much like the day before, only this time there was even less in between his burning palms and your skin. You could feel the reverberation of unheard words from his chest into your back, his hands slipping up, up, up cupping your breasts through your bra. His hips ground against your back, the buckle of his belt biting into your skin as his erection pressed against the swell of your ass. Then his palm began to travel lower, straight to your-

You shake your head fiercely, before smothering yourself with a pillow, groaning loudly. You stay like that for a few long minutes, desperately trying to ignore the ache between your thighs until it becomes to much. Throwing the pillow across the room you climb out of bed and head straight for the bathroom, determined a scalding shower would set your mind right.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Steam billows out of the room after you, a scratchy towel wrapped tight around your body, another holding your hair in place atop your head. The skin along the tops of your shoulders and breasts glow pink, having used the hot water liberally. You make your way over to the bags you had placed on the floor last night, grabbing the closest one and rummaging through it.

Something smooth and soft slips against your hand and you grab it, pulling it free of the wadded up clothing. Realizing you should really organize everything before it all becomes a wrinkled mess. Dropping the bag you unfold a Champaign colored silk night gown. It’s simple, a trim of lace adorns the bodice and it reaches about the middle of your thighs, a small slit up both sides. You can’t remember Aaron ever placing it in the cart otherwise you’d of protested.

A large part of you doesn’t want to wear it, or any of the clothing for that matter. That part was called shame. Shame that he had so easily talked you into letting him buy you all of these clothes, better yet talked you into this whole mess in the first place.

But another part of you, the one that really did not want to wear the same sweats again for the 8th day in a row, won the battle. With a defeated sigh you change into the gown. It’s hugs your body, accentuate your curves and clinging to your damp skin. It’s soft, comfortable, and smells clean, that’s all that matters to you.

You grab your over night bag, pulling out your iPod and headphones before crawling back into bed. You set up your computer to finish working, before pressing play on the little pink device and popping in an ear bud. Your phone buzzes on the nightstand only once, but you ignore it, instead typing away on your computer.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Morning slowly rolls into lunch, a half eaten croissant sandwich lays on your nightstand as you dutifully work, bobbing your head in time to the music.

‘What’s in your head, in your head? Zombie, zombie, zombie-ie-ie-ie, oh’

Something connects with your door, the sound reverberating through the room making you scream. You rip out your ear bud, holding your breath as a series of knocks rattle your door, making your stomach swoop and drop all at once. Slowly you move from your bed to the door, unlocking it and pulling it open a crack. Aaron’s usual hard stare greets you, but his cheeks are tinged red, his lips pressed into a thin line. A shudder wracks through your body at the intensity of his stare, your palms feeling clammy against the door handle.

“Um… hi?” He doesn’t say a word as he wraps a hand around the door, forcing it open and you out of his way as he barges inside. “Hey!”he stops in the middle of the room, one hand on his hip and the other rubs at his forehead. He’s dressed in a darker pair of blue jeans this time, paired with a black collard shirt, probably more appropriate for his conference calls.

“Does your phone not work, or have you just been-.” Aaron turns then and whatever annoyed tyrant he was about to go on dies on his tongue at the sight of you. You’re standing at the door, eyebrows raised and eyes a little wide in panic, but it’s not your expression that stops him. His eye dip to your body, noticing what you’re wearing and something in his stomach stirs at the sight. The dress is stretched around your body, specifically across your stomach, an indent where your belly button is. Your hips are accentuated and he realizes with a small thrill that the fabric is just barely see through as he gaze travels from your breasts to your face.

“Fuck.” He breaths out, and a shiver skirts down your spine at the rumble of his voice, blooming into something warm and fuzzy between your hips. Aaron slowly makes his way to you, and this time you stay rooted to the carpet, your chin lifting and the back of your head bumping against the door as he stops a few mere inches in front of you. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

Aaron reached up, dragging his knuckle across your spaghetti strap, brushing across your collarbone where it stops on the curve of your neck. He cups the side of your neck, half of his palm resting against your jaw as his thumb sweeps back and forth. That warm and fuzzy feeling has caught fire, burning with a demanding intensity that leaves you reeling.

“My… My phone?” You ask absently, anything to change the direction of what might happen, his dark eyes snap to yours and you wish you had never spoken, anger and lust swirl together in his irises, his pupils dilated.

“Your phone,” He repeats, head tilting slightly as if he couldn’t quite remember what he came here for. “Were you ignoring me?”

You shake your head, then rethink his question. “Well… no not outright. I was working and in my head space, I remember my phone going off a few times but I honestly didn’t think about it.”

Aaron can only find honesty in the doe eyed look you’re giving him. “That’s two, sweetheart. You need to be more attentive.” Your eyebrows furrow, your soft gaze shifting to something hard as you glare up at the older man.

“Be more attentive? If you really needed me you could of just called. I was busy doing work, I still am.” You snap, gesturing towards your bed. He keeps his hand firm on your neck as he turns, glancing at your open laptop and he can faintly hear your music playing. “And what do you mean by two? Why do you keep counting?”

His thumb presses against the bottom of your chin, tilting your head further back and the pressure makes you squirm. He turns back with a small smile, something impish laying behind it. Aaron ducks down closer and you go still, his breath fanning over your lips and you can smell the tingling scent of mint.

“I did. Twice in fact. I’m counting the amount of times you break your rules, how ever many that is will help us decide what your punishment will be.” Aaron watches the blush slowly form across your cheeks before it seeps down your neck underneath his hand. He would be a lier if he said the effect he was having on you didn’t go both ways.

“We didn’t agree on any punishments, and how can I break a rule I didn’t know about?” You utter, quietly, your eyes betraying you and dropping away from his stare. Aaron smirks, nodding as he smooths his hand down to your collarbone, feeling the wild thump of your heart through your skin.

“That’s why I’m here. We’re going to discuss everything. Over lunch.” He steps back leaving you glued to the door staring at him baffled. “What are you in the mood for? We’ll order something in instead of risking the weather.” And as if the sky could hear his wise judgment a roll of thunder shakes the building. You squeeze your eyes shut until the noise dies off and the only thing that can be heard is the rain splattering against the window once more.

Aaron watches you, gaining a new piece of information, before walking towards the nightstand where the muted green hotel phone lays. He notices your half eaten breakfast sandwich and mutters something you can’t quiet hear.

“Um.. pizza?”

“Pizza it is.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

Not long after a steaming pepperoni and sausage is sitting on your dresser. Aarons posted in the chair again and you’re perched on the foot of the bed, picking at the melted cheese glancing your boss’s way every now and again.

“You look like you have something you want to say.” Aaron says, taking a large bite of his slice. Your shoulder rises and falls, watching him openly now. He wipes his mouth with a napkin, leaning back in his chair, one leg crossed over the other. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him look so… human. This is the same man you’ve witnessed stand his ground against men ready to kill, talk down others who are ready to end it all; protect his team with a fierceness that goes unmatched by any other. It’s hard to think of him as anything else besides SSA Hotchner, but right here… is just Aaron.

“I don’t know… I guess I’m still trying to wrap my head around this.” You admit, biting into your lower lip. “Everything is just… it’s such a sudden change and hasn’t been easy to get use to.”

Aaron smile is pitying at best and you want to convince yourself you hate it. “I know baby. You’ll get there, though. We have the entire month to smooth everything out and come to understand each other better.” The loose use of different pet names makes your insides bubble with craved affection, shame tinting your skin. “Are you ready to talk?”

“I don’t really have a choice do I?”

“You do, at any point you can call it off, but you know exactly where that leads.” His tone is all to knowing of your decision and you huff, scrubbing your hands across your face. He takes your silence as reluctant agreeance, pulling out his phone. “Last night I came up with some rules, punishments and rewards that I think will suit you and I the best.” He taps away at his phone for a few seconds before continuing. “The first, simple, call me Aaron when it’s just the two of us. Second, don’t doubt me when I say I am buying you something or taking you somewhere. Money is not an issue. Third-.”

“Answer my phone at your beck and call?” The sarcastic question sort of fell from your lips, causing Aaron’s eyes to narrow as he sets his paper plate down on the pizza box.

“Third.” He emphasizes, drawing out the word. “Check in with me. I need to know you are okay, if you’ve made it where you are going, if there is anything you need. It’s important that you do so.”

“That’s going to be hard to do when we will be on cases and working.” You point out, picking apart your pizza and taking small bites of the greasy dough.

“That’s why all of these rules are moldable to how we live. Work is for work, but some things will still apply. Like making sure you are eating, drinking plenty of water, getting rest when you can. After hours, when it’s just us, I expect you to follow your rules completely.” He watches the way you pluck off the pepperonis, setting them off to the side. “Punishments won’t be a daily thing like it is with others. We can pick a day where we sit and go over everything you’ve done wrong for the week, then decide your punishment from there. I have a few ideas such as choosing your clothing for the week, have your write lines, have you kneel for an extended period of time.”

Your nose scrunches, the next thing your peeling from your pizza is the little balls of sausage. “That all sounds a bit childish.”

“You aren’t wrong. But you’d be surprised how childish a person can act when given rules.” You roll your eyes making him chuckle. “Just like that.” You shoot him a halfhearted glare that he returns with a smile. “But if you’ve been a brat all day, disobeying me and forgetting your rules multiple times, then I may need to resort to something a bit harsher. Putting you over my knee, bondage, collar.” He watches your face flush, eyes going wide like a full moon. “Even then. It’s more so about the embarrassment than it is ever about the pain. Some people find these things enjoyable.”

“You can’t be serious.”

Aaron’s smile takes on a more devious twist, letting his head rest against his fist as he props his arm on the chair. “Maybe you’ll just have to find out.”

You stare at him in shock, your half deconstructed pizza laying forgotten in your lap as your insides burn. Your mind betrays you, questions popping up like wildfires; what would it feel like? Would he leave marks on your skin? Would you enjoy it like he says?

Stammering you drop your gaze from his, his smile never fading as he searches the soft planes of your face, forcing himself not to look any lower than your exposed collarbones and the gentle slope of your shoulders. You set your plate to the side, crossing then uncrossing your legs, the bed creaking as you try to sort through your thoughts. “Can um… can I ask you something?”

“Always.”

“Does David know? And if so is there anyone else?”

Aaron nods, then quickly raises his hands at the look of panic crossing your features. “David is the only one who knows, and that’s not because I told him out right.” Your panic quickly melts into confusion. “David is the one who suggested I bring up a contract with you.”

Your jaw drops, absolutely flabbergasted. “Wait.. David’s… he’s into this?” Aaron nods again, letting you piece together what you will with that crumb of information. “Oh… so… that means the two do you were talking about me.”

Aaron laughs, a deep pleasant sound. “I promise, it wasn’t anything like you might think. We are just worried, and he thought it would be more appropriate coming from me than him.” Despite his humor you can feel panic rising steadily in your chest.

“Ho- Aaron what if someone finds out?”

“There isn’t any reason for anyone to know.”

The iron grip of your blooming panic wraps itself around your throat, your body humming with a desperate need to move and open your lungs. You stand from the bed and begin to pace the small area, passing Aaron with each turn on your heel.

“What if one of us slips up? The amount of trouble we could get into is-it’s astronomical. I’d be forced out of my job because I’m suddenly a woman who sleeps with their boss. You would be forced to resign but of course they’ll go easy on you-.”

“Honey-.”

“-Even if it doesn’t get to that point, the entire team will see me differently. They will question the authenticity of my role and my job. Oh God, and Morgan would be relentless with the teasing.”

“Y/n.”

“He still calls me señorita after I messed up my order at that Mexican restaurant a month ago! He’d never let us-.” Aaron leans forward, capturing your wrist as you walk by with a sharp tug. Pain laces up your already tense muscles and on instinct you turn, your hand lashing out and connecting with the side of Aaron’s face.

Everything goes silent, both of you stuck staring at the other in shock. “I-I’m… I didn’t mean-.” Aaron pulls you down and you clumsily fall into him, knee banging against the chair; your free hand landing on his shoulder. Aaron wraps a hand around the back of your neck, squeezing and before you can utter a word his lips crash into yours.

A muffled squeal escapes the back of your throat, squirming in his tight hold but it proves useless as his other hand drops your wrist, circling the back of your thigh and pulling you fully into his lap. Thighs caging his hips, chest pressed tight against his you squeeze your eyes shut. Aaron depends the kiss, moving his lips against yours allowing a few whimpering syllables to reach the air.

Your heart hammers painfully, your hands gripping at his shoulders but to your surprise you find your body relaxing. Every panicked thought is eclipsed by Aaron as his tongue slowly traces the seem of your lips, asking for entrance that you hesitantly give. But once you get your first taste of him you know you’re gone for, a soft moan rattles through your chest and Aaron devours it, licking into your mouth like a man starved.

His rough hand slips up your thigh, mindful to stay over your dress as it rides up, to cup your ass, squeezing the fat making your hips jump. The involuntary movement makes you grind down against him, pulling out another moan that is quickly followed by one of his own. He is all you can focus on, the fingers in your hair at the base of your skull, the growing bulge pressing into your heated core, the way the side of his nose bumps into yours. His thighs shift, sliding you further into his lap with a ragged groan.

Slowly, almost unwillingly you pull back, sucking in deep lungfuls of air. He gives you the silent moment you need, his fingers scratching your scalp slightly as you try to compose yourself atop him. He can’t stop the way his eyes roam to your lips though, the short taste of you forever imbedded in his brain.

When you finally let your eyes flutter open you meet his half lidded gaze, you lick your lips. “I-I need some time alone…”

*~*~*~*~*~*

Two hours later your phone buzzes on the nightstand, you glance at it from where you lay, curled up on your side in bed. Your fingers keep tracing your kiss swollen lips, unable to stop thinking about anything else. Grabbing your phone you roll onto your other side, opening your texts.

A new message from Aaron pops up, and your thumb hovers over the screen, your stomach churning with anticipation. Clicking the screen a long message pulls up.

‘Let me know what you want to change, my sweet girl.’

A smile tugs at your lips without your permission, cheeks reddening as you read over the list of rules, rewards, and punishments that follow. At the very end, boldened followed by a question mark is the word:

‘Spanking?’

You take a deep breath, sealing your fate with a few clicks of your keyboard.

Thank you all for the amount of love this has received 😭 I can’t wait to continue writing the rest of this story. Please comment below if you would like to be added to the tag list!

Tag List: @kneelforloki @hmett20 @axionn @ncis0mrs0gibbs @morgthemagpie @zaddyhotch @little-miss-cherry-cola @fandomawesomness @heart-breaker8 @aad1993 @obsessed-oops @supercriminalbean @lex13cm @rosiehale23 @emptybagofchips77 @icarusgloom @imr0nni3 @cashtons-wife

[stvrpst]

I hate how much bummy shippers downplay and minimize Eddie's trauma in comparison to Bucks. They both have distinct traumas and coping mechanisms, but it's clear that many bummies vilify Eddie when he encounters shit that triggers him and past traumas resurface, causing him to react in a specific way.

They will stop at nothing to protect Buck, very few, if any, will criticize him due to his trauma. That's all well and good, but it's irritating that people are so eager to give in and coddle Buck, while simultaneously condemning Eddie for doing the same shit.

I understand that Eddie is a very private and reticent person, and in contrast to Buck, the writers do not really go into great detail about Eddie's trauma compared to Buck. So, while many of us have a better grasp of Buck's past and his trauma, that doesn't change the fact that Eddie too suffers from deeply ingrained trauma from his early years. similar to Buck.

Every time the writers decide to put buck through more shit and he’s back juggling trauma again it’s,

“Why can’t buck be happy!”

“Stop putting buck through shit!”

“Buck deserves to be happy!”

“Buck deserves to be loved!”

“Buck deserves a fun time!”

Which, sure, I agree with completely, but I wouldn't be irritated with it, if the replies to when the authors put Eddie through more shit and he's back juggling trauma weren't,

“Eddies a dick!”

“Eddies needs therapy!”

“Eddie needs to get his shit together!”

“Eddies not a good friend!”

“Buck deserves better!”

There is an obvious bias. Like, why are some of you unable to treat Buck and Eddies traumas equally? Why is it that some of you have to discuss Buck like he has superiority over Eddie with such a blatant undertone?

Why does Eddie have to work hard and figure out his shit, whereas Buck needs everything and needs it handed to him? This season, there were plenty of examples. Many of you exposed your real selves, and I now understand how you feel about Eddie. It's obvious, in my opinion, that none of you genuinely cared about Eddie.

Y’all seize every chance to vilify Eddie, paint him in a negative light, and denounce everything he does, while continually pointing out his shortcomings and faults, but you will place Buck on a pedestal and treat him like a saint, while disregarding what he has done because "He has trauma and deserves to be loved🥺"

And they only do that with buck btw.

In 7x04, they still found a way to make Eddie the asshole💀.

Yes, he was the asshole because he was innocently enjoying himself with his new friend, with whom he shares interests with. However, Buck couldn't handle that and chose to ACTUALLY hurt Eddie before going to make out with the friend Eddie was hanging out with.

But Eddie is an asshole, right? He's the asshole because he didn't invite Buck to trivia, despite the fact that Eddie has asked Buck several times to play basketball with him, but Buck declined. But as soon as Eddie found a friend eager to accompany him, Buck chose to act like a big dick and hurt Eddie, but Eddie is the asshole in this circumstance, correct?

But the bummies are just cool with it because it worked out well for Buck. so we can overlook the fact that Buck harmed Eddie, because at least he got to kiss a man, so it's all good!

Tommy had barely been here for a minute, and despite the fact that his behavior had nothing to do with trauma at all—rather, he was just a big asshole, Sexist, and a racist—bummies were fighting tooth and nail to defend his actions, but were eager to blame Eddie for his triggered response to Kim, despite the fact that it was prompted and stemmed directly from trauma.

The difference is that they feel comfortable defending Tommy because he has a direct relationship with Buck. If he wasn't with Buck, no one would be fighting to keep that man on the show. If Buck had been a direct victim of Tommy's conduct in season 2, and Eddie ended up with Tommy in season 7, their asses would be mad as fuck.

The truth is, they never truly wanted queer Eddie. They just wanted him to be queer so Buck could have the pleasure of kissing a man. It was never about representation for the both of them; it was only ever about Buck. Which is why they stopped pushing and supporting the idea of queer Eddie the moment Tommy kissed Buck.

They don't like him as a standalone figure. They like him as a stepping stone for Bucks' character.

So, moral of the story, they enjoy disregarding and discounting Eddie's pain since he expresses it and deals with it differently than Buck. And since they were too preoccupied with seeing Eddie as a stepping stone for Bucks' character and queerness alone, they never took the time to truly understand and comprehend Eddie's history, past, and trauma. So as a result, its very hard for them to really perceive Eddie as his own character with depth and complexity because for the longest time, they only viewed him as "the guy that could give us buck kissing men."

[granulesofsand]

hi there, just wanted to say i love your page a lot and appreciate all the info you put out. :3

we’re a system of i don’t know how many members, undiagnosed but we’ve been tracking symptoms for years and we got a specialist about a few months ago. i don’t feel like she’s taking us seriously and wanting to move forward with diagnosis, or at the very least treatment. we got an assessment and she says we may have DPDR, but i’ve had day- or week-long blackouts/grayouts and every time i mention them, she sort of glosses over it. i know there’s a possibility we don’t have DID or OSDD but i feel very strongly about it, and i’d like to tell her without being too forceful. do you have any advice? and do you also have advice on tracking alters + switches? much appreciated!

During our system discovery, we kept a notebook. Alters signed off if they could and wanted to, and we wrote everything from research to memories to conversations between us. When we were in a position to talk to our therapist, we handed that over and ran.

Y’all don’t have to do that, but there are a lot of pros to writing it down. A cheap spiral notebook would do it, and you have the benefit of seeing changes in organization and handwriting if those come up.

There are a few tests you can take just be reading the questions yourself. The DES 1 and 2 both have options to fill in bubbles on an internet-accessible device, with 2 being the more relevant version for you. The bottom describes possibilities with your calculated number.

There’s several online versions of the MID that compare your results to those of DID, OSDD-1, and PTSD test takers if you run it with a spreadsheet software. They usually require you type the number in the cell, then map it out in a color titled whatever you put in as ‘client name’. We never could use a cellphone for that, though you can run any Word sheet on the free version.

We use (*cough*) Simply Plural for alter tracking. You make little profiles, only requiring a name or placeholder, and add them to front with a button. You can choose ‘add’ or ‘replace’ as the default button.

Mostly we leave sticky notes for each other with task lists and daily information. We have a journal for therapy (memories, rants, research) and one for communication (conversations, front log, calendar).

Try introducing yourself and asking questions about the others on paper. Possessive switching makes this method look good, but switches that feel more like changing or shifting are more common and also require communication.

Alter-specific memories are common in complex dissociative disorders, and journals allow you to see those different experiences even if you don’t notice switches.

There’s a lot of use for the journals; those little discrepancies add up, and you don’t have to face the others too soon (which is a common phobia in systems with trauma-holding and trauma-free members).

The gathering of evidence makes it harder to turn you away. You can always fall back on the slow unmasking, using plural language and referring to the others. Working through trauma introduces the possible origins of dissociation, and clinicians might believe you more if you start there.

Not every therapist is willing to work with systems, and it’s up to y’all whether you could make progress with someone who isn’t. Therapy is yours, and your therapist should be a stone you can lean on.

If you do stay and don’t work with the system, consider working on that separately and deciding amongst yourselves who goes to each session. You don’t have to do trauma work to work through individual problems, though it is preferable your therapist recognize you as individuals.

And honestly? It’s okay if you don’t show the typical markers or have trauma on hand. If you are a CDD system, the hard parts will come up in time. If not, you can still work on system adaptions and quality of life.

Good luck with presenting your case. I hope your specialist will rise to meet you, but I believe you can find a way no matter how it goes.

[missusdiary]

july 19th. 2024

i’ve found myself doing more research into the art of detachment recently.

for a while now i’ve attempted some semblance of detachment by just ignoring the things that happen to me and then try to forget about them. sometimes i would think about how they made me feel, and what i could do to stop feeling that way, but i never actually solved what was ailing me and moved forward from it.

i ended up carrying things with me, despite my wanting to move on because i didn’t actually work through it. thinking about things over and over doesn’t do that, and while it seems simple when i write it out, it’s so hard to tell if i’m convincing myself that i’m getting over something versus actually getting over it.

somewhere along the way -i guess this might stem from trauma- i suppose i stopped analyzing and listening to any emotional turmoil and forced myself to get over it because i wasn’t receiving any support or comfort from it. maybe because when i was younger, and people brushed off my, well, everything..i stopped actually listening to how i felt and just tried to forget about it.

i remember i recognized the pattern around 13 or 14 but could never decide if i wanted to change it or not because at the time it kinda worked for me. i was unhappy and i always felt misunderstood but as long as i knew how i felt, it didn’t really matter.

thus, i’ve grown into an adult who holds grudges for years and years instead of speaking up about things when they happen. things i will never confront anyone about because i’m a coward.

so, in comes the art of detaching properly!

i’ve wanted to work on this because of the problems listed above as well as just not feeling like shit and overanalyzing things i cannot control. it’s exhausting and i’m so sick of it. i want to learn how to not think about things or take things personally and all that.

for a while i thought i was doing pretty well and i was pretty chill but i’m all fucked up and i want to be better.

this next part is kinda the catalyst to all this.

i am surrounded by couples, have been for years now, and the one i’m closest to are open. one has a crush on their friend whom they introduced to their partner, and now both of them are crushing. they don’t know this person’s exact orientation or type.

my closer friend was kinda joking but also serious saying “oh y’all cant meet” because what if the person likes me?

my closer friend of the couple claims they have romantic ish feelings for me and we’ve entertained the thought of being together casually for a couple years now, and have kissed a couple of times. they’ve expressed that they want me, but i think the problem is that i do not want them. not because they’re unattractive but, because i want someone to myself.

i’ve been single forever. literally. every little fling or situation-ship i’ve had has crashed and burned and i keep hearing that certain things are better when you have someone you care about to do them with.

okay, cool. i don’t get out much, so i doubt i’m finding them anytime soon. whatever, i need to work on myself anyways.

however, it’s lonely as fuck not being someone else’s first priority. not having someone just for me, not being able to share things only with one another. my own person who actually likes me.

pair that with literally everyone else having some kind of personal support system to themselves and boundaries between us, while also being their emotional support?

bruh.

so when they were like “what if they like you?” i was like

“idk, what if?” i’ve never met this person, idk anything about them, so i’m not really really thinking about it.

in passing, before this conversation -because i’m a lonely bitch- i thought “omg what if they’re my soulmate?” and then i was like “if it happens it happens” and of course i’ve got a bit of hope in my soul because i’ve waited long enough have i not? don’t i deserve to be happy as well?

but i wasn’t planning anything. i really just brushed it off. then we had the conversation and i was like, well if someone else thinks there’s a chance it could happen, mayhaps? but the thing that bothered me was, while i know they have their crushes, i do not know this person. this person is not a thing to put dibs on or internalize plans to woo them.

i just felt kinda weird about the whole thing, because what if? and my question wasn’t really answered.

i felt like, because of my friend’s romantic feelings for both of us, they were kinda trying to fit me in a place where they could have me and have the other person as well. it was just such a weird conversation and i’ve been thinking about all that’s been implied from it.

for now i’m just gonna say i’m reading too much into things, and keep with my “whatever happens, happens.” mindset because that’s all i can really do regarding this.

there are more pressing things to attend to.

[ladyartemesia]

All I Want For Christmas is You

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Female Reader

Summary: When Park Jimin is unable to escort his precious sister through the gauntlet of corporate holiday galas, he blackmails his best friend Taehyung into being her chaperone. After all, who better to safeguard his headstrong sibling than a man who would never want her for himself? (She and Tae have spent the better part of a decade mutually disliking each other, and that’s putting it mildly.) Yet, even the best laid plans may go awry at Christmas and Kim Taehyung is about to discover that the girl he never wanted has become a temptation he cannot resist...

Genre: Comedy • Fluff  • Smut

Tropes: Brother’s Best Friend (Reader is Jimin’s Sister) • Enemies-to-Lovers

Collab: This work is part of the Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tropes Collab featuring original holiday themed works by @ppersonna • @xjoonchildx  • @underthejoon • @yeojaa​ • @untaemedqueen • and @snackhobi

Word Count: 17K (I know—I am shocked too honestly)

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Warnings: suggestive photographs • mention of accidentally being hit with a baseball • hints of jealousy and possessiveness • light tit slapping • explicit sexual content • m/f oral sex • consensual unprotected sex (shield it before you yield it y’all) • Viola’s mirror kink makes yet another appearance •

Acknowledgements:

To @ppersonna​ (Lindy) @underthejoon​ (Fal) and @xjoonchildx​ (Ana) you guys are my heart. Your support, willingness to read (and re-read) and give honest feedback made this fic special. Your friendship is my daily dose of awesome. Truly, I love you.

To @untaemedqueen​ (D) all of the above applies to you, but I owe you a little something extra for the LITERAL HOURS you spent in the doc with me. This fic would not be here without you. You kept me moving. You inspired me. You were amazing. Thank you so very much. This story is lovingly dedicated to you. 

To @hobi-gif​ for being the most thorough and incredible beta reader and for having all the important girl chats with me. I think you learned more about my past than you wanted... Either way you made this story better and I am profoundly grateful for the hours of time you spent. I have removed all the Hope-No-No words in your honor. 

To @lemonjoonah​ as always, you knew EXACTLY what I needed to tweak to make this story work. (Gotta pass that Lemon Litmus Test or no dice lol.) My lovely soul twin. You’re a bloomin’ rockstar. 

Please Picture This Taehyung:

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Yes. Because you absolutely owe me.”

“Then send me a bill, not your unmanageable harpy of a sister.”

Jimin raised a single unimpressed brow. 

“Kim Taehyung. It was exactly five years ago today that I carried your drunken naked ass two miles in the rain after you set your clothes on fire and sprained your ankle at that Beta Phi party.” He paused dramatically. “Do you remember what you said to me that night? After I deleted several pictures off phones and paid off half the party to keep it out of the papers?”

The man in question shifted uncomfortably.

“That incident is a bit hazy in my memory. I’m not sure I recall—”

“Jiminie—you’re the best and I—I owe… you. I owe you the most, Jiminie. I do—I owe you a favor—one BIG favor—anything you ask… Even though... I actually like being naked. I don’t think we need clothes. We should all be naked. Everyone. Then there would be world peace.”

Taehyung’s jaw dropped. 

“You RECORDED IT?!”

Jimin grinned, sliding his phone back into his pocket.

“Naturally. And I had it all ready to go—just in case you needed extra convincing.” He crossed his arms and fixed his best friend of nearly fifteen years with a triumphant smirk. “I’m calling in that favor today, Taehyung. Now are you a man of your word or not?”

“He did WHAT?!”

Your mother winced. 

“Jimin was... uncomfortable leaving you alone for the holiday season. He normally accompanies you to the galas but this year—”

“This year I was going to go alone and finally build my reputation as an asset to this family!”

Park Soomin sighed as she watched her daughter pace fiercely around the living room of their luxury suite. 

“No one doubts that you’re an asset, but… in light of recent events...”

Rage and embarrassment flared up in your chest before you could stop them. 

“This is about Milo… isn’t it?”

The silence that greeted your statement was confirmation enough. 

“Are you ever going to trust me again?” you whispered. 

“Oh sweetheart... it isn’t you we don’t trust...”

Tears burned at the corner of your eyes, but you ruthlessly blinked them back. 

You would play along with their humiliating schemes. 

For now.

“So which one of Jimin’s Ivy League brat pack did he blackmail into babysitting me? 

For the first time in the entirety of the conversation, your mother looked truly nervous. 

“Kim Taehyung.”

You tripped over your own feet and face-planted into the sofa. 

“Jungkook, I need to look into faking my own death. Nothing too over the top. Just a tasteful disappearance—”

The man in question could barely restrain his grin. 

“You don’t pay me nearly enough to deal with your mother in the event of your tragic demise and miraculous resurrection.”

“I could pay you more.”

“Or,” Jungkook replied with a heavy dose of judgment coloring his tone, “you could put on this ridiculous tie and stop trying to weasel out of it.”

“Sometimes I wonder why I pay you at all,” Taehyung growled, yanking the tie from the younger man’s grasp. “Clearly I’m not the one in charge.”

“Your words, sir, not mine. Now shall we go over the details and itinerary?”

If Jeon Jungkook wasn’t the best executive aide in the city (and one of his closest friends) Tae would have drop-kicked him right then and there.

“Could you at least try to look like you’re not enjoying this?”

“I’m sorry, sir. It was insensitive of me to ignore your suffering in this delicate time. The trauma of escorting a beautiful woman to a series of glorified buffets weighs heavily upon you.”

Taehyung tightened the tie so aggressively, he almost strangled himself.

“Beautiful woman?!” he wheezed. “We’re talking about the girl who showed up to our formal graduation party looking like she just escaped from Azkaban.”

Jungkook bit the inside of his cheek thoughtfully. 

“Tae… how long has it been since you’ve actually seen Ms. Park?” 

“Seen? Maybe three—four years.”

The heir-apparent of Kim Holdings avoided the public end of corporate culture like the plague, preferring to leave the requisite schmoozing to his personable cousin, Kim Seokjin. 

However, he had crossed paths with his adolescent nemesis in... other ways. 

Taehyung was romancing a lovely young socialite who suddenly ghosted him after someone told her that he wanted at least eight naturally-birthed children. 

Soon after, your favorite charity received an anonymous 30,000 dollar donation requesting that you be featured in the dunk tank for an upcoming benefit carnival and then the same anonymous patron paid for at least fifteen little league teams to attend. 

In retaliation, someone petitioned the National Aviary Society (chaired by a very influential senator’s wife that no one ever refused if they wanted their permits to go through) to make Taehyung the MC at their annual awards ceremony—knowing full well he was allergic to birds (not dangerously allergic—just enough to be miserable).  

Taehyung had sniffled and sneezed through approximately one hundred parrots, parakeets, and other assorted fowl until he was ready to commit murder. 

The last several years had been littered with similar incidents of the two of you taking thinly veiled potshots at one another. 

“I can’t imagine she’s changed very much,” Taehyung bit off absently. His mind was abruptly consumed by how he could get revenge for those demonic birds. 

He didn’t notice the smile creeping over Jungkook’s face. 

“No, sir. I’m sure she hasn’t changed at all.”

Taehyung had only ever had the wind knocked out of him once before. 

He was Dionysia High School’s star pitcher for three seasons and during one particularly tense game against JY Prep, Lim Jaebeom whacked a line drive right into his solar plexus. 

That’s how it felt to look up and see you at the top of the stairs. 

In his head, you were still the mischievous imp from his childhood. Every prank he played was directed at the fierce little fiend with braids and braces who’d knocked him and his date into the university fountain while experimenting with her friend’s skateboard. 

But she was gone… and in her place was something far more dangerous. 

A woman. 

Silken fabric wrapped tightly over curves you definitely didn’t have four years ago. That wild hair had been tamed into shining waves and pinned elegantly at the nape of your neck. The wicked slit that traveled all the way up your thigh teased a smooth shapely leg that all but demanded the viewer fantasize about running their hand up the length of it. 

Suddenly it was very clear why Park Jimin wouldn’t let his sister venture into the corporate cesspool alone. 

Because the sight of you could make a man desperate. 

Betrayal—of all things—slowly crept over Taehyung as you descended toward him like some sort of angel floating down from the heavens. 

His mind went blank. Just watching the seductive shift of your hips as you swayed ever closer felt like a violation of his friendship with Jimin. He could feel the judgmental stares of an imaginary Bro-Code Council boring into him from on high. 

“I see you’ve recovered from your memorable tenure as the Aviary Society’s Master of Ceremonies.”

And just like that the brat was back. 

Taehyung breathed a hefty sigh of relief, secretly thrilled to be in familiar territory with you. 

“Naturally I was delighted to help Senator Mitchell’s wife. In fact, Mitchell’s office just fast tracked all my pending permit requests for the new year.” He tilted forward, coming into your space a bit. “I should really send you a thank you card.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you scowled, breezing past him like an indignant queen. 

Tae could practically see the steam pouring out of your ears. 

“Of course not,” he chuckled.

The first gala of the holiday season was an extravagant annual affair hosted by Min Corp., a Seoul based investment firm that commanded billions in assets. This year, the theme of the event was the Joseon Dynasty and the entire ballroom had been gloriously transformed into a stunning celebration of the Min family’s royal heritage. 

Attendees were gifted their own traditional fan, each uniquely crafted by artisans from Damyang. Taehyung’s was all black with bold silver calligraphy while yours was a beautiful bamboo and silk piece decorated with pomegranate trees. 

You had already whacked three people with it by the time dinner was served. 

“It really is a pity these fell out of fashion,” you lamented. “They’re quite useful.”

“You are deranged,” Taehyung mumbled, massaging his temples in exasperation. 

“Nonsense. I only fanned those who deserved it.”

“Harkins?”

“He was staring at my rack for a solid minute.”

Taehyung could hardly blame the man, it was a battle he himself was losing after all, but Harkins was twice your age and married—therefore his ogling was in especially poor taste. 

“Okay... What about Kang?” 

“He was verbally abusing one of the waitstaff.” 

“Alright, fair enough, but why on earth would you go after sweet old Mrs. O’Malley?”

“She was about to grab your ass.”

Taehyung’s mouth dropped open.

“She’s eighty-five!”

“And still kickin’ apparently.” You shook your head in disgust. “As if I’d whack an eighty-five year-old woman for anything less than non-consensual touching.”

“I- I- mean—surely you must be mistaken,” he coughed. 

“Oh, there’s no mistake. That nasty old crone is a serial offender. She likes to play it off as dementia, but she’s as sharp as a tack. Last year she got a whole handful of Jimin. Honestly, I’d call the police on her, but the commissioner is her grandson so I doubt I’d get very far.”

Taehyung turned to the woman in question just in time to see her totter lecherously toward Jung Hoseok, fingers already twitching in anticipation. 

“Is nothing sacred?” he mused hollowly. 

You shrugged. 

“Many people who accumulate as much as our families have start believing that they are entitled to whatever strikes their fancy.” Your eyes met his with a hint of bemusement. “Surely you should be used to this sort of thing by now?”

“Yes, but I was hardly expecting it from little old ladies!”

The remainder of dinner was a terse affair where you pretended he didn’t exist for the entire meal and he in turn pretended that the spunky young heiress seated to his right was the most darling creature to ever walk the earth. By dessert she was ready to get married and you were ready to vomit. 

Afterward, Taehyung found himself quickly converted to your views on fan usefulness as you began strolling through the crowd intent on strengthening your family’s corporate ties. 

“Kim Taehyung,” you ground out through clenched teeth, “how am I supposed to do business if you keep stabbing everyone I speak to!”

“I don’t know what you’re implying. I’m simply not used to carrying one of these. I may have accidentally grazed a few overzealous individuals—”

“My last three conversations have been rudely disrupted by the blunt end of that accused fan.”

Taehyung crossed his arms smugly. 

“And what of it? Jimin sent me along to keep an eye on you and the gentlemen in question were hardly behaving themselves. No one has to put their hand in my back or lean that close to me when they’re talking business.” 

“That’s because no one wants to get that close to you,” you replied sweetly. “You’re gross.” 

A devastating grin slid slowly over his features as he leaned forward to whisper in your ear. 

“I can think of several women who might disagree.”

He just barely caught the hitch in your breath before- 

“Like who? Miss Blushes-and-Giggles from dinner?”

“Jealous?” Taehyung drawled cockily. 

“Only in your dreams, Kim.” Then, with a deliberate flick of your fan, you turned your back to him. “I’m headed for the ladies room. Do yourself a favor and don’t follow me in.”

It was twenty minutes before Taehyung realized that you slipped out the back entrance of the restroom. 

It took another ten for him to locate you on the balcony flirting outrageously with Min Yoongi. 

The young heir of Min Corp. was just leaning closer to whisper sweet nothings in your ear when a black fan slid right in between the two of you. 

“Lovely weather we’re having,” Taehyung observed cheerfully. His eyes bounced between you and Yoongi with barely concealed fury and you let out a miserable groan. 

“Mr. Kim,” Yoongi cleared his throat significantly. “What an… unexpected surprise.”

Frustration clawed at your chest as your overbearing guardian nodded smugly in response. 

It was time to teach him—and Jimin—a lesson. 

“Yoongi,” you sighed, sliding your hand pointedly through the crook of his arm, “I’m not feeling at all well. Would you perhaps… escort me home?”

Taehyung suddenly looked as if he’d swallowed a live octopus. 

Yoongi grinned, clearly thrilled with the prospect of simultaneously spending more time with you and irritating Taehyung. 

“It would be my pleasure.”

“Jimin is gonna kill me,” Taehyung grumbled as he watched Min Yoongi help you into the passenger seat of his Aston Martin. 

An ugly green feeling he refused to identify twisted sharply in his gut when you smiled coyly at the other man. 

“This is ridiculous,” he snarled to no one in particular before yanking his phone out of his pocket. 

Jungkook picked up on the second ring. 

“Sir?”

“I need you to drive to Ms. Park’s apartment and tell me if she goes in alone or if Min Yoongi goes in with her.”

“You want me to what?!” 

“Just do it!” he snapped, downing an entire glass of champagne before signaling his own driver. 

Fifteen minutes later his phone vibrated from the car seat next to him. 

1 New Message from: Jungkook

Her building has four separate entrances. Which one do I watch? 

Taehyung could practically feel the vein pulsing in his forehead as he scrolled through his contacts. 

You picked up on the fourth ring. 

“Hello?”

“Where are you?”

“Oh it’s you… Wait—how did you get this number?”

“Jimin. Obviously. Now please answer the question.”

“Oh a ‘please.’ Who knew you had manners?”

“Answer the question, Park. I’m tired.”

The distinct sound of a zipper unzipping carried through the speaker. 

“I’m at home, of course. Where else would I be? I just got here like a minute ago.”

He had a sudden vision of Min Yoongi helping you out of your dress. His grip on the phone tightened. 

“Are you alone?”

You snorted. 

“I don’t see how that is any of your business.”

Taehyung saw red. 

“I’m coming over.”

There was a loud crash and several colorful words in at least three different languages. 

“Wha- No! I’m trying to go to bed!”

“With who?!”

“With myself, you idiot!”

“Prove it!”

“Fine! I will!”

The line disconnected and Taehyung swore loudly. He was just about to direct the driver to your building when his phone went off again. 

1 New Message from: Park Gremlin 

He almost choked on his tongue. 

You were clearly in the middle of undressing and—in your irritation—probably hadn’t looked too carefully at the picture you sent.  

At first glance it was simply a shot of your empty room (presumably “proof” that you were alone) but you neglected to consider the floor-length mirror hanging in the far corner…

A mirror that showed you angrily holding up your phone with your gown pooled deliciously around your waist and the soft round swells of your breasts strapped into lacy red lingerie. 

You were exquisite. 

A fierce, hot sensation gripped him ruthlessly, and this time there was no mistaking it. 

Desire. 

Your phone lit up on the bed where you tossed it after snapping a photo for your tightly-wound man nanny. 

1 New Message from: Kim Grinch 

I didn’t know you liked Van Gogh. 

Your head tilted in confusion. 

There was a Van Gogh print in your room, but he couldn’t have seen it because it was behind you when-

Oh NO.

You gasped, scrolling back up to confirm what deep down you already knew to be true. 

… You just sent Kim Taehyung a topless mirror selfie. 

Several miles away, smiling smugly in the backseat of his town car, Taehyung was sure he could almost hear you screaming. 

“Good morning, sir. Which would you like first; the bad news or the worse news?”

Taehyung groaned from underneath his covers. 

“Don’t you ever knock? I could have a woman up here.”

“You’ve never brought a woman up here.”

“Is that the bad news?” Taehyung yawned. 

“No,” Jungkook tossed a small stack of newspapers and printed digital articles into his lap, “this is the bad news.”

Pictures of you, Min Yoongi, and even himself were splashed over the front pages of all of them. 

PARK ANGEL TRADES ONE CORPORATE HEIR FOR ANOTHER AT MIN GALA

WHO WILL WIN THE PARK ANGEL’S HEART? KIM TAEHYUNG OR MIN YOONGI? LET US KNOW IN THE COMMENTS

NEW ROMANCE ALERT? PARK ANGEL LEAVES JOSEON BALL WITH MIN SCION 

“The Park Angel?” 

“That’s what the media calls her... The public is rather fascinated with her actually.”

“Can’t imagine why,” Taehyung mumbled. 

“Of course not, sir. It’s a great mystery.”

As usual, Taehyung chose to ignore his aide’s lethal snark and pressed on to the matter at hand. 

“This is a flaming disaster.”

“Oh I don’t know. I really appreciated the picture of you staring on forlornly while she and Yoongi climbed into the Aston Martin. Takes a real gift to capture all that drama in a single frame.”

“Which one was that?!” 

“It’s right under the MAN DOWN: PARK ANGEL LEAVES KIM TAEHYUNG HEARTBROKEN headline.”

Tae ran his hand down over his face in exasperation. 

“I’m surprised my mother hasn’t called.”

“She has. Twice.”

“I don’t suppose that’s the ‘worse news’ is it?”

“No.”

“Of course it isn’t. I’m never that lucky.” He collapsed backwards into his pillows with a beleaguered huff. “Go ahead then. Tell me.”

“Park Jimin is on the line for you right now.”

After a small eternity on the phone with Jimin (assuring him that NO Min Yoongi had not despoiled his precious sister and YES he would definitely do better next time), Taehyung was forced to attend an impromptu brunch with his mother. It took considerable effort, but he was eventually able to convince her that you were neither breaking his heart nor expecting his child. 

By the time he arrived to collect you for this evening’s event, Taehyung was already sick of hearing your name (he’d spoken it no less than three hundred times since Jungkook woke him this morning).

You were in much the same boat as Taehyung, having spent most of the afternoon pacifying Jimin and clearing up your own mother’s romantic delusions regarding the Min and Kim heirs respectively. 

Tonight’s gala was a Victorian Christmas Ball thrown by the National Literary Fund and the entire venue had been transformed into a Charles Dickens fever dream. 

Unlike the Min Gala (whose theme was guarded like a state secret every year) the Literary Fund’s tribute to A Christmas Carol was tradition and you were dressed accordingly in a custom corset gown with gorgeous detailing. 

Every second of effort it took to lace yourself into the monstrosity was worth the look on Taehyung’s face the moment you slipped off your cape. 

“Something wrong, Mr. Kim?”

Taehyung was desperately trying to look literally anywhere but your chest, where said corset was serving up your breasts like a debauched buffet. 

Jimin. Think of Jimin. Think of what Jimin will do to you. Think of how much trouble she’s caused-

He peeked again.

I would pay a million dollars to suck those tits. 

“Nothing at all,” his voice cracked. 

The itinerary for the evening included performances by a local children’s choir, a traditional waltz, and—of course—dinner.

You both managed to get along without snapping at each other during the choral performance, but as two of the largest donors to the Children’s Literacy Initiative, neither of you could escape being drawn into the waltz. 

The energetic socialite who Taehyung flirted with over dinner the previous night eventually lured him onto the floor while you graciously accepted an invitation from a lovely older gentleman who chaired the Fund’s event committee. 

For the first few movements, you were thoroughly enjoying yourself. Mr. Lee was charming, respectful, and still an excellent dancer despite his advanced age. It wasn’t until a familiar sound caught your attention that the lightness in your chest suddenly felt heavy...

Taehyung was laughing. 

You heard him do so many times over the years, and in each instance, the carefree magic of it never failed to make your heart flutter. 

But now he was smiling down at the pretty little heiress and laughing for her… and the flutter in your chest was accompanied by something else. 

Something that felt an awful lot like longing. 

“Does he know you look at him like that?” Mr. Lee asked quietly. 

Your eyes flew guiltily to his, but it was too late. The old man had caught a glimpse of the secret you buried deeply for more than a decade; so deeply, in fact, there were times you almost forgot it yourself...

Almost. 

“No,” you whispered, “he has no idea.” 

Disaster struck at dinner. 

Taehyung quite liked dancing with the lovely Miss Something-or-Other. She was sweet and funny and (unlike with you) he wasn’t constantly torn between agitation and raging inappropriate lust in her presence. 

The cold shoulder you offered him when he took his seat seemed even more frigid than usual and he spent half the meal wondering what he’d done to earn your amplified disdain when suddenly—

Your hand smacked down on his wrist, seizing it in a vise-like grip. 

Taehyung nearly choked on his steak and was about to give you a searing set-down over your spontaneous grabby-ness when he noticed your expression. 

“What’s wrong?” he whispered, leaning forward in concern. 

“I-I need—” 

It looked as if you were in some sort of physical pain and Taehyung was rapidly becoming worried. 

“I need your help,” you finally managed to whimper and the next thing he knew, you were dragging him away from the table and into one of the secluded alcoves near the main entrance hall. 

“Is there anyone around? Can anyone see us?” The look on your face bordered on unhinged. 

“No. There’s no one. Park, are you okay? What’s going on I—”

“I need you to unlace my dress,” you hissed frantically. 

At that moment, a bomb could have gone off and Taehyung wouldn’t have blinked. 

You, however, were completely preoccupied with your own distress and therefore oblivious to his. 

“My earring broke during dinner and fell down there and now it’s stabbing me—”

Your eyes were beginning to tear. Taehyung remained frozen, still trying to figure out whether or not this was a lucid dream. 

“—it’s definitely pierced the skin and there’s a possibility I’m gonna start bleeding through the fabric—”

The mention of blood snapped him out of his daze somewhat. 

“A-Alright. Just turn around—brace yourself on that wall.”

You quickly did as you were told and Taehyung began to tug fruitlessly at the ties cross-crossing your back.

“Why won’t this—”

His fingers fumbled over the knots, desperately trying to loosen them, but they simply wouldn’t budge. 

“I can’t—I can’t get it. Whoever helped you into this thing made sure you weren’t getting out of it.” 

You whined in frustration and the earring shifted a bit in response. 

There was only one other way to fix this (and you would almost rather be in pain). 

“Taehyung I—” you turned to face him again, forcing your eyes shut before reluctantly doing what had to be done “... I need you to reach down the front of my dress and get it.”

He blinked. Twice. 

“I’m sorry—What did you just—”

“Please, Tae,” you whispered desperately, letting your lip tremble in a way he had never been able to resist, “it hurts…”

He gulped. 

His eyes dropped to the matter at hand.

This is fine. Everything’s fine. She’s in pain, right? You’re basically a doctor right now. You’re just going slide your hand in between the most mouthwatering pair of breasts you’ve ever seen and then—

Taehyung’s manic inner monologue was interrupted by the sound of his own moan. He immediately faked a coughing fit to cover it and prayed you hadn’t noticed. 

(You hadn’t. You were actively being stabbed.) 

“I can’t believe I’m actually doing this,” he muttered, curling his fingers over the scalloped edge of the bodice. 

You bit your lip, desperately trying to hold back any reaction, but when his knuckle brushed the pebbled tip of your nipple, you gasped. 

Oh.

His hand stuttered, lingering a moment too long over the tight little peak as his gaze suddenly shot up to meet yours. Both of you had been studiously avoiding eye contact, yet now it was as if neither of you could look away. 

Taehyung wet his lips reflexively. 

“It’s too tight,” he whispered, “I need more leverage.” 

Then his arm wrapped over the curve of your lower back and he drew you tightly against him, anchoring your hips just enough to fully slip his hand between your body and the corset. 

You were so warm.

So soft...

“I can feel it,” he grunted, “but I can’t get a good grip on it.” 

His mouth pressed into a tight line as he leaned forward, bringing your back up against the wall. You let out a little squeak and his eyes darted briefly down to your mouth before he spoke again. 

“Hold on to me.”  

You nodded and wordlessly slid your arms around his waist.

If you concentrated hard enough, you could almost pretend that this wasn’t one of the most erotic moments of your life. 

You could almost pretend that it meant nothing. 

Your mind was spinning wildly, wondering what he was thinking, wondering if he noticed how strangely you were breathing or how hard your heart was beating...

“I’ve got it,” he murmured. Shivers shot down your spine at the dark timbre of his voice. 

He was so close. You could feel every word he spoke brushing softly against your skin. 

“On ‘three’ I’m going to pull it out… Are you ready?”

You drew in a final steadying breath. 

“Do it.”

He nodded. 

“One… Two… Three—”

Taehyung yanked his hand back and several things happened at once. 

Your breasts bounced almost entirely out of the corset. 

The decorative clasps on the front of your gown tangled with the buttons on his shirt and when he pulled back, three of them went flying off like stray bullets. 

And finally, the corset didn’t relinquish Taehyung’s hand quite quickly enough and, as a result, you toppled forward and crashed down on top of him, smashing your newly bare breasts to his newly bare chest. 

It could have been ten seconds or ten hours that passed by while the two of you lay there, breathing heavily in a pile of confused arousal when—

“... Is… everything alright here?”

You both looked up to find a thoroughly scandalized member of the waitstaff standing over you. 

Taehyung saw his life flash before his eyes—ending (of course) with Jimin murdering him for this. 

He gulped again. 

“I can explain.” 

It was decided—for the sake of appearances—that you would both leave the venue (immediately) in separate vehicles. 

Taehyung dropped a cool three hundred in crisp bills on the unfortunate waiter in order to help him ‘forget’ whatever he may or may not have seen. 

Neither of you spoke another word to each other in the ten minutes it took to bribe all the appropriate parties, gather your coats, and call for two separate town cars. 

Something had happened when he touched you; a subtle shift in the precarious balance of your relationship that you both felt keenly, but could not possibly begin to define. 

Taehyung barely even remembered climbing into the back of a vehicle. His body was firing on auto-pilot after the sensory overload of the last half hour. It wasn’t until he was nearly home that he realized he was still holding onto your earring. 

His mind began to wander as he examined the troublesome bauble in his palm. It was a striking piece; deceptively complex and unexpectedly beautiful. 

Just like you.

He told himself that the heat pooling low in his belly was anger—that the strange anxiousness to be near you was simply a desire for retribution—that it was merely platonic curiosity that left his hands aching to explore the rest of your curves. 

Lies.

… and pitifully transparent ones at that. 

Still, he clung to them desperately out of self-preservation. 

The gentle hum of his phone suddenly disturbed Taehyung’s silent contemplation. 

1 New Message from: Park Gremlin 

I made it home safely. 

Taehyung’s fingers were typing a reply before he could properly consider the consequence of his actions. 

To: Park Gremlin

I require proof… like last time. 

He nearly threw the phone the moment he sent it, running his hands down over his face in disbelief. 

You’re playing with fire, Kim Taehyung. 

And he was burning up already. He had no business sending you texts like that. Maybe you wouldn’t catch it. Maybe he could just-

The phone went off again and it was embarrassing how quickly he scrambled to open your response. 

His heart stuttered in his chest. His breathing ceased entirely-

And he knew—he knew—there was no coming back from this.

At first glance the photo was nearly identical to the shot you sent him last night. Same room, same angle… 

same mirror.

Yet this time, the reflection was quite different. 

The temptress in the glass wore nothing but that sinfully delicious corset and a pair of silky lace thigh highs, each accented with a green satin bow. 

He wanted to rip them off with his teeth. 

 “Oh Taehyung,” he whispered, as a dark wave primitive longing tore through him, “you are in so much trouble.”

Across town (buried beneath a pile of blankets) you were still struggling to process the boldness of your own actions when his response lit up your screen. 

1 New Message from: Kim Grinch

Green is my favorite color. 

“WHERE IS HE—”

Taehyung awoke to a series of crashes and shouts echoing from the floor below him. 

Jungkook was already seated in the corner of the room reading a newspaper. 

“Good morning, sir,” he said without looking up. “Would you like the bad news or the worse news?”

Suddenly the french doors of his bedroom slammed open and one very irate Park Jimin stormed through. 

“I swear I should have seen this coming. The two of you have always been obsessed with each other, but I never imagined—”

Taehyung’s eyes widened guiltily. He quickly schooled his features into a confused glare. 

“Jimin, I’ve only been awake for fifteen seconds. What the hell are you talking about?!”

Another stack of newspapers hit his lap and this time the pictures were mostly of him with his shirt ripped halfway down his chest. 

KIM HEIR AND PARK ANGEL CAUSE AN OLD-FASHIONED SCANDAL AT VICTORIAN BALL

FORGET MISTLETOE: KIM TAEHYUNG DISCOVERED UNDER THE PARK ANGEL AT CHRISTMAS CELEBRATION

NAUGHTY NOEL? PARK ANGEL’S STEAMY AFFAIR WITH CORPORATE PRINCE 

PARK ANGEL TOPS KIM TAEHYUNG’S CHRISTMAS TREE

He winced a bit at that last one. 

“You have ten seconds to explain before I start throwing things.”

Taehyung opened his mouth to do just that, but he was interrupted when his mother marched into the room waving the same articles that Jimin had just thrown at him. 

“KIM TAEHYUNG I raised you better than this! How could you!? That poor girl!”

“Mother!” he squeaked, yanking his blanket up over his chest like a frightened debutante. 

Jungkook began surreptitiously filming the whole debacle from the corner. 

“Indeed,” Jimin added darkly, crossing his arms over his chest, “how could you?”

Taehyung sighed heavily. 

“Is anyone else going to come charging into my bedroom?”

“Just answer me once and for all, is she pregnant?” 

“WHAT?!” 

“NO! Mother! Oh my—”

“Why does your mom think my little sister is pregnant?!”

Taehyung waved his arms wildly in exasperation. 

“My mom thinks everyone is pregnant! You know this!”

Jungkook could no longer contain his hysterical cackling. He very nearly fell off the chair trying to hold it all in. 

“Mr. Jeon,” Taehyung ground out irritably, “if it’s not too much trouble, could you please escort everyone out of my bedroom so I can get dressed!” 

“So you see—I was basically like a doctor,” Taehyung finished emphatically. 

He spent the past twenty minutes explaining to the entire table (which now included both you and your mother) why it was necessary to shove his hand down the front of your dress. 

Park Soomin had shown up at his door looking for answers (and dragging you behind her like a sacrificial lamb) about three minutes after Jimin. 

You had taken one look at Jimin’s murderous expression and insisted that the situation be evaluated over breakfast at the cafe down the street (where there were lots of witnesses). 

Which was how you, Taehyung, Jimin, and both your mothers ended up discussing your cleavage over coffee in a public restaurant. 

Jimin was the first to break. It was a few snorts at first, but he was basically in tears by the end of it, wheezing about how he never doubted Taehyung for a second and holding on to his sides from laughing too hard. 

Taehyung’s gaze met yours for a brief, heated exchange. He conveniently forgot to mention your slightly-less-than-explainable ‘check-in’ texts, but their existence was palpable in the air between you. 

“I think I’ll take a walk,” you muttered, excusing yourself from the complicated atmosphere at the table. 

Taehyung’s eyes lingered on you a tad too long as you wandered away, a fact that wasn’t missed by either of your mothers.

“Just a few more events and you can go back to not seeing her at all,” Jimin chuckled, patting him on the back. 

“Yeah,” Taehyung answered with a tight smile. “That’s… great.”

The cafe had a lovely little balcony area decorated with all sorts of comforting Christmas foliage. It was far more inviting than the awkward conversation and confusing stares you and Taehyung had been trading all morning. 

For the first time in the nearly fifteen years of your relationship (such as it was) you didn’t know where you stood with him… and it bothered you more than you cared to admit. 

Taehyung had always been important to you, whether you wanted him to be or not. He mattered—effortlessly—from the first moment you met him and continued to do so without regard for your sanity. 

Whatever was building between you now would almost certainly bring change… though what kind of change was anyone’s guess. 

It was hard to imagine the years ahead without the strange excitement he always brought to your life, but some things were simply out of your control…

“I never thought I’d see you here.”

A profoundly unpleasant feeling (something similar to falling through the ice on a frozen pond) overtook you. 

“Milo.” Even saying his name felt gross. You sighed. “What is so strange about seeing me here?”

The man in question blushed in a way you once found irresistible. 

“I looked for you everywhere. All your usual places—”

“I avoided them.”

I avoided you. 

Milo nodded. 

“I—I figured.” 

He took a step closer and you instinctively moved back. The hurt in his eyes was unmistakable, but you had long since become immune. 

“What are you doing?” you hissed angrily. “I thought I made myself clear the last time we spoke.”

“Yes, but—” his hand reached out to curl over your forearm and you recoiled, “you didn’t give me a chance to explain—”

“Excuse me.” 

You both turned to see Kim Taehyung with his arms crossed over his chest, glaring at Milo like he was a roach that crawled across his dinner plate. 

“Your mother sent me to come find you. She wants to leave.” 

You nodded and moved to pull away, but Milo’s grip tightened on your arm. 

“No—please if you just give me a minute—”

“That is enough,” Taehyung snarled, seizing the other man’s hand and forcibly removing it from your person. He angled his body between the two of you protectively. “I think it’s time for you to go.”

Milo’s eyes narrowed. 

“You’re Kim Taehyung. I read all about you in the papers this morning.” His lips twisted into an ugly sneer as he addressed you. “You really think you’re better off with him if that’s the way he treats you?”

Taehyung tensed menacingly beside you, but you laid a gentle hand on his arm to calm him. 

“None of that is any of your concern.” Your gaze rose to meet his defiantly. “Nothing about me is your concern anymore.”

Milo’s eyes fell to where your palm rested on the other man’s sleeve, noticing the way you both unconsciously leaned toward one another. 

“This isn’t over,” he muttered, storming off. 

After he was gone, you let out a breath you hadn’t known you were holding. 

“Thank you,” you whispered (though you couldn’t resist adding), “I could have handled it myself of course…”

Taehyung laughed. 

“Oh I know. I was at that party where you knocked out Tyler Jung for grabbing your ass.” 

You grinned. 

“I’d forgotten about that.”

“Well I’m sure Tyler hasn’t.” 

(He neglected to mention that he split Tyler’s lip behind the library the next day, just to make sure it was extra memorable for him.) 

“I wish I could forget about Milo.”

“... Are you still in love with him?” 

The words tasted like ash in his mouth. 

“No.” You smiled softly. “I’m not sure I was ever in love with him actually. It’s more—” you sighed, “—embarrassment… wounded pride.”

Taehyung tilted his head curiously and you found yourself continuing. 

“In the beginning, he was very playful and charming—and obviously handsome. He reminded me so much of—”

you. 

You cleared your throat. 

“Anyway… I was quite taken with him at first. I didn’t suspect any ulterior motives.” You shrugged, trying to hold back the unpleasant emotions that always threatened to overrun you in moments like this. “I just thought he liked me.”

Taehyung’s eyes filled with sympathy and understanding as you spoke. It felt oddly natural to open up to him this way. 

“Jimin is very protective of me—with good reason it turns out. He was suspicious of Milo and hired people to do some discreet digging.”

Your hands wrapped around your body for both warmth and comfort. 

“Milo’s family owns several companies, just like ours, but they’re all struggling. His father sent him to me hoping that he would eventually get compromising information… a sex tape or photographs—something of that nature. They intended to blackmail Jimin into doing business with them.”

Taehyung felt his jaw clench painfully. Fury, hot and profound, rolled through him. 

“I should kill him.”

You shook your head, amused in spite of yourself. 

“That’s exactly what Jimin said.”

“He has good instincts.”

“Scum like Milo aren’t worth it,” you chuckled. “He never got what he wanted… but I was still mortified. I felt like such a fool for believing him.”

“No,” Taehyung’s hands slid up to cup your shoulders, “it’s not foolish to believe that someone cared for you.”

It would be so easy to care for you. 

“Besides…” his eyes fell briefly to your lips as he searched for the right words, “I saw the way he looked at you and—even though he’s clearly a terrible person—I believe his feelings may have been genuine.”

You nodded. 

“That’s what he keeps trying to tell me—that he did have bad intentions, but ended up falling for me anyway.” You shook your head. “As If I could believe a word he says.”

The silence between you stretched comfortably. Taehyung sensed you had more to say, so he waited until you were ready to voice it. 

“I think that’s why I’m so sensitive about handling things on my own lately… and just now even. I want to prove to everyone—to myself—that I’m not a liability.”

“Hey,” he whispered, tipping your chin up till your gazes met, “no one thinks you’re a liability. And even if you are capable, no one should have to fight their own battles all the time—especially when they’re emotionally compromised…” His thumb gently brushed away the small tear that escaped down the curve of your cheek. “That’s the benefit of having people who care about you.”

“... Like you?” 

The words left you so softly, you could almost imagine they were still in your head where they likely should have stayed. 

Taehyung’s eyes widened in surprise. His gaze became even more intent and you ceased breathing altogether. After a moment his lips parted as if he was about to speak- 

“What’s going on, guys?”

You both jerked back at the sound of your brother’s voice. He was standing in the entrance to the balcony, gaze darting suspiciously between the two of you. 

Taehyung was a bit dazed, but you were always quicker on your feet. 

“I ran into Milo… Tae was calming me down.”

Jimin’s eyes hardened immediately. 

“Where is he?”

“Long gone,” you mumbled, ambling over to the familiar warmth of his arms. “I just want to go home.” 

The Black and White Ball was one of the most coveted invitations of the holiday season. 

The dress code was quite strict (all black or all white—no exceptions) and it was one of the few events where people actually arrived in limousines. 

Taehyung loathed limousines. He felt absurdly pretentious pulling up to your building in such a gauche ride, but traditions and appearances meant too much in his world to simply disregard them. 

His ensemble for the evening was a beautifully tailored black suit with hand-stitched baroque detailing. Oddly, he found himself wondering what you would think of it... 

“You look like a vampire.”

Taehyung turned at the sound of your voice and was struck, yet again, by how incredibly beautiful you were. 

You had chosen to wear white, donning an exquisite gown with delicate pearl beading and a daring sweetheart neckline that molded perfectly to your frame. 

If he looked like a vampire, you were surely an angel. 

Still…

Angel or not, he couldn’t let that comment pass. 

“I think I’m offended.”

“I can’t imagine why. After all, loads of women are attracted to Nosferatu.”

Taehyung’s eyes narrowed. 

“There are so many sexy vampires in popular culture, but you just had to lump me in with the creepy bald one...”

You shrugged playfully. 

“I wouldn’t want you to think I was going soft.”

A wicked grin danced over your lips as you strolled past him regally—just as you had many times before... 

This time, however, he let his eyes linger a little longer on the view. 

Lord have mercy. 

“Of course not,” he coughed. 

“You’re what?!”

You rolled your eyes.

Tonight had been going rather well. 

The two of you formed a mutual unspoken agreement to pretend that your last encounter on the balcony (and on the phone) had never happened and (despite the heated glances you occasionally traded) the bickering and playful banter characteristic of your relationship had all but returned to normal...

Until Taehyung learned of your participation in the evening’s main event. 

“I told you, I’m part of the date auction this year.”

“Does your brother know about this?!”

“I didn’t see any reason to bother him with it.” You were suddenly preoccupied with your nails. 

“Woman,” Taehyung sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “are you trying to make my life difficult?”

“No, I’m just naturally gifted in that respect.”

You turned and began making your way to the front, but Taehyung was hot on your heels and clearly not ready to let the matter rest. 

“I cannot believe you’re actually going through with this! It’s not 1810, you know. We shouldn’t just auction off women for dates—”

“You’re absolutely right, Tae Tae.” You brushed a condescending pat over his cheek. “Nowadays we auction off the men too.”

Then you sauntered off to join the rest of the participating women—and men—backstage, leaving Taehyung to stew about the entire situation from the crowd. 

“As you know, all proceeds from tonight’s auction go to fight childhood hunger right here in our city. For legal purposes, I must advise all bidders that you are only bidding on the company of the individual in question.”

Taehyung shook his head. “Jimin is probably going to kill me for this.”

“If you place the winning bid, then you and your date will receive two VIP tickets to the Governor's Winter Wonderland Gala which comes with a variety of amenities including; a luxury limousine service, one of the private and famously romantic Winter Wonderland dinner experiences—”

His eyes fluttered shut. “Jimin is definitely gonna kill me for this.” 

“—unlimited free drinks, ten complimentary tickets for each of the grand prize raffles, photos with the Governor and his family, along with many more surprises!”

Taehyung grabbed a champagne flute from a nearby waiter and downed it in one go. 

“And now for our first date of the evening! Mr. Jackson Wang!” 

Jackson went for a cool six grand because no one was brave enough to outbid his girlfriend. 

After him, the beautiful Manoban heiress and her handsome cousin Kim Namjoon went for twelve grand each.

Jung Hoseok started a frenzied bidding war between two young socialites and Mrs. O’Malley. He ended up going to the lovely Ms. Ana Fallon for a staggering twenty thousand dollars. 

Taehyung’s own cousin, Kim Seokjin, paid a jaw-dropping twenty-one thousand dollars for Lin Yuna, the young CEO of Lin Cosmetics. (Taehyung made a mental note to ask him about that later.) 

Then it was your turn. 

“The next lady on our list needs no introduction. The lovely Park Angel has graciously agreed to a date with one lucky bidder tonight! Who will it be? Do I hear ten thousand?”

“Ten thousand.”

Taehyung swung his head toward the first bidder and breathed a sigh of relief. 

Tam Martin, one of your best friends and very gay. 

“Eleven thousand.”

“Twelve thousand.”

“Fifteen.”

“Sixteen thousand dollars.”

“Seventeen thousand.”

“Eighteen.”

Taehyung was having trouble keeping up with all the bidders. His ears were starting to ring again and a strange unpleasant nausea was building in his stomach. 

“Twenty thousand.”

“Twenty-five thousand.”

“Thirty thousand!”

At the sound of the last bidder’s voice, you noticeably paled. Your eyes flew to Taehyung’s and immediately he knew exactly who it was. 

Milo.

Before he could even react to the new information, another voice joined the fray. 

“Forty thousand.”

Min Yoongi smiled smugly from the other side of the room and even had the audacity to throw you a wink. 

You smiled shyly at the young heir’s boldness and Taehyung felt something downright unholy rise up in his chest. 

No. 

Milo was still bidding. 

“Fifty thousand dollars.”

Not her. 

“Sixty,” Yoongi countered.

She’s mine. 

Suddenly Taehyung was on his feet. 

“One hundred thousand dollars!” 

The silence in the backseat of your limousine was deafening. 

Tension charged the air like an electric current as the significance of the last hour weighed heavily between you. 

The spacious luxury vehicle allowed you to sit facing one another. Taehyung’s eyes were focused on his hands, but you were looking at him—letting your mind run wild with speculation. 

And hope. 

Part of you was still there, on the stage, watching him stand up and bid a fortune for the pleasure of your company. 

His gaze was so fierce when he spoke, like an ancient emperor calling out his decree for the people to obey. 

You dreamed about him bidding on you when you signed up for the auction (even before Jimin bullied him into accompanying you). You let yourself imagine him speaking out again and again till the others stepped back—

Yet you never dared hope for it. 

However, the last several days marked an unexpected turning point in your relationship. 

For years, you and he were like magnets with a too-similar charge, but something had shifted irrevocably between you, and somehow your stubborn similarities became opposites that could not resist their attraction. 

Kim Taehyung was one of the wealthiest men in the city…

But he didn’t need to buy your heart. 

It had always been his, even if you didn’t want to admit it. 

He had claimed you tonight—and every single soul in that ballroom knew it. 

The next move was yours and you intended to make it. 

“Mmm,” you hissed a bit, bringing your hand to rest just below your breasts. 

Taehyung’s gaze flew up in concern. 

“Is everything alright?”

“Yes, it’s just that scratch from the earring,” your fingers rubbed gingerly at the spot, drawing his focus to it, “it still stings.”

“Oh… I—” he shook his head, “I didn’t realize it was that bad.”

“Do you want to see?” 

Taehyung’s eyes rose slowly to yours. 

You watched the subtle rise and fall of his chest as he considered your words. Anticipation vibrated through your blood like notes struck on a piano—

Then he nodded...

And you both were lost. 

Trembling fingers slid the zipper down the side of your gown. The dress itself was a marvel of physics designed to support you without the need for a bra. 

Taehyung drew in an impossibly deep breath as the fabric drifted to your waist, baring the perfect mounds of your breasts to him entirely. 

“Here,” you whispered, pointing to a small red mark just under the curve of your left one. 

He bit back a moan. 

“I—I see. That looks… painful.” His fingers dug into the seat beside him. “Is there anything I can do to help?” 

You nodded. 

“Kiss it better.”

Taehyung felt the air knock out of his lungs like a sucker punch. 

This must have been how Adam felt when Eve offered him the forbidden fruit all those millennia ago. 

He knew he shouldn’t—

but he could never deny you. 

“Of course.”

You watched as his tongue darted out to wet his lips. He looked like a man possessed and you reveled in the power of it. 

It was for you. 

He wanted you. 

Your back arched up the slightest bit, beckoning to him—offering him a taste of what he was so desperately craving. 

Touch me… please. 

Large palms landed on either side of your thighs, bracing him on the seat beneath you. The tip of his nose teased the delicate line of your collar bone and he swore violently under his breath. 

Then his lips were on your skin and your mind went blank. 

“Taehyung—“ you moaned. 

Hot open-mouthed kisses spread over the soft swell of your breast and you gasped— shuddering helplessly as a fierce wave of pleasure tore through you.

Sweet merciful heavens. 

Over the years you imagined a moment like this thousands of times in your head—only to discover now that you had pitifully underestimated both his passion and his skill. 

You had dreamed of a quiet fire—but he had unleashed an inferno. 

The lewd sounds of his mouth nipping and sucking at your tender flesh filled the small space around you as he poured himself into each obscene contact—stopping briefly to flick his tongue over the taunt peak of your nipple. You trembled breathlessly at the sharp snap of sensation, letting your head fall back against the seat as you buried your fingers in his soft curls. 

“T-Tae—”

Finally his mouth fastened over the tiny scratch, and the kiss deepened. You knew what he was doing, what the result of his efforts would be—

He was marking you. 

And you wanted it. 

Oh how you wanted it. 

Suddenly the car took a sharp turn, causing Taehyung to lose his grip on the seat. His arms wrapped around your torso for balance, dragging you fully against him.

“Does it feel better, Angel?” he growled. 

You nodded frantically and he nipped at the underside of your breast. 

“Speak up.”  

“Yes, Taehyung,” you whimpered, “it feels so much better.” 

“Mmmm,” he hummed, brushing his mouth along the sensitive column of your neck. “Who knew you could be such a good girl?”

Then his hand came up to grip your chin, turning it so your lips were almost against his—

“Madame. We’ve arrived.”

The driver’s voice cut over your senses like a shard of ice. 

Taehyung jerked backward and immediately buried his face in his hands. 

Your fingers hastily yanked your dress up and you stumbled out of the car in a daze, letting your feet carry you forward until you collapsed on top of your bed. 

Did we just...

You hadn’t even begun to collect your thoughts when your phone buzzed from inside your purse. 

1 New Message from: Taehyung 🙄🥴🙈

I need to know you made it safely to your room. 

You grinned. 

Greedy boy. 

Back in the limousine, the boy in question was nervously tapping the corner of his phone against his chin as he waited for your reply. 

1 New Message from: Angel 🤬🥵😅

Oh? But you saw me walk in… and I’m already in bed.

Taehyung growled in frustration. 

She would be a tease. 

To: Angel 🤬🥵😅

I tend to worry. Put my mind at ease. 

He shook his head. 

I have officially gone insane. 

The phone buzzed again. 

1 New Message from: Angel 🤬🥵😅

Well… We can’t have that can we… 

Taehyung literally felt the whine tear out of him as he opened the picture. 

Your gorgeous body (the body he’d had his hands and mouth on for one glorious minute) was nestled decadently atop a pile of fluffy blue blankets and wrapped in nothing but a tiny silk robe. 

The neck gaped open just enough to show off the pretty red marks he left on the delectable curve of your breast. 

He groaned, biting down hard on his bottom lip.

To: Angel 🤬🥵😅

That's all I get after I made the pain go away? Good girls send real proof, Angel

The screen lit up again almost immediately. 

1 New Message from: Angel 🤬🥵😅

Guess I’m not such a good girl after all...

Jimin came tearing through the Kim Manor front gate at precisely 7 AM—only to find Jungkook camped out at the entrance with several outdoor space heaters and a giant mug of hot chocolate.

“He told you not to let me in, didn’t he?”

Jungkook took a long satisfying sip of his cocoa. 

“I hope you don’t feel singled out, sir. I’m not allowed to let his mother in either.”

“I need to talk to him.”

“Of course, Mr. Park, let me just pull up his schedule—”

“I need to talk to him now.”

“I’m afraid Mr. Kim is booked solid for the morning.”

Jimin stomped his foot like a petulant child. 

“I know he’s up there.”

Jungkook grinned. 

“You’re welcome to climb the trellis and check. I promise not to stop you if you make it all the way up.”

“COME DOWN HERE AND FACE ME YOU COWARD!” Jimin shouted at the top of his lungs. 

Jungkook took another long pull of his drink. 

“Might I inquire as to the reason for your visit today, sir?”

“The reason for my visit,” Jimin yanked out his phone and angrily began typing into the search bar, “is that your boss paid ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS for my sister at a date auction last night and I want to know what the hell is going on between them!”

The article Jimin pulled up (DEVILISH KIM TAEHYUNG BUYS HIMSELF A $100,000 ANGEL) featured an image of the two of you entering the Black and White Ball. Your head was thrown back in laughter and Taehyung was grinning down at you as if you’d personally hung all the stars in the sky for him. 

A genuine smile crept over Jungkook’s face as he studied the photograph. 

“That’s quite a headline.” He handed Jimin’s phone back. “Have you asked your sister about it?”

“No, I swung by earlier, but she wasn’t home so—” His eyes widened. “Oh my—is she—”

Jimin suddenly took off running for the trellis, and Jungkook scrambled out of his chair to chase him. 

“KIM TAEHYUNG IF MY SISTER IS IN THAT ROOM—”

He was already three feet off the ground when Jungkook yanked him back. 

“I thought you said I could climb the trellis!”

“Yes,” Jungkook wheezed, “but I didn’t think you’d actually do it!” That trellis is a hundred years old! A few more feet and I’d be scraping you off the antique brickwork!”

Jimin scowled and crossed his arms. 

“Are you by any chance open to bribes?”

“Normally yes, but Tae promised to double my Christmas bonus if I didn’t accept them today.”

Jimin continued to eye the trellis speculatively, clearly willing to take his chances. Jungkook sighed and rubbed his forehead. 

“Mr. Park, I promise you… He came home alone last night. In fact, they both returned earlier than usual because your sister had a 7 AM finance meeting.” He paused significantly to glance at his watch. “Which is probably where she is right now.”

“Oh… Well.”

Jungkook bit his lip to hold back a snort and Jimin’s eyes narrowed. 

“He has to come down eventually.”

“One would think.”

The young Park heir glanced toward Taehyung’s window again just in time to see the man in question dart back behind the curtains. 

"I KNOW YOU'RE AWAKE, KIM TAEHYUNG, YOU PHILANDERING SLEAZE BAG!" 

Jimin made another jump for the trellis and this time Jungkook caught him in mid-air. 

“Sir, I’m sure it was just the maid!”

“It’s not the maid! I’d know that raggedy mop of his anywhere!”

Jungkook was out of breath at this point. Park Jimin might be small, but he was fierce. 

“Perhaps it’s best if you took a moment to collect yourself,” he grunted. “There’s a lovely new spa down the street and they sent Taehyung two free deluxe packages.”

Jimin stopped struggling. 

“Oh?”

Five minutes later, Jungkook sighed deeply and fished his phone out of his back pocket. 

“He’s gone, sir.”

“Excellent work, Jungkook. I never doubted you for a second.”

“However…”

“... However?”

“I had to give him your spa passes.”

“YOU DID WHAT?!”

“Are you headed for a gala or the guillotine?”

Taehyung rolled his eyes. 

“I don’t pay extra for commentary.”

“It’s complimentary, sir.”

The Kim heir tugged absently at the material of his absurdly expensive evening wear. 

Why do these events always have to be so uncomfortable? 

“Seriously, Tae… you seem,” the young aide searched for the right words, “unusually tense.”

Taehyung’s mind flashed back to three nights ago when he had his mouth wrapped around your breast. 

“Not at all,” he coughed, loosening the collar of his shirt. 

Jungkook bit his lip.

“Is this about Ms. Park, sir?”

The cufflinks Taehyung was attempting to fasten suddenly went flying across the room and hit a lamp. 

Both men winced. 

“I think that was your grandmother’s.”

Taehyung sighed. 

“I admit there have been… some developments.”

Jungkook nodded nonchalantly, trying to disguise the fact that he was internally frothing at the mouth for details. 

“... Such as?”

Taehyung gulped. 

“It started out rather innocently I suppose…” he cleared his throat, “but there may have been some suggestive photographs.”

“There may have been? Are you not sure?”

Taehyung colored guiltily. 

“Well—”

“Do you need me to check for you, sir? I have an art history degree.”

“Absolutely not.”

Jungkook grinned. 

“That’s what I thought.”

Taehyung yanked his tie out of the younger man’s hand. 

“Things have… escalated a bit.”

“Escalated how?”

I licked her tit in the back of a limo.

“Physically.”

It was everything Jungkook could do to maintain a straight face. 

“That’s… shocking.”

“Then why don’t you seem shocked?” Taehyung grumbled. 

A small smile played across Jungkook’s lips as he pointedly ignored the elder man’s observation.

“So what are you going to do, sir?”

Taehyung was silent for a long moment. 

“I honestly have no idea.”

Watching you walk toward him was an experience.  

Taehyung wondered absently if this was how it would be from now on; if for the rest of his life just the sight of you would be enough to scatter his mind and his pulse and even the way he breathed. 

Your dress tonight was deadly. 

It was a decadent red satin halter that clung to every curve. The truly wicked detail, however, was a daring slit that ran the entire length of your leg. 

Taehyung was certain he was going to trip over his own tongue at some point if he looked directly at you for too long. 

Oh help. 

Memories of your previous encounter flooded his senses. Every second you were getting closer and he didn’t know what to do—what to say. 

So he didn’t say anything at all. 

Not a word when you reached the bottom of the stairs. Nothing but silence as he opened the door of the limo for you. More silence and no eye contact as he settled into the seat across from yours—

And you tolerated that for about three minutes. 

“I never thought I’d see the day when Kim Taehyung didn’t have a comment about something. Perhaps I should mark this down on my calendar.”

The words were lightly spoken, but you were shaking on the inside. The last time the two of you were alone together he had your dress around your waist and you were moaning his name. Now he wasn’t talking and you were torn between panic and irritation. 

Taehyung, however, latched onto your passive barb like a lifeline. 

“Is that a hint of sarcasm I hear from the benevolent Park Angel?” He grinned. “Surely not.”

“Red is not a particularly angelic color. Perhaps I’m feeling feisty today.”

Taehyung leaned back in his seat and indulged himself in a thorough examination of your outfit. The urge to run his hands over the satin-covered lines of your body was nearly unbearable. He curled his fingers into fists to keep them from doing just that. 

She is definitely trying to kill me. 

“Should I be worried?”

Now it was your turn to grin. 

“I guess we’ll find out.”

The Governor’s Winter Wonderland Gala was by far the most extravagant event of the holiday season. Tickets cost a small fortune and sold out almost immediately. 

But it was well worth the price of admission.

Thousands of lights sparkled overhead as you made your way through the great hall of Governor Kim’s mansion. 

It was like stepping into a fairytale. 

Taehyung couldn’t take his eyes off you. The sheer wonder in your expression was breathtaking. 

You were breathtaking.  

“Governor Kim, it is such an honor to finally meet you.”

The Governor was a handsome man in his early fifties with a smile that was every bit as lethal as it had been twenty-five years ago. 

“The honor is all mine, Ms. Park. I trust my nephew is treating you well.”

Your eyes widened. 

“N-nephew?”

Taehyung shrugged. 

“I don’t really talk about it much.” 

The Governor chuckled and you cleared your throat to cover your nervousness. 

“Yes, he’s been a very capable escort.”

“Is that so?” Governor Kim smiled charmingly. “Well if it doesn’t work out, my son Seokjin is still single—”

“Thank you, Uncle. It was lovely to see you as always.”

You squeaked as Taehyung placed his hand firmly on the curve of your back and practically dragged you away. 

The Governor just shook his head and laughed. 

“Oh kid, you’ve got it bad.”

Everywhere you looked there was beauty. 

Whoever planned the gala this year had truly gone above and beyond. Surrounded on all sides by glittering trees and snowy vignettes, it was easy to be swept away in the festive magic of the evening. 

All in all (despite some initial awkwardness), you were having a fantastic time...

Until she showed up. 

“Kim Taehyung! Is that you?”

Every single hair on your body stood on end, but before you could determine the source of the shrill squealing, you found yourself being nudged aside by a blinding golden gown and some very high heels. 

“Aubrey,” Taehyung grunted as five-and-half feet of gorgeous wrapped herself around him like a clinging vine. “Long time no see.”

“Not since that vacation in Aspen,” she giggled. “We had quite a time, didn’t we Tae Tae!”

Suddenly you had the most unholy urge to slap the spray tan right off this woman. 

Instead, you plastered on a vibrant smile and placed your hand on Taehyung’s sleeve.

“Um. Excuse me, Tae Tae, perhaps you could introduce us?”

Taehyung looked as if he’d just been served raw fire ants for dinner. 

“Yes. Of course. This is—”

“Aubrey Alicia St. Valentine,” she interrupted with a smug little smirk. “Taehyung and I go way back.” Her expression grew just the slightest bit tighter. “And you are?”

“His date,” you deadpanned. 

“Aubrey,” Taehyung cleared his throat, “I’d like you to meet Ms. Park she’s—”

“Oh my goodness! You’re Jimin’s little sister aren't you!” Aubrey slapped her hand over his chest and he winced. “That is so precious of you to take her around like this!”

Your eyebrows raised right up into your hairline and Taehyung groaned. 

“Yes, he was kind enough to sign me out of the nursery for the evening.” You offered them both a painfully vacant nod. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I see one of my play-dates near the buffet.”

Then you turned on your heel and sauntered off without another word. 

Taehyung moved to follow you, but Aubrey curled her fingers into the crook of his arm and pulled him back. 

“Oh let her go, Tae. You and I have so much catching up to do.”

Taehyung pointedly removed her hand from his elbow. 

“Some other time perhaps.” 

Aubrey pouted prettily. 

“You’re not running off after her are you? She’s a big girl, she can take care of herself.”

Taehyung crossed his arms and fixed her with a knowing look. 

“Funny... that’s not what you were implying a moment ago.”

“A moment ago I didn’t have you all to myself. Now I do.” She had the decency to blush. “Perhaps I got a bit jealous.”

“You don’t say.” His eyes continued to search the crowd for any sign of you. 

“It seems I had good reason to be,” she murmured quietly. 

“Aubrey... Listen I—”

She cut him off with a finger to his lips.

“Don’t bother Tae Tae. I’m petty, but I’ve never been pathetic.”

He grinned. 

“Never.”

The lady sighed and gave him a heated once over.

“What a shame.”

Then she strolled off with a rueful smile. 

“You know what I don’t understand?”

You turn to find Min Yoongi leaning casually against a nearby column. He looked absurdly handsome as always, but his grin was just the slightest bit mischievous. 

“What don’t you understand, Mr. Min?”

The question was clearly a bait, but you were still fuming from your earlier encounter with Ms. St. Valentine and therefore desperately in need of a distraction. 

Yoongi pushed off the column and lazily made his way toward you.

“I don’t understand how a man pays a hundred thousand dollars for an evening with the most beautiful woman in the city, and then leaves her all by herself.” He leaned forward with a playful grin. “Perhaps you could enlighten me?”

Oh he’s good. 

You made a show of tapping your chin thoughtfully. 

“I’m afraid I don’t have an answer for that one.”

Yoongi sighed and shook his head. 

“Couldn’t be me.”

You laughed then. He really was a delightful man. In fact, if you still had your heart, you might have considered letting him take a shot at it. 

Alas. 

You tilted your head speculatively. 

Surely there was no need to brush away good company...

After all, no one else is interested in spending time with me. 

“Since my escort is otherwise occupied, perhaps you could join me for dinner?”

Yoongi held out his hand. 

“I’d be delighted.”

Taehyung wandered around the mansion for nearly forty-five minutes looking for his date.  

Panic was just starting to build in his chest when he finally spotted you

—at his private dining table with Min Yoongi. 

It was everything he could do not to storm over and yank the other man out of his seat by the lapels. 

Alright, Angel. If this is the game you want to play… then let’s play. 

Taehyung felt his anger rise with every step, but he ruthlessly suppressed any sign of it and instead adopted a charming smile. 

“Min, I didn’t expect to find you here. What a… delightful surprise.”

Yoongi’s expression was just a shade too satisfied. Taehyung could already feel his blood pressure beginning to skyrocket. 

“Yes, Ms. Park believed that you were otherwise occupied and invited me to share the meal with her.”

“I see,” Taehyung practically snarled. “However,” his gaze landed heavily on you, “since I paid for this table, I hope you won’t mind if I join you as well?”

You avoided looking at him up to this point, but now you were choking on your wine

“Easy there, Angel,” Taehyung murmured as he pulled up a seat extremely close to yours—so close that your thighs were nearly touching. 

Oh boy. 

Over the next several minutes Yoongi continued to flirt openly and you continued to smile prettily and pretend Taehyung wasn’t there (which naturally infuriated him). 

You should have known he wouldn’t let you get away with such behavior so easily. 

This was Kim Taehyung, after all, and if there was anything that could be counted on when it came to your shared history, it was that one (or both) of you was always ready to escalate. 

You had just offered the young Min heir yet another flowery compliment when you felt Taehyung make his move. 

Two warm fingers slid under the silken slit of your dress, coming to rest possessively over the soft flesh of your inner thigh. 

You squeaked and nearly spat up your drink. 

Taehyung leaned forward in fake concern, wrapping his arm around you as if to offer aid. 

“Are you alright?”

His hand continued to move significantly beneath your gown, but his face was the picture of innocence. 

You glared. 

“Just fine, thank you.”

A slow grin crept across his features as he began to trace soft intimate patterns over your skin.  

On the other side of the table, Yoongi tilted his head in genuine solicitude. “Are you sure?”

You nodded sharply. 

Satisfied, he resumed speaking about whatever it was he’d been saying—though you couldn’t understand a word of it at this point because the torturous strokes Taehyung was leisurely drawing over your thighs were moving closer to your center with each passing second. 

Yet you made no move to stop him. 

You should have. 

You should have slapped his touch away—rebuked him for his boldness—

But you didn’t. 

So he just kept nodding and smiling while Yoongi spoke, even as his fingers teased you with the maddening persistence of a man who knew very well what he was doing. 

You gasped aloud when he finally brushed the pad of his thumb over the thin cotton of your panties. 

“T-Taehyung—” 

“Hmm?” he turned to you, seemingly surprised by your attention (it was—after all—the first time you’d addressed him since the beginning of the meal).

“Could you pass me the salt,” you sputtered (hoping to cover the fact that you moaned his name involuntarily). Unfortunately, Taehyung seemed wholly aware of your ruse, offering you the salt shaker with a superior smirk.

You seriously considered stabbing him with a fork. 

However, before you could carry out any bloodthirsty plans, he pressed his fingers directly over your clit and your eyes rolled back in your head

“Oh my g—” you bit your lip stubbornly, “this lamb is just so good.” 

Sweet mother of macaroons, he is too skilled at this. 

You shoveled another bite into your mouth to cover your whine as Taehyung began to rub tight little circles over your sweet spot. 

Across the table, Yoongi nodded in blissful unawareness. 

“Yes, I agree, the lamb is excellent—very tender.”

Taehyung took advantage of the momentary distraction to slip beneath the fabric of your undergarment. 

Your fork clattered to your plate and your hand came up to cover your mouth as he began running his fingers up and down your soaked slit.

It was everything you could do to hold back your depraved whimpering. 

“I can’t wait to taste it,” Taehyung replied, flicking your clit in a way that guaranteed he wasn’t referring to the lamb. 

At this point Yoongi seemed to notice you were in some sort of distress. He wiped his mouth with his napkin and leaned forward. 

“Ms. Park, are you well?”

Taehyung chose that moment to sink his finger into the welcoming heat of your pussy. 

“Yes,” you almost sobbed, “I’m-I’m very well—thank you.”

“Excellent,” Yoongi smiled as he rose to his feet. “If you’re feeling up to it, perhaps you could favor me with a dance?”

Several attendees were already making their way to the center of the floor and the orchestra was beginning to play.

Your entire body, however, was vibrating like a plucked harp string and Taehyung was still brushing back and forth against your clit, driving you toward a release that promised to be explosive. 

There was no way—simply no way—that you would be capable of hiding it. 

“Yes! I would love to dance with you,” you squeaked, grabbing hold of Taehyung’s wrist frantically. The feel of him pulling out of your sopping core was nearly enough to have you coming right there. 

Thankfully, Yoongi remained utterly oblivious to the debauchery unfolding beneath the table. He took your hand and helped you to your feet with an eager smile (and it was a good thing too because your legs were still shaking). 

When the two of you reached the dance floor, you turned back for the briefest instant—

just long enough to meet Taehyung’s heated gaze as his lips closed over the finger he buried in your cunt. 

Emotions were a funny thing. 

They impacted your judgement, affected your body, altered your behavior… 

And occasionally eroded your common sense. 

Sitting alone in the corner of the Governor’s ballroom, Kim Taehyung found himself experiencing a full spectrum of emotional side-effects. 

His hands clenched as he watched Min Yoongi spin you around the floor. 

His heart pounded every time he caught a flash of your shapely leg peeking through the slit in your gown. 

His blood boiled when you threw your head back and laughed at something the other man said. 

It was difficult to pinpoint which emotion was to blame for each of these reactions. There were certainly a number of them boiling over in his subconscious. 

Frustration—

I didn’t even want to talk to Aubrey! How are you acting like anything she said was my fault?!

Rage—  

Why is challenging people to duels illegal? I would fight Min Yoongi at dawn. I would fight Min Yoongi now. 

Jealousy—

You asked her to dance while my fingers were in her pussy. We are not the same. 

But perhaps the most persistent—the most overwhelming— emotion twisting through him was longing. 

You and Taehyung spent nearly four years apart, and he was so desperate to be near you—even then—that he resorted to childish pranks in order to remain a part of your life. 

He hadn’t recognized his actions or desires for what they were. He hadn’t realized what you meant to him...

But now, after spending the last several days with your hand on his arm and your laughter in his ear, he could no longer imagine spending another moment without you. 

Everything seemed to crystallize as he watched you laughing and dancing in the arms of another man. 

Uncertainty became clear. Complications became simple. 

And when he saw Min Yoongi’s hand slide dangerously close to the perfect swell of your backside—

Emotion became action.

“Mind if I cut in?”

It wasn’t a question really. Taehyung was already shouldering his rival out of the way and pulling you into his arms. 

“Taehyung,” you hissed, shooting the bewildered Yoongi an apologetic look over his shoulder, “what are you doing? This is so rude—”

“You’re absolutely right,” he agreed, sweeping you through the couples on the floor with practiced ease. “It is unpardonably rude to steal someone else’s date. He’s lucky all I did was steal you back.”

Your mouth dropped open. 

“Oh? So you finally remembered that I was your date?”

Taehyung’s grip on the curve of your waist became a shade rougher as he pulled you through the next turn. 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means—” you stepped forward vigorously, nearly smashing your body into his, “—that you spent forty-five minutes with Aubrey Alicia St. Valentine when you were supposed to be having dinner with me!”

Taehyung growled and yanked you flush against him. 

“I spent forty-five minutes looking for you while you were giving away my table to Min Yoongi!”

The two of you sailed through the next several movements glaring at one another before you snapped again. 

“None of this would have happened if you had just told Aubrey St. Spray Tan that you were with me—”

“I did!”

“Instead, you let her call me a baby!”

“What let? Aubrey is a grown woman!”

“But—”

“And—you stormed off before I could say anything, so how would you know what I let?”

“You didn’t come after me!”

“Yes actually I did—but she grabbed my arm!”

“Really? Well what else did she grab?”

Taehyung abruptly realized how silent everything around you had become. 

People were staring—and not even discreetly— just full on staring with their mouths hanging open. 

Well that’s great. 

Taehyung’s hand closed around yours and you suddenly found yourself being marched across the dance floor at a breakneck pace.

“What are you doing?”

“Continuing this discussion in private.”

“We can’t just go somewhere private in the Governor’s mansion!” you sputtered, struggling to keep up with his larger strides. 

“You mean in my uncle’s house? Yes—actually we can—and we will.”

Taehyung proved to be a man of his word, dragging you past two security guards and into the roped off section of the manor with nothing more than a nod. 

The residential wing of the Governor’s home was beautifully decorated with traditional Korean artistic touches—all of which you were unable to appreciate while Taehyung was speed walking you through the halls. 

After a surprising amount of turns and archways, he yanked open an ornate wooden door with the words Reflection Suite written on a plaque above it in beautiful calligraphy. 

You almost giggled when you got a look inside. 

On the surface it was a tastefully furnished guest room with a simple cherry wood desk and a cozy double bed set in an elegant matching frame.

However—

The ceiling and one full wall were nothing but massive mirrors. 

Reflection suite indeed. 

The door slammed shut and Taehyung rounded on you with a stormy expression—though you weren’t waiting on him to fire the first volley.

“This is definitely going to get us in trouble.”

“I told you, I can go wherever I want in this house. It’s fine.”

“Then why did you take us here?”

“Because you were shouting—”

“I was shouting?! You were shouting I just—”

Suddenly your back was against the wall and Taehyung’s mouth was on yours. 

He hadn’t brought you here for this. When he grabbed your hand, he was only trying to get away from the crowds. He told himself that he needed privacy so you could talk—so he could clarify things. 

But the minute the door closed and you flared up again in all your magnificent rage, he was lost. 

He had to kiss you then. 

You were so lovely. So fierce. So wildly irresistible and he was too utterly smitten to fight the need to be near you—to be with you in every way that he could—for a single second more. 

The shock of Kim Taehyung pressing his lips to yours lasted about two full seconds—and then there was nothing but ravenous insatiable need. 

Finally. 

Everything was him. 

Everything was this—this sweet indescribable ignition of a desire that spanned years. You moaned eagerly against his mouth in wanton delight. After a decade of sparks, you were more than ready to burn. 

“Taehyung—”

His name poured out of you like a prayer. You needed him everywhere and miraculously he seemed to understand—

Not that he was prepared to be polite about it. 

“Where’s that smart mouth now, Angel?” he growled, tangling his hands in your hair to expose the tender column of your throat. “Nothing to say?”

Your only answer was a desperate whine as he spread hot-open mouthed kisses down the soft skin of your neck all the way to your collarbone.

Now was not the time for patience. He would be tender with you later. You absolutely deserved soft sweet caresses and slow leisurely love making and he was absolutely going to give them to you—every day if you’d let him. 

But not today. 

The minute his mouth encountered the barrier of your dress, he gripped onto the sides and yanked it down to your waist.

“You knew just what you were doing in the back of that limo, you little brat,” he hissed, taking one swollen nipple into his mouth and tormenting it with his tongue.

“Tae-ahhh!” Your back arched involuntarily in ruthless pleasure. 

“I spent hours—days even—wanting to get my hands on these perfect tits.” He licked the other nipple obscenely, squeezing the soft mound till it bulged through his fingers. “And you offered me the barest taste with that coy little grin, knowing it wouldn’t be enough—” 

He reared back and landed a firm slap on both breasts and you screamed.

It was so so good. 

“Look at them now,” he murmured, “so swollen and needy and mine.”

If any other man had said those words, you would have cut his heart out with a butter knife. 

But you had always belonged to this man body and soul, and to hear him acknowledge it so primitively felt like the sweetest vindication. 

“Yes!” you sobbed.

The affirmation only inflamed him further. He teased and fondled the tender flesh till you were shaking.

Your fingers curled into the soft waves of his hair as he indulged himself. He looked so ridiculously good sucking your nipple, moaning lewdly with his eyes pressed shut in cathartic bliss. 

“This is all your fault, Angel,” he groaned. “You just don’t know how to behave.”

His hands gripped the curve of your backside, lifting you right off the floor and into his arms. Your mouths fused together heatedly as he carried you to the bed, and you giggled against him when his words finally processed. 

“You’ve been saying that for years.” 

“It’s been true for years,” he muttered, pulling one of your legs up around him so he could grind against your cunt while you kissed. 

Your fingers tugged at the buttons of his shirt, tearing them off when they didn’t unhook fast enough. You waited too long to be with him like this to care about anything other than the feel of his skin against your own.

“Impatient, are we?” he chuckled, bringing his lips around to nip at your ear. 

“You’re one to talk,” you shot back, yanking the ruined garment right off his shoulder just so you could sink your teeth into it. 

Taehyung moaned loudly, snapping his hips against yours with an involuntary jerk.

“You really are such a brat,” he hissed, fisting his hands in the satin length of your skirt. “Let’s see how fierce you are with my tongue in your pussy—”

His words were so filthy and raw, yet they stoked a frenzied need in your belly like nothing you had ever encountered. 

“This dress is evil,” he snarled, fumbling with the zipper for a moment before switching to a more destructive tactic. “It has tormented me all night and now it’s in my way.”

The stitching proved no match for his resolve, and—after a few vigorous tugs—he ripped it apart from the slit on up, leaving you covered in nothing but the thin cotton underwear he had breached earlier that evening. 

After disposing of your shredded gown, Taehyung paused for a moment just to take in the sight of you. 

“What a perfect little angel,” he taunted playfully, snapping the band of your lingerie against your hips with a cocky grin. 

Then he brushed his nose right up against the sopping fabric and inhaled deeply. “You smell just like heaven,” he growled before licking you right through the cloth, “and you taste even better.”

The sensations twisting through your body were merciless. You needed more or you were going to shake apart. 

“Taehyung please,” you whined, pressing against him shamelessly.

“Oh a please?” he chuckled, throwing your own words from the first night back at you. “Who knew you had manners?”

You would have screamed in frustration, but he cut you off with an open mouthed kiss right over the wettest part of your panties.

“Perhaps I can make a good girl of you yet,” he chuckled, as you opened yourself wider to encourage him. 

You nodded frantically, letting out another moan when he yanked the flimsy little scrap of lace down your legs—smearing a line of arousal over your thighs.

“So messy,” he tsked, tapping his finger right above your knee where the naughty little streak ended. “What am I going to do with you?” 

Then he pressed his tongue over the shiny trail of slick and licked it right off. 

You gasped loudly and his lascivious smirk was almost beautiful enough to make up for all of the shameless teasing. 

Almost. 

"You want my mouth, pretty Angel?” he whispered, letting the words brush maddeningly against your folds. “You want me to feed on this sweet little cunt?”

Every cell in your body cried out for release. He already edged you under the table at dinner and now he was determined to unravel you entirely. You would say anything—do anything. 

"Please—" you whispered.

"Please who?" 

Normally you met his arrogance with a cutting riposte, but an entire evening of methodical torment had left you beyond desperate. 

"Please Taehyung,” you begged needily. 

He grinned. 

“That’s right, Angel. Kim Taehyung. Not Min Yoongi or any other pathetic trust fund prick that’s panting for a taste of this pussy.” His eyes fastened on yours significantly. “You belong to me.”

Then his tongue licked a flat stripe over your glistening slit and you sagged onto the bed in relief—only to be thrown back into oblivion when his lips closed over your clit. 

Your body arched involuntarily as a ruthless wave of pleasure tore through you. Your eyes and mouth flew open in a silent scream and it was in that moment you remembered exactly where you were. 

Underneath a giant mirror. 

The passionate woman staring down at you was nearly unrecognizable. Her body was littered with her lover’s marks. Her hands gripped feverishly into the sheets beneath her—-

And Kim Taehyung was kneeling between her thighs, suckling on her weeping cunt with obscene satisfaction. 

It was the sexiest thing you had ever seen in your life. 

Your hands reached down to tangle in his hair, using it for leverage as you ground against his face. 

Then suddenly his grip on your legs tightened and his tongue plunged roughly into your trembling core. 

“Tae—ahh oh my—I can’t—”

The sensation was so intense that your hips bucked violently. You could not keep still. You were charging towards an explosion and your body was shaking itself apart. 

The noises tearing from you were incoherent. Everything around you focused in on the juncture of your thighs where Taehyung was licking inside of you again and again until—

You shattered. 

And the force of it nearly bent your back in half. 

Delirious sobs poured from your lips as he worked you through it, letting the obscene flood of your cum soak his face. 

The sight of him slowly lapping at the release between your folds, was unspeakably erotic. He ran his hands in soothing circles over your skin while you twitched and fluttered back down from your high. 

Then he was kissing you again. 

It was softer this time, but you felt truly depraved—and instantly obsessed—with the taste of yourself in his mouth—on his skin.

You could barely understand this ravenous hunger. You’d just found relief, yet you were already reaching for more. 

Your hands snaked down and wrapped around his still covered cock and he hissed in ragged pleasure. 

“So eager,” he gasped, as you pushed him back against the headboard—but you didn’t have time to bother with his teasing.

You were gonna blow Kim Taehyung into space. 

He bit his lip when you yanked down his pants and boxers together, freeing his arousal with stunning efficiency. 

It was almost unfair to discover that his cock was every bit as beautiful as he was.

“Of course,” you muttered. 

The sultry smirk he shot you in return had your cunt flooding all over again.

“You think Min Yoongi has a cock like mine?”

“I don’t think about Min Yoongi’s cock,” you retorted, wrapping your hand around his length, “you’ve always been the biggest dick I’ve ever met.” 

“I knew you thought about my dick,” he groaned as you began to work up and down the swollen shaft. 

After a moment, his hand slid over your chin to grip your hair, drawing you forward till your lips were almost touching. 

“I wonder what this pretty mouth can do,” he whispered. 

You gasped against him and he smiled. 

“Do you know how often I pictured your lips around my cock, Angel?”

You mewled shamelessly and he growled, cupping your cheek as your hands continued to service him. 

“Do you know how often I imagined this perfect throat stuffed full of my cum?” 

His palm slid down to lightly grip the soft flesh of your neck and you shuddered against him with a needy whimper. 

“I know you could suck me so good, Angel. I’ve wanted it for so so long...”

Your mouth actually watered with anticipation. 

The desire to be good for him—to give him whatever he asked for—consumed you. 

Taehyung let his head fall back against the headboard with a groan at the first brush of your lips along his shaft. His hips rutted involuntarily as your tongue wrapped around the tip and you hummed with pleasure at his enthusiastic response. 

After a moment you slid him into the welcoming heat of your mouth, taking him in as far as you could in one stroke. His jaw dropped open and his entire body jerked forward. 

“Yes, that’s it, Angel—feels so good.”

His praise was addictive. 

You loved that you could bring him to this. You loved to see the haughty Kim Taehyung coming apart as you sucked him. 

It made you feel beautiful—powerful even—and you reveled in every second of it. 

Your eyes were starting to tear. His length began to throb and pulse against your tongue and you knew he was close—so close you could almost taste him—

Yet suddenly he was pulling you back and you whined pitifully at the loss. 

Taehyung chuckled, dragging you toward him till your dripping core slid across his cock.

“I’m not coming before I get inside that pretty little pussy,” he swore, working your hips over his sex till it was drenched in arousal. 

The crass words filled you with the fiercest, most incredible want and you clenched reflexively against him in response. 

“Is that what you want?” Taehyung whispered as he bore you back into the mattress, pinning both your wrists above your head. “You want me to fill your empty little cunt?”

You did. 

You wanted it so so bad. 

“Please.”

Taehyung gently lowered himself closer to you, resting his forehead intimately against yours as he lined up his cock at your entrance. 

“Are you sure, Angel? Because there’s no going back after this... If you give yourself to me, then you’re mine—and I’ll fight tooth and nail to keep you.”

“Taehyung, you idiot,”—a tender smile spread over your face as you wrapped your arms around his neck—“... I’ve always been yours.”

He swore violently—letting the slight tremble in his voice betray just how deeply your words affected him. 

Then his fingers tightened on the soft flesh of your hip and he filled you to the hilt with one delicious thrust. 

There was a moment—the smallest space in time—where your eyes locked together and everything seemed to suspend; a strange perfect calm before a monumental storm. 

Then your world caught fire. 

Taehyung drove himself into you with passionate fury, letting years of denial fuel the insatiable rhythm of his strokes. 

Every time he told himself no. Every time he held himself back—

Every bit of it burned away as you screamed his name. 

The feel of him was indescribable. 

You imagined it too many times to count, yet your dreams fell pitifully short of the visceral reality. 

He was bloomin’ magnificent. 

Your fingers clawed up and down his back, desperate to hold on to something while he pounded into your g-spot like an animal. 

“This tiny cunt is the tightest thing I’ve ever had around my cock,” he gasped and you whined needily at his praise. “Like it was made for me—” his hand came up to grip your breast, “like you were made for me.”

“Yes—”

Taehyung’s need seemed to amplify with every whimper and moan that fell from your lips. The feelings you sparked in him were fierce and unapologetically primitive.

He would go to war for you—build a fortress for you—fight a dragon if one dared come close. 

You were his. 

And he felt like a savage every time you cried out for more. 

Suddenly an unexpected movement in his periphery caught his attention.

He’d been so consumed with the extraordinary rush of claiming you that he’d forgotten—

This guest room was thirty-five percent mirrors. 

And now… he couldn’t look away. 

The sight of your bodies tangling together in headless bliss played out before him like a scene from his most debauched and forbidden fantasies. His reflection grinned back at him in fascinated ecstasy while his beloved nemesis lost herself in the pleasure of his cock.

Something dark and wild began to burn in his chest as he studied the lovers in the glass. 

“Look at you, Angel,” he whispered softly, “you really are perfect.”

Then he pulled out of your core and you whined bitterly in protest, chasing his body to rid yourself of the sudden unacceptable emptiness. 

“Still so needy,” he taunted, gripping your hips and flipping you on your stomach before you could even think to protest.

“I want you to watch that pretty angel in the mirror come on my cock,” he groaned, plunging back into you from behind. 

The new angle was somehow impossibly deeper and your body shook as another wave of pleasure overtook it. 

Your fingers clawed into the mattress for purchase as he pistoned into your trembling mound. 

Only Kim Taehyung could rail you like a whore while he worshiped you like a queen. 

He gave you a moment to adjust before drawing your body back against his chest. His arm wrapped over your stomach as he slowly eased your legs apart, unfolding the lewd tableau of your bodies joined together for the voyeuristic gaze of the glass.   

“Look at yourself, Angel,” he growled, mesmerized by the way your breasts bounced with every thrust. “Look at how well you're taking me.” 

Then his fingers slid down to rub your clit and you screamed. 

“Tae! Ah-ahh!”

The pleasure building within you now was violent. You were coiling too tightly, too fast—

“That’s right Angel. Take it all.”

Your eyes locked with his in the mirror for the briefest instant.

And then you flew apart. 

Taehyung threw his head back with a carnal moan as you clamped down around him. His body was hurtling toward its own release with reckless speed. 

“I’m close,” he panted, “where can I come?”

“Come inside me please,” you begged, and Taehyung’s eyes widened in frenzied lust. 

“That’s what you want? Huh?” his thrusts became rougher as he chased his relief, “You want me to fill this puffy little pussy with my cum?”

“Yes, I want it so bad—“ you sobbed. 

“Sweet Angel,” he groaned, gripping at your breasts as he pulled you tighter against him. 

Then he met your gaze in the mirror again. 

“I want everything with you; a home—a family—your body in my arms every morning when I wake up—” his voice trembled, “I want it all.” 

The raw vulnerability in his eyes nearly broke you.

“Tae,” you gasped softly, too overcome with joy to manage anything else. 

His mouth pressed hungrily against the curve of your shoulder. You could feel his cock throbbing in your core as he bent you forward, pounding into your sex with exquisite precision. 

"Stay with me, Angel,” he whispered. His thrusts became erratic as he neared his high. “I don’t want to live without you anymore.”

The glorious thrill of his words tore over your senses with euphoric brutality. Your walls tightened greedily around his cock and the taunt cord of pleasure finally snapped. 

He came with a broken groan, flooding the welcoming heat of your womb with his release. 

“KIM TAEHYUNG!”

The sound of his name being shouted by the absolute last person in the world whose voice he wanted to hear woke Taehyung from a dead sleep.  

His eyes widened in panic as he began yanking pillows and covers from all over the bed in a frenzied attempt to hide—

The doors to his bedroom flew open with a resounding crash. 

“Jimin,” he squeaked, trying to look as casual as possible next to a giant pile of bedding. “What uh—what brings you here at—” his eyes darted to the clock on the wall, “—7:30 in the morning?”

Then he frowned. 

“And how the hell did you get past Jungkook?”

Jimin’s murderous expression broke momentarily to allow for a smug grin. 

“Kendra.”

Kendra Jackson was Jimin’s executive aide. She was fierce, capable, intelligent—

And insanely gorgeous. 

Taehyung groaned. 

Poor Jungkookie never stood a chance. 

To the surprise of absolutely no one, yet another newspaper landed on Taehyung’s lap.

KIM HEIR BRINGS NAUGHTY ANGEL HOME FOR CHRISTMAS

Underneath the headline was a picture of you and Taehyung (dressed in clothes you stole from Jin’s childhood bedroom) kissing passionately against the side entrance of the Governor’s mansion. 

One of your legs was wrapped around his waist and he was clearly grabbing your ass. 

“Ah… well you see the camera distorts everything from this angle—and-and the lighting is bad so it’s not really what it looks like—”

“Is that so? Cause it looks like you’ve got your tongue down my baby sister’s throat!”

“Okay—okay,” Taehyung massaged his forehead nervously, “so maybe it’s sort of what it looks like but—”

“I’ll kill you.”

“No wait—” he held up his hands to delay an already advancing Jimin. 

“Why should I wait?!”

“Because—”

“—I trusted you with the most important person in the world to me—”

“The situation is just not that simple.” 

“—and you grabbed her ass in public!”

“Admittedly not my finest hour.”

“So you tell me right now—”

“But you don’t understand it’s—”

“—Why the hell would I wait?!”

“BECAUSE I’M IN LOVE WITH HER!”

For a moment there was absolute silence. 

Then your head popped out from the massive pile of bedding. 

“Really?”

Jimin’s mouth fell open. 

Taehyung groaned again. 

“As usual, your timing is impeccable.”

You rolled your eyes, ignoring his comment.

“Are you really in love with me?”

“Of course I’m in love with you! What part of I want you to have my children did you not understand?!” 

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” Jimin choked. 

“That’s not the same thing!”

“It is for me!”

A radiant smile lit up your face. 

“I’m in love with you too.”

Taehyung’s expression softened. 

“Angel I—”

Then you were kissing and Jimin swung around with a horrified shout.

“Oh! No no no—Come on!”

He stumbled out of the room, hands firmly clamped over his eyes. 

“This is not over, Kim Taehyung!” the scandalized young Park heir howled in exasperation… but there was a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. 

Back in the bedroom, Taehyung shook his head at Jimin’s ridiculous caterwauling. 

“No, it’s not over,” he laughed, pulling you deeper into the comfort of his arms. “It’s only just begun.”

Thank you so much for taking the time to read my story. 

This baby took FOR-EVER to write. I started it in November and literally worked on it a little every day. 

If you enjoyed it— even just a tiny bit—please consider taking a moment to leave me some feedback. It is so incredibly uplifting and rewarding to hear reader thoughts and reactions to my work.

I promise to treasure every word like gold. It took a lot to bring this story to life. Your kind words would mean the world to me.

[sayosdreams]

Thanksvember 2022

Shoutouts to some amazing fics and fic writers! Thank you so much for all the time and energy you put into your work!! Your fics mean the world to me and have gotten me through the past year. I can’t thank you enough <3 This year’s list is definitely going to contain a lot of Regulus stuff bc that’s my current fixation! So, here's a list of some of my favorite fics that I've read over the past year:

November 1 - As Soon As He Can by Trex_Patronus (ao3). This beautiful fic is what sent me down the Regulus Black rabbit hole bc it was so good that I wanted more. The Black brothers angst? The trauma? The healing? It’s all *chefs kiss*. Everything I could want and more ✨ oh, and it’s now completed with 62 chapters ✨

November 2 - I see how this all ends (poorly) by @quillium . I think that Seer!Regulus is one of my favorite kinds of Regulus characterizations, and this fic is the reason. The balance of angst and fluff in this fic is absolute perfection. The characterizations? The relationships? The evolutions of every character? Absolutely amazing✨ (I've reread the Sirius-meets-sleepy-Reg-and-gang-in-the kitchen scene at least 20 times bc its so ajsfbfsk!!! <3)

November 3 - Follow in her paw prints by @scottish-purple-shrubbery . I adore this fic, because what more could I want from this world than McGonagall taking Regulus in and giving him a path that doesn’t lead to an early death? 10/10, would recommend, we stan having healthy adult figures who actually care abt children as more than pawns✨ ♥️

November 4 - A Thing Like Stars in the Dark by toliveinthesky (ao3). Who doesn’t love a good “what if Reg survived the cave” story? Sprinkled with Black brothers interaction, Reg playing with baby Harry, being in love with a muggleborn 😍 I’m not usually a huge fan of OCs, but Reg/Maggie 🫶 I love this fic so much

November 5 - Live Fast, Die Young, Leave a Pretty Corpse by atta_boy (ao3). This fic is so underrated. I LOVE IT SO MUCH (I mean, Sirius thinking Reg is dead, only to hear about a muggle model named “Aster An” who looks just like him? *chefs kiss*) The irony of a disguise being the truest version of yourself is beautifully written in this fic. I need more ppl to read it (and join the discord 👀) so y’all can fangirl over it w me

November 6 - He Can’t Hurt You if You’re Already Dead by @unspeakable3 . So, yeah, I think I’m obsessed with the Ghost!Regulus concept?? I love everything about this fic — the chracterization, the internality, the mix of fluff and angst ♥️ You have no idea how many times I just randomly think of Reg folding Sirius’ clothes to “haunt” him or hiding inside a vase or being scared Dumbledore will exorcise him 💀

November 7 - In the fires of our youth (oh, brother of mine) by @quynhorlose . The writing! The art! I'm obsessed with everything about it, from the format that includes articles & poster style chapters, to the content of Regulus-and-Remus friendship and the Padfoot & Prongs band.

November 8 - We are all stardust by @rrosie08 . I have mentioned that I love Seer!Regulus, right? That, combined with Ravenclaw!Regulus, Black brothers angst, Reg having an awesome friend group, and Jegulus and Wolfstar drama is just *chefs kiss*. The scene where Reg just broke up with his bf and is crying and gets his first detention bc of Sirius on his birthday has been on constant replay in my brain. <3

November 9 - There is another sky (--Ever serene and fair) by llamallamaduck (ao3). This fic is everything I could ever want and more out of a "black brothers run away together" story. They travel the world, and I LOVE all the different magical systems & cities. All of the concepts in this story, along with all the emotions (angst! fluff! everything!), make this one of the best black brothers fics. I still haven't read the last chapter (I'm sad it'll be over!) but I'm so excited to read it too. Definitely recommend!

November 10 - Kill Your Darlings by MesserMoon (ao3). Marauders era meets college ice hockey in this amazing fic. I love all the tension, like the complexities of Evan and Peter's characters, Regulus working through his internalized homophobia, and ofc the extreme gayness <3 Deaf Remus! Jegulus! Rosekiller! Evan and Reg being roommates and becoming besties!

November 11 - Best Friend's Brother by @zeppazariel . This is one of the first Jegulus fics I read, and it dragged me down the Jegulus rabbit hole that I will stay in forever. This fic was amazing. It made me laugh and cry, and I felt like I also went through the raw emotional rollercoaster of a journey that Regulus and Sirius and Remus and James experienced. It's so beautifully written, and it felt healing? Like I have a lot of crappy childhood trauma, and it felt like this fic was me working through it Definitely recommend if you haven't read it yet (or if you're thinking about maybe trying your first Jegulus fic). Be warned: Angst! Feels! Drama! Working through trauma! Aka everything I adore <3

November 12 - I Didn't Catch Your Name by @kachwoww . This fic!! OK so basically, James & Reg hook up, but in the morning James asks Reg his name and Reg leaves without telling him. James, ofc, is obsessed and is searching for Reg. Meanwhile, Reg left the paper that Sirius (his estranged brother) gave him with his phone number at James' house, and panics about how he lost it. Basically they're all freaking out, Reg and Remus are librarian flatmates, Pandora and Lily are dating, Sirius and Remus are dating, and... yeah! It's #Drama and I'm hooked.

November 13 - The Marauders read 'Harry Potter' by SilverShadow1 (ao3). It's been a while since I read this types of fics, but this one!! Basically James, Regulus, Sirius, Remus, Peter, & Lily read the books & react, but it's set in a Jegulus & Wolfstar world and the fic dives into their pasts (through flashbacks and their reactions to different events) and their relationships with each other evolve throughout. The series is currently on PoA (so I have a lot of hope that it'll continue)! I've been hooked since the beginning and love seeing it update.

November 14 - i got wasted (like all my potential) by ascxlla (ao3). I love the Slytherin skittle shenanigans in this fic! Regulus interacting with Sirius-as-a-dog without knowing it's Sirius 🥹 It's a "I'm doomed so fuck it" fic and I love that. Want to explore the forbidden forest at night to get a cat? Do it! Want to kiss your friend for funsies? Do it!

November 15 - Hush Hush by @crippledgoddess . This fic was one of my main obsessions this summer. There are so many iconic moments, like drunk Reg flirting with James, or Reg just saying stuff like "You know what James looks good in? Me" to make everyone uncomfortable, that I ADORE. There's a lot of angst and feels, but I'm hoping for a happy ending (please!!) and I really enjoy the writing!

November 16 - Your Stars are True by Penelope_Muir (ao3). Sirius and Regulus haven't been close in years, so Sirius checks up on his brother by coming to him as Padfoot (though Reg thinks he might be a Grim). It's so cute and sad at the same time 😭 The scene where James tries to follow Sirius to see where he goes every night, only to have to transform into Prongs and Reg is like "oh you brought a friend?" to the dog is ingrained in my mind forever!

November 17 - with my back to the shoreline, i dreamed that he drowned by onceuponalazy (ao3). My favorite "James gets amnesia and can't recall the life he built with Regulus" fic. The pain Regulus is in, knowing that he loves a man who no longer knows him and doesn't even know that their son (Harry) exists 😭 It's beautifully written, and I love how James and Reg's relationship evolves and heals ♥️

November 18 - Confessions Under a Pride Flag by 55_cents_in_nickels (ao3). Supportive coming out black brothers fluff + asexual biromantic Regulus Black (which I read during my "questioning if I'm on the aroace spectrum" crisis period) = amazing fic that I love so so much. Yes, I am capable of loving something besides angst It's a comfort read that's close to my heart <3

November 19 - Burden of Duty by Grey_Kenaz (ao3). Aroace sex-repulsed Regulus Black meets Sirius in St Mungos after trying to figure out how to conceive with his (arranged marriage) fiancée. Sirius helps Reg figure out that there's nothing wrong with him and accept himself 🫶 We love supportive Black brothers!

November 20 - i can feel you slipping away (like the sunlight at the end of the day) by @casualmaraudering. This fic is so good! It's fluffy and angsty in all the right ways. Contains: Dumbledore critique bc fuck him, Black brothers have a strong bond, Reg grieving, aroace Regulus, a baby, and Sirius giving Regulus a hug. The writing is so good and the rollercoaster of emotions this fic takes you on is incredible ❤

[buckysfaveplum]

no day but today

chapter 5

summary: bucky finds himself enamored with the girl upstairs who paints on the fire escape.

pairing: bucky barnes x artist!female reader

word count: 2.7k

warnings: swearing, mentions of trauma, nightmares, a lil argument, angstttttt

author’s note: i’m so so sorry for the delay y’all.... i have covid! NYC has become a mess again and unfortunately i have the omicron variant. so sorry for the delay. 

listen to Another Day for the vibe of this chapter.

series masterlist

masterlist

“So, Y/N, this is the space,” Loren said as she led you through the empty gallery. The sleek white interior was currently decorated with the summer art exhibition. The show was vibrant, colorful, and daring. Large clusters of yarn string from ceiling corners across the room and down to the floor. Sheila Pepe. God, you wished you had something to say like her. Wished you had the kind of work that created such awe.

“It’s amazing. This show, it’s inspired,” you said, stopping to look at one of the works. Lately, it seemed as though every artist had something strong to say, a bold story to tell. So why were you stuck? The Blip should’ve caused something right? Something inside you to paint. This artist block was going on for too long. Were you just dried up of ideas? Had you already hit your peak in your 20s? You began to fear the artist Loren found at the showcase last year was gone.

“This space will be all yours soon,” Loren said, coming to stand beside you. The progress meeting was less than great. You’d been able to get by just supplying a few dimensions and past works you were planning to include. The board was pleased, excited to see something was coming together. Little did they know, you had no idea what the show would be about.

“I’m so grateful for the opportunity.”

“Ah,” Loren scoffed, throwing her hands up. “A girl like you with so much talent, I’m grateful you chose us for your first solo show.” With a soft pat on the back, she turned to leave, saying she had a meeting to attend but inviting you to enjoy the current exhibition. With a smile, she was gone.

Roaming from corner to corner of the space, your mind began to race, rummaging through all the possible ideas for where to take your show. There was one you’d been kicking around for a bit, one started after the snap but later shelved when the Blipped returned.  It wasn’t fully fleshed out, but perhaps you could give it some love and see where it took you.

Your walk home was quick, the heat of August beating down on your back. Time was flying fast, at least that’s how it seemed lately. The city returned to its high pace speed soon after the Blipped returned. Streets once again full, subway cars crammed and packed. The drastic shift was somewhat comforting. Those five years were brutal, fresh out of college and alone in the city wasn’t exactly the best way to spend them. But it taught you to appreciate everyone who waltzed into your life. No matter how brief.

-

Time didn’t seem to process for you as you sat in your living room, glancing over your newsprint. The large scrap pad sat in front of you, displaying sketch after sketch. It wasn’t working. This wasn’t it. Everything was hollow and trifling. Devoid of analytical thinking or passion. Just surface level. Crashing back against your couch, your head fell to your head. The idea would work, it had to. But you needed something, it needed something.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a repetitive thumping below you. A dull and continuous rumble came from the floorboards you sat upon. Glancing over at the clock on your stove, it read 1:34 am. What was going on?

Leaning over, you pressed your ear to the floor, only to be met with a much louder bang. Curiosity now overrun with worry, you got up to investigate. That was Bucky below you. Was he okay? Was something wrong?

Slipping on a pair of beat-up Birkenstocks, you climbed out the window. As you descended the ladder, you couldn’t help but become overwhelmed with thoughts of what could be occurring in that bare apartment. Bucky was quiet, you’d honestly never know he lived below you. He’d told you himself you were his only friend, so there was no way he had someone over. Right?

Before you could dive down the rabbit hole of what-ifs, you were on his fire escape, glancing into his window. The sight sent splintering cracks through your chest. Alone on the cool floor, Bucky laid. Wrapped in a thin blanket and resting on a small pillow. His chest was bare, except for the thin layer of sweat and silver tags hanging from his neck. His legs thrashed and kicked about while his metal arm gripped the pillow in fear. His right arm occasionally thrashed as well, banging against the wall or couch resulting in the soft thumping you heard. His face broke your heart. Contorted in pain, anguish, and terror.

You were conflicted. He clearly was having a nightmare, stuck in the horrors that plagued his sleep. You wanted to help, to climb through the window and hold him through his distress. But would you be crossing a line? Not only were you entering his place, but you’d be seeing him in his most vulnerable state. What if he wasn’t ready for that?

Your conscience was torn until the screaming started. The sounds of Bucky’s torment broke your heart. Without another thought, you reached for the window to find it unlocked. He’d made a lighthearted remark to you about not being able to lock his window because “his cute neighbor would have no way to get in” if he did. The comment caused a grin to spread ear to ear on your face, but as you slipped through his window in the night to rescue him from his turmoil it meant so much more.

Quietly, you removed your shoes, resting them under the window. Bucky continued to thrash as words fell from his mouth in what sounded like Russian. Now right before you, the sight only got worse. You had to help him. Getting to your knees at his side, you softly called his name, hoping to wake him the easy way. He just kept babbling, his brows knit close and his jaw taut.

“Bucky, honey it’s me. Y/N,” you said. Your worries only rose as he didn’t wake. “Honey, you gotta wake up.”

Slowly, you reached out. You placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, giving them a soft nudge. Your other hand rubbed at the back of his neck, trying to coax him awake.

“Sweetie, you’ve gotta wake up,” you said, a little louder this time. You began to stress worried you wouldn’t be able to help the soldier, when he lurched up. A sudden gasp escaped his mouth and he shot up and stumbled out of your grasp. His back slammed against the side of his couch as he fell once again to the floor. His breaths were short and ragged as he pulled his knees to his chest, trying to calm himself down.

You were stunned. What should you do? You scouted once towards him, hoping to make him know your presence wasn’t a threat. That this was you and he was safe.

“Bucky, it’s okay. It’s just me,” you said, trying to make eye contact. His whole body shook, but his head raised at the sound of your voice. “Doll?” he asked, relief heard in his voice.

“Yeah hun, it’s me. I’m here,” with him acknowledging you, you scouted closer once more, now mere inches away.

“How, how did you…” he mumbled, trying to make sense of everything. Of his nightmare, how you were there, why you were there.

“You were screaming, hun. I got worried and your window was unlocked. I wanted to make sure you were okay,” He nodded at your words, trying to calm his breathing. “Can I touch you?”

With a short nod, you reached over. You slowly unfolded him, placing one hand on his upper arm and the other going to cup the side of his face. He shook under your touch, his lips quivering and tears threatening to pour-over. Your hand slowly combed through his hair, trying to bring him some comfort. He seemed to be at war with himself at your touch. He couldn’t meet your eye, fidgeting under your hands.

“I…I’m sorry,” he finally said. You watched as he began to force back his tears, his hand coming up and rubbing his eyes. He gently pulled your hands away, clearing his throat as he tried to collect himself. “You didn’t have to come over, Doll,”

Before you could respond, he pulled himself completely from your grasp. Quickly, he headed over to the kitchen. Confused, you got up. He’d let you in, let you touch him, showed you his arm, he seemed relieved at your presence. So why? Why the sudden coldness?

“Bucky, of course, I did. You seemed so scared. I wanted to help,” you said, taking a step towards the kitchen.

“I’m fine, Y/N. You should just go home. This happens all the time,” his words broke your heart. How often was ‘all the time’? Once a week? Every night? The thought of Bucky being scared and alone in that apartment every night caused unease in your stomach.

“Okay, I just wanted to know you were okay,” you said.

“Well I’m okay, you can go home.”

He was cold. You understood, he’d just woken from a nightmare. He was probably embarrassed. You weren’t going to push it. He was your friend, and he was okay. That’s it, right? He seemed fine so you could go home, right?

“Okay, see you later then,” you said with a soft smile, slowly slipping on your shoes before heading out the window.

-

Bucky hadn’t slept at all that night. With his head in his hands, he sat on the couch, his thoughts running a mile a minute. What had he done, letting you in? Letting you see him, the real him. He shouldn’t have gotten attached. He knew nothing good would come of it. You didn’t need to be dealing with someone like him. Though he’d never felt such relief, such safety, after a nightmare as he did that night, he knew it was the wake-up call he needed. The embarrassment he felt knowing you saw him in that state shook him from the daze he was in around you. This wasn’t good and it needed to stop. Before he developed feelings he couldn’t shake.

He wouldn’t let himself be burned by someone again. Not after Steve abandoned him. Not after his best friend promised him ‘til the end of the line’, then left him as soon as he had the chance. He couldn’t do it all over again. He couldn’t deal with the rejection that would come with bearing himself completely to you. His past, his trauma, his nightmares, his feelings. No, he wouldn’t survive it. He had to end it now.

He fiddled with the phone in his hands. Would it be easier to just send a text? You didn’t seem like the type to listen to that though. No, he’d have to do it in person. Face to face. He figured he’d have some time to devise a plan. Some time to figure out how to cut the cord between the two of you. Until he heard a knock at his window. Glancing over, he saw you perched on the fire escape, giving him a soft smile and wave.

His heart clenched at the sight. That after he was so cold to you last night, you were still there. The warmth in his chest flooded his body in your presence. He had it bad. He needed to end it now.

“Hey,” you said, sliding open the window and stepping inside. He didn’t answer, just averted your eyes. Your smile faltered at his state, but you persisted. “So, wanna maybe grab a coffee? I finally have an idea for the show I'd love to tell you about.”

“I can’t,” he mumbled under his breath. You paused, somewhat shocked. He’d never declined your invites for coffee. Was this about last night?

“Look, Bucky, if this is about last night…” you started, gently resting a hand on his shoulder. Barely a second of your touch and he was up, darting off the couch and across the room.

“We can’t do this anymore, Y/N,” he said, his hands fidgeting at his sides.

“Do what?” you asked, stunned.

“This!” he said, gesturing to the two of you.

You were shocked. You knew last night didn’t go well, but ending your friendship over it?

“Hun, I’m sorry about last night. I overstepped, but I care about you and-”

“Don’t say that!” he shouted, pressing a fist to his head. “This is ridiculous, Y/N. You can’t just walk in here and act like we’re friends. Act like you care, like this is anything. I can’t do that!”

“I’m not acting!” you said, taking a step towards him, to which he immediately stepped back.

Where was this coming from? He’d been texting you, laughing with you, sharing pizza in your apartment, and looking at your paintings just days before. How could he be standing there saying you weren’t friends, that you never cared?

“I can’t just go to museums and get coffee with you. I can’t sit in your apartment and laugh at your jokes. I can’t let you climb through my window and hold me like I didn’t spend a century killing people! I can’t just move on!” he shouted, finally meeting your eyes. You were speechless. Of all the things you thought he’d say, that was not one of them.

“Why?” you asked, your voice slowly rising, matching his volume. “Why not, Bucky! It wasn’t you!”

He wasn’t listening. Pushing past you, he headed to the kitchen. His fists slammed into the counter as you kept talking.

“I care, and I’m sorry if you don’t wanna hear that but it’s true. You’re allowed to move on, Bucky. You’re allowed to have people care, you’re allowed to be happy!” you shouted.

“You don’t get it! You can’t just walk in here and do this to me. You can’t make me feel this way. It’s not right and I don't deserve it!” He shouted, finally approaching you. He was red with anger. His hands shook as he looked down at you. “We can’t keep pretending to be friends. We can’t pretend we care about each other.”

“Bucky, please,” you said, reaching out to cup his face. His hand swatting yours away seemed to be the final blow.

“Get out, Y/N.”

This was really what he wanted? With a short nod, you turned, heading towards the window. Your feet stalled at the windowsill. This wasn’t right, it couldn’t be. This was something deeper. Something you didn’t understand but wanted to. You wanted to help the kind man a floor below you. The man who listened to you rave about art. The man who loved your chai tea. The man who held the door for you wherever you went no matter how many times you said he didn’t have to. You wanted to hold him and help him through his darkness. You wanted to let him know you cared. To let him know you’d been feeling things when he was around that you’d never felt before. Feelings you never wanted to lose. But how could you if he shut you out?

This wasn’t goodbye, you knew that. He needed time and you’d give it to him. Turning to face him, he stood with a distraught look on his face. One that told you everything you needed to know. This wasn’t about you. It was him. He was at war with himself, one he refused to let you fight in.

“You know where to find me when you wanna talk,” you said, finally climbing through the window. He watched as you reached for the latch but paused. “You can’t spend the rest of your life like this, Bucky. Pushing everyone who could possibly care about you away. No day is promised and one day they may not be there to keep trying. There’s no day but today.”

No response.

“For the record,” you said, locking eyes with him one last time. “If we were pretending to care about each other, we did a damn good job.”

Bucky’s heart sank as he watched you slam the window shut and storm up the ladder. This was what he wanted, right? This was how it had to be. Better to ice you out now than let you leave him later.

He’d spent a century alone before, but now that you’d been in his life a little over a month, he wasn’t sure he could return to that again.

---

taglist:

@enchantedbarnes @winterdrag0n @silentkiller2374 @xiernia @xxbuckysbxx @psychoticmason @unlikelygalaxygiver @baby-banana @britos11 @youneedtocalumdown

[the-iceni-bitch]

Fix You

Pairing: angsty!soft!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Words: 4173

Summary: Bucky has been working hard at getting over the trauma that came from being the Winter Soldier, and you do your best to help him through it. But a particularly painful memory almost breaks him.

Warnings: ANGST (I’m so sorry y’all), explicit language, explicit sexual content (oral sex (F receiving), fingering, unprotected vaginal sex), soft!broken!Bucky, fluffy ending, TW: this fic contains implications of animal cruelty in a character’s past. It is extremely vague and non-specific but I will put a warning in the text itself if you still would like to read but this particular type of thing upsets you. Please be mindful of it my soft babies!! SMUT, 18+ ONLY!!!!

A/N: This is my entry to the Happy Hoelentine’s Day gift exchange hosted by the absolutely fabulous @chrissquares​, @drabblewithfrannybarnes and @amythedvdhoarder​. My giftee was @bucky-the-thigh-slayer happy v-day sweetie! 😘

Soo, apparently, I cannot just write a sprinkling of angst, I have to write cut your heart out of your chest and watch it beat in front of your face angst. This fic made me cry while writing it so if you are a big softie, you might want to skip this one. Don’t worry, I gave everyone a nice, fluffy, soft ending to soothe the pain!

Happy Hoelentine’s y’all! Check out my masterlist and join my taglist if you want!

dividers are made by the lovely @chrissquares

not my GIF

You weren’t sure what had initially roused you from sleep. Maybe it was the fact that you were used to Bucky’s frame being draped over you, smothering you with his body heat. Whatever had woken you at first, the sound of shattering glass snapped you from your dazed state immediately.

You flew out of the bed and ran towards the bathroom. The light was leaking from underneath the door and when you wrenched it open, you swore under your breath.

Bucky was seated on the floor by the tub, his head in his hands as sobs wracked his chest. The mirror over the sink was smashed, pieces of reflective glass scattered all over the counter and across the floor.

You ignored it, not even noticing as you cut the bottoms of your feet while making your way to him. You knelt beside him and drew him to you, tucking his head under your chin as you ran your hands over his back, trying to calm him down.

“I’m here, Buck.” You murmured as you pressed your lips to his hair. His breathing was coming in ragged gasps as he leaned into you, and you could tell he was still upset. “Do you want to talk about it, honey?”

He just shook his head as another sob ripped out of him, his fingers wrapping in your sleep shirt.

You knew this was all part of the process. Bucky had been working with Bruce and his psychiatrist for 6 months now on identifying and moving past his repressed memories, but damn if it didn’t break you heart every time a new one popped up. This one must have been especially painful, he hadn’t had a breakdown like this in months.

“Sweetie, I’m gonna call Bruce, ok?” He was still a mess, even with you there, and it made you worried.

“No, don’t leave me.” He looked up at you desperately as he leaned against your shoulder, his eyes a startling blue from his tears as he pleaded with you.

“Shit, Bucky.” God, you fucking hated seeing him like this. You felt so helpless. “I can call from here. FRIDAY? Let Banner know we need him, stat.”

“Will do, Y/N.” The AI chirped back at you.

You reached your arm to the sink and turned it on, running a washcloth under the warm water before bringing it back to rest against his forehead.

“Y/N? Bucky? It’s me, Bruce.” You heard Banner call from the front door.

“Yeah, we’re in the bathroom.” You called. Your shoulder was soaked with snot and tears as Bucky continued weeping against you.

“Jesus, what happened?” Bruce hissed when he found you, picking his was through the broken glass as he knelt to examine Bucky, opening his medical case.

“I dunno Bruce, I woke up and found him like this.” You did your best to straighten Bucky up as Bruce took his pulse before pulling back to assemble his otoscope.

“Ok, Barnes, I’m gonna give you a sedative, buddy.” Bruce murmured as he dug in his case again, bringing out a vial and syringe. “I called his doctor when I heard from you and she’s on her way, but she was in Chicago for a conference, so she won’t be in until later this morning. She gave me the ok to calm him down for now.”

You just nodded as you stroked Bucky’s hair, doing your best to distract him as Bruce wound the tourniquet around his arm before plunging in the needle. He released the band before pushing down the plunger, and you felt Bucky relax against you almost immediately.

“I hate this so much, Bruce. I just want to be able to do something for him.”

“You’re doing it, Y/N. I don’t think his recovery would be going so well if he didn’t have you.” He looked down at your feet and winced. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

“What? Oh, fuck.” Now that Bucky wasn’t occupying your attention, the slices on your feet and knees were throbbing.

“I don’t think you need any stitches, but I’m gonna use some skin glue to keep these from opening up repeatedly.” He muttered, rinsing the cuts with a betadine solution before patting them dry with some gauze.

“Thanks Bruce. Can you help me get him back to the bed?” You asked as he finished his work, throwing a towel over the broken glass and shoving it out of the way.

“Sure.” You each put one of his arms over your shoulders and hauled him to his feet, shuffling awkwardly back to the bedroom. “Dr. Laurent should be here around 10, if you could get him to the med center around then?”

“Of course Bruce, thank you so much.”

He just waved you off as he left, closing the door gently behind him. You changed into a new t-shirt and climbed back into bed, curling yourself around Bucky as you tried to fall back asleep, failing miserably.

  It had been two weeks since Bucky’s breakdown. His nightmares had gotten better, but you could tell he was still upset about things. He was barely talking to you, and he hadn’t initiated sex during that whole period. You could maybe coax some small talk out of him over meals, but you could tell he was avoiding talking to you about what he remembered. All you wanted to do was comfort him and he wasn’t letting you.

Dr. Laurent assured you that they were working through it, but that this particular memory was harder to move past. All you wanted to do was comfort him, but he wouldn’t let you close.

The two of you were sitting together in silence, you were going over some field reports with your feet resting in Bucky’s lap as he read some trash mystery novel that you would usually tease him about. Your phone rang from the coffee table and you stretched to pick it up, grinning when you saw it was your sister.

“Hey Frankie!” You said cheerily as you picked up. “What’s going on?”

Bucky smiled to himself sadly as he listened to you chat with your sister. He felt so guilty about what he was doing to you. You were amazing, and kind, but he was so worried that if he let you all the way in, you’d see what a monster he was and leave him.

“Oh my god, a puppy!?” You squealed, and Bucky felt all the blood drain from his face. “Send me all the pictures! We’ll have to come visit soon and meet him.”

Bucky stood up and walked towards the kitchen, getting himself a glass of water and drinking it down greedily.

“Hey, Frankie, can I call you back tomorrow? Great, love you!” You had picked up on Buck’s change in demeanor and followed after him. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” He muttered, filling his glass again and taking a sip.

You let out a deep sigh at his attempt to dodge. You knew you weren’t supposed to push him, but watching him withdraw from you like this was killing you.

“Bucky, please talk to me.” You pleaded, fighting the urge to go to him and wrap your arms around him, drawing all his pain into yourself as you held him tight.

He shook his head at you as he set his glass down on the counter, avoiding making eye contact. “I can’t.”

You took in a sharp breath at the crack in his voice and your resolve broke. You took three steps forward and pressed your body to his, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and bringin his forehead down to lean against yours.

“It’s ok, I’m not going anywhere.” You murmured, bringing up one hand to run through his hair, trying your best to soothe him as you watched tears leak from his eyes.

“Promise?”

“Fuck, of course I promise.” You murmured before pressing your lips softly to his. “Bucky, I’m not going to leave you. I love you.”

He buried his face in your neck and let out a deep sigh, inhaling your scent and letting the warm comfort of your body relax him. You kept stroking his back and hair, waiting for him to speak.

⚠️TRIGGER WARNING ⚠️

“When I first woke up,” He started after several minutes of silence, still not looking at you. “They would never let me outside. It was almost a year before I saw sunlight. They eventually let me out once they were sure the brainwashing had done its job, but only for a little while. There was…”

He choked on his words and you made soft soothing sounds against his cheek, doing your best to not hold your breath as he opened up to you, worried you were going to spook him like a baby deer.

“There was this tiny stray mutt I found on the compound one day. It was hiding in a little hole in the wall with an injured paw, scared of everything. I managed to sneak out some of my rations the next day for him, and did the same thing for the next week. He wouldn’t take the food from me directly, but I would leave it for him, and it would all be gone when I came back.

“It took a few weeks before he would take the food from my hand, and a couple more before he would let me pet him. Seeing that little guy was the best part of my day. The only break I had from the fighting and the torture. Sometimes he’d crawl into my lap and curl up, and those were the days I thought about making a run for it.” Bucky finally looked at you, giving you a sad smile as he pressed his forehead to yours again before screwing his eyes shut. “I named him Vladik.

“I don’t know why it took them so long to figure out he was there. The guards were supposed to be watching my every move. I wasn’t supposed to have anything for myself, no happiness or solace. And that was all he was. Just a harmless little friend. But the Soldat couldn’t have any friends.

“When the doctor in charge of my programming found out, he told me to bring him the dog, and he… he made me…”

⚠️END TRIGGER WARNING⚠️

He started sobbing before he could finish, and you felt tears running down your own cheeks as you held him tightly, the two of you sinking to the floor as Bucky wept in your arms. You curled yourself around him, wishing you could do something to just take all of that pain from him.

It was an hour before either of you moved. You were stiff from leaning against the counter for so long, but until Bucky started to straighten up, you didn’t even notice. He drew you up after him and you moaned as you unfolded yourself, your legs tingling as blood rushed back into them.

“I love you so much, Y/N.” He whispered against your hair with a heavy sigh, drawing you into another deep embrace. “Fuck, I’m exhausted.”

“I love you too, honey.” You murmured, pressing your lips to his forehead. “I’ll be right there.”

You left him to strip out of his clothes as you headed to the bathroom, locking the door behind you as you splashed cold water on your face, trying to keep yourself from having a meltdown.

You were so relieved he had finally opened up to you. But every fiber of your being just wanted to fix all of this, and the fact that you couldn’t was killing you. You choked back a sob as you bent over the sink, bile rising in your throat. It took you a few minutes to fully calm down, but you got your emotions under control with some deep breathing.

You splashed your face a few more times before heading back out to the bedroom. Bucky was still up, sitting on the edge of the bed as he waited for you. He gave you a small smile as you walked toward him, wrapping his arms around your middle and nuzzling his face against your stomach.  You moaned as he started to lift your shirt, pressing his lips to your skin softly as his fingers traveled to brush against your breast, squeezing it gently.

He held you tightly and turned his body until you were laying on the bed underneath him. He crawled up your torso slowly until his face was hovering above yours. His vibranium palm cupped your cheek softly as he gazed into your eyes before bending to kiss you, his mouth needy against yours as he bit at your lips before pressing his tongue to yours, drawing a whine from your throat.

Bucky ran his hand down your throat before his fingers started working to unbutton your blouse. He made quick work of it and his mouth moved to your neck as he slid it down your shoulders. You gasped and moved your hands to wind in his hair as he unclasped your bra and wrapped his lips around your nipple, sucking softly and swirling his tongue around it until it was peaked and sensitive. Your cunt clenched around nothing as he moved to your other nipple, and you wrapped your legs around his waist as he continued to move down your body.

His tongue dipped into your navel as he worked at undoing your jeans, pulling them down your legs swiftly along with your panties before diving between your legs.

He had missed this. Those soft sounds of want you made were a panacea for his wounds, soothing his heart as he moved his lips over your sex, his tongue running through your folds as he lapped up your arousal. You arched into his mouth when he pressed against your clit, your hands digging into his hair as his hands gripped your thighs, keeping you spread open for him.

He moaned against you as you wriggled beneath him, your back arching and relaxing as he brought you closer to your release. You grip on his hair was bordering on painful as you tightened it, and he relished your loss of control as you fought to close your thighs around his head and press him even closer.

“Mmm, Bucky!” You moaned as he wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking softly. He finally released your legs and you wrapped them around his neck as he pushed two metal fingers into you, making you yelp.

He scissored his fingers inside you, stretching your canal as he drew obscene squelches from deep within you. He loved the feel of your pussy clenching and fluttering around him, trying to draw his fingers even deeper inside you as he edged you towards your climax.

When he curled them against that sweet, secret spot within you, you lost it. Your heels duck into his shoulders and your back arched you off the bed violently as you clamped down on his fingers. You screamed as your release flowed into his mouth, making him moan as it covered his chin. He licked his lips as he straightened above you, savoring the taste of you on his tongue. It tasted like home.

He gazed down at you lovingly as he removed his boxers, kicking them away before bending to kiss you deeply. Bucky kept his mouth on yours as he crawled onto the bed, tucking his knees under your thighs as he pressed one palm against the small of your back, drawing you up to straddle his lap.

“I love you so fucking much.” He whispered against your lips, running his fingertips through your hair before his tongue was invading your mouth, curling against and tangling with yours as he stole all the breath from your lungs. His metal hand curved over your ass as he ground his hips into you, running his cock through your slick folds. “I need to hear you say it, please doll.”

“God, Bucky. I love you.” You panted as he positioned himself at your entrance, making you whine as he breached you with just his tip. Your fingers dug into his shoulders as he pulled you onto him and you hissed through your teeth as you stretched around his length, relishing in the sting you felt each time he entered you.

“Never leave me.” He pleaded as his hips started moving, his thrusts slow and sensuous as he stared deeply into your eyes, watching your face contort with pleasure as you lost yourself in the feeling of being filled with him.

“Never.” You murmured as he buried his face against your neck. “Fuck, baby.”

Your head rolled back as he picked up the pace just barely, his pubic bone grinding against your clit with each thrust and bringing you close to your edge. He nuzzled himself between your breasts and mouthed against your soft slopes gently as you tightened one hand around the back of his neck.

One particularly forceful drive had you falling backwards with a gasp. You managed to catch yourself on one arm and you pressed your toes against the mattress on either side of his hips, doing your best to keep your balance as your pussy clenched around him.

“Fuck, right there.” You whispered, your nails digging into his neck.

He brushed his teeth against your nipple and you almost collapsed against the bed, but Bucky wrapped his arms around you and held you tightly to him as your body spasmed uncontrollably, quivering in his grasp as your pussy fluttered and your release seeped out of you, soaking both of your thighs.

“You feel so good doll.” He murmured against your chest as he kept fucking into you, still moving in rich, deep plunges that made it hard for you to breathe. “So tight and warm. I fucking lose myself in this pussy.”

All you could do was whine as you wrapped your legs around his waist and gripped his neck tightly. You took in a sharp breath when he suddenly lifted himself off his knees and pushed even deeper into you, his cock hitting a new spot inside you that had you seeing stars. He gripped his hands tightly at the small of your back as he ground against you.

He hit you at just the right spot and you came again, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face in his hair as your body vibrated against his. He inhaled your scent with a moan as he fell forward, catching himself on his vibranium hand before he collapsed on top of you.

You kept your body wrapped tightly around his as he held you in that position with one arm, carrying all of your weight as his hips started moving violently, slapping against the back of your thighs as soft wet sounds came from between the two of you. It only took a few thrusts before you were cumming again, screaming against Bucky’s neck as the coil in your stomach snapped, your muscles finally giving out as you rode the wave of your pleasure, your body rolling underneath him as you released his neck and he let you sink back onto the bed, your arms falling above your head and your feet coming to rest on either side of his knees.

Bucky kept one arm hooked under the small of your back, arching your body at a beautiful angle as his hips started to stutter, his cock twitching inside of you as he neared his own end.

“Gimme one more doll.” He whispered, mesmerized by the way your tits bounced with each thrust of his hips, and the way your face had that blissful, fucked out look as you bit your lip and screwed your eyes shut.

He ground his hips in a circle with his next thrust and smiled as your body tried to curl off the bed. You sobbed as you came, crying his name as your thighs squeezed his hips and your cunt milked his cock. He collapsed on top of you as he came right behind you, his spend shooting into harshly, painting your canal in thick white ropes as his hips stilled.

You held him to you tightly, refusing to let him go as the two of you drifted off to sleep. All you wanted was to rest with him inside you, and he needed to feel you around him, to let you know that you were his home, his haven against all the pain of his past. You smiled as you felt his breath grow deep with sleep, your hand resting on his back as your own slumber took you.

  Bucky made a lot of progress over the next few weeks. Telling you had lifted a weight from his shoulders that he didn’t realize he was carrying. His sleep was still interrupted by nightmares occasionally, but every time he woke up to find you next to him was like a balm for his soul.

He was finally starting to feel truly happy, and that made you happy. Dr. Laurent had finally given the ok for him to start going on missions again, and that was great, but he really found fulfillment at home with you, and the best part of his day was when he walked through the front door to find you waiting for him.

You were excited for Valentine’s Day. It felt like the first holiday you could really enjoy as a couple as he had made so much progress. You were thankful that Steve had kept him occupied all day, giving you a chance to work on your present for him. He was out for a run in the rain right now as you put the final touches on the meal, reviewing the recipe a final time as you set the table, shrugging to yourself and lighting the candles.

You almost dropped your match when you heard him open the front door, cursing as you narrowly avoided setting the tablecloth on fire.

“In here baby!” You called as he came inside, shaking himself from the rain. “Happy Valentine’s Day!”

“Aww, doll, this looks… is that aspic?” He asked, one eyebrow cocked as he eyed the meal you had set out for him.

“Sure is!” You said with a grin as you eyed the brown, gelatinous entrée, doing your best to tamp down your nausea. “Steve said it was your favorite back in the day, so I decided to surprise you.”

“Steve?” He asked, a grin spreading over his face as he ran his fingers through his hair. “You asked Rogers what to get me for Valentine’s Day?”

You studied the look on his face and looked back at the meal, considering things.

“That motherfucker.” You said as he broke down, laughing hysterically. “I’m going to murder that giant.”

“I can’t believe you thought I would actually like this!” He said, tears streaming down his cheeks.

“I dunno, the 30s were a weird time!” You cursed yourself in your mind for being so gullible. “Well shit, I wasted a whole day. I’m ordering Chinese.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself doll, it’s the thought that counts.” He said, giving you a mock pout before wrapping his arms around you and kissing your hair. You yelped when you felt something move in his hoody.

“What the fuck, Barnes?” You screeched as his pocket squirmed, something inside it making a tiny squeaking sound.

“Uhh, don’t be mad.” He said sheepishly as he tucked his hand into his pocket and drew out a tiny, white kitten who was screaming bloody murder. “I found her in a ditch when I was on my run, and it didn’t seem like her mother was anywhere nearby. I didn’t want to just leave her out there.”

“Oh my fucking god, Bucky!” You reached out and he handed her to you. You wrapped your hands around her loosely and cradled her against her chest. “We need a heating pad.”

“What?” He asked confused for a second.

“She’s barely a week old honey, she can’t regulate her own body temperature, go get my heating pad from the bathroom.”

“So, we’re keeping her?” He asked, a grin spreading over his face as he rushed into the bathroom.

“Of course we’re keeping her Barnes.” You scoffed at him. “FRIDAY, we need kitten milk replacer as soon as possible, and specialty feeding bottles for newborns. And get a vet here too.”

“On it, Y/N. There’s a house call veterinarian that can be here in one hour, and the rest of your supplies should arrive within 30 minutes.”

“Thanks FRIDAY.” You were making soft cooing noises at the baby as Bucky came back into the room with the heating pad, and he practically groaned at the smile you gave him.

“Happy Valentine’s day, doll.” He murmured as he kissed your hair and wrapped one arm around you, handing you the heating pad.

“Happy Valentine’s day, Buck.” You whispered back at him. “What should we name her?”

“What do you think of Alpine?”

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[amedetoiles]

its been a year and just reading about the jiang sibs being happy is enough to make me SOB. THEY DESEREVED BETTER

It has been over 12 months since I fell into this hellhole, and I am still crying over Yunmeng siblings. I have no idea why I made this poor life decision, but it seems I am forever stuck bearing the consequences. I am sure there was a time in my life where I did not in fact spent a part of my waking hours crying over fictional sibling relationships and the tragedy of love your sibling so, so much yet being unable to save them, but alas, I no longer remember such peace. I am, however, enormously pleased and grateful to have had you all as company during this apocalypse. <3

In celebration of our constant agony, here is another compiled list of Yunmeng siblings/bros & co fics that I’ve read since my last rec list for all the anons in my inbox who have been asking for another list. Some of these I’ve rec’d individually as I’ve come across them but now it’s in a nice list for easy saving / reading! :)

For reference, my other rec lists are here and here.

in our respective ways ; an aging wound by @veliseraptor ; more gems from lise who really needs no introduction because everything she writes is perfect. jc and lwj searching for wwx for those 3 months during. post canon wwx and jc both tenuously trying to navigate the route to reconciliation. 

display my heart for you to see by @souridealist ; jc-centric (chengqing / mature). an oldie but a goodie. this is mostly about jc and wq. post-canon if set in a world where jc secretly saves wq’s life. everything author writes is a goldmine of sheer mastery.

this blood in my mouth by @shanastoryteller ; sizhui-centric but the yunmeng bro content is glorious even if it’s a small part. i cannot articulate just how much i love this entire fic. sizhui is going through it, and i say he absolutely deserves to be angry for once.

lynchpin by @shanastoryteller ; canon-divergence. time traveling jc is one of my favorite tropes in the world. lots of meta opinions, but the yunmeng sibling content is amazing and everything i have ever indulgently wanted.

by any other name by @shanastoryteller ; canon-divergence au where wwx is gender-fluid and mxy performed the ritual too early leading to some problems. (keep the premise in mind esp if you’re not into that!) in any case, the yunmeng bros and jin ling relationship here is really good.

impossible be strange attempts by comfect ; very indulgent fix-it and i love it. jc crawls through the land of the dead to get his siblings back.

a grave so familiar by @the-first-refrain ; jc and wwx are both injured and stuck in a cave and are both just.. going through it. i wailed through the entire thing. the prose is amazing. jc hurts so good. he loves wwx so much. wwx loves him so much. trauma heavy references; tread softly with your heart.

the dock of the bay (wwx-centric) ; in the morning sun (sizhui-centric) ; still remain the same (jc-centric) by @lesyah ; post-canon character studies as basically everyone goes through it with some canon-typical demon kidnapping. not always the kindest take but love post-canon fics that allow characters to process and have unfair feelings about everything they’ve been put through. especially wwx who regardless of how good he is at moving and not holding grudges still deserves to be angry! the yunmeng bros reconciliation made my heart swell. there’s two other parts to this series that focus on lxc and lwj if you want to read.

just this once by sami ; jc is kidnapped and wwx comes to save him. i am SOFT. everything about this is too much.

utterly inevitable by sami ; post-canon. wwx decides to help by brazenly and unapologetically stomping all over xichen’s wounds and jc (finally) demands what is his. love that for them (i’m sorry xichen). this has xicheng in it and as a non-xicheng shipper, if i’m rec’ing it, you know it’s worth it.

five things that changed for jiang cheng after he regained his golden core (and one thing that never did) by @mikkeneko ; title says it all. it is so so good. i am still wailing on the floor over this one.

letters by @withbroombefore ; post-canon. realized while going through my previous rec lists that i’ve never added this to any of my lists. a mistake i must rectify because it’s so good! and sizhui getting to build a relationship with jiang cheng is just something that i need with my entire heart. there’s so much healing! everyone is moving forward and it is so amazing.

living ; lifeline by @withbroombefore ; canon-divergence. jyl and wwx live. rec’d these as soon as i read them and am definitely rec’ing them again because it is so so good. yunmeng siblings prioritizing each other. just 🥺

coda by @withbroombefore ; guanyin temple fix it. what we all deserved after watching these two dumbasses openly pine in the courtyard. there’s a sequel in the notes. also before i rec the author’s entire list of works, y’all should just go to their ao3 and read everything.

the trick is to keep breathing by @alessandriana ; assassination attempt on jc’s life in order to get to jin ling. literally everything i have ever wanted.

see me, feel me (listening to you) by ghost_honey ; wwx-centric. wwx gets cursed while on a night hunt and on brand doesn’t tell anyone about it because of his abysmal self esteem. juniors galore! plus jc telling him he’s a moron. wwx out here always seeing everything but the fact that everyone loves him.

happy reading! <3

[bonky-n-steeb]

𝐵𝑅𝐸𝐴𝑇𝐻𝐸

𝙿𝙰𝚁𝚃 𝚃𝚆𝙾

𝘿𝘼𝙍𝙆!𝘽𝙐𝘾𝙆𝙔 𝘽𝘼𝙍𝙉𝙀𝙎 𝙭 𝙍𝙀𝘼𝘿𝙀𝙍 | 𝙈𝙊𝘽!𝙎𝙏𝙀𝙑𝙀 𝙍𝙊𝙂𝙀𝙍𝙎 𝙓 𝙍𝙀𝘼𝘿𝙀𝙍

𝗦𝗨𝗠𝗠𝗔𝗥𝗬:  Your life is as good as it gets. The perfect husband, the perfect daughter, the perfect job. But what you are unaware is that your husband is a deadly assassin and your long-lost friend, now a fearsome mob boss is hell bent on getting you back. But what you don’t know can't hurt you, right?

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦:  psychological disorder, PTSD, domestic abuse, yandere, obsession, violence, cursing. If you find any of this triggering please DNI. Also inform me if I left something out.

ᴛʜɪs ɪs ɴᴏᴛ ʙᴇᴛᴀ ʀᴇᴀᴅ, sᴏ ᴀʟʟ ᴍɪsᴛᴀᴋᴇs ᴀʀᴇ ᴍʏ ᴏᴡɴ

My previous account was deleted so I’ll be posting the stories again. I’ll be changing this one, so yeah.

Inform me if y’all wanna be tagged!

You stared at the ticking clock, counting the seconds for his return, while Iris played with her stuffed tiger that her dada had bought for her. Her father was finally coming home after serving for a really long time in the military. Bucky was everything you had wanted and more. 

Though you both had a small and cute wedding when you were way too young, it still was one of the best days of your life. Since the day you had met him, he had been hell bent on joining the army as he somehow felt the need to protect people after what had happened to his father. So, after serving his first term, while you were still a second-year graduate student, he had proposed and you had accepted without wasting a second.  

Soon you had found yourself pregnant, during your pregnancy, he had been there for your every beck and call. You still remembered his face when Iris was born; it was filled with such adoration and love, you knew you wouldn’t have to worry about anything. Iris was literally the female version of her dad, her cute nose, her lips and most importantly her blue eyes; her eyes had played a small role in naming her.

Having a kid and completing your medical residency had been tough, but whenever Bucky was home, he took care of all the housework and kept Iris busy for as long as possible. Just one thing which you didn’t like was all this time he spent away from home and the immense risk that came along with being on active duty. But he wasn’t just your Bucky, was he, he was Sgt. Barnes, too.  

But now as you sat staring at the clock, you feared that when he returned, Bucky wouldn't be the same man he was. While on duty, there had been an explosion and he had lost his arm. Hearing his voice on the phone was enough to tell you that he was broken. You were waiting to take him in your arms and tell him that it would be fine.

Just then the bell rang and you quickly got up and unlocked the door. And there he was, his eyes without their usual luster, filled with unshed tears. As Iris ran towards him, he quickly scooped her up in his right arm. “dada! I missed you s’much” she said kissing his face. You wondered whether she didn’t notice or was simply ignoring his missing arm after you gave her a little ‘talk’ about it. “I missed you too Rissie! I love you my little princess!” he said smothering her with kisses. “I'm a Queen!” she exclaimed. “Alright your majesty. Now may I enter your palace and meet my wife?” Iris pretended to think and then exclaimed a yes.  

“Hey, don’t cry” he said as he dropped Iris down. You hadn't even noticed that you were crying. You quickly wrapped him in your arms and he held you tight, fearing that you might slip away. You both didn’t speak for a long time, you were too busy being buried in each other's neck, but then you felt the moisture collect on your shoulder. As you let go, you realized his dam had broken and he was crying too.  

“I love you Bucky bunny” you said playfully. Somehow long back, you had come up with this nickname while watching Looney Tunes; your magnificent brain had somehow morphed Bugs Bunny into Bucky bunny. He pretended to hate it saying it sounded like some porn stars name, and therefore you teased him even more. “I love you too.” he replied staring deep into your soul.

☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎

As you both retired to your bedroom after ensuring Iris was fast asleep, you simply laid in bed without talking. Your hands were quietly exploring the same planes of his body you had travelled a million times over. You hesitated to touch his arm at first, fearing whether he was comfortable with it or not. But as you slowly began to trace the scars, he let out a long breath.  

You wished he didn’t have to suffer this; you wished all went to the way it was previously; you wished that his eyes shone just as brightly as they did before. But that didn’t mean you loved him any less now. Though throughout the day he pretended to be just fine, you knew he wasn’t even close to being fine.  

“Are you going to leave me?” he finally broke the silence. You couldn’t help but give him a confused expression, why would he ask that? “You don’t have to pretend. Not with me. Just say and I'll go. I don’t want to be a burden to you... ” you shut him up by kissing him. “I am not leaving you Buck. I’m gonna stick with you like an octopus.” you said chuckling. “Buck, we’ll go through everything and anything if we are together. I just want you to be happy. We'll make it work; we will find a way. And trust me when I say I love you more than anything.”

You spent the entire night, tangled in each other, telling him how much you loved and cherished him.

☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎

You were tired and your back was aching after performing a long surgery. As you opened the door, you were greeted with the smell if your favorite dish being cooked in the house. As you walked straight to the kitchen you were stunned to see Bucky somehow managing to cook with Iris sitting on the kitchen counter. Though the kitchen was a mess, you weren't going to complaint, all you could see was the blinding happiness on his face.

“Look who is back! Guess what mama bear?” Bucky said joyously. You wondered what was the reason behind his joy. “Daddy is gonna get his arm back!” Rissie exclaimed happily. This wasn’t news to you though. You had talked to Bucky about getting a prosthetic arm and he hadn't been half this excited. Seeing your confusion Bucky responded “Well, I got a call this morning. They are not only giving me my job back but giving me a cool new arm. I'll be on duty again!”  

You weren't sure whether to be happy or sad. You were euphoric about Bucky’s job and arm but at the same time you were worried for his life. “That’s amazing Buck!” you hugged him tightly as Iris slipped between you two. Your eyes were filled with happy tears. He was happy and that’s all that mattered right now.

☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎

FOUR YEARS LATER

You finally had a holiday from your hectic schedule as a surgeon. Iris was off to school and after some pushing you had persuaded Bucky to go get groceries. You wondered what had happened to Bucky. Something had changed after he got that arm, rather everything had changed. He wasn’t lively anymore, he got irritated at small things, stared off absently into space not responding to anything, he constantly looked behind his back, nor did he laugh at any of your jokes, you missed his laughter and that's what hurt you the most.  

Not to mention the horrid dead blank stare he gave you some days, intently looking at your every move like a predator, that thing scared the shit out of you. In the past two years not once you and Bucky had accepted Thor’s dinner invitations. You didn’t have many friends, you just had one, Thor. He was with you since your residency and you both worked together as trauma surgeons. Bucky and Thor had become quick friends too and the three of you went on many double dates. But that was a thing of the past. Now, whenever Thor invited you, Bucky simply came up with a stupid reason to not go. Bucky had become so closed off; he wasn’t the thoughtful and jolly Bucky you fell in love with.

Now that you finally had the house to yourself, you had decided to go on a cleaning spree. Currently you were in your bathroom; busy cleaning with your mop, when you accidentally slipped on some spilt soap water and ended up falling right beside the bathtub, your mop flew up and hit the ceiling tiles, thus displacing them. Suddenly a small diary fell right on your head. Placing your right hand on the ledge of the bath tub, you waited for everything to settle down and cursed loudly. “Fuck you, you goddamning son of a bitch! Everything had to fall on my head! Pathetic!”.  

You saw that you mop as now dangling on the bath tub and that stupid diary which had apparently fallen from heaven knows where was laying right beside you. As you looked up, you noticed the displaced tiles and realized that’s where this must have fallen from. As you picked up the diary you noticed there wasn't any dust on it, so there wasn't a chance that the previous owners might have left something in the false ceiling above. And it definitely wasn’t you, Iris was too small to keep something there; that only left Bucky. But why did he never mention this diary before. What exactly was he hiding?

As you opened the diary, you realized that you couldn’t understand a single word written. It felt as it was written in some highly complex code language. You were sure it wasn’t any language spoken everyday by sane humans. As you flipped through the pages you realized that every page was written in the same format. At the top was presumably some names written in the code and the rest was probably the information of that person.  

You wondered how did Bucky know this language? And why didn’t he ever tell you about anything, heck, he didn’t even mention it. And whose names had he written like it was the most confidential file? You got up and quickly closed the lid on the toilet and climbed up on it. You stuck your hand inside the hollow ceiling above to check if he was hiding something more.  

Your hand caught something and you pulled it out, only to realize it was a laptop. You wondered why he needed a second laptop when he already had one for work purposes in the home office. You took the laptop and the diary and sat down in the bathroom itself, so that if you when you would hear Bucky come you would simply put everything back up in the ceiling. You opened the laptop and saw it was password protected. You decided you would have two tries at unlocking the laptop and if you didn’t crack it, you would simply confront him.  

You first tried out typing Iris's name and her date of birth. But it was denied access. You thought for a minute more and entered your own name and your birthdate. And access was granted to you. You didn’t know whether to be happy that he had kept your name as his password or angry that he had been lying to you about whatever this was. As the laptop opened, you saw various files in it. You tapped on one and it seemed to open on a person’s resume. No, it wasn’t a resume, it was that person’s entire life history. It was like those files the assassins carried in movies with all the information about their target. You wondered what Jason Bourne shit this was.

As you read his name and saw the photos attached with it, you felt as if you had seen this person before. As you scrolled further, it finally clicked. A year before this person, who held a high position in the United Nations, was all over the news due to his untimely death caused by a heart attack. You had absolutely no interest in worldly matters, you already had a million problems on your head so you hadn't paid much attention and had not given a flying fuck. But now suddenly sweat was covering your forehead. You were worried sick as to why Bucky had all this information stored in a secret computer.

As you scrolled further, you almost reached the end of the file and that’s when you saw the video. With shaky hands you opened it. It seemed to be the security footage of that man’s bedroom and its resolution was pretty shitty. For the first few minutes all you saw was the man sleeping peacefully but as the video continued, you noticed it. The window in his room was slowly lifted as a man entered. He seemed to be dressed in tactical gear, his face was covered by a mask, but he was given away by one tell-tale sign. His arm. The metal arm with a red star on it glinted in the moonlight and you knew it was Bucky.

You watched as Bucky quietly walked towards the sleeping man. As he stood near the bed, he produced something from his pocket and bent down. As you strained your eyes, you saw that it was an injection. Your eyes widened as you clapped your hand around your mouth. That man hadn't died due to a heart attack, at least not natural. He was murdered by Bucky!

You opened another file, then another, they all were the same. In the beginning it was the information about the person, then a report as to how they died and then a video. All of them were well known figures; and all of them had been assassinated by Bucky. In one of the videos, you saw him choking the life out of a man with his metal arm and your mind wandered to the many times you would playfully tell him to choke you with the metal arm while fucking you; your hand unconsciously went to your throat at the thought.  

Then you opened a file titled: The Winter Soldier. That was weird you thought, the other files were given numbers but not names. As you opened the file, you realized it was Bucky’s own. Apparently, his codename was The Winter Soldier. Everything about him was stated in that file systematically. His background, his education, his military career and the worst of all, there were your and Iris’s photos too. As you continued to read, you realized he wasn’t working in the military anymore. Four years before, the people who had called him were from an organization named Hydra. The name and symbol itself sent chills down your spine. God, was Bucky so stupid, the octopus symbol itself screamed that Hydra was up to no good.

In the beginning, you couldn’t believe Bucky had gotten such a fancy and technological advanced arm. Looking at it you wondered how much it cost, the material and the functions would make it no less than a few million dollars. Now why would the government spend so much money on a sergeant, not that Bucky didn’t deserve it but you were curious.  

It felt as if he was hiding something from you. But you didn’t as ask as you knew he’d come around and tell you soon anyway. He needed time and you had plenty to give. But he never did. You had asked so many times whether the star was a tattoo of some sort and he had always deflected your questions. But now after reading this, you knew what all this was for. The arm, the pay raise, the irregular schedule, it was all Hydra. And Bucky was a professional assassin, and that too a deadly one.

Your eyes watered and bile rose to your throat as you saw a list, it was all the people he had killed, and the list was pretty big. You quickly placed the laptop besides you and began to puke your guts out in the toilet. In all the panic you failed to notice that a person was holding back your hair and soothingly rubbing your back.  

[shurisneakers]

shut in [epilogue]

Summary: When your high profile mission goes terribly wrong, you’re forced to hide in a safehouse with a man you’ve never met before. With seemingly nowhere else to go, you’re forced to work together to figure out who is trying to have you assassinated before it’s too late. (Sam Wilson x Reader, Hitman AU)

Warnings: anxiety, ptsd, swearing

Word count: 4k

A/N: annnnd we’re done :)) thank you to my resident bully @midnightsunfae for really getting this fic off the ground and helping with the planning. ily upo and thank you to everyone who’s read this series over the 5 months it’s been going on. it’s meant the absolute world to me :’)

Previous Part || Shut In Masterlist

Your fingers tapped rhythmically against the table, an indicator of the nervousness that was building to a crescendo in your chest.

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” he asked, hand placed gently on your forearm.

You nodded, eyes downcast. If you looked at him, you wouldn’t be able to find it in yourself to follow through with it.

“I am,” you said quietly, swallowing to get rid of the lump in your throat.

“Okay,” he confirmed, letting his arm drop gently.

Ten minutes to go. You took a sip of water nervously. The glass had already found itself shifting back and forth on the table in search of the perfect place. It was a fruitless quest anyway.

The door was painted a dark green, steps leading up to it from the pavement.

“Are you sure he won’t mind?” you asked quietly, standing a stair below him in apprehension. Neither of you had contacted him or sent a message, just showed up at his place exhausted and covered in a thin layer of dirt.

“I know he won’t.” Sam raised his fist to knock thrice, a pause before knocking two more times.

A code.

He turned around slightly, checking to see if you were fine. The longer you stood out there, the more afraid you were of someone spotting the both of you, putting an end to your life before it even began. You had a feeling that paranoia would continue for a long time.

The door swung open, revealing a tall man with blonde hair leaning against the doorway with one arm. There was a nick above his eyebrow, an old scar that hadn’t faded over time. Even though his other hand was concealed behind the door, you could tell that he was holding something by the way his muscles were clenched. Years of training wouldn’t disappear overnight.

"Sam." Surprise overtook his face in a second. "You're alive."

"Don't sound so happy, I can't handle it." Sam rolled his eyes, an affectionate smile on his face. "This is Y/N, we need a place to stay."

“It’s just been a while since I heard from you, man. Coming from a hit?” Riley didn’t think twice about moving aside, scrutinising dried blood on your person as you walk past. “Nice to meet you, I’m Riley.”

It was a cane in his hand. Sam’s mention of his limp flashed in your mind.

You gave him a small wave and a quiet re-introduction of yourself, following Sam into the house.

“You could say that.” Sam paused, a hand on Riley’s shoulder as he says something out of your ear shot to him.

Riley’s face turned stoic immediately, a nod of his head and a deep exhale soon following. “Stay as long as you need.”

“Thank you.” You pressed your lips together in a straight line with a corner quirked upwards, a half smile of sorts.

“Bathroom’s down the hall, to the right.” He pointed out the direction. “I’m getting you some food. Gumbo still your thing, Wilson?”

“Anything other than peanut butter.”

Riley was a blessing you could have never prepared for; knowing exactly what you both would need and anticipating emotions you had no idea you’d be feeling. For someone who had guests show up completely uninvited to crash on his couch, he was ready as ever, given that he had been through the same thing a while ago.

It was difficult. Fuck that, it was one of the hardest things to go; not pretending like everything around you would fall into soon and that you would be fine because you had to. You had worked too damn hard for you not to be.

But you knew things weren’t going to be fine right off the bat and it would be foolish to think it was.

“Sam, look at me,” you commanded gently, but there was an edge of firmness to your tone. You were sitting on the bench near the entrance of the park.

“I’m sorry, things were going good and I thought-” He shook his face that was hiding in his palm, elbows resting on his knees.

His attacks didn’t come nearly as frequently as yours. It was easy to think that he had no trauma just because he learnt how to deal with it better.

“Look at me, Sammy.” It was just a walk in the park, a stroll that should have lasted twenty minutes tops. You had been on that trail before for the same purpose but something triggered him today, someone’s gaze who lingered too long on the both of you.

He clenched his fists, lifting his head to meet your gaze.

“Breathe with me.” You exaggerated the movements to have him follow, a system the both of you had come up with when anxiety attacks used to hit at random. A temporary solution to an aftermath that would go on for hours, days even.

It took him a few staggered breaths to get there, finally falling into routine with you. He could feel his heartbeat slow to what it was but the pit in his stomach wouldn’t subside for a while.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

“You have nothing to apologise for,” you reassured, still making sure he was breathing with you. You were nervous too and your eyes were still darting about to survey your surroundings, but he needed you at that moment. “We’re safe. We’re okay.”

“No one’s here,” he mumbles, interlacing your fingers and bringing it to his forehead to lean against your hand.

“We’re okay,” you repeated, giving him the space he needed. “We’re okay.”

“Will someone be joining you?” The waiter prodded softly. If it wasn’t your incessant tapping at the table, the clammy palms and constant checking of your watch was a clear giveaway that you could use a bit of kindness that day.

“Yeah, any minute now.” You smiled at her. She simply nodded, refilling your glass of water before leaving you alone.

You looked at your watch and sighed.

Seven minutes.

Things were fine. Things were good.

Sam and you were… undefined. Labels almost seemed too constrictive for now and it wasn’t like the both of you didn’t know what the other felt. It was kind. It was soft. Sometimes you kissed his cheek when the sunlight bounced off his face while he watered the succulents and the smile he gave you was addictive. Other times he snaked an arm around your waist and leaned his head on your shoulder while you watched the street from the kitchen window.

It made you happy, and so you tried to force away the stem of doubt that creeped into your heart.

Riley had introduced the concept of movie nights and the occasional mob movie would make it in there just to poke fun at. He showed you around the city, inviting you to go grocery shopping with him at the farmers market, the best places to get a glimpse of the music scene or to subtly point out potential date night spots.

He was a genuinely nice guy, and if you thought Sam was fun to hang out with, you were not prepared for the both of them together. You could tell why Sam adored him.

“Y/N, I don’t know how you stayed with him for all that time and didn’t murder him in his sleep.” Riley glared at Sam who had once again left his collection of music CDs strewn around on a couch. It was all in jest; it was well known that Sam found an anchor in music that kept him up late at night for a sense of calm.

“It was a close call sometimes,” you added playfully, giving Sam a grin.

“You weren’t exactly easy to survive with either.” He scoffed. “How many times did we watch Megamind in a row? Eight?”

“You wouldn’t stop watching Die Hard,” you accused, arms crossed over your chest. “It was payback.”

“You made the rule saying we couldn’t watch things more than twice in a row and you broke it first.”

“I’m gonna go,” Riley interjected. “But y’all keep at this. I heard it’s good for your soul.”

“Stay there,” Sam demanded, pointing to where he was standing a second ago. “You’re gonna be play judge since you started this shit.”

“I really don’t want to.” He shook his head, staying put nonetheless, amusement clear as day on his face.

“The laundry.”

“The dishes.”

You both narrowed your eyes at each other. His argument didn’t hold a match to yours.

“You know what, I was wrong,” Riley announced to no one in particular. “I’m pretty sure you guys would kill each other under any other circumstance.”

The smile on your face faltered but you straightened it back out with a clearing of your throat before firing a comeback.

It was barely a second, almost unnoticeable. But Sam caught it.

Four minutes.

Almost time.

The tapping became more intense, and the rate at which you pulled out your phone to check the time increased.

Fuck, this was a bad idea. How were you supposed to behave with him after all this time?

Something was wrong. Something was off.

Sam wasn’t blind to it. He could see it under the smile you eased into at game night, the complaining when too much food was ordered for three people to eat, the good natured teasing when he rolled over to your side of the bed at night to steal your blanket.

Something was eating at you, gnawing at you from the inside.

His suspicion was confirmed when you whispered at 2am one night to what you thought was an asleep partner that you wanted to move out. Find a place of your own.

His stomach dropped instantly but he didn’t so much as move a muscle.

“I need to get out. I need to have a life,” you sniffed, doing your best not to wake him up as you traced circles into his skin lightly. “I don’t know what it’s like to be independent. I won’t know unless I figure it out myself.”

The air had a chill to it and it was one of the times you had asked him to sleep in the guest bedroom with you instead of on his own, knowing that it was one of those nights where you could use a little extra warmth.

“Even when we were in there I couldn’t stop thinking about whether this thing between us was just because we were forced to stay together. You said it wasn’t, and I know that but I can’t help but think-” Your voice cracked. “Would you come back to me if things were different?”

He didn’t answer, even though he knew what he wanted to say with all the certainty in the world. Your fingers continued to draw on his skin. He continued to let you.

Sam didn’t even bring up the conversation that morning, or that week. Instead, he held you a bit closer whenever he could and gave you the space to hopefully open up to him on your own time, letting you know that he’d be there to listen.

It took a while. You both were in the middle of watching a movie that wasn’t Die Hard when you told him that you needed to talk to him about something. The hesitancy in your voice and the fixation your fingers had with the hem of your sweater was painful to witness.

He understood, of course. He always did. That you needed to experience what it was like to live, not survive. That decades of living with other kids, living under an abuser, living in a safehouse for months, was restrictive and suffocating and you needed to find what made you happy.

And so did he. It was something both of you had to do eventually, exit the bubble you had been staying in under such ardent protection for those two months.

Riley was wonderfully supportive of it, vowing to find you the best apartment that New Orleans had to offer. You didn’t doubt it.

His place had been colourful and bright and everything you could have asked for after the monotone walls you were used to. But it wasn’t yours.

A few weeks later you had moved out. Sam left a lingering kiss on your forehead, a sign to say that he’d be here whenever, whatever.

You made a Shakira joke. He laughed.

A completely fresh new start. If you failed now, it was all on you.

And what a terrifying thought that was.

It had been four months since you had left Riley’s apartment behind.

Four months since you had seen either of them.

The cafe was starting to feel too small for this event. Too intimate, too-

When the bell above the cafe chimes, something at the back of your mind instantly wakes up, sending you on high alert.

“Y/N?” he called out from behind you.

You knew he’d be early.

“Sam.” You breathed out, standing up to face him.

Video calls didn’t do him any justice. He had a particular glow to him, an aura of confidence that wasn’t there the last time you saw him. His beard was neatly trimmed and the smile that tugged at his lips the minute you caught his eye was beautiful.

You didn’t realise how different he looked until the time apart. Months of makeshift workouts and peanut butter as your only source of protein had done a number on him. You remembered him being leaner, and what you now realised was the constant burden of fatigue on his face.

“You look good.” An understatement escaped you, but he did.

He had a deep blue shirt on that hugged him in all the right places. Months of seeing him only black and grey had you damn near drooling when he wore other colours after you got out.

Not that you were staring, but his biceps had definitely made a wonderful return.

“You’re not so bad yourself.” Sam sent you a smile that instantly put you at ease. “Independence looks good on you, sweetheart.”

You gave a small laugh, gesturing for him to take a seat. Should you have hugged him? Shook his hand? Kissed hi-

“It’s been a while,” he politely interrupted your overthinking. “How are things going?”

You let out a small breath. It was a big question, one that you had answered over text and call a few times but it was different now. He was in front of you now and you couldn’t bullshit the way you used to on call occasionally.

“Weird,” you admitted. “I don’t know what to do with myself now that I have all this time.”

“It takes some gettin’ used to.” He nodded in agreement, leaning back in his chair.

A lot of your time went into trying new hobbies. Knitting, pottery, drawing- anything that you could get your hands on. Things didn’t always catch on, some discarded just after the first week. Others stuck, bringing you bits of triumph every time you moved forward with your newfound skill.

“You still seein’ your therapist?” He flashed a smile at the waitress who filled his glass of water.

Ah, yes. Dr. Bishop had been one of the first people you sought out.

“Yeah.” You took a sip of water. “See her weekly.”

You still had money left over from all the hit jobs that you had done. As much as you wanted to leave every inkling of that life behind, you needed the cash to live. You had enough for the time being, but you knew that eventually you had to start working; if not for the money then for the peace of mind.

“How’s that goin’?”

“She thinks I talk in elaborate metaphors. The gang’s what I call my toxic family, he was my abusive father, stuff like that.”

There were moments where you thought you saw someone you knew standing at a corner, vendors giving you icy looks from across the street, footsteps outside your door that seemed too damn loud. But nothing ever came of it.

“Thanks for the tip, by the way.” You extended a smile to him in appreciation for the idea.

“Worked with my therapist, figured it would be the same with yours.” He shrugged casually. It wasn’t like you wanted to lie to her, and you weren’t. But some things were better left in the dark.

“But I think it’s helping.” You exhaled deeply, eyes downcast. “The nightmares are reducing.”

“That’s a lot of progress.” The corner of his mouth quirked upward in pride.

Several feelings erupted from that look, some that you’d spend the whole day revelling in if you didn’t force yourself to move on.

“How about you?” you diverted the subject back to him. “How’s Riley?”

“He says he misses ya.” Sam laughed. “Says he can’t handle me alone, that he needs you back to save him.”

“What have you been doing to that poor man?” you teased, easing back into your seat. “He was fine when I left him.”

“He’s got a fancy new job now and it’s been going to his head. Needed a little humbling.”

“You’re not going too hard on him, are you?” Even though you knew he wasn’t, it was fun to make sure.

“Nah, I’d say it’s just about the right amount.” Sam grinned and you felt the familiar flutter return to your stomach. “I’ve been doing good. Working on getting my license.”

“Oh yeah, how’s that going?” You were thrilled when he said he was going to look into becoming a youth counselor, knowing that it was something he had been genuinely wanting to do for ages.

“With my background, or lack of it, it’s a little trickier than I thought it would be,” he divulges a bit more seriously. “Riley’s been pulling a few strings and I got a few contacts but it’s gonna take some more time.”

You bit your lip, worry rising for him. He deserved it, he earned it. It fucking sucked that it wasn’t going to be an easy, direct path.

“We’ll figure it out,” you said quietly, reaching out to intertwine your fingers with his in reassurance.

The contact brings with it a small spark. You wondered if he still felt it.

“Yeah. We will.” He sent you a soft smile at your action, not making any effort to move it. “You been on any dates lately?”

You let out a snort at that. “Loads. Have fellas lining up at every corner for me.”

“I bet.” He’s more bold, a bit more open than he was in the first month when you both got out. “How many of them do I have to fight off?”

“I’d say six as a rough estimate.” Your expression mimicked one of consideration. “I hope you’ve been getting your hours in at the gym.”

“I’ll kick it up a notch,” he promised, hands raised in surrender.

“You better. We’re supposed to go for laser-tag.” A dumb callback to a joke he made on one of your last days there.

“Or paintball.” He remembered. It made you unnecessarily giddy. “I added an escape room to the list too.”

“Hilarious,” you fired at him, rolling your eyes slightly but the happiness on your face proved otherwise.

His laughter died down eventually, paving the way for the comfortable silence that lingered between you both. Your eyes fell down to where your hand still held his, biting your lip to conceal a smile.

“Y/N,” he called out, pulling your gaze back to his. “Jokes aside… how are you?”

You let out a breath at his question. You knew it was coming.

“Riley found me an apartment,” you murmured.

Sam looked up from his phone. “Yeah?”

“It’s a nice place. Lots of sunlight. Quiet too.” You toyed with your fingers. “But it’s about an hour away. More if you consider traffic.”

Sam set his phone down gently on the bedside table, indicating that you had his full attention.

“I don’t want you to think I’m abandoning you, because I’m not. I wouldn’t, I just-”

“Hey,” he interrupted calmly, twisting his body to face you. “I don’t think you’re abandoning me. If this is what you need, then you should do it.”

“I don’t know if this is what I need. I don’t know what I’m doing, I’ve never been-” the frustration in your voice only increased as you went on. “-I don’t even know if this is going to work. What if I hate it?”

“Finding out what you hate is just as important as what you like, I think.” He watched you toy with the fidget square he had gotten you. “And you know that if you don’t feel like it, then you can come back here at any moment.”

“I know.” It was a comforting thought. A safety net.

“But would this make you happy?” That caught you by surprise.

It wasn’t something you had thought of. You thought of the negative consequences, the devastating effects it could have on you, how it could be the worst possible decision you’d ever make.

“I don’t know,” you mumbled, a new anxiety setting in. “I guess we’ll see.”

You liked the neighbours who played the piano way too loud at 2am, the really terrible coffee at the therapist’s office and the feeling the paper plane on your dresser gave you when you occasionally looked at it.

You didn’t like how hot the apartment could get, especially during the afternoon, or the guy who sold magazines down the street who cursed at everyone for no reason, or the gentrified Indian food they served at the mall.

But Sam was right. Figuring out what you didn’t like was just as beautiful a journey as figuring out what you did.

“I’m happy.” You breathed out. “Or I'm working towards being happy. But it’s there.”

He doesn’t say anything to that. Simply slipped his palm under yours to lift your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

“I’m proud of you.”

If anyone could feel the heat that rose to your face they would probably think you had a fever.

The fear that you had, the one of what things would be like if you weren’t forced to survive in a confined space together, had begun to fade the minute he called out your name that day.

It was Sam. Your Sam.

You shake yourself out of your train of thought with a small smile, making a move to gather up your belongings without letting go of his hand for a second.

“Well, c’mon then. Those paintballs aren’t going to shoot themselves.”

“Are you saying this is a date?” There was a smirk on his face that wasn’t there a minute ago.

“Would you still consider it one once I annihilate you?” You tilted your head in a challenge.

“That would never happen, first of all.” He scoffed. “Second… I was thinking that maybe we could do something normal for a change.”

That had you more interested than the prospect of adventure sports. You had enough of it for a lifetime, frankly speaking.

“Lead the way, Cinnamon.” He only rolled his eyes at the nickname, sending you a vaguely threatening look. You just laughed.

“This place got good coffee?” He looked around at the establishment and its patrons.

“One of the best.”

“Then I don’t see why we have to go anywhere else,” he offered and you nodded, relaxing back into your place with the same sense of warmth in your heart that only intensified with his proposal.

He raised his hand up to flag the server, the same girl who had been helping you out since you got there, asking for two menus.

The smile he sent her was infectious. It was good.

“Sam,” you began quietly. “I missed you.”

His eyes softened, the sunlight reflecting in it making it shine like dravite. “I missed you, too.”

“Ready to order?” The waitress stands beside you with a notepad.

He looked at you and you nodded with a smile.

Things were different. You were different.

And he still came back to you.

--fin--

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <3

thank you so much for reading!

[probablyintensemuses]

Sunflower

Summary: If he’s being honest Bucky’s liked you for a while, you joyful spirit was so intoxicating even in the most damning times. So dancing with him in the kitchen certainly doesn’t help him contain his crush.

Bucky Barnes x fem!reader.

Warnings: Total Fluff! Bucky!crushing

Based off ‘Sunflower’ by Harry Styles!

Italics are flashbacks

It had been yet another unsuccessful day of getting any new leads on the flag smashers, and after that stunt John Walker pulled with Karli—you, Bucky, and Sam weren’t sure you’d ever get another opportunity to get that close.

“If Walker would have fell back I could have talked to her more—coerced her into falling back with her mission.” Sam grumbled, throwing himself onto the sofa alongside Bucky as he nursed a beer.

You shook your head slowly as you walked toward the refrigerator, you weren’t in the mood for a drink. Although after the ass kicking you took you should be in an mood to get wasted—you just weren’t, in fact you wanted to dance of the stress.

“Something isn’t right with Walker,” Bucky began.

Sam snickered, taking another swig of his beer. “You don’t say.”

“He’s a little crazy, but nothing we haven’t faced before in the past.” You said shrugging your shoulders.

“Y/n’s got a point.” Sam said, pointing at you with the tip of his beer.

“Whatever,” Bucky grumbled, as he slipped out of his leather jacket revealing his sleek vibranium arm.

That arm always fascinated you, the intricacies of it all— and you couldn’t help but stare.

You watched carefully as Bucky slipped by you, grabbing the dark liquor that sat on the high shelf above the counter you found yourself propped on. Bucky was truly something else and you’d be lying if you say you didn’t think he was handsome—because James Barnes was very handsome; and the darkness to him only added to that appeal. Your cheeks warmed as you watched him lift the glass and take a sip of the brown liquor, shaking his head a bit from the slight burn of it going down.

Biting your lip you shook off those thoughts. Jumping off of the counter and fixing your outfit you watched Bucky walk towards the couch and sit next to Sam, for two people who couldn’t stand each other they certainly had no problem getting so close.

“I want to dance.” You blurted suddenly, as you watched the two men with their heads thrown back against the couch.

“Well dance.” Sam said, his eyes still closed tightly paying you no mind.

“I can’t dance alone.” You mutter, while shuffling through your playlist until you landed on ‘Sunflower’ by Harry Styles.

“I haven’t danced since the 1940’s, so I’m off the table.” Bucky shrugged.

Sam rolled his eyes, taking a stern look at Bucky beside him, he knew the whole tough guy approach when it came to you was a facade . He watched how on recent missions Bucky he’d melt in your touch, or sway his opinion on the plan to coincide to what you believed should be the course of action. Or the one time he had gotten hurt and you healed him, not without having to touch his chest, Sam could have swore Bucky would explode with how red his face had become. Sam also knew you were still getting a handle on your powers and always approached fight with a gentle approach, and fighting the flag smashers with their brute force was challenging for you. He remembers watching you get kicked back pretty hard and taking a nasty hit and Bucky swooping in and punching them hard—harder than Sam thinks he’s ever seen.

So yeah, Sam knew Bucky had a crush on you. And he knew you felt the same way, as you only told him a million times.

...

“Do you think Bucky is available.”

Sam scoffed, pulling out red wing, as he was shattered to pieces. “I think an 106 year old reformed assassin is always available.”

“You think, I mean not—not that I care, I’m asking for a friend.” You lied.

“Mhm,’ Sam hummed. “And what’s this friends name?”

“Um,’ you said, tapping your index finger slightly on your chin. “Come to think of it—I can’t remember.”

“Is this friends name, Y/n?”

“Pff, why would I like a overwhelming handsome mysterious guy I work with?” You said sarcastically.

“Sound like your type,” Sam laughed, as he played with red wing. “Ask him out already, I’m sure he’ll say yes.”

“No, I can’t!’ You whispered. “Stop talking he’s coming.”

“He’ll say yes, trust me.” Sam whispered back.

“What did I miss?” Bucky said, drying his dark hair off with a towel.

“Nothing!” You holler, louder than even you expected.

...

“You should go dance with her.” Sam said, nudging Bucky with his elbow.

“And why would I do that.” Bucky frowned, watching you do some weird dance with your hands and neck.

“Because you like her.” Sam said bluntly.

“I do not like her!” Bucky whisper shouted.

Sam chuckled. “Please I haven’t seen you punch something that hard since our bridge moment.”

Bucky drew his eyebrows together completely focused on Sam, with you still bouncing around in the background. “What does that mean?”

“Y/n hurt, our mission, you practically breaking that flag-smashers jaw.’ Sam explained. “Oh Y/n, are you okay.” Sam teased, cupping his hands together at the side of his face while batting his eyelashes obnoxiously.

“Shut up man—she’s our partner and she was hurt.” Bucky said sternly.

“The girl can bend blood on a full moon, I’m sure she was fine. If I’m being honest she probably did it to get your reaction.” Sam smirked, taking a swig of his beer.

“Whatever.” Bucky groaned, getting up from the couch.

“Where you going lover boy?” Sam said loudly.

“To get a beer—and I’m not a lover boy!” He affirmed.

Bucky slipped into the kitchen, his eyes on the fridge but he couldn’t help but watch you dance in the kitchen like it was a dance floor. He admired how happy you could always be—and at first he thought it was attributed to your lack of loss or trauma but then he found out your entire tribe was burned down and you had nothing. But he figured your meditation skills helped , and that you could often speak with your loved ones through the spirit realm you often entered . He learned that one night when he walked in on you, completely glowing blue and holding hands with an unknown woman who was also entirely light up blue.

Bucky reached into the fridge grabbing the beer he wanted before shutting it and you were right there bouncing up and down. Bucky snickered a bit before turning to walk away.

“James.” You whined from behind him.

He stopped in his tracks, he didn’t mind when you called him Bucky but he especially liked when you called him James.

“Yes Y/n.” He said, popping open his beer easily.

“Dance with me?” She asked, holding out a hand for him.

“No.” Bucky said.

“Please, just one song. You know you want to.” You smiled, shrugging your shoulders to the beat.

“No.” He said again.

Not thinking, you grab his hand and drag him with you jumping to the beat as Bucky stood completely frozen. He hadn’t pulled away, he loved your touch it was the softest he had felt since his mother.

You hummed the lyrics of the song bouncing up and down and kicking around. You had no rhythm but look absolutely adorable at what you were doing.

“Not going to dance—okay, I’ll do it for you.” You said out of breath.

Slowly you push and pull Bucky’s body toward yours, interlocking your fingers as you did so. The more you did this the looser the smile on his lips got. And eventually Bucky swayed to the beat with you, it was a small dance but it was still noticeable to you and Sam at least. The two of you danced until the end of the song as promised, and eventually Bucky had a very big grin on his face—he did quite enjoy Harry Styles, and dancing with you of course. The first girl since 1943. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he enjoyed every bit of it.

“Well I guess I can’t hold you hostage, the one song is over.” You panted.

Bucky rubbed the back of his neck slowly, coughing a bit. “I wouldn’t mind another if that’s okay.” He said.

A wide smile appeared on your face, your eyes crinkling in the corner. “I would love that James.”

“Can it be Watermelon Sugar?” He asked.

“It can be whatever you want.” You laugh, gripping his hands once more.

“Watermelon Sugar it is.” He said with a smile.

A/N: Pleaseeeee can y’all imagine Bucky dancing in the kitchen to Harry Styles with the fattest smile. My heart 💞💞 I love Bucky and Wanda so lots of their fics coming soon.

Please reblog if you enjoyed!

[midnightsconspiracy]

Instincts

Instincts - @midnightsconspiracy

Summary: Jay’s past has caused him a lot of trauma in the form of PTSD, and an episode finally breaks your bubble of perfection

Warnings: PTSD Attack, Violence

Word Count: 1212

Requested: Yes!!

'Something where jay has a PTSD episode and scares the reader cause he had a nightmare or something and she leaves for the night but then comes back in the morning and she talks him into going to therapy maybe by revealing something that therapy had helped her with? Thank you!'

A/N: I didn’t know how to write a PTSD episode at all but I gave it my best shot, so I hope y’all like it! REQUESTS ARE STILL OPEN

Masterlist

The feeling of warmth took over your body, as you wrapped yourself further into the comfort of the blanket. Sleep was close, you could feel it, as it lulled you further into its trap. The comfort surrounded you, both from the feeling of your bed and the security from your boyfriend who laid next to you. Everything was just perfect at that moment, your own little bubble of perfection that came before you faded off into dreamland. But that was soon disturbed, as Jay shot up, bringing you back to reality as he pulled his arm away that had previously been underneath you. You'd witnessed one of his nightmares before, simply calming him down and returning to sleep. This was different though, there was a certain glazed over look in Jay's eye that you'd never seen before. So, as you called out his name to try and ground him, he turned to look at you, fury blazing from within, grabbing your neck and squeezing. Panic spread through every cell in your body, your survival instincts kicking in, just as much as his were. You clawed at his hands, begging him through your expression to let you go, nothing seeming to get through to him. Kicking your legs out, you managed to catch him in a weak spot, allowing his grip to falter for a second and you to escape. Running into the bathroom, you locked the door as quick as physically possible, sliding down the door to regain your composure.

The harsh impact of your kick had brought Jay back to the present, taking in his surrounding and what had just happened. His hands shook as anxiety ran throw his body, calming down from the life-threatening place he thought he was just in. As he calmed down, he surveyed the room, hoping to find you, his lifeline and saviour when it came to these things. He racked his memory to remember when he had last seen you, but only coming across flashbacks of his hands around your neck, your face draining of colour as he squeezed the life out of you. Hearing a faint sobbing from the bathroom, he knew what he'd seen wasn't just part of his nightmare but a reality. How could of he done that to you, the one person who helped him and he trusted most in this world? Guilt racked over him, he was a monster, so how could you two go on from this?

"Y/N?" He knocked on the door, wanting to make sure you were ok, despite what he had done.

"Y/N please i'm sorry, I don't know what happened." His voice portrayed it all, the guilt, the sorrow, the shame. But you couldn't comprehend that right now, only thinking about how the one you loved had tried to kill you, unconsciously or not. Bracing yourself for having to see him, you took a couple of deep breaths, unlocking the door and walking back into the bedroom. Keeping your head down, you collected your things, flinching when Jay reached out to stop you in the process. You knew he didn't intend to do it, it was just his trauma fighting back and that felt extremely bad, but you just couldn't look the man in the eye. So you packed only the essentials, walking past Jay's trembling body on the bed, leaving his apartment wearing only pyjamas, not having a destination in mind, only knowing you needed to get out of there.

The only person you had seemed to be able to get through to at that time of night was Adam, begging him over the phone to let you sleep on his couch for that night. When you arrived, he had tried to pry for answers of why you'd randomly turned up at his place, but you had brushed it off, telling him to save it for an acceptable time to be awake. After an extremely uncomfortable night on Ruzek's cheap couch, you had explained to said man on what had happened. He attempted to give advice to you, despite his rocky history with relationships, but you had taken it, not knowing what to do otherwise. And so after a burnt mug of coffee and a haste goodbye, you set off back to your boyfriend's apartment to confront the events of last night.

Pausing at the door, you were hesitant before putting in the key, nervous of what was about to happen. Pushing the door open, you were confronted by the sight of your boyfriend, sitting on the couch, head in his hands. He turned his head at the sudden disruption to his eerie silence, eyes softening at your frame coming into his view.

"Y/N" He broke the silence once again, scared that he had ruined everything that you had built up over the past two years.

"Jay," You said back, trying to show him you weren't angry now, just scared in the moment. Seeing his remorseful face broke your heart, knowing that none of this was his fault, he just needed help to deal with the traumas of his past. So you rushed forward, bringing him into your arms, showing him your love through just your actions.

"Im not upset with you baby, I was just scared yesterday," you reassured him, rubbing up and down his back in a comforting manner, trying to calm him down.

"I know Y/N, and im so sorry, I was reckless and this is all my fault." Crying out the words, he started shaking once again, tears flowing from his eyes, the shame he felt resurfacing again. Guiding him to sit back down, you let him sob in your lap, letting whatever pent up emotions he had out.

"No no no this is NOT your fault Jay, you did not voluntarily do that." Making him look you in the eye, you made sure he knew what you were saying was genuine, all the feeling you had experienced yesterday not mattering now.

"But Jay you have to promise me that you'll seek professional help because we can't have something like this happen again," you said trying to reach out through his sobbing.

"But Y/N I-i," he tried to protest

"No Jay listen to me. I know you haven't had it great with therapy in the past, but we'll do it right this time, get someone who specialises in this sort of thing and who you click with, ok?" You were so desperately trying to get through to him, knowing he had had a bad experience with his previous bout of therapy. But you knew it was effective, having resolved some of your own problems via that method. Although you were hesitant to reveal your past trauma, you kept it brief explaining what good it had done for you.

"Look I know you're sceptical but it does work, I know from personal experience. My therapist back in Atlanta helped me tackle my anxiety stemming from my trauma and I really think it could help you too Sweetheart."

"Ok," he answered, trusting you with his life.

And so as you kissed his forehead, whispering how much you loved him, you hoped something would finally change, not knowing if you could deal with another episode like that again.

----------

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[fairyoftbz]

a rewritten faith | l. juyeon

🪕 pairing: bartender! reader x cow-boy! juyeon 🪕 word count: 4k 🪕 genre: western! au, 1920s!au kinda?, angst to fluff 🪕 tw: mentions of violence, guns, fights, close death experience, deceased father, false accusations, swear words, the reader has some trauma 🪕 synopsis: you are the owner of the local saloon and something usual will happen, but it will take an unexpected turn. 🪕 a/n: i had this idea while watching a western film with my dad and i hope it's not gonna be too bad... 🪕 requested: no

╰☆☆☆☆╮

Your head turned to look at the entrance as the swing doors of the saloon burst open, two sergeants dragging another man inside, his face and body littered in bruises and cuts. He winced in pain as they shoved him against the counter not far from you, both giving him a hard slap at the back of the skull. With an attentive eye, you kept on polishing your whiskey glass with your used piece of cloth, watching everybody’s attention drawn towards the three men.

“You bloody bastard! Did you really think that you would get away with that? Raising your voice at Sir Landfield and seducing his daughter to use her for your own needs? Who did you think you were, the sheriff?” the entire pub erupted into a coarse laugh, some men hitting their pistol against the wooden tables to express their mockery. You, along with the waitresses, were the only ones to remain silent, your eyes darkening as you kept on drying your glasses. “I never touched Sir Landfield’s dau-” “Enough, bastard!” one of them yelled and punched him in the face, blood now oozing from the young man’s nose as his head swung to the side at the violence of the blow. He stumbled on the right, his wounded hand quickly grabbing the counter to prevent him from falling.

The church bells rang as it announced another hour of the day, the wind shifting some dirt and sand off the ground. Quickly glancing outside, you noticed a convoy drawn by horses walking down the main street, their whinnying getting louder as the man guiding them whipped their back and sides sharply.

“Gentlemen. What did your good-for-nothing do to our town? And what brings y’all in my father’s saloon?” you asked, the attention shifting from the culprit to you. You arched a brow as you slid the whisky glass you’ve just finished cleaning and another one across the counter, walking over the liquors to fill it for the men with their habitual orders.

“Ah,” one of them grunted. “This bastard thought he was the best in town and started arguing with Lord Landfield over some laws. He threatened him and even tried to get into his daughter’s panties!” one of them shouted as you poured alcohol into their glasses, noticing an arrogant smile plastered on his face. You didn’t like where this was going.

The culprit raised his eyes at you from his stool and observed you working, your orbs boring into his for a quick second before looking away to grab another bottle of liquor.

“Well, I’m pretty sure he had some good reasons to speak his mind to the mayor. Does he have a name?” you smirked as you placed a glass of herbal liquor in front of the soon-to-be-dead gentleman. He thanked you by a brief nod, and his face contorted into a grimace as he rose his glass to his lips, downing the drink in one go.

“He deserves to be hung by the balls, he’s from the Lees! Lee Juyeon! No one touches the mayor’s daughter like that except her husband!” the man on the left banged his fist onto the wooden counter, making everyone applaud and raise their glass at the idea.

Of course, you disagreed with their horrendous methods, but who were you to counter. Since you didn’t want to be the next in line, hung and burnt alive, you preferred to keep your mouth shut and observe.

“I never touched her!” exclaimed the-said Lee Juyeon but was quick to get shut up. “You don’t get to speak up, you piece of shit! If I said that you touched her, you did, end of the story!” Another man threw his fist right into the apparent lawbreaker’s nose, who immediately wiped his blood-spattered face on the side of his dirty shirt and spat on the floor.

You could tell that Juyeon was surprised by everyone’s agreement, trying his best to hide the fear in his eyes by clutching his jaw. One of the stablemen left the pub for a quick second before coming back, holding a long, white rope with a dirty smile on his face. Faces lit up in delight when he skilfully threw it in the air and swirled it around one of the massive wooden joists before tying a slipknot on the other end. The young man’s hand clutched around his glass, and he stared at you, noticing a hint of despair behind his two dark brown orbits.

You’ve seen many men and women in his state, but for once, you spotted something different. Sincerity, pain, and hopelessness could be observed in this man’s behaviour. He looked like he couldn’t hurt a fly, but you also knew that men were good at lying and being pitied when it was needed. However this time, for some reasons, you felt your heart pinch at the visible fear daunting the cowboy.

The men of law sat down at a table near the swinging doors and lit up their cigars thanks to the waitress’ matches, only to slap her butt as a thank-you. She giggled like a teen girl, which made you even more sickened by the situation than you already were, many people emptying the saloon in fear of witnessing death.

“Oi bastard, are you thinking of a way to shag the bartender before your sentence? She’s pretty cute, right?” one of the officers yelled as the delinquent’s eyes lingered on your working figure. You sent them a death glare, and they elbowed each other with a dirty grin, the idea of shooting them between the eyes titillated your mind for a quick second. “Try not to get us thrown out, she can be pretty rough, just like her father,” you heard them snicker, and you turned around to sigh and roll your eyes, trying not to get arrested either by ‘disrespecting’ them, even if it looked really tempting.

Abruptly, the oldest officer pushed a chair with his foot towards the young man, puffing some smoke out of his mouth, the action leaving a greyish trail lingering above their bald, dirty-minded heads. The stableman grabbed the man from the counter and forced him to get on the chair before shoving his head inside the slipknot and tightened it.

Exhaling sharply as it already happened too many times since your father passed away and bequeathed the saloon to you, you closed your eyes and looked away, mentally cursing the sheriff for choosing your tavern for doing such horrible acts of what they called ‘justice’.

“So, Lee, any last words before we shoot you in the head?” one of the officers insolently said as he expertly swirled his pistol in his hand, his other holding the cigar close to his mouth. From where you were, you could see the culprit gritting his teeth, trying to remain neutral.

“No, I don’t. Because I have done anything wrong, except expressing my honest opinion to the sheriff. And, as much as you want me to, I never laid a finger on his daughter,” the man spat confidently, only to have the two officers and some other men around the saloon unpleasantly shaking their heads.

“I can’t believe it. Even at the edge of death, he’s still willing to lie,” locking the cylinder before lowering the hammer of his revolver, the officer pointed his weapon towards the young man, who stayed as still as possible.

Everyone stared at the scene with intensity, some drinking their liquors or taking puffs of cigars like they were watching and enjoying some entertainment. The culprit was staring intensely at the officers, making them understand that he wasn’t scared of the gun nor facing death. You, on the other hand, were exhausted of those illegal actions and atrocious scenes that already happened when your father was still from this world. Luckily, he always made sure to give you to the tailor next door when such things happened, but it wasn’t really helpful since you became responsible for the aftermath at a very age.

They weren’t the ones that got rid of the dead bodies they shot inside your establishment, they weren’t the ones crazily rubbing the dirt and dried blood off the wooden counter or ventilating the building to get rid of the gory, metallic smell lingering around, nor were they the ones getting scared and sick of working in such sordid conditions. Some graphic execution scenes were still lingering in your mind even years later and shocking you to the point of getting sick and wobbly for a few days, getting flashbacks of the gun firing off. No matter how many people you saw dying in the saloon or while walking around town after witnessing some settling of scores, you would never get used to this sleazy, corrupted method of getting rid of people.

And this case was the last straw. You could not handle another bloody situation, where people would be cheering and happily exiting the saloon as if nothing happened, leaving you mortified and scarred for the nth time behind.

As the sergeant was about to pull the trigger, you were swift to get out your dad’s revolver from the small compartment under the counter and shoot the wooden beam in two precise bullets. The waitresses shrieked and the rest of the souls populating the saloon flinched, hands going to protect their head and ears. You shot the wood three other times to make some dust and pieces fall to confuse everyone, hiding some bullets in your corset before going around the counter and grab the man by the sleeve. Among all the panicked people trying to rush out of the saloon, you dragged the man out through the back door, letting one of the waitresses take the control of the saloon.

“Come on, we don’t have a lot of time!” you said out of breath, the muddy ground staining the pans of your dress with a dark brown colour. The man looked still shocked to have narrowly dodged death, catching his breath as your hands were fumbling with the knot keeping your horse close to the wall. Seizing the reins with a soft yet skilled hold, you were quick to slide your foot in the stirrup and swing your leg over the beast, extending your hand for the man to take it.

He messily placed his foot on the wooden fence and jumped behind you, his hand still in yours as the fence collapsed under his weight. You felt his jerky breaths fanning your neck as you commanded the horse to race off.

“Ya! Ya!” you angrily yelled, repeatedly squeezing your legs around the horse for it to go faster as you heard some gravelly voices lingering around the saloon. Your horse neighed and picked up the pace, its hooves hammering the dried ground of the main street as you bolted out of the town. “Lower your head, we need to go faster!” you yelled and the man obeyed, your heart pulsating in your temples as you heard some screams and people opening fire towards you, bullets going through a few wooden wains from the neighbouring houses.

“Sorry about the fence,” the man whispered and you shook your head, eyes still focused on the dusty road. “That’s the least of my worries right now. Hold onto me instead so we can lose them faster,” you spat and whipped the reins on the horse’s neck, the man’s large hands landing onto your waist. “What’s your name, by the way?” he yelled so his voice wouldn’t be covered by the horse’s noises, and you slightly turned your head to the side. “Y/N,” You simply answered, trying to ignore his hands on you as he was accused of inappropriately touching the mayor’s daughter and pushed your feet down the stirrups as you went up a hill.

The town was quick to disappear behind you as you hurried into the taiga, following the winding trail as fast as possible. The lawbreaker was still holding onto your waist, his hold strengthening as you didn’t seem to be ready to slow down anytime soon. The concentrated look on your face didn’t subside at all, sometimes looking back to make sure that you weren’t being followed.

Your heart skipped a beat as your horse jumped over the railway line, his hooves toughly landing on the floor as the way started going downhill again, the man behind you hitting his chin against your shoulder due to the force of the impact. He mumbled a quick apology, but you didn’t even hear it, the wind blowing in your ears preventing any sound to reach you.

You finally ordered the horse to slow down as you reached another dense forest, the air feeling chiller as the sun was struggling to get through the infinite branches of sharpened pine needles. You and Juyeon kept your head low, the latter pushing his hat further onto his head to protect his already severely injured face from the spiky needles. He let out a small hum of surprise when you reached a small cottage with a wide range of greenery surrounding it, not expecting someone to live here. The air was so pure and fresh that it almost hurt your lungs, with no sign of tobacco smoke or dust from the road to poison your inner organs.

Getting off the horse, you drew the gun out of your corset and removed the bullets, tossing the revolver on a lonely stump. The man recoiled at the sight of the weapon, but instantly relaxed as you went behind the cottage. He grunted in pain as he got off the horse, giving it a gentle tap and rub its muzzle. It snorted quickly and turned around, walking further into the greenery to relax from the intensive workout you went through.

When you came back, the cottage key in hand, your gaze fell on the man leaning against a trunk, dried blood and cuts still covering his face. His bottom lip was split open, and his cheekbones were bruised, eyes bloodied by the dust and the several hits he received from the men of law. You sighed as you stared at him, hand sliding in the key and unlock the door.

“Come in,” you said as you pushed the door open, walking across the room to draw the curtains out.

Juyeon slowly limped inside, eyes travelling around the small living room, falling straight on a chair after placing your dad’s revolver on the table, the wood creaking under the collision. He groaned in pain and closed his eyes tightly, his jaw twitching as he suffered in silence.

You gave him some privacy and walked to the kitchen, getting some wood planks and a bunch of herbs and weeds from one of the cabinets. Just like your dad had taught you, you lit up a fire in the chimney and hung a small cauldron to the chain. You stood back up, the room getting filled with a heavy silence, not really sure of how to act with a possible criminal in your secret home. He sighed and groaned in pain many times as you prepared a brew and some lukewarm water to freshen up.

His worried eyes met yours as you heavily placed a wooden basin with steaming water on the table next to him, your hands sinking a piece of cloth in the warm water and twisting it.

“Take off your shirt, I need to clean and check your wounds,” you monotonously said, and the man’s hands hovered above his top, hesitantly undoing the first few buttons while looking outside.

He gulped as he exposed his torso to you, your eyes widening in shock for a quick second at the state of it. He got beaten up severely, red, and purple areas already littering his entire thorax. The bruises looked excruciating and probably caused some inner injuries, hence his unnatural movements.

You quickly pulled his shirt away from his body and ditched it on the table, eyes now wandering around his arms. He was pretty muscular – you couldn't neglect the steel-craved abs embellishing his torso – but the cuts and wounds were critical enough to damage the view.

Starting by cleaning his wounds and body with the piece of cloth, Juyeon tried his best to remain still, but it got intolerable at some point. He started hissing and cursing – not at you, he was grateful that you were willing to put yourself in danger to save and take care of him – but more in pain, his eyes flooding with anger as he recalled the sergeants’ faces and their accusations.

“You know,” the man started through gritted teeth before groaning as the piece of cloth grazed against a sensitive laceration on his collarbone, “I didn’t touch the sheriff’s daughter. I'd never touch a woman like that despite what they want everyone to believe,” you quickly looked at him in the eyes and chuckled, your hand delicately grasping his wrist to lift his arm to clean the residues of the cut on the side of the torso.

“I think it’s impossible for you to do so,” your voice trailed as you focused on your task, the man questioningly looking at you. “How so?” “She’s on the other side of the world, probably a thousand miles away from us. Serena is a successful woman, she’s sacred to her father. You probably saw her mother strutting around town like she’s the next queen, which is something quite ridiculous but funny at the same time. Serena is the pride of the family because she got married to an Australian businessman and is now living like a good middle-class person, you know?” his eyes widened as you explained everything to him, his tongue clicking in frustration.

“Lies? I became the scapegoat of those assholes for lies?” you defeatedly sighed and shrugged as the man was furrowing his brows, getting upset. “Welcome to our town, I guess. It is how we, no they, make the peace reign there. We all know that nobody shouldn’t mess with the mayor, but I guess that you are not from here, so you miserably fell into his trap,” you offered him a compassionate smile and carried on with cleaning him, wiping your damp hands on your dress as you got back to the fireplace.

You came back with the cauldron, hands enveloped in the wet piece of cloth as you gently plunged it in the water, Juyeon flinching at the steam surfacing from the warm-cold impact. Your eyes focused on the plant-based mixture you had prepared to heal and sanitise his injuries, following your grandma’s textbook to the letter.

Juyeon groaned again at the warm solution being applied on his body, feeling his skin itch and burn as you kept rubbing the product in. He looked up as you focused on your task, now rubbing his arm while holding his limb with a certain grace. On your face, he could discern some sadness and exhaustion hidden in your features, his mind wandering to what possibly happened to you to be in this situation.

“And you?” he started with a more hesitant voice as if he was scared to frighten a deer, “what made you the bartender of this saloon?” your hand quickly stopped working but resumed almost instantly, but Juyeon noticed.

“Owner,” you corrected, and his eyes widened, an impressed look painted on his face, “I am the only survivor in my family, they all died from sickness or old age. I became the owner of the saloon as soon as my father passed away. He was in this horrible business, letting the authorities do their dirty work inside the bar, away from prying, curious eyes. Of course, since I am a woman and is only good at taking care of children and clean, they keep coming here no matter how many times I refused. I, fortunately, didn’t have to witness every single execution when I was young, but it still sends me into anxiety fits when it happens. I’ve seen a lot of people going through what you’ve just escaped from and it’s almost impossible to get rid of the flashbacks,” you briefly explained, feeling the tears well up in your throat at the mention of your deceased father and harrowing trauma, but you swallowed thickly and repressed your emotions, keeping a neutral face.

“S-Sorry, I didn’t mean it,” he mumbled, and you shook your head, wetting your hands in the basin to quickly get rid of any remaining substance. “It’s fine,” you emotionlessly said, hurrying back in the kitchen to get some time alone.

Juyeon didn’t mean to hurt you by stirring some hurtful memories, but of course, curiosity killed the cat. Thanks to you, he had escaped his humiliating death sentence, and all he did was unintentionally pressing the wrong buttons. Agonisingly, he gritted his teeth and closed his eyes as he got up, the room slightly spinning as he limped towards the kitchen to come to you. Your shoulders were heaving up and down as you attempted to muffle your cries and silence your emotions, not wanting to break down in a room with a man other than your father. It was one rule that you forced yourself to follow, not wanting to appear weak to anyone's eyes.

“I’m sorry, it wasn’t my intention to hurt you like that,” his cavernous voice resonated against the walls of the empty kitchen, making you wince and quickly wipe your face with trembling hands before turning around. “How could you know?” you said with puffy eyes, the sight squeezing Juyeon’s heart as you tried to give him what was supposed to be a reassuring smile. He slowly walked to you and took a gentle hold of your trembling wrists, his chocolate orbs boring into your own. The gaze that you had found quite intimidating a few minutes ago when he was angry against his attackers currently held something completely different. It wasn’t pity as you were used to when you brought up your past, but something more like compassion and tenderness.

“Y/N. I know I'm a complete stranger and a criminal in your eyes, but I wanna help you the way you did for me,” he started, and you stared at the ground, trying to get off his grip. “I don’t need help,” you mumbled, but he didn’t let you go, the grasp around your forearms tightening but still felt consoling.

“Yes, yes you do. Withdrawing yourself into silence won't solve anything, it will only give prominence to your sadness and scars and prevent you from moving on. You don't have anyone to talk to about it anymore, you keep everything to yourself and stay stuck in this state of distress. You helped me avoid death and run away, so let me assist you in breaking away from your past. At least allow me to try,” he whispered those words to you as if he was afraid someone else would hear.

Tears blurred your vision, something that didn't ordinarily happen when the discussion topic was your father. You always managed to hold back your tears, but for reasons that were still unknown to you, with Juyeon, it was like your brain allowed him to see your raw, true side for some reason, despite knowing him for less than an hour. Maybe it was the fact that he wasn’t from your town and wouldn’t be telling your secrets to anyone else to cause you harm or humiliation.

“One trauma at a time. You need to get some rest first,” you countered his argument by guiding him out of the kitchen, and Juyeon let out a chuckle, frustrated that you cared more about his well-being than yours. “Very well then, but promise me you'll let me help,” he asked as you walked him into the rocking seat where your grandfather used to take his nap when he was still in your life.

"We'll see," you whispered, helping him to sit down before giving him a small smile. He let go of one of your wrists and lifted your hand to his face, placing a kiss on the back of your hand while never breaking eye contact, the action of chivalry making your heart skip a beat.

"Thank you for everything you have done for me," He mumbled before kissing your hand again, his damaged lips curving into a smile as you let your hand linger in his, against his mouth.

[obxfics]

puppybowl sunday

summary: you spend the day cuddled up watching the puppy bowl

pairing: john b x reader x jj

word count: 1654

a/n: i got inspiration watching the puppy bowl so... here we are lol also when tf is season 2 coming i want more motivation to write and shit please anyways enjoy (also this could technically belong to the “you against the world” universe but also... idk where it would fit lmao so if you want to imagine it like that have at it)

Masterlist

john b groaned as something woke him up. he had been deep in sleep, something he appreciated considering how many late night grocery or food runs he had to do for the residents of figure eight, when he felt someone shift as they laughed. he blearily opened his eyes to see you, sitting up with your back against his headboard and one of his arms flung across your waist, frozen with your hand clapped over your mouth. obviously you hadn't been meaning to laugh that hard.

"what are you doin' up so early?" he rasped, his voice kinda scratchy from sleep.

you smiled down at him and ran a hand through his thick hair, giggling when your fingers got all tangled up in it. "hon, it's two in the afternoon."

he lifted his head real quick and pouted when he saw that jj wasn't included in the cuddle pile. "shit, did i miss jj going off to work?"

"mhm. don't worry, though, i got some food into him and made sure he was wearing his mask. also put the fear of god into him if he didn't wash his hands throughout the day."

john b breathed out a laugh as he imagined you yelling at jj to stay safe at work. almost a year into the pandemic, and jj and john b had spent the whole time quaranting in the chateau to the best of their ability. it had been months since they had seen kie or pope in person for longer than a few minutes, and usually that was only when john b pulled up to the wreck to pick up delivery orders or when jj and john b helped pope's dad with grocery deliveries. at the beginning of everything, you had been spending quarantine with your boys since school was all online and your parents' restaurant was closed. a month or so in, however, regulations had been lifted and the people of figure eight all but demanded for them to reopen, and so you went back home to help your parents with the restaurant and to keep jj and john b safe from anything you could have possibly brought back to them.

you had practically locked them in the chateau, leaving them threatening voicemails if they even thought about going out, but as two months turned into three turned into four turned into five, you realized that the boys needed their jobs as there seemed no end in sight to the pandemic. so jj returned to his job at the country club, and john b got a job busing tables at your family's restaurant. you moved back in to quarantine with them as school started, and you spent practically your whole savings on getting a backup generator and high speed wifi for the chateau so if anything happened, you all would be good. and, despite living through a worldwide panda express, you were quite happy.

beside you, john b shifted his head to rest on your lap so he could see what you were watching on your laptop that had you laughing so hard. a smile grew on his face when he saw the puppies running around on the "football field" and jumping all over the "ref." he looked up at you and felt his chest blossom with warmth at the way you smiled at the puppies and giggled when they flopped over.

"did you really wake me up watching the puppy bowl?"

"hush up," you laughed, "it's a tradition, and you know it. 'sides, you can't tell me you aren't enjoying this as much as i am. i've seen how you and jj get with dogs. y'all may love them more than you love me."

"aw, honey, that's not true," john b cooed. "you know how much we love you. obviously i love you more since i didn't go to work during the puppy bowl, but you know, that's to be expected."

you shook your head and lightly swatted at his stomach. you knew he wasn't being serious. john b loved jj just as much as he loved you, and the feeling was mutual from jj. the three of you had a good thing going, a relationship full of understanding and compassion, and it had taken y'all a long time to get there. you all had things to work through, like jj's daddy issues, john b's abandonment issues, and your trauma from your previous relationship with rafe cameron, but you had gotten through it together, and this quarantine had actually brought y’all closer together which had surprised everyone.

“jj’s gonna be sad that he missed it,” you sighed.

“we’ll just rewatch it with him,” john b assured you. “and we can watch the old ones too.”

there was shuffling as the both of you wriggled around to get into a more comfortable position. at one point the two of you had to lunge to catch the laptop from falling to the floor, but eventually you settled in with john b curled around you and the blankets and pillows providing a sort of nest and elevated stand for the laptop. the room was filled with the soft sounds of puppy barks and whines, and your giggles when one of the dogs did something particularly cute, and john b let out a quiet sigh as he allowed himself to relax against you.

“i think we should get a dog,” you mumbled sleepily as john b clicked on last year’s broadcast. “we can add another cutie to our cuddle pile.”

there was some incoherent whining on your part before you dozed off in his arms. he did his best to focus on the puppies on the screen, but soon he too fell asleep with his face buried in the crook of your neck. that was how jj found you two when he stumbled into the room later that night as he yanked his tie from his neck. he stilled in the doorway, a soft smile pulling at his lips when he saw the two people he loved most in the world all snuggled up together. and then he saw what was pulled up on the laptop.

“oh you assholes!”

the both of you jolted awake, your hand smacking john b in the face as you moved to make sure the laptop wouldn’t fall off the bed. john b rubbed at his eyes and turned to blink up at jj.

“hey, how was work, babe?”

jj shook his head as you rolled over and made grabby hands, obviously asking for cuddles. he put his hands on his hips and frowned down at the pair of you.

“i cannot believe y’all are watching the puppy bowl without me.”

“um... in my defense,” john b started, “they were already watching when i woke up.”

“dude!” you turned your head to scowl at your boyfriend. “jj, baby, come cuddle with us, and we can turn it back on.”

as he kicked his shoes off and rifled around the dresser for comfy clothes, jj shook his head. john b let out a laugh when he realized what he was getting at.

“no can do, babe,” jj told you, smirking at john b as he let his work shirt slide off his shoulders. “the superbowl starts soon, and we’re watching it.”

you fell back on the bed and let out a loud groan. you had been hoping the boys would be too tired to watch the football game. you lifted yourself up on your elbows and glared at the two of them.

“i am legitimately only watching your stupid sportsball for the weeknd. after that i will be passing the fuck out.”

jj laughed and wrapped his arms around you as he flopped down between you and john b. you couldn’t keep your glare on your face when you felt your cheek hit his bare chest. you had missed him all day. there were a few laughs and giggled--and a couples groans of pain--as the three of you got all comfortable on the queen sized bed. finally you and john b sandwiched jj, john b spooning the blonde boy as you nestled in within the warmth of jj’s arms.

“don’t he kiss his kid on the mouth?” you mumbled as one of the players ran out on the field.

a wheeze left jj’s chest as john b shouted his laugh out, causing you to smirk. you had absolutely no clue as to what was happening in the game, or even had any idea as to who the teams were, because like you told the boys, you were only watching for the weeknd concert, and you were getting more and more anxious waiting for it.

“wait, i thought both teams were supposed to be good. why does one team already have like three touchdowns and the other doesn’t have any?”

“honey,” john b said, attempting to hold in his laugh, “just watch and enjoy the game.”

you rolled your eyes, making jj smile fondly. “hon, how am i supposed to enjoy a game i don’t even understand?”

“do you want us to explain?” jj offered sweetly.

“absolutely not. i appreciate it, baby, but i’m too pretty for that.”

jj snickered and pressed a kiss into your hair. “of course you are, babe.”

you nuzzled your nose against his collarbone and tugged your hand from between the boys to gently scratch at john b’s scalp. a hum rumbled deep within the brunette’s chest at the action.

“i love y’all,” you whispered into jj’s skin. “even if y’all make me watch football.”

“well we love you too,” jj returned with a kiss to your cheek and john b’s arm.

“even if you make us watch the weeknd,” john b teased.

“hey! you better appreciate abel or i swear i’m moving out!”

taglist (ahaha heyyy it’s been a while so tell me if y’all want to be removed): @damndunner​ @scandalousfemale @shawnssongs​ @kikifromtheblock​ @write-from-the-heart​ @kurtsconner​ @thatjohnd​ @abbiesthings​ @heavenlymama​ @strangerthanfiction713 @alexis-marrt022 @brithedemonspawn​ @obxsummer​