#because it's okay for him to be openly sad over that loss‚ if he wants

[fullscoreshenanigans]

#ray with a piping bag making frosting flowers w jemima

ray  being  a  stern  “eat  ur  vegetables”  type  cook  for  his  family,    but  also  ray  picking  up  baking  bc  he  knows  how  much  the  kids  appreciate  being  able  to  have  sweets  again……………………….  ray  making  cookies  and  sitting  down  with  his  elbows  on  the  table  and  threading  his  fingers  over  his  mouth  and  finding  it  hard  to  explain  to  emma    &.    norman  why  this  suddenly  makes  him  sad  but  the  kids  remember  yuugo  and  they  can  do  it  for  him  and

[bakugo-softski]

In which Izuku is left quirkless, so they find a new reason

Katsuki stayed crouched above Izuku, pinning one arm with his foot and clasping the other, pressed to the floor of the training mat. Almost in an exact replica of their fight at ground beta all those months ago, minus one arm and a slight change in hand placement. They both stay like that, breathing heavily, staring into eachothers eyes with the mutual feeling of impending doom sat heavily between them.

Because Izuku was getting weaker.

Katsuki had noticed, though he tried his best to ignore it. They both did, afraid to speak it into reality. Afraid for their dynamic to change. But as Katsuki had an easier and easier time pinning Izuku, as the embers slowly died out, they both found it hard to ignore that this…whatever it was they had, was coming to an end. Katsuki felt frantic, empty. Watching as something dear died before him, completely out of his reach.

Izuku had resolved to accept his fate, his eventuality. He didn’t mind being quirkless again. The loss held between them came from a different place, and they both knew it.

“…Kacchan?” Sad. So sad.

Katsuki released his hold and stood up, before offering Izuku his hand to help the boy up, too. They stood in silence, Izuku still breathing heavily and looking embarrassed about it, unable to find the words to express what they both clearly wanted to say to eachother.

“I’ll make katsudon tonight.” A common condolence when Izuku suffered yet another decline in power. It seemed now that one for all was gone for good, the embers inside izuku were dying at an increased rate than what All Might had gone through. The embers seemed to die at a steady rate regardless if Izuku used OFA or not. When they’d realized, they’d fought eachother deep into the night, openly crying at eachother and throwing punches. A silent agreement they’d do this as often as they could, until they couldn’t anymore.

This.. felt like a goodbye. Katsuki stared into Izuku’s eyes and felt like he was at a funeral.

“…okay. Thank you, Kacchan.”

With one last look into Izuku’s eyes, Katsuki turned and walked out, Izuku staying behind to put distance between them. To give eachother space. Katsuki managed to stifle the sob caught in his throat till he made it onto the elevator.

.

.

.

Katsuki poked the pork frying in the pan on autopilot. In his head, he thumbed through the same stack of thoughts sitting heavily in his mind like clockwork. He felt lost, weak, trapped. Condemned to a fate he had no control over. They wouldn’t be able to keep sparring. Izuku had stopped being able to keep up with catch-a-kacchan months ago, and they had been staying ground-level for a while but they both knew even that was too much for him now. The embers were barely even there anymore.

Katsuki hadn’t seen Izuku since he’d left him at the gym. They hadn’t texted eachother, either. What would they even say? There weren’t words. Katsuki didn’t have the words.

At this, Izuku makes his first appearance in hours, to slink into the kitchen and stand beside Katsuki. He’s silent for a moment.

“…Can i help?”

Katsuki is relieved those were the words that came out of Izuku’s mouth, instead of..well.

He lets out a little breath of relief.

“Sure. Grab the egg, mirin and soy sauce for me.” Mix those together-equal parts, four eggs, and chop some of those green onions while you’re at it.”

“Got it.” Izuku flits around the kitchen grabbing ingredients and settling again beside Katsuki, beginning his task.

They don’t know how to bring it up, but the silence is somehow comfortable, each settling in to their tasks, accomplishing the same goal of katsudon together. Katsuki can’t say it, but he’s thankful to have a reason to be near Izuku like this. Even if it is just making a meal together. They don’t say much else, afraid to break whatever fragile comfort they’d created.

They ate in silence. And then stared into space together, in silence. And then Katsuki said he’d wash their dishes, and then Izuku left, in silence; and Katsuki wished he’d asked for help instead.

.

.

.

10:24pm.

Katsuki stared into the dark, in silence. Thought about texting Izuku. Couldn’t find the words.

.

.

.

It’s Saturday. Katsuki came down to make breakfast. Hoped to see Izuku, but he didn’t show. Thought about taking the food to him, put it in the fridge instead.

.

.

.

4:24pm. He’d stayed in the common room the whole day, but Izuku never showed, and Katsuki couldn’t find the words to give him a reason to seek the boy out. What could he even say? “You haven’t eaten all day.” ? As if. How stupid for Katsuki to care about that when…when he couldn’t even..

Fuck it. A reasons a reason, he supposes.

Katsuki sped through the curry prep, in a hurry to get it to Izuku’s door and tell him he hasn’t eaten all day. With two steaming bowls held on a dish platter, because he didn’t want his to get cold while he ate alone, he marched his way up to Izuku’s room and knocked firm, once, twice, and waited.

Izuku opened the door quickly, and Katsuki saw he was in a similar shape to himself, dark circles under his eyes. He hasn’t slept either.

“You haven’t eaten.” An observation, a request, a plea.

Izuku looked at the bowls, took one. Stood in the doorway, awkward.

At the same time Katsuki makes to turn away, Izuku speaks up. “Do you want to come in? You just, you have two bowls. You don’t have to…but. Um. I’d like you to.”

His response was immediate. “Yeah.” A breath, a small relief. A break from the pain.

They both settle down on Izuku’s bed to eat, backs against the wall. Close, even if neither one of them acknowledged it. They didn’t speak. Until,

“Um. So, theres a show I started a couple days ago. Do..you wanna watch it with me?” Izuku digs around for the remote. Kacchan grunts for him to go ahead, so he turns it on from the beginning and they settle back in to eating, watching together.

.

.

.

8:52pm.

They’re on episode five now, bowl’s of curry empty and forgotten on the floor beside the bed. They’ve pulled Izuku’s blanket up over their legs and are zoned into the show, a merciful relief. A reason. Katsuki hides his yawns as subtly as he can, and Izuku pretends not to notice.

They both pretend not to notice when Katsuki subtly shifts further into the bed, afraid to break the spell. They’re both tired enough to not think about it.

.

.

.

6:46am.

Katsuki blinks his eyes open and finds the clock on the wall that doesn’t belong to him, and then feels legs that also don’t belong to him entangled with his own. He can’t find it in himself to feel embarrassed about it. Izuku is sleeping peacefully, soft snores and breaths coming out in little puffs, one hand resting peacefully on his chest and the other holding Katsuki’s forearm, which was sat snuggly against the curve of Izukus side, being held in place in the air. Katsuki didn’t dare move. The TV sat dark and paused on the wall, long forgotten. He’d have to check to see when they both fell asleep so they knew how far back to go, he thought idly. A problem for later, though.

He closed his eyes and went back to sleep.

.

.

.

When he woke back up Izuku was silencing his phone, his ringtone for Uraraka being cut short and detangling his legs from Katsuki’s in order to stand up from the bed.

“We uh...we fell asleep last night.”

“…Yeah.” A yawn.

“The show’s good. Whats the last part you remember? We’re probably gonna have to find where we left off.”

“Oh uh, i think..the new guy, the blonde one had just fought with that guy in the boat restaurant. I think he was gonna leave.”

“Huh? The last thing I remember is whats her name and whats his face playing some drinking game.”

A chuckle. “I’ll go back and find our spot tonig-when we-um. Anyway. I’m..I’m glad you liked it, Kacchan.”

“I’ll come back tonight. And we can watch more.” Small reliefs. Small reliefs, small reliefs.

A smile, small, shared. “I’d like that.”

Silence.

“So. Um. It’s..it’s Sunday.”

Sundays they typically spent the whole day in the gym, sparring, being in each others company. Katsuki didn’t get much physically from their sparring sessions these days, they both knew it. They seemed to be at an understanding though, of what they got from their Sundays together.

Suddenly, Katsuki had a thought. The words are out of his mouth before he can think better of them, eager to run from the conversation he so badly feared having.

“Lets go play some fucking baseball, Zuku.”

Izuku’s eyebrows shoot up and he looks funny like that, Katsuki thinks. It makes his stomach do a weird little flip that he usually only felt in the heat of the moment during their fights and sparring sessions, back when Izuku was at full strength. The feeling puts a surprised little crease between his own brows.

“…hah..what?” Izuku’s smiling, confused.

Katsuki keeps going, fueled by the quick return of the feeling he hasn’t felt in months, replacing the impending doom.

“C’mon, nerd, let’s go to the batting cages back home and play some fucking baseball. Maybe we can stop at your moms and say hi or something while we’re out.”

Silence. But..different this time. Better. Expectant.

Izuku huffs out a little laugh, relief of some sort.

“Yeah, Kacchan, that sounds good.”

It does sound good, Katsuki thinks.

.

.

.

“Hold your fucking arms higher, nerd!”

“Shuddup! I know how to hit a ball, Kacchan!”

“Getting cocky? Since when do you talk back to me you little shit?” Katsuki hasn’t felt this much like himself in months.

“You make it easy being such a know-it-all, Kacchan.”

“I’m a know-it-all, because i know it all, you little asshole. Don’t you patronize me.”

They’re both laughing, and Izuku is trying his best to hit the baseballs flying towards him in between snorts of laughter and playful banter. It’s so easy like this. Katsuki had imagined the day Izuku’s ember’s went out a million times, he imagined it like death, but this didn’t feel like death at all. This felt like..the birth of something new.

Then, suddenly,

“Lemme show you how it’s done, nerd.”

Izuku backs up and turns to hand Katsuki the bat but Izuku misinterpreted what he meant, because Katsuki turns him back around and comes up behind him with his hands on his shoulders.

“Pick your arm up dummy, higher, angle it like this, you want to meet the ball at the same angle its coming at you.” Katsuki takes Izukus arm and imitates hitting the ball the way he wants him to, and then pushes Izuku forward again. Izuku is weirdly quiet, now.

“Try it like that. And don’t be pissed when it’s better than your way.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Kacchan.”

*CRACK*

“…Fine. Don’t be rude about it, though. You’re still a know-it-all.”

Katsuki can’t contain his shit eating grin, and that feeling in his gut is back with a vengeance.

“There’s a reason for that, Zuku.”

.

.

.

Inko was delighted at the unexpected visit, flitting around to whip something up for the two and offering apologies for not having more ready for them both. In the end, they’d eaten curry for the second day in a row, but neither of them commented on it, happy to be in Inko’s company, happy to see Izuku happy. Eventually they’d thanked Inko and ushered themselves off into Izuku’s bedroom for a while before they went back to UA.

Izuku was pulling All Might merch and knick knacks out of every corner of the room, handing them to Katsuki along with stories and “do you remembers” and Katsuki felt overwhelmed. The feeling in his stomach only grew the longer the day went on and he found it harder and harder to keep the stupid, easy grin off his face. He felt so happy it almost felt wrong.

“Ah! kacchan! Do you remember when we drew these!”

They were two sheets of paper, one, in big letters, labeled “KACCHAN”, punctuated by tiny explosions in between each letter, and the other, “IZUKU” written neatly, simply across the top of the page. Underneath each name was a drawing to match, the both of them drawn in crayon as heroes, in gear that hadn’t quite matched up with what they’d grown accustomed to.

Katsuki took the papers from Izuku and stared, and stared, and stared, and only snapped out of it when a single tear drop hit the page.

And then it happened again. He spoke without meaning to.

“I don’t want to go back to the way we were before, Izuku. I-i don’t even care that we can’t spar anymore. I don’t care about that. I just-i wanna keep hanging out with you. I don’t care what what we do. I just-“ he was shaking, fat tears rolling down his cheeks. He’d feared this conversation, so.. why did this feel like relief too?

Katsuki just let himself cry, tiny sobs crawling the way into their atmosphere.

He looked up through wet lashes just in time to see Izuku launch himself into his arms, throwing him back into the bed and burying his face into Katsuki’s neck, sobbing with all the intensity Katsuki felt in his soul.

“I wanna be with you too, Kachhan, always, always. I-i..just want-to be around you...”

Katsuki wraps his arms around Izuku and lets the relief wash over him. Katsuki doesn’t know what compelled him to say it.

“I love you.”

Silence.

Izuku pulls back just enough to look into Katsuki’s eyes. His heart is hammering in his chest, stunned speechless, and as Izuku searches Katsuki’s face he feels the boys breathing become panicked, coming out in short puffs verging on hyperventilation. Katsuki barely opens his mouth to take it back, to unscare Izuku when he seemingly realizes this and smashes their lips together in an effort to stop him.

It’s sudden, scared, mutual. Blissful.

It takes Katsuki all of two seconds to come back online and fit his hand into Izuku’s hair in an effort to keep him there, and returns the kiss in full. Izuku grunts out a little sound that seems pained but somehow matches that feeling in his own gut, swirling and verging on the side of too much too much too much

They break the kiss at the same time, leaping away from eachother and doubling over themselves, anxiously giggling against their will and breathing heavily. Izuku leaps to his feet and starts pacing, muttering all the while, energy buzzing within him with the same intensity as one-for-all and Katsuki feels it seep into everything, feels his limbs buzz, heart racing, mind running a mile a minute and somehow not at all.

“Ahhaah, AHHH, Kacch-i love you, FUCK I love you, holy-sh-shit, holy shit, oh my god. kachhhANNNN OH MY GOD.”

Izuku’s yelling and Katsuki finally yanks himself out of his shock to speak up just in time for Izuku to run out of the room screaming.

“Hey-what the FUCK, IZ-get back here!” And then he’s off the bed too and running out the door behind him, leaving a stunned and confused Inko sat on the couch.

.

.

.

Katsuki catches up to him already at the bus station, pacing circles around the bench, laughing and crying hysterically. He catches a glimpse of Katsuki right as he stalks up to him and grabs Izuku’s arm.

“Caught you.” He grins triumphantly, and so, so happy, and doesn’t even give Izuku the chance to respond before he captures the boys lips again.

Relief.

[icarusredwings]

would you recommend takin' over the asylum

Yes! And not only because of David but also the other charater's arcs are very intresting too!

It's on youtube for free and is only about 7 episodes.

TOTA discusses topics that were seen as very taboo at the time it was produced/written.

While we as mature veiwers can watch this and say "Okay yes there is misinformation" we have to remember that this was made before even going to a therapist was something people did regularly and openly admited it. If you went to a phycologist back then or even a therapist you were looked down opon.

This show shows and talks about things so subtly that you won't pick them up unless you've been there, OR you pay attention well. For example, one of the things with Campbell is that he is very "ego" driven, and Eddie has to learn how to balance him to keep him from toppling over and becoming manic. For example you'll see a lot of episodes Eddie will praise Bain and then scold him afterwards because in the begining episodes he gives Campbell too much praise/trust and it makes him have a break down because as I explain it to some "Once you get to the top of that cliff, you fall off"

At the very begining the viewer and Eddie are mislead to assume Campbell is a staffmember or a volunteer because of how open of arms he has, hes so eager to help and be useful, hes kind, and as eddie says "He dosn't *seem* looney?" And this is because he's very managable but his parents couldn't so sent him away.

Another reason I recommend it is the diversity of the acting and patiants. People often pin him as the silly side kick charater but Davids acting brings his story to a whole new level.

Campbell is also very energetic compared to most patients, and I think he's one of the youngest ones they have so he gets excited about things VERY quickly. He's jumping all over the place. Lil manic puppy. He always gets so happy to Eddie too, its very clear hes attached to him which (if you know) its very common for bipolar/ manic deapressivss to have that *one* person. This is what I mean by subtleness.

This show also includes topics such as (count this as a trigger warning too)

Giving up your boring job to follow your dreams (which was just ridiculous back then)

Immigration

Unfair justice system

Adhd

Ocd (id say her charater is most likely the worst portrayed but when you realize why it breaks your heart)

Abusive relationships

The taboo idea of dating a 'looney'

Quiting smoking for the better

Bipolar /Manic depressive disorder

Child loss

Self harm

Self ending

Grief

Mutism

Autism

Medical abuse of patiants/manipulation

Substance abuse

Different coping mechanisms

Homelessness

Another thing about this show I like is Eddie is very open to them, he treats them like people, he gets nervous and worried they wont enjoy his company even which means he cares enough about them to think their opinions matter whilst another worker states that they're loonies, no one cares what they want.

He takes care of Campbell a lot as well because- well.. He's a bit of trouble. A little scamp he is. But hes so cute tho. And YES David Tennant's accent IS in this one. It's SO much more thicker then say Crowley or the Doctor.

SPOILERS

Hell there's a woman who they claim is speaking in tounges but she's just speaking a foreign language in which Eddie only takes like 2 days to figure out because he had the nerve to LITSEN to her and try to see what she was saying instead of telling her to speak english and to take pills. The sad bit about this, though, is she becomes homeless because of getting kicked out of the mental hospital.

Yet another theme I like about this show is that A. The colors are just bright enough to keep attention but not get a head ache, B. Bain behaves exactly the way you would expect a teen experiancing issues would, happy, snappy, sad, overly confident all at once, in a blink. C. Eddie meets this woman with a mean dog and yet Eddie forgives this dog many times despite it tried to bite him.

The woman was older and was testing eddie to see if he's a good person or not, no matter how annoying she was to him, he treats her with upmost respect and kindness. She ends up paying him a lot to fix the windows, which gives him extra cash to spend on one of the girls he was intresting seeing as hes very respectful to her despite her depression and I want to almost guess Post Partum but I actually don't know,

ANYWAY He even takes her to see his grandparents and adopts kittens just for her because she loves kittens and some delinquents killed her other kittens.

In most stories, the doctor or patiant is odd and tries to manipulate the other into going out with them, but whenever she declines, he only nods and goes away. It doesn't feel forced either. It's very sweet.

Anyway YES. Please watch it like holy shit I don't have anyone to talk to about it!! The lady who wrote it was actually bummed it flopped because of how progressive it was but is happy its becoming popular now! Love you Donna Franceschild!

[monfixity]

Colors - Kim Hongjoong

Summary: You were Hongjoong’s second love. His first love had passed away a few years ago, leaving Hongjoong behind. It was now your job to heal Hongjoong’s broken heart. But could you even do it and make Hongjoong see the colours of life again?

The most tragic loss there was besides losing your beloved parents was probably seeing the person you love die. No one should ever experience it, but Hongjoong had seen it. His first wife had passed away after a long fight with cancer. Hongjoong was there for her the whole time but in the end, he lost her, nevertheless.

It was hard afterwards. It was as if someone ripped out a part of his heart. Every step he took he was hurt, and he got more and more tired. The light of his life turned dark, and he only saw the dark side of life.

Whenever the cherry blossom festival started, he didn’t see the beauty of them but was focused on how the wind was strong and cold. When the first snow came, he wasn’t running out into the garden laughing and enjoying it. He stayed inside and complained about the traffic problems. Hongjoong’s whole life was different.

Sure, he always tried his best to keep it away from his fans when he held a concert. But he was sure that they had a feeling that something was wrong. Hongjoong could only hide the tears he had shared multiple times, but he could not hide the sadness his eyes displayed. Yet, he could not openly show it, because he didn’t want fans to worry. After all, they never knew Hongjoong was taken in the first place. Therefore, he had to continue living his life this way, even though it was hard.

He continued to live like this for a while, even when he met you, he wasn’t fully committing. He felt as if he’d betrayed his deceased wife. Eventually, after sixteen months he admitted that he was in love with you, but he was scared. He was scared that his wife felt betrayed. And how he could have fallen in love again. Even though he said he would never.

You were patient with him, he went through so much. You didn’t mind waiting, you would wait as long as it would take.

After another two months, he asked if you’d mind coming with him to the grave. You accepted because you knew that it would help Hongjoong find closure.

So here you were standing in front of his wife’s grave. Hongjoong put the flowers on the gravestone and smiled.

“Hi, my love.” Hongjoong started and you smiled. You knew that even if you stepped into his life. This woman was his first love and would always play a big role in his life. “Today, I am not alone. I wanted you to meet someone.” Hongjoong got up and went back to you and took your hand and held it. “I fell in love again, you know,” Hongjoong said, looking down and then back to the grave. “I know, I always said I wouldn’t, but I never thought you’d be taken away from me this early.” Hongjoong continued.

He looked over to you and you met his gaze and smiled. “She came into my life when I needed someone the most,” he said while looking into your eyes. Then he looked back to the grave. “After you passed away, I was in a dark place. I couldn’t enjoy anything. I would always find the bad side of a day. Today I would have said how the clouds are making me feel sad, instead of being happy that the weather is turning warmer and warmer.” he explained. “I am not here to tell you I stopped loving you. You will always be my beloved wife. And she knows that you are a big part of my life and always will be.” you nodded, even though Hongjoong wasn’t looking. “She will take care of me, while you watch over us, okay? I wish you could give us your blessing in any way.” Hongjoong knelt and stroked the picture of his wife as suddenly the sun came out.

Hongjoong looked up to the sky and sobbed. You walked over to him and stroked through his hair down to his back where you kept your hand. “Thank you, my love. For giving me your blessing. I am sure I will visit you often and tell you about everything. And I will bring her with me from time to time as well. Be happy wherever you are as well, okay.” Hongjoong stroked away a tear that was going down his cheek. “I love you and thank you for the time you gave me with you.” he kissed his hand and then put it on the photo. He got up and you looked at him. He met your eyes and smiled.

“Can I say something as well?” you asked and Hongjoong nodded. “of course.”

You stepped slightly forward. “Hi, I haven’t gotten the chance to meet you, but I am sure you were amazing. I just want you to know that I will take good care of him. You do not have to worry about him anymore. Thank you for your blessing and be happy. Because I will do everything in my power to make him happy.” you smiled and bowed lightly in front of the grave, making Hongjoong try to hold back his tears.

You turned back to him and stood in front of him. “Thank you.” he mouthed. “For speaking to her as well.”

“She will always be with you, Hongjoong. And I don’t mind you talking about her whenever you feel like it. If you want to come here, come here. If you want me to come with you, tell me. I am by your side. Okay?”

Hongjoong cupped your face and kissed your forehead. “Okay, I will. Thank you. For everything, you’ve done so far. For being this patient.” he looked into his eyes. “And thank you for not giving up on us.” he smiled.

“I love you, Hongjoong.” you smiled, stroking his cheek.

Hongjoong leaned into your hand and then pulled you into his arms, looking over to his wife’s grave. “We will go for now. But I will be back.” Hongjoong said. “I miss you. I still do.”

You stroked his back while being in his arms. “Goodbye for today.” he stroked over the gravestone as you walked away.

Having the blessing of his deceased wife gave Hongjoong the knowledge that nothing he did was wrong. And you would patiently be by his side and be there for him. You don’t mind him being in the graveyard a lot. She was his first love, and you would only try to close the hole she left, with love you could give. And you knew Hongjoong would give you all the love he could give. Making you the most important person in his life now, but always thought to his wife that had passed away too early.

Ateez Masterlist | @kbookshelf

[ae-azile]

Intrusive angst/humor ArmKhun fic idea (likely primarily told from Kinn's POV) I may or may not write.

About a year after the finale, Korn dies (for real this time). A heart attack, just like the one he faked. It brings Kinn a lot of grief that he tries not to show because his father really fucked his boyfriend's family and life up (along with his own, if we are being honest) and he knows Porsche is probably feeling relief.

To avoid his own grief, he focuses on his brothers. While Kim just went through the required steps and otherwise hasn't expressed anything akin to sadness, Kinn knows Tankhun has to be struggling. He was the only one who openly cried upon finding out and at the funeral. Other than a calm request to have the chance to control his own finances again (a request Kinn hesitantly granted) it isn't like Tankhun can just bounce back from grief like that.

So Kinn goes to visit Tankhun's suite. He wants to apologize for focusing on what to do, rather than being there for him. But when Kinn gets there, Tankhun seems fine. He's watching a show and waiting for Arm to get off his shift. But he does check in with Kinn to see if he's okay. When Kinn says he is fine, Tankhun points out he likely isn't if he's trying to come here for comfort. When Kinn corrects him and says he wants to comfort Tankhun, Tankhun rolls his eyes and tells him he is doing wonderfully, happy to see him, but would appreciate if he left before Arm arrived since he will be interrupting their movie date. Kinn rolls his eyes at that, but complies.

After leaving, he swings by the armory to let Arm know that Tankhun seems too stable so soon after their father's death and to keep a close eye on him tonight. Arm just says he planned on being there anyway. Kinn is glad his brother has such a loyal and compassionate guard.

Until Arm's and Tankhun's wedding invitation is delivered to his suite a week later. He thinks it's a joke. Porsche is baffled by it, but points out it would be a weird joke for Tankhun to set up. So Kinn goes to his brother's suite, only to find compound guards helping him move furniture out.

"I want to blend mine and Arm's styles!"

Kinn argues with Tankhun, then goes to Arm and says Tankhun is under the impression they're getting married. Arm is like, "Yeah, we are."

"You need to let him know you aren't serious! That you thought he was joking when he asked you!"

"But we are serious."

Kinn starts obsessing over this. He confronts Tankhun several times and Tankhun just dismisses him because he has a wedding to plan. He only has somewhat of a conversation when Kinn accuses Arm of manipulating Tankhun into requesting control of his finances back so he can take control of them or bleed him dry. Tankhun snorts at that and says Arm never even asked about him regaining his finances. He just wanted them for the ring, wedding, and honeymoon. Arm actually bought Khun an even more expensive ring and keeps wanting to pay for the honeymoon.

Kinn is half under the impression that this is an elaborate prank, even when Arm and Tankhun start shopping for tuxes and go to cake tastings. When Kinn complains about the copious flowers Tankhun ordered (he may have agreed to give Tankhun full control of his inheritance and investments back, but that doesn't mean he isn't watching the accounts), Porsche says he should focus on something else. Maybe the loss of his father. Kinn just keeps complaining and worrying over Arm being a manipulative gold digger.

He asks Kim what he thinks. Kim doesn't really care, but eventually admits he has known about Arm and Tankhun for a while. When Kinn asks what a while is, Kim tells him, "Almost a year. They seem to really love each other."

Kinn starts to feel hurt now. He is sullen during the copious rehearsals (the wedding MUST be perfect and Tankhun did make him his best man). Finally, after the rehearsal the night before the wedding, Kinn asks why he didn't say anything. Tankhun finally admits he only could when their father died. That he suffocated him, didn't trust him, and he only felt comfortable coming out of secrecy when their father was dead and couldn't hurt Arm. He only told Kim because Kim never once trusted their father, even as a child.

Perfect wedding, but a wilder after party. It will not only have a dramatic KimChay reconciliation, but a more unexpected Tankhun-Vegas reconciliation that has Kinn questioning if the wedding is a prank all over again.

Heartfelt talks. Revelations about love and grief. Kinn opening up to Porsche and vice versa. The end.

[anonbinaryweirdo]

🧍🧍 THE LORE IS INSANE

I LOVE IT MWHAHDJHDJSHSH

Okay so. Okay. Okay. Selfship question.

If Kaeya feels sad some times because of his sister and Oliver feels sad because of her lover; how do they cheer the other one up?<3

Okay so as of present day, they don't know that they both mutually knew Amethyst on a personal level—but I can say that they probably figure it out in the future or sumn

That being said, I feel like they could both relate to the loss of a very important loved one

Like, they kind of...bond over it, and it always surprises Kaeya how Oliver takes the initiative in that kind of stuff, because she's quiet, andthere's a lot that Oliver keeps to herself as she's a very secret person, and it takes a while for her to willingly open up, regardless of the person—but it's not unwelcome!

I feel like Kaeya could openly talk to her about both his sister and Diluc after a while, and, slowly, but surely, she talks to him about her own loss, which was more romantic than familial

So while they (seemingly, as of present day) don't have anything alike with the people they've lost, they both experienced loss, and if it's really eating at them, they can talk to each other about it and just listen and bond over it — maybe even cry about it, honestly

And it both equally takes them both a long time to find someone they can actually trust and talk to like this, and they're both grateful for each other in lots of ways

Oliver doesn't understand the actual 'loss' of a family member or two, since her relationship with all her siblings are great, and her mom is still in her life, but she's willing to listen to Kaeya and get to understand him, especially when she knows how remembering his relationship with Diluc affects him—and, not only that, but he had a biological sibling, that he hadn't seen in actual years

And while Kaeya's not too relatable when it comes to losing someone romantically (my characterization), he knows that, loss, in general, hurts—especially if the bond you've formed with that person was a deep one. So he's willing to listen to and understand her when she talks about it, despite not having experienced romantic loss himself, because, again, he knows that it hurts Oliver to constantly keep inside the guilt and grief she feels, and he just wants to be there for her, as she were him

[caatws]

I'm not sure if it's cool to add on to someone's comment but abuse and losing people to acts of violence is personal for me and I wanted to expand on what was said about how existing in the story wasn't enough for Gamora.

First: abuse is a serious subject and everyone needed to be prepared to treat it equally for all of the characters from beginning to end. When they brought Gamora from the past I knew she was screwed. That decision showed ignorance for how hard it is to rebuild your life after escaping abusive situations. Being a guardian and the relationships she had were the result of tremendous emotional healing that is far from easy. Going to the past was starting her over without the same care and investment in her life that she had before.

Second: placing Gamora with the ravagers doesn't mean much as it was presented because after abuse almost any situation would be better than where you came from. Some people would rather live on the streets than stay in an abusive home. That doesn't mean the streets are a great place to be. If Gunn wanted to say Gamora being with the ravagers is okay than he needed to show that she's being loved and card for in the same way as before. That she's being supported in embracing all parts of herself and that she's taking the same care of herself as she was with the guardians.

Third: All the characters needed to be written as acknowledging Gamora was dead. Denying Peter this wasn't loving. I was sad to see Peter leave at the end but I think he needed to go. From what we were shown the guardians were not helping him face the tragedy. You need to be able to talk about loss openly and he wasn't being allowed to do that which is unhealthy like his drinking.

Lastly I have seen vol 3 praised for its realistic ending for Gamora but here's the thing. It wouldn't have been unrealistic for Gamora to get to survive her abusive past and flourish with all the other guardians. It wouldn't have been unrealistic for her to come to the future and get her life back. There isn't some limit on how many happy endings they could give all the characters and Gamora dying on vormir and coming to the future where she was kept from being a guardian wasn't the only real option for her story. Characters struggling their whole lives and then being killed off once they are finally happy is not an ode to realism. It's garbage the media loves to put out because way too many people in charge are so detached from every day struggles they can't fathom what it's really like to go through the things they think should be found entertaining.

of course it's cool for you to join in! thanks for sharing your perspective anon <3 everything you said here is so important and true

[allidoistrytrytryy]

every night, i’m dancing with your ghost (eddie munson x reader)

Posted this on ao3 (ohnoyoongi) a few months ago, completely forgot to post it on tumblr. Here it is. Cried writing this but it had to come out of me somehow, after season 4. Have a good time.

summary: You sit there, as the love of your life is dying in your arms. He’s bleeding out, already half gone. And you can’t comprehend what’s happening. (Or, you lose Eddie and you and the party face the consequences of it all.)

warnings: it’s sad, hurt no comfort (sorry), canonical character death, canon (yes it is a warning to me lmao), no use of y/n, fem!reader, henderson!reader

You sit there, as the love of your life is dying in your arms. He’s bleeding out, already half gone. And you can’t comprehend what’s happening.

This couldn’t be happening. Not to him. Not him.

“Eddie…Please, just hang on !” Dustin exclaims through his tears, on his other side.

You can’t say a word, as you try to make the bleeding stop. Your hands are soaked in his blood. You can’t feel yourself shake, can’t hear yourself sob openly, and repeat “no, no, no” over and over again.

“Sweetheart…” A weak voice says from under you, and that’s when you finally get out of your head.

For him. Only him.

Eddie Munson. The Freak. The Banished. The love of your life.

“It’s okay sweetheart… Take care of the…kids… Take care of yourself… Don’t…” He coughs out more blood, caking around his mouth. “Don’t pause your life...because of me okay ?” He tries to smile, tries to reach out with a weak hand.

You catch his hand and put it on your cheek.

“Don’t talk like that. Fuck that, Eddie. You’re gonna get out of this, we’ll graduate, and then we’ll get the fuck out of Hawkins. Just like we promised.” You say, your mouth against the palm of his hand.

“I’m not…” He coughs again, a wet sound coming out of his throat. “I’m not getting out of this, it’s okay sweetheart… It’s okay…” He turns to Dustin. “Take care of your sister for me, okay? I love you…man…”

“I love you too…” Dustin says, crying, hiding his face from Eddie.

“I love you, Henderson…” Eddie says this time, turning to you, a weak smile on his lips.

“I love you too. Forever.”

You kiss his forehead, his cheeks. You put your forehead against his, as you feel him go. You want to scream, but you don’t. All you do is comfort him as he goes, all you do is whisper your love for him, how proud you are, how brave he is.

He leaves. He’s gone.

You don’t move for what feels like hours, over him like a shield. You don’t hear the footsteps coming toward you. Dustin does. He talks with them. You know it’s Steve, Nancy, and Robin. But you can’t move. You’re stuck there, against him, not willing to let go.

Dustin tries to get you to move. You don’t. Nancy and Robin try to talk to you.

“We have to go… You have to let him go…” They whisper, trying to comfort you, hugging you. And they’re your best friends. And you love them. But you can’t.

Steve tries to talk you through it until the floor shakes but it doesn’t matter to you. He’s gone.

Steve starts to pull you away, holding you against him and carrying you away. That’s when you start to react. You scream, you hit, you squirm.

“No, no! We can’t leave him there! Fuck off!” You yell from the top of your lungs, fighting against Steve’s grip.

You don’t know but that makes Dustin cry even harder. Losing Eddie, now his older sister, broken, screaming, crying.

You don’t stop fighting but Steve is stronger. He makes you look at him.

“Henderson! I know, but we can’t take him with us. Everything is going to shit, we can’t run and take him with us. It hurts us too. He was our friend too, okay?” He says, hurt all over his face. Hurt over the loss of a new friend (he cares about people too soon, too fast). Hurt over the pain he can feel in his favorite sister-brother duo.

“So we leave him here? In this fucking hellhole? What do we tell his uncle? What do we do?” You start sobbing even harder. “I can’t leave him in this place�� Can’t… With no…one…” You ramble, babbling in your cries.

“I know how hard it is, Blue.” (Stupid nickname from Nancy, coming from the moment she met you when you moved to Hawkins. Stupid blue shirt with the blue jeans. You thought it was a stylish choice as a kid.) “But we have to go.”

You try to calm yourself down for a moment, barely able to breathe.

“Just give me a second then. Just a second.”

You go back to Eddie, as they nod. You notice Dustin had closed his eyes before leaving his side. You look at him, for a good second. You kiss him on the forehead and the cheeks again.

“I’ll always love you, Edward Munson. Through hell and back.” You whisper. “I would rather spend one lifetime with you, than face all the ages of this world alone.” You whisper again, a quote you always liked to say to him in the dark of his room, in the safety of his bed and his arms. “However short this lifetime was.”

You take his necklace, with his favorite pick. You put it around your neck, against your heart. It rips you apart to walk away from him, to not look back. You run with the others as the ground starts to shake again.

You barely remember going through the gate, barely remember gathering what you could salvage from the trailer with Dustin. You barely remember the following days, actually.

You go through the motions. Getting to safety, getting to your friends.

Later, your heart breaks again when you see the state Lucas is in. This was your little brother. Not by blood, but by choice. Because Dustin chose him as one of his best friends, so he became your little brother too.

Your heart is completely gone when you see Max. Sweet Maxine. Too young for all the bullshit Billy had put her through. Too young for the suffering Vecna had put her through then. Sweet Max and her fiery hair and fiery personality.

Sweet Max you would accompany to the arcade to play with her for hours. Sweet Max you would go to the mall with (alongside El), to shop, to go watch horror movies. Sweet Max, you sang stupid pop songs with.

Sweet Max who was like your little sister too. And you want to scream again. But you still don’t, you still can’t.

You try to comfort Lucas. You just sit with him, as he reads to her, or just looks at her. And you can’t help but see yourself in him. The broken lovers.

Later, you go home, scrub yourself for hours and hours, and still feel his blood on your hands. You sleep with Dustin that night (and the next few nights), impossible for you both to sleep alone.

Even later, El and the rest of the ones who were in California arrive. You’re relieved. Relieved to see Ellie, your other little brothers Mike and Will, and Jonathan. Relieved but so much shit has happened. You hug them, you tell them you’re happy they’re safe.

And even later, when you’ve all reunited (Hopper and Joyce included, a reunion to which everyone was crying to. Hopper, alive!), you have to face telling Mike that Eddie’s gone as everybody is piecing together what has happened.

The rest won’t feel the loss, as they have never met him. But you know Mike will feel it. Worshipped, loved Eddie.

“So then there was the team of Dustin, Blue, and…” Nancy is the one talking and she hesitates, looking over at you and Dustin, now even closer on the couch.

“And Eddie.” You say, biting the skin around your nails.

“Oh, the Eddie?” Will asks, with a little smile, having heard all about him. “Where is he right now?” Mike asks, looking over at everyone.

Everyone is tense, all looking at the two Hendersons on the couch with worry. So Mike looks too. And he feels himself bracing for impact before even hearing it.

“He’s…” Dustin starts, playing with his hat.

“He’s gone.” You continue, looking up at Mike. You try to be strong. You try so hard. “He…was a hero. Did it for Dustin and I.” You shake your head, smiling weakly through the tears you know are already falling down. “Stupid, brave Eddie.”

Mike feels himself falter, holding up thanks to El against his side. Never thought Eddie Munson could be gone. Not Eddie the Brave.

“They all thought he was a murderer, and in the end, he still did everything he could for this town.” Dustin says shakily, holding your hand now.

You hold on only thanks to Dustin’s touch, grounding you in the moment, instead of wandering to Eddie.

Nobody says anything after that. And that night you go back through the motions when you’re all alone in your bed, in your home. You cry and cry and cry, and of course, Dustin and your mother hear you. They’re worried but what can they do?

Grief. Grief is a terrible thing. It’s a beautiful thing because it shows how much you’ve loved someone. But it’s a terrible thing. A terrible thing that takes over your heart, your mind, your soul.

So you cry, and you dream of him. Day after day. And you wake up, and for a few seconds, you forget he’s gone. You’re happy again. You think he’s in his trailer and he’s coming to get you with his van to go to school. You think you’re in his bed and he’s off to god knows what. Getting ready. Making breakfast for you (which means coffee and cereal, or whatever he found in his cupboard).

And then you remember. Remember you’ll never get to see him greeting you from his van ever again. You’ll never get to see him in his bathroom getting ready for the day (all the hair product, all the cologne he would put on, so much you would cough) ever again. You’ll never get to see him in his kitchen, doing his best to make you breakfast ever again. You’ll never see his brown eyes directed at you again. Never see that beautiful smile again. Never hear his voice again.

And you’re back into the pain.

But you go with the motions. You graduate (without him). You go to college (he never wanted to go to college, but joked he would follow you to the ends of the world) and discover Chicago (without him).

You try to keep up with whatever is going on with Hawkins, with the kids. You go back every break you have. You look over Max, who’s still asleep and unresponsive. You look over El, who’s exhausting herself. You look over all the boys, Mike worried over El, Lucas worried over Max, Will not feeling great back in Hawkins, and Dustin… Dustin who’s trying to act like he’s completely fine. You hug him all the time, you remind him you’re there. (But you don’t talk about Eddie.)

You go see Wayne every time you’re back in Hawkins. Dustin had been the one to tell him the news, to give him Eddie’s necklace when you could barely get out of your room or out of Max’s hospital room.

Wayne had reached out after that. After all, you had spent so much time in the Munsons’ trailer, so much time around Eddie, you knew Wayne well. The first time had been a crying session - you could barely talk and Wayne had held you. Now, after a few months, you still cried but you managed to smile too. He was the only one you could talk to about Eddie, freely. So you did.

A year happens. You manage to finish and pass your exams. You manage to smile and live and go out with new friends, but you always go back to Hawkins in the end. You smile and live and go out with your large but small family, but you all know the pain and the ghosts that come with what you’ve all lived. (And you all know it’s not over.)

You live but the ghost of him still lingers in small and large ways.

He lingers in Mike, who decides to take back campaigning after a few months, to try being Dungeon Master again (you smile every time you’re witness to a campaign, the image of small young Mike overlapping with tall older Mike). You see the dramatics he’s learned from Eddie, the story-telling and the acting, the voices…and you know Eddie would be proud. (Eddie who would read The Lord of the Rings or The Hobbit to you, when you weren’t okay, cuddling up to him. Doing all the voices, so into it with his whole being.)

He lingers in Lucas sometimes, who’s decided to take no shit anymore. (Even though there’s barely anyone to care anymore in Hawkins, the only ones left are the ones who weren’t able to leave. You all included.) (But Lucas who’s still quieter most of the time, staying with Max whenever he’s free.)

He even lingers in Steve, who’s kept the jacket Eddie had lent him in the Upside Down. You tell him it looks good on him.

But he lingers most in Dustin, in the way he dresses or speaks, or acts. Small touches of Eddie Munson all around.

(You could cry every time you see him with Eddie’s guitar. Trying to learn.

“You should take it, really.” Dustin had tried to insist.

“Dustin, he tried to make me learn a few times but I always sucked. Maybe you’ll be better at it. Keep it.” You had told him with a smile putting the guitar back against his wall. “And I have a lot of things to make me remember Eddie. Don’t worry about it.”

He’s still not at Eddie’s level. But maybe one day.)

(“Huh, yeah, in a few years, maybe.” You can hear Eddie say with a laugh and a ruffle of Dustin’s hair.)

He lingers all around you. In the polaroids you had taken. In the objects you had kept around (like the Metallica and Iron Maiden shirts you had stolen from him, like the leather jacket you had managed to take from the trailer, like the ring he had gifted you from his collection that you keep on a chain around your neck). In the corner of your room. In the town itself.

(Sometimes, you think you see him in the corner of your eye, in Hawkins or in Chicago, and you turn around with a gasp. But it was just a guy with long curly hair. Or it was just a guy that dresses like him. It’s never going to be Eddie. You know that.)

And you think he’s always going to linger. So you live, just like he asked you to, but you never stop thinking about him.

[consulaaris]

sorry not sorry for the spam of lore & screenshots but i simply must ramble on a little about zori’s love life before i stop because i’m so unwell about it. big ARR & heavensward spoilers below. this is very long and very self indulgent don’t @ me.

.

so. zori’s main (and likely endgame) romance is thancred. though they’re initially at odds, their dynamic grows into one with a lot of playful banter and back-and-forth between them, typically with thancred playfully/dramatically flirting with her and zori teasingly shutting him down (connected to the first time they met where he did genuinely try to make a move on her, and she snapped at him pretty hard). zori cares for him a lot— they do share in a lot of quiet, companionable moments, and even though they’re both the type of people who work themselves to the bone, they are able to relax with each other and zori lets her guard down around him. she starts to realize just how deep her feelings for thancred go when he’s taken over by lahabrea, and she fights tooth and nail to save him, even though it’s nearly at the cost of her own life.

but though she’s desperately glad to have him back, years of keeping her feelings to herself stop zori from actually saying anything. besides, she likes their status quo, and doesn’t want to lose what they do have.

ultimately she does lose it, though— when thancred and y’shtola bring the tunnel down in ul’dah at the end of the ARR patches, zori believes they’re dead, and has to live with the grief and guilt of knowing that they did it to get her out.

and then there’s haurchefant.

he’s so relentlessly optimistic, so kind, that he barrels right past zori’s emotional walls before she can do much about it. he’s the only person she loses her composure in front of after she loses the scions; fully breaking down in the arms of her friend. part of zori can’t not love haurchefant when he himself loves so freely and openly, and his own views make her believe that maybe there is some hope for the future and that everything will be okay. in a way, he makes zori believe in herself again, because he believes in her so strongly— and she finds herself growing ever closer to him, starting to fall in love with him. there’s a part of her that thinks maybe this time, things will work out— both for ishgard and herself— as haurchefant’s own optimism begins to work on her.

his death breaks her. when he jumps to shield her, to take that blow for her, a part of zori’s heart and hope shatters with him. there’s an immense guilt with it. if not for knowing her, he would still be alive, and when he asks her to smile at the very end she’s barely able to through her tears. she knows that he’d want her to live well, to live as a smiling hero, but she can’t bring herself to right now. she feels hollow, empty, and rage is easier to channel into action than grief. she hates most of all that haurchefant would be sad to see what his death has made of her. part of zori will never stop loving haurchefant, as much as she’ll never stop blaming herself for his death.

she’d never told him how she felt.

by the time they rescue y’shtola and she finds out that thancred may very well still be alive, zori is just at her wit’s end emotionally, but hardly even able to think about him with everything else happening around her.

the patches should be very interesting.

(also, judging by some vibes/vague spoilers i’ve seen with thancred in future expacs, his anger coupled with the way zori’s grief and loss is being channeled into just. pure rage right now makes me think they’re probably going to have a pretty explosive “breakup arc”, whether they’re officially together at the time or not.)

[screechthemighty]

Hello, Apex Fandom, I am dragging myself out of my Moon Knight daze long enough to update that Miraith short story compilation! Link to the full collection will be in a reblog, but you can read the latest nonsense below!

Wraith knew something was wrong when she glanced over her shoulder and Elliott wasn’t there.

They left the hospital together when they could. The doors were a hot spot for reporter ambushes, especially if you had a really juicy loss or really nail biting victory. They were in the former, due to a series of mishaps beyond anyone’s control that had resulted in a squad wipe in the ring. Wraith’s only consolation was they’d been able to take the squad that had pinned them down out, too.

They must’ve been new. Trying for a ring standoff was mutually assured destruction. And a really embarrassing way to lose on top of that. More embarrassing for them than us, at least.

She’d planned on just bull-rushing through the reporters, but she could only do that if everyone was there. Pathfinder was in a different part of the complex, being tended to by the mechanics, so that just left her and Elliott. If she went without him, they’d just ambush him solo, and there was no way she was going to do that to him.

But where is he?

Wraith backtracked into the hospital. Eventually, she saw Elliott ducked out of sight in the space between a vending machine and a corner. He was hunched over, his shoulders shaking. For a second, she thought he was going to be sick. “Hey...do you need a trash can?”

Elliott looked up. His face wasn’t the ashen, almost green shade it usually was when he was sick. His face was pale, but not nauseous pale. His eyes were too panicked for it to be nausea. “I can’t go out there,” he said. “I can’t do it. They can’t see me like this.”

Wraith froze. She’d never expected to hear Elliott admit to something that openly and so quickly. Usually, even when he wasn’t feeling up to it, he put on a big grin and his Mirage mode and pushed through. Even when he was politely dodging reporters, he did it without letting on something was wrong. Elliott didn’t let the mask slip in public...and technically he wasn’t now. Now, he wasn’t able to get the mask on at all.

He must be worse off than I realized.

“Hey.” Wraith glanced around, stopping only briefly to glare at the one nurse who had decided to stick around and see what was wrong. The nurse kept on moving after that. “It’s okay. We don’t have to go out there right now.” They couldn’t stall forever, of course, but maybe if they stalled long enough that the reporters got bored, they could force past the remaining ones without much trouble. “Come on. Let’s sit back down.”

Elliott stayed frozen in place at first; Wraith had to step forward and gently touch his shoulder to get his attention. His eyes met hers. Panic simmered just under the surface, making them look more bloodshot than they truly were. “...I think I might need a trash can,” he admitted.

He didn’t end up throwing up, but keeping the trash can Wraith stole from behind the reception desk nearby seemed to calm him down. The hardest part was not being able to comfort him, beyond keeping one hand on his shoulder. They were still keeping the relationship secret. Most people had worked out that Wraith and Elliott weren’t as belligerent in real life as they acted in the games, but she didn’t think anyone beyond Pathfinder and Crypto knew they were together. They wanted to keep it that way.

But she wished...

“We just have to get you to your room,” Wraith sad gently. “We can take a side exit. There won’t be so many reporters there.” She couldn’t promise there would be no reporters, because there always were, but it was easier to push past one or two than it was to push past a whole pack of them. “Then you can get some sleep.”

“Don’t know if I’ll be able to.”

“That’s fine. Do you want company?” She asked the question as quietly as possible, even though no one was really paying attention to them. “I can stay.” She was pretty sure she was too wired to sleep, too. Usually she’d unwind on her own, lie down even if she couldn’t sleep, but...

No, he needed her right now. And honestly, self-isolating probably wasn’t the best for her. It could be good for both of them.

“Y-yeah,” Elliott said quietly. “Yeah, if you don’t...?”

“I don’t mind.”

“Okay.” Elliott stared down into the trash bin and took a deep breath. “Okay. Yeah. I don’t think I’m going to throw up. We should...yeah.”

Wraith thought about bringing the can anyway, but decided to trust Elliott’s self-assessment.

The real kicker of all this was that Caustic, of all people, ended up being their salvation. He'd tried the same trick they were planning, but had been cornered by the few reporters outside. Crypto stood in the doorway, texting, and making no effort to intercede. "I am so sorry," Wraith whispered as they darted past.

Crypto glanced her way, a slight smirk on his face. She got a text from him as they speed-walked past the crowd and back towards the living quarters.

Don't be. He's digging his own grave right now.

"I think Caustic is about to be on press detention," Wraith said.

Elliott laughed, only slightly hysterical. "Oh no. That must be so hard for him. Seriously, why do they hold that over us?"

"Because not doing the PR stuff reduces your chances at sponsorships?"

"Oh, so I'll stop getting random phone calls and emails? Don't threaten me with a good time."

"You could go back and throw up on one of them. That would probably do it."

Wraith had, of course, been joking; it said a lot about Elliott's mental state that he looked like he was taking her seriously, if only for a second. "Not worth it," he said finally. "Not today, anyway. Might stick that in my back pocket for later."

Okay, yeah, she definitely had to get him out of here.

Elliott stayed tense as they walked back to their quarters, not relaxing until they were inside his room with the door locked and all the windows closed. “Listen, I love, Natalie, I really do,” he said “but I am going to fist fight her dad’s ghost for coming up with the ring. Seriously, can’t we just get an out of bounds warning?” He sat down, then abruptly stood back up and started pacing around the room. Nervous energy radiated out from him like heat waves on a road. “It’d keep us in play longer...I’m gonna be out for ages now, for real...”

“That might not be such a bad thing.” Wraith caught his hand as he walked past. “You should sit down.”

“I’m okay...”

“You’re okay for now. But those painkillers aren’t going to last forever. You’ll be in worse pain if you keep moving around.”

Elliott hesitated before reluctantly sitting down. His grip adjusted as he started running his thumb over the back of her fingers. “How long do you think it will take people to forget about this...?”

It was easy for Wraith to forget when she was so focused on other things, but public image was important in the games. Always had been. For someone like Elliott, with the persona he had...it was practically life or death. “If Caustic shot himself in the foot really badly?” she said. “They’ll probably have moved on to him by the end of the day. They might not even have noticed us at all, if people are still talking about that match with Narita and Bangalore.”

Elliott gave a strangled laugh. “Oh...oh, shit, yeah, I forgot about that. I still can’t believe he called her a mall cop in public.”

“I still can’t believe she didn’t shoot him for it. Who knows, she might be saving it for later...” Wraith carefully squeezed his hand. “I know it’s not my business, but has he ever told you why he’s here?”

She wouldn’t have brought it up normally, but she was trying to keep him distracted. Besides, Narita was a special case. You didn’t usually ask a person’s reasons for being there—unspoken code of the games—but you also didn’t usually get people like Narita. People who clearly didn’t want to be there, but stayed anyway. It made her more curious than usual.

Elliott shook his head. “Trust me, I’ve thought about asking. Every time he’s mentioned it, it’s been financial...he’s from Angel City, right?”

“He’s mentioned that, yeah.”

“Really could just be the money, then. I hear it’s insane out there. Can’t be good for your finances.”

“Insane how?”

“Oh, uh, it’s contested territory. Technically? It fell under the IMC’s jurisdiction after the peace treaties were signed, but Angel City had a lot of anti-IMC factions in there by the end. That’s how the Angel City Elite got away with operating out of there for so long during the war. They’ve been trying to gain independence for...a while? Maybe they have by now. I can’t remember.” Elliott shrugged. “My tio had a few friends from there, but they didn’t really talk about it around me.”

Wraith could understand why. The complexities of postwar politics were enough to make her head spin. She couldn’t imagine trying to process all of that as a kid. “And...he knows your uncle, too?”

“Yeah. I know, small galaxy, right? Jack knew a couple of sims, so that’s probably why I didn’t remember him. I think one was a girl?” Elliott took a deep breath. “Thank you. For distracting me, and for getting me out of there. I’m...”

“If you’re about to say ‘sorry,’ don’t. You have nothing to be sorry for.” She rested a hand against his cheek; he closed his eyes and sighed softly, looking fully relaxed for the first time in hours. “I know you’d do the same for me.”

And she really did.

.

If there was ever a solid example of “blessing and a curse,” it was Wraith’s abilities. On the one hand: super useful! Had saved their asses multiple times. On the other hand: could be really spooky and distressing. And when Wraith got overwhelmed, she got overwhelmed bad.

She wasn’t sure what triggered it most of the time. This time, if Elliott had to guess, it probably had something to do with the match. It was a specialty match, constant ring movement, extra payout but at what cost kind of deal. A lot of other parallel Wraiths must have done this match, too, because she was getting warnings left, right, and center. All accurate ones, but Elliott could tell it was giving her a headache. “You okay?” he asked.

“I’ll hold,” Wraith replied. Translation: no, but I won’t collapse before the match is over. “We need to find more heavy ammo.”

“I’ll keep an eye out,” Elliott promised. He wasn’t just talking about the ammo. Wraith was strong, sure, but she definitely looked like she needed the extra attention right then. And to work a little less. They could make do without portals. (Well, he was pretty sure they could. But they definitely needed a third team mate more than they needed portals.)

Wraith did hold, and for a pretty long time, too. They were down to two enemy teams and had managed to set up an ambush point in the space where the ring would stop. Maybe it was the “down” time—even if it was only a few minutes—but of course that was when Wraith’s headache finally kicked in.

“Mirage...”

It was funny, how weird his own nickname was starting to sound. It used to be all she called him, but he had just gotten used to hearing Elliott instead. But they had their image to worry about—the illusion that they were just Team Mates, Barely Friends, Definitely Not Dating.

That illusion was hard to hold onto when Wraith was so clearly, visibly in pain. He had to repeatedly remind himself there were cameras on them, No Forehead Kisses Allowed. “Is it bad?” he asked as he knelt beside her. Then, just as quickly, “I know, stupid question...”

“Seeing double,” she said through gritted teeth. “Same team in the other timeline, too.”

Elliot winced sympathetically. “Am I more or less hot in the other timeline?” he asked, trying for a joke.

“More.”

“Ouch.” At least he knew she was joking. They’d discussed this before, actually. You look the same in most of them. Usually the scars are moved around. Sometimes your dye your hair. But other than that, nothing’s really changed.

There was something weirdly comforting about that, though Elliott had a feeling Wraith wasn’t thinking about it that way.

“What do you need?” he asked. A totally normal team mate question to ask, or so he hoped. You never knew how the shippers were going to take it.

“Just keep talking. It should...level out, I hope.”

“Okay. Uhm.” Well, for once in his life, he was having a hard time thinking of anything to say. “It’s kinda...” No, don’t say quiet! “...lucky that we found this spot, huh? Guess that’s the universe or the timeline or God or whatever balancing things out. Equivalent exchange.”

“Like that comic Narita kept going on about...”

“You actually read that?”

“Yeah, it’s not bad.”

“I keep meaning to, but you know how it is...only so many hours in the day and I somehow find a way to waste half of them.” Elliott forced a laugh. “Uh, I think Pathfinder’s found a bunch of different exit points, so we have options to get out of here. Though who knows, maybe whoever’s left will kill each other before they get to us.”

“Never that simple, but it would be nice.” Wraith took a deep breath in, then a slow, careful breath out. “Okay. I think...yeah. I’m okay.”

Sure enough, her eyes didn’t have that slight grey cast when she opened them again. Elliott sighed in relief. “Good thing. This goes a lot smoother when there’s two of us who know what we’re doing.” He meant her and Pathfinder, really, and winked to let her know. “Let’s win this, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Wraith said. She took another breath, her jaw setting in a resolved way and not a migraine way. “Let’s.”

Hilariously, it turned out Elliott had been given a turn with the gift of prophecy. The remaining teams did end up killing each other first. Elliott felt a little guilty laughing about it, but even Wraith smiled a little, so it was probably fine.

And it was nice to see her smile regardless.

[captainsimagines]

traitor

Summary: It was only one night, no strings attached, just two friends working through their grief together. Steve went to live his life with Peggy and within two weeks of returning, he peacefully passed. Unimaginable things happen everyday, jokes have negative consequences, and protection doesn’t always protect from the possibility… the possibility of carrying a child. He would have stayed if he knew, everyone agrees with this, so why is the world calling Steve Rogers a traitor?

One-Shot (with a happy ending)

Pairing(s): Avengers x Fem Reader; brief Steve Rogers x Fem Reader

Warnings: Unexpected pregnancy; serious talks about abortion; brief mention of suicide (if you squint); mentions of Endgame deaths; strong language; minor descriptions of actual birth; ANGST but with a happy ending! This is purely fanfiction. 

Word Count: 6,600+

A/N: So, Olivia Rodrigo’s album just came out and dude, jfc every song is magical. like... wtf. This is essentially a ‘song fanfic’, but ehhhh not quite. The lyrics don’t match the fanfic lmao but the melody does??? idk this is a shit ton of angst, be warned. It was from a request I got a while back, so this is kind of a request fanfic. 

~

Up until the moment Steve pressed his soft lips to yours, you were certain you had never experienced such a wonderful sensation of magic. You had been witness to actual magic, to beings from other worlds, and yet Steve’s gentle touch was enough to erase any other image, to completely overpower your senses, a kind of magic that dug deep into the trenches of your heart and settled in its new home. 

No, you and Steve were not a couple. There were some flirty remarks over the years, some fantasies that lay dormant, but there was never the craving to actually act upon them. But when half the world disappeared and the remaining Avengers came up with a plan five years later, the loss of a teammate prompted the sudden push of two touch-starved individuals. The rest of the team had gone to sulk in their own corners of the compound, some hard at work at constructing the final piece to the puzzle, and you and Steve ventured off to the kitchen. Two cups of tea each, silent but heavy tears mixing in with the sugar and milk. 

You were the first to break, shoulders crumbling and knees rocking under your weight. You fell to the floor, sobs and hiccups forming into a full-blown attack, your hands scratching at your neck. Steve fell beside you, pulling you into his chest and rocking you back and forth. He cried too, the final words of his best friend ringing in his ears like a dreaded song on repeat. See you in a minute. See you in a minute. See you in a minute. 

Time was irrelevant, you had enough of counting time, estimating it, time-traveling through it. If you could sit there all night, all week, another five years huddled close to Steve Rogers, then so be it. 

‘I can’t believe she’s gone,’ you had sobbed. 

‘I can’t believe it either. I can’t,’ he had cried back. 

You had simply lifted your head and turned his face toward yours, searching his eyes for any hesitation before you had leaned in first. He had returned the intimate gesture almost immediately, gripping you tightly. Tears dripped in between your moving lips, sobs caught inside breathy moans, grips becoming tighter and tighter as each of you shared your first time together. No other partner up until that point had ever pulled such a pained but grateful cry from your throat, no other human being had ever made you feel so safe and peaceful. 

The final battle was over, you had lost yet another teammate, but the world had a chance to start over. And Steve had pulled you aside a few days before he returned the stones, letting you know that he wasn’t coming back the same man. He had been so scared of telling you, of possibly betraying you, but when your palms cupped his cheeks and you gave him a kiss on the lips with a soft whisper of ‘Be with her. Cherish her. Be happy. We’ll meet again’, his worries instantly shattered. He could only rapidly nod his head, grabbing your hands that were soaked in his tears, and kissing them until he said his final goodbyes. 

And he returned such a different man, but with a smile you had never quite seen before. Yes, he was older and you only had a few seconds to actually process that, but he was happy. He had been happy. He finally lived the life he deserved. 

Sitting in that pew two weeks later, both sad and happy tears streaming down your face, you felt at peace for the first time in a long time. You simply gripped Wanda’s hand as they carried the casket down the aisle, a sad melody drowning the church. 

`

The first round of sickness hit you the day of the funeral, but you obviously didn’t think much of it. It was the fits of sadness and grief, the hot coil in the middle of your stomach, you thought. It had to be. It wasn’t until your breakfast was regurgitated into your toilet only a few minutes after enjoying it that you were suddenly worried. 

You sneaked to some liquor store a subway ride away, careful of not leaving a trail. This was embarrassing, it was insane, it couldn’t possibly be real. You gave the cashier your money and ran to the stall provided, peeing on the stick the best you could before placing it on the dirty sink in the corner. You patted your hands on your thighs repeatedly, careful to not touch any other thing in a goddamn liquor store bathroom. 

‘Friday?’ your voice was so defeated, tears already stinging your eyes.

Your little bluetooth sprang to life, ‘Yes, Y/N?’

Your bottom lip was trembling wildly, hands now shaking. ‘Can you stay active with me while I read the results? I can’t… I can’t be alone right now.’

‘Yes, Y/N. Anything you need, I’m here.’ You sobbed openly, thanking her under your breath. ‘Are you sure you don’t want me to contact anybody else?’

‘I can’t face them. I can’t face them if it’s positive, Friday.’

‘Okay, it’s alright,’ her voice was so delicate, so quiet and reassuring. ‘Just keep talking to me, Y/N. I think the results should be ready now.’

You inched closer to the test. ‘I’m scared, Friday.’

‘I know,’ Friday sighed, ‘But you will get through this. No matter the result.’

Grabbing the small device from the sink, you swallowed so much saliva that it actually hurt. The plus sign was so clear, so evident in its visibility, and your ears only registered the loud cries escaping your painful lungs because Friday was practically yelling in your ear. 

‘Please, calm down Y/N! Your heart rate is too fast-” she was stuttering, an AI was stuttering. ‘I’m calling for help. You need someone to be here with you. I’m sorry.’

It took ten minutes. Ten minutes of banging outside the bathroom door from the cashier, ten minutes of blurry vision and a strep throat. Sam broke through the door as quickly as he could, eyes flying around the small bathroom until he saw you huddled in the corner, a pregnancy test clutched in your small hand. He crouched down beside you, hands extended but not exactly touching you, and eyes trying to lock with yours. 

‘Y/N, Y/N?’

Just the sound of his voice, the voice of someone who didn’t need this added pain in their lives, it was just too much. Another weight added to your shoulders. 

‘I don’t know why,’ you choked out, ‘I’m so sorry.’

Sam’s face contorted into a pained expression, eyes brimmed with salty tears. ‘What are you talking about? No one is blaming you for anything. You’re safe, I’m here.’

You shook your head violently, ‘I didn’t mean to.’

But as quickly as those words left your mouth, the pounding in your head had become too unbearable. You collapsed into Sam’s arms. 

`

You woke to a single doctor who was monitoring your vitals. She was just sitting beside your bed, clicking random buttons on the screen in front of her. You whimpered slightly, the bright lights temporarily blinding you. The doctor quickly stopped what she was doing and removed the tube from your nose, allowing you to breathe on your own. You ignored the weird scratch that caused, and asked her the question you needed to have answered by a true medical professional - not a liquor store device. 

She confirmed what you already knew. There were no ‘congratulations’ or even ‘I’m sorry’s’, just the fact that you were pregnant and it was very early on. There were still options for you, it was healthy so far, you were healthy so far- 

Wait, options? 

The team were all huddled outside, nerves all over the place. They didn’t know what was going on. Sam knew but it wasn’t his information to pass on. It wasn’t until Bucky’s angry demeanor actually turned violent, a hole forming through the hospital wall. You were all on a private floor, completely displaced from the reality down on other levels, so any freak-outs were only slightly justified. Slightly. 

‘Sam, you gotta tell us. I made a promise to Steve, Sam! I promised to take care of her!’

Bucky’s words gripped Sam’s heart in a metaphorical vice. ‘She’s gotta tell you guys, man. It’s not my place.’

You had curled in on yourself, the doctor’s words echoing louder and louder. 

‘Abortion is an option. At this rate, it would be quick and safe. I can promise you that. It’s your choice.’

You wanted to die. You wanted the world to swallow you up and bury you alive. You wanted to disappear. If you had died in the snap, this wouldn’t have happened. It wouldn’t have happened. 

The ride back to the compound was a quiet one, with Sam driving you and the radio on low volume. 

‘Are you going to tell them?’

You bit your lip, ‘The doctor said I had options.’

Sam’s breath hitched and he tried to mask it, but you had heard it. You felt guilty, disgusting, like you betrayed Steve and the rest of the team. They had just lost him, you had just lost him, and you were carrying his child. And if Steve would have known, he would have wanted it. He would have encouraged you to have it, he would have been so happy, he would have been such a great fa-

‘The choice is yours, Y/N.’ He glanced over at you, ‘Can you at least tell me who the father is?’

The wrecked sobs were like second nature now, choking you with their strength. ‘I’m so sorry!’

Sam pulled to the side of the road and quickly took off his seatbelt, sliding over in the connected front seats to pull you into his chest. ‘Shh, hey. We are not going to be mad at you. Everything’s going to be okay. It may not seem like it now but-’

‘Sam!’ you cried, clutching his shirt in a tight fist. ‘I swear it was an accident! Steve didn’t know! He didn’t know, I swear he didn’t know!’

Sam’s mouth dropped open, an almost embarrassing noise of surprise sounding from the depths of his soul. He ran his hands through your hair, eyes rapidly searching for a single viewpoint. But he couldn’t focus on any one thing, not when you were shuddering against him and apologizing nonstop. 

Steve didn’t know. 

`

The team had reacted in a similar manner. They so desperately wanted to wish you a congratulations, it was the norm for this kind of thing. Especially with such a rough few years - bringing life into this world could be considered an ultimate blessing. But this was Steve’s child, his baby, his only baby in this timeline. It was a part of him, something he had unknowingly left behind. 

The team took a few days. The pain of losing Natasha, of losing Steve, of losing Tony. The gift of life. It was just too much. 

And you found yourself in front of Wanda’s bedroom door, hands clutching your night robe closed and knees wobbly. She brought you tea, she laid underneath the covers with you, she spooned you until you stopped crying. 

‘We weren’t together.’

‘You weren’t?’

You sat up, muscles straining due to your thousandth crying session that week. ‘No, it was one time. It was a mutual thing. We just… felt safe. And we made love.’

Wanda shut her eyes briefly, only to open them for two parallel tears to slip. ‘That sounds beautiful.’

‘We used protection. It really was an accident.’

Wanda interrupted, ‘No, don’t try and justify yourself. It happened. It’s done.’

You whimpered, reaching out to grab her hands. ‘I feel so guilty for even talking to you. I don’t know how you did it. I’m so selfish to be pouring all this on you-’

‘Hey, hey,’ she whispered, ‘But I am the only one who can truly understand. I have lost more in my lifetime than anybody ever should. But I am going to help you get through this, Y/N.’

You pulled her into a hug, ‘I missed you so much. I’m so sorry, but I can’t do this.’

Wanda slowly pulled away, eyes cloudy and touch of red twinge flying in her irises. ‘Alright. I won’t leave your side. No matter what you decide.’

` 

The chair was cold, the room was cold, no matter how inviting the hospital tried to make this room. It was decorated in the most neutral colors, so delicate in its designs, pamphlets and books scattered on every available surface. It was made to make the pregnant person feel secure, to feel comfortable in the hands of their doctor, but it just made you sick. 

And when the doctor asked if you would like an ultrasound first, that it wasn’t actually necessary for you to view it, you found yourself saying yes. You were at six weeks, it would be there. Wanda clenched her eyes shut, because even if you were strong enough to do that, she wasn’t. But she was here to hold your hand. She would hold your hand no matter what. 

It was the size of a grain of rice. That fuzzy, white figure off a little to the right of your uterus was the size of a grain. A literal grain of rice. The monitor shifted and the doctor cleared their throat, the slimy device absentmindedly being circled around your lower abdomen. 

‘Oh my god,’ you whispered, eyes locked on the place the doctor had their finger. Wanda brought her hand up to her mouth and looked away. 

That’s when you heard it. 

The steady rhythm of a strong heartbeat. 

Your chest started heaving, tears staining your cheeks as you listened to the beautiful sound. 

‘I’m so sorry,’ the doctor mumbled, ready to pull the monitor’s plug to end the live video but you gripped their arm before they could. 

‘No, no!’ you yelped, the heartbeat still sounding, so early in its actual life that this was for sure Steve’s child. 

You turned to Wanda, face contorting into one of agonizing regret. ‘I can’t do this. I can’t do this to Steve.’

Wanda gulped and took in a ragged breath, ‘Y/N, Steve’s not here.’

‘No,’ you whined, head turning back to look at the monitor. The monitor with yours and Steve’s child on it. ‘This is the only real part of him we have left, right?’

Wanda opened her mouth but shut it again, unable to formulate a proper response. 

‘This is Steve’s child,’ you stated, sucking in a breath through your sobs. ‘This is my child.’

` 

The team was alerted of your decision the minute you walked into the common room. They had known what you left for, dread itching in their souls and morals twisting greedily, but they hadn’t stopped you. They couldn’t do that to you. 

‘Hi,’ you mumbled, placing your things on the counter. Everyone kept their heads down, lumps growing in their throats as each second passed. ‘I’m okay.’

Clint was the first one to speak. ‘Did everything go well? Did they hurt you?’

You smiled with your teeth for the first time in weeks, ‘No, they didn’t hurt me. They didn’t even touch me.’

For a few seconds, no one caught on to your words. But Bucky was the first to register them, to etch them deeply into his brain, to stand from his seat and walk to you cautiously. ‘You decided-?’

You smiled wide now, happy tears falling over your strained cheeks. ‘I’m having a baby.’

The team erupted, cries and cheers deafening you. Bucky stumbled over and hugged you close, arms wrapped over your shoulders and face buried in your neck. He had to bend his knees to keep that position. He weeped into your shoulder and thanked you repeatedly, his own body rumbling with broken sobs. You held him close, fingers digging into his shirt and the skin of his back. 

‘We promise, Y/N,’ Sam said off to the side, waiting for his turn to hug you. ‘We promise to take care of you and this baby.’

A few more long-awaited congratulations were shared. ‘Guess I’m on desk duty for the next nine months, huh?’

Bucky held you tighter. 

`

The first four months were certainly eventful. Wanda insisted on taking pictures of you every few weeks. She had you model with a nice tight shirt to show off your growing stomach, different props in your arms as the weeks passed on.  Flowers, sporting equipment, random Avengers inventions, signs that read the number of weeks you were at. You even did couple shoots, with your teammates posing behind you with their hands on your stomach and an equally bright smile.

She had them printed out and framed, the compound common rooms now littered with random photos of you and your growing child. It was like a timeline, a museum considering you would catch someone inspecting the photographs. This time it was Scott, casually eating his cereal and balancing it in his hand as he walked the hallway. He had this silly smile on his face the whole time, milk dripping from his bottom lip. In his photo, he was posed behind you with a giant smile, back arched and head thrown back while you were trying your best to arch your back as well. And then he saw you watching him, eyes falling from your face to your stomach, and that silly smile growing wider. 

Happy insisted on doing yoga with you every other morning, his chosen playlists actually Tony’s. Half expecting the songs to only emit the essence of rock and roll, you were surprised when the playlist only contained acoustics. Happy winked at you, ‘He was a man of taste, Y/N. He, too, had those sad driving songs.’

Peter was hesitant to visit at first. He was still mourning Tony, as you all were, and seeing everyone again was certainly a hard thing to do. But he managed, and the moment he saw you there, trying to balance a plastic bottle on your tiny stomach, he burst into a fit of giggles. 

‘Oh, oh! I almost got it!’ you encouraged yourself, stomach not yet protruded enough to quite get it. 

Peter rushed over and caught the bottle as it slipped, ‘You’ll get there. How do you feel?’

You grinned at the kid, ‘Like I’m pregnant.’

Peter chuckled, ‘I wouldn’t know, so.’

‘It’s weird,’ you admitted, turning back to your abandoned bowl of fruit. You popped a piece of pineapple in your mouth, ‘But I just remind myself that they’re gonna be an angel when they come out.’

‘All slimy and angelic.’

You swatted at Peter, ‘They’re healthy. That’s all that matters.’

Peter placed his hand on your stomach, half-expecting something to happen. ‘I can’t believe you’re having his baby.’

You bit your lip, willing yourself not to cry. Steve should be here experiencing this. ‘Me neither.’

`

The next month had come so quickly. Your friends - your family - made sure to keep you occupied. Whether it was to shop, to nap together, to eat together, to exercise together, anything, they were by your side. It was so overwhelming at times, but not wanting to scare anyone, you took time for yourself whenever you could. You’d settle in your room, in a nearby cafe, in Natasha’s room, and just sit and breathe. With one hand on your stomach, you couldn’t possibly fathom the luck on your side. It always tore your heart in two when you realized Steve would never meet his child, absolutely mutilated it. But the realization that this child was going to have such a massive family, your family, uncles and aunts who would die for the kid - that realization was sometimes too much. 

The thunder from outside startled everyone. The quiet night everyone was having was suddenly interrupted by the appearance of a certain god, hair now cut and beard trimmed, running into the common area. He was practically hyperventilating, his quick pace halting as he scanned the room. ‘Is it true?’

‘You got my message?’ Wanda asked, shutting off the water from the sink. 

‘I’m sorry, I was away. I just got the message and-’

Thor lay his eyes on you, your obvious stomach, and he started crying softly. ‘It’s true?’

You smiled at him, opening your arms for an embrace. But Thor fell to his knees in front of you, forehead resting on your stomach. ‘This is a miracle.’

‘It really is,’ you laughed, wiping away a few stray tears. ‘The condom broke.’

Laughter sounded almost instantly. 

Thor looked up at you, eyes red and eyebrows furrowed. ‘He didn’t know?’

You shook your head, ‘No, Steve didn’t know. I promise.’

Thor nodded, believing you. He stood slowly, encasing you in a tight squeeze. He hadn’t changed much since you last saw him, but he did seem to be drinking less. ‘After so much loss, the Heaven’s send us a gift from a beloved friend.’

`

Bucky seemed to be the happiest. Although he shared your beliefs that Steve should be here to experience this, to cherish this, to be the father he had deserved to be, Bucky couldn’t help but feel grateful that you decided to keep the baby. He knew he needed to stop relying on Steve to fix his mind, this he had to do on his own, but the bundle of joy inside of you just added to his undying love for his best friend. This was a piece of him, a true half of Steve’s heart that would soon be breathing air and opening its eyes. 

He was currently laying beside you, just woken up from a nap and lazily drawing circles over your clothed tummy. You were still asleep, deep breaths a little ragged since you were twisted slightly to your side. You had given up trying to sleep on your back nowadays. 

‘Hey there,’ Bucky whispered, a funny smile forming on his face because he can’t believe he’s talking to your literal stomach. ‘You know you’re a miracle, right?’

There was no response, obviously. But Bucky just positioned himself to lean on his elbow, temple resting in the palm of his hand. ‘We’re going to love you so much. Steve would have loved you so much.’

He placed his metal hand on your stomach, careful not to apply so much pressure. He was hesitant though, the metal hand now from Wakanda but still something he didn’t entirely trust. Still, he rubbed smooth circles on your side. ‘I already love you so much.’

Kick.

Bucky widened his eyes, a hitch in his breath. Was that real?

‘Did you just respond to me?’ Bucky asked, a little laugh escaping his lips. ‘Should I say it again?’

Nothing happened for a long while. He switched hands, rubbing a little deeper now. It was a free massage for you, anyway. 

Bucky bit his lip and looked up at your face, still peacefully dreaming. He leaned closer to your stomach and repeated his earlier confession. ‘I love you.’

Kick. 

Bucky shot up from his spot on the bed and covered his mouth, a loud laugh accidentally escaping and startling you awake. 

‘W-What?’

‘They kicked! They kicked!’

‘Seriously?’

Bucky was shooting through the stars, because even though it was a long shot, he felt like somehow Steve was telling him he loved him back. 

`

Sam’s leg bounced madly as he watched the doctor slick up the generator. You repeatedly tried to calm him, tell him that it would be quick and simple, and there was nothing to be worried about. 

You were six months now. Belly now protruding to the point where you could only see the tips of your toes when you glanced downward, and the baby was positioned farther into your back. If anything, you were having a giant freaking baby. He was a product of a super soldier. 

You remembered having that scary conversation with the doctors, your whole family beside you as they heard and relayed the information. 

‘Your baby is perfectly healthy. The serum isn’t affecting it. His lungs are forming less quickly than the other organs but there’s no serious worry.’

Bucky had literally cackled at that, confusing everyone in the room. ‘Steve and his shit lungs.’

But now you were finding out the sex. Only one person was allowed in the room this time, and Sam had literally begged you with his eyes to choose him. 

‘Are you two ready?’

You each nodded at the doctor, waiting for the monitor to spring to life. After a few seconds, the heartbeat was detected. You gripped Sam’s hand in yours, a quiet ‘thank god’ passing through his lips. 

Then the giant image of a literal baby appeared on the screen. It was so surreal. It resembled a quick sketch, like one Steve would have casually drew, and you couldn’t help but imagine him drawing that very image from memory. 

‘Y/N, I-’ Sam cleared his throat, smiling at you. 

‘Would you like to know the sex of the baby?’

‘Yes, please,’ you answered, gripping Sam’s hand harder. 

The doctor moved the generator a few times more, hitting the spacebar on the computer to capture the image. ‘Congratulations, you’re having a boy.’

You shuttered a tiny laugh as Sam flew out of his seat, arms extended upward for a moment before he brought his hands down to kiss them over and over. 

‘I’ll print this out for you,’ the doctor smiled, leaving you and Sam to celebrate. 

`

Everyone had gathered later that night to find out the news. You had printed enough copies for everyone who wanted one. Bets were placed, a multitude of gifts already mounted in online shopping carts. 

‘Don’t keep us waiting!’ Rhodey shouted, champagne bottle at the ready and propped up on his thigh for when you made your announcement. 

Sam was standing beside you, a massive grin plastered on his face. You rolled your eyes at him and urged him on, telling him that you were fine with him saying it. Sam didn’t need to be told twice. 

‘It’s a boy!’

Pop! Drinks were poured and hugs were shared, with even Friday coming over the monitor to congratulate you. 

Even in the midst of all the excitement, you felt a little empty. But you enjoyed your pre-baby shower, happy that everything was so unbelievably working out. 

It was midnight when you alerted Friday to call Happy to your room. You needed a ride. 

Happy was slightly irritated at being woken up, but once you told him where you were heading, he obliged. The ride was silent, comfortable, with Happy glancing at you once in a while to make sure you were okay. 

You walked across the grass slowly, hands resting on your stomach and just a little waddle in your walk. You flashed your phone light over the headstones even though the headstone you were looking for was in a secluded area. Happy trailed you, keeping a respectable distance. 

You stopped in front of the small building, the fence somewhat blocking your path. But there was no security around, and even if you were caught on camera, your face let everyone know who you were and your connection to Steve. You had no worries. 

You broke the lock easily and opened the door. It was almost entirely marble, a good deal of Steve’s actual aesthetic. So simple, not overly patriotic, and secluded. He had refused to be buried in Arlington. 

You sat on the bench provided, the three names in front of you standing out like they were begging to be read out loud. So you complied. 

‘Sarah,’ you muttered, smiling as the name rolled off your tongue. ‘Thank you for sending everyone a literal angel.’

You muttered his father’s name as well, but felt no personal connection to it. You spent at least ten minutes building up the courage to utter his name, to say his name in front of him again. He was buried right underneath your feet, his name the only thing for you to see. 

‘Steve,’ you sighed and rubbed your stomach. ‘Steve.’

You sobbed silently and watched as the tears fell on top of your resting hands. ‘I don’t regret it.’

You were met with silence. ‘I don’t regret any of it. God knows why he did this. But you lived your life, and I just can’t believe I have to bring life into this world without you here.’

‘It’s a boy, Steve. A lovely little boy.’

You brought your hand up to your mouth to bite the side of it, throat clenching. ‘Everyone is so happy. I am, too. I promise you.’

You lowered your hand back to your stomach. ‘I just wish that you could feel that happiness.’

The moonlight moved slightly, shining on his name brighter now. ‘He’ll know about you, don’t worry about that.’ You laughed. 

You didn’t want to keep Happy waiting. You stood from the bench slowly, feet sore. You walked closer to him, wishing you could easily bend down and give him a kiss. But you physically couldn’t right now, so you blew him one instead. ‘Thank you.’

`

Somehow the rumor got out that an Avenger was pregnant. And when Wanda was seen outside without a large stomach, all fingers were pointed at you. 

The news went ballistic, most positive and raving, while others pondered just who had gotten you pregnant. You had been seen with everyone in paparazzi photos, so no actual conclusion had been made. 

Until a picture of you at Steve’s gravesite was leaked. 

It was constant bombardment, timelines were stitched together, magazines and their headlines were having a field day. Rhodey had tried to cancel these news stories, to threaten lawsuits, but to no avail. The world was now cursing Steve’s name - ‘how dare he leave her while pregnant?’, ‘how could he leave her pregnant and for another woman?’, ‘did he even know?’

The team had done everything in their power to try and clear yours and Steve’s name, but no one was having it. Steve’s love story was now tarnished, with many calling him a traitor and a deadbeat. It was no use. 

You struggled to climb the stairs, inwardly cursing the staff for not installing a ramp instead. The flashes were blinding, the lights were hot, and the various microphones placed on the stand were comical. 

Everyone hushed, looks of sympathy and pity slapping you in the face. 

‘I know what you’re all thinking and what you’ve all been saying,’ you started, eyes wandering to the far corner of the room where your team were huddled. ‘But I need to clear a few things up.’

‘Steve didn’t know.’

The crowd erupted, questions flying at you like fast bullets. They were silenced after a few moments. ‘We shared a moment with each other before we brought everyone back. I didn’t know I was pregnant until after his funeral.’

The crowd murmured amongst each other. ‘He told me he was planning to stay in another timeline. To live his life. I encouraged him. He did not leave me alone and pregnant. He truly didn’t know.’

You finished, they didn’t deserve a deeper explanation. You ignored their calls for questions, some even trying to crowd you at the doors. But you pushed through them, cradling your stomach with a newfound sense of pride. 

`

It was time. 

You sat up in your bed and quickly wiped away the hard crusts from the corners of your eyes. You sat there for a few seconds before you felt another harsh twinge. ‘A-ah!’

You didn’t know why you paused, legs now thrown over the side of the bed. They felt like menstrual cramps, it could be false labor. You let out a heavy breath and pushed yourself up, legs wobbly. But the moment you did, it was like something snapped. Your legs were wet and a tiny puddle had started forming on the floor. 

‘Friday!’

The lights in your room turned on immediately, ‘Y/N, is it time?’

You moaned at the uncomfortable cramping, ‘Yeah, I think it is.’

‘I’m waking and alerting the team right now, Y/N. Sit back down, please.’

You listened to Friday, sitting at the edge of your bed for a few moments before you realized you had to pack a bag. You shuffled across your room and grabbed the duffel bag Scott had left for you a few days ago. You packed a pair of socks, sweats, underwear, vaseline and your toothbrush, hairbrush, and phone. You zipped your bag just in time for both Bucky and Sam to throw open your door, Sam struggling to put his shoes on and Bucky slipping on a jacket inside-out. 

‘Y/N, is it really time? Are you ready? Are you okay?’

You ignored the cramping in your back and laughed at them, ‘Yes! My water broke, I’m in pain, it’s time.’

With both Sam and Bucky at your sides, they held onto you as you all stumbled down the hallway. Thor was already waiting with the elevator open, the biggest smile on his aging face. 

‘Wanda and Bruce are preparing the room. Scott already called the doctor. Clint’s in route,’ Bucky reassured. The three men huddled into the elevator with you, all instructing you to breathe and to squeeze them if you needed to. 

But even though you were in pain, albeit not as extreme as it was going to inevitably get, you were so incredibly happy. They were all so loud, so chaotic, and you were as calm as a cucumber. 

The elevator dinged. ‘Good luck, Y/N,’ you heard Friday call after you. You pinched your eyes closed, the thought that Friday was ultimately a part of Tony’s consciousness - Tony was wishing you good luck. 

The pressure in your hips was starting to build and you didn’t know how long this would actually take. Some people had quick births, some people lay in labor for hours, some for a day. But it seemed like this was going to be pretty quick, because your next scream was completely involuntarily. 

Bucky winced, leading you to the bed Wanda had just lay sheets on. ‘You’re doing great, Y/N. Absolutely perfect.’

You laughed at Bucky and gripped his hand in silent thanks before slipping into the bed and trying to get comfortable. Before you could truly feel like you made it, like the first hard step was done, you sat up quickly. 

‘Wait, wait! Nat’s sweater! I was gonna wear Nat’s sweater!’

Thor was already out the door, ‘I’ll get it! Don’t worry!’

You smiled at the ceiling, beads of sweat now rolling down your forehead. ‘Oh, this hurts!’

It was an hour. Once you shimmied into Natasha’s purple knitted sweater, you lay there trying to control your breathing. Everyone had piled into the room one right after the other. The room was big enough, spacious enough for even Bruce to roam freely. Although you were in an immense amount of pain, you still focused on your team. 

Scott was on his third cup of coffee, sipping excitedly as he conversed with the others. Bruce was constantly checking your vitals and wanting everything the doctor was saying repeated. Wanda was beside you, a hand gripping yours and the other running ice chips along your lips. Bucky was on your other bedside wearing one of Steve’s sweatshirts because it still smelled like him. His logic was that if he was wearing something of Steve’s the first moment he held your baby, then the first thing he smelled would be the remnants of his father. 

And Thor was practically speechless, silent in his own little corner and feeling like the god’s really did bless everyone in this room after such turmoil.

Clint arrived with Peter trailing behind him just when the doctor instructed you sit up - you were at ten centimeters. 

‘You gotta push, Y/N! You gotta push when the doctor says push!’

You yelled until your lungs gave out, head almost rolling back but Sam held it in his palm. ‘C’mon, Y/N! You’re doing great!’

You usually had perfect pitch when you sang, never faltering when it was time to hit a high note. But your voice was cracking at the most unusual times, throat rubbed raw as you felt your hips splinter open. 

‘He’s crowning!’

Wanda traded places with Sam real quick, deciding that she wanted to see the baby when he was finally out. Bucky had a death grip on your hand, tears flowing freely and a smile to match Thor’s. 

‘Push, Y/N! Push!’

‘I’m-I’m! I’m sorry! I can’t!’

The doctor was working her hands around the head, trying to ease the baby out easier. ‘Trust me, Y/N. One more big push and the shoulders will be out. That’s the hardest part.’

The doctor’s words were starting to drown out, and your head lolled back again. You felt tiny smacks on your cheeks, ‘C’mon, Y/N. You can do this. Everyone believes in you. You’re so goddamn strong, Y/N!’

That was Bucky’s voice. Bucky. 

You opened your eyes, delirious for a second. ‘Steve?’

Bucky whimpered and nodded, bringing your hand up to his lips and pressing kisses all over. ‘He’s here. I feel him, Y/N. You can do this.’

And you could feel him. You could see your family but you could feel him. It was so light, like a gentle whisk across the cheek, a promise that this truly was a miracle. 

You screamed as you pushed under doctor’s orders, feeling numb and abused but satisfied. His shoulders slipped out and along with them came his arms and torso, legs and all ten toes. The doctor caught him quickly, lifting him up vertically to let you see him. He was already crying. 

‘He’s here!’

You sobbed and smiled widely, laughter rattling your chest as the team bombarded you with quick hugs. Sam remained at your side, his eyes motioning for Bucky to go see the baby. 

‘Who’s cutting the cord?’

You looked around the room but you knew. You answered the doctor’s question. ‘Bucky.’

Bucky was truly confused. Not because of your decision, but because he couldn’t possibly be worthy of this. His hands, those hands that had killed so many people involuntarily, had almost killed Steve, those hands were now gripping a pair of medical scissors to cut the symbolization of new life entering the world. He turned to you for permission one last time, before he gripped the cord in his hand and cut where the doctor pointed. 

His shoulders felt a million times lighter. Like he was set free all over again. 

They cleaned the baby up quickly and swaddled him. The doctor placed him in your arms, all warm and utterly safe, to look back up at you with the same blue eyes as his father. 

You sobbed happily, brushing your fingers delicately along his pink cheek. ‘Hi. Hi there.’

He was no longer crying, just staring up in pure astonishment at the various faces staring back at him. 

‘Y/N, he’s beautiful,’ Clint said, tissue already in hand. 

‘I can’t believe you’re here,’ you spoke softly. 

‘Do we have a name?’

It was like everyone said it in unison. ‘Steve.’

You snuggled into the bed and Natasha’s sweater, somewhat aware of the doctor still fixing you up down there. You would try feeding later, but for now your newborn needed to be passed around the group and be awed at. 

You carefully guided him to Bucky, holding his head gently in your palm. Bucky took him, arms instinctively curling in the correct position. Once Bucky had him in his arms, it was like everything that happened in the world was worth it. Absolutely everything. 

Bucky watched in fascination as the baby curled deeper in his chest, little fist clutching Steve’s sweatshirt. He took the sweetest little intake of air…

`

xxMoni

[leviackermanscleaningbuddy]

BTS DRABBLE-Jeon Jungkook

You had been inseparable. Best friends. Joined at the hip. No one could say your name without it being directly followed by the name Jeon Jungkook. But somewhere along the way, things had changed, had gotten complicated, and now, you're not quite sure where the two of you stand. You know how you still feel about him-how you've always felt about him-but your once best friend is a little harder to read, and unfortunately, right now, he's thinking the same thing about you.

Tags: BTS, Bangtan Boys, Bangtan Seonyendan, Bulletproof Boy Scouts, Beyond the Scene, BTS Drabble, Angst, Fluff, Pining, Jeon Jungkook, Jungkook, JK, Jungkook x you, Jungkook x reader, Jeon Jungkook x you, Jeon Jungkook x reader

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Mutual Pining

Soundtrack: Love Race by MGK ft. Kellin Quinn

Title: Make a Change

"Dude, just go and talk to her." Taehyung elbows Jungkook again in the ribs, making him hiss and take a step away from the other man, where they stand, leaning against the lip of the bar.

"Dude, I told you." Jungkook mocks back, shooting his friend a sharp glare, as he rubs at the now sore spot on his ribs. "It's not that simple."

Taehyung scoffs. "How hard can it be?" He gulps down the last dregs of his drink and motions to the bar tender for a refill.

He looks jaunty and handsome-Jungkook thinks-dark hair pushed off his forehead, jacket loose and open around his dress shirt, revealing a swath of tan chest. Confident and cool.

Just how Jungkook wishes he could be in this moment, but instead, he's filled with dread and something akin to nervous indecision.

"Weren't you guys like best friends growing up?" Taehyung asks, nodding in thanks to the bar tender who has slid another drink to him, before he cocks a dark brow in Jungkook's direction and pins him down with a knowing stare.

Yeah, and that's the problem. Jungkook thinks morosely to himself, as he dares another quick glance across the restaurant to your table.

You look happy. You're laughing at something one of your friends has said-Jungkook thinks he remembers her name is Ryunjin-head thrown back, eyes alight.

Happy without him.

Jungkook tears his gaze away, reaching for his drink to take another gulp, and as the whiskey burns its way down his throat, he forces himself to swallow any lingering hope with the alcohol.

******

"Hey, isn't that Jeon Jungkook?" Ryunjin, wiping tears from her eyes after laughing too hard, asks, as she reaches for her margarita which is now condensing onto the slick surface of the table.

"What?!" You whirl around in your seat a little too fast, and the other girls snicker at your eagerness.

But Ryunjin is right, because as soon as your eyes land on the broad shoulders and narrow waist of the man standing at the bar-back to you-you know, with a loss of breath and punch to your gut, that it is indeed Jeon Jungkook.

Even though he has changed his hair-it's long now, almost to his shoulders, and dyed a dark purple blue that makes his skin tone seem to glow caramel in the overhead lights-and you're fairly certain you catch a glint of an eyebrow piercing as he turns to his companion and says something too low for you to hear, your soul immediately recognizes him.

How could it not, when you've been in love with him ever since you first met at the tender age of seven.

"Oooh, Jungkook is back in town." Wheein nudges you playfully, and the other girls giggle once more around the table. "Why don't you go say hi, (Y/N)?"

You know she's teasing, but you can't seem to return the joke, or even a smile in her direction, because suddenly, you can't breathe, and though it's crazy, the only thing you can think about is tapping him on the shoulder, saying his name, watching his eyes light up and his lips part to reveal bunny teeth as he turns and recognizes you and then-

And then what?

Nothing. You think honestly to yourself, as you force yourself to look away from Jungkook and turn back to your friends, who are all watching you expectantly, but you don't meet their eyes, as you take a gulp of your drink.

Nothing will happen. Because Jeon Jungkook seems fine without you.

*****

Jungkook manages not to think about you for a whole day-it takes a lot of mental gymnastics and conscious avoidance of his thoughts-and he thinks he might be okay, when you run into each other at the local coffee shop.

With one accidental bump in the doorway, all of his hard work from the last twenty four hours disappears in a cloud of nonexistent smoke.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" You yelp out, trying to avoid spilling your fresh coffee all over yourself, and he thinks you're going to say something else, but when you look up and your eyes meet his, the words seem to die on your lips.

He knows the feeling.

He forces himself to say something, anything, as he stares at you dumbly, coffee cup clenched a little too tightly in his fist. "I didn't-I'm sorry-" He's stuttering, something he knows he does when he's nervous or overly excited, and in this moment, the harsh pounding of his heart in his chest is probably a testament to the fact that he's both.

"Jungkook." You breathe out his name, and dammit all, it makes his knees weak, because he doesn't know how long it's been since he's heard you say it, or had you look at him so intensely.

"Get out of the way." A hurried patron, probably tired of the two of you frozen in the doorway, pushes past Jungkook and leaves the shop in a blast of winter air and jingling bells.

It's enough to force Jungkook into moving.

"Do you want to-" He motions toward a nearby table, not missing the fact that you check the clock on the wall with a flick of your eyes, as if you have somewhere to be, and suddenly he feels like an inconvenience.

"Sure." You smile at him, and it takes his breath away, because it's brighter and more beautiful than he had remembered. You nod. "I have a couple of minutes."

He feels the air release from his lungs as he follows you toward the table beside the window, fingers still clenched around his coffee a little too tightly, and heart still beating a little too loudly.

******

You take a sip of your coffee and try not to stare at Jungkook where he sits across from you at the small table.

The quiet between the two of you isn't awkward-like you had thought it would be-but is instead, almost comforting, as if you can just fall back into place where you left off.

Though you know that's far from the truth.

"You changed your hair." You blurt into the silence, offering him a sheepish smile at the volume of your voice. You swallow, and try again. "I like it."

"Thanks." Jungkook replies, offering you half a grin, and the glimpse of his strong front teeth has you feeling as if you're going to fall through the floor and disappear completely into the mess that is your own feelings.

He reaches up to twirl a finger around a loose lock of purple hair. "I just needed a change I guess."

You nod. "I get that."

And you do. Because ever since he left, you have felt like your life has been nothing but changes, all in the lame attempt to distract yourself from thinking about him.

The man sitting across from you now, as if nothing has changed, Jeon Jungkook.

"You got a tattoo." Jungkook remarks, eyebrow cocking slightly, as he reaches out suddenly to tug your forearm toward him across the table.

The touch of his fingers on your skin feels like electricity and you have to force yourself not to jump.

"Yeah." You say faintly, clearing your throat, as you meet his gaze-irises warm and caramel-and suddenly, you feel as if you're warm, regardless of the brisk breeze that keeps assaulting you every time the shop door is opened to admit another winter swept customer. "Just needed a change." You parrot back his own words lamely in an attempt to focus on something-anything-else.

"I like it." Jungkook sweeps a careful finger across the lines of the tattoo, tracing the curling black ink where it marks your skin, and he seems calm, unaffected, by the fact that he's suddenly touching you after years of being apart.

You, on the other hand, feel as if you're going to pass out from lack of air.

Your feelings are dangerously close to the surface, so you pull your arm gently from his grasp, and glance once more at the clock on the wall, before you say apologetically, "Ah, I have to go." You stand, almost knocking your chair over in your hurry to escape before you say something vulnerable and stupid.

Jungkook stands with you, and he offers you a smile-and it might be your imagination, but it's tinged with something akin to sadness-as he says carefully, "It was good to see you again (Y/N)."

You swallow hard. "You too, Jungkook."

And then you hurry from the coffee shop before anything else can escape your lips and potentially bare your soul.

*****

The next time Jungkook sees you, he's more than a little surprised to witness you getting off a motorcycle in the library's parking lot.

As you pull off your helmet and shake out your hair, the only thing-shamelessly-that crosses Jungkook's mind as he openly stares at you is shit, you're hot. Like, really hot.

You must notice him staring, because stowing your helmet at the back of your bike, you flash him a sheepish grin and give a little wave in his direction.

Jungkook makes his feet move toward you, and before he can stop himself, he's running a hand over the body of the motorcycle, admiring the way it gleams in the early afternoon sunlight, as he says stupidly, "You got a bike."

You laugh, and god, he hadn't remembered how much he had missed that sound until that exact moment.

"Yeah." You shrug and offer him a mischievous smile, as you knock shoulders with him gently in a gesture that shouldn't, but nonetheless, gets his heart racing in his chest. "I needed a change."

"I get that." Jungkook realizes you're just repeating your conversation from the coffee shop-noting each other's differences that have developed in the time you've been apart-but he can't bring himself to care, because maybe this is a new thing developing between the two of you, and he kind of likes that.

"You got a-" You hesitate for a moment, as if searching for something to give away how he got here, and then finally seem to settle on, with a slightly teasing look, "New pair of shoes."

Jungkook sees you wince, as if silently berating yourself for the bad joke, but he grins, and that seems to relax you a bit, because you return the smile.

And he hates to admit it, but being around you is just as easy as he remembers.

You scuff the cement of the parking lot with the toe of your boot, and glance toward the library, and suddenly, Jungkook remembers he has stopped you from whatever errand you were in the middle of.

He blushes, he can feel the heat on his cheeks, and then motions with his head in the direction of the library. "Sorry. I'll let you go."

You seem to battle with yourself for a moment-the silence suddenly between the two of you makes Jungkook feel smothered-but then you stick your hands in your pockets and without quite looking at him, ask casually, "Well, I mean, if you're not doing anything else."

You glance away, and he can't tell if you're embarrassed or feeling as awkward as he is. You push on, as he holds his breath. "I mean, you're welcome to come if you want. We could get coffee afterward?" You finally look up at him again, and Jungkook thinks is heart is going to bottom out, as you offer him the hint of a smile and shrug, as if you don't really care either way.

But he cares. He cares way too much.

So he nods-trying to act nonchalant-and you walk side by side into the library.

*****

The next time you spend time with Jungkook, things feel a bit more like a new normal, rather than an awkward happenstance of bumping into each other in a coffee shop or the parking lot.

This time, it all feels a little bit more deliberate.

And maybe, it's the cheap wine cooler you're both sipping from as the night progresses, but suddenly, you don't feel so bad inside when you're with him.

As if-maybe-things are getting easier, feelings are being buried, you're healing from the last time you saw him so many years ago.

And you've never seen Jungkook laugh this much, so maybe-possibly-he feels the same way.

"Whoa, whoa." Jungkook says in between laughs and another drink from the wine cooler, as he catches his breath and leans against the pool table, looking at you with doe eyes wide with mirth. "You did not. Sehun from high school? That guy was a dick, (Y/N)!" He grins at you, all bunny teeth and bright eyes. "Oh how the mighty have fallen."

"Shut up, Jeon." You snap back, though you're not serious, not in the slightest, as you shoot him a playful glare, and lean over the pool table to shoot another striped ball into your pocket. Straightening up, you grin at him triumphantly, before saying, "I had some bad years, okay? Don't judge me."

"Yeah, but Sehun though." Jungkook whistles, eyebrows raised, as he leans over to take his own shot, sinking the ball easily, in a way that has you admiring the ripple of his curled muscles over the table. "No judgement. Whatever gets you off."

"Oh. Really?" You scoff in offense, as Jungkook straightens and shoots you a slightly wicked grin across the pool table. He wants to play mean and he wants you to know it.

Well, two can play at that game.

"That's how you want to play?" You fire back, noting that Jungkook has set aside his pool stick and is moving around the pool table toward you, most likely trying to intimidate you. You won't let him, so you say the first thing that comes to your mind. "And what would you know about getting me off, Jeon? Hmmm?"

As soon as the words are out of your mouth, you regret them, Jungkook's expression instantly turning from teasing and open and playful to close and guarded, as he stops in his tracks, barely inches in his advance from being within touching range.

You part your lips, mouth suddenly dry, and you want to apologize, to take it back, but you can't, because all the feelings between the two of you are back, in the open, stifling the air you breathe.

And the only thing you can think, in that moment, watching Jungkook's eyes close off to you and turn dark, is shit, you've lost him again.

****

Jungkook is stunned into silence and frozen in place by your taunting words.

He knows-by the sudden horrified look in your eyes-that you hadn't meant to say them.

But they're out now, sitting tense in the air between the two of you, and as he watches the way your fingers turn white on the pool stick you still hold, he knows.

He has two options.

He can run away again-relive all the hurt and the distance and the unsaid feelings and ideas that he had been allowing to plague him ever since that last night years ago-or.

Or.

"You're right." He admits into the thick, tense atmosphere between the two of you, and the words, the words as they leave his lips, seem to release some of the pressure in the air, as if deflating a balloon. "You're right, I don't know anything about it."

He sees the way your eyes flash with surprise behind the guard you have put up, and his heart is pounding behind his ribs, threatening to choke off the air supply to his throat, but he can't, he can't, leave again, can't just let everything be unsaid, not like last time.

Because this time is different. This time, he knows what he's giving up if he doesn't stay.

So he makes himself face it. Makes himself say the words to you. Makes himself stay, makes his feet walk toward you, instead of away from you.

Because this time is going to be different. Because he'll make it so.

"I don't know what gets you off, (Y/N)." He repeats, because you're still staring at him like he's grown a second head, and hes careful, as he steps toward you, not to scare you off, because you're staring to look like a deer in the headlights behind the shock. "But I was hoping-"

He stutters over his words, his breath locked in his throat, as you stare back at him.

He forces himself to go on.

"I was hoping, maybe, this time could be different. And maybe, you'd be willing to teach me."

******

You can't think of a single thing to say in response to his quiet request, and as you stare dumbly at Jungkook standing before you-so close that you can feel his breath on your face-you have to force yourself to remember to breathe.

He's asking you to teach him? He's asking you to repeat that night over again, just in the hopes that it won't end the same? That you won't end up heartbroken and regretting ever messing around with your best friend?

He's asking you to relive the heartbreak, and trust that he won't run away like he did before?

He's asking you to tell him-stupidly, naively-just how you feel about him in no uncertain terms? And expect him to act differently this time? Expect him to be okay with it this time, all these years later?

Maybe you're looking too deeply into this.

Maybe you're being crazy, and all Jeon Jungkook-purple haired, eyebrow piercing, sneaker wearing, Jungkook-is actually asking you to do is teach him what you want, what actually gets you off in bed and nothing more.

But you can't help but read into it-not when his wide doe eyes are holding yours so intently, not when you've wanted nothing more since the day he left-and so, without thinking, ignoring the voice that's calling you a stupid over and over again in your head, you nod.

Jungkook's eyes widen, and you're cursing your future self already for the heartbreak she's setting you up for.

But It's Jeon Jungkook.

Your best friend, the boy you've been secretly in love with for years, and his words are ringing true in your head.

This time really does have the potential to be different.

So without a word, you step past him and lock the door to the apartment rec room.

*****

Jungkook's brain doesn't register the click of the door lock until you're back standing in front of him and reaching for his hand.

"Ever done it on a pool table, Jeon?" You ask, and the way your lips are curling at the corners into the start of a mischievous smirk has Jungkook's heart racing in his chest as you pull him forward toward you.

"No." He's proud that he manages to keep the stutter from his voice as your back hits said table and you guide his hands to your waist, buts he's certain you hear the way his breath hitches as your body meets his. "Have you?"

"No." You grin and cock your head in an innocent sort of way that belies the fact that your fingers are creeping beneath the material of his shirt to stroke hot patterns across his skin. "But it could be a nice change."

Without thinking, because he can't think anyway when you're touching him, Jungkook lifts you up onto the ledge of the table and he can only marvel momentarily at how easy it was, before your legs are wrapping around his waist and you're pulling him even closer, if that's possible.

Your lips are so close to his that he's pretty sure he can already taste the mint chapstick you have always worn, and trying to distract himself from the sudden urge of need that has swept over him at your closeness, he teases hoarsely, "You're pretty into changes aren't you?"

You shrug, and your exhale washing over his face has Jungkook trying to hold back a shudder of anticipation, fingers digging into the pool table on either side of your hips, and you must notice, because you're doing that little nose crinkling grin again as your arms find their way around his neck.

"I dunno. I guess." You murmur under your breath, and you must know the way your body fits to his and the sudden low lilt of your voice is driving him mad, because you're leaning back, pulling him down onto the pool table with you. "But only if they're for the better."

******

You note the way Jungkook's pupils blow as you pull him down to you, and you like feeling in control as you hover your lips teasingly over his, although on the inside, your mind is screaming at the way his rock hard body feels covering yours, and you have to remind yourself to breathe as you tease his name quietly into the space between you, "Jungkook."

"Hmmm." He hums beneath his breath, the sound giving way to the start of a low groan, as you dance your fingers along the edge of skin above the hem of his pants, playing with the button there for a moment, as his hot eyes meet yours.

"Will you teach me?" You ask, only partially teasing, as you finally allow your fingers to open the closure on his pants.

Jungkook's hands slide down the line of your body, his fingers digging into the divet of your hip bones, and suddenly, he's leaning forward and capturing your mouth with his in a wet, sloppy kiss-teeth knocking together, tongues fighting for space-as if he can't wait any longer.

But regardless, as his body melds to yours on top of the pool table, you're pretty sure it's the best damn kiss you've ever had.

"I'm pretty sure you don't need me to teach you anything." Jungkook pants out when your lips separate for just a moment, his words once again biting off on a sharp intake of breath, as you guide his fingers further down to the bare skin of your thighs.

"Maybe." You shrug, your own breath caught in your throat, as Jungkook takes over.

Maybe he didn't need as much teaching as he thought either.

*****

Jungkook collapses beside you on the table, out of breath, skin hot and sticky, thoroughly spent, and he's not ashamed to admit-as the two of you lay side by side, gasping for air-that he's just had the best sex he's ever experienced.

He feels you lean up and over him, and cracking open one eye, he reaches up to push sweaty, purple bangs out of his gaze, as he asks hoarsely, "What?"

You shrug, still staring down at him, and a sly grin cracks your lips, still swollen and flushed from kissing. "Nothing" You lay back down beside him, and somehow, his fingers tangle with your own. "You're just really good. Thanks to my careful tutelage."

"Ha." Jungkook barks out a sarcastic laugh at your jibe, and closes his eyes once more, allowing himself just to feel, just to be, in the moment with you for a little bit longer.

The quiet stretches on for a few more minutes, and once the shaking in Jungkook's legs has subsided, he props himself up on an elbow, running a hand methodically over the green felt of the pool table as he stares down at you.

Now it's your turn to crack open your eye and shoot him a glare. "What?"

"You top now." He acknowledges, trying to bite back a grin, as your eyes widen and you reach out half heartedly to try to smack him, palm warm against the bare cooling skin of his chest.

"I needed a change." You quip back, sticking your tongue out at him, as you sit up and reach for your discarded clothing.

Jungkook slides down from the table, pulling on his pants, as he mulls over the thought that keeps returning to the forefront of his mind, and he knows, he knows he should just bite his tongue, not say something stupid,

But he can't. He has to. Because he promised himself-and you-that this time would be different.

"I love you." He blurts it out before he can talk himself out of it and instantly berates himself for being so stupid, as the sound of your rustling clothes stops from behind him, and the room goes silent.

Jungkook swears he can hear his heart trying to beat its way out of his chest.

He forces himself to turn and face you, arm halfway in his shirt, and is surprised to see a soft smile flicker across your lips as you stare at him, eyes warm and open and affectionate.

His breath returns to his lungs.

"You said it first this time." You remark carefully, and Jungkook wonders how often you have replayed your last scene together in your head over the years, how long it has hurt you.

"Yeah." Jungkook nods, and bites his lip, suddenly feeling so much in one moment that he doesn't know where to start. So he settles on the easiest thing for now, the rest will come later. "I thought we needed a change."

[dracosathenaeum]

OBLIVIATE | D.M.  ABANDONED FIC OUTLINE

Hello~

I’ve had this fic for @fuckingdraco ‘s writing challenge outlined for almost a year now. Half of it is a skeleton; i have some scenes which are fully written out and others which are just first drafts and idea dumps. this is quite literally copied and pasted so good luck if you read it.

I never had the heart to completely delete it but never liked it enough to write it; so here is my 2.2k draft fo what would’ve been a series. 

If anyone decides to read it, be warned, it’s a mess. i just didnt want it to die in my notes so it’s having a life here, in my new section of my masterlist ‘fics that never saw the light of day’.

warnings: memory loss, fight scenes, gore, fighting

//

Being in a secret relationships had its ups and downs

You had to sneak around

But that just made the moments you were together so much more meaningful

You couldn’t brag about him to your friends

But the both of you were quite private people anyways, explaining your absences as studying in odd places

No one ever found out

It was just you and draco

The summer of 5th year was hard as he spent all of it in the south of France with his family

But it made coming back in 6th year so much more exciting

your fingers ached to touch him as you walked past his carriage

It was moments like this that you wish you could openly love him

But when your friends started gossiping about how Harry Potter thought he’d become a death eater, you were suddenly glad you weren’t linked to him publicly

That thought itself set a heavy weight of guilt on you

He came back in 6th year and he had changed

His kisses lost their spark

His eyes lost their light

He’d fuck you rough and hard, almost as if forgetting himself. Before making it up to you in the next instance

Slow love making that made you feel like you had just slept with an entirely different person

You followed him

You supposed you shouldn’t have

But he was skipping meals and you couldn’t exactly talk to his friends when they didn’t know you

You couldn’t confide in your friends as they wouldn’t understand

So you had no other choice

You followed him throughout the nights, and every time you would find him slipping into the room of requirement when he should’ve been slipping into bed with you

Once you had gauged what time he usually went and on what days you yourself went, 10 minutes before he was due

You watch as he fiddles around some ancient looking cupboard and you wonder why you’re jealous of a dead tree taking up dracos time

You watch as he sends things through, until finally it works for him

But its not happiness on his face nor relief

It looks like dread

He doesn’t look like he’s accomplished something, no there was no way

You watch as he takes off his tie, throwing it in the pile of robes and jumper

You watch as he rolled up the sleeves to his arms, the arms that had held you up more times than you could count

And you watch as the dark snaking lines of the dark mark are exposed on your lovers skin

His eyes whip round to see yours, instantly widening in fear

It isn’t until you try to walk towards him and he throws his hands up to stop you do you realise the shattered glass littered around you

He flicks his wand and you walk over, standing in front of him trying to figure out why

“How did you hide it from me for so long.”

“Simple charms, I was hoping you wouldn’t have to find out.”

More dialogue where he explains

“I don’t have a choice.”

“You always have a choice.”

Draco please

“I can’t, I had to take this on my skin because my father fucked up”

“If I, if I stop now, I cant save my mother”

“Draco please, we can find a way around this”

You kiss him

And it feels like you’ve both gone back to before 6th year

When times were simpler

When he loved you and you loved him and that was it

No other interruptions

“Oblivate”

PART 1

“Y/n?”

“I’m sorry, do I know you?”

“Draco Malfoy, we share some classes but we haven’t spoken before.”

“Oh, im sorry, of course. I’m really tired I dont usually forget peoples names I swear. I must’ve been so tired I wandered in, I apologise.”

“It’s okay, the doors over there.” You take that as his polite cue of asking you to leave

He offers a tight smile, one you remember from first year, one you remember seeing across the hall as he’s shut down by Harry Potter

Poor guy must be going through something

“Y/n”

you turn, you dont even hesitate. You dont know what it is but you feel as if you’ve known him all your life

You change and you see a gold ring dangling from a dainty gold chain. You ask your friends if they’ve seen it before

im forgetting so much these days

But you keep it on, it brings you an odd sense of comfort

You keep it tucked beneath your blouse, bringing it to you lips on occasion when youre anxious.

//

He had forgotten about his ring, the very ring you had clasped between your thumb and finger as you worked on your essay. How was he possibly supposed to get it from you

he’s well aware he’s staring but his mind is whirling

He needs that ring

“Draco, isn’t that your ring?”

He should’ve obligated himself, that might’ve been easier

“I’m sure it just looks similar.”

“Draco, we both know that’s the Malfoy famlily crest, I wondered why you stopped wearing it.”

“Wait did she steal it?”

misplaced it

She picked it up

He had to awkwardly walk over to pick it up

“That’s my ring.” You had told him all about how your friends hated him and how you had feigned indifference the entire time

He had to act the part

Youre flustered, eyes flicking between the ring and him, fingers clasping it tighter as if not wanting to let it go

He notices and his heart clenches at the sight

Remembering the night he gave it to you

*flash back*

“I’m so sorry, I must’ve picked it up by accident here.”

“Wait, how do you even know it’s his, prove it Malfoy.”

“My vaults could buy Hogwarts, why would I be stealing gold from a nobody?”

Your cheeks flare up and your friends glare at him but see his side

You struggle to unclasp it, and of course you fucking do because his stupid fucking ass charmed it so only he could take it off

he watches as you struggle with it, turning to a friend to help before you have 6 girls pulling at the very expensive chain on your neck

“For fucks sake youre going to damage it, let me.”

Your breath hitches as his surprisingly warm fingers brush your hair out of the way, fingers working quick to unclasp the necklace, the weight of it leaving your neck and you feel surprisingly empty

“Thank you.”

You watch as he goes, your fingers scratching over your neck, feeling something bubble in your throat

This was pathetic, you were so sad over something that was never yours in the first place

You spend the remainder of the time trying to figure out how you cam to be in possession of it in the first place

//

your name is written in beautiful cursive on a letter that you cannot help but love

You turn it over to see a beautiful wax seal on it, fingers trembling as you break it

The chain is yours.

d.m.

You tilt the envelope over into your hand to feel the familiar weight of the chain in your hand, clasping it around you neck in an instant

You look in the mirror but you dont recognise yourself

Your friends are surprised when you study with them

When you go back to your dorm room at a reasonable time

And you dont have a clue where it is they think you go

But how could you possibly explain to someone what you font remember

The chain is too light around you neck, its just not the same, it feels as if it’s chocking you rather than bringing you comfort

You start digging through your trunk and draws, looking for something to act as a pendant before you finally do.

Hidden at the back of one of your draws you find a little velvet box you dont remember stashing away. But then again, you dont seem to be remembering much these days.

Its a tiny little constellation of stars, charmed to sparkle and you heart wonders why you had never worn it before. It was a simple little charm but once hooked onto the necklace, you look at yourself in the mirror and finally feel as though a little part of you has returned.

PART 2 THE CONSTELLATION IS DRACO

6th and 7th years are a blur

A blur of horror

You dont really understand how life had changed so abruptly

You dont know how you end up fighting in a war at the age of just 18 but here you are

Draco stands with Hogwarts

And then his mother calls

You’ve seen him

Of course you have

You know what he is, know what his parents are

But you also know what he has done to make Hogwarts more bearable for you under the Carrows watch

The small things, diverging attention away from you and your friends

He wasn’t evil and some part of you knew that

You watch as he takes a shuddering breath and starts to walk

You watch as no one stops him

You watch as he loses more of his soul with each step towards mr no-nose

You dont know why you do it

You run

Your friends call your names, teachers joining in

They think youre joining the other side, they think youre fucked in the head, as they had since that incident in 6th year

But no, you were just missing something

you catch up to him pretty quickly, pulling him to a stop

“Ah, another to join my cause. Welcome young lady.”

“You know me. Im missing something but whenever I’m with you, whenever im holding this stupid constellation close to my heart, I feel at ease. Why”

he stares at you incredulously, and why wouldn’t he. Youre in the middle of a battlefield, Harry Potter has just been declared dead and Voldemort is less than a meter away

But you dont feel scared

And you feel stupid for not feeling scared

“It has felt like I dont even know who I am for the past 2 years, what did you do to me?”

You know everyones watching, you can hear the gasps on both sides as they think the worst of him

“I did what was necessary.” That was the first time he had spoken more than 2 words to you since he had gotten his necklace back that day in the library

“Draco, this is no time to be flirting. Come join me, bring her with you if you want.”

He tenses as voldy rests a boney hand on his shoulder, pulling him towards the other side, away from you

“If you won’t be joining us, we will use you an example of what will happen if you dont join us.”

You stare at him unfazed, fear was something you had gotten used to

Your fingers grip your wand in hand, running through all the spell harry had taught you in the da but its not enough

You are no match for voldy as he throws an unforgivable at you

You hear screams around you but all you hear is silence, as if the world had finally gone silent

//

Draco watched as the spell hit you directly in the chest. He had spent 2 years living with his actions all for it to have gone to naught in a single second

He watched as the light from his wand hits you

Before rebounding off you as if it hit a shield

There’s a flash of black and his mother is infront of him, wand out from deflecting the spell from bouncing back and hitting him

“Mother?”

“She’s important to you?”

“She gave him one of the fucking family heirlooms, either she’s important to him or he’s an idiot”

His parents were… bickering in the middle of a battle

voldy recollects himself but before he can talk neville speaks up “I have no idea what’s going on but-”

Draco drowns out the noise as he stares at you on the floor, youre covered in dust and in blood but youre alive

He hears screams as harry rolls from hatreds arms, he hears the cries from death eaters but all can see is you

“We’re switching sides now?”

“I mean he’s fairly distracted, he won’t have time to hunt us down, we owe it to our son.”

Fight scene

You remember everything

Fred Weasley teases the both of you, “we have a war to win, you can fuck later.”

He copy his lazy grin, a grin that lights you up, a grin that reminds you what’s left to fight for

You see the spell before he does

Youre in an arms reach of him but Draco cant reach you in time

You push Fred to the floor, putting yourself in the line of fire by default and draco has to watch you get hit all over again

“We need to talk about what exactly it is ive been wearing around my neck this entire time.”

“I think only my mother can answer that.”

[if you made it this far, send me an ask with the word ‘chicken’ and i’ll send you a cursed photo xx]

[limitlessgojo]

Blood Bound: Red Strings of Fate (Ch 5)

Warnings: Action, Coarse Language, Fighting, Descriptions of Blood

Previous Chapter: Cherry Blossom Storm

Next Chapter: Speed of Sound

Tags: Soulmates AU, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Fem!Reader

Taglist: @lessie-oxj, @rizzo-nero, @whoreuc, @fkngkumiko, @isl3t

Notes: If you want to be tagged for every update, please mention it in the comments below ty <3

Chapter 5: Special Grade

After you bid goodbye to the two girls, you went off back to your dorm room to get dinner, when you bumped into the girl who lived next to your room.

“Oh hi!” She greeted you with a big smile. “I’m Miwa Kasumi, you can call me Miwa. 1st year here! Please take care of me.”

“Hello! I’m Tsuchimikado Y/n, you can call me either Tsuchi or y/n I really don’t mind either way. Also my first year here, please take care of me!” you grinned.

“Ahhh, I’m so nervous to start class here. Are you ready for it?”

“To be honest I’m also nervous, but pretty excited! Ah, I have to go eat dinner now and call my family, but tomorrow I’m free to chat more. You can come over to my room if you’d like.” You offered.

She agreed and bid you goodnight.

◇◇◇

You were able to get to know Miwa before classes began, and it was really fun getting to know her. She talked about her brothers and her origins, but admitted that she couldn’t give out too many details on her technique.

“I’m sorry y/n but I was told to keep it a secret. Even among other jujutsu shi. And I’m just doing all I can to support my brothers.” She sadly spoke.

To which you didn’t mind too much, as you were the same. The Tsuchimikado does its best to keep their strongest techniques and passed down family legends under wraps, to prevent themselves from being targeted by curse users.

“It’s no worry at all, you don’t have to share anything you don’t want to share. And I won’t pry. I come from a minor Jujutsu clan and understand the need to keep cursed technique details a secret.” You smiled and offered her more biscuits.

If you don’t stand out, you would have less affairs to worry about. Unlike the great 3 Jujutsu clans. And because of this, you sort of grew up in a regular loving home, with the exception of normalcy brought by the need to kill curses.

◇◇◇

Classes soon started after and honestly they were not too bad. You all got your student ID cards on the very first day.

You were surprised to see that you were awarded a Special Grade title on the very first day… not what you expected. The rest were, as expected, Grade 4 jujutsu sorcerers.

Everyone starts on the same level and can have their ranks increased as they go. They can get recommended to Grade 2 and/or Grade 1 based on their performance.

Geniuses were said to start as a Grade 2 sorcerer in their first year. Grade 3 was average for a jujutsu high student. And a special grade is an anomaly.

You were pretty sure that you and your family kept your condition under wraps and yet… You looked up to Utahime and asked if you could have a chat outside. She eyed you knowingly and the others stared at you as you left the room.

“Uhhh… There seems to be a mistake with this. I don’t think I am fit to be a Special Grade yet Utahime sensei.” you explained to her truthfully.

“Tsuchimikado chan. You are from a minor Jujutsu clan, that's true. And while it is very rare for an esper to be born in your clan, there was a higher up who was in touch with your father. They received enough information about your technique, albeit not all of it of course, and cursed energy levels, deeming you to be a special grade.”

You just stared at her in shock at all this info. Sure you’ve been sparring with your cousins, and yeah nobody could come close to you when you had mastered your basic barriers and cursed technique. But you didn’t expect to get this far.

Then Utahime sighed, “Okay I’ll be honest. There was one other person who actually pushed for this and was surprisingly agreed to by the elders.”

You felt yourself tense up, “Who?”

“Gojo Satoru said you were capable of dealing a massive destruction over a large scaled area. And of course, the jujutsu higher ups are aware as to what happened to you when you were 6 years old.”

“Satoru nii!” You paled, blood draining out of your face, but before you could open your mouth Utahime consoled you. “It’s okay. It’s kept top secret… well as much as a secret can be amongst the Jujutsu school leaders and higher ups. Don’t worry, we understand your situation.”

You just nodded, still as white as a sheet. ‘They know, oh gosh of course they know!’ you thought with horror.

“Okay, now nobody should give you any trouble. Just relax, you’re not forced to give out any info to the other students if you don’t want to. It’s okay,” She pushed you back into the classroom where the other students were chatting.

“Haiiii, let’s start class now.” Utahime called out to which you all responded with a “Yes sensei.”

◇◇◇

Everything started to calm down and settle at school for you after that day.

Most of your time was spent in the classroom with regular subjects. But then you’d have the added physical training and cursed energy management with Utahime sensei, which you always looked forward to the most.

“Okay, time to form pairs now. Mai and Y/n. Miwa and Mechamaru, try to disarm and pin down your opponent if you can. Y/n go easy on the others.” Utahime sensei spoke, to which of course you agreed to.

Amongst the first years, both you and Mechamaru seemed to be the most capable, proficient even with long range techniques.

Mai and Miwa were weak in close combat quarters when they were disarmed. And it was too easy for you to disarm them with minimal cursed energy, as you spent a lot of time sparring with your older male cousins.

“Hup!” You closed in on Mai and kicked the gun from her grasp before flipping her body and pinning her to the ground. Mixed martial arts definitely comes in handy.

“Ouch, she said to go easy on me Y/n. You’re still pretty rough.” Mai spat out. “Get strong now or you won’t last on the battlefield. You have to focus on surviving.” You darkly said. Mai was shocked at that since you were always so bright and cheerful.

But everyone else noticed that whenever you were training, (whether it be by yourself in your free time or sparring with the others during class) you seemed like an entirely different person. Cold, calculating, detached, strong and fierce.

But of course, you always did your best to help them improve. “Mai, you’re moving your body wrong. Stabilise your footing, then aim. If I come close to you from the side, try to hit me based on your peripheral vision quicker.”

Truth be told, she improved. “Thank you y/n. You seem familiar with martial arts. Do you do any?” She asked you during break time.

Mechamaru and Miwa listened in, facing you curiously. The entire school is now aware of your Special Grade status, but everyone was still shy to outright ask you about the full details of how it was granted.

“I do. I’ve grown up sparring with my older male cousins all the time. Mixed martial arts, Brazilian Jiu Jitsu, and Krav Maga. Not sure if you guys know of Tsuchimikado Hiroki? Graduated from Kyoto Jujutsu high a few years back.”

“I’ve heard of his name in passing, but I don’t know of him. Your clan is kept pretty well under wraps after all.” Mai said. You smiled and nodded.

You were set to spar with Mechamaru after the break. This is where it got interesting. You activated your technique for the first time since training started as he shot laser beams at you.

He did everything he could, but even with his sword options, and strongest bursts of cursed energy, nothing hit you while you stood in the same spot.

You had activated your cursed technique, and made the space around you warp, making the attacks bounce off. Mechamaru had pretty solid power, but it wasn’t enough to rock you.

You held out one hand, “Enhanced gravity: Output level 5%” and Mechamaru’s body crumpled against the ground. You increased the air pressure above his body until he shouted, “Give!”.

You released your technique and thanked him for the fight. Mai and Miwa had stopped sparring to watch the both of you.

“Wow.” Miwa said with sparkling eyes. “No wonder… she’s special grade.” she whispered.

To be honest, at the end of the day labels and rankings meant NOTHING to you. You wanted all your allies to get as strong as they can be, so that they won’t suffer during missions.

Which is why you openly offered advice and help when they needed it. You’ve had enough of loss.

◇◇◇

When you had your free time you made your way to the library as was planned. You had a list of topics to burn through. Past lives, shared visions, alternate worlds, future visions… and the topic of soulmates. You had to get to the bottom of whatever happened between Noritoshi senpai and you.

The Tsuchimikado clan did have its history and legends as well. You had information on the other big 3 clans and their techniques. Along with that information came the basic legends of old. Soulmates, possibilities of inherited memories, parallel worlds, and some of the most evil of curses to exist. (Such as Ryomen Sukuna).

But you were sad to see that there was a lack of books on soulmates. Only some left on alternate and Parallel Worlds. 'Is the library lacking??? Didn't expect that.' You thought sadly.

You asked the librarian about it but, "I'm sorry my dear, we only have what's there on the shelves. There's a possibility the books have been borrowed. I can check the database for you."

"Yes please, thank you so much."

"Ah yes….. Kamo kun has taken some books on soulmates, parallel worlds, foresight and Abe no Seimei. Are those any of what you're looking for?" She asked.

You felt yourself pause. Okay so you were both thinking along the same lines. Not surprising.

"Yes, I can just wait for him to return it or ask him about it then. Thank you so much that was a great help!" You bid her your goodbyes and left the library.

Not to worry, you were going to see him real soon.

Author's notes: These first few chapters focus heavily on world building to set the pace for the story. You'll see a lot more of Nori in the following chapters <3

Blood Bound: Table of Contents

[bonny-kookoo]

Soulmates (JJK x Reader) ☁️🔞💜

✨ Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

✨ Genre: Angst, Breakup AU, Idol AU, Smut, fluff/romance

✨ Warnings: Breakup, crying kookie because that needs to be a warning, arguing, shouting, some mean things being said, safe sex because we wrap it up even if we’re sad friends, vanilla sex, it’s just basic lovemaking y’all what do you think this is, hopeless romantic Jungkook, jk is super bad expressing his feelings and kinda petty

✨ Summary: Jungkook always told you that you were his soulmate. But sometimes, soulmates aren’t meant to be, are they?

Jungkook had a nasty habit.

And it was that every time he thought he was right, he became selfish. And no, not in any cute kind of way. He would start to chase his own tail in a sense; completely blocking out any kind of other opinion than his on a topic. It lead to the shouting match you both had now; his voice considerably louder than usual, a whine to his tone that in no way was intended to be charming. No, the way he drawled out certain syllables was to only further make sure you knew how upset he was.

"What do you want me to do!" He yelled, looking at you with a gaze that you knew could easily guilt-trip you into giving in. But this time he needed to be an adult, you needed him to understand your side of the situation as well. "I can't just make everything disappear and make everyone forget my face." His eyes were still hard. "They'll figure it out anyways, I don't get why we have to hide it anyways!" He groans out, as you sigh, a headache incoming.

"Because it would be the end, Jungkook." You argue back, voice however in no way as loud and stern as his was. "I'm not telling you that you have to be an actor onstage, but I'm asking you to leave our problems and arguments Off-Stage Jungkook. Everyone on twitter got concerned why you were so serious during your stage!" You said. Because this had been the main issue at hand. He have had a concert just a few hours ago, but you weren't able to attend it. The reason had been that some staff members forgot to pick you up from the airport due to some problems that had come up last minute. You had been understanding, simply ending up taking a cab to yours and his shared apartment, watching his performance via livestream instead. He'd sounded upset over the phone, frustrated even, yet you had tried to reassure him that it wouldn't be his last- you would always be there the next. What did upset you however, was how he had been openly upset onstage about it. He seemed agitated, serious, and not his usual self, which had lead to not only his bandmates scolding him, but also you. You had simply asked him to remember that fans couldn't know what happened away from the cameras. They didn't know, and they had no hand in it either- he was being unfair by punishing them with his behavior. But his habit of growing hostile when critic got too personal blasted everything out of proportion, now ending in the situation you had in his kitchen.

"Well, I'm not gonna go up there and be all happy while I don't even know if you're safe!" He barks back. "You're just as important to me as the band, as my job, can't you appreciate that?" He whines, and your eyes become even more upset.

"Jungkook, I do appreciate it, but it's also what I'm scared of." You say, and he furrows his brows. "You can't do this Jungkook, please. I told you I can wait, I'll wait forever, but this is a limited time. I want you to enjoy it fully, without responsibilities, because they'll be there soon enough. I want you to be with your band 100%." You say, and he suddenly grows quiet.

"You sound like you're breaking up with me right now." He wonders across from you, his voice now eerily low and considerably less loud and angry. You can't look at him.

"I don't know if I should." You answer him, and his eyes suddenly widen a bit, glistening as the tip of his nose turns red. He's close to crying, you know it. But you have to do what's best.

"Don't." He says, hands balling into fists before he nervously wipes them down his sweatpants, suddenly on edge. He's always like this whenever he's unsure of what he's supposed to do. It's quite endearing, if it wasn't because of such a matter. "You- We'll find a solution, I shouldn't have, you know, gotten so upset-" He starts, but you shake your head.

"Please, let's just.. not." You mumble, and you still can't look up at him. "I'll uhm.. I'll sleep on the couch, okay? I try and be gone tomorrow morning." You say, and only now do you move, trying to get out of the kitchen, as he suddenly embraces you from behind, his large body shaking as he struggles to form a coherent sentence through his tears.

"No no I didn't mean it-" He apologizes, even though there is nothing there to say sorry for. "I'll be better, I'm sorry, I won't do it again-" He chokes out, but you hesitantly grab his hands, trying to unravel his arms around you. He holds on tight, like a toddler not wanting his mother to go and leave him alone. It somehow feels just as heartbreaking to you. "Don't go, I'm not letting you, please stay.." He begs, and it reminds you of a tamper tantrum your friends kid held in a store a few weeks back.

"Jungkook please, don't.. don't make it so hard." You say, trying to be brave but ultimately failing as you have to swallow hard to keep your own feelings locked. At least until you're alone. You finally manage to get out of his hold, as he stands before you, eyes red and cheeks wet with his tears as his bottom lip trembles visibly.

"Are- you serious?" He asks, voice higher in pitch as he struggles to keep it steady. "You'll leave me alone like that?" He almost accusingly says, and you sniffle.

"You're not alone Jungkook, you're never alone. You shouldn't even be here, you should be sleeping at the dorms like you used to. I'm just pulling you away from the band, and its not fair! I have no rights to do it, I'm being selfish, I'm now interfering with your work as well, Jungkook, don't tell me you're this blind." You say, as he looks at the floor, caught red handed.

Jungkook dries his nose on his sweater sleeve as he swallows. "I'll.. go and sleep at the dorms then. You uhm.. can take the bed." He mumbles, as you nod, even though you probably won't be able to. "Are you.. will you.." He starts, and you nod with a sad smile.

"My promise still stands." You say. "If you'll still want me then, I'll wait until this dream is over." You say. He nods, biting his lip as he grows unsure again. He doesn't know what to do, if he should hug you, or not, kiss you, or not, hell he doesn't even know if he can look at you now. So he simply nods again, shuffling away as you stay put, listening to him putting his shoes on, as the door shuts after he leaves.

Only then does it hit you.

And only then, do you let yourself cry, sob as you scream and fall to the ground, letting it out.

As he sits in the living room he once felt so familiar in, he notices how alienated he feels. It's awkward as Jimin and Suga look at him, unsure what they should say. Only now does Namjoon come into the room, surprised to see the youngest. "What's going on?" He asks, and Taehyung gives a bottle of water to Jungkook, as the youngest mumbles his answer.

"We broke up." He says, and everyone seems to grow sad at it. They really liked you, even though everyone had been wary at first; you had proven to them however, that you were genuinely in love with Jeon Jungkook, and not only the Jungkook of BTS that made headlines if he only did as much as sneeze in public. His money didn't matter to you and neither did his fame- yet they had all feared this outcome. "She said uhm.. she doesn't want to interfere with my work so.."

Suga nods at this, and sighs. "Mature choice." He says. "Shows she cares about you." He concludes, as Jimin seems to want to argue. Jungkook shrugs. "But I think a lot of it came from you." He speaks, as he looks at the youngest, who furrows his brows. "Think about it. It was your choice to spend your time at your private apartment rather than here so you could be with her. You get upset when she doesn't text you, and fuss over her if she gets hurt." He explains, as Jungkook suddenly feels as if he's being scolded again, huffing as he slids into the couch with frustration. "But that's who you are; you invest yourself 100% if you find something that makes you happy." Yoongi puts his phone away.

"That's totally helping, hyung." He grumbles out, as Jimin throws one leg over the other.

"I think what he's trying to say is that you have to find a good balance." Hoseok says as he sits down as well. "You always give it your all, and thats great, but it wont work long-term. Split your time equally, make space for a piece of everything instead of trying to carry it all at once." Jungkook sighs, as he feels his eyes sting again.

"Well, doesn't matter anyways." He huffs out, as his voice chokes up again. "Guess at least PD-Nim will be happy." He grits out before he begins to cry again, everyone at loss on how to comfort the youngest of the group.

Jimin chimed in at that, gently scolding the youngest. "Now thats unfair." He says. "He's not gonna be happy over you being upset Jungkookie." He scolds, and Jungkook looks down at his hands in his lap.

He knows hes being petty and childish right now. He knows things like these happen. He knows that you love him, and that you're probably just as upset as he was.

But he was heartbroken as well.

And he hates it.

It takes him a while to figure it out.

It takes him to break down during a concert in front of thousands as he realizes its the first ever since your breakup; as he remembers that no, this time he won't go home to his own apartment but he'll share a room again. He won't be rubbing his sweaty hair teasingly on your neck to hear you laugh and yell at him to stop. He won't be getting to hold you through the night after he'd made sure you both felt close and satisfied before he'd fall asleep with you.

It takes for him to cover a heartfelt song with your name on the tip of his tongue, making fans fawn over the emotional tune in his voice as he let's go of his pent up feelings through the only thing he knows he's good at; music.

But he eventually figures it out.

BTS is granted a small hiatus, a moment to breathe, as he immediately knows what he wants to do with the time he'd been gifted. He visits his parents, tells them about you and his plans, and feels even more motivated as he finally returns home into his private apartment, previously owned by him and you. He wonders how many nights you'd fallen asleep in front of the TV waiting for his live concerts to be shown. He sits down, grabbing his phone, as he calls your number, secretly wondering if you've changed it.

You didn't.

Nothing is being said at first, until he speaks. "Hey."

"Hey." You answer, unsure.

"I've made time now." He says, and you sigh on the other side of the line, saying his name as you're ready to argue, before he stops you. "No no no not like that, aish.." He runs a hand over his face, hair longer now as he thinks about what to say next. "Long term. I.. Yoongi-hyung said that I'm merely growing up, and that that includes changing, but-" He starts, and his voice is a bit raspy from slight overuse from recording another cover earlier that day. "I wanna grow up with you, not away from you. I wanna change, but I want to change right next to you I-" He stutters a bit as he grows nervous. "I don't want to wait until this dream ends Y/N.." He says, throat closing up as he thinks about how you maybe changed your mind. He can't give up like this, though. "I want to live this dream with you." He finishes, and its quiet for a moment. Until he hears you sniffling.

"You're stupid." You say, and start to laugh as he does too.

"Where are you right now?" He asks, and you sniffle again before you can answer.

"Crying at Hangang bridge, what about you?" You chuckle, and he smiles at no one in particular.

"Can you.. Can I pick you up?" He wonders, picking at the ends of his sweatpants' strings. You agree, and he gets up immediately, grabbing his jacket, a mask, and his cap as a disguise.

The door hits the wall with a loud noise, making Jungkook hiss a bit as he's a bit startled by the noise, before he simply resumes in kissing you feverishly, not caring much about any damage might done as he closes it shut behind him. He slips out of his shoes and picks you up with ease after you've discarded yours as well, stumbling a bit with you in his arms as he laughs on the way into his bedroom, your arms safely around his neck in fear he could drop you.

He'd never.

He makes sure your back meets the mattress softly as you both shuffle out of your jackets, his cap meeting the floor somewhere as he unhooks the mask from behind his ears, the fabric having been moved to rest under his chin anyways, simply to be able to kiss you silly. He shrugs off his coat as his hands help you to throw your shirt over your head, his body crawling over yours as his hands move over your skin. He's in heaven, absolutely insane for your touch as your cold hands slip under his oversized carhartt shirt. He wonders for a moment how he could ever make it work without you, without your presence, your touch, your love and care for him. He's happy he doesn't have to, glad he was able to pull you back towards him, as he leaves open mouthed kisses along your neck, carefully cupping your breasts until he unhooks your bra, helping you discard the piece of underwear before he places a few kisses on their bare skin as well, relishing in the feeling of them, warm and soft in his palms.

"I love you so much." He mumbles onto your skin as if to tattoo the words underneath it, to keep them safe inside your flesh never to be forgotten by you.

"I love you more." You humm against his lips as his meet yours, his grin making his eyes crinkle at the sides as he helps you get him and you out of the rest of your clothes. He moves away for a moment to get a condom, before he jumps back on the bed in a manner that's almost too childish considering what you're about to do, but somehow it's so undeniably Jungkook that you simply laugh, closing your eyes as your head falls into the wrinkled bedsheets below.

"Impossible." He answers a little late, as he slips on the safety over his length, kissing you again as he carefully slips inside you, breathing out a sigh of relief at the feeling of your warmth around him. "You feel like home." He humms out, a rough grunt escaping him as he begins to move his hips, years of dancing experience making it easy for him to find a rhythm perfect for you both. You still smile.

"You're so cheesy." You huff out, as you look at him, his hair falling downwards as your hand instinctively reaches for the back of his head, pulling him onto your lips again, hooked on his taste as he needily bites your lower lip, sucessfully opening your lips to grant him access. A younger, more innocent version of him would've thought of this sloppy and intimate way of kissing as weird and maybe even gross, but his current version couldn't care less. He'd do anything to feel close to you.

So he doesn't care that your juices make your bodies slippery, that his sweat starts to collect on his temples, or that the sheets underneath you two would probably have to be washed. It doesn't matter, because he's with you, he's holding you' he's inside you- nothing could make him stop now.

When he reaches his climax, spiling into the condom inside you, he reaches between you two, inked hand finding your most sensitive spot as he eagerly moves his fingers over it, making your whine and whimper as you come undone as well, clenching around his sensitive cock as he breathes heavily, letting his head rest on your shoulder as you both take a moment to collect yourselves.

He laughs after a moment, slipping out of you with a slight hiss at the sensitivity, before he heavily rolls onto his side, taking a deep breath before he groggily heaves himself into a sitting position, discarding the condom before he flicks on the bathroom light with a click, the sound of gushing water soon filling the apartment as he filled the bathtub with warm water, carefully opening a drawer where some of the bathsalts and soaps were kept, before he puts some in, gentle smell meeting his nose as he smiles softly. He tucks some of his hair behind his ear as he steps back into the bedroom, corners of his mouth still turned upwards as he spots you still laid out on his bed. "Come on, let's take a bath, yeah?" He humms, as you smile sleepily, letting him carry you into the bathroom where he sits you down in the tub, returning into the room after he'd put the sheets into the hamper in the bathroom, and put new ones onto the bed, ready for when you both would return.

He steps into the tub, sitting behind you as he leans back against the cold tiles, you in his arms as he sighs. "I mean it, you know." He says as takes the loofah from the side, gently moving it over your arms as he carefully cleans your skin. "I'll balance it out better. I promise-" He says, as he moves your hair away from your neck over your shoulder, kissing the top of your other. "I'll be better. I promise." He concludes, before you move, turning around as you return his soft gesture, moving the soapy sponge over his skin as well as he watches you with fond eyes.

"Okay." You say, and almost laugh as his eyes widen, brows shooting up into his hair as he grins, moving forwards to hug you tight, uncaring for a moment that the water slightly spills off the sides, making him look at it in surprise for a second, before you both laugh as he lathers your face in sloppy kisses.

"Thank you!" He repeats. "Thank you- thank you- You won't regret it, I'll be good, promise!" He says, and you smile at him.

You know he's gonna keep his promise.

You're happily chewing on your snack Jungkook had bought you earlier, as your head rests on the crook of his neck, your legs thrown over his lap as you sit on his thigh, his hands clicking the mouse and typing on the keyboard as he adjusts some stuff. He'd invited you to spend some time with him at the studio, only if you wanted to of course, and he did tell you it would probably be boring. You disagreed, even now- sure, you weren't doing anything, but it was interesting to see him produce songs. He clicks to save his project, before he shuts down his computer, leaning back in his chair as he groans, head falling backwards. "Done?" You ask, and he shakes his head.

"Not quite, but I shouldn't be working anyways." He says, as he pulls his phone out of his jean pocket, checking something before he playfully slaps the side of your bottom. "Alright, up up, we have a camper van to pick up and some bags to carry love." He exclaims, and you smile. He'd decided after a bit of brainstorming to take you on a small trip to jeju Island, having managed to get in contact with some people to be granted access to a more private campsite, so he could spend his small trip as safe as possible with you. He'd post any picture of the scenery and him later, after the trip- he knew how easily his fans could pin point where he was from past experience.

As he locks the door of his studio, he walks down the hallway with your hand in his, mindlessly, as if it's second nature for him to hold it anywhere he goes with you. Its charming, how he doesn't even notice he's doing it anymore.

He even opens the car door for you while he talks, again not noticing it at all as he simply continues what he's doing, driving you both to your now officially shared apartment. He'd had a talk with his bandmates about him and the dorm life- and they had all agreed that it was okay if he wanted to move in with you. As long as he'd spend enough time with them to not end up growing apart again, they were fine with it. After all, he was growing up, and that also meant for him to grow more independent.

He put the bags into the back of his car, a rented Palisade, as he drove you both to the airport, the plane you both board taking you to Jeju in a mere hour. A cab takes you two to the rental service where the campervan was already waiting for you two. He smiles as he moves everything into the van, thanking the guy providing some explanations on how things work, before he sits in the drivers' seat, you climbing in beside him on the passenger seat. He grins for a moment before he turns on the engine, driving off as you smile as well.

You don't know how the future is gonna go for the two of you. You're sure this wasn't the last hurdle you would be facing, but you're more sure than ever that you would manage it somehow. You'll make it work. You know that.

Because at the end of the day, you're still his soulmate. And they'll always find a way to be together.

Thank you for reading everyone, and please stay safe and healthy!

Love, Bonny. (C)2020 Bonny-Kookoo. Please do not repost, translate, or edit my content. Thank you very much.

[janekfan]

You need to back off + Please come home for some angsty Jmart?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29122362

Prompts are getting filled! Slowly but surely! :D

I hope you like it ^^

Jon woke himself coughing with the realization that what he’d hoped were allergies the day before was now full blown body aches, chills and a productive hacking cough. Reaching out for comfort, he encountered only cold sheets and he shut his throbbing eyes tightly against sudden tears, too emotional. Needy. Sick. Not that he wasn’t needy when he was well either, but.

Martin wasn’t here.

Jon gripped a handful of bedclothes, curling on his side in the space where Martin should be and wasn’t. He thought of warm hands and soft kisses testing his temperature and gentle tutting. Martin would fuss over him terribly, plying him with medicine and perfectly steeped tea with honey and lemon for his sore throat. He would want for nothing, of that he was certain, but.

Martin wasn’t here.

And it was Jon’s fault.

No. Not entirely. He was away for the long weekend for an international conference.

But the shouting match they’d had before he left was very much Jon’s fault.

It figured that he would chase him away. Jon was miserable and ungrateful on his best days and like a dog with a bone on his worst. Why couldn’t he just let things go? Why did he have to push and question and needle Martin like that when he knew his partner needed time to think? Was already anxious about being away for so long? Jon certainly knew how to pick the best time for a row. Impeccable timing as usual, god damn him. Another fit crept its way through his tight chest, up his throat, painfully forcing itself free, and he stifled himself in a pillow.

He wanted Martin.

He had no right to, but he wanted him just the same.

After allowing himself just a few moments to wallow in misery, he forced himself up, driving the heels of both hands against his eyelids. It was a cold. It’d been going around the university and he was always early to catch whatever pathogens his students carried with them. He’d been run down and tired the last week and not from finals apparently. He shuffled awkwardly to the bathroom, limping heavily on his bad leg, absently trying to massage the deep ache left over from the worms all those years ago. He let the water run for a moment, get as hot as he could stand it, and with Martin’s voice in the back of his head, resigned himself to the use of the shower stool he’d insisted on. Sagging forward, Jon let the pounding pressure beat heavy against his back, breathing in the steam in the hopes it would loosen the knots tied thick and rigid around his lungs. Washing up took everything he had left and he wanted nothing more than to collapse back into bed and curl up around Martin’s pillow. Instead he slipped on his favorite of Martin’s jumpers over his pyjamas and took up his cane and made himself tea with honey and lemon and forced himself to drink it even though it tasted wrong. Struggling through the foil of the blister pack exhausted him further but he dutifully downed the tablets with the dregs of his cold cup of subpar tea. Dizzy, nauseated, the room spun around him wildly and he swallowed it down with a sob, laying his hot face against the cool surface of the dining table.

He wanted Martin.

Martin asked him to please not call unless there was an emergency. This wasn’t that. This was some sort of bug and Jon was an adult and he could take care of himself. He shivered. Teeth chattering in his skull and against his better judgement he fumbled for his cell with numb fingers. He thumbed it awake, blinking at the blinding glare. Recents. Martin. Messages. Jon scrolled through them, lingering on his responses. It wasn’t enough.

It wasn’t enough and Martin had asked him. Asked him not to contact him. For emergencies only. This wasn’t an emergency. It wasn’t. The screen went dark. The tears slipped over the bridge of his nose, tracing the faint scar there left by some fear or another so long ago and Jon chose to be selfish.

What else was new?

“Jon.” Measured, but not cold like he feared so much it would be but focused enough to cut him off before he could even think to apologize. “You need to back off. I’ve asked for some space and I would appreciate it if you would let me focus on this conference. I’ll be back soon. We can talk then.” He paused and with it, so did Jon’s heart. “I love you.”

“I, I love you.” But he’d already hung up and Jon didn’t blame him.

Shivering with chills, Jon dragged his sorry self back into bed, curling into the duvet and closing his eyes against the woozy rolling of his stomach. The tea wasn’t sitting well and Jon found himself panting, shallow and fast, concentrating on keeping himself together and willing himself to sleep though that plan didn’t seem to be working. Salt flooded his tongue and he lurched for the bin beside the bedside, dry heaving painfully. Sweat poured down his face, dripped off his chin.

It wasn’t an emergency.

It wasn’t.

He coughed, wincing and lifting a trembling hand to his throat and pressing against Daisy’s remnant souvenir, imagining the hurt there. A mewling whimper carried on an uneven breath escaped the cage of his fingers. Restless sleep crashed over him, was dragged away from him, uncomfortable, hot and cold somehow simultaneously. Jon picked up his phone repeatedly to call, to text. But he needed to let Martin have this. He wasn’t like him. He needed time and Jon needed to be patient no matter how ill he was feeling, no matter how much he wanted Martin’s reassuring voice. And it was his fault he couldn’t have it.

Jon couldn’t remember a time in his life where he felt this poorly; not even starved for statements, or scarred by numerous fears. Sleep hadn’t been forthcoming after he lurched awake to be sick again and he hadn’t had the forethought to put anything he might need on the bedside table. Objectively, he knew when he ran fevers they had a tendency to spike at night and that if he could just get up to fetch some medicine he would feel better. Subjectively, he was convinced his legs wouldn’t hold him, that he was dying here alone and when Martin returned for his things he would find his body. Panic built and built and built in his chest, cutting off his ability to breathe, stealing the air around him as surely as Crew had when he dropped him effortlessly, eternally through the void and before he knew it his fingers were acting without express permission.

Insistent buzzing next to his ear dragged Martin up from the depths and he groaned in irritation when the rectangle of light blinded him momentarily. He sighed when he could finally see the caller and he supposed Jon had waited as long as he could before giving in and ringing him again. The man was not known for his patience, after all. Martin glanced at his still sleeping roommate, a paramedic out of Brussels, and slipped out of bed to take the call in the hallway.

“Jon.” The frustration was warranted but melted away into concern when his only answer was a strangled, hitching gasp.

“I, I’m s’sorry.”

“Jon, darling, what’s wrong?”

“Y’you want space and, and m’sorry, but I--” A sudden explosive cough caught him off guard; it sounded painful and tight.

“Jon, I need you to listen to me.”

“I’m sorry.” His hoarse whisper didn’t hide the wheeze on his breath. “Shouldn’have called, m’sorry.”

“It’s alright, sweetheart. Tell me what’s wrong.” Martin clutched his phone, voice calm and steady, hundreds of miles away from where Jon was falling apart.

“P’please?”

“What, Jon?” He was openly crying; big, ugly sobs in between each shuddering syllable, and Martin was almost at a total loss, murmuring sweet things through the line in an attempt to calm him, until his hiccuping slowed and he asked again and he answered, sad and small.

“Please? Come h’home?”

“Jon?” Tim let himself into the flat, speaking soft and low, lest Jon was asleep. “Martin told me you aren’t feeling so hot.” He pushed forward to the bedroom, sympathy welling up at the sight of Jon curled up so small, face hidden in his sweat-damp pillow. “Hey, bud.”

“Tim.” Raspy and rough, like he’d been chewing on rocks, he finished his identification on a weak cough.

“The one, the only.” When he laid the backs of his fingers against his temple, Tim hissed through his teeth at the blazing, dry heat of his skin.

“M’sorry…” the ghost of an exhale, shaky and slurred, and Jon managed somehow to pry heavy lashes apart to reveal unfocused eyes glassy with fever. Tim stroked messy curls away from his face, heart clenching when he groaned low in his throat, before deep brown rolled back and dislodged more tears.

“Let’s get you taken care of, okay?” But first, a quick status update for Martin, who had called him nearly in tears himself.

“How is he? Are you taking him to A&E?” Tim could almost see the way he was clinging to his phone.

“I don’t think so. Gonna get some water and medicine into him and see how that goes.”

“Tim? Is he okay?”

“He’s sick, looks like the flu and he’s likely been down with it a couple of days.”

“God, he tried to call me and I--”

“Gonna cut you off right there, Marto. This isn’t anyone’s fault. It just happens.”

“I was so upset with him--”

“And I’m sure he earned it. When he’s well again you can talk it out.”

“Tim.” Trembling,

“I’ll make certain he’s alright until you get home. I’ve got him, Martin.” While on the phone, Tim gathered up supplies, thankful that Jon lived with someone with brains enough to keep a stocked medicine cabinet complete with a fancy ear thermometer with disposable covers. Because Martin. Jon didn’t so much as twitch this time. 39.4. “Okay, buddy. Up you come now.”

“Nng…”

“Mhm,” Tim hummed good naturedly, holding the glass of water to chapped lips and going slow. “Good?” He took the unintelligible noise as a yes, allowing him a few more careful sips before slipping the capsules onto his tongue. “There we go. We’ll see how that sits.” He divested Jon of the wash worn wool keeping in all the heat, soothing him wordlessly when he tried in vain to keep it. A clean set of pyjamas would make him feel better and he let the relatively cool air of the room wick away the moisture left from a cursory damp flannel.

“...Tim?”

“Hey, sleeping beauty.”

“Why’m’I in...in my pants…?”

“Did your best to sweat through the last set, here.” Tim helped guide loose limbs through the appropriate holes.

“S’cold…” punctuating his statement with a full body shiver, Jon slumped forward into Tim’s chest. “M’Martin’s cross.” Nodding, Tim gathered him up to deposit him on the sofa so he could change the bedclothes. “S’my fault…”

“When he comes home, you can apologize. Get him his favorite takeaway, yeah?” Jon listened intently, watery gaze fixed to Tim’s. “Put up those books of yours he’s always tripping over.”

“He, he. He’s coming home?” Lower lip trembling, Jon sounded too hopeful for this to be the distance of a long weekend.

“Oh, you daft fool, of course he is, of course.” He let Jon cry himself out on his shoulder. “He loves you, just needed some space, you know he likes space to get his thoughts in order. Of course he’s coming back.” Gentle and soft, Tim kept up his reassurances and hoped he’d forget that particular fear. Jon was too used to abandonment and all too accepting that he was the cause of it. That he was unlovable. “Alright, dry your eyes now.” Tim thumbed away matching saltwater tracks after settling him back on the couch cushions. “There we are.” Lord, he looked exhausted, the very textbook image of a bad flu with sore, red rimmed eyes limned with bruises. “Back in a tick, love.”

Clean, cool sheets, Jon tucked between them, kettle cooling off the hob, Tim set himself up on Martin’s side of the bed, getting another read, 38.1, and sending a quick update text before tapping open his most recent gaming obsession. The conference ended tomorrow morning and Martin would be home the same evening. With the next day off, Tim could wait that long. Jon’s burn-scarred hand snaked from under the blankets to grip his joggers.

“Hullo.” Tim tugged his fingers through messy curls. “Feeling a little better, champ?”

“Yeah…” It was still early hours and Jon needed all the sleep he could get.

“Sip on this.” And fluids. Tim levered him up, helping him hold the lukewarm mug of tea in shaky hands and laying him in his lap where he could knead out the knots tying up his shoulder blades until he sank deep.

Familiar voices hummed around him like moths just out of reach, melting together, drifting apart, slipping through his fingers. A door opened, closed, and Jon thought for a moment the Distortion must have him until a familiar palm pressed itself against his forehead. Martin’s face materialized in front of him and blurred just as quickly when tears filled his eyes. Wildly, he dove for him, not thinking about the edge of the mattress and collapsing into him when his legs gave way.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright, you’re alright, love.” Jon pushed his face into Martin’s neck, body numb with relief. “Shh, shh, shhh.”

“M’m’sorry, so sorry.”

“I know.” Martin curled around him, holding him firmly, tightly, running his hand up and down the shallow seam of his spine. Jon didn’t deserve this, he didn’t deserve how good Martin was to him. And he, he didn’t--

“I d’don’t unders’stand.”

“Understand what?” Jon couldn’t look at him for fear of what he might see, hiding instead in Martin’s jumper. He shouldn’t have said anything at all. “Why I came home?” He didn’t speak, shook harder, swallowed with difficulty past the cloying clot of emotion in his throat. “Oh, love. You’re not well and everything’s a little mixed up right now.” Lightly, softly, Martin kissed his temple. “I’ll always come home.” Jon felt needy and childish, choosing to believe Martin and taking comfort in it, in the chaste press of his lips against any skin he could reach. “Back in bed now, you’re burning up. Tea?” Nodding once, Jon couldn’t bring himself to open his mouth again, worried that he’d destroy this tentative peace and so, so grateful to have Martin home and the next time he opened his eyes it was to Martin climbing into bed in his pyjamas, tea already on the nightstand.

“Will you tell me about the conference?” Jon accepted the open arms as the offer they were, fitting himself like a puzzle piece against his side, sick and sweaty and lulled by the soothing rumble of Martin’s voice beneath his ear.

There were other things to talk about, but for now, the two of them, here and now, were enough.