#god she could have had such a great life she could have done anything gone anywhere

[thursdayg1rl]

notes on that last post were crazy btw. i think i've been brainwashed by other pakistanis that women just cannot have kids past 28 icl

[luludeluluramblings]

The Wedding Planner (Blurb)

Neglected!Reader ends up planning Bruce and Selina's wedding. The wedding goes great. Reader's life does not.

GN!Reader

You should've know being a Wayne would come back to bite you in the ass. Even though you had chosen to remain ignorant to the comings and goings of the family since you had moved out, for your own peace of mind of course. It had still managed to come back and take a massive bite out of your ass.

When you had moved out of the manor and started trying to make it on your own you luckily had some wealthy and non-wealthy friends. Friends that were more than happy to let you couch surf. Or, guest room surf in some cases. Your big break came when one of those dear friends had asked you to plan their wedding. You had accepted graciously, happy to help and wanting to thank them for all they had done.

It was stressful and eventful. There were tears, a little bit of blood, a shit ton of lace, and a mountain of flowers. But, God, was it satisfying. Watching your own plan coming together. The way you had prepare for everything that could have possibly gone wrong on such an important day. The tide pens, the red wine, the back up camera for the photographer. You had tamed the volatile chaos into a gorgeous and memorable symphony.

After that, you had found your calling. It wasn't anything heroic or noble. But, it was human and all you. And, you were damn good. It wasn't long until you had built a reputation of planning The best wedding in Gotham on any sort of budget. And, all the while, that forever distant family of yours left you the fuck alone. In fact, they had forgotten all about your existence. Which you didn't exactly mind. Avoiding the bat-shit, you called it.

Still, it came back to haunt you, eventually. Things rarely stay dead in Gotham it seemed. To bad you weren't in the business of planning funerals or your might have known that.

It all started when you took on a prestigious client that made you sign NDA after NDA before the first meeting. (Your first hint.) One of Gotham's richest and wealthiest your newly hired secretary had told you. (Your second hint.) You meet with the fiancé of this wealthy individual. A lovely and vivacious woman of sharp taste and wit by the name of Selina Kyle. Who had told you her future spouse was quite the sweetheart despite his serious demeanor. (Final hint, your out.)

Imagine your surprise when your own father comes striding into your office giving your client a kiss before turning to face you. In a way you felt proud of how you could easily read the shock on Bruce Wayne's face even after years of never speaking to him. When you plaster on a professional smile - having perfected the professional persona over your years apart - and hold out your hand for him to shake, it fills you with satisfaction to watch him falter. You damn near giggle when you go over the guest list and notice your name nowhere on it. You saw the way Ms. Kyle shot him suspicious looks at how shaken he seemed at meeting you.

You'd have paid to be a fly on the wall when she finally confronted him about it after they left the meeting. You'd still pay to be a fly now. Because if you were going to be trapped in a web, you'd rather be trapped in one that would kill you quick. Not in this web that was bound to slowly choke you and move your limbs like some macabre puppet.

Suddenly, after that fateful meeting, the family that had long forgotten you it now trying to burrow their way into the life you have built for yourself. And, they don't care how many holes they leave in it. As long as they had the pieces of you in their own lives, nothing else mattered.

Not like you didn't break your heart years ago trying to give them those same pieces they’re now tearing you apart for. Only for them to have been tossed aside until you picked them back up and finally moved on.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: Sooooooo, I know I haven't posted much, but I ended up coming up with a few other Reader concepts and they have taken up most of my headspace. But, this was an idea based of of Smalltown!Reader. (The oc Smalltown!Reader is based off of always ends up a wedding planner as a back up plan.) Which I have the rough draft of Part 8 written for. I swear it's coming.

A/N: I should also start cleaning out my ask box. And, my drafts. (Been throwing things in there for later.)

A/N: I feel like I should expand on this at some point. Might be something to consider.

[cressidagrey]

Lightning in a Bottle - Prologue

Summary: 

Eira Archeron was neither a Valkyrie, nor a Seer, nor the High Lady of the Night Court. She was actually pretty much useless. The only thing she wanted was to be somebody's first choice for once in her life.

Also known as: Azriel's shadows decide that if he doesn't treat his mate right... they'll just do it for him.

Warnings: 

Kinda Elain Bashing?, Low Self Esteem, Mention of Cauldron induced torture...

(super pretty dividers by @tsunami-of-tears)

As far as cauldron-made went…Eira Archeron was pretty much useless. 

She had neither the power of Death nor of Divinity. 

She was neither the prettiest one, that title belonged to Elain…nor the smartest one, which was undoubtedly Nesta. Or the strongest one like Feyre…And if she had tried to hunt like Feyre, it would have been more likely that she would have accidentally killed herself instead of bringing home any meat. 

As a human, she had been limited to cooking and cleaning and laundry, all of it with limited supplies and even more limited experience. She had tried. It had never been enough. 

So maybe it shouldn’t have surprised her that her uselessness continued on even when she was no longer human.

So if she wasn’t beautiful or strong or smart…what was she then? 

The dumb one? 

When the cauldron had burned every bit of humanity out of her…when it had ripped away all her hopes and dreams…when it had been so angry with Nesta after whatever she had done to it that Eira was just…Eira was just an afterthought, something it could hurt in response to her sisters and then leave gasping on that stone floor feeling like she was dying…

She had done her best to accept her lack of humanity afterwards. Nesta had raged…Elain had said nothing, suffering silently in the bed…and Eira…Eira had tried. 

Tried to make it better…tried to make it easier for everybody around her. She had tried. 

She hadn’t wanted to put even more on Feyre’s shoulders, not with the threat of impending war…and so she had done her best to be supportive and make no trouble…be agreeable and quiet and be helpful…

But she couldn’t be helpful. 

She was nothing but a useless appendage. With no powers, no great destiny stretched in front of her…

Not even a limb. Not even a fucking pinky finger. 

More like a skin tag. 

Completely useless. If cut off, it wouldn’t even bother anybody. 

They had made that clear to her over time. 

They had made clear what they thought about her, again and again, and now…now she finally realised it. She was a slow learner…but by the gods, she did learn. 

It started…slow in a sense. Comments, made offhandedly, that probably weren’t meant that way anyway…sometimes said to her face…sometimes overheard. 

“Stop your screeching, girl, I am getting a headache.” Amren. After she had finally…after months felt like singing again as she fixed the hem on one of her sister’s dresses. She had stopped singing then.

Amren had never brought it up again. But then Amren had never been particularly nice to any of them.      

“Don’t come crying to me if she bites off your head. I warned you.” Rhysand had told her drily when she insisted on visiting Nesta at the House of Wind every week after all of that had gone down… 

“Don’t you have anything better to do? Like make another ugly dress?” Seethingly said by Nesta…pitted against the one thing she liked to pretend she was good at…the one thing she could do and make money with…

It cut. Of course, it did. But it wasn’t even the worst thing thrown at her head by Nesta…so why was it the one thing that stayed in her mind? 

“We don’t need Eira. Quite frankly, it’s better if she doesn’t go. Elain is the prettier one, anyway.” Cassian…overheard by Eira before the rest of them had gone off to Hewn City. Eira left behind because…well the contrast of Elain badly dressed was enough, no need for Eira to…be what? A distraction?  

And it was true too. Elain was the prettier twin sister. 

Eira was just…common as muck as her mother had liked to remind her…Nesta was the smart one, the one who would marry a prince…Elain would marry for love and beauty…and Eira…well, she would make a good farmer’s wife as far as her mother was concerned.

Not pretty enough to garner a richer man’s attention…not smart enough to drag herself up the echelons of society on her own…To easily content as far as her mother was concerned. 

“As far as cauldron-made goes, she is pretty much useless.” Morrigan. Said in jest. Eira was quite sure of that…still, it had hurt. Because it was true. She was useless. 

No magic sparking at her fingertips…Using her magic was like pulling teeth…painful and a long process…And it never did what she wanted anyway. 

“Eira, find somewhere else to be. I really have more important things to do,” Feyre had said with a sigh…after she had brought her sister cookies and tea…after she had only tried to get Feyre to take a break from her work. 

Eira hadn’t tried that again either. 

And then the one that clinched it: 

“At least I found two males in my life willing to marry me. The one you have your ridiculous puppy crush on is never even going to look at you!”

Said by Elain…by her twin sister. She was frozen in place, staring at Elain wide-eyed as her sister sneered at her. 

 That was the last drop into an already overflowing bucket. 

Stress. Right? Just stress from wedding planning. Elain would have never said that usually. 

She wouldn’t have…

It was just…it was just stress…Just stress. 

Elain didn’t mean it like that. 

Right?

Elain flounced off…her wedding binder in tow…leaving Eira alone, sitting there, in the dining room, her chest aching. 

Eira was in a trance as she carefully put all the plates into one tidy stack…as she was thankful that it had just been her and Elain, every other person in their family busy with their mates or something else…Feyre and Rhysand gone with Baby Nyx for the evening…Nesta and Cassian off at the House of Wind…who knew what Mor and Amren were up to…

Or even Azriel. 

A sob threatened to take over, as she thought that name. 

She walked up the stairs…to her room…Her room. She locked the door with shaky hands. 

“At least I found two males in my life willing to marry me. The one you have your ridiculous puppy crush on is never even going to look at you!”

She collapsed on her bed, burying her face into her pillow and let the tears stream. 

Ridiculous puppy crush. 

All of that said because she had tried to talk to Elain about her choice of flowers for her wedding. Because lilies wouldn’t be in season when she married Lucien in Day Court in less than 2 months. 

And then Elain responded with that, because Eira clearly wanted to ruin her wedding with that factoid. 

“At least I found two males in my life willing to marry me. The one you have your ridiculous puppy crush on is never even going to look at you!”

The worst part of it was that it was the simple truth. 

Azriel was never going to pay her a second glance. 

He had always been more interested in Elain than Eira…he had on more than one occasion asked Eira questions about her twin sister…had made sure that Elain was comfortable and cared for…and Eira had sufficed as a source of information and nothing else. 

And after Elain and Lucien had become serious…well, Eira ceased to be interesting too. He hadn’t sought her out again. 

If she sat next to him at dinner, he was polite and quiet, bordering on silent. And then she tried to fill the silence and probably only annoyed him in the process. 

He didn’t want her. He never would. 

She starved down the sobs that wracked her body. 

It was probably high time that she accepted that, right?

High time to get over herself. 

High time that she reminded herself that…that she was never going to have him and that staring at him in ill-hidden affection only made everybody else make fun of her and probably made him deeply uncomfortable. 

So maybe it was better that she just…

At least he had never called her useless, she supposed. It could be worse…even when he never would want her. 

She felt the touch on her hand first…soft like velvet…like kitten fur…never warm, never cold. massive and somehow not… definitely not human. 

The shadows. His shadows. 

Sometimes they came to keep her company. At the start, she had thought that maybe he had sent them but nowadays she was quite sure that they had just liked her quiet singing while embroidery one afternoon. So quiet that nobody would hear.  It had taken her months to coax them out of their corners after that. They probably had just taken pity on her. 

Just like they did now. 

“Please don’t,” she choked out. She never wanted him to find out how she was feeling about him…never wanted to feel the pain of him outright turning her down. 

 And if his shadows came to check on her, they would report back in what they saw…and they didn’t need…didn’t need to worry about it. 

They never talked to her. Just sometimes they came and listened to her softly talk to them while she was sewing in the evening, about this and that...

It wasn’t right how she talked to you, the shadows whispered. 

They didn’t talk to her. Never. 

And now they did. 

Hell, even his shadows were feeling sorry for her, weren’t they? 

“Please don’t tell him,” she begged. 

He should know, they disagreed softly. Everybody should know. She should apologise to you. 

And what would that give her? Nothing. More embarrassment because everybody else got to hear all about her fledgling little feelings? Feelings she should bury deep and never examine again? 

“Please,” she begged again and the shadows seemingly surrendered, curling themselves up against her hands so that she could touch them. 

Don’t cry, they soothed her softly. Don’t give her that. 

Elain hadn’t said anything that was untrue. That was the worst part. It was true. And that hurt. 

Is there anything we could do? the shadows asked Eira softly. Anything at all to make this better? 

“No,” she whispered, choking out the words, another sob. Not anymore. There was nothing anybody could do. 

It hurt. It hurt so badly.  Just like the cauldron had.  Then she had wished she would die. 

Now…now she wondered the same once again. Maybe then it would stop feeling like this. 

She cried her eyes out, as the tears kept pouring over her cheeks…as she sobbed until her throat was raw and everything hurt. And finally, she just laid there…the shadows still swirling worriedly around her prone form. 

“Don’t you need to work?” she asked the shadows listlessly, tears tracking over her cheeks. “Don’t you have something more important to do than to try and comfort me?” 

Maybe take care of him?

You are important, the shadows snapped. 

Eira could argue that point. She was useless. So what did it matter? It didn’t. 

She wiped away the tears, but new ones just came pouring over her face and she stopped trying, let them run down her face and wondered how long she could stay in her room and never come out again. 

Would you like something to eat? the shadows tried again. So sweet. Trying to give her something, anything to comfort her. 

“No, thank you,” she whispered. Alone the thought made her want to throw up. 

She didn’t want to eat. 

She didn’t want to get up and talk to anybody. She didn’t want to even look at another person anymore. 

She didn’t…

What would you like then? The shadows tried softly. Would you like to plot revenge? they suggested. 

It was so stupid that she choked out a laugh. 

“For what? Elain saying what everybody else is thinking?” Eira asked, her heart painfully restricting. 

Nobody here actually wanted her around. If she disappeared forever she would do them a favour. Him especially. 

Elain had only said what everybody else was thinking. 

All three of her sisters had found their mates, just not Eira. All three of her sisters had some kind of power…just not her. All three of them had found some kind of place for themselves…and then there was her, living with her youngest sister, half seamstress, half nanny for her child, an unwanted appendage that was taken care of out of some feeling of duty and no other reason.

Elain had just voiced what she was thinking. The truth. 

It had been the truth. Plain and simple. And Eira maybe didn’t like to hear it but it didn’t…it didn’t matter. 

It was the truth. 

Elain had two men willing to marry her and spend the rest of their lives with her…and nobody wanted to spend any time with Eira. A husband wasn’t even something that had ever seemed to be a possibility. 

Even if everybody else is thinking, that doesn’t make it right. The shadows disagreed quietly. Your sister said that to hurt you and not for any other reason. 

“She’s stressed out with wedding planning,” Eira whispered. 

It had just been that. Probably. Maybe. 

That doesn’t make it right, the shadows disagreed again, twirling tighter around her wrist. We could ruin her wedding. Lilies and all, they suggested brightly. 

She shook her head. No. Elain should have the wedding she dreamed of. Eira wasn’t going to ruin it for her. 

“Don’t do that,” she said weakly.

We could at least steal her wedding binder, they told her mulishly, and Eira wondered if they disagreed like that with Azriel too.

Azriel…

What did it say about her that she fell head over heels in love with the first man who treated her with polite indifference? That she was so desperate to be loved that that was all it took? 

Did it matter? 

No. 

Elaine was right. He would never spare her a second glance. He was just as unreachable as any other male.

Nothing was enticing about Eira.  Neither her body, nor her mind, nor her magical power. What could she possibly offerany male? 

All the nightmares she had on a near-daily basis? All the fear and anxiety that swirling around her gut every day? 

She could sew on any buttons he lost along the way, she supposed. That was something.

The knife that plunged into her womb and twisted, took her by surprise. 

It shouldn’t have.  

Of course. 6 months had passed once again. 

“Don’t tell him this either,” she begged in a whimper. This was too embarrassing. He didn’t need to know about her cycle. 

Nobody did. She was the most modest out of all her sisters. The one with the most human ideas of what was considered to be decent, left…the only one who…

The only one left with her maidenhead intact, because everybody else was mated or married or very much in love and it had never mattered in Prythian anyway. 

Just Eira was left. 

Without a mate. Without a husband. 

Without ever having even been kissed. Nearly 26 and that…hadn’t happened for her. 

It probably would never happen anyway. 

Why today of all days? 

Why did her cycle need to torture her today?  How did she deserve this? Why not in a week…Though at least now she had a reason not to leave her bed for a few days.  

She could just stay here. 

Mope in her own Misery and self-pity…wallow in the pain that she knew would come…

Of course, it would. She had always had a horrible time during her cycle even as a human…as a Fae, it had become her very own personal torture. 

Maybe a bath would make you feel better, the shadows suggested softly as she already curled herself together in pain. 

She needed to get up and sort herself out before it got even worse…made sure that she wouldn’t get blood all over the sheets, but she couldn’t…She didn’t want to. 

And a bath…A stab of pure fear.  

“It’s like the cauldron,” Eira whimpered. Just like the cauldron. 

She didn’t bathe…she used buckets of water…even years later…still standing water was not something she could stand. Not without being reminded of her humanity being ripped away and traded for whatever this existence was. 

What if we make sure that it isn’t? the shadows asked her softly. It will be nothing like the cauldron, we promise. 

A bath…a hot bath that would help against the soreness of her muscles…that would maybe ease the cramps…

It did sound nice. So nice. 

So Eira just weakly nodded. 

That seemed to be all the agreement the shadows needed as they whisked her to the bathing chamber, in the blink of an eye.

She watched as they flitted about the room, turning on the water, dotting candles around the room, making it brightly lit with faelight and candlelight both. 

Lots of foam and bubbles appeared in the bathtub as well as numerous concoctions being poured into the water. 

She slowly toed off her shoes and opened the laces of her dress. Eira hesitated and the shadows disappeared, letting her undress in privacy…letting her walk to the bathtub and test the temperature…stare at it for a moment. 

It couldn’t look less like the cauldron if it tried. 

She waited for a stab of fear but nothing came. 

So she slid into it, let the warm water envelope her, the perfect temperature… A few tendrils of shadows came to keep her company, touching her chin so that she tipped her head back and they started to wash her hair for her. 

Eira couldn’t even remember the last time anybody had done that for her. 

And they did that…without even asking…just…just for her. 

“Thank you,” Eira whispered, not daring to close her eyes, but staring at the ceiling. “Are you sure you don’t have anything more important to do?” she asked weakly. “Isn’t your master going to be angry at you?” She didn’t want them to get into any trouble, just because they…they were taking care of her. 

You don’t want Master to find out, so he won’t, they said easily. Would you like some pain potions? 

If they gave them to her, she wouldn’t need to walk downstairs and maybe face her sister or gods forbid, Rhysand…and ask them for Madja. 

Nobody would need to know. She could have her privacy and her dignity left intact. 

“Yes, please,“ she breathed in relief as the shadows poured something or other over her head. One shadow brought her a vial, wrapping around her wrist as she uncorked and downed it. 

A bitter taste but it left her blissedly numb and tired nearly immediately.

“What’s that?” She mumbled as they hushed her, massaging her head.

It tasted differently than whatever Madja usually gave her…telling her that pain and discomfort were normal and that her potions would ease it…It was like pouring a bucket of water over an inferno. 

While this…this was quenching everything. Leaving her numb. 

Just a rather strong pain potion, the shadows promised her. You’ll sleep for a bit…We’ll talk more then.

Sleep… Sleep sounded nice…

She didn’t even think about feeling self-conscious when they pulled her from the water, rinsed her off and wrapped her in warm, fluffy towels. 

They laid out her favourite nightgown so she only needed to pull it on and pull back the sheets of her bed so she could slide beneath it. 

Even a hot water bottle was waiting for her…

Everything so that she would be as comfortable as possible… everything for her.

“Thank you,” she whispered, tears pricking in her eyes as she climbed between her blankets, the shadows fluffing her pillow and pulling the blankets as high as they went. 

It was weird…to have the shadows doting on her, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care. Eira was too selfish to protest this bit of attention…the only positive attention she had in years. 

They promised not to tell, so she wouldn’t either. Not when this was the sweetest thing anybody had ever done for her. 

She fell asleep between one breath and the next, safely and warmly ensconced in her bed. Deep dreamless sleep…When she woke, it must have been the middle of the night…and still, the shadows were there immediately. 

She whimpered at the cramps that were ransacking her body…and the growling of her stomach in hunger. 

She hated these cycles. Hated how weak they left her and how she wanted nothing more than to cease to exist. 

Are you hungry? You’ll need to eat before you can take another pain potion, the shadows told her worriedly. Not a lot, just a little bit, they promised. 

“I don’t want to go down into the kitchen,” she answered weakly, biting her lip. Not that she thought that she could safely traverse the staircase anyway. 

Eira just wanted to stay here…alone. Maybe with the shadows for company, as long as they wanted her…

We’ll get you something. What would you like? They assured her immediately. 

Everything in her body ached for something human, even when she knew that their food would taste like ash for her. She always wanted human things. The things she would never have again.  

“Maybe some soup?” Eira asked finally. “If that’s not too much trouble?” 

Of course not. 

They fluffed her pillows and helped her sit up…and then soup appeared…a bowl filled with clear broth with bits of vegetables and chunks of chicken and noodles…cooked to perfection…better than anything she could have ever produced and by the gods, she had tried…All of it, arranged on a tray, with two slices of perfect crusty bread and another pain potion. 

She took that first, and it made her pleasantly numb and tired…and so she weakly spooned as much soup as she could in her mouth afterwards… mopping up the last of her soup with the bread. 

She finished as much as she could before she was too tired and the shadows tucked her back into bed, curled up on her side…so they could fuss with her hair which was a mess as always. 

She felt like a child being fawned over and she couldn’t help but relax into it…let them do with her whatever they wished if they just kept being so…nice to her. 

Feeling better? they asked softly and she hummed. 

If you could be anything…do anything... what would it be? The shadows wondered quietly. The movements of them were lulling her to some space of safety and warmth and Eira considered the question. 

If she could have anything in the world…what would she want?

A heady question. 

“When I was…young,” she said softly… “I wanted a dashing knight to come rescue me, and whisk me away from that horrible cottage,” she said weakly. “That’s what I wanted since I was old enough to want anything.”

A stupid children’s dream. 

But sadly there were no knights in Prythian and even if there were any, they wouldn’t pick Eira. 

And now? The shadows pushed. 

“Somebody that loves me,”  she admitted quietly. “A husband…children.”

All of that…she wanted all of that. 

And she was never going to have it. 

We could find you a husband, the shadows finally said quietly. If that makes you happy…we could help you.

“Who could possibly want me?” Eira asked, her voice breaking. Who would want her? The answer was easy: Nobody. 

Only because Master is an idiot, doesn’t mean every male is, they told her tartly. 

She wanted to laugh but it ended in a sob. 

“He isn’t an idiot,” Eira disagreed. “He just knows that…I am not good enough for him.”

Not pretty enough, not smart enough…not enough period.

That’s ridiculous, the shadows hissed. 

It wasn’t. 

“He’s in love with my prettier twin sister,” Eira snapped. “I shouldn’t want him anyway. Why should I want to be his second or even third choice?  Maybe for once, I want to be somebody’s first choice! Maybe for once, I want to be treated like I matter! That my feelings matter…that I matter!” It burst out of her. The tears burned in her eyes at that admission. At…how unfair it was. 

What had she done to deserve this? What had she done? 

Eira immediately regretted that outburst though. “I am so sorry,” she blurted out.

They didn’t deserve to be pulled into her feeling unfairly treated. She should stop complaining. It wasn’t going to…

For what? the shadows snorted. You are absolutely right. You deserve to be somebody’s first choice. You deserve to be treated like you matter. 

She didn’t. 

Maybe you should go shopping, the shadows suggested with a sigh. The suggestion was so sudden that she stared at the tendril of shadow still wrapped around her wrist. 

“Why?” she asked with a sigh. 

The Morrigan does that if she feels bad. The shadows told her earnestly. Then she buys shoes and feels better. 

Ah. 

She highly doubted that shoes were going to solve any of her problems. A pretty pair of shoes wasn’t going to make anybody fall in love with her. Or want her. 

“What am I supposed to buy?” She asked quietly. “Just shoes?”

Stuff. The shadows answered easily. Whatever you want. Whatever makes you happy, they assured her. All your sisters have more stuff than you. You make them dresses and other things. But you never make yourself anything, the shadows said quietly. Nobody would say anything if you wanted things that are yours. 

Right. She had never bothered with that. Not after she had lost all her things together with her humanity…there had been some piles of necessities sent to them by Rhysand…and that had been that. 

She had never bothered to get more than that. She still wore those dresses of the very first weeks… and while she had made dresses for all three of her sisters…as human out of necessity, as Fae out of habit…she hadn’t made herself any in years.

Not since becoming Fae. Her new body felt…she hadn’t wanted to look at her new body for long enough to figure out how something should fit onto it. How it had changed….

These godforsaken ears were enough. 

Buy things for yourself. Like a new dress! Or earrings! Diamonds! The shadows suggested. Whatever you find pretty. 

“My ears aren’t pierced,” she said quietly, a yawn taking over her face. 

That brought them up short.

Master bought you pearl earrings, the shadows said suddenly, sounding perplexed. 

He had. Beautiful. Impersonal. Unwearable for her…a far cry from all the little trinkets he had given to Elain…

Still, for months she had stared at them and found them oh so beautiful…safely kept in their box in her drawer at her vanity table. 

Maybe that alone should have told her everything she needed to know about the state of Azriel’s affection for her. 

Namely it was non-existent when the spymaster of the night court didn’t even bother to check if she even wore earrings. 

And the earrings…well…they were only…one thing. Her room at the River Estate that she had been supposed to furnish to her liking…that was another. 

In the end, it had consisted out of her getting a set of the same bedroom furniture as every other guest room and her walls were painted cream like in every other room Feyre hadn’t gotten to yet. It was still as impersonal as it had been when she had moved in. 

She knew that Elain had stuff to litter her bookcases with…gifts from Azriel or Feyre or Lucien, her mate…even Eira had gifted her sister things. 

But all Eira had…were the dresses she had on commission laid out on her desk. Which she would need to return to the shop where she worked as a seamstress at soon enough once she was finished with her alteration on them…and well, that was it. 

No books, because her reading was absolutely atrocious…no little trinkets from any of her sisters…no paintings or art or anything really. 

Just…her sewing and embroidery supplies and that was that…and even these weren’t…held in one of these pretty little wooden sewing boxes on legs that would keep them tidily kept away…

Do you need money? The shadows asked her seriously. 

“What?” Eira asked weakly.

She made some money with her job. Not a lot…but some. All of it carefully stashed away to buy birthday or solstice gifts from…or little trinkets she saw in a shop and thought one of her sisters would like…that Nyx would like. 

Do you need money? They repeated patiently. To buy stuff? For yourself? 

“No, I have money. And I don’t want to owe anybody anything,” she answered quietly, her eyes slowly closing.

 She didn’t want to end like Nesta… were in the end, her habits were used to bludgeon her with…she didn’t…

You wouldn’t. The shadows assured her. We have our own line of credit. 

What? 

“How does that work? Do you have your own bank account?” she asked curiously, and she could nearly feel their amusement. 

We like playing the lottery. Everything we win, we put into Master’s Bank Account, they explained to her earnestly. He never uses it anyway. We could just put our winnings in yours instead. Master wouldn’t care.

It was so ridiculous that she couldn’t help but giggle. 

“Really?” she still asked weakly. 

Really! they assured her seriously. Enough for you to have a shopping spree! We like shiny things, they told her, making her laugh. Master never buys any. We’ll pick up some mail-order catalogues for you and then you can spend tomorrow ordering some things. Maybe some curtains to spruce things up a little. It’s awfully empty in here. 

Still, she couldn’t help but ask. 

“Why are you doing this?” 

Nobody should be treated like you are, they told her fiercely. Nobody should feel like they have no place anywhere.

[lowkeyremi]

JJK CHARACTERS AND THEIR ICKS

basically things they do that make you upset. this is a joke so please do not attack me. y'all already know i never miss a chance to slander gojo!!! credit to my sweet mutual lene (@satorisoup) for giving me this idea!!! GO READ HER'S (if you're into haikyuu)

Gojo

PLEASE. He 100% leaves his clothes on the floor and it really grates your nerve when the hamper is RIGHT THERE!!! and he just leaves them right in front of it. It's so embarrassing when you have guests over and they just pull a dirty sock from between the couch cushions.

Yuji

I love him but I just KNOW he leaves toothpaste in the sink. It's like he doesn't understand the concept of rinsing the sink out after you brush your teeth. You'll finally be making your way into the bathroom to brush your teeth and there's dried spit and toothpaste in the sink.

Megumi

Always. talks. back. It does not matter he always has something to say. "Well you could have just taken out the trash like I asked you to." and he'll say something snarky like, "Maybe if you weren't so soft spoken I would have heard you." BOY SHUT UP BEFORE YOU GET SLAPPED.

Geto

He is a HUGE gossip. "Mimiko was telling me about xyz yesterday." He just doesn't know when to shut up. People think Geto is a very quiet and kept to himself kind of person but when he knows you he will not stop talking shit.

Toji

There are so many things I could say but the worst of them all is the fact that he will wear the same pair of underwear more than twice. "Toji... are those the same fucking boxers you had on Thursday?" You can see the hem line of his boxers and it looks like the same pair from Thursday. He sets down his cup, "Uh, probably. What's today?" ... "IT'S SUNDAY. JUST WASH YOUR CLOTHES!"

Nanami

He's overbearing with tasks. He forgets that you know how to do things and will bug you until he knows you've done them. "Don't forget to take your car to get an oil change soon." You nod.

A few hours later when he returns home, "Have you gone down to get the oil ch-"

"Kento! The love of my life. I know. I'm going tomorrow." ... "Oh, okay. I'm sorry."

Nobara

Leaves her plate/bowl/etc on the table. You've reminded her on multiple occasions that she needs to do it but she just forgets. "Food was great!" She yells with a smile. In no time she's up from the table sprinting to the living room. "Nobara.. your plate." She freezes, "Oh shit right. I'll get it!"

Maki

She snores. It's not the cute kind either, it's the loud obnoxious kind that prevents you from sleeping. You've tried to get her to change her sleeping posture and find other ways to help but it does. not. matter. By the end of the night she will be holding you close. Your back pressed against her front and loud snores ringing in your ear.

Inumaki

Never gives you any kind of warning when he's going to fart he just does it. HE KNOWS they're a lethal weapon but finds it funny whenever you're screaming at him and gasping for air. God forbid he ever farts while you two are in bed because a dutch oven from him is probably enough to kill you.

Shoko

She laughs whenever you trip or get hurt in any kind of way. She doesn't even mean it she just does it. Like say she sees that the pavement is uneven she doesn't say anything and watches you trip, just to laugh about it. "Okay okay okay, I'm so *giggle* sorry. I should have said something, let me help you up."

Sukuna

Thinks because he's lived for a long time he knows everything and then he gets mad when, "This stupid little talking box won't work." (his phone) "This shit is broken again." He complains throwing it to you. "Dude.. it's powered off. 'Mr. I Know Everything.'" He rolls his eyes at you, "I do know everything you shit for brains." You scoff, "See if I ever help you turn on your 'talking box' again."

Choso

He's always second guessing you. He doesn't even realize it either. The two of you will be driving and he's like, "Are you sure you know where we're going? Should I pull up GPS." YOU KNOW WHERE YOU'RE GOING CHILL. He's just really cautious though which is why he asks a million times.

[latetaektalk]

love to hate you | jjk [vii]

“when obnoxiously rich and spoiled frat boy jeon jungkook comes up to you one day and asks you to fake date him for money, you definitely should have said no. because before you knew it, you were going on insta dates with him and having lunch with his equally obnoxiously rich and spoiled friends.”

— genre: sexual themes, angst, fluff, fratboy! AU, fake dating! AU, college! AU, rich kid! AU, enemies to lovers! AU

— pairing: jungkook x female reader

— word count: 17.966

— warnings: swearing/cursing, alcohol consumption, jealousy, no communication skills whatsoever

— playlist: to be added

— a/n: after almost two years of no update its done. it would be a lie to say that i was always one hundred percent sure this was gonna see the light of day but its finally here, and im so so so happy to just put it out there and give it to you guys. @koocycle has listened to me bitch abt this one so much so thanks to her, also for kinda inspiring me to get back into tumblr.com and writing !! enjoy!! and once again, this is inspired by To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before by Jenny Han!

“You’re really showing your wealth, you know?” you said as Jungkook slid into the driver’s seat, shutting out the cold air. He raised a brow, handing you the bag for you to hold onto, shivering slightly from the cold, his neck exposed to the harsh wind.

“How so?”

The engine sputtered to life as he slotted in the keys, his phone mounted to the dashboard, showing him the way. You pulled out the one-hundred-dollar expensive wine bottle from the bag, scrutinising it. Some of the glitter from the red ribbon the salesman had wrapped around it in an effort to be more festive and fitting today’s occasion peeled off. 

“This is too much.”

“Yeah, I know, the bow’s tacky but I couldn’t stop Kangjoon from-”

“No, I mean the hundred bucks you dropped on it. It shows your wealth,” you repeated, scrunching your nose. “Also, didn’t know you were on a first name basis with the salesman.”

You let the bottle slip back into its bag, scared Jungkook was going to make a sharp stop and cause you to drop and waste the bottle. God knows you didn’t have one hundred bucks casually lying around like him—even though you were sure Jungkook wouldn’t make you replace it and would definitely just buy it again himself.

“What? Don’t tell me you didn’t like Kangjoon? He’s a great man, very competent.” And just as you were about to tell him that Kangjoon scammed him, Jungkook continued, “Also isn’t that the whole reason why you’re dating me? My wealth?” 

He said it with a grin, turning to you as he let a family of four pass, receiving a thankful hand raise from both of the parents as they ushered their young children across the street. And even though he meant it purely as a joke, his smile and tone indicating as much, his words made you scrunch your face like you’d been stung by a bee. 

“It’s so unnecessary. We wouldn’t know the difference between this and supermarket wine, and Chae literally said not to bring anything. She’s gonna scold you, you know?”

If it had gone your way, you’d have gotten the second cheapest bottle of semi-fancy alcohol they had and called it a day but Jungkook swiped his card before you could intervene, ever so easily charmed. Well, actually if it had gone your way at all, you wouldn’t have brought anything to begin with. Chaeyoung hated it if her guests brought anything anyway.

“Gotta impress your friends, don’t I? Can’t have them not like me,” he argued, and you rolled your eyes.

“First of all, no, you don’t-”

“You don’t want your friends to like your boyfriend?” Jungkook gasped, staring at you with his mouth agape and eyes wide as you came to a stop in front of a red light. You shook your head.

“No, can I speak?” you sighed, frowning as Jungkook laughed, clearly getting his kick out of annoying you. “My friends already like you, and you know that. We’re driving to Ji’s and Chae’s place now for a Christmas party. One that you were explicitly invited to. So I don’t believe you for a second when you say that you got this wine to impress them. Also, Chae said not to bring anything. You just like spending money.”

Jungkook pursed his lips, trying and failing to hide a grin. “Do I now?”

“Am I not exhibit A?”

He gave you a look as if to say touché.

“Okay, maybe you’re right,” he admitted. “But just so you know, I gladly spent my money on that wine if it means I’ll impress your friends and make them like me more. And I’m even more than happy to spend it on you, cabbage.”

He looked at you by the end of his words, flashing you a grin. A grin that made him look so pretty and adorable, that would have made your knees buckle if you hadn’t been sitting, that wrapped your heart into his grip even tighter. A grin that made you wonder if a parachute would be enough to stop your fall for him, or if you were simply doomed for this fate, for the bone crushing landing.

You turned your head to the window, glad to see you had made it to Jisoo’s and Chaeyoung’s place.

“I think you’re just happy to have an excuse to spend your money,” you mumble, pretending to busy yourself with the straps of the bag.

“Sure—” There was a shrug, and you should have prepared yourself for the worst, should know better by now that Jungkook couldn’t just agree with you and leave you in peace. “—or you’re just the love of my life, cabbage, and what’s mine is yours.”

The words remained casual on Jungkook’s tongue, easy as ever. And they remained difficult and frown-inducing for you. 

“You’re-!”

A laugh bubbled up from Jungkook’s upon your silence, and though you were trying your deepest and most desperate to resist, your heart skipped a beat. It was fatal, cardiologists would say. How deeply you’d fallen, it was fatal. Your heart couldn’t be saved.

And as if he hadn’t said the most impossible thing ever, Jungkook pulled into the parking lot and turned off the engine, a grin plastered on his lips.

“Alright, let’s-”

You yanked the door open, stepping (of course) in a puddle. With a groan and wince, you slammed the door shut. Your breath came out white and cloudy, December coming into its full swing. The weather had been harsher than ever—wind dragging on your skin until it was painful and tense, air cold enough to dry out your throat and mouth, every window coloured a milky white, and clouds hanging far and wide in the sky for every hour of the day. The urge to crawl back into the oh so warm car was strong. The urge to run away from Jungkook however was just that much stronger. 

The bottle bumped your hip bone as you rushed towards Jisoo’s and Chaeyoung’s apartment building. You didn’t turn around as Jungkook called after you to wait with a laugh, fumbling to unhook his phone from the dashboard. 

You reached the glass front door rather quickly, a handprint smudged across it that hadn’t been there last time. You cringed, but couldn’t think about it too much, worrying a lot more about the diminishing distance between Jungkook and you as you waited for one of your friends to open the stupid door for you. You knew for a fact they were already there, spotting Hoseok’s car parked on the side of the street. If he was there, Jimin was too, always catching a ride with him.

“Do you really think you can outrun me?” Jungkook called out, just a dozen steps behind you. 

You pulled on the front door as if it made a difference, pressing the bell repeatedly. He slowed his walk, burying his hands into his pockets. All so very smug. Your features twisted into a frown. 

“You’re so slow. You always run from me as if I won’t catch up with you in two-”

For once fate seemed to be on your side, the buzzer cutting through the air. The door almost hit you in the face when you yanked it open. You slammed it back shut again, just right in front of Jungkook’s nose. He pulled on the handle. The lock had clicked in. You watched his features twist as he realised he was too slow. His lips pressed together, curling inwards as he watched the biggest and proudest grin spread on yours.

“What were you saying? About me being too slow?” you said. A smile tucked on the corners of his mouth as he shook his head at you.

“Open up.”

He knocked on the glass, right in front of your nose.

“What? I can’t hear you.”

You put your hand to your ear, tilting your head.

“Just open up.”

“You gotta speak louder. I really can’t hear you with this door between-”

“Cabbage, you better open the door for me now, or I’m gonna make you regret it,” Jungkook said, narrowing his eyes, tongue poking in his cheek. And even though you were certain it was an empty threat—how was he going to make you regret it?—, you contemplated for just a second if maybe you should listen and open the door. 

“I’m gonna count to three.”

You scoffed. Were you a kid? And even more so, what was Jungkook going to do to you? Were you going to cave because of an empty threat? 

“Please do,” you smiled, eliciting one from Jungkook himself.

“Three.”

He raised a brow.

“Two.”

You folded your arms in front of your chest.

“One.”

A moment passed. 

Nothing happened.

“Alright, fine,” Jungkook said before dramatically ringing the bell. And even though you rolled your eyes, you did inch back. He was going to chase you, that one was for sure. 

The moment the buzzer rang, you took off. Jungkook let out a laugh.

“Now, you run?” he taunted, pulling the door open, his steps echoing through the hallway. You took two stairs at a time, yelping when you realised that Jungkook was hot on your tail. Maybe you should have run earlier. Or maybe you should have opened the door for him. But who were you, letting a guy threaten you? No less Jungkook of all people, that idiot.

You made it up the flight of stairs faster than you ever had, your lungs lit on fire. The front door already stood ajar for you. You could distantly hear Chaeyoung call out for Jisoo- A hand wrapped around your waist and pulled you back. Jungkook stood right in front of you, chest bumping into you, the biggest grin on his lips.

Shit.

“Gotcha.”

Your face soured.

“Oh, h-how are you?” you coughed with a smile, and he chuckled, never taking his eyes off of you even as he grabbed the bag from your hands and placed it down. You had completely forgotten about it. “Don’t look at me like this. T-that’s not fun.”

“Neither was having the door slammed in my face.” 

You backed into the wall. Turns out being tough was a lot more difficult when there wasn’t a door to shield you and Jungkook was actually in front of you, just centimetres from your face and staring at you like you were his favourite thing in this entire world. His hand sneaked around your waist, slipping underneath your sweater, fingers grazing the small of your back. His touch was light and delicate, teasing in all the right ways. It was cold too, making you arch and almost wince. And it was all too much—a tingle spreading across your back, rushing straight to your heart.

“Any last words before I make you regret it?” Jungkook hummed, and you should snort and laugh because he should sound ridiculous. But somehow, his words made you tense, the mere thought making your head spin in rounds and rounds. You bit on your tongue, silencing any sound that might just want to crawl up your throat.

You shouldn’t let Jungkook be this close to you. You needed distance for your sanity. But you couldn’t bring it over your heart to push him away. You didn’t have it in you. Not when there was very much a part of you that wanted to find out what Jungkook exactly meant.

He drank you up with his eyes, gaze dark and full of something hazy. Full of something you couldn’t pinpoint. But you loved it, you did. Maybe a little too much even. You loved the way it made your heart thump and rumble in your chest, made you forget that this was too much and far and dangerous, that Jungkook and you should keep your distance because in just a few weeks all of this would be over and you’d go your merry ways. But right now, with your back against the wall and Jungkook caging you in, thrill and excitement rushing through every single one of your cells, you couldn’t stop. You didn’t think you ever could.

“Got nothing to say now, cabbage?”

And when you still wouldn’t respond, he smiled. His face inched closer to yours, his nose brushing yours. Your fingers itched to hold onto something, onto him, curling and uncurling in the air. Because you shouldn’t, you really shouldn’t. But you did, hands gripping his sweater as if you were lost in the sea and he was all you had to cling to. 

You closed your eyes, anticipating and waiting for Jungkook to kiss you, your breath stuck in your chest. Any time now. It was going to happen-

“Oh my God, please don’t do this in my hallway.”

You whipped your head around, your heart dropping to the floor. Jisoo stood in the doorway, face twisted in utter disgust.

“Please, anywhere but my fucking hallway. That's all I’m gonna be able to think about. Seeing the two of you eating each other’s faces.”

There was even clearer disgust in her voice.

Oh God.

“Hello, Ji,” Jungkook smiled, and you expected him to back away from you, but he gave you no distance. He wasn’t even the slightest embarrassed, if anything you sensed the slightest annoyance swinging with his words.

“Please step away from her, Kook,” Jisoo asked, gesturing for him to move backwards. But he wasn’t all too eager to follow, staying cemented right in front of you, hands still around your waist. He paused to think.

“I’ve got a really expensive bottle of wine.” He pointed to the bag. “I’ll give it to you in exchange for five more minutes.”

“Oh, you brought something? Chae’s gonna kill you,” Jisoo laughed before changing her tune, tilting her head to the side. “But how expensive are we talking?”

“Like one hundred bucks.”

You stared holes into Jungkook, mouth agape. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Were you not right here too? Did you become air? It was like you were cattle being sold off. 

“Oh,” Jisoo gasped before shrugging. “Okay, deal-”

“Yeah, no way,” you laughed before doing what you should have done earlier—you pushed Jungkook away, making him tumble backwards a little. You stepped around him. 

“But, Y/N, it’s one hundred-”

“Ji!” you gasped, making her laugh and reach out for you. She wrapped her arms around your neck, giggling as she did. 

“I’m kidding. I’m kidding. I would never,” she told you, and you raised a brow at her. “Right, Kook?”

“Yeah, we were just kidding.”

“I don’t- hey! I can see you two exchanging looks!” you gasped, neither of the two even trying to be subtle. “Do you think I’m blind?”

“Ha, funny, I think-” Jisoo cleared her throat. “—I think Chae is calling for me? Oh my God, do you hear that? Yes, I’m on my way, Chae!”

And as if she hadn’t just stabbed you in the back, she slipped inside. But not without grabbing the bag and thanking Jungkook for it. You rolled your eyes, turning to head inside when he cleared his throat.

Jungkook was staring at you with his brows raised, clearly expecting… something. 

“What?” you barked. He gave you a smile before stretching out his hand. You groaned. “Seriously? We have to get inside-”

But he waved his hand around, not budging. Rolling your eyes and with a long exhale, you took his hand into yours. 

“You’re a child-”

Jungkook pulled you towards him, shutting you up with a kiss. One hand cupped your cheek and the other rested on the small of your back, pushing you into him. The kiss was tender and soft, gentle and light. And still, it was enough to have your heart thumping louder and harder in your chest than ever before. You asked yourself if Jungkook could feel it at all. That heart of yours that was oh so tight in his grip. That heart of yours that was bleeding in your chest. That heart of yours already ached at the thought of this all ending in just a few weeks. 

It was a lovely kiss, a devastatingly lovely kiss.

And when Jungkook pulled away, his eyes so full and beautiful, you felt gutted and empty. Because this meant nothing to him. This meant nothing at all. You looked away. Jungkook laughed, pulling you flush to his side, all too unaware.

“Let’s go?”

You nodded slightly. 

Jimin was first to greet you, leaping up from the couch and pulling you into a hug. “You made it!”

“Took you long enough,” Taehyung mumbled, sipping on his beer, earning himself a look from Namjoon that he simply ignored. “We could hear you two yelling around in the hallway.”

“Merry Christmas to you too, Tae,” Jungkook laughed, and the older one frowned at him. 

“It’s December 10th.”

“In other words, it’s almost-”

“No, it’s not-”

Hoseok greeted you with a hug, ignoring Taehyung’s and Jungkook’s bickering because otherwise he would never get to say hello to you. “Looking good.”

“Thanks.” You stared at his sweater. “That’s one really ugly Christmas sweater.”

He laughed, thanking you. Seokjin and Namjoon were next to give you a quick hug, followed by Jennie and Yoongi, exchanging a few words with each of them. Taehyung and you stared at each other for a few seconds, neither of you saying anything. And though he tried to hide it, a smile formed on his lips. A smile you could only return. You blamed it on the holidays. They made you especially sappy and sentimental.

You were first to reach out. Taehyung reciprocated the hug. It was a little awkward and short and one-armed. It was more than anyone could ask of you. Jungkook nodded in both amazement and approval when you caught his eyes for a split second, and you just scrunched your nose at him.

“So how-”

You tuned out Seokjin, taking a minute to admire the decoration around you instead. Chaeyoung (because Jisoo wasn’t particularly all too fond of Christmas, but did put up with all of it because Chaeyoung very much was) always outdid herself every holiday season: red little fuzzy stockings hanging off shelves and cupboard knobs, cinnamon-scented candles lit up all throughout the place, miniature Santa and reindeer figurines sitting on every surface alongside bowls of chocolates and peppermints with fake snow underneath. There was even a small fake Christmas tree crammed into the corner of their living room with colourful baubles (some of which Jimin had gifted and had pictures of you all printed on them) and equally colourful fairy lights hanging on it. And of course, Michael Bublé was on heavy rotation, his voice carried throughout the home. 

“Where’s Chae?” you asked Jisoo when she came up next to you, both of you standing in front of the Christmas tree. 

“Oh, you know-”

“Ah, great, you guys finally made it as well,” Chaeyoung exhaled, coming out from the kitchen, and seeing Jungkook and you among the other guests. There was a slight edge accompanying her words, and you doubted for no second that her nerves were running high from having to host tonight and needing all of this to turn out perfect. (Even if she chose this fate upon herself.) Her updo was falling apart, strands sticking out in the wrong places. Still, she looked pretty. Especially with her reindeer apron tied around her waist. She had had it since middle school, and seeing it brought back all kinds of memories. You couldn’t help but grin, Jisoo and you exchanging looks. And when your gaze met Chaeoyung’s, she knew. She rolled her eyes, shaking her head. 

“Yeah, I know,” she mumbled, speaking to you too only and confusing the others in the process. Jisoo and you snickered. 

“Anyway—” Chaeyoyung waved her hand around, “—I’ve got some unfortunate news. Dinner isn’t ready. I’ll need at least another thirty minutes. Hope you guys didn’t come too hungry.”

“Do you need help with anything?” Jungkook asked, already getting up from the couch. Yoongi raised his hand, silently extending the offer as well. Jennie nodded, clearly willing to get her hands dirty too.

“Yeah, anything we can do to help you?” Taehyung asked, making an effort to get up too, but Chaeyoung was quick to shake her head.

“No, I don’t need help,” she mumbled, clearing her throat. “I just wanted to inform you guys. You all would help if you guys just busied yourself and didn’t come into the kitchen.”

And before anyone could insist on their help, Chaeyoung disappeared back inside the kitchen.

“Shouldn’t we-?”

“If you wanna stay on her good side, don’t take a single step into the kitchen. Don’t even breathe in that direction, or think about helping her,” Jisoo explained, and Jungkook looked at you as if to ask if this was exaggerated at all.

“Yeah, Chae’s… very peculiar with that kind of stuff.”

“But there are so many of us. Is she really gonna do all of it on her own?” Jennie asked, but Hoseok waved her off. 

“Trust me, she is and she will. Chae gets super stressed, but she also loves to host. If you don’t let her, she’ll be in a bad mood for ages. It’s better to just let her do her own thing.”

“And if it actually gets too much, she’ll come out and ask for help at one point. Trust me,” Jimin added.

“You think? I’m not so sure about that one,” Jisoo snorted and moved over to grab a handful of chocolates. Almost instinctively, she placed a hand on Jennie’s shoulder, and for a moment, you wondered if Jungkook and you ever looked this natural and comfortable with each other. If you looked as much as a couple as Jisoo and Jennie did. “When has she ever asked for help?”

“There’s no way she can do all of this on her own,” Taehyung said, frowning.

“You don’t know Chae.”

“Maybe. But it seems humanly impossible to pull off this entire thing without asking for at least some help.”

Jisoo raised her brow at Taehyung, pausing a moment. “Oh, do you wanna bet?” Her mouth pulled into a grin at the mere prospect of making some easy money. “Ten bucks?”

Hoseok and you exchanged glances over their heads. This was very much typical of Jisoo. 

“Don’t bet with her, Tae. She’s a scammer,” Jimin said, pushing Jisoo’s hand away as she waited for him to shake it.

“I won’t,” Taehyung laughed, taking a sip from his beer. “You know I don’t do-”

The ear-shattering sound of a pan clashing with the kitchen tiles emerged from the kitchen, followed up with a few loud curses and an “It’s fine!”. You cringed when something else you couldn’t identify fell to the floor a second later, eliciting even more curses. Almost instinctively, you turned to Jisoo, nudging her. Because as much as she was right that it was a bad idea to go help Chaeyoung, it would actually be worse not to go in right now when everything seemed to go off the rails.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. My cue to jump in,” she grumbled, begrudgingly making her way to the kitchen, knowing already she would have to endure Chaeyoung’s snappy attitude. She squeezed Jennie’s hand in goodbye. 

“See, she’s getting help,” Taehyung said to no one in particular and righteously took a sip from his beer. Jungkook applauded him sarcastically, and you were about to say something when-

“Oh, this is cute!” Seokjin gasped, coming up to you. You followed his gaze to the bauble he was admiring. It had an old picture of you and your friends on it, faces curving around the porcelain. “How old are you guys there?”

You pursed your lips. “That’s probably senior year? So like seventeen maybe? Eighteen?”

“What are you guys doing- oh my God, you guys look so young.” Namjoon hooked an arm around Seokijn’s shoulder, marvelling at your younger selves. “Look at that one!”

He pointed out one with just Jisoo, Chaeyoung and you on it. It was one of the first pictures you three had taken together. All three of you still stuck in middle school. You couldn’t decide whether to be embarrassed or nostalgic.

“Is that Ji? Her hair, oh my God!” Seokjin laughed, pointing out the blunt bob Jisoo used to rock.

“Don’t be mean!” And yet, Namjoon laughed too.

“You’re lucky Ji can’t hear you right now because she’d kill you,” you said. “But actually, you should see some of Seok’s old pictures. He looks so different-”

A hand snaked around your waist. You tensed. But you relaxed a second later when you realised who it was. You peeked over your shoulder just to check and smiled when you turned out to be right. He placed his chin on your shoulder.

“Hello,” Jungkook whispered, and you squirmed, his breath tickling your ear. He was so close to you, too close. You could practically feel his heart beating behind yours.

“Hey,” you returned, a bit breathless and pitchy. You cleared your throat.

“What are you guys doing?”

“Oh, uh, nothing really,” you mumbled, waving your hand around.

Jungkook frowned, but didn’t ask any further. “Okay, well, I wanted to get you something to drink. You think I can go into the kitchen without getting murdered?”

“Yeah, you’re fine. Ji’s there too,” you said, glancing over your shoulder to meet his gaze. He was already looking at you, eyes big and so full and a smile on his lips.

“Okay, then do you want anything in particular?”

You shook your head. “Uh, no, whatever is fine.”

“Whatever it is.”

But rather than just leave to get you said drink, Jungkook lingered, not moving away from you just yet. You raised a brow at him, making him smile. As if he could read your mind, he loosened his grip around your waist, but not before pressing a kiss to your neck.

“Getting you that drink,” he smiled, backing away. 

You touched a hand to where he had kissed you, gripping, feeling hot all of a sudden. It was stupid, you were stupid. 

“Jesus.”

And albeit, it was quiet and muttered under his breath, you heard it very clearly. You looked at Seokjin, eyes big as he stared back at you with a grin on his lips. There was a fondness in his eyes, a look you always saw on Jimin’s face. Namjoon wore it too.

“What?” you asked when the expression wouldn’t disappear.

“It’s just-” 

He sighed and shook his head.

“What?” you repeated, but Seokjin wouldn’t continue.

“You guys are just cute,” Namjoon supplied.

“Oh, please,” you scoffed, shaking your head.

“You guys are exactly like Jin and Mina used to be,” Yoongi said, coming up next to you, having witnessed the entire exchange from his spot on the couch.

“What?” you laughed, shaking your head over and over again. “I have no idea what-”

“Don’t deny it, Y/N,” Namjoon laughed and looked at you.

“It’s gross really,” Yoongi scoffed, taking a sip from his beer. “How smitten he is for you. How happy and—” He shuddered for the drama of it all but wore a smile on his lips. “—stupidly in love you two are.”

Wait, what?

“It’s cute,” Seokjin corrected, and you stared at him with stunned silence. 

“Is it though?”

“Don’t be like that, Yoongs. When have you ever seen Kook this happy before?” 

The question, though not directed at you at all, made you freeze. And when you looked at Yoongi and he made no effort to disagree, you froze.

“You make him really happy,” Namjoon said with a smile and tilted his head when you didn’t speak or react at all, giving your shoulder a light squeeze. “You know that, right?”

His words hit you like a ton of bricks, crashing down on you and compressing your lungs. Because, no, you didn’t. You didn’t think about it ever, and why would you? It never seemed possible to you because it simply wasn’t possible you made Jungkook happy. You didn’t have that power over him.

Was this really how you looked like to others—two people who were in love and happy? It sounded ridiculous to you, impossible. So much so, you just had to shake your head and wave your hand around as if the words loomed in front of you and had to be physically dismissed. Your heart banged in your ribcage, loud and far too heavy.

“You guys are exaggerating!” you chuckled, voice wavering the slightest bit. “This has nothing to do with me- Finals are over and it’s Christmas, so obviously-”

A single look from them was all it took to silence you. They didn’t have to say a word for you to know what they were collectively thinking.

“Y/N, don’t be ridiculous,” Seokjin said.

“For god’s sake, just look at that boy,” Yoongi laughed, pointing behind you, and your gaze followed his hand. Right then Jungkook came back with two drinks, one for you and one for him. 

He seemed surprised, stilling as he saw that you were all looking at him. But he recovered, mouth pulling into a big smile. Your eyes met his. You would have missed it if you hadn’t looked so close and paid attention to every little thing he did. But you saw it, the tiny smile he offered you, and only you. It was like a little secret. Just for you and him to know and share and see. 

Did you really make him happy?

“Why are you guys staring at me like that?” Jungkook laughed, coming to a stop in front of you and handing you your drink. You took it passively, and purely from the warmth, you knew it was your favourite, green tea. “Are you guys talking shit about me?”

“Oh, yeah, you know just the usual shit talking we do about you,” Namjoon snorted.

“Mhm, the usual stuff. How you always-”

Seokjin’s voice faded away when Jungkook moved closer to you, his arm already lifting to sneak around your middle. But you couldn’t do this. Not now.

“Sorry, I gotta pee,” you mumbled, wringing out of Jungkook’s grasp, his fingers just barely brushing your skin. You didn’t know who you interrupted, but you offered them all an apologetic look but you never quite looked at Jungkook. Your exit seemed natural enough though, you thought. No one made an effort to stop you.

Some of your drink spilt over when you put it down on the coffee table too quickly, and you even almost bumped into Hoseok, but rather than apologise properly and clean up your mess, you hurried into the bathroom. 

The moment the lock clicked shut behind you, you let yourself crumble, knees giving in. If only just a little. 

Oh God.

It wasn’t very environmentally friendly, not very Save the Turtles! kind of behaviour of you at all as you just let the water run and run into the sink and down the drain. You didn’t even wash your hands or face, just needing something to fill the silence as you sat on the edge of the bathtub and let yourself calm down.

You felt ridiculous. You truly did. Insane and crazy even. The behaviour you were exhibiting was probably therapist worthy. The panic. For what? And why? It was behaviour you never imagined yourself exhibiting. No less because of Jeon Jungkook. But here you were, playing his pretend girlfriend for money so he could win a bet. And you got all of your friends involved even! You should have really thought this through-

“Cabbage?”

And somehow, both dread and warmth crept up with his voice. You closed your eyes, thinking for a second to shut off the tap. It seemed just a little too exhausting to do that.

“Yeah?” 

“Are you good?”

“Yeah.”

It was quiet for a few seconds.

“Can I come in?”

“I’m peeing, Jeon.”

A lie. He knew. You knew.

“Fine, come in.”

When you wouldn’t move, Jungkook gave the door handle a try, surprised to see you hadn’t locked it. You had forgotten, and so he did it for you instead. The moment he saw you sitting on the edge of the bathtub with the tap carelessly running, he stopped, features folding into something nice, pleasant, empathetic.

“Stop,” you groaned, rolling your eyes and turning away from him, shutting off the tap as if that minimised how sad you had to look right now.

Jungkook chuckled, burying his hands into his pants, carefully walking towards you. He sat down next to you, knee pressed against yours. Neither of you pulled away. There was a part of you that should tell him to give you space, but you couldn’t. If anything, you turned a little to him.

“How are you always running off into the bathroom when you feel bad? It’s so obvious,” he mumbled, pinching your nose.

“Ow, stop!” you hissed, swatting his hand aside. 

He gave you a look, shaking his head, and you pouted like a child would. It made him chuckle, and you tensed when Jungkook put his head on yours, too tall to lean against your shoulder comfortably, his eyes falling shut. 

“What did they say?” Jungkook asked, breaking the silence after a while.

“What?”

“Joon and the others. What did they say to make you run off like that?”

You pressed your lips together, disliking that you were so easy to read.

“Who sent you?” you snorted, wanting to figure out which of your friends just earned themselves a plus point.

“No one.”

“What?” you blinked, and looked at him, but he kept his eyes closed. “So you-”

“No one sent me. I just… wanted to make sure you were fine myself.”

And hearing that was somehow utterly awful. Because it meant Jungkook cared. At least to some degree, at least enough to want to check on you. It meant that he was able to read you so easily, that he really knew you.

“Now, what did they say? You can tell me. I’ll talk to them for you. Or I won’t if you don’t want me-”

You shook your head, sighing. “Nothing. They said nothing.”

It was true. Because none of what Namjoon, Seokjin, and Yoongi said was worth running off. It wasn’t insulting, or hurtful. 

“Are you sure? Seriously, you can just tell me. I’d talk to-”

“I’m serious,” you interrupted, not even wanting to hear how far Jungkook would go for you. “They said nothing. I just had to pee.” You shrugged. “And I just needed a moment to breathe. It’s nothing. I promise.”

Jungkook sat up, glancing at you with his mouth pursed and eyes narrowed. “So just a moment to breathe?”

Your hand almost came up to cup his cheek, the urge to brush over the little scar on his cheekbone tempting you. It was difficult to resist when he was looking at you like that. There was this need, to plant your lips against his. Kiss him and assure him. But you didn’t let yourself. You turned your head to the other side, curling your hand around the cool porcelain of the bathtub until the skin stretched thin over your knuckles and almost hurt. Just anything but Jungkook and his stupidly pretty face.

“Just a moment to breathe,” you mumbled. 

Jungkook hummed, straightening up. He let his head hang for a few seconds before lifting it up again and turning to you.

“Is it fine if I stay with you then?”

It was a delicate question, an honest question, a devastating heartbreaking question. Because of course, he could. Of course! He could do anything, as long as he remained by your side. And that realisation, albeit not entirely new to you (you were aware of it to some degree all along), was mortifying. 

You closed your eyes, a knot forming in your throat. There was nothing for you to say, a silence stretching between you. A silence Jungkook took as a “yes”, and when his hand gripped yours, it was sealed for you. You didn’t pull away, put your head on his shoulder. What would be the use of resisting? What good would it do? What would it change? Nothing.

So you enjoyed it instead, the moment between him and you. For as long as you could. For now.

“We should probably get back out,” you mumbled when you heard the laughter get louder in the living room. 

“Probably.”

And yet, neither of you moved. A few more moments passed. It was the next bound of laughter that ripped you out.

“We should-”

“I think it’s time-”

You both stopped, nodding, knowing. Jungkook was first to get up, groaning like an old man before turning to you and offering you his hand. With one loud sigh, you took it, allowing him to pull you up. You shared a look and a smile.

It felt like you were walking into another world when you stepped outside, still holding hands. Before it was just Jungkook and you. Now it was everyone else too. And almost as if you had said that exact thought out loud, everyone looked at you as you walked back in. You stopped, the same way Jungkook had when he had returned and found you all staring at him. You frowned, the grin spreading on Jimin’s and Jisoo’s (When had she made it back?) faces worrying you. Jungkook seemed as clueless as you.

“What?”

No one said anything for a second. 

“Can I?” Jisoo asked, pleading with everyone else, and you narrowed your eyes. She was giddy, and her being giddy was never a good sign, especially for you. Most times it meant you’d be miserable.

“Do the honours,” Jimin said, gesturing for her to ahead.

Jisoo leaned back, grinning from ear to ear. She seemed to stretch the moment thin, take her sweet time to reveal to you what exactly entertained her so much. Jennie shook her head next to her, but she wore a smile on her lips, amused.

You kept close to Jungkook, almost instinctively. As if he could protect you. His hand brushed the small of your back, soothing. Taehyung’s irritating snicker grabbed your attention for a second, but before you could frown at him for it, Jisoo spoke,

“Look up.”

Fuck. You should have figured.

“Ah,” Jungkook laughed upon seeing the mistletoe above your heads. 

“You guys are funny,” you scoffed, shaking your head. “And very cute for thinking that we are gonna do-”

“You have to!” Jimin interjected, leaning forward and pointing at the two of you. “It’s the law. The rules of the game.”

You frowned, and the lines deepened even more when you saw everyone from Namjoon, Seokjin and Jennie to Taehyung, Hoseok, Yoongi and Jisoo nodding along. Of course, they found pleasure in your misery. 

“It’s bad luck if you don’t,” Hoseok reminded you of the stupid rules, and you could have thrown something at him. How was no one on your side?

“That’s… made up.”

“Well, if you wanna risk the bad luck, be my guest,” Hoseok chuckled, shrugging, and you rolled your eyes. 

“Oh, please, no one believes that!” 

But you were met with no ounce of support from anyone. You turned to Jungkook, expecting that he was equally as ticked off as you. But he seemed perfectly fine, his features not even slightly twisted into anything resembling irritation. If anything, he was smiling a little when you met his eyes. 

“I don’t know, I’m never one to tempt fate,” he said, and you couldn’t quite decide how to react. Jungkook reached for your hand again, playing with your fingers. “Why risk the bad luck? Also, it’s not like we have never kissed in front of them.” He grinned. “Remember how you jumped me and-”

“Oh my God, I didn’t jump you!” Your voice leapt up a few pitches too high and remained there when your friends began to laugh.

“Now that’s a lie. You practically threw yourself at-”

“Jeon!”

Jungkook cackled, and you could have strangled him right then and there. Your friends laughed too, and you would have snapped at them if your cheeks didn’t warm to an uncomfortable degree. To the point the blood boiled in your ears, so much so you didn’t even hear Namjoon’s holler about how it was just a kiss!

It wasn’t completely lost on you that it was stupid to be embarrassed, considering how boldly you had claimed Jungkook as yours in front of a room of strangers just a few weeks ago. Especially considering that all of your friends had a slight alcohol level going on anyway already and were most definitely moving on the second the kiss happened. But it was different. At the Halloween party, you were positively buzzed, your vision blurry and fuzzy. But more importantly, you were jealous to the point of turning green. It seemed so much more intimate to kiss Jungkook in front of everyone now. And so very vulnerable because you wanted to so much. Kiss him. You always did these days, yearned to. That desire scared you, was mortifying in more ways than you could describe, particularly in this moment because what if they could all sense it? What if Jungkook realised it all of a sudden? That you really wanted this? That your entire heart ached for him? 

And as if you had the fear written all over your face, Jungkook reached for you, tugging on your elbow and turning you back to him. He gave you a smile, his head tilted to the side. A few strands slipped out of his perfectly messy hair, and a soft shadow covered half his face. Right then, he seemed all so delicate to you, so good, so precious. It was instant, your heartbeat dwindled into something calmer and wilder at the same time. Somehow, it seemed almost easy and much more difficult to kiss him and pretend it didn’t dig daggers into your heart. None of it made sense, the effect he had on you, but you supposed a lot of things hadn’t made sense in your life since Jungkook’s first appearance.

“It’s just a kiss, cabbage,” he mumbled, shrugging. 

It was. It was just a kiss, to your friends, to him. It was nothing, a small price you had to pay to entertain your friends. It was fun and simple. It was just unfortunate that it was so much more to you. 

You held your breath when Jungkook placed a hand on your cheek, thumb brushing over your cheekbone, gentle and soothing. He was doing everything right, and yet, you could have thrown up right then and there. Jimin gasped and squeaked as Jungkook inched closer to you, Jisoo grasping onto his arm because oh my God, they were going to kiss! All while you were desperately, almost frantically, fisting Jungkook’s shirt, as if you would float away otherwise and it was the only thing keeping you on the ground.

And Jungkook kissed you all too delicately.

To the point, you could have believed him. That you meant something to him, that he might just be in love with you. It was horrible, to be kissed like that. You weren’t sure if this was how it felt like, to be in love and to be loved. You hoped it wasn’t.

You pulled him closer to you, deepened the kiss, allowed him in. For just a while, you told yourself. Just until you found the strength in you to resist him, until you deemed your own well-being more important than these fleeting highs with Jungkook.

“Alright, dinner’s- oh.” 

Chaeyoung stopped right before she could bump into you, and you quickly pulled away. But Jungkook kept holding you, not letting go of you. Chaeyoung placed her hands on her hips and shot Jimin and Jisoo a long look.

“Ah, who of you idiots did this?” 

“Why do you assume it was-”

“So it was you,” Chaeyoung said, interrupting Jimin and shaking her head. “Take it off. Dinner’s ready.”

Jisoo slapped his shoulder, laughing, clearly enjoying seeing him getting reprimanded by Chaeyoung. Jimin rolled his eyes, mumbling something about how Chaeyoung was no fun but he followed her orders, getting up and reaching for the bundle above your heads. You backed away-actually you jumped. It made Jimin pause and narrow his eyes, his mouth lifting into a smile when he saw the opportunity.

“Oh, what if I hold it over you-”

“No, don’t even!” you hissed, pushing Jimin away from you and seeking refuge behind Chaeyoung. 

“Oh, it’s just one more kiss, Y/N!” Jimin taunted, following you. You shrieked, moving further from him, irritated by the constant laughter spilling from his throat. He was enjoying this too much. Too much!

“Fuck off!”

“Don’t be like-”

“I’m serious, stop!”

“It’s fun-”

“Okay, no, enough,” Jungkook said, stepping in and swiftly taking the mistletoe from Jimin. He slapped him with it lightly, eliciting a gasp from Jimin. “No more chasing my girlfriend with mistletoe, okay? Or you can do your physics assignments on your own.” 

Rubbing his cheek, almost convinced he was allergic to mistletoe now, Jimin gasped as if Jungkook had just declared an end to their friendship. “Kook! How could you say that?”

“Stop chasing my girlfriend then.”

“Oh my God, fine, I won’t,” Jimin groaned, pouting. “You’re so lame.”

When he reached for the mistletoe, Jungkook hesitated, looking over to you and even though you preferred him not to hold it in his hands again, you knew Jimin would get even more offended if Jungkook withheld the bundle from him. So you gave him a nod. 

“Okay, alright, dinner’s getting cold,” Chaeyoung said, clapping her hands together when Jimin was back in possession of his mistletoe. “So how about we take this party into the kitchen, yeah?”

Like you had said he would, Jungkook got an earful from Chaeyoung when she noticed the expensive bottle of wine suddenly appear on the dinner table because how dare you bring something when I clearly said not to? And on top of that such an expensive bottle too. Do you shit money? Somebody needs to teach you how to manage your finances. Rather than come to his help, you left Jungkook to fend for himself which earned you puppy eyes from him, but hadn’t you told him better? Surprisingly however he managed to convince her to open the bottle anyway. You were sure she’d get him to return it, or at least take it home again. Jungkook could be very compelling. But you knew that already. 

“If the teaching thing doesn’t work out—” Namjoon had his mouth stuffed as he spoke, and you caught Yoongi cringing next to him. “—I think you should become a cook, Chae.”

She smiled sheepishly, waving him off. “Oh, please. My mom’s cooking is so much better.”

“I don’t know if I believe you,” he laughed. “This is seriously so good.”

Hoseok shoved a big bite into his mouth, a drop of sauce splashing onto the table. Chaeyoung smiled and wiped it off for him. He thanked her.

“It’s the best food on Earth. I’d die for it,” Jimin sighed, a little too loud and dramatic, his mouth full with food, giving you all a glimpse into what his stomach must look like. His cheeks were tinted a slight pink, the red wine slowly flushing him through. “Like that one Gordon Ramsey meme? Where you know—” He sat up, changing his voice in a failed attempt to mimic the British celebrity chef. “—he’s like ‘Finally some good fucking food.’ or whatever. That’s how I always feel when I eat Chae.”

For a second, there was silence. Jungkook and you looked at each other with big eyes, a hint of a smile on your lips because it was obvious that Jimin hadn’t realised what he had said, blabbering on and on without a second thought.

“Maybe you should calm it on the alcohol,” Seokjin mumbled, pushing Jimin’s glass away from him. But it had the opposite effect, making him reach for it instead and down the entire contents of his glass in one quick go.

“Never!”

“You mean… her food. When you eat her food, you could cry, right?” Taehyung clarified, and Jimin looked at him with big eyes.

“Oh, yes of course! What else would I mean?” he laughed, loud and boisterous. “Chae’s all yours, Seok. Don’t worry. I’m not your competition.” 

Chaeyoung almost choked on the wine, and Hoseok turned a few shades redder. 

“Someone get this idiot some water,” Yoongi snorted, and Namjoon already got up.

You turned your gaze to Jisoo when she leaned into you, taking the chaos as a chance to just talk to you, her hand grabbing yours.

“How’s the scarf going by the way? Are your loops now clean?” she whispered, careful to keep her voice low. You glanced towards Jungkook, but he was busy trying to convince Jimin to drink a few sips from the water at least. And though he hadn’t heard a word, you glared at Jisoo, shaking your head.

“Not with him around,” you hissed, and she rolled her eyes.

“Oh, look at him. He’s not paying us attention. I wanna know. I’m invested now, especially because you always called me a grandma for knitting. How’s it going?” she asked, and you knew it was best to just quickly answer her because she wasn’t dropping this.

“Yeah, yeah, I got it now. It’s almost done-”

“What are you guys whispering about?” Jennie asked, leaning in, eyes wandering between Jisoo and you.

“Y/N’s knitting a scarf for her boyfriend for Christmas.”

“Ji!” 

Your features couldn’t decide whether or not to contort in embarrassment or fear Jungkook had overheard this time. It’d ruin your surprise. You were in luck though because he wasn’t paying your conversation any mind.

“Oh, that’s cute!” Jennie squealed. “I only thought Ji knits. I didn’t know you knit too, Y/N.”

“I-”

“She doesn’t. She just sews a little,” Jisoo said, beating you to it. She leaned towards Jennie as if she was telling her a secret and didn’t want you to hear, but she deliberately kept eye contact with you and didn’t even lower her voice, her lips curling up. “She learned how to knit for her stupid little boyfriend. She asked me so many questions and bought so much yarn too. It was so annoying-”

You kicked Jisoo in the shin, shutting her up. She sharply sucked in her breath, hands flying to her leg, mouth agape in a silent screech.

“You’re talking too much,” you hissed, not remorseful at all even as she rubbed her shin. Jennie laughed. 

“That’s really cute of you though, Y/N,” she said, smiling at you. “I like the idea. He’s gonna love it.”

“It’s just a scarf,” Jisoo mumbled, rolling her eyes, words dipping into an astonishing amount of immaturity. “It’s not that cute. I could knit you a better scarf-”

“Stop bragging. It’s different. You’ve always knit. Y/N made an effort to learn how to for Kook.”

“I’d learn how to do something new for you.”

“So do.”

“What? Like I won’t?”

You took that as your cue to exit the conversation, glancing over to Jungkook instead. He hadn’t noticed your conversation at all. In fact, he was stuffing his mouth full. Some extra sauce decorated the corner of his mouth in his haste. Without missing a beat, you wiped it off with your thumb before cleaning it on his napkin. He turned to you, eyes as big as a reindeer caught in headlights. It hit you only then as he stared at you and you stared at him, what you had done. How intimate the nature of the gesture had been. You might as well have ripped out your heart and told him to keep it. It would have been the same.

“Did… you just-”

“Oh, the wine is actually so good!” Jisoo sighed, putting down her glass, and right now you were very glad she sat next to you. “I think that’s the best wine I’ve ever had.”

Jungkook’s eyes darted between her and you. He was thinking, contemplating if he’d engage with Jisoo in a conversation, or tease you until you were just about ready to be swallowed by a hole. Maybe it was the way you wouldn’t even look in his direction and kept your gaze trained on Jisoo, or maybe because he was planning on bringing it up another time, but in the end, he decided to spare you.

“I’m happy to hear you like it,” he grinned before jabbing you in the side. You flinched, grabbing his hand before he could do it again. “See, and you said they wouldn’t taste the difference.”

“She doesn’t,” you grumbled, brows creased together.

“She’s just saying that because she knows how expensive it is,” Taehyung said, and for once you agreed. Jisoo rolled her eyes at him, mumbling something about not wanting to argue with an idiot and picking a piece of lint off of Jennie’s shoulder instead.

Jungkook shrugged. “Whatever. She likes it, so worth every penny.”

You were about to let go of his hand, feeling any kind of contact was a step too much, a step into a very wrong and dangerous direction. But Junkook interlaced his fingers with yours, holding it firm, thumb brushing over the back of your hand. For a second, you contemplated pulling away because this was too much, too close. You didn’t, not finding the strength in you to do it. 

“Actually, I haven’t learned half of my mom’s cooking. She always makes this amazing pork belly stew for every Christmas. If you love this, you’ll love that,” Chaeyoung said, pulling you into their conversation that seemed to have circled back to her cooking.

“Are you gonna go back home for Christmas? Because I’ll go with you if so. That stew sounds amazing,” Yoongi said.

“Oh my God, if you are, please take me with you too because this is so good,” Jennie sighed dreamily, making Chaeyoung laugh. 

“Excuse me, what about our Christmas plans?” Jisoo gasped with faux upset, and immediately Hoseok, Chaeyoung, Jimin and you exchanged glances. 

Moving fast, Hoseok mouthed and you nodded. You had no idea. At the same time, it seemed to work for them.

“Oh, can’t we just drop by for dinner really quickly for some food?” Jennie tried, pursing her lips into a pout, but Jisoo just clicked her tongue and shook her head.

“Good food is all it takes, huh?”

Jennie laughed.

“Is everyone going home for Christmas?” Namjoon asked, wiping his mouth before grabbing his glass of wine, holding it up to his lips, speaking into it. “I know Kook is for sure.”

Jungkook nodded. “Got me there.”

And even without looking at him, you knew he was smiling and more than excited to go back home. He squeezed your hand, and you could tell he did so unconsciously. You squeezed back, happy for him that he was happy.

“Oh, right, I’ve been meaning to ask!” Jimin gasped, turning rather dramatically towards you. You blinked, unsure of what was about to spill from his lips.

“Is it true that you’re going back home with Kook, Y/N?” 

What?

Everyone turned to you, Chaeyoung raising her brow at you because were you? You stared back at her, mouth opened and closing because no, right? You weren’t, or were you? Your eyes lifted to Jungkook, and he had that same look on his face. Neither of you knew what to say or do. This wasn’t something you had discussed. And why would you have? It’d be ridiculous to assume that you’d be going back home with Jungkook to meet his parents for Christmas.

“Uh-?”

“I’m just asking because Kook’s parents have been asking me if I knew if he’s actually gonna bring you,” Jimin continued, shrugging. And maybe you would have focused on how much you wanted to strangle him right now and needed him to shut up if your mind wasn’t reeling from the fact that Jungkook seemed to have not only told his parents about your existence but also that you would be spending Christmas with them.

What?

“Okay, yeah, no, wait,” Jungkook interjected, a clear panic in his voice, turning fully to you. “I can explain.”

You blankly stared at him, unable to even make a single sound. He dug a hand through his hair, looking even more panicked the longer you said nothing.

“So, uh, my brother saw my posts and stories online and might have told my parents… that I’m dating you. And so they’ve been really curious and asking about you a lot, and it was a little annoying, so I just told them that I might bring you around for Christmas to shut them up. But—” He held out his hand as if to get ahead of you saying anything. “—I didn’t promise them anything. I just said it to get them off my back, you know?”

You continued staring at him, unsure of how to react or what to say because well, you hadn’t thought that either of your parents were ever going to get involved in any shape or form. You hadn’t even played with the idea of telling your parents. And why would you? All of this was fake! A ruse, so Jungkook could win his stupid bet!

“It wasn’t planned, or anything, okay? I wasn’t going to tell them about you-”

“You weren’t?” Jimin blurted out, brows pinching together. He seemed to have lost all ability to read the room, just a glass or two of wine enough to dull his brain. “Ow-!”

He glared at Taehyung, rubbing his arm. It still wasn’t enough to shut him up however. 

“What was that for? I’m just saying I’m a little surprised that Jungkook, the definition of a mama’s and papa’s boy, was planning on keeping his girlfriend a secret when he hasn’t shut up about Y/N for months-”

“No, wait it’s not like that,” Jungkook quickly scrambled, gesturing wildly. “It’s just that my parents, you know, can get a little much. And, I don’t know-”

His sentence didn’t find an end, and Jimin seemed to just take that as a sign to go on, 

“Didn’t Narae meet-”

“Okay, how about you finish your food, huh?” Taehyung interrupted, taking Jimin’s fork and picking up a big piece of meat before shoving it into his mouth. Namjoon and Seokjin exchanged glances, cringing. Yoongi lowered his head, and Jennie slid down on her seat. Chaeyoung looked at you with big empathetic eyes and Jisoo even gave your hand a squeeze. 

If there was anything genuine between you, this would have been devastating. Luckily, there wasn’t. So it couldn’t hurt. And yet, your heart felt like it was bleeding in your chest, a dagger shoved in, a dagger with Jungkook’s name. He was staring holes into you, but you couldn’t look at him, settling on the edge of the table instead. You weren’t hurt. You weren’t hurt that Narae with her perfect smile and manicured nails and beautiful hair and glossy lips got to meet his parents and you didn’t. It didn’t bother you at all! That was what you told yourself at least. Because you couldn’t possibly be hurt. Not when your relationship was transactional and just an act. And yet, to your misery, you were hurt, deeply. You hated it, how you weren’t all that unbothered as you wanted and more importantly, should be. 

You were pulled out of your thoughts though when you saw the glare Hoseok was looking at Jungkook with. It dawned on you how awful all of it had to sound to your friends then. Narae, who never even was Jungkook’s official girlfriend, got to meet his parents, but you, who was officially (at least to them) his girlfriend, he not only didn’t want to introduce to them but also planned on keeping a secret?

“Oh my God, you guys!” you laughed, loud and light, like it was all so very dumb and stupid. With a big swoop, you grabbed Jungkook’s hand on the table, hoping no one saw the shake in your fingers. Everyone looked at you.

“You’re misunderstanding. We had agreed from the beginning that we should take it a little slower, and not tell everyone immediately. I knew he wasn’t going to tell his parents. I told him not to.” You put on your most convincing smile, swallowing the knot in your throat, hoping desperately it was enough. Everyone was looking at you, and you looked right back at them, at everyone except for Jungkook. Your vision almost blurred, hazy at the edges, feeling your composure threaten to slip.

“It’s nothing.”

There was a slight shake in your voice, the tiniest of a waver. You couldn’t tell if your friends noticed, their faces unreadable to you. A moment of silence stretched across the room, the food long forgotten about. In the end, it was slightly tipsy Jimin, the one who started it all, to break the awkwardness.

“Okay, well, do I text them… yes or-?”

You wondered if Jimin was this stupid, or trying to put you through hell on purpose. His question made Taehyung next to him sigh and shake his head, lips pressed together as he stared daggers into the older one.

“What?” Jimin whispered, offended. Maybe you should have taken the wine from him sooner. 

You looked at Jungkook finally. He didn’t seem to have an answer at all, his eyes big and wide like a child’s. There was something in them that you couldn’t quite pinpoint. It almost seemed like he wanted you to agree, say yes, of course, you’d meet his parents. You had to be imagining it. As quickly as it had come, you squashed the thought.

It was up to you. The decision was in your hands. Everyone was waiting for your answer. Jungkook would have to go with whatever you were saying, whether or not he liked it. 

A lot of it was probably spite, spite that Narae met them already and you hadn’t. And how would it look if you weren’t there when Jungkook inevitably made a post about being back home with his family and you weren’t there in the pictures? What would Narae think? You could already see a backhanded Instagram story in front of your eyes, how there was trouble in paradise. It was something you wouldn’t put past her at all, seeing as she had done so before, posting just an hour after Jungkook celebrated your one month anniversary about how cringe some couples could be. Anyone doubting your relationship might just lead to Taehyung doubting your relationship and then to Jungkook losing his bet and all of this would have been for nothing. That couldn’t happen, right? You had to do something against it!

“They probably won’t stop bothering you until you tell them yes, right?” 

You tried your hardest to sound casual, nonchalant, chill as some might say. This was no big deal, you told yourself.

It wasn’t what Jungkook had expected. He thought you’d give some roundabout answer that in the end summarised that you needed to keep things slow and easy. But you agreed. You were going to meet his parents. He searched for something in your features, anything to tell him how you genuinely felt about it. He was trying to read you, but it was like he had the wrong dictionary. 

“If that’s alright with you-” Maybe it was to hit the nail on the head, finish it off, you couldn’t say. But the urge was strong right then, just once to say it. “—babe?”

You turned to him and looked at him almost confidently. It was both your face and the pet name, but Jungkook couldn’t help but laugh. Of course, now you were going to call him babe. A grin spread across his lips.

“Okay, yeah.” He held your hand firmer and tighter. “I’d be more than happy for you to meet my parents. They’d be thrilled.”

He was a great liar. It sounded oh so very genuine.

You squeezed his hand and turned to Jimin. “I guess you can text them I’m going.”

“I think that was it,” Jungkook said, handing you the last few dirty plates. 

“Alright,” you hummed, moving around some of the dishes to make some more space in the dishwasher. 

“Oh,” Chaeyoung exclaimed in surprise upon seeing Jungkook standing there with you, “you can head out first. I’ll help Y/N.” 

She wore a smile on her lips, but you knew better. 

“It’s fine. I’ll just help-”

“No, really, get out,” Chaeyoung interrupted, slipping just the slightest bit and you gave Jungkook a look, almost reaching out for his hand and giving it a squeeze. She was curt, too curt. It surprised him, clearly. “I’m the host. I’ll clean up. Join the others in the living room.”

You offered him a nod, and with that Jungkook slipped out, receiving a more genuine smile and a quiet thank you from Chaeyoung on the way out because she knew he was more than confused by her just now. Before he even had the chance to turn to ask whether or not he should close the door, she did herself. You knew to prepare yourself, putting the stack of dishes aside. She folded her arms in front of her stomach.

This was an interrogation.

In another world (read: in a detective TV show), there’d be a metal table between you and you’d be handcuffed to it. A clock would decorate the blank walls, ticking away in the background, and the air would be chilly and humid, stifling almost. Chaeyoung would dramatically slide pictures across to you, and they would be incriminating ones, blurry but clearly depicting you in the middle of whatever crime you were accused of. She would point at them and tell you how you had one chance to tell her the truth.

“How are you?”

Just the question almost made you laugh. It was heartwarming. You knew exactly what she was trying to get out of you—if it hurt you at all that Narae had met Jungkook’s parents and he had seemingly wanted to keep you a secret. You dried your hands on the kitchen towel.

“I’m fine, thanks. How are you-”

“Are you lying?”

She took this very seriously, her face not even holding a hint of a smile. Again, in another world she’d stare you down, gaze cold and unwavering, and ask if you wanted to try again.

“Do I look like I am lying?”

You were lying about all of it, about most things concerning Jungkook and you these days. But you couldn’t say that. You couldn’t admit that the entire conversation during dinner hurt you to the degree it did, to a degree you would rather not admit, that it hurt at all to begin with. Because being hurt implied you had some sort of right to be, implied Jungkook owed you… something. And that was just not true.

Chaeyoung paused, sizing you up. It was hard to figure out what conclusion she came to, her eyes narrowed and sharp. She opened her mouth, but right then, someone announced themselves with a knock on the door. Without waiting, they poked their head in, and it could realistically only be one person. 

“What did she say?” Jisoo asked.

Were you air today?

“Says she’s fine,” Chaeyoung said, wrinkling her nose.

“You don’t believe her?” Jisoo slipped inside and slowly closed the door, making sure beforehand though that no one was in earshot. Chaeyoung scrutinised you for another moment before coming to her conclusion with a long sigh.

“No, I do.” She paused before looking at you. “You know I’d- we’d rip him into pieces for you, right?”

You had no doubt for a second they would. Actually, all of your friends would, but Chaeyoung and Jisoo would be the first ones to throw a punch.

“I do, and I love you guys for it,” you say, smiling genuinely because God, you did love your friends so much. “But you don’t have to because I’m fine. And like I said, we had talked about it. You know how I am. Parents aren’t my thing.”

“Well, for that you just agreed to go meet them,” Jisoo mumbled, scrunching her nose, and you swallowed. Maybe it was hearing it from someone else, or maybe it was because you were no longer sitting around the dinner table with everyone expectedly staring at you and awaiting for an explanation, but it finally hit you. What exactly you had agreed to. Once your mind wasn’t clouded with the thought of Narae, you realised that oh my God, you were meeting Jungkook’s parents.

It was funny how quickly things could change. How just a few minutes ago, you didn’t worry about it at all, only thinking of Narae and her stupid perfect grin and the fact she had met them, and now you were worried because what would they say about you? Would they like you? What if they were like Jaehwa’s parents and-

“Now, don’t make that face,” Chaeyoung interrupted, putting a hand on your shoulder, noticing your spiral. “They’re gonna like you.”

“Yeah, you don’t have anything to worry about at all, Y/N,” Jisoo reassured. “If anything, they should be on their best behaviour. Because if not…”

And like the amazing friend she was, Jisoo started punching the air, showing you her swift moves that she would put on Jungkook’s parents. 

“Can’t you see? They say one wrong thing, and it’d be over for them. Ji would do these weird punches and knock them right out,” Chaeyoung said. “It’s gonna be fine. Has to.”

“Also, with the way Jungkook acts with you, let’s be honest he’s head over heels for you,” Jisoo argued, putting an arm around you. “I can see him standing up for you.”

“Yeah, I hate to give a man any credit, but he would.”

“And again, if he doesn’t…” Jisoo didn’t finish her sentence, instead showing you her oh so brilliant and not wobbly but actually super fatal kick.

They both turned to you, and you slowly nodded. Maybe they were right. You didn’t necessarily think Jungkook would stand up for you, not because you didn’t believe he would but because you didn’t even let yourself go there. If you did, if you assumed he would do something like that for you, you’d be having expectations for him and you had no right to. But you knew that Chaeyoung and Jisoo would be there for you, and it was a comforting thought. That was enough. Your friends were enough. And maybe, you just liked to believe them too—that it would all somehow turn out just fine.

“Yeah, I guess,” you mumbled.

“It’s gonna be fine!” Chaeyoung repeated, squeezing your shoulder.

Before you could dwell on it any further, a knock on the kitchen door interrupted you. 

“Yeah?” Jisoo said, and a moment later, Hoseok stuck his head in, offering an apologetic smile because he obviously knew what was going on in here.

“Sorry to interrupt, but Jimin asked for you, Chae,” he said, sounding unsure. He clearly hadn’t gotten a reason as to why he was supposed to call for Chaeyoung. She frowned and seemed less than willing to go, but you saw this as a great opportunity to put an end to this conversation and move on. Ignoring the fact you were going to meet Jungkook’s parents wasn’t going to solve the issue, but right now your brain felt mushy and drained. Too much of today’s focus had been on you, you couldn’t do it any longer.

“Let’s just all go,” you said. “We’ve been here for too long anyway.”

Jisoo agreed, mumbling something about how she couldn’t leave Jennie alone with all of the guys outside any longer, not in good conscience at least. She helped you put the last few plates into the dishwasher, and hooked her arm with yours as you made your way back into the living room, her head resting on your shoulder.

“Did he say what he wanted?” Chaeyoung asked Hoseok, the two walking behind you. 

“Probably something stupid.”

And indeed it was.

Because the moment Jisoo and you had made it past the doorstep, Jimin jumped up and pointed at Chaeyoung and Hoseok. The two froze, all eyes on them, and when you turned to look, you found them in the same fate as Jungkook and you had been in earlier.

“Oh, Jimin,” you chuckled, shaking your head. He beamed with pride, chest out and a grin bigger than his entire face. 

“We aren’t-” Chaeyoung couldn’t even finish her sentence, sputtering for words. “No! This is… stupid!”

“You have to. Otherwise, it’s bad luck,” Jungkook grinned. “That’s what you said, right, Seok?”

Hoseok looked positively ready to strangle him, but you couldn’t have been prouder of him right now. Even though Jimin was the one to orchestrate this, it felt like sweet revenge to get back at Hoseok. And really, you were helping him and Chaeyoung. Maybe today was the day finally something would happen.

“Seok and I aren’t- we aren’t-”

“It’s just a kiss!” Seokjin said, and you nodded. Because as much as you felt for them, having been in their position, you knew Chaeyoung wouldn’t have come to your rescue. She might have disapproved, but she would have definitely enjoyed the show and let it go on until you kissed.

“Just do a quick peck,” Taehyung suggested, pressing a kiss to Yoongi’s cheek to demonstrate. The older one wiped his cheek and shook his head, but there was clear amusement tugging on the corners of his mouth too. You laughed at the absurdity of it all, especially when you caught the embarrassed looks on Chaeyoung’s and Hoseok’s faces.

“Also if you hadn’t walked in together like I had predicted you obviously would, you wouldn’t be in this situation,” Jimin said, and Hoseok let out a noise that could only be described as a weak and mangled attempt at faux upset. “You guys are so clearly in love with each other anyway, just kiss!”

“Oh my God,” Chaeyoung let out a scoff, but it sounded pitchy and panicked, “seriously? H-how many times do we have to tell you guys that we are just really good friends? Just like Jimin and Y/N!”

“Don’t be ridiculous here, Chae,” you laughed. “Jimin and I are just friends, but you two? Oh, please.”

“There was an attempt, huh?”

Chaeyoung glared at Jisoo, her cheeks gaining a deeper shade of red with every passing second. In a last ditch attempt, she turned to Hoseok, hoping for some backup from him.

“Tell them-”

This time when her sentence got lodged in her throat, it was for a very different reason. Because Hoseok was looking at her like he was ready to risk it all in front of everybody. Like he was ready to just say it, do something. And Chaeyoung knew, freezing to a statue.

Jisoo and you looked at each other, gasping. Her nails dug into your arm and you held onto her just as strongly. Your breath hitched in your throat as Hoseok placed a hand on Chaeyoung’s cheek, pausing and hesitating for a moment, as if he waited for her to reject him before ultimately kissing her. And instantly, she pulled him closer.

It was like a scene out of every 2000s romantic comedy, the finale of the third act, what you had all been waiting up to. It was a scene to swoon and die for. 

A sense of joy you had rarely felt overtook you, a rush. You began shaking Jisoo, mouth split into a grin. As much as you had wanted and actually still wanted to strangle Jimin tonight for bringing that stupid mistletoe, you were just about ready to kiss him (platonically and only figuratively of course).

“See!” Jimin laughed, pointing at Hoseok and Chaeyoung, both of them flushed red to the tips of their ears. But they were smiling too. This had been good.

“I can’t believe that this is how you guys get together,” Jisoo laughed, Chaeyoung and Hoseok looking at each other, his arm wrapped around her middle. They laughed, shrugging.

Jimin proudly pointed at himself, beaming brighter than a Christmas tree. “All my doing.”

“Shut up,” Yoongi laughed, trying and failing to kick him in the knee. And though his attempt wasn’t successful, it earned him a thank you! from Chaeyoung. Jimin looked over to Namjoon for some kind of help, but he simply shrugged. He scoffed when he saw Seokjin squeeze Yoongi’s shoulder, mumbling something about how he was just jealous.

“I mean… neither did I,” Hoseok chuckled, seeming still completely out of it, unbelieving.

“Thought about it a lot, huh?” Taehyung asked, grinning, and for a moment, you could see Hoseok struggling to answer, decide whether or not he wanted to admit the blatant truth, confess that he’d been imagining this more times than he should have. In the end, he cared less about saving face and looking cool, and much more about who he had his arm wrapped around, finally.

“Yeah, always.”

And just like that, Chaeyoung pulled him down for another kiss. The sight warmed Jisoo’s heart because she turned to Jennie, reaching out for her. With a slight tug, she was at Jennie’s side. You laughed, shaking your head, just to catch Jungkook looking at you. For a moment, you didn’t quite know what to do even though you weren’t the one caught staring. The same couldn’t be said about Jungkook. He didn’t seem to care at all, eyes not holding an ounce of uncertainty. It was obvious that he was much more confident and comfortable with being seen by you. Something you still weren’t at this point, not entirely at least, not right in this very moment, or… actually ever.

Jungkook didn’t say anything as he stretched his hand out. You hesitated, if just for a second. Because maybe you shouldn’t. Not when your heart was beating the way it was. And yet, you did take it, did let him pull you close and hold you and press his lips to the top of your head.

“You don’t have to meet them if you don’t want to.”

He whispered it, spoke in a soft and warm voice. His words floated to your ears, and you knew. You didn’t have to do anything ever actually. Not for him at least. He expected nothing from you. You closed your eyes, and listened to his heartbeat in his chest. Strong and firm. It was the opposite of yours. Yours was a mess, thumping and skipping beats. 

“I will.”

Jungkook smiled as bright as the sun, pressing another kiss to your head. You could feel the excitement rushing through his fingertips, his arm tightening around you. You didn’t know the reason for it, his excitement. It didn’t make sense why he would be, you weren’t his girlfriend after all. You refused to think about it, preferring the bliss of ignorance.

God, you loved him so much. You did. You loved Jungkook to an indescribable amount. And God, was it time to stop all of this.

The video had been playing for less than twenty seconds when the call came in, your phone lighting up beside you. You paused your laptop, his name taking up your entire phone screen. And though Jungkook and you had begun calling each other more frequently now, spending at least once a week on the phone together, you were confused when you glanced at the time. But you accepted the call, sliding your thumb over the glass. Some ruffling met your ears before finally, he came through.

“Hi.”

For some reason, there was a smile on your lips.

“What do you want?” you laughed, glancing at the time in the upper left corner of your phone. 01:24. “It’s late. Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“Could say the same about you,” Jungkook argued, and you rolled your eyes, scoffing slightly, already sensing where this was going. You leaned back into your couch, looking at the ceiling with renewed interest.

“I’m not tired.”

“Neither am I.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Then neither do I.”

“Well, you had a full day of classes today, so you must be at least a little tired,” you shot back, and a beat of silence passed. For a moment, it seemed like you came out victorious. 

“You know my schedule?”

The question hung in front of you, and you were glad that this was just a call. Because you could see it, his stupid face. The proud smile on his lips, the grin that adorned it. He would inch closer to you, push you to answer, and you would cave and crumble terribly. 

“... no.”

And Jungkook began laughing almost immediately, his voice booming through your phone. You cringed, biting your tongue. 

“I’m going to hang up.”

“No, no, no, don’t,” he said, still laughing however. “I’m sorry.”

His apology didn’t sound an ounce sincere, but you were never going to actually hang up. A comfortable silence passed, and you could have stayed on the phone forever.

“Oh, have you watched the newest video I sent you yet?”

“You mean the two hour long video essay about the phenomenal music scoring of Avatar?” you hummed, glancing over to your laptop to see the screen dark already. “Yeah, I was about to watch it when you called.”

Somehow, you could hear his smile forming on his lips. “You should watch it.”

“Yeah, I will,” you said, sighing and rolling your eyes.

There was silence for another few seconds. 

“What are you doing?” Jungkook asked, and you could tell he was genuinely curious. You blinked, having completely forgotten what you had been up to until he called. You looked at the ball of yarn sitting in your lap, your attempt at a scarf hanging between the two knitting needles. But you couldn’t tell him, it would ruin the surprise. 

And so, you returned the question instead. “What are you doing?”

“I asked you first.”

“I asked you second.”

Jungkook sighed. “You’re very fun to talk to sometimes, you know?”

You laughed, not missing the irony in his voice. “Thanks. You are too.”

“Just tell me,” he said, and you frowned at his poor attempt to get you to talk. 

“Why don’t you tell me first?”

He let out a small scoff, and you could picture his face perfectly. The way his tongue would be digging into his cheek and his eyes rolling back because God, you were frustrating sometimes! But there would be an undeniable smile on his lips. There always was. 

“Alright,” Jungkook said, and you raised your brows. “I’m outside.”

You frowned. “Where are you going? At this hour?”

“Why don’t you guess?” 

“Just tell me.”

He paused, hesitated. Somehow, you could hear his grin turn bigger.

“How about you look outside and see for yourself instead?”

Your heart sank in your chest, something strange taking hold of you. You moved without a thought, almost knocking over one of your pothos sitting on your window sill when you pulled the curtain aside. The glass was cool to touch, but you pressed your entire hand against it, just to feel something steady. Because right now, you felt the opposite of it, heart jumping to your throat and beating there like it was bound to fall out. Because there was no way that he was here right now! This wasn’t a cheesy romcom! But you also knew that he wouldn’t lie to you.

And he didn’t. 

There he was, standing on the sidewalk, in front of your building, phone pressed to his ear, head in his neck, mouth in a grin and waving up to you. 

You opened and closed your mouth several times, scoffing in the end and shaking your head.

“You’re so… stupid, Jeon.”

Jungkook laughed, “Well, that’s been established before.”

“You’re such a ridiculous stupid little man, Jeon!” you went on, pressing a hand to your forehead and squeezing your eyes closed for a moment. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, is it a crime now to drop by your girlfriend’s home when you miss her?”

The words rolled off his tongue with a certain confidence and ease. Two things you rarely ever had, even less around Jungkook. It always seemed so very fragile and dangerous, to be so open and vulnerable. You couldn’t snap back, tell him how ridiculous he was because you had just seen each other two days ago at the Christmas party. Hell, you had been spending almost every day with each other—either on the phone or in person driving to Seo’s bakery to pick up your needed batch of cookies or watching Avatar until you both could recite every line. And yet here he was, telling you that he missed you, so much so that he needed to see you in the middle of the night, at 1:42.

Right then, it became blatantly obvious to you—that Jungkook and you had crudely blown the lines you had established beforehand, agreed to contractually, into absolute smithereens, that you two had made new ones, dangerous ones, ones that resembled an actual relationship, and that, even worse, you had not only never talked about it but gotten used to the new rules, comfortable.

And even with that realisation lingering in your mind with big glaring bright red flags hissed high above and every possible alarm blaring in the air, you couldn’t bring yourself to tell Jungkook that this was wrong, that he should go home. You should, it would spare your sanity. But your heart had only grown bigger and fonder of him. And it was horrible because you knew even more time with him, alone, in your own four walls, was the worst thing you could do. There would be nowhere for you to go, run off to. But you couldn’t send him home. Because really, you didn’t want to. Because it did excite you. That he was here. That he had gotten up, changed, and made his way to you. That the cold hadn’t even been enough to stop him.

“Now, open up. It’s freezing. My hands and feet are already blue,” he told you, adding a dramatic shiver to his words.

You paused, frowned, searched and didn’t see it anywhere. It clicked with you. You hadn’t heard the engine or turn signal during the entirety of your call. 

“Did you- did you walk here? Why didn’t you take your car?”

“Felt like it.”

“You’re so stupid, oh my God,” you groaned, rolling your eyes as you repeatedly pressed the buzzer to open the front door for him. “Never ever do that again. It’s freezing outside!”

Jungkook responded with a laugh. It echoed on the walls of your empty lobby, reverberating through the phone. “Alright, I won’t. I promise.”

“Also, shouldn’t you be writing that stupid paper about Newton or Einstein or whatever?”

“It’s not about either of them, but I still have a bit of time until the deadline,” he explained, and you heard him walk up the stairs. “Thanks for remembering though.”

You pressed your lips together. “What if I was sleeping?”

“But you aren’t.” He sounded so incredibly smug and proud. You could have punched him. “Also, I know you, cabbage. You’d rather die than go to bed at a reasonable time.”

And somehow, that admission embarrassed you. It did. Terribly. Because he did, he did know you oh so well. 

You left the front door ajar for him, waiting there with your hands folded in front of you, fingers picking on each other, as you listened to his steps grow closer and louder. His hand was the first thing you saw, reaching and touching the doorknob, and then it was suddenly just all of him. In front of you. He smiled at your sight, and you knew you looked more embarrassed and unsure than ever before. You were relieved you still hadn’t changed the lightbulb that had burned through all those months ago, allowing the dark to obscure you from him, a soft shadow across your face. 

Jungkook shrugged off his coat, hanging it on the hook behind the front door and revealing his maroon knit sweater and black pants to you. When he looked at you again, his gaze softened.

“Hi, cabbage.” His cheeks and nose were brutally red from the wind, but he seemed as happy as ever. “I made you something.”

You noticed the metal lunchbox in his hands only when he pushed it towards you, and when you took it, it was still warm. Like whatever he had prepared, he had packed up the minute it was done and came straight to you. 

“What did you make?” you asked, and you knew he wouldn’t tell you, waiting for you to open the lunchbox instead and discover for yourself. You peeled open the lid just a little, revealing a small corner when the smell hit you. Your eyes shot to Jungkook, and he looked both sheepish and proud. 

“You didn’t.”

A gasp, your features melting. He wrinkled his nose, turned his head to the side.

“I was gonna go get some from Seo’s Bakery, but they- did you know they’re on Christmas break?”

You nodded, eyes unable to take off of him, blabbering, “Yeah, of course. They always are. Every Christmas. Have always been.”

Jungkook made a gesture towards you, shrugging. “Well, so I thought- I don’t know. I’d make you some instead. You gotta fuel your addiction somehow, right?”

There was no denying how many sweet gestures Jungkook had made ever since you’d been doing this (whatever one might classify this as). The amount of flowers and cookies he’d showered you with. The amount of smiles and laughs he’d pulled from you. The amount of love he’d shown you, even if it wasn’t real. 

You put the lunchbox aside, needing to return the gesture at least once. Leaning over your couch, you grabbed the half-finished scarf you’d made for him. You wanted to show him, reciprocate some of the affection and love. But in your haste, you forgot the ball of yarn the scarf was connected to.

“Oh, fuck.”

Like a roll of paper, it unfurled, and though it would be annoying to roll it all up again, you shoved the scarf into Jungkook’s face, uncaring.

“It’s not finished- or particularly well done. But- I made that… for you,” you hesitated, a lump lodged in your throat. “I also just chose a random colour- if you don’t like red, I could definitely change it, you know. It’s not even done-”

He took it from your hands, silencing you. Your brows knit together as you watched him admire the intricate and detailed rows of red yarn. And then, he wrapped it around his neck even though the scarf was still attached to the ball of yarn and the knitting needles were poking into his neck. 

“Wait, no,” you laughed, already reaching to take it off. “You don’t have to wear it or anything- Like I said, it’s not even done. I still have to-”

Jungkook took hold of your hands. Your eyes met his. He smiled at you. 

“You’re so cute, cabbage,” he told you, his gaze so full and soft. And you melted right then and there, your face lit up like a fire. Melted even more so when Jungkook kissed you and pressed his forehead against yours. “I love it, cabbage. Thank you so much.”

“Really?” you said it softly, delicately, anxiously.

As if it was a proper way of responding, Jungkook took your hand and placed it on his chest. You could feel it then, under your palm and fingertips, through the fabric of his sweater, his heart. 

“Really.”

And you let yourself believe him a little.

You don’t know how. It was blurry to you, all of it, but somehow, his head ended up in your lap with your fingers threading through his hair and your back pressed to the side of your bed. You both shared the batch of cookies while you finished a few more rows for the scarf before ultimately calling it, putting it to the side, promising him you’d finish it as soon as possible. Instead, a bottle of supermarket wine found its way into your hands, the glasses always filled with the red liquid. Neither of you said much. And really, there simply wasn’t a need to, the minutes ticking by as the night went on and on. An intimacy lay between you, an intimacy most would never know, an intimacy that could only come from the strange nature of your relationship. 

“What?” you said, almost laughing, sure you had to have misheard him.

“I’m serious. I really like it here,” Jungkook repeated. “I like your home, a lot.”

Your mouth opened and closed before you shook your head and laughed. “But why?”

To you, there wasn’t much to like about your home here. If anything there was more to dislike than like. It was too cramped, too small. The furniture was old and shabby and the lights didn’t even work properly. On bad days, it would get either unbearably freezing or hot in here. And on particularly bad days where your luck had run out, the water would run cold and the electricity cut out. There wasn’t much to love here, except for your big bed and pothos you had on your window sill.

“I feel like I get to see another side of you,” Jungkook told you, shrugging and wrinkling his nose. “You seem much more relaxed at home.”

You frowned. “Where else should I be relaxed if not at home?”

He rolled his eyes at your comment, shaking his head. “No, I just mean… you don’t seem on guard at home.”

“I’m on guard?”

There was a pause. He looked at you for a long time, eyes wandering across your entire face.

“Yeah, sometimes.” He wrinkled his forehead a little. “I think you used to be more on guard, or at least you were around me.” There was another pause, another beat, another moment of suspense. “Wouldn’t you say you’ve opened up to me more since you let me in here for the first time?”

The question stumped you. Because did everything really change then? You couldn’t say. To a certain degree, Jungkook was right. Things had drastically shifted between him and you. Before you would have never been in this position—on the floor together, in your home, his head in your lap and your hands combing through his hair as you shared cookies and wine. But before you would have talked about it, established rules and laws and all kinds of conditions, and gone through every possibility. Now though, the two of you had gotten awfully comfortable with just simply not.

“Why? Because I slept with you?” you quipped, knowing already even in your slightly tipsy state that it wasn’t that.

“You know that’s not what I mean,” he said, sighing. You wrinkled your nose and looked to the ceiling for a few moments, leaning your head back.

“Should I be on guard?”

“Around me?” Jungkook said, shaking his head. “No, never. I’m an honest boy.”

You laughed, even more so when you looked at him and he was grinning proudly into your face, standing by his cheesy words. “You make me want to kick you out.”

“Please don’t,” he said, offering you puppy eyes and snuggling even closer to you. “I wouldn’t know what to do if you did.”

He winced when you tugged on his hair, slightly away from you. “You’re annoying.”

Jungkook laughed, and you went back to silence for a while.

“Are you ever going to tell me what Joon and the others said to you that made you run into the bathroom the other day?”

It was probably the alcohol, all the time you had spent together, sitting there on the cold floor. Your mind wasn’t the clearest anymore, and neither was his. 

“They just told me how whipped you are for me. How deeply and madly you’re in love with me,” you snorted, teasingly inching closer to his face with each word before pulling away. 

He smiled a little, clearly expecting worse. “Really? They said that?”

“I know.” You took two big sips, downing more than half of what was in the glass, not wanting to lose that fuzzy feeling in your veins. “It’s funny, right?”

You snorted, knowing exactly what he was thinking—That was ridiculous! 

“But true.”

Jungkook didn’t hesitate. But he said it softly. So softly in fact you looked at him to check that you hadn’t made it up. When his mouth widened into a grin, you scoffed.

“Oh, shut up.”

“It’s true. I do. I am.”

It sounded so very ironic to your ears. You shook your head and scoffed. “Is that what you told Narae too?”

Her mention from your lips surprised Jungkook, his eyes growing a little wider. You were equally as taken aback. But it was true. Because you did think about it sometimes if he did and said the same things to Narae. If everything you experienced with him had been experienced before, just with someone else, someone with a perfect smile and perfect parents. 

“You don’t know me at all, Y/N,” Jungkook mumbled, and it sounded accusatory. 

Your heart dropped in your chest. It felt like you were shot, the hurt instant. You looked away, teeth sinking into your tongue. But he wasn’t off. You didn’t know Jungkook very well. Why should you though? Not like he and you were anything meaningful, like you shared anything truthful. And it was so very embarrassing, so very embarrassing that you felt hurt at all. 

Jungkook seemed to surprise himself with his words, seemed not to mean it like that because he was scrambling the very next second, lifting up from your lap and pleading for you to look his way. 

“No, no, no, I-I don’t mean it like that,” he said, voice a little higher than usual, reaching for your hand, squeezing. There’s a desperation in his voice, a panic swinging with it that he might have just ruined a perfectly fine conversation. 

“You just seem to,” he hesitated, “have this very weird and funny idea of me in your head. I-I never told Narae anything like that. You’re the first one.”

You looked at him. There was a deep crease between his brows, and he went on when you wouldn’t say anything.

“You’re the only one who’s ever made me do these weird things, you know?” He added a chuckle, but there wasn’t much humour to it at all. You tried to smile for him, feeling this conversation was taking a rather serious turn. It was in dire need of some lightness.

“I make you do weird things?” you mumbled, slightly shaking your head, looking away. “I don’t think I’m capable of that.”

“Do you really think I’d try to bake cookies for anyone else in the middle of the night? Or walk to their home at night, not knowing if they’re even actually home because I wanted to surprise them? Or send every Avatar video essay I come across? Do you really think I’d want to dress up with anyone else in a couple’s costume than you?”

You couldn’t find the right response then, your lips pressing together. It was difficult for you to say whether or not you believed him. Because you didn’t think you did, not genuinely at least, not deep down. You never really did with Jungkook, believe him. Because you never let yourself go there, not fully. In the back of your mind, you knew that this was ending, only started because of a stupid little meaningless bet, that your relationship whichever form it had morphed to had no real genuine basis. 

“Do you really think I’d tell anyone else I-”

You shoved a cookie into his mouth, silencing him. Your gaze turned sideways, it was easier to speak for you then. If you looked at Jungkook, you wouldn’t be able to say anything.

“Alright, I got it, Jeon. Now, eat your cookie and shut up,” you chuckled, and your words were accompanied with a lightness, a lightness you forced out of yourself and hoped was enough to quiet Jungkook. He stared at you, eyes big, before ultimately letting out a chuckle himself when he saw you smile at him. He held onto your hand, squeezing it. 

“If I wasn’t too lazy to reach for my phone, I’d take a picture of you right now,” he told you with his mouth stuffed, matching your tone, keeping it light and fun. It was amazing, how both of you simply moved on. He broke off a piece and held it to your mouth. You took it from his fingertips, letting him feed you. The sugar melted on your tongue. “Really thought you had learned your lesson, you know? That you were less judgemental now.”

“Shut up,” you mumbled, still chewing. He laughed when you rolled your eyes.

For a few minutes, neither of you said anything. It seemed like the moment had resolved as easily as it had come up. You took a few sips from your glass, filling it back up when you emptied it, and Jungkook shared the last bite of the cookie with you, holding the piece in front of your lips and allowing you to pull it from his fingertips. And when he kept his fingers in front of your mouth, you pressed a quick kiss to them. He smiled and took your hand into his again, fingers interlacing. 

“You’re so weird,” you said, the corners of your eyes creasing when you smiled. 

Jungkook returned it, opened his mouth to retort something clever and funny, but it was like the fire died in him, as if he simply couldn’t let the moment from before slide as easily as you both had hoped and tried for it to. He reached for it again, pulling it back on shore. His face changed, morphed into something else. You couldn’t pinpoint his exact expression, but your stomach churned. For a second, you felt this brief need to cry.

“You—” He hesitated, afraid to ask because he knew you didn’t want him to and he shouldn’t but he needed to ask. “—believe me, right?”

And somehow that question carried the entire weight of the earth because you suffocated underneath it in an instant. There seemed to be so much. It didn’t make sense, there shouldn’t be any deeper meaning behind his question. After all, he and you weren’t anything! And yet, he looked at you as if you were. When you wouldn’t respond, looked away instead, Jungkook let out a chuckle. But it sounded empty and dry, and you knew you had hurt him. 

“I’m sorry.”

There was a sadness to your words, and he noticed. It was the same kind of sadness he heard colouring your words when you had told him about Jaehwa and the heartbreak that had come with him. And he knew then not to take it to heart, your inability to believe him.

“I’m sorry. I want to- It’s just-”

There was desperation, hurt, frustration. You buried your face into your hands, eyes closing. It’s just hard sometimes! I don’t really believe anyone really, you wanted to say. But you didn’t. The admission felt too much, too hard to bring over your lips, too honest. You couldn’t do it. 

Jungkook didn’t say anything, and you waited for him to take all of his things and go. The front door would click shut and with that, you would have ruined it, all of it, the past few months. But it didn’t happen. You didn’t hear his steps moving away from you, or the front door opening. Instead, Jungkook cupped your face with both of his hands, a smile on his lips when you finally looked at him.

“It’s fine.”

And you wished it felt like that to you. Fine. But you hadn’t felt quite fine for a while now. Not since your heart began filling up every time you looked at him. 

“Is it?”

His gaze softened, melted like the first layer of snow in the early morning hours. His thumb brushed over your cheekbones, and his touch was so very warm and comforting. You closed your eyes, and he pressed his lips to yours. It did feel fine right then when he kissed you. He held you firmly and strongly, he wasn’t going to let go. Even if you might not believe him and had your doubts. Your hands curled around his shirt, and you were the one to pull it off of him. Because you needed that right now, something simple. 

“Are you sure-”

You silenced him, removing your shirt. He looked at you for another second before kissing you again. You moved up from the floor to your bed. His lips pressed to every inch of your skin, slow and delicately. Your breathing flattened, soft whimpers emerging from your throat when his hands wandered, brushed the inside of your thighs. Jungkook was everywhere, holding and gripping and squeezing and kissing. It made your chest swell, and for a second, you thought you needed a second heart. Another one to hold it all in. All the feelings brewing inside you, all of your feelings for him. It was too much to bear for your one singular heart.

He held you, stayed close. He never allowed any space between him and you, never allowed you to think he’d get up and leave. And you never let him slip away from you, not tonight, caging him in. One day he would, you were certain of it, convinced. The contract was running up with each day, but right now, he was here, closer than ever.

And in the high of it all, your breaths mixed with his, the air smelling of sweat and lust, your faces flushed and bodies sticky, there were words lying between him and you. In fact, there was so much, it felt heavy. You hoped, in vain, he would let it slide, quietly.

“Y/N, I-”

Jungkook stopped when you shook your head, pleading. You knew the ending of his sentence, he had told you it many times before. And right now, the thought of hearing it, hurt you more than it ever had before. 

“I-”

But he stopped again when you closed your eyes and pressed your lips to his in response, hands cupping his face. He hesitated at first before kissing you back, hoping you’d understand either way. That he wanted this. That he wanted you. You didn’t say it, but Jungkook knew not to cross that line, not right now. As if him not saying it would prevent the inevitable heartbreak you’d be going through in just a few weeks, would change anything. As if you didn’t already love him more than you could comprehend. As if loving him didn’t hurt you.

→ thanks for reading !! if you have any thoughts, id love to hear it!

[spiderman2-99]

Día De Muertos is supposed to be a celebration. When the dead return home, the day is filled with festivals, family, home-cooked food, and the bright smell of marigolds.

But Miguel O’Hara has no family, is too miserable to leave the apartment, and all the marigolds have gone extinct.

They’ve been extinct since 2095, actually. How hadn’t he known? That should've been something he'd figured out sooner, right? But no, he finds out a week before the day itself while he’s trying to make Gabriella’s ofrenda.

What does his beloved baby girl, who he would’ve given the world a thousand times over, get instead? Paper flowers.

Paper flowers instead of real ones, possessions that represented her instead of properly being hers, a half-done altar that was done in a manic, grief-fueled haze.

It’s paltry. Miguel knows it is. But it’s all he can give, and by God, he hates it. He tried to make it up in home-made pan de muerto and fresh fruit and her favorite dinners, in the carefully arranged papel picado garlands, in finding actual copal to burn… but it’s not enough. It could never be enough.

It’s been a long time since he’d last made an ofrenda, actually. He fell out of the tradition sometime when he was in college, when he was young and unburdened and selfish and so, so stupid, and had convinced himself he had much more important things to do with his time than honor traditions.

Sometimes, he wants to reach out to that little twerp and beat him senseless.

No, he wants to laugh, or scream, or pull his hair out. It’s a sick joke; a cruel jab at his expense, that he only started giving a shit about his own cultural holidays again after Gabi died, when he could no longer share the homemade food with her, help her learn about the significance.

It feels so wrong, being unable to share this with his daughter. Having the altar be dedicated to her, instead of her helping him set it up; teaching her how to make the banners and arrange flowers and bake bread, entertaining whatever thousands of questions she’d have about the holiday and her great-great-whoever’s they’d be celebrating. What would she have thought of the chicken and chile rellenos? Of the Calaveritas? The toys he left out?

Hijo de puta. A parent isn’t supposed to outlive their child.

It’s a pathetic altar too, as far as he’s concerned. Miguel hadn't done this in so long that he'd nearly forgotten how to; having to go on the internet just to remember the guidelines. Even then, there were so many conflicting answers that it left him confused and flying blind the whole damn time.

Did he do enough as a father to honor her? Did the ofrenda do her memory justice? Did he do anything right? Is there enough salt to purify her body? Enough water and food to provide for her long journey? Was the copal actually supposed to be incense, or did it have a different meaning? Are the purple candles placed correctly? Would tissue paper marigolds, devoid of scent and life, be enough guide her safely back home?

These worries swarm like vultures to a carcass, picking at and tormenting him to the point where he can barely stand to look at the stupid, thrown-together thing any longer. He should know how to do this— today is much more than just a holiday; Día de Muerto and all of its rich traditions should be a part of who he is, steeped in his identity, his culture. It should be more familiar than breathing.

But now it just makes him ache, seeing how he couldn’t even properly commemorate his own little girl.

In a brief moment of clarity, Miguel realizes he really just should’ve just taken more time to research and plan it out better. If only it weren’t for the constant high-stakes responsibilities, the needs of far too many all on his shoulders, the people, people, people.

Not like he didn’t try; Halloween and all day yesterday, Miguel had been rushing uncharacteristically through work, trying to get caught up enough to take time off. But of course, God had it out for him and practically half the damn Society wanted to barge into his office to badger him about something. He ended up with a shock-ton of random gifts and baked goods on his desk that he’d unceremoniously pawned off to Peter B. (save for a bottle of Don Julio, but the other man didn’t need to know that), enough sanguine well-wishes to last him a lifetime, and high blood pressure.

And the time and effort he scraped up still wasn’t enough to get it done right. It could never be good enough. He could never be good enough.

Miguel can’t stop second-guessing himself, can’t stop that all too familiar spiral of guilt and self-loathing that rots away at his insides like necrosis. He’s a scientist and an engineer, for shocksake— logic and reason should override his emotions, should stop them from clouding him at all. But all he can do is sit there, staring at the sorry excuse for an ofrenda with a lump in his throat and a throbbing headache that won’t go away.

Today couldn’t have gone any worse.

His joints pop viciously as he gets up from the floor just to prove him wrong. Cristo en el cielo.

The only bright side to this whole thing is that… well, no one is here. No one to see his embarrassment, or his failure; no one to question him, or ask him how he’s feeling, or try to give a hug, or any more goddamn food. It’s just him and his ever-spiraling thoughts and the grief that threatens to consume him whole.

Carefully, with a trembling hand, he lights the incense, then the candles, the golden glow dancing around his otherwise dark apartment. It… almost makes it look better. Less like a broken down man’s sorry attempt at repentance and more like a proper ofrenda.

Almost.

Día De Muertos is supposed to be a celebration, filled with festivals, family, home-cooked food, and the bright smell of marigolds.

But Miguel O’Hara has no family, is too miserable to leave the apartment, and all the marigolds have gone extinct.

[ripleyresonance]

Some Things Never Change

Hello, lovely Moshers. I have Mami brain rot so I figured I would put these thoughts out in the world. I hope you enjoy it.

Rhea x Fem reader!

“7…8..9…and 10” Rhea grunted setting the weights down. 

“That was…great.” You mumbled behind the camera. 

“Hey, thanks for coming along today princess. I don’t really do the whole “social media” thing so it helps that you’re here.” 

“WWE really wants me to post and…blah blah” is what it started to sound like to you as you watched Rhea wipe her sweat with her towel. 

It was insane how even the slightest movement made her look like a Greek goddess. You had always had a crush on her but she had only gotten more gorgeous over time. 

Rhea was your older sister's friend. You were only one grade apart so you basically grew up together. She always was kind to you. All you had to do was say please and she would spend her allowance on you as quickly as she got it. She even beat the shit out of one of the boys in your grade after they pushed you on the playground once.

High school was a different story though. Over the summer you turned sixteen everything changed. Your braces were off and you learned how to dress you had a newfound confidence. And you were determined to use it to be with Rhea. But no matter how much you flirted she would just say “Very cute princess”. 

She was always interested in wrestling. Your sister, Iris, and Rhea would try out moves they saw on the last episode of RAW and Smackdown on each other so it was no surprise when she started taking wrestling more seriously. She started coming around your house less and less until she was gone. She didn't even say goodbye, no note or anything. Iris said she dropped her off with her parents at the airport and she left. 

You were so happy she finally got everything she wanted, but you had to admit it stung a little that that did not include you. 

You finally became content watching her shine from a distance until your sister called you out of the blue. 

“You have to come by the gym tomorrow I have a new client for you to shoot some social media content for.” 

And while you got ready throwing on your most average gym set and no makeup you were applauded when that client was your very own Rhea bloody  Ripley. 

“Is my work life that boring to you… Princess.” She winked at you. 

You grit your teeth at the nickname not knowing whether to blush or slap her. 

“Can you just go throw some heavy things around so I can quench the thirst of your fans?” You said, sounding more annoyed than you meant. Rhea noticed, giving you a soft smile. 

“Hey I know we did not leave off on the best terms but I still-” Rhea said rubbing the back of her neck before your sister approached interjecting.

“You’re almost done muscles, I got to pick up the kid from school.” She said distracted by her phone. 

“...I’ve only done one circuit of my workout, Ris. I got four more to go.” Rhea told Iris. 

They both stared at each other until Iris busted out laughing.

“You're a freak, Ripley.” 

She threw a set of keys at you barely managing to catch them.“Close up after ‘Mami’ is done with her workout.” Iris laughed at the nickname making Rhea flip her off as Iris headed for the door. 

You ran after her grabbing her arm. 

“Hey, you never said it would just be me and her.” You said kind of nervously. 

“Awww still have that schoolgirl crush on her?” Iris said too loudly making you sush her. 

“I do not! She chose her life after all and I wasn't part of it.” You said lowly. 

Iris frowned a bit “This is a good chance for you to talk to her then. Maybe let go of the past?” She said smiling at you before her phone rang. 

“Shit okay im late make sure to lock the back door too!” she said running to the door. Before you could stop her again she was gone and then it was just you…and Rhea. 

You sighed turning back around as Rhea looked like she was moving to the free weights. 

“Thank god she's gone now, it's only the cool kids.” Rhea joked with a smile, obviously trying to lighten the mood. 

You gave a polite smile in reply but kept it professional. “I'm going to record your back while you lift it seems like your fans like that the most.” You said grabbing your phone. 

“Uh yeah sure,” Rhea said slightly defeated. 

You recorded a few more clips of Rhea working out. It was hard to be mad at her when she looked this good working out. You needed to get out of there and take the coldest shower of your life. 

“All the footage looks good so you can pack up and I'll lock up behind you.” You said grabbing your bag and walking past Rhea. 

“Princess wait–” Rhea said grabbing your bag and getting your attention. 

“You know you could drop the nickname, we are not five anymore,” You snapped coldly. 

“Listen I know you're mad at me,” Rhea started.

“Mad? No, I passed mad a long time ago I'm furious Demi.” 

“Uh oh, the legal name.” she nervously laughed as you dropped your bag. 

“Cut the shit, do you want to talk or are you just going to keep trying to joke to make me forget you left without a word?”  You questioned, walking closer to her.

“Listen it was more complicated than that,” Rhea said gritting her teeth. 

“Complicated? No taxes are complicated saying goodbye to me was easy and yet Iris was the one who came home to tell me you were gone. I know I wasn't your best friend but I thought you thought of me better than that.” you said a tear rolling down your cheek

“Of course not I-” Rhea said 

“You what!? What was such a good excuse that you would move continents without even saying a word-”. 

“BECAUSE I LOVED YOU OKAY?” Rhea shouted stepping closer to you. 

You froze knowing she could not have possibly just said those words out loud. 

“I loved you okay…and it hurt too much to say goodbye…” Rhea said gently cupping your face and wiping your tears. 

“You….you loved me.” You were barely able to say above a whisper.

“I never stopped..” Rhea whispered back tilting your chin upward as she moved so her lips grazed yours. 

You gasped before your lips collided. It was soft and sweet. It's like she was apologizing over and over every fiber of her being went into your kiss. You moved your hands to her neck deepening your kiss trying to find any way to ground yourself. You have had dreams like this before and if this was one too you didn't want to wake up. 

The longer the kiss went on it felt like all the words unspoken between you both came spilling out in one rush. The kiss got needier and sloppier until you felt Rhea back you into a workout bench causing you to lay your back against it. 

Rhea leaned over you her lips traveling to your neck making you let out an embarrassing whimper. 

“God, do you know how long I have wanted you?” Rhea questioned her eyes fluttering to meet yours.

“God you were always flirting with me, batting your pretty eyelashes up at me like I was the only thing you wanted,” Rhea grunted moving her knee in between your legs and causing you to gasp. 

“And Ris noticed too. She said she would kill me if I ever even thought about taking you out on a date. So I pushed it down, dated other women.” Rhea said moving her hands underneath your shirt. 

“But I could never get you off my mind princess.” 

She whispered pinching your nipple. You moaned at her touch. Her callous hands massaging your breast her thumb grazing over your nipple over and over. Between that and her knee rubbing against you it was embarrassing the sounds you were letting out. 

“I never left your mind huh?” You caught your breath to ask. 

Rhea stopped looking up at you. 

“Then show me what you were thinking of all this time.” 

Rhea smirked immediately getting on her knees in front of the bench. 

You sat up going to protest until she grabbed your hips pulling you to the edge her mouth dangerously close to your heat.

“Anything for you…princess.” 

You opened your mouth to protest the nickname but a moan came out as you felt Rhea spread your legs exposing your core in your pink leggings. 

“Fuck I barely even touched you and you're soaked. Did seeing me flex turn you that much?.” Rhea mocked, using her thumb to rub over your clit. 

You hissed at the feeling.

“I can be mad at you and still think you are the most stunning woman I have ever seen.” 

Rhea laughed in appreciation at the comment. 

“So sassy even when you need something from me,” Rhea said pressing into your clit harder. 

You whined obviously wanting her to eat you out but she wouldn't fold so easily. 

“Good girls use their words, don't they?” Rhea raised an eyebrow looking up at you. 

“I--fuck you know what I want.” You bit your lip looking down at her. 

“Oh right, you're mad at me you probably want me to just stop rubbing right here–” 

You jumped a little as she pushed her thumb harder against the growing wet spot. 

“Fuck please eat me out, Rhea.” you moaned earning a hum from Rhea as she slowly pulled your leggings down. She made sure to kiss every inch of your thighs leaving light bites in some spots. 

You thought you would go crazy if you didn't get some friction and fast. As you opened your mouth to complain you finally felt her tongue on you. 

It was embarrassing the sounds that started escaping you but at this point, you didn't care. Mad or not at her she knew just the ways to move her tongue to make you forget all of that. 

She started off slow, moving her tongue in a light figure eight right on your clit. The warm sensation only built in your stomach as she started circling one finger around your hole. 

“Think you can take my fingers, sweetheart? “ She managed to mumble between your legs. You excitedly nodded as she slowly pushed one finger into her entrance your hands immediately flying to her hair. 

It was like she knew every spot by the way she curled her fingers up and flicked over your clit so well with her mouth. That warm feeling inside you was getting stronger and stronger. 

“Fuck me harder.” You blurted out catching Rhea by surprise. 

“Harder?” she questioned seeing you nod quickly before laughing. 

“Your wish is my command.” Rhea smiled before thrusting her fingers inside you so deliciously hard. 

Your eyes started to roll back and your legs began to shake. Just as you were slowly rushing to your peak Rhea made you dive as she began sucking on your clit, making you grip her hair and moan in ecstasy as you road out your high. 

Rhea put down your legs letting you rest for a moment while you tried to catch your breath. 

She smiled down at you softly helping you stand. 

“I know somewhere we could go to cool down.” You whispered in her ear.

The warm droplets of water bouncing off the tile echoed through the shower although that light and delicate sound was drowned out by the moans and wet sounds coming from the two of you. 

The sight was truly something sinful as Rhea stood under the water. Her hair glistened as the droplets ran down her toned abs hitting your face. 

You were on your knees with one of Rhea's legs over your shoulder eating her out like your life depended on it. 

Her raspy moans were honestly enough to get you off again but if that didn't it was her words. 

“Fuck you look so pretty on your knees for me princess.” Rhea moaned grabbing your hair in a tight fist.

Your eyes rolled back from that motion as she fucked her face on your tongue. 

“That's it, good girl, let mami fuck that pretty mouth.” She grunted as you hummed against her clit. This must have been the motion that set her off as she bucked her hips three times harder and harder and let out the most gorgeous sound you had ever heard.

You swallowed every drop of cum you could get as Rhea grabbed your neck to pull you up gently to kiss her. 

You both panted with your foreheads resting against each other as you both looked for the right words to say. 

“I meant every word I said,” Rhea whispered. 

“And I am so sorry I never said goodbye no matter how painful it was to me.” Rhea looked into your eyes searching for your emotion.

“Hmmm, I don’t know if I believe you.” You whispered back seeing the hurt in Rhea's eyes. 

“Buttttt” You quickly added. 

“I may have a few ways…and positions you can make it up to me in” You smiled kissing her cheek and turning away from her.

You gasped as she quickly smacked your ass as you walked away. 

“I could do this all day princess.” 

[barry-j-blupjeans]

Lucretia would love to say that there wasn't much that surprised her anymore, but that was horribly inaccurate and incredibly easy to prove false. Last week, she had been surprised to tears when Merle held her hand, even though Merle held her hand all the time (he did that even with his memories gone, though it had been much more weird for both of them then). And even two days ago, she had nearly startled herself to hell and back when Angus told her that "you actually don't hide your depression symptoms very well, ma'am" and "maybe you need to seek some professional help? I have some great therapists I can recommend!"

Anyway.

No, Lucretia couldn't say she wasn't hard to surprise. But despite knowing all of that, standing in the tiny living room of Magnus's childhood home, getting hugged by two women whose arms wrapped around her the exact way Magnus's did? Cut her some slack, why wouldn't that be surprising?

"Thank you for staying with him," one of Magnus's moms said— Amelia? Fuck, of course Lucretia knew it was Amelia, she had drawn her dozens of times, recreating and refixing the worn-down photo that Magnus insisted on keeping on him the first few years of their century running from the Hunger.

The words, "but I didn't" got stuck in Lucretia's mouth. She swallowed around the, and couldn't bring herself to do anything more than just nod. Gods. Fuck.

Magnus had been the one to tell her of the Planar Belts. Lup was supposed to have, apparently, but Magnus caught her first. An hour in their home plane wasn't a lot but the seven of them had far grown used to working under weird, constrictive time limits. And while they were still tracking down Lucretia's brother, Magnus's moms hadn't been hard to find at all. Story and Song had stretched across their planar system, yes, but the Hunger had already touched down when it did. And thus, every single planar system inside it heard it, too.

Lucretia had spent a lot of time after that wondering what her brother thought of her. And standing here with Magnus's moms doubled the thoughts' intensity. Would he be proud? Teary, like Amelia? Speechless, like his step-mom? Had he been worried about her? Had he given up on her coming back? Was he even still alive?

A small gust of wind caught against her skin and Lucretia looked up to see they were outside. Gods, she needed to get a grip on herself. How much time had passed? How much time did they have left?

A hand tugged on hers, leading her to sit down. It was Magnus. She settled onto a picnic bench in their back garden, surrounded by dozens and dozens of flowers.

This was not the first time she had been to this house. The memory was old, but the scent of rosemary brought it back. She and Magnus, much, much younger than they were now, still in their Institution days, back when the Institution of Planar Research had yet to tack the "And Exploration" onto the end of their name. They had been roommates for a semester, back when they both started out. Magnus had convinced her to spend Candlenights out here and she had felt much the same as she did now.

Yearning. For her brother, for a life she didn't yet have, and a life she hadn't begun to know.

Helplessness. Away from home for the first time, in the wake of her mother's death and her father's withdrawal into himself. Trying to figure out who she was in the world.

And hopefulness. Winter had been bitter, but it hadn't snowed, and Amelia was, in Magnus's words, "an expert at seasonal plants." Their garden had still been full and lush and while she had been invited to help tend to it, she hadn't wanted to, in fear of breaking something by accident.

That version of herself felt foreign now. How could Lucretia possibly break anything worse than what she had already done to her family?

Magnus nestled into her side as she lifted her head, trying to blink away tears.

"Ma said she's gonna get some new plants," Magnus said. "As 'celebration'." Lucretia snorted a little bit at the way he said it— Amelia Burnsides thought every event, no matter how big or small, was worthy of new plants. "You still like cornflower, right? 'Cause I told her to get cornflower for you."

"I—" Lucretia said, her throat suddenly a little tight. She turned away. Magnus didn't budge, merely wrapping an arm around her and holding tightly. Lucretia cleared her throat, trying to get a hold of herself. But instead of answering, her mouth said, "thank you for staying with me."

Magnus didn't respond, just squeezing her slightly. She wiped at her eyes, looking up towards the horizon. The two suns overlapped like flower petals. The wind chime played a little melody in the wind.

"Cornflowers are good," Lucretia said at last. "It's— tell her that'd be great, Magnus."

"Tell her yourself," Magnus said.

[greg-montgomery]

Ivy - Part 11

gif by: @hotch-girl <3

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader (Sean Hotchner x Fem!Reader)

Series summary: Your relationship with your boyfriend, Sean, is going great. Well, that is until you meet his older brother, Aaron.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

i am back!!!! <3333 we're getting close to the end my besties <3 if you missed the previous chapter, i'm sorry i didn't tag anyone! but now my blog is fixed and everything is back to normal!!

i think i’ll only write one or two more chapters on this story and we’re done 🫶🏻

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

“She’s gonna be alright.” Those were the words Aaron had said to him after getting you back. Sean was holding onto those words like his life depended on it.

“Thank you for reaching out to me for help, even after everything we’ve done to you,” his brother had said. “It means more to me than you know.”

“I would never put my pride above her safety.”

“I’m really proud of you for that.” That statement should have not made his chest swell the way it had. Seeking validation from his older brother seemed like a trap he still fell into; even after being betrayed by his own blood.

“I don’t know if you’ll ever find it in you to forgive me, but I don’t want to lose you.” Sean remembered the way Aaron’s voice had broken after saying those words. “Just know that you’ll always be my family and I’ll always be by your side if you need anything. You can still hate me, I don’t mind, as long as you know I’m always here if you need help.”

“I know.”

“Hot chocolate is ready!” A bubbly voice snapped him out of the memory of that phone call.

“How can you be this energetic at 4 in the morning?” he groaned, taking the cup of hot chocolate from Penelope’s hands.

“Well, my job doesn’t really have a schedule. So I’ve been trained to be alert at any time of the day. Or night.” She smirked.

Penelope had insisted on staying with him after hearing the news that you were safe. Sean couldn’t even imagine how awful he must have looked for a stranger to make an offer like this. But he was glad she did. That woman was full of warmness and light; things that had been missing from his life.

He had only managed to bring the mug on his lips, when he heard his phone ring. It was you.

“Hey,” he said, breathless.

“Hi, Sean.” Your voice was weak, tired; he could tell. But you were alive and that was all that mattered.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better. I slept, I showered, and now I’m having something to eat.”

It stung that it was Aaron who had probably cooked for you; that it was Aaron’s embrace you had found comfort in that night. It was all clear to him now. Sean was the reason you had been kidnapped. Aaron was your knight in shining armor who had come to your rescue.

It would never be Sean again for you. It would always be Aaron.

“God, I’m so sorry,” he cried. “I don’t know what to say. I feel like the bigg-”

“Don’t you dare apologize for this,” you interrupted him. “How could you have known?”

Sean wasn’t able to reply, his sobs choking him, preventing his voice from coming out.

Penelope was quick to sit next to him and take his hand in hers. “Hey, it’s okay.”

“Sean, do you think we could meet at some point? And just talk? I think we both need it.”

You were right. “Yes, we do. I’ll text you when I can.”

“Thank you,” you said.

There was an awkward pause. The times you were giggling on the phone asking him to hang up first were long gone.

“Um…try to get some sleep, please,” you spoke again. “I’ll be doing the same.”

“Okay, Y/N. Good night.”

“Good night.”

--

A kiss on the forehead by Aaron calmed your beating heart down. “I’m proud of you.”

“I can’t tell whether he hates me or not,” you admitted, letting your phone drop on the couch next to you. “Last time we talked it felt like he didn’t wanna see me again. And now it’s…”

“It’s all very complicated,” he said, leaving another kiss on the side of your head. “He’s hurt, but he still loves you. And now he feels guilty on top of everything.”

“I don’t want him to forgive me because he feels guilty.”

“We need to give him time, my love. Let him reach out to you when he’s ready. He needs to process his emotions first,” Aaron said. “We all do.”

“Thanks for the input, Oprah.”

“Ah…” he said, throwing his head back. “I missed that nickname.”

You laughed and kissed his cheek with all the love in the world.

Brining your attention back to the soup you had left, you brought up a little detail from the phone call you just had.

“As I was talking with Sean…” you started, “I swear I heard Penelope’s voice at some point.”

“Penelope as in…”

“As in Penelope Garcia.”

Aaron raised his eyebrows in surprise. “I guess she stayed there for moral support?”

“Can she even do that?” you wondered.

“Well, your case wasn’t official so I guess she can,” he argued.

“Hmm…interesting.”

At least you were gonna sleep easier now, knowing that Sean wasn’t all by himself.

--

“Shh…Try not to wake her, okay buddy?”

“Okay.”

After a sleep full of nightmares that you were back in that basement, being woken up by the whispers of your favorite people was a blessing; even if they managed to do the exact opposite of what they had just said.

You opened your eyes slightly, being met with a little Jack climbing up the bed.

“Daddy, I woke her up,” he said, turning to face his dad with a guilty face.

“It’s okay, my angel. Come here,” you said, softly, opening your embrace for him.

Jack was soon in your arms, and to the sight of Aaron smiling at the two of you, you fell back asleep.

This time, without bad dreams.

--

My family: those two words were on your mind the entire day you spent with them.

Normally, you would be irritated if the people around you acted as if you were going to break at any point, but how could you be mad when those people were Aaron and his son?

Aaron told Jack you were a little sick and that was all it took for him to act as overprotective of you as his dad did. They didn’t let you lift a finger, and somehow, this treatment felt comforting. You felt loved and cared for. You were important to them.

“Need some tea, maybe?” Aaron asked, as you rested your head on his shoulder. Jack was playing in his room, finally giving you some time alone.

“All I need right now is my man to hold me.”

“Okay. I’m sorry if I’m being too much.”

“Don’t be sorry,” you said, placing your palm on his chest. “Thank you for taking care of me.

“I would lose my mind if something happened to you,” he admitted. “I don’t even wanna think about it.”

“Then don’t,” you replied, kissing his jaw. “It’s over now.”

“It is,” he said softly, his nose brushing against yours. “I love you.”

“I love you.”

You cupped his cheek and brought his face close to you, giving him a deep kiss. “My love…”

“Y/N, look what I made!” Jack’s excited voice made you break your kiss abruptly, but not fast enough for him not to see what was happening. To Jack, you were still his aunt – not his dad’s girlfriend.

Embarrassment and surprise were written all over his face as he stared at you, before running back to his room.

“I’ll talk to him,” you told Aaron before he even had the chance to speak.

--

You knocked on Jack’s door and entered his room after hearing his soft, “Come in.”

Jack was sitting cross-legged on the carpet, a superhero figure occupying his hands.

“Hey, buddy.”

“Why were you and daddy kissing?” he asked, staring at the toy on his lap.

“Honey, uncle Sean and I are not together anymore,” you said, taking a seat next to him.

“You don’t love him anymore?”

“I love him, but not the way I love your dad,” you answered honestly. He was a kid, but you weren’t going to hide the truth from him. Children understood everything anyway.

“You love my dad?”

“Very much.”

“And does he love you too?” Jack finally looked at you.

“He does.”

“So now you’re my dad’s girlfriend?” His tone was curious, not judgmental like you feared.

“Yes, my angel,” you said.

“Isn’t uncle Sean mad at you?”

His question hurt, as innocent as it was.

“He is. And we deserve that.”

“I’d be mad too.”

Thanks, Jack, you thought.

“Max is my best friend,” he said after a small pause.

“Okay…” you said, uncertain where he was going with this.

“But after Christmas break, when we went back to school,  he only played with Alex, and not me anymore. And it made me really sad and angry. But then…then…they said they were sorry and we started playing all together. And now we’re all friends.”

You furrowed your brows - trying to ignore your protective instincts that wanted you to fight two children named Max and Alex – and focused on the moral message of his story.

Yes, the three of you would never be best friends. But Sean deserved an apology. The one you hadn’t given him the day you broke up, because you thought it was worthless. An apology wouldn’t fix anything, but Sean deserved to hear it anyway.

Jack interrupted your thoughts by moving closer to you. “I know that uncle Sean is mad, but I’m happy you’ll be here with us a lot. I love you.”

That kid had the ability to melt your heart like butter. “I love you too, buddy.” You leaned in to give him a hug.

“Can I tell you a secret?” he whispered against your shoulder.

“Of course.”

“I kept wishing you were my mom and not my aunt. And I think that my wish came true and that’s why daddy fell in love with you.”

You squeezed him even tighter.

Part 12

ivy tag list: @preciousbabypeter @buckysmainhxe @galaxyofmyown @ssamorganhotchner @romanogersendgame @elhotchner @louderfortheback @northschild @iammirrorball @rousethemouse @kishie8 @save-the-sky @ssacharcoalgrey @realdirectionx @itsmytimetoodream @art-and-thoughts @red-red-rogue @dellalyra @feetgypsy @stella95827 @katieslotherford @jazzymariexoxoc @quietlyignoringyou @justarandommom @sebastiansstanswhore @lelifesaver @aaron-hotchners-girlfriend @whyamihere96 @sylvieofasgard @redbleedingrose @222brooke @xoprincessmel @girlintheredscarf @radical-gecko @yeehawbitchs @jazzerbelle14 @jayxox @adrienette715 @fudosl @sardonic-courtney @emlynblack @kizzywh @formulapierre @crocodilefeet2707 @mojo366 @spicysimpura @twelfthnightorwhatyouwill1998 @mrs-ssa-hotch @clairedragonessbaker @n0t-yours-you-w1sh @tipsyteenstoday @potatoesonacouch @the-fantasy-loving-angel @my-beel @lex13cm @chibsytelford @crimsonincursive

[immeasurablesaladagere]

Bad Math

(note for my followers with requests going, I'm pretty burnt out of House atm. I will get to requests when I can, but getting back into writing for me and also my life stuff will take priority over them.)

-----

Word Count: 3948

Summery: Episode 3 of Double Life. Martyn regresses after accidentally killing himself and Cleo but is afraid to say anything. He doesn't have to, because Cleo can feel all of it.

-----

Cleo jolted up in her bed, a fresh rush of respawn-fuelled adrenaline coursing through her veins. She hissed through her teeth as moving shot painful pulses through the newly reformed muscles of her legs and back. 

“Martyn!” She seethed to no one, “Oh my god, you stupid—“ That idiot had just killed them both! What in the world was he thinking!? The soul string around her finger burned with her anger and she didn’t bother to stifle it. She wanted Martyn to know that her blood was absolutely boiling. She got a dull pang of something like guilt back before he shut that down, because of course he would. She rolled her eyes.

Her joints ached as she stumbled out of bed and out the front door, but she pressed on. Her items would despawn if she wasted time, and she wasn’t going to lose all of her hard work on top of a life. 

The cliff was treacherous, at least a 20 block sheer drop with mobs everywhere, and she cursed Martyn under her breath the whole miserable shuffle down to the riverbed. By the time she reached solid ground her muscles were throbbing and a small hoard of zombies were clawing at her feet. She felt the pinch of phantom fingers on her forearm, Martyn’s silent complaining, and she pinched right back. He’s done this to himself. He was lucky she wasn’t letting these zombies have a little nibble. 

Some of her items were washed up on the rocks, coated in watery pink blood and muck, but the rest were floating amongst the drowned on the riverbed, not worth getting if she wanted to stay alive. She scooped up what she could and began the climb back to the top. Several of her items were missing, her food and armour were lost to the silt, which meant even if Scott could lend her something to wear she’d have to go back to the bloody caves in the middle of the night. 

At the top of the cliff, Martyn’s items lay scattered in a pile where he died. Part of her wanted to leave his things to rot, maybe kick them down into the river, but instead she begrudgingly dumped them into a chest for him to retrieve. She couldn’t have him dying again because his armour despawned, even if the idea of inconveniencing him brought her a sense of sweet satisfaction.

Buzz. Her communicator vibrated against her hip, and she pulled it out. 

<ZombieCleo fell from a high place trying to escape InTheLittleWood>

<SolidarityGaming> WHAT

<PearlescentMoon> OOOOOO

<Impulse> Soulmate kill? O.o

<Smajor1995 whispered to you:> You okay?

<Tango> LOL

<Rendog> rip

And of course nothing from Martyn. No explanation, not even a fake apology. Cleo huffed.

<You whisper to Smajor1995:> Fine. Got my stuff back

<You whisper to Smajor1995:> Most of it. My armour’s gone

Martyn hadn’t shown his face yet, which was probably for the best. She might just beat the stuffing out of him if he came around for the next while. A part of her wondered why she hadn’t seen him yet, if not just to get his stuff back before running off again, his tail tucked between his legs. She stared across the chasm to his heart tower. From where she was standing she couldn’t see him in the windows or moving around on the ground. 

<Smajor1995 whispered to you:> Do you want me to help you mine? I think I’ve got a spare set of boots too

<You whisper to Smajor1995:> Yes that would be great thanks

The walk to their strip-mine was short, but in sopping wet clothes and coming off a respawn  it felt like a slog. Thankfully she made it without running into any mobs, and Scott met her at the entrance to the mine, pickaxe in hand and a concerned look on his face. “You alright, Cleo?”

She ran a hand through her hair and sighed. “Fine, just… frustrated.” 

Scott nodded sympathetically and made an after you motion to the mine. Cleo lead them down the tunnel system until they found untouched rock, which wasn’t too far, and set up a crafting table and a couple furnaces.

They worked in an unusual silence. Typically their time together was comfortable and full of banter, but it was hard to find something to talk about besides the glaringly obvious. She could almost feel how badly Scott wanted to pry and know every little detail, ever the gossip he was, but it was clear that he was determined not to from the near-constipated look on his face.

Cleo smirked. “Out with it then, ask me what happened,” She said, resting her pickaxe over her shoulder and leaning against the wall, “I know you want to. Although, I can’t really say I know myself.”

“Why did he kill you?” And wasn’t that the million-dollar question. “I know we’re not on good terms, but I didn’t think he’d do something like that. Not even Pearl has gone that far! And she’s crazy!” 

Cleo snorted, “I’ll tell you why, because he’s selfish! I don’t agree to a truce and he shoves me off a cliff!” She turned back to her pickaxe, punctuating every angry syllable with a swing. “Because he can’t just survive on his own. Ee’s like a parasite! Nagging on and on, and that weird tower he’s got in the ravine? Oh my gods—!” She was ranting, but it felt good to vent her frustrations to someone who wasn’t terminally dense and obsessed with the idea that ‘he’s your soulmate, you have to make up!’. What nonsense.

“And now we’re down a life, and I’m going to be stuck picking up after him because it’s always me, isn’t it? And it always will be! He’s just going to go running about willy nilly and I’ll have the consequences!” She swung her pick down with more force than was probably necessary, crumbling a pocket of lapis into dust, “He’s like a toddler!”

Suddenly, speak of the devil and he shall appear, there was a tug on their soul bond. It wasn’t ticks of damage like usual, it was an emotional tug. A ripple of nervous butterflies fluttered through her stomach, and she paused. Strange. Not the feeling itself, but the fact she’d felt it at all. The both of them had been stubbornly careful not to let their feelings slip through their bond ever since they’d officially split off in the first session. Probably a close call with a creeper.

Finally, after what felt like the thousandth poke-hole in the rock, she hit a pocket of iron. “Aha!” She exclaimed in victory, “Finally! This should be enough for at least a chest plate and some trousers. Come check it out, it’s massi—“

She faltered. There it was again, stronger this time. Her stomach twisted with what was definitely fear, and something else, too. It was fuzzy and hard to grasp. 

“Cleo? You alright?”

“…Yeah, I just… Martyn’s doing something. He’s probably caving.”

Scott hummed, sitting cross-legged on the ground and tossing a few pieces of raw iron into the furnaces, “Is he taking damage? You looked kinda scared there for a second.”

He hadn’t, but Cleo checked her health bar anyway to find it perfectly intact. “Nope. He probably just got ambushed by a mob or something, clearly he’s not the most careful man on this serv—“

It was then that it crashed over her; the string on her finger tightened and a wave of crystal-clear and suffocating sadness flowed through it. It startled her just how fast her eyes welled up and her chest squeezed, nearly winding her. “What on earth..?” She gasped. Her pickaxe clattered against the stone floor as she stumbled back against the wall. 

“What’s wrong!?” Scott clambered to his feet and rushed to her side, “Do you need food? How many hearts are you on?” He demanded, shoving a piece of bread against her hand.

Cleo quickly straightened, gently pushing the bread away, “No I don’t need food, I— I’m fine, just—“ What was Martyn doing?

Part of her wanted to ignore this. Whatever this was, it wasn’t her circus or her emotional monkeys. Physically they were fine, so it was fine. She scrubbed the tears out of her eyes, only for them to come right back, blurring Scott’s fretting expression. 

But the other part, the stronger part, told her that this wasn’t normal. Something was wrong with Martyn and she couldn’t help but be worried. Outside of the game they were still friends, and she still cared about Martyn’s wellbeing even if he was being a terrible partner right then. 

“Something’s wrong with Martyn.” She said. Well obviously, well done there Cleo, very observant. “I don’t know what but it’s… a lot.”

A thick, hazy feeling settled behind her eyes like molasses. It felt gentle, like it should have been pleasant, but it only amplified the swirl of emotions rushing through her. Tears slipped down her cheeks and she sniffled. Deep in her chest something was crying out for comfort, and she had to stop herself from instinctively reaching out to grab Scott’s hand, even though he probably wouldn’t have minded.

Scott took a deep breath, tapping his fingers quickly against the hilt of his pickaxe. “Right. Not much to go off of, then. What does it feel like?”

She struggled to get her thoughts in order as wave after wave of emotion came through their bond. It was overwhelming, flooding every corner of her brain like tar. “Goodness gracious, keep it together, Martyn…” She mumbled to herself, trying to at least keep her vision clear, “Um… It’s like, heavy? He’s definitely sad, scared I think… My head’s all fuzzy.”

After a moment of looking deep in thought, a look of dread suddenly dawned over Scott’s face, “Oh no…”

“What? What is it?” Cleo asked, voice creeping on desperate as the storm inside her slipped into her voice, “Don’t just say “oh no” and then stand there with that look on your face, it’s stressing me out!”

Scott looked at her, eyes wide. “He’s not regressed, is he? Surely not.”

All of the pieces were suddenly falling together to make a terrifying picture. The hiding, the suffocating fuzzy feeling, all of the emotions flowing through their bond, the crying— Martyn was little. 

Cleo’s mind raced. There was a child running around in the middle of the night during a death game, scared out of his mind and most likely defenceless. It was a miracle he hadn’t taken any damage yet. Heck, it was a miracle they weren’t dead yet, came a sobering thought, it was a miracle he wasn’t chased down by a hoard of zombies, backed into a corner a slaughtered. Ex-soulmate status be damned, she needed to find him and soon. She fumbled with her belt for her communicator and quickly typed out a message with shaky fingers.

<You whisper to InTheLittleWood:> Martyn where are you

To her surprise and slight relief, it didn’t take long for Martyn to respond.

<InTheLittleWood> i’m fine

<BdoubleO100> ?

<You whisper to InTheLittleWood:> Sure. What’s wrong? Are you regressed right now? Also you’re in main chat

<InTheLittleWood whispers to you:> Fine. Not small. Dw boutt it

<You whisper to InTheLittleWood:> Martyn. Stop messing around, where are you? Don’t make me get Grian, I’ll make him stop the session right now if I have to

The fuzzy feeling increased, and she blinked hard. If the rampant spelling errors in his messages weren’t enough to convince her he was small, that sure was.

<InTheLittleWood whispers to you:> Spswn

<InTheLittleWood whispers to you:> spawn

<You whisper to InTheLittleWood:> Stay there, I’m coming to find you

“I’m going to get him.” Cleo said, pocketing her pickaxe and equipping the iron boots Scott had given her. Her shield was shoddy at best, but they hadn’t had enough time to make her anything else and they didn’t have any to waste now. It would have to do.

Scott stopped her with a hand on her shoulder, “Do you want me to come with you? If you give me a sec I can make a new shield and—”

“No, it’ll take too long. Besides, I think it’ll just freak him out more if you’re there with me.” She rubbed at her eyes and gave him what she hoped was a reassuring look.

“Alright, I’ll catch up, then. Just… be safe, okay?”

“I will. I’ll be quick!”

The run to spawn was a gauntlet, and the burning in her chest and throat wasn’t helping. Thankfully the tears had slowed and her vision was clear enough to dodge mobs as they appeared from the brush. By the time she arrived the sun had begun to crawl over the horizon, but the mobs wouldn’t be burning for at least another hour, which meant they weren’t safe just yet. 

Martyn hadn’t sent any more messages and he was nowhere to be seen at spawn. Anxiety rolled in her gut as she scanned the tree line for Martyn’s obnoxiously bright outfit. She was just about to message the group and rally a search party when she saw it.

A dirt shack. Built up at the base of a scraggly oak tree was a small dirt box, just big enough for one person to be huddled up inside if they really squeezed. She approached cautiously, noting the uptick of nervousness inside her as her footsteps grew closer. She carefully dug away the wall, and there was Martyn. He was curled up tight, red-faced from crying and snot dripping from his nose, staring up at her with eyes blown wide.

Cleo couldn’t help but wince; he was certainly a sight. They stared at each other for a beat before Martyn simply dissolved. He began to cry once more and the tears in Cleo’s eyes returned with a vengeance. He curled impossibly tighter into his little ball and began mumbling something. Most of it was complete nonsense, but she was able to make out one word, over and over again. ‘Sorry’.

A weight dropped from her shoulders and she let out a breath of relief. She schooled her expression into something softer and tried to bend down to his level, but Martyn tucked his face between his knees.

“Martyn? Are we maybe feeling a bit little?” She tried her best attempt at a comforting tone.

“‘M sorry!” he babbled, sniffling loudly, “Didn’ mean t’hurt you, I was joking, I didn’t mean it!” 

All this trouble for a joke, of course.

“I’m not angry with you, I’m just glad you’re safe. This server’s dangerous for a little kid, yeah?” Her assurances didn’t seem to make anything better. In fact, Martyn only seemed more upset. 

His fists clenched into the fabric of his jeans and his head shot up, “You are angry!” He cried, “’Could- ‘could feel it! You’re angry at me an ‘m sorry! I didn’ mean it!”  

Cleo sighed. He was right, she was angry. Buried underneath Martyn’s hurricane of emotions there was still anger for him, but that anger was for adult Martyn. Stupid, shortsighted adult Martyn who got them both killed, not the blubbering child in front of her.

“Martyn, look at me.” He whined stubbornly and turned away, and Cleo rolled her eyes. Oh no, she wasn’t in the mood for this game. “Martyn.” Teary yellow eyes peeked up nervously at her.

“I am angry, alright? I’m angry we died, but there isn’t anything we can do about it now, is there? You didn’t mean to kill me, but we’re still yellow. That’s that.” Martyn sniffled, and Cleo could see a fresh line of tears forming in his eyes. “But, just because I’m angry doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. I want you to be safe, and I’m certainly not going to leave you all alone while you’re little.” Martyn seemed to consider that, scrubbing clumsily at his eyes. 

She reached forward and gently adjusted his headband from where it had begun to slip down into his face. “There we go, no more crying now. Would you like a hug—? Oof!” Martyn in her arms in an instant, crushing her in a death grip. He buried his nose into her shoulder and sniffled wetly. 

“Oh, gross buddy. Just getting snot all over my shirt, hm?” She chuckled, patting him gently on the back. He squirmed to be nearly cross-legged in her lap, slightly awkwardly because of the height he had on her, but she accommodated as best she could.

They stayed like that for a few minutes in silence, only broken up by the occasional sniffle. The golden string wrapped around Cleo’s finger felt pleasantly warm, the knot loose and flowing instead of suffocatingly tight, and she wondered absently if this was what the bond was supposed to feel like. Comfortable and soothing.

So soothing that she heard the rattling bones of a skeleton behind her just a second too late. 

Martyn gasped, “Cleo there’s a—!”

A sharp pain shot through her shoulder and she yelped. Martyn squeaked, and she curled defensively around him. The mobs.

She pulled out her shield and propped it behind her, and a second arrow lodged into the splitting wood with a thunk. “Martyn, can you run?” Martyn only blinked up at her, wide-eyed and open-mouthed like a fish. She grit her teeth, “Alright, up we go then!”

Ditching the shield she hoisted him up under his thighs and prepared to make a run for it. Just as the skeleton drew back another arrow, it was smashed into a pile of bones by an out-of-breath Scott.

“Run! I’ll cover you!” 

Arrows whizzed past her head and zombies turned to follow her as she ran through the woods, and she prayed to admin that none would connect while she was toting a grown man on her hip. She could hear Scott not far behind cutting down anything that got too close, and thank the Admins for Scott Smajor.

Cleo liked to think she was strong, but Martyn wasn’t exactly a featherweight. By the time they all made home and the door was shut firmly behind them she was panting and her arms felt like jelly. 

“You, alright, Martyn?” She huffed, leaning him back to get a look at his face. He nodded and gave her a shaky smile. “You’re very brave then, aren’t you?”

“The bravest.” Martyn muttered, letting his head bonk against her shoulder. She winced. Now that she had a moment to breathe, she could feel the arrowhead grinding against her shoulder blade and the trail of sticky blood running down her back. Martyn was probably a similar story. It was a wonder he hadn’t started complaining about it yet.

“Cleooooo,” Came a whine in her ear, “M’arm huuuurts.” 

There it was. She chuckled. “I’m sure it does. Let’s get patched up then, hm?”

“I’ll see what we’ve got.” Scott said, sounding rather winded as well.

Cleo set Martyn down on the bed and dropped down beside him with a groan. She could be helping Scott find first aid, but she was pretty sure she’d earned a break at this point. Scott returned from the chests with a half roll of gauze and a meagre amount of instant health in a bottle. 

“We don’t have much potion left, but I think we have enough wool for more bandages if we need.”

“Oh, we will need. Hand me those, I’ll get started on Boy-Wonder, here.” 

“Arrow first.” Scott reminded, and oh right, the arrow. “Fast or slow?”

“Fast.” She said, then reached over and grabbed Martyn’s hand. “This is gonna hurt for just a second, okay? Squeeze my hand real hard.”

Martyn nodded nervously.

Scott set one hand on her back for leverage and grabbed the arrow with the other. “Deep breath, you two. One, two… three!”

Cleo grit her teeth and Martyn whimpered as the arrow came out, squeezing her hand like he was trying to pop a balloon.

“See? Not so bad, was it?” She said tightly, but it was hard to look convincing when Martyn’s tears were welling in her eyes. “Now, bandages. C’mon, shirt up.”

After taking a moment to collect himself Martyn tried his best to wiggle out of his shirt, but of course he didn’t take his bag off first and before Cleo could even attempt to correct him he was already tangled and giving her the most pitiful look. 

“You know what? That was my mistake, let me help you with that.”

Mirroring her own, there was a small puncture wound in his right shoulder blade bleeding sluggishly down his back. His wasn’t going to be nearly as bad as hers, but the emotional damage probably made up for it.

“This’ll make it feel better, alright?” She uncorked the bottle and dumped what was left of the potion over the wound, and watched as it began to stitch itself back together. By the time the potion was done, Martyn was in need of little more than a band-aid and her back felt a lot less on-fire than it had a moment ago. With the help of a bit of slime, she secured a layer of gauze over what was left of the cut and helped Martyn wrestle his shirt back on. Was it completely hygienic? No. But it worked in a pinch.

“Now you.” Martyn said, making a grab for the gauze.

“Ah-ah, nooo thank you.” She said, “I think Scott will help with that.” Not that she didn’t trust a toddler with her medical care, but he’d probably make a mess with the slime and she’d had quite enough of bath time for one night.

He pouted. “But I’m your soulmate! I wanna help!”

“You are, but you’re also quite the tiny thing, and I like this shirt. Scott gets it, don’t you, Scott?”

“Sure do.” Scott took the slime and bandages from her and in less than thirty seconds the job was done. 

Even though the day had only just begun, Cleo was absolutely knackered. She glanced out the window at the rising sun and blinked blearily. “We should probably let Grian know to call a break, shouldn’t we?”

“Noooooo…” Martyn whined, before letting out the world’s biggest yawn.

“Yep, on it.” Scott pulled out his communicator and sent the message, and a few seconds later the break message went out.

“Alright, naptime.” Cleo said, pulling Martyn to lay down on the bed with her and halfheartedly tugging up the blanket. Being able to finally close her eyes after the night she’d had felt like heaven.

Scott smirked and took pity on her, and helped bring the blanket up the rest of the way. “You two sleep, I’ll be across the way if you need me.”

She cracked one eye open as he turned to leave. “You sleep too, don’t think I forgot I dragged you out of bed.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure. Goodnight, Cleo. Goodnight, Martyn.”

Martyn was already dozing off, but he still giggled and called back a quiet, “Good morning, Scott.”

The door shut and the two of them were left in a comfortable silence. Their soul bond wrapped around them, pleasantly warm and light. Cleo was just about to fall asleep when she felt a ripple of guilt.

“…Martyn? What’s going on in that head of yours, hm?” She mumbled.

“M’sorry, Cleo.”

She rolled her closed eyes and felt around for his hand, holding it loosely. “I know you are. If you really want to make it up to me, you’ll relax and have a sleep. Cleo’s tired.”

“…M’kay. Good morning.”

“Good morning, Martyn.”

[impala-dreamer]

Tourniquet - Chapter Four

A Supernatural Dean x Reader Series Told Backwards

~Y/N has been by Dean’s side through his worst days, always there if he needs her, forever just a call away. Love is impossible to fight and more impossible to live with. Just a side character in his epic life, Y/N would give anything just to give Dean a moment’s peace.~

Please see MASTERLIST for full info/warnings/chapter links.

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works

The Things She Carried

She hadn’t seen him in years. 

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to. God, she wanted to so badly. She wanted to run into his arms, bury her face in his chest and fall asleep. She wanted to wake up next to him, count each freckle in the golden light of dawn. She wanted it all, she wanted him. 

But she couldn’t. She couldn’t bring herself to track him down, drive across the miles and land at his doorstep. She couldn’t imagine facing him after so long away, couldn’t bear the thought that he’d cast her away like some old trinket destined for the bin. 

She couldn’t risk it. She was road-weary and drained to the point of constant pain. Every muscle ached; every bone felt hollow and brittle. She was exhausted in her soul. She was done. 

Late at night she would lie awake and stare at whatever ceiling was overhead replaying her life, her choices good and bad. 

Maybe things would be different if she had run away with him when they were kids. Maybe she should have crossed the little stream sooner, hidden with him in the tall grass until they could escape and disappear forever. Would life be so different? Would they be together? Alive? Would the world still be turning if not for the sacrifices he’d made?

What about the sacrifices she’d made? What about all the days she spent alone, holding herself as blood seeped through her fingers? All the times she dropped everything to be there for him, all the days she spent worrying, all the nights she spent giving him whatever he needed whenever he needed it. Would anyone even remember her when she was gone? Would he?

Fuck him. He ruined one of the most important moments in her life. He stole her chance to say goodbye. While she reeled from his kiss, tried to make sense of his affection, the only other man she had ever loved had died. 

He died and she wasn’t there. He died knowing she wasn’t around. 

Fuck him for that. Fuck him for sleepless nights on the phone calming him down, listening to every trial and tribulation of his life. Fuck him for miles spent rushing to his side to wrap her heart around his wounds, staunch the flow. 

Fuck him for every kiss. 

Fuck him for every touch. 

For every fucking moment. 

The boy with the green eyes. 

Roswell, New Mexico, 2015. 

A string of murders of suspicious nature led older residents to announce that the aliens had returned to take revenge on the naysayers and folks there only to make a buck on the sacred landing spot. 

Y/N hadn’t been able to resist such a ridiculous scene and spent a week there investigating. 

In the end, they were just regular old murders committed by a regular old crazy person. No demons, no ghosts, and certainly no aliens were to be found. 

With nowhere else to be, she hung around the desert for a few more days, enjoying the sun and the dry air. 

She almost didn’t answer the phone when it rang, but curiosity had brought her to New Mexico in the first place, so there was no reason to deny its hold. 

Luckily, it wasn’t him. 

It was Sam. 

“Well, if it isn’t baby boy Winchester.” She laid back on the hood of her car and kicked up a knee. 

“Hey, Y/N.” 

He sounded terrible. Lack of sleep or too much stress, she couldn’t tell. She didn’t know Sam as well. Hadn’t studied him as closely, hadn’t learned every tick of speech, the meaning behind every subtle sigh.

Still, he didn’t sound great. 

“What’s going on, Sam?” 

He hesitated, swallowed hard, shifted the phone to his other ear. “I hate to ask you, I know you’re… Well, you’ve got your own thing going on, but-” 

Her eyes closed, her stomach churned. 

“Is he OK?” She couldn’t stop the tremble in her voice and she hated it. 

Sam cleared his throat. “No. No, I don’t think so.” 

“Shit.” 

Last she’d heard through the grapevine, Dean had died, again, and come back as a demon. She didn’t get a call back then, so for Sam to ask for help now- it was bad.

“I think he’d, uh… really like to see you.” 

The eleven-hour drive seemed endless, but it gave her time to think. 

No matter what she did, he would always be a part of her. No matter how far she ran, tried to hide, he would always win out in the end. It was useless to fight it, stupid to even try. 

Sam had given her directions to their place and Y/N stood outside of what looked to be an industrial hobbit hole.  

She leaned on her car and stared at the hill. There was still time to turn tail and hit the highway. He’d never even know she had been there. 

She fiddled with the chain around her neck, sucked on the metal pendant. It was warmed from her body heat though she always believed it got hotter when he was close. 

“Damn it, Y/N/N, just go in…” She groaned and turned away, too scared to go inside. Scared or mad, she didn’t know which. 

Just as she put one foot in the car, the big doors opened and Sam appeared. 

He was tall and tired, with a shadow on his jaw and worry in his eyes. She wondered vaguely if she had ever seen Sam without that crease in his aura, if he’d ever been truly calm and happy. 

“You gonna come in or-”

She sighed and shut the door. “How’d you know I was here?” 

He shrugged and gave her a mischievous look. “I may have been tracking your phone.” 

“What! Sam…” 

He smiled and then pushed at the door, holding it open for her. 

“You coming?” 

“Well, it’d be stupid to run away now.” 

She followed him into the hobbit hole and through another, heavier door. The first room was basically a dark hallway, four steps down from the outer doors and a few paces to the next. The walls were old concrete and the light was dim. She held no hope for nicer things to come. 

She was very wrong. 

Her little gasp echoed when she walked through the second door. The cave-like entry gave way to an expansive room that took her breath away. A wrought iron balcony met intricate stairs that wound down forever. The room below was set up with a large, map-covered table that glowed, antique computers and machines that looked as if they were sourced from a 1950’s horror movie. 

Clasping the rail, Y/N leaned over a bit, trying to comprehend the size of everything but her head hurt. She looked back at Sam and shook her head, eyes wide with awe. 

“You live here?” 

Sam nodded and shrugged. He smiled at her wild wonder and stood beside her at the railing. “There’s more. It’s, uh- it’s a really big place.” 

“Tell me you have a bowling alley or an arcade hiding somewhere in here.” 

He laughed. “No, but we do have a tv. Well, I do. In my room.” 

Y/N whistled, mockingly impressed. “Wow. Real rockin’ bachelor pad, Sam.” 

He licked his lips and looked down at his hands. His knuckles were pale, fingers cold against the metal. “Yeah, well, we don’t get many visitors.” 

She covered his hand with hers and squeezed gently. “Wanna show me the rest?”

The Men of Letters Bunker was just as impressive as he made it sound. They toured the halls while Sam explained how they came to be there, speaking candidly about his grandfather’s reappearance and how strange it was to finally have a real place to call home. 

She listened to every word, now and then offering a kind word or an interested hum. Her mind was reeling at the enormity of the Bunker. She ran her fingers over the dips between the tiles on the walls, listened carefully to how Sam’s voice echoed off of the cathedral ceilings and back again. She counted their steps, tried to construct a map in her mind so that she could find her way back to the front door, but the path was full of turns and every corridor looked the same as the last. The numbers on the doors changed, however, but they weren’t in any order that she could define. 

They stopped in front of door number eleven, and Sam shoved his hands into his pockets. His gaze narrowed on the gap between the door and the jam. The light inside was on, but he knew Dean wasn’t there. 

“This is his room?” she asked, wanting to push her way inside but afraid to pry. 

Sam cleared his throat. “Yeah.”

She placed her hand on the door and closed her eyes. She wanted to go in and wait for him, be laid out on the bed like some porn star when he walked in, but she knew better. 

The kitchen was impressive in an old restaurant that had never been upgraded kinda way, but the pantry was pitiful. Thankfully, there were a few eggs in the fridge and a half of a loaf of white bread on the shelf. Sam left her to it and she got to work making an utter mess of the counter and stove. 

She didn’t expect him back soon and he hadn’t expected to see her at all. 

“Y/N?” 

Her entire being tensed when she heard his voice and she took a breath, closed her eyes, and turned around. Spatula dripping in her hand, she screwed up a smile. 

“Surprise.” 

Every emotion imaginable flowed over his freckled face and Y/N waited for him to process before saying another word. Green eyes worked her over, lingering on the smudge on her cheek and the mess on her shirt. 

Finally, he smiled. 

“Nice surprise.” 

Her body relaxed. “Is it?” 

“Of course.” 

Dean rushed forward, rounding the giant stainless steel island, and scooped her up into a hug. 

Relief trickled down her spine and she wrapped her arms around him, pushed her face into the crook of his neck. He smelled like whiskey and sleepless nights. 

“Fuck, I’ve missed you.” He whispered into her shoulder and held on a little tighter. 

He was big and strong, solid and safe. She melted into him; listened for the comforting, steady beat of his heart. 

The necklace burned into her chest and she smiled. 

After a minute, she pushed at his shoulders but he refused to let her go. 

“You’re gonna make me burn your toast!”

He stood up straight and held her arms. “Toast? You’re making a real big mess for toast.” 

She squirmed out of his grip and turned back to the stove. “It’s French.” 

They sat at the little table in the corner and drowned the snack in maple syrup and butter. 

Y/N couldn’t stop staring at him. His face was thin; his beard slowly sneaking out of captivity. His eyes were dark, lined with red, and he held himself differently, as if every second was painful, as if he was having trouble sitting still. 

He was staring just as hard, shocked that she was there after being gone for so long. 

“Your hair’s different,” he said around a mouthful of French toast.

She cocked her head and ran a hand through her locks. “I guess,” she laughed. “It’s been a while since I cut it. Probably should.” 

Dean shook his head gently. “Nah. I like it.” 

It wasn’t even really a compliment but she took it as one. Her stomach flipped and she hated herself for enjoying such a tiny amount of attention. She was older now, wiser, stronger. She didn’t need his approval or his affection. 

“Thanks.” 

“This is…nice. Thank you for cooking.” 

Y/N laughed and choked down a corner. “It’s terrible and you know it.”

Dean shrugged and took another forkful to his lips. “It ain’t that bad.” He shoveled it in and then cringed, plucked a crunchy bit from his tongue. “I… think there’s shell in this one.”

She grinned. “I’m surprised there’s not more, actually. You know I’m a shitty cook.”

He laughed. “Always have been.” 

“It’s kinda my thing.” 

A strange moment passed between them like an autumn breeze. The air was warm but the wind was too harsh, chilling their cheeks. Y/N looked away, crossing her arms and rubbing her hands up the sides. Dean swallowed and sat back; knife and fork in his fists beside the plate. 

“So, how ya been?” 

Y/N looked around, pretending to inspect the kitchen walls, but only trying to buy herself time to think up an answer. 

“Oh, you know me, Dean. Another day, another highway, another monster to kill.” 

He licked a drop of syrup from his lip. “Musta been busy.” 

She nodded. “Yeah, pretty busy.” 

“Too busy to answer a text? Pick up the phone now and then?” 

Her guts churned. “Dean, it’s not like that…” 

He slumped forward, set his forearms on the table. “Oh, it’s like that. You vanished, Y/N/N.” 

His tone was biting and she shivered. 

“Dean-” 

“You just took off. No goodbye, nothing.” 

Anger was brewing inside and her leg bounced uncontrollably under the table. “Dean.” 

“We burned him. Without you.”

Something inside of her shattered. The words cut through her like a scythe; his tone burned like salt in the sliced flesh. She clenched her jaw, closed her eyes, and tried to push it all aside. 

“You left,” he seethed, upper lip trembling and exposing his tiny canine teeth. She always thought they looked like fangs, always loved the way they scraped across her throat. “We burned him and you weren’t there. I- we needed you and you left. You ran away to God knows where and that was it. We needed you, Y/N. I… I needed you.” 

With fists balled, she stood up, spun away from the table. She bit her tongue so hard she was sure her mouth would fill with blood. 

Dean laughed sarcastically. “Yeah. Walk away again. That’s awesome.” 

Her spine twitched. Nails dug into her palms. 

She tasted blood. 

“So fucking good at walking away when people need you.” 

She snapped. 

“Excuse me?” 

Her spin around was so fast, her hands slammed onto the table so hard that Dean startled and dropped his utensils. Unconsciously, he sat back, putting as much distance between him and the lioness he’d just unleashed. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Her words curled but there was no question. She was giving him a speck of a chance to apologize before she truly exploded. “Well… are you?” 

Dean sucked his teeth, crossed his arms, sat forward. He met her gaze head on. His nostrils flared. 

“You left,” he said again, slowly, venomously. 

Y/N pulled in a deep breath but instead of calming her, it only added to the fire. “You didn’t ask me to stay, Dean.” 

He shook his head, confused. “Huh?” 

“You didn’t ask me to stay, Dean,” she said again, injecting as much slashing accusation into her voice as she could. “You never do. You expect me to show up whenever you want me, drop whatever I’m doing to come meet you somewhere so you can fuck your frustrations out on me then kick me out of bed in the morning. Do you know how many bruises I have from tripping over the curb when you drive away? How many nights I’ve stayed awake worrying about you? Praying for you? Not to mention all the nights I had to stay on the phone with you while you blubbered on about this and that, and your brother, and your angel, and your destiny. Do you know how much of my life I’ve spent waiting on a fucking phone call from you? How many days I’ve wasted just hoping you’d ask to see me? You can’t imagine it. You wouldn’t. Because you don’t care.” 

Anger and guilt flooded his face. He swung his legs around from under the table and stood up, towering over her with a puffed chest and searing eyes. 

“You think I don’t care about you?” He hunched his shoulders, leaning down to let it all sink in. “Is that really what you think?” 

She took a step closer. She wouldn’t back down no matter his size or the angry fire pulsing off of him. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. 

“Yeah, Dean,” she said sharply. “It is. Because it’s fucking true. You don’t give a shit about me, you never have. I’m just a goddamned Band-Aid for you. Something you put on when you’ve got a booboo and then rip off and toss away. And the one time I needed you. The one fucking time…” 

Dean was seeing red; his blood was boiling and brightening his pallid face. 

“When? When the fuck did you need me so badly!” 

She grit her teeth, showed her fangs for once. “He was my father, Dean.” 

He scoffed. “No. He wasn’t.” 

“Fuck you for saying that! He was my father the same as, if not more so than he was yours and he died while I was in the dark wondering how I could help you. You! You fucked me up in that hospital room and then you left me alone to deal with it. And he died while I was in there! He died and I wasn’t there because I was dealing with you!” 

Dean straightened, but he didn’t move to speak. He only absorbed her ire and let it burn inside of him. 

“Always dealing with you! My whole goddamned life revolves around Dean Winchester! And you know what I got for all the care and time and worry I poured into you? Nothing. I get fucking nothing. I have never been so lost as when he died and you… You didn’t ask me to stay. Didn’t… didn’t check on me. The only calls I got were from you begging me to help with Sam and to meet you in Oswego for a fucking booty call. That’s all I am to you. I’m your fucking whore.”

He huffed, chewed his lip. “That is not true!”

She wouldn’t stop, couldn’t. The simple act of raising her voice, of confronting him after everything had opened a tap that she couldn’t close. 

“And you spent a whole goddamned fucking year with her. A year! I didn’t even know if you were alive, dead, nothing. You promised to call me. You swore. And nothing. You went to her. You- did you even think of me? Did you even think, ‘oh, maybe I’ll go be with Y/N for a while’? Well? Did you?” 

His eyes closed. “No, Y/N. I didn’t.” 

“I have given you years of my life and you’ve just… Fuck, I don’t even know if you take me for granted or if you don’t even notice if I’m around or not. I honestly don’t know.”

She turned away, exhausted and aching. 

She couldn’t see the way he rubbed at the curse on his arm, didn’t notice the rage glowing in his eyes. She didn’t feel the danger because she never felt it around him. She could scream all she wanted, but she knew Dean wouldn’t hurt her. 

“If you hate me so goddamn much, why are you even here? Huh? What, did Sammy call you? Tell you I wasn’t doin’ so well?” 

Each word snapped at her like kitchen shears and Y/N spun back around. 

“Fuck you, Dean.” 

As tears fell, she raised her right hand, ready to slap him hard; show him she wasn’t fooling around. 

The Mark swelled on his arm and shot demonic power into his veins. 

Dean grabbed her wrist before she made contact with his cheek and took two steps forward, forcing her backwards into the wall. He slammed her hand onto the plaster and followed suit with her left hand. She gasped, scared but daring him, and he sneered down at her. 

“Don’t. Fucking. Ever. Hit me.”  

The Mark glowed beside her head and she looked from it to him, stuck and devastated. 

“Do you hear me!” 

Strength pulsed through him and Dean lifted her away from the wall only to crush her back into it. 

Her eyes blurred, her head ached; her ears rang. 

“Dean-” 

“You think you know anything about me? You don’t know what I’ve been through! You haven’t been around!” 

His grip tightened on her wrists and she felt the bone in the right twist. 

“Dean! You’re hurting me!”

It seemed he couldn’t stop, wouldn’t let the anger dim. His breath came out in heavy pants through tight lips and clenched teeth; his eyes were like lasers targeting her arteries and setting him up for the kill. 

“Dean!” 

Another tear trekked down her cheek and it caught his attention. 

Dean blinked quickly, clearing his head, and then backed away. He dropped her hands and covered his face, turned his back on her. 

Y/N couldn’t move. 

Silence filled the room and their heads. Guilt ravaged their bodies. 

Her knees gave out and she slid down the wall, slumped to the floor. 

When she could finally speak, her voice was small and pathetic and she hated herself even more. 

“I… I’m sorry, Dean.” 

Calmer now, Dean turned to find her in a heap on the floor and sank down as well. “Don’t be sorry, Y/N/N. I… fuck. Did I hurt you?” 

She shook her head and sat up straight, kicked her knees up to her chest. 

He crawled to her, tried to lay a hand on her knee, but she flinched away. 

“Shit,” he hissed. “I’m so sorry.” 

Y/N let out a hard breath and let her shoulders fall. She trusted him. She didn’t trust that thing on his arm. 

She nodded toward it. “Is it really bad?” 

He rolled up his sleeve and showed off his brand. Curious and horrified, she unfurled herself and leaned in, running a careful finger across the Mark. The flesh was hot, the skin raised and rough. She covered it with her hand and looked up into his face. 

“I can’t take it much more,” he whispered. “It’s gonna take over and I don’t wanna go back there.” 

Her heart hurt. “You don’t have to let it take you. You’re strong. You’re so fucking strong, Dean. So brave. So good.” 

He smiled softly and bent over; kissed her hand. 

“I’m so sorry I hurt you.” 

She sniffed back the tears and reached for him. 

“I coulda just kept my mouth shut,” she confessed. 

Dean lay his head on her shoulder and tugged her close. “No. You shouldn’t have to. I’ll be better, I promise.” 

“You don’t have to be better, Dean.” She turned inwards and pressed her lips to his ear. “You just have to be you.” 

His arms closed a little tighter, he breathed a little slower. 

“I really don’t deserve you, you know that?” 

She sighed and rubbed at the nape of his neck. 

“Shut up, Dean.” 

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[2baddiesfanfics]

I'll Catch You When You Fall From Grace

Pairing: Furina x Arlecchino

Tags: Rescue, Rescue Missions, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Possessive Sex, Kidnapping, Possessive Behavior, Hurt/Comfort

Summary:

In the aftermath of Furina's fall from grace as the Hydro Archon, she faces the challenges of adapting to a mundane human life. As she navigates the complexities of being a regular citizen, she learns that with former fame comes potential danger. When she finds herself in trouble, who will be there to answer her call for help?

Read on Ao3

It had been nearly a year since Furina had fallen from grace as archon and began living her life as a normal human. The events of her trial had come and gone, and she was trying her best to adapt to the mundane banality of what it took to make her way in the world not as the God of Hydro, but as plain and simple Furina.

“Lady Furina…”

“Neuvillette, I don’t know how many times I have to tell you. It’s just Furina now. There’s no need for formalities. I’m no different than any other citizen of Fontaine.”

“Fine. Furina. You must listen to me. Just because you are no longer archon, it doesn’t mean you can go about your business and throw caution to the wind,” he chastised as he threw down that morning’s copy of The Steambird.

“Have you seen the front page today? I’m doing my best to bring these criminals to justice, but few seem to respect me as much as they once revered you.”

She had indeed heard the rate of petty crime had increased in the wake of her reign. Chalking it up to the growing pains of a nation looking to find its footing once more, Furina didn’t have time to worry about maybes and what-ifs. It wasn’t her fault the only time she could take care of her errands was after the sun went down. In a way, she was still a celebrity and found it awkward and difficult to turn people’s requests for a photo or autograph down.

“I sincerely appreciate your concern, oh great Hydro Sovereign,” she said with a sad smile. “But I need to learn how to navigate my new normal now. I’m tough. I’ve been through so much this past year I’d feel sorry for the sad sap who decided to test me on my weekly grocery run. Please. Take heart. I’ve got this.”

Neuvillette heaved a heavy sigh. “I understand that, Lad-…Furina. But I need you to be about your senses, do you understand me? I cannot always be there to protect you.”

She gave his hand a reassuring pat. “I’ll do my best, friend. Now if you’ll excuse me, macaroni is on sale today and I’d be livid if I got to the food merchants after they closed up shop for the day. Good day.”

Furina exited his office, waving to the few remaining melusines on duty, and promptly realized she had left her wallet at home. Cursing herself, she made her way back to her apartment in the dark, streetlights flickering with a flame that made her heart flutter.

Surprisingly the first person to come visit her after all was said and done was the Knave. Now that she had nothing to hide from Arlecchino, she was no longer frightened by her. What was the worst she could do? The answer, as it turned out, was fall in love. Furina was tired. Tired of the theatrics. Tired of putting on a show. Tired of pretending to be something - someone - she was not.

It had started as nothing more than a one-night stand. The Knave was in Fontaine on business and Furina was lonely. She had come to apologize for how she had treated her without knowing the full story. The former archon was desperate to feel something, anything, and Arlecchino carried herself with such confidence there was no way she could fight the desire to let someone else take control for a change.

Standing in the sparse glow of the window of her apartment, she felt her cheeks warm as she remembered the events of that night. How big her hands were compared to her own. The way she held her with such grace while still vigorously taking what she wanted. The heat of her lips searing into her skin, her teeth marking her possessively.  She swallowed hard as she replayed the events like a film in her head.

And then everything went dark.

Arlecchino sat in her office at the House of the Hearth, a steady throbbing growing in both of her temples. Physical work was fine. She actually relished any chance she got to shadow those who were of interest to the Fatui. What she couldn’t stand was paperwork. So much so it tended to pile up on her desk when she was out doing said physical work.

The scratch of her pen as she signed her name time after time after time was starting to drive her mad. Her hand moved on autopilot, her head elsewhere. How she wished the sound could be replaced by the sweet innocence of Furina’s whimpers caused by her touch. The way she looked at her with those doe-like eyes so trusting and vulnerable. Her mouth moving on hers so eager to learn and please.

The nib of her quill was finally disrupted by the slam of her study doors. The Knave looked up angrily, her eyes burning with irritation. She had specifically requested she not be bothered unless it was a life-or-death situation.

“Lynette…I thought I told you-“ The look on the girl’s face took her aback. She was never one to get overly emotional about, well, anything.

“Father! Lady Furina’s been kidnapped!”

The irritation borne from interruption had evolved into pure rage. “…what?”

“Lyney and Freminet just came back from shopping and said officers were stationed everywhere. They ran into Clorinde and she said they’ve been searching nonstop!”

Snatching her cloak from the rack behind her chair, she rushed out of the office without a word.

————————

Furina could hear the deep whispers of her captors as they discussed plans she couldn’t quite make out. She concentrated on regulating her breathing as she tried to remain calm. Without a vision, she was powerless. Never had she lamented her lost status as archon until now.

The back of her head was tender. One clean hit and she went under. Straining her senses, she tried to determine through sound, smell, and feel where they could have possibly taken her. The distant crash of waves and the salty scent of the sea hinted at the fact she must not be too far from home.

Surely they’ve noticed I’m missing by now…right? Someone…Neuvillette, Clorinde, even Navia…certainly someone must have sensed something wasn’t right.

Immediately she jumped to the conclusion her life was over. Perhaps it was overzealous fanatics who felt betrayed after they discovered the truth about her godhood. Regardless of whatever the situation was, there was no way she was making it out of this alive. And then…her frantic thoughts were interrupted by an earthshattering explosion.

Bloodcurdling screams echoed through what she could only guess was a cave by the ocean. What she heard next made her heart soar.

“Don’t you fucking touch her, you piece of shit!” She’d recognize that voice anywhere. Even after only one night, the unique timbre of Arlecchino’s words shook her to her core. The Knave snatched one of the men by the collar of his shirt.

“Please! Please, no! Have mercy! We only thought we might be able to get some ransom money for her. I swear to the archons we haven’t done anything to her!”

“Shut the FUCK up you useless excuse for a human being,” she spat venomously. “I don’t give a damn what your plan was. Where. Is. She?”

“Just a bit deeper. Keep going, we’re not hiding anyth-“ His answer was cut short as she bashed his head against the wall.

“A-Arlecchino? Is that you?” As hard as she tried to keep her voice steady, she couldn’t stop herself from shaking. “Arlecchino! Please! Help! I’m here! Hurry!”

Swift footfalls thudded against damp stone. The Knave gingerly undid the knot of her blindfold, careful to avoid her injury, and her vision exploded with light. Her tears obscured the face of her savior.

“Furina, it’s alright. I’m here. You’re ok. Nobody’s left,” she explained. Under her breath she muttered, “I made sure of it.”

She tumbled forward into her arms, her tiny, frail body shaking. If the Knave had gripped her any harder, she feared she might break her. “H-h-how? How did you find me?”

Arlecchino let out a wry chuckle. “My dear,” she said as she propped her chin up so she’d look her in the eyes. “I’m a Fatui Harbinger. Do you honestly think anything gets past my network of informants? Now, there will be plenty of time for questions later. Let’s get you home.”

——————

Back at the House of the Hearth, Arlecchino reported to Clorinde the coordinates of the hideout where she had discovered Furina. Closing the door behind her, the sound of the special forces marching off trickled away. The Knave turned to face her.

“Thank you…for saving me,” Furina murmured.

“No need to thank me, Droplet,” she said with a tenderness that surprised the former archon. Arlecchino winced noticeably as she made her way closer. While she was an accomplished and fearsome fighter, her emotions had gotten the better of her this time around and she had suffered a few hits due to the distraction of her search.

“You must let me tend to your injuries,” Furina chastised as she pulled out a chair and gestured for her to sit.

“That’s not necessary. Just a few scratches. I’ll have Lyney assist me later.”

Furina pouted, her blue eyes shimmering intensely. “I insist. It’s the least I can do.”

The Knave let out a sigh of “fine” before shedding her coat and doing as she was asked.

The girl tended to the scratch on her face, carefully cleaning the area and placing a small bandage to mitigate any risk of infection. Arlecchino could feel her fingers trembling as her adrenaline was still in overdrive from the earlier encounter. While she’d never take advantage of her vulnerability, the Knave would be lying to herself if she had said she didn’t find her defenselessness arousing.

“Oh, your leg!” Furina pointed to a stain on Arlecchino’s slacks. A light blush colored her cheeks. “Would you mind removing these so I can patch you up?”

The Knave swallowed reluctantly. Allowing someone else to be in command was an entirely new sensation. Her heart pounded in her chest. Unzipping her pants, she slid them down and stepped out of them. The former archon once again treated the area with shaking hands.

Grabbing Furina’s wrist (perhaps a bit too tightly), she calmly stated, “Furina, darling, you’re safe now. Please…try to calm down. I’ve told the police force everything and ensured I…eliminated any immediate threat.”

Arlecchino looked her in the eyes and was perplexed by the emotions she sensed. Wait…this isn’t fear…this is…

Her contemplation was interrupted by a soft pair of lips attacking her own. There was no sign of hesitation in her movements as her mouth collided against hers. “Archons…I want you…so badly Knave…”

Fuck self-control. Arlecchino growled in response as Furina deepened the kiss. Her lips danced clumsily down her neck, the Knave tilting her head to give her clearer access. “Droplet…are you sure?” She asked breathlessly.

Furina moved to straddle her lap. “Yes,” she breathed before crashing into her once more. Sliding her tongue across the Knave’s, her nimble fingers made quick work of the buttons on her shirt.

“Would it kill you to dress a little less, oh I don’t know, fashionable? Too many fucking buttons,” the girl huffed between kisses.

Arlecchino chuckled in response. “My, it’s certainly easy to get you riled up, hmm? Next time I’ll keep the jacket on and make you really work for it.”

Heaving a sigh of relief as she undid the last latch, Furina tossed the shirt aside and trailed her lips to her breasts. She savored the taste of her skin, licking her nipple and then blowing cool air across it to get it to rise.

Her hand slid down Arlecchino’s toned stomach and into her lacy black panties. Tracing her lips, she gathered her arousal on her fingertips and glided them gently across her clit. The Knave bucked her hips in response to Furina’s delicate touch.

“Seems I’m not the only one the adrenaline was getting to,” Furina chuckled as she brought her soaked fingers to her lips and sucked.

Arlecchino moaned in response to the wanton action. What’s gotten into her? Surely she hasn’t had much practice...The thought of anyone else laying a finger on her made her seethe with jealousy. Although they had only been together like this once before, Furina was different this time and it was driving her mad with lust.

She hopped off her lap and dropped to her knees in front of her, slowly spreading her legs to kneel between them. Gingerly kissing the scratch on her thigh, the Knave flinched before she felt her move to do the same on the other. Furina pulled her panties to the side before swirling her tongue on her sensitive bud.

“Ah…Furina!” She stifled herself from letting out an embarrassingly loud moan through gritted teeth.

Pleased with the response, she continued to suck as she slid two fingers into her. Arlecchino bucked against her face in rhythm with her movements. Sliding her hands into Furina’s hair, she pulled her as close as she could. The former archon could feel her contracting against her, pulled out her fingers, and replaced them with her tongue. Grabbing the Knave’s hips, she drew her closer as she darted her tongue in and out of her. With a few more thrusts, the woman crumbled under Furina’s ministrations.

Slick covered her face as she watched Arlecchino breathe heavily. Her gaze snapped back to Furina’s and there was something about the situation that made the girl feel as if she were a rabbit cornered by a starving wolf.

“While that was delightful, you must tell me - where did you learn to do that? Surely you haven’t been using your newfound freedom to go around fucking anything you please?”

Furina was taken aback. “H-how could you think that? I only wanted to thank you for what you did. And for your information - not that it’s any of your business - I haven’t been with anyone since that night…”

Arlecchino relaxed noticeably. Get ahold of yourself, woman. You didn’t have an agreement of exclusivity. She’s an adult and can do what she wants.

A peal of high-pitched laughter echoed through the room. “Oh my archons! Are you…you’re jealous, aren’t you? Oh, that’s rich!” She grabbed her stomach as she tried to stop herself from cackling. “The big, bad Fatui Harbinger is afraid I might have learned a few tricks from someone else, hmm?”

The Knave stood abruptly and gripped her by the neck. “I’ll take that to mean you’re just well-read. Perhaps some new light novels imported from Inazuma? You must have a lot of time to kill now that you’re free.” She forced the girl to walk backward until she was caught between her and the bookshelf in her study.

“Let me make myself clear,” she whispered, deadly serious. “You. Are. Mine.” Wedging her leg between the girl’s thighs, Furina panted heavily. “You say you want to thank me? Then be a good girl and fuck yourself.”

“…w-what?”

“Did I stutter, Ms. Furina? You’ll shove your panties to the side and ride my thigh until you come while I watch. Understood?”

Furina swallowed hard before nodding her head. Lifting her skirt, Arlecchino was rewarded with the sight of sky-blue silk lingerie. She licked her lips hungrily as the girl moved them, a wet line already staining the front and dripping onto her exposed skin.

She’s not fooling anyone. She wants to be wanted. I’m simply giving her what she needs.

“Very good. Now…move,” Arlecchino commanded.

Furina began to rock back and forth against her while keeping eye contact. The steady rhythm she created moved in time with their breathing, connecting them in a way so intimate it made the Knave shutter. It was her turn to feel fear…the fear of ever having to share her with anyone else. Furina was submitting herself, obeying completely. It was like a drug to Arlecchino and she would never be able to live without it again.

The Knave closed the distance between them, capturing her lips. Furina moaned into her mouth as she increased the speed of her hips. The groan the Knave let out betrayed her feelings as she bit her bottom lip.

“Fuck…Knave…are you…happy now?”

“I won’t be happy until I possess you, body and soul,” she replied, her hands now gripping her hips. Arlecchino took over, moving her at a pace she alone controlled. “Didn’t I tell you you’re mine? You’ll come when I say you can.”

Furina whined in frustration. “Please…”

“Please what, Droplet? Ask properly.”

“Please…Father.”

Arlecchino almost forgot to breathe.

“Good girl. Lose control. You have my permission.”

Her hips jerked wildly, bringing her to orgasm fast and furiously. Spent, she collapsed against the Knave. Arlecchino lifted her small body with ease and brought her to the bedroom adjacent to her study. Laying her down on the plush mattress, she covered her with blankets Furina surmised must have cost more than what she personally made in at least a month.

Kissing the top of her head, the Knave stroked her hair as she sat next to her. “You’ve had quite the day. I think it might be best for you to get some rest now.” She was surprised to feel the former archon’s hand reach for hers.

“I think I’d be able to rest better if you’d join me. Am I not yours now?”

An uncharacteristically warm smile graced the woman’s lips. “Touché, Droplet. I suppose I could use some sleep myself. It’s not every day one rescues an archon, after all.”

“Former archon,” Furina corrected her somberly.

Arlecchino looked deeply into her eyes, as blue as the Fontainian ocean. “You’ll always be my archon, Furina.”

[yuseirra]

I've been thinking over this god thing over and there's another idea I have related to it!

Earlier I've said that ame-no-uzume(god of the arts) and her husband sarutahiko(the great bright god) may be related to Ai and Hikaru.

Their story might also have been inspired from Izanagi and Izanami and they're very famous, so I believe I wouldn't have to explain a whole lot, (and I bet there are people who know it in more depth) but.. Izanagi and Izanami (the creator gods of Japanese Mythology) have Amaterasu(the sun god), Tsukuyomi(the moon god) and Susanoo(the god of the sea and storms) as their children. Ruby has something to do with Amaterasu and we have a girl who goes by Tsukuyomi as a character, Aqua, with the full name being "Aquamarine" has a name that has to do with the sea.

The reason I've brought this up is because of the lore between Izanagi and Izanami. Izanami dies, and Izanagi tries to bring her back to life but fails. It rings a bell, right?

Yes, this story of theirs also aligns with the things that have been mentioned in Mephisto and Fatal. Those songs revolve around a person who desperately wants to meet their love again (who's likely passed away) but cannot.

I've been wondering just why the ED's title was named Mephisto. Mephisto is the name of the devil, right? When you have a wish and the devil in the same picture, it means there's some kind of pact.

If the person singing in the song's been kamiki (which I've been pretty much stressing over and over through multiple posts now) it'd mean he's had gone through something like that too, to revive the one he loves.

This could be why there is a "stage" that's mentioned in BOTH of the songs, he's in a deal that he can't back out from.

この舞台で足掻くことをやめない

I will not stop to struggle on this stage(Fatal)

だけどステージが逃がさない いついつまでも憧れ　焦がれているよ

But the stage won’t let go I'll keep yearning and longing forever(Mephisto)

At this point, I'm so sure kamiki HAS done something to bring Ai back. He's made some sort of sacrifice for Ai it seems, he's probably made wishes regarding it, that come with a price but he didn't really care about his life in the first place after she's gone so he was willing to risk it. The efforts were probably in vain, though. But it could be really close to being granted if something's "filled in"

あなたがいないと生きていけない 何もかも捧げてしまってもいい あなたの愛がまだ足らない 欠けたものは何で埋めたらいい？

Without you, I cannot live anymore I would sacrifice anything for you I can’t get enough of your love What should I use to fill in what’s missing?(Fatal)

compared to Mephisto, Fatal seems more.. eager? energetic? but in an insane way. The speaker is actively doing something to fulfill their end goal. That's why I feel kamiki's missions are probably close to finish- he's all right with dying after having completed it

but in ch 154 he's heard that Ai wants to "help him" along with her children. and that she loved him dearly. This is going to leave him so devastated and conflicted lol because he's probably way past hope at this point. He can't be saved. He can't fulfill what Ai wants, that's going to make him very miserable. That's my guess. It's like everything he's doing had him stray even further off from what Ai wants.

Or it could be that he can't give up on Ai EVEN MORE now since he KNOWS that she loves him back too. Who'd give up on someone like that? She was like the only person who understood him and loved him. I can totally see why he couldn't let her go after all these years (may it be twisted. there is still some ambiguity in his words and we can be backstabbed) she was the one for him and he was to her, too, at least that's how he's felt when they were together. So he'd do ANYTHING for her. That lines up very well with those lyrics too.

So yeah. If my speculations are right Kamiki's so doomed... and doomed because of all the things he did that he thought was for Ai. Aligns with the respective mythologies too~.. I'd be surprised if these have NOTHING to do with the plot that's going to be revealed in the future because it just WORKS. It starts making so much sense to me.

[iamjustaholeforyousir]

I Can Feel You Crying

part 5 of Look What We Became

summary: the fateful day is closer than any of you expected.

warning: angst, violence, domestic violence, parental abuse, mention of blood, mention of bruises, kissing.

word count: 3,549

minors DNI

part1 part2 part3 part4 part5 part6 part7 part8 part9

You woke up with a headache, your eyes were bloodshot from crying all night. Yes, you didn't know him for that long, but you had imagined your life with him, you had accepted him and him saying that he will never do the same to you broke your heart. Dragging your body out of your bed, you got ready for the day. You had a lot of work to do, cake testing, you had to make the guest list, and had to decide the menu. 

She did not have the willpower to do anything and she didn't have the heart. 

You had a quick bath, and wore a purple dress. Your corset had thin vertical white lines, and your collar had a cream colored frill. The hem of your dress had the same frill, but in three layers. Your hair was tied in a low bun. 

There was no sunlight today, it was like the sun didn't want to show itself to you, like you didn't deserve it. You couldn't even fake a smile today. You just couldn't. 

As you looked at yourself in the mirror, you couldn't find even one thing you admired. Your ears were buzzing, as if someone had slapped you multiple times. 

You didn't want to go out, didn't want to show your face to the world. A knock on the door interrupted your chain of thoughts.

“Come in,” you said in a shaky voice.

“Y/n/n. I have come bearing good news.” you mother says as she enters your chamber. What can be good now? Nothing anyone could say that would be good. Nothing. 

Not trusting your voice, you look at her, expectantly. 

“Your wedding date has been set dear, for the 23rd of this month!” she chirped. 

She looked so happy, only if she knew that she were to give her daughter away to someone who would never love her, how her daughter would have the same relationship she and her husband have. 

When you did not show any emotion, your mother looked at you, concerned “what is wrong child? Are you not happy?” you quickly nod your head, desperately trying to convince your mother that you were over the moon. “Y/n, what happened, why is your face so morose?”  she asks.

“I just have a bad headache, that's all.” you say. 

“Oh poor child, you must rest then, wouldn't want to fall sick before your wedding now, would you?”

You give her a weak smile, 

“I will leave to rest, don't worry about the preparations dear, your sisters and I will take care of them.” 

Your mother soon exits your room. 

23rd of this month. It was in a week. Only yesterday, prince harry had come to you and told you that he will never accept you as his wife, and now his family had set a god forsaken date, that to so soon. 

What would have prompted such a thing to happen, you had no clue, all you knew was that you were going from one hellhole to another. 

You lay on your bed and close your eyes. All you could see were the angry eyes of the man you were to call husband, and it frightened you to a great extent. 

Harry knew he had a busy day ahead. He had gone to the tailor for his suit, Harry wanted nothing special. This wedding was in no way special for him. Harry was a morning person, things he could do alone, he would like to get them done. When he returned from town he went straight to the dining hall. It was safe to say Harry was famished. As soon as he entered the hall, he was met with a sympathetic look on his mother’s face. 

His eyes shifted to his father, who completely ignored his presence. He moved to his seat at the table. There was an awkwardness in the air and it was killing him especially because he didn't know what it was about. 

“Have you chosen the decorations?” his father asked

“No, not yet.” he said

“Well, you better get to it soon son,” his father said, still not looking at his son, “a week is a short time to put this wedding together.” 

Harry’s head snaps towards his father, who is now looking at him, with expectant eyes. 

A week. One. Fucking. Week. 

Harry turns to look at his mother, who avoids eye contact like her life would end if she looked at her boy. 

He wanted to cry. Everything was going so fast for him. 

“How could you?” he asked his father

“Would you rather it was tomorrow son?” His father had a warning look on his face, and Harry knew that he was quite capable of making the wedding happen tomorrow. “Listen to me boy, if you were even a tad bit mature to decide what was good for you, you wouldn't have gotten yourself in this situation in the first place. What we are doing for you is a favor, son.”

“You told him?” harry looks at his mother accusingly

“She did, and she did nothing wrong. You are my son Harry, I should know these things. And what you are feeling is not right. Its for the best that this wedding happens as soon as possible,” his father said “she is a good girl, she will always support you like a good wife does, she will stand by you, she is has good morals and values, she will be a great addition to this kingdom, and most of all to this family.”

Harry just clenched his jaw, he knew if he said anything now, he would regret it. 

Don't get him wrong, he loves his family, he loves his father, his mother, his sister. They have always  done what is best for him. They have pampered him enough when he was an infant solely because he was the younger sibling, he has received an immense amount of love not only from his parents, but also from his sister. He has never ever denied his parents’ requests before, except for when he was a child and would make his mother run around behind him because he would refuse to eat his vegetables. 

Harry was an obedient son, but this was the one thing he refused to do. Let his love go. 

He couldn't bear the thought of marrying another woman, so he got up, as respectfully as he could, and left. 

When you got up again, it felt like noon. You were starving, deciding to go down to the dining hall, you get off your bed, fix your hair, dress, and wash your face. 

Entering the hall, you are met with your father, mother and sisters sitting on their usual seats. But none of them uttered a word, your mother and three sisters were looking down, as if being punished. 

“Look!” your father exclaimed “her highness has finally decided to grace us with her presence!” you could hear the sarcasm flowing from his mouth and it frightened you. 

You looked at your mother, begging her to help you with your eyes, but you knew she couldn't, and so couldn't your sisters. 

“Come your honor, take a seat.” he says, you take slow, timid steps towards your seat. Your hands were shaking and your heart rate picked up. As you sat down, slowly, you observed the table, and it was clear that your father had been drinking.

“We are your humble servants, please tell us, how can we be of use to you today?” 

You thought you knew better than to respond. 

“ANSWER ME WOMAN!” he screams and the whole table flinches, you can see the fear in your sisters’ eyes and you can see it in your mother’s. You yourself were so scared to speak that you stayed mumm. 

“I swear to god Y/n, if you don't answer, i will forget your age and i will disCIPLINE YOU AGAIN DO YOU UNDERSTAND, ANSWER MEEE!!” at this you let out a gasp. You were scared for your life, your heart was pounding in your chest, you had no idea what he was going to do to you.

“You are testing my patience Y/n/n.” he says in a sickly sweet manner, which you knew wasn't sweet at all. 

“SAY SOMETHING YOU BRAT!” and the next thing you knew was that you were drenched in wine. Your father had thrown his wine on your face. You were too shocked to speak. Your father then got up and slapped you across the face multiple times. “IS THIS HOW YOU WILL BEHAVE WHEN YOU GET MARRIED. DO YOU THINK YOU ARE A QUEEN? HM? TAKE YOUR TIME TO GET UP, DRIVE MY REPUTATION IN THE DIRT, YOU CUMBERWORLD!” 

And you took it, like it was a daily occurrence, to some extent it was. You could hear your sisters pleading with him to stop but he didn't. 

It did not satisfy him that you were taking your punishment without even showing a sliver of pain. So he takes his wine glass and smashes it onto your hand. “Y/F/N STOP!” your mother screams. You didn't feel anything for a while, but then suddenly the shooting sting was felt on your right hand, sandas you looked down, you could see the glass pieces protruding out of your hand, you saw the blood slowly oozing out of the cuts, and you felt a single tear run down your face.

He takes your hair into his hands, pulling on it as he shakes your head left to right. Slapping your face in the middle. His boots were kicking on your shins, as he let one hand go and pinched your forearm. 

“Y/F/N STOP, YOU WILL BRUISE HER!” your mother says. 

“YEAH? LET HER HUSBAND KNOW WHAT A WORTHLESS DRIGGLE-DRAGGLE SHE IS!” 

“Y/F/N PLEASE, DON'T RUIN HER FACE AT LEAST, PLEASE!” 

He seems to stop at that, taking shallow breaths, he pulls on to your hair so that you are head tilts up to look at him “next time you pull a stunt like this, you will not see the light till your wedding do you hear me, and don't you dare try this there you runt.” 

He leaves your hair with a jerk and walks off.  Tour sisters and your mother rush to aid you with our bleeding hand. 

None of them spoke a word about what just happened, Sarah assisted you to the nurse, for your hand since your shin was severely bruised and would hurt when you walked. 

Once the dressing was on your hand, you saw Betty and Victoria walk in. silently, they all hugged you, as if forming a protective shield around you. 

“Be glad it was the right hand, otherwise you'd have had to wear a ring on the cut.” Betty says, her attempt to lighten the mood failing miserably. 

Later in the evening, you are called to your father’s chambers. You limp the way, and as you step foot in his chambers you see him with his back towards you. You were intimidated, you didn't know what he had in store for you.

“Y/n,” he begins “what happened today, i didn't want it to happen.” he then turns around to face you, you lower your eyes, too afraid to look at him. “But I hope you know, it was your doing.” you look up at him, with a hurt expression. Your fault? YOUR FAULT!? Your chest was heaving from anger. Your fault. What had you even done? Slept for a bit.

How could he say that? You were bruised, beaten, you were bleeding! The audacity this man had, sitting in front of you blaming you for his outburst. 

“I just want what's best for you, I don't want to hurt you, but you don't give me any choice, you keep on doing these things that require me to discipline you. Nobody wants a sleeping queen, Y/n,” he starts again." It hurts me to hurt you child, but you don't leave me with an option.” 

You know better than to accuse him, you keep your head low, your whole body was shaking with anger. If he thinks this is love, it's not. 

You only nod your head, afraid that if you open your mouth you might just scream at him. 

“You can leave now, prepare for the wedding.” 

You turn around limp out of his room.

Just like that, the week was over, you stood in front of your mirror, in your wedding dress. Your floor length, pearl white dress, the corset had a beautiful floral pattern, embroidered with swan white. The sleeves of the dress hugged your arms, but flowed at the end. The fabric covering your chest had small pearls sowed in it. The skirt of your dress hand drapes of cloth hanging in a crescent shape with a big pearl holding it in place. Finally there was a pearl white cloth draped around your waste. 

Your hair was tied in a low bun hidden by the veil, which was long and white, it had small flowers embroidered into it. 

If you were wearing this any other day, you would think that you look beautiful, but today you weren't all that happy. 

You look down, to see your hand, the cuts were still hurting and quite evident, your legs were paining as well from what had happened a week ago. 

The wedding was happening in your garden, your father had insisted upon it. You had given it your all and you knew Harry's mother, Queen Anne had made several trips just to make this wedding perfect. 

Suddenly you hear you door open, you turn around quickly to see the intruder,

“I was searching for my mother.” it was harry, your soon to be husband, 

“You aren't supposed to see me in my wedding dress before the ceremony.” is all you say

“What can happen now? This marriage is doomed from the start.” he says, his eyes travel down your body, when he suddenly stops, his expression turns from neutral to one of concern, you follow his gaze when you realize he is looking at your hand.

You quickly grab a glove from the table and put it on, wincing as it stung. You looked back at him and now he was looking at your face. 

“What happene-”

“It's best if you leave before someone sees you here, you can get into trouble for seeing me before the wedding.”

Ignoring you, he asks again, this time more stern “what happened to your hand princess?”

“Now is really not the time for us to talk about this prince harry, please leave before someone sees you.” you looked at him, begging him with your eyes. 

“Prince Harry! You couldn't wait for an hour!? You can't see her before!” you heard Sarah’s voice from outside. 

You were so relieved it was her and not your mother or father.

“Come on, go out, you can admire her at the altar.” she says as she shoves him out. 

She looks at you and smiles “that boy is smitten with you! He can never seem to wait.” 

Only if she knew. 

You went to your window to see the guests arrive, Betty and Victoria were greeting them with wide smiles on their faces. Your father was by the altar, talking with Harry. Your mother was talking to Queen Anne. 

Everybody looked happy, but the two people who were actually supposed to be happy, 

but the two people who were actually supposed to be happy, “its okay to be nervous Y/n/n,” sarah says from behind you “i was very nervous, maily because i had to kiss william in front of everyone,” you turn around as she blushed and giggled.

You had so much else to think about that you had totally forgotten about the fact that you would have to kiss him. What if unknowingly you had called the princess? It would break her heart to see. 

You saw as everyone took their seats. And Harry took his place at the altar.

“They are ready for you, princess.” a servant came in and announced. You heard Sarah squeal with happiness. 

You don't remember your walk to the gardens, it was slow of course, you were limping, but you were so nervous that you couldn't focus on anything. 

your father came into sight, and he gave you a stern look as to what you were walking so slow. You picked up your pace. 

Sarah delivered you to your father and went and took her place. 

You hooked your arm into your father’s.  As you were walking down the aisle you looked at people on either side, some were smiling, but some had a scowl on their faces, you assumed they were the unmarried princess who just wanted your husband.

Your legs were paining a lot, so you slowed down a bit, looking up to see Harry, who was staring at you, expressionless. 

Your father seemed to notice you slowing down and subtly pulled you with him, which made you trip on your dress and almost fall down. As you balanced yourself you looked ahead at Harry once more, who had seemed to take a step forward, you looked around to see the same princesses smirking, and when you finally looked at your father,  you saw that he wasn't making eye contact. 

 Walking up to the altar was painful, both physically and emotionally. 

When you finally made your way all the way, you turned to face harry. The music came to a halt as the officiant spoke, “Welcome, loved ones. We are gathered here today to join Harry Edward Styles and Y/n M/n L/n  in holy matrimony.” 

You don't dare look at Harry, looking down the whole time partly because of embarrassment that you had experienced while walking down the aisle. 

Harry on the other hand, had a very stoic expression, he was staring at emptiness. 

“Do you Harry Edward Styles, take Y/n M/n L/n to be your lawfully wedded wife, to live together in matrimony, to love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health, in sorrow and in joy, to have and to hold, from this day forward, as long as you both shall live?”

There was a long pause, so you look up at him, and are met with his eyes on you, not being able to understand his face you half expected him to say no.

“I do.” 

“And Do you Y/n M/n L/n, take this man, to be your lawfully wedded husband, to live together in matrimony, to love him, comfort him, honor and keep [her/him/them], in sickness and in health, in sorrow and in joy, to have and to hold, from this day forward, as long as you both shall live?

“I do.” 

“With this ring I, Harry Edward Styles, take you, Y/n M/n L/n, to be no other than yourself. Loving what I know of you, and trusting what I do not yet know, I will respect your integrity and have faith in your abiding love for me, through all our years, and in all that life may bring us.” says the officiant, as harry takes your hand and slides the ring on your finger. It all felt like a dream. 

“With this ring I,Y/n M/n L/n, take you, Harry Edward Styles, to be no other than yourself. Loving what I know of you, and trusting what I do not yet know, I will respect your integrity and have faith in your abiding love for me, through all our years, and in all that life may bring us.”

He gives you his hand, and you slide the ring on his finger.

“Those whom God has joined together, let no man put asunder. In so much as Harry Edward Styes and Y/n M/n L/n have consented together in holy wedlock, and have witnessed the same before God and this company, having given and pledged their faith, each to the other, and having declared same by the giving and receiving of rings, I pronounce that you are husband and wife. I ask you now to seal the promises you have made with each other this day with a kiss.”

You didn't know what was going to happen now, and you had no idea as to what was happening. All you could feel was harry’s hands sliding against your waste to the small of your back, as he pulled you closer to him, his other hand cupped your jaw, as he leaned in, his lips met yours, and you squeezed your eyes shut, your, you could hear the cheers in the background as you felt the electricity run through your body. 

The warmth of his lips had seemingly made you calm, your eyes relaxed as you lifted one hand to hold his face. The kiss lasted a few seconds more than you had expected, but it felt like eons. 

You pull away from the kiss first due to lack of air,and when you open your eyes you see his green ones staring into yours. 

You were officially his, and he was yours.

A/N: ASDSFDGFHMCXZDSDSHFJ I DONT KNOW WHAT TO SAY, THIS WAS A VERY HEAVY CHAPTER FOR ME WITH THE ABUSE AND ALL. i am really sorry if you are going through something even remotely similar to what is described.

stay safe❤️❤️

@strwbrrydaydreams @remuslupinwifee @inlikea-coolway @mypolicemanharryyy @sunshinemoonsposts @stilesissaved @novalunosising @sleutherclaw @dear-mylove @kiy0hime

[steddieas-shegoes]

i have a request!

maybe one where steve knows he's bisexual before eddie but ofc, eddie thinks he's straight and doesn't think he has a chance, so he just takes whatever he can get with steve's friendship even though he has the biggest crush on steve and vice versa. but when eddie does find out about both, eddie would be internally screaming bc he could have been in a relationship with him and kissing steve ages ago.

i just love gay disaster eddie and confident bisexual steve haha

THANK YOU FOR THIS!!! This one could genuinely be a multi-chapter fic, so if someone has the time, I would love LOVE LOVE to read that. For now, here's a taste of something that kind of checks all the boxes mentioned but at superspeed. If I could write a 20k fic on it, it probably would have A LOT more pining first. I'm a sucker for pining. I hope you love this little thing! - Mickala ❤️

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

Steve was giving off vibes, okay?

Like, major ones.

And Eddie was convinced he was imagining it or just trying to convince himself that something existed where it didn’t to make his chances higher.

When Robin came out, a small part of him believed that Steve had to be at least a little queer. Men didn’t just accept being turned down by someone they liked when they turned out to be a big old lesbian.

But when he casually asked Robin if Steve had ever been so inclined towards the same sex, she laughed hysterically and said Steve was as straight as they came, that she’d never met anyone as straight as him, and that she’d probably end up with a man before he did.

So he let it go.

But then he said stuff sometimes about actors or singers that just left Eddie’s brain a big pile of question marks.

Maybe Eddie just didn’t know how straight dudes talked about other dudes?

So he let that go too.

And then Steve was genuinely checking out a guy at the public pool. There was no other explanation for the way his eyes focused in on his ass and worked their way up his body, a nod of silent approval hidden to all but Eddie.

But he did the same exact thing to Robin when she came out of the changing room, and while he knew he had feelings for her a while ago, they were long gone.

“What was that all about?” Eddie gave in and asked when everyone else started walking to the steps to get in.

“What?”

“Checking Robin out.”

“What the hell? I wasn’t checking her out! I was making sure her bathing suit fit right. One of the things they taught in lifeguard classes was that a too big or too small bathing suit can kill you.”

“So you were just making sure it fit?”

“Yeah. I don’t want her to drown.”

Eddie sighed.

But he let it go.

He stopped hoping for the chance to be more than friends. He was fine with just being friends. More than fine. Great.

He got to enjoy having Steve as a friend.

He didn’t half ass anything.

If he said he was gonna hang out, he was ready to commit the entire day to making sure you had his attention.

If he had everyone over at his house for movie night, he had everyone’s favorite snacks ready to go.

If he was gonna join Eddie at the quarry and smoke and look at the stars, he was gonna do it while making Eddie fall in love with him.

It wasn’t fair.

But he tried to let it go.

It was one of those nights that he found out he didn’t have to let it go.

“You ever just wonder how you could have ever thought you were a different person?”

What? Okay, Steve was high. Past the silly kind and right into the too existential to make sense kind.

“I don’t have a clue what you’re sayin’, man.”

Steve giggled.

God, Eddie was fucking done for.

“It’s just that I thought I was straight for 17 years of my life. And then spent another two years trying to convince myself that I couldn’t be anything but straight. And then life smacked me with Robin and now you and it didn’t really leave me much room to argue.”

“What are you saying?”

“I mean, I’ve had a crush on you since. Well, definitely since you held a bottle to my throat, but probably before that. Like, way before that. Maybe your first senior year.”

Steve was high. He didn’t mean what he was saying, and even if somehow he did, it wasn’t fair to hold him to it. Being high was sometimes like being drunk: the words may be true, but the feelings may not stick around.

So Eddie took a deep breath, bit back the tears he could feel clinging to his eyes and the burn in his throat, and forced himself to change the subject.

It wasn’t fair, but when Steve let him change the subject easily, he let it go.

————-

It took three weeks for him to break.

He was with Steve at his house, waiting for the kids to show up for movie night. Steve was busy preparing homemade pizza because he thrived on being able to cook for everyone.

Eddie loved him so much.

He was staring. He knew he was.

But how could he not when Steve was in that stupid “Number One Dad” apron that Max got him last Christmas as a joke, but he’d sniffled and said thank you like it was the best gift he got in the world?

Steve was humming something, sliding the last pizza into the oven (pineapple and ham for El, Will, and Mike), when it all seemed to hit him.

Steve had come out to him, had admitted out loud that he wasn’t straight and that he’d had a crush on him for a long time.

Sure, he was high when he did, but he’d been high with Eddie lots of times and never given away any top secret personal information like that.

He’d wanted Eddie to make a move.

He was so stupid.

He stood abruptly, nearly banging his knee against the bar in the kitchen.

Steve looked over at him, brows furrowed in concern, lips pouting out unintentionally.

Eddie stalked over to him, not bothering to explain his theatrics. At this point, Steve should be used to them.

He stopped right in front of him, looking down at the suddenly nervous way Steve was holding himself.

He wasn’t letting it go this time.

He sure as shit wasn’t running. He didn’t do that anymore.

“You remember the quarry?”

“Like, in general…or…?”

“A few weeks ago you said something at the quarry.”

“Oh.” Steve looked down at the floor between them. “Yeah. It’s okay that you don’t feel the same. I shouldn’t have put you on the spot like that.”

There was no fucking way Eddie was letting him think he didn’t want him back.

He gripped his cheeks in his hands, palms tilting his face up so he could look into his eyes.

Steve was biting his lip so hard, it looked like it could start bleeding any moment.

Eddie brought his thumb over, pulling his lip from his teeth.

“How can I kiss you if you’re too busy eating your lip?”

Steve’s eyes widened.

“What?”

“Stevie. Did you mean it then?”

“Yeah, ‘course I did. I wouldn’t lie about that.”

“Then I need to ask a favor.”

“Anything.”

Eddie wouldn’t let that go to his head. Not yet.

“Can I kiss you?”

Steve’s responding smile lit up the room, more than the overhead lights, more than the actual sunlight streaming through the window.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

Eddie leaned in as Steve did, their lips meeting in a light peck that quickly deepened, moans escaping their mouths at the same moment.

He let his hands slide down to Steve’s neck, his thumbs rubbing small circles as his tongue begged for entrance into his mouth.

Steve was sinking further against him, his heartbeat steady against Eddie’s chest.

“It’s about damn time. Honestly, I was starting to think I’d have to make Steve come out to you again.”

Robin’s voice shocked them apart, but when they realized who it was, they managed to fall back into each other.

Eddie’s arm slipped around Steve’s waist as Steve rested his head on Eddie’s shoulder.

“The kids will be inside in about 20 seconds so if you would prefer they don’t know what’s going on, you should wipe those lovesick looks off your faces and find a bubble of personal space.”

Eddie kissed the top of Steve’s head before pulling away.

“Talk when the kids leave?”

“Yeah. But first,” Steve pulled Eddie in for one more quick kiss on the lips. When he pulled away, he was smirking. “We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

“I don’t plan on letting you out of bed for the next 24 hours after the kids leave. We’ll at least get a good start on the catching up.”

Eddie threw a wink at Steve, ignoring Robin’s gagging noises, and sat back at the bar.

The kids came running in, circling Steve to hug him or ask him what dinner was and Eddie smiled to himself.

Robin nudged him after a few seconds.

“You’re both so hopeless.”

“Not anymore.”

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

"Sentimonster as metaphor for abused child" is ironically, smt that a child psychologists claimed when s4 aired. I'm not even sure how sentimonster who is a slave is a good metaphor for abused child in that person eyes or even in anyone who agreed with that person. Why need methapor when the show could just said "Yes this is child abuse and this is bad" but then again what can I hope from a show that told abused child that "The only way for you to gain freedom is to wait for your knight in shining armor" or "It's not abuse, your parents just give you tough love"

You point out another big reason why I don't think it's a metaphor or allegory for child abuse: the show actively has child abuse. You don't need something to act as a stand-in for what is already there.

Gabriel is neglectful, controlling, and emotionally abusive

Nathalie supports abuse through inaction, prioritizing the happiness and wants of man she loves over Adrien's needs

Audrey is neglectful and emotionally abusive

Andre is neglectful and overly indulgent

Jagged Stone abandoned his kids

Anarka isn't abusive as far as we know, but she's clearly not providing a safe and stable home life for her kids

Colt was - at the very least - emotionally abusive, possibly physically, too

Amilie possibly knowingly let abuse happen? Possibly didn't know? Possibly is also a victim, which doesn't change the fact that she seemingly didn't protect her kid. In other words, she's in the same boat as her sister where you just sit there and go, "So what was your role in all of this?"

Tomoe is controlling and holds her child to ridiculous standards

In other words, if you want to discuss child abuse in all of its various forms, then the show has you fully covered. The sentimonster plot isn't necessary.

Based on the writing, I don't think that the writers view anyone but Colt as abusive, but that's also evidence that the sentimonster plot isn't supposed to be about abuse. Because Gabriel is both abusing Adrien and using the ring, so you have the abuser just abusing in a different way and how is that supposed to work as metaphor or allegory?

You could have Adrien's sentimonster status represent all of the abusive things that Gabriel has done, but that would require you to give Adrien a way to break free of his status and we don't get that. Adrien is a full puppet when the rings are used and ANYONE can use them, not just his father.

Yes, abuse makes you more vulnerable to falling for more abuse, but it's a very different dynamic than the one established with the rings unless we're going to see Adrien physically give his rings to someone as a representation of the kind of mistakes you make before you've gone through therapy and understand what you've been through and know how to better watch for warning signs. Which, dear gods, these writers are not equipped to handle something so serious! That would be terrible! Plus Emilie is very clearly supposed to be a good, loving mom and yet she's the one who made the rings. Basically the while things is just too clumsy to be meaningful.

Allegory is a great tool, especially when it comes to media for kids, but it has to be handled with extreme care and planned out. The way the rings work and how they've been played is not good abuse allegory. It's just cheap drama. That's why it doesn't actually have any impact on the plot. I mean, seriously, would anything about season 5 change if you got rid of the sentimonster stuff and just had Emilie use the peacock for something else? Heck, you could have just given her cancer and nothing would change.