#i NEED to see what this wonderful earth is hiding in plain sight

[witherfide]

i GOTTA get outta here and see where life wants me to go because this can’t be it

[sol-consort]

Whenever someone questions "what does it mean to be human" what they're really asking is "How much of me is truly me?"

Because how do you even define the human experience? When empathy and love can be found even in the deepest of oceans amidst the most fearsome of killer whales.

Or is it a question regarding our purpose. Because we can understand what it means to be a bird by simply observing one, we can understand what it means to be a plant by studying one. As if they're all born with a purpose, with a passion in mind with reserved seats at the grand meaning of life.

Are other species born with a purpose? Do the asari find it laying around through their early couple hundredth years? Do the salarians know what food is going to be their favourite before the first bite. Just how much of what it means to be a krogan is engranged in their biologically rather than sociology, Is that why Grunt struggled with the desperate need to fit in? Was it hereditary or acquired?

You look at a turian, and you see their bright future, the way they stand with pride, the way they honour their tribe. You look at a hanar, and you wonder how they adjusted to being a fish out of water with such grace at all times, how effortless they made it look, how divine.

What do they see when they look at us? What's the purpose written across our earthly skin and hungry eyes. Do they see an open book of emotions? An animal learning to crawl? A bunch of kids playing pretend, wearing their special uniforms and clumsily navigating the jenga tower that they built a government system out of.

We claim to be problem solvers at heart, but we end up breaking the things we fix more often than not. We say creativity is our speciality, but we box our definition of what counts as art.

We desperately want to be something, but we're not. We're a blank slate being constantly carved onto with a hammer and chisel. We're not born knowing how to swim, We're not born knowing how to make art, invent things, or start wars. We can only cry, and even that gets taken away in the shortage of time.

But maybe that's the point, fish can't talk, snakes can't walk, and I can't read minds.

That there might be some wisdom in this, some deeper meaning. Or maybe it's as deep as the earth's crust and is just hiding in plain sight.

We created language because we cannot read minds, asari had no reason to, so their language and poetry are ass. that's why it took them so long to master writing and passing down information accurately.

We somehow preserved our genetic diversity because we kept eating everything that's not nailed down. We licked those instead. This is why we have so many dishes and little allergies, why we can get around with one heart, one liver, and one spine. At any point, we could've exclusively just eaten potatoes or whatever is the easiest grain to plant and forced our bodies to adopt with time, but we didn't. We liked the diverse taste of different dishes, we enjoyed the different flavours the world offered, we hunted for meat and we aged wine, we churned milk into butter and cheese, we preformed all these convoluted steps just in order to create something that makes us feel good, that tastes good.

There are paintings on cave walls as old as time, there are colourful handprints of your younger self somewhere on your childhood home, be it left over melted chocolate or actual paint or your mom's lipstick that she dropped.

There is something in us doing this, something that feels like me. There is something in my brain that makes me love the moon and long for the stars, there is something in your brain that makes the mental image of a waterfall in a forest actively slow your heartbeat down, try it right now.

There is something that makes the oceans look inviting when other animals would avoid it not to drown. Something that makes the horizon tempting, the large mountains taunting, the abyss of space alluring, the unknown worth exploring.

It's the effort. They look at us and see someone who thinks all this convolution is worth the effort, that reaching the moon with spaceships with less power than the phone you're currently holding was worth all the risks. That learning to fly was worth all the engineering, that antarctica was worth living in a freezing hell.

They see a human with a purpose of their own design, be it just having a good time or defeating death itself once and for all. They see passion personified, love pushed to the extreme as a conscious decision rather than some built-in evaluationy gene.

They a species who won't back down, who won't take the easy way out, who won't stop trying to just have a good time in general.

[anonymousewrites]

Adolescent Antichrist (Book 4) Chapter Four

Father Figure! Lucifer x Teen! Reader

Chapter Four: Someone has to Make Sure You don’t do Anything Stupid

Summary: Lucifer and Chloe struggle with the newest development in their friendship, (Y/N) and Em bond, and Kinley plots.

            Lucifer calmly played piano until his phone dinged. He smiled as he read the message from Chloe asking for a make-up date. The elevator pinged and opened. He grinned and turned, expecting Chloe to be making a surprise visit for a date at that moment. Lucifer’s smile faltered as a priest stepped into the Penthouse.

            “Who are you?” asked Lucifer.

            “I’m Father Kinley,” said the priest. “I’m here because…there’s something you need to know about Chloe Decker.”

            Lucifer sighed, got up, and poured himself a drink. “Forgive me, Father, for not offering you a drink. I have an aversion to the cloth. Daddy issues. Long story.”

            “I understand,” said Kinley. “And I do apologize for the intrusion, Mr. Morningstar. Please ju—Allow me to explain myself.”

            “Excellent course of action,” said Lucifer.

            “You see, I’m not a normal priest,” said Kinley, beginning his tale to manipulate Lucifer.

            “Was there ever such a thing?” chuckled Lucifer.

            “I mean, I’m not a normal priest in the sense that I don’t have my own congregation,” said Kinley. “I am, uh—I’m an investigator for the Vatican.” He handed a business card to Lucifer.

            “Vatican Investigator?” questioned Lucifer. “Sounds like a soon-to-be-canceled TV show.”

            “Oh, I assure you, it’s a very real job,” said Kinley. And that is why I’m here. To stop you and the Antichrist from bringing the apocalypse. “I’ve spent the last forty years traveling the globe in pursuit of the demonic. I know the divine is real. And I also know that evil walks the Earth. And that you, Mr. Morningstar—”

            “Oh, brother, here we go,” sighed Lucifer.

            “—are not it,” finished Kinley, lying about his knowledge of Lucifer’s identity.

            “Not quite what I was expecting,” said Lucifer.

            No, because you can be handled simply by being sent back to Hell. The Antichrist is the greater evil, thought Kinley.

            “So, if I’m not the Devil, then why are you here?” asked Lucifer. “And what does any of this have to do with the Detective?”

            “Oh, because Ms. Decker believes that you are,” said Kinley.

            “I see,” said Lucifer.

            “About a month ago, she came to Rome with a most outlandish tale,” continued Kinley, spinning the truth into a tale to break Lucifer and Chloe apart. “The Devil himself is hiding in plain sight, masquerading as a nightclub owner in Los Angeles. And that he’d revealed himself to her.”

            Lucifer chuckled. “Well, this is wonderful news.”

            “Wonderful? How so?” said Kinley.

            “Well, as my therapist or kid would say: talking about your issues was the first step in dealing with them,” said Lucifer. “So if the Detective did have issues with me, well, it sounds like they’ve been dealt with. She talked with a priest and (Y/N). Now, if that’s everything, Father, you can be on your merry way.”

            “I just felt that it was my duty to warn you,” said Kinley. “Because the reason she came to Rome was to, well, ‘send the Devil back to Hell.’ ”

            Lucifer chuckled. “The Detective would never do that.”

            “Chloe is a good person with a good heart,” said Kinley.

            “Finally, something we can agree on,” said Lucifer.

            “But whatever she went through, whatever drove her to Rome, it shook her to her very core,” said Kinley gravely. “She is the reason that I’m here. You need to be careful, Mr. Morningstar. God knows what she has planned for you.” He patted Lucifer’s shoulder as Lucifer stared at him and walked to the elevator.

            The doors opened before he arrived, and (Y/N) walked out holding a bag of fabric they bought. Kinley paused and watched (Y/N) give him a questioningly glance.

            The Antichrist…

            (Y/N)’s eyes narrowed. Something was off about him. Something in his eyes spelled anger. But Kinley turned away, and the doors of the elevator closed before (Y/N) could see anything else.

            “Who was that?” asked (Y/N).

            “Father Kinley, a ‘Vatican Investigator,’ ” said Lucifer absently.

            “Why was he here?” said (Y/N).

            “He says the Detective came to Rome looking for a way to send me back to Hell,” said Lucifer.

            (Y/N) crossed their arms. “You don’t believe that shit, do you?”

            “She was quite disturbed in the beginning…” said Lucifer. “And why would a priest lie?”

            (Y/N) rolled their eyes. “Priests are human. Humans lie. But even if he’s telling the truth, it could’ve been just a passing thought on Decker’s part. She was shocked by your identity. It was a lot for her, and maybe she had a passing thought when speaking to a priest in Rome that it would be better to have the Devil in hell.” They smiled at Lucifer. “Decker wouldn’t hurt you. If she ever thought to, it was a random thought that was probably pretty quickly ignored. People say a lot of stuff when they’re scared and confused. Just ignore it.”

            Lucifer looked at (Y/N) softly before smiling. “Perhaps. When did you get so wise?”

            (Y/N) grinned. “Someone has to make sure you don’t do anything stupid.”

            “Me? Stupid? Nonsense,” said Lucifer with a grin.

            (Y/N) rolled their eyes with a smile. “Yeah, sure, Dad.” They moved to leave the room, and Lucifer stopped them.

            “Thank you for the advice,” he said honestly. He squeezed their shoulder affectionately.

            (Y/N) smiled. “You’re welcome.”

l

            (Y/N) looked up from their math homework as Em came into the library with an annoyed scowl.

            “If I hear Maze talk to me about the best way to teach a baby to fight one more time, I’m going to send her right back to Hell,” grumbled Em, sitting down.

            “She’s really concerned about Linda and her pregnancy,” observed (Y/N). “It’s…sweet for Maze.”

            “Sweet? Try annoying to all Hell,” said Em. “I’m the one she runs every possible emergency scenario by. She learned what documentaries are and keeps telling me in detail what can go wrong in birth and the pain of it.”

            “Can’t blame her for being a little worried. Or Linda, actually,” said (Y/N). “I mean, it’s Amenadiel’s baby, too, which is weird enough on its own, but it’s a Celestial baby. I’d be freaked out if I was having a not-human baby.”

            “I wonder if there’ll be another birdie flying around,” said Em curiously.

            “A flying baby? Shit, Linda shouldn’t just be worried, she should be terrified,” said (Y/N).

            Em laughed and grinned, leaning on their hand and elbow. She gazed intensely at (Y/N). “Come on, you didn’t turn out that bad.”

            (Y/N) turned a little pink. That was happening more and more around Em. Weird. “Shut up.”

            Em just grinned wider. “Whatever you say, Birdie. Just saying, you’re pretty cool.”

            “…I’m waiting for the punchline,” said (Y/N), eying Em with playful suspicion.

            “No punchline. I can’t even say you’re cool for a human since you’re not one,” said Em, shrugging. She smirked.

            Here it comes.

            “But I can say you’re pretty cool when you’re not being moody,” teased Em.

            “I’m always moody,” said (Y/N).

            “Then I guess you’re actually not cool!” said Em.

            “Go back to Hell,” said (Y/N) pointedly.

            Em grinned wider. They liked (Y/N)’s face when they got annoyed. It was cute. Plus, it wasn’t as if she couldn’t see the slight smile of amusement. That was cute too. (Y/N) was cute.

l

            “Mr. Morninstar, thank you for reaching out,” said Kinley, walking up to Lucifer. “Are you okay? Did Detective Decker…Did she do something?”

            “No,” said Lucifer. “And she never will.” He smiled. “I’m just here to tell you that you’re wrong about the Detective. If she’s planning anything, it’s an apology. My kid was right. Whatever she said to you, it was just the panic of her thoughts, nothing more.”

            “I certainly hope that’s the case,” said Kinley.

            “Oh, ye of little faith, Father,” said Lucifer.

            “Have you noticed her carrying a vial?” remarked Kinley “innocently.”

            “A what?” said Lucifer.

            “A vial,” repeated Kinley. “It’s, uh, an ornate thing. It’s about the size of a plum. I got word from a colleague of mine in Rome that she’d met with a priest who was hellbent on banishing the Devil from Earth.”

            “And you all get paid to do this?” said Lucifer incredulously. “I’m genuinely asking.” He tried to walk away, but Kinley followed.

            “Supposedly, this priest has uncovered a ceremony that would—and-and bear with me—trap the Devil in Hell for all eternity,” said Kinley. “He’s shared the details of this ceremony with Chloe.”

            Lucifer chuckled. “A ceremony to banish the Devil to Hell? That is priceless. No, but seriously, you all need to take End of Days out of the Vatican movie night rotation. Definitely not one of Arnold’s best.”

            “I know. I know it sounds crazy,” said Kinley. “But Chloe was very distressed the last time I saw her. Apparently, the ceremony involves giving the subject a sacramental liquid that would sedate the Devil.”

            “Ooh. Let me guess, it’s inside the plum vial,” said Lucifer.

            “So I’m told,” said Kinley. “And if it would sedate the Devil, I feat that it involves some poison, something that would kill a normal man.”

            “You’re incorrigible, aren’t you?” chuckled Lucifer, not taking Kinley seriously.

            “Do you honestly think that I would travel thousands of miles, tell you these outlandish tales, if I didn’t take them seriously?” said Kinley. He took them so seriously he was prepared to remove Lucifer and eliminate (Y/N). “I hope beyond hope that I’m wrong. But if there is any chance that Chloe could try something, you need to be careful.”

            “Well, consider me warned,” said Lucifer, annoyed with how Kinley kept going on and on. “You may absolve yourself of any further responsibility in this matter. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have plans.” Lucifer patted Kinley’s shoulder and walked past the priest and out the church.

            Kinley firmly brushed Lucifer’s touch off as a fellow priest appeared beside them.

            “Is that the man?” said the priest, Bishop Hoffman.

            “Not a man, Your Excellency,” said Kinley. “The prophecy is real. And now that the trap is set, everything will come together soon. I even saw the Antichrist.”

            “The Antichrist…It must be quite formidable,” said Hoffman.

            “Yes,” said Kinley. He wouldn’t tell Hoffman the age of the Antichrist. No, the Bishop might see the need to be merciful. Kinley was the only one who understood the need to remove them. The Antichrist was an evil being that would bring ruin to Earth, teenager or not. Kinley would eliminate that evil.

Taglist:

@sammyscreencaps-13

@grippleback-galaxy-galaxy

@scarlettqueen190

@ziro-the-null-god

@sammy-13

@zeros-rot

@ceridwyn3

@technikerin23

@poetoflawed

[kobblefort]

Rushsly: Almost The Bottom 2

ENDGAME SPOILERS BELOW THE CUT... MAYBE. THEY DIDN'T REALLY HAPPEN LAST TIME. BUT THEY COULD HAPPEN THIS TIME! YOU NEVER KNOW!

-116 is stripped for gold, but reveals no more. The project must be paused again - flux stones are needed to continue steel production, so a big random chunk of dolomite is carved out. Migrants arrive, but only a few, bringing our population from 108 before the siege to 115. Perhaps they heard what we're about to do. Maybe they just heard how much our fortress is flourishing.

Indeed, they are just enough to tip us over from being a "town" to a "city," and our wealth must be known all over the Hill of Scars - maybe even all across the Land of Nails.

One must wonder if they know of the beasts lurking in the depths, if they hear of the ratfolk pitifully sending handfuls of themselves to die against our walls, of the potential doom we flirt with at the bottom of the earth.

The child Sraraz Jokedknit is taken by an unknown force, and at just the same time we can hear Kerrik Perplexnightmares doing battle with our old buddies, the olm men.

And just like that, the beast is dead. It seems like prudent timing to make sure the first cavern layer is absolutely, completely walled off.

Yes, I'm hesitating, I know I'm hesitating, I always hesitate, I know jumping into the water makes it way easier to adjust to the temperature than slowly dipping in one part at a time, I know I have to just dig straight down already, but that doesn't mean I'll do it, not without a fuss, not without dragging my feet and trying to talk myself out of it.

Sraraz's artifact is Sorudrzl - Bustkindled - hey yeah I'm into busts kindling - sorry - and it's worth a whopping 22900 whatever-the-units-of-value are. Half of that number is of particular personal value to me for reasons I am not about to disclose but just know that I feel even more nervous and unsettled. But I've wasted enough time, and I'm not a superstitious man; we'll dig, damnit, deeper still, and deepe

Are you fucking kidding me man??? From the southern plains a fucking big-ass minotaur comes. I somehow doubt that it "seeks harmony" and it's time to draw up the bridge real fucking quick. By "seeking harmony" do you mean like "not having anyone left to have problems with?" If you wanna talk we can talk with us in here and you out there otherwise yeah we're not gonna talk. Bridge up doors shut everybody in - hey we might finally get to try that magma trap from literally years ago though, that could be cool.

Her first order of business is attacking the random aardvark we had lazing around outside the fort. I don't even want to post the combat logs, it was brutal, it was not quick, but it served to show us that she's fucking mean and fucking fast. Next she literally charges down a leopard and... like...

This shit is fucked up dude. She's not getting any closer to the base, but seeing the shit she does makes me think maybe it's time we test out our catapults. Remember those??? Will they even work????? One way to find out!!!

The first volley misses by a mile, but at least the sight of boulders flying through the air scares her up into some trees. Well, for a moment, anyways.

Investigating her "Military" tab shows a history of violence that apparently only started once she was 169 years old: hard year, I guess, but no reason to take it out on us or our random little wildlife creatures. She's been hiding in the trees for a while, and though the catapults are good at scaring her, it's just not possible to hit her from our position. The marksbolds will be stationed up on the turrets above the drawbridge (safely behind the drawbridge) but they probably won't be able to land any shots from there either. It's a total standstill.

This fucker shows up on the second cavern layer? Honestly who fucking cares?? Like we're so fucking busy??? We don't even go down there but we literally have this asshole up a tree blocking our access to the entire outside world???? Well, we're going to try and bait the minotaur up top into a bad position. Whether that puts us in a bad position... I dunno. We'll fucking see.

The plan is to send the one kobble in the worst possible mood of the fortress to bait it into the lava trap, and unfortunately, that'd be Zil. Despite having a pretty great time of things by its own admission, it has failed to grow close with any of its squadmates and teeters on the edge of a total psychological meltdown. So like, you know, if it dies... well...

Well we're not going to find out I guess!? Saraz Fishedpraise, an unproven wrestler fucking charges out to yank it down from the tree with his spear, stabbing it in the fucking gut - then the lung, then through the hand so cleanly it tears not just muscle but ligament and nerves. But...

well, do you see that "puddle"

It's actually pretty fucking deep, and Saraz gets thrown right down it after losing control of the battle. As the minotaur charges down the hole she saw the kobold come from...

...the thing I was planning to use Zil Dentedleaks for happens. A truly fearsome foe, but once again, not even past the first row of traps. I genuinely don't think I'll use cage traps in my next fort lol they're so fucking overpowered. I know forgotten beasts and werebeasts can't trigger them but fuck dude, a whole-ass minotaur? Well, at least now we get to throw her down a hole and she dies. A bit anti-climactic but... that's Rushsly for you I guess. Time to recover Saraz's body.

Ty is on cleanup duty again, hauling the 602-weight minotaur cage, almost five times the weight of a boulder of jet, to the garbage hole, where if she does not die immediately on impact, she will eventually be killed. She just thinks: "I feel alright."

I deduced from the location of a gem-studded pillar of obsidian in the second cavern layer where we might be more likely to find what we're looking for - maybe.

But when we get there, it's nothing. The tunnel is rerouted for a bit before I ultimately decide we'll dig one more Z-level down.

Mica. Cobaltite, bismuth, granite. Galena, worthless goddamn galena again; silver is "consolation gold." Could it be one layer deeper, just one? 118, a nice, happy number. It would have been nicer if it was 117, like John Halo. 118, right? 118?

118. Here we go.

I can smell it, man.

This alert makes me nearly jump out of my fucking skin. Cool, man. "The Goldenrod Raven." Why are you even still using iron? Whatever. That's great. We're almost there. Whereever we're getting, we're almost there. Granite, microcline, prase, we have to be close. Cassiterite, for fuck's sakes, it has to be here. Was it "adamantine" this whole time? Have I been reading it "adamantite" the whole time, saying "adamantite" this whole fucking time? Seeing the name every single time I go to punch in a work order and just misreading it every single time?? Where did I get "adamantite" from if it's always been "adamantine???"??? ??? ?????

A gnoll right now are you fucking kidding me???????

A gnoll army right now are you fucking kidding me!?!?!? Well, at least I forgot to lower the drawbridge after the minotaur attack. But seriously? Gnolls? Right fucking now???

One of them walks directly and immediately into a cage trap. The next one stands back and frets about, realizing the entrance is full of traps. A third one charges right past them and dodges an iron disc trap to jam themselves right into another cage trap. Two more nervously fret about the trees, no doubt psyching themselves up to get into the fortress and wreak some havoc, then they just walk straight into the cage traps. One more runs off the map, possibly to finally make the smart idea of going home and saying "We should not go to Rushsly, they have cage traps" - and the one fretting around just outside the cage traps without warning their friends about the cage traps finally leaves with them. Well, that's good.

And as the gnoll madness and my own random little bout of madness starts to break, we get visitors. Our old pals the dwarves. We put the bridge down for them but they insist on coming around the long way. Well guys welcome in welcome in. Just make sure you be good and careful of those fucking cage traps

[jcwriting]

Written in the Stars

summary ↬ being soulmates with a werewolf? pretty easy. being jungkook’s soulmate? the easiest thing in the world. there’s only one teensy tiny problem. he doesn’t want to fuck you.

pairing ↬ werewolf!jungkook x reader

genre ↬ soulmate!au, abo verse, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort (this is so fucking dramatic and for what)

word count ↬ 10.4k my hand slipped

warnings ↬ swearing, angst (but with a happy ending bc im a sappy bitch), jk is stupid in love (emphasis on stupid), mentions of violence (very brief and i don’t go into too much detail but just to warn yall), slight nsfw (sex is a big topic for like half of this but not sex is had...i know im shocked too), half of this is background info/setting up the story the other half is finally addressing the summary lolol, jk is kind of an asshole but he has reasons!!!!!

authors note ↬ hello lovelies! here’s a small little thing for you all (laughs in 10k word count). this has been sitting in my drafts for fucking ever and i just needed to get it out there and out of my hands. im thinking about writing a part two where the actual ~*/sex/*~ is had but im still on the fence about that. please let me know what you think! i literally crave your interactions so pls dont be shy,,,,,okay love you bye :)

(ps i was so close to naming this Rewrite the Stars but since this has absolutely nothing to do with The Greatest Showman i didn’t. but i was close,,,,so fucking close)

You always knew Jeon Jungkook was destined for great things.

It was written in the stars, your mother had told you after he had first stepped foot into your family-owned grocery store. Your mother didn’t have any special powers, she just had a thing for astrology. While you normally shrugged off her random proclamations about divine intervention and planetary alignments, you found that Jungkook was something you couldn’t ignore or chalk up as your mother’s latest tea leaf reading.

From the moment you set eyes on him you knew he was different. While your family held zero claim to any sort of mystical or magical inclinations, you were well aware of those who did. It was no secret that non-humans roamed the Earth in plain sight, even though it had taken humans eons to realize this. After years of savage wars and civil unrest, agreements had come into place and governing bodies were adjusted to accept the changes that had finally been made. But, this was all before your time. You were the generation that was born into the period of peace, the first children to not experience bloodshed before they could walk. The world you knew now was almost a complete one-eighty of what it had been.

Where before those who were not of human blood had to do everything they could to blend in, now could be free of the shadows. Your classrooms had both humans and non-humans in their rosters. Some of your teachers were hybrids. Curriculum expanded to teach humans about a world that had once been entirely unknown to them. One of your favorite teachers was a witch who regaled your tenth grade class with stories of goblin wars, wizard duels, and vampire covens. All tales that you had once thought were nothing but fiction were now anything but.

Which is why, the second Jeon Jungkook entered the grocery store that your parents owned and that you had worked at since you were old enough to speak in full sentences, you knew who he was. You didn’t even question it.

He was a werewolf. A powerful one. You could see it in the way he carried himself. The purposeful strides he took down the narrow aisles, the confidence in his broad shoulders. Humans weren’t nearly as sensitive as their hybrid counterparts but you also paid attention in your classes. Or, perhaps you were more aware than other humans. Never in your life did you have the issues other faced when meeting a non-human for the first time. You always knew who they were without them having to tell you. You just knew.

So, when Jeon Jungkook stepped up to your register with a bottle of water and some raw beef, you didn’t flinch. Didn’t bend under his dark gaze or shuffle your feet in an awkward attempt to break the silence. Instead, you flashed him your customer service smile and rang up his items. He didn’t say a word as he paid, barely sparing you a second glance as he strode out of the store.

“He’s going to be a great and powerful man,” your mother said in that feathery light voice of hers. “It was written in the stars.”

You couldn’t help but agree.

Jeon Jungkook came into your store everyday for the next month. He bought the same thing every time. A bottle of water and a package of raw beef. The only time he spared you any words was to say thank you or the occasional hello if the sun was shining. Usually, he was alone. Sometimes, he came with a few members of his pack. You liked those days. He smiled a little brighter and talked a little louder when they were around. Especially around Taehyung.

Then, after a month, he didn’t come in. Not for an entire week. From Monday to Sunday, you hadn’t seen a hide nor hair of him. A part of you was worried, so worried that you almost stopped Taehyung in the middle of the street to ask of Jungkook’s whereabouts before realizing how insane that made you look, the other part was chastising yourself for caring. Jeon Jungkook was a customer. Nothing more, nothing less.

The following Monday had come and you had finally stopped glancing at the sliding doors every five minutes. You no longer expected his commanding presence to rock your little world. Instead, you continued your day as if it had been any other. That was, until, Jeon Jungkook stepped through the entrance looking as if he was walking on air. It didn’t take a genius to figure out why.

“Did you have a good heat?” You asked when he stepped up to your register. Jungkook fumbled the water bottle he had been setting onto the conveyer belt before turning to stare at you.

“What did you just say?”

You didn’t shrink under his intense glare. “I was asking if you enjoyed your heat. Seems like you did.”

“How do you know I was in my rut?”

“Oh, is rut the correct terminology? Sorry, they always interchanged them in class, I was never sure what was appropriate.” You shrugged and rang up his items. “It was kind of obvious, though. You seemed pretty agitated about a week-and-a-half ago, then you disappear for a week, and now you’re back looking happier than ever. If it wasn’t your rut then I want to know where you went on vacation because that’s where I’m heading to next.”

Jungkook laughed. That almost made you jump out of your skin. You had never heard him laugh before. It was throaty, it was deep, and it was wonderful. “I’ll be sure to send you the link to the Airbnb.”

“And how do you plan on doing that?”

He smirked. “I’m here every day, aren’t I?”

You tilted your head as you accepted the cash he handed to you. “Clearly, you’re not that reliable.”

Jungkook laughed again. It was becoming your new favorite sound. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to appear flaky.”

“You’re forgiven,” you decided as you handed him the plastic bag of his purchases. Teasingly, you added, “just make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

He flashed you a smile that showed off his sharpened canines. “Don’t worry, darling. I never make the same mistake twice.”

Jeon Jungkook kept his promise. He showed up everyday, like clockwork. Bought the same thing. Arrived at the same time. The only thing that changed was how he treated you. It wasn’t that he treated you badly before, he had always been polite. But now, he talked to you. He asked you questions and answered yours. More often than not, he laughed.

(It had become your favorite sound.)

For three months, this continued. The two of you had settled into a comfortable routine, something you relied on and expected. Until, he changed that.

Until, Jeon Jungkook asked you out on a date.

“What did you just say?”

“Are you free? Tonight?” You glanced around, almost expecting to see some sort of supermodel posing behind you to explain the absolute absurdity of the situation. “What are you doing?”

“Looking for the hidden cameras. I think I’m getting Punk’d.”

Jungkook sighed and placed both hands on the counter that separated the two of you. “Look at me.” You did. Slowly and warily, but you did. “Does it look like I’m lying to you?”

Narrowing your eyes, you regarded him carefully. He seemed serious. But, then again, do you ever really know someone? “I don’t know. I’ve never actually seen you lie before so I wouldn’t know the difference.”

“Fine. Ask me what color my shirt is.”

“What color is your shirt?”

“White,” he deadpanned. You glanced down at his chest. His shirt was black.

“Jungkook!”

He threw his head back and released a full bellied laugh. Even in your exasperation you couldn’t help but soften a little. “I’m sorry, darling. I couldn’t help myself.” Annoyed, you huffed and spun to face the cash register. Stabbing your finger onto the touchscreen, you ignored Jungkook’s obvious presence on the opposite side of the counter. Until his hand reached around the card reader and grasped a hold of your chin. The warmth of his fingers forced your head to turn to meet his.

“Come to dinner with me.” His voice was nothing but a rumble in his chest, his eyes so black and all-consuming you couldn’t do anything but agree with him. He seemed pleased by your response as his fingers tightened against your skin and a grateful smile flicked past his lips. His gaze darted down to your mouth and your breath froze in your chest.

“Are you going to kiss me?”

Jungkook raised an eyebrow. “Do you want me to?”

“No.” You tried to shake your head but his grip didn’t allow you much movement. He was taken aback by your answer, a small frown tugging at his mouth. You quickly backtracked to fix the situation. “I don’t want our first kiss to be in a grocery store. That’s a new low that I refuse to reach.”

Jungkook chuckled and tapped your chin gently. “Alright, darling. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

Again, he kept his promise to you. He showed up at your parents house exactly at seven, wearing a button-down shirt and slacks. The tulips he had gotten for you was thrust into your hands the moment you opened the door. Flashing him a genuine smile, you hurried into the kitchen to set them in water while your mother grilled him on his birth time. You were quick to drag him away, practically throwing him towards the car as you waved goodbye.

“Sorry,” you sighed as Jungkook opened the passenger door for you. “She has a…thing for astrology. She’s probably creating your star map or whatever right now.”

“It’s okay,” he responded once he got into the drivers seat. “It’s sweet of her to care.”

You snorted. “She’s delusional is what she is.”

“So, you’re saying you don’t believe in astrology?”

“Do you?”

Jungkook shrugged as he pulled out of your dirt driveway. He looked so damn attractive behind the wheel it was honestly unfair. “Not really saying I do or don’t. All I know is that there are a lot of things out there that are out of our control. If believing in the stars and planets helps you gain some of that control back, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that.”

“God, don’t talk like that in front of my mother. She’ll want to start dating you.”

He grinned and placed a hand on your knee. “Tell her I’m already taken.”

You didn’t get a chance to respond to that. Not that he didn’t give you one, it was just that you literally had nothing to say. With just one sentence he opened the floodgates of your brain and the amount of thoughts that were flying through your conscious was painful. Anxiety fluttered in your stomach and you pressed your lips together to keep you from word vomiting onto him. No, it was better to keep your mouth shut and let the moment pass.

By the time you reached the restaurant you were a trembling mess of nerves. Were you guys dating? You thought this was just a ‘testing the waters’ date, not a ‘you’re my girlfriend now’ date. Did you have to make it Facebook official? You hated that shit.

Jungkook didn’t comment on your obvious distress, though. He merely placed a hand on the small of your back, ignoring how you jerked in surprise, and led you into the quiet bistro. Nodding politely to the hostess who was practically panting at the sight of him (you honestly couldn’t blame her) and pulled out your chair for you. When he sat down, he started talking. Idle chat at first. Commenting on one of the dishes, asking about the college classes you were taking at your local university. Before you realized it, wine was in your glass and your shoulders were loose. Previous nerves forgotten, you lost yourself in Jungkook. You drank, you ate, you laughed, and genuinely enjoyed his company. Honestly, it was the best date you’d ever been on.

“I have to be honest with you,” Jungkook spoke after he finished his raw steak. “I have an ulterior motive for asking you here tonight.”

“Oh,” you mumbled around the shrimp you had just tossed in your mouth. “So…this isn’t a date?”

“No, it is,” Jungkook clarified quickly around a dry chuckle. He seemed…nervous. It put you on edge immediately. “This is definitely a date. And, also, more.”

“More? What, is this a proposal too?” You were joking. A 100% joking. But Jungkook was staring at you so seriously it made you panic. “Jungkook, if you get down on one knee here I swear-”

“I’m not proposing,” he assured you. “This is something more than that.”

“More?” You parroted. Jungkook sighed.

“Do you know what a true mate is?”

Right there, in that quaint little bistro, on a date with quite possibly the most untouchable man you’d ever met, he explained how you were irrevocably his. His true mate, his soulmate.

Jungkook explained everything in great detail, which you appreciated, because honestly, you had no words. He explained how when he was born, the witch who cared for him told his father that his future glared brightly ahead of him, but only when he met his other half. True mates were rare. Mating was common, the wolves in his pack could have multiple mates or a lifelong one, but true mates were destiny. Someone or something out there had forged the two of you together. You were essentially each others other half. He was made for you and you were made for him.

“But…aren’t true mates only for wolves? I thought it’s impossible for a human to be a true mate,” you asked in a shaky voice once Jungkook took a breath.

“It was supposed to be impossible. Until, I met you.” Jungkook stared at you with a sort of reverence that made your entire body blush. “I have no idea how you are. I’ve spent hours researching. I’ve consulted with members of my pack and others. No one knows why.”

“Are you sure, though? I mean…what if you’re wrong?”

“I’m not.” Jungkook shook his head. “I visited the witch right after I met you. She took one look at me and told me that I had finally found my true mate. She said she’d never seen a future so bright before.”

You had no words for that. For the first time in your life, you were speechless. Jungkook seemed to understand. He let you sit in silence as he paid for the bill and walked you out to the car. The drive back to your parents house was the same. You couldn’t speak. The shock rendered you stupid.

By the time Jungkook pulled into the driveway you still hadn’t spoken a word to each other. You stepped out of the car before he could open the door for you. Walking up to the porch steps in a trance, you didn’t hear him follow you until he clasped your wrist in his hand. Turning to face him, you were surprised to see his brown eyes so big. They practically sparkled in the moonlight and he looked so soft and sweet you nearly melted into the wood beneath your feet.

“Please,” he whispered. “Can you…just - are you okay? You’ve been so quiet. I’m worried I’ve scared you off or something.”

With that voice, it was impossible to deny him. So, you said the first thing that popped in your head. “Do we have to make it Facebook official?”

Jungkook stared at you before bursting into laughter. “Really? That’s all you have to say?”

You blushed and glanced down. “I’m just worried, that’s all. I can’t remember my Facebook password so even if you wanted to change it I don’t think it’ll work.”

“So that’s why you never accepted my friend request,” Jungkook teased. Before you could squeak out a response, he wrapped his arms around your waist and tugged you forward. You kept your arms crossed across your chest but let yourself fall against him.

“Don’t make fun of me,” you whined as you buried your face into his shoulder. He smelled so good, a mixture of pine and spice. “My brain hasn’t worked since you told me I’m yours, so bear with me.”

Jungkook chuckled and gently swayed you from side to side. “Does that mean you’re okay with this? All of this?”

Sighing, you lifted your head up and stepped away from him. Jungkook was not impressed and pulled you back to him. Your heart swelled in your chest and you wrapped your arms around his neck in consolation. “Honestly? I haven’t really processed anything. You’ve had your whole life to come to terms with this. I just found out thirty minutes ago that I’m someone’s soulmate. It’s a lot to take in.”

Jungkook nodded as he tapped his fingers against your hips. “I know. It’s a lot…I’m a lot. I just want you to know that you don’t have to do this. You don’t have to be with me. I won’t-”

Now it was your turn to burst into laughter. You couldn’t believe those words had left his mouth. It was easily the most absurd thing you’d ever heard. “Jungkook, I want to make something very clear. I have no problem being your true mate. That’s not the issue here. Well, there really isn’t an issue. It’s just…hard to believe, I guess. I have to process that this is my new reality.”

“Really?” Jungkook perked up and looked so fucking cute you couldn’t help but cup his cheeks. His skin was so warm despite the cold autumn air that surrounded you both. “You want to do this? Be with me? Be mine?” All you could do was nod. You were so overwhelmed with emotions. The shock was evident, but a piece of you was so happy. You felt whole.

Jungkook’s face split into a wide smile that caused his nose to scrunch up. He wrapped his arms around your waist and spun you around. Squealing, you slung your legs around his hips and held on. Normally, you’d rather die than show this much affection to someone. But, this was Jungkook. Your soulmate.

“So…what do we do now?” You asked once Jungkook set you down. “Is there, like, a ceremony or something?”

“I have no idea,” he admitted as he stared down at you. He had a hand against your jaw and was rubbing your cheek tenderly. “I really didn’t think I’d get this far.”

You scoffed at his ridiculousness. While recognizing you were Jungkook’s true mate was going to take some time, believing that he thought you’d deny him was utter nonsense. “What if…what if we date, first?” You suggested timidly. “I know that sounds kind of weird considering we’re supposed to be the loves of each others lives. But, I don’t really know you all that well. And, I think this is going to take sometime for me to get used to. Maybe we should date, get to know each other, and just learn how to be with one another.”

“Whatever you want,” Jungkook agreed. “We can do whatever you want. Just as long as I have you, I’m happy.”

Two years passed.

Two blissful, wonderful years. Two years of dating, two years of loving, two years of being Jeon Jungkook’s. It was everything you could’ve asked for and more. You had never felt so loved and cherished in your entire life. He respected you, he took care of you, and most importantly, he was there for you in every sense. Since the moment you met him, you hadn’t been alone. He hadn’t let you. Jungkook knew you better than you knew yourself.

And, it was the same for him. You were there for him when he transitioned into the leader of his pack. You were there when he took over the CEO position from his father and encouraged and supported him every step of the way. You let yourself be loved and in return he let you love him. It was wonderful.

Except, for one tiny thing.

While the emotional aspect of your relationship flourished and bloomed into something beautiful, the physical side remained stagnant. Make out sessions and heavy petting were a norm in your relationship. At first, it didn’t bother you. In fact, you loved that Jungkook was taking things so slow and so seriously. But, eventually, your needs began to grow. You found yourself wanting him in more ways than one, wants that only he could satisfy. Jungkook refused. Every time.

It wasn’t like he refused your every need. No, Jungkook was extremely attentive. When it came to himself, that’s when things got dicy. He had no problem spending hours between your legs, worshipping you until you were crying from the overstimulation. Yet, he wouldn’t let you anywhere near him. Not without lack of trying on your part. The minute your hands went down to his waistband, he pushed you away. Every time you tried to dip your mouth to the obvious bulge in his pants, he lifted you up and kissed you breathless until you forgot your name. It wasn’t until after a year of dating that he finally let you grind on his clothed cock. Even then, he held off until you finished and then walked out with quite possibly the worst case of blue balls. You hated that he did this to himself. The worst part was, you couldn’t understand why.

The one time you had brought it up to him it had resulted in the worst fight the two of you had ever gotten into. It was the only argument that was never really resolved. After the yelling and the tears, all you got out of Jungkook was that mating with a wolf was not pretty. It was extremely dangerous and he refused to put you in that kind of danger. End of discussion. No matter how hard you tried to persuade him or broach the subject, he shut it down. Hard. Eventually, you gave up.

He even spent his ruts away from you. Every three months, he left you for a week. You knew he had a place somewhere up in the mountains and you assumed that’s where he went. You had no idea. There was no point even asking to come along. You loved your boyfriend and didn’t want to purposely give him a heart attack. You hated it when he left. As much as you tried to hide it and convince him that you were just fine, he wasn’t stupid. Being away from him was tough. A piece of you was missing whenever he was gone. And you were only whole again when he returned.

This past week had been one of those weeks. He had left on Sunday for the mountains. He was agitated and clingy, how he normally was pre-rut. Jungkook wouldn’t let you leave his side and you spent most of the weekend on his lap or wrapped in his arms. Not that you minded. When he left your parents house on Sunday night, you’d had to coax him out of the door. Promising him that you’d be okay and that you’d see him next week. It wasn’t until several kisses later did Jungkook finally leave.

While you’d been doing this for two years, it never got easier. More manageable? Sure. But definitely not easier. All you could do was go through the motions. You went to work at the local bakery, came home and helped your mom with dinner, watched TV with your dad before going to bed. Taehyung and Jimin would visit often, threatened by Jungkook to keep you company. While you assured them it wasn’t necessary, you secretly didn’t mind. They made you laugh and made you temporarily forget your boyfriend was miles away from you. Sometimes, if you were lucky, he’d call you to tell you goodnight. But those times were rare. Normally, you didn’t hear from him until Friday or Saturday when he was finally coming out of his rut and returning to the world.

By the time Sunday rolled around, you were a jittery ball of nerves. Not in a bad sense. You were just excited. The anticipation killed you and it took all of your willpower to sit and wait for his text to tell you to come over. Your parents always left you alone on these Sundays, unable to deal with your hyperactiveness and constant fidgeting.

This Sunday was no different. You puttered around your room for the better part of the day. You spent the other part in the kitchen, baking like your life depended on it. Jungkook loved your cookies and you always made sure to come over with at least three batches after his ruts. He always said that was his second favorite part about coming home, after seeing you, of course.

You had just finished packaging the final batch in a glass cookie jar when your phone dinged. You didn’t have to read the message, you knew exactly what it said. Pure joy rushed through your system as you threw on your coat and shouted a hasty goodbye to your parents. Juggling the cookies and car keys, you sprinted to your car. The drive to Jungkook’s was thankfully not long. About ten minutes, as long as you didn’t hit any traffic on the main road. Luck was on your side, though, and you showed up at Jungkook’s house in eight minutes.

Taehyung’s car was in the driveway when you pulled up, which wasn’t odd. Although Jungkook owned the house, the members of his pack were almost always around. While most preferred to travel in their wolf forms, you knew Taehyung and Namjoon preferred cars. Something about being able to listen to their own music without comments from the peanut gallery. You didn’t really understand and didn’t really need to. You had just chalked it up as one of their many quirks.

Carrying the trays of cookies in both hands, you shut your car door with your foot before speed-walking up the stone walkway to Jungkook’s home. The screen door was shut, but the wooden door was swung wide open. You had just reached for the metal handle when you heard it.

A deep, threatening growl ripped through the peaceful quiet and froze you in place. You knew it was Jungkook. While you had only heard it once, you’d never forgotten it. It was when the two of you had attended a party and an alpha from a neighboring pack had cornered you in the hallway. Jungkook had found you cowered against the wall as the other alpha had caged you in. The sound that had left his chest had given you equal parts comfort and fear. Comfort, because he was there and you knew you were safe. Fear, because you could see in the way he bared his teeth and how his muscles vibrated, he had been furious and bloodthirsty.

That’s what you felt now, fear.

Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong.

From your vantage point in front of the screen door, you could see directly into the kitchen. Taehyung was leaning against the granite countertop and Jungkook was seated at the island. The tension was so thick you practically choked on it.

“Enough, Taehyung.”

“No,” Taehyung snapped, seeming just as angry as Jungkook. “I’m not dropping it. Not this time.”

“Yes, you will,” Jungkook snarled. “I’m not having this conversation with you.”

“Too fucking bad.” While Taehyung was also an alpha, he acted so much like a beta you never really noticed. Until now. “I’m not going to sit by and watch you do this to yourself anymore. Not spending your ruts correctly is only causing you more harm than good.”

“I’m doing things the way I want to, and it’s working-”

“The hell it is!” Jungkook growled at the interruption but Taehyung ignored him. “It’s not working, and you know it. Anyone with two fucking eyes knows it. It’s getting so bad that the pack is noticing, too. Even Namjoon has realized something is wrong, and he’s as oblivious as they come.”

“If they have a problem with me they can take it up with me.”

“No, they can’t. Because you won’t listen. Your head is so far up your ass you can’t even hear yourself anymore. What you’re doing right now is not working. Something needs to change.”

“Like what?” Jungkook spat.

“You know what,” Taehyung bit back. Jungkook was practically vibrating from rage. You knew you needed to go get someone, someone from the pack to calm the two of them down. Things were only escalating, but you couldn’t move. Your brain screamed at you to run but your legs were rooted in place. “That’s is what’s so frustrating, Jungkook. This, all of this, could be solved. She’s right there-”

“Don’t.” Jungkook stood up so fast the chair he sat on flew backwards and hit the wall with a resounding crack.

“Why?” Taehyung threw his arms up in the air. “Why not? I don’t get it-”

“Because I don’t want her!” Jungkook yelled, the force of it rang throughout the house. You had no idea who the she was that they were referring to. You assumed it was someone from the pack. It was well-known that wolves with human mates sometimes turned to other she-wolves to help with their ruts. You figured that’s what Jungkook did whenever he went away for a week. It had bothered you at first, but you knew he had his needs and that they were at a biological level. You refused to make him feel guilty or ashamed for taking care of himself.

“You don’t want her?” Taehyung was enraged. You could tell by the way he straightened his spine and unfurled himself to his full height. Jungkook bristled in response and the muscles in his back strained against the thin material of his shirt.

“No, I don’t!” Jungkook exploded. “What don’t you understand about that? I don’t want her around me. I don’t need her, I’m fine on my own. The thought of having her there when…God - it makes me physically ill.”

“She’s your girlfriend. Above all of that, your true mate. You’re seriously going to deny yourself of her, for what? Just because you don’t like having her around?”

Oh.

That’s when it hit you. They weren’t talking about some random she-wolf. They were talking about you. You were the one Jungkook didn’t want. You were the one Jungkook didn’t need. You were the one he didn’t like having around. As the weight of the words sunk into your mind, you felt your chest becoming tighter and tighter.

Then, you’re heart broke right in half. You dropped the container of cookies and didn’t flinch when it shattered against the wooden slats. The sound unstuck your feet from their position on the porch and your fight or flight system took over. Without a second thought, you turned on your heel and ran.

You didn’t know if anyone was behind you, you didn’t turn around to check. Hands fumbled for the car door as you threw yourself into the drivers side. Pain ricocheted throughout your chest cavity and you struggled to breathe. Your brain was blank, the only thing your mind did was move your body to get you somewhere safe. You had to leave and you had to leave now.

Miraculously, your fingers found your keys and inserted them into the ignition on the second try. A flutter of movement occurred to the left of you but your eyes didn’t let you look that way. Instead, they focused on the rearview mirror as you reversed out of the driveway. Your right hand found the gearshift and moved it to drive. Soon, you were tearing down the street as your ears refused to register the agonized howls that echoed behind as you kept staring forward. Adrenaline pumped through your system and your body shivered in response, the splash of hormones had created a blanket of fake calm over you. The emotions, the pain, the thoughts were swirling inside of you, ready to break free and drown you, but your brain wouldn’t allow it.

It wasn’t until you reached the end of your long driveway that you felt the original spike of adrenaline fade away. Your mother was in the front, tending to the flowers, and looked up when she saw your car fly into its usual spot. She stood up and her face twisted into a frown when you got out of your seat.

“Honey, your aura…it’s concerning.” The blanket was yanked away and the pain crashed over you.

You couldn’t say a word, all you could do was collapse in your mother's arms and cry, cry, cry.

It took you two days to calm down. The tears had stopped rolling and your shoulders no longer shook from trying to hold your sobs behind your teeth. Your mother hadn’t left your side, leaving your father to answer the door whenever someone knocked. The only person who did was Taehyung and Jimin. Jungkook never showed up.

Well, that was a lie.

Jungkook did show up every morning and night, without fail. But he never came to your doorstep.  Instead, he was in the woods behind your house, patrolling, not daring to leave the protection of the forest. A part of you wondered if he was respecting your obvious need for space or if your mother had paid a witch to set up boundary lines that didn’t allow him to cross. Either way, you were grateful that you couldn’t see him. There was an incessant tugging in your heart to be near him but you staunchly ignored it, which would’ve been impossible if you saw his achingly beautiful face.

I don’t want her. I don’t need her. Having her there makes me physically ill. Those three sentences played in a constant loop in your head, like a horror movie you couldn’t escape from. You were the protagonist who couldn’t escape the maze, but the villain wasn’t kind enough to kill you off. No matter what you did, your brain wouldn’t stop repeating those three sentences. Your mother burned sage, she pressed crystals into your palms, she muttered ritual after ritual, but nothing worked.

You hated how affected you were. You had always told yourself that you would never be the girl who’d get so wrapped up in someone else they didn’t know who they were anymore. Independence was something you prided yourself on, but you seemed to be at a complete loss now. You couldn’t stop the waves of sadness and self-hatred at your depressed state. It was amazing how empty you felt yet so full of pain at the same time. Your mind and heart couldn’t seem to decide which hurt worse; your heart for having your soulmate so obviously reject you, or your brain for trying to make sense of the situation. When did this happen? How did this happen? How had you been so blind as to not see it?

“I don’t think we’re soulmates,” you rasped to your mom on the third morning. It had been the first words you had spoken to her since you had fell into her arms. She looked up from the bundle of herbs she was smoking.

“Why do you say that?”

You stared at your hands that had curled in on themselves. “I don’t make him happy. I-I never realized how uncomfortable I made him. I wish I had known. How did I miss it?”

Your mother tutted gently and gathered you in her arms. She smelled of lavender and wax. “This is good. I’m glad you’re letting yourself have this moment. Let’s sit in this and allow yourself to be embedded here.” But you didn’t want to have this moment. You didn’t want to have any moment and you’ve felt enough to last a lifetime. Instead, you rolled over, let sleep overtake you and tried to ignore the distant howling that rattled your window pane.

By nightfall of the fourth day, you were forced out of bed. Partly by choice, partly by force. Your parents had dipped out to run to the grocery store, despite your mother’s insistence that she could stay. You and your father managed to convince her to leave and you had gotten up to wave them goodbye. Sure, your heart was broken, but the least you could do was kiss them on the cheek before they left. You had turned around to shuffle into the kitchen to try and shovel something down your dry throat when a loud knock sounded at the front door. Hesitating, you carefully peeked through the kitchen window and saw Jimin on your front doorstep, dressed in all black.

Sighing, you stumbled over and pulled the door open. You figured you couldn’t avoid them for much longer. “Hey, Jimin.”

“Christ, you look like shit.”

You huffed out a laugh as Jimin stared at you in horror, not having the energy to be offended. You also knew, in a weird way, that this was Jimin’s way of caring for you. “Yeah. My mother’s covered all the mirrors in the house.”

Jimin nodded as he glanced at you from head to toe. “I want to ask if you’re okay but…” He gestured to your gaunt frame swaddled in a heavy sweatshirt and sweatpants. For the first time in two years, they were your own clothes, not Jungkook’s.

“I’m fine, Jimin,” you heaved a heavy sigh and leaned against the doorframe. “Do you want to come in? I think my mom boiled some tea not too long ago.”

Jimin shook his head. “Can’t. Jungkook would have a fit if I got that close to you right now. I’m already pushing my luck just by showing up.” He doesn’t care, you thought bitterly, and almost said it out loud but you caught yourself at the last second. Jimin wasn’t stupid, though. He knew what you were thinking. “Hey,” he murmured, eyes going soft, “are you ready to talk about it?”

“No.” You shook your head. A wave of sadness washed over you but the telltale prick of tears didn’t come.

Jimin understood. He tucked his hands into his pockets as he rocked back onto his heels. “Are you going to talk to him?”

Letting out a heavy breath, you crossed your arms over your chest. “I know I have to. I just…I just need time.”

“Take however long you need.”

It was another 48-hours before you finally snapped. While you had spent the majority of the two days that had passed to make yourself resemble a human being, you couldn’t focus. You couldn’t move on. Why?

Because Jungkook wouldn’t leave you alone.

His presence was constant. He circled your house every hour of ever day, the large shadow of him in wolf form darkened the trees behind your house. The howling had stopped but the pacing hadn’t. You hoped he was at least sleeping, but then you got annoyed at yourself for caring. You didn’t know why he was out there, it made no sense. Jungkook’s words were so different from his actions it made your head spin.

But, you needed to move on with your life. You had to. The only way it was going to happen was if Jungkook did too. It hurt. God, did it hurt. Yet, as sad and utterly pathetic as it sounded, you were used to the pain at this point, had resigned yourself to it. A part of you worried you wouldn’t know what to do without it.

Shaking off that depressing thought, you tugged on your rain boots and stepped outside for the first time in a week. The air was heavy with the promise of rain, the clouds low and gray. You tugged the hood up on your sweater to prevent your hair from completely frizzing out before you walked to down the back deck steps.

The backyard of your parents house was expansive. The home you had grown up in sat on top of a sloping hill that your mother had turned into her personal greenhouse. You stepped past rows of raised garden beds and pruned plants until you reached the line where the neatly mowed grass met the twisted ferns of the forest floor. As you had suspected, the ground was scorched with the evidence of past rituals. While your mother hadn’t out right admitted, you had figured someone had come and created a boundary line. It was obviously specific to Jungkook since Jimin and Taehyung were still able to visit. While your mother’s methods were extreme, you understood. As difficult as it was to move on with your life with Jungkook sequestered to the forest, you couldn’t imagine what it would’ve been like if he was within a few feet of you.

With a deep inhale, you sat down on the damp grass and waited. After a few minutes, you could hear the faint sounds of paws hitting the wet earth. The galloping got louder and louder until there was a momentary stretch of silence before it changed to footsteps.

When Jungkook emerged from the trees, you weren’t prepared. Although you knew you wouldn’t be, you still weren’t expecting it to hurt this bad. Your chest squeezed painfully at the first look of his broad form. Technically, it had been two weeks since you two had truly seen each other, the longest you’d ever gone. What hurt the most was how badly you longed for him. You wanted nothing more than to run straight into his arms, bury your face into his chest, and forget everything. Just forgive and give your heart what it wanted. But you remained firmly in place.

Jungkook looked as if he had seen a ghost. Which, to be fair, was probably true since you hadn’t seen the sun in seven days. His normally golden skin was pale and even from where you sat you could see the dark circles bruising under his eyes. Clearly, he hadn’t been sleeping. You hated that you noticed. You hated that you cared. He was dressed in all black and his chest strained against the material of his sweater. His hands were balled into tight fists at his side and the sight reminded you of why you were here.

“Hi.” Probably wasn’t the best start but it was the best you could do. Jungkook didn’t respond so you soldiered on. “I-I know you don’t want to be here, so I’ll make this quick. I just…wanted to apologize. I had no idea I made you so uncomfortable. I’m not sure how long you’ve felt this way about me, not that it really matters, but I wish you had told me sooner. Maybe things would’ve been easier for you, who knows.” You released a heavy sigh and tried to shove down the stone in your throat as you forced the next words out of your mouth. “But, all of that doesn’t matter anymore. I think I understand what you need, now. I know you loved me at one point, but I’m obviously not what you need anymore. And…t-that’s okay - I swear it is. All I want is for you to be happy, Jungkook. And I think, in order for that to happen, I need to move on. We both need to move on-”

“Stop it,” Jungkook broke in with a harsh voice that cut your sentence in half. “Stop talking.”

It felt like he had slapped you in the face. A wave of humiliation washed over you and you visibly flinched. Staggering to your feet, you locked your gaze onto your boots in an attempt to hide the tears that dripped down your nose. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, not expecting it to change anything. You began to turn away but Jungkook stopped you in your tracks, again.

“Wait, no - stop. Stop. Please…don’t go,” he pleaded. When you turned around, his eyes were frantic. Jungkook’s hand was raised from his side as if he thought about reaching out to you but something stopped him. His words were at war with one another and you were caught in the middle, at a loss for what he was trying so desperately to convey to you.

“Jungkook, I’m so confused.”

“I know. I’m sorry. God, I’m sorry.” Jungkook tucked his head into his hands before dropping down into a squat. “This is all wrong. This is all so wrong.”

You knew you should walk away. You had said your piece, it was time to move on, just as you had said. Yet, you couldn’t. It was as if your heart was tethered to him and your body couldn’t handle the pain of walking away. “Listen-”

“I don’t know what to do.” He cut you off but the bubbles of anger that had risen from being interrupted popped once you saw how lost he looked. His tattooed fingers threaded through his hair, allowing you to see the pure anguish that twisted his features. “Whenever I feel like this, I come to you. Because you always know what to do. Any situation, no matter what, you can handle it. It’s something I’ve always admired about you.”

The way he spoke to you now, so reverently and so full of awe, made your head spin. Nothing made sense.  It was such a blatant contrast to the brutality that he had spat out a week ago. As much as you wanted to believe what he said now, those stupid words could not get out of your head. It was a constant reminder that never shut up.

“I don’t know what to do either,” you admitted in a quiet voice.

“Tell me,” Jungkook begged, as if he couldn’t and refused to comprehend what you had just told him. “Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it. Whatever you want from me, I’ll give you.”

You were shaking your head before he could finish. “There’s nothing you can do, Jungkook. Nothing.”

“Don’t say that.” He stared at you, horrified. “Don’t say that to me. Please, there has to be something.”

“What could there be?” You cried. Tears streamed down your cheeks now. “You said it yourself, being near me makes you sick. Why would I stay? Why would you want me to? I refuse to make you uncomfortable anymore - so that’s that.”

“It isn’t,” Jungkook argued back. “It can’t be. I-I can’t lose you, I can’t. I need to make this right, please just let me. Please.”

But, you were tired. You were so fucking tired. You were exhausted of the emotional rollercoaster that you were on that you just wanted to crawl away and hide. All the fight seeped out of you as your shoulders slumped forward. Jungkook saw this and the blood drained from his face. You were giving up, he could see it, and it scared the shit out of him.

“Jungkook, I need to go, okay? I-I can’t do this.”

“No!” Jungkook shouted and shot up to his feet. The pure panic that choked his voice brought on a fresh set of tears that you struggled to hold back. “Just let me explain, okay? I swear to God, after you hear what I have to say, if you still want me to, I’ll let you go. I won’t fight you on it. But, please let me tell you the truth. Give me a chance to make this right. You deserve that.”

You hesitated for a moment. Deep down, you knew you should let him talk. Not because you necessarily thought he deserved to, but because he was right. You did deserve the truth, no matter how much it broke your heart. With a heavy sigh and a quick swipe of your cheeks, you nodded. Once Jungkook was sure you weren’t going to leave, he began pacing. Looking every bit like the wild animal you knew him to be but never got to see.

“Mating with a werewolf is…brutal. It’s intense, it’s painful and it isn’t pretty. It’s essentially a breeding session where I use you as a vessel to fulfill my innate biological needs. It’s not romantic, it’s not gentle. Even for she-wolves it can be too much. The thought of subjecting you to something like that - that type of pain…I couldn’t fathom it. I don’t think you understand just how precious you are to me. The image of you being battered and bruised because of me, something I did…it tormented me, day and night.” He paused for a moment, the pained look in his eyes made you shiver. You hated that he had gone through all of this turmoil on his own, and you especially hated how you never made more of an effort to try and relieve him of it.

“I couldn’t do it. That’s partially the reason I waited so long to tell you that you were my true mate. I knew ruts were something I would never expose you to even though it’s such a huge part of my life, a wolf’s life.” Jungkook looked you straight in the eye, the intensity of his dark gaze took your breath away. “I know the practices other wolves partake in when their own heats or ruts arrive. I know you know them too. But, I need you to understand something. The moment you allowed me to be yours and vice versa, I haven’t had anyone else since. I swear on my life, I’ve spent every single one of my ruts alone. I wouldn’t and I won’t do that to you.”

“Isn’t that painful, though?” Your voice cracked but neither one of you acknowledged it. While your knowledge on ruts were expansive, having done plenty of research since being with Jungkook, you had obviously never experienced one.

“It’s manageable. It’s way more painful for a she-wolf to go through her heat alone than it is for a male.” Jungkook clenched and unclenched his fists as he resumed his pacing. “The worst part is being away from you. I’ve been going through ruts since puberty, I can handle them. But not being able to be with you for a whole week…I hated it. Still do. I dread that three month mark. And as time went on, I became more and more miserable. Being apart from you was almost unbearable but the other option…I never even allowed myself to consider it.

“It came to the point where the pack was noticing. I wasn’t getting the proper pheromonal release from my ruts and it was beginning to affect those around me. Taehyung has been on my ass for months now to get over myself and take you with me during my next rut. Each time I’d give him some excuse, but it was getting harder and harder to justify what I was doing. At first, I was convinced it was because I was protecting you. But you’ve been so understanding and so patient with me and my life, those excuses were becoming useless. Eventually, I think it was because I was protecting myself. I was - am - so scared. I’m terrified that I could hurt you when I’m like that. That I wouldn’t be able to notice or worse, ignored, if something happened to you. Living with that type of fear became debilitating. So, I just kept my mouth shut and kept you away from that part of me.”

Jungkook shook his head and chuckled humorlessly. “Now I know that was the worst possible thing I could do. That I was just hurting you more. What you walked into last Sunday was a culmination of my frustrations that I was refusing to deal with. While it’s not a valid reason, I’m well aware of that, I need you to know that what you heard was not the truth. It couldn’t be further from it. Because the truth is that I’m hopelessly in love with you and the thought of being without you hurts worse than I ever thought was possible.”

It wasn’t the first nor would it be the last time that Jungkook left you speechless. It took you a full minute to process what he had said. Jungkook granted you the silence although he became increasingly more agitated as time passed. His boots scuffed the dead leaves that littered the ground and his pacing led him closer to the ashes that lay before your feet. Then, he’d suddenly stalk off with a growl as he was forced to keep away.

“I-” you cleared your throat around the lump that had found a home there. “I had no idea. This whole time…I thought it was because you didn’t want me.”

“God, no.” Jungkook swore heavily as his muscles bunched and coiled beneath his clothes. “The - the fact that…you - fuck. I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. That’s not it, that’s not it at all. You’re my dream girl, you’re the love of my life, and I want you every second of every day.”

Maybe it’s because you were emotionally drained and had no mental strength left. Maybe, you needed to hear those words from Jungkook more than you realized. Whatever the reason was, it wasn’t worth trying to figure out an explanation as you sunk to the ground and burst into tears.

Jungkook lost it across from you. Broken whines stained the air as he carded through his hair anxiously. He kept trying to get to you, to try to soothe you. But the boundary was unfortunately doing its job and each attempt was met with failure. Curses were spat out until eventually, he got as close as the boundary would let him and fell to his knees. He began spewing whatever came to mind first, unsure of what to do. All he knew was that you were crying because of him and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. He thought hearing you cry from your bedroom window was torture, but nothing could compare to hearing you break down in front of him. Nothing. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. I’m sorry…please, I’m so sorry. I - don’t cry, darling. Please don’t. I’m so sorry I hurt you, I didn’t mean to, I swear.”

It wasn’t tears of heartbreak that leaked from your eyes. Instead, it was tears of relief. While your heart had wholly accepted his words as the truth, the logical part of you reminded yourself that the two of you had way more talking to do. This was far from over, but the relief of knowing that he loved you and he was yours…it was indescribable.

You finally lifted your head up and were shocked to find Jungkook’s cheeks glistening with moisture. Your only thought was to comfort him as you scrambled forward to do just that. Instead of feeling his smooth skin against the palm of your hand, you were blocked by what felt like a wall although nothing stood in your way. Frowning, you realized with a start that the boundary worked both ways. Jungkook let out a frustrated growl as he glared at the ashes that was stopping both of you from getting what you wanted. It was silent for a few moments until an idea popped into your head.

“Wait here,” you announced before jumping up and taking off for the house. Ignoring Jungkook’s distressed cry, you ran inside. You yanked your car keys off from their designated hook and quickly typed out a text to your parents to let them know where you were going before spinning around and sprinting back outside. Jungkook was where you left him, although he stumbled to his feet when he saw you reappear.

“I’m going to your house,” you announced, breathless. “No witch is stupid enough to go that far into werewolf territory. If you want to talk to me there, then follow me.”

Jungkook stared at you for a heartbeat until the words you spoke clicked. “Y-yeah. Yes. Okay. I’ll be there.”

With a curt nod, you ran to your car. For the first time in a week, a faint sprout of hope bloomed in your chest.

It was the longest and shortest ten minutes of your life. The drive to Jungkook’s seemed to last a lifetime but also was over within a blink of an eye. The tears had stopped flowing by the time you pulled your car into his driveway, but you felt the telltale prick in your eyes when you saw him burst from the trees. Your heart ached as his long legs ate up the distance between you two as you wrestled with your seatbelt and threw the car into park. By the time you freed yourself, he was at the hood of your car.

The two of you stared at each other for a few breathless moments. You weren’t sure who moved first, but it didn’t matter as you crashed into each other’s arms. The moment his searing warmth enveloped you, you dissolved into another puddle of sobs. The feeling of his thick arms banded across your back, his torso molded to yours, and his hair tickling your ear, felt so right. Another wave of crippling relief washed over you and you practically melted against Jungkook. But he held you up, just like he always had.

He leaned against the front bumper while his hands were everywhere. Cradling your head into his neck, smoothing over your hips, or running circles over your shoulders. He was crying, you could feel the tears dampening your hair. But you were soaking his shirt so no one was in any position to complain.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“Don’t,” Jungkook hissed fiercely as he squeezed you tighter. “Don’t apologize. This isn’t your fault, not in the slightest.”

“Kook,” you sighed and pulled your head back to get a good look at him. “It takes two to tango.”

“Not this time,” he argued. “You’ve put up with so much. You’re everything I could’ve asked for and more. It was my own fears that got in the way and created this mess. And I’m so sorry for that, darling. I’m so fucking sorry.”

You shushed him gently, running your thumbs over his cheeks to swipe at the dried tears. “I know you’re sorry. I believe you.”

Jungkook dipped his head further into your touch with a pleased rumble vibrating through his chest. He kissed your palm gently, sniffing at your wrist. It made you giggle. “Missed that,” Jungkook mumbled as he stared at you with stars in his eyes. “Missed you. Missed you so much.”

A fresh wave of tears cascaded down your cheeks. You were positive that you looked like a mess, hair in a knotted bun, face red and puffy and you kept sniffling every two seconds. But Jungkook looked at you as if you held the world in your hands. “Missed you too,” you murmured in return. “Please, next time, just talk to me. I may not have the answers you’re looking for all the time, but I’ll always be here to listen.”

“I know,” Jungkook whispered. “There won’t be a next time, promise. If I happen to be stupid enough to put us in this position again, I give you full permission to punch me in the face.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” You lifted yourself onto your toes to brush your lips against his, dropping back down to your feet when his head chased after yours. “Or maybe I just won’t kiss you for a week.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened comically and he actually looked terrified. “I’d rather you just punched me in the face.” You tilted your head back and laughed. Jungkook tugged you closer and nosed your throat before peppering gentle kisses along the exposed skin. Sighing happily, you tilted your head to allow him better access and rested your cheek on his shoulder.

“I love you,” you said quietly. Jungkook froze for a split second before he sank against you. Squeaking in shock, you scrambled to brace yourself against the sudden weight pressing you towards the house.

“Say it again,” Jungkook pleaded. You couldn’t deny him. Dusting feather light kisses to the shell of his ear, you repeated those three words again, and again, and again. Each time you did, Jungkook held you a little tighter and cried a little harder.

Eventually, you’re murmured promises became softer and softer until the two of you just enjoyed each others presence. “C’mon,” you finally whispered as you started to lift yourself off of him. Jungkook growled and refused to let you move an inch farther. “Kook, come on. Let’s go inside. Your ass must be numb by now.”

“Don’t care,” he grumbled but he at least shuffled forward a bit more so that your combined weight wasn’t squashing his ass against your car.

“You might say that now, but you won’t be saying that later.”

Jungkook grunted at your logic but he at least raised his head and looked at you with the sweetest eyes. “Please tell me you’re staying.”

Giggling, you asked, “do you want me to?”

“Obviously,” he scoffed. “I want you here forever.” Jungkook tilted his head thoughtfully. “Actually, you should just move in with me.”

Christ, this boy was going to give you whiplash. You couldn’t help but laugh. “Jungkook, we just made up. The whole reason we were in this mess is because of poor communication. Don’t you think we should work on that first before anything else?”

“But…we could work on communication all the time if we’re together 24/7.” Despite his pout, you knew he wasn’t totally serious. Although you were sure it was going to come up again.

“Alright, you maniac,” you said fondly. “Take me to bed.” Jungkook’s chest rumbled happily as he lifted you up and wrapped your legs around his trim waist.

It wasn’t a long walk to his bedroom, but the exhaustion of the past week caught up to you and the gentle rocking of his steps lulled you into a serene state. Not quite asleep, but not quite awake either. You were aware when Jungkook placed you on his bed, practically engulfed in his scent. The last thing you remember before falling asleep was the words Jungkook pressed into your hair has he slid in behind you.

“Love you forever, my darling girl.”

©jcwritings Do not repost, translate, or use my stories without my permission.

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[i-did-not-mean-to]

For the Romantic Bingo - The Perfect Proposal, :)

Aaaah Pixie, my dear...

Okay, let's see...

Proposal II

Words: 1,5k

Characters : Thorin x reader

“What are…”

The words die on your lips as you step onto the narrow ledge; Thorin holds out his hand and you almost stumble over your own feet at the sight of the golden light pouring over him.

He looks so much like the statues of his forefathers and yet, he’s nothing like them for – under the surface layer of silver and gold – he hides a beating heart so ferociously alive that neither stone nor ore might keep it in check.

“I need to talk to you,” he smiles softly, pulling you closer to his side, his feet firmly planted on the rock that is his cradle and his home.

A strange feeling washes through your veins, diluting your blood and making you feel weak in the knees; since his coronation as the rightful king of the Longbeards, Thorin has kept you close – a valuable councillor and a valued friend – and you wonder if your time by his side has come to an end.

The mere thought clenches like a fist around your aching heart; you are in love with him, you have been for a long time, and it frightens you to even imagine being sent away.

It is so incredibly hard to pierce the mask of stoic self-control that he wears day-in, day-out.

Moreover, Thorin – like almost every other dwarf you had ever met – was ridiculously private, so this meeting could mean anything and its exact opposite.

“My friend,” he says while turning to the sinking sun, “I am much like this day.”

“Beautiful? Perfect? Warm and sunny under the dark clouds?” you supply and make him chuckle by waxing poetic with so much more ease than him.

“No, diminishing,” he replies calmly, “I am no longer a young dwarf…”

He turns back to you, seeks your gaze and holds it for a long moment, his hand lifting as if to caress your cheek.

You know that he’s right, but you disagree with the notion that his best years are behind him.

“What follows should be the happiest decades of your life, Thorin,” you promise, “this is the moment when you can rest and recover; your heir is strong, and your future is bright.”

The hand in yours twitches as his smile broadens, melting like wax under the onslaught of a steady flame.

“Do you like it here?” he then suddenly asks and nods at the vast expanse stretching endlessly before your eyes; once a desolate plain, it is now speckled with the signs of stubborn life sprouting roots that reach deep into the heart of the earth and throwing out living arms of growth to reach for the sky.

“This is home,” you reply. You are home, but that, you do not dare to say.

Is this the moment where your king tells you that he has no need of your services anymore? Is this the second where your heart is shattered by the rejection of a love that has never breached your lips only because it has never crossed his mind?

“You seem tense, my…love,” Thorin comments, shrugging off his heavy cloak to settle it around your shoulders to keep you warm as the sun sinks inexorably into the horizon like a ball of flame extinguished in a lake.

So many fires have died in that body of water, you know, but – unlike Smaug – the sun shall rise again and grace everyone with another shower of pale light.

“What are we doing here, my king?” you ask softly, tugging at his hand lightly to draw his attention from the landscape to your face; you refuse to think about the soft word spoken with such conviction.

Hope is a dangerous blade that cuts both ways as well you know.

How you relish in his beauty; it is the pulchritude of thrumming life rather than the cold perfection of a statue, and you’d take his wrinkles and scars over an idealised painting any day, no matter how flawlessly smooth it might be on the surface.

“I…” he falls silent again, his brow knitting in concentration as he goes over decades of book learning, societal and cultural norms, as well as basic life experience in search of the right words to say.

“I wanted to be alone with you,” he admits after a moment, “and – depending on your answer – we might well have to re-enact at least part of this conversation at a later date…”

“Yes?” you prompt him, your heart beating furiously in your throat and your hand growing sweaty in his broad, rough palm.

“I wanted to offer you what I know I can promise,” he says, his eyes shifting from the radiant, vibrating blue of sunny days into the velvety, crystalline hue of winter nights, “a land, a mountain, and a heart that have seen too much war and are still fighting their way back to…prosperity. I know not if any of them shall succeed.”

“Look, Thorin,” you cry out, pointing wildly at the small tufts of unyielding bushes pushing through rock and cracked earth, “life will find a way. Worry not, my king.”

To keep you from tumbling off the face of the mountain, Thorin tightens his hold on you and his smell – smoke, leather, and clean skin – envelops you like a physical blanket.

“I…your king, you say,” he mutters, his heavy brows furrowed, and his lips pressed into a thin line, “is that all you see when you look at me? Is getting the crown the last thing I had to achieve?”

You chuckle at that.

“No, Thorin, but my king you are indeed.”

“I don’t want to be your king,” he exclaims in quiet frustration, “I want to be your husband.”

“Even if you were my husband, you’d still be my king,” you contradict him automatically before you even fully realise what he has said.

“Pardon me?” you whirl around and – this time – you really almost throw yourself off the narrow ledge you’re standing on.

“You are impossible, woman,” Thorin laughs, throws you over his shoulder and carries you back into the mountain.

In the soft light of the torches, his eyes change hue yet again, and in those soft azure depths, you discover a well of love and affection of which you might have heard the gurgling echoes without ever daring to approach the stone wall surrounding the precious source.

“Then let me be your king,” he exclaims passionately, pulling a satchel out of the pocket of his tunic and handing it to you almost shyly.

Opening the bag, you find a necklace of rare beauty and a ring wrought around a stone the exact same shade of ever-changing blue as his eyes.

“Those are beautiful!” you gasp, letting them flow like water through your fingers before remembering how undignified such a display of greed is.

“They’re family heirlooms,” Thorin explains not without pride, “but if you don’t like them, we can have new ones made…”

“Stop, Thorin,” you interrupt him, “I love them; they’re gorgeous. Be so good and repeat your suit!”

Clearing his throat and muttering how you’re almost as bad as the Elven king when it comes to form and proper procedure, Thorin enunciates painstakingly: “I, Thorin II, you may fill in the numerous titles and epithets yourself, the dwarf to whom you’ve been friend and confidante, nurse, teacher, and solace, am asking you – respectfully – to accept my courtship so that – if I manage to win over your heart – I might claim your hand in wedlock.”

For a good moment, you cannot find the words to express the whirlwind of confusion and joy tearing you apart from the inside out as it rages through every corner of your soul and heart.

“I accept,” you finally reply, in a voice as calm and official as his has been.

You don’t fully understand what his words entail, but the idea that Thorin will try to woo you is at the same time ludicrous and utterly exciting to you.

“Between you and me – and I admit that is the main reason why I wanted to do this in private – can you at least set my mind at ease and tell me if there is any chance that I will win you over? I am aware that– beyond the title – I have not a lot to offer compared to younger suitors.”

“Loyalty, honour, and a willing heart?” you supply softly, cupping his bearded cheek in one hand and rubbing your thumb over the dark shadows of fatigue and grief under his radiant eyes.

“Oh, my love,” he sighs longingly, “I am battered and bruised, grumpy and – if my nephews are to be believed – ‘stuffy’, but I do love you and I’d do anything within my power to prove myself worthy of your love.”

“We shall see, Thorin Oakenshield, we shall see.”

[rarephloxes]

@lucienvanserraweek, free day!

I’m so happy to announce that this is a collab with my dear friend @ratabrasileira!!! Go show the beautiful drawing she did some love!!

rating: G

words: 2.2k

Elain searches the woods for flowers and finds more than she ever expected. Sleeping Beauty Au

❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦

Elain left the cottage barefooted, the soft cushion of the grass comfortable and well known to her feet. The familiar and gratifying feeling of calm earth beneath her, steady and grounding, more than enough reason to forego any sort of shoes.

Roses, Feyre had chanted, the dreamy look in her sister’s eyes persisting ever since her chance encounter with a newcomer guard at the town square, the prettiest ones you can find, please?

Elain had not the courage to tell her younger sister that she had picked fresh flowers just the day before, funny-shaped pink blooms Elain found at the lip of the stream near the border.

So, she had picked her basket - the one Nesta had gifted her on her last birthday, handmade by her older sister herself; a beautiful, intricate thing done with the hard-earned love of the hardest Archeron - and left, a spring to her step and a tune brimming in her throat.

The woods, the townspeople said, were older than the village by unaccounted years, and therefore filled with deep, wondrous and dangerous magic.

Elain, as well as her sisters, was orphaned too soon. A wasting sickness that had scourged their village had taken away both of her parents, one after the other, leaving only a nearly of age Nesta, a doe-eyed Elain, and a tear-stained Feyre.

Many years had passed since, the nebulous, all-consuming pain of the absence of their parents soothed by time. Despite her grieving, it never escaped Elain’s thoughts how lucky she was to have such wonderful people in her life: her kind neighbors; the quaint, energized people of the village, who never missed a chance for celebration; the old grouch at the square who made wooden figures just as her father once had; Feyre’s laugh, her creativity and Nesta’s attentive strength.

The woods, magical and mysterious, were a source of peace in Elain’s little life, too. A balm made of soft sunlight, fresh, perfumed breeze, and the singing quietness of wildlife.

She walked, shawl hanging on her elbows to ward off the slightest of spring chills. Elain sang to her heart’s content, a lively lyric dancing on her tongue and bouncing on the leaves of the tallest of trees, her heart soaring with each note she presented to her loved woodland.

With Feyre’s wishes in mind, Elain followed a path towards a grove, the humidity at her destination perfect for the birth of deep pink roses which best complimented Feyre’s complexion.

She crossed the sturdy old bridge that allowed passage over the river, her cottage’s mill no longer audible from where she stood.

“Hello, Mister,” Elain greeted the white, wild bunny, its twitching mustache smelling the air twice before hurrying on fast jumps towards her, a cupped palm of berries awaiting the animal’s eager mouth, allowing her to scratch its head “You’re rather famished this morning, aren’t you?” she asked. The bunny agreed with what seemed like and affirmative ear twitch before her furry friend scampered away to a nearby bush.

Then, singing about poets and kings, Elain continued her path through the meandering trees, her basket filling with dark, juicy berries - a few of them already staining her lips red - and multicolored flowers.

A bold, red little bird landed on Elain’s extended finger and enchantingly sung with her. Its melodic chirping lacing and harmonizing to the girl’s sweet voice, their impromptu duet accompanied by the rustling leaves and the gurgling stream.

How wonderful Elain felt, surrounded by nature, connecting to the air around her as if it had birthed her itself, offering it her voice. Respectfully reaping the charming flora, she found on her way, breathing their scent, befriending the forest animals, and spinning on the tip of her toes on the soft soil.

As she stopped dancing, her skirts still swishing around her calves from the last of her twirls, Elain noticed a magnificent shrub of the blooms she had braved the woods for, jewel-bright pink petals shining under sunbeams, as if the tress had organized themselves to create a spot of light for such earthly beauty.

Right then, the strangest of things happened.

With her heart jumping to her throat, beating frenetically against her ribs, Elain noticed a beautiful horse. Saddled, with a gleaming chestnut coat, dark eyes downcast, calmly munching on the grass near its hooves.

It wasn’t unheard of, horses in the woods, wild or otherwise, they were not far from the main road, but that was not what made Elain’s skin prickle with alertness.

A well-taken care horse as such must have a rider nearby.

“Samson,” called a male voice “There’s not much left to go.” The horse shuffled his legs, huffing before turning its nose away, back onto the moss.

“There will be carrots,” the voice tried again, with a tone of simulated indifference.

Caught like a fish on a hook, the horse’s great neck snapped up, looking at its rider, as if expecting the vegetable all at once. Stoic as the pair of them seemed, Elain had the impression Samson was kindly spoiled.

Elain, who could hear the rich sound of the stranger’s voice, had not yet distinguished his form in the shade beyond the grove she entered, but following the stallion’s gaze she finally sighted him.

Oh, but what a beautiful man he was.

Stranger was tall and broad-shouldered, with an old, silvery scar marking the side of his face, slitting his brow and narrowly missing his eye - which seemed to be a disconcerting shade of brown. He had the most vibrant shade of red hair she has ever seen, dark like autumn leaves and silky like water.

He was the most beautiful human she has ever seen.

Stranger, however, had yet to notice her.

And as handsome as he was, Elain was clever enough to realize that a quick, silent escape was the safest option.

Slowly, she walked one step back.

The crunch of the branch beneath her foot echoed loudly, too loudly to be confounded by an innocuous wildlife sound.

Elain couldn't raise her eyes to look at him, attention glued to the sword holstered at his hip.

“Be not afraid, lady. I’ll take my leave in a moment,” Stranger said in a placating tone, palms deliberately upraised for her benefit.

The woods turned to music at the exact moment their eyes met.

A world-altering spark of recognition lighted in her mind.

A stranger in the woods, merry music, dancing fireflies, and singing birds, trees being led by the wind as if women in a ballroom, her vision spinning, and her body lighting up like fireworks. A hand on her waist, a choreography her body must have been made for performing, such ease it was to allow it to guide her away.

Dreams, she remembered, wonderful dreams which always kept her under her covers for a moment too long, always ending way too soon, leaving longing as a dent in her pillow.

Now he was right in front of her.

“I know you,” she whispered, words slipping through her lips like birds escaping a cage, her hands shaking.

He was dressed in well-made traveling clothes, dark pants, finely done knee-length boots she had only ever glanced upon whenever wealthier people crossed the town to check on their local businesses, but those deftly dressed gentlemen couldn’t have looked better than the man even with the priciest of fineries. Elain resisted the urge to press her hands to her cheeks, heated and pink from noticing Stranger only wore a thin, unruffled poet’s shirt, - his cape and hat using the nearby trees as hangers - its open laces revealing golden skin and wisps of red hair.

Elain had never felt self-conscious of her looks or clothes, the townspeople dressing similarly to her (even if Elain herself had one of the best sewing hands in their village). Her current outfit was a simple corset with boning made out of prepped hedgehog spikes, the plain fabric embellished with neat seams and picturesque figures Elain had stitched herself; a brown, light skirt - easy to wash and easier to hide soil stains - and, what now she deemed absurd due to the grime on her nails, no slippers.

“And I, you,” he answered as in a daze, hands falling limply at his sides.

“Do you hear it?” Elain made her voice firm, lifting he chin but with her knees slightly bent, ready to run.

“Yes, my lady,” he took a step, then two, until a stretch of his arm would land his hand on her shoulder.

But he didn’t move to touch her.

Elain swallowed, the breeze cooling her body, eyes downcast, legs now motionless and nearly failing her.

“Why won’t you let me see your eyes, my lady?” She couldn’t be sure, for she knew him not, but there was pleading in his tone.

“I’m afraid, my lord, that if I look at you, I’ll awake and leave this dream,” she whispered, surprised, but not fearful, of her words. “And you’ll fly away from my grasp,”

Suddenly shy of her newly found boldness, she turned her back to him.

“I’m-" She started, voice small.

“No, please.” Elain saw a shadow over her shoulder but wouldn’t dare to guess. “Forgive me for my requests, my lady, you need not give me anything, I-”

He sounded... embarrassed.

She found it endearing.

The song of the woods shifted to a village rhythm she knew well.

“Dance with me,” he called.

A gasp fell freely from her mouth, the ghost of a touch on her hand.

Slowly, she turned back to face him and realized her mistake.

His eyes were not brown, but a vibrant russet shade, complimenting his hair better. Elain had heard only the continent bred humans with the most varied and colorful bodies.

“I forgive you,” she mouthed, her throat no longer functional.

There were callouses on his palms if from holding reins or sword fighting, she couldn’t determine, but they were so gentle against her skin she barely put any mind to it.

A blast of sound surrounded them, as if the song recognized their meeting, rejoicing in their movements, magnifying their volume to ensconce the pair of them in a cloud of magic. Elain allowed her stranger to spin and lead her in the dance of her dreams.

She couldn’t help to laugh and smile and giggle as they swayed in impossibly rehearsed arrangements, his wide, carefree, delighted grin pouring sunshine into her chest.

Time turned to a growing bloom, following the natural, slow, unpreoccupied pace of life. A hundred dances thrummed with them while the small pointer of the square clock circled once.

At that time, the resounding, deep clang of the church’s bell chiming twelve times broke through the magic steering the couple.

Elain ceased her steps, the pang of reality downing on her face, awareness washing the enchanted fog in her mind.

She let go of Stranger’s hand, the melodies dimming to a quiet hum, tempting her as a distance siren song,

“I must go,” she told him, yet unable to move.

“So soon?” he asked earnestly, arms lovingly tightening around her waist, not caging, only a gentle embrace.

“Oh, please, I must have my leave. Your lordship certainly has somewhere to be. I don’t even know what to call you-“ she babbled in a rush.

Stranger pressed his nose to the sliver of skin above her neck line, as if he couldn’t help himself, as if she were a saint and he a devotee. Elain lost the breath in her lungs, head lulling back, her words cutting themselves short.

“It’s yours,” his lips brushed the slope of her neck, “My name, my heart, my soul. It’s all yours. I’m Luc-“

Hurriedly, Elain lifted his head and pressed her pointer and middle finger to his mouth, “You must not tell me your name,”

“I heard your voice,” he admitted, a portrait of hope in his face, gently grasping her wrist “I deviated from the road to look for the angel whose song I was lucky to listen. But the singing stopped, as it was never there in the first place,”

“The woods have a mind of their own” she whispered to herself, eyes roaming around as if searching.

“I found you once I let Samson rest for a moment,” he continued, uninterrupted, as though afraid she would vanish in a poof of light.

“Please, my lady. Can’t you see? One is never to deny a gift from the Gods,”

“Are you a believer, Stranger?”

“Now, I am,” he said, his gaze unfaltering, “Will you allow me to reveal my name to your Ladyship?”

“I’m no lady,” she said, taking her hand from the warmth of his, regretting it immediately, “I must have my leave,” How would she explain her tardiness to Nesta? Oh, how reckless she was acting.

“At least allow me to take you to your home, my lady,”

Elain knew deep in her gut as clearly as she knew the color of the sky and the name of her favorite flowers that he would never hurt her.

But her oldest sister warning echoed in her conscience, coiling its limbs around her, refraining her voice.

The universe, it seemed, understood her decision.

Samson let out a loud neigh, attracting her love’s attention for just long enough.

“I’ll see you in my dreams,” she promised as he turned around to watch his horse.

And ran away, deep into the woods.

❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦

Thank you so much for reading! Reblogs, likes and comments make my day.

Special thanks to @moononastring and @silvergriff for hosting this awesome event, @separatist-apologist for being the kindest and most considerate beta reader I could ever hope for.

I’m building a tag list! If you want to keep up with my writing, let me know :))

I may or may not continue this? I really want to mesh this with a bunch of other ideas I have on my notes!!

[starksinner]

Rest

Summary: Charles takes care of you after a job goes terribly wrong.

Pairing: Charles Smith x Reader

Warnings: Heavy depictions of Violence, Blood, Gore, Hurt/Comfort, Slight Angst, Fluff, Implications of Sexual Harassment/Assault, Mention of Dissociation

Author's Note: I haven't written in what feels like a lifetime, so I apologize if this is a mess. Either way, the lack of Charles Smith fics across this website and others is downright a crime, so this is my "fine, I'll do it myself" moment. I hope I do some justice to (one of) the best characters in the Red Dead universe. I hope you enjoy reading, y'all!

AO3 Link

The bruised grass of The Heartlands scrape against the skin of your ankles and calloused feet as you are led from the wide-open prairies into the privacy of an austere and diminutive forest.

The air is moist with remnants of rainfall. Petrichor and the scent of nature tickles your senses as your bare feet meet the soiled ground of the woods.

In your mind, loud and boisterous, rumbles an orchestra of deafening thunder and screaming. The pounding of your head originates from the open and festering wounds that continuously pulsate from the split skin of your sensitive scalp — seething and oozing.

Your hands tremble as they are softly caressed and held within the palms of another, the caring touch calming and guiding as you find yourself threatening to slip off the face of the Earth.

When Charles whispers your name, the most delicate reminder of your existence, you can’t help but whine and whimper pathetically. You force your eyes shut as you fester in a cloud of anger and pride, condemning your humanity and the fragility of your own body as a soaring pain runs up the curve of your torso.

You breathe heavily as you groan and peer down at Charles’ language of love: touch — his ethereal touch, displayed by the tender interconnection of his fingers with your own. A familiar scarlet liquid has crept and dried into the small crevices of your fingers, serving as a grisly reminder of the evening’s barbarous events.

“Men love underestimatin’ a woman in a frilly dress,” you splutter softly, the task of speaking suddenly foreign. “Used their idiocy t’my advantage, but I ain’t too sure the price was worth it.”

Charles gives you a look that reflects that of solemnity rather than one of silent derision. You, like many individuals whose identities cause them persecution, prefer to be given a look that serves as a reminder of the severity of a situation rather than a look of belittlement. That look — the one of silent derision — is well known to you as you’ve watched it be used by men as a means of reprimanding and reminding women of their weakness, naivete, and disorder of hysteria.

Charles wasn’t most men, though. Charles was fair, liberal, and wise — no matter how much he’d quietly argue with you over such labels. He admired and encouraged your strength, both in the physical and intellectual sense. Before you even understood your love for him, you had viewed him as a mystical wonder — an actual man among men. He never viewed you as lesser or judged you unjustly. He took you as you were — in all your strength and all your weakness, with all your stubbornness and all your recklessness.

“You were only protecting yourself,” he asserts calmly, his brown eyes observing yours. ”Those men were...savages. They would’ve killed us if you didn’t hurt them first.”

Like most situations that have transpired the past couple of months, Charles held his head and was right — you knew he was right.

Haphazardly, you grip onto Charles’ hands harder, willing off the tears of discomfort that blur your irises.

“I...I don’t know where my dress stops and where I begin,” you murmur, frowning as you see his features drop sadly.

A deep maroon, the dress you wear is tailored to attract the eyes of desperate men and curious travelers. The bodice is silk and accessorized with a corset that shapes and accentuates that of which men drool and desire. Now, the lengthy ruby material is ripped and caked in pools of dried blood and other human materials you dare not to think about.

Your arms, neck, and chest are redder than the dress, dried patches of red and brown mementos from your slain enemies. You crave ripping off your skin and ridding yourself of the deadly feeling and sight of your sins.

“Camp is right over the hills through here,” Charles notes, pressing his fingers lightly under your chin. “Close your eyes and just focus on your breathing. Let me carry you, love.”

You melt into his soft touch, your face scrunching in defeat as a loud sob escapes you. “I hate killing, Charles. I hate it and I hate myself for it. It was...me or them, I know. That man said he wanted me to...I just…”

“I know,” he whispers. Without any trouble, as if you were a mere pelican feather, Charles hooks his arm under your knees and holds you to his chest. He swiftly carries you through the woods and into the open plains, navigating his way back to Horseshoe Overlook. He gently coos and whispers into your ear sweet assurances as you cry justly. “Nearly there, love.”

---

You felt dissociated from your own body as Charles helped you strip out of your ruined dress, kissing, caressing, and whispering to you all the right things. He helped you wash yourself by a nearby lake, lathering your skin with soap and pressing soft kisses against any apparent scratches and blooming bruises.

What was supposed to be a quick con job just north of Valentine, turned into a full fledged bloodbath. Your role was a simple and tired one — dressed as a rich simpleton, you were to distract some revenue agents and pose as a woman found lost on her wary travels. Charles, the silent hunter, would rummage through the agents’ wagons in search of the lock box that you had on good authority was carrying a wealthy prize.

It was easy — a con that you’ve been participating in since your rebel days with Arthur, both of you incredibly spry and dramatic in your teen years.

Things took a drastic turn as you spotted a third wagon headed in Charles’ direction, just as you were chatting up and charming a lanky looking agent. In a last attempt at distraction, you placed your hand against the agent’s chest and began flirting with him, making his eyes wander to your red painted lips and nearly exposed chest.

Alas, the third wagon of revenue agents had spotted Charles — causing a boom of gunshots and shouts to echo across the plains. Your body immediately tensed until you spotted your love hiding behind a boulder, shooting off his Springfield Rifle into the growing crowd of agents. You acted on pure instinct as you swiftly reached under your skirt, gripping your knife, and slicing the throat of the agent in front of you. His blood splattered across your face as he choked, whined, and fell to the ground at your feet. You grabbed the Bolt Action Rifle from his dead grip and began firing into the agents around you, covering yourself behind one of the large wagons.

It wasn’t until you heard Charles struggle and shout that things took a gory route. He was fighting against a brawny agent that had pinned him to the ground, both men grunting and punching for dominance. You no longer considered your own wellbeing as you kicked off your shoes and sprinted towards him, shooting the agent straight in the head and another three of them as they screamed and barreled towards the both of you. You took hold of the left side of the field while Charles ran to another empty boulder and flanked the right. Both of you fought to pick off the pack of revenue agents that had seemingly swarmed the area, reloading your guns and bearing the pain of flesh wounds resulting from incoming bullets.

Just as you thought you were in the clear, the air was knocked straight out of your lungs as your head smashed against the side of the wagon and you were pushed, face first,  into the solid ground.

“You enjoy playing with guns, sweet thing?” The man on top of you grunted and gripped your neck as you thrashed and struggled below him. He dropped his knee against your lower spine, causing a mantra of curses to pass your lips as you promised death upon him.

“You got some mouth on you,” he groaned into your ear, holding you down harder as you continued to scream and fight beneath him. “I’m gonna take you in. Teach you how to kneel an’ please me good with my dick in your mouth, sweet thing.”

Suddenly, the commotion of gunshots leapt into a dreary silence, causing the man above you to turn his attention to the sudden absence of noise.

In your panic, you heard Charles scream your name.

With all your strength, you growled and practically bucked the agent off of you, reaching forward for your knife and whipping around to kick the man where it truly hurts the most.

The coward wailed on the ground and gripped his manhood, cursing you out as he shuffled backwards in fear. You spat and stalked towards him, your chest heaving and your eyes only seeing red. You pressed your right foot into the agent’s abdomen, hard, squatting down and positioning the tip of your blade near his chest.

“I hope hell burns extra hot for you, sweet thing.” You sneered at his visible fear and hurled the blade into the man’s chest — over and over, you plunged your knife into the agent’s body as blood poured from his mouth and he gaped at you with wide, dying eyes.

Blood poured from your scalp down to your face, your side screamed in agony, every inch of your skin was matted with blood that wasn’t your own — you stabbed until you physically felt the soul of the man beneath you leave his body.

That’s how Charles had found you, still and motionless, covered in blood and lost in your head as he called out for you and led you away from the strew of dead bodies.

---

“I need you,” you speak softly, breaking the night’s silence. You and Charles were under the protection of your tent: he’d been crafting poultice for your inflamed wounds while you’d been attempting to find pleasure in a bowl of Pearson’s stew. Your mind couldn’t stop racing and mulling over the day’s events.

You craved a distraction. You craved Charles.

“Charles?”

“Not tonight,” he murmurs. He speaks with an unwavering finality but with no anger, upset, or aggression. “You need rest. The both of us.”

You frown, like a child. “I just...I’m…”

“I know.” He places the cloth he was working with down and shuffles his way over to you, gripping the blanket by your feet and putting it over your body. He wordlessly noticed you had been shivering, wrapped only in your thin chemise. “When we’ve both recovered, we can share each other...It’s been a long day and I don’t want the love I have for you to pose as a distraction from the pain.”

You snuggle into his side, basking in his scent of ginseng and cedar, and nod against him. He was right, he was always right. “I...I love you, Charles. So, so much. You’re...everything and more to me.”

“And you to me.” He presses his lips against your temple, making sure not to touch the bandages against your scalp. He too takes in your scent, sprinkles of honey and peaches, a smell that proves to be his home and final landing.

He watches your eyelids flutter shut and lets you lay against your shared mattress, pressing a final day’s kiss against your warmed cheek. He is satisfied by your peaceful reflection. “I’ll wake you in the morning for coffee, my love. Get some rest now.”

Charles' sweet whispers are your last rememberings of the day as you drift off into a calming dreamland.

[diredove]

Hello!!! May I request Staff x Reader scenarios or headcanons whichever you feel like doing where the reader gets very flustered and bashful at flirtation and compliments towards them? 👉👈😚

You bet! Thanks for my first ask! <333

This is pretty long since it includes everyone, so most of it is under the cut! Let’s see how I do, hehe

Dire Crowley 

- He gets a major ego boost out of it, your blush can only mean that his charm is still as all-encompassing as it was in his youth!

- He's going to act (very poorly) like he's apologetic about making you shy, but his apology is buried under him having a big head about it

-"Ah, am I too bold for you? I can't help that I am not only kind, but also debonair! It is a curse!"

- Also just because he apologizes for being bold doesn't mean he's going to stop! Now that he knows how much he effects you he's going to flirt with you at every chance and revel in the flush on your face

- "How cute, I've once again put you under my spell! Will you ever recover?"

- You can say goodbye to the days you could walk freely on campus, because now you never know when Dire is going to catch sight of you and yell out some super specific compliment at you even as you try to run

- No seriously, he pops out when you least expect him with the cheesiest lines on the tip of his tongue, if you weren't so busy being embarrassed for yourself you'd be embarrassed for him

- But it's okay, everyone else side eyes him for you, because it's actually painful how proud Dire is of himself whenever you can't meet his eyes

- The man is on cloud nine having an adorable being like you at his whim alright, you really need to understand how big his chest is puffed up because of you

- If you actually asked him to stop, let's be honest, he wouldn't listen at first. Dire is someone who needs it drilled into his head to get the picture and just one scolding isn't enough for him to give up his new favorite pass time

- If you truly mean it, he'll sulk about it and lament the loss of your rosy cheeks dramatically, but he'll back off if you don't budge

Divus Crewel

- Not surprised in the slightest, but highly amused.

- "Precious." Is his first thought, seeing you wring your hands in front of yourself

- Well, of course you're flustered by him, he flusters everyone. However, if it's you, he's less bored and much more playful

- Since he's always making some innuendo or being flirty already, he makes it a point to turn it up to 11 when he's with you. He wants you to know you're special

- "If I lined up every precious puppy in the world, you'd still win best on show."

- He's more sincere with his compliments, and purposely dotes on you more than anyone else so you get the hint he likes your flushing face better than all the others he's seen

- And poor you, Divus is trying to make his intentions known but for you he's just turning up the heat until you can barely speak to him

- At least before you could calm yourself down by saying "He's like that with everyone" but then he goes and says things to you that he most definitely doesn't say to everyone!

- If you tell him off, he will obey. It is never his intention to cause you discomfort, and if his advances aren't returned he's not the type to pursue someone unwilling. That's just plain uncouth.

- If you make your stance clear Divus will go in the opposite direction, making a point to be professional and polite with you to avoid coming off as disrespectful of your rejection.

Sam

- He stops in his tracks and stares. Wait, hold on, you're flustered? By him? Surely you've got the suitors lining up where you're from, right?

- "You're flustered over little ol' me? Well now I'm embarrassed, having flattered a an evening star like you!"

- If you attempt to deflect or downplay yourself, Sam's not having any of it. In fact, now he's just offended because you're trying to convince him he's blind and you aren't the prettiest thing to walk the earth

- Sam is definitely the type to call out your shyness, not to be mean, but to give you some confidence!

- Because, seriously, you're flustered? You should be getting bigger and better compliments than his left and right! Why, have you seen yourself?

- It's too late to try and hide your face from him, no no no, Sam is going to remedy this right now!

- Sam is the best at showing off the good qualities of his products, he could sell a bottle of water to an ocean if he wanted, and now he's putting all that energy into convincing you you're the cat's meow!

- "Look at those eyes, that smile, that sweet demeanor! You can't find that just anywhere, I'll tell you what folks!"

- Every time you buy something now, it comes with a compliment and if you try to reject it he's going on another spiel about your beauty until you get it through your head that you're a dime

- Unlike the others, he is directly against stopping his campaign. He wants you to be confident and sure of yourself, so he's less likely to back off

- He probably wouldn't stop until he got some sort of sign he got through to you, like asking you call yourself gorgeous and tell him your good qualities. If you can manage that, it'll satisfy him enough to stop waxing poetic about you. For now

Ashton Vargas

- He won't ever admit it, but he was shocked. Ashton's a confident guy, but he knows he doesn't have a good track record when it comes to romance.

- He hides it under his bravado, but he's over the moon that you're so receptive to his compliments

- "Oh, you embarrassed? Yeah, I have that effect on people!"

- Inside he's squealing at the idea of you thinking he's worth blushing over

- You being shy over him complimenting you gives Ashton confidence to woo you in other areas, if you like his flirting then you'll totally like his flexing and showing off too, right?

- He acts like a whole fool whenever you're around, he's like a schoolboy shouting "Look at me!!" the moment he sees you

- He could be eating lunch one minute, then you come in and suddenly he's decided to bench press the table. Oh no, you just thought you saw him drinking from his water bottle, he was actually pouring it over his face and shoulders because he's just so hot from his work out!

- He doesn't care who's around, which makes you even more embarrassed because everyone looks at you two and now everyone is looking to see your reaction

- Everyone is sick of him and wondering why you put up with his shenanigans, honestly.

- If it gets too much for you, Ashton will probably take it harder than others. Ah, so it was too good to be true after all, huh?

- He won't let it show to you though, he'll laugh it off and treat you just as well as he treats everyone else. He's past his teenage days of anger at rejection, he's a big boy now.

Mozus Trein

- What do you mean, you're embarrassed? He's mortified!

- He sees your blush and thinks he majorly overstepped, and quickly tries to reassure you that he didn't mean to be so forward

- "M-My dear, I assure you I meant no disrespect! I am not that kind of man, truly!"

- Which in turn makes you want to assure it not his fault at all and you fluster too easily, and now both of you are apologizing in circles

- From that moment on, Mozus basically flees every time you're in the vicinity, he's tarnished your image of him and he can never show his face again

- Don't be fooled, he wishes he still had that bold streak he used to. He could have gone about things much differently and really swept you off your feet!

- But his delivery was all off and he's too old for all this now, he could never charm someone as lovely as you with how rusty he is at romance

- Eventually he'll get over his shame and talk to you as though it never happened, do not bring it up he will cry, but he chooses his words much more carefully from now on to avoid further embarrassment

- He does try to compliment you after regaining his courage, if only to prove to you that he's not always that awkward, but it's always aborted and you never get the chance to flush over it

- You won't have to worry about teasing with Mozus, you'll just have to worry about the fact that one of you shy fawns is going to have to make the first move at some point and neither of you are keen on the idea

[honeyhan-123]

The Monster In Plain Sight ~ II

Series Summary: Steve’s been slowly biding his time, playing the role of the perfect Captain America, but now he’s sick of playing and he’s going to take what he wants.

Chapter Summary: You awaken to a little surprise... 

Warnings:Dark!Steve, explicit mentions of rape, male masturbation, porn, Steve being creepy. 

Word Count: 2.7k

AN: Sorry it took me so long but enjoy this lovely new banner/moodboard <3

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist 

Despite his late night rendezvous, Steve Rogers was up with the sun, just like usual. He knew he still had plenty of time before you would awake and so he started his normal morning routine, with only a slight tweak. Instead of heading to the shower where he usually imagined your body underneath his as he fisted his raging hard cock, he lay in bed, pulling out the camera from his bedside table. 

His fist glided up down his cock as he played the video back. You had felt so good last night and watching the video just made him want you even more. He couldn’t wait until you were completely his, at his mercy. But most of all, he couldn’t wait until you were awake while he took you. He wondered if you would fight back like the others had, or if you would just yield to him like the sweet little submissive he would train you to be. 

He rarely got the chance to take someone while they were awake, it was far too dangerous and while he did have friends in high places and he knew that any claims would just get swept aside, if too many claims came up people would start to talk and he wanted to avoid that at all costs if he could. 

When he finally came all over his stomach it was to the vision clouding his mind of you, down on your knees, mouth wide open as you jerked him off. In his vision his cum coated your face, some of it dripping down to your chest and like the good girl you are, you swept some of it up with your fingers before licking them clean. ‘Thank you Steve.’

He showered and dressed quickly after that. On his way out of the apartment complex he stopped by your room, letting himself in with the key he had snagged from the landlord weeks ago. Your body had barely moved from when he had said goodbye, your nipples still pebbled from the cool air and a mess slowly seeping out of your cunt. 

He could feel himself harden again as he fixated on his dried cum coating your pussy lips. He hoped it took, but if not there was always next time. 

Steve had to physically force himself out of your room because he knew if he stayed he would take you again and you would probably wake up while he was inside you, which would ruin everything. He had to play this smart if he wanted it to work. So instead, he blew you a kiss from the doorway before heading out for his daily run, more eager than ever to return. 

+

You awoke slowly, a soft smile drifting across your lips as you remembered the dream. It had been more vivid than most, in fact, you could almost have sworn it was real. They were happening more and more often recently. Ever since he moved in next door. The living Adonios. 

You couldn’t help it. Not really. Not when he looked like that. You blamed the most recent one on dinner the night before. He had seemed so sad at the prospect of eating alone and so you had offered to cook for him. The smile that had graced his face had completely eased you of any anxiety at inviting a stranger into your home. 

When your eyes finally opened, the warm contentment turned to ice in your veins. 

Your body jolted up and you grimaced as you felt a pang between your legs. Where your sleep clothes had once been, there was nothing but naked skin. The ice in your veins turned to shards when you dipped a hand down, in between your legs. You didn’t have to be able to see it to know what it was. 

You didn’t make it to the bathroom in time. 

Instead you emptied what little was left in your stomach into the waste paper basket by your bedside table. You couldn’t think of anything as you lay on the floor, heave after heave convulsing through your body. 

You didn’t know when they started but tears were freely flowing down your cheeks and sobs joined the dry heaves. How had this happened? How could this have possibly happened? What had happened?

You almost didn’t hear the knock over the noise but then you heard his voice call out. ‘Y/N? You there? Is everything okay?’ Your unease lifted slightly and you scrambled to cover yourself with a dressing gown. If anyone could help you it was him. Captain America. 

A part of you didn’t want to face him, you didn’t want to face anyone. Not like this. But you knew that you should. He was a good guy and he’d be able to help. You chanted that mantra over and over again as you approached the door, wincing with every step.

You were just about to unlock the door when a flash of your dream came back to you. His godlike face twisted in pleasure as he rutted into you. It raised bile in your throat and you had to force yourself to swallow it back down. 

You were being ridiculous. You knew you were. Yet you still couldn’t quite bring yourself to open the door. 

‘Y/N? I’m starting to get worried, is everything okay?’ Concern laced his voice and you knew he was just trying to be friendly yet still you couldn’t bring yourself to open the door. Instead you tried to find your own voice.

‘No… Steve. It’s not.’ You barely managed to choke the words out but you knew he heard you. 

‘Let me in Doll. Let me help you.’ His voice was earnest but still you shook your head.

‘I can’t.’ The words were whispered against the wood. ‘I just… I can’t even think about it.’ 

‘Doll, you’re really worrying me. Let me in and I’ll help you, I promise.’ Steve’s voice pleaded at you through the door and a part of you longed to open it for him. 

‘I’m not decent…’ Even you could tell how feeble your excuse was and it seemed like Steve had had enough.

‘Doll… Open the door or I’ll break it down. I’m really concerned.’ Despite the threat, you knew he was just trying to help you and the thought of not having a door anymore sent a chill down your spine. Not that the door had helped much last night… ‘You have until the count of three. One… Two…’

The door creaked open before Steve could get to three and he relished in the sight before him. 

You had your arms wrapped around yourself, as though you thought you could physically hold yourself together and there were dried tear tracks down both your cheeks. Steve had to hide his glee at seeing you so defeated. Now wasn’t the time for gloating, it was the time for comforting. 

‘Oh Doll… What on earth happened to you?’ Your eyes were locked on the floor, refusing to meet his as he searched your face. You even recoiled as Steve reached out to cup your chin in his hand. ‘Doll? I need to know what happened.’ Steve tried to make his tone firm yet still comforting, wanting you to feel safe with him. 

‘I… Well…’ Steve could tell your words were failing you and now wasn’t the time to push but he so longed to hear you admit it. 

‘Doll?’ There was silence for a beat as you thought.

‘My apartment… it was broken into last night.’ 

‘Oh Doll, I’m so sorry. What did they steal?’

‘I-nothing. At least I think…’ You slowly drifted off, your eyes quickly darting around the small main room.

‘Oh, well then what’d they do? Did you wake up?’

‘No… I only just woke up…’ Your vague answers were starting to annoy Steve. He just wanted to hear you say it. 

‘Doll, what aren’t you telling me? I’m trying to help you but I can’t do that if I don’t have all the facts.’ 

‘No I don’t - I don’t want your help. I’ll just call the cops or something.’  

‘Doll,’ he gripped your chin, forcing you to look up at him. ‘I’m an Avenger. I’m here to help. I’ll be far more useful to you than those pigs. I mean… Do you really think they’ll help someone like you? We both know how useless they are and how little they care about anyone but themselves.’ Steve was careful with his word choice. He didn’t want to seem too eager but he also needed to persuade you to confide in him. 

‘Plus, the Avengers have far more resources than the NYPD could even dream of. I want to help you and I want to put your fears at ease.’ Steve could almost hear the argument raging in your head. He knew how little you cared for the city’s cops due to past experiences and was gratified when you seemed to come to a decision. 

‘Okay, but… Well, it’s not really an Avenger level threat.’

‘I assumed as much Doll. But don’t worry. I’m your friend first and Captain America second. I wont tell the others.’ Looking into his cerulean blue eyes you could see nothing but earnestness and maybe a little excitement at the thought of helping you and so you made up your mind. No matter how embarrassing it was, you would feel better with him helping than some random cop. So you gave a little nod at your ascent which was met by America’s most charming smile.

‘So what happened?’

‘Well… Like I said. My apartment was broken into last night.’ Your eyes were locked on your fingers as you spoke. Not wanting to have to say any more. 

‘But they didn’t take anything?’

‘No. I’m pretty sure they didn’t.’ 

‘So what happened?’ You took a deep breath, trying to prepare yourself for saying it outloud. 

‘I… they… When I woke up…’ Your words seemed to be failing you but Steve was determined to wait it out. He was determined to hear you say it. ‘I don’t know how it happened but… they… I was… I was violated.’ 

‘Violated like…?’ Steve let his question hand in the air.

‘Sexually. They raped me.’

‘They raped you?’ Steve repeated your words back to you as if double checking that he had heard right. You couldn’t help the flinch as if his words alone could physically hurt you but you nodded your head. ‘How?’

Despite yourself you shot him an exasperated look. ‘How do you think? They broke in and they fucked me while - while I was… while I was asleep.’

‘And you didn’t realise?

‘No… At least not really…’ You blanched at your admission, inwardly begging he wouldn’t ask what you meant. But obviously whoever out there didn’t care about what you wanted. 

‘What do you mean?’ 

‘It doesn’t matter.’ You tried to shrug off his question but his eyebrows rose and he locked you in with an unyielding stare. ‘Well… I didn’t notice… at least subconsciously. I had a dream.’ 

‘A dream?’

‘Yes a dream. But it doesn’t matter like I said.’ Your cheeks flushed with heat at the mere mention of it.

‘And it was sexual?

‘Yes.’

‘Who was it with?’

‘Excuse me?’ 

‘You might have subconsciously picked up things about your attacker in your dream. It’ll help us narrow the search.’ Steve seemed to sense his misstep and quickly tried to justify it. 

‘No. It wasn’t him so it won’t help.’ Steve opened his mouth as if to argue but you steeled yourself with a glare and said in the firmest tone you could manage, ‘it won’t help.’

Steve seemed to sense your resolve and dropped the topic, instead focusing on what had happened. ‘So I guess it happened in your bedroom?’ You nodded and followed him as he crossed the room. ‘So obviously since you were asleep you didn’t really notice anything but what makes you so certain something happened?’ 

You couldn’t believe he was seriously asking you that. ‘I know something happened because… well when I woke up I could tell and there was… stuff.’ You couldn’t bring yourself to call it what it was. 

‘Stuff?’

‘Bodily stuff.’ You urged him to understand and thankfully he did. His mouth dropped into a little ‘oh’. 

You watched as Steve walked around your room, occasionally pausing here or there to pick something up and examine it. He didn’t stop until he got to your pillow. 

‘Have you seen this?’ He held out a little piece of paper in his hand and you shook your head.  ‘Thank you so much for last night baby. I can’t wait to see you again.’ You shuddered as he read it aloud. ‘Have you seen the handwriting before?’ 

You shook your head as you stared down at the paper. It was completely unfamiliar. ‘That’s okay, I’ll take it to the lab and see if we can get a handwriting match or any fingerprints. But I think perhaps you shouldn’t be staying here anymore. Do you have some friends or family in the city?’ 

‘Uh no not really. All my family is interstate and I’m pretty new to the city.’ 

‘It’s no matter. Honestly probably for the best. The Avengers have a series of safe houses, the highest possible security and protection. Maybe you should stay at one of those.’ 

‘Are you sure that’s really necessary?’ 

‘Do you want him to come back?’ 

‘Of course not.’

‘Then yes I’m sure it’s really necessary. We have one upstate, close to the compound that I think will work nicely. Why don’t you pack a bag?’ 

+

You packed like a machine, barley even pausing to think. There was no rhyme or reason as to what you were placing in the small weekend bag, anything you could get your hands on. You shoved in a pair of bathers along with your thermals used for snow and then an old hiking shirt.

Steve had left very briefly to make some phone calls and pack a bag of his own but you barely noticed when he returned, a small red bag in his hand. You watched confused as he handed you a little glass tube, a Q-tip inside. 

‘Here, I found this in my first-aid kit. I figured you would want to do a test.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘It’s for DNA. I’ll take it to the lab and we’ll see if we can find a match in the system. So if you could allow me to just…’ You quickly caught on as a blush coated Steves cheeks while the blood drained from your own. 

‘I can do it.’ 

‘We can’t let the chain of evidence be in question. If it’s called up in court…’ You shook your head vehemently. 

‘Please Steve. I mean, the evidence is already on me. It’s hardly breaking the chain of evidence.’ 

Steve sighed but nodded you away towards the bathroom and you scrambled away. Your hands shook as you swiped the Q-tip along your folds, trying to get as much DNA as you could on the little head. Revulsion wrecked through you as you decidedly fixed your gaze on the hot water tap on your sink. You analysed how the rust had crept up the side of the handle instead of thinking about what you were doing. 

When you were finished you headed back into the bedroom where Steve stood waiting with a glass of water in his hand. 

‘The drive should only be a couple of hours and I can drop that off at the compound once you’re at the safe house.’ You nodded and made for your bag, hitching it up over your shoulder. 

‘I’m not sure if you’ve thought about it much, but I imagine you probably want to take this.’ He handed a little white pill out to you along with the glass of water. ‘It’s a morning after pill, they come with the rape kit.’ 

‘Shit, yeah. I hadn’t even thought about that. Fuck that’ll be awful wouldn’t it? Just my luck too.’ You threw the pill back in one swallow and smiled graciously at Steve, not quite realising just how forced his smile had now become. 

‘C’mon, let’s get out of here.’ Steve pulled your bag from your shoulder and left the room. 

You cast a small once over of the bedroom one last time, not noticing the little Tylenol wrapper in your waste paper bin. 

+

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A Wife for Thor Pt.02

10/19/2020

No Lies in a Marriage

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader          Word Count: 5,150

Warnings: angst, anxiety, panic attack, language

A/N: As I said in the post earlier today, you’ll probably see updates for this story often right now because it’s at the beginning and I know where I’m going pretty clearly and how to get there and it’s kinda just writing itself for right now. Anywho, I hope you enjoy this chapter! I love writing this reader with Thor...but I think it’s just because I love writing Thor. haha If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

You sit up most of the night after talking to David, staring out your bedroom window at the small plot of land you call your own.

Your belonging. The only true one you’ve ever had.

It’s a small inheritance, sure but it’s yours. Yours alone. A sanctuary from the feeling of emptiness that you’d once felt wishing for something that felt like home. It’s more than even some will ever have.

You’re lucky.

And now you have to leave it behind?

There’s no denying your own part in this mess. You’d been given a choice and you’d made it, believe this outcome would never come. Yet here you are, betrothed and fated to be Queen of Asgard.

David comes to help you pack because he knows that you’ll be wallowing.

In shock you pack just as asked, essentials only which means for you, only your clothing, your laptop, and a very small collection of books are chosen.

You have no pictures to take with you. No family heirlooms or sentimental possessions. You fit it all into one large suitcase.

Funny. As you pack, you can’t help but imagine the lives your nomadic ancestors had lived. Much like you in these moments as you pack what little you have of your life away; they must have left everything behind over and over in their search for their own belonging.

It only takes you two hours to pack once David arrives and together you lug the suitcase down your little hallway to the front door.

There, a beautiful Asgardian stands waiting, her eyes on your own foggy expression with slight concern as David joins her and they lapse into quiet conversation as you continue to space out, thinking about the life you’re leaving behind.

Really, if you’re honest, it isn’t much of a life.

Yes, you have your routine. This is your house. Your things. But aside from that, there’s nothing here. Nothing but independence and solitude.

That’s enough, some would say. Others would wonder what you do with all your time.

Why hadn’t you found someone to share this life with? Someone who could appreciate the coziness of this place with you.

“Are you ready?” The Asgardian asks, Brunnhilde, her voice smooth but stern, yet not unkind.

You turn to look at her, hair gathered up on her head in a large bun. She’s dressed for the Norwegian weather she’s come from despite it being significantly hotter here.

She’s not bothered by it. Or if she is, she hides it well.

“Would it matter if I said no?”

“No.” She smiles at you, cheek bones so rounded and pretty you almost want to stroke them because you’ve rarely seen anyone so beautiful.

All of the Asgardians are beyond compare when it comes to looks. Even those that are plain radiate a golden aura. Godlike. Thor’s is the strongest and he’s most certainly the most beautiful to look at.

You’d been too afraid to admit it to yourself before because you’d been so decided against marrying him, but Thor is by far the loveliest man you’ve ever seen. Ideal. He’s exquisite.

And you get to marry him. Which doesn’t exactly feel like a bad thing.

Being chosen to marry Thor would be amazing, given the fantasies you’ve allowed yourself to indulge in since the day you met with him, if not for the fact that you know he’s in love with someone else. Someone who won’t marry him. Someone stupid, obviously.

And those fantasies you’d indulged in would never happen with someone else in his heart. So without that, all you have left is duty. Duty to Earth and its people, ensuring their safety and though you honestly don’t think Earth needs it, the assurance from the Asgardians that they will respect humans as the dominant lifeform on the planet.

Yes, the whole Queen of Asgard thing is a little daunting and will probably take over your life, so you can’t blame this mystery woman for not wanting to give up her own pursuits to take care of an entire people. To give up one identity for another? Yours is close enough to blank—your life nearly empty—that for you, this might not be such a great loss and yet, this leaves you wondering what this will do for you career.

Small as it is, you’ve had two books published. Limited releases with not much traction. Still, the accomplishment is your own. One you’re proud of.

Will you have to stop writing?

“There will be a dinner, to introduce you to Thor’s inner circle. Myself, Loki, a few others that serve directly under him.” Brunnhilde is saying, pulling you back to reality.

You look around, having zoned out so thoroughly that you hadn’t even realized you’d boarded a plane and taken off.

“The only one you’ll have to watch out for is Sif. She’s usually pretty nice, but she’s a little miffed about the whole marriage situation. From what I’ve heard, she’s had a thing for Thor since they were children. She’s a fierce warrior. Might want to avoid her altogether if possible. Asgardian women can be a little territorial.”

Lovely, another rival.

“So can human women.” You grumble, already hating the looks of what you suppose will be an onslaught of distractions for your future husband in the forms of beautiful women.

Brunnhilde quirks a brow, raising it high as she considers your words but doesn’t comment further.

“He’s never seen her as more than a comrade in arms. Or so he says.” She sounds unconvinced, but you recognize her attempt to calm you.

You stare, saying nothing more as your world is overturned.

“After dinner, you’ll spend some time with Thor. He wants to talk to you a bit. The wedding will be on Thursday. Thor’s idea. Full of himself, the idiot.” She’s smiling as she insults him, flipping the page of a magazine she’d grabbed from the pocket of the seat in front of her and you realize they must be close friends.

“Did he really pick me?” You wonder, knowing that her personality will only let her answer one way.

Brutally honest.

“Against all our recommendations.” She tells you. “Most of us were pulling for the Hungarian one. She had the schooling and the training. A little too eager for Thor, or so he said. And Loki. Loki was also in favor of you.”

“Loki?!” You gasp, remembering with great detail your chance meeting with the Asgardian prince.

“Oh yeah.”

Why would Loki want Thor to choose you? You weren’t exactly nice to him. Then again, you weren’t really mean either. Just…blunt.

More importantly, after the awkward conversation with Thor and his admission to marrying despite his feelings for someone else, his choice is the most confusing.

“Why did he pick me?” You plead. “Thor.”

“You’ll have to ask him tonight after dinner. I couldn’t tell you other than that he said he wanted someone real. Someone who knew what it’s like to be a normal person. Whatever that means.” Brunnhilde shrugs. “Normal is all relative. Odin, I need a drink.”

The plane ride is over too quickly and the ride to New Asgard even shorter. The village is large but not much larger than the town you’d grown up in. Plenty of houses and public spaces but nothing like a cityscape.

You’re surprised by the more modest choices they’ve made for their homes. Simple houses with wood siding and strong rooftops.

That is, most of the village is modest. Almost at the center of the largest grouping of buildings is a large multi-storied palace.

Just as it did the first time you saw it when you’d been brought for the meeting, you gasp when you see it, admiring the beauty of the structure bathed in afternoon sunlight.

It reminds you of an old Nordic home you’d seen online only on steroids. Four, maybe five stories? All roofs are tall and sharp, parts covered with moss.

Brunnhilde shows you into the main foyer, large and tall room that allows space large enough for people to stand and chat. Here she leaves you and David with a young Asgardian woman. She looks as if she can’t be more than seventeen but from what you know about Asgardian aging, she’s probably hundreds of years old.

She escorts you both to your new room, and you and David gasp at the sight.

Even though it’s smaller than the sitting room you’d been in when you met with Thor before, there’s a large bed immediately to the right, covered in luxurious plum and silver silk sheets. A large dark brown bear skin rug covers the center of the floor. To the left is an extravagant dark oak armoire, beside it a matching vanity with a low cushioned and backless seat.

On the far wall, between two sets of heavy wooden double doors that lead out to a balcony sits a desk and another seat with a black cushion, the same style as the vanity’s chair.

There’s a low hanging chandelier made of intricately twisted wood, reinforced with dark steel. The design of it makes you think there should be candles, but instead you find it furnished with small flame-shaped lightbulbs.

Along each of the walls are beautiful artworks, one of a singular mountain you’ve never seen on Earth. Another a golden palace with a sky of literal space above and behind it. There’s a smaller painting almost right above the bed and the likeness of it is so precise, you gasp again.

David follows your gaze with his mouth hanging open a little but then he chuckles. It’s a throaty sound as he turns away from you and moves further into the room with your bag while you deposit your purse on the bed, eyes glued to the painting.

“These Asgardians seem to be experts at everything.” David says, conversationally. “Their architecture, their music, their wits in battle. It seems even their art is exceptional.”

You’re still too busy staring to reply.

When David speaks again, he’s right beside you, voice dropped in volume.

“It must really look like him, to have you rendered speechless.” He observes.

“Yes.” You agree. “Just like him. Only now he has the eyepatch. He looks the same with two eyes. Less rugged but the same.”

“And he will remain the same, long after you’ve died, I think.” David admits.

“Yeah…” You swallow, looking down at the bottom of the frame.

The thought had only begun to occur to you when you’d been making your way through the city after Brunnhilde had confessed to being over a thousand years older than Thor and Loki.

“For Thor, this marriage will pass in the blink of an eye.” You sigh, feeling a little saddened by truth of that.

You turn around and sit down on the bed, resting your hands on your knees limply as you stare at the floor.

David squats before you, forearms on his knees.

“You’re serving a great purpose.” He tells you. “Ensuring the safety of the human race. You’re the white flag the Asgardians are waving. History will remember you, Y/N. It will not be in vain.”

Your eyes begin to water, and you nod, knowing he’s right.

“I know I just…” Your head gives an involuntary turn towards Thor’s portrait, but you manage to keep yourself from looking. “He’s in love with someone already. And, yeah, I’d never thought about being with someone before. But now that I’m faced with it, now that I know I’ll be his wife—I don’t know that I don’t want him to like me.”

“He may come around.” David consoles. “You’re a pretty girl and nice, even though you bite.”

His teasing draw a small curve of your lips. The levity however is quickly lost at the prospect of your life stretched out before you, never knowing love as your husband covets another woman.

This isn’t what you’d expected. To be fair you hadn’t expected anything, but now the idea of being married to Thor knowing that he’d much prefer if you were someone else hurts you in a way you didn’t know had been possible.

This ache in your chest feels strange and vivid and unbearable.

Your tears flow. David sighs and reaches up to wipe your cheeks, pulling you in for a hug.

Taking his offered comfort, you hide your face against his shoulder, allowing yourself these few moments to really feel the anxiety and sadness this whole thing has brought.

“I’m sorry.” David tells you, his voice steady but sad. “I wish I could give you a better life. I know that this is not what you parents would have wanted.”

You pull back, shaking your head as you gather yourself. “No, David. You’ve been the most supportive person in my life. This is how it’s supposed to be. Otherwise, why would I have the ancestors I have, right?”

David sighs, reaching up to wipe at your cheek.

“Besides, it’s not like I’ll be truly suffering. Not like other people do. I’ll have a good roof over my head, food, money won’t be a worry. How many other people my age can say that?”

David’s gaze becomes skeptical and he purses his thin lips a little. “Is that really how you feel?”

“Fuck no. This whole thing is complete shit.” You argue, then laugh as David chuckles too.

“There’s that fighting spirit. Keep that fire, Princess, and you’ll find a way through this.” He says, and the way the word Princess rolls of his lips makes you feel the way you’d always thought you’d feel had your dad lived to be a part of your life.

“You say that like it’s easy.” You sigh.

Before he can answer, there’s a knock on the door and it opens.

Both you and David shoot up to your feet as Loki walks in.

He’s smiling politely until he sees your face.

“I’m sorry. Am I intruding?” Loki wonders, as you quickly wipe away the tears left on your cheeks.

“No.” You shake your head quickly, voice thicker than when you arrived because of your break down. “No. Of course not. Come in.”

He doesn’t look convinced and his brow is furrowed as he looks you both over then stands with his hands behind his back. He looks neat and exotic wearing a pair of dark pants, a black top with embellishments in stunning emerald, a thin golden chain connecting each side of his high collar to the other.

“I’ve come to make sure that you find the clothing we’ve left for you.” Loki gestures at the armoire.

“I’m-I can’t wear what I brought?” You ask, pressing your hand to your chest, unintentionally sniffing.

“Tonight, you will meet with my brother’s court. It is a formal event that you must attend wearing slightly more traditional Asgardian garb.” Loki replaces his hands behind his back. “Brunnhilde has chosen something she thought would be your color. You have an hour then we’ll send your maid in to fetch you.”

You nod.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Loki asks again.

“You’re surprisingly worried.” You tell him, David moving to open the armoire and get a look at what you’re going to have to wear.

Loki’s face quickly shifts into a smile, his eyes averted as he nods.

“I hear you were the only person other than Thor who chose me.” You sit back down slowly, your hands softly skating over the cool silky sheets. “Why?”

“You were a breath of fresh air.” He admits. “Compared to the other candidates, you seemed the only one with her feet on the ground.”

Looking away from him you pinch the plum sheets.

“Is that why Thor chose me too?” You ask, knowing it isn’t the reason he chose you.

“Whatever the reason,” Loki begins, and his voice is stern enough to draw your gaze. “I’m certain my brother has nothing but honorable intentions. He’s always been the good one.”

“I think that’s true.” You nod, “He has always been the good one, if the stories are to be believed.”

“I make no excuses for who I was.” Loki assures you.

“But I think you and I both know that Thor’s intentions when it comes to me are anything but honorable.” You smile sadly. “I really hate lying. Let’s not lie to each other. We’re family, right? Or will be.”

Loki’s look remains somber, his eyes far away for a moment.

“You’re the right woman for the job. That is the truth.” Loki admits.

“I guess we’ll see.”

Loki nods. “One hour, your highness.”

His words give you a shock, and your left gaping at him as he leaves and shuts the door behind him.

“Well, that sounded strange.” David admits, “But not as strange as this dress. Well, perhaps strange is not the right word.”

You’re still reeling from the your highness as you get and walk to David that it takes your eyes a moment to process the sight before you.

“I am not wearing that.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“I can’t breathe in this thing!” You whine, hooking your fingers into the ultra-high neckline of your dress.

It’s more like a cage, this piece that goes around your throat and shoulders. It connects to a slightly see-through bodice with soft split threads lining the length of the dress, underneath the top, silver layer is a soft pink one that stands pretty against your skin. It gives the dress depth and offers a pleasant backdrop for the waterfall skirt as it fans out around your feet.

The lattice neckpiece connects to the dress’s neckline with four stiff wire connectors wrapped in the same silver fabric as the rest of the dress.

Your hair, your maid expertly gathered atop your head, shaping it to look as much like you as it can but also keeping it contained with several silver Celtic knot-looking clips. She’d added very little color to your face, telling you that Thor had requested you look as much like yourself as possible so that his court could see the real you.

Even so, you’re overwhelmed by what you see in the mirror as you pass a particularly large one as you and David make your way to the dining hall.

“Don’t fret.” David tells you, reaching over to stop your wringing hands. “Just be yourself. That’s why he chose you.”

“So, what you’re saying is to not be myself.” You nod. “Got it.”

David pulls you to a stop, turning you to face him. Your maid, Estrid, keeps walking a bit then stops leaving you both some space.

“I want you to remember something, Y/N.” David says, low and quiet so that only you can hear him. Well, he doesn’t know that Asgardians have better than human hearing, but whatever. “These people, they need you. They need you. More than you will ever need them.

“Without you, they might have to leave Earth because Thor will never turn against the human race. I don’t know why. We’re not that great.” David shrugs, and your mouth pops open as you breathe a pained gasp.

In this moment, with David’s helpful words, you’re provided with astounding clarity.

“She’s human.” You realize, eyes watering.

It happens so quickly, your breath catches, brain in a frenzy, hands shaking, sweating, your tears flow freely.

You’ve never cried so much in your life and you understand now that this will be your new state of being because what else can you do when you’ve knowingly given your life to a man who loves another human woman which only means that she will also only live for a short time and that means that Thor doesn’t have a lot of time with her so, of course he’ll want to be with her until the day she dies, because she’s the one he really wants to be with, and you’re just the tool to use so that he can stay here with her.

What kind of life have you fated yourself to?

“Your Highness?” Estrid asks, concern painting her voice as you shake your head, too panicked to speak.

David moves you towards the wall, pressing you against it to lean as Estrid moves closer to peek at you.

“Might I be of assistance?” She offers and David turns a smile on her.

“A glass of water, perhaps?”

Estrid hurries away giving you and David the hallway.

“Y/N?” He says, voice hard. “Breathe.”

You look at him, focus on the streak of white in his hair as it falls forward to hang across his brow.

It helps and you shut your mouth and breathe in deep through your nose.

He reaches into the pocket of his suit jacket and pulls from it a white handkerchief. With gentle fingers, he coaxes your face up so that he can carefully wipe the tear stains from your cheeks. He takes a bit of the blush they’d put on you, but you don’t care, and he doesn’t either.

“What is it that troubles you? Tell me.” He urges you.

“Um…” You begin, chin quivering and making your voice shake a little. “…I-I-I don’t know how I’m going to be married to him when I kn-know that he really wants to be with s-someone else. I don’t know how…how…how…”

David sighs, shaking his head as he caresses yours. “Then you look elsewhere too. If he sees fit to be with someone else while you’re married, then you deserve to experience love too. Take a lover. Be discreet. No one will know and you will both get what you want.”

“Isn’t that wrong?” You half cry. “I mean, aren’t wives and husbands s-supposed to be faithful?”

David smiles, pulling your head down to kiss your forehead. “Then give him a chance to change his mind. If he doesn’t love you by the end of the year, then he’s a bigger fool than I already think he is. A downright dumbass.”

“I don’t like the idea of someone being with me when they don’t want to be.” You admit.

And David doesn’t need you to explain that this stems from living in the school, waiting for adoption only to never be chosen.

You’ve finally been picked, and this is what it’s for?

“Do you want me to come to dinner? I can insist on it.” He promises. “I’ll even make a scene.”

You shut your eyes and sob once, David pulls you against his chest and once more you hide your face against his shoulder.

Both of you hear her steps before you see her and yet, when you turn to accept your water, you’re frozen as you find yourself face to face with Thor.

He’s dressed beautifully, in black leather trousers, stitched with thick visible charcoal colored strips of more leather. His torso is covered in what you’d consider light armor. More leather pieces in deep gold tones except for the arms which are covered in metallic scales that shine under the hallway lights. His shoulders are draped in a floor length cape, black, thinner than the one you’ve seen him wear before.

A more casual cape, you suppose.

Both you and David are absolutely still, confused by Thor’s sudden appearance.

“I uh…” Thor looks uncomfortable, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he gestures behind him with his right hand, in his left a glass of water. “Estrid looked upset. She said you weren’t feeling well?”

There’s genuine concern in his voice and it surprises you enough to wipe away most of your worries for now.

“I’m fine.” You assure him.

David clears his throat. “I should go. I have my own dinner to eat.”

“No, please. Join us.” Thor rushes to invite him, gesturing back towards the dining hall again.

“No, no. Really.” David uses his hand to refuse, then reaches down to give your hand a squeeze. “Can I trust you to escort Y/N to dinner?”

Your heart swells for David, once again, the father you never had.

“Of course.” Thor nods, smiling at David before moving to you, seeing this as permission to move closer maybe? “I take full responsibility.”

There’s a twinge of bitterness in your chest, a rolling in your stomach as you see David narrow his eyes at Thor.

“I’m going to hold you to that, God of Thunder.” He threatens, and Thor seems to realize it’s a threat because he looks startled. However, he smiles and plays it off quickly, nodding. “Have a good dinner, princess.”

David gives your hand one more squeeze before leaving you and Thor to whatever awkward conversation you’re about to have.

Thor waits until you’re both alone in the hallway before he holds out the glass of water he’d brought for you.

“Have you been crying?” He wonders, voice soft and gentle. Deep too, it settles in your chest and makes you feel stupid for liking it.

“Just a little.” You admit.

“Why?”

“I’m nervous.” And that isn’t a lie. “And apprehensive.”

Also, not a lie.

“And I don’t trust you.” You confess, feeling no qualms about the shock that flits across his rugged face.

“What did I do?” He cries.

“You told me you’re in love with someone else who won’t marry you.” You sigh, taking a long drink of your water. “I’m not exactly excited to be marrying someone who already wants to be with someone else.”

Understanding shifts his expression and he nods, reaching up to scratch at the side of his chin.

“I’ll be honest,” He begins, offering you his arm as you lower your glass. “It was never something I expected either. After watching my parents love each other for many years, their marriage was something I hoped I could experience.”

“Then why didn’t you fight harder for this woman you love? Convince your court! She’s human, right? I’m sure the Earth Ambassadors would be happy to have you marry any human.” You reason, still hoping to get out of this even if the only thing you hate about this now is the fact that he’s in love with someone else.

That fantasy marriage you’d painted for yourself has taken over your inexperienced brain and planted a seed within your heart and you feel like a fool for it.

“They were fine with it. Jane is not ready for marriage and I cannot force her to marry me if she doesn’t want to.” Thor laments, truly sounding sad about her refusal.

“Doesn’t she care that you’re marrying someone else?” You wonder, watching his expression as he begins to lead you towards the dining hall.

“In a way.” Thor nods. “She and I want to be together, but Jane is devoted to her work. She could not make the time for the obligations marrying me would entail.”

“Sounds selfish.” You observe, hating Jane a bit because she has what you didn’t know you wanted. Maybe not exactly Thor himself yet, but the love he has for her.

Thor says nothing for a moment, thinking probably. He stops walking and you stop beside him.

“I would not want her to give up her passions. In marrying me, Jane would lose her identity. Which is too important to her to give up. I could never ask her to do it.”

“Because you love her.” You agree.

“Yes.”

“Which is why you find it so easy to do it to me.” You explain, realizing it as you speak it. “Because you don’t care about me. Therefore, my identity has little value. To you.”

Thor’s speechless, staring at you as your own heart pounds. You don’t know where you conjured the audacity to say the words out loud as they came to you, but they’re true. Truer than even you know.

“I do care.” Thor argues softly, looking at your hand wrapped around his bicep.

“You don’t, Thor.” You shake your head, politely disagreeing.

“Yes, I do!” He argues, this time a little more heated.

“What do I do for a living?” You challenge and he stutters, thinking hard.

He furrows his brow, crinkly creases at the corners of his eyes as he ponders.

You observe it’s loveliness. Truly a creature of perfection even with the gold and black metal patch over his eye. If he cared about you, you might actually fall for him. If he gave two shits, you might be a goner.

“Your family left you an inheritance!” He points out, as if this is what you do.

“You don’t remember?” You ask, knowing the answer. “I told you when we met, though I only mentioned it in passing.”

“How am I expected to remember then? If you were not specific?” He retorts.

“If I’d been Jane, you would have remembered.” You tell him.

“No.” He disagrees. “I’m always this inattentive.”

You laugh once, shocked by his candor. “You’re such a liar.”

“I’m not! Ask anyone once we’re seated. They’ll all tell you that I never pay attention or listen. To anyone!” He insists, and you laugh again because he’s being sincere.

His gaze is slight shock as he looks at you, then it softens, and he chuckles with you.

“Why are you laughing?” You ask him.

“I don’t know.” He chuckles again. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, I suppose.”

This sobers you and your laugh dies off.

“Can I ask a favor?” You look at him, trying to read him like you’ve never tried to do so to anyone before.

“Of course.” He nods.

“I know you don’t love me. And I know that the likelihood of you loving me at any point in our marriage is nonexistent, but I really want to try and make this marriage work. I want it to be as real as possible.

“Which means I want you to be honest with me about everything. I don’t want any secrets. I don’t want to think you’re talking to or meeting Jane because you’re acting suspicious. If you have to see her,” And he seems to understand that you mean, if he feels like he needs to for his own sake, because he loves her. “I want to know that’s what you’re doing. Please, don’t make a fool of me, Thor.”

Thor considers you for a moment, absorbing your words as you wait for his response.

Instead of giving you what you want, he gives you a long head-to-toe. “I was right to choose this gown.”

He chose it?

“You look exquisite. Just as a princess should.” He admires. “Come, let’s go introduce you to my friends.”

As he pulls you towards the dining hall, your heart begins to pound again as nervous energy courses through your veins setting your limbs to white noise again. Tingly.

“They’re all very eager to meet the woman who will be Queen of Asgard.”

“I think I’m gonna throw up.” You worry.

Thor chuckles.

“I’m right there with you.”

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Love Cuts Deep

Chapter 5- It’s All Good, Mostly

Bucky Barnes x (f)reader Series Rewrite (Civil War, Infinity War/Endgame, TFATWS)

Summary : After dealing with the Winter Soldier and getting your shit rocked. You, Sam, and Steve with an unconscious Bucky, are deciding on what to do next.

Warning: angst, fluffy moments shoved in here

Masterlist

After making a hasty escape to an abandoned dying old warehouse in Berlin, you helped Steve pin Bucky’s metal arm to a steel compressor in hopes that once he woke up, he’d be your Bucky again.

Who knows how deep Hydra’s talons are pierced into him?

Listening to the dull roaring of a search helicopter in the near distance, you lean against the wide garage doorframe separating the room Bucky’s in from the rest of the cavernous steel warehouse. A deep frown staining your features as you study his sleeping form that’s slumped over a wooden box while his body leans against the steel contraption.

The man who joined your little chaotic trio stands on guard a couple feet behind you as Steve keeps watch over by the buildings entrance that’s decently close to the rest of you. So far you’ve all been here for about forty minutes by now, keeping to yourself as you protectively watch over Bucky while he dries from his dip in the river with Steve and that broken helicopter.

“You’re Y/N, right?” Inquirers Sam from behind you; blinking tiredly, you slowly turn around while keeping your back leaned against the wall of the large doorframe.

Arms folded and appearing less then enthusiastic, you nod in acknowledgment, “That’s me.”

Revealing a friendly smile, he looks at the ground before meeting your stoic gaze, “Been a rough couple of days, huh.” Muses Sam in an attempt at lightening up the mood.

“Been a rough couple of decades.” You bluntly retort back before closing your eyes and leaning your weary head against the wall.

Sam mouths a silent “oh, right” before folding his arms together and clearing his throat, apparently he’s not done, “So, uh...I’m not trying to be weird or anything, but uh....last time I saw you. You were laying on the ground dead, blood trailing out from your head....unless my eyes are playing with me.” Explains Sam before letting out a nervous chuckle, “Or you’re actually a ghost.”

Opening your eyes, you shift your gaze over to Sam, “I was, yes.....well, technically I wasn’t actually dead, my heartbeat just slows dramatically while my body heals together again. ” He stops smiling as you shrug, “Regeneration. I can heal quickly.”

Mouth forming a surprised O, he nods, “Damn. Aren’t you just full of surprises.” Jokes Sam as you crack the tiniest of amused smiles.

“Keeps me moving.”

For a few moments you get uninterrupted peace before he decides to start up another conversation, much to your already agitated state. Though this time his voice is more serious as he takes a step closer to your side, “He must mean an awful lot to you if you’re willing to follow him this far.”

Returning your somber gaze back onto Bucky, you sigh, “I knew him when I worked for Hydra, he was my partner for many missions over the decades.” Sam’s dark eyes flash over to you in curiosity as you continue, “After the fall of Hydra, I searched for him for a little while. Clearly my efforts were not in vain. And now, after all this time.....I can admit freely that I love him.”

Sam’s brows raise in surprise at this spout of news, he had no idea you and Bucky were anything like that, “Huh.....well uh, sorry all this happened to you two.”

You shrug while throwing him a friendly half smile, eyes softening as you look at Bucky, “As long as he’s alive and I keep my freedom. I don’t care what happens. I’m done with the people of this world, we’re both done with them.”

“The worlds not done with you two just yet.” Adds Sam with a concerned fatherly tone.

You sigh, “So it would seem.”

A moment later Bucky stirs, his head bobs slowly upward as he takes in a deep breath, blue eyes opening before turning left to look at the steel contraption holding his arm in place; Sam yells for Steve as you walk closer to Bucky.

Quickly, Steve and Sam arrive right after you, your brows furrow in anxious concern as Bucky keeps tiredly slumped over while seated on the smallish wooden crate. His eyes find yours as he looks to the ground again before muttering a raspy, “Y/N.” Causing a spark of hope to ignite inside your heart.

Steve stands to your left, suspiciously eyeing up his old friend, “Which Bucky are we talking to?”

Bucky blinks in thought for a short moment before an adorable smile tugs at the corners of his plush lips, “You’re moms name was Sarah.” He pauses for another small second as a larger smile reveals itself freely now, “You used to wear newspapers in your shoes.”

Listening to your lover genuinely chuckle at a fond memory from so long ago fills your soul with happiness. Steve shares a relieved glance with you, gaze quickly returning back to Bucky, “Can’t read that in a museum.” You quip with a smile.

“Just like that, we’re supposed to be cool?” Doubts Sam, still a bit unconvinced and full of cautious reluctance from the wild beat down him, you, and Steve endured to get Bucky here safely and in one piece.

Pursing his lips together, Bucky’s shadowed eyes search for yours, “What did I do?” He hesitantly mutters, greatly dreading that answer.

“Enough.” Quickly answers Steve.

Bucky shuts his eyes tight before lowering his head in shame, “Oh, God, I knew this would happen.” Mumbles your lover as his head comes back up to meet the three of you, “Everything Hydra put inside me is still there. All he had to do was say the goddamn words.”

Biting your lip anxiously, you dread what he might ask you soon enough, then just as expected he does just that; eyes finding yours, Bucky’s face reveals a deep frown, “Y/N. How did we get out.”

Suddenly you feel rather small as the three men turn curious yet wary glances in your direction; Sam knows and Steve have an assumption, but Bucky doesn’t know the gory details. Shifting uncomfortably, you train your eyes on the floor, “Not important.”

Looking like he’s about to protest for an answer, Steve suddenly speaks up to break the tension, “Who was he?” Referring to the man who caused all of this.

“I don’t know.”

“People are dead. The bombing, the setup....the doctor did all that just to get 10 minutes with you. I need you to do better than “I don’t know”. Presses Steve as Bucky’s face shifts into concentrated thought.

“He wanted to know about Siberia. Where I was kept. He wanted to know exactly where.” Explains Bucky as his eyes flash over to yours, it wasn’t just him they kept locked away under the ice.

Steve’s brows furrow in puzzlement, “Why would he need to know that?���

Hugging your sides, you hum, giving Steve a dreadful knowing look, “Because he’s not the only Winter Soldier.”

——

Leaning on the white, paint chipped wall to Bucky’s right, he sits on the wooden box with his hands laced together. Steve against the wall in front of him, arms crossed and a hard expression adorning his dirt smudged features, “Who were they?”

“They’re most elite death squad. More kills second to only one in all of Hydra’s history.” Admits Bucky with an unenthusiastic sigh, “And that was before the serum.”

“Who was the first?” Asks Steve.

“Me.” You begrudgingly mutter as the three boys look over to you, all expressing various shades of interest, pity, fear, and amazement. Yeah you’re not proud about it either.

Noticing the building awkwardness, and how your eyes stare daggers at the dirty floor, Sam joins the conversation, “They all turn out like you?” Eyes set on Bucky.

Sighing, Bucky looks at nothing particularly interesting to his left, “Worse.”

“The doctor, could he control them?” Wonders Steve.

Eyes shifting back down to the floor, Bucky mutters, “Enough.”

“Said he wanted to see an empire fall.” Says Steve, reciting the doctors words as he tries to think up why.

“With these guys he could do it.” You add after a brief moment, “They speak thirty languages, can hide in plain sight....infiltrated, assassinate, destabilize. They could take a whole country down in one night, you’d never see them coming.”

Bucky nods in silent agreement as Steve weighs the options while Sam wanders over to his side, “This would have been a lot easier a week ago.” He whispers, though you can still hear them anyway.

“If we call Tony...” Quietly suggests Steve.

“No he won’t believe us.”

“Even if he did...”

“Who knows if the Accords would let him help.” Finishes Sam.

The two men stand silently for a moment, thinking hard about the right course of action as their brows furrow thoughtfully before Steve whispers a half defeated, “We’re on our own.”

Sam then gives him a positive look, “Maybe not.” As Steve sends him a doubtful glance while Sam simply smirks with a knowing tilt of his head, “I know a guy.”

——

Standing in an old run down junk yard on the far outskirts of Berlin, your back pressed against an old milk truck as Steve and Sam search for a useable car that can hold two super soldiers, an ex military pilot, and a grumpy sixty two year old assassin.

Bucky wanders away from their bickering and slowly walks over to you as your gaze stays firmly trained onto the gravelly earth below. Soon enough his dark shoes are blocking your staring contest with the ground, “Y/N please talk to me.” Pleads Bucky as you gingerly raise your gaze to meet his soft one, “Tell me what’s wrong. Please? I know that look, something happened while I was him didn’t it?”

Biting your lower lip anxiously, you breath a heavy sigh before weakly shrugging, “I don’t wanna talk about it. You’re not exactly gonna like it.”

Understanding the warning and how noticeably uncomfortable you are, Bucky frowns, though he reaches his hands to gently touch your tense shoulders anyway, “It doesn’t matter. We tell each other everything, promise?”

Staring into his soft gaze with the tiniest bit of hope, you reluctantly nod as he trails his hands down your arms to gently grasp your shaking fingers with his, huh, you didn’t even notice you were shaking. You swallow thickly before giving his hands a reassuring squeeze, “When the doctor got into your head....no matter how much I screamed and begged him to stop, or you to snap out of it. Nothing worked. You broke out of the glass cage and then I broke out of mine, then uh..” You pause a moment, swallowing nervously before whispering, “...the doctor ordered you to kill me.”

Bucky’s eyes immediately sadden as you share a weak smile before continuing on, “I couldn’t kill you. Even though I had the chance to....I couldn’t. But the Winter Soldier wouldn’t stop unless I did. So I let him think you killed me.” You watch as his lip quivers, heart thudding rapidly in his chest as he looks down at the earth in shame and regret. So much hate for what he had done even if he doesn’t remember anything.

Witnessing him deal with this heavy news breaks your heart in two, ripping your hands from his, he’s instantly caught in a huge bear hug from you. Quickly his strong arms wrap protectively around your waist as he pulls you into his chest, “I’m so sorry Y/N. I’m so so sorry.” Mumbles Bucky against your shoulder as he buries his face in your neck.

“It was the only way. You would have done the same if you were in my shoes. No hard feelings okay Buck, I love you and that’s all that matters.”

Suddenly he pulls away from your neck to gaze lovingly into your dreary yet beautiful eyes, raspy voice above a whisper, “You love me?” He asks in astonishment, a small smile tugging at the corners of his kissable pink lips.

Breaking out into a beaming grin, you slowly nod, “Of course I do. Guess I should have told you before all this shit happened.....didn’t find the time.”

Chuckling, Bucky presses his forehead flush with yours, “Y/N, I love you so fucking much.” Reveals your lover before swiftly pulling you in for a heated embrace.

His lips move masterfully against your own in the bright mid sun of the day, bringing a sense of great joy and warmth bursting into your chest as he kisses you with the love of a thousand beautiful moons in the starry night sky. But all too soon are you interrupted by the sudden whistle from Sam as he steals away this brief affectionate moment.

Breaking from the kiss, you and Bucky turn to face the irritating man as he smiles a bright satisfied grin, “Come on you two love birds, we found a keeper out back!” Before beckoning you both over with an enthusiastically dramatic wave of his hands.

Holding tightly onto Bucky, you practically growl, “I’m gonna break his arm.”

Quickly turning to face you he hums, “We’re wanted criminals remember, no breaking anyone. Got it.” Snickers Bucky cheekily as you lightly peck his cheek.

“What’s another thing added to the list?” You muse before letting him go and walking towards wherever Steve and Sam are, Bucky following close behind.

——

Seated to Bucky’s immediate left, shoulders smooshed against each other, you make a face as Steve and the blonde woman Sharon, get out of their respective vehicles. Eyes flickering over to Sam, who’s conveniently seated in the passenger seat, you frown in annoyance, “You’d think we could have gotten a bigger car.”

“It’s all they had.” Replies Sam with the ghost of a humored smile as he watches the two blondes stand beside one another while Sharon pops open the trunk to reveal his suit and Steve’s shield.

“I could have just stolen a bigger car.” You mutter to yourself as Bucky stifles a laugh.

More long moments go by, causing you to shift uncomfortably as you hopelessly try to find a suitable position in the cramped ugly old blue buggy. Noticing your discomfort and his own for that matter, Bucky stares at the back of Sam’s head, “Can you move your seat up?”

“No.” Deadpans Sam while you throw him a glare through the side mirror. Huffing in irritation, you shuffle closer to the left door as Bucky shifts a bit for some more leg room; Sam no doubt absolutely loving this.

Rolling your eyes, the three of you continue watching Steve and Sharon talk about whatever happens to be important at the moment, soon they stop and give each other an unsure look before Steve randomly pulls her in for a smooch. Your brows immediately raise in surprise while Sam and Bucky give him proud brotherly smiles when he looks back at the buggy. Face falling in slight embarrassment for being caught.

Soon after he drives the three of you to some airport parking garage, the ride goes decently smooth with the exception of being practically squashed between the car door and Bucky’s beefy ass. Rolling past a white van, Steve parks the little buggy about two parking spaces away before everyone files out.

You watch as he walks over to greet a man as a brunette woman accompanies his left side; your eyes travel cautiously between the two as you seat yourself on the edge of the buggy’s roof while Bucky leans his elbows against the top near your one hand placed there for support.

Soon the first man opens up the sliding van door to reveal a dark haired guy who immediately flinches and awakens with a start. He squints at the intrusion of sunlight before slowly making his way out of the vans door, “What time zone is this?” He questions, obviously dealing with some sort of jet lag.

The first guy nods towards Steve, “Come on. Come on.” Pushing him towards the one and only....

“Captain America!” Softly exclaims the man in excitement, eyes bright with bewilderment as he quickly shakes hands with Steve who mutters, “Mr. Lang.” In acknowledgment.

“It’s an honor.” Says this Lang guy while he continues to excessively shake his hand, “I’m shaking your hand to long. Wow! This is awesome!” Mr. Lang pulls away before pointing at Steve while he turns to the first man and the brunette, “Captain America. Hey, I know you, too. You’re great!” The woman hands him a bright pursed lip grin as Mr. Lang turns back to Steve.

“Jeez. Ah, look, I wanna say, I don’t know a lot of super people, so....thinks for thanking of me.” He quickly mutters with those exact words, a second later his eyes shift over to Sam, “Hey, man!”

Sam nods, “What’s up, Tic Tac?”

“Uh, good to see you. Look, what happened last time when I...”

“It was a great audition, but it’ll never happen again.” Muses Sam as you look over your shoulder to send Bucky a curious look that is well returned.

“They tell you what we’re up against?” Interjects Steve, bringing the central objective back on the table.

Mr. Lang’s brows furrow in thought as he mutters, “Something about some psycho-assassins?” Yeah, that’s one way to put it.

“We’re outside the law on this one. So if you come with us, you’re a wanted man.” Warns Steve.

Mr. Lang shrugs, “Yeah, well, what else is new?”

“We should get moving.” Urges Bucky as you nod.

The first man speaks up again, “We got a chopper lined up.”

Suddenly warning sirens sound out loudly throughout the airport as a German voice advises everyone to leave the premises immediately; understanding exactly what’s being said you gain everyone’s attention, “They’re evacuating the airport.”

Their faces show deep concern, as they turns to face one another, “Stark.”

“Stark?” Questions Sam.

Steve reluctantly nods before addressing the rest of the team, “Suit up.”

-

Tagged: @diegos-butt​   @minigranger​  @bibliophilewednesday​ @holyhumorliteraturelight @lilacs-lavender @a-girl-who-loves-disney @starkssnarks @vikingqueen28 @bizarrebibitch @atomicpersonacheesecake @jmstz @staygoldsquatchling02 @marvelbros-oneshots @shawnartmendes @mischiefmanaged71 @jckie94

[cielcius]

LONELY, BUT NOT ALONE… ANYMORE | ITADORI YUUJI

pairings: Itadori x g/n!reader

summary: Surely, nobody in their right mind would break into somebody’s house just to be friends, right?

from the writer: lets say itadori is v fun to write🧍‍♀️n e ways, should I write a part 2? I was thinking about it cuz I honestly could do a little more expanding on this fic but im not sure if anybody would be interested :/ 

genre: fluff, crack, meet-cute (?), modern au

wc: 1.8k

notes & warnings: trespassing, Itadori is a good cook, both Itadori and reader live alone, mentions of potential poisoning, Itadori plays football (American soccer)

It’s hard living alone. You, yourself, can tell that to any other high schooler who dares to complain about the lack of privacy that their parents refuse to give or about the way they always have to resort to hiding certain belongings in the most absurd places. Sure you didn’t have to do those things, not that you ever needed to, but it would be nice to have someone look out for you every once in a while and— while you’re at it— to not have a meal with the flavor singed off in the other times where you tried to cook for yourself. Oh, how you sympathize with your poor frying pan, wondering just how it’s still managed to keep the handle attached to itself even through your disastrous cooking escapades.

Perhaps you should buy a new one to relieve it of its hard labor, but the thought and everything related immediately flies out of your head when you unlock your front door and a smell wafers under your nose. It’s something you’re familiar with and yet, it’s something foreign when coming from your own home. The door shuts tight behind you and the automatic lock beeps just in time to let an unknown voice kick in seconds after. “Oh, welcome home!” The hand not holding your school bag flies to your chest because, in all honesty, the last thing you expected was for there to be a stranger in your home and no less for them to be welcoming you home in such a warm tone. To add on, they seemed to have something cooking on the stove that already smelled better than anything you’ve ever tried to whip up yourself.

Though you would have thought them to be robbing you of your few valuable belongings, they instead have decided to take upon the job of a personal house chef— not that you’re complaining. You walk the small hallway and turn the corner that leads into the large room consisting of a combined living, dining, and kitchen area. As anybody would have predicted— though anybody but you— there stands a figure tending to the stove with a wooden spoon and a frying pan in hand.  

Fluffy pink hair is the only distinct feature you can make of the person, seeing as if you were to actually report the breaking and entering— you’re still heavily debating— the police would probably sigh and dub you crazy for describing the most ordinary person on earth dressed in a plain white shirt and black pants— excluding the bright yellow apron that rests on their body nicely, of course. “What— who are you? How did you get in?” To your knowledge, there’s no conspicuously large plant next to the front door to hide a spare key under nor do you trust the world to leave even a doormat outside.

The stranger finally turns away from the physically appealing food and popping oil— though only after turning off the stove— and you can finally take in the expanse of his facial features. Bright brown eyes and an even brighter smile complete with a sharp nose and a strong jaw, if you were to meet under completely different circumstances, you would have thought him cuter had it not been for the fact that he’s currently trespassing. “I’m Itadori Yuuji. I’m your new neighbor who just moved in next door.” 

Oh, yes, the cause of your extremely visible irritation yesterday when you had come upon the sight of about a billion boxes blocking your front door— and just as you were coming back from grocery shopping and had to climb five flights of stairs when you forgot that the elevator was under maintenance. Subconsciously, you press your lips together in a tight line at the unpleasantly nostalgic feeling, no doubt giving off a not-so-great first impression to the stranger who you know as Itadori, your new neighbor.

“Right. And I’m L/n Y/n,” You watch as he walks over to initiate a handshake as if he were still trying to keep this abnormal situation as normal as possible. “Uh, how did you get in again?” You ask again when you realize that he hadn’t told you his secret for doing so, but what you don’t realize is that he intends to keep it a secret. “How about I tell you another time? Dinner’s ready.” He’s taken your school bag from your grasp before your mind can even wrap itself around the fact that he’s broken into your home just to cook you dinner. In one way more than others, you’re somewhat thankful for someone else’s cooking. ‘Someone else’ as in not a home restaurant chef or even someone getting paid to do so but ‘someone else’ as in someone who does it out of concern and love.

Though after saying that, you conclude that this Itadori person most likely didn’t know your name up until a minute ago after having spent about a total of five minutes together in the same room, but that doesn’t stop you from thanking him for the meal. “You’re not eating?” Itadori’s spoonful of food is halfway into his mouth, making his words come out a little incomprehensible but comprehensible enough for you to respond properly. “How else can I make sure you didn’t poison the food?” You only mean it as a joke, but in all seriousness, you aren’t going to deny that this is a little suspicious coming from somebody who looks to be your age. What can you say, teenagers are sketchy and you’re not in the mood for getting roofied tonight.

“Well, if you insist, but just know that my cooking isn’t the worst. My friend Fushiguro even said so himself— and he almost never directly compliments me!” You’re not sure if you want to be the one to break the news to the boy about the fact that the words ‘isn’t the worst’ aren’t a direct compliment but you decide to leave it alone when you take your first bite of the meal. Holy macaroni and shit. You can only mean it in the best way. That being said, the words ‘isn’t the worst’ greatly underestimate the flavor of itadori’s cooking. “So, you like it?” 

You nod absentmindedly, too heavily focused on the savory flavor that lingers in your mouth as you finally swallow the first bite. “It’s good, really good, but you should know that I’m not gonna let go of the fact that you broke into my home. If they can’t prove that, then I might just report you for keeping this gourmet chef skill from me my entire life.”

“We just met—”

“I know! But with your cooking, you’d probably make Gordan Ramsay cry.” You can tell that Itadori doesn’t have a clue about who you’re talking about, but he’s polite enough to laugh and say thank you anyway. Now that he’s initiated it, you laugh as well at your sudden outburst of raging encouragement though not without having embarrassment lace through your features at your statement regarding reporting him to the police. From what you’ve gathered, you’d probably pay hell through relentless teasing from Itadori once he comes down from the high that you’ve put him on. Still, you have to admit to yourself that his smile isn’t the worst sight to look at.

“So, does this mean you’re enrolled at the public high school?” There are only three high schools total in the city— the public one sitting just a few blocks and turns away, the private prep school, and the other public one that occupies a space on the opposite side of the city. So clearly, it wasn’t that hard for you to deduct that he would most likely be attending your school. “Oh, I’m enrolled at the private school nearby. Jujutsu High, ya know it?” Thank god you had made your deductions mentally.

“Yeah, it’s pretty close to the school that I go to so I could show you tomorrow morning.. though if you don’t mind me asking, how did you get in?” For all you knew, only people with connections and special talents that were taken interest in by the school could be accepted— that or you took the ridiculously hard entrance exam. “Oh, well, it’s actually a funny story.”

“Funnier than the one we’re living I hope.”

“Well, I cooked you dinner, isn’t that apology enough?”

You cross your arms at his words and by his newfound expression, he realizes his mistake. “Right, an apology is something you should hear from the person themselves. I’m sorry for breaking into your home.” You didn’t expect to be hearing those words today but nevertheless, you accept them with a gentle smile. “Thank you, but please just don’t break into anybody else’s home.” Itadori grins, and your arms fall back into your lap at leisure. “Noted. Anyways, long story short, I accidentally accepted a sports scholarship from the school.”

“How do you accidentally accept a scholarship?”

“I don’t know. I just thought you show up but there was a form and an unchecked box, and I checked the box, and now I’m here.” With jazz hands, Itadori ends his narrative with a cheesy smile all the while you nod along. There’s a heavy pause as you wait to swallow the last bite of your meal before speaking, utensils clinking as you finally put them down to rest. “Okay,” You start to clean the table of the now-empty dishes. “Well, what sport was the scholarship for?” Itadori helps to start up the water and rinses the dishes first. 

It’s an unspoken process that comes upon you silently, but you don’t object as you’re handed dishes to set on the drying rack. “Football. I play goalkeeper.” Itadori is proud of this fact, anybody can plainly see that from the smile on his face that seems to differentiate from the others. For example, this one seems to glow more, entrancing anybody who dared to even spare a glance before they were lured in by the charm of his personality. Dammit.

You exhale and purse your lips together tight, choosing to keep your eyes down in the end as Itadori fills in the once-hellish silence with the sounds of his heavenly voice. You’re sure he’s in the middle of describing one of his intense matches when you interrupt, but you can’t be too sure about what other context could fit the words ‘kicking balls’. 

“Thank you, Itadori.” You place the last dish on the rack and wipe your hands dry, blindly handing the towel to Itadori until you turn to realize that he’s completely frozen in his current position, eyes wide and only for you. “I mean— you know, for dinner, and I guess for just being here,” You risk a glance at the light-haired boy before averting your eyes elsewhere once again. “Even if you did have to break in to do it.” You can feel the burning sensation in your cheeks grow the longer he continues to stare, but you assume he’s come out of his temporary shock when he finally takes the towel to dry his hands. His eyes never leave your figure, mouth sputtering to say anything, but in the end, the only thing he can seem to come up with is much too simple compared to what he really wants to say.

“No problem.”

[dramioneasks]

HP FESTS: For The Love of Fests (Part 1)

Love at Second Sight January 2021:

Second Time's the Charm by floorcoaster - T, one-shot - The first time Hermione sees Draco Malfoy again, she's in for a surprise.

Influence by Misdemeanor1331 - G, one-shot - Draco and Hermione bump into each other at Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. Draco thinks it’s a chance encounter. Hermione knows it’s anything but.

The Love Boat by Seakays - T, one-shot - Hermione Granger and her two best friends are embarking on a week long "Divorced Magicals" Cruise. Hermione took advantage of the Cruise's pre cruise chat room, where she met Scorly1203. After six months of texting, she has agreed to meet him on the first day of the cruise. Could she really find a second chance at love on the Lido Deck?

Second Time Lucky by rennaissance_woman - not rated, one-shot - During a trip to Weasley Wizard Wheezes, what do you do when presented with a second chance?

In Vino Veritas by beautyberry - M, one-shot - "Granger?" he asked disbelievingly. "Malfoy?" she asked, "What are you doing here?" Rated M for mentions of sex.

The Art of Second Chances by Blessedindeed - not rated, one-shot - A chance encounter at the museum brings up unresolved feelings

What Lies Beyond the Light by SlytherinHermione - M, one-shot - The thing about prisons is that it tends to change a you. The person you were when you went in, will not be the person that comes out. Sometimes for the better, oftentimes for the worst. For Draco Malfoy, the scales were tipped when a certain lawyer forced themselves onto his case with the start of one letter. A letter that turned into the type of correspondence where you end up baring your soul to a stranger. A stranger that ends up knowing every little part of you, from the darkest corners, to the sunniest fields - while barely knowing you at all. But then again, Hermione Granger was never really a stranger to begin with.

Silly Love Songs February 2021:

This Beauty By My Side by Amarillis39 - M, one-shot - My entry to the Silly Love Songs Fest. ____ "But as he watched her glide through the crowd, he decided he would take every second she would give him. Worthy or not, he was still a selfish git." ___ It's another stuffy gala at the Ministry and Draco is overcome with conflicting feelings as he watches Hermione in her element.

The Light That You Shine by SlytherinHermione - M, one-shot - Draco was adrift. All around him was an endless, unforgiving ocean, dull and grey in colour.  The waves kept crashing in on him. Back and forth, back and forth. Sometimes he felt like he’d been cursed to remain like a graying tower, alone on the sea. This all changed on a random cold winter day and a bright light. Because what followed the light was as unexplainable as the feeling of calm that suddenly enveloped him. He felt a twinge of something that he couldn’t explain. On the other side of the sidewalk stood Hermione Granger, more beautiful than he could remember, locking eyes with him for a second, as if she herself was caught with him inside of this time bubble filled with light and large, fluffy snowflakes. And with a blink of an eye, she walked the other way, as if this was just another Monday. As if she hadn’t just turned Draco's world up-side down. The tumultuous oceans that surrounded his untethered soul were full of waves, but now of a different kind.

Discord by Lostinthenightrain - T, one-shot - “I’ve seen your darkest, and it doesn’t scare me. You’ve become something so much more.” She placed a gentle kiss on his jaw. “I love you, dark and all.”

Time to Spare by Willowfairy - M, one-shot - Draco gets drunk enough to finally tell Hermione how he really feels, and once he starts talking he finds it impossible to stop.

Sometimes When We Touch by sodamnrad - T, one-shot - What if Hermione and Draco were dating when he took the Dark Mark? Submission for the Silly Loves Songs Mini-Fest One shot | Draco's POV | Sixth Year

To Be With You by Blessedindeed - not rated, one-shot - Her ability to show forgiveness intrigues him. Draco finds he has a soft spot for Hermione.

Masquerade March 2021:

Punch Line by tygermine - E, one-shot - Hermione seems to hide behind multiple masks.Draco wants to remove them all.

A Deadly Dance by MykEsprit - T, one-shot - An unexpected guest arrives at the ball. Dramione.

Ask it of Me by WritingFicariously - T, one-shot - Hermione has always had the ability to chase away demons, the darkness that twists his mind into believing he is not good, never enough. She sees and knows every part of him. But Draco has always kept one thing from her, one secret that he never dared say aloud. Until he did.

A Masquerade of Body and Soul by Annav94 - M, one-shot - She’s here to escape the reality, to break the rules. She is here to break the rules because all rules have only given her, is false hope. She turns her head and her eyes meet his. He’s there for the catch of the night. And while he finds himself smirking, smiling at the unforeseen turn of event, he wonders if truly Hermione Granger is flirting in a room full of witnesses with none other than himself - the infamous Draco Malfoy.

Imbolc by CosmicCthulhu - G, one-shot - Hermione celebrates the beginning of spring for the first time, years after the war. She's not the only one who wants a fresh start.

Suit Up by calico_kitten - M, 2 chapters - Gawain Robards has cooked up a new idea for the Departmental Hallowe'en Ball: comic book hero disguises!

This Mask I Wear by SlytherinHermione  - T, one-shot - This mask I wear feels cool on my skin. I slip it on, and the act is ready to begin.Safety. Protection. Freedom.

Lover of Fiction April 2021:

3 Words, 8 Letters by sodamnrad - T, 2 chapters - “Do you like me?” Draco’s flitty looks, his tart remarks about her feelings for Blaise, the way he’s following her around instead of chasing an eligible witch who isn’t pining over his friend is extremely telling.“Define like.”Her mouth unhinges. No effing way. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”“How do you think I feel?” He glares at her. “I haven’t slept. I feel sick like there’s something in my stomach, fluttering.” He presses a hand against his belly, as if he’s experiencing the sensation at this very moment.“Butterflies?” she deadpans. “No. No, no, no this cannot be happening.”“No one is more surprised or ashamed than I am.” He gestures to himself, lifting his chin tersely.“Draco, you know that I adore all of Earth’s creatures and the metaphors that they inspire,” she says as her hand forms a crushing fist, “but the butterflies have got to be murdered.”---Draco & Hermione: Their Story (2000s TV Drama Style)Dual POV | 2 Shot | Idiots in Love

The Ambition by In_Dreams - M, one-shot - After ten years at sea, Captain Hermione Granger has a ship and a crew of her own. But one of her new crew mates is a blacksmith from her past. Dramione Pirates AU.

Jitters by TheMourningMadam - M, one-shot - This was written for the Lovers of Fiction mini fest for April. Thank you to QuinTalon for being a gracious host in this fest.My prompt was Jamie and Claire Fraser from Outlander. If you have never seen Outlander, why not? You at least need to watch their first time to see some hot and bewildered Jamie. This is a tiny snapshot into what would be a much larger story, so please take it at face value.Also, I finished this story right at the wire, so didn't have time for a beta. All mistakes are obviously my own and I apologize. Bold sentences are word for word from the tv show.

I Meant Something Like That by CharliPetidei - M, WIP - “You know what’s funny?” said Hermione, crossing her ankles and leaning forwards on the slightly peeling leather sofa. “When I first saw your advert online… I thought you were Hufflepuffs.” The three men opposite her exchanged glances, and then the tall, platinum blond one (it had to be dyed, right?) with the funny name leaned forward, narrowing his eyes. Draco, that was it. “You thought we were what?” A New Girl Dramione AU.

The One Where Everyone Finds Out - Dramione Edition by Annav94 - T, WIP - Don’t we all know what happened when Phoebe finds out about Monica and Chandler in season 5 of Friends? Well, what would then happen if it was Draco and Hermione to be discovered by Pansy? Would then Theo try to calm her down, in the hope that she would stop screaming so his boyfriend (Harry bloody Potter, of all people) would be prevented from finding out about them is such crude way? And would Blaise go along with the scheme the two Slytherins would come up with to push the new couple to expose itself or will he be done with all the ‘pretending’ of not knowing, when he knew all along?Stay with me on this journey called: ‘The One Where Everyone Finds Out - Dramione Edition’.

The Dragon's Moving Castle by SlytherinHermione - T, WIP - Hermione Granger had accepted that her life wasn't going to be a great big adventure.She wasn't particularly beautiful, or interesting, and she hadn't been born with magic like her sisters. Really, she was just as plain as could be.One day though, a castle was seen rolling around the hills near her town.Not long after, she met a strange, handsome, and mysterious man.And she was cursed by the Wicked Witch of the Wasteland.Perhaps life was an adventure after all.

Lanky Brunettes with Wicked Jaws by Lostinthenightrain - M, one-shot - “You’ve got types?”“Only you darling.” He put his hand under her chin and brought her around to face him. He pulled her close with his arm held tight against her.  His head to the side of her own, he grinned. “Lanky brunettes with wicked jaws.” A gentle kiss placed against her jaw. She smiled, a blush prettying her cheeks as she pulled back.

Reader, I Married Him by Lostinthenightrain - T, one-shot - “Why must you?” he questioned as he pulled himself forward, using the rough pads of his fingers he gently touched under her chin, dragging her gaze to his own. “You know why!” She wrenched her chin from his grasp. “You are to be married, Malfoy.”

This fest is ongoing.

[delicioussshame]

[cries in fandom] I was supposed to work tonight and instead I wrote more of yesterday’s fic because I had the idea and couldn’t stop thinking about it. 

Shen Qingqiu isn’t an empty nester. He has plenty of disciples still running around the peak, eager to learn and keeping him very busy.

It’s just that the generation that was already there when he arrived, Ning Yingying, Ming Fan and the others, are now fully grown cultivators, spending most of their time roaming the world on their own quests.

They bring him pride each time they visit, usually gifting him with obscure artefacts and rare volumes he spends days pouring over. It doesn’t quite make up for their absence, but it helps.

Still, he would have preferred Ning Yingying gift him something else the last time she visited.

He, of course, knew she would eventually cross paths with Luo Binghe. She was bound to. After much pondering, he had decided not to interfere. Her occasional visits to Luo Binghe weren’t enough to hurt her cultivation, and anyway Luo Binghe was usually careful not to let Xin Mo gorge enough to leave traces, especially on trained cultivators. She’d be fine.

Plus, when Luo Binghe would tire of hiding in plain sight and reveal his status as leader of the Demon Realm, his fondness for her would protect her from the consequences Shen Qingqiu himself might face.

He would probably be fine though. He’d just have to take a less adversarial take than his predecessor, who had fought to the death to “protect his disciple from the beast”.

Or he’d thought he would, until Ning Yingying, with a blinding smile that radiated unblemished innocence, had told her she’d booked him a session with her A-Luo, because, to hear her say it, he needed it.

He had been tempted to expel her on sight. Don’t thrown Shen Qingqiu into the maws of the beast! He doesn’t have your youthful beauty or girlish charms!

He hadn’t. Ning Yingying is just too caring. She hadn’t realised that just because she very much enjoyed Luo Binghe, Shen Qingqiu might not feel the same. Wrong tree. Because if he were attracted to men, which he was not, what a ridiculous notion, he would have made a move himself. Luo Binghe is soft on his favorite clients. He’d have nothing to lose by endearing himself to him.

Too bad he’s not interested. He had to refuse him.

He’d thought he knew what to expect when he’d gone to reject the offer as politely as he could. It wouldn’t do to offend him.

Sadly, all the foreknowledge of the world hadn’t been quite enough to shield himself from his unnatural charisma. He’d made a fool of himself, practically running out to escape the protagonist’s aura. Luo Binghe, how terrifying! His poor disciple had stood no chance!

Anyway, he can admit he is occasionally lonely. He misses his dear Yingying and his first disciple, whom, for all his flaws, Shen Qingqiu had grown fond of. It wasn’t impossible for Ning Yingying to have noticed, and to have tried to offer him company. Totally misguided, but understandable.

When he hears a commotion outside, he instantly goes to check it out. Maybe it will break his monotony.

He immediately regrets it. Why, why on earth are Luo Binghe and Liu Qingge fighting with enough strength that they could easily kill his terrorised disciples here on his peak! It’s way too early for Luo Binghe to have come out of the demonic closet! And why is he even here!

Shen Qingqiu turns towards his closest disciple. “What is happening here.”

The poor girl jumps at his tone. “Shizun! I’m sorry, I’m not sure, we heard rumours that Luo Binghe was at the sect, so we were curious, but Liu-shishu showed up and it devolved into a fight. I don’t know why.”

Huh. So Liu Qingge made the first move? Quite possible. He might have wanted to protect his sister’s honor.

That should be manageable. He raises his voice. “Fighting on my peak isn’t allowed. Stop at this instant.”

To his surprise, both swords freeze.

Shen Qingqiu despairs for this world’s mob characters. How come no one wonders why a courtesan can keep up with Liu Qingge? Why can’t they notice how Xin Mo oozes with malevolence? Can they only see Luo Binghe’s fabulously handsome face and physique?

He wouldn’t be surprised.

“Shen Qingqiu! How dare you!”

Shen Qingqiu blinks. “How dare I what, Liu-shidi? I’m not the one who picked a fight on someone else’s peak.”

He points to Luo Binghe. “Him!”

Beside his general existence, there’s nothing especially offensive about Luo Binghe? “What about him?”

“I thought you’d outgrown such nonsense, but he shows up here!”

Shen Qingqiu has no idea what is happening. “I’m sorry if his presence offends you, but I assure you I have nothing to do with it.”

“I’m afraid that’s a lie,” says Luo Binghe as Liu Qingge seems close to death via outrage.

Shen Qingqiu turns toward Luo Binghe. “How could it be?”

In answer, Luo Binghe brandishes… the fan he’d completely forgotten when he’d visited, shit! Did he come here, on his peak, holding this incriminating evidence as a badge of honor!?

Shen Qingqiu feels himself blanch. How can he clear himself of these allegations? Liu Qingge thinks he’s trying to steal his sister’s man! Once the War God of Bai Zhen is done with Luo Binghe, Shen Qingqiu’s head is next!

Luo Binghe continues like he didn’t notice Shen Qingqiu’s obvious discomfort, which he must have. “You left this behind the other day, and so I have come to return it. Let it not be said I am not a perfect gentleman.”

Oh no. He can hear consternation from some of his pupils, and definitely less consternated exclamations from others.

Liu Qingge has now plunged on Luo Binghe again, who dodges with too much ease. How can no one notice something is wrong!

Maybe the renewed fight will distract everyone while Shen Qingqiu discretely dig himself a hole deep enough to never have to come out.

Oh well, there’s nothing he can tell but the truth. No one will believe it, but since no one ever believed Shen Qingqiu, how will it be any different? “Please stop this fight at once. Luo Binghe, I thank you for bringing my fan back to me despite my rude refusal of your services. It wasn’t your fault my student misconstrued my interests. Again, I am sorry for your wasted time. Liu-shidi, I understand your sister’s paramour might not be your favorite individual, but please don’t assault the sect’s guests. Think of our reputation. What will people say?”

Liu Qingge stares at him with… stupefaction? “You’re not his?”

Yeah, he’s nipping that train of thought in the bud. The last thing he needs is his disciples thinking he’s some pretty thing’s toy. They would never respect him again. “No. He’s not my type. No offense intended.”

Liu Qingge remains still for a moment, before he plucks the fan from Luo Binghe’s hand and shoves it toward Shen Qingqiu. “Keep track of your fans! There are two in my home!”

Ladies and gentlemen, Shen Qingqiu, a man being berated in public about his chronic tendency to forget things like an unruly child. “Why should I care when Shidi is always so eager to bring them back to me?”

Liu Qingge flushes in anger.

Shen Qingqiu gives himself a point.

_______________

Things were light-hearted before.

Now, Luo Binghe is serious.

Not only did Shen Qingqiu refuse his advance, but he implied Luo Binghe himself wasn’t good enough for him, in front of his whole peak, before ignoring him in favor of flirting with another man, right in his face?

Never has he suffered such humiliation.

He had intended to be kind. To soothe and seduce the man gently until following Luo Binghe to bed would seem like the only logical option.

He bets Shen Qingqiu would have paid him for the privilege, and paid him well, regardless of his disciple’s previous arrangements.

Now, those options are off the table. When Luo Binghe is done with him, pleasure will have robbed Shen Qingqiu of the last of his voice, and yet he’ll still be trying to beg him for more.

He’ll be ruined to anyone that’s not Luo Binghe; unable to live without his touch.

Anything less would be an unsurmountable affront.

Shen Qingqiu better prepares himself. The fight might have been lost, but Luo Binghe will be the one to win the war.

[wtf-yoongi]

Plain sight. / KTH

pairing | taehyung x reader

summary | taehyung just wants to be loved (and love is right under his nose)

genre/warnings | fluff + a lil bit of angst?

words | 1,999

note | requested by the lovely 💜💜💜 anon (full request at the end!) sorry for taking the longest time. i’m such a lazy writer

Taehyung is sulking.

The man is sitting on the farthest seat of the comfy sofa, hand clutching his phone tightly as if it could grow wings and fly away at any second. The TV isn’t on, but he’s looking at the screen intently, brows just slightly furrowed in deep thought.

What he is thinking about, though… That’s still a mystery to you.

You have tried to guess whatever is bothering him for — at the very least — half an hour now, but got to no conclusion. Taehyung just sits there, legs crossed and body barely moving except for the rise and fall of his chest, not bothered by your stares or Yeontan’s little wiggles.

How could he after the invitation he got through the mail this morning?

A freaking wedding invitation. His youngest cousin is getting married. The youngest. Why does it have to be the youngest?

Taehyung has reminded himself time and time again that his moment would come. The thing that he feels like is missing so badly in his life would eventually come. There’s no need to rush, no need to worry or stress over this.

Until that pretty envelope came in. Delicate piece of expensive paper, fancy handwriting and all. He is sure someone sprayed perfume on it because the thing even smells good.

Honestly — why does it have to be the youngest one?

What bothers him the most, though, is that he is supposed to be happy for him — and Taehyung, don’t get him wrong, is. His cousin has found someone with whom he wishes to share his life with, who will be there no matter what, will support his decisions and bring his feet down to earth when needed. Someone who will make him eat his veggies and all.

But damn. Taehyung wants that too. He wants to be Loved.

Yes, Loved, with capital L. Not the sort of love you get from you mom — although that is great as well —, but the Love you see in cheesy movies, the Love people talk about in songs, the Love that makes you do irrational things. Taehyung wants all of that. He wants to do irrational things too.

Is that too much to ask?

Too bad you have no idea of what’s going on inside his head. You would be the first to tell him that no, it isn’t too much to ask. Taehyung just needs to realize what’s right in front of him. Right under his nose.

It’s right here, right now. All the capital-L-love he wants. All the love he will ever need. All the love you think is silly and unrequited. Everything you feel the urge to hide as best as you can. The reason why it’s a beautiful and sunny Saturday afternoon and you’re happy to be in Taehyung’s apartment instead of enjoying it outside — just because his mom asked you to make sure he doesn’t sleep until three in the afternoon while she’s on vacation with his father.

You could’ve accepted your friend’s invitation to take a walk after lunch. You could’ve just called Taehyung to make sure he was awake and had something to eat and be okay with it. Except you couldn’t — you had to come by, you had to stop at the convenience store to get something he likes, you had to use your spare key to open the door because Taehyung was, in fact, still sleeping.

What is there to hide? It’s all in plain sight. Taehyung is the only one who can’t see it.

He had gone back to bed after breakfast — he said it emotionlessly right after you asked him if he had eaten anything today. When you arrived, Taehyung already looked a bit displeased, replacing the usual smile and warm hug he welcomes you with for a frown and a cold stare. He didn’t crack even when he saw the treats you had bought, saying thanks in a low voice. At least you can say it isn’t your fault — or at least you can guess so. 

To pass the time, you try to keep your hands busy in the kitchen, cleaning up counters and emptying the dishwasher even though no one asked you to do so. Deep down, you know you don’t want to go so soon — even if your friend isn’t the greatest of hosts right now, being here is still somewhat calming. The silence coming from Tae is definitely better than the silence coming from the walls of your apartment.

But enough is enough. You need to know what’s going on inside his head — and not just because you’re curious. Most of all, you want to help. What if it’s something serious? What if it’s something to do with work? You may not be able to do much, but getting it out would surely help, right?

You call his name, raising your voice a little for him to hear you from the living room, but he doesn’t even move a finger. Taehyung seems to be inside of a bubble, protected by a layer of annoyance that not many people would dare to pop. A long exhale comes out of your lips — it may hurt, but you need to know.

As you walk towards his sitting figure, Yeontan — definitely not oblivious to the fact something’s not right — follows you with pleading eyes. He asks you to raise his little body to the couch when you sit and your hands accommodate him between yours and Taehyung’s legs.

Even then, the man doesn’t seem to notice you’re so close. You call his name again. “Taehyung… Come on, you have to tell me what’s wrong.”

That’s when he snaps out of it. 

“I’m okay,” he says calmly and nods, but his eyes don’t connect with yours like they usually do and you know he’s lying to protect himself. You don’t like it — he shouldn’t feel the need to do that with you. “I’m just thinking.”

“Okay, then,” you concede, relaxing your stance. Yeontan promptly jumps on you belly. “Tell me what you’re thinking about.”

It takes Taehyung a few moments to collect his thoughts and you wonder if he’s considering telling you the whole story of just half of it. You try not to think about the worst, about the things that would break your heart, but your mind immediately moves in that direction.

All of a sudden, Tae is turning his body to yours, crossed legs now facing you. He doesn’t speak fast, but you notice — gladly — it is unfiltered. It just comes out of his mouth in long phrases, calm and somewhat frustrated, as if he’s on the brink of giving up.

“Have you ever watched one of those romantic movies that are so gross… The sort of thing you watch and think oh, god, this is disgusting or this thing would never happen in real life or something like that?”

Taehyung just gives you enough time to nod.

“Is it so crazy that my brain has been programmed by these movies and tv shows that are oh-so-delusional and now I’m delusional too? Like, I swear to God, I want to take someone for a walk in the park with Yeontan and have ice cream and sit on a bench and giggle quietly while trying to hide my face from people passing by because I’m way too shy about it.”

And I hate the idea that there’s a possibility that I’ll never be able to do it and it’s completely out of my control because it may happen that destiny doesn’t think I deserve to love someone so much, so much it hurts me physically… But, you know, not in the unhealthy way. I mean in the I’m gonna watch her become one of the greatest people in this world and I’m going to be there when she needs me and I’ll be cheering her on way, you know? Please, don’t get me wrong. I’m not the controlling type and I never want to be that, no.”

And just this morning I got a wedding invitation that made me rethink all of those things and, I don’t know, don’t you think by now I should’ve at the very least fallen in love with someone? And I don’t even mean successfully — I mean at all. All my friends have had somewhat serious relationships and now even my youngest cousin is getting married. I’m happy for him, I am, but I can’t stop thinking about the possibility of it never happening to me. Does that make any sense?”

It takes a while for your brain to process all of that and, most importantly, to separate your role as a friend and your want for something more. You take a deep breath before finally looking up to him, heart breaking as you rational side takes over. “Okay. It makes sense, I get what you’re saying.”

“You do?” Taehyung raises an eyebrow in disbelief. “Don’t you think it’s weird my twenties are more than halfway gone and I’ve never fallen in love with anyone?”

Your heart breaks a little further with the way there’s so much hope in his eyes. Honestly, not even in your worst nightmares you’d have to go through this sort of conversation with Taehyung — and certainly not while struggling to keep a straight face. You feel tired already from trying so hard, as if your energy has been drained in a second.

Surprisingly, your voice comes out somewhat stable.

“But that’s the thing, Tae. You can’t force this, it happens. And just because it hasn’t happened up until now, it doesn’t mean that it will never,” you add, diverting your gaze to the small dog on your lap. Such a great excuse not to look into Taehyung’s eyes — you wonder if he’ll notice anything when you say your next words. “Also, falling in love isn’t always great. You said you wanted it even if it was unsuccessful, but it hurts, you know?”

“So you have fallen in love?”

“I am in love right now.” You wish you hadn’t answered so promptly. You can’t believe you’re confessing or the words that come out of your mouth next. “And he doesn’t know it and I can’t build enough courage to tell him because I don’t want to lose him over some stupid thing like unrequited love. I just want him in my life, even if it’s not like that… What I’m trying to say is that the movies make it look simple and easy, but it isn’t. Most of the time people just get hurt.”

You’re not looking, but you know from the way Taehyung moves his hands that his eyes aren’t so hopeful anymore. Inside, you’re not just broken from having to keep a mask on while saying all of that, but also for being the one to bring him down so harshly. You wonder if you should’ve toned it down a little, but it’s too late now.

“Okay, I’ve changed my mind,” Taehyung says, slowly and carefully, after a few moments. “What I mean by unsuccessful is not spending the rest of your life with this person. I still want to take them for a walk and have ice cream, at least.”

A laugh escapes your lips — desperate, but thankful for the kindness in his heart. “Fair enough. You want to fall in love and you want them to fall in love too. Even if it’s not forever.”

“Exactly. That’s what I want.”

“Okay. Just…” Your voice falters. There’s a hand clenching your heart tightly as you finish your sentence. “Don’t think about it too much, it will happen when the time is right.”

“Ah, I wonder if I’ll be able to notice it, you know? When I finally fall in love with someone… When they fall in love with me.”

It takes all of you for your last words to come out in a single breath.

“It’s hard to see something when you don’t know what you’re looking for.”

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request | i needed to share my idea because its making me melt. In the most recent in the soop ep, tae and jk had a heart to heart and tae talked about how he wants to be loved and he needs to know that someone loves him. And i just imagined like a comfort scenario where someone just takes care of him when he’s feeling lonely and unloved. My angsty/fluffy feels. So yeah, if you ever want to write something like this... ill cry (out of joy?) 💜💜💜

note 2 | you can tell by “the most recent in the soop ep” how freaking long it took me to write this. honestly, i struggled. this has been rewritten like four times???? and i’m still not quite sure i like it aaaaah