#instead of doing anything useful of course. it’s just this and the rings rotating in my head.

[oof-ow-my-bone]

twiddles my thumbs uhh umm.. started watching gravity falls ahah…

[swarvey]

paper rings | harvey x f!reader

summary -> you convince harvey to go in the maze with you; harvey has some trouble sleeping. warnings -> not nsfw: mention of shane's cliff scene | nsfw! mdni. p in v, oral sex (reader receives), reader and harvey share a drink before wc -> 5025

a/n: i swear this chapter just. wrote itself. i think i blacked out writing half of it but i hoped y'all enjoy!!!, if there is any chapter where i recommend you to listen to the song in the title, it's this one!!! pls <333

also i'd love to hear where you guys think this is going heh

ch. 7 | ch. 8 | ch. 9

paper rings masterlist

chapter eight: i can see you -> "but what would you do if i went to touch you now?"

Harvey wouldn’t necessarily say he was a terrible sleeper. 

Sure, he had his nights where the blankets wouldn’t feel quite right and the pillows refused to agree with him, but even then, he would typically fall asleep one way or another. Eight hours of undisturbed sleep was always his goal, and a couple of cups of coffee throughout the day would never fail to give him the push he needed. Although he used to be quite the night owl during his time at university — to the point where he had a regular rotation of energy drinks in his fridge — Harvey found he now preferred waking up early and having a slow start to his day.

That night, though, the clock struck an hour he hadn’t encountered in years.

3:43 A.M.

He knew it was going to hurt him throughout the next day, especially when he would inevitably have to open up the clinic and prepare for any patients. He knew it was unlike him, that logically, he should be reaching for his bottle of melatonin and taking a couple of pills to lull him to his dreams. He knew, of course, he knew, he was a doctor — he’d heard all of it throughout med school, how essential sleep was in everyone’s daily routine. 

But how could he?

How could he allow his worn, blurry eyes to close and sink into the exhaustion weighing down his body, when you were fast asleep beside him? 

It was wrong. Everything about the situation was completely and utterly wrong. 

First off, he was absolutely not supposed to be in his bed, watching you peacefully doze with the blankets half-covering you. He resisted his urge to scoop you up into his arms and pretend the scene was normal.

Secondly, your clothes were not on your body, but instead were scattered across the bedroom. Harvey could feel your bare back just barely grazing his arm with every breath you took. As he glanced to the floor on his side of the bed, he could vaguely make out the shape of your bra, blushing at the memory that tagged along with it.

Thirdly, he should be asleep — he should have been asleep hours ago. 

Yet, there he was, contemplating what choices had led him there in the first place.

A few hours earlier

“Harvey,” you said, crossing your arms and giving your best friend a deathly stare, “stop being such a baby.”

“Y/N, you of all people know I have never been fond of Spirit’s Eve,” he reasoned, holding his hands out in defense. “I am not stepping foot in that maze again. I refuse.”

Suddenly, you felt as if you were ten again, scowling before dragging Harvey off your farm. Your pet looked at you and wagged its tail as you bolted past it, tilting its head at the man who was begrudgingly letting you take him with you. You’d invited him to dinner at your place before the festival as a “treat,” though you really just wanted the opportunity to persuade him. After all those years, though, it seemed your friend was still the same ball of anxiety he’d always been.

“Please, I even tried doing it by myself last year, I couldn’t make it past the first turn. I’ll do anything else!” Harvey all but begged, and you glanced back at him with a skeptical stare. “I swear.”

You paused your steps, the cold, Fall air blowing on the back of your neck. “Really?” you asked, thinking of ways you could test his promise. “Anything?”

“Anything.”

Kiss me.

“Come to the mines with me.” 

“What?! Absolutely not! I’ve treated the wounds you’ve gotten from that place — after countless reminders to be careful, mind you,” he chastised, and a smile twitched on your lips at the sight of his concern. “I wouldn’t last five minutes!”

“Exactly,” you responded bluntly. “But I bet you’d make it at least five minutes in the maze.”

He frowned, and when he didn’t reply, you decided you had to pull out your ultimatum.

Sighing, you turned around and forced yourself to hold back a grin at the sound of Harvey’s knowing groan.

“Oh, not this, Y/N, you can’t pull this again—”

“It’s fine!” you interrupted, beginning to walk away from him. “It’s totally fine, Harvs. I’ll just go in there, alone.”

“Please, this trick has worked on me enough in the past, but I won’t budge this time around.” Sure. As if you couldn’t already hear his determination wavering.

You shrugged. “Alright. Hopefully I’ll have fun in there, all by myself.” You stopped, turning your head slightly so you could emphasize your voice. “Without my closest friend. Who I haven’t gone to this festival with in years.”

You could practically see his defense crumble, closing your eyes and smiling triumphantly as he defeatedly walked up to you. “Fine,” Harvey sighed, and you peeked with one eye to see him shaking his head. “Let’s go.” 

“Yes,” you laughed, grabbing his arm once more and excitedly heading to the festival you’d waited all year for.

As a kid, you had always loved Spirit’s Eve — the music, the food, the costumes, and, most importantly, the maze. You didn’t get to experience it too often, since you usually had to head back home by that time of the season, but when you did, it’d been some of the most fun you’d ever had. Before getting to know Harvey too well, your grandfather took you through the maze every year, keeping your hand tightly in his as he calmly took the lead. Whenever you flinched or shied away in fear, he would stop and reassure you. You still remembered how he’d kneel in front of you, meeting your teary, wide eyes with his own loving gaze.

“You don’t have to be scared, kiddo,” he said, patting your shoulder. “Your grandpa’s here to protect you. Besides, soon enough, you’ll be strong enough where you’ll need to protect me!”

He never failed to get a laugh out of you, no matter the place or time. It was back then you’d decided you would always try to be brave, and before you knew it, you were tackling the maze all by yourself, walking out triumphantly with the treasure in hand each time. 

That is, until you met Harvey, and your visits to your favorite attraction were put on hold.

You couldn’t really complain, not when it meant you got to do arts and crafts with him at the kids’ table instead.

At your age, though, Harvey wasn’t allowed to have any more excuses. As the two of you entered the plaza, you were prepared to head straight to the maze, making a beeline for it when—

“Oof!”

“Oh my, I must apologize!”

You recognized the overly formal voice almost immediately, rubbing your forehead as you looked up at Elliott’s apologetic face.

“Are you alright?” he asked rapidly, grabbing your shoulders and checking you up and down. “I hope I didn’t startle you too much, especially on this already frightening night! Ah, Harvey, you are of medical expertise. Please, check our dear farmer and make sure she’s fine.”

“Elliott, please,” you laughed, shrugged off his hands, and nudged his arm. “It was an accident.”

“And she’s survived worse things,” Harvey chimed in. “I see you’ve already begun to enjoy the pumpkin ale?”

“What?” the poet questioned, running a hand through his silky hair. “Just what makes you think that, my friend?”

“Hey, if it isn’t the doc!” Shane seemed to answer his question for him, his voice a little too bright to be sober as he walked over beside Elliott. He perked a brow at you. “And he brought the farmer, too. Shocker.”

“Hello to you, too, Shane,” you greeted, noting the half-empty glass of ale in his hand. “You going to behave tonight?”

He huffed, offering the rest of his drink to you. You gladly took it, taking a sip and relishing in the delicious hint of sweet pumpkin. “You’re just a damn ray of sunshine, aren’t you?” 

You gave Shane a satisfied smile as he shoved his hands in his pockets, the three of you listening to whatever ghost story Elliott was blabbering on about. All jokes aside, you had been a bit worried about Harvey’s friend. You’d known for a while he had a drinking problem, even sitting with him on the dock one night to have a few drinks with him, but never knew the extent to its severity until you found him beside a cliff one stormy day.

Since then, you made sure to check in on him once in a while and drop off a basket of peppers at Marnie’s whenever you got the chance. Your acts seemed to pay off, as the once cold man seemed to have finally warmed up to you, and as much as you despised the company he worked for, Shane proved to be a good friend. You knew him as much more than the town drunk, but as the pepper popper-loving, chicken caretaker who cherished those close to him.

Which is why you didn’t miss the curious glance he gave Harvey, to which the doctor quickly looked away and flushed pink.

Huh. Interesting.

“Some say, to this day, if you enter the Cindersnap Forest past midnight, you’ll—”

“There she is. We’ve been looking everywhere for you!” You sighed out of relief at the sound of Haley’s familiar tone, practically melting into her as she grasped your arm. “Ugh, is he telling you the story about the woods, or whatever?”

Elliott gasped in offense. “Haley, I assure you, the story has much more meaning behind it than that.”

Before he could go on, Leah poked his arm, sparing the group of another tangent. “That’s enough, El,” she said amusedly. “Come on, weren’t we headed to the maze?”

“I thought you’d never ask!” You surged forward, gesturing for everyone to follow. “You promised, Harvey!” you called out, and the look you threw at him dared him to run away.

You heard him begin to protest once again, but he was cut off by a much louder, enthusiastic voice.

“Are you guys going into the maze, too?” You turned to meet Alex, accompanied by Sam’s bright grin. “You’re not scared, are you, farmer?” he taunted, leaning forward so his eyes were right in front of yours.

“Me?” You pressed a hand to your chest, looking back at him in shock. “Of all people? No way.”

The jock shrugged and backed off, flashing you a confident smile. “Whatever you say. If you need a bodyguard, you know who to call.” With that, he and his friend walked into the entrance, bumping into each other’s shoulders as they joked around.

Haley scoffed. “What an idiot. You could definitely kick his ass.” Leah laughed, and you noticed the soft smile that sat on the blonde’s lips at the sound. Who would’ve thought? Suddenly, you felt like you were third-wheeling.

Thankfully, Harvey came to your rescue, marching in front of the three of you with a renewed passion in his step. He looked over his shoulder, and you almost didn’t recognize the look in his eyes.

“Well?” he asked persistently. “Are we going?”

-

Harvey knew he was being painfully obvious at that point. He also knew Alex didn’t have bad intentions at all, that, if anything, the two of them had a common goal: to keep you safe.

He’d be lying if he said he cared, though. 

If you’d told him a year ago he would be leading a group of people into the maze he’d feared pretty much his entire life, he would call you a liar. If you added in the fact he was doing it to impress you, he would tell you to set up an appointment with him so he could check your head. Yet, there he was, egging you and everyone else on to get their asses in the attraction already so he could prove you didn’t need some gridball player to protect you.

The second he stepped foot through the entrance, though, Harvey seriously questioned if it was worth it.

He never liked scary things — he was an awful person to watch horror movies with, and he had always been easy to startle, as you liked to prove time and time again. He didn’t really see a point in them. Why would he want to be terrified, when he could relax and enjoy himself instead? Logically, there was no real appeal to be scared.

Although, it seemed all logic was out the door, seeing that he’d already zoned out and gotten lost.

Fuck.

You’d been right there moments before, he swore on it. As Harvey frantically looked around him, though, he found he was alone, surrounded by the thick brush of the maze’s walls and chilling noises that gave him goosebumps. Sometimes, he truly questioned how he’d earned a college degree and even passed medical school with a brain like his. It seemed to stop working every time you were in the picture. I am an unbelievable idiot. 

“Harvey?”

He blinked. He wasn’t being tricked, was he? 

“Harvey, is that you?”

As the voice grew closer, Harvey realized it was not, in fact, a trick, and that he recognized the figure in front of him.

“Maru,” he breathed, shoulders slumping in relief. “God, I’m so relieved.”

She laughed at his reaction, and Harvey faintly remembered a time when his heart would have pounded at the sound. That was in the past, though, when he’d first moved to the Valley. 

When he thought you had slipped from his grasp.

“What are you even doing here?” she asked. “I thought you hated this place.”

“Yes, well, uh, Y/N has always enjoyed it, so I thought I would give it another go.”

She glanced around them. “So, you came here with Y/N?”

“Yes, along with Leah and Haley.”

“Uh-huh. And just how did you get this lost?”

He sighed. “You tell me. Mazes have never really been my forte.”

She laughed again as she walked in front of him, gesturing for him to follow with a wave. “Come on, we’ll find them together.”

“Thank you, Maru.”

“Anytime, Harvey.”

The two fell into a comfortable silence as they trekked on, both listening for any familiar voices. Harvey had to admit, he felt much better with Maru there; her confidence as she walked reminded him of you. He couldn’t help but notice, though, the odd look in her eye, as if she were thinking something he didn’t quite understand.

“Are you alright?” he asked, slowing his pace. “You look a bit bothered.”

She didn’t reply right away, but paused her steps to look at him. “You . . . really like the farmer, don’t you?”

Oh, no. “Wh-What? I mean, of course I do, we’ve known each other for such a long time—”

“You know what I mean, Harvey.” There was no hostility in her tone, no bite. If anything, she sounded amused. “I think everyone’s seen it except you two.” 

“I—” He paused. What was the point? “I suppose you’re right,” he admitted. 

“Well,” Maru started, placing her hands on her hips, “you better treat her properly, okay? Honestly, if you felt that way, you should have asked her out in the Spring! What’s with all this dodging around and pretending you don’t feel it? Before you know it, it might be too late.” 

There was an edge to her tone with those words, but Harvey didn’t have time to process it, distracted by the large shadow approaching them. Instinctively, he grabbed Maru and pushed her behind him, his own fear making his heart feel as if it were about to fly out of his chest. 

“Is that you, Harvs?” At the sound of your voice, he could have cried in relief. “Seriously, how can someone get lost so quickly?”

You walked up to him with your two friends by your side, immediately eyeing the hand he had wrapped around Maru’s wrist. He dropped it, grateful the darkness hid his embarrassed face.

“I guess I got a bit ahead of myself,” he said, clearing his throat. Haley was glaring daggers into his skull. “Sorry for worrying you.” 

You shook your head, sighing. “I mean, weren’t you the one who was terrified of coming in here in the first place? What’s gotten into you?”

“Actually,” Maru interrupted, stepping out from behind him, “Harvey was just talking about how he isn’t feeling very well.”

You perked a brow at him. “Really? Please don’t tell me you’re going to throw up in here, again.”

Harvey side-eyed Maru quickly — who refused to meet his glance — before nodding. “I am feeling a bit nauseous,” he agreed, and honestly, it wasn’t a complete lie. He was sure one more scare would cause the dinner you made him to end up on the side of the path.

“Gross,” Haley commented, taking Leah’s hand and continuing on with her. “I am not sticking around to deal with that. Come on, Maru.”

“Wait, where are you—”

“Drop him off, Y/N! Come find us when he isn’t about to yack all over the maze.”

Harvey gave you a sheepish smile as you gave him an exasperated look. “Come on, then, you big baby,” you said, though he managed to catch the smile that took over your scowl. “Let’s get you home.”

The walk back was somehow worse than he remembered. Harvey swore the route changed every turn, but you seemed to walk confidently through each pathway. He had always admired how level-headed you were in such tense environments, unable to fathom how you were able to tackle such places like the mines or the woods at night. Then again, you’d always been the braver one.

“You know where we’re going, right?” he questioned, just to make sure.

“Oh, I have no idea,” you replied, a bit too relaxed for his liking. “We’ll figure it out.”

“What?!”

Snap!

Harvey let out a shout and jumped. Despite his antics, his arm still shot out in front of you protectively, and you immediately began looking around to find the source of the sound.

Suddenly, the path wasn’t dark anymore. 

A glowing, blue light filled Harvey’s eyes, and it took a moment for him to adjust to the brightness before he saw what was in front of him.

There it was. The blue spirit he’d seen under your steps the day you moved in.

“Blue? What are you doing here?” you asked it casually, pushing his arm down and kneeling to greet the small figure. “You nearly gave him a heart attack, you know.” You nodded your head towards him, and the Junimo directed a small squeak upwards in apology.

“You . . . you’re friends with a Junimo?” he clarified incredulously. He dropped down beside you and stuck his hand out, eyes widening as it touched his finger. 

You smiled. “Harvey, this is Blueberry. Blueberry, Harvey.”

“You’re friends with a Junimo,” Harvey softly repeated, looking at you in awe. “You never cease to amaze me, truly.”

You didn’t respond, instead keeping your eyes on the spirit. “Care to show us the way out?” After letting out a responsive squeak, Blueberry turned around and began to light the way. 

As the two of you followed your tiny friend, Harvey couldn’t help but keep track of each time his hand brushed against yours and the way your eyes kept darting over to his. The entire situation was tempting him; you, in the dark, alone with him. A scenario filled his head before he could even register what he was thinking — images of you, your back up against the hedges as he pressed his lips into your neck, his arms wrapped around you as you cried out his name, over and over as he took off your top—

“Hey, is that it?”

Harvey’s thoughts were cut short by your voice, looking down to realize Blueberry was no longer there. Looking into the distance, though, he could see the light of the entrance, the sound of people talking and kids laughing flooding his ears. He let out a deep breath he didn’t realize he was holding, gladly matching your quick pace out of the cursed place.

“Finally,” he breathed. Harvey had never been more glad to see Pelican Town’s bustling plaza. “I thought we’d never make it out.” An exaggeration, sure, but it was the only way he could express his feelings.

You scoffed lightly, patting his back. “Please, stop being so dramatic. You owe me, by the way. I totally would have gotten the treasure by now if it weren’t for you.”

He paused. His fantasy still lingered on his mind, and for once, just once, Harvey decided to be a little impulsive.

“How about a glass of wine, then?” he offered, trying his best to look at you as naturally as possible. “I ordered a new one from a winery and it just came in, unopened. I think you’ll like it.” 

You hummed in thought, then nodded. “I think that’ll do,” you replied nonchalantly. Was that a hint of pink in your cheeks? “Just a glass, though?”

He chuckled, then began to walk towards the clinic. It’s just a drink, that’s all. Nothing more. We’ve drank together before. This is normal.

“However many you’d like, Y/N.”

Maybe his answer should have been different, more precise.

Maybe, if he’d forced himself to have more self-control, he would have walked you home after the two of you finished the entire bottle.

Maybe then, he wouldn’t be spilling the rest of your drink onto your shirt as he kissed you, absentmindedly grabbing the glass and setting it on the coffee table as he pressed you into the couch, lost in the flavor of the wine mixed onto your lips.

“Harvey,” you gasped out, your hand grasping his hair as he lived his fantasy and moved down to your neck, sucking on a spot that made you moan as he hummed into your skin. “God, fuck, Harvey, please.”

The buzz of the alcohol gave Harvey the courage he needed to slip his hands under your shirt, working his way up your sides before grazing over your breasts through your bra. He made quick riddance of your top, throwing it somewhere he couldn’t care for as he finally lifted his head to take in the sight he’d been longing to see.

You were more gorgeous than he’d imagined, especially with your stained red lips and flushed face.

“You’re gorgeous,” he said out loud, voice slightly out of breath and rough.

“So are you,” you replied, sitting up and pressing a quick kiss to his lips as you stood, “and we are not doing this on the couch.” He couldn’t have agreed more.

Seeing you lay on his bed was something Harvey never thought he would actually get to witness, making him all the more committed to making you feel pleasure you’d never experienced before as he unclasped your bra. He managed to stir a couple more beautiful sounds out of you as he dragged his thumb over your nipple, pinching it lightly between his fingers. Then, you gently pushed his chest away and began unbuttoning his shirt, tossing it off the bed. 

This is happening. This is actually happening.

Suddenly impatient, Harvey licked into your lips again as he pushed down your pants and kicked them away. He slipped his fingers over your underwear and groaned at the wetness he was already met with. 

“I think these can go, too,” you suggested, tugging at his belt loops. 

He laughed, a giddy feeling he hadn’t felt before filling his chest. “Yes, ma’am.” Just like that, he found himself naked in front of you, his hard member hitting his stomach as he knelt at the foot of the bed and dragged you forward. A smile lingered on his face at the sound of your laugh, though it quickly melted into a whine as he spread your legs and licked up your thigh. He knew it was mean; he could see how needy you were, how much you wanted more, but he desperately wanted to bring you as close to the edge as he could before he fully indulged you. 

Harvey continued his movements, slowly moving further up before he finally reached the place you’d been begging him to touch, closing his lips around your clit. Your legs, thrown around his shoulders, tightened around him at the feeling of his unrelenting mouth. His arms locked around your knees to keep you in place as he stuck his tongue into you, using your loud cries as encouragement.

“Yes,” you moaned, hand grasping the sheets beneath you tightly. He groaned into you as he licked into your soaking entrance, bringing a hand up so he could sink a finger into you. “Fuck, yes, just like that.”

“God, you taste perfect,” he gasped out, watching your reaction as he worked his hand. You squirmed at his movements, eyes shut and mouth open in a silent cry. Wordlessly, he added another finger. “You look so pretty for me, honey.”

Your eyes opened at that, meeting his gaze with a look he was sure would be engraved into his head for the rest of his life. “Say it again.”

“You,” he bent down again, his lips grazing over your pulsing heat, “are beautiful.” His mouth joined his fingers, persistent on your clit as his fingers pressed into a spot that made you cry out. Your hand reached down and dug into his hair, pushing him closer to you as you came. 

After a few moments, Harvey slipped his fingers out of you and wiped your slick off his chin with the back of his hand, getting back up on the bed to meet your lips. His cock was practically begging for release, sensitive to the touch as it grazed against your lower half. He moaned into you, breaking away only to rummage into the nightstand drawer beside his bed for a condom.

“I need you,” you panted, and it only encouraged him further to quickly rip the packaging and pull the condom on. “C’mon, hurry.” Your legs found themselves around his torso as he let out a breath of laughter.

“You never were the most patient, were you?” 

Before you could retort, he pressed the head of his cock into you, both of you gasping at the motion. God, you were tighter than he’d ever imagined, and so warm. He swore you were made for him and him only, watching as you seemed to suck him in. Harvey’s eyes closed when he bottomed out, opening to see you teary-eyed and biting your bottom lip. His heart skipped a beat — had he been too rough?

He stopped. “Are you alright?” he asked, voice threaded with worry and guilt. He pulled out slowly, biting back a moan at how good it felt to move. “We can stop, I’m sorry—”

Your legs drew him back in with a force that made him lurch forward and grab the headboard for balance, and upon looking down at your face, Harvey realized he had never quite seen you that angry before. He swallowed nervously.

“Harvey,” you gritted out, “I swear, if you stop again, you won’t be seeing the light of day tomorrow.”

Part of him wanted to test your threat, but he decided to save it for another time, focusing instead on how inviting it was to sink back into you. His brow was knitted in pleasure as he started to move, his hips moving at a steady rate as they met yours. You moaned at the feeling as he leaned down to kiss you. 

“Fuck, sweetheart, you feel so good,” he groaned, picking up his pace. “Can you hear yourself? Hear how good you are for me?” You nodded, attempting to hide your eyes behind your arm as the sound of him pounding into you filled the air. He quickly moved it and met your eyes which were hazy with pleasure. 

“Harder,” you breathed out. 

When had Harvey ever said no to you? 

He lifted your knees and pressed them to your chest as he found a new rhythm, caging your body in between his arms as his thrusts became deeper. Then, he moved an arm down to massage your clit with his thumb, managing a half-smile at the loud reaction it elicited from you.

“Fuck, there!” you cried, your hands flying to his back and no doubt leaving marks — not that he was complaining. “Right there!”

“There you go, honey, come on—”

“Harvey—!”

You let out a wordless cry as you tightened around him, and Harvey was sure he had never felt so good in his entire life. He could feel your release wet the inside of your thighs. His thrusts became long and deep as he finished shortly after, a low moan escaping his lips as he came. He stilled inside of you as you both panted, sweat dripping down his face.

Harvey winced as he pulled out, mindlessly tying off the condom and throwing it in the trash beside his bed. He managed to find his pants in the darkness of the room and put them on before walking over to the kitchen for water.

“Are you alright?” he asked, handing you the cup. 

“Never been better,” you mumbled tiredly, gladly taking a few sips before setting it aside. 

“You sure? Do you need anything?”

“Stop worrying, Harvs, just go to bed.”

He smiled, grabbing the sheets from the bottom of the bed and dragging them over you. “I’m guessing you won’t be making it back to the farm tonight, then?” Harvey questioned, though he didn’t get a response. Your eyes were already shut. He wasn’t surprised — the mixture of wine and sex was getting to him, too, a wave of exhaustion beginning to hit him.

As soon as his head hit his pillow, though, realization set in, and thus began his sleepless night.

There he was; half-naked with you beside him in bed, and no clue how to approach you in the morning.

[barrenclan]

AYOOOOO NEW ISSUE!

First off, wow. just the visual stuff is really cool, especially how Pinepaw and Nightberry’s eyes glow when their discussion gets intense, or Pinepaw surrounded by the storm in the cover art. And, of course, the multi-pawed art of both him and Night. Idk if you were going for biblically accurate angel vibes without the wings, but no matter what you were going for I really had to stop reading to admire it

On somewhat the same topic, I tried searching for meanings to both the plants and the animals, and sadly I couldn’t find anything for the berries so maybe symbolism wasn’t intended, but I’ll drop everything I found anyway because i think it’s kinda funny a cat comic made me research stuff. I found the wild rose represents love in some cases, but can also represent secrets, which I think the second makes more sense in terms of the current issue, but also love does seem to be important to him, both romantic and platonic. I also found the fox represents intelligence and luck, so yeah, very Nightberry. She’s wise and wants Pinepaw to stay safe. I didn’t know if the burrowing owl was included, but I decided to search for it anyway, and found stuff about laughter being used to guide one to enlightenment and also to share spirituality, which could make sense for Pinepaw if he is really the darkness before the storm, and his quest for knowledge? But probably wasn’t intended, haha

Speaking of that. what! All my boy just wanted was some knowledge!! He didn’t mean to find a mass graveyard!! What makes him so dark Nightberry!!! He did nothing wrong he doesn’t deserve an edgy prophecy to loom over his head!!! He’s BLUE!!!! He’s the clear sky!!!! Speak to yourself you JET BLACK CAT!!!!! anyways

The [spoiler name] being for 4 characters is very what!!! Because yeah maybe the fox and the owl r characters so thats 2 but who r the other two!!!!!!!!! The skeletons???? I am very confuzzled. Obviously you don’t need to try to point me in the right direction, especially if you want secrets, but this will rotate in my head until i figure it out!!

Also I appreciate the last art piece being of the assumedly reburried gravesite, alongside the watchful eyes of that owl. The entire issue was about that one location, and the fact that it’s there makes me feel like Pinepaw might be going back to that spot sometime.

Another great issue! 10 mysterious skeletons out of 10!

YAY NEW ISSUE TIME!

You're the first person I've seen pointing out Nightberry and Pinepaw's eyes glowing, so well spotted. :) I was moreso inspired by Hindu art where a ring of arms are often depicted behind someone than by seraphim angels, but the effect is similar. I'm glad you liked it.

Hehe, it makes me happy that my comic causes people to do research. As it should be. The flowers and fox are not so much representative of their symbolic traits but instead of - and this is partially answering another question of yours - characters! Cause lots of characters in this are named after plants. I'll give you a hint for the 4 [spoiler name] characters; two of them are going to appear in issues very soon, 1 of them is depicted only by implication, and the last one is so obscure it really couldn't be guessed. But I love hearing your ideas anyways!!

Haha, poor Pinepaw. Getting called "the harbinger of doom" can't be fun. But does knowledge come at a cost?....

The place depicted on the last page is in fact a different gravesite, cause there's no tree at the place Pinepaw found the skeletons. But you're right in that it is a very important site!

Thanks for commenting as always :D I love it every time.

[batmanaday]

Detective Comics 36 (1940)

Now, this is a bit more auspicious of a start to the year, but you’ll notice this cover of Batman fighting Asians seems like a better fit for last month’s issue. Was there a mix-up at the printers? Who knows.

We start off with Batman seeing a man being murdered. He gets to him in time to hear his dying words--wouldn’t you know it, a cryptic clue--and the police happen on him, mistaking him for the killer. How will Batman ever get away from the hard-working officers of the GCPD

Oh, obviously, he just runs away from them. These are the cops who need help dealing with the Riddler, after all. Then we get some deductive reasoning that would do Adam West proud and some classic villain-shilling... there has to be a catchy way to put that... of Hugo Strange, clearly meant to be a take-off on Professor Moriarty. 

Personally, I don’t think he measures up to Stryker who had a huge army and killed thousands of people with a death-ray in a blimp, but let’s forget that mass murder. Let’s just say it’s Hypertime.

Now, Hugo Strange is a character who’s still in semi-regular rotation among Batman’s rogues... although, ironically given his build-up here, he’s probably best-remembered for being a kinky sex weirdo. He’ll still have a good showing in the iconic Englehart/Rogers run and generally makes it into adaptations in one form or another, although I don’t think he’s gotten to headline a movie yet. Poor fellow just has a few other, better-known villains who fall under the same umbrella as him, so they tend to get the brass ring.

Sadly, this is a bit of a poor first showing for Batman’s first major supervillain. His big plan is to build a weather machine that blankets Gotham in fog and then steal things. While it’s foggy. And the police can’t do anything because... well, see above.

(Wouldn’t the fog also hamper his own men? Uhhh...)

This is a much longer story than we’ve gotten previously, so there’s more time for sequences like Batman thrashing a dozen henchmen before going down.

I know Batman doesn’t really quip anymore, but I think it makes him more intimidating. What’s scarier: guy coming at you or guy coming at you while screaming God knows what bullshit about bowling alleys? It’s fine if Bruce doesn’t want to do it anymore, but let’s admit that it’s not about being a better crimefighter, it’s just because he’s afraid it makes him look lame. 

That’s going in my reaction images folder.

Of course, inevitably Batman goes down eventually to a blackjack from behind and instead of just killing him or taking his mask off, it’s Death Trap Time. Although Strange’s death-trap is a little... hmmm...

It’s going to take a couple decades, but this is going to end up awkward for everyone involved.

Batman breaks free and uses sleeping gas on Strange’s henchmen, starting the proud The Dark Knight Rises tradition of “wait, you have a gadget that basically lets you instantly win any fight? Then why are you beating people up?” But Strange isn’t going down so easy.

He’s even a physical match for Batman. This is surely a character that’s going to get a lot of respect in future stories.

And thus, the day is saved, thanks to the Powerpuff Girls the Batman. And this will surely be the last time people think Batman is a dangerous criminal. Oh well. Look, the first time one of these ends with the villain vowing vengeance. Which he’ll kinda get! Weirdly prophetic. 

[attorney-anon-offtopic]

Crisis & Pain-Seeking Stims

So, I posted a while ago about stim toys for pain-seeking stims. I haven't found anything new, but I wanted to discuss that behavior because some of my NT friends have expressed concern that pain-seeking is a SI behavior.

For me and my autism, there are generally three types of crises that impact my ability to function: I get (what I call, anyway) overstimulated, repulsed, or overwhelmed. They can, and often do, overlap.

I get overstimulated when sensory stimulation reaches a fever pitch; I sort of feel like I'm a staticky balloon and other people (or sometimes animals or things) are pushpins that will pop me if the interact with the static field. When I am overstimulated, the answer is less stimulation, of course, but it is also different stimulation. This is where you might find me rubbing my worry stone on my bottom lip or the side of my thumb. Usually, this will last until I can change my physical state in some noticeable way, such as cooling down fully on a warm day or changing my clothes if I'm wearing a shirt with a high neckline.

I get repulsed when something causes a physical revulsion or rejection reaction in me. I feel sick to my stomach, shaky, and alarmed. When I am repulsed, the answer is to stop doing the thing that led to repulsion. Most often, for me, I get texture-repulsed by my food, and therefore have to stop eating whatever I was eating, or potentially stop eating, full stop. This is the easiest to deal with, but also the most frequent - I am extremely texture-sensitive when it comes to food.

I get overwhelmed when social situations reach a point where I cannot process how to proceed. I feel staticky, again, but not like I'm going to get popped - more like I'm overinflated and will explode. When I am overwhelmed, my go-to response is usually skin picking, especially on my face and arms. What skin picking gives me is a smaller, simpler problem to focus on: the bump I just picked now hurts. However, skin picking is maladaptive (those new sores can get infected, and continually touching one's face is NOT how one reduces hormonal acne, which I still have due to PCOS), and I know that, so I try to practice harm reduction techniques. So, what I do instead is try to find a way to create the smaller, simpler problem to focus on (pain) without the risks - hence, pain-seeking stims.

Right now, I do have a few pain-seeking solutions - I have one of those acupressure rings that looks like a metal scrunchie, a strip of rough velcro, and a little textured gyro spinner from TikTok that has rough spikes on the outside, plus I have a couple rough "calm strips" style stickers. I always want more, though, because I sort of... get used to the texture, a little. Like, it's still rough, but it's a roughness I'm used to, so I don't register the pain the same way. I have to rotate, but sometimes (like this month so far) I need it more often, so rotating doesn't work as well because I only have a few options.

Side note: I also fidget more when I'm overwhelmed, so I also have a bunch of fidget toys to keep my fingers busy.

[lemonjoonah]

The Garden Thief (M)

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader Word Count: 9.3K Genre: Hybrid AU, romance/drama/comedy, enemies to lovers Warnings: Unprotected sex, oral sex (fem. rec.), they get down and dirty outside but no one else is there to see them, cum play? (just a little), there’s also a bit of mud (sorry, but also not sorry, they’re outside what do you want from me?!?!), referenced hybrid neglect and oppression (hybrids are wrongfully deemed as pets by law and the majority of society).  

Summary: Your beloved vegetable patch has once again been victimized by a hungry thief in the night. The prime suspect? Jeon Jungkook, your neighbour's rabbit hybrid. But when you finally confront him, he pleads innocent, and proposes a plan to clear his name.

A/N: I wrote this fic’s premise and opening scene for the ‘A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words Game’ that I played oh so long ago and now I’ve finally finished the tale!

...

“Oh for fuck’s sake, not again!” You swear upon seeing the leafy green remains of several carrots lying in your garden, inches from where they used to be buried. This maddening mystery of the vanishing vegetables has been playing out all summer. You’ve set out deterrents for every possible garden pest, rolling out chicken wire and spraying natural remedies to repel anything from bugs to small rodents. Yet you still wake to find that your garden has been robbed in the night. The only possible suspect you haven’t been able to protect against resides just next door, in fact—

You squint up at the boarded fence, spotting a pair of long dark ears peeking out over the posts. “Jungkook, is that you?”

The ears immediately disappear, ducking down behind the barrier. The sound of his hurried footsteps trailing away are followed only by the slamming of a door.

You rush into and through your own house carrying the wilted carrot greens. Exiting out the front, and over to the house next to yours, where you repeatedly press the bell.

The entry whips open on the fourth ring to reveal Jungkook. His face is flushed, beads of sweat racing down his brow, and a shirt that one would normally use to cover their chest, is instead thrown over his shoulder. “Something wrong neighbour?” He asks with a carrot stick in hand. Bringing it to his mouth, he taunts you with a bite and crooked grin.

“Is-is your caretaker home?” You stutter trying your best to swallow your nerves. Concentrating hard on his face, you plead with your eyes not to wander down. That’s exactly what he wants, a reason to put you off your mission, to make you so flustered that you have to walk away. He’s always trying to use his allure against you, and you hate how often he succeeds doing just that...  

“No, he’s at work.”

“When will he be back?”

“Not sure, maybe a week, or two? He’s on a business trip.”

Your gaze falters in it’s determination for a brief second as a drop of sweat descends from his neck to his chest. Holding your breath you watch it’s path, tracing the valleys between his muscles. When Jungkook finally wipes it away your brain catches up and scolds you for your weakness. “And he left you here, alone?”  You ask, while trying to recollect your dignity, reminding yourself of how much grief he has put you through.

“Of course.” Jungkook’s smile grows. “I’m not just some common pet. I know how to behave myself.”

The statement makes your brow twitch, enraging you enough to overcome his tactics. “I know you haven’t been here long, but you should know, people typically don’t like it when someone steals from their yard.” You lecture him, waving the carrot tops in front of his face. “So stop treating my garden like your own personal snack bar!”

“Now why would I take from you? I have plenty of food here, even got another delivery this morning.”  The hybrid kicks at a box next him filled with a vibrant collection of fresh produce and grains.

“I don’t know why. I just know it was you.”

“Prove it.” He prods, while taking the last bite of the vegetable from his hand.

The loud crunching gnaws on your composure, stripping you of any patience you may have had for the hybrid. “This all started when you moved in, and I’ve ruled everything else out!” You shout, but as good as it might feel to finally vent your anger, you feel as though you’re somehow playing into his hand.

“That doesn’t seem like very good evidence. It’s circumstantial at best. If you want to find out who the real culprit is you should have a stake out.”

“A stake out?”

“Yeah, you know, watch over the garden for the night, catch the criminal in the act. I could even help if you’d like.”

You scoff at the ridiculous notion. “You really think I should invite you over to guard my crops?”

“I do, so I’ll come over tonight? Say around seven?” You open your mouth to object, but the rabbit hybrid jumps from one statement to the next casually inviting himself into your own home. “Perfect. See you then.”

“I didn’t-no wait, that was sar-” The door closes between you before you can finish. Leaving you baffled and alone on the doorstep. You ready to knock but stop just before your knuckles hit the wood. Trying again right now is a lost cause, it’ll just play into his game. So why waste your breath when you know it’ll just end the same way? Tonight then, as he suggested, that’s when you’ll be ready to hit him with some hard evidence that he won’t be able to refute.

Admitting defeat for now, you retreat back to your garden to pick the surviving vegetables and contemplate the encounter. You wish your could have just spoken to Jungkook’s caretaker—fuck what was his name again? You’ve only seen the man a couple times since they took the house, but at least he doesn't give you a nervous knot in your stomach, or leave you confused and speechless like his hybrid does.

It’s been three months since they moved in. You were excited at first, to have new neighbours in your almost vacant cul-de-sac. Buyers don’t seem to be interested in the old houses with large lots in your area. Too much work to maintain, and not enough good job prospects to go around. So when you saw the sold sign go up you were beyond thrilled. Greeting the new residents with a fruit basket and a smile.

The rabbit hybrid you now know as Jungkook appeared rather shy at first, you did your best to welcome him. Always greeting him when he was outside, trying to engage him in small chat, but the first time you caught him during his workout everything changed. Until that point you had not considered him as anything but a prospective friend. You were stunned to see him in such a confident state, throwing around his weights like they were nothing. In that moment, with you too nervous to admit that you found him attractive, you became the anxious and blubbering fool in his presence, and he, unfortunately, took note. The once quiet and cute rabbit, became a flirtatious and bratty bunny.

And since then, whenever you would work in your garden he’d be on the other side of the fence grunting and panting. Staying close to the gap in the divider, a missing panel you had yet to replace. On days like today you would often look up from your radishes and accidentally lock eyes with the hybrid, drenched in sweat and showing off his skills.

Out of respect and self preservation you tried your best to not to pay attention, to keep your nose buried in your garden, but as the weeks went by the vegetables under your care started to disappear. The ample crops you tended to in the evening, lessened by morning, with only the refuse remaining to indicate it’s former presence. You didn’t want to point fingers immediately, but today was the final straw, and tonight no matter how hard he tries to distract you, you will find him guilty.

After harvesting the choice crops for the day and watering the rest. You dust yourself off, settling inside and in front of your computer; opening the visitors page for your place of work, the city's greenhouse conservatory. To help promote the centre in the community the staff all take turns writing articles revolving around their own projects or home gardens, and you’re up next in the rotation. You stare at the blank document for several minutes trying your best to concentrate on the task, but you are unable to think of anything other than the mischievous hybrid next door.

Embracing the topic of your aggravation, you start the post off with a title sure to catch the eye of any reader, ‘Garden Thieves.’

‘We’ve all been there, finding a tomato just about to reach its peak ripeness. We give it another day to grow into perfection, only to find it missing later on. In your absence something else has taken it into its own clutches. I myself have been dealing with a vegetable thief for several weeks, so if you are struggling like I am, here are a few things that might help. ’

You proceed to outline several garden pests uploading photos of their damage, along with quick remedies to deter their presence. Netting to block the sparrows, raised beds and fences to keep out most rodents or mammals, and a caffeine solution to stave off slugs.

‘I hope this may help you all in your efforts to keep your plants safe, but I must add a disclaimer. Unfortunately nothing here is completely foolproof. Even if you do follow all of these steps you still might lose some of your crops to a crafty critter. But I wish you the best of luck on all of your backyard battles. I myself plan to face off with my own long-eared menace tonight.’

You finish your post with a smile. Sending it off to your coworker Namjoon to get his approval before you make it public.

He calls a few minutes later, his laughter carrying through the speaker. “That was easily the best article you’ve written all year. You should definitely post it.”

“Thanks.” You chuckle, hitting the submit button. At the very least feeling a bit relieved to have one less task weighing on your mind. “I really appreciate it.”

“No problem. I take it you’re still having trouble with that hybrid neighbour of yours?”

“Yeah,” you groan. You’ve complained to Namjoon about the issue several times in the past month. It must have been all too easy for him to read between the lines and see what set you off to create this specific entry.  “But he refuses to admit it was him. It’s like he’s trying to make me question my skills as a gardener and I hate it! I went over to talk to his caretaker but he’s away on business for a couple weeks.”

“He left him alone for that long? What about food?”

“He’s been getting deliveries. By the looks of it, he has a healthier diet than I do.”

Namjoon pauses on the line giving you only a simple, “Huh...” in a long break.

“What?”

“Well it’s just-” A loud buzzing sound erupts through the phone line cutting off his answer. A noise you know to indicate someone is at the back door. “That’s weird. I didn’t think we were supposed to get anything delivered today. No one else is here.... did you have anything scheduled to come in?”

“No.” You double check the calendar sitting on your desk. “I shouldn’t have anything until next Monday.”  

Namjoon puts you on hold while he checks on the reason for the interruption, returning only a minute later. “It’s a delivery all right, but are you sure these aren’t yours? I’m seeing a lot of tropical species on the invoice. Combretum rotundifolium, Heliconia angusta, Myrciaria dubia-”

You mouth a swear as Namjoon carries on with his list. It’s obvious they are indeed the specimens of your expected batch. You're in the process of redesigning one of the tropical habitats. The lead director was adamant that the conservatory host a butterfly exhibition in the next coming year, and in order to support the grandiose endeavour you are required to introduce a vast amount of new flowering species over the next few months. “How many in total?”

“About two dozen. Looking pretty rough from the journey too.”

You’re not surprised by their current state. This summer is already one of the hottest and driest on record, and all the stock you had received this season was excessively wilted and near death because of it. “Do we have any holding houses with humidifiers available?”

“Not at the moment,” There’s a clatter in the background as Namjoon sorts through what must be the slack of clipboards. “But I’ve got the inspection chart here and your last delivery did just finish it’s quarantine. No signs of pests or illness, so they’re clear to plant. That should free up some space for you.”

“That’ll have to do. Thanks for checking.” Standing up from your desk with a sorrowful sigh. You mourn the loss or your afternoon off as you start to dress for a day of hard labour. Throwing on your work-issued overalls over your t-shirt and shorts. Unfortunately you can’t just leave the new stock to sit out under the beating sun. With little humidity outside and no protection they’ll be burnt to a crisp if you delay too long. But the worst part is that your planting staff isn’t scheduled until later in the week, and that volume of work will put you well into the middle of the night before you complete it. “I’ll be in soon to deal with it.”

“That’s a lot of planting to do on your own. I can help if you-”

“I can’t take you away from your trees, isn’t there a bonsai exhibition next week you have to prepare them for?” He’s been agonizing over this showcase for so long you couldn’t possibly inconvenience him now with your own troubles. “It’s fine, really. I’ll call to see if anyone else is willing to come in today.” You hang up letting Namjoon return to his tasks, and work your way down the contacts for the gardening staff as you prepare yourself to leave. Though as expected, all of those who answer have prior commitments and won’t be able to assist.

Grabbing your badge and plans for the updates to the garden you slip back out into the noon-day sun, so strong it’s turned your car into an oven on wheels. You’re just about to pull it into reverse when you spot the blinds shift in your neighbour’s window. Prompting you to recall the plans he had made for tonight.

With all the work you have, it’s doubtful you’ll be back home for seven. You return to Jungkook’s door to give him the news. He has it open before you can even knock, his usual smirk crawling across his face as he greets you.  

“About tonight... something has come up at work and I really don’t know how late I’ll be.”

His ears perk up. “You’re going into the conservatory?”

“Yeah,” you respond, somewhat shocked that he remembered where you work. It’s been a couple months since you mentioned it while introducing yourself to him and his caretaker. “An order came in earlier than expected. I’ll likely be planting all day and night.”

“I can help,” he offers, already stepping out to join you, and locking the door behind him.

“You want to help?”

“Of course, isn’t that the neighbourly thing to do?”

“Yes, but I wouldn’t want it or expect it from someone who terrorizes my own garden.”

“Allegedly,” Jungkook corrects. “And wouldn’t you rather have me with you, under your supervision, than here, all alone with only a measly fence between me and your impressive bell pepper harvest?”

“Stay away from my peppers!” You scold, pointing your finger at him. “Even if I wanted to take you, what about your caretaker? Don’t you need his permission to leave and work?”

“He’s never paid attention to my whereabouts before, and it’s not work if you don’t pay me. I’ll just be a volunteer. You have people volunteer all the time right?”

“Yes but-”  

“I’ll be on my best behaviour.”

“Alright, fine.” You finally agree though with a heavy dose of reluctance. Namjoon often brings his own hybrid in so it shouldn’t be a problem. “But if I see you nibble on even a single leaf, you’re coming straight back here.”

“Deal.” He rushes past you straight to your passenger seat and buckles himself in. Practically bouncing with excitement beside you as you pull out and head towards the conservatory.

The minutes pass and you try your best to focus on the road but you’ve never been so close to Jungkook in such a small space. And with his built frame taking up most of the car, he’s hard for you to ignore. His ears folded against the roof and his shoulders so wide they brush repeatedly against yours.

“Ever been to the conservatory before?” You ask, trying to divert your mind from the battle which builds inside you. A wavering war between frustration and attraction, with the former trying it’s best to pin down the latter, a move which only arouses the latter more...

“No, I’ve wanted to go ever since you mentioned it but my caretaker hasn’t had the time.”

“Oh.” A sense of pity joins the ranks of your emotions, nudging at you as you pull into the lot. “Sorry, I didn’t-”

“Why are you sorry?” Jungkook asks in a low whisper, snapping back to his flirtatious behaviours. His mouth turns up at the corner as he leans into you, so close that his drooping ears graze the top of your head.  “Would you have taken me earlier if I had mentioned it?”

“N-no,” you choke out. Placing your hand on his solid chest, you push him back and away. As tempting as his advance might be to accept, you know his forwardness to be nothing more than an act to make a fool of you. Why else would he try to both seduce you, and steal from right under your nose?  “You’re only here today because I am in desperate need of help, and I can’t trust you to be alone.”

...

You lead him through the unoccupied greenhouses. The conservation is closed to the public today (as it is every Monday and Tuesday); which usually allows for some time off, but at least now it’ll give you a chance to work unimpeded by visitors. Your own curated section is located in the most humid of all the houses, set in such a way to mimic the tropical environment you are attempting to represent.

The first stop is the holding house where the carts of new stock wait just outside.  Grabbing an empty trolly you enter and start to load up those that are ready to plant. Jungkook following your actions does the same, easily lifting the heavy planters that you yourself struggle with. “Thanks,” you whisper as he relieves you of a particularly burdensome tree. To which he smiles in return.

After making the switch, by placing the recent delivery in the house for it’s quarantine, you lead him to the supply closet. Where you collect a couple shovels, trowels, and two pairs of gloves. As you continue to scan for anything else you might require, Jungkook pops in behind looking at the shelves with a sense of curiosity. He reaches up and over you to a spray bottle labeled ‘slug repellent.’

“We won’t need that, it’s for the outdoor gardens,” You explain. “It’s just a mixture of ca-”

“Caffeine and water?”

You snap your gaze to him. “How do you know that?”

He bites his lip as a snicker starts to escape. “Just a bit of morning reading. I found an interesting article with that particular tidbit. One which also happened to reference the exploits of a long-eared menace.”

“Y-you read the conservatory blog? You read my post? No one reads that, there can’t have been more than ten views!”

“Which is such a shame.” He goads you. “I’ve found your work to be both informative and comical. You really have me rooting for you in your quest to catch your thief.”

You groan in utter fury. “Why must you be so-so-”

“Handsome? Funny? Caring?”

“Antagonizing!”

“Because you seem to take more notice when I am.” Jungkook answers, with a turn of his heel, his tail poking out from under his shirt as he starts to walk away with the cart. “And I like seeing that perplexed look of yours. Your nose is cute when you scrunch it up like that.”

You remain in the shed, your traitorous heart beating erratically over the fact that he called a part of you cute. While your more sensible side grabs your nose and smooths out the wrinkles he referenced.

“Should we get to work?” He calls out after you. “The sooner we finish, the sooner we can go home and expose that bandit of yours.”

You roll your eyes and follow him out, before taking the lead to your tropical glasshouse. The air sticks to your skin the moment you enter. Jungkook lets out a long exhale behind you tugging on the collar of his shirt. “Is it always like this in here?”

“It’s a bit warmer today, but not by much. Are you already regretting your decision to help?” You tease him.

“Nope,” he answers, slinging a shovel over his shoulder. “Show me where to dig, and I’ll get to it.”

Pulling out your plans for the new exhibit arrangement, you select a couple species placing them on the empty plots of garden as directed, careful to allow for future growth. Jungkook follows behind digging out their new homes faster than at least three of your staff members combined.

You stare at him for a second, unable to believe the pace at which he’s going. “Something wrong?” He asks, pausing to lock eyes with you.

“No, I just didn’t think you’d be so quick at digging.”

“I’m part rabbit, what did you expect?” Jungkook boasts with a chuckle and a raised brow. “I share their strengths. Especially when it comes to burrowing and fu-”      

His words are cut short when a fresh breeze from the outside washes over the both of you, a  sure sign that someone must have entered the greenhouse. Your neighbour goes rigid, his nose lifts into the air and his ears fall back flat against his head. “Jungkook what’s-” Leaping up he closes the gap and grabs you. Tucking you into him with his chin resting on your head, where a  warm and earthy scent envelopes you.  His breaths are quick and deep, causing his chest to rapidly rise and fall against your back.

Namjoon’s voice calls out to you. “... are you in here?”

“Over here!” You yell out in reply, before turning back to the hybrid who still has you locked in his clutches. “What the hell Jungkook? Let me go! Now’s not the time for your games.” Sure it might feel nice to be wrapped in his arms, to get lost amidst his aroma. At any other time you might even consider taking a moment before chastising his boldness. But here? Now? And with Namjoon coming to greet you? No, this is too much.

You try to push him away like you have before, but this time it’s as if he’s set in stone, and not registering you at all. He focuses only on the direction your coworker's voice hailed from. “That scent, he smells like-”

“There you are.” Namjoon interrupts stepping around a flowering bush and into view, looking surprised by your guest. “Oh, hello there.”

The point of Jungkook's chin rubs against your head as he grips you even tighter. Embarrassed and confused by the hybrids embrace. “Jungkook, this is Namjoon.” You introduce your coworker while delivering an elbow to Jungkook’s gut. He finally snaps out of his trace and lets you go though he continues to hover behind. “He works with the bonsai of the conservatory.”

“You must be the neighbour I’ve heard so much about, it’s nice to finally meet you.” Namjoon extends his hand to the hybrid, but Jungkook ignores the gesture, choosing to glare instead, with his nostrils flared and his ears pinned back.

“Jungkook?” You whisper trying to chase him from his mood.

Namjoon gives him a nervous smile. “You probably smell my hybrid, on me don’t you?”

“A hybrid?” Jungkook confirms, his eyes narrowed at Namjoon.

“Yeah, sorry, I didn’t intend to scare you. I’m sure the scent of a predator, especially a tiger, is a bit of a shock. He’s harmless, I promise.”

“Is Taehyung here?” You ask, hoping to see his affectionate part-feline companion.  

“Nah, he’s with a friend today. I needed to get some work done and he’d be more of a distraction than a help... but it would seem that didn’t stop him from scenting my shirt before I left.” Namjoon explains, and then turns to your neighbour again. “Jungkook would you mind if I borrow her for a second? I need help with one of my tropical species.”

Jungkook gives a solemn nod. For the first time since you’ve known him, he looks frightened, and somewhat hesitant to release you over to your coworker.

Worried by his current disposition, you reassure him with a squeeze on his arm. “Just keep digging where I’ve placed those pots and I’ll be right back.”

Namjoon leads you into the adjacent greenhouse where you can continue to keep watch of Jungkook through the pains of glass. But the instant the doors close between you, Namjoon starts bombarding you with questions. “Why didn’t you tell me? How long has it been going on? ”

You take a step back having been caught off guard. “Tell you what?”

“About you and Jungkook! Is the feuding neighbours just a cover story?” Namjoon’s eyes are wide and hopeful as he carries on, not letting you fit a single word in. “Don’t worry, I won’t inform anyone you're together. I know it’s not easy having a human-hybrid relationship out in the open. But I think you should be careful about going out into public because he’s far too obvious about it.”

“We’re not- we’re not a couple. Why would you think such a thing?”

“Because the way held you, he looked like he was marking you with his own scent. That’s what rabbits do isn’t it? They rub their chins on what they want to claim as their own.”

“They do what?” You ask, stunned by the possibility, before the realism settles back in. It must just be Jungkook’s idea of a joke. “No, that’s not what he’s doing, our connection is nothing remotely like that. Don’t get me wrong he’s very attractive, and he knows it.” You mutter the last part under your breath. “But-”

“But you really are having trouble with him. It's not a cover?”

“You think I would keep something like that from you?” Namjoon over the years has come to be your closest confidant. A good friend and coworker, you would never dream of hiding something like that from him.

“I suppose not.”

“Is that why you brought me back here, to question my relationship status?”

“Not entirely.” Namjoon shakes his head with a small dimpled smile and changes the subject. “I do actually want to get your help with one of my new acquisitions.” He points out an unusual tree on his work bench, much too big for the pot it’s currently situated in. It’s extensive roots spill out over the top and threaten to swallow the pot whole. “A Ficus microcarpa, far from the most sought after species when it comes to reputable bonsai, but I couldn’t pass this one up. It has such good character.”

“What made it grow in such a way?” You examine the plant and it’s container with care, prying between the roots and taking note of cracks starting to form in the terracotta.

“The last owner neglected it for far too long. It sat hidden in the back of a commercial greenhouse, still under the watering and fertilizing system, but since it was confined to such a small space it tried to root it’s way out. If I were to guess, it probably hasn’t seen a new pot for at least five years.”

“It’s a miracle it survived.” You nod impressed by the tree’s determination. “What’s your plan for it?”

“Give it what it wants, let it leach out. I doubt I would be able to pry it out entirely without causing significant damage to the roots that are gripping the sides, so instead I want to put another bellow to catch it and give it the fresh soil and room it needs.” Namjoon lays the tree and pot down on the table, and asks you to hold and support the trunk, while he taps and pokes at the bottom of the vessel with a metal trowel.  Enlarging the cracks, but not breaking the pot fully. It’s a tedious process. The small chunks of clay are removed piece by piece, giving him access to see and free some of the tightly bound roots inside.

While your coworker continues his task, your eyes are free to wonder. You check on Jungkook through the glass, as he kneels in front of the garden bed digging even faster than before.

Namjoon appears to notice your distracted state. “How's he doing?”

“Fine I guess.” You whisper. “He’s acting stranger than usual today though. He stole from my garden again. Invited himself over to my house, then here, and you saw what he did back there.”

“Huh...” Namjoon mutters, trailing off the same way he did on the phone.

“What is this ‘huh’ you keep giving me? You know I don’t like games Namjoon. If you have something you want to say, say it.”

“It’s about what you said earlier, how his caretaker leaves for extended periods of time. Usually if an animal is alone for too long they look for ways to stimulate themselves and resort to their natural instincts, scavenging and such. But he’s a hybrid and therefore part human, so if you were isolated and restricted to your house what would you do?”

“Probably look for the closest person I could find. So he’s acting out in my garden and teasing me, because he’s lonely?”

“I think so.” Namjoon responds as he extracts another root, freeing it from its confines.

“But why?” You ask, worried for the answer to come. “Why wouldn’t he just say something?”

“There could be a number of reasons. He might not understand what he’s doing on a conscious level, or he might be afraid to show any sign of weakness to you or anyone else. Jungkook is part prey animal, and humans are all too often predators.”

“If that’s the case...” You curse yourself for not realizing it sooner. The fury you held for him slowly fades away as you replay every encounter in your mind. He was literally jumping at the chance to spend time with you, to help you with your work, and you were to blind to see it. Your anger over your missing vegetables is so trivial in comparison to what he must have been going through. The loneliness he must have felt, and the inability to admit it, you can’t imagine how he suffered through it alone. “What can I do to help him? I have no legal claim to him Namjoon. What can I do within such limitations?”

He looks down at his work in progress. “The way I see it  you and he, like this small tree, have three options. You could maintain the status quo, leave him be, but how long will he be able to survive like he is? Creeping over the edge but grasping on to nothingness?”

You shake your head vehemently rejecting the idea while Namjoon continues.

“You could report his caretaker for neglect, breaking the container entirely, but that too could be very damaging to him, tearing him away entirely could put him in a state of shock, and in a home that is no better for him, while the legal battle is decided. Or...” Namjoon grabs another container, slightly wider than the one in which the plant is seated. Filling it with substrate he takes the tree clinging to it’s partial pot and places it on top. Pressing the newly freed roots down into the soil.

“You could support him, give him a better home just outside of his own where he can be himself and access what he needs. I personally think it’s your safest option for now.” Namjoon leads over inspecting the bonsai and lowers his voice to an almost inaudible whisper. “Until the day, when it is possible to fully cast the pot aside.”

You nod, though now left to grapple with what you could possibly have to offer the hybrid.  “I’m not sure I would be the best person to care for him.”

“I think Jungkook would disagree. He was already trying to scent you. That to me, implies his desire for something more in the realm of an intimate relationship.” You choke on your breath as Namjoon comes to an additional conclusion. Upon seeing your distress he makes a suggestion. “Of course you could keep it strictly to friendship between the two of you and I’m sure that will improve his situation, but his other needs will need to be met for him to feel completely at home...”

“His other needs? You think he wants to be with me? Intimately?! No! Surely he would have acted differently if that was his intent! He’s done nothing but tease me when he catches me even remotely looking in his direction.”

“So you have been looking at him!” Namjoon taunts you with a massive grin. Apologizing a second later when you proceed to glare at him. “But to answer your question, no, not necessarily. You have to remember most of society deems him a lesser being. He could be feeling a lot of guilt and pressure not to engage with you in that way. Though he might not outright say it, I bet his instincts will continue to shine through. I’ll even prove it to you.” Namjoon takes off a glove and rubs your head. “I bet this rabbit of yours will take less than a minute before he tries to replace the smell of my hand with his own again... trust me.”

You shake your head in disbelief. “I should probably get back to him.” You are just about to step away when your thoughts return to the long neglected plant. “Where do you plan to house that when you’re finished? Ficuses naturally belong in a more tropical location don’t they?”

“They do, especially if I want to give it a better chance. It’s going to need a place far more humid than this space.”

“Was this all your calculated way of guilting me to store it in my greenhouse too?”

“The thought might have crossed my mind.” Namjoon gives you a sly grin.  “But my logic is still sound in regards to Jungkook. He needs someone, he needs a better home... and it would seem he’s chosen you.”

...

You wander back to your greenhouse, still full of doubt. Finding Jungkook to have finished most of the required digging.

“Sorry for leaving you.”

“You-you okay?” He asks, upon seeing the dazed look on your face and then scowling in the direction that Namjoon led you.

“Fine, he just needed help with one of his plants. Sorry about earlier, I didn’t think you’d be affected by the scent of his hybrid, Taehyung is rather sweet though, you’d like him.”

“You trust him then?” Jungkook grumbles as he pierces his shovel into the ground. “You trust Namjoon and his hybrid?”

“Of course, why shouldn’t I?”

“Because it wasn’t just a tiger that I smelled. He’s been around a lot of hybrids. Every scent on him told me to run, all of them put there by dangerous predators.”

“Oh,” you shoot back in surprise. “I’m sure it’s nothing. Taehyung is rather popular, he has a lot of friends and Namjoon often caters them at his place. You don’t need to worry, you're safe here.”

“It’s not myself I’m worried about.”

Jungkook inches closer as you crouch to place the plants in the holes he dug. His nose twitches as he takes a deep breath, his eyes watching while you bury the root ball in the warm soil, firmly securing the trunk of the young tree.

While you are leaning down, Jungkook reaches across to the other side of you. Grabbing the trowel to your right despite the fact that the same tool can be found on his left. The bottom of his chin grazes the top of your head and lingers for a spell. Your heart stops in that moment while questioning his motives. Though Namjoon said he’d do just this, you still can’t be entirely sure that it proves him correct; Jungkook might just not have seen the other option available to him, and he’s never bothered about invading your space. This could be nothing, though there’s a small growing part of you that wants it more and more to be something.

“He’s a good guy,” you promise, returning to the conversation so as to not dwell on his actions. “He even suggested that I should bring you along more often, if you’re interested in spending some of your days here.”

“He did?”

You nod.  A small white lie, but not entirely incorrect, and if it gets him to accept Namjoon easier you’ll all be better for it. “I wouldn’t expect you to work, but you're more than welcome to just hang around. The staff here could always use some company and I’m sure it would beat staying at home alone all day.”

“I would like that. I would like that a lot, but would you want me to keep you company too?”

“If that’s what you want to do.”

“No, I need to know if that’s what you want.” He looks over to you pinning you down in his line of sight.  

“I suppose I would....” You answer and turn your head, unable to bear the nerves that his gaze brings. The both of you fall quiet. Knowing what you know now, being free of your anger for him leaves you vulnerable, open to his persuasion, and now you are no longer certain of how to act. So you start to rely on what has made him comfortable in the past, and interject with a new condition to bring an end to the awkward silence. “As long as you treat this garden better than mine back home.”

Jungkook lets out a long laugh. “I have nothing but the highest respect for your garden.”

...

When planting is finished your clothes are entirely saturated in sweat and your muscles aching from use. It’s hard to believe how much you’ve both done in such a short amount of time. While carting up the supplies, Jungkook’s eyes catch on something behind you. You look around spotting the newly potted bonsai on a back table. Namjoon must have dropped it off while you both were busy.

Looking at it now you can’t help but notice how even the shape of its leaves remind you of the hybrid’s ears, long, pointed, and reaching up to the sky. You consider your friend's words one more time and while Jungkook leans over to inspect the tree. Reaching out to his back, your hand shakes with hesitation before setting down on a spot just below his shoulder. He softens under your touch, a low hum leaving his lips. His attention turns from the plant to you. With your hand still in place, your arm is now wrapped around him, leaving only an inch between the two of you. You stand there fixed and unmoving, but content in the knowledge, that you seem to have left him speechless this time. His eyes darting away from yours, to your lips, your neck, and finally the hand you place upon his chest.  

Only to have the moment broken when you can hear and feel the rumble from his stomach. His nervous laugh follows as he reaches up to scratch behind his ear.

“Hungry?”

He nods in response, his eyes wide as he remains unusually silent.

“Come on, I’ll buy you dinner.” You offer as you turn him around to head to the car.

...

You both settle on a take out spot, and return home to wash up and eat.

After finishing your meal and tearing off your overalls, you both settle down on the hammock in your yard. With Jungkook’s legs long enough to touch the ground, he slowly rocks the seat back and forth.  He’s been near silent since that close moment together. He’s never had a problem with banter and flirtation, but now you’ve come to notice that any attention which can’t be passed off as a joke causes him to flounder.

Laying back in the hammock, both full and content, your eyes threaten to close after the long day as Jungkook continues to sit beside you. The sound of crickets lulling you to sleep. “Keep an eye out for that thief of mine will you?” You may not like games but if it makes him comfortable, and keeps him talking, you’ll continue to play this ruse with him.

“You trust me to keep watch without your supervision?”

“Are you suggesting I shouldn’t?”

“No, it’s just a lot more credit than you usually give me.”

“I think you’ve earned it.” You whisper as you finally drift off.

It feels like only a few minutes of rest before the sun sets and the air turns cool. Jungkook’s chin comes to rest on the top of your head like it did back in the greenhouse. He shifts his weight, burrowing his arms around and behind to cover you as he takes deep breaths. You lean into him seeking the warmth of his chest. No longer restricted by your childish anger to enjoy his company is a welcome relief, you only wish you could relinquish him of any of his own troubles and doubts.  And then, you feel it, a drop of cold rain hitting your neck. The hammock moves again as he adjusts, the back of his fingers running across the damp spot. Another finds your cheek and he wipes that away too, your skin shivering in response.

But when a speck lands your mouth he stops. You wait, a second, then two. Your anticipation grows with face heating up and your chest tightening as you continue to crave his touch. You want him to wipe it away, to touch you, to act on whatever desires he might be keeping. You part your lips with the desperate hope that he will take the hint. Rejoicing when the warm pad of his thumb spreads the drop across the delicate skin.

He comes down on to you, his mouth catching any and all remains of the droplet as he encases your lips. Jungkook places a hand on your neck while the other grabs the ropes of the hammock, his legs straddle your hips. The scattered rain turns to a downpour as he remains fixed to your mouth, even his form isn’t enough to shield you from the current washing down from the sky.

As your hands reach up to his own damp and curling locks entwining your fingers in the strands he moans and nips. But as quickly as it started, so too does it end. When Jungkook snaps up as though jolted from a dream. His ears point back as an apology flows from him. “I-I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Jungkook,” you call out to him but he ignores you as he tries to detangle himself. When one foot hits the ground. You grab his waist and try again. “Jungkook, you don’t have to be sorry.” But instead of stopping he merely pulls you off and along with him, sending you both to the muddy ground, but this time with you on top of him.

“Are you okay?” He asks the loud pouring of the rain forcing him to raise the volume of his voice.

You chuckle at his concern considering he’s the one flat on his back. “I think I should be asking you that question instead.” You pause as he mirrors your grin. “Why did you stop? Did I do something wrong?”

“No.” He looks up at you, his brow furrowing. “You did nothing wrong. It was me. I was the one acting on my instincts. I shouldn’t have done that when I know how much you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you...” You explain, trying your best not to be drowned out by the water cascading down. “The things you did might have annoyed me, but I get it now. I’m just sorry it took me so long to notice.”

“Notice what?”

“How fucked up your situation is. For not realizing how alone you must have been. How caged you must have felt. I’ve been so focused on my own little world that I didn’t realize what was happening or why you were acting the way you were. I like you, a lot, but I was too wrapped up in my frustration to say how I felt...”

“It’s not your fault.”

You shake your head. “I am not innocent in this. I should have been paying more attention.”

“Then pay attention to me now.” He begs with his round eyes shining up at you.  

“But in what way? As a neighbour, as a friend, or maybe something more?" Your voice cracks in desperation, trying to find his needs while also hoping they are the same as yours. “Is that why you were always teasing me the way you did? You wanted something more?”

“You really want to know?” Jungkook’s tone is low as it grips on to his every word. “I did it because it was the only thing that could distract me from my incessant need for you. Seeing your reactions and having your attention kept me in check. I’m very different from you and I’m aware it could cause a problem. I wasn’t sure if you could ever fully want me because of that.” He reaches to rub around the base of his ears. “But every day that I looked over I wanted to hold you, to claim you, to take you right here on this very spot. So often I dreamed of jumping the fence and coming for you instead of...”

You smile down at him, noting his near admission. “Instead of?”

“Instead of watching from a distance.” He smirks, catching and narrowly fixing his statement. Pleading guilty only to his longing for you.

“Then do it.” You demand of him.

He groans from his position beneath you. “Don’t tease me like that.”

“I’m not. You weren’t the only one peeking through the fence Jungkook.” Reaching up to your collar you tug off your shirt. He follows your lead with his own to reveal his sculpted chest he’s taunted you with so many times. “I don’t care if we’re different from each other. I don’t care if it causes a problem.” You shift back on his body traveling from your seat near his stomach down to his hips, his clothed dick firm and pressing against you. A moan escapes his lips, confirming that you’ve made your point. “There’s no one else nearby, so if you want me so much that you’re willing to fuck me out here, in the rain and mud-”  

His hands come to grip your waist, and in one swift motion, he lifts you off, maneuvering out from underneath, to fall into place behind you. From there he pushes you down to your hands and knees, his body bent over yours. “You have no idea how much I want to.” He whispers with a kiss to your bare shoulder damp from the rain that continues to pour.

He takes off your bra before his face moves down your back, nose trailing against your skin and pausing at your shorts. Unfastening the button he pulls them down, freeing you of your underwear too before they are both cast aside. “I want to smell you, and taste you.” Jungkook takes in a deep breath, wrapping an arm around your legs, and barring your thighs. He buries his face between your legs, his tongue reaching out to deliver a long lick to your folds pausing after every lap.

Your palms dig into the ground, the cool mud coming to the surface to meet them. You buck against his tongue but the forearm holding you remains firm, sending your squirming downward to bury your elbows in the soggy grass too.

Jungkook chuckles as you inadvertently give him a better angle. From behind you can hear the zipper of his own shorts. Rubbing the head of his cock against your damp folds, he covers it with the slick of your slit, and with a long groan he eases it inside. He’s slow at first, letting you savor the girth and warmth of him. So you start to edge back and forward on his cock. Taking the time to enjoy every inch, along with the sounds that leave him. But when he returns to take control, the first thrust is so powerful, his thighs hit your ass with a loud clap, and every jolt of his hips after, drives you further down each time.

A stuttering groan escapes him as he fills you. Thinking he’s finished you lean forwards and until his cock pulls out, but in response he grabs your waist. Turning you over, back to the ground on top of the discarded clothes and facing him.

He lowers himself pressing his chest against yours. His fingers reach to grab your chin and take a kiss. His cock, despite having come only moments before, is hard once more and poised to enter once again.

“How are you-” You manage to squeeze a few words in the gaps between his kisses as he draws breath. “Ready for more-” Another pass of his tongue. “Already?”

“You have my hybrid traits to thank for that.” He moves to nibble on the side of your throat. “I have more to give you, if you want it.”

You nod unable to emit any noise other than a gasp as his mouth finds a sensitive spot on your neck. His dick forges in again, your slick and his cum dripping out of you as he fills you with himself instead.

You’ve avoided touching him with your own hands as they are patched with mud, but as his thrusts grow more powerful than even before, you’re forced to grab on his arms and chest. Leaving behind streaks of dirt which display the path of your grip. Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind though, in fact looks rather encouraged by your touch, and the marks you leave him.

“What a dirty woman you are, and getting me all messy too.” He scoffs while admiring your handiwork. “Can I return the favour?”

“Help me come first and you can do whatever the fuck you want.” You gasp on the brink of your climax.  

His ears perk up and a grin streaks across his face. “Close are you?” He grabs your calf and wraps your leg around his back, the other follows suit and his hand comes to rest on your lower back pushing you up and into him effectively grinding your mount against him.

You gasp and flinch with the sudden pressure, but he holds you firm as your back arches to meet him.

His hips beat on at a rapid pace, a small whimper escapes him as you reach the peak, tipping you over the edge. The chilling rain can in no way can douse the searing heat that spreads through you. You're still gasping when his jaw clamps down hard, his teeth poised upon your skin. The first pulse of his cock comes inside, but on the second he pulls out to splatter your chest and stomach with the rest. His hand comes to clutch his shaft, spilling more out and on to you with each stroke.

After every remaining drop has been cast on you he smiles, dragging his fingers across the rain drenched mess of mud and cum on your skin. “Never thought I’d ever see you so thoroughly soiled.”

You giggle at his remarks through your deep breaths. “And now that you do, what do you think?”

“I think it suits you, the dirt, the rain, and me...” He lowers himself down onto you, with his head now resting upon your shoulder. “It’s too bad though. Now I just want more, but we’re both far too filthy to carry on like this.”  

You turn to whisper at the base of his ear. “Who says we can’t continue in the shower...”

...

You wake early the next morning with the sun spilling into the room, lighting up your bed, and the hybrid sleeping next to you. His ears and nose twitching as he continues to rest. Slipping out from the covers, and into a set of clean gardening clothes, you exit the room with as little sound as possible.

On the tile floor of your hall, muddy footprints trail from your backdoor to your bathroom.  A smile pulls at your lips as you recall the events which brought them there. Jungkook had been so excited to keep going he picked you up and rushed you inside.

The feeling from the warm water and hands in contrast to the cool rain was enough to bring back the waves of pleasure. He was so thorough in washing you down, you might have to ask him to join you for another this morning and repay the favour.  

Outside in the garden you find all your harvest from the day before present and untouched. You’re pleased by this new development, but it’s not the fact that your crops are intact which makes you happy, it’s the comfort in knowing that Jungkook didn’t feel the need to take them.

A few minutes later the hybrid in question comes up behind you wrapping his arms around your waist pulling with him a blanket he took from the bed to cover the both of you. “Morning.” He mumbles, as his nose finds the crook of your neck where he exhales with a deep and relaxed sigh.

“Morning.” You respond, enjoying the tickle of his breath before you turn around to better see him. “It seems the thief didn’t strike last night. ”

“I guess they found a new garden to plunder and devour?” Jungkook suggests, giving you a sly grin, before he opens his mouth again. It’s easy to see that he’s getting ready to confess, his face shifts to a stern expression as he looks down at the ground, the guilt weighing heavily upon his brow. Placing your index to his lips you stop him. No longer needing to hear those words of admission, you offer a new proposal instead.

“Maybe, but that was just one night. The thief might still come back. So if it’s alright with you I would like you to stay here. Until we can be sure they won’t return.”

Jungkook lets out a satisfied chuckle, pushing aside your finger and pulling you tighter into his warm embrace. “You’re right, I suppose it would be safer if I stayed.” His lips plant a kiss on the top of your head where he then rests his chin. “A temptation as enticing as this, shouldn’t be left alone and unattended.”

...

[argisthebulwark]

Bryn being so broken and fragile after tld “dies” that the members of the thieves guild make sure that one of them is always at least in the same room as him so he doesn’t try to do anything crazy. No one dares even say tld’s name Incase he shatters, so they use a code word to talk about her instead. One day some idiot fucks up and says her name and poor Bryn just completely breaks down. Instantly half the guild is at his side to try to put him back together while the other half is ripping the idiot a new one for being so thoughtless and careless

Some days he pulled himself together and went through the motions, he almost felt like himself again. Some days it took all his energy to simply exist. He’d gotten used to the hush that fell when he entered a room and the varied attempts at hidden pity in the eyes of his friends. Brynjolf found his seat in the Flagon, irritated by the sudden lull in their conversations. He already knew how bad he looked, he didn’t need to be reminded. 

He didn’t remember what it was like to be alone. They’d been sneaky about their rotations but once the shock passed he’d noticed. Vex went about his work with him in the mornings, Rune sat with him in the Cistern through the afternoon and chatted about random memories, Thrynn and Vipir often found him in the evenings and Delvin drank with him deep into the night. Brynjolf wondered who’d gotten stuck watching while he slept. Mercer had been distant but watchful, he was probably in charge of the latest hours. 

Sleeping was hard, too. He hadn’t dared to enter the Guild Master’s chambers after that first attempt. He’d smelled her perfume and seen where she’d tossed his blankets halfway off the bed. It cracked the last of his resolve. Brynjolf had claimed an unused cot in the Cistern the next night, not trusting himself to sleep in that bed. 

The rest of the thieves had taken to safe topics in his presence, mostly the history of the Guild. They’d taken a sudden interest in discussing the Grey Fox at length. Brynjolf wondered what they talked about when he wasn’t around, if they discussed how badly he was doing. Weeks had passed since his last job. He’d done nothing but struggle to exist in the wake of her death.

Delvin sat in the same spot as every other night. He clapped Brynjolf on the arm in some mock show of cheer before ordering their usual drinks. He stared up at Delvin through the haze of exhaustion, the old man’s face a mask of nonchalance. Everyone had tactfully avoided discussing what Karliah had taken from them. 

“How you doin’?” Delvin asked, the earnestness in his voice new. Brynjolf heard some of the vendors around the Flagon begin to shut down for the evening. He flinched, feeling like he’d poked at some mental wound. She’d been the one to bring in those vendors. She cleaned up the Guild enough for them to start showing up. 

“Fine.” Brynjolf grumbled and tried to shove away the urge to think about her. It was too much to consider. He couldn’t do it. 

The same quiet settled in. Brynjolf’s food cooled, forgotten on his plate. He stared at the chuck of wood missing from the table. He knew what dagger had landed there, he’d been there when she’d stabbed the table after a particularly difficult conversation with Maven. Vex and Tonilia were discussing something about the Grey Fox’s body not turning up. He wondered if they were going to start searching for old Guild relics. 

“Hey, Brynjolf.” Syndus, one of the merchants was standing awkwardly at Delvin’s side. He was looking at Brynjolf with that unbridled pity that made him squirm. “I just wanted to say I’m real sorry.” 

“For what?” Brynjolf grunted and he heard slapping footsteps behind him and half a dozen shouts to be quiet. 

“For Saryn, of course. I heard she died.” Syndus’ nervous chuckle was the last thing he heard. That terrible ringing filled his ears and Brynjolf felt like his brain was suddenly separate from his body. Vekel’s hand was on Syndus’ shoulder, urging him out the door and away from the threatening edge of Vex’s quickly drawn blade. 

A few more bodies cloistered around the exit of the Flagon but Brynjolf couldn’t seem to name them. He couldn’t think of any name that wasn’t hers. He felt hands on his arms and heard someone calling his name but they all felt so very far away. 

“You’re okay, kid.” Delvin’s voice caught Brynjolf’s attention and he nodded, his eyes stuck on that gouged chunk of wood. Saryn was the one to stab the table. Saryn who had snuggled into his bed and left his blankets a mess. Saryn who had given her blood, sweat and tears to the Guild. The girl that stood on her toes to kiss him and snuck her cold fingers under his armor. Saryn was dead in some forgotten ruin. 

“She’s dead.” Brynjolf choked out, the numbness fading until he lost his breath. He saw a sea of faces staring at him but couldn’t discern them. A few more hands lingered cautiously on him but they felt wrong. Somewhere in the distance Syndus was professing his apologies but Brynjolf didn’t have the energy to acknowledge him. 

“You’re going to be okay.” Someone promised him but Brynjolf didn’t believe them. He wouldn’t be okay until he saw her again. 

[buckleyblueyes]

ahh that's amazing! thank you in advance. I got this idea into my head: what if there is this one time they're all on a call, and maybe it's something that hits a little too close to home for Buck, maybe it's playing on his fears and insecurities, but the moment Buck sees what they're dealing with he gets SCARED, and freezes, and subconsciously grabs Eddie's hand, because Eddie makes him feel safe. He is his best friend (who he's in love with, ofc) after all. Eddie is well. Surprised. Very much.

Anon! Thank you so much for your patience with this one! I know it's been ages since you sent it in. I hope it's worth the wait and that I did justice to your prompt! (CW: drowning)

Eddie feels Buck tense up beside him as soon as Bobby tells them where they're going: Splash Zone Water Park. They have calls to pools fairly often, and Buck always gets a little bit tense going into it, no matter how long it’s been since the tsunami. Eddie presses his knee against Buck’s in the truck, offering a silent comfort to his friend. Buck seems to push down his fears by the time they pull up to the scene, forcing himself to shift into Firefighter Buckley mode as they make their way through the park. Eddie lets himself be relieved, until they arrive in front of the wave pool.

Of course it’s the goddamn wave pool. Even worse, there’s a nine year old boy laid out on the stone patio next to the pool, dripping wet, brown hair plastered to his forehead. He’s unconscious, bleeding from the side of his head, and his chest isn't rising and falling like it should be. Buck freezes immediately at the sight, reaching out for Eddie with his right hand, and wrapping his fingers around Eddie’s left wrist. It takes Eddie a moment to realize that Buck is feeling for his pulse, grounding himself.

Eddie does his best to steady his breathing and heart rate once he realizes what Buck is doing. The sight in front of them is upsetting to him, of course it is, but he knows it’s worse for Buck. He’s not the one who walked around for hours not knowing if Christopher was dead or alive. He’s not the one who almost died himself (at least, not that day.) “It’s okay,” he murmurs quietly, so only Buck can hear. “I’m here, I’m alive. That’s not Christopher.” It’s purely a medical call at this point, so he makes no attempt to move away from Buck as Hen and Chimney begin administering CPR to the boy. His mother is crying, wailing, begging them to save him. His lips are turning blue. Buck’s grip on Eddie’s wrist is like a vice.

“We got a pulse!” Hen finally calls out.

Buck’s grip doesn’t loosen, but Eddie does hear him let out of a heavy breath. He twists his hand out of Buck’s grip just enough that he can slide his arm up, so Buck is no longer holding his wrist, but is holding his hand. He gives Buck’s hand a firm squeeze and finally hazards a glance up at the man in question. Buck is staring at their intertwined hands now, confused. At least, Eddie decides, he’s distracted from the drowning boy. He runs his thumb along the back of Buck’s hand, in what he hopes is a comforting gesture.

He knows they’re crossing some kind of line here, that hand holding in the middle of an emergency scene (even one where their presence turned out not to be strictly necessary) is not something that he’ll be able to brush off as strictly platonic. It doesn’t scare him like it used to, though. Maybe it’s because he watched Buck date Taylor, so he knows how much worse it would be to not have Buck, or maybe it’s all the therapy he’s been in since the shooting. Either way, Eddie’s not afraid anymore. He and Buck have been on the edge of something--or maybe everything--for months, so if holding Buck’s hand will help ground him, keep his mind from thrusting him back in time, then it’s a risk Eddie is willing to take.

Hen and Chimney are loading the boy into the ambulance--he is breathing again, still unconscious and probably severely concussed, but alive--when Bobby finally makes his way over to them. He takes in the haunted look in Buck’s eyes, and the fact that their hands are still tightly clasped together, and frowns.

“You boys alright?” He asks, but he’s looking at Buck.

Buck nods slowly. “I--Yeah. Just...Brought up some bad memories.”

“This was a rough one,” Bobby agrees. “I’m gonna take us off rotation for a while when we get back to the station.”

“Thanks, Cap,” Eddie says. Buck doesn’t say anything.

Bobby smiles in that warm, fatherly way of his, looking between them. “Take care of each other.”

As if there’s any universe where they wouldn’t.

Eddie doesn’t let go of Buck’s hand until they get back to the station, and only because he needs two hands to cook.

“I’m not hungry,” Buck says, still hovering in Eddie’s space.

“You were about to eat before the call came in,” Eddie insists gently. “You need to eat.”

“And you’re gonna cook for me?” Buck shakes his head. “I think I’ll take my chances with starvation.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, pulling out a griddle and a clean spatula. “I think I can handle grilled cheese, Buck.”

Buck’s mouth opens and closes in surprise. “Grilled cheese?”

“Maddie may have mentioned making it for you a lot growing up.” Eddie flushes slightly at having to admit he’s talked to Maddie about Buck. “I thought it would be comforting.”

Buck stares at him, eyes wide and mouth turning up into a tentative smile. “Yeah, it is.”

“Good,” Eddie smiles back. “Now, go sit down.”

Eddie bustles about the kitchen, pulling out the good buttermilk bread that Chimney always buys instead of the whole wheat bread that Bobby puts on the list, the pre-sliced cheddar cheese, and the butter. “After we eat, how about we video call Christopher?” It’s late in the afternoon, he’ll be home from school by now.

Buck lets out a long exhale. “Yes, please.”

Eddie flips the bread slices on the griddle and places the cheese slices on the toasted side. “Great.”

“I--” Buck starts. “I didn’t know how to ask.”

Eddie looks up from the sandwiches. “How to ask for what?”

“To talk to Christopher,” Buck draws patterns on the tabletop with his index finger. “I know I’m not--He’s not mine.”

Eddie doesn’t say anything at first, just plates up the sandwiches, brings them over to the table, and sits down next to Buck, who takes a small, tentative bite.

“I don’t think that’s true.”

“What?”

“You said Christopher isn’t yours,” Eddie picks up his sandwich, but doesn’t bite into it. “I don’t think that’s true.”

Buck is staring at him again, confused.

“Look, I don’t know what we are anymore, Buck,” Eddie admits. “Things are different between us now, and I don’t know what I’m doing, but I know that you love Christopher, and that he loves you just as much. If that doesn’t give you a right to call him, to reassure yourself that he’s okay, then I don’t know what does.”

“I…” Buck’s eyes fill with tears.

"It's okay, Buck." Eddie reaches over to wipe Buck's tears with his thumb. “Just eat your grilled cheese."

Buck does as he’s told, making it halfway through the sandwich in three bites. “You know, there’s no law that says we have to wait until we finish eating to call Christopher.”

Eddie raises a skeptical eyebrow, looking up from his own half-eaten lunch. “Will you actually finish eating if we call now?”

“Absolutely.” Buck takes a big bite to prove his point. “See?” He says, through a mouthful of food. Something so childish shouldn’t be so endearing, and yet, somehow it is.

Helpless, Eddie pulls out his phone. Carla answers on the second ring. “You better have a good reason for interrupting math homework.”

“I do.” Eddie assures her. “Can you put Chris on?”

Carla gives him a look, but does as he asks. Christopher is grinning--probably excited to have his math homework interrupted “Hi, Dad!”

“Hey, kid.” Eddie can’t help but return his son’s smile. “How’s the math homework going?”

Christopher’s smile falters slightly. “Oh, it’s good.”

Somehow Eddie doesn’t totally believe that, but it’s not important now. “Listen, I’ve got somebody here who wants to say ‘hi’, is that okay?”

The boy’s smile comes back even wider than before. “Is it Buck?”

“Yeah,” Buck says, loud enough that the phone can catch it. “It’s me.”

“Hand the phone to Buck, Dad!” Christopher is bouncing with excitement. “Hand the phone to Buck!”

He does, scooching his chair closer so he can still see the screen himself, and before Buck can even greet Christopher, the kid is launching into a monologue.

“Buck! Dr. Lassiter assigned us a big, semester-long project for science class, can you pleeeaaase help me with it? I want to build a model of the solar system, but it has to be totally accurate.”

The tension Buck's body has been holding onto since the phrase “water park” fell from Bobby’s lips is finally starting to fade.

“Absolutely. Do we want it to move?”

Christopher’s eyes widen on screen. “Yes!”

Buck laughs. “Well then, we’ve got our work cut out for us.”

Eddie smiles softly, as Buck and Christopher begin planning their project. He knows he must look like a lovesick fool, but to be fair, that’s what he is. He rests one hand over the crook of Buck’s elbow, and doesn’t miss the pink that appears across his cheeks.

“Alright, you three,” that’s Carla’s voice, “Somebody still has math homework to finish, and I’m sure you boys will have to get back to work soon.”

Eddie sighs. Carla is right, unfortunately. But Buck looks lighter than he has all day. “We better do what Carla says.”

“Will you come over after work?” Christopher asks. They won't get off until after Christopher will already be at school, so Buck will probably go to his loft after work. But Eddie doesn’t doubt now that Christopher has asked, Buck will manage to make it over to their house by the time Christopher is home from school. He wonders if it's too soon to ask Buck to sleep in his bed, instead of going to his loft at all. It's yet another line to cross, but at this point Eddie's lost track of all the lines they've crossed.

“You bet,” is Buck’s answer. “Now get back to your math!”

“Okay, dad,” Christopher says, rolling his eyes, voice dripping with sarcasm. It’s meant to be a joke at Buck’s expense, but Eddie can see the breath catching in Buck’s throat all the same, so he pulls the phone from his hand and takes over.

“Good-bye, Christopher! We love you!”

“Bye Dad! Bye Buck! I love you guys, too.”

Buck finds his voice again. “Bye Superman!”

“So,” Eddie says, putting the phone down. “Do you feel better now?”

“Eddie…” Buck hesitates, dropping his hand down so it rests over Eddie’s. His skin is warm and rough and unlike earlier Eddie can actually enjoy the feeling. “Thank you.” He’s thanking Eddie for more than just the grilled cheese and the phone call, and Eddie knows it.

His answer is simple. He turns his hand over, and interlocks their fingers. “Always, Buck.”

[amerrierworld]

Cigarette Smoke

for the request: top carol/reader smut? Thank youuu

Summary: Carol needs to get out of the house and asks you to come along.

Characters: Carol Aird x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,579

Warnings: smut smut top!Carol you’ve been warned (you’re the babysitter... again.. and things happen, plus at this point the Airds have divorced~)

You watched as cigarette smoke curled around her head. She had the newspaper spread over her lap and a cup of tea in the other hand. Inhaling deeply, the end of the cigarette lit up brightly, and you could smell the smoke where you were sitting, cradling your own cup of tea.

Harge had picked up Rindy half an hour ago, and Carol had immediately rung you to come by, before the silence could get to her. 

You were no longer the babysitter- they didn’t seem to need you anymore now that they worked with two separate schedules, and so Florence would watch over Rindy when needed.

But Carol stayed in touch; she called, asked about your job endeavours, interested in your life. And she would tell you about her ideas; things she wanted to do and see, but never initiated plans to go through with it. She was stuck, and you didn’t know if you knew how to pull her free.

“Just going for the shopping, ma’am,” Florence announced as she headed out the door. You didn’t know if it was just because you were here, but her voice and demeanour were always very tight and constrained around you, like she didn’t approve of something that you couldn’t put your finger on.

Carol let out a shuddering sigh as soon as the door shut behind Florence, grey smoke blowing out from her red-painted lips. Her eyes finally lifted up and met your own as you sipped your tea.

“Would you like to go for a ride?” she asked, nonchalantly, as she put out her cigarette in the ashtray. 

“Where?” you asked.

“Anywhere you’d like,” she said, folding the newspaper neatly. “I need some fresh air.”

You didn’t see any reason why not, so you got up as she went to slip on some shoes, grabbing a lightweight coat overtop her cream blouse. 

Carol pulled out of the driveway in the Packard with graceful ease, and you sank back in the passenger seat as you watched the landscape go by. 

Once in the city, Carol bought Rindy a new toy, and you got milkshakes at a small diner. She was awfully quiet, you noticed, and she popped the candied cherry in her mouth as her eyes glazed over like she was somewhere completely different.

“Carol...” you said, reaching over to hold her hand. The physical touch seemed to jolt her out of her zone and she looked at you like she saw you for the first time that day.

“Oh.. I’m sorry, sweetheart,” she sighed, “I haven’t been very sociable, have I?”

“It’s alright, I don’t mind,” you said, squeezing her fingers, realizing her ring finger was missing a familiar golden band.

“No, no, goodness, please forgive me,” she said, shaking her head. “Now tell me, what’s new with you?”

You smiled, and chatted for a bit as you finished your milkshake. Carol ordered some sandwiches and fries while you kept talking, and you were so enamoured by watching her eat -you had only ever seen her use cutlery, and here she was, licking the salt from her fingers and munching down on finger food- that you didn’t notice the time passing by so quickly.

Carol talked about some redecoration ideas for the house, recent drama in her high-class friend group, and how fast Rindy seemed to be growing when she wasn’t home. 

“I would love to come by sometime when you have Rindy again,” you offered, 

“Oh- I wouldn’t be able to pay you, darling.”

“No, not as a job. I just wanted to say hi to her again,” you smiled, “no fee. I’ve just missed her, that’s all.”

Carol seemed a bit startled, surprised by your interest in her and her daughter, but then that bloomed into a sweet, familiar smile, and you enjoyed the way she reached over and squeezed your hand this time.

“Oh, dear, look at the time,” she realized, “I should get you home.”

“I could just get a cab...” you began, but she was already waving her hand in dismissal.

“No, no. I asked you here, drove you around, forced you to go out in public with me. The least I can do is drive you home.”

You blushed, and waited patiently as she paid. It seemed so natural, to get up and help her get her arm in one of her tricky coat sleeves, and follow her out to the car, and get inside and be swarmed by Carol’s perfume when you both shut the doors. 

The drive back to your home went by far too fast. It was already dark by the time you pulled up to your place, and Carol took a moment to stop and look at you from the driver’s seat.

“Thank you for spending time with me, sweetheart,” she said softly, “I know I can be... difficult, especially with what’s been happening. With me, I mean. You’re a very sweet girl for coming when I called.”

“I will always come when you call,” you replied without hesitating. The blonde was startled again, looking at you in the dark, your eyes shining back at her.

The muscles in her neck tensed, like she was contemplating something. Almost like when her mind seemed to wander someplace else, but now it was fixed only on you. And then she relaxed- like she’d been defeated in some internal battle.

Your heart jumped at the change,1 and you were filled with sudden bravery. Then, you said,

“Carol. Turn off the car?”

Without a word, she followed your command, shrouding the both of you in complete silence and darkness. You could see her slightly in the light of a distant street lamp, and then you reached over and gently kissed her on the lips.

Her hands were still gripping the steering wheel so you pressed a little harder with your lips, tasting the waxiness of her lipstick. And then she inhaled sharply, before forcing your mouth open with her tongue, letting it slide along yours. One hand reached up to grasp your jaw, and she breathed you in.

You gasped into her mouth, feeling her touch like fire on your skin. You pulled away only to scoot over and push your door open. Then you whipped your head back to look at Carol and said, barely a whisper,

“Come inside?”

Carol stepped out the car before you even managed to get off your seat. While you were out in the open, she was respectable, holding her head high and smiling like any middle-class wealthy house-wife would. And then when the door shut behind you, she was on you, clawing at your clothes.

Her mouth tasted like cherries and cigarette, and you never realized a taste like that could be so intoxicating. 

“Bed?” she asked, pulling at your shirt, and you led her to your bedroom, where she promptly pushed you down on the mattress, making you squeak in surprise.

You wormed you hands up underneath her shirt, making her shiver as you explored her smooth skin. Her skirt was too tight for her to straddle you properly and she cursed in a low voice before shimmying out of it. 

Once free, you salivated at the sight of her stockings and underwear, and as she pulled the blouse over her head your face was right there to kiss her chest, hold her by the waist, and pull her closer.

“Oh, sweet girl,” she breathed. Her voice always got lower and raspier after she had a cigarette, which she did after the sandwiches at the diner. You mewled into her skin, feeling goosebumps break out over your body at her words. 

She got you up on your knees to help you take off the rest of your own clothes, carefully peeling each piece off of you, kissing each inch of skin as it was revealed. 

“Do we have to be quiet, baby?” she whispered, cradling your face to look up at her. You thought for a moment, and reluctantly nodded. You weren’t sure what the neighbours would think if they heard anything, and definitely didn’t want to cross that line now.

“Well alright then,” she purred, pushing you back on the bed. She straddled you, settling down on you comfortably. You felt the searing heat coming from between her legs, and you squirmed.

“No moving,” she said, because her eyes were fluttering shut at the friction from you moving underneath her. You stilled, choosing to run your hands over the smoothness of her stockings instead.

She leaned down and pinned your arms above your head, rotating her hips seductively, keeping her eyes on your face and a smile on her lips. Her lipstick was already smudged, you noticed.

“I realize I should have asked this first, but.. are you alright with this?” she asked, her thumbs rubbing over the pulse points on your wrists.

“Y-yes, yes, of course,” you replied, looking at the way her curls were loosening and falling into her face. 

“Good,” she grinned, and pressed a deep kiss to your mouth before moving down your neck, “because I have been thinking about this for a long time.”

She nipped at your collarbone and you squealed. One of her hands came down to press a finger to your lips.

“Shhhhh, baby. Quiet, remember?” she said. You gasped in response as her tongue ran down your breast, over your nipple, swirling around your belly button.

“F-fuck,” you hissed, grabbing at your pillows. Your body rose up again as she nuzzled you between your legs, right where you inner thigh met your pelvis. A tongue licked slowly up, collecting your wetness and sweat, and you shivered. 

“Carol,” you whimpered, reaching down to grab her hair. Immediately, she pulled your hand away and held it tightly over your thigh. The demand was clear, no touching. 

She lightly kissed your clit, and you bit your lower lip until you were sure it bled.

Then Carol pulled away and said,

“Best prepare yourself, baby girl. Don’t make a noise.”

Once she said that, you barely had a moment to register the words before her tongue and lips dove in, unforgiving and intense.

You gasped, almost crying out if you hadn’t caught yourself, the sound trapped in your throat. Your arms and legs shook as she held you down and attacked you.

It was deadly silent in your bedroom, the creaking of the bed and your heavy breaths the only audible sounds. You were whimpering, breathing in sharply through your nose to stop your voice from screaming at how she was working you up.

Then her hand let go of yours and a finger began rubbing around your opening, wetting the tip and pushing a finger in gently, but firmly.

“O-oh,” you sighed, which earned you a stilling of motion and a pointed look up through her lashes. You pressed your lips closed and willed yourself to stay quiet again. 

Her finger curled inside you and pressed against a swollen spot that had you seeing stars.

“Let it happen,” she whispered, pulling away for a short moment. Her lips suckled at your clit, and when a second finger pressed and curled inside you, the ceiling above you was replaced by swirling colours and a sense of complete euphoria. 

Your eyes were shut, trying to fill your lungs with air as you recovered from the intensity of your orgasm. Then Carol was there, kissing and licking along your neck. You wrapped your arms around her shoulders and pulled her as close as possible, wanting to take her in, wanting to feel her as deeply as possible.

“Good girl,” she cooed, lips brushing over your ear. The rumble of her voice made you keen, and your body heated up again instantly.

Your exploratory fingers ran down her body and pushed inside her underwear. You heard her squeal softly and chuckle as you lightly rubbed her, and she pulled back.

“Just a moment, dear,” she said, grasping your hand, “here. Let me just...”

She removed her underwear, and laid back on the bed. You pressed up against her side, burying your head in the crook of her neck. 

“Wanna please you too,” you whimpered. Her hand ran soothingly over your back.

“Such a good girl,” she said, enjoying the way your body rolled against her again, “give me your hand, hm?”

She grabbed your hand, kissed your fingers, and then brought it down to her cunt. Her long legs spread a little more, and she guided your hand slowly.

“Press right here,” she breathed, holding your fingertips a little to the right of her clit, “and then rub a little- oh, yes.”

You followed her instructions as best you could, listening intently to the changes in her voice and breath. 

“A little harder, sweetie,” she continued, and you added a bit more vigour, working your whole arm. Her hips bucked up, and you smiled victoriously.

She leaned over and nuzzled your neck, nearly distracting you from your job at hand.

“Would you like to go inside?” she asked, a slightly desperate lilt to her voice.

You nodded weakly, watching your fingers rub over the most sensitive part of her, entranced by her convulsing abdomen muscles, her legs and her inner thighs becoming slick.

“Go on then,” she encouraged. You looked over at her beaming eyes, encouraging and needy at the same time. You reached further down and ran a finger along her opening like she did with you.

“I’m more than ready, darling,” she gasped, “two will be fine.”

You grinned, finding humour in her nonchalance as if she was ordering another sandwich at a diner. But then when you rotated your fingers and began pressing against her silky inner walls, she gasped and shook all over.

She bit down on the palm of her hand to stop from being too loud as you picked up the pace. Carol was trembling, pulling you down to kiss her continually, wet and sloppy. 

“That’s it,” she gasped, “God, I-I’m almost... shit.”

Her hand flew down as you fucked her with your fingers. She rubbed at her clit with expert precision, and that was the winning ticket. She whined into your mouth as she came, hips stilling and her body locking as she reached that peak.

You watched in awe as her eyes slowly opened at you, unfocused as she rode the last few pulses of pleasure, convulsing around your fingers.

The two of you laid there in content, sharing gentle kisses and breaths. She urged you to suck your fingers, grinning as you slurped her taste off your fingers before doing the same to her own.

“Sweeter than any milkshake,” she hummed, making you blush. She sat up a little, rearranging the pillows to relax a moment. You were going to pull away to give her some space, but her arm wrapped around you and held you close. 

She kissed you right by your hairline, whispering “beautiful” with soft endearment. You sighed and captured her lips again, addicted to every taste of her, every motion of her mouth and body.

Then she pulled away, but only to light a cigarette. The smoke swirled around her head again, and then she looked at you with those stunning grey eyes,

“Do you want to try?” she nodded towards the cigarette. 

“No,” you smiled, turning over on your side towards her, “I’d much rather watch you smoke.”

She laughed, and said, “alright,” before inhaling once more. 

[expectingtofly]

Painted Nails and Pride

1.7k

internalized homophobia, john being an a**hole, bisexual dean, found family, happy ending

written for day 7 of @spnprideweek

Music boomed from the park down the street and Dean tried to focus on the newspapers spread out before him, front pages covered with news about a bear attack at a campsite a few miles west. Not actually a bear attack, of course. From the tracks they’d seen when they hiked out there yesterday, Dad's money was on wendigo.

Cheering drew his eyes from the table where he, Sam, and Dad sat outside a restaurant to the people heading down the sidewalk towards the music. Banners on streetlights along the road proclaimed that today marked Roseville's 3rd Annual Pride Parade. His eyes snagged on a group of kids his own age standing on the street corner, hugging and talking excitedly. One boy had painted nails and wore a cropped shirt that exposed his midriff. As he talked with his friends, he looked around, and his eyes met Dean’s. He smiled at him, and Dean ducked his head, face burning.

An announcer’s voice echoed down the street. “Welcome to Pride,” the voice boomed. Dean folded and unfolded the corner of the newspaper, listening to the cheering, rotating the ring on his thumb around and around.

Dad snorted, and Dean glanced up at him. Arms crossed, leaning back in his chair, he watched the proceedings with a scowl on his face. Dean studied the newspapers more intently, underlining words just to look like he was doing something productive. Part of him wanted to go down to the parade, just to see what it was all about, but that was ridiculous. Only affirmed by a derogatory comment Dad made low under his breath about the people in the street.

“Yeah,” Dean agreed verbally, jostling his leg under the table. He glanced sideways at Sam, who was giving Dad a glare. Dean gave him a look that meant, don’t start, but Sam ignored him.

“Don’t say that,” he said, and Dean froze, eyes snapping to their father. Dad pulled his eyes from the street to Sam, giving him a long, steady look.

“What?” he asked after a long moment. “You one of them?”

Sam only held his gaze for a second before it seemed his courage failed. He ducked his head. “No,” he mumbled, kicking at the table leg.

Dad stared at him for another long moment, expressionless, before turning his journal around and dropping it in front of Sam. “Shut up and make yourself useful. Sooner we figure out what’s killing these folks, sooner we can get out of this goddamn town.”

He waved down the waitress for another drink, and Dean glared at Sam, who was absently thumbed through the journal pages. Returning to his own work, he snapped one newspaper closed and opened another, skimmed an article about the victim’s family. The words didn’t really make sense in his head, though, and too soon he found himself watching the people in the street again. The boy who’d smiled at him had disappeared, though, probably watching the parade.

Finding a one-off line in an article about rumors of a strange being haunting the woods, he circled it and handed the newspaper across the table.

“Nice work,” Dad said, taking the paper, but instead of the usual warmth from his praise, Dean only felt sick.

He felt about the same now, standing in Jody’s kitchen—off to the side so he wouldn’t be in the way during the frenzied preparations to attend the Sioux Falls Pride Parade. Music played from Patience’s phone, some song he recognized from Cas constantly turning the radio dial to the pop music station. Sam helped Kaia finish a sign decorated with the lesbian flag, and Eileen signed with Alex who was learning sign language in high school. Claire sat at the table painting Jack’s nails, who wriggled in his seat excitedly.

Catching Dean’s eyes, he held up the hand Claire had finished. “Dean, look!”

Dean forced a smile. “Looks good.”

“Stay still,” Claire ordered, frowning down at Jack’s hand as she painted his pinky.

This was a bad idea, Dean thought. Jody had invited them for the week, mentioning off-hand that Sioux Fall’s pride events were going on, and Dean had pushed aside the mild panic at that comment, told her they’d come visit. He didn’t know he’d be roped into joining everyone at Pride, but here he was, feeling out of place in the corner of the kitchen. Who knew how he’d feel standing at the parade.

“Want me to do yours?” Claire asked, and Dean snapped his attention back to her. She was holding a bottle of nail polish, others lined up next to her on the table, and he froze, realizing what she was suggesting.

His first instinct was to spit out, “I’m not one of those,” but guilt rushed through him for how harsh the words sounded in his head. Defensive words, unnecessary ones because there was no threat here. He didn't mean them anyway.

Swallowing them down, he glanced around the kitchen for rescue. Cas was helping Donna pack water bottles because “It’s gonna be hot out there,” but he must’ve felt Dean’s gaze because he looked over and gave him a reassuring smile. No judgement in his eyes, or Claire's either, for that matter. He had a feeling he wouldn't find any judgement in this kitchen, which should've been a relief, but he had a hard time trusting it.

“Come on, Dean,” Jack said. “We can match!”

You can do this, Dean told himself. It's just Pride, not an Apocalypse.

He tried to smile. “Sure,” he said, going to the table and sitting down, chest tight.

He chose the color blue because it felt less ostentatious than the pinks and lilacs Claire presented to him. Even so, the color looked strikingly bright in the sunlight as he stood along the street marked off for the parade, and he shoved his hands into his pockets.

“Hey,” Cas said, touching his shoulder. Dean tensed, then felt awful for his reaction, but Cas didn’t move away, only rubbed between his shoulder blades until Dean relaxed marginally. “You okay?”

Dean nodded. “Fine,” he managed. Cas gave him a small smile and leaned his head on Dean’s shoulder.

A float passed with people waving and dancing on top, a banner strung across the front declaring, “Protect Trans Kids.” Jack waved a rainbow flag around, cheering along with the crowd. Claire’s arm was wrapped around Kaia’s shoulders, a smile tugging at her mouth despite her attempts to look unbothered by the proceedings. Dean wished he could feel that nonchalant. Instead, he kept looking over his shoulder. He didn’t know exactly what threat he was looking for, but the press of the growing crowds and the heat and noise, the bright colors and waving flags everywhere he looked was making him nauseous.

Turning back to the parade, he met Sam’s eyes. “Never thought we’d both end up here, right?” Sam asked over the noise, attempting levity, and Dean wondered if he remembered sitting outside near a Pride parade, feeling so unsure. There were plenty of other instances to remember, plenty of times John made disparaging comments that Dean either pretended to not hear or agreed with out of a panic that if he wasn’t careful, they might be directed at him next.

“This is fun,” Sam commented, watching the parade, and Dean wished he could agree.

Easy for you to say, he thought. You have a girlfriend, people’ll assume you’re straight. But he felt bad for thinking it. He didn’t want Cas to move away from him—if anything, wanted him closer, wanted his arm around him. But he felt too tense to move.

A crowd of middle-aged people walked in the parade, t-shirts reading variations of MOM HUGS, DAD HUGS, GRANDPA HUGS. Dean watched as people stepped off the sidewalk and hugged the moms and dads, some crying as soon as arms wrapped around them.

Without his permission, he felt his own eyes growing teary and he ducked his head, scraped his heel on the sidewalk.

“Dammit,” Jody said. “Where can I get one of those t-shirts?”

“We gotta do that next year,” Donna decided, and Jack gave her a hug.

“You can hand out hugs without the t-shirt,” he told her, and she grinned.

“You’re right.” Lifting her arms, she announced, “Free hugs over here!” People around them laughed, and someone took her up on the offer, telling her, “You’ve got a lovely family.”

Donna beamed. “Why yes I do.” She pulled Claire into a half-hug that Claire resisted, protesting the whole time. “Come here, Sam,” she said, yanking Sam into a hug that he had to nearly fold himself in half for. Everyone else got their turn, then she turned to Dean, holding out her arms.

Dean stepped into it, wrapping his arms around her. A gentler hug, Donna rubbing his back. Dean sunk into the embrace, the chaos around him subsiding for a moment.

“We’re family now, right?” she asked, pulling away to meet his eyes, and Dean nodded. Smiling at him and patting his arm, she turned back to Jody, wrapping an arm around her.

It felt a little easier to breathe now, his chest not so tight. The crowds around them didn’t seem so threatening, just smiling people with their families like he was with his. Eileen cheered as a float passed with an Irish LGBTQ+ coalition, and Dean smiled, easier now, not forced.

Jody pulled Donna in for a kiss that turned into making out. Claire rolled her eyes. “Ew, guys, Gross.” Kaia elbowed her and Claire’s put-on air of displeasure broke into a grin as she elbowed her back. Cas nudged Dean with a small smile when a float of pink, purple, and blue streamers drove past. For a moment, Dean's chest seized, John's voice ringing in his head, but in all the noise around them, it quickly drowned out.

Pulling his hands from his pockets, he took Cas’ hand. Cas interlaced their fingers immediately, squeezing tightly, then lifted their hands and studied Dean’s nails. Dean had let Jack paint a smiley face on his pinky to match the one on Jack’s thumbs. Staring at them, he thought of a boy at Pride with painted nails, his own fears and wants tightening his chest, but then Cas looked up at him with a smile, and the memory faded into a warm glow.

“I like them,” Cas told him.

“Yeah," Dean said. "Me too.”

[spiretdoom]

14 Days of DA Lovers - Pride

Prompt 7 (half way there boys) for @14daysdalovers~

Pairing: Cullen x Lavellan

Rating: G

Word Count: 918

The knife lodged itself deeply into the outer ring of the target, the throw clearly made with a strong arm despite the poor aim.

“Ug,” Ellana groaned, going over to the dummy that sat in Cullen’s office to grab the knives. “How do I suck at this?” she huffed, struggling to pull the last one out and needing to place her hand on the dummy in order to release the stubborn weapon.

Cullen was asking himself the same question, though he wouldn’t voice it aloud. She was a strong and capable warrior who had fought in multiple battles and sieges at this point that he was completely flabbergasted she could not aim a simple knife. It seemed, by all accounts, out of character.

“You’re getting frustrated,” he pointed out, Ellana making a loud “pff” sound at him before he continued. “You have to relax or else you’re going to end up embedding knives in my wall.”

“Your wall is made out of stone…”

“My point exactly,” he gave her a smirk, Ellana side-eyeing him before letting out a frustrated sigh.

“Okay, okay, I see your point,” she caved, setting the knives down and raising her hands in defeat. She leaned against his desk, watching as he made his way over to take a knife from behind her. Her arms crossed over her chest, eyes following him closely as he lined himself up with the dummy.

“You’re too tense when throwing,” he explained, raising his arm. “You have to be loose and fluid or your throw will be too stiff. Make sure your right foot is placed forward and hold the knife like this.” He lifted his hand to show her how he held the knife, hand low enough to leave a gap between his fingers and the sharp blade while his thumb sat pressed against the hilt above the rest of his fingers.

He noticed her intense gaze, the elf taking what he said quite seriously as she grabbed herself a knife as well and played around with the hold to replicate what he did. She looked like a child learning how to use a new toy, a smile catching on his lips as the thought crossed his mind.

Once she was done toying with her knife she looked back up at him as he continued his demonstration. “Don’t try to aim, at least not right now. It’s more important for you to hit the target more than anything.” He pulled the knife back, the tip aimed towards him as the hilt angled towards the ceiling. With a swift movement he threw the knife, the weapon rotating once before lodging itself into the center of the dummy.

Ellana’s ears perked as she watched the knife fly smoothly through the air and hit its target. Her teeth chewed on her tongue lightly as she considered his instructions and demonstration thoughtfully, knowing he made it look way too easy even though he had likely perfected the moveset over the course of many years.

Pushing off the desk, she carefully took his place as Cullen stepped to the side to give her space. He placed his hands on the hilt of his sword like he normally did when he was relaxed, body slightly leaning back as a knee bent to balance out his stance. He watched her as she placed her right foot in front, moving her fingers around on the hilt of the knife until she felt comfortable with the hold. Inhaling deeply, she lifted the knife just as he did, blade towards her and hilt towards the target but slightly aimed at the ceiling.

She didn’t allow her brain to think, simply swung and watched as the knife circled once through the air and hit the target firmly. A large grin formed on her face when she realized she’d hit the middle ring of the target instead of either the outer ring or the wall. Her head turned to look at Cullen, searching his face for any sort of approval. Of course she’d find it. She wasn’t sure why he would give her anything other than that scarred lip smile of his, the man reaching out to her to rub her lower back as he stepped closer.

“That was a lot better,” he praised her, brushing her hair back and behind her ear. “Keep it up and you’ll eventually hit a bullseye.”

Ellana’s smile grew wider, seeing the pride in his eyes and gushing with excitement as the back of his fingers brushed against her cheek. “Maybe I can finally get a fair chance against Thom, too,” she hummed, looking at the target with a look of mischievous excitement.

Cullen’s brows furrowed for a moment at the statement before one blonde brow raised with inquiry. “Don’t tell me you’re doing all this just so you can win a knife throwing competition with Blackwall?” he questioned, causing Ellana to blush brightly and look away.

“What? I, uh…” She laughed nervously and pressed her pointer fingers together awkwardly. Cullen laughed warmly, shaking his head and scratching at the back of his neck.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” He teased her, hugging her waist and squeezing her gently.

“I thought that’s why you liked me?” she teased back, leaning against him and tilting her head back so she could look up at the much taller man.

He chuckled and placed a kiss on her forehead, mouth smiling against her skin as he stood there with her against his body. “Perhaps,” he hummed.

[getrising311]

Working with Planetary Days

I hope it is okay that I share this excerpt from my Newsletter this month. It feels right/good to share this on Jupiter's day. Often times, I feel stuck in one place. I don't know how to move on from tasks or I struggle with even starting my day. I wanted to take the time to create an outline of options/ideas/tasks I can do based on the ruling planet for each day of the week. I think that once upon a time, College made me decide that Sundays were the days to get so much done, organize, plan, "catch up" etc- Friday and Saturday's were for indulging and forgetting about responsibilities, monday's were pure panic. Had I attuned to the energy of the days (and diving in deeper, planetary hours, which we will talk about next time) I may have navigated the days and my energy a lot better. Now I am a social worker, mental health practitioner and (baby) astrologer, trying to find the balance between self and others; solitude and socialization; responsibility and creativity; structure and response; Spirituality and Practicality; physical energy and mental energy and emotional energy; work and being still. The purpose of this 'outline' is to provide guidance, inspiration and direction on how to intentionally use our time, more so our Day to our energetic/celestial benefit.  Stick around as I go over the days of the week. Monday-Lunes (Moon)- Wake up late (if you can) Express gratitude (aloud or in a journal/safe space) DEEP stretch (to your ability, if you experience a disability/limitation, I encourage DEEP breathing, belly breathing) Use 'Herbs' (Whatever this means to you) and slow, smooth music (Alternative, R&B, Country, Blues, Jazz, Instrumental, Waves, Sound Bowl if you have one) Drink your coffee/tea/tonic/elixir/etc in one spot. Don't move until you are finished with your cup. Take a drive for no reason or take the scenic route to your destination/appointment/work/home/etc. Either have comfort food or light eating (Whichever your body calls for that day) IF you have a healthy relationship with Home: Call Home or friend or anyone you can be safe with. Water, water, water, water, water, water, water, water, water, water Snuggle up with a comfort item. Practice affirmations. Tell someone you love them (or something of the sort) Tuesday-Martes (Mars)- If you are able, take a walk; pilates; yoga; Tai Chi; dance. If you experience limitations or live with a disability, move to your capacity (bobbing your head to music, stretching upper body, deep breathes, chair exercises, rotating feet/ankles, whatever you are comfortable with. I am able bodied so may be ignorant to the options here-PLEASE educate me if you can think of anything further that those limited can engage in Mars like energy). Earthing Face Masks/Steaming/Scrub Hair Masks/Deep cleaning/Salt scrub Tend to yard work (if applicable and if able) Laundry (ALL OF IT, that means cleaning, drying and folding too LOL) Any tasks you have been putting off, focus on these first. Create a to do lists, categorized by home; office/work; spirit; business, etc. Clean your Spiritual tools Clean the space you spend the most time in Work or be outside if you can. Just get out of your usual environment if possible. Brainstorming. Go to bed early if you can. Wednesday-Miercoles (Mercury) Read 10-30 minutes (Of course more if you have the time and/or attention span😉) Journal 10-30 minutes, let it flow if you can. Create or engage in Minor to do lists Create a grocery list Fill out calendar for appointments or obligations- review your planner/calendar/schedule in general Work on your budget Respond to/Send emails-Respond to/make phone calls Work on/Send out Newsletter(s) Take notes on your readings Delete emails, clear voicemail box, go through paper mail Schedule meetings on this day talk to Spirit Ask questions-exchange information Watch a documentary or informative series Grab dinner or a drink with friends Paying attention to car maintenance may work well on this day as well (schedule an oil change/car wash/fill tank/etc) Learn something new Interact with/engage with your environment (if possible, for ex: walk around your neighborhood, smile at a neighbor; if you have the space work in your kitchen/living room instead of your office; if you're working in an office, see if there is a conference room available instead of your "cube") Get a massage/self massage (if possible/applicable) Turn your phone off, or notifications off before bed. Thursday-Jueves (Jupiter) Sleep in if you can Express Gratitude (out loud or in a journal or safe space) Pray Charge and/or cleanse crystals Take a salt bath/shower Soak your feet (if you can, get an Ionized foot bath) Take one risk today, walk by faith not by sight today Get out of your comfort zone (this will look different for everyone) Buy something you've been saving for or start saving for something Try something new Water your damn plants and/or talk/sing to them Play games (board games, phone games, computer games, video games) Watch a comedy Spell work and rituals Try a new tea or elixir Consult with a friend, guide, therapist, energy worker, etc Friday-Viernes (Venus) Make up, moisturize, hair spray/gel, rings, necklaces, perfume, heels, slacks, corsets, glasses, nail polish- WHATEVER you have to put on your bodythat'ss an extra step than usual-Do it! Indulge in your first (or last) meal today Walk (or drive) somewhere scenic/beautiful Watch the sunrise or sunset. Or catch the moonlight Practice your love language with yourself or with others "Love" yourself (hint hint, wink wink) Make your "space" pretty (this can be your bedroom, living room, kitchen, garden, car, this can be social media platforms, journals) BUMP or BLAST some music Make a playlist Aromatherapy, cleanse or charge your Tools, talk to friends/family, set boundaries and don't do anything you don't want to today (if possible 😉) paint, draw, read, shop, write Take a picture (of you or something/someone beautiful) Saturday-Sabado (Saturn) Start a to do list for today and especially for the week ahead Take care of house (whatever this means to you) Meditate Study Fast (If able/applicable) Journal (esp related to your long term goals, worldly affairs/responsibilities) Clean your space and get rid of what is no longer needed (clean out fridge, throw out papers, take out garbage, pull weeds, etc) Clean your car (if able/applicable) Ask Spirit and Ancestors "What work needs to be done?" Use sound bowl (if you have one), binaural beats, instrumental music Water water water water water water water! Sunday-Domingo (Sun) Practice your skills/Review your skills Perform service (whatever 'service' means to you) Post on social media/Establish social media presence Socialize, actively engage with others and/or your surroundings (if able/applicable) Journal (check your Ego, gas yourself up or practice humility) Review/Activate spells and rituals Pray Express gratitude Choose something specifically for you today Aura cleansing (if able/applicable) I hope this is guiding and helpful to at least someone. I experience such guilt around how I spend my time during the day and this outline/list has helped me attune to the energy of the day and generally make the most out of it. This is a light hearted, intuitive post meant to guide and validate how we can use our energy. I try to be mindful that not everyone has the resources, space, freedom, privilege, ability or circumstances to engage in such activities, my only hope is that at least one thing on this list can be activated in your days.

[rosy-cheekx]

Alone Again, Naturally

Three times Martin should have called for help.

(I twisted my ankle on Sunday and was bummed bc I missed my partner so…this happened…oops.)

-

1.

Martin’s phone was missing, though he was pretty sure he knew where it was. That thing, that wormy, writhing mass of a woman had it. Destroyed it. His only chance of rescue from this nightmare. Replaying the image of dropping the phone, abandoning it as he ran, would do him no good. His coworkers hadn’t noticed he was missing, or if they had noticed, they hadn’t stopped by. And they shouldn't, of course, it would only put them in danger. But still, it stung a bit, to know that he’d been gone for what, three days now? and no one cared.

He could become a statement from this, Martin realized, his death narrated in Jon’s smooth, clipped voice, and then they would finally learn what happened to that large, oafish researcher who was transferred to the archives with them and disappeared overnight.

Martin sighed through his nose noisily, as if he could expel the dark thoughts with the sound. “Christ, Blackwood. Getting awful morbid there.” Talking to himself had become a staple of his isolation. For one, it drowned out the ever-present knocking on the door and the squelching rustle of the worms. He honestly wasn’t sure whether the sounds were still real or if they had become such a constant that his brain just filled them in anyways.

His voice was the only other sound available to him with his computer not working and his phone gone. His clock radio had played static on every channel, and he had been grateful for the white noise at first. But the longer Martin left the radio on, the sound began to morph from the hissing of dead air to a choir, indecipherable and haunting. There were no words and yet he could understand the message: come home to us. We need you, we miss you, let us show you how much we love you. With us, you’ll never feel lonely again, we promise. Martin had come to, hand on the doorknob to his flat, radio in hand. After that, he had removed all the batteries from anything that could make noise. Since then, he could only trust his own voice; everything else was a trap.

The can opener, unfortunately, had been electric too. He had been so proud of his purchase, a real attempt at adult cooking. (He never seemed to use the manual ones and could never get the grip right.) With the power out, assumedly caused by Prentiss, he had to get creative when it came to “making dinner.” For Martin, this meant sawing open a tin can with a serrated knife, eating it with a fork, and praying no metal shavings were lurking in each mouthful. Tonight’s feast: another can of tinned green beans and the last can of pineapple. He didn’t even like green beans, why had he ever bought these?

Martin gritted himself against the awful sound of metal on metal as he cut into a tin of beans, hissing sharply through his teeth and letting his mind wander. Maybe he could strain the beans? Let them dry? It would probably be better than the wet and soggy mush he was bound to find. Maybe he could put some crackers on them for a crunch? Pretend it’s a bad soup? As he was finishing his indelicate surgery, Martin tipped the can into the sink a little, hoping to strain the bean juice and improve the meal even a little. As he removed the last of the lid, he saw it.

There, in the sink, wiggling its way out of the drain. Another worm. Martin shrieked and jumped back, dropping the can in the sink with a clatter. He grabbed a roll of paper towels and began to stuff them down the sink, plugging up the drain as best he could. For extra measure, he plugged the faucet as well, suddenly terrified of accidentally swallowing one in a glass of water. Once the adrenaline rush had passed, Martin felt it: a stinging in his palm. They must have jumped at him, must have bitten him. It would be over soon, he knew it. He would be like Prentiss, a mass of tiny bodies. He braced himself to feel something, but nothing changed. Martin frowned, chewing on his lip in confusion, and hazarded a glance down to his hand. There was no worm in his palm, nothing wriggling and biting deep into his muscle, just a slice along the flesh of his thumb, dripping blood from where he must have cut himself on the tin can.

Sheepishly, Martin rolled his eyes at his defeatism. Did it hurt like hell? Yes. But he wasn’t going to become a worm monster. Not today. Grabbing a few more sheets of paper towel, Martin hissed in pain as he pressed them to his wound, making his way shakily to the paltry first-aid kit he kept in his bathroom. He was clumsy in his wound care, only able to use one hand to open the kit and the individually wrapped plasters, while the other pooled blood in his palm uselessly. The antiseptic had stung like hell and the plaster was off-center, but eventually, the job was done. Martin had managed.

“See?” He asked himself softly. “All better. We didn’t want the green beans anyways.” Martin was alone, but he would be fine. He could take care of himself.

——

2.

Martin’s phone had become less and less useful since his time in the Archives. Sasha and Tim had been distant in the end, their group texts dwindling into occasional messages regarding whether not someone had contacted so-and-so regarding their statement. He and Jon had called and texted quite a bit, before the Unknowing, when Jon had been in China, America, and wherever else Gertrude’s breadcrumbs had led him. But since the explosion, their messages lay at a standstill, a “good luck! come home safe :)” still waiting to be sent to “Jonathan Sims--Boss.” He used to call his mother every week, but the outgoing calls had dwindled as she returned less and less of them, until he received an apologetic voicemail from Steady Waters Care Home a few months ago.

Now, the only messages he received were his work emails and an occasional text from Peter with a request or two regarding The Magnus Institute. Not even spam calls reached him anymore. That was all fine by Martin. He was busy running the institute; he didn’t have time for social calls, even if he wanted any, which he didn’t. Martin had taken to leaving his phone in his work office, knowing he wouldn’t need it outside the building anyways. It was becoming something like a desktop mouse to him in its versatility.

It was a Thursday, and it was late--Martin’s watch read 11:09. Thursdays were Martin’s days to deliver paperwork to the archives. He could only ever do it at night when he was sure Jon had either gone home (or was asleep at his desk at the very least). Peter Lukas had been working Martin to the bone with all the paperwork he would hand off with a wave of his hand and an “I’ll be back next week Martin. Please don’t call me,” and this week’s stack of statement requests, financial approvals, and quarterly reviews would fall to Martin instead. Who knew running a front for feeding an all-seeing eldritch deity would require so many business expenses?

Martin. Martin knew. He had reviewed and approved each and every one.

It was the week after Halloween, so the list of those eager to give a statement was longer than usual. Hellweek, Tim used to call it, a grin on his face as Jon would frown and shake his head. The stack of folders Martin carried in his arms eclipsed his eyesight as he carefully made his way down the hall, the Lonely silencing his footsteps and the shuffle of his clothing. The elevator was broken this week, thanks to a visit from one of the Fairchilds. Martin clumsily opened the door to the stairwell, turning to the side slightly to see the steps that descended into the basement he knew so well. Cautiously, he began his way down the stairs, arms clutching the stack of paperwork and binders tight to his chest. The basement was eerily silent; even Martin’s muted steps echoed in his ears.

The door to the Archives creaked slightly, and Martin realized his mistake: he hadn’t propped the door. The thin streak of light that painted his way down the steps thinned and faded in time with the slow squeak of the door. The click of the latch sealed his fate: Martin was in the dark. He didn’t mind the dark, in principle, though his new awareness of the Fears heightened his concern considerably. He stepped down slowly, feeling for the steps with his foot as he went.

Halfway down the stairs, Martin heard a soft flutter as a few papers shifted in his stack. He hoisted the pile and tried to readjust it as he stepped once more. The combination of the changes in the balance of the papers and his weight combined were too much for his brain to process at once and he overcompensated on his step, putting his weight down a little too early. Martin felt the rush of adrenaline as he tried to catch himself, hands clutching uselessly at the paperwork in his hands as if it could save him and he felt himself tumble to the ground. Falling sideways, he hit his shoulder hard on the steps, momentum carrying him down the remaining steps to the floor. The loose papers not held in binders and folders scattered in what Martin was sure was every direction.

Martin was frozen on the floor, pain pulsing through his shoulder. He sat up tentatively, patting himself down as he set down what remained of his stack of folders. He wasn’t bleeding, but his ears were ringing and his arm hurt like hell. Listening carefully for the sound of anyone reacting to his presence, he rotated his shoulders carefully, wincing as throbbing radiated up his arm. He must have dislocated it. Patting his legs down, Martin found his phone in his pocket. He must have forgotten to put it on the charger. He...he could call someone, should call someone. His shoulder was dislocated.

He could call Jon.

He pulled up his text messages, the cursor blinking back at him, blinding in the dark. Jon was surely awake, he knew that man’s sleep schedule was worse than his.

good luck! come home safe :)

safe :)

safe.

“Shit.”

He couldn’t call Jon. It would undo everything he and Peter were trying to build up. It was all for Jon anyways, to keep him safe, to keep them all safe. No. He had to do this alone. It was best that way.

Martin sat himself up carefully. He had taken enough first aid courses (rather, he had watched them for free on the internet) to know how to set it back in place and he knew it would not be pleasant. He drew his right knee up, and clumsily unknotted his tie, using it to secure his arm to his knee. Martin closed his eyes tight and leaned away from his knee, rotating his shoulder as he stretched away, wincing in anticipation until he felt the wet pop of his arm slotting back into place. Sparks shot through his vision, his only grounding point in the dark, and he huffed out a cross between a moan and a curse.

He carefully made a fist with his re-set hand, tensing the muscles in his arm. Determining it to be good enough, Martin felt his way to his feet and grabbed the wall to steady himself. He knew there was a light switch somewhere--ah.

The light clicked on and he winced at the sudden change, letting his eyes adjust behind the safety of his lashes. When he opened his eyes again, he surveyed the mess of his paperwork, gathering it methodically. It took him another half hour, back against Tim’s old desk, to resort his files before setting them in the file basket he had installed on the door to the Archivist’s office, the rest going on the desk of Jon himself. He would see them all in the morning. At least Jon was home, resting.

When Martin emerged from the Archives, he glanced down at his watch, wondering if it was too late to hail a cab. He frowned at his watch; the face was cracked, the hands stuck at 11:11. He must have cracked it in his fall. “Make a wish,” Martin mumbled to himself, rolling his eyes. He was pretty sure his wishes were out of reach, hopeless. As long as he would be safe after all this, Martin could sacrifice a few wishes.

——

3.

Martin was on a walk. He had been doing that a lot, since his and Jon’s escape to Scotland. There was something comforting about the long stretches of rolling hills and rocky cliffsides, utterly devoid of menacing fear entities or bosses hellbent on destroying the world. Jon would come with him sometimes, especially in the early days when leaving each other’s presence was challenging to say the least, but Martin sometimes just needed the space. He loved Jon, he knew he did, and Jon did too, but sometimes the presence of another would build up and stifle him, an unbearable heat radiating off of Jon until Martin had to just go for a bit.

It was raining today, a bassy rhythm beating down on Martin’s umbrella as he walked a familiar cliffside path. He could see a rocky beach below him, waves made of roiling ink, more black than blue. The rain was comforting to him, distinguishing this ocean spread before him from the ocean of the Lonely and drowning out any thoughts that passed through Martin’s head. He stepped around a patch especially muddy gravel, glancing down and seeing a ghost of a reflection staring back at him.

Martin had been in a cold place today, withdrawn from the rest of the world. He had felt the fog blossoming over his mind and had known he needed to go for a bit, center himself, remind himself he was real. Rome wasn’t built in a day, and neither would his sense of self again, though he was making progress. Jon understood that sentiment, perhaps better than anyone else in the world, and had kissed him softly at the doorway, squeezing his hand in an unspoken promise. Martin tensed his own hand in a fist, still feeling the heat of Jon’s calloused palm under his, reveling in the idea that someone loved him the way Jon did, that someone loved him the way Jon did and that Martin loved Jon back. Martin felt his body solidifying under the rain, felt the wind buffet against him rather than pass through him.

Martin was thinking about going home when it happened.

Home, or Daisy’s safehouse, was a humble affair: reinforced windows, minimalist, a few guns hidden in the floorboards, lots of fresh fruits and vegetables from the village down the hill. It had been easy to reassign this place in Martin’s mind as home. He hadn’t felt at home since...well, definitely not since Prentiss. Maybe not before either.

The rain was letting up, and the brolly was forgotten in favor of letting the rain drop down into his hair, sopping his curls and plastering them to his skin. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so content to be in the rain. Things weren’t good, but they were the best they’d been in a while.

The next thing Martin knew he was on the ground, ankle twisted and both shins scraped, blood and dirt mingling on his legs. He tried to stand up and cried out as his ankle immediately gave way, the hope of putting weight on it dashed on the rocks of the beach far below him.

Martin Blackwood crawled to a tree, leaning his back against it, not minding the dirt that was sure to collect on his back and rump. He winced and massaged his ankle, already feeling it begin to swell under his fingertips. With his free hand, a silver scar shining between his forefinger and thumb, he reached for his phone from his jacket pocket, hands shaking as he clumsily dialed the only number in his list of favorites.

“Martin?” Jon’s voice was warm through the tinny speakers. “I hope you’re well.” It was carefully not a question, though Martin caught the notes of careful concern.

“Tch-” Martin sucked air through his teeth. “I fell, Jon. I twisted my ankle, I think? Can’t-ah-can’t walk.”

“Oh. Martin, dear,” Jon’s voice was softer, and Martin could practically see his love’s fingers, itching to do, to fix. “Do you need me to—I can come get you, if you like. I haven’t…I haven't looked. But I can, if you want me to.”

Martin smiled despite himself, hearing Jon’s cautious phrasing. “Please, yes. I’m pretty sure I’m near a picnic park, if you want to drive there and get me? Not sure this is a drivable trail.”

“Did you pass anyone?”

“…no?”

A pause. Martin heard static crackling through the phone. “No one will be there. I Know where you are, Martin. I’ll be there soon.”

Ten minutes and enough ice packs to ease the pain of a full rugby team later, Martin was laying in the back of Jon’s small car, heat blasting on him to dry his now-soaked clothing. There were perks to having an all-knowing partner, it turned out.

Later that evening, Martin was tucked into the couch, his head pleasantly nestled in cushions and his feet in Jon’s lap, who was carefully massaging his feet and ankles, probing for any long-term injuries with his Eyes. A mug of tea grasped between his hands, Martin sighed softly and felt warmth flood his face. He hadn’t been alone this time. He wouldn’t be alone ever again.

[whump-a-la-mode]

I’m back here again😭 you can’t just leave it in suspense ahhhhh one more please ? Pretty please? Magician one of course ahaha

No worries! With how this one ends, I won’t be surprised to see you right back in here =￣ω￣=

I will make a masterlist for magician’s assistant eventually I promise. Last part is here.

CW//Haphephobia, mitts, collars, missing whumper, manhunts

Someone was touching them.

It was to that, terrifying, startling thought that Villain awoke the second time. It wasn’t that they weren’t used to being touched-- their status as a prisoner made their captors feel to have the right to lay their hands on them whenever they so wished. But that didn’t mean they had to like it.

And it didn’t mean they should be waking up to it, either.

There was no bleariness, this time, to the way their eyes shot open, their body jolting upwards. It was their hands-- their mitts-- that were being touched. Defensively, they drew their arms to their chest, eyes fixing upon their attacker.

To Villain’s surprise, Civilian looked just as startled as they.

That didn’t stop the villain from shaking, of course. They were already so vulnerable...

Without their collar, their cone, there was nothing to protect them. Just the mitts.

Tightly, they wrapped their arms around their chest. Supplying their own affection.

“So-Sorry, sorry about that.” Civilian sputtered, once they had recovered from their own shock.

Lips quivering far too much to allow speech, Villain’s gaze cast downwards.

“I didn’t realize you were going to wake up like that.” Seemingly realizing the extent of the situation, Civilian stood, backing away a few feet from the couch that served as the villain’s current residence. “I was just looking at your wounds. I figured it would be better cause you wouldn’t be scared and- Sorry.” Nervously, they chuckled. “Sorry about that. Really.”

Villain knew full well that a response was expected. Yet, as their fingertips dug deeper to the meat of their arms, they became aware that none was going to be produced. Not at the moment.

They wanted their collar they wanted their collar they wanted their collar they-

They looked up, meeting Civilian’s gaze. A pitied expression danced upon their countenance, yet, in their eyes, there was no such resemblance.

“Well.” The civilian rolled their shoulders back, taking a breath that displayed their insecurity more than anything else. “It’s been two hours, now. Just about. How are you feeling? I’m sure you’d like to rest a bit more, and you can, but... we’ve gotta talk first.”

Certainly, a deep fatigue had buried itself within Villain’s bones. Yet, presently, its profoundness made it irrelevant. Instead, the shock of their surprise awakening had dried their current exhaustion, leaving them with little but shakiness. 

So, in a way, they supposed they had slept well.

With considerable effort, a single sound allowed itself to slip from their pursed lips:

“Okay.”

“Great.” Civilian clapped their hands together. “Also, how are you feeling? Having some food should have helped flush that tranq from your system.”

At the very least, that was a true statement. The forced weariness the gas had imposed upon them had been, for the most part, banished, leaving behind only normal exhaustion.

“Better. I’m feeling better.”

“That’s good. Before you, um, woke up, I was just looking at your wounds. Do they hurt at all?”

Villain had almost forgotten about the bruises and cuts that had been adorned upon them during their escape from the Heroes’ HQ. Slamming into a wall as they had certainly hadn’t done them any favors, and neither had crashing through a glass door. They hadn’t observed their own wounds as of yet, but they could only assume the various throbbing patches along their body could be explained by their brief stint as the human equivalent of a piece of driftwood, washing through an angry river.

“A little bit.”

“Well, if you want, I can get you some Tylonel. You want some Tylonel?”

“No. No thank you.” They’d had more than enough drugs.

“Alright. Well... If you’re up for it.” They rubbed their thumb and forefinger together in a nervous gesture. “We need to talk. Me, you, and Spouse. Is that alright?”

The way they spoke, Villain couldn’t help but feel that there was little actual choice involved.

“Okay.”

“Great! Do you think you can walk? Or would you like a little help?”

“I can walk.”

With the effects of the tranquilizer worn off, their legs no longer felt like jelly. Though pins and needles swarmed them as they stood, they held strong. Civilian ghosted a hand over their shoulder, leading them from the living room and into an adjoining kitchen area. There they gestured for them to sit.

Spouse was already seated, rather silently, across from them. Once Villain settled, Civilian joined at their partner’s side.

As soon as they sat, they quickly swiped an item from the table’s surface-- a cellphone that, to Villain, appeared oddly familiar. Yet, they dismissed it, allowing their nerves to occupy their thoughts.

“You want to start, honey?” Civilian diverted to their partner, who nodded.

“Of course. I guess this is all still a little bit- Well, surprising is the least of it. To start from the beginning, I’m not sure how much you remember of meeting me. A pretty strange way to meet someone.” They giggled. “I was out walking Hydro along the riverside when I saw you, on the bank. It’s lucky that the tides threw you out when they did.

You didn’t want me to call emergency services-- I think you remember that part, probably. I understand why, now. I didn’t understand just how much the Heroes are involved in all that stuff. But, I couldn’t just leave you there. So, my partner being a doctor and all...”

“They carried you all the way home. Now, imagine my surprise!”

“We don’t exactly have much in the way of equipment, here, but you didn’t seem terribly hurt. Just out of it. It’s been... Maybe 24 hours since you escaped?”

“Pretty much exactly.”

“And, we know that you escaped.”

Villain couldn’t help but squirm in their seat.

“I’d heard of you before.” Spouse continued. “On the news. But last I heard you’d been captured. If you’d been in that river just a little longer... Or if someone else had found you...”

“They’re looking for you.” Civilian took over in a low pitch. “It’s all over the news, every channel, practically. All the info’s started to get mixed up, but they’re saying you’re dangerous.”

“We know you’re not.”

“Yes. But, that doesn’t mean that everyone else does. As far as they know, a dangerous villain has escaped, and could be anywhere, now. They say they can track you, based on the signature left behind by your powers.”

All the effort, just to bring them back.

To put them back on stage.

“But,” Civilian sighed. “We want to help you, Villain. As much as we can. But, our house isn’t going to be safe forever.”

They glanced to their partner, who returned the look. The two grasped hands.

“We have two options worked out.” Spouse murmured.

“Mhm.”

“The first one... You stay here for a little longer. One or two days, at the most. But any longer, and it won’t be safe. Then, you have to go. We have supplies you can take. Food, water, money. Though the last one...

We’re close enough to the border, and we have a car. We can take you across the line. But then, you can do whatever you want.”

There was a somber tone, to their voice, and an equally sorrowed pit developing in the depths of Villain’s stomach.

Left alone...

They couldn’t do whatever they wanted, because they didn’t want anything. Their aspirations before had been so simple. A bit more slop for dinner. Being left alone for a day. Not being struck.

Now...

They shivered at the thought.

“The other option.” Civilian took over. “Might be a little less daunting, though it’s your choice. This is all up to you.

The second option is... I have a lot of friends, you see. Friends with medical know-how, just like I do. They live all around the city. You could stay with each of them, for a few days. On a rotating cycle. That way, none of us would arouse suspicion. Then, you’ll have more time to think, and maybe... I don’t know. Rebuild.”

“Even if you want that, you can stay with us for another day, too.” Spouse added.

“Mhm.”

Then, all eyes were on Villain.

“So...” Civilian began. “What do you want?”

When was the last time they’d been asked that question?

“I-Um- I- I-”

“They might need some time, honey. Do you want some time to think, Villain?”

“Y-Yes. Please.”

“Okay.” Civilian sighed. “Think on it, okay? But, you need to choose by tomorrow.”

“O-Okay.”

Spouse looked upon them with a gaze that showed no faux pity.

“They’re stressed, honey. We’re stressing them out. Come on, Villain. Let’s go down something to calm down, okay?”

Just like Hero used to.

Though their idea of calming down was usually putting a hood over their head.

“Okay.” They dipped their head.

“You two have fun, then.” Civilian placed a faux smile upon their countenance. “I have some phone calls to make.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

“How about board games? Do you like board games?”

“Um... Maybe?” Villain bit their lower lip. “I can’t really move the pieces- If they’re tracking my powers...”

“I could take those mitts off for you?” Spouse suggested, cocking their head to the side.

“No! Um. No. Please don’t.”

“Okay. No worries. So, no board games.”

They closed the cupboard in which they had been riffling, pushing around boxes of weathered games. Stretching their legs, they stood, scanning a tabletop.

“Hm... What about a book? We have Lord of the Rings...”

A book? They hadn’t read in so long... Yet, the other villains had always teased them for being a bookworm. It hadn’t been since their childhood that they had read much in the way of high fantasy, but-

“Yes!”

“Oh, you liked that, huh?” Spouse smiled. “Books it is. Here you go.”

They handed Villain a thick novel, bound in weathered hardcover that had clearly seen many days since its last dusting. The villain gripped it in shaking fingers, glancing at the cover-

And throwing it to the ground.

Dogs don’t fucking read, idiot. Don’t look at that.

Hero’s voice stabbed at them, a strike of lightning in the back of their mind.

Dogs don’t read.

“Villain? You okay?”

“I- I- U- Uh-” They were hyperventilating. Oh, god, they were hyperventilating. “I can’t read?”

“Oh.” Spouse seemed surprised for a moment, before they nodded with understanding. “Well... How about I read to you?”

They’d really take that kind of time?

“You really mean it?”

“Sure! We have to wait for Civilian to get off the phone, anyways.”

Excitement consumed Villain as the two prepared for their storytime. They settled upon the couch, a blanket draped over the villain’s lap.

It was such a grand excitement, that they did not so much as notice the sound, bleeding from Civilian’s phone in the other room.

Had they been paying attention, they would have recognized Hero’s voice anywhere.

[megahwn]

Smitten

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x female reader

Genre: arranged marriage!au, strangers to lovers

Word Count: 16,902

Rating: 18+

Warnings: alcohol mentions/consumption; menstruation mention; description of a panic attack; explicit language; biting/marking; fondling over clothes; a sort-of handjob; a single piercing; vaginal fingering; finger sucking; unprotected vaginal intercourse; almost simultaneous orgasms; creampie

Summary: You live in a world where loving another is criminal. Partners are chosen by your elders to produce the best offspring and to help the economy thrive. Living in this world, you feel broken. You feel broken because you have accidentally fallen for your new husband, Jeon Jungkook.

A/N: Part of BTS Writers’ Corner’s Amor Fabula Project. Thank u to @joopiterjoon @kitsutaes @spicykoreantatertots @staerrylights​ for beta-reading parts of this fic for me, I appreciate you all!

The elders are relatively mysterious to you. You don’t know how many of them there are, what they do with their time, what they look like. All you really know about them is how powerful they are. They are the entity that decides which people will marry in order to produce the healthiest offspring and to keep the economy strong. Most people accept their pairing and then live their lives married to someone they don’t know. Others, however few there may be, reject their pairing and go out looking for true love on their own.

~~~

You and Jungkook tumble through the door of your new apartment, exhausted from the day’s events but giddy from the wine. Today had gone much more smoothly than you had anticipated it would. The kiss at the altar was far from awkward, your families seemed to get along well, and your conversation with Jungkook at your sweetheart table left nothing to be desired (thank you, white zinfandel). It was almost as if your wedding was based on something more than genetics and finances. Almost.

In all honesty, you want nothing more in this moment than to get out of this obnoxious outfit, get into some sweats and keep binging This Is Us. While today went as ideally as it could have, it won't hurt to get lost in the Pearsons' love story for a few hours instead of having to face your non-love story as soon as you arrive home from your own wedding.

It won't hurt. Not one bit.

You are already out of one shoe and hobbling down the hallway to your shared bedroom when you realize that it is, in fact, a shared bedroom, and you can't just throw all your clothes everywhere on your quest to get naked and comfortable. Your eyes immediately begin darting around the almost-familiar space for a spot to use to go through your nightly routine without Jungkook seeing... well, any of it. As capable as you are of being outgoing when the situation demands it, you are, by nature, a pretty shy person, and you don’t yet feel ready to let someone else be aware of your bedtime habits. Even if that someone is your new husband.

While you’re in the middle of scouring the room for a suitable place to hide, you hear the distinct sound of someone’s throat clearing a few feet behind you. You whip around with wide eyes, not realizing you had stopped in the doorway and blocked the only route into the bedroom. You take in the sight now before you and your eyes, if possible, grow even wider.

Jungkook looks good. His cheeks are still a little rosy from the alcohol, and his hair is swept off his forehead and parted on one side. His tie is loosened and the top few buttons of his dress shirt are undone. He managed to shed his suit jacket somewhere between the front door and the bedroom, and his shirt sleeves are now rolled up his forearms. There is an obvious vein running from his hand up his arm and under his sleeve. He is fiddling with the wedding band on his other hand. While he does look good, he also looks nervous.

Damn him.

Before you even have the chance to begin lusting after Jungkook, even for a moment, anxious thoughts begin flooding your brain in powerful waves. Why does he look nervous? Did you do something to upset him in the time it took to get from the apartment threshold to this spot? You probably did and now he hates you and you’re going to have to share an apartment and a bed with someone who can’t stand you and you’re going to –

“Is something wrong?” Jungkook asks. “Is it the Iron Man poster? The Cooky plushie? I can get rid of them if you want. Man, I knew I shouldn’t have brought them here with me. God, this is embarrassing.” You notice he sounds slightly panicked.

Wait, what? You manage to get out of your own head for a second to focus on what Jungkook is saying. He’s embarrassed. Why is he embarrassed?

You turn back around to look into the bedroom once more, and your eyes immediately find the poster and the plushie he mentioned. Instead of saying anything, you walk towards the bed as well as you can in your dress, and you pick up the plushie from Jungkook’s side of the mattress. You look at it closely and then you rotate once more to look at Jungkook, who looks positively terrified. You consider teasing him, but decide against it almost immediately, as you think it might actually kill him.

You choose to walk back over to the doorway instead, holding the plushie as you move. Jungkook looks like he wants to back away, but he seems rooted to the spot. You take a breath and hope that what you’re about to say doesn’t ruin the day you’ve had with him and make everything (even more) awkward between you.

“Do you have any of the others or just Cooky?”

Jungkook’s eyes go as wide as you felt yours did earlier. You immediately think you’ve said the wrong thing, but then he smiles, showing off his bunny-like teeth.

“You know about the others?” he says shyly, referring to the rest of the popular plushie brand. He is still turning his wedding ring around on his finger, but not as intensely as he had been before. You take that as a good sign.

“Yeah, of course I do,” you respond without missing a beat. A smile creeps up onto your face as well. “I actually have Koya packed away in one of these boxes somewhere.” You gesture to the boxes you have yet to unpack, laying in the living room unopened and sort of sad-looking compared to all of the stuff Jungkook has already placed around the apartment.

Jungkook’s smile grows at your words. He lets go of his wedding ring and flexes his hands at his sides in excitement. You try not to stare as he steps closer to you, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He looks like he’s trying to hold back how happy he really is to have learned this information about you. You barely register his emotions, though, as you’re now intently focused on his proximity to you. He smells mild, like soap. It’s nice.

“Do you really have Koya?” Jungkook practically whispers at you. You hold back a giggle and respond with a soft, “Yes. I wouldn’t lie about something like that.” The truth is that you wouldn’t lie about anything, but you figure now isn’t really the time to be sharing such things. Now is the time for talking about plushies.

Jungkook seems to debate with himself for a moment, and you wait patiently for him to come to a decision, whatever it is. You take the moment to look at his face more closely while he’s looking away from you. His skin is beautiful, milky. His eyebrows fit his face nicely, with just the right amount of arch to them. His eyes are a deep brown, and he has a small scar underneath his left one. You have the urge to reach out and touch it, but you hold yourself back by holding tighter to the Cooky plushie in your hands. You don’t want to interrupt his thought process. Or worse, freak him out and end whatever moment you might be having.

You don’t get the chance to study the bottom half of his face because he begins speaking again, although he does so without making eye contact. He seems to be looking at your lips instead when he says, “Can I see him?”

You take a moment to recall what you had been talking about, and upon remembering you light up and respond with a nod. You begin walking into the living room before you remember that you are still in your wedding dress and it’s beginning to get uncomfortable. You stop moving and tilt your head back with a sigh before saying, “Can I actually get this dress off first? It’s starting to dig into my ribs.”

Jungkook looks like he doesn’t understand why you just asked him for permission to change your clothes. He responds with a confused-sounding “Yes?” and steps out of the way so you can make your way back to the bedroom once more. You make it inside, toss Cooky onto the bed, and begin rummaging through your dresser drawers before finding a suitable t-shirt and the most comfortable pair of sweatpants you own. You then head straight for the bathroom when you see Jungkook looking through his own dresser, presumably to do the same.

You make it into the bathroom, close the door behind you, and let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You drop the clothes onto the floor next to you and turn to look at yourself in the mirror. Your makeup held up well throughout the day, and you realize you need to take it off. You search the countertop and the cabinet behind you for makeup remover but find none. You suppose it’s actually a good thing that Jungkook wants to see your Koya plushie after all, as it will motivate you to unpack the rest of your things. Maybe he’ll help you.

You push that thought aside as soon as you think it, and you kick off your remaining heel (how were you walking around with one shoe on for so long?). You flex your feet to get some feeling back in them, and then you begin to remove your dress.

Or, at least, you attempt to begin removing your dress.

The intricate ties in the back of the garment combined with the restricting bodice don’t allow you to move your arms very far behind you, and you soon realize that the dress is not going to come off without some help. You think about how the only person who can possibly assist you in this situation is just outside the door, but for some reason you are unwilling to remove that barrier and ask for his help.

You end up spending a good fifteen minutes in the bathroom alone, silently struggling to undo the knots you have managed to make behind you. It’s only when you hear an apprehensive knock on the door that you let out a little squeak, then clear your throat and respond, “Yeah?”

You hear Jungkook’s muffled voice behind the door. “Hey, I don’t want to rush you or anything, but I really have to pee.”

You would chuckle if you weren’t in such a predicament. You go over your options one more time before deciding that you really do need Jungkook’s help if you ever want to breathe properly again. You slowly turn toward the door and open it, revealing a concerned-looking Jungkook behind it. He is now wearing boxers and what is possibly the most form-fitting shirt you have ever seen another human wear in your entire life. You can see his biceps and his abs through the shirt, and his thick thighs are on full display. You remind yourself not to drool.

Jungkook breaks the silence by asking, “Aren’t you supposed to be changing?”

You sheepishly nod and then turn around to reveal the absolute mess you have made of your bodice ties. You hear a quiet chuckle behind you and then you feel hands at your back. They’re firm but gentle in their movements behind you. Jungkook is helping you get your bodice undone and you didn’t even have to ask him. Your heart hurts a little. You ignore it.

“Thank you,” you breathe out, so quietly you’re sure Jungkook didn’t hear you say it. But then you hear him mumble out a “No big deal,” and you remember that this is an arrangement that the elders chose for you, and that you didn’t have a say in. Jungkook’s just being nice because he’s a good person, not because he cares about you. He doesn’t even know you. Your heart hurts a little louder this time.

Jungkook gets the bodice ties undone and you practically rip the thing off of you and take in a huge breath. You sigh out and reach for the zipper on the back of the dress without thinking, but it turns out you can’t undo that by yourself either. You let your hands fall awkwardly to your sides before letting out another sigh and saying, “So, um... I still need help.”

This time, Jungkook’s hands reach your back much more slowly than they did before. You wonder why. It’s only when the zipper is down your back and all the random buttons are undone that you realize why he’s being so hesitant – you’re basically half-naked in front of this guy and you’ve never done anything more intimate than kiss each other in front of a bunch of people one time a couple hours ago. You hold the dress to your front and turn around to face Jungkook and thank him for his help, but something stops you.

His eyes are screwed shut.

This time you actually do laugh out loud. It startles him and he opens his eyes. Cute.

“What were you doing?” you ask jovially. You’re pretty sure you already know the answer, but you want to make him squirm.

“Uh...” Jungkook starts. His eyes then wander down the front of your body and snap back up just as quickly, as if he suddenly remembered you could see him now. “I was, uh, keeping my eyes closed in case you... you know...”

“In case I what?” you tease, taking half a step closer to him. He doesn’t back away.

“In case you didn’t want me to see you... like that.” Jungkook’s cheeks had been getting lighter since you arrived home, but now the redness has returned, maybe even intensified. You decide to put him out of his misery.

“Thank you, I appreciate that. Even though we are married.” You’re not sure why you add that last part, seeing as you were just as nervous as Jungkook only moments ago. Maybe seeing him flustered makes you feel a little less alone, and a little more likely to joke around the way you would with someone you know well.

Jungkook opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but then closes it again. He settles on saying, “Right,” and then he backs out of the bathroom to let you finish changing.

You eventually emerge from the bathroom feeling better than you have all day, and you see Jungkook sitting patiently at the foot of the bed, legs crossed, waiting for you. You smile at him while gesturing to the bathroom behind you and saying, “All yours. I’ll be out there waiting for you.”

Jungkook’s face lights up at your words, like he had been thinking you might change your mind about unpacking with him. Impossible. He gets up from the bed and goes into the bathroom quickly.

You soon hear the telltale sounds of the toilet flushing and the faucet running, and then Jungkook is back in the living room, gingerly approaching you as if you were a wild animal or something fragile that he didn’t want to break. You both plop to the ground and you reach for the box nearest to you.

“You didn’t label them?” Jungkook asks incredulously. “How are you supposed to know what anything is?”

“I just kind of wing it,” you respond casually, to which Jungkook shrugs and says, “Okay, fair.”

Once you have the box in front of you, you open it and begin searching through it for your Koya. It turns out that Koya is not in the first box, or the second, or the third... or the fourth. By this point you’re getting distracted by all the things you’re unboxing and by telling Jungkook about all the things you’re unboxing.

He doesn’t seem to mind, though. On the contrary, he seems to be just as invested in your unpacking as you are. He does end up helping you place things around the apartment like you hoped he would.

It feels like something real partners would do.

You try not to dwell on it, but the thought persists as you start opening the fifth box. Your Koya sits right on top of the mess of odds and ends you packed from your old bedroom. You smile and remove it from the box, lifting it up just enough for Jungkook to see it properly. You turn to him to see his reaction, but don’t expect the one you get.

Jungkook is smiling again, his bunny teeth poking through his lips cutely, but his eyes are shining. Instead of letting the panic overtake you once more and make you think you’ve somehow offended him, you simply say, “Hey. What is it?”

Jungkook looks up from the plushie to your eyes, then dabs at his own with the backs of his hands before responding. You wait for him like you did before.

When he finally speaks, he says a little shakily, “I’m sorry, I just... didn’t really expect this.”

“What do you mean?”

“I didn’t expect you to really have him. I kind of thought you were just being nice to me.”

You resist the urge to lean over and pull him into a tight hug. You settle for responding with, “I told you I wouldn’t lie.”

Jungkook is quick to shake his head and say, “I know, and I’m sorry. I should have believed you. It’s just... we don’t really know each other yet, you know?”

You stiffen a little at his words, but then force yourself to relax. Right. You had honestly forgotten about that. While you’re a little hurt, you suppose you have to allow him that skepticism. You would be skeptical, too, if the roles were reversed.

“It’s okay, I’m not upset. Are you okay?”

Jungkook pauses for a moment. He seems to like to think before he speaks, as if he wants to make sure he says the right thing the first time. You can relate.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” he says slowly. “I’m just... happy.”

You beam at him and give him your Koya to hold while you unpack the rest of the box. The others can wait until tomorrow.

You both eventually head to bed, completely drained from the wedding and your respective emotions. Jungkook is still holding Koya when he climbs under the covers, so you pick up his Cooky and hold it to you as well. That’s how you fall asleep – silently, each holding a piece of the other.

~~~

“Would it be weird if our friends met each other?”

You look up from your bowl of Corn Pops, surprised by Jungkook’s sudden question. Would it be weird? You’ve been married for over a month already, but other than at your wedding reception, you haven’t ever really interacted with any of Jungkook’s friends. Maybe, you think, it’s time to blur the lines between you a bit more by having both sets of friends congregate in one place again. The prospect alone excites you a bit, as it will not only give you the opportunity to get to know Jungkook’s people a little bit better, but hopefully Jungkook himself, as well.

Within the last month or so of your marriage, your initial intrigue with Jungkook has developed into a full-blown crush. You hadn’t expected to develop feelings for Jungkook, but he’s so damn perfect that you can’t help it.

Besides the fact that he looks like he was sculpted by the gods themselves, he’s just about the most selfless and considerate person you’ve ever met. He always asks if he can join you on the couch while you’re watching television. (The first time he did it, you had told him he didn’t need to ask because it’s his apartment, too. He still does it.) He also knows you get hot when you sleep, so he turns the overhead fan on in your bedroom, even though he gets cold at night. (When you had asked him why he had been wearing layers to bed, he had just blushed a light pink and said it was no big deal.)

It might be a big deal to you. 

You go for nonchalance when you say, “Um… I mean, I guess not. Since we’re going to be together for the foreseeable future, I suppose it would happen eventually anyway.” You’re already completely sold on the idea and would probably be sad if it didn’t happen, so you give yourself a mental high-five for not sounding desperate at any point during your response.

“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking, too, “Jungkook says, apparently unaware of the mental marathon you just subjected yourself to. “What if we had a game night?”

You perk up even more at Jungkook’s mention of games. You’ve always been able to bond with others over a good board game and a glass of wine or two. You suppose a game night would be a good way to get to know Jungkook’s friends, and to have him get to know yours.

“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. I like it,” you reply with a grin.

Jungkook’s bunny teeth make an appearance as he smiles back at you. “Okay, let’s do it.”

That weekend, you receive six separate knocks at your door.

Yoongi, your best friend from college, arrives first, a gummy smile on his face and a bottle of sweet red in hand. You pull him into a hug before he can even cross the threshold, and he practically trips through your entryway when you pull him across it.

“Hey,” you choke out, not realizing how close to tears you are just from having Yoongi near after a while. As you hug your friend, you realize you haven’t seen him since your wedding, what with his hectic work schedule and your new living situation. It used to be easy to meet up whenever you wanted back in college, but these days you have to make plans to see each other. It makes you sad whenever you think about it. You suppose you’re also emotional because he’s been a constant in your life for several years now, and knowing he’s still here for you even though your life has changed so dramatically is a big comfort for you.

“Hey,” he repeats back to you, bringing one hand up to pat the back of your head gently as you rest it in the crook of his neck. He’s not one for much physical affection but he knows that you are, so he always accepts your hugs. It makes you appreciate him all the more.

“Okay, I’m good,” you say after a bit, finally letting Yoongi go, snatching the bottle from his hands and moving to put it on ice just so you have something to do. He doesn’t even protest, just lets you take it from him. He really is a great best friend.

“Um,” you call out from your place in the living room, “Jungkook, you remember Yoongi, right?”

You turn around in time to see Jungkook and Yoongi shaking hands and exchanging greetings. Seeing two of your worlds coming together so visibly makes you feel warm inside.

Next to make an appearance is Jungkook’s best man, Namjoon. He’s taller than Jungkook, and he’s wearing round glasses and a black turtleneck sweater. He bows his head politely upon seeing you, and then he gives Jungkook one of those man hugs that you don’t understand. When they part, Jungkook continues looking up at Namjoon with something akin to stars in his eyes. He must really admire the guy.

“Good to see you again,” Namjoon says just as politely as he had nodded at you earlier. You try to hold back a giggle at his formality. Maybe he’ll loosen up with some wine like he seemed to at your wedding.

“It’s good to see you again, too,” you reply similarly. One thing you know about Namjoon is that he tends to be polite when he’s nervous, so you mimic his greeting in an attempt to assuage any anxiety he might be experiencing. Based on the way he smiles at you, you think your efforts are successful.

You and Jungkook lead Namjoon to the living room, where Yoongi is already sitting comfortably with a full glass in hand. Namjoon sits down just as politely as he speaks, but before you have the chance to introduce the two, Yoongi suddenly asks him, “Do I know you from somewhere? I meant to ask you at the wedding but never got the chance.”

Namjoon pauses pouring himself a glass, seeming a little taken aback by Yoongi’s directness. Still, he says, “Um, I’m not sure. What do you do for work?”

Soon after Namjoon and Yoongi begin trying to figure out how they might know each other, your old neighbor Seokjin shows up with an entire roast chicken in hand, which you don’t remember asking him to bring but appreciate all the same. He gives you the best side hug he can with one arm full, and then you lead him to the kitchen so he can put the bird down.

“So,” he starts once you reach the kitchen, no tact in his voice whatsoever. “How are things going? Are they going? Are you two in love yet?" he asks outright, fluttering his eyelashes and drawing out the ‘o’ in ‘love’.

You hit his arm lightly while giving him your best expression of offense, and he seems to snap out of it. After sticking out his tongue at you, he begins looking around in your cabinets and drawers for the things he needs to serve the chicken.

He whips back around to face you, sharp knife in hand and unadulterated glee on his face, when you quietly say, “Nothing’s happened, but you already know I like him. I told you, like, last week.” You can feel your cheeks blazing at the admission you never thought you’d make out loud. Meanwhile, Seokjin has put the knife down on the counter (thankfully) and is now jumping up and down in place, flapping his hands, and making a noise similar to a squeal.

You want to hit him again, but you suppose he has a right to be excited for you. He sort of took you under his wing when you were neighbors, treating you to meals and babysitting your plants any time you were away. He’s also the only one who knows your deepest secret - that you want to fall in love and be loved in return.

It had just sort of slipped out one day, You both had had some wine and were talking about life when you suddenly confessed to wanting real, honest love rather than a lonely arranged partnership. You just couldn’t keep it to yourself anymore. Seokjin, in turn, had confessed that he liked spending time with you more than with his assigned wife. You both may have shed a few tears at your predicaments.

Instead of resorting to physical violence twice in the span of thirty seconds, you give Seokjin your best attempt at a withering stare. He stops jumping and puts his hands up in defeat, muttering out, “Fine, fine,” which appeases you greatly. Before you can leave the kitchen, however, he gives you a mischievous smile and tacks on, “Just so you know, though, I’m rooting for you two.”

You hit him again.

While Seokjin continues fiddling around in the kitchen and the other guys are mingling (it turns out that Yoongi and Namjoon both make music and know some of the same people), your favorite coworker Hoseok comes bounding through the door and almost knocks you over with the force of his hug. He’s still vibrating with energy when he lets go of you, and his soft, heart-shaped smile makes you feel more at ease than you have been so far tonight.

“I’ve missed you!” he practically shouts as he looks at you fondly, still holding onto your shoulders. “Work hasn’t been the same without you there.”

You know he’s referring to the sixty days that new couples are required to spend away from work ‘getting to know each other’ after first getting married, which is just a nice way to say you’re meant to spend that time making babies. While the thought of having children (and making children) with Jungkook is extremely appealing to you, that’s all it is right now. Just a thought. You’re not even sure Jungkook is totally comfortable sharing a bed with you yet.

“Just a few more weeks and I’ll be back!” you practically shout back at him. Hoseok’s energy has always been infectious to the point that you sometimes end up mirroring his seemingly limitless joy. It’s always made work much more bearable for you. Thinking about it and having Hoseok here in front of you now makes you realize how much you really do miss your job.

Just as Hoseok joins the others in the living room and begins picking chicken off of Seokjin’s plate, there is another knock at the door. Before you can move to answer it, however, Jungkook urges you to sit in the living room while he answers it instead. You wonder how Jungkook can possibly know that his best friend is behind the door, but sure enough, he opens it and there stands Taehyung. His entire outfit says ‘artist,’ from the beret sitting crookedly atop his head to the brown corduroy pants adorning his long legs. Jungkook gives Taehyung one of the most sincere hugs you’ve ever seen him give another person, and when they part they move toward each other once more to briefly touch foreheads. It’s a sweet gesture, one that you decide is fitting of someone like Jungkook.

Once the two men completely separate, Taehyung looks at you with shining eyes and immediately moves toward you for a hug. You’re surprised by the gesture, but you accept it anyway. Before he pulls away from you, Taehyung whispers into your ear, “Jungkook told me you like hugs, so I hope this is okay.”

Your eyes widen a bit at this information. Jungkook talks to his friends about the things you like? How did he even know that about you? Did you tell him and forget about it? Was he just able to figure that out about you by himself? Either way, you find yourself nodding at Taehyung as you two end your hug. He gives you a boxy smile in return, shoulders scrunched up to his ears. You decide then and there that you like Taehyung already.

The last to arrive is one of Jungkook’s childhood friends, Jimin. He looks a little frazzled, with wild eyes peeking out from behind his designer sunglasses and silvery-grey hair standing on end. (You soon realize his hair looks like that because he constantly runs his hands through it.) You try not to eavesdrop as Jimin greets Jungkook at the door, but you swear you hear Jimin say something about hoping Taehyung might not be here. Before you can wonder what he means, however, you hear Jungkook chuckle and respond with something that sounds like “It’s no big deal, you’ll be fine.”

Jungkook leads Jimin into the living room, where the rest of you are talking loudly amongst yourselves, various open bottles of wine and plates of roast chicken littering the coffee table. Taehyung looks up from his drink as the two enter the room, and he positively beams at Jimin. He pats the open space next to him on your big lounge chair, and after a moment of hesitation, Jimin smiles back and makes his way over to that spot. The two begin murmuring to each other, and finally your attention is pulled away from them when Jungkook plops down next to you on the couch and pats your knee gently. You bring your foot up under your other leg and rest your knee on Jungkook’s thigh. He keeps his hand on you.

It’s comforting to have him there, touching you. You didn’t realize it before this moment, but you were pretty nervous about having tonight go well. Having Jungkook next to you, wanting the same thing as you, makes you feel like you might not be alone in your other desires, either.

His touch comforts you to the point that you even miss the butterflies in your stomach.

Your curiosity about Jimin’s words gets the better of you, so you lean over and whisper to Jungkook, “What’s up with those two?” while gesturing across the room as subtly as you can.

Jungkook peers over at you with an unreadable face and whispers back, “I’ll tell you later.”

You don’t push him, and you move your questions to the back of your mind for after everyone leaves.

You pour yourself a glass of wine and sit back against the couch, careful to not give Jungkook a reason to take his hand off of you just yet. You turn to Seokjin and Hoseok, only to find that they’re in the middle of a heated debate about whether barbeque or garlic fried chicken is better. (How could you do this to me? And after all the meals I’ve cooked for you!” Seokjin cried when you had sided with Hoseok in the barbeque camp. You clinked glasses with Hoseok in solidarity while Seokjin continued to grumble without any real malice behind it.)

You then find yourself distracted by Yoongi and Namjoon animatedly discussing digital audio workstations, which you only know anything about because Yoongi used to have you sit in his room in college and listen to him excitedly talk about the newest software he had bought with the money he earned from delivering pizzas. You personally think that MixPad is better than FocusRite, but you like watching them talk it out themselves rather than offering your own two cents. From what you can tell, Namjoon seems to be really knowledgeable about the subject as a whole. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Yoongi look at another person so intensely.

Once you lose track of what Yoongi and Namjoon are saying, you turn your head once again to find that Jimin and Taehyung are happily cuddling in your big chair, giant smiles plastered on both of their faces.

“How did you two meet?” you ask, hoping that’s not too invasive of a question.

Taehyung tears his eyes away from Jimin long enough to look at you, still looking giddy. “We met through Jungkook, actually. They were friends when they were kids and I met Jungkook when we were teenagers, and when it turned out that Jimin and I were going to be in the same year at the same college, Jungkook basically forced us to get to know each other so we could all be friends.”

You barely have time to say, “Aw, that’s sweet,” before Taehyung is back to looking at Jimin again. You don’t blame him. You turn to Jungkook instead.

“That was really cool of you to do,” you say to him while giving him a little nudge. “Bringing them together like that.”

You can tell that Jungkook is trying not to smile into his glass as he takes a sip. His ears are red, though, giving away how pleased he is with your compliment. “Thanks,” he mumbles into his wine. He gives your leg a little squeeze, and you both turn back to your guests.

After a little while of drinking, catching up with your old friends, and getting to know your new ones (you were right, Namjoon did loosen up after having some wine), you break out the board games. Soon enough, though, you discover that the majority of the people you’re playing with are a bunch of cheaters.

You catch Taehyung shoving Clue cards up his sleeve on more than one occasion, Hoseok doesn’t include all of the epidemic cards in the deck during your game of Pandemic, Seokjin keeps adding extra trains to his part of the board during Ticket to Ride, Namjoon and Jimin don’t call each other out for giving incorrect clues during Taboo, and Yoongi quits right in the middle of Secret Hitler because he’s ‘tired of being a liberal every time.’ The only one playing the games honestly with you is Jungkook, and that makes you happier than you think it should.

You eventually threaten the whole room, wine-tipsy as they are, with permanent exile from your apartment if they cheat at the next game, to which you receive grumbles of agreement that they will play correctly from now on. With a satisfied smile, you begin handing out the cards. A few riveting rounds of Sushi Go later, everyone seems to have paired off.

Yoongi and Namjoon are back to talking about music, and have even exchanged numbers with the promise that they’ll meet up sometime to work on something together. Hoseok and Seokjin have engaged each other in a pun war of sorts, trying to one-up the other with their best jokes about chickens. Taehyung and Jimin are giggling quietly at each other, still sitting together in your big chair. Their legs are tangled up, and they haven’t taken their eyes off each other since the last game ended. It’s sweet.

While you are looking around happily at your friends, you feel the same hand on your knee that comforted you earlier. This time, though, with your nervousness having dissipated, you focus on his hand more than you did before. This time, you easily recognize the butterflies that always seem to accompany Jungkook’s touch on your skin. Just for today, you decide to bask in his warmth and allow the butterflies to flourish inside you.

Just for today.

~~~

It’s past midnight when everyone eventually leaves. You can feel the exhaustion in your bones, but you’re happier than you’ve been in a while. Everyone seemed to have a good time together, you were able to see some of your closest friends, and you were paired up with Jungkook for most of the games. Additionally, you were able to see Jungkook interact with his friends in a way that you had never seen before tonight. You feel like you’ve gotten to know him more just from witnessing him be with the people he cares about. It makes you want to have even more game nights.

You’re bringing dishes from the living room to the kitchen for Jungkook to wash when you remember you had wanted to ask him about his two friends. You place the few wine glasses you’re holding down gently on the countertop next to the sink, then you bring it up.

“Are you okay talking about Jimin and Taehyung?” you ask tentatively from behind Jungkook. “You seemed kind of concerned about them earlier.”

Jungkook stops washing the dish he’s holding and sighs audibly, letting his shoulders drop and his head fall back. “Yeah,” he says anyway, and waves you toward the sink so he can see you while he talks. You hop up onto the counter next to him and swing your legs out in front of you absentmindedly while he continues to clean the plate in front of him.

“So,” Jungkook starts, “Jimin is going to get his pairing from the elders soon.”

You hum to yourself in thought. Even though you had only really just met Jimin officially, you could tell that he and Taehyung had something between them. From the way they smiled shyly at each other on their shared seat to the way they played the games together throughout the evening, it was clear that there were feelings other than ones of friendship present there. How would Jimin’s pairing affect the dynamic between them?

“But he and Taehyung…” you voice your thoughts about the two out loud, but trail off.

Jungkook has a sort of grave look on his face. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him look like that. The corners of his mouth are downturned and his eyes have little life in them when he says, “Yeah, I know. Jimin is going to get his pairing but he doesn’t know if he’ll accept it or not. Because the thing is that Taehyung rejected his own pairing.”

Your eyes practically bulge out of your head at that, but you don’t say anything. You want Jungkook to keep talking. This is the most interesting story you’ve heard in weeks.

“Yeah, that’s what I did, too,” Jungkook says, referring to your wide eyes. “I’d never met anyone who had rejected their pairing before Taehyung did it. He seemed so sure about it, too. Then, get this, he told me the reason he rejected his pairing was because he’s in love with Jimin. So, naturally, I ask him if Jimin feels the same way, and he just goes, ‘I have no idea.’ No idea! He rebelled against the entire system and yet he had no idea how Jimin felt about him.”

Realization hits you in that moment, so you ask, “Was that why Jimin said he was hoping Taehyung wouldn’t be here tonight? Because he feels pressured to reject his pairing for Taehyung?”

Jungkook is nodding before you even finish your question. “Yeah, that’s why. It turned out that Jimin does also have feelings for Taehyung, but Jimin is way less fearless than Taehyung is. He doesn’t know what will happen if he rejects his pairing. He doesn’t want to lose his family or the life he has right now. That’s why he was nervous about Taehyung being here tonight, because he wants to make that decision on his own, and not with any outside influence. But at the same time, Taehyung already did all that, and Jimin doesn’t want it to be for nothing.”

You wait for Jungkook to finish his speech before making so much as a sound. It seems like he really needed to get this out, like it had been weighing on him heavily. He’s never really confided in you about… well, anything. You just know this is a step in the right direction. (You might not be sure what the direction is, exactly, but you still feel good about it.) 

What you want to say in response to Jungkook’s words is, “If they’re in love, there shouldn’t be a decision to make.” But you know it’s more complicated than that. You have no idea what it’s like for people who rebel against the elders’ decisions. While Taehyung seemed happy and carefree all throughout the evening, you don’t know anything about what his life is like when he leaves the safe space of your apartment. With that in mind, all you can bring yourself to say is, “That’s a big decision to make.”

Jungkook nods again, then goes back to washing the dish in his hands. You continue sitting on the counter, thinking. Though your own greatest dream is to be in love, you didn’t even reject your pairing to try to find it. You figure the two must be quite different, wishing for love and actually experiencing it. If love is strong enough to make people go against the elders, what else are people in love capable of doing?

You’re snapped out of your reverie when Jungkook calls your name.

“Huh?” you say distractedly.

Jungkook moves away from the sink and comes to stand in front of you, coming to a stop between your legs, still dangling from the counter. As soon as he stops moving, your heart stops beating from his proximity. He still smells like soap, the way he did when he helped you out of your wedding dress. You never knew the smell of soap could be so intoxicating. He’s so close, you can even see flecks of gold in his chocolate eyes that you’ve never noticed before, like pieces of treasure just waiting to be found.

You’re not sure why he’s so close to you, but you remind yourself to be logical. He’s just concerned about how quiet you’ve become. Or you have something on your face that he’s going to remove. Yeah, that’s it.

“Are you okay?” he asks, confirming your suspicions about his concern for you. You nod at him, smiling as he rests his hands on the counter beside your thighs. He’s so close to you, and you briefly hope that he can’t hear how wildly your heart is beating in your chest. You could kiss him right now without a problem. You’re barely able to focus on your conversation with him when the only things in your field of vision are his soft, wine-stained lips and the adorable mole underneath them.

Yeah. You definitely want to kiss him.

“You sure?” he presses. You nod again, worried about your ability to speak properly in this moment. You then yawn without warning.

“Yeah, I’m just tired,” you say, as if your yawn needed explaining.

“Okay,” he says through his own yawn. “Want to go to bed?”

There are a lot of things you want, most of which involve having Jungkook’s mouth on yours right this very second. Thoughts of the elders, marriage, pairings, love and rebellion still fly around in your head, but none of them outweigh your desire to kiss your husband.

Instead of voicing any of those thoughts, however, you just sigh and say, “Yeah. Yeah, let’s go to bed.”

~~~

Nothing could have prepared you for the onslaught of pain and discomfort you are currently experiencing. You are presently lying on the bathroom floor after heaving over the toilet for about the twelfth time. Your body is burning from the inside out with fever, your chills have you shivering uncontrollably, and to top it all off you’ve just started your period as well. So, in addition to the regular aches and pains that come with being sick, you have cramps that you know will only get worse, your mood is going to take a dive, and you’re more than likely going to ruin at least one pair of underwear this week. Fantastic.

You had gone to bed the night before already feeling under the weather, and you had just called out of work before you told Jungkook about it, in case he didn’t feel comfortable sharing a bed with a potentially sick person. You certainly hadn’t expected him to give up the entire bed for you so you could sleep comfortably. When you had protested, he had said he wanted you to be able to sleep for as long as you needed, and he didn’t want to accidentally wake you up while he was getting ready for work the next morning. He even took all his necessities out of the bedroom and said he could just get ready at the gym instead of using your ensuite bathroom. How thoughtful.

Now that you think about it, as you lean away from the toilet and try to breathe normally for longer than two minutes at a time, you missed getting to see Jungkook before he went to work today. While it is true that he always wakes you up when he’s getting ready, you’ve come to find that you might like that part of your day with him the most.

Each morning, you get to stay in bed and be sleepy while you watch Jungkook move deftly around your bedroom, trying to slick his hair back properly or button the buttons on his shirt cuffs. (You love when he wears dress shirts because you usually have to help him with those exact buttons. He always smiles at you fondly while you do it, appreciative of your willingness to assist him. You, in turn, think it’s sweet that he looks to you for help when he struggles, even though it is with something small like shirt buttons. It makes you smile back at him every time.)

Additionally, you always end up talking about what your respective days will look like at work or the new episode of Survivor you watched together the night before. You discuss what you want to have for dinner, talk about whether or not you’ll see any friends this weekend, or play a game of Would You Rather?

Last week you had a pretty intense debate about which fictional characters you thought would survive a zombie apocalypse. (While you went into it thinking the cast of The Walking Dead would stand the best chance, you ended up agreeing with Jungkook’s choice of the Archer cast in the end, seeing as the title character had literally died and been brought back to life over the course of one episode.)

Through these mornings spent together, you’ve been able to see each other at your groggiest and crankiest, and it feels so domestic. It feels natural.

You imagine a couple in love would do the same.

It’s a thought you’ve been having about a lot of seemingly mundane things lately - the way you and Jungkook share a blanket while you watch badly reviewed horror movies, the way he always gives you some of his dessert because he knows you have a serious sweet tooth, the way you both end up using each other’s shampoo when you run out of your own.

You used to try to shove the thoughts down to where even you couldn’t reach them, but recently your growing feelings for Jungkook have been making those same thoughts of happy couples bubble up to the surface of your consciousness. The thoughts make you happy, and if you’re honest, so does Jungkook. You’ve developed a kind of friendship with him that you cherish, even if it came about in an unorthodox way. While your marriage isn’t based on love like you think marriages should be, you still make a good pair.

After downing some DayQuil and ibuprofen, you miraculously make it to the living room somehow and you lay down gingerly on the couch. You decide to turn on some Jeopardy! reruns to distract yourself from your abundant pain. You text Jungkook to let him know how you feel and to ask him to bring home some more pain meds when he gets off of work tonight. You then snuggle deeper into your blanket burrito and try to rest your tired eyes while you listen to Alex Trebek calmly reading clues to his contestants. Full of medication and practically swathed in your blanket like a baby, you eventually fall asleep.

You wake up some time later to a throbbing headache and the sounds of Alex Trebek on your television replaced with the sounds of someone cooking in your kitchen. You check your phone to find that it is only 12:03pm and you immediately shoot up from your place on the couch, only to fall right back down when a new wave of nausea hits you. You choke it back enough to weakly say, “Hello?” and hope that there isn’t a murderer making something delicious in your kitchen before killing you.

You hear a noncommittal noise from over the back of the couch, and you open your eyes (when had you closed them?) to find Jungkook towering over you, chewing something thoughtfully. Before you can scold him for almost making you have a panic attack while you’re already sick, he walks around to your side of the couch and sits down carefully, then lifts a spoon from somewhere and brings it to your mouth, making you go cross-eyed to see it and asking you very seriously, “Does this taste okay?”

You can’t believe your ears. He didn’t even say hello, he just shoved a spoonful of something in your face and asked you to taste it. Why did he do that? Why does he look so... contemplative while he eats? Does he always have his brows knit together and his mouth turned into a serious-looking frown like that while he chews? Why haven’t you ever noticed before? You think you might vomit again.

Your disbelief and hesitance to try whatever is in that spoon must show on your face, because Jungkook removes the utensil from your personal space and follows his original question up with a much more timid, “Is everything okay?”

“I, uh...” you start. Is everything okay? There isn’t a murderer in your house after all, which is a huge plus, but it’s only noon and Jungkook is here instead of at work, and he’s cooking. What is he doing here? Did something happen at work? Did he get fired? Why can’t you ever turn off your brain? The thoughts of Jungkook’s employment status swim through your head and make you dizzier than you already are from the fever.

“What are you making? It smells really good,” you finish, voice hoarse. You haven’t spoken a single word yet today, partly because you’ve been sleeping and partly because the effort it takes for you to speak in your sickened state is simply too much for you to handle. You figure it’ll be worth it this one time, though, just to make Jungkook look less nervous. You don’t understand why he still looks so nervous around you sometimes.

A look of relief washes over Jungkook’s face and he visibly relaxes. He hops off the couch to go back into the kitchen and continue stirring the pot of whatever he’s making. It smells like... chicken noodle soup? You’re not quite sure, but it smells delicious. Your stomach growls without warning.

“I’m making you soup!” Jungkook says cheerily from his place at the stove. He doesn’t elaborate, so you use up most of the strength you have left to get off the couch and waddle gracelessly to the kitchen in your blanket burrito. You slowly take your place at the kitchen table and lay your head down on it to try to ease some of your lightheadedness.

“But –“ you stop to take in a breath and let your stomach settle. “But why are you here? Why aren’t you at work?”

Jungkook stops stirring the pot of soup (it’s definitely chicken noodle) and stands up a bit straighter. He has his back to you, and you can see a faint blush creeping up from under his collar. He puts his free hand behind him and scratches at his neck, a habit you’ve come to learn he turns to when he doesn’t know what to say. It’s cute. Your heart might flutter a little whenever he does it.

He mumbles something you can’t discern, so you say, “Huh? Sorry, I can’t hear well when I’m sick like this.”

Jungkook quickly turns around to face you, his cheeks and ears just as red as his neck. He’s looking anywhere but at you, and he’s fiddling with his wedding band.

“They said in sickness and in health, right? The vows, I mean. They said in sickness and in health, and you’re sick, so... I’m here.”

Your heart is definitely fluttering now, and you don’t try to stop it. Where did this come from? He’s been sweet to you since you first met him, but he’s never directly referenced your wedding vows before as a reason for his demeanor towards you. You didn’t think your vows meant that much to him.

Oh, wait.

Maybe they don’t.

The butterflies inside you die just as soon as they had come to life. You keep forgetting that this marriage only exists on paper. Jungkook may care about you, but not in the way you hope he does. He was forced into this just as much as you were. He must feel a sense of duty and obligation toward you because you’re married and because you’re friends now.

But still... he didn’t have to come home in the middle of the day. That was his choice. And why did he turn so red before he mentioned your vows? If this was about duty and obligation, you’re sure he would be able to keep his cool around you and not get so flustered.

You smile despite yourself, and you lift your head off the table just as Jungkook brings two steaming bowls of soup over and sits down next to you. Before you dig in, though, Jungkook suddenly perks up and moves to stand.

“Where are you going?” you ask as you take your first bite. You were right, it is chicken noodle soup, and it’s delicious. There are carrots and celery in it (just the way you like it), the noodles are cooked perfectly, and the chicken practically melts in your mouth. The soup tastes like your mom’s. When did you ever tell Jungkook about your mom’s recipe?

Jungkook doesn’t answer you, just walks out of sight toward the front door. You hear the crinkling sound of a plastic bag, and then he reappears at the table as fast as he had left.

“I didn’t know what meds you wanted, so I just got… a bunch of them,” he says, pouring an obscene amount of pill bottles onto the table. There are blue bottles, pink bottles, tiny bottles, bottles so wide you’re sure you couldn’t wrap your hand around them if you tried. You almost spit out your soup with a laugh, and a sheepish grin makes its way onto Jungkook’s face.

“Thank you,” you say sincerely. “Why are you getting these out all of a sudden?” You honestly can’t believe he bought you so many different kinds of pills. You must have not specified which pills you needed when you texted him earlier this morning. The fact that he didn’t want to disturb you to ask you which ones you wanted almost makes you cry with affection.

“Well, you were sleeping for a while, and I figured you woke up because the ones you took before wore off. Was I right?” Jungkook’s embarrassed smile has been replaced by a look that is much more self-assured. You can’t decide which look you like more on him.

You smile cheekily back at him and reply, “Yeah, you’re right.” You sift through the pill bottles until you find the right ones, you knock them back with your water (“You need fluids!” Jungkook practically yelled at you in concern when you complained that you wanted a soda instead), and you finish off your soup with vigor, not realizing how hungry you had actually been before eating.

Before you can move to get up and bring your bowl to the sink, Jungkook beats you to it, swiftly gathering your dishes together and carrying them over to the opposite side of the kitchen. His shirt sleeves are rolled up in the same way they were on your wedding night, and you can’t help but stare at the ever-present vein that runs up his arm. You think about how painfully shy he was when you first met, and how he still is sometimes. You also think about how he has slowly come out of his protective shell since you’ve been living together, even if he does still act skittish around you sometimes. From every angle, inside and out, Jungkook is beautiful.

“I could have done that,” you say, just to get your mind off of how much Jungkook has come to mean to you in the past months. You might even venture to say he’s become one of your best friends.

Jungkook turns around and leans against the countertop, brows knit together and mouth turned downward slightly. He’s thinking.

“You haven’t stood up in a little while,” he says finally. “Are you sure you could have?”

You immediately scoot your chair away from the table to prove it to him, only to realize that, no, you probably could not have brought your own dishes to the sink. You whine at your current state and Jungkook comes over to help you out of your chair and back to what, by now, is surely a germ-infested couch. However, instead of moving away from you as soon as you’re laying down again, Jungkook sits down right next to your feet, making himself at home on top of the part of your blanket that doesn’t cover you. His closeness electrifies you, even when you feel nothing but pain. You think he might be made of magic.

He reaches for the remote on the coffee table and says, as he turns on the television, “So we’re watching Jeopardy! reruns, right? Or do you want something different now?”

His tone is so gentle when he speaks to you, even more so than it usually is. You barely register what he says because you’re so focused on his lips when he speaks. You think that maybe this relationship is more than married people who are friends, more than duty and obligation. Maybe there is something else there after all.

You feel yourself blushing at the thought, but Jungkook doesn’t seem to notice. He’s too busy looking through the options on Netflix to perceive your inner turmoil for himself. You choose to simply watch him as he browses and finally makes a selection. You spend the next two hours immersed in the newest season of Big Mouth, but every now and then you steal a glance across the couch at Jungkook.

Most of the time, he’s looking back at you.

~~~

Six months into your marriage, you realize you are in a predicament.

You’ve tried to distract yourself with work, with friends, with anything, but it’s all been in vain. With some effort, you’ve finally come to the conclusion that nothing makes you happier than Jungkook.

Jungkook, who was so painfully shy and insecure on your wedding day that he almost cried when you showed him your Koya plushie.

Jungkook, who wanted your friends to get closer to his and organized a game night to make it happen.

Jungkook, who brought home an entire pharmacy and made your mom’s chicken noodle soup for you when you were sick.

Jungkook, who is perfect for you.

You are in a predicament, and your predicament is this: you have fallen, absolutely and irreversibly, in love with your husband.

And you know it’s only going to get worse.

You’re currently on your way back home from seeing a movie with Jungkook, running at full speed toward your apartment building to avoid being soaked by the rain that’s suddenly coming down in buckets. After slipping once or twice on the blacktop, you make it inside your building and head immediately for the elevator, excited to change out of your newly wet clothes and get in bed for the night.

You make it into the elevator and, with some effort, push the button for the seventh floor. You don’t realize how much you actually ran until you’ve stopped moving completely and are waiting for the elevator to arrive at your floor. You’re slightly hunched over and breathing heavily, and you look over to see that Jungkook is similarly affected by your sprint.

With a small chuckle, you stand up straight once more and quip, “For someone who goes to the gym so often, you sure look tired from that little run.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes at you but can’t hide his smile when he says, “One, that was a run with no warm-up! I always warm up first because I hate cardio. And two, you don’t look so g--”

His surely witty response is cut off by the elevator suddenly going dark and ceasing its upward movement. The unexpected stoppage causes you to lurch forward, crashing into Jungkook with a yelp and causing you both to tumble to the floor with a loud thud. You don’t even have time to freak out about basically laying on top of Jungkook on the floor of this elevator because you’re too busy freaking out about the possibility that the elevator itself will fall to the basement and kill you both.

You wait for a few moments, straining your ears to see if you can pick up any sound, any indication that the elevator is going to drop. When you hear nothing but silence, you turn your attention to the body underneath you, which is starting to squirm slightly. You quickly scramble off of Jungkook with a mumbled apology and get back to your feet, then begin to search your pockets for your phone so you can use its flashlight. Once you find your phone and turn on the flashlight, you begin looking around the elevator for the panel of buttons so you can hopefully get to your destination and leave your tiny prison.

While Jungkook is struggling to his feet with a groan, you find the panel and push the button for the seventh floor, but nothing happens. You try again. Nothing. You try the button to open the doors. Nothing. You try the button for the lobby. Nothing. You try all the remaining buttons, including the panic button. Nothing.

You’re trapped in the elevator.

Panic begins to overtake you as you realize what’s happening. Your breath starts coming in short, quick pants that you can’t control. Your entire body feels rigid, like you could break in half if someone so much as touched you. Your vision is blurry and unfocused; you might be seeing double. You’re unsure. It doesn’t help that your only light source is a phone flashlight. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears, the sound trying to claw its way out of you and into the small space the elevator provides. The same thought keeps cycling through your mind, leaving room for nothing else. I can’t get out.

Panic attacks used to be a daily occurrence for you years ago (for reasons you would rather not discuss), but these days you only have one every few months, which is a great improvement if you do say so yourself. You’ve learned how to avoid them when possible and, when you do have one, how to get through them.

This is one of those times when you need to get through it.

You know one of the only ways for you to overcome a panic attack is for you to talk it out with someone, but the only person in this space with you is Jungkook, and until now you have avoided letting him be aware of this part of you, since being vulnerable around him is still difficult for you. You don’t want him to think any less of you or to think you’re being dramatic. You’re not sure how you would cope if Jungkook thought those things about you, so you haven’t ever given him the chance.

You consider trying to ignore the anxiety bubbling inside you, but you know that will only make it worse for you and will likely send you into a full-on meltdown, which you desperately want to avoid having in front of your husband. With that in mind, you take in a shaky breath to try to calm your nerves a bit before you speak. Even so, you can’t help how small you sound when you say, “Um, hey, Jungkook?”

Jungkook, who is looking at the elevator buttons exasperatedly with his own flashlight, mutters out a “Hm?”

“Um, would you mind turning your flashlight off for a second?” you ask while turning your own off.

Jungkook is still looking at the buttons. “Huh? Why?” he says distractedly.

A tear slips from your eye and down your cheek as you turn away from him, crouching to the floor to hold yourself. Your hands feel slightly numb, and your brain is screaming a million different things at you. You understand none of them.

“Because, um, I don’t want you to see me, um, cry right now.”

Not even a full second goes by before the elevator is once again cloaked in darkness. While you’re thankful and relieved that he listened to you, you’re unable to stop the tiny sob that escapes your lips. You can hear Jungkook take in a breath as he opens his mouth to speak. You’re prepared for the worst when he says, “What do you need from me?”

You cover your mouth in an attempt to muffle your cries. You didn’t think it was possible for Jungkook to be any more perfect than you already thought he was. He’s good at proving you wrong about that.

Jungkook must hear your weeping anyway, though, because he continues, tentatively asking, “Wait, did I say the wrong thing?” He keeps speaking after that, seemingly more to himself than to you, saying, “Dammit, I really suck at this.”

You stop your quiet bawling long enough to emphatically say, “No! No, you didn’t say the wrong thing at all. You said exactly what I needed to hear. Thank you.”

“I did? I mean, okay, so what should I do?” Jungkook asks, still sounding unsure.

“This. Keep doing this. Talking to me, I mean. I need to get my mind off of what’s happening. Talk about anything, and get me to answer you,” you say through your tears. Your voice is already steadier when you speak, and the million thoughts in your brain seem to have silenced themselves. You feel clearer.

Jungkook makes a sound of realization at your words, then does exactly as you asked.

“What’s your favorite color?”

“Orange.”

“What time do you usually wake up in the morning?”

“Um, around 8:00.”

“Okay, uh… oh, since you can’t see, what are three things that you can feel right now?”

You’re taken aback for a moment, as that’s a question that people who know you well have asked you during panic attacks. After a beat of silence, you answer, “Um, I can feel my phone in my hand. I can feel my hair getting the back of my shirt wet. And I can feel you.”

“Cool. Wait, what?” Jungkook says, sounding confused. “What do you mean, me?”

For just a moment, you’re glad you’re in the dark, because you’re surely blushing right now. “I mean that I can feel your presence next to me, your warmth. Like, even when you’re not speaking, I can tell that you’re there. Does that make sense?”

You hear feet shuffling on the carpeted floor, and then Jungkook speaks. “I, uh… I think so, yeah. I can feel, um… I can feel you too,” he finishes, sounding more certain than he did when he started speaking. You wonder if he’s just saying that for your benefit, or if he really can feel you. You hope it’s the latter.

Still feeling shaky, you ask Jungkook, “Can you tell me a story? Any story, I don’t care. I just like listening to you talk.” You close your eyes, even though you can’t see Jungkook at the moment. You feel like you need an extra layer of protection from the confession you just made to him. If he picks up on the confession, though, he doesn’t mention it. You’re thankful.

“Oh, okay, um… do you want to hear the stolen underwear story or the drunk karaoke story?” He asks the question quickly, as if those are the two stories he whips out at parties without a problem.

Both of those options sound extremely ridiculous to you, but you find yourself smiling slightly when you answer, “The underwear one.”

You hear a small snicker in the darkness. That alone is somehow enough to help you feel a little less panicked. Then Jungkook starts speaking.

“So basically, I went to this summer camp when I was like thirteen, and I had to share a bunk with maybe six or seven other guys. The camp itself was great. It lasted most of the summer, and it’s how I met Taehyung. Anyway, somehow I had managed to lose about half of the underwear I had brought with me over the course of the summer, and I honestly thought it was just me being an idiot. So we got to the end of our time there and, since we all knew each other so well, we had like a roast session slash complain-about-your-campmates session.”

The story itself is pretty amusing, but what’s hilarious is how Jungkook is devolving into a fit of giggles while telling it. His voice is coming from somewhere at your level, telling you that he sat down at some point in the middle of his story. You’re glad that he came down to the floor to be near you, but you don’t say anything about it. You just listen as he continues, voice soothing your frazzled nerves.

“So I get up there and I’m like, ‘Yo, guys, whoever stole all my underwear better watch out,’ even though I thought I had just lost them myself. So after I go up there, Taehyung gets on the stage and he looks really apologetic. I’m wondering why, because he had told me what he was going to say before we got up there. So he gets up there, and he looks right at me, and he just goes, ‘Jungkook, I’m sorry for stealing your underwear.’”

Now it’s your turn to giggle. You never would have pegged Taehyung for an underwear thief. Just listening to Jungkook’s story and his laughter is calming you down further from your panic. Even though you may not be out of the woods yet, you appreciate Jungkook’s efforts to help you more than you can say.

Jungkook’s laughter dies down after a bit, and a comfortable silence falls over the tiny space you’re occupying. Soon enough, though, you hear the sound of a throat clearing, and then his voice asks, “How are you doing now?”

You sniff slightly before answering, “A little better. I really appreciate that you listened to me instead of just trying to fix the problem. Most people would have just tried to call maintenance first instead of helping me. So thank you.”

You hear the telltale sign of Jungkook scratching at the back of his neck. He doesn't know what to say. You're too panicked out to worry about whether you've made him uncomfortable, and even if you had the energy to wonder about it, you wouldn't need to do so for long anyway, because he does end up speaking.

"Um, you're welcome. But to be honest, I don't feel like I did much. This was all you."

At his statement, you find yourself groping through the dark to find him where he sits. You're not sure why he thinks he didn’t have a hand in you calming down, but you’re suddenly very determined to set him straight. It matters to you that he put in work to help you feel better, and he should know that.

Once you manage to touch his shoulder, he yelps in surprise and you chuckle. You feel your way down his arms until you reach his hands, warm despite the icy rain outside, and you squeeze them tightly.

"Please believe me when I say this," you state as assertively as you can. "The reason I can talk to you normally right now has nothing to do with me. I owe that to you. You were everything I needed to get through that. Thank you."

You can't believe you're being so up-front with Jungkook right now. Perhaps it's the adrenaline still coursing through your veins. Regardless of the reason, though, you find that you don't regret anything you've said to him in this elevator. If you had the option to take back your words about how to calm you down or about how you like listening to Jungkook speak, you wouldn’t. It all felt right.

“You’re welcome,” Jungkook says after a pause. “And thank you, too. You know, for… letting me help you. Thank you for trusting me.”

You let out a breath and squeeze his hands again. “Is it okay if I hug you?” you ask before you can stop yourself. While you would consider the two of you to be close at this point, you’ve never hugged each other before. Now feels like the opportune time for it to finally happen and for you to become closer physically, just as you did metaphorically through the words you shared while trapped here together.

Jungkook seems to give his answer the same amount of thought that you gave your question, because he immediately says, “Yes. Yes, definitely.” He sounds slightly breathless when he says it.

You let go of his hands and feel for his shoulders again. Once you find them, you pull Jungkook into a gentle hug, made only slightly awkward by your sitting positions. Your head rests in the crook of Jungkook’s neck, and you breathe out a sigh. His hands settle on the small of your back, thumbs moving up and down the material of your shirt reassuringly.

You can’t believe you’ve never hugged this man before now. You fit together perfectly, even when you’re both sitting. You wonder what it would be like to hug while standing, or to cuddle while laying down. You hope this is the first of many hugs with Jungkook.

Your thoughts are interrupted by Jungkook’s voice, quiet and calm in your ear. “Not to be an ass, but would this be an okay time to call maintenance?”

You huff out a laugh into his neck and mumble an agreement, then begin to disentangle yourself from him. 

You watch Jungkook as he looks up and calls the apartment complex’s maintenance number. You then slowly get back to your feet, turn your flashlight back on, and make your way back to the button panel. You press each button again, one by one. No luck. With a sigh, you turn back to Jungkook, who has just finished his call.

“What did they say?” you ask, sounding tired to your own ears. You feel tired, too.

Jungkook looks at you with a kind of grimace on his face. “The guy can come reset the breaker or whatever, but he’s already dealing with a flooded bathtub in another building, so he doesn’t think he’ll be able to come over here for a while.”

“Oh,” you say, “okay. What should we do?” You have to tell yourself that there is no use panicking a second time. Luckily, your rational side wins this battle with your emotions.

“Wait, you’re not upset?” Jungkook asks, sounding a bit disbelieving.

“Not really,” you reply. “I already kind of tired myself out. And besides, you’re here. So I’ll be okay.”

You swear you can see Jungkook blush.

~~~

“Never have I ever…” You chew on your lip as you try to think of something else that you have never done. “Oh! Never have I ever broken a bone.”

Jungkook lets out a chuckle and puts a finger down. He only has one out of five left up.

It’s been over two hours since you first entered the elevator. Over two hours since the thing stopped functioning properly, leaving you and Jungkook stuck together in its tiny space. Maintenance still hasn’t shown up to fix it, meaning that the two of you have had to find ways to occupy yourselves. You’ve turned your flashlights back on and settled your phones against the elevator walls for some visibility, and you’ve been playing games since then.

“Okay, my go,” Jungkook says, bouncing a little where he sits. He scrunches his face up in thought, looking to the ceiling. He’s so cute like this, you think. You want to reach out and hug him again, just to feel his strong arms around you. But you don’t. For right now, just looking at him is enough.

He suddenly looks down from the ceiling and right at you, a glint in his eyes. You wonder what he’s going to say that has him giving you that look. It’s like he wants to know all your secrets. After today, you’d be more than willing to give them to him.

“Never have I ever been in love.”

Just as your heart promptly begins to break at his words, you notice movement from the corner of your eye. You look to his hand and find that he put his last finger down.

Just as soon as you begin to register that, yes, Jungkook has indeed been in love with at least one person in his life, you hear a chuckle that sounds almost forlorn. You move your eyes back to Jungkook’s face to find that he’s practically grimacing, and you give him a questioning look.

“Just me, huh?” Jungkook asks quietly, sadly.

“What do you mean?” you breathe out.

“You didn’t put a finger down,” he says as he points in your general direction. You peer down at your hand and realize that he’s right. Without looking up to see how he’ll react, you put one of your fingers down. You hear a small gasp and you glance up, meeting Jungkook’s wide eyes.

“Not just you,” you say softly, a sad smile on your face.

Jungkook seems to perk up a little at your words, but you can tell that he’s nervous now. He’s fiddling with his wedding band like he always does when he’s nervous. What does he have to be nervous about?

“Wait,” you say when Jungkook doesn’t speak up. “Why did you say something that you have done?”

In the dim lighting of your dying phones, it looks like Jungkook is blushing again. He scratches the back of his neck and then, without looking directly at you, says, “I wanted to know if you had.”

You can’t quite believe what you’re hearing. Is he trying to say what you think he is? You search Jungkook’s face until he focuses back on you, somewhat wistfully.

“Why does it matter if I have?” You can’t help but let hope bloom inside you as you await his next words. 

Jungkook lets out a sigh, closes his eyes, opens them again. He regards you with a determined look, then he finally speaks.

“Because then there might be a chance that you love me back.”

There is absolutely a chance, you think to yourself. You want to scream it from the rooftops, but instead you remain still in stunned silence. This is everything you’ve ever wanted, finally coming true. You’ve never desired anything as much as you desire to be loved, and now it’s finally happening. You know you need to speak soon, or you’ll risk making Jungkook think that you do not return his affections. Oh, how wrong he would be.

But, how will you tell him?

You glance down at your lap and see that you are still holding a finger up, even though you’ve already won the game. It gives you an idea. You hold up your last remaining finger and briefly look at Jungkook, who appears as though he might pass out from your silence. You would usually be amused by his expression of nervousness, but right now you’re too nervous about what you’re going to do next.

“Never have I ever kissed Jeon Jungkook,” you say quietly, putting your finger down. Before Jungkook even has the time to react to your statement, you’re crawling forward to where he sits, taking his face gently in both of your hands, and slotting your lips together.

You feel Jungkook sigh into your mouth and wrap his hands around your waist, just as he did when he hugged you earlier. You’ve never experienced a kiss like this one. It electrifies your very being from the inside out, while also being soft, gentle, sweet. Jungkook’s lips are like velvet, and he tastes like the Skittles you shared in the movie theater earlier tonight.

Wanting to be closer to him, you move to straddle Jungkook where he sits, pressing your chests together and moving your hands around to the back of his head. He responds eagerly, tightening his hold around your back without ever removing his mouth from yours. You run your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck and he shivers slightly, so you continue your ministrations as his hands begin to fall lower.

Just when you think Jungkook is going to grab at your ass, the elevator’s lights come on and the thing roars to life, beginning to ascend once more. You take your lips off of Jungkook’s and he follows you with a whine, not wanting to stop despite the current circumstances. You giggle and place one final peck to his already kiss-bitten lips before climbing off of him and standing up. You help Jungkook to his feet, grab both of your phones from the floor, and turn off their flashlights before turning towards the elevator door, feeling lighter than air.

As the elevator continues to move, you see Jungkook out of the corner of your eye and you stifle a laugh. He’s pouting. Feeling brave after his confession and your kiss, you turn to him with a coy smile and say, “You can keep kissing me, you know.”

Jungkook’s face morphs from sullen into elated in an instant, and just like that he’s crowding into your space to kiss you again. He puts his hands on the sides of your head this time, moving his thumbs gently across your cheeks as he slips his tongue into your mouth.

As the elevator finally comes to a halt on your floor and the door opens, Jungkook doesn’t let up, continuing to kiss you fervently. He simply moves backwards out of the elevator and takes you with him. You smile into the kiss, euphoric over the fact that he wants you so much that he can’t stop kissing you while you walk the few feet from the elevator to your own door.

You delicately push Jungkook away from you so you can see the door behind him, but he is undeterred. He moves so that he stands behind you instead, pressing kisses to the back of your head, the part of your jaw that he can reach, the top of your neck. Now it’s your turn to shiver, as he has found your weak spot. You love few things more than neck kisses.

It takes most of the strength you possess to not let your knees buckle while Jungkook’s mouth is on your neck, but you manage to get your key into the lock and open the door to your apartment. You’ve barely gotten past the threshold and kicked off your shoes when Jungkook spins you around and kisses you hungrily, as if he’ll die if he doesn’t. You think you might die yourself.

You begin to back up until you find yourself against the wall of your entryway, Jungkook pinning you to the spot with his kisses. You put your hands back into his hair and he lets out a quiet moan into your mouth, bringing his hands down and around you to squeeze your ass. You never thought a sound could be so sexy. You decide you want to hear it every day.

Jungkook lets his mouth wander back over your jaw and down your neck. He finds your pulse point with ease and begins to suck, making you moan out loud. Jungkook freezes for a moment, as if surprised by what you’ve done. You notice quickly and use your hand to push Jungkook’s head back into your neck, whispering out a breathless, “Please don’t stop.”

You can feel Jungkook smile into your neck and then he gets back to work, littering your neck and collarbone with tiny purple marks. You can also feel a hardness at your belly, straining against Jungkook’s pants. You snake one of your hands down his chest and hook a couple of fingers underneath his waistband. You can feel Jungkook’s stomach tense up at your actions, so you pause, lick your lips and throatily ask, “Is this okay?”

Jungkook takes his mouth off of you just long enough to say, “God, yes.”

You don’t hesitate to move your hand further into Jungkook’s pants, past his coarse hair and right around the base of his cock. He hisses at the contact, moving one of his hands off of your ass to the front of your joggers. He begins massaging your aching center through your clothes and you sigh, your legs widening of their own accord.

You continue to move your hand over Jungkook’s cock as best you can while he’s still dressed. You don’t expect either of you to get off like this, but it’s still hot knowing that you couldn’t even get to a bed before you had each other.

Speaking of a bed, though...

“Jungkook. Bed. Now,” you practically choke out.

At your plea, Jungkook backs away from you just to pick you up and wrap your legs around his waist, carrying you easily to your bedroom. Once there, he proceeds to climb onto the bed with you still in his hold and lean forward slowly, laying you down as if in reverence. Once you’re splayed out beneath him, he takes a moment to gaze at you from above. He must like what he sees, because he gives you one of his big, bunny-like smiles before he’s back to kissing you.

You soon become impatient, however, wanting to close the distance between you both and rid your bodies of their clothes. You tap Jungkook lightly on the shoulder, and he backs away from your face to look at you. You’ve never seen someone look so beautiful.

Jungkook’s hair is in complete disarray from you putting your hands through it, his eyes are absolutely blown out, and his lips are raw and red from your kissing. He’s panting heavily and gazing at you with a look that you can’t describe as anything other than adoration.

You forget how to talk for a moment, so you just pout and tug at the hem of his shirt. He gets the picture, sitting back on his heels and peeling the offending article off of himself. You watch him from between the pillows, eyes darkening as you take in his toned form. You decide that Jungkook really was sculpted by the gods.

Despite Jungkook having an intensely hot body, he puts his arms in front of his chest. He sounds extremely shy when he says, “You too?”

You nod happily and sit up on the bed, urging Jungkook to rid you of your shirt himself. Once he does, you can feel his eyes roaming across the expanse of skin that he has already covered in love bites, then downward to the rest of your newly exposed flesh. He licks his lips.

You don’t bother trying to get him to undo your bra for you. Wanting to avoid the hassle, you reach behind you and unclasp it with one hand, letting it fall from your shoulders. Jungkook drinks you in, from the birthmark on your left breast to your pierced right nipple. If his gaze were capable of getting darker, you think it just did.

“Can I see the rest of you?” Jungkook asks, only sounding a little less shy than he did a moment ago. He’s toying with the cuff of your joggers when he says it.

“Yes,” you say unhesitatingly, lifting your hips from the bed to begin taking your pants off. Jungkook helps you along, pulling at the legs until he has the garment bunched in his hands along with your lace underwear. He practically swoons at the sight of you laid bare on your bed. You thought you might be self-conscious under his stare, but you’re not. All you can feel is wanted.

“Your turn,” you say, toeing at Jungkook’s jeans. He kneels up to begin unbuttoning them, but you scoot forward and place your hand over his before he can.

“I want to do it,” you say, peering up at him with soft eyes. He gulps, then moves his hands to give you access. You take the button into your hands and pop it open, then slowly, tortuously pull down his zipper. You manage to accidentally torture yourself during the process, so you waste no time tugging the jeans down over Jungkook’s firm ass along with his boxer briefs, letting his cock free from its confines. You didn’t think it was possible for a cock to be beautiful before this moment, but you do now.

He’s longer than you expected him to be, and not exactly thick, but there is a prominent vein running up the underside of him, and it reminds you of the vein on his hand and arm. Your pussy flutters at the thought of him being inside you. You want him inside you right now.

Jungkook manages to rid himself of his jeans and underwear completely before he’s hovering back over you, looking like he can’t decide what to do next. The thought of him being overwhelmed by you turns you on immensely, and you pull him down into a bruising kiss. He reciprocates with something that you can’t describe as anything but pure zeal, as he immediately takes your tongue into his mouth and meets it with his own. The taste of him is intoxicating, fruity and dulcet, the only thing you want to taste for the rest of your life.

Jungkook comes down to the bed and lays next to you, tangling your legs together and letting his free hand wander over your body exploratively. He tentatively cups your breast in his hand and squeezes, then rubs at your pierced nipple until it becomes a stiff peak. He then continues downward, palming at your soft stomach and your fleshy hip, until he reaches your mound. He moves his hand through curls damp with arousal, making you sigh wantonly into his kiss and squeeze at his bicep. You want him to hurry, but he’s taking his time with you.

He begins to rut against you lightly as his hand dips down between your soaked folds. You’re positive he’s going so slowly on purpose, because he chuckles when you begin to whine and circle your hips to try to get him to speed up.

“You’re so impatient,” he teases lightly, dancing his fingers along your inner lips, so close to your entrance you can practically taste it.

“Uh huh,” you manage to get out. You’re hot, sweaty and trembling under his touch, and he’s barely done anything to you yet. You’d let him do anything he wanted.

Jungkook smiles down at you, then nuzzles your cheek with his nose before planting a chaste kiss there. “I’m sorry, babe. It’s just that I’ve… kind of dreamt about this, and I want it to be perfect. Like you.”

You turn to face him, tears suddenly pricking your eyes, and he’s gazing down at you, cheeks aflame and eyes swimming with affection. You think this might be the best moment of your life.

You swallow and whisper, “You can’t just say things like that and not expect me to cry.”

He nuzzles into you again, still smiling. “I love you so much,” he whispers back. Then he sinks two fingers into you.

The intrusion has you sighing loudly, closing your eyes, and arching your back from the bed, hands attempting to find purchase in the flannel sheets underneath you. You do your best not to squirm as Jungkook deftly moves his fingers inside your wet walls, all while beginning to leave open-mouthed kisses down the unbitten side of your neck. The combined sensations have you whimpering, already too fucked out to speak. Jungkook seems to be similarly affected, as he continues to rut against your hip, though more quickly now. You try to wriggle your hand in between your bodies to touch him, but he suddenly halts his movement against your side when he realizes what you’re attempting to do.

“What is it?” you ask, amazed that you’re even able to talk with how well he’s finger-fucking you. Jungkook doesn’t speak right away, so you bring your hand to the back of his head and pull on the hairs at his nape. It seems to ground him.

“I, uh… I don’t want you to touch me.” Jungkook says like it pains him. He’s out of breath from moving inside you. Or maybe just from getting to be with you.

“Why not?” you say, curious but nonjudgmental.

Jungkook sighs, letting his head fall to the crook of your neck, where he mumbles, “If you touch me now I think I’ll come too fast.”

You can’t help but coo at how cute he is, and you continue to pull at the hairs at his nape. He doesn’t move from that spot for a few moments, but he continues to fuck you open tenderly with his fingers. You take his silence as an opportunity.

“Do you want to fuck me?” you ask sweetly, putting as much emotion as possible into every word. You want Jungkook to know you mean it.

You hear him suck in a breath, and then you feel him nod against your neck. You push his hand away from your center only to bring it to your mouth, where you gently suck your arousal from his digits. You feel his head turn towards your face, so you can only assume that he’s watching you do it. You move your tongue over his fingers as you continue, feeling powerful and just as desired as when he had you pinned against the wall earlier.

When you finish licking Jungkook clean of your wetness, you let go of his hand. You expect him to start moving around so he can fuck you, but instead he brings his hand back to your face, where he thumbs at your cheek like he did in the elevator. He’s just looking at you longingly, lovingly. You can’t get enough of that look.

“Jungkook,” you say, your breath coming back to you. “I love you. Please fuck me.”

Jungkook pauses the movement of his thumb. “That’s the first time you’ve said it back.” He sounds choked up when he speaks.

You realize that he’s right. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” You punctuate each admission with a kiss to the crown of his head.

You hear a small sniffle before Jungkook moves his head out of your space and ducks it so you can’t see him clearly. You lift your hand to his chin and bring it forward so you can see his face. He’s wearing a small smile, lip trembling a bit. His eyes are shining.

“How do you want me?” you say softly, overwhelmed with love.

Jungkook clears his throat. “Um… can we do it like this? I want to, um, see you. I want to see you.”

You smile brightly up at him and nod, moving your hand away from his face so you can situate yourself underneath your husband. You bring him down to you for a passionate kiss while opening your legs to fit his hips between yours.

Jungkook reaches down between you, positioning his cock at your entrance. He continues to kiss you slowly, purposefully, as he inches himself inside. Your hands find purchase on his strong shoulders, and he swallows your moan with his lips as he bottoms out within your quivering walls.

He doesn’t move right away, allowing you a moment to adjust. Another thing to love about this man. When you’re ready, you squeeze his shoulders and he takes the cue to pull back. Then he snaps his hips forward, and you see nothing but stars.

As Jungkook thrusts into you, he drops his head back down into the crook of your neck and bites down on your pulse point again. You can’t help but cry out, your body thrumming with pleasure and a bit of pain. Jungkook only moves faster, cupping your breast with the hand not holding him up.

“I think I might come,” he confesses into your neck. You clench at the thought of him painting your walls white.

“Come whenever you want to,” you sigh back at him. You were already getting there just from being fingered, but you’re dangerously close to the precipice right now.

Jungkook lets out a huff. “You first,” he says petulantly, then moves his hand from your breast down to the apex of your thighs, where he begins rubbing your clit mercilessly.

His attention to your clit, his cock pounding into you, and his obvious desire to put you before himself all combine together to send you careening off the edge. You feel the pressure that had been building in your lower belly finally release, causing something white-hot to move outward from your very core to the tips of your fingers and toes. You call out his name as he follows you closely behind, shuddering as he comes inside you and continuing to fuck you through both of your orgasms.

After you both begin to come down and Jungkook pulls out of you, he immediately snuggles back into your side, placing his head in the crook of your neck once more and throwing his free hand over your waist, tugging you in close.

“This is my new favorite spot,” he expresses quietly, voice already thick with sleep.

You yawn, bringing your hand back to his nape and absentmindedly beginning to pull at the hair there. After all your daydreaming, you can safely say that this is your new favorite spot as well.

“I love you,” you manage to get out before you and your husband both drift off - silently, each holding a piece of the other.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Five sentence fic: “Okay- stay still, bandages first then we can have some fun” [for some reason I can see either Jake and Kauri post stabbing or Nate and Danny]

CW: War whump - sort of a prequel - period-common alcohol use, some vaguely implied period-common homophobia

Just writing this to get a feel for Johann Albach, who will shortly be meeting our intrepid vampire...

-

Johann groans. His curly dark hair sticks to his forehead, smashed down by the rounded helmet he's finally taken off. The air moves over it, slowly drying, but dry isn't the same as clean.

Still, it's better than dirty and damp, like the rest of his days are lately.

"I don't see why we have to fight at all."

"Oh, don't you?" Hans laughs, a bright flush in his cheeks from the purloined wine they'd brought up from some unlucky Frenchman's cellar. Where Johann is dark-haired, dark-eyed, slight of frame, Hans is big and blond. They look ridiculous next to one another.

Hans holds out the bottle, and Johann takes it. The wine runs red and slightly sweet down his throat, washing the last crumbs of the stale bread they'd found, probably bound for use to thicken soup, but they'd warmed it, called it toast, and it was better than rations, anyway.

The wine is good. Better than it ought to be. He intends to drink himself stupid tonight.

The shells have gone silent. They're promised days of quiet, a rest from the worst of it. No ringing in his ears, no shuddering jolts of terror on a nonstop rotation with a bone-deep exhaustion.

The town is theirs, for three days at least, and with the town... the wine.

It beats the harsh Schnapps they've been drinking, and there wasn't nearly enough of that.

Better than the wine, though, is the fire crackling away in the fireplace. Johann's feet feel fully dry for the first time in what must be weeks, and he has his socks and boots as close to the flames as they can get without lighting themselves aflame, too.

His heavy wool tunic is hung over the back of a chair, buttons glinting in the flickers, and with the house half-blown apart he might've been chilly if it weren't for the fire.

And, of course, the wine.

"I don't, truly. Let our grand kaiser have a duel with the Russians and the English and leave all of us out of it. Let him fight the Americans and their damned monsters. What've we got to show for war? Hm?" Johann squints towards a broken window. He's drunk enough to loosen his tongue, and that's dangerous if anyone is listening.

He can hear the sounds of the rest of the unit, making the same use of stolen supplies that he and Hans were. They seem safe enough to speak their minds, for the moment.

"We've lost a third of our starting group, my mother's left home alone with my sisters... why should I fight a war while they eat better than we ever will and don't do any real fighting at all? Why don't those great and powerful leaders lead the charge themselves? Hm?"

"Because they would fall off their expensive horses and have no fun at all," Hans replies, with an impish smile. It shows off the way he's got a gap between his front teeth that Johann loves far more than is sensible or rational. "More fun instead to fashion us as toy soldiers and set us to war on their behalf. Still. We have our good times, too, I think." Hans sets the bottle down on a table nearby - unscathed, God only knows how after such a bombardment - and tilts his head. "You're bleeding again. That cut you got on your back is deeper than we thought. I'm going to wrap it. Bandages first, and then we can have our fun."

"Don't bother." Johann sits back. Somewhere nearby, he can hear some men singing, the sort of odes to home and pretty women that he's always thought should move him... and they never do. "Maybe the scent will bring one of the American abominations on me and I can be done with this whole mess for good."

"I promised your mother I'd bring you home alive, Johann," Hans says, a hand resting on his shoulder. He's missing his pinky and ring fingers now, but he can still fire a gun, and so they sent him back to the front. "It's a promise I would like to keep."

Johann reaches up and lays his palm over the back of his friend's hand. "I promised yours the same. Perhaps we'll both disappoint in the end. Nothing new for me, of course."

"Don't be so melancholy. You'll go home, find a girl, start a family, and your mother will thrill at it all." Hans pats him on the back and pulls away.

"If only family, home, or girl had anything to do with what I wanted."

"You'll be happy enough. Besides, we'll hunt together still, there'll be time for us, too. Now, stop moping and start drinking instead. We'll make it home, Johann. We will." Hans sighs, sitting down and leaning over until his forehead rests against Johann's bare shoulder. "We must. This can't be it for us."

"If it is, I'd rather die with you than marry any girl my mother approves of," Johann says dryly, and that gets Hans to laughing.

The night seems a bit brighter, then.

Johann takes a drink.

-

@finder-of-rings @astrobly @burtlederp who have asked to be tagged in everything ever