#it’s a bigger room than my old one from like six years ago sure

[l4tedawns]

At what point do parents or guardians stop telling you that your room is “disgusting” or “gross” or “a disaster” when, at the very most, you have (predominantly clean) clothes on the floor, some papers here and there, and like Two empty cups from drinking water

[bcolfanfic]

“come on, talk to me. when have i ever led you astray, hm?” for evhelen pls!

tweaked the quote a lil, hope that's okay. hi baby sawyer <3 also random authors note but bc this is my au and i can do what i want i bumped nash's age when he died down and ev's age up. helen was newly 20 when nash, who was 22, died. by this point in the Lore she's 23 and ev is 3,000 years old 28.

***if you're reading this and are new to my young veterans au, wyatt is helen's little boy she had with nash- who she was married to before he died in afghanistan. more of her backstory can be found in my ev x helen and helen mota tags <3

---

"What's wrong- is Wyatt okay?"

It felt like hours passed before Helen answered, wiping her face with the back of her hand. Everett shed his flight jacket haphazardly by the door, not bothering to pick it up when it missed the hook and hit the floor.

"Wyatt's fine, he's in his room," Helen said quietly, taking a shaky breath as she crossed her arms back over body.

She had her knees tucked to the side on the couch, Everett gently nudging them to the side as he sat down. The only reaction she gave him was picking at one of her cuticles, trying to catch her breath to little success.

"Okay," He said slowly. "So what's goin' on then?"

"You're gonna be pissed." She spat out, the rims under her eyes making it obvious she'd been crying for some time making him just as worried as her terse assertion did.

A small list of possibilities crossed his mind- that she'd broken something of his, forgotten to do something she'd said she would. Nothing he imagined he'd be as pissed about as she was implying.

But that was his girl to a tee- the amount she worried about nearly everything something they were still working on.

"Come on Hel talk to me," He tried, reaching forward to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear from where it was sticking to her face. "When have I ever wanted you to keep something makin’ you upset from me, hm?”

Helen swallowed think, sucking in her bottom lip as a few more tears slipped out. She still wouldn't look at him, Everrett about to say something about it when what she blurted out brought his mind to a screeching halt.

"I'm pregnant, Ev."

The living room in his their house felt quieter than it had since Helen and Wyatt moved in a little over six months ago. He opened and closed his mouth twice before an unceremonious "What?" finally forced its way out.

Helen looked up at him wordlessly, biting the inside of her cheek.

“You’re, you’re sure,” He said, a wave of nausea rolling through him when she gave him a little nod.

“Tests are in- the bathroom still," She said, motioning with her head in that direction. "If you wanna go look at them.”

It felt like moving through molasses forcing himself up off the couch and back towards the bathroom, breath hitching in his throat when he pushed open the door.

The tests were sure as shit right there where'd she left them, the two pink lines on all three of them staring right back at him.

His first thought was his own stupidity, shame making his face feel hot as he thought about how reckless he'd been. They could've-, he could've made them be more careful. Denying that would be a bigger lie than he'd told in a while.

But somewhere in his head, there was an emotion that almost felt like excitement rolling around like a marble. Helen- his sweet perfect Helen that he'd known he wanted to spend the rest of his life with from the first night she slept in his bed, was having his baby.

Nerves aside, if he was supposed to be pissed about it he didn't quite understand why.

A watery inhale from behind him pulled him out of his head, and he turned to find Helen standing just outside the bathroom. She was crying again, furiously swiping at her eyes with both hands, a few "I'm sorry"s coming through between hiccups.

“Helen sweetheart hey,” Everett said, stepping forward to put an arm around her waist, other hand coming to cup her face, stroking her cheek with his thumb. “Got nothing to be sorry for, I'm not mad,"

“Think about what everyone is gonna think,” Helen interrupted, pulling away from him to walk back down the hallway. “No one is gonna let it go that your little widow girlfriend got knocked up so quick." She continued, voice more raised than he'd heard it in months. "They're gonna think I'm baby trapping you, and I can’t ruin your life Ev. I won’t, I’ll-”

“Woah woah woah- hold on a second,"

Everett nearly tripped over himself to go after her, talking to her back as she retreated to the living room, grabbing the back of the couch with both hands. "You're not ruining my life Helen, would tell anyone who suggested it to go fuck themselves," He continued when he reached her. "But can you look at me?"

It took a minute, but she turned around eventually, squeezing her eyes shut and back open.

It wouldn't be helpful to voice in right this second- Everett knew, but the thought at the forefront of his mind when she finally looked at him was how pretty she looked.

They hadn't been so reckless for no reason, after all.

"Forgot about what your anxiety is telling you- how do you feel about this," He said. "Separate from what you think everyone else is gonna think cause I don't care about them, I care about you."

"It's really soon Ev," She said so quiet he almost couldn't hear it. "But I'm not- I'm not upset about the baby itself." Helen continued, letting her gaze fall back on the carpet.

He took one of her hands in his, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles to prompt her to lift her eyes back at him. “And that’s good, cause I'm not either, okay?" He said and gave her hand a squeeze. "Can figure everything else out together like the grownups we are."

Helen nodded with a small "'kay", looking like she was near tears again when Ev got a good look at her face. With a soft "Come 'ere hon," he tucked her into him, face pressed against the side of his neck. He touched his lips to her hair, arms both looped around her shoulders.

"You tell Jeanie yet?" He asked when she seemed to have calmed down some, Helen pulling her head up just enough to look at him. "Mhm," She said, punctuated by a sniffle. "Called her blubbering and she thought something happened to you." She continued with a wet laugh.

Everett gave the side of her head another kiss, swaying her where they stood. "You think she told Croz?" He said with a chuckle.

Helen rolled her eyes at him- but both of them were startled by his phone buzzing in his pocket before she could answer.

He pulled it out, swiping open the notification.

"Well," He said, Helen leaning forward on her tiptoes to get a look at his screen. "I think she might've."

h.croz

You otw home from work yet?

[lonelywhalien22]

pretty lies - part nine (finale)

pairing: vernon x reader

rating/genre: enemies to lovers, slow burn, ANGSTY fluff, band au

summary: supporting your friend mingyu becomes way more than you ever could have bargained for when you become involved with one of his bandmates

warnings: cussing, vernon has issues in this story but please remember this is a work of fiction, mingyu stans don’t hate me but mingyu and reader are just friends

*credit: the lyrics referenced in this chapter are not mine, they are from the actual song black eye by vernon. and if you really wanna nerd out with me, listen to the band live session version he released, as that is what i imagined specifically while writing this part - trust me, it hits different.*

word count: 6.4k

prev. chapt. | series masterlist

~One year later~

“Ok, I think that’s enough for today,” you said to yourself, wiping the back of your hand across your brow as you stood up from your crouched position. You glanced around your apartment, trying to find your glass of water as you caught your breath.

Your living room was full of cardboard boxes, some of them taped shut with short descriptions scribbled hastily on the outside while others were still open, various items thrown inside haphazardly. It was spring once again, but instead of the seasonal cleaning you loved to indulge in at the first sign of sunny skies and warmer temperatures, you were moving out.

When you’d first been contacted about a competitive job offer a few months ago, you had immediately dismissed the idea. Though the hiring manager had been highly impressed with your skillset, the work would be notably different from what you were used to doing at your old job, and you doubted whether you could handle the requirements of the role. Your hesitation only became stronger when you were informed that you’d also have to relocate to take on the position.

What about my family? Mingyu and the rest of my friends? The life I have here? You’d spent weeks pondering the possible scenarios and all the things that would change if you took the offer, and you’d almost talked yourself into declining it. That was until you realized how much had already changed. 

It had been nine months since the guys had left to go work on their recording with Woozi. You still remembered the final hugs you’d given to Jay and Mingyu at the airport before they’d gone through security, a certain third person having not yet arrived. You still wondered to this day if he’d purposely chosen to show up as late as possible or if it was you who had come extra early to avoid having to interact. Perhaps it was both.

You and Mingyu had facetimed pretty regularly for the first month that they were gone. Sometimes you’d even see Jay in the background during your video chats as well, the two of you exchanging greetings and asking how the other was doing. By the time the second month had come around however, the distance made it hard to always remember to keep in touch. Eventually you all became busier and busier, your lives naturally moving in different directions. No matter how much time passed though, Mingyu always made sure to at the very least share the bigger updates with you:

~

“Why’s it taking so long to finish recording? I thought you guys would have been back by now,” you asked during one of your monthly catch ups. It had been four months at this point since they’d left. 

“Yeah me too. Woozi wanted it out sooner but his team advised against it. They thought it’d be best to let some time pass between the competition and the release so there would be less of a chance of his image getting tarnished with all the drama from the fight.” Mingyu skirted over that last part quickly, knowing that it was still a sore subject for you. “But in a weird way it works out well - with the extra time, we’re gonna be able to write some more stuff and put together a whole EP.”

“What is that? Like five or six songs? That’s so amazing, I can’t wait to hear them!” 

“You know, you could always get a sneak peak if you flew out here for a few days,” Mingyu offered once again. He’d been trying to get you to come for weeks now. “Nikki’s already seen me twice since we left!”

“She’s your girlfriend, of course she has. And you know I don’t have the time anyways - my boss would never let me take off for that long.” It was true that your job was a pain in the ass, but you and Mingyu both knew you had other reasons for not coming to visit in person.

“Just promise you’ll come see us perform when the EP is released.”

“Of course. I’ll be there.”

~

Now in the present, when you really thought about it, you realized that there wasn’t much tying you to the place in which you currently resided. Watching Mingyu and the guys for so long had given you a taste of all the possibilities life had to offer, and you were tired of limiting yourself to what you currently knew when it wasn’t really doing you any favors anyways. The job offer had just been the final push you needed, and at last you felt ready and excited to pursue your own little sort of adventure. Even if it wasn’t as glamorous as flying across the country to work with world-renowned producers, it was yours and yours alone.

You pushed the boxes you’d been working on packing up to a corner of the room, ready to call it a day, when you heard your phone ring from somewhere in your apartment. Taking a few moments to find it amongst all the disarray, you managed to answer right before it went to voicemail.

“Hey, what time did you say your flight was landing?” It was Mingyu. You could hear lots of commotion in the background wherever he was, voices and instruments faintly reaching your ears.

“Should be around eleven in the morning.” With the career change you had several weeks of cherished personal time before you began your new job. Besides the time you’d need to relocate, you were finally able to take a few days to visit Mingyu and see what the band had been working on for yourself.

“Shit, I don’t think I’m gonna be able to meet you at the airport. We’re putting the final touches on some stuff and won’t be done until around one.” You could hear the regret in his voice, but all you could do was chuckle in response.

“I’m gonna get there Thursday and I’ll be staying all the way through the weekend. Trust me, you’re not missing much. Airports suck anyways.”

“I know, but still. We’re all looking forward to seeing you. It’s been way too long.”

You couldn’t help but wonder who was included in that “we,” but there was no way you were gonna ask.

“Well, that’ll all be fixed very soon,” you said instead, glancing over at your half packed suitcase.

“I’ll see if Nikki can meet you at the airport instead since she’s also visiting,” Mingyu offered. You squealed in excitement. Since the guys had left, you and Mingyu’s girlfriend had become pretty close, unsurprisingly. What had at first seemed like an obligatory relationship born out of a common bond had over time blossomed into a true friendship. She was definitely going to be someone you missed hanging out with when you moved.

“You should have started with that option,” you joked as you tried to figure out how many pairs of socks you needed to pack and where on earth you’d put them. “Tell her I need someone to show me around when I get there.”

“She’ll be glad to hear that,” Mingyu said happily before he was interrupted by someone on his end. “Y/n, I gotta go. But we’ll see you soon, ok?” he finished quickly.

“See you soon.”

—————

When your flight landed, it only took you a handful of minutes to find Nikki, the brunette jumping up and down excitedly as soon as she caught sight of you in baggage claim.

“Hey -” you greeted, letting out a slight “oof” as she gave you a big hug before immediately taking the bags you’d been carrying out of your hands.

“I’m so excited you’re here! How was the flight?”

“Good, just glad there weren’t any delays,” you said as you took a deep breath. You couldn’t believe you were really here, about to see the guys in person again after nearly a year.

“I know you’re probably hungry, but do you think you’d be good with just some snacks for now?” Nikki asked. “I tried talking him out of it but Mingyu’s insisting on everyone meeting up for lunch after they finish for today.”

“That’s fine,” you said as you began looking around for some place where you could buy some fruit or a salad, craving something fresh after being forced to eat airplane food. Nikki noticed the look in your eye, the way in which you immediately distracted yourself at the mention of the lunch. It was something that only she could have picked up on besides Mingyu, the two of them knowing the most about your past with a certain someone.

“In case you were wondering, he will be there,” she said softly, following behind you as you picked out a snack from a nearby stall and found your wallet to pay. “I just thought you’d wanna know.”

You let out a sigh. 

“I appreciate that, but I’m fine. It’s been months,” you said simply.

Nikki only stared back at you, her brow raised slightly as she tried to keep herself from calling you out on your bullshit.

“Really. I am,” you insisted. “Is it gonna be awkward at first? Yeah, probably. But this was bound to happen at some point. Let’s hope he doesn’t hate me and everything should be fine,” you said jokingly at the end, hoping she’d believe you then.

“Ok…” Nikki said. She piped up again after a few beats. “You know y/n, he’s changed - since being out here.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s not the same person he was the night of the Battle of the Bands competition.”

“Nikki,” you said with a warning tone, not liking where this was going.

“I’m not telling you to get back with him or anything,” her hands raised themselves innocently into the air. “I just don’t want you to let the way things ended between you two a year ago get in the way of you having a good time while you’re here,” she said gently.

“Thank you for that, but for the last time, I promise I am fine. Now - no more guy talk. Wasn’t there some thrift store you wanted to show me?” You brought up her weakness for clothes in an effort to change the subject once and for all.

“Say less,” Nikki said eagerly as she ushered you out of the airport and the two of you caught a ride to the hotel.

—————

“Y/n!”

Mingyu immediately pulled you into a hug that was even stronger than Nikki’s from earlier when he saw you. You couldn’t help the toothy smile that emerged on your face.

“Hey Mingyu,” you said simply. You really had missed your friend so much.

“Let her breathe,” Nikki chided playfully.

“Yeah, leave some hugs for the rest of us,” Jay said, arms open wide as you gave him a hug next.

“It’s so great to see you guys. I missed everyone so much.”

It was a little after one, and you and Nikki had finally met up with the guys to have a late lunch at a spot near the studio where they were recording. It was a bright and sunny day so you all had elected to eat at the patio seating out front. There was just one person missing though.

“Vernon’s running a little late but he’ll be here,” Mingyu said, seeing the question in your eyes. “He just had to finish going over some edits.”

Some things never change, you thought before you could stop yourself. You wondered if they were just covering for him with empty promises - if he’d somehow manage to avoid you for this entire trip.

You all finally sat down at a circular table outside. Mingyu and Nikki were to your right and Jay was to your left, leaving one last spot for Vernon just across from you.

“So what’s this I hear about you moving? And a new job? Congrats!” Jay started once a waitress had brought you all drinks. The four of you immediately began to catch up, most of the focus on you.

“I still can’t believe you’re gonna be gone,” Mingyu whined.

“I’m not dying, just moving. And now you know how I felt when you guys left,” you said playfully. “Who could have predicted we’d be spread all over the place like this?” 

As you continued to chat, you couldn’t help but reminisce about where you all had been just a year ago - struggling to get by and constantly putting in overtime to make things work with the band, your day jobs, and your personal lives. And now look at you all, on your way to better things. It made you feel so proud when you really thought about it.

“I’m really sorry I’m late you guys.”

You all looked up at the interruption, seeing Vernon approach the table in a bit of disarray. He was clad in a simple white tee and light wash denim jeans, an unbuttoned light blue collared shirt layered over his tee. As he sat down, his hand came up to brush some hair out of his face, but a few stray strands fell onto his forehead anyways.

“Was it the sound engineer guy again?” Mingyu asked him knowingly with a smirk. Vernon laughed in response.

“Yeah - he went on a rant about compression techniques this time.”

“I told you to stop asking him questions,” Jay threw in, “you’re too curious for your own good sometimes man.”

“I know, I can’t help it, but anyways - ”

He looked over at you, a polite smile on his face as he scooted up his chair.

“Hi y/n.”

“Hi Vernon,” you said curtly with a tight-lipped smile. You looked down at the menu in your hands, eyes skimming over the entrees again even though you already knew what you wanted to order.

“So,” Nikki started, clearing her throat in the lingering silence. “What did you all work on today?”

“Just rehearsing the songs from the EP in preparation for the showcase,” Mingyu responded, the two of them tag-teaming on moving the conversation along.

“Vern’s been instrumental in helping us craft some amazing songs,” Jay propped the man up with a pat to his back.

“It’s all thanks to Woozi really,” Vernon brushed off shyly, but Mingyu shook his head adamantly.

“Don’t sell yourself short bro, you’ve done some great work on this.”

“I can’t wait to hear it,” Nikki piled on another compliment.

“Thanks guys.” Vernon let out a cheeky smile, looking down at his lap for a moment before fiddling with the menu on the table to distract himself, his cheeks burning.

You hadn’t really taken Nikki seriously at first when she’d said so earlier, but she was right - something was different about Vernon. He seemed lighter somehow. And it was quickly becoming apparent to you that the guys had grown much closer after working on music together for the last nine months. You could see it immediately in the way they interacted with each other, the three of them trading jokes and stories easily as you all waited for the waitress to come back.

“What’s that you mentioned about a showcase?” you asked.

“We’re putting on a performance the day after the EP is released,” Jay explained. “Woozi and Seventeen are gonna make an appearance as well, so we’ll likely be performing in front of thousands.”

“That’s incredible,” you said with a stunned expression.

“It’s part of the reason I wanted you to come this weekend specifically,” Mingyu said. “I’m not sure the timing would have lined up so nicely if you didn’t already happen to be moving -”

Nikki nudged Mingyu, cutting him off with a stern look, but it was too late.

“Wait, you’re moving?”

You looked back over at Vernon, his brow furrowing as he looked at you with a crestfallen expression. No one had told him?

“Yeah,” you said nervously, glancing over at him for a second before looking away again. You reached for your glass of lemonade, taking a sip so you didn’t have to say anything else, another awkward silence filling the table.

“So, what can I get you all,” the waitress finally appeared, ready to take your orders.

You’d never felt more thankful for a distraction.

—————

The rest of lunch had gone as smoothly as it could have considering the circumstances, with everyone mainly focused on their food. Mingyu, Jay and Nikki did most of the talking, sharing more stories from their time away from home as you politely listened along, soaking up just how much you had missed and throwing in a question or two from time to time. You tried your best to keep from looking at Vernon, which wasn’t really all that hard considering he stayed quiet for the rest of the meal. When his name came up in the conversation he’d always give a smile or a nod, laughing along at Mingyu’s ridiculous exaggerations, but besides that he gave no input.

“Well this was fun,” you said as you all walked out of the restaurant. “I guess we can hang out more tomorrow when you guys are finished with work again?”

“Actually…we were wondering if you’d come with us to the studio,” Mingyu suggested. “We wanna show you what we’ve been working on.”

“Really? Now?” you said in surprise. “Are you sure?” You’d assumed you wouldn’t be able to hear any of the actual songs until the official release of the EP.

Jay nodded before adding on, “As of today, the mastering is done so the songs are officially finished.” You noticed how he looked over at Vernon briefly, the man’s face a little red with eyes averted and hands tucked in his pockets quietly, before he continued. “We all agreed awhile ago that we wanted you to be the first outside of the production team to listen to it, as a thank you for all of your support.”

You felt honored, nearly tearing up at their words. It was such a kind gesture that you didn’t bother worrying too much about the fact that you’d have to spend even more time around Vernon. Like Nikki had said earlier, you didn’t want your history with him to stop you from sharing in such a precious moment.

“You guys…this is really sweet…”

“We know. Now come on,” Mingyu ushered you towards him eagerly.

You looked back at Nikki in confusion as she kept her place on the sidewalk.

“Go on,” she said with a smile. “The guys insisted you had to hear it first. Alone.” She said that last part with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “I’ll be waiting for you back at the hotel.”

—————

“Wow,” was the first word that left your mouth when you and the guys arrived at the studio.

The main area was bigger than the living room of your old apartment, a bunch of fancy recording equipment with hundreds of knobs and dials against one wall to your right. Comfy couches and chairs adorned the wall that was directly across, with plush carpets and decorative little knickknacks accenting the space. The recording booth was its own room, separated from everything else by a shiny sleek glass. When you peeked inside you saw a plethora of instruments and mic stands, and you even recognized Vernon’s guitar sitting in one corner.

“Crazy, right?” Mingyu urged you on with an elbow to your arm before he plopped himself into one of the chairs near the control booth. Vernon and Jay had already seated themselves. 

“Sit down!” Mingyu said, patting the last empty chair, which was beside him but also just so happened to be next to Vernon. You knew it was just by chance and that Mingyu would never set you up like that purposely, but that didn’t stop the nervousness that bubbled in your stomach.

“No way am I sitting that close to the controls,” you tried joking as an excuse. “I’m scared I’ll break something.” 

You backed up towards the couch against the opposite wall, planning to sit there instead, but the devastated look on Mingyu’s face made you stop in your tracks. Unable to take anymore of his expression, you glanced over at Vernon on instinct and your heart fell even more when you saw the way he immediately looked down at his lap, scratching the back of his head despondently.

Fuck. Was I that obvious? you thought, immediately feeling stupid for making things awkward.

“I can switch with Jay if - ” Vernon started, but you quickly cut him off.  

“No! No it’s fine,” you said, shaking your head before taking a step forward. “I’ll just - ” you didn’t bother finishing that sentence because what were you supposed to say exactly? No, it’s fine, I’ll just sit down next to my ex instead of making you all switch chairs because I still feel weird about breaking up with him? That would have been even more embarrassing. Maybe Nikki was right - you weren’t as over your past with Vernon as you’d thought.

You finished making your way to the final seat at the booth and promptly sat down, folding your hands in your lap as you tried to muster up some semblance of poise.

“Show me what you guys have been working on.” 

Mingyu looked at you seriously for a moment, making sure you were really ok first. Once you gave him a genuine smile and elbowed him playfully, he released a breath, the anticipation growing on his face again.

“Jay, can you play the first track?” he asked.

“Sure thing man.” The bassist clicked away on a nearby monitor before sitting back, sound beginning to flow from the speakers.

For the next half hour or so, you listened to several of the songs the guys had spent months crafting, worries quickly melting away as you couldn’t help but absorb yourself completely into the music. At the end of each one you immediately gushed over the melody, production elements, or other details, Mingyu and Jay eagerly offering in-depth input on more of the behind-the-scenes process. Vernon also chimed in from time to time, slowly becoming more comfortable as he gave insight on lyrical choices or even helped to elaborate upon your comments when you struggled to articulate in technical terms what it was you’d noticed in each song - “We added some more reverb here in the bridge,” “Woozi had them redo the mixing so many times on this song so they could capture Jay’s pedaling,” “That bit you’re hearing is a layer of syncopation over the main melody.” It was hard not to notice the passion in his voice. It exuded from him every time he spoke - an unbridled joy you had never seen before. You found it endearing, a smile slowly growing on your face the more you watched him.

The fourth track was the official recording of Visions. The four of you stayed completely quiet throughout the entirety of this song, fully absorbing Vernon’s raw vocals and the way they glided over the rich instrumental. Goosebumps covered your skin by the end.

“Vernon…that was beautiful.”

You were the first to interrupt the silence that filled the space afterwards, unable to stop yourself from looking directly at him. Despite everything that had happened, Visions would always make you feel something that was hard to put into words. You two didn’t have to still be together for you to regard that song with incredible care and awe.

“Thank you…that means a lot,” Vernon said, holding your gaze timidly for a moment before looking down, rubbing his hands across his jeans. He hoped you couldn’t see in his eyes how much your words still meant to him, after all this time.

“Thank you for trusting us with it,” Jay added in, Mingyu nodding along. 

No more words had to be said, the group of you sitting comfortably in the silence for a little longer before Mingyu quietly spoke up again.

“There’s just one more song left,” he said, eyebrows beginning to wiggle mischievously.

“There is?” you asked, curiosity peaked at the thought of even more music to listen to. But Vernon’s head jerked back up in panic at Mingyu’s words.

“N-No. There’s not,” he said abruptly, eyes wide as he quickly shook his head in denial. He looked legitimately scared.

“We discussed this already and you said you’d do it. I really think it’s best you stick to your word,” Mingyu said to Vernon, getting up from his chair and patting him on the back before walking towards the door. “Y/n. You good?”

“Yes…?” you said, appreciating his checking in before he seemingly left you alone with your ex.

“No - Mingyu wait -” Vernon said.

“You got this bro.”

“Rarely do I say it, but for once I’d have to agree with Mingyu here,” Jay said as he also got up and retreated towards the studio door. “Plus he stole my guitar pics and won’t give them back unless I agree to this plan so…”

The two bandmates exited the room, the door closing with a sort of finality as you and Vernon were left alone together in the studio.

What is happening right now? Why the hell would I tell Mingyu I was ok with this? Your mind went into overdrive as you fully processed the situation you’d so easily gotten yourself into, and yet, there was another part of you with so many questions that you found yourself glued to your seat.

If it was any consolation, Vernon looked just as unnerved as you.

“I’m sorry. I swear I had no idea they were gonna do this, I promise,” he said as he glanced over at you, immediately feeling the need to explain. 

This wasn’t how he’d imagined sharing this last song with you. If he was being honest, he’d never been able to figure out how to go about it, or if he should even try at all. So now that you were right here, sitting beside him again after a whole year had passed, he felt himself panicking. When all he heard was your silence in response, he continued to ramble on nervously.

“You can totally leave if you want. I won’t stop you.” It may have sounded like a cruel suggestion, but to Vernon it would actually have been so much easier if you did - if you left him again just like you had at that bench by the river a year ago. That way he wouldn’t have to reopen an old wound - wouldn’t have to rub salt in something he wasn’t entirely sure had healed. He could just continue to live in denial, never again having to confront the pain that had been so much of his existence or the hurt from his past with you.

“Why did you decide to record Visions? After everything that happened?” Vernon finally heard you ask instead. 

It was something that had tormented you nearly every day since your breakup, the question coming to you randomly late at night or when, against your better judgement, you’d listen to certain songs you knew would make you think of him. If you’d been in his shoes you didn’t think you could have done it, and so in this moment you found yourself desperate for an answer.

“I almost didn’t,” Vernon admitted, the confession spilling from his lips rather effortlessly once he’d recovered from his surprise. “But every time I tried to convince myself not to, I would think about the times I’d gotten to perform it on stage…” He looked forward, focusing on the recording booth before continuing. “I didn’t have the words for it then, but now I realize that it was healing - getting to share that song with others. And I think deep down there was a part of me that was tired of hurting myself as a way to cope with the things that had happened to me. So when you still asked me to record it, even after the way things ended, I couldn’t ignore that.” He looked over at you again, repeating your words from a year ago: “It’s like you said, I was tired of hiding in silence. So thank you - for encouraging me. I know that couldn’t have been easy.”

You weren’t sure what you thought you’d hear, but you certainly hadn’t expected something so…introspective.

“I’m glad. That it was healing for you.” 

His words were their own kind of salve, freeing you from a self-inflicted purgatory you hadn’t realized you were in until that very moment. 

“Sometimes I worried that maybe you hated me for it,” you acknowledged the last bit of fear you’d been holding in your heart.

“I can’t deny that I wasn’t upset at times, but I’ve never once hated you,” Vernon said earnestly. “Not even the first night we met - and not after you told me goodbye either.” He desperately needed you to know that.

You let his words seep into your heart, the look in his eyes telling you that he truly meant it, before you finally moved on. Once and for all.

“So,” you said with a deep exhale, suddenly finding it hard to hold his gaze. “What’s this last song? The one the guys want you to play for me?”

“Right. The song…” Vernon began with an anxious gulp - he’d almost forgotten why the two of you were in this situation to begin with. He mulled it over in his head for a second, trying to find the right words to explain what the song meant and why he’d written it, but eventually he realized that defeated the purpose. The song existed for this precisely - because he had always struggled to adequately articulate his feelings in any other way. So instead of stumbling over his words for any longer, he leaned over the control booth and pressed play:

Running 'round the whole city for someone

To look me in my eyes and tell me pretty lies

Teardrops keep blurring up my sight

And right now I'm driving in my car

Going so fast, baby, so fast, baby

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh

Don't leave me in the dark

You said you won't be far

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh

I can't stand the quiet

Is anyone out there?

Is anyone out there?

I'm on my worst behavior

Don't stop me now

I fucking hate this world

So show me a way out

Wake me up from this nightmare, please

I can't stand this reality

I'm on my worst behavior

How you like me now?

Put a muzzle on me

I'll spit in your mouth

Wake me up from this nightmarе, please

I'm scarred and bruisеd with a black eyed face

Woke up on the highway

I didn't go home last night

What you know 'bout me?

I ain't got nothing

So why you keep coming to me?

With your innocent eyes, you smile so bright

Stop wasting your sunshine on me

'Cause I can't tell if it's real or a lie

Solitude

I got a couple friends

Just me, myself, and I

We play with fireworks all night

I'm okay

I'll just let it burn everything around me

'Cause you can't save me from my sadness

No, don't save me

I'm on my worst behavior

Don't stop me now

I fucking hate this world

So show me a way out

Wake me up from this nightmare, please

I can't stand this reality

I'm on my worst behavior

How you like me now?

Put a muzzle on me

I'll spit in your mouth

Wake me up from this nightmare, please

I'm scarred and bruised with a black eyed face

Turn on the radio all the way up

'Til your eardrums explode

Let's dance all night long

But if you come too close

I might just burn you whole

Turn my back and shut the door

Knock, knock

Is there anybody out there?

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at Vernon as the song filled the studio, body frozen in your seat even after it was finished. So many lyrics had stood out to you:

pretty lies

tears blurring up my sight

don’t leave me in the dark

you said you won’t be far

I can’t stand the quiet

on my worst behavior

didn't go home last night

what you know 'bout me?

your innocent eyes, you smile so bright

stop wasting your sunshine on me

can't tell if it's real or a lie

just let it burn everything around me

you can't save me from my sadness

black eyed face

“Y/n? Are you ok?” Vernon asked, turning his chair to face you fully as he saw your expression. He was terrified of what your reaction would be.

“I’m not sure…” you said honestly, finally looking over at him. “Are you ok?”

“I am, I promise. This is something I started writing around the time I joined the band. Right before I met you,” he tried to explain.

“But clearly that’s not when you wrote all of it - black eyed face? ” The more you went over the bits of lyrics you could remember, the more you saw parts of your relationship and his time with the band sprinkled all over it. You didn’t really know how to feel.

“You're right - I added different parts at different times until it all came together. It was my way of coping with what I was going through at the time…and eventually that included pieces of you too - pieces of us.”

“Pretty lies? Wasting my sunshine on you? Is that really all you remember when you think of our relationship? The painful parts?” you asked quietly, a little afraid to hear his answer.

“No, of course not,” Vernon looked at you gently. He wished he could hold your hand in that moment but he held himself back.

“Then I don’t understand. Why write this -”

“Because I love you,” Vernon said finally, his stomach dropping at the confession. He couldn’t bear the thought of you misinterpreting his words any longer. “I love you and I’m sorry for how things ended. For what I put you through. This song was my way of acknowledging that - not by attacking our relationship, but by putting myself back in that negative headspace and being open for once about the fact that I still had things to work through. When it was too late to be better for you or for the guys, I had to find a reason to be better for myself. And so I wrote this song as a reminder.”

You heard everything he said, but you could only focus on one thing.

“You love me?” you couldn’t help but ask, feeling strangely emotional for someone who had supposedly moved on.

“I mean��yeah. I’m not sure the feeling will ever go away,” Vernon’s face turned red as he decided to be completely honest with you.

“I…”

“You don’t have to say anything. I’m not asking you to take me back - it’s just something I want you to know.”

Just then you heard a noise on the other side of the door, the two of you looking over just in time to see Mingyu peek his head into the room.

“Sooo…the song’s good isn’t it???” the man blurted out, brows once again wiggling. “I was thinking we could call it Pretty Lies.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, ready to tell him to knock it off, but someone else beat you to it.

“Leave them alone!” you heard Nikki say, dragging him back by the collar of his shirt. You thought she was at the hotel, but apparently even she couldn’t stay away for long.

“What? I just wanna -” but the door promptly shut, blocking out Mingyu’s antics. 

The two of them really were made for each other, you thought with a bit of admiration. You and Vernon couldn’t help but begin to laugh.

“I guess that means it’s time to wrap it up,” you started, standing as you gathered your belongings. Vernon followed suit, still facing you.

“Just so you know - the label doesn’t know about this song,” Vernon said. “And regardless of what Mingyu wants, I’m not sharing it unless you’re comfortable. The EP is great as is.”

“You’re right that it’s great,” you started, “but it’d be even better with this song. It’s really, really, good Vernon,” you said honestly. You couldn’t deny that, even if it had been a little surreal to listen to in the beginning.

“You sure?”

“I’m sure,” you said, walking towards him and reaching out for a hug. He was the only person you hadn’t given one to since arriving, though this one felt notably different from the others, the familiarity of his touch sparking something in you. 

Vernon held on to you tightly, his head instinctively tucking into that familiar spot on the side of your neck while you rubbed his back softly, neither of you letting go.

“We’re gonna miss you. I’m gonna miss you,” he admitted once you two had lessened your hold enough to look at each other, the thought finally dawning on him that whenever he did finally return home, you wouldn’t be there waiting for him.

“I know. I will too,” you said wistfully. “But this doesn’t have to be goodbye forever, you know?”

You stood up on your tip toes then and gave him a chaste kiss on the lips. It wasn’t one of fiery passion, nor was it one loaded with secrecy or shame or hurt. And to Vernon, it was his absolute favorite of any of the kisses you two had ever shared. When you looked up at him, you could barely hold in your laughter, his face morphing into the perfect mixture of bliss and confusion.

“But how? You’re moving,” Vernon couldn’t help but ask despite the happiness he felt.

“Slowly. We can visit each other. With my new job I’ve got more flexibility, and you’re all gonna be famous soon anyways,” you only half-joked. “Even when you guys finally do come home, I have a feeling you won’t be there for long…”

He looked down bashfully at that but you placed a hand to his face, angling it back towards you as you looked at him seriously again.

“Vernon. I want us to explore this - the way we are now. If you want to.”

“I do,” Vernon said confidently.

“Then we’ll figure it out,” you said assuredly. “I trust this. I trust us. Ok?”

“Ok.”

—————

When you and Vernon finally left the studio, you found Mingyu, Jay, and Nikki all waiting for you out in the lobby with bated breath. Nikki let out a near shriek when she saw that the two of you were holding hands.

“You guys have my blessing to include the final song,” you said immediately, deciding not to keep them in suspense for any longer.

“Oh thank god,” Mingyu immediately blurted out. “If I’m being honest it’s my favorite and I really wanna make it the single -” Nikki smacked Mingyu’s arm. 

“Ow! What was that for?” 

“‘Gyu would you please think before you speak???”

“What are you talking about??? You screamed before I said anything and have been gushing about double dates for the last five minutes.” 

The two of them continued bickering playfully.

“What they’re trying to say is - we’re really thankful we get to share the song,” Jay translated. “And we’re happy for you guys.”

“I am too,” you chuckled lightly. “Although now that I think about it, I have one request - can you call it Black Eye instead of Pretty Lies?”

The guys all looked at each other for less than a second before speaking in unison.

“Deal!”

—————

It was the day of the showcase. You stood in the crowd once again, just a speck in a sea of thousands of fans as you watched the guys perform. It brought you back to the best parts of old times, sitting around on Jay’s beaten up couch when all they could have hoped for were a hundred people to show up if they were lucky. But now you got to see them on their biggest stage yet, Mingyu happily tapping away at the drums, his head of hair moving all over the place as he kept the beat going. Jay was his usual chill self, just vibing out on the bass contentedly. And then there was Vernon, looking a little shy as the opening chords of Black Eye began to ring out from the strings of his guitar for the first time live. It reminded you of when you’d seen him take the mic at the first gig the guys had ever performed at together, except that now there was a distinct sense of determination in his eyes despite the trepidation that you couldn’t help but admire - the sight awakening a long lost feeling of butterflies in your stomach. He caught you looking at him, gazing at you fondly for one last time before leaning into the mic and beginning to sing.

prev. chapt. | series masterlist

a/n: if you made it all the way here to the end, I just wanted to say thank you to each and every one of you who took the time to read this story! if you've got feels, feel free to share them with me here or reblog the ml if you're so inclined. please take care <3

taglist: @twogyuu @yourfavoritefreakyhan

[auxiliarydetective]

Felicity: Small, Emotional, Electric

This could've been out two to three days ago if only my WiFi wasn't being so mean - I currently have about a minute of WiFi every few minutes, so I'm using that and uploading while I can

WANTED

"Desert Fox" Felicity

Bounty to be determined

Once again, huge thanks to Alvita for the template for the poster!

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They call you Cry Baby, Cry Baby But you don't even care Tears fall to the ground You'll just let them drown

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Normally, I'd put two small fics in an intro post, but the "small intro fic" accidentally turned into 4.5K words, so you can find the full fic on AO3 here!

-

Whereas Zoro was seemingly unbothered by the clowns manhandling him and dragging him to whatever the “green room” may be, Nami was actively struggling like a feral cat, trying to break free. If only she had claws, she would tear them to shreds. Buggy’s lair was bigger than she had thought, probably built into whatever remained of the town he had destroyed. The big top was only a small part of it. Finally, they entered a room, or rather a dark green tent, filled with equipment, crates and costumes. Fairy lights hung from the ceiling, along with various crinolines and ropes. A couple of vanity mirrors lined by lightbulbs were the only useable pieces of furniture in it. Nami saw Zoro jolt forwards in front of her, but four clowns worked together to pin him back down. They finally succeeded in pressing him against a large wooden disk with straps, one usually used in knife throwing acts. Leaning against a supporting beam were their belongings: Zoro’s swords, Nami’s staff and navigation gear. Nami, too, gave another struggle, but when she saw what was hiding in the corner of the room, she froze in terror.

Behind a wooden machine of which she didn’t even want to know what it was for stood a cage with metal bars and elaborate wooden décor. Inside the cage, however – that was what terrified Nami the most. Inside the cage sat a little girl, maybe five or six years old, with a canine nose, incredibly large furry ears atop her head and a fluffy tail emerging from her lower back. She was wearing a glittering leotard lined with fur that managed to miss all three shades of sandy blonde present in her hair, tail, and ears in an almost infuriating way, and was watching the happenings in the room through large brown eyes.

Nami didn’t even pay attention to how she was being handled as her gaze was locked on the little girl. It was only when she was lifted off the ground and forced into an oversized birdcage that she tried to fight back again. She almost succeeded, too, but the woman gripping her was incredibly strong.

“Look, kitty, now you’ve got company!” she announced without looking at the little girl. “Don’t we take good care of you, making sure you’re not alone even if you got stage fright?”

As two clowns were busy tying Zoro to his dartboard and the woman wrestled Nami into her cage, another man stayed behind, with messy scarlet hair and two-toned makeup, wearing a striped leotard and a belt with a battle-axe.

“You still aren’t eating,” he remarked in a voice as sweet as acid. “You know you’ve gotta eat. Uncle Buggy was already mad you refused to perform, so what’s he gonna say if he finds out you’re not eating either? You gotta get your strength up if you wanna put on a pretty show, tiny dancer.”

The man picked up a bowl of presumably oatmeal with a spoon in it from the floor in front of the cage. Immediately, the little girl crawled further to the back of her tiny prison, pouting.

“Afraid it’s poisoned?” the woman asked without turning away from Nami’s birdcage.

She was now busy securing a padlock to it, whereas her fellow freaks were done with their work and left. Zoro was bound tightly by the wrists with thick ropes that almost cut into his skin, and whereas he had looked fully unbothered before, he was now visibly annoyed.

The man in the striped leotard stuck a finger into the oatmeal and scooped some of it into his mouth, humming in exaggerated delight.

“Delicious! Come on, have some!”

He almost shoved the spoon into the girl’s face, causing her to retract it as far as possible. She pressed her lips shut in protest and panic, only getting worse the longer the spoon whirled around beneath the dark tip of her nose. Slowly but surely, the lights in the room started flickering, lightbulbs and fairy lights tremoring just like the girl was.

“Aw, don’t be like that,” the man cooed. “Come on, who’s a good kitty?!”

“It’s clearly a fox,” Zoro growled, causing the man to pause with the spoon less than an inch from the girl’s mouth as he looked back at him in annoyance. “And if you don’t leave her alone, I’m gonna-“

He didn’t get to finish his sentence before the little girl grabbed the man’s arm and yanked it aside, at the same time lunging forwards. A loud crackling sound cut through the air and one of the lights blew out as her hand made contact and the man collapsed. The bowl, however, landed safely in the girl’s clawed hand and she placed it back down, keeping the spoon in her lap.

The muscular woman gave an exasperated sigh and shoved the keys to the padlock into her pocket before turning around to the girl.

“Now, now, don’t act out like that,” she said in a low, manipulative tone. “You don’t do that to your family. You belong here, with us! We’re freaks, just like you!”

“She’s not a freak!” Nami blurted out. “She’s just a little girl! Why are you doing this to her?! Let her go!”

The woman scoffed. “Oh, she’s much more than that. She’s a monster and she’s not as little as you think. Let’s see how long it takes for your captain to break, maybe you’ll get to spend a lot of time with her.”

She grabbed her crewmate and threw him over her shoulder to carry him outside. Right before she was through the doorway, she turned around again.

“Besides, it was her choice to run away and go to sea. Wasn’t it, kitty?”

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Taglist: @starcrossedjedis @oneirataxia-girl @daughter-of-melpomene - let me know if you'd like to be added!

[workingforitallthetime]

well this sure is 1.5K of f/f gavin/seamus, isn't it

-

“That girl was flirting with you.” Gavin flops backwards onto her bed.

“Who?” Seamus is at the mirror scrubbing a wipe along the line of her eyelid. She folds the cloth over, looking for a clean spot between streaks of the eyeshadow that made her eyes look even bigger and darker and sadder than usual.

“The lacrosse one.” Long blonde hair, longer legs. Taller than Seamus. Or Gavin.

“She wasn’t flirting with me.” Seamus tosses her makeup wipe toward the trash can. “She’s one of the ones who saran-wrapped Kienan’s moped.”

“She held your hair back at the water fountain.” In the dorm lobby, completely unprompted, as everyone filtered in from a Saturday of parties and meandered their way toward the elevators. “She was absolutely flirting with you.”

Seamus squirts toner onto a cotton pad. “You’ve held my hair back.”

“While you were puking,” Gavin protests.

Seamus gestures like Gavin’s just proved her point, but it’s not the same thing. Holding your friend’s hair back while they puke is just helping. Holding Seamus’s hair back at the water fountain — gathering up all those thick dark curls, letting your fingers brush the back of her neck— that’s flirting. Which is why Gavin’s never tried that with Seamus.

Seamus leans into the mirror, carefully blotting her face. “Just because every girl flirts with you doesn’t mean they’re flirting with me.”

Gavin doesn’t even try to argue the first half of the point. But even if Seamus doesn’t have Gavin’s brand of adorable butch magic, the kind that beguiles queers and converts straight girls, plenty of girls ought to be into the busty Irish barmaid vibe that Seamus has going. “Doesn’t mean they’re not, either.”

Seamus makes a skeptical noise and shakes a nearly empty tube of something over her palm, trying to expel the contents.

Gavin’s suddenly conscious of her own nighttime routine: considerably easier, and already completed. Teeth brushed, sports bra tossed over her chair, jeans and crop top replaced with boxers and an old t-shirt. Done.

She repositions her pillow behind her head. “Would you ever?” she asks Seamus, while Seamus is distracted with the sad empty wheeze of whatever skin care product she’s after.

Somehow it’s never occurred to her to ask. Gavin always figured Seamus would tell her if she ever had anything to say. Gavin hadn’t had any hesitation about telling Seamus, pugnaciously spitting out I’m gay while they were stickhandling in Seamus’s driveway six years ago, using Seamus’s momentary confusion to swat the puck out from under her.

Seamus suddenly gives up on the tube in her hand, tossing it into the garbage can with a clunk. She rummages through her basket and comes up with dental floss instead. “Yeaaaaah…” The syllable draws out uncertainly as Seamus pulls a length of floss out of its case. She doesn’t sound unsure about the answer. She sounds more unsure about sharing it with Gavin. “I never have.” She leans in close to the mirror and works the floss between her molars with precise movements. “I don’t think I’d know how.”

“It’s easy,” Gavin scoffs. “You’ve kissed guys, you can kiss a girl.” Although Gavin’s not 100 percent sure how far Seamus has gone with guys, even. Seamus never told her about anyone in the picture while she was at the program. And from what Gavin’s seen this year, guys don’t really seem to… stick. They’ll be around for a few weeks — a study partner, a coffee date, a string of notifs superimposed over Seamus’s lockscreen photo of her and Gavin at U18 worlds — and then gone without explanation. Seamus never looks too upset. Gavin never asks.

Seamus flicks the used floss into the trash can and turns to face Gavin. “It seems pretty different.”

Gavin can’t remember whether the Team USA shirt Seamus is wearing is hers or Gavin’s. Same with the faded Florida Alliance t-shirt Gavin’s wearing. Now that they share a dorm room it’s pretty much stopped mattering. Seamus keeps sneaking her laundry into Gavin’s basket and Gavin keeps letting her get away with it. “I could teach you.”

Seamus looks away so quickly it’s almost a flinch. “You would?”

“Yeah, sure.” It’s not like Seamus would be the first straight girl who’s learned the ropes from Gavin. It feels a little more… high stakes, maybe… with Seamus, but why should it? What good is a gay best friend if she can’t teach you how to hook up with a girl? Gavin can do a little gay mentoring, equip Seamus to kiss whoever she wants. Anybody at all. Just… like, hopefully not anybody from the lacrosse team. Or anybody else tall and blonde. Gavin swings her feet over the edge of the bed and sits up. “C’mere.”

“Like now?” Seamus shifts her weight uncertainly from one bare foot to the other under the hems of her pajama pants.

Gavin pats the mattress next to her. “Yeah, now.”

“Can we at least…” Seamus goes for the light switch without finishing her question. Gavin lets her. As Seamus’s feet whisper across the floor in the darkened room, she wonders what Seamus doesn’t want her to see.

Her eyes adjust as Seamus perches on the edge of the bed, one leg tucked under her so she can face Gavin. It feels familiar. They could be eight years old, in Gavin’s bedroom in Florida, crunching wintergreen lifesavers to watch the sparks. They could be fifteen, in a hotel room at a minor hockey tournament, Seamus trying to draw lip liner on Gavin for the awards banquet. Eighteen’s not so different. It’s not so different to see Seamus’s face, bare and vulnerable, when she closes her eyes as Gavin leans in to kiss her.

Gavin’s ready to show off a little, but isn’t she always. She tucks a finger under Seamus’s chin and tilts her face upward into Gavin’s best entry-level kiss, warm and slow and searching, the kind that usually makes straight girls forget they came to the party hoping to blow Adam or Rutger.

It doesn’t quite work on Seamus. Her lips are soft, but she’s so tense Gavin can feel her grinding her teeth.

Gavin pulls back. “Relax.”

Seamus sucks in a deep breath like she’s been putting it off while Gavin was kissing her. “Sorry.” She covers her mouth with the back of her hand. “You don’t have to…”

“Oh yes I do,” Gavin says, murderously. Now she’s determined. She’s going to win the… well, whatever it is, she’s going to win it. She’s going to get Seamus started off right on whatever fucking journey she’s headed on. She grips Seamus’s shoulder loosely and gives her a little shake. “Just, like, breathe, okay?”

Seamus nods quickly. “Okay.”

Something about the smallness of her voice burrows underneath Gavin’s bravado. She takes Seamus’s face between her hands, and it’s like she’s holding all of it, all thirteen years of shared history twined together like a French braid, cradled in her palms. “Okay,” Gavin echoes, softer, and brings their lips together.

She doesn’t bother taking it easy this time. Just goes in mean and hungry, but that’s nothing Seamus doesn’t already know about her. Seamus finally relaxes, mouth falling open soft and easy, when Gavin catches her bottom lip between her teeth. Maybe because it’s exactly what she’d expect from Gavin.

Gavin lets one hand drift down the line of Seamus’s neck and trail along her collarbone. She traces a fingertip over Seamus’s shoulder along the line of her bra strap, just a little tease to build on when Gavin decides where she wants to take this.

Seamus leans into the kiss. Gavin can feel the catch in her breath, the yearning angle of her head as she follows Gavin’s mouth. But as Gavin’s hands wander, Seamus’s hands sit uselessly in her lap. “Touch me,” Gavin murmurs against Seamus’s lips, punctuating it with a stinging kiss.

After a breath, Seamus carefully settles one hand at Gavin’s side, just above the waistband of her boxers. Gavin twines a hand in Seamus’s hair—god, all that hair, thick and dark and cloaking a pocket of pure heat against Seamus’s neck—so she can hold Seamus in place, lick deeper inside of her. Her skin feels raw, hypersensitive, anticipating Seamus’s touch.

Seamus’s hand stays tentatively at her waist. More like she’s steadying herself than touching Gavin.

Gavin breaks off the kiss. “Okay…”

Seamus immediately drops her hand, as if they’re all done here.

“Hold on.” Gavin crosses her arms and strips her t-shirt over her head in one seamless motion. Her nipples tighten with the sudden coolness, the awareness of exposure. “You have to actually touch me.” She tries to level Seamus with a challenging stare.

It misses the mark. Seamus’s eyes are elsewhere, looking at Gavin’s tits like she’s never seen them before. Gavin can’t quite read her expression in the dark. Maybe cautious. Maybe hungry.

She cups Seamus’s hand in her own and lifts it to her breast. “Here.” Gavin waits a moment before withdrawing her own hand, wondering if Seamus can feel her heartbeat quickening. Seamus looks up at her, eyes so dark that Gavin might drown in them. She doesn’t pull away when Gavin releases her, shifting her hand instead so that Gavin’s breast fits in the curve of her palm.

“Oh.” Seamus barely breathes it. She brushes her thumb over the tip of Gavin’s nipple, feather-light.

Heat ripples out from the touch and pools in Gavin’s belly. She closes her eyes and arches into Seamus’s hand. “Yeah, there.”

[kats-chaotic-wonderland]

The tiny town of Merin Falls [Part 1]

(this is repost of my original reddit story so it's still structured for reddit. TW: mentions of blood, violence, gore, assault, and stalking. Nothing too graphic, but this is the set up for a horror story.)

Today had been a pretty slow day, so when I eventually found myself on Reddit, I whittled away my shift by reading through some of the posts in this particular sub. As I was on some post, about fifteen stories in, my coworker pointed out that some of the stuff we've seen would probably be interesting for some of you here. He suggested that I put a few of the more...bizarre? Creepy? I guess horrific? Stories about weird shit that happens in our small new England town.

So, as I'm sure you've heard before, I'll start by saying I live in a small town. It's settled in the northeast, a ways up from the Bridgewater triangle, and on the hill above a small bay. It's old, and has a history of witch trials and war battles. If you've ever seen a horror or Hallmark movie you've seen a town just like it. From calm summers to colorful falls, with old Victorian homes settled in old neighborhoods, complete with soccer moms and honor roll kids. This place is chock full of the American dream.

For context, we're small for this area. Like really small. One school, town square, a few neighborhoods, some mom and pop shops. We have a few docks down at the bay, but nothing bigger than a small motor boat. We do have one guy who lives on his boat, but it's a single room ship. Officially our population is about 1000-1500 on a good year. Unofficially, we stand about 2000 consistently. We'll talk about why at a different time, for now I just wanted to put it in your mind how small we're actually talking.

This place looks and operates like a normal New England town on the surface. Of course, I wouldn't be here if it actually did. There's a lot wrong with this tiny town of Merin Falls.

I spent a while today rolling around in my brain for what story really works for a start. See, we get a lot of weird, dangerous, unexplainable stuff out here. But starting off with true horror is a bit of a challenge. After six years, and for some other reasons, I’ve become a bit numb to some of what happens here. Not all, but some, and the ones that stick with me really aren’t something I want to dredge up just yet. But after some thought, I settled on one that I think will serve as a good look into what living here is like.

The day in question was a pretty typical day, maybe four or so years ago? I had gone into work, had a total of four customers. I remember because Iian still has a polaroid of each one tucked away and dated in his portfolio. This is one reason I started to hang around with him, his need to take way too many photos means I have easy access to memory triggers. But we’ll talk about that on a different day. For now all that matters is I had four customers. Holly Baker, came in the early hours right at open, she bought three binders, a sharpie, and a roll of yellow duct tape. I rang her up with no issue, my coworker Iian took her photo as she was checking out. She left and we were dead until around four o’clock. That was when Mrs. Miller came in with her rat dog and her spineless husband.

Mrs. Silvia Miller, is a rather irritating thorn in my side. From my first day working here she’s come in at least once a week in order to make snide comments about my appearance or moral choices, and make laughably bad attempts to return items she never purchased. She’s every retail worker's nightmare. (And no, unfortunately this is not the story about her being a horrible monster) Her antics have gotten so bad over the past six years that we have rules specifically for her. I’ll explain them in more detail in a later post, but she’s not allowed to shop when it’s just me on shift. We do not accept returns from her. Ever. And all of her receipts have a stamp that says “Non returnable. All sales are final.” These rules extend to her husband, a short stumpy man who looks like a frog next to his witch of a wife. As well as her kids, on the off chance they take the time to visit the old crone.

I remember this interaction clear as day, without the need for a trigger. Silvia had come in ranting and raising holy hell about some folders she had purchased from Arthur, on a day when I wasn't working. I listened to her diatribe as she gestured rapidly with her free hand, her faux pearl bracelet looking like it was going to snap off her knobby wrist. After five or so minutes I just stopped her, took her receipt, and pointed at the massive hot pink stamp that was glowing in the black light. With a look that I can only describe as, complete and utter entitled bitch bafflement, the look a Karen gets when the manager doesn't give them free stuff. She turned up her crooked hooked nose and snatched the receipt. Then she turned on her heels, a cheap pair from the thrift shop, of which she had painted the soles red with what I can only assume was cheap spray paint. Then with the fury of a western wind, headed for the door in a huff. Her shaking bug eyed rat and amphibious husband in tow. The former clutched in her cheaply manicured claws, and the latter being dragged by the scruff of his threadbare suit. The Millers are what you would call high class white trash.

The third customer was a guy I can't remember, but since Iian has a photo with the same date, I'm gonna assume he was there. From the photo, I can see he was an inch or so taller than me, gaunt face with some dark stubble, thin lanky limbs, and curly dark hair down to his shoulders. He was wearing some casual shorts and a tee shirt, and….round Ozzy Osbourne sunglasses indoors….for some reason. What strikes me as off on this one, is we have a lot of photos of him, but Iian doesn't remember ever taking them. And, for my weird memory issues, I can't bring up a single image of him in my mind if I'm not looking at a photo. It's like he just blinks from existence when we look away. There's a lot of photos of him actually….I wonder if he’s a regular? I’ll check the cameras for him at some point.

The last customer came in just before close. I call her Thelma, but I don’t actually know her name. She’s not local, but she is a regular. For whatever reason she drives out to this podunk to buy her music sheets from us. Thelma is always dressed in a similar outfit, just different colors and patterns. Always a top with 3/4 sleeves, a skirt that fits her closely but not tight that ends at the ankle in a ruffle. Sunglasses, sometimes she keeps them on. And her wiry gray hair is always up in some clip ponytail, updo thing. The top is always solid or stripes, and the skirt is always some kind of floral. Her shoes are either sandals, heels, flats, or sneakers. I wish I had more to say about her, but she never says much. Just comes in, wordlessly gets her blank sheets, checks out, pays cash, and bails. She did the same thing that day. Not a word more than needed, sunglasses on the whole time. Have I mentioned my store is lit up mostly by black lights? Yeah she makes no sense to me. But she doesn’t cause problems so I like her well enough. After Thelma left Iian and I cleaned up, locked up, and he headed home. We waved as I was taking my key from the door. We go in opposite directions, save for the off day when he walks my way with me so he can stay with Ryan for the night. That night was not one of those nights.

So there I was walking alone. It was a warm night and I was in a pretty good mood after everything that day. I’d made it a good six blocks when a car pulled up next to me. They rolled up real slow and kept pace with me. I didn’t give them any attention. Instead the hand on my opposite side was reaching for the knife I keep on my belt. I have a few on me at all times, I lived on the road for a while before I landed here. You figure out a lot about how to keep yourself safe in places like truck stops and roach motels. My knives won't save me from a bullet, learned that the hard way. But guns are rare in this area, instead kidnapping and other person on person crime is higher. But when they rolled their window down and I heard a whistle, my eyes just rolled.

Travis Heartly was the star of the football team back when he was in high school, now he was a community college drop out who could not understand the word no. Or fuck off. Or I will stab you and not feel bad in the slightest. He’d taken a liking to me just a few weeks after I had moved to Merin Falls. Unfortunately for him, I had sworn off guys. Not love, just guys. After getting abused three times in a row, I realized that me and guys romantically just don’t work. Travis didn’t get the memo apparently. He would come into my shop, near daily, and ask me out. Waste my time with his small town bragging. Act like a general Neanderthal. When Luther finally had enough and banned him from the store, he just started waiting outside for me to leave. Wait in my favorite coffee shop, bar, library, you name it he stalked it. His car was an old beat up sedan his mom gave him. He cleared out the back and put a bed in there. Needless to say that didn’t help his case when he busted into the shop excited to show me his new ride.

This car he was in however, was a rather nice Lexus. He was still beside me, calling out for my attention. I of course would not be giving him any. So he opted instead to move up the block and park right in the next street I needed to cross. Because of this move, the idiot gave me enough time to pull my larger blade from my boot. It's a good three inches longer than the belt knife, and an inch broader. See, my boots are clunky steel toed work boots. I don’t really need them, but old habits die hard, and hold big knives. I stopped a few yards away as he got out. We were close in age, though he had a good two years on me, but I had about six inches on him so I guess we're even. Still, after his flunk out, he’d taken up booze and dropped his work out. So his once toned body was slowly fading into the start of a beer belly and unkempt stubble.

He closed the door and leaned against the car,”Hey! How was work?”

“Leave me alone Travis.”

His expression dropped,”Come on, what did I do? Was it the roses? Look I just thought maybe-”

“Oi.” I cut him off, ”Shove it. I’m not interested. Now beat it.”

“Come on Am.” his voice was pitiful. He had his choice of girls when I moved here. He was pretty, young, fit, and locally famous. But when he clung to the freaky new girl, they all moved on after a year or so. A fair amount of his classmates were hooked up with someone new. Iian liked to gossip about his school a lot at work. In a small place like this most of the kids never really leave. But, his problems weren’t my issue.

“Move.” I ordered

He was looking at me like I’d just kicked a puppy.

“Fine.” I started to cross to the far side of the street. He panicked and ran toward me, closing the distance in a moment as he grabbed my upper arm. He'd learned not to try and grab my forearm. I always hold my knives down, with the bunt to my arm, blade out. In the event I need to block, or get grabbed from behind it's quicker to defend myself. Think Rambo or Hunter from the bad batch. Say whatever you want, but it's saved me more times than I want to admit.

“Wait!” he pleaded,”Please just one chance! I promise, I can-”

I ripped my arm away and rounded around with my free hand. The fist collided with his nose, I felt a crunch and heard a bone snap. Travis stumbled back and grabbed his now gushing nose. Tears welled and fell in rivulets as he looked at me in shock.

“I told you not to fucking touch me.” I spat and stepped back several feet. I kept my eyes locked on him and my guard up,”Try that shit again and I’ll do worse than break your nose. When a woman tells you no for two straight years, believe me she is not going to change her mind dumbass.”

He just looked at me, tears and blood running down his face. I’d always told him no. No maybes, no waffling. Always a direct no. And I’d put up with his stalking, but he’d never touched me before. This time he crossed a line he hadn’t realized was there. The look in his eyes was either rage, or passion. And I really didn’t want to know which. He’s the kind of guy who wants a woman to ruin his life. I guess he thought I would fit that bill.

He was right, but not in the way he wanted.

This standoff lasted for maybe a minute before headlights came slowly up behind us. Travis made the connection before I did. He saw the red and blues and bailed off into his Lexus. I watched him peel out from where he had been. I didn’t move until officer Lison parked and stepped out of his car. I lowered my knife and slid it into my boot as he walked over to me.

“Amber? Was that Travis I just saw?” he asked, he sipped on his coffee, getting a few drops caught in the edge of his salt and pepper mustache.

I turned and rubbed my hand, it was bruising from where I had punched him,”Yeah. He tried to grab me when I went to walk away this time.”

“Shit.” Lison chuffed with a bushy browed scowl,”What an ass.”

His reaction was so flippant, I just...I busted out laughing,”That’s all you got Boris?”

“What?” he asked confused,”He is. Plus he’s getting thrown in lock up tomorrow anyway.”

This made my laughter stop, it was my turn to be confused,”What did he do now?”

Another sip of his coffee,”Grand theft auto.” he shrugged,”Lexus was stolen from a lot east of town. That's why I stopped.”

“You’re kidding.” I asked slack jawed.

“Nope. I don’t think he even realized he was on camera.”

“So what? He just took it in hopes of a date night?”

“Looks like it if he was here for you. He’s a desperate man.” he shook his head,”Wanna lift home?”

I thought about it for a second,”Sure. Thanks Boris.”

We hopped in his cruiser, and made light conversation for a few blocks. Three blocks from my house though, a call came over the radio. Some mix of cop lingo and garbled static that I couldn't really understand. He did though, Boris looked concerned and stopped the car. He gave me a look I couldn’t really place,”Look, kiddo. I gotta respond on this one, but it’s back that way,” he gestured behind us,”It’s an all night type deal. Are you good for the last few blocks?”

I nodded,”Yeah, you go do what you gotta man. Thank you for the help, and the ride.”

“Any time Amber.” He nodded, his face looked a bit forlorn,”You should be safe from here, but be careful.”

“Always.” I smiled as I slid out of the cruiser, my boots hit the pavement and I walked behind the car to the sidewalk. Boris took off a moment later, back down the way we had come.

I should have asked how he knew Travis wasn’t around. I know now that's what he meant when he said I was safe. The look in his eyes should have clued me in, but I just figured it was part of whatever call he had gotten. I was right. Doesn’t make it easier for him though.

He’d get six calls of the same nature that night. And he wasn't the only one, a total of twenty eight similar calls came in one after another. None of them could be explained. He still blames himself for the two that survived, and the rest that didn't.

Boris Lison had lived in Merin Falls his entire fifty seven years of life. And he’d known Travis for all twenty one years of his. He’d been close with the football star's grand dad. But after his spiral, the officer just felt bad for the kid. That made it hard for poor Boris to pick him up off the pavement that night. The official story was that he crashed the Lexus into the retainer wall because of his erratic behavior. Some of the officers even insinuated that it was on purpose after my rejection and breaking his nose. That he had finally snapped and tried to end it all. Claiming mental illness was easier than trying to explain the gaping hole in his chest. Or how he had been dragged out of the car through the back windscreen. How he ended up a good half mile from the car. Or why he was frozen almost cryogenically with his heart yanked halfway out of his ribcage by the time Boris had found him. How he survived for the following week is beyond all of us. Not that he was any help in explaining anything. By the time I was ready to leave the hospital myself the following week, Travis tried to use his bed sheets and window for his own way out. I can’t say I blame him. I probably would have done the same after what happened. He spent the next two years in the Merin Falls psych ward. His time there was a horror show of its own.

What happened that night scarred a lot of people in this town. Unfortunately, myself included, both physically and mentally.

Boris had just gotten out of sight and I started making my way down the block. My body was still on high alert from my encounter with Travis. Every noise, flash of headlights, each passing car made me freeze. I'm not a skittish person. Anxious sure, but it's a quiet anxious. Not jumpy. Something in the air had me on edge. It felt like each step dragged me through a slurry of static and shaved ice.

My feet trudged onward. Alarm bells flagged in my brain, each thud of my heart sent a scream from the back of my mind. They all called me to turn and run. But….I didn't.

I should have.

The further I went the worse the feeling of unease got. Then, after a block, I saw something. A dark figure crossed the street ahead of me. I watched as it moved from my side to the other, then back again. Stopping in my tracks, my brow furrowed. It was like looking at something dipped in Vantaa black. My brain wanted to warp around it, like it was a void between two images that should be touching but weren't.

The way it moved, it wasn't….it wasn't right. Like a shadow blinking in and out of existing, but never moving all at the same time. I was frozen the moment my eyes caught it. My skin prickled as ice slinked in a slurry through my veins. I could feel the sludge crawling up the back of my neck as the thing turned to me. Whatever this was, I wasn't supposed to have seen it.

Thoughts raced in my mind, 'I've dealt with weird shadows before, if I tell it to leave it should right?'

'No wait, why isn't my mouth moving?'

'Hold on why can't I mo- wait is it getting closer!?'

A scream was lost in the void of my throat as I realized that the creature was moving in static flashes toward me, or was it? It was close, then it was miles away, a few yards, miles and miles, feet, then inches.

‘Shit!’

Freezing blood pounded in my ears as this...this thing...I couldn’t form a real thought as it neared me. What should have been it's face, instead just a chasm of inky blackness, was inches from mine. If it had eyes I couldn't see them. But I could feel them. It felt like a numbness trailing over me as it tried to understand what I was. Panic clutched my chest as the numb feeling hovered over my heart. The ice in my veins rushed to the center of where it was staring. A choked groan seeped from my throat as I felt the muscle in my chest freeze to a halt.

'How am I even still breathing?'

'Wait...am I?'

I couldn’t tell anymore.

It’s arm moved as it flashed back several feet again. Looking at this thing hurt. Like I was watching a game character glitch in and out as it tried to move. Just rapid, glitchy, morphing, shapes of shadow. It looked humanoid, but entirely not at the same time. Raising its arm I felt cold static touch the skin over my heart. My top was probably fucked, but I quickly didn’t care as I felt it slowly pushing it's claws into my flesh. I couldn’t scream. Gods I wanted to. I wanted to cry out in pain and terror. This creature was ripping my chest open. Claws in the shape of a perforated circle were digging, boring their way to my heart. Determined to remove the icy lump of muscle and sinew from where it was caged in bone.

Silent tears rolled down my cheeks, so hot they burned like flames as they fell. As they left blazing trails, it occurred to me as the heat faded, I couldn’t feel anything but the pain in my chest anymore. A sickening ‘*CRACK’* sent a new wave through my body. White spots floated and flitted around the edge of my eyes. Like sick fairies drawn to the scent of blood. This thing was taking it's time.

It enjoyed watching me suffer. Frozen in fear and pain.

The next thought that crossed my mind was so horribly clear,’I’m going to die here.’ I wish I could say I had some awakening and I snapped out of it. Or that in that moment my life flashed before my eyes and I saw the error of some choice in my life. But no. In that moment, alone with that thing, it’s claws reaching for my frozen heart, I just wished for one more moment. The image that did come to my mind just as the white began to take my sight wasn’t something deep, or wise, or heroic. It was a smile. A smile I knew would never look the same if I died. From that day on it would be tinged with sadness. Of not knowing what happened. Maybe she would think I just left. I prayed, for the first time in so many years, a silent thought,’Please, let her hate me. Don’t let her linger. Don’t let her search. Forget me and be happy.’ And that was it.

Everything went white.

I woke up two days later in a hospital bed. The nurse beside me was changing an IV bag. His eyes caught mine as they fluttered open, with a professional manner he told me I was in the hospital and to not move. After calling the doctor and running a few tests. Things like asking me for information, grip strength tests, stuff like that. They told me what happened. Just as I passed out, before I was gored by a shadow thing, Ryan had found me. He said I was just collapsed on the sidewalk cold, with a ring of stab wounds on my chest. He called 911 and they rushed me to the hospital. I had a few cracked ribs, and they said it was nearly impossible that all of the stabs had missed major arteries. But it wasn’t. That thing wanted me alive to the last second. Ryan found me two hours after I left the shop.

It had frozen me there for two hours.

I was in the hospital for recovery for a few days. Iian and Ryan checked in on me every day. Arthur and Luther came by a few times too. They even paid for my bills. I really love them so much. I don’t know where I’d be without them all. Once I was released, Iian stayed with me till he believed I wouldn’t keel over. Within two months I was healed up, a perfect ring of five exactly matching scars, centered right over my heart. As soon as the doc cleared me, which took a bit, she’s a thorough woman. I was in the tattoo parlor the next day getting a new piece to accent my new scars. That thing tried to kill me. But, I’m no coward. I was scared shitless, I’d only felt fear like that once before that day. Despite that, I lived. Somehow. So I’m owning it. Just like the one on my back. My shoulder. The bullet scar in my thigh. And the bands around my wrists.

Each scar is a memory. Each tattoo, a way to take back control in a small way. Every horror story leaves a scar of some kind. Mine were physical this time. Next time maybe we’ll look into the ones on my mind. But for now Iian is bugging me to check in, I didn't realize how long I've been typing. I’m Amber Haze, and I’ll be back soon with more from the tiny town of Merin Falls.

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Part 2

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Edge of Seventeen - Chapter Eleven.

Huge thanks to everyone for your continued engagement! I’m so thrilled you’ve enjoyed the story, just one more chapter after this one now until we’ll be at a close. Well, until I begin posting the mini-sequel! ;) 

Previous chapters - One  Two  Three  Four  Five  Six  Seven  Eight  Nine  Ten

Tag list - In the comments

Words - 3,389

Warnings - 18+ content throughout, minors DNI!

Eventually, with a little comical coaxing from Ian into the microphone (‘Um, Angel? Can we have our vocalist back, please?’) Bella returned to the stage, playing the final two songs in Heavenly Creature’s set, Angel standing right at the barrier, watching, his heart ablaze. Nothing else mattered but her. Suddenly, he realised just how true his brother’s words had been to him those few months ago.

She’d made a mistake, and he couldn’t resent her forever for it. He loved her too much, and he knew that for sure. Getting back together was the only thing that made sense, now that he was actually free to. But god, how he’d just finished things with Mel like that. He knew she deserved way better than him, but in his defence, seeing Bella again had thrown him into panic as the reality of how hopelessly in love he still was with her crashed into him hard.  

Once their set was over, he helped them load up the back of their van, Ian driving it over to the nearby hotel they were staying at before he’d return in a cab, telling the others he’d meet them by the beer tent in about forty minutes.  

“See that’s my meeting point with the guys as well, and it’s kinda gonna be weird,” Angel began, taking Bella’s hand.  

“Well yeah, since we broke up over a year ago, and then suddenly, poof! Here I am again!” she chuckled, kissing his bare shoulder.  

“Um...” he cringed, shaking his head. “It ain’t that. It’s because I arrived with one girl, and now I’ll be leaving with another. I’m not too sure if she’s still here or not, actually.”

Immediately, she ground to a halt. “Okay, details.”

“Yeah,” he paused, shame coiling in him. “When I saw you up there, it hit me so fucking hard, I knew that I’d been lying to myself for the last nine months, with the girl I was with up until a half hour ago. I finished with her, then came straight back into the tent to watch you play the rest of the song that had just ripped my damned heart out.”

Bella’s jaw dropped. “Baby!” she exclaimed.

“I know.”

“Oh, Angel, that’s so naughty!”

He winced. “I know!”

She then widened her eyes. “Oh god, am I about to get my head kicked in for pinching you from her?” Her eyes continued to get bigger, lifting up his black vest and pulling it over her head, making a noise of trepidation from within.  

“Baby girl, I ain’t got room in there for you too. Come out.”

“I can see!” she muffled. “Blimey, you’ve got even more stacked!”

“Hmm,” he hummed as she emerged. “I had to try and get over you somehow, so adding in an extra hour at the gym was how I started. That part worked, the getting over you not so much.”  

She pulled a silent ‘awww’ face, stroking his face, pulling him down to her level and kissing him. “So, we’re definitely back together, then?”

He snorted, holding her close. “As if you need to ask!”

She beamed, falling into happy kisses with him, her insides all lit up and sparkling. Finally, she had him back. “And I want you to know, because I promise solemnly. I will never, ever lie to you again. Not even a little one. Never, ever, ever.”  

“I know. I know, B. Now, stop panicking and just kiss me some more.” She was only too happy to oblige. Once at the beer tent, the line was ridiculously long, Angel happy to see Richie and Seth (who was actually old enough to purchase alcohol) emerge from the front, the latter passing him a beer, Richie handing Bella a huge ice water, as she always drank immediately after a performance, to soothe her vocal cords down a little again.  

They stood and watched Lamb of God playing over on the main stage from a distance, Angel knowing that pretty much everyone bar the girls and EZ (who he always joked was too uptight for it) would be in the moshpit at that point, guessing correctly when he saw the group heading back over to them about fifteen minutes after the end of their set, Coco with a bloodied eyebrow, not a shirt between any of them, looking pit worn.  

Angel bit his lips together as he saw the confused faces of Gilly and Riz, both pointing at Bella with looks of ‘huh?’, the former then being deafened by his girlfriend literally screaming, running with her arms open, flying at Bella at about a hundred miles an hour, Bella’s scream filling the air along with it as they embraced. One might say Amelia had missed her, not keeping in touch since it would have made things difficult for Angel.  

“Do I dare even ask what the fuck happened?” Gilly questioned, pointing over as where the girls got reacquainted.  

Angel shook his head. “Might be best you don’t know, but I think I have a tonne of shit coming my way when Mel catches up with me again.”

“And do you care?”

“Does it make me an asshole that other than feeling bad about how I dropped it on her out of the blue, I don’t? I mean, I didn’t wanna hurt the chick, but...”  

Gilly nodded. “Yeah, kinda does, bro. But that’s the one for you right there. I always wondered, why you two called it quits.” Jerking his head in Bella’s direction, Angel looked over, raising his eyebrows.

“Yeah, she is.” He didn’t say anything further, because nothing else needed to be said. He was just glad that Bishop had kept to his word about not telling anyone the reason why he and Bella had broken up, because if he hadn’t, Gilly wouldn’t have said what he just had. He stood back and drank his beer, talking with Seth and Richie, including and introducing them to everyone so they didn’t feel left out while Bella and Amelia chatted to one another, the former returning to his side before long, wrapping her arm around his waist as she leaned into him.  

“What’s the great, big smile for?” he asked, hand stroking her back.  

“You,” she confirmed, kissing his chest. “I love you.”  

God, how he’d missed those words, spoken on her sweet voice, those dulcet British tones he’d longed to hear. “I love you too.” He had her back, he had his baby, his heart and soul, his beautiful Bella back in his arms. Elated didn’t quite cut it. The guilt of just finishing with Mel kept on reverberating through his chest, though, the happier he felt himself grow, Bella sensing it as the day grew to evening. Especially when he checked his phone, finding one hell of an angry voicemail message.  

“Shit,” he winced, hanging up, leaning into her as she sat between his legs, not able to see the festival headliners on stage, but not especially being into Avenged Sevenfold, she didn’t mind. She was more concerned at the mess her boyfriend had gotten himself into.  

“Where is she now?” she asked, stroking the arm he had wrapped around her chest.

“Back at the hotel we checked into, absolutely seething at me,” he confirmed, Bella nodding.

“Do you think it might be a good idea that you go and talk to her, then meet me back at mine? We’re at the Highwood Inn.” Instantly, Angel groaned. “That’s where you are too, isn’t it?”

“Oh yeah. What room? Come on, universe, kick me in the balls and have it so I have my last girlfriend and current one in the rooms next to each other!” he yelled, lifting his head to the sky, Bella giggling.  

“Two two seven.”

He breathed a small sigh of relief. “Thank fuck, she’s in three eighty-two, so a completely different floor.”

She was thoughtful for a moment. “Would it help if I talked to her, woman to woman?”

His facial expression said it all, but he followed it with words. Delivered in panic at the very idea of Bella coming face to face with Mel. “Hell no! Oh god, no, no, no, baby girl. She’ll slug you, and I know you’re not the fighting kind, but Mel? She very much is.”

“Yo, she broke some chick’s nose one time because she dared flirt with your guy there. Take a wide berth, England,” Coco interjected with, tapping Bella’s leg affectionately before turning back to wrap both arms around Nala.  

Angel pointed in his direction. “Yeah, what he said.” He made a soft ‘awww’ noise at her spooked face, holding her close. “She’s really serene and sweet, but the fucking temper she has, shit. So no, absolutely no deal about you going to talk to her. You can wait in your room, and order some ice, because I think I probably have a punch coming my way. Nothing less than I deserve. I couldn’t wait, though. I couldn’t fucking go on one second longer being with her when I saw you again. I think I’d known for months, you know, that I’d seek you out again, as soon as you turned eighteen, regardless of what I said at the time. I mean, I know today was by chance...”

She pressed her finger to his lips then, halting his gabbling, as he always did when he was getting worked up about something. “Shhhh, baby,” she soothed, kissing him. “Today wasn’t by chance, either. It was fate, in the stars, cosmic alignment. It had to be, for you to have been outside that tent, at the precise moment I was singing the very song I wrote about you.”

He shrugged a little, kissing her hair. “I dunno how much I believe in all of that, but I think I can make an exception here.”  

She smiled, leaning into him, breathing in his scent, comforted after months and months of longing for him. “So, when do you want to face the music?

Not really being bothered about watching the headliners close, and knowing the crush of people waiting to leave would add time to him being able to go and sort out the mess he’d left with Mel and then swiftly get himself back where he belonged, Angel decided to leave right then, saying goodbye to everyone, walking down to the nearest exit hand in hand with Bella.

Riding to the hotel with Bella on the back of his bike felt right, he’d missed it, taking one hand off to reach back and stroke her leg like he always used to when he rode, Bella resting her chin on his shoulder, so in love, she felt as if she had fireworks going off inside her. That sublime feeling of happiness was tinged, though, the sweetness of Bella’s nature of course dictating she feel a pang of guilt over the fact Angel had broken up with his girlfriend for her. So strong his love was, he hadn’t even known whether that was what she wanted or not. He just knew that he couldn’t go on as he had been.  

But then, he must have known, she thought. He’d have heard it in her voice, singing the song she wrote about him. He’d said when they’d parted that they weren’t meant to be, but quietly, Bella had always known otherwise, and selfishly, it was why she wasn’t completely consumed with bad feelings over taking him from another; truly, he was still hers in the time they’d been separated. It was only her age that had ever pulled them apart in the first place, and the lie that had facilitated it all to begin with.  

“Okay, I’ll see you in a little while,” he told her ten minutes later at her hotel room door, kissing her softly, not really wanting to go and face up to his shit, but knowing he had to. He was thirty-eight; he needed to do better at his age. “Love you so much.”

“Love you even more.” she cooed, nuzzling him, stroking his chest. She slid back into the room, letting go of his hand right at the last moment, smiling at he winked at her, closing the door and waiting, until she allowed herself to be silly. Kicking off her boots, she bounced on the bed, squealing with excitement.  

He still heard it as he walked up the hallway. “My little cutie.” he grinned, noting how thin the walls were. Oh, how the people either side of that room were in for a restless night, because once he returned, he planned to fuck her into the next century, he’d missed her so damned much.  

However, before that...  

“Jesus Christ!” He dodged the shoe flying at his head just in time, the small ankle boot hitting the back of the hotel room door. And then, the floodgate opened...

“You fucking asshole, Angel! You fucking asshole!” Mel raged, pacing around, her other shoe following it before she ran at him, swinging, punching him in the face. He allowed her that one, not that it was particularly hard, but his cheekbone still stung from it. No more followed, though, other than a few clenched fists thumping against his chest, Mel pushing back away from him, continuing her tirade. “Why were you ever with me, if it was her you wanted all along? Because you did, didn’t you? That’s why you never covered that damned tattoo on your chest, or why you kept the picture of you and her behind the shelves in your bedroom.”

He’d forgotten all about that.  

“Yeah, I found it!” she raged, seeing the surprise on his face. “You just strung me along for nine fucking months, all the while knowing you were still in love with her! Why, Angel?”

The ins and outs of it weren't her business, but he knew he owed her somewhat of an explanation, because she was right. He had strung her along, not being as emotionally invested as he should have been with her. “It was complicated with us, and that’s why we broke up in the first place. I tried to get over her, find myself a happy life without her in it, and I thought I had with you. You’re right, though. I did want her, and because of that, you and me never really stood a fair chance.” He paused for breath, knowing he had to deliver the words that would hurt her further. “I was still too in love with her to be able to love you and truly be with you in the way you deserved, and for that, I’m really fucking sorry. I am. I know you likely won’t believe it, but I never meant to hurt you. I take on board that I have, though.”

“Yeah!” she scoffed, pacing. “Yeah, you did. Get the fuck out of here, go back to her. I never want to fucking see you again.”

He nodded, moving into the room and picking up his small bag he’d brought with him. “I understand. I’ll sort out the things you left at my place, give ‘em to Amelia to pass on to you.”  

She didn’t reply, standing there, her shoulders shaking as she began to cry. “I’m so sorry, Mel. I hope you find someone who’s capable of giving you what you’re looking for, but that was never me, and I should have owned up to that a long time ago.”

Her reply was immediate, visceral. “Just leave!”

He pressed his lips together thinly, walking to the door and letting himself out, breathing a sigh of relief. He felt like a complete asshole, but he was free. Free to head back to exactly where he belonged.  

“Baby,” Bella cooed, letting him in, her fingers gingerly stroking the red welt on his cheek.  

“Eh,” he sighed. “I expected it. And I deserved it.” Smiling, he then sank into her embrace, absorbing her, his entire body sighing with relief. Finally... finally...  

They stood like that, in a silent, loving embrace, stroking one another wordlessly for what felt like a long time, touches reacquainting, familiarising themselves with each other again, Angel pulling back to kiss her, softly at first, before the fire of longing began to roar right through him. Still though, it was steady edging, their clothes being shed slowly, revelling in the feel of each other’s skin, both naked by the time they fell to the bed, entangled around one another.  

Shuddered breaths fluttered, hands explored, kisses pressed, gilded in fire and honey, everything slow, sensual, no rush needed, just enjoyment, soaking it all up, drinking it in, being reunited at long last. Her fingers stroked over the familiar patterns of his tattoos, moving her mouth, her fingers clasping his as she laid kisses from his wrist and over his forearm, Angel’s lips closing over the pink peak of her nipple, her soft gasp sending a jolt through him, a sharp edge against all that was soft and rolling, his tongue thrumming over the little bud, grazing it with the briefest hint of teeth.

Her short nails dragged down his arms, his mouth slipping, warmth winding within her as it wet a circle at her navel, goosebumps rising up, the braille of her body detailing the message of how he made it feel, his mouth lowering again, tongue flattening a lick over her slit, hands pushing her thighs wider before it delved over her folds hungrily, Bella crying out softly. Going without sex for thirteen months had definitely given her some pent-up longing, longing only to be sated by the one man she’d craved for.

The tip of his tongue glided to her clit, laying heat over it with the softest of licks, his breath hot at her soaking folds, Bella gasping as her hands swept through the black silk of his hair, tugging gently, her thighs writhing against his face, Angel grinning to himself. “Missed me, baby?”  

“Oh my god, so fucking much!”

Her reaction had him laughing quietly, laying a kiss against her sex. “You don’t have to miss me any longer, mi amor.” Sliding his tongue over the little swell of her clit once more, he sent fire roaring through her, a blade of pleasure slicing to her very bones as she shook, the tip of his tongue skimming dewy pink nerve endings, his thumb pulling back the soft skin covering her bundle, making way for his lips to suck upon it gently.  

Sparks rolled through the very marrow of her, the flush of ecstasy evoked by his mouth ever escalating, her body host to spasmodic judders as he caressed her dewy slit with all the fervour of a man half parched. Lapping at her, like the rolling of a wave cresting the shore, her body the paradise he revelled in, he gave her nothing short of sublimely heavenly pleasure with every precise lick.  

Alternating, he bestowed firmness, Bella becoming giddy, teased with softer strokes, Angel sucking again until she was lost in the tide of his bliss, adrift from herself on the sea of pleasure he had her drowning in ceaselessly.

“Oh my god, it’s too good, fuck!” she gritted, his tongue driving into her burning hole as she writhed against his face, hot breaths fluttering against her silken folds like a summer tempest, balmy, wet, lingering and captivating.  

She mewled continuously, her hands clutching tight in his hair before slipping to his arms, fingers trembling as she gripped the thick rigidity of his tattooed arms and bucked against his mouth, his tongue… the lips that continued to suck her the edges of nirvana. One last, well place lave of his tongue sent her reeling over the edge, tumbling into the release that sent glimmers sizzling up her spine, her cresting wail feral, her body flowing, ebbing and throbbing through it, Angel emerging with a smile, his tongue dragging a long, hot lick up the centre of her body, reaching between them, guiding his cock to her soaking opening and then...

“Ahhh, fuck.”  

“Missed me, baby?” she hummed, not hiding the entertainment from her face, taking his in her hands, kissing him madly.  

“Yeah,” he breathed, rocking his hips into her, filling her entirely. “And I’ll be damned if I ain’t gonna spend all night showing you just how much.”

[pendragon-writes]

Interrogation

Chapter 2

Chapter 4

Arthur Harrow sighed as he looked at Captain Gregson. "For the last time, I loved my wife." "I didn't hurt her, and before this moment, I had no idea there was any safe room in my house." He said.

Behind the one-sided mirror (Y/n) and Steven watched Captain Gregson interrogate the husband. "You get why that's hard for us to believe, don't you?" Gregson asked. "The place was gutted before Amy and I moved in two years ago," Arthur explained. As Arthur continued to plead his innocence (Y/n) took out his phone and zoomed in on the husband's hands, taking a quick photo of it. Both (Y/n) and Steven continued to watch Gregson interrogate the man. "How do you do it?" He asked (Y/n), still looking towards the suspect. "Do what?" (Y/n) questioned back. "Guess things." "I don't guess. I observe." (Y/n) informed, still looking at the suspect. "And once I've observed, I deduce."

"You said you could tell from my hands that I used to be a surgeon." "'Hand'. Singular, actually." "It was soft, no calluses." Steven nodded at that. "Also, it smelled faintly of beeswax." This statement caused Steven to look at him, before looking away. "Many surgeons, as you know, use a beeswax cream to protect their hands from the dehydrating effects of repeated washings. Well... You're no longer practicing, but old habits die hard." "As far as why you gave up your medical career to become a companion.." "I'd wager that addiction claimed the life of someone close to you, and his or her death moved you to make drastic changes in your life." (Y/n) said, still not looking at him. 

"Am I close?" He asked Steven. "What about my father?" Steven asked, ignoring (Y/n)'s question. "What about him?" "How did you know he had an affair?" He asked, looking at the consultant. "Google." He replied. He looked at him with a raised brow. "Well, not everything is deducible." Steven nodded at this and turned his head towards the door as he heard someone open it, that someone is the officer from before and Captain Gregson.

"I, uh, just want to say thanks for helping out today." He said. "You- You got us our guy in, and uh... and we're grateful." He said, before reaching out his hands for (Y/n) to shake. "We can take it from here." (Y/n) did not accept the hand as he began to talk. "Respectfully, Detective, I doubt that very much." "'Cause I have reason to believe that Arthur Harrow did not kill his wife." The detective slowly lowered the hand he previously offered as he watched (Y/n) walk past him. "Wait, wait, wait. Come again?" The detective said in a confused manner, walking to (Y/n) and catching up to him. "Dr. Harrow has girls' feet, or hadn't you noticed?" (Y/n) said, still walking before stopping. "He's a size eight if he's an inch." "The boot print on his front door was an 11." He explained to them, leaning on the wall. "So? So he was smart." "He wore bigger shoes to throw us off."The detective tried to reason. "Did he also wear bigger hands when he strangled his wife?" (Y/n) remarked.

"Holmes..." The Captain said with a scolding tone. (Y/n) pulled out his phone and showcased the pictures. "Well, these strangulation marks are indicative of a man much larger than Harrow." "Not just heavier, but taller too." The photo was a close-up shot of the women's bruised neck. "I'd estimate his height to be somewhere between six foot-one, six foot-three." "Your M.E. will come to the same conclusion in a couple of hours." The detective gave an amused scoff at this. "I'm delivering it now. You're a doctor." He turned his focus from Gregson to Steven. "Tell 'em I'm right." (Y/n) said. "I'm not a doctor," Steven responded. "Were a doctor." "Surely you haven't forgotten how bruising works." Steven sighed before speaking. "Okay, yeah, sure, these hands do seem a bit small for the bruise pattern, but I-" Steven was interrupted by (Y/n). "With your permission, Captain, I'd like a moment alone with Dr. Harrow." 

"Captain this-" The detective tried to argue once more, but was stopped. "You got two minutes." The Captain said with crossed arms. With this in mind (Y/n) rushed into the interrogation room, aggressively slamming a small notepad and pen on the table in front of Arthur Harrow. "Tall men in your life. I'd like a list." He said. Arthur looked up at him in a slightly annoyed way, before sighing and giving a list.

°。°。°。°。°。°。

(Y/n) and Steven walked together with a man that was one of the people on the list. "Amy was a good person, but if you're here because you think I had something to do with it.." "Dr. Harrow said that you'd made a pass at her at a holiday party last year." (Y/n) said, making the man pause in his steps. "Actually, no, I didn't." He said slightly pissed off. "I asked her about all the plastic surgery she'd had." He explained. "Plastic surgery?" (Y/n) asked as if he didn't already suspect it. "Okay, look, I helped plan a fund-raiser for the hospital, two years ago, that was before the surgeries." "I know I still have the pictures." He explained, leading them to his office.

°。°。°。°。°。°。

(Y/n) and Steven waited as the man searched through his computer. Steven took note of the shoe box with the size 11 on the couch, which he gestured with his eyes for (Y/n) to see. (Y/n) looked at the shoe box before looking at Steven and nodding in understanding. "There." The man said, turning his camera around to showcase the photo of Amy and Dr. Harrow. "That's the picture of Amy and Dr. Harrow that I took that night, okay? Tell me you wouldn't want to ask her why she did it." He said.

"Tell me about the stalking charge brought against you two years ago." (Y/n) asked. "I asked my neighbor out." "She overreacted." He explained. (Y/n) hummed at this and Steven decided to talk. "Mr. Polk, can you tell us where you were last night?" (Y/n) looked at Steven with a bit of worry as he heard what he asked. "I was home... alone." Mr. Polk said. "I know. Not much of an alibi, but I don't care, because I didn't do it."

Taglist: @god-complex-12

[sissytobitch10seconds]

Caught Me a Monster: Over Coffee?

Fandom: Wednesday (2022)

Summary: Wednesday and Tyler talk. A lot.

Warnings: BDSM, mentioned/implied abusive relationships, discussions of consensual non-consent, and background polyamory

Word Count: 4,819

Ship(s): Wednesday Addams/Tyler Galpin

Archive link!

A/N: Welcome to the beginning of the actual sex! I know the beginning was probably boring since it was just them meeting each other and a shit ton of world building. This might also be boring to some of you, but it's a very important part of BDSM. Speaking of which, I would like to thank my bestie for reading this one over and helping me get into Tyler's voice since I was struggling a lot with that for this oneshot. I hope that you guys enjoy this installment! Stay sissy and bitchy everyone &lt;3

The house was blissfully silent, if only for a little while. She knew that she lived with someone that was prone to making a lot of noise and so she was never going to get the peace that she ever really wanted. It was comforting in a sense because she knew that if there was a racket being made somewhere in their apartment that Enid was still alive and kicking. It also reminded her of her brothers playing in their family mansion, something she hadn’t been able to hear since she had moved out for college.

She loved the life that she had and she wouldn’t give it up for anything in the world, but she also had a strange kind of nostalgic sadness for the way that things had been prior. It had been six years since she had graduated high school and gone off to college to study English, and one of her brothers had already grown enough that he was also off in the world.

Wednesday was currently sitting in the part of her room that she had transformed into an office. The apartment that she lived in entered into the living room, which was separated from the kitchen by an island with a bar that attached on one side to the wall. Next to it had a hallway that held a bathroom and two bedrooms. They had made sure that they didn’t get a place that had a master bathroom as well so that they could avoid bad feelings from one of them having a bigger space than the other. The appearance of the apartment couldn’t be changed when it came to the floor and wall colors because of their agreement with the landlord, but the decorations that they had up were a mix of them both. Wednesday had carved out certain corners of the house to fit her black gothic aesthetic and let Enid have a lot of reign with her softness and colors everywhere else.

Her own bedroom was done exactly as she liked it. She had a massive walk in closet that she used to store all of her gear and a black wardrobe that she had taken from her childhood home that stored all of her regular day-to-day clothing. Her bed was a simple twin pressed up against the wall with just the headboard and blanketed with the black quilt her grandmother had gifted her when she was five. Her black mahogany desk was pressed in front of the window, which currently had black-out curtains drawn in front of it. Her old-fashioned typewriter was resting on top of it next to the pad of paper that she used to feed into it when she was writing in her novel. Her publisher half hated her for that, but he loved the fact that her books had hit an undiscovered market so he had stopped pushing that she get a computer and digitally type everything up.

Just as she had suspected, she heard a crashing sound from the direction of the kitchen that brought her attention away from envisioning what her day was going to be. She grabbed the pad of paper sitting next to her and carefully tucked it back into the drawer next to her. She then pushed the cover of her typewriter over it so that it wouldn’t be hurt by the kitten that Enid had brought home three months ago, who had taken a specific attachment to Wednesday despite her never showing any signs of wanting to be around it.

“What happened?” Wednesday called out into the apartment as she began to search for her best friend. She loathed the fact that she had a best friend now, she had been dedicated her entire life to avoiding that kind of relationship when she was in high school only to lose it entirely when she reached college. Enid had opened her world view quite a bit, though, including getting to her to form more valuable connections with people, even if it did leave her vulnerable.

“I was just trying to make tea, and this little asshole,” Enid paused to scoop up the cat in question. He hung in the air, his body elongating beyond what Wednesday thought was possible for an animal. He blinked twice at her and then let out a little mew, which made a spark of pink and white in an otherwise black abyss. “Decided that he was going to get up into the cabinets. He saw the mug that your mom gave you from her trip last summer and freaked out. He almost took the whole cupboard down with him.”

She clicked her tongue and walked over so that she had the cat in her arms. She had positioned him so that his head was in the crook of her elbow and the rest of his body was rested against her arm on his back. She took his front paw into her hand and said, “You have to stop getting up onto the counters when you’re not invited. You know that this is going to get you hurt and make our lives harder. You don’t want to make our lives harder, do you, Malachai?”

He let out another little mewl and then licked her nose. He began to fidget back and forth so Wednesday delicately set him on the ground. She had never thought that she was going to have another pet after Nero, but she rather enjoyed the chaos and magic that came with having a cat. “You may resume your tea now, Enid,” she said pragmatically.

“Did he tell you that?” the other girl teased as she got out her favorite mug. It was white but changed color to a sparkly rainbow when hot liquid was poured into it.

“He did, actually. If you listen to him carefully you can see the entire world that lives inside of his peanut-sized mind,” she felt the ghost of a smile form over her face for a split second. Enid snorted in response.

Wednesday turned on her heel and returned back to her room for a while before the doorbell rang. As soon as it did, she immediately knew who it was. She sprang to her feet and made sure that she looked somewhat presentable for their discussions. She normally wouldn’t have bothered with that kind of thing but she liked the flustered look that he had gotten when he had seen her done up before. 

She didn’t have a cellphone so she and Tyler had decided that they were going to meet up at a certain time. She knew that she was going to have to invest in technology sooner or later so that she could maintain all of the relationships that she had developed during her adult life, but she was going to resist doing so for as long as possible. If Tyler had desperately needed to get in contact with her, then he could have just messages Ajax and then Enid would have told her verbally. It wasn’t like they were completely cut off from each other when he couldn’t call the landline she had on the desk in her room.

The woman hurried to the door and then opened it, using her leg to keep Malachai inside. “I see that you’re punctual. That’s good,” Wednesday said. She leaned down and picked the cat back up so that she could open the door wide enough for Tyler to actually get through without the miscreant also escaping. She stepped to the side and Tyler walked in, giving an awkward little wave towards Enid.

In return, Enid beamed at him and waved back. She rushed over to her roommate and rescued their cat from the hold that Wednesday had him in. “Let me know if you guys need me to sit in on anything, I’ll be in my room!” she chirped. She then turned on her heel and disappeared down the hallway.

Wednesday nodded her head towards the living room. Tyler followed after her so that he was sitting down on the center seat of the couch that Enid had covered in a garish knitted throw blanket and several colorful pillows. He wiped his hands nervously on his pants before he said, “I know that people sometimes bring a list of things or a contract or resume, but Bianca advised me against doing so.”

“You definitely don’t need a resume. I have my own list that I prefer to go over when I’m working with people,” she replied curtly. Of course a dom that she had previous was going to know the kinds of things she did and didn’t like while they were working out what their relationship was going to be. “Would you like some coffee?” she asked politely. She wasn’t used to hosting for anyone on her own when they weren’t going to get right down to the business of having a scene. She was able to get away with it with Xavier because she had known him for so long he felt comfortable getting into things in her kitchen without asking. 

“I, uh, yeah, that would be great! You know, I’ve been told that I make a pretty mean espresso. Would you wanna try it for yourself?” Tyler asked with a dopey grin covering his face.

“Where would you have acquired such a skill?” she asked, almost as if she were interrogating him. “Modeling and coffee-making don’t usually run in the same circles.

“Oh, right. I run a cafe as a side hustle. I don’t want to be stranded if I stop being able to find work for whatever reason. I also use it to host round table discussions for local kinksters sometimes,” he explained.

She raised a critical eye at him, “You model and run a coffee shop?”

“Actually doing the business stuff isn’t as complicated as you might think. Plus I’m not scared to hire younger kids and let them do what they need to do without hyper surveillance,” he replied with another one of his half-shrugs. She wasn’t quite sure how it was possible for someone to only complete about five eighths of a motion, but Tyler was doing it remarkably well.

Wednesday turned on her heel after motioning for him to get up and follow her, which he did. “Don’t let Enid know that you run a cafe or coffee shop, whatever you want to call it. If she knows then she’s going to force us to go there and even if you and I do end up in a dynamic it’s going to be insufferable to listen to her.”

“If you hate her so much why don’t you just move out on your own?” Tyler asked.

She looked him up and down as if assessing whether or not this was something that she could lay bare to him. BDSM was one of the highest forms of intimacy and vulnerability but it was another thing entirely to turn the beginning of their negotiations in a pseudo-therapy session. “It’s complicated. Enid and I get along well, but she has a few traits I’m not a fan of.”

They walked into the kitchen and Wednesday gestured to the espresso maker that she had in the corner as well as the french press and electric kettle that was sitting next to it. She usually liked to boil the water on their gas stove before she made her coffee if she was using the french press, but Enid drank a lot of tea and there were many almost-all nighters that required Wednesday to get her caffeine quickly and efficiently.

“Wow, you’re really into coffee, aren’t you?” he asked.

Wednesday got two mugs out of the cupboard and set them down. She then retrieved both of her favorite blends and placed them down next to the machine. “I do. It’s one of the few things that I can say I enjoy in life, other than crying and screaming.”

“Morbid.” Tyler grabbed one of the bags and then flipped it over so that he could read the blurb about what the blend was. Once he had, he began to work with the espresso machine like that was what he was made for. Wednesday’s own hands had been in and on every square inch of the machine but he worked it with a kind of intimacy that she could only dream of. She found herself admiring the way the tendons on his back flexed when he grabbed something and how she could see the rippling of the veins as he rolled his fingers.

Soon, both mugs of coffee were filled and he handed hers over to her. “There, just as dark and black as your soul.”

“Do you think that you’re original with that line?” she asked, the snark leaking into her words before she could reign them in. She always tried to dilute that part of herself in the beginning when she was playing with someone because it was easier to slowly submerge them into who she was then to toss them into the deep end. When she was a teenager she had been determined to do the exact opposite of that, but a lot had changed since then and she craved the intimacy of multiple partners. She’d only be able to scratch that itch if she made sure that she wasn’t scaring everyone off before they even got a chance to fuck her.

They moved back to the living room, Tyler sitting in the exact same spot that he had before. Wednesday placed her mug of coffee down on the table before she walked over to the filing cabinet that was well hidden next to the entertainment center. She opened the bottom drawer and then flicked through a couple of the folders before she found the copy that she wanted. She returned back to the center of the living room and planted herself in her monochrome chair. She leaned forward and slipped the stapled packet over the top of the coffee table towards him. “I have a want/will/won’t list. If you see something on there that you would be interested in then let me know and we can continue to work things out,” she replied curtly.

“Wow, I think this is the most well put together BDSM starter for negotiations that I’ve ever seen,” Tyler muttered to himself as he flipped through the first couple pages.

“I like to be organized,” Wednesday replied. She could feel her chest puff up with the praise. She had learned that she had to keep everything organized and together if she was going to be involved with multiple partners back when she was in college. Even the thought of trying to maintain several dynamics with the likes and dislikes of every person she had ever played with straight in only her mind sounded like a nightmare. 

While she had been at the filing cabinet, she had also snagged a couple of the other forms that she used when she was working out a relationship with someone new. She placed them down at the table and then got out her favorite black fountain pen, the one that lived in the pocket of her dress so that she wasn’t likely to lose it to Enid. Her roommate usually wrote everything down in a sparkly pink pen but she was notorious for losing other people’s possessions, especially when it came to something as small as a writing utensil.

Wednesday carefully wrote her name and Tyler’s name up on the top of the paper where the lines indicated to do so. “What kind of relationship were you hoping for when you approached me the other day?”

Tyler immediately glanced up from the paper that was in his hands and met her eyes. “I was thinking that we could work out one specific scene that we want to do together and then see where we go from there. I think that before we even play together is a little early to decide if we want to be in a full-on dynamic together. I mean, we haven’t even talked properly outside of work.”

She nodded in understanding. Sometimes people were better suited to be in a different relationship than the one that they had been pursuing, just as she had been in with Xavier. She was glad that Tyler had the common sense to see that easily without her having to hammer it home like she had with a couple of her playmates in the past. Bianca was right to suggest him for her. "First things first, protection."

“Right. I get tested every month and so do all of the partners I play with. Last time I got tested I came up clean for everything under the sun. I’ve also had a vasectomy, so that’s not something we have to worry about,” Tyler said.

“I’ve also been tested recently. It came back negative and I haven’t had sex in a way that would possibly spread anything,” she nodded in affirmation. “I’m comfortable going without condoms if you are.”

“I, uh, yeah,” he flushed awkwardly and nodded. She began to suspect that he hadn’t played around with many female submissives based on the way that the blush was spreading over his ears.

“Is there anything on that list that particularly intrigues you? We could work with something like that to start off with and then if we decide that we want to pursue this in a real dynamic we can work in some more of what you specifically like.”

As someone who primarily played as a submissive, Wednesday was used to having to give what she was and was not willing to do first when she was getting into a new dynamic with someone. The submissive part of a BDSM relationship had to be the one to put everything out on the table to start the baseline of the rules often because they were the ones taking the brunt of what was happening in the scene. Of course the dominant also had to be getting their needs met and be comfortable with what was happening, but it was easier for the submissive to start off the conversation.

“I’m a bit of a fan of CNC, and I see that you are too,” Tyler replied as he picked the paper back up to look at it.

She nodded and then jotted it down as a note on the papers in front of her. “I have quite a bit of experience with consensual non-consent in a couple of specific scenes. What kind of thing were you thinking?” she asked. That was one of the problems that she had run into when it came to discussing the kind of kink she did. She had struggled with it in the beginning, finding out that someone was into under the umbrella term that she had used only to find out that they were focused on the one small subsection underneath it that she didn’t particularly enjoy.

“I do a lot of primal play. Things like hunter/prey and monster/human,” he explained easily. “I know that kind of thing isn’t for everyone so I won’t be offended if you say that you want to scrap CNC altogether.”

“I’ve done hunter/prey but never as the prey,” Wednesday hummed. She had enjoyed being the hunter when she had tried out that flavor of primal play, but she had always wondered what it would have been like to be on the other side. Her sub had seemed to enjoy it immensely and she knew that he had gone on to continue doing those kinds of scenes with other people after they went their separate ways.

“Would you like to try out being the prey?”

“I think I would enjoy doing a combination of the two that you gave,” she replied. “We can mark that down as something we’re both interested in before we work out the actual hard and fast of what we’re going to be doing in our scene.”

Tyler nodded. He seemed to be getting more comfortable as time went on and they were together for longer. “I don’t do blood play, but I am willing to incorporate things like unloaded guns and dulled knives into it,” he moved on to the next couple of things on her list.

“I keep a sharp knife in my ropes as well as a pair of sheers, would either of those make you uncomfortable?” Wednesday asked. She had played with people that were extremely phobic towards sharp objects and blood, so she knew how to deal with people like that even if it wasn’t likely anything more would pursue between the two of them.

He shook his head. “I assume that those are used for cutting the ropes in the unlikely chance that something goes wrong?”

“And if a safeword is used,” she nodded in agreement. “Is there anything else that makes you uncomfortable?”

“I’m good with most forms of roleplay, including captive scenes. I don’t do anything that involves either party pretending to be drugged or otherwise out of their mind,” he pursed his lips after he said it and Wednesday knew that she shouldn’t push at that in any way.

“Understood,” she marked it down on her paper. “How do you feel about electrical stimulus?”

“I’m all for it,” he grinned. “What about biting and scratching? Or marks in general?”

“As long as they can be easily covered with makeup for the purpose of my job then I don’t mind,” she replied.

They fell into silence for a moment as they tried to think of something new to bring up. Wednesday had consumed about half of her quad by that point and the nervousness of caffeine was buzzing pleasantly through her veins. She and Tyler seemed to have a lot of the same needs and wants when it came to their kinks and fetishes. She knew that they were going to get along well, especially if he was as into this as she was currently. “I think that we only have one thing we have left to discuss before we decide on the scene we’re going to do specifically.”

“Safewords and color code, right?” Tyler asked as he looked over her paper again.

“Yes,” she nodded. “I understand that if we pursue something that involves CNC that color code can’t necessarily be used, but a safeword discussion is a given.”

“Do you have one that you usually use with partners or playmates?” Tyler asked as he glanced back down at the paper again.

“For dominants I usually use ‘glitter’ but with submissives I let them pick the safeword since they’re more likely to use it,” she explained. She had gotten uncomfortable in a handful of scenes in which she was playing the dominant position, but it was rare since she was usually more in control fo what was happening during that time.

“I can’t think of a scene that the two of us would have that would involve that word, so I think we’re good there,” Tyler nodded in agreement. “What about aftercare?”

“I don’t particularly like to be touched during aftercare,” she explained. “If it’s necessary for the other party then I’m willing to do it for a certain amount of time but often after a scene I feel like my skin is on fire when someone touches me.”

“I don’t have to cuddle someone to feel like I’m giving them aftercare. I think that it’s necessary for a dominant to help the submissive clean up with a bath or do wound care on bites, scratches, or rope burn if a bath is out of the question. Would it be alright for me to cook something for you afterwards and for us to talk about it?” Tyler suggested. He looked a little bit nervous as he asked, like that had been shot down one too many times and now he was terrified it was going to be a breaking point.

Wednesday considered it for a moment before she nodded. “I think that something simple like that could work for the both of us. I propose that we shower together, scenes like what we’ve already got laid out as a baseline tend to get a little bit messy and no one likes having to sit in their own sweat. Afterwards we can sit together and talk about what we liked in the scene and what we didn’t. You can cook or make drinks if you’d like, don’t feel like it’s an obligation.”

“I like doing it, it’s not an obligation. I, um, my mom wasn’t always able to make food when I was little so it became a place of pride for me to be able to provide for people I cared about in that way.”

She could understand that. She wasn’t able to love her family in the traditional sense either, so she had to learn how to meet their needs while also keeping her own personal boundaries. The more she and Tyler talked, the more attached she was becoming to him. They were very similar in a lot of ways but also so different. Tyler then asked, “Now what do you want the scene to involve?”

Wednesday looked down at her notes to take in everything that she had written down. “I think that I would like the first thing that we do have something to do with monster/prey and CNC. Perhaps you could come to this apartment while Enid is out on a day that works well for both of us. I could leave the door unlocked and you could come in between certain times so I know you’re not actually an attacker. Then you could chase me around for a bit before you ‘catch’ me and hold me down while you fuck me.”

“Would you mind wearing something you don’t mind getting ripped or otherwise messed up? When I do those kinds of things I prefer to do a small bit of impact play, either slapping at hands or legs or picking the person up and slamming them down against something and that often results in clothes getting a little messy,” Tyler said. “I could even buy you something disposable if you’d like.”

“No need, I have something that will work for that. If you want to incorporate a little bit of bondage or some biting and scratching so that I’m somewhat tied up but not enough that it ruins the illusion we could also work with that,” Wednesday replied.

“Yeah, that works for me,” Tyler pulled his phone from his pocket then. “I have a meeting on Monday and shoots with Nevermore until Thursday. Would Friday work for you?”

“Enid and her boyfriend usually go out around that time so it would work fine,” she nodded. She drained the rest of her coffee, her stomach feeling pleasantly tight and uncomfortable from the amount of caffeine she had consumed in such a small time. “What time would you want to set?”

“I think that we should probably do it when most of your neighbors are out at work so that we don’t end up having an awkward conversation with the cops,” Tyler looked a little uncomfortable when he brought that up, like he was reliving a memory. Wednesday half wanted to pry into that story, but now wasn’t the time. She wanted to continue to write and she couldn’t do that while he was still in her home. She was also starting to get flutters of anxious anticipation that she wanted to relish in on her own.

“Between four and five. It gets dark enough then at this time of year that it shouldn’t feel like a random attack during the day. It will add to the ambiance,” she said decidedly. She then gathered up the remainder of the papers on the table and tucked them back into the filing cabinet, in a new folder that was meant just for Tyler. “I look forward to our next scene. If you want to make sure that we’re still good to go please call me the day before or earlier in the day on the landline number you have. I’ll let Enid know we’re having a scene and not to come back until the next morning to give us plenty of time.”

“You guys really have this worked out into a nice system, huh?” Tyler chuckled. He extended his hand out to her and gave her a cheesy handshake before he said goodbye and left.

Wednesday was feeling oddly giddy and a little wet at the thought of Tyler holding her down and fucking her within an inch of her life. She was excited for what they were going to do and already planning other things that she would be interested to do with him as she drifted back to her room to continue her novel.

[harleiquina]

The Lady of the Well

Some time ago, I got so angry at Disney remaking their movies (with a lot less heart than the originals) that I started to write my own versions.

So far I’ve just finished my Cinderella, but there are many others to come.

Keep in mind that English isn’t my native language and I tried to translate it as best as I could.

-I hope you are not trying to steal anything- said an authoritarian but warm and playful voice that echoed through all the gallery.

-No. ¡No! Of course not- the young girl rushed to answer nerviously since she hadn't noticed that the men in uniform was joking. -I... never... I didn't even touched anything- she was trying to find his eyes to make her case stronger but the mirrored mask prevented her from finding his gaze. Feeling observed without knowing exactly from where made the intimidation worse.

-Don't be afraid. I didn't mean it- she sighed loudly with relief -Still, it is odd that you are here and not in the Great Hall. Don't you want to enjoy the ball?-

-It's just... -she contained herself -I don't belong there-

-However, here you are. That implies that you were invited-

-You could say that. But if I have to be honest: I sneaked in with a big family that didn't noticed my presence-

The man laughed -If you wanted to be in the ball so badly, why are you wasting the night in the art gallery?-

-I just wanted to see the Palace and this was my only chance-

-I can give you an invitation, in case anybody asks-

-An invitation arrived home. It's just that I didn't came with them-

-Them?- he noticed a certain absence in the young girl's voice.

-My stepmother and her daughters-

Once again there was a fraction of bitterness on the way she spoke and that made him realize that something wasn't right. So he asked to confirm if his suspicions were true -Your family?-

-I guess- the girl noticed that she was letting her true feelings show so she tried to brush off the whole situation. She got closer to the next painting on the wall, the one that caught her attention more than the others -Those flowers are beautiful, do you know their name?-

-I'm sorry, no-

-It doesn't matter. Maybe some beauties should remain unnamed-

He smiled.

-Sir- one of the guards called, he was wearing the man's exact same outfit -Do you need us?-

-No, General. Thank you-

-Are you sure?- he wanted to check after examining the girl before him.

-I'm sure. You may all go- once the sentence ended other twenty men left their positions from all over the hall

- So many guards?- the guest was surprised after seeing them walk down the hallway.

-It's a palace. There is a guard every six feet or so- he answered amused. Many past events paraded in his mind and in all of them the excess of men was more than justified.

-Are you their captain?

-I guess- he smiled -What's your name?

-My name?

-There is nobody else here, right?-

-No- she was genuinely surprised and ashamed for the whole situation -I am not used to be called by my name-

-Then... how do people call you?-

-It depends on who's speaking. Kids call me "the lady of the well" because I always help them when they need to retreive water in buckets that are bigger than them. And I also hold them in my arms when they want to toss a coin to ask for a wish-

-Sounds nice. Alas there is no well here, so I cannot call you like that- both laughed.

-Those who were our servants still call me "little miss" "child" or "missy" when I find them in the market. It doesn't matter how hard I try I cannot convince them that I'm not 4 years old anymore- her voice now was filled with warmth and joy.

-I don't know you enough to call you like that. But now I'm curious about the servants that no longer work for you. Are they very old?

-Not that much- she started pacing between the statues at the center of the room. She just realized the mess she got herself into by mentioning that but it was too late. She took a deep breath and fought the tears that started swelling in her eyes at the memory of her last nickname -Cinderella, that's the name my stepmother and her daughters use to call me. I'm always covered in cinder from the fire they make me keep always alive... so I can cook for them, prepare their baths and carry around tje house in winter to keep the whole house warm -a single tear escaped from her eyes all the way down her cheek but she caught it before it could hit the floor -I even have to do it in Summer, because those are the Lady's orders-

-What about the servants?

-There is none. Just me...- she dried her tears again, this time with a handkerchief he offered her -...Marielle-

-Marielle?- he was surprised -Then I believe that some beauties should be named- the attempt to make her feel better seemed to work

-Don't you have something better to do than taking care of a stranger's feelings?-

-Honestly? No. I do not like parties and this kind even less-

-What kind?-

-The ones to find a girlfriend for the prince- je sat down in a couch nearby and asked her to join him -That's why we are all dressed the same: women just try to expose themselves, or their daughters, to him. The night won't be long enough if he had to dance with all of them-

-So none of you say who is the prince, you hear them, get to know them and then give a report of who is the most adequate, right?-

-Exactly-

-I can't imagine how tedious it might be to deal with that-

-We take turns, another good reason to have so many guards nearby- she laughed -Of course, whoever tries to get any kind of advantage for themselves is removed. Usually will end up guarding the stables or the park-

-Still, it might be tough on them. Who says that a soldier can't fall in love with one of the girls?

-In that case they should say the truth-

-Has it happened already?

-The night is still young-

-If it's not a bother to you... may I ask you a question?- he nodded -Why a ball? I thought that the prince is meant to marry another kingdom's princess to strenghten commercial relationships, increase the lands and such-

-You are very smart, Marielle- she couldn't help blushing after hearing her name -Yes, that would be the most sensible and traditional way, so to speak. But, believe it or not, prince Jean has been rejected by many kingdoms both close and far away-

-Rejected?

-Yes, you'll see: the prince is blind- he said while removing his mask so she could see his clouded eyes -That's why the other kings don't want to take a chance on having grandkids with the same weakness- there was no reaction from the girl -Please don't pity me. I've had enough of that up until now. Speak to me, it is still me-

-It's just... I don't understand. You are the prince?- she stood up and started to nerviously pace.

-Yes-

-Don't lie to me-

-I know that I said that some soldiers might take advantage but I did so thinking I've already earned your trust... that I could speak freely with you-

-But... what are you doing here? The ball is in the other wing!-

-Have you noticed that there's a slight inbalance in your walking? As if one of the legs was a few milimeters shorter than the other-

-I broke a leg when I was thirteen. It didn't heal well-

-You used to climb trees?

-No-

-A horseback riding accident then?

-No-

-Maybe you were running around the hallways in your home?

-I will answer only if you give me a good reason why you are wasting your time with me instead of enjoying your party-

-I am not wasting my time, but go ahead-

-I didn't clean the main dinning room window well enough and my stepmother punished me for that- she could feel the indignation on his silence so se rushed to add -She never did it again. She realized that I couldn't do much with a broken bone-

-You were a child-

-Which means that it happened a long time ago and it's not worth remembering it-

-Did she continued to hit you? Does she do it now?-

-That is not important. I already answered your question. Now answer mine-

His frustration became evident however he always kept his word. In first place, I'm exhausted of hearing "I am the perfect woman to become queen because..." and, in second place, General Batiste, the man that spoke to me a while ago, told me that there was a girl in a rather peculiar dress walking around the hallways. He didn't know if she was lost or if she had something else in mind. In other words, you spiked my curiosity- Marielle sat down again -Why your dress caught the good General's attention?-

-Probably because it's old... it was my mother's so it is probably way over twenty years old-

-A heirloom?-

-It's all I've got left of her. My stepmother got rid of everything else- she stopped so he couldn't notice her voice cracking -It was in a forgotten chest on the attic, that's why moths got it. I took some scraps of an old dress of mine, one made of silk and pink tulle that I used as a child, with that I made flowers to patch up the holes- she left one of the flowers that hanged from her sleeve on his hand so he could feel them -I used beads from my stepsisters' many broken necklaces to make the center of the flowers-

-I admire your skill and I am certain that you look beautiful. Even so I cannot stop feeling pity over your situation, you should not live like that-

-If I do not pity you for your blindness, you shouldn't pity me either-

-That's fair. However I would like to help you-

-Nobody can-

-I can have them arrested-

-Or you could marry one of my stepsisters and take all of them away from here-

-I thought we were friends, now you want me to suffer?- he laughed.

-They would never hurt you-

-And why they do hurt you?

-I don't know, I stopped asking myself about it a long time ago. I guess I'm an easy target-

-You just have to ask and I can make my guards drag them to the dungeons-

-No, please, no. They will hate me more if I do it-

-They will never come out. You would be safe-

-My father wouldn't approve-

-Oh, he lives with you? And lets them treat you like that?

-No, he died about 17 years ago. But if he chose to marry my stepmother, there had to be a good reason why-

-Well, for what it's worth... if it wasn't for your situation, we would've never met-

-That's true-

-Who was your father? Because if you all still live in the same house there might be a chance that he was a friend or aquaitance of mine-

-Yes, my father worked as an administrator for the King. George Reinauld-

-I can't say that I know the name, as a child I had nothing to do on my father's bussiness. However I can tell you that I know every inch of this palace thanks to the many hits and falls I had during my childhood. That's why I always have so many guards around me, my mother never where could I ever need inmmediate assistance-

The clock started to announce midnight just like the bells on the closest cathedral.

-Oh, no- Marielle worried -It's late-

-What are you talking about?-

-The ball ends at midnight, I wasn't expecting to stay for long. I won't be able to arrive before them- explained halfway to the exit.

-Wait, please-

-I can't-

-Yes you can, stop- he was next to her and held her arm -Batiste! -the man and a companion appeared almost magically, ready to receive orders -Make one of our coaches take her home and ask for the ball to be extended. Would an hour be enough?-

-Yes, yes it'll be enough. Thank you!- the young girl kissed his cheek and started to run following the soldier guiding her.

-Don't look at me like that and do as I said- he ordered again while hiding a smile from his General's complicit gaze.

Everybody in the Great Hall rejoiced after finding out that the very Prince asked for the party to continue. The ladies thought that they still had a chance to get him because if he did found someone then there was no need to go on with the ball; the men just focused on the food and wine still left to enjoy. Little they knew that the prince never joined them again for the rest of the night.

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

-Good morning, son- the King said when he saw him in the garden -I see that you've had a good time. You are still using yesterday's clothes. Is that why you asked for the party to continue?-

-Honestly, father, I barely was in the ball-

-You are joking, right? You know fair well why we did it and why it was necessary for you to be there-

-I know, I know. But you would've not lasted that long in my shoes either-

-It couldn't be that bad to dance with so many beautiful young girls-

-Most of them couldn't stop talking about their virtues and others thought that I was a soldier and tried to bribe me so I could pinpoint the real prince. And lets not mention a few missteps I gave transforming them into drunk sailors. I even think that I might've learned new curse words thanks to them- the King couldn't hold his laughter -However, I wasn't alone either. All the time I was away I spent it with one of the guests that was snooping on the Art Gallery. We talked. She is very nice. I told her who I am, the reason for the ball and, aside from a brief moment of incredulity, she didn't even blink-

-Well, maybe the ball wasn't such a bad idea. And who is this misterious girl?-

-Marielle- he felt his heart lighting up by saying her name -Marielle Reinauld, daughter of George Reinauld- he added in a serious tone to try and hide his happiness.

-George Reinauld, sounds familiar, ah, yes! Now I remember him. A good man, honest and smart. Such a pity that he died-

-What do you know about his wife?

-I didn't have the chance to meet her, she died when he started to work for me-

-I mean his second wife-

-All I know is that your mom didn't liked her. I cannot say much, I never met her-

-Marielle told me about the mistreatments she got from her. She's basically a servant since she was twelve-

-Why? That family has enough money to live a comfortable life for at least three more generations-

-I do not know. But I'm worried. I need to know that she's fine-

-We'll send someone to her house-

-Yes... but no. First I need someone to make sure that she's fine. She told me that she came to the ball hiding from her stepmother, if all the sudden someone from the palace shows up at her door, she'll know-

-What does it matter if the girl marries you? She'll be safe in the palace-

-If she accepts me-

-Why wouldn't she?-

-The fact that we had a conversation doesn't mean she will-

-But it is a good start-

-Father, please... I just want to be sure that she is fine-

-Fine. I'll send someone to observe the house-

It was late in the evening when the messenger came back with his report. He didn't see anybody resembling a maid, just the mother and her two daughters would come and go from the rooms he could see through the windows.

Without second thoughts, the prince called his General and asked him to gather a few men to go to Reinauld's house.

Once there, the Lady of the house thought that good news were coming but after seeing the soldiers getting into her home to search the rooms her face changed completely. Her yells stopped once the King and his son walked through the door.

-Your Majesties!- the well dressed and old woman celebrated them with fake cheer -To what do I owe the honor of your visit?

-We have been told about a girl missing from your house- answered General Batiste, hiding from any sight the prince behind him.

-A girl? Missing? Nonsense! I live with my daughters here, nobody else. They are not here because they left to visit a friend, countess Montreaux. These girls, bless them, they want to keep on talking about the wonderful ball-

-How many daughters do you have?- asked Jean coldly with his face fix in the window that showed the street.

-Two: Fleur y Claire-

-And what about Marielle?-

-I'm sorry?- despite her surprise, it was rather clear that she knew of whom he was talking about-

-Your stepdaughter, Marielle-

-Mar... ah, yes... she left with her father, when he left us-

-George Reinauld worked for me. At the time od his death I sent my condolences and a medallion as a token of appreciation after so many years of service to his country- the King seemed offended after the woman's lame attempt to get rid of the situation.

-Fine, I was lying... I should've take her to a convent, poor thing, her mind wasn't quite right. She's the family's greatest shame-

-She seemed fine last night- the prince provoked her .

-Last night?- a slight biterness took over the woman's voice.

-She went to the ball- silence -we talked. Don't worry, she didn't dare to say much about you... but her story didn't need many words to be understood-

-As I said, she had issues-

-Had?- he turned towards the woman for the very first time but before he could walk to her one of the soldiers called Batiste from the kitchen. The General helped him get down the stairs that would lead them to him.

At the moment he crossed the door he could tell that Marielle spent most of her time in there. The whole place smelled like her, or viceversa, with a faint smell of oregano and other spices mixed with the scent of flour and salt.

-What did you find, soldier?-

-The fire died many hours ago but it would seem that something was burned before- Batiste reached to get the piece of burnt cloth the soldier was giving him

-This looks like a silk flower- said the General so everybody could listen.

-You burned her dress?- even though he knew the kind of person she was, he couldn't help but feel a stab on his heart for witnessing such heinous act.

-She deserved it, for disobeying-

-You keep on talking in past time- a shadow appeared in his thoughts -Where is she?- he tried to sound harsh and menacing but his coice cracked before he could finish his question.

-Where she belongs-

The prince couldn't breathe anymore and he was shaking enough that his friend and General guided him by the shoulders outside, to the backyard where there was a chicken coup and an orchard.

-Batiste, please, make your men search every inch of this property. Inside and out. We must find her-

-Yes, sir- he retired to communicate his orders to his men.

-Son, are you alright?- the King's voice came from behind and he felt his hand on his shoulder.

-What can you see from here? How is the house and it's surroundings?

-Well, it's a beautiful house... pity it didn't have the propper maintenance. It has three stories aside from the attic and the basement with the kitchen. Stone facade, big windows, balconies... is almost as big as our summer house in the beach, do you remember it?- there was no answer, so he continued with his description -I can see that some of the roof tiles fell off and there's a hole getting bigger and bigger in the attic. There are even doves coming out of it!- he saw his son still lost in his thoughts -The orchard is really nice, the pumpkins are about to be harvested. There are tomato plants and chard... I think... yes, those are onions. Its a very good job, madmoiselle Marielle has a very good green hand-

-What else?- asked Jean.

-There's a chicken coup, I can count three chickens and a rooster. They are pecking the floor looking for food-

-Probably she had to feed them in the morning- added the Prince with biterness -I hear voices afar, is there anybody else aside from the soldiers?-

-There are some kids playing on a hill, they are near a well. I hope they don't try to climb it, they might fall-

-The well- remembered Jean -She helps kids to get water from it and to toss coins when asking wishes-

Batiste came out of the house.

-We searched everywhere, there is not a trace. I'm sorry-

-General, lets go to that hill, to the well- his heart started pounding he was certain they would find her there. Batiste checked the orders with the king, he nodded.

The men were carrying torches, the night already arrived and regardless how much they tried to illuminate the well, they couldn't see anything.

A young soldier asked his friends to hold him while he tried to get as far as he could inside the well to try and see anything. But he wasn't counting his ticklish nature and his friends touch made him toss the torch to the water. He shrieked when, before the fire was extinguished, he was able to see a face in the water and what seemed to be a white dress floating.

Without confirming their orders, the soldiers started to dig with whatever they had available at the time. The neighbours got closer and offered their help and tools. With the effort of 50 people, they were able to dig to the bottom of the well. The water started to rise and it made it near impossible to keep on digging, but the thought of miss Reynauld captive in it helped them fight off the elements and the tiredness.

Todos conocían a Marielle, la niña que siempre tenía una sonrisa en los labios a pesar de tener una vida dura junto a su madrastra. Aquella que ayudaba a quienes lo necesitaban y se preocupaba por cada uno como si fuera de la familia.

A couple of women delivered bebrages to the workers and every now and then bursted in tears worried for the fate of the girl they loved so much.

-Do you know her?- asked the prince when he felt them near him.

-Since her birth, Your Highness. She was such a good child- answered one wiping her tears with hee sleeve.

-She was like a daughter to us. She even carried provisions in her sleigh for us during a winter we fell sick. She was a little girl, she was 10! Y she took care of us without any kind of binding obligation to us... a couple of peasants way below her- added the second one.

-And when her stepmother started to mistreat her we wanted to help her... but the Lady threatened us with jail. We were very scared, Your Highness... we should've done something... look where we are now!- the first woman reproached herself.

Every story the prince heard pierced his soul, but a victory scream from one of the men brought some hope back into him.

Everybody approached his location and rushed to help him rescue the girl from the water. Carefully, three of them took her out to were the King was standing next to his son. The early morning lights allowed them to see the young girl unconscious, pale, soaking wet and with some bruises on her face and arms.

Many soldiers improvised a bed with their capes on the grass so she could rest. The town's doctor was also there and jumped into action to try and find her vitals.

-They are too weak, but they are still there- everybody sighed in relief as a carriage got closee to them.

-Ladies- Jean called the women that spoke wirt him earlier -We will take her to the palace. Could you watch over her?-

-Of course, Your Highness! We'll do it with pleasure, the poor child needs love an care. We will give it to her- answered the first one while Marielle was being carried to the carriage. The doctor also climbed in it followed by the two women.

-Batiste- he called his General -Lets go back to the house. Father, go back to the palace and make sure that the doctor has everything he needs-

-I'll call the royal doctors as well, I assure you son that everything will be alright-

-I hope so- he said his goodbyes before his friend helped him to return to the Reinauld's family house.

-Your Majesty!- the screeching voices of the Lady's daughters pierced his ears -Such a pleasure to see you here!- both spoke at the same time and that was even more annoying.

-Has your mother told you the reason for my visit?-

-Yes- all courtesy was gone and their voices were now poisonous.

-I must inform you that we have found your stepsister, miss Marielle Reinauld- nothing but silence -She was in the bottom of the well abpve the hill-

-As I said, Your Highness, her mind wasn't in great shape. She probably fell or threw herself chasing a toad... she always got those nasty creatures to torment my girls, wasn't that so?- the homeowner intervened looking for her daughters approval.

-She is still alive-

-What? I mean... it is good news but I'm less than excited to see her again after everything that happened.

-Don't worry, you won't. Batiste, arrest the lady for attempted murder-

-As you say, Your Highness-

-Don't you dare to touch me! I did nothing.... it was them, they threw her down the well like a broken plate-

-Mom!- Claire got offended.

-We only threw her because you told us to!- added Fleur.

-Fine, take the three of them- Jean ordered without thinking it twice.

The soldiers tried to be polite with them showing them the way but the women refused to follow them, so they had to grab and drag them against their will. Their indignation was silenced by the yelling of their neighbours, still covered in mud, that went to the house to see the pathetic scene.

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

Many weeks passed until Marielle was able to get up from the comfortable bed with silk sheets. Her good neighbours Carlotta and Vivianne helped her to eat, dress and wash herself the whole time. She didn't liked to be pampered with so much devotion, but she also knew that she couldn't do any of that alone.

Now it was a wonderful spring morning and she wanted to walk around the garden before goinf back home.

She found the kings having breakfast in a gazebo. After many pleas, she joined them.

-I am so glad that you are alright- started the Queen -Do you have everything you need? What about the dresses? Should we fix them in anyway?- she observed that Marielle had folded the cuffs since they were too long.

-No, Your Highness. It's not worth it. I have mine at home. I'm not planning on keeping any of these, they are just a loan-

-My girl! There's no need to return anything, these are gifts- said the King.

-I don't want you to think that I'm taking advantege of you. You did enough for me-

-And we would do it again- reassured the Queen -After hearing your neighbours' testimonies and your stepfamily's nonsense, I can't stop thinking that I should've followed my instincts that time and take you away from that house as soon as your father died. I always knew that that woman wasn't good news, but he was in love... I guess-

-Lets not speak more about the past, especially now that we know there are brighter days ahead. What are your plans, Marielle, now that you're free?- the king asked.

-I never made plans-

-And what would you like to do? Now you're not just the Lady and homeowner of the Reinauld House, you also possess your father's fortune.

-I have to do something for those who rescued me, both soldiers and civilians... but I do not know yet what it could be-

-That's a good start and we will support you in anything you might need- smiled the Queen while lovingly tapping her arm.

-There is no need, as I said, I don't want to take advantage of your generosity-

-You'll be the first one- laughed the King -Now I see why you caused such a good impression in Jean-

Marielle blushed, and that wasn't a secret for the other two.

-Have you talked to him? I think he's at the fountain. He enjoys the sound of water moving and the birds that sing over there.

-The Prince visited me many times and showed me the other pieces of art in the palace. He says he enjoys how I describe them- she smiled to herself -I hope I was a good friend to him-

-Why do you speak as if you are about to leave?- asked the Queen.

-Well, the doctirs told me that I am fully recovered. I must return home. I'm sure there's a lot to clean- she added laughing.

-Well, that's a shame... you know what I mean. All of us enjoy your company and it's sad to see you go away-

-I completely understand, don't worry. I know that you'll never wish any kind of evil upon me- smiled Marielle.

-Have you told Jean already?- asked the King.

-Well, the Prince knows how I think... but no, I haven't told him yet-

-You should, as we told you, he's at the fountain-

- Now?

-It is better to rip the bandage quickly- his comment was shut off by a hard stomp from his wife.

-If I may, Your Highnesses- Marielle stood up hiding her desire to laugh at the Queen's reaction.

As she was told, the prince was sitting in the grass under a tree's shadow, with his eyes closed focused on all the sounds around him. His face, just like everything near him, transmitted peace and warmth.

-Marielle- he called her softly while opening his eyes.

-I'll never be able to surprise you- she chuckled while helping him to stand up.

-You are a surprised by yoursel- he presented his arm to invite her to walk with him. She accepted.

-Why didn't you had breakfast with your parents?-

-I've been awake for hours. I had breakfast a lot earlier-

-Oh, did you have a rough night?-

-You could say that. Every day that goes by is a day closer to the day you'll leave- Marielle felt a strong pinch on her stomach -I know that you will... there is nothing to stop you-

-I'll visit you often, if you ask me to-

-You musn't base your actions in what I want but in what you want. I've enjoyed the hours that we spent together but if this were, in anyway, a duty or an obligation you set yourself as a payment for helping your escape, I do not pretend to let you continue with them-

-I would never think in that way. In any casa it's me who's embarrassed. I shared the darkest moments of my life with a complete stranger and because of that I dragged you with me. My apologies, Your Highness, if you've felt in the obligation to assit me in any way-

He smiled -Call me Jean, I've told you to do it before-

-I can't, it's disrespectful-

-I call you Marielle-

-I am a nobody-

-Don't say that- the prince noticed that his voice turned too solemn so he decided to switch the conversation tone -I have noticed something in the last couple of days: I've never danced with you-

-Maybe in the next ball-

-Or maybe now- he could feel Marielle's stranged look while he moved, still holding her hand, making her twirl to position her in the starting pose for a waltz. Jean carefully placed his hand on the center of her back while still holding her right hand. He felt foolish for a second but his worry disappeared once he felt Marielle's delicate touch on his left shoulder. She giggled and both started to dance in the grass. There, in each other's arms, they didn't needed music -There's no need for you to say anything, I know you'll be leaving tomorrow- he whispered in her ear.

-I'm sorry, I can't stay here any longer. I am recovered, I have no excuse to stay-

-I understand-

-Won't you ask me to stay?- there was a faint dissapointment tone in her voice.

-I would never be selfish enough to impose my wishes to yours- he could feel her beating heart with his fingertips and his own heart was hammering in his ears. They seemed to be synchronized and both got louder once they, unconsciously got even closer to each other -You are free- they stopped but didn't separate from the embrace.

-I no longer know what that means. It's been a long time-

-More reasons then to enjoy your freedom. You can do as you wish- a delicated kiss on his lips took him by surprise. He couldn't deny that he imagined this moment hundreds of times, but he never expected this reaction coming from her. Shyness turned into certainty and with it passion arrived. Jean didn't fight back the need to lose himself in her scent and and the warmth that came from Marielle's body. For the first time in so many years he forgot his blindness and the pain it caused him. Nothing else mattered, only that moment -Marielle- he whispered when everything was over -Don't hurt me like this-

-That's not my intention-

-You have a good heart, but pity and compassion can lead to even major cruelties if they are not measured-

-I love you- she held him tight and pressed her forehead to his -Jean, I love you-

-Still hurts seeing you escaping from an iron cage to get into a golden one-

-At least I'll have company-

-Quite a partner- he sighed -You deserve someone who can enjoy your smile, the blush on your cheeks and your eyes full of love-

-No- she caressed his face -You've asked me not to feel pity upon you, then why can you speak like this?-

-Because I want you to have a good life, even if it's not with me. Get out to the world, explore the cities, meet people. Do not waste a single more minute locked down in a house... or a palace-

-I'm not going anywhere unless you come with me-

-Marielle...- he begged.

-Jean, do you love me?- her voice was warm but there was still a shadow of uncertainty in it.

-Nobody in this world, in an individual or collective way, has loved any other person as much as I love you-

-Then, respect my decisions. I'll stay with you. Not out of compassion, not as appreciation for having saved me... but because you are a good man: you've trusted me when you didn't have to, any other person would've vanished me from the ball for snooping around where I shouldn't be. You took care of me and accompanied me without expecting anything in return. You've became the reason why I started to laugh again, you gave me hope: I never thought about the future before and now all I want is to be with you every day, every night, with children or without them, in the throne room or in a farm away from everything, I don't care as long as we are together. Please, don't ask me to be alone again-

-I'll never do that-

-So, do you accept me?

The only answer she got was a brief smile before a kiss that awoke in her chest the heat of a thousand suns. Jean held her tight and started to spin on himself. They laughed together and some tears were still running down. Their embrace was so strong that it was impossible determin where one ended and the other began. They were one. They were happy. They were everything they ever dreamt of.

[moldygreenblue]

a meeting with a man in white spats

(In which two men meet each other a pub, and conversation occurs.)

I was lunching one day at The Princess Louise,

When I passed some remark to a man in white spats

Who had ordered a plate of fried gammon and peas,

So we soon fell to talking of thisses and thats—

“May I ask why you’re searching for a new flat?”

Mr. Faber sets down his fork and knife onto his plate, and dabs the napkin onto his mouth. Once his face is clean, Mr. Faber picks up his glass of port wine, swirls it around, and takes a small sip. He then gives out a refreshing sigh, and set his glass down.

“Not at all,” replies Thomas, picking up his own gin and tonic from the coaster. He takes a long slip before continuing. “Something you need to know right away is that I quite like my flat mate. I’m not searching for a new flat because I despise him. We knew each other since our university days, and we remained friends since graduation. But we never lived together until six years back. We weren’t in relationships at the time, and two people paying rent makes thing easier, you know? 50/50 split payment of everything.”

“Completely understandable of an arrangement.”

“A year ago, my friend met someone. The girl of his dreams, if I have to describe her. Even the way they met came can be describe as love at first sight. But I digress. A few weeks back, he proposed to her. I even help set up the proposal.”

“Sounds like you are a candidate on being the best man.”

Thomas laughs, and sets his gin and tonic down back on the coaster. “Very likely candidate. Now, even though she spent a night or two at the flat —and vice versa with him at her place— the idea of them living together never crossed their minds until recently. It’s a good thing that our flat has two bedrooms, and not one.”

“But you have your own bedroom, and your friend and his fiancée have theirs. What is the problem?” Mr. Faber leans back against his chair, his curled-up hand underneath his chin.

“The problem is that I’m a third wheel,” says Thomas. “They don’t want to admit it, especially my flat mate, but I know that they know that I’m disrupting their new lifestyle. I freshen up at times when she needs to freshen up, or I accidentally use the food they bought to make my meals. I won’t even start on the time I barge into my flat mate’s room and interrupt…activities.”

Thomas gives a sigh, and places his elbow on the table. He then rests his head onto his hand. “Pardon my impolite table manners, but my search for a flat within my price range is worser than it was six years ago. And I can’t ask my sister to let me live with her. Her flat is big enough only for herself and her pet cat. If it was bigger, I would consider her as a potential option.”

“Your sister having a cat is not an issue to your dilemma?” Mr. Faber raises an eyebrow.

“No issue at all. I quite like cats.”

Mr. Faber doesn’t say anything. Instead, the old man drops his hand, and smiles. Thomas can see a twinkle in Mr. Faber’s eyes.

Thomas isn’t sure how he should interpret it.

“Well Mr. Stephens,” says Mr. Faber as he smiles, and it’s very feline of a smile, “I confide right now to being a jack of all trades, but I am at present an agent for small furnished flats. And I do think I can help you out, in fact…”

[leonbloder]

Pleasing God Isn't The Point

Growing up in the evangelical, fundamentalist wing of the Church, I was taught some things that I still cherish to this day.  I memorized Scripture, learned Bible stories, and developed a sense of the importance of a faith community. 

I also learned to love some old, wonderful hymns that have been part of the Christian tradition for centuries. I also developed an affinity for energetic, passionate, and engaging preaching. 

While the content and theology of the sermons from my youth were often pure, hot garbage (putting it mildly), I always loved a good sermon delivered with enthusiasm and great illustrations.  

Those early influences are why I never read my sermons, and I have a particularly "evangelical" delivery when I preach.  

I often write about all of the negative aspects of that upbringing, and there are plenty of those to write about, to be sure.  But there were good things, too, and for the most part, I've let go of what was unhealthy and continue to hold on to the healthy and helpful things. 

But there is one of those unhealthy things that I have had difficulty shaking in my faith journey, which has to do with my relationship with God, particularly what God wants from me. 

I grew up thinking that all God wanted from me was blind obedience.  I was told to please God in everything I did or suffer the consequences.  

As a boy, I thought God was much like the Incredible Hulk from the 1970s show I loved to watch.  In the TV show's opening credits, Dr. David Banner (who turns into the Hulk when agitated) tells the reporter who constantly hounds him, "Don't make me angry; you wouldn't like me when I'm angry."

Even though the Sunday school teachers, youth leaders, and preachers of my youth would cursorily say that God loved us, they more frequently said something like, "Don't make God angry; you won't like God when he's angry." 

I frequently had visions of God getting mad at me and wrecking my life the way that the Incredible Hulk would wreck a room, a truck, or some bad guys.

Obviously, there were some problems with this way of thinking, and eventually (like a lot of other former evangelicals), I found myself no longer believing in that kind of God. 

But still, after all of these years and everything I've learned in my faith journey, I sometimes wonder if I'm somehow being punished by God when something bad happens in my life.  This always surprises me, considering I fired that God so long ago. 

As it turns out, those old feelings are hard to shake, and I  know I'm not the only one who feels them.  People frequently come to me for guidance or counsel, and I'll hear the familiar refrain, "I feel like God is punishing me for some reason."

The fact of the matter, at least in my opinion, is that we tend to inflict all of the punishment on ourselves; God has nothing to do with that.  In fact, God is constantly trying to show us that God is full of grace, love, and forgiveness and that none of those ever run out.  

We refuse to look around us to see any signs of God's true feelings toward us, though, especially when feeling low.  

I read a beautiful quote from Alice Walker's The Color Purple once and wrote it down to share one day.  Here it is: 

People think pleasing God is all God cares about.  But any fool living in the world can see it always trying to please us back.  

There is so much in that one line, typical of Walker.  She offers a new way to understand God that is bigger and more all-encompassing than the vision of God as an angry judge waiting to sentence us for all our wrongdoings. 

But we can see something completely different when we look around us and pay attention to where God's presence and shalom are in the world.  

First, when we look around us, we are raising our gaze beyond the six inches in front of our face, which is where most of us tend to stare when we are going through hardships. 

And then we widen our gaze; we are more likely to see God's truth, beauty, and goodness both in our world and within our hearts.  We can see how God always tries to "please us back," this revelation can transform us.  

In the Westminster Catechism from the 17th century, the question was posed, "What is the chief end of man?" The answer in the Catechism was this simple: "To glorify and enjoy God forever." 

This is how we should view our relationship with God.  Our purpose is to reflect the glory and goodness of God to the world around us and to actually enjoy God in the doing.  

If you were taught to go through life worrying about messing up or being out of God's will for your life and that your actions would make God angry at you, let that hot garbage theology go. 

God is constantly doing whatever it takes to gain your attention to show you how much you are loved, how valuable and cherished you are, and that you are forgiven, set free, and loosed on the world to help shine the light of God's Kingdom wherever you go. 

May this knowledge bring you hope and peace.  

And may the grace and peace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you now and always. Amen.  

[theretirementstory]

Bonjour tout le monde, it is zero degrees here in Bar-sur-Aube this morning and it is not going to be much warmer throughout the day. Plus, there is a wind brewing from a northerly direction so I think I may just have a short walk and then come home. I have plenty of ideas for keeping busy, soup making, cake baking , continuing with knitting the hats and bootees to be donated to the appeal following the earthquakes in Turkey and Syria. At the moment I have finished three hats and one pair of bootees. There is also one hat and two pairs of bootees ready to stitch up and another hat is currently on the needles.

I enjoyed a little break in Belfort, where I saw (not close up) The Lion of Belfort (photo above). My hotel was across the square from the Cathedrale Saint Christophe de Belfort and my fourth floor room also gave stunning views of the Citadelle (Arsenal) and the famous Lion. I have just read that there is a replica (smaller scale) of the Lion in Paris. The sculptor Auguste Bartholdi, born in Colmar, France, was the man responsible for this huge Lion, he is perhaps more famous as the designer of the Statue of Liberty, sited on Liberty Island USA.

I ventured into Switzerland, well a few hours in Basel, where I stumbled upon a number of the “places to see”. Namely, the Rathaus, Marktplatz, Mittlere Brucke and the sculpture “Amazon leading a horse “ by Carl Nathan Burckhardt. I also photographed another sculpture (from the side), I have just discovered it’s name “Switzerland succouring Strasbourg” by non other than Bartholdi again. I felt that I hadn’t seen much for my time in Basel, but looking at my photos I was pleased with what I actually saw.

I was looking for a poem and I have seen quite a few which just don’t seem to sit right with this weeks blog. Then I remembered part of a song which I sang when I was in the school choir in Stokesley in the mid 1960’s. I used to know all the words but time and tide have taken their toll on the “little grey cells”. Here are the couple of lines I remember from the song “March Came In Like A Lion”.

“March came in like a lion one day,

Like a mighty lion in search of prey”.

I have a feeling that some of the songs we sang had been “written” by the music teacher, Mrs Baxter. I also remember performing at the Floral Hall in Scarborough at the school choirs competition, we won some award which made the whole school so proud. There was a write-up in the Darlington and Stockton Times 🤔 wonder if it is still in their archives 😂.

My gorgeous granddaughter is said to have fallen over at school and she has a big red mark (bigger than an old penny) in the middle of her forehead. My gorgeous grandson has eczema on his eyelid…. poor little boy!

“The Trainee Solicitor” has still not moved into his house. What was going to be just a “lick of paint” has turned into a major refit, but it will look stunning when it is finished. He has had a very busy five months, not just with his house, running the business 😂, and aiding the sick, however, I am sure it won’t be long until he is “The Galloping Gourmet” in his own home.

My young friend, Pauline, is living and working in Dublin for six months. She is having a wonderful time (I get regular updates). She celebrated her 26th birthday on the 19th of February, wow! 26 I remember it well 😂.

I must start thinking about the garden, I am sure that by this time last year I had planted the runner bean seeds outside. We are due some bright days over the coming week but the temperatures are not expected to rise into double figures, so I imagine I will be inside knitting. I have noticed that the hyacinths i planted into the garden a couple of years ago have flower spikes appearing. It will be lovely to see them flowering outside. I had moved a few daffodil bulbs last year and I am pleased to see that they are coming through as well. I think there will be a lot of tulips too, it’s amazing to see the garden springing to life. Now I think I should whisper this so as not to tempt fate, but the piece of honeysuckle I left in water when I went to the UK did grow some very strong roots and so I potted it up. Well it seems as if it has new growth on the tip. I am keeping my fingers crossed that it will grow stronger so that I can plant it in the garden.

Right, it is lunchtime over here and I have my lunch to make. I will bid you all a fond farewell.

[destinyimage]

Delayed Miracle? Here’s How to Unleash God’s Power

I will give him the key to the house of David—the highest position in the royal court. When he opens doors, no one will be able to close them; when he closes doors, no one will be able to open them (Isaiah 22:22 NLT)

When you are contending for your until moment, you will find yourself in some in-between moments.

Notice in this scripture in Isaiah there are two doors that God is talking about here—an open door and a closed door. Obviously, there is an in-between of the two. Each door represents a season of a person’s life. You have a current season and then you have a coming season. So you have present times and you have approaching times.

We all get tired in our current season. The current season is a time of the same ole, same ole! There is nothing new happening, not even on the horizon as far as you can see, so you feel stuck, nothing moving forward and nothing moving backward—you’re just stuck! This is the time when we need the grace of patience and endurance, which no one likes. You will be the most tempted to quit when you are the closest to your calling, to your open doors, and to answered prayer. But here’s the thing—quitting only leaves you with the memory of unrewarded labor. If I am going to have a memory, I want it to be rewarding, not unrewarded.

Always remember the instruction given to us in Habakkuk 2:2-3:

Then the Lord said to me, “Write my answer plainly on tablets, so that a runner can carry the correct message to others. The vision is for a future time. It describes the end, and it will be fulfilled. If it seems slow in coming, wait patiently, for it will surely take place. It will not be delayed” (NLT).

There are times when we want the old to pass away, and we want the new right now. We don’t want to wait for the next season. However, God doesn’t operate like that. There are lessons to be learned in the hallway of mundane and misery. Most of those times we feel rejection or we feel as if God is not hearing us. We wonder if He is ignoring us. Yet in spite of all this, we still hold on to hope and expect that it will change.

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In those in-between moments, I wanted this pray until over, done, and through with yesterday, but God’s overall plan was to bring glory out of this situation with Kaylee so there was no “immediately.” God wasn’t interested in our feelings or even the awkwardness of our daughter’s dilemma. Kaylee had horrific separation anxiety even while I was ministering on stage. It was to the point of her being on stage with me and sitting with me until I went up to minister, even in a two-hour service. There were times when she would follow me around the altar service, holding on to my dress just to be close. I truly believe her spirit wanted to be as close to the anointing as she could get because she was comfortable there, satisfied there, and safe there. I wanted it over, but God said, “No! I’m going to use this to rub it in the devil’s face as to how far I brought her, and I just need you to trust Me with your until prayer.” Now, the other door that Isaiah was talking about is the open door. It is, in essence, the season we want to see happen, and very quickly. At one time it was the closed door, but now it is the door that we want opened. Once we walk through that door and that season ends, we get weary and desire a new door.

For example, you are aspiring to move from an apartment to a three-bedroom home, because you need more space. In the beginning you were eager to move out of your parents’ house and get your own place. You moved into a beautiful, cool apartment that you could only have imagined five years ago. But now it has been another five or six years and you are married with maybe two kids, and it has gotten a little crowded. So all you think about is, “If I could only find a house and get out of this small apartment and have room for my children to play, and have a nice area for a kitchen, and a bigger bathroom, or maybe even more than one bathroom.” You forget what that first open door was like because it has become old. You’ve outgrown it, and it doesn’t suffice anymore.

Another example is when you were young all you wanted to do was to get your driver’s license, which literally meant getting your independence, and ultimately get a car. That was the quest of my two girls. They would say, “If only I could just get my license, oh, I would be so happy.” We knew exactly what that meant—they wanted to be able to drive themselves around independently of me and their father.

There was a rule in our house that when you acquired your driver’s license, you had to drive the gold Ford Ranger pickup truck the first year. Although it looked pretty decent, it still had some dingers on it, but it had a great radio, a CD player, and great air conditioning. But the most important thing was, it was like a tank. If anyone hit that thing, nothing and nobody was going anywhere. So the girls were happy to drive that pickup truck and hone their driving skills. Just before the year was up, they started talking about a car because the truck was getting a little old to them. So when they finally got a car, they were glad to be able to walk through that open door of getting rid of the “oldie goldie.”

When I first got to college I just wanted to minister, because singleness was who I felt I was at the time. Then all of a sudden, the singleness began to sour. I found myself more and more longing for a companion and a family. For many of you reading this book, singleness has soured. There are also people who believe they are not supposed to be married to their mate anymore. The devil is a liar because God wants to restore your marriage fully! Some of you feel you are supposed to own you own business. You are tired of the waiting, and you feel you are ready to move on and get out of the in-between, beyond the tweaking, and especially beyond the pruning.

Here’s what I know from experience—you can be moving out of it but still be in it. God is closing the door behind you while you are in the in-between. What is actually happening is that you can be exiting the closing door that ultimately will never open again, and that door will be your last and also your past at the same time. You will be entering into the in-between season, and at that point you are in the in-between. I have found you can’t steal second base until you take your feet off of first base. You need to step out and find out, and that will always require you to get out of your comfort zone and believe God for the next.

The in-between is a place where every person who breathes and lives will experience. Many times in life, it is a place of frustration, yet on the other hand fruit is growing. Remember, patience is a fruit of the Spirit. Although it may be a small fruit or the fruit is not ripe yet, something significant is happening. “What is happening significantly?” you may ask. You are growing in the in-between and producing thirty, sixty, and a hundredfold of fruit. It is a place of development and discovery, but it feels disappointing because it’s not what you thought it would be. It’s true when they say it may be better on the other side of the fence, but there are still weeds on the other side of the fence that will need to be dealt with. We find ourselves looking beyond our circumstances to see what may be “over there.” But the truth is, God is working on our behalf when it seems like He is doing absolutely nothing. As I stated earlier, “All things work together for the good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose” (Romans 8:28).

Here’s the good news—everybody’s in-between is different; no one has the same in-between. How soon doors begin to open is based entirely on readiness, maturity, and understanding.

Pray Until

Jamie and I have found in our in-between seasons that our obedience level becomes intense. We have learned to sow more seed, and not just financially. We sow in tears, in worship, in fasting, and we sow relationally in prayer. What does that mean? It means that there is simple agreement between two parties believing and calling forth those things which are not as though they are. This season is also a place where there are no angels, no singers, dancers, or B3 organs playing in the background. You don’t necessarily hear the wind blowing in the mulberry trees, and there are not many epiphany moments in the in-between season. It is a simple trust in God being God in your life and Him bringing you to a place of abandonment and even an uncomfortable trust. Isaiah 46:8-10 says this:

Remember this, and show yourselves men; recall to mind, O you transgressors. Remember the former things of old, for I am God, and there is no other; I am God, and there is none like Me, declaring the end from the beginning, and from ancient times things that are not yet done, saying, “My counsel shall stand, and I will do all my pleasure” (NKJV).

In that scripture alone, God describes Himself as declaring your ending from your beginning. He is calling your ending from a place that already exists and bringing or delivering it to you where you exist now. Jesus prayed this by saying, “Your kingdom come. Your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven” (Matthew 6:10 NKJV). He was calling forth things that were foreordained in the heavens to be actualized in the now in our human experience. Job said you will decree a thing and it will be established (see Job 22:28).

What you decree is not current. Actually, what you decree is something you see, and then through prayer and fasting God brings it to you in the supernatural. This is God’s promise to you between the closed door and the open door, which is the position of being in-between. It is not rejection, though the enemy would have us think that God has rejected us or He has refused our requests or destroyed our dream. Satan will tell you that God has taken your ability to anticipate in faith and denied you and said, “No, that is not My will for your life.” The truth of the matter is, it is the process of God that gets us to the promise, and too often we don’t want to go through the process.

My husband describes growing up and going on small business trips with his dad to tune pianos at people’s homes and churches and concert halls. Oftentimes, they would see trains in some of the small towns they would go through. He recalls how his dad would pull up to a train track while a passing train was going by, and to keep boredom at a minimum he would challenge him and his brothers to try and count the cars as the train was passing them. You can imagine the turning of the little heads as they were trying to count the moving cars of a train. It is literally impossible, but it sure made up for having to pacify little ones.

When a train is passing, it feels like nothing is going on; you’re just sitting there and something else is going by you so fast, like time—hours, days, and life itself. You feel as if things are going by so fast and everybody else is getting blessed; everybody else is increasing; everybody else is getting married, getting a job, and getting a house; and everybody else’s dreams are coming true, and yet you are sitting at the train track counting cars.

But that is the in-between. It’s still a part of the train; it’s not the engine; it’s not the caboose, but it is what ties the two ends together. Those cars are just as important as the engine and the caboose. Likewise, your in-between moment ties your last season with your coming season. Sometimes, the in-between is tough and challenging to your faith, but like Isaac we sow in seasons of drought and rain.

A perfect example of a season of challenge is when my husband had graduated from college and he got a job at a trucking company. He worked there for a while, but the job really wasn’t what he wanted to do, obviously, so he waited and prayed. One day he got a call that a door had opened for him to move to Cleveland, Tennessee and play music, which was his dream. He was so pumped at the possibility, so off to Cleveland he went. He got his last paycheck after he had already moved to Cleveland.

To his surprise, his former boss left a phone message accusing him of wasting the company’s time and falling asleep on the job. He was really upset and angry because Jamie had left his company to go and pursue his dream. The devil hates it when you get promoted. As I mentioned earlier, Isaac sowed in the land of famine, and in the same year he reaped a hundredfold. The Bible says that Isaac became so prosperous that his enemies hated him. Well, I guess this enemy was upset because Jamie had found favor.

So his last paycheck came through the mail straight to the apartment where he lived. Well, instead of taking the much-needed check and going to cash it, Jamie turned right around and sent it back with a “return to sender” on it. He told his former boss, “I regret the way you feel; however, everything you said about me is not true. I want you to know that I love where I am right now and I know this is where God would have me be. Since you accused me of doing wrong to your company, I am sowing this check back to you for you to put it back into your company.” He never heard back from this man or the company, but he had a resolve and a peace of mind that the enemy couldn’t take from him.

Sometimes you have to sow a seed into your season of adversity to announce to God and all of hell how thankful you are for the past season. The enemy thought he had him, but when Jamie sowed into his destiny and purpose it defeated the enemy’s lie. In that season he was able to purchase a car that he desperately needed. Sometimes you have to be so determined that hell will not get the last word about what God has promised to you. That check was $120 but he was determined to sow into his season of adversity.

Some of you need to heed this word and start to sow into your season of misery, adversity, and challenge and start enjoying the provision of the promise. Sometimes the key to an open door is sowing into the last season where you thought you were being rejected and defeated.

Here’s the reality of it. To sow into what you call misery or adversity is actually sowing into what God used to make a difference in your life. The last door was not necessarily the devil, but an opportunity to sow into your history. The last door is just as much God’s will as the door that’s about to open up to you. So when you honor God with what He did in the last season, it gives Him an opportunity to catapult you to your next.

When I first started itinerant ministry, I used to take the tithe of the honorarium that was given to me from any church—no matter what it was, large or small—and send it back to that church with a thank you to the pastor. I would take the opportunity to

say, “I want to thank you for allowing me to be in your church this weekend and minister to your congregation, and I want to tithe back into what you are doing in that city.” What I am living in right now is the result of the gifts and giving that we gave because we were believing for open doors. Our prayer was, “Lord, if You will just open doors for us, we will go wherever You take us. It doesn’t matter the size; I want to be used by You.”

So, the closing of a door or a season is not negative; it is the ending of one season and the beginning of a new one. If you honored God in your last season, He can trust you with the next. He didn’t forget our $20 off the $200 honorarium. Oh, I know it wasn’t much, but today we are living out the blessings of those seeds in more ways than one.

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[missgeniality]

A Date With Destiny (m)

“Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves, alone - we find it with another.” - Thomas Merton

➺ Pairing: Jungkook x Female Reader

➺ Trope: Strangers to Lovers, Idol!AU

➺ Genre: Fluff, Smut, one comedian in the mix

➺ Rating: 18+

➺ Word Count: 11k

➺ Summary: You are a boss lady in the tech industry travelling to world for work. He is a chart-topping artist touring the globe to perform in front of millions of fans. In the cosmos of life, you are not likely to cross paths. Luckily, fate has a different plan for you two.

➺ Warnings: dom!jk, unprotected sex (sex is cleaner when you pack your weiner!), hickeys galore, lot of spit, oral (male and female receiving), balls receive attention, throat fucking, cum eating, edging, masturbation kinda?, cum play, pussy slapping, pussy sniffing, fingering, squirting, spanking, pain kink?, tit slapping, reader teases a bit but this man is a tease maestro, cum stuffing (is that a thing even?), Jungkook’s THIGHS need their own warning

➺ Author’s Note: @ppersonna​​ is an angel among us peasants. Thank you so much for all your help with this!   This is my first attempt at writing, and the tiniest feedback goes a long way! Hope you enjoy! 

When you die, the first pit stop you make is to the coffee gods. 

Without coffee, this whole month would have been a disaster. Back-to-back meetings, daily flights, countless documents being read, it’s a miracle your eyes are open and fully functioning. 

Being the Chief Technical Officer of a well-established company at your age had been anything but a cakewalk. You had strived hard and crossed many boulders to come to where you are. But if reaching that point required huge amounts of effort, now your work is tenfold. 

“Why can’t I just get longer flights so I can nap in them?” You mumble into your nth cup of coffee - not keeping count is for your own sanity. 

“Because longer flights apparently have crying children. You, our resident baby-magnet hypothesized that shorter flights equal more time in hotel rooms ‘sleeping’. Guess who sleeps in said hotel rooms? Everyone but you.” Your personal assistant and part-time truth-spouter Jake offers helpfully. 

“Past me was such an idiot.” You shoot back, wondering if you could inject the espresso right through your veins.

Jake pouts. “Woman, you take on jobs that an intern could do. If you weren’t such an unnecessary perfectionist I would be on the beaches of Thailand, getting sensual massages and eating some pretty pussy. But here we are, on our way to Seoul. So quit your whining because clearly, I have lost more.” 

“What if I wanted to do that too?”

“Can I watch?” 

“Right.” And that was the end of the conversation. 

Passengers on flight KE654 from Bangkok to Seoul are requested to report for boarding at Gate 45A. First Class passengers will be boarded first, followed by Business class and lastly Economy. Please keep your boarding pass ready for checking.

Jake stands up, groaning. ���This is where we say goodbye. Do you wanna pretend like we’re strangers and have a hot one-night stand when we land?” 

“Sometimes I think it’s your natural response to flirt with a breathing being. Do you ever accidentally just, you know, flirt with a tree?” You try to sound sarcastic, but you’re genuinely curious. 

“If a day comes when a hot specimen like me has to flirt with a tree, humanity is doomed. Catch ya later!” He blows you a kiss before leaving for the restroom. You shake your head in awe, a small smile finding your lips. He knew how to get your mind off things.

For all his flirting, Jake’s interest in you is perfunctory. He looks after you, keeps you from starving or gouging your eyeballs out, and calms you when things are too hard. He’s seen your worst. You’ve seen him drunk out of his mind, bailed him out when he “accidentally” smoked up, and heard every new pick-up line his ingenious brain churned out. Basically, you’ve seen his worst as well. 

You take a look at your boarding pass. 3C. Jake would be in business class, and you in first. Not your choice, the company makes the rules. It's for the better, he says. Apparently, he can ‘prowl for his hunt better’, without your judgmental glare. You nearly vomit on him just for his choice of words.

Entering the flight, you stash away your hand baggage the first place you find the room and head to your seat and-

Holy. Shit.

Jeon Jungkook is sitting on your seat.

Jeon Jungkook is on your flight? 

BTS is on your flight? 

What are the odds?

Granted, you’re not a 16-year old obsessive fan, collecting photocards and waving light sticks through the screen, but even in your adulthood you’ve admired their music and shows, routinely keeping up with their discography. 

Hell, you even learned Korean years ago to better understand their songs. Maybe you are an obsessive fan.

But you can’t approach them like that. They no doubt want some privacy and not be recognized. God forbid you approach Jungkook with crazy eyes, just to be escorted off the plane for stalking. While you liked their work, you had your own, and getting thrown off this flight does not help you there.

So, you’re just gonna have to speak to him like just another passenger. 

BTS who? 

Biggest boyband who? 

You only listen to Frank Sinatra. 

“Excuse me?” You call out, a shiver of a whisper leaving your lips. You immediately chastise yourself for being so star-struck.

Big, round eyes glitter under the bucket hat. The softest ‘huh’ throws a lasso over your heart, and holds it captive. He adjusts his hat, inked fingers making a brief yet lasting appearance. The epitome of tenderness, you muse as his eyes flit here and there to figure out the situation. After finding no one to help him out, he gently offers “Yes?”

You feel extremely guilty for marring his serene face with creases of trouble. “I think this is my seat. See, 3C.” you say, pointing to the seat and then to your ticket for good measure. Did he suspect you recognize them? No. Do you look like you’re over-gesticulating? Totally. 

“Oh.” His brow distresses further, the sight has you ready to give the man your seat and hide in the bathroom for the rest of the flight. “But even I am 3C.”

His ticket shows the same characters as yours. 

Huh?

With both your faces contorted in confusion, an air hostess comes forward to help. 

“We both are booked on the same seat. How does that happen? Do I need to catch another flight?” You suddenly pour out, remembering the countless commitments you have in Seoul that would go down the drain if you don’t make it by tonight.

She's quick to reassure you. “Do not worry ma’am, I’m sure there must have been an error in the printing. I’ll be right back.” At the same time, Jungkook is approached by someone, probably one of their staff, to discuss the issue.

The air hostess returns smiling. “Ma’am, you both were booked on the same seat but this adjacent seat was left empty. We are extremely sorry for the error. You may take 3B.” She reiterates the same message to Jungkook in Korean, who then looks mighty relieved. 

Goddamn, his eyes got bigger. How much bigger can they get?

“All okay then?” He glances sideways, smile irradiating your senses and waking you up better than all the coffee could. 

“All good. Sorry for the trouble.” You add, even though it isn’t your mistake in any way.

“No no. No trouble” He beams back. 

Aw, you are in trouble. 

As the flight is about to take off, you can see the rest of BTS in the rows ahead of you, with some other staff members taking up other seats. There’s one old man with a scowl on his face, whom you can’t place with the BigHit group. Great, no crying kids. Unless the frowning grandpa snores to the heavens, you can actually catch a good four-hour snooze. Take that, Jake. Hope a kid blows snot in his face. 

Looking at your neighbor, you find him busy searching for a good video game on the screen. The other members seem to be using this flight to catch a nap, except him. You always wondered whether their on-screen persona was real or not. Now you could say at least one of his characteristics is true. 

Turning away, you bring your focus back to the document at hand. The schematics for a new product your company was launching. You had spearheaded its conception and looked over every single detail in its manufacturing. The Seoul branch is one of the main players in its production, and your last stop before heading back home. You must have every word in this file burnt in the back of your eyelids to make this deal smooth. 

Reclining your seat, and putting your legs up, you got down to business.

An Angel was calling you. 

You want to wake up, but you couldn’t, fearing the Angel would stop singing to you. Something is poking you, but the voice just drowns it all out.

Wait...

Fluttering your eyes open, you see Jeon Jungkook staring right at you. 

“Hi... They, umm--Food? Want to eat?” the Angel utters. Jungkook utters. Tomato, to-mah-to. 

“Oh!” you exclaim, wiping non-existent drool on your face. His palm on your shoulder quickly retracts at your exaggerated attempt to hide your embarrassment. “Thank you so much.”

Then, he does that thing. He smiles. Eye scrunch and all. 

Fuck the coffee gods. When you die, you want to meet the Grand Master and ask him what crack he was on to hand over so much power to one man’s smile. 

The food is placed on your table, and you thank the hostess graciously. 

“Do you need anything to drink?” She asks, to which you only shake your head. There was enough caffeine in your system to shoot a horse to the moon and you were still drowsy. There was no need to catalyze this process with booze.  

“Your Korean accent is pretty good.” Your next-seat resident comments. Ah, you had conversed with the hostess in Korean. 

“Thank you very much.” You giggle, roleplaying an acne-prone teenager talking to her hunk of a crush.

“Have you been speaking for a long time?” He pops a huge morsel of food after asking. Well, that’s another on-screen quality found to be accurate.

“Six years now. Comes in handy for my work.” 

“Oh! Did you have to learn it for work? That’s fascinating.” Another mouthful went in. You didn’t even know it was physically possible to hold that much rice using chopsticks.

“Uhh.. no..” You tussle your hair, trying to stop your cheeks from turning beet red, “I just listened to some music and consuming more content.. and subtitles are a bore, plus I needed a hobby at the time so..” 

Your unnecessarily long explanation was cut short by Jungkook’s child-like laugh, enjoying the pickle you were putting yourself in. 

“Hey! I just didn’t want to put you in an uncomfortable situation, that’s all.” you try to be cross, knowing it’s inconceivable since God himself seems to have given him whatever he wanted. If big ol’ Almighty can’t stand against his charms, you are but a mere pleb. 

He looks at you kindly. “Thank you, that was very thoughtful. I’ve been speaking to so many foreigners trying to get across to them I got surprised when you spoke so fluently.” 

He went back to chomping on his food like it was his last meal, completely unaware of your staring.  

You both speak for a long time. He explains their latest shoot and fan meeting, and you listen to him pour out his love for his job and fans as much as he could articulate. The rest of the emotion is portrayed by his now widest eyeballs (they cannot get any wider, you confirm by asking him - a request he apparently gets a lot) and intense gesticulation. It is very gratifying to listen to his past schedules, and you slip in a quick prayer for not having a job where you had to maintain public appearances while having a schedule as persevering as theirs. Sure, you had a ton of commitments. But can you throw your hair in a bun and aggressively scowl at a monitor and still meet your target? Fuck yeah.

You went on to tell him about yourself - your job, your travels, the reason you were in Seoul. He listens to them with rapt attention throwing in appropriate questions without interrupting your flow. He gives the right amount of sympathy; just enough to show that he understands why you have three sets of nightwear and a futon in your office, but not too much where it seems like you should “take a break” and “think about the joys of motherhood” - as you are often told. 

During the conversation, you digress a little to take in his slight features. The apple of his cheeks, in full display, when he tells you about how he pranked his members. The light pout of his lips when he talks about the times their path seemed too far-fetched, when every single obstacle felt like the end of their career. The stars in his eyes when he speaks of how he feels during tours, meeting the endless number of fans, the drive that keeps him going. They all make an endearing package. Eager to please, you kept the conversation going with gusto. The meal is followed by a snack break, after which you had effectively exhausted all conversation topics that could be brought up with near-strangers.

A quick alcohol break later, (yes, you caved, the catalyst was welcome) you both doze off, seemingly exhausted from recollecting respective timetables. He wakes up soon after to play video games and talk to the other members. But you fall into a deep slumber, with an Angel’s chuckles in the background guiding you through the sleep. 

Jungkook wakes up to see his character dead. The video game was forgotten after his conversation with you began. 

He spent an inordinate amount of time talking to you. And now that you’re asleep, he is only thinking about how much he enjoyed the conversation. Jungkook is not a speaker. His introversion leaves much to be desired in that department. Most of the time, his members cover for him, play the role of dutiful wingmen, and introduce him to their friends. And still, it took him a long time to talk freely.

But something about you made him open up.

Maybe it was the way you listened to him, lips slightly parted when you were absorbing every single word he let out. Maybe it was the questions you asked, treading lightly and skirting any personal questions. Maybe it was the fact that you pretended to not know him at first, mindful of his privacy. The butterflies in him could be explained by this.

But.

It could also be how graceful you looked, even though you’re dressed in sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. It could be how you carried yourself, with great elegance and poise, even though your work was taxing. It could also be your toe socks, and your glee when he showed you his.

Your personality is infectious. He already misses you, despite you being inches away, desperately wants to exhaust every second of this journey engrossed in you. 

He wonders if you feel that way too.

Speaking of whom-

A snicker escapes his lips when he turns to face you. 

In your sleepy haze, Jungkook sees that a) your mouth is wide open, b) your hands mindlessly fiddle with the reams of pages on your lap, and c) your eyes scrunch as sunlight pierces through the flight to bounce off your face. Cute, he muses, trying to locate the source of the criminal rays irking you. 

The window letting the sunbeam in is beside an old man sitting on the other end. He is eyeing the magazine in his hands with abject disapproval, like the booklet had sullied him and his family. 

Gathering up the courage, Jungkook calls out for the man.

“Excuse me, sir. Do you mind pulling the window shade?” He asks, in the sweetest voice that his hyungs would melt at first listen. 

Puppy eyes are met with the geezer’s piercing glare, making Jungkook wonder if he accidentally said something strikingly offensive instead of what he thought he said. About to backtrack his words and try again, he gets interrupted by the man letting out a big grunt, after which he continues in his endeavor to telepathically set fire to the magazine. He does not forget to give a nasty side-eye but completely refuses to comply with Jungkook’s request. 

“And my team thinks my glares are spooky.” You pique, having witnessed the whole interaction, “I ought to have him on board”. Jungkook snorts, and you take that to be his agreement. 

Pausing, you throw caution in the wind and add, “Thank you though, that was very sweet of you.”

He eyes you demurely. “No problem, you looked like you needed the rest.” 

“Listen, I-”

“So I was think-”

Ladies and gentlemen, we have just been cleared to land at the Incheon International airport. Please ensure your backpacks and suitcases are stowed away in the overhead compartments or underneath the seats ahead of you. The flight attendants are currently passing around the cabin to make a final compliance check and pick up any remaining cups and glasses. Thank you.

High-quality curses almost make it to heaven (speakers). The announcement dissipates all the courage you had mustered, feeling a rush exit your body. You had almost asked for his contact - and by the looks of it, he had wanted it too. Or maybe your hair is a rat's nest and he was just going to point that out. Guess you will never know.

You shyly smile at each other before going about following the instructions. Your half-read document gets stuffed back into its bag, to be read once you have no distractions in the form of eye candy armed with saccharine speech. Well, you have Jake to distract you plenty, but you can shoo him away by threatening his paycheck. 

As the flight descends, you look over to your neighbor - one last time, you guess - and surprisingly lock eyes with him. Anything that had exited you comes rushing back, veins in full alertness. A moment’s awkwardness later you both burst out laughing, each doing their best to hide their crimson cheeks. You find one more online fact to be true - Jungkook’s peak happiness laughter, eye crinkle and nose scrunch, can melt your whole entire heart. 

“Hey mami, come here often?”

“For the last time Jake, I will not hesitate to donate your bones for science.”

“Well, I heard bone, it's already a win for me.”

You let out a sigh of exasperation. There is no reforming him. 

“How was the flight?” Jake questions as you approach the baggage belt. Looking out for your somber black suitcase, you try to play it off like you did not spend the whole time in the company of a stranger who is on the fast track to your heart.

“The usual. Sleep, eat, read needlessly printed out documents that could have been shoved into on email, repeat. What about you?”

As Jake starts an account of his flight experience in exorbitant detail, you took the opportunity to try and find your ride. Once you locate it and get in, you catch the end of his sermon. 

“-and the name of the book will be ‘How to manage a farm - ‘cause chicks gon’ be crazy!’. What do you think?”

“I think it was a good idea I chose to zone out.”

“Y/N come on! It’s a self-help book for poor souls born without my raw charisma. Men and women out there want me, but I can’t satisfy them all. I will just resort to making more of me! It will have pointers, DIY’s and pick-up lines crafted by yours truly - wanna hear one?”

You throw your bag in front and turn to him. “Do I have a choice? Go ahead.”

Grinning like a Cheshire cat, he starts. “Am I cute? Squish my cheeks. Am I hot? Clap my cheeks.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Points for creativity. You’ll still get wine splashed at you.”

Jake was not one to give up. “‘It’s good we don’t need eye condoms, or you’d be on your way to delivery.’”

“Just… don’t have kids, okay? This gene must be stopped, right here.”

“Okay, this one is my all-time favorite. ‘Rack so big, I don’t motorboat, I motorship.’”

That’s it. The guffaw itching you since the start of this conversation is out of its cages, populating the air in the car. Wiping stray tears from your face, you face Jake, seeming very pleased with himself. Undoubtedly, he is coming up with absurd scenarios to ease your nerves. No book is in the works (one could only hope).

“Thank you, I feel much better now. You can stop coming up with these.”

The goof has the gall to look appalled. “I was going to cut you ten percent of my book commission but I guess that’s out. Hmph.”

“I’m at the receiving end of all these pick-up lines. I should make twenty at least for all the nuisance I’ve put up with.” 

“All right mami, we’ll shelve this for later. Here’s the schedule for today. You have a 10 a.m. breakfast meeting with Dr. Park Shin Young, Lead Research Scientist of the project. Then you have a bunch of seminars to attend, which will go on all afternoon. There’s a bar right beside this venue.”

“How is that pertinent?”

“So you know where to find me.” He continues, unperturbed. “After which there’s an evening meeting with the whole team to demonstrate the product and a marketing meeting right after.”

“Am I required for the marketing meeting?” Your expertise is limited to the technical field. PR work isn’t your cup of tea, but they stubbornly demand your presence. 

Jake exhales. “We’ve been through this. You CAN doze off during the meeting, but you have to be there. Just pretend you’re a college student, sitting in one class, completing assignments for another.”

“But if I’m there I feel the need to pay attention.” you whine.

“Clearly you weren’t one of those college students,” Jake says, perusing through his diary, “Stop being a pedant and do one of those things people do. Loving their jobs and whatnot.”

Before you can retort a reply, the driver pulls up to your destination and you exit the car. 

Eleven at night is when you finally check in to the hotel. The tedious day warrants your heels coming off before you even reach your floor. There’s an irritant drumming, from the balls of your feet right up to your temples, that beg for your attention. Setting your footwear on your bags, you massage your feet for temporary relief as the lift took you closer to a more permanent one.

Once your suitcase gets parked in the closet, you head to the bathroom to soak your day away with the bath bomb kit you were gifted in one of the seminars. The ball fizzles as soon as it hits the water, dispersing in tiny bubbles and a heady aroma of vanilla and lavender. The soft amber tones of the walls, the lambent gold lighting, and the ambrosial air put all your senses at ease. You sink in; the bathwater permeating warmth through your skin. Crackling bubbles with every move; the water teases your neck, soothing the laceration with every lick. Every pulse point on you is enhanced - you let yourself float wherever your mind takes you. 

A familiar face makes its presence known. You allow yourself to think about him, after pushing his visage away all day. Something about him… felt like home. Soothing, comforting, always speaking in dulcet tones unless something humorous pulled out a loud laugh. Even that wasn’t jarring; it was the exact opposite. Felt like sunshine filled your lungs every time he cracked up. Made you want to keep talking to him, keep him amused and entertained. You can’t imagine he converses with every stranger like that. 

But maybe he did; maybe this is some unspoken celebrity culture you were unaware of. 

All you know is that this was a once in a lifetime experience. There’s no way you are encountering another personage ever again. There’s no way you’re encountering him again. Luck can only thrive so far. 

So when you exit the bathroom, clad in a towel, remnant bathwater dripping from every end, the last thing you expect is Jungkook, spread out on the bed, casually flipping through his phone like it’s his own abode. 

“J-Jungkook?”

Y/N. In his room. In a towel. Dripping wet hair. Emanating a delectable aroma. 

Y/N. In person.

He is dreaming. He has to be. He's been thinking of you ever since the flight, so now he is delusional. Nothing else. There’s absolutely no chance that you’re in his room, let alone… like this. 

Right?

“What are you… what are you doing in my room?”

Wrong. 

Jungkook knows he should say something. He should not be gawking at you like he is doing now. But God. You look so pretty, eyebrows arched up in confusion, jaw about to be unhinged, hands fluttering around not knowing what to do. 

He forces his body to action.

"Y/N!" He exclaims, finally averting his eyes to face the wall. 

Pause.

"Wait, what do you mean MY room? This is my room!"

You’re baffled. "Huh? How is that possible? This was given to me!" 

“I really don’t know, Y/N, there must have been some confusion! Please, you have to believe me!” 

Jungkook wants to turn around and face you. He desperately wants to clear the air. He can see that this looks bad. He obviously looks like an enamored creep, waltzing into your space. You probably think he does this all the time. Many a time people have misunderstood him, his celebrity status not earning him many points. You must think the same.

And now you’re going to tell him to get out and never see you again, he hypothesizes. His brain is working overtime trying to remedy the situation, without noticing your now relaxing demeanor. 

“Oh, okay.”

“I’ll fix this, I’ll go to the reception and fix this. You don’t worry, I didn’t see anything, you can trust me, I’ll go an-”

“Hey, hey,” your tone gentle, “it’s okay, trust me. Just, let me get dressed and I’ll come down with you.”

Your soothing response almost has Jungkook on his knees. Whoever orchestrated this meet, he is just thankful for this good turn. Anyone else would go berserk, and rightfully so. 

But you’re not anyone else. 

He isn’t just anyone.  

Technically, he isn’t a stranger, you try to justify. You should have been more shocked, enraged, or at least doubtful of his intentions. But you weren’t. You had accepted his explanation, let him stay in your room while you changed in the bathroom, and now are en-route to the main desk to rectify this error.

The air around you two is strained; he won’t even look you in the eye. Any question you have is replied to concisely, leaving no room for a chat. Nothing to disperse the tension between you two. 

Like now, in the elevator, Jungkook has done the math and maintains the maximum distance between you. Opposite ends of the diagonal of this lift, his peripheral vision probably barely picks you up. However, his evasion helps in a way--you are able to study his full form.

He is dressed casually, and any lesser man would have seemed casual enough. On him, it is a whole new game. Ripped jeans hugging his sturdy legs, the slashed fabric allowing you a peek of his dangerous thighs. A plain white t-shirt tucked in to show off his lean waistline. The only thing holding you back from having a full-blown wet dream, wide awake, is his chestnut overcoat, saving his modesty and yours. 

Jake was right, eye condoms are the need of the century. 

To be fair, Jungkook had the worse end. He saw you scantily clad, post-bath glow and everything. You wonder what is going through his mind. 

Definitely nothing like the debauchery unfolding in yours. 

He has probably seen his fair share of women, and one hot to trot lady isn’t anything new. If anything, him dodging you is a sign of his civility, something you are lacking apparently--ready to jump his bones.

Stop thinking about his thighs, you whore. Get back home and trusty old Vlad the Impaler will take care of you.

The employee’s jaw almost hits the desk as Jungkook explains the situation. 

“Ma’am, Sir, we are extremely sorry about this confusion. We usually keep another key for family members, but somehow you got them both. We are deeply apologetic.”

“Yes, it’s okay, I’d just like my room key now and-”

“We will give you the best of our service to make up for this disorder. Not that we didn’t plan on giving you the best anyway, but now it will be top-notch! Please allow us to have your room cleaned again ma’am. Kyuyoung-ah! Get the people to prep 5338 and set 5337 again, and add more flowers!”

“Hey, that really won’t be necessary, we can just go back and forget about all thi-”

“And!” She continues, relentless, fully intent on doing her job, “Here are coupons for our round the clock pub! The ambiance is phenomenal, and our bartender makes a mean drink! You can use the facility for free during your stay. Hope this compensates for our gaffe. Once again, we are extremely sorry!”

She extends two passport-sized coupons that you hurriedly grab, wanting this quandary to end. 

The walk back to the elevator is less tight-lipped, only because Jungkook starts his deluge of apologies. Even though you had felt the same way on the flight, he was going overboard. You quickly assuage him and deflect his concerns.

“It’s okay, Jungkook. It really is. I know it was a mistake.”

“I know, but I shouldn’t have just walked in like that. I should have checked.”

Your expression is the visual form of a question mark. 

“Do you go around making sure your hotel room doesn’t have a surprise occupant?”

You’re taking this too lightly; it's obvious you are doing it for him. He can only laugh, broad delicious shoulders loosening in relief.

After a delay, you add, “You can’t help it if fate wants us crossing paths like this.” 

The quip makes Jungkook lose a beat. He cocks a brow in surprise - at that juncture, his features lose all boyish charm and turn unquestionably irresistible. 

Then, in a flash, the expression is replaced by his usual grin, back to his boy-next-door spirit. Are there world records for this speed? Jungkook needs to sign up to one.

Collecting the stars floating around your head, you return the favor, thankful that the barrier is now broken. 

After a quick break of courage gathering, you turn to him. “How come you’re staying in this hotel? Thought you’d be home.”

A thought is building in your mind; that this is too personal a question. But before you can take it back, you hear a chime. Jungkook moves. And somehow, you are moving with him. 

The elevator door opens, and people walk out. 

But that’s not where your attention is. 

You are focused on the sole patch of your body in contact with Jungkook’s arm. 

The palm of his hand sitting at the small of your waist is what had guided you away from the elevator. Even through the fabric of your t-shirt, his hand is sending goosebumps all over your body. The air feels twenty degrees too hot for you.

Jungkook is simply being his chivalrous self, while you are ready to get arrested for public nudity.

Woman, you are a disgrace. Get laid.

Jungkook will high five himself once he gets to his pad. 

Is it right to get so euphoric about the smallest act of intimacy? That too with a near stranger? He has no answer. You are special to him; that much he knows. And someone up there agrees with him as well, letting him run into you again (albeit under crude circumstances; he’ll take what he gets). In this proximity, he can hear the slight gasp that escapes you once you recognize his hold, feel your muscles tense, smell the flowery fragrance you still carry. The fragrance that takes his mind on a rewind routine; one he forces to a halt. He feels lewd for taking pleasure in that misfortune, but he can take pleasure in the present. 

Entering the elevator, Jungkook has taken note of one thing: the roles have been reversed. On the downward voyage, it had been him avoiding you. Now, even with the closeness, you refuse to meet his eye. Something on the carpeted floor has your unrelenting attention. Letting his gaze dip to you, he bit back a smirk. Good to know you are as affected by him as he is by you.

“It’s a shoot.” 

You relent, looking up to him. “Huh?”

“You asked me why I’m here, it’s a shoot. The site is close by, so we don’t waste time traveling. Once the shoot is done, we will get back home.”

“Ah, that makes sense.” 

You beg your grey matter to find some topic of conversation to halt the blood rushing to your cheeks. The atmosphere is frozen again, but not like last time. Any unease earlier present has drifted. The tension that once kept you from closeness now keeps you from moving apart. His hand sits unmoved, continuing to rest on your hip. Jungkook can hear the loud thudding of a heartbeat, but he cannot discern whether they are from his heart or from yours.

Continuing after a pause, “I will be here for a few days now.” he adds, the suggestive hint of the words masked by his innocuous smile. 

“Ah.” You lamely add. You ought to kick yourself - but at this closeness, you might hit him too. 

The span of your separation is contracting, even though none of you move. Like the land underneath you is shifting, because even Mother Earth can’t handle the sexual tension in this confined space. 

“Ma’am, Sir, you’re here!” 

The booming voice of an employee disrupts the scene. You jump, wondering how you didn’t hear the door open, while Jungkook takes a graceful step back unscathed. 

“Your rooms are ready, please follow me.”

The walk back is quiet, except for bashfully exchanged glances and racing pulses. When you finally reach your respective rooms, he speaks again. 

“Want to accidentally cross paths with me at the bar?”

The heat reaches your ears. A moment of silence prompts you to look up, and you are held hostage by his eyes. His gaze flickers, intense and probing. Then, as if it never happened, his eyes narrow and his smile softens, harmless and easy. Again, this has to be witchcraft.

“Maybe we’ll let destiny decide. Hasn’t failed us so far.” 

Now, alone in bed with nothing but your thoughts, you wonder when it will ever happen again.

Three days. Three days before it happens again.

Three days filled with conferences, a ton of files, and a lot of battery acid disguised as coffee. Apart from the success of your work, the highlight of your time is when Jake tried to fix his shoe heel at a meeting and ended up gluing his fingers together. In a quiet room filled with immersed employees, he had yelled, “Superglue, my ass!”. 

The punctuation was not vocalized. 

Tonight was your last night in Seoul. It was supposed to be a night to yourself, but an office party pulled you out of your cavern to get dressed. You put on an elegant dress, a black and silver number, only to find the ‘party’ was the most monotonous excuse of networking. High-end businessmen exchanging cards over non-alcoholic fizz was not your idea of a party, so you quickly excused yourself. 

The coupon still weighed heavy in your purse, carrying memoirs of the last time you saw him. You had wanted to go earlier, but always held yourself back. What if he wasn’t there? What if you missed your chance? Why did you have to sashay away with a cool statement that night instead of clawing your way through the lust-filled air and settling things then and there? 

You supposed a drink at the hotel bar on your last night couldn’t be a bad thing, even if Jungkook didn’t show up.

So here you are, sipping on your wine and trying to appear nonchalant as you look out the window overseeing the city’s skyline. One ear is trained to the door of the pub, the slightest peep from that corner alerting your antenna. 

So far, no sign of him. 

This won’t work, you tell yourself. Second time’s a charm, third time’s pushing it too far. 

But as you wave the bartender to top up your drink, the corner of your eye catches movement; one, two, three heads appear through the door. Signature multichromatic mops of hair make their way in, forcing your pulse to marathon mode. 

And then you hear it. 

You hear his trademark cachinnate echoing through the structure. Multitudes of contrasting sentiments fill your gut. Are you sensing relief, that fate served its purpose without fail? Or is it the anticipation of how events will unfold? A sense of titillation, that a three-day old bond makes you feel more than year-old relationships you’ve had? You pry your eyes from that direction, trying to appear aloof when you are anything but. 

When you think you’ve gathered your composure, you look up. Like a hare falling for its bait, you are trapped, because he is looking right back at you.

Jin and Jimin are laughing about something that happened on set today, but Jungkook only has eyes for you. He can’t believe his luck. 

The past few days, his schedule had no give. After every shoot, the only thing he remembered was taking off his shoes and falling into a deep slumber.

So today when the shoot wrapped up earlier, Jungkook grabbed his trusty wingmen and open bar enthusiasts to utilize his coupon, and possibly test his kismet.

“Wasn’t she on our flight?” Jin observes, tracking Jungkook’s sight. 

“Oh yeah! Dude, is she the one?” Jimin keenly notes. “How do you keep bumping into each other like this?”

Jungkook downs his whisky, the burn felt from the throat to his diaphragm. “I don’t know, hyung. I don’t know what to do.” Beckoning the bartender for a refill, he tears away from your sight. 

 “Okay, liquid fortification is all good but how about,” Jin stops briefly to pluck the coupon out of Jungkook’s hands, “we handle the drinks department while you attend to her?”

Jimin nods in assent. “The worst thing you could do is spend time with her slurring and garbling while she ditches your sorry ass.”

“Hey! I won’t do that. Just, ” Jungkook gulps, “I don’t know... We’ve met like, hardly a few times. It really doesn’t make sense. What if we’re not on the same page?”

Jimin frowns, and even Jin seems unhappy with his reasoning.

“Things don’t have to make sense. You’re two consenting adults. You like her. By the way she’s eyeing you right now, I’m sure the feeling is mutual. You said it’s easy to talk to her right?”

Jungkook pouts, but sees his point.

“Then go with that. Don’t chart out a plan, just go with your heart.” Jin adopts a soft smile of encouragement. 

“Meanwhile we will grab the others and exploit this coupon to the full extent!” Jimin gleefully appends.

Jungkook’s eyes crinkle as he laughs with the other two. They are right. Carpe diem, right?

Finding you again, his breath hitches. You look beautiful. The sleek black dress with silver embellishments over the torso. It hugs you in the right places, accentuating your already alluring frame. Your shoulders bare, elegant collarbones waiting to be tasted. Hair tied up, exposing the delicious curve of your neck, a stretch Jungkook wants to pepper kisses onto, without missing a spot. You look exquisite against the backdrop of the night.

Carpe noctem it is. 

“Did you really dress up to use the coupon?” The tongue-in-cheek query breaking your line of thought.

A breathy chuckle leaves your lips, hopefully masking the frenzy in your heart. 

“I had a party. A very dull party. Figured I preferred my own company over that.” 

“Do you prefer your own company over mine?”

He’s still standing, tall frame waiting for your permission to occupy the next seat. God, he looks amazing.

“Not at all.” The words leave huskier than you intend, but they convey the message.

He takes the seat, a mere step away, his cologne wafting over to your side. The alcohol buzz makes the scent feel stronger, every bone in you wanting to dive in nose-first. 

Apparently you have been staring, because he nervously chuckles “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Should you go the modest route or fuck it?

Fuck it.

“You look... great today,” is all you get out. Stupid brain spewing half-baked goods.

Understatement of the year. He looks like sin incarnate. All black attire highlighting his golden skin, the dichotomy of his whole look has you understandably tongue-tied. Black jeans - no rips, sadly- with a dark grey high-neck t-shirt, tucked in of course, because pain is the only constant for you. A black trench coat is thrown on top to seal the look. The obsidian outfit sends desperate need through your body, an intense desire to rip it all off surging through you. Somehow, through all these layers you can sense his fit body, his rippled muscles, his sturdy pecs, like they have an aura of their own. 

“Ah, thank you. You look amazing as well.” Halting a moment to sip his drink, he resumes.  “Sucks that you dressed up for nothing.”

“Well, you liked it. So it's not for nothing.”

If looks were potent, Jungkook’s own could set you on fire. Gaze coolly raking over your figure, the tick in his jaw betrays his reaction. A chill passes through every part of your body under his intense scrutiny.

“Are there other things you would wear… if I liked it?” He carefully treads.

“There are certain things I’m wearing right now that I’m sure you would appreciate.” 

If not for the shrinking distance between you two, you couldn’t have caught the low hiss. His animalistic need, usually kept well under control, is raging against its bonds, screaming to let go. Your exquisite gown, flowing down your curves, accentuating the swell of your ass - God save this dress from his feral hands. Against his will, he restrains himself. He would make this a lasting encounter. 

“How many drinks have you had?” He needs you to remember every single moment.

“Two glasses of wine, don’t worry. You?” 

“A shot of whisky, that’s all. Haven’t even finished my second drink.”

Gone were his cherubic appearance and dimpled smiles; the man in front of you is oozing pure sex appeal. His clenched jawline, furrowed brow, and perfectly placed tresses add to his raw masculinity. The cusp of your thighs is damp; if this is his effect here, what will it be behind locked doors? You wonder whether this is the same man that gushed about old-era video games in the flight. 

“Well, if you are wearing them for me, I’d be a fool to miss them.” he brings you back to the present. Twinkling eyes match your eager ones as you give a small nod.

Every step you take shoots a thrilling tingle through your spine. Every inch of distance closed forces you to close the next with doubled speed. Every foot forward adds to the thick air, laced with hunger, desire, and an inordinate amount of trust placed in the hands of a stranger. 

The first time you two walked back to the elevator, his move had caught you unaware. 

Now, the arm wraps around your entire waist, body flush against his, yet you yearn to get closer. 

Last time, you couldn’t match his gaze, skin burnt a crimson hue. 

Now, your eyes are locked together, any movement in your surroundings be damned.

Michael Jackson rising from the dead and performing Thriller wouldn’t tear you away from your current view (sorry MJ, maybe next time).

When the doors close, he places a palm on your bare back, bringing you to his chest.

“I’ve wanted this so bad, ever since I met you. It’s insane.”

The hand caressing your back makes you sigh. “Not if I wanted the same.”

His grip tightens. “The things I want to do to you...” eyes searching yours, ”tell me you can handle it.”

“Oh baby,” you drawl, “I’ll do whatever you want. Whatever it is,” your lips hover on his, “I can take it.”

The elevator doors opened too soon for your liking, and Jungkook drags you through the corridor. You’re practically hanging on to him, feet barely responsive, the faint buzz of wine making you giddy. His hawkish gaze soaks in everything you do, memorizing every response to his touch. 

You lean over to lay wet kisses on his neck. Pleasure searing through his veins, Jungkook’s knees almost buckle. He pushes you against a wall and locks you in with his form.

“Uh-uh-uh, honey,” he tsks, “you’re not making this easy on me?”

You pretend to ponder. “Well, I didn’t plan on making it easy.”

He smirks, all sex, and the wetness between your legs is making its presence known. Leaning into your ear, he whispers, “Unless you want me to have my way with you right here…” and all your brattiness dissipates. 

Satisfied, he grins. “Your place or mine?” 

“Hmmn, depends.”

He cocks a brow. “On?”

“Am I gonna be able to walk tomorrow?”

That damned smirk. “Your place it is.”

Jungkook’s lips are on yours the moment your door is locked. He cages you against its frame, teeth clashing and biting anything they find. You let your hands roam all over, searching for something to hold on to. A throaty sound leaves Jungkook when your digits card through his hair and tug on it, a sound you gladly swallow.

Time seems to have taken a break. Your thoughts are blank. You chase the kiss like it's the only thing you know, the only thing you’re born to do, your sole mission in life before you die. The bruising pace Jungkook set is eagerly matched by you. Gravity is slowly losing its meaning, and you’re nothing but a stray entity floating in space. And this kiss is your only source of air. 

Jungkook pulls you towards him, closing the nonexistent distance between you. Heat rises from his chest, the feeling is hypnotic beyond reason. A taste of you has ruined every other flavor. He kept his eyes half-open, sneaking peeks at your flushed face whenever you come for air. His fingers explored your body, grabbing your ass and pulling you into him. Your clothed crevice jolts at the friction, hips hounding for more.

The moan that leaves you gets muted, because Jungkook takes this opportunity to take control. Tongue forcing its way in to explore every corner of your mouth, it melds with your own muscle. If this were a dance, it would be a fierce tango, oozing with sexual tension. Breathing is now trivial, this kiss is imperative. 

Jungkook’s hands grab your hips and twirl you, both of you now facing a full-length mirror. You can witness your neckline being abused, mulberry blossoms left in place. The sight has your sex clenching, and lips liberated, you couldn’t stop yourself from mewling.

“Fuck, Y/N. I’m going to make you scream so loud, the hotel reception will hear you.”

With your head spinning in lust, you try to form your words right. “An- And what? Discuss how a second room for you was - oh god - was useless?” 

Jungkook pauses to admire his craft; your neck, shoulders, and collar are now littered with bruises, like a garden of hyacinth at his disposal. The view is maddening, your lusty gaze locked on to him in the mirror. His mane is tousled, no doubt your handiwork, and his hand is tracing the outline of your dress. 

“That cursed day,” He chokes out, “You were so fucking hard to resist you know?”

You turn back to face him, hand reaching back to undo your halter neck, “You have me now.” Stepping back, you let your gown fall.

He froze. You are standing in front of him, robed in only your black lace-embroidered strapless bra, and matching panties, each adorned with a white bow. The swell of your breasts barely caged in the cups, making Jungkook drool at sight. All the wind was knocked out of his lungs; you look like a prisoner’s last meal, waiting to be devoured. 

“On your knees.” he commands.  

Not a second is put to waste. You begin undressing him, unbuckling the pants and aggressively pulling them down. Next come the boxers, and you are faced with-

Wow.

You mean this in the nicest way, but, what a dick.

He is already hard, the mushroomed tip angry and red, leaking a drop of precum begging to be tasted. The girth exceeds your expectation, already visualizing the delicious visual of your cunt stretched thin. He is going to reach places even Vlad the Impaler couldn’t; you are already brimming with anticipation for the final act.

And his thighs. Nothing angelic about them. Taut. Muscular. Sinewy. Something uncivilized in you wants them to trap your frame between them, caging you, pinning you down. You press kisses on his inner thigh, letting your tongue poke out when you hear him exhale. A sharp bite shocks Jungkook, but you only smirk.

“Wanted to do that since I saw you.” 

The stare that meets you is practically challenging you to try that again, and perhaps reap some delicious consequences.

You bring yourself back, giving his cock the full attention that it deserves. Looking up, you see his half-lidded eyes, assertive and arresting, compelling you to go on. 

You bring your palm up to him. He raised a brow in question.

“Spit for me.”

Jungkook almost busts his load when he hears you. “Fuck, so dirty.” he garbles out. Rolling his neck in an attempt to divert his blood, he takes your hand and drops a thick glob at the center of your palm. 

A throaty moan arises from you, and his dick is harder than ever.

“Go on baby, show me you can suck dick like a champ.”

You give him a confident look; you’re about to rock his world. Starting with small licks, you tease the slit and taste the pre-cum lodged in it. Meanwhile, you work the spit along the shaft; you spit on it again, the original amount insufficient to cover the length. You can feel his dick twitching against your attention, eager to be sheathed. Interspersing with some long drags on the underside, you zero in on the pinched skin under the head. 

Jungkook is staring at your jerking him off. The sight of you, clad in lingerie is blowing his mind. If that was not enough, the mirror in front is providing a sumptuous secondary perspective. The smooth stretch of your back, the swell of your ass, the panty fabric barely able to cover the expanse, everything on you is making him short circuit. Seeing you on your knees, your deferential nature stirs something in him. If he doesn’t control himself, he will bend you in half and ride you to sunrise. He doesn’t want to scare you, but fuck, his depraved early man instincts are telling him otherwise. 

“What are you- ohhh, holy shi-”

Instead of slipping his cock fully into your mouth, you hold it up, and pay careful attention to his balls. Jungkook’s hands come to rest on your head, a telltale sign of his unraveling. With a smile, you let your tongue swipe through every nook and corner till they are coated in saliva.

“You think you’re such a fucking tease, ” He grabs you by your now unraveled tresses and pulls you back, “Ease up baby, your throat is in for a treat.”

In one quick swoop, he lodges himself at the base of your throat, provoking your gag reflex, but you restrain the urge to pull back. Breathing through your nose, you suck and swallow whatever you can; his girth isn't giving you much to work with.

Jungkook growls. “Such a tight fit. Like you’re meant to be like this. Forever.”

The last word slips out unwittingly. 

Alarmed, his eyes flit down to gauge your response, but all you are doing is looking back at him. 

Fuck, your dovelike eyes are captivating. They look so angelic, a complete contrast to the perverse posture you are in. Not an ounce of displeasure in response to his words. Pure, unadulterated affection for him. Only for him. 

“God, you’re going to be the death of me.” Jungkook husks. “You’ll do anything for me, you said?”

Muffled whimpers impart your compliance, and you bob your head up and down for good measure. The tip of his cock hits every ridge of your throat, the vibration releasing more fluid down.

“Pleasure yourself, baby. Touch yourself, but don’t you cum.”

Your brow distresses further, a disgruntled whine leaving you and reverberating around him. Already so turned on, the lightest friction would make you combust.

Jungkook’s teeth clench. “Edge yourself for me, sweetie.” 

It's like your body is tuned to his command. Slipping two fingers under the band, you part and slide them on either side of your throbbing nub. Despite you avoiding any pressure point that might push you over the edge, the pleasure threatens to tip you over. 

You look over for his approval. Swallowing, he nods. Your self-stimulation is making him dizzy. It's time to get serious.

“Such a good girl. Don’t stop, okay? I’m going to fuck your throat raw.” Starting with mellow jerks, “Hope you don’t have to speak anytime tomorrow.” he rasps.

The carpeted floor grazing your knees only adds to the revelry. You’re not in control of yourself anymore. The back of your gullet is aching as Jungkook shoves into you again and again. An amalgamation of his salty juices and your dribble lewdly coats your chin and neck; you must look ravished. Everything with Jungkook feels augmented; every single motion of his making your sex clench. 

He is close - you can feel his grip on your hair tightening. 

“Can I cum on you?” words slither through his clamped teeth. You frantically nod. 

With a loud grunt, he pulls you off and releases all over your chest, a stray pump landing on your chin. Thick liquid, dripping from your jaw onto your collarbones and breasts, the whole scene is filthy good. Your unfilled cunt is aching to be replete with the cum. 

Post-orgasmic glow is dazzling on him--hair drenched in sweat, tufts sticking to his forehead. His breathing is heavy and resonant as dilated pupils take in your soaked state. Bending down, he crooks a finger under your chin, anchoring his attention on your dewy stare. The onyx embers in his eyes bore into yours, studying for any hesitation in them. A microscopic moment of tenderness, unspoken words exchange between you. 

Satisfied to find only searing hunger, his digits collect the beads of cum on your jaw, pushing them back into your mouth. Your eyes roll skyward, relishing the briny taste, nearly asking him to do it again. Leaning further, he grabs the wrist of your hand that is thoughtlessly rubbing your sex - you didn’t even realize you were still doing it. You feel drained, like you orgasmed vicariously through him. 

“My turn.” He wears a devilish expression on his archangel eyes.

Lips connect once again as he pulls you up. If he tastes himself, he is relishing it, with his tongue exploring the deep cavern. With wobbly ankles, you let him guide you to your bed, dropping on your back. He follows you, pouncing on you, plunging into your mouth again like a beast hungered. Bodies melting together like an icicle under the summer blaze, your hands hunt to frisk his skin. Realizing he is yet to undress, you yank at this t-shirt, attempting to liberate him from the offending fabric.

“Tsk, greedy.” he bit your ear, soothing the sting with a kiss. 

“Cruel is what it is.” You huff, like everything he’s doing is not a blissful affair. 

How do men do that? Violently ripping their shirt off and leaving a messy mop of hair in its wake, nevertheless looking like they could walk a runway the next instant. Jungkook was no exception. The moment he pulls his shirt off, you are rendered speechless.

Chiseled chest like the work of an artisan. Droplets of sweat race down the paths traced by the sculpted abs, an intense desire to taste them forming in you. He is a mesomorphic dream who puts Greek gods to shame. Swallowing, you let your hand trace the outline of his pecks, feeling him shudder against your touch.

“Jungkook, please.”

Who was he to deny you?

Leaning up to you with a wicked smirk, Jungkook drops a thick line of spit right on your hardened nipple. The concoction of his cum and spit soaks through the lacy material. A lone finger circles, avoiding the spot that requires the most attention. You arch your back, begging him for more, just more of anything. The wet fabric amplifies the emptiness in your cunt. 

“Aww,” he coos, clearly amused by your neediness, “undo this for me, sweetness. Let me see you.”

Moving at lightning speed, you unhook the bra, swinging it away to a corner of the room. 

“Oh no.” He mock-frowns, veins bulging on his arm as he controls himself. “Look at these tits, fuck.” Mind reeling with ideas, filthy ideas, of all the things he wants to do to you. “You’ve ruined everything else for me.”

You tremble. “Good, so have you. Want you for myself. Want you,” pulling him close, “to do your worst.” you end with a whisper.

Jungkook’s jaw tightens. “Careful what you ask for,” he grits before diving headfirst into your bosom. 

He licks and laves and bites and laps--your breasts are on fire. Continuing his marking spree, new blemishes make an appearance on your torso. Nibbling on one nipple, he pinches the other; pulling moan after moan from you. 

Your hips barely touch the bed, bucking up in response to Jungkook’s sinking teeth into your ample bust. He has decided to not leave an inch without his saliva, and like a man on a mission, covers every part with rapt attention. 

“Yo- You don’t have to--oh holy fuck--you don’t have to, cover me in marks you kno--ohh my go-” The sentence is spastic, piercing mewls breaking your flow of speech and thought. 

“These fucking tits,” roughly clasping your pert breast in his large palm, “they look so much better like this.” The proud smile he shows has not the slightest hint of regret. 

Catching a break, he twiddles your nipples, letting his other hand sit on your covered sex. He is teasing you; you recognize that. Just giving you opportunities to disobey, to take all the pain he has to offer.

It’s a good thing you like the pain.

You slowly roll your hips, trying to grind against his palm, taking whatever help you can get.

A sharp smack lands on your clit, shooting your eyes open - you don’t even know when they closed. Jungkook’s hand is soothing the site of the blow, the pain converting to pleasure under his touch. 

“Patience, sweetness,” the gravely whisper sending tingles down your spine, “such a good girl for me.”

You give him a slight nod - he smacks you again, once, twice, thrice, without a break. Your entrance is smarting, but you want to give him everything. Biting your lips to stop the labored moans escaping, you clench your eyes and savor the burn.

Your show of obedience has Jungkook’s heart thronging. Fuck, he was enjoying toying with you. Playing you like a fiddle. You produce every tone he desires in the form of wanton melodies, he wants to play them over and over again like his favorite song.

“How are we doing?” he asks, a shit-eating grin plastered on him. Before you could answer, his fingers shallowly enter your soaked pussy, still hampered by the cloth. 

“You- fuck, you said I was the tease here?” Your hands are at his wrist, begging to pull the scrap of cloth aside and have his way. 

He comes to face your sopping mound, pausing only to speak “Never said I wasn’t,” and starts pressing soft, feathery kisses. “That day, seeing you dripping in that towel, I dreamt of having these legs around me.”

“I swear, at least take it off - oh Jungkoo-”

Without warning, he kneads your ass and pushes you into his face. 

You feel like you’ve been on the edge for hours. The suckle on your engorged clit along with the abrasion of the lace gets you so close. So damn close. So, so clo-

The tightness in your belly finally snaps and you howl, gushing your vat of arousal onto his face. The high was more intense than you had imagined, so high that you wonder if you will ever find your way back to reality. You feel like a rock in space, aimlessly floating in the vast nothingness.

You dimly notice Jungkook toying with the lacy hem of your panties, pulling it back to snap it against your hip. The sting is soon forgotten, along with your panties flung across the bed, as he parks himself back between your legs.

“You smell incredible.” He approves, taking a long whiff of your honeyed center. “Look at you, so messy.” He licks a long stripe along your crease. “Messy girl, I should clean you up.”

“Wait Jungkook-” you oppose, lids heaving in pleasure. “I need you inside me, please. I can’t take -oof”

Gnawing at your sodden folds, he let his nose press against your clit. “You’re so fucking tight, you think you can take me?” He shakes his head. “Gotta stretch you out, gotta make me fit.” He presses his tongue against your nub, feeling it throb in anticipation. “And I think you can give me one more.” He ends, before invading your drenched channel with two fingers. You are putting up with his torments the best you can; walls fluttering against his lips, legs entwined behind Jungkook’s back trapping him between your thighs. 

“Ah! God - I, I can’t-” Your eyes are screwed shut, hands bunching the sheets in your grasp.

His fingers fluctuate between scissoring motions, their lengths opening you up for him and curling inside, fingertips finding the rough patch inside. He adds a third finger, pussy straining to accommodate them all. Your thighs clench in the burn, and he groans into your pussy at the pressure. Increasing the pace, he pumps into you harder and faster, sucking your puffy lips in tandem. 

“Please, please, harder - let me cum - please oh go-” 

“Fuck yeah baby, your pussy is just sucking me in. You like that? You like me shoving into your cunt?”

“Uungh yes yes I love it!”

“Doesn’t it hurt? Or are you such a slut for pain? Tell me, tell me you’re a pain slut.”

“Fuck, Jungkook, don’t you stop- I am! I am a pain slut! Your pain slut!”

“Goood girrrll,” he husks out. Even though he is taking charge, your words are what control him. “Only mine. My pain slut will come for me now.”

A spray of cum ejects out of you, coating Jungkook’s chest and inundating your legs. The coherent part in you recognizes that you just squirted, but the neanderthal side shuts all recognition of anything that is not Jungkook’s cock. Even after two climaxes, you are hungry to get more. More of him. 

If you don’t fuck him now, you will lose your capability to reason. 

Limbs still heavy and reeling from the ravaging, you pick your pieces and drag Jungkook to the headboard. 

“I’m going to ride you.” you declare and straddle him. 

Jungkook is staring fixedly at your still-leaking cunt. Running his tongue over his lower lip, and licking the remnant syrup of your release. You position yourself, letting the drippage fall directly on his erection. He twitches, eyes still feasting on the mess you are making. 

Finding purchase on his shoulders, you lower yourself. Jungkook’s breath staggers as you drag your inner lips along his hard shaft. You repeat this motion till your fluids drip to his balls. 

“Y/N, I swear to God, if you don’t stop with this-”

“You’ll do what?” you challenge, an eyebrow raised in response to his threat. 

He grabs you by your waist, jerking you up before bringing you down on his dick. Your cunt, creamy from his earlier ministrations, gives no resistance to his hardness. His cock twitches inside as you bottom out. Pulling you closer, he bites your lip and tugs at it. 

“I’ll do this.”

A sharp spank makes you clench around him, the supple flesh of your ass ricocheting in response. 

“Go on baby, ride me.” 

The low-grained command sets you in motion. Slowly gyrating your hips, you feel every ridge of this length inside. Jungkook’s grip on your waist tightens, and you’re sure you will see evidence of it tomorrow. Your grasp on his shoulders isn’t faring any better. 

“You’re so tight, fuck, and so wet. Who made you like this, huh?” A second spank punctuating his question.

“Oh God, you-”, you barely manage to recognize your own voice, “You, Jungkook! Only you!” 

“That’s fucking right, only me.” 

Hips snapping, he meets you halfway. Both of you are lost in each other, lewd sounds of your skin slapping and juices quelching barely muffled by your desperate whines and moans of passion. Eyes locked in like magnets, neither of you could look away. 

Jungkook pulls back a little, slapping your jiggling tit. Your sex clenches, and the following slap has you lodging yourself in the crook of his neck, searching for a reprieve. 

“Want some help?”

One swift move and you are on your stomach, face pushed into a pillow, and ass out. A final spank lands right in the middle, and you can feel it pulsate everywhere. He pushes back into your glistening core, taking control of your pleasure and pain. One hand carding through the nape of your neck, pushing you down, the other hand grabbing your waist and setting the pace. The new angle hits deeper, you feel so full. 

“Jungkoo--unghh I need to cum! Need to- umph- cum so bad!” You are wailing at this point, shame lying somewhere near your flung clothes.

“Fuck, babe, me too. Go ahead and play with yourself, nice and slow.”

It takes a few swipes for the tightness in you to detonate. Tears flood your face as you unravel, your orgasm crashing into you like waves of a tsunami. You clench tight, wetness flows out of your hole as Jungkook pumps in and out, chasing his high. 

He comes undone soon after, ropes of his ejaculate filling your insides. He stays in, plugging you as if to not allow any of it out. But as his member softens, he gives in, turning you on your back to meet his face. 

Butterfly-soft kisses are exchanged after the blazing encounter. He asks you if you’re okay between breaths, a tender murmur you almost miss, as if you weren’t screaming your lungs out moments ago. Nuzzling into his neck, you confirm.

A snort disrupts the silence. Looking up, you see Jungkook chuckling.

In response to your cocked eyebrow, he says “Want to talk about what a freak you are?”

“Want to talk about what a hypocrite you are?”

“Hey, you asked me to spit on you!”

You mock-gasp, hand on chest for the extra effect. “My breasts need medical attention after your attention! Freak!” 

Laughter echoes in the room as you two tumble in the blankets, and you feel his release seeping out of you. Turning to him, you pout, “Your mess is leaking out of me.” 

Jungkook gets up to leave the bed, and you expect a wet towel coming your way. 

What you don’t expect is him parting your legs, gunmetal eyes following the rivulets escaping your abused hole. 

“Your cunt smells so good with my cum on it,” he purrs. 

He gathers the escaping thick liquid and pushes it back into your quivering core. 

Jolting with oversensitivity, you try to stall him but he is fingering you with a vengeance. The ache and soreness soon dispel, bringing forth a new wave of ecstasy. His unrelenting stare concentrates on the mix of fluids on his fingers. With a few strokes on your sensitive bundle of nerves and fingers stuffed inside, you come again, legs shivering and pussy overflowing, his juices intermingled with yours. 

You are dazed; you’ve lost track of everything. The room is spinning in front of you and your body feels like lead. All you can manage is to arch your neck, and plead, “No more, you freak.” 

Jungkook giggles, eyes crinkling in good humor. Ah, the duality of this man is a force to reckon with. You can’t believe this is the same man that fucked you into your bed like a primordial beast. There’s no way you can move anytime soon. 

After a clean-up interval, you are wrapped in each other's arms, melting into the embrace. His musky fragrance putting you at ease, you tuck your in the nook of his neck, basking in the aroma. Hands pressed against his broad chest, exuding warmth for you. His hand cradles your head, snuggling in closer till there is no space to cover. Sweet nothings whispered into each other’s lips, tender kisses exchanged in place of the scorching ones that had passed. You drift in and out of your slumber, fearing the sun would ascend too soon and break you apart. 

A dim glow from the other end of the bed wakes you up. On turning you find Jungkook, dressed in his now-wrinkled clothes, seated on the edge. His gaze, pensive. You lay a hand on his thigh.

“Oh, did the light wake you?”

The alarm on his face makes you smile. “No, your absence did.” 

The corners of his mouth turned up, eyeing you with softness. 

“I have an early schedule. I didn’t want to wake you, but, ” he lets his palm rest on yours, “I also didn’t want to leave without it.”

Neither of you know how to walk away from this. The silence is deafening, unuttered sentiments hanging in the still air. Jungkook’s chest is heavy. 

This is insane. He wants to lay you against a bed of flowers, treat you like the delicate petal you bear resemblance to, worship your body till the sun succumbs to your blazing passion. How is he to explain that his heart is beating through his chest for someone he knows for mere days? He rifles through his memories for a similar instance. 

He finds none. 

Maybe you don’t feel the same way. Maybe, you are blissfully unaware of the tumultuous emotions lurching in the pit of his belly. He can’t assume you will echo his lovesick needs, but he can’t let go. 

You inch closer. 

Fervid feelings die hard. He probes your eyes searching for an intensity matching his. 

You let your lips convey the answer.

Passionate as ever, you draw him into the kiss. His lashes flutter against your rosy cheeks. At the moment, there is no dominance in him. Almost like his tongue, dragging across your swollen lips, is healing the brutality of last night. If you pull back, he comes after you; an incessant tug of war no player wants to win. 

“Please Jungkook,” you choke between kisses, “Please tell me this isn’t the last of us.”

He is hovering on top of you, the galaxy in his eyes twinkling at your words. 

“Please, I don’t want this to end.” You continue against his lips. Head versus heart, you fought a losing battle; how were you to stall the inevitable? Fueled, you plunge your tongue into him, determined to make your ardor known. The void of ferocity is filled with slow sensuality; like he is the sole reservoir to quench your thirst. 

“Y/N”, he breathes out, “I feel like I know everything about you and nothing about you at the same time.” Resting your foreheads against one another, he continues. “I’m not about to let fate decide when we cross paths again.”

A grin finds your lips. “Destiny really pulled its weight here, didn’t it?”

He wordlessly nods, not wanting to break the tranquility in place. However, it is short-lived; his phone’s ringer makes sure of it. 

“Yeah, I’ll be right down.” Something the speaker says turns Jungkook scarlet red. “I said I’ll be right there!” he yells before ending the call.

“The members are asking why I wasn’t in my room.” he clarifies, waggling his brows.  You join his laughter, happy to have just the simple moment with him. 

After exchanging numbers (and a photo for keepsake), Jungkook presses one last kiss, lips promising to find each other again. Somehow, you don’t say goodbye. You just stare at his disappearing body, confident that the next encounter is not far. 

Jake is babbling about his night, how he managed to ditch the god-awful party and hang out with some overenthusiastic college-goers who paid for his drinks with their trust fund dough. This is usually the time you ask him if he’s proud of mooching off of children, but today his exaggerated narrative is cracking you up. 

His forehead creases. “What’s up with you today? You haven’t vowed to skin me alive even once.”

“You like it when I threaten bodily harm?”

“I’m kinky like that.”

You just shrug. Erotic images make a fleeting appearance in your mind, but they are interrupted by your flight announcement. 

“Aren’t you glad this is over? You can go back to overworking yourself in your office instead of a hotel!” Jake remarks, throwing his bag over his shoulder. “At least your back won’t break in the travel.”

Thinking over your experience in the city, you confess “Actually, I look forward to returning here.”

A thought slips in, curving your mouth into a smile. You quietly add,

“And yeah, my back was broken all right.”

Thank you for making it to the end! Please do let me know what you think!

[ynparker]

Promises and Separation Part 2 - (Peter Parker x Y/N)

Peter Parker x fem!reader

A/N: Go read Part 1 on my account if you haven't as this might be hard to understand without reading that. Please don't post to other websites without asking my permission. Enjoy reading!

It was as if the whole world was moving in slow motion. The doctors pushing a stretcher along the hospital hallway, Peter and Tony running alongside it, begging Y/N to wake up. But she didn't. She just stayed pale on the stretcher, her eyes closed and her fists clenched, her arms streaked with burns that Loki hadn't been able to save her from.

When the door had broken after Steve had hit it for the millionth time, the Avengers knew that something was very wrong. Loki had entered, only to find Y/N lying unconscious in the middle of the flames which were licking at her arms and legs. And now, she might not make it.

Nat was sitting with her head in her hands as she heard Peter pleading with the doctors to let him in, to see her, to know if she was breathing or not. She couldn't bear to look at the others. They all knew what Peter was refusing to let himself think - Y/N's chances were very slim.

"Please, please let me stay with her," Peter sobbed as he fought to look past the doctors into the room. He caught a glimpse of his girlfriend's pale face. The shock of seeing her like that, under those lights, made him stand limply, not even realizing the doctors were now pushing him away. Tony was clenching his jaw, tears threatening to fall from his eyes. It's all your fault, his head was telling him. She wouldn't have spiraled if you had just trusted her. Why couldn't you have trusted her?

A nurse had managed to get the two into the waiting room where the rest were and told them firmly to wait for any more developments. Nobody heard her. Peter was still crying, and Tony was knuckling his eyes, determined not to let anybody know the magnitude of guilt he was feeling. Loki was staring at the door where Y/N was. He couldn't bear to lose her. If he did, then the only person who didn't see him as a monster would be gone. A few years ago, she had snuck onto Tony's spaceship when everyone was going on a mission to Asgard. She had laughed at his jokes when not even he thought they were funny, she had hugged him at his most vulnerable moments when nobody else knew he needed someone, she had given him her trust when he knew he didn't deserve it. It was she who had convinced Tony to take him to stay with the Avengers. He hadn't left since.

Thor was trying not to throw his hammer through the wall. Y/N had been so funny and carefree when she had come to Asgard. He remembered laughing when Tony was yelling at her for sneaking her way there, and all she did was examine the walls of the palace, completely absorbed. She had helped him through his sadness, his fear of losing everything, and his guilt at everything that had happened in Asgard. She had been his savior. And he had never told her. He prayed now for a chance to tell her everything he hadn't. A chance to show her how much she meant to him. How emotional he had gotten when she called him Uncle Thor for the first time.

Nat was trying to keep a clear head, but all she could see was a young four-year-old Y/N had been when she had first seen her, covered in rubble and trapped, freezing cold, in a HYDRA cell. It was Nat who had saved Y/N from being crushed by the deteriorating building and had given her to Tony to bring her up. She never imagined she would be so devastatingly powerful, or that the power would destroy her. She never imagined that Tony would destroy her when she had been so sure he would protect her. She was trying not to blame Tony for this, but it was hard. And she wasn't the only one.

Steve Rogers had nearly had a panic attack when he had caught a six-year-old Y/N playing with his shield. It was bigger than her, and she still insisted on examining it. When he asked her why she'd touched it, she said she wanted to be strong like him. And he had picked her up and said she'd one day, she would be stronger than all of them combined. And now, her power could kill her. Why couldn't Tony have let her and Peter be together? Y/N had been right, Peter Parker was the definition of what was good for her, and now they might never get another chance.

"Mr. Stark?"

Everyone looked up. The same nurse was back, holding a clipboard to her chest. There was a long pause. "She's stable," the nurse said. Peter gave a gasp of relief and tried not to cry again. "Her chances are better, and she's sleeping now," the nurse continued, although nobody was really listening. Wanda was silently crying with relief. She had been the last out of everybody to meet Y/N, but the comfort that she had given Wanda after the death of her brother was enough to make her love that child like a daughter. She was going to be ok.

"Please...." Tony said hoarsely. "Please can I see her?" The nurse nodded. "You can all go in together if you want." With that, they all stood and walked together to Y/N's room. As soon as he saw her, Peter ran at full speed to the bed and held her hand, laying his head on her stomach and began whispering to her. Nat clenched her fists to keep the tears at bay when she heard what he was saying. "Y/N, please, I'm so sorry, it's all my fault, just please wake up, baby, please wake up." Tony just gripped the side of the bed, his face to the window so none of them could see. Nat and Loki approached the bed so they could sit next to it, while the rest just stood nearby and gave thanks she was looking peaceful. They seemed to spend an eternity like that, just sitting with her, feeling grateful she hadn't succumbed to the power that had taken over her.

Until Peter felt Y/N's hand stir in his. He sat up, looking at her intently. Y/N's eyes squeezed and then opened a little, a groan escaping her lips as her whole body began moving. "Y/N?" he whispered, not daring to believe it. "What...." Y/N said slowly. "Where am.... I?" Everyone let out a deep breath and rushed to the bedside. "You're in the hospital, beautiful girl," Nat said, using her old nickname for her niece. "Your powers made you lose control, and you were unconscious." Y/N looked around as if realizing where she was for the first time and then saw Peter. "You look.... scared out of your mind," she said, regarding him for a few moments. Peter laughed shakily. "I was scared you weren't going to make it," he told her. "I'm really sorry I scared you," she replied. Peter's eyes widened. "No, no, it's not your fault. You never have to be sorry, Y/N, not while I'm with you." He leaned forward and their foreheads touched. Y/N's eyes filled with tears as she closed them. "Never let me go," she whispered.

"Never," he promised her.

Suddenly, Y/N pulled away. "Where's my dad?" she asked. She hadn't seen him. Everyone saw Tony's face now. He was squeezing his eyes shut, his grip on the side of the bed vice-like as he tried to talk without his voice breaking. "Uh, I'm right here, Y/N," he said. She turned and saw him. "Dad, please-" she started, but Tony wasn't listening. He bent and hugged her as if he would never let her go. "I'm sorry," he whispered again and again into her shoulder. "I'm so sorry." Y/N hugged him back. She understood now, she understood everything. "Dad, it's ok," she whispered. I know you have a hard time letting me go, but I'll be fine. I'm going to be fine."

"I know, I know," Tony said, still hugging her. "I love Peter, Dad. Please.... I just want you to understand that. "I do," Tony told her, pulling away. "I know now. I see how you look at each other, and even if I don't like it-" Peter looked down a little guiltily, "I will condone your relationship." Y/N smiled and hugged her father again. "Thank you," she said sincerely. Tony smiled back and pulled away.

Everyone smiled, and the rest came forward to say hi to Y/N. Wanda hugged her while the brothers and Steve watched. Y/N's face was alight with happiness, her smile bright and infectious. That was the Y/N they all knew. She was back.

(also posted on my other tumblr, ethxreality13)