#it's why he made the choices he did in the story | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gifsbysimplysonia · 5 hours ago

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Many thanks to @buckets-and-trees for putting this one on my dash.

Something @witchywithwhiskey is SO well versed at is environment building? I don't feel like that's the correct phrase, but I also can't come up with the right one lol. I'm not as good with words as they are :P But the entire opening of this story is so full of vibrant, rich sensory detail that I saw the whole thing play out like the opening credits of one of my beloved Hallmark / Netflix romance movies. Gritty sandy sidewalks, the sound of waves being a soundtrack to the walk, feeling her bathing suit digging into her skin and her thighs chafing (as a fat gal, I know that one well) under her dress. It was all just SO VIVID because the descriptions are so well written and I love being immediately immersed in Brambleberry Cove (how cute is that for a seaside small town name too, btw).

Seeing Steve Rogers for the first time in over 15 years made something loosen in your chest, anxiety uncoiling from around your heart and shaking free for the first time in a long time. A sense of safety and comfort washed over you, and you had the sudden thought that this was how you were supposed to feel about coming home.

When I tell y'all I screamed into my pumpkin pillow at these lines because ... I struggle so much with describing emotion, no doubt because I am not good at feeling or processing it myself, right? LOL but this description of feeling safe and comfortable and the revelation that THIS is what coming home feels like...refer back to the GIF cuz omgggggggggggggggggg. So good.

The kids, a boy and a girl, both stared up at him with wide eyes, shyness and wonder clear in their twin expressions. They looked to their parents for permission before shyly revealing what flavors they’d like to try. Steve gave a deep, hearty chuckle at their timidness, and complimented them on their choices, which seemed to make them both loosen up a bit.

All of the physical description of Steve is TOP TIER but I love this moment being observed because it's one of those times where I feel like canon Steve comes through in someone's characterization of him. Steve being inherently good at noticing and respecting how shy or nervous people are - especially kids - and knowing how to ease that? Yes. All the yes. That is so Steve Rogers.

But you couldn’t leave without talking to him. Not when he was right there and it had been so long and you were dying to know everything that he’d done in the last 15 years since you saw him last.

This makes me giggle because I, too, would be TERRIFIED of talking to THE Steve Rogers - let alone a Steve Rogers I had grown up with - but my nosy ass would want to know EVERYTHINGGGGG I'd missed with him lol

“Hey there, buttercup,” Steve rumbled, his tone as friendly and familiar as it had always been. All of a sudden, it felt like no time had passed at all.

THE WAY I WOULD POOF INTO THANOS DUST IF THAT VOICE CALLED ME BY THAT NICKNAME, GOOD LORDT.

Still, a thought needled you as you stood across the counter from Steve—the knowledge that if you did let yourself break down and cry, he wouldn’t hesitate to fold you into that broad chest of his, wrapping you up in his thick arms and holding you so securely, the world might not seem so grim anymore.

It's crazy to me lol cuz I am someone who will deny deny deny how I feel to my own detriment. But I'm reading about this person who actually ALREADY KNOWS HOW SHE FEELS from every observation she's had about Steve since she entered Seaside Scoops ... but I guess only subconsciously? But it's so funny to see the juxtaposition of her thoughts and feelings but then her logic coming in and trying to be like, I don't know why I am feeling these feelings. YES YOU DO, MISS, YES YOU DO.

You chalked it up to nostalgia and the rough time you were having, forcing yourself to take a deep breath and paste on a bright smile.

Having been in this position myself (and going through it again now in Q4 of 2024), I so badly want to hug her because she feels as though she has to hide how she's really doing and really feeling. But oh man, do I get it.

Steve is also still drawing in this 'Verse cuz the Seaside Scoops mascot is a shark Steve drew FOR HER back when she knew him originally and I THINK THAT IS SO PRECIOUS! I kind of want to commission someone to actually draw it now, hmmmmmmm.

“Is a dipped twist still your favorite?” he asked, clearly trying to change the subject and your smile dimmed just a little. The Steve you’d known had been shy about showing his art to anyone but you, and it seemed that you’d been gone long enough to be lumped in with everyone else.

I want to die at how cute he is cuz this Steve still can't take a compliment, still has a memory like a steel trap, and a habit of making people feel special with his thoughtfulness. There's intimacy in someone knowing your order of anything, really ... ice cream, coffee, meal at the corner diner. And it's noticing deets that REALLY resonates with me and makes me melt as a reader *screams into my pumpkin pillow again*

You and Steve weren’t friends anymore, and you needed to accept that. It was unreasonable to hold him to a promise he’d made more than two decades ago, especially when you were the one who’d left and had barely tried to stay in touch between college classes and exploring your new city.

*sing song voice* hate thiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiis lol I don't know why on earth she didn't keep up her promise to stay in touch and stay friends with Steve but it makes me want to step on her stubbed toe >:P I get that "life happens," but as someone who felt like the one always following up with friends when they went off to live another life, I just ... he deserved better.

For a long moment, you simply stared at each other. Steve really had grown up and changed so much, the evidence in the weathered grooves of his forehead and the lines between his brows, but his eyes still looked the same—soft as clouds, warm as the summer sun.

It's the continued reference to elements that remind me of the town and the summertime to describe him that I am so enjoying.

For a long moment, you couldn’t get over the way Steve had been able to read your mind, to pluck the thought that you were strangers to each other out of your brain and then tell you he didn’t want that to be the case. Your mind raced with questions. Did he still think of you as friends? Did he remember the promise you’d made all those years ago to always be friends? How did he know the exact right thing to say? But then the rational side of your brain resurfaced from wherever your heart had momentarily buried it, and you remembered his farewell was a normal thing for people to say to each other. Especially people who hadn’t seen each other in a while and likely would again because they both lived in a very small town. That’s all it was, just a normal goodbye. Not Steve Rogers somehow reading your mind because he knew you so well.

The longing? Is killing me. It's delicious but she KEEPS TALKING HERSELF OUT OF WHAT'S GOING ON which makes me want to again, stomp on her stubbed toe lol

Your mood was decidedly better, and you enjoyed the walk home, refusing to think too much about why exactly you felt lighter and happier and less miserable about being home in Brambleberry Cove than you had before going to Seaside Scoops. It was just the ice cream, obviously. There was no other reason.

"There was no other reason."

Me:

It was probably for the best, though. You were drunk and horny and if you weren’t careful, you would’ve gone home with Brock Rumlow. Just thinking about it made you grimace at yourself and your poor almost-decisions.

EW, GURL, EW. Thank you, Bucky, for saving her from that and calling Steve.

The fact Steve is driving her home in his truck and there's reference to the salty sea air as well as the smell of the leathery interior of his truck is once again SO GOOD. I was immediately inside that truck, staring at Steve's profile myself, feeling what I also imagine is a not-so-smooth ride cuz I'm imagining an older truck lol Again, the sensory detail work is top notch.

She is BLITZED and saying all her inside thoughts out loud which at first makes Steve laugh but then when she talks about how he looks different but the same cuz his eyes are the same and the bump in his nose is still there and his lips are soft and full ... oof! The mood SHIFTS. Cuz he's like, yeah nobody else even saw those things BUTTERCUP *swoon* and in her drunkenness, she's all indignant and says well then they never really saw YOU, Steve and I am SCREAMINGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG cuz OMG GURL JUST SAY YOU LOVE HIM ALREADY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! But Steve's response made me have to jump up out of my bed and take a lap around the couch cuz

“No, no one ever saw me as well as you did, buttercup,” Steve said, his voice low and warm, and your heart promptly rioted in your chest.

THIS. IS. A. ROMANCE. MOVIE! I'm TELLING you! It has all the correct beats!

There was something so dizzyingly wonderful about hearing Steve say such intimate words to you in that deep, caramel voice of his, genuine affection shining through his tone. It took your breath away for a moment, and your brain short-circuited.

All of this makes me think, ok we are about to get INTO it but everything takes a TURN. Cuz we find out they already had sex once. I guess it was both their first times and Steve, bless his heart, finished in 3 seconds. Because of that, he asked Bucky if it counted cuz he wasn't sure, and homegirl is PISSED at this revelation for some reason. It's a WILD turn.

“Don’t you dare,” you snarled, the words bursting out of you with a ferocity you’d never used in your life, let alone when talking to Steve. But you were furious all of a sudden, and it wasn’t until the words were spilling from your mouth that you understood why you were so angry. “Don’t you dare try to take this away from me, Steven Grant Rogers.” Your voice was seething and barely recognizable, but you couldn’t stop. “You were my first, and it was perfect—because it was you.”

The way I legit sat here clutching my pillow like ... not knowing what to do for a good 30 seconds after reading this. Cuz of course she has to be DRUNK to reveal exactly how she feels about him, right? But that she is so VEHEMENTLY ANGERED by Steve inadvertently almost taking away "credit" or whatever? It's insane! Like, what more do we need to know she is IN LOVE WITH HIM?!?!

But crazily, we don't get into THAT conversation, they continue arguing about their first time lol! He insists she deserved better, she reveals he went down on her and gave her 3 orgasms which ... way to go, sir lol

The silence grew until it was suffocating, and you needed to break it. So you said the first thing that came to mind. Again. “You’re who I think about when I touch myself, Steve.” Your words drifted from your side of the truck to the other, carried on the light breeze floating through the cab. “I think about you and that night, and it gets me off every single time.”

The way I expected him to HIT THE DAMN BRAKES and them to go off a cliff at this point because THAT IS THE REACTION THIS CONFESSION DESERVES!

Instead, he tells her he thinks about her too so she undoes her seatbelt and almost makes him crash lol but he pulls over then REFUSES to give into the gorgeous woman literally BEGGING HIM FOR JUST THE TIP because ... Steve Rogers will not do that with someone who is drunk which is SO GEE DEE STEVE ROGERS it makes me wanna hug him and then kick him in the shins lol

Steve’s hand slid down from your cheek to wrap around the front of your throat, and you stilled immediately, something about the possessive, dominant gesture making you calm. That was new, Steve hadn’t done anything like that when you’d first been together, but you liked it more than you would’ve expected.

Nothing like when a kink comes out of NOWHERE to slap me in the face. LORDT.

“I won’t fuck you only to wake up tomorrow and find out you regret it,” Steve said, enunciating all his words clearly despite the fact that his teeth were grinding together “That you only wanted it because you needed to scratch an itch. When I fuck you again,” he growled, his words a promise. “I don’t want you drunk on anything but my cock.”

Damn him for making nobility so hawt but also vocalizing how much he actually WOULD LIKE TO BE PHYSICAL WITH HER cuz straight up rejection could hurt if he didn't add that in.

You wanted to hear every flavor of your nickname on Steve’s tongue. You wanted to hear him whisper it like a prayer, and groan it into your lips while he kissed you. You wanted to hear Steve shout your nickname while he came with you.

That whole section is just deliciously written.

What follows and I will not quote because y'all NEED TO GO READ IT FOR YOURSELVES is SUCH a ride. Because Steve won't pursue anything physical but he tells her, he holds no qualms about her pursuing her own pleasure...while in his lap...WITH HIS HAND AROUND HER THROAT.

THENNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN THEN THENNNNNNNNNNNNNNN he starts dirty talking and CHEESE AND RICE, Y'ALL! Better have your own pillow or sound absorbing something to use when reading this section cuz it is soooooooooooooooooooooooo

Cuz then SHE also starts voicing FILTHY thoughts and the give and take between the two is so incredibly fire. *fans self* I was literally sweating.

Eventually things wrap up and gentleman that Steve is, he takes her back to her rental and hangs out to ensure she gets in bed ok.

“I don’t regret anything we’ve done together, Stevie,” you mumbled, the side of your mouth hitching up in a lopsided smile. “I’m glad you were my first.” You lost the battle with your eyes and they fell closed. You also, apparently, lost the fight against biting back your feelings, murmuring sleepily, “I want you to be my last.” For a long moment, Steve was quiet. He seemed to wait until you were just on the edge of sleep before responding to your drunken confession. “Tell me that again when you’re not drunk, and I’ll believe you, buttercup,” Steve murmured, ducking down to press a kiss to your hand, still wrapped loosely around his wrist, before carefully extricating himself.

THIS IS A ROMANCE MOVIE, YOU GUYS, I'M TELLING YOUUUUUUU. The way it so vividly plays in my mind.

I know not to be that reader that demands more or anything like that, but in the A/N it was expressed that this was an idea that has been with the author for a while and they just don't know if they will ever get to flesh it out completely. But I feel like we have 2 really full acts here ALREADY so there only needs to be one more ... it's such a rich setting, Steve is such a fully developed character already, and their relationship and this being second chance romance (which I am SO obsessed with right now) ... it's just something I REALLY REALLY enjoyed. Beautifully done, and actually because the almost sex is as hot as it is, it's actually a movie that has to be done for PASSIONFLIX so we don't get fade to black lol

@witchywithwhiskey this is a masterpiece and I thank you from the bottom of my heart for writing and sharing. As someone trying to write my own second chance romance, I feel like a lot of this is a master lesson in how to do it WELL. And of course thanks again to Aspen for putting it on my dash to begin with. It's one I know I'm going to revisit often (and have a few times already).

first and last

pairing: childhood best friend!steve rogers x female reader

summary: after more than a decade away from your home town—and your childhood best friend—you return. everything is exactly the same, but also, entirely different.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), fluff, angst, smut, drunken antics, some arguing, drunk masturbation (f) with an audience, semi-public, choking, dirty talk, praise kink, begging, boundaries, very light bdsm vibes, references to past sexual intimacy (piv sex, oral sex [f receiving]), nicknames (buttercup, baby), aftercare

word count: 8.8k

a/n: this is my entry in @the-slumberparty's Sundae Bar Challenge, and i've been working on it since june so i'm very excited to post it!!! i wanted to make a sundae i'd actually eat so i used the prompts Butterscotch (childhood friends) and Caramel (drunk/delirious/not in their right mind). it also might be a bit literal to have Steve working at an ice cream shop but whatever!!

i mentioned when i teased this fic that i'd thought about turning it into a much longer story/potentially saving it for a novel, but honestly i just don't know when or if i'll ever have time to do that. but these scenes don't necessarily follow right after each other, so if they feel disconnected, that's why. they're just the ones i wanted to write 😅

The sidewalk of Brambleberry Cove was warm from a full day under the August sun, the concrete gritty with sand beneath your bare feet as you walked the rest of the short distance to Seaside Scoops from your rental house a few blocks away.

The sun dipped low on the western horizon, casting long shadows over the coastal town like stretching fingers reaching for the Atlantic Ocean. You could hear the steady sound of the crashing waves over the near distant sand dunes, their rhythm a background to your walk.

It could’ve been a peaceful moment—you were back in your home town, surrounded by familiar sights and sounds and smells. But you were in a wretched mood, and all you could focus on was everything wrong with the world and your current place in it.

There was, of course, the throbbing pain in your big toe from when you’d stubbed it moments ago on the cursed, charming sidewalk, as well as the slight sting on the sides of your foot where your flip flop straps had torn. Your ruined shoes dangled from your fingers because Brambleberry Cove didn’t have a trash can on every street corner like the city you were accustomed to living in.

In addition to those grievances, the straps of your bathing suit—which you hadn’t worn in far too long and hadn’t realized had become too small—were digging into your shoulders and hips uncomfortably. And, though you’d only been walking for five minutes from the little bungalow you were renting, your thighs were already beginning to chafe beneath the simple dress you’d thrown on.

All told, you were not in the mood to appreciate the simple beauty of Brambleberry Cove. Instead of admiring the sun-bleached cottages that gave way to the small coastal shops lining main street, and letting yourself sink into the comfort of being back in your tiny beachside home town, you were fixated on everything wrong in your life—both in that moment and the larger scheme of things.

In your defense, though, there was a lot wrong in your life. There’d had to be to get you back to your home town after so long away.

There was the dream job you’d lost, the ex who’d left you for someone else, and the friends who’d all promised to be there for you, but then vanished when you actually needed help. The only people who’d come through for you were your parents, who’d had a friend willing to rent a little Brambleberry Cove bungalow to you for a fraction of its normal summer price since it was already August and they weren’t going to make much more money anyway.

You’d had to pack up and leave the city where you’d built your life for 15 years, and move back to your home town, which you hadn’t seen in nearly that long since your parents had moved out west shortly after you’d graduated high school. Being back home made you feel like you weren’t only taking a single step backward, but moving leaps and bounds in the wrong direction. It made you feel like a failure.

But you tried not to think about all that on your short walk to Seaside Scoops, instead focusing on the pain in your toe and the digging ache of your bathing suit.

By the time you saw the familiar neon sign for the ice cream shop, it felt like finding an oasis in the desert. You picked up your pace, ignoring the way your body protested, the soles of your feet no longer used to walking on the sandy sidewalk like you’d done countless times growing up in Brambleberry Cove.

You could see through the window that there was a short line in Seaside Scoops, and you hurriedly pushed through the door of the shop. Once inside, you breathed in the familiar scent of sugar and hot fudge and reveled in the feel of the air conditioner ghosting over your sun-warmed shoulders.

Surreptitiously, you shoved your ruined flip flops into the garbage just inside the door and got in line behind the couple with their two small children. You glanced around the shop, not really taking it in, and hoped whoever was working behind the counter was still lax on the ‘no shirt, no shoes, no service’ rule that had theoretically been in place since before you were born—but had never been enforced in practice.

Finally looking to the counter, wondering idly if you’d recognize who was working or if it’d be some local teen that had been a baby the last time you’d been to Brambleberry Cove, you were shocked to see who was working at Seaside Scoops. Your belly swooped like you were standing on a boat on the choppy sea, your heart racing when you recognized the man behind the counter. At one time, he’d been the boy you’d shared so much of your childhood with, so many of your summers with.

When you got a good look at him, you were almost surprised you recognized him so fast. He was no longer the scrawny teenager you’d left behind when you’d gone off to college and never looked back. He looked so different from the boy you’d known well enough you could recall his face in perfect detail, but, in so many ways, exactly the same.

On the whole, it was a shock to see the man Steve Rogers had become.

Sandy brown hair fell on either side of his handsome, suntanned face, swept back like he had a habit of running his hands through it countless times a day. A short, well-kept beard decorated his strong jaw, bracketing a set of soft pink lips that were curved in a devastating grin. His bright blue eyes sparkled beneath the fluorescent lights of the shop, and when he spoke to the family in front of you in line, his voice rumbled like the distant roar of the ocean.

But you shoved that thought aside and continued your perusal of your childhood best friend, making note of all the ways he’d changed from the boy you’d known.

Thick, golden biceps were bare and bulging beneath the edge of his white t-shirt, and dense, brown hair covered corded forearms as Steve folded his arms on top of the ice cream case. He was tall—tall enough to lean over the case to talk to the kids with the couple in front of you, asking them about their favorite ice cream flavors and if they’d like to try anything new.

Inexplicable heat flushed through your body at the sound of Steve’s deep laughter, and the easiness with which he interacted with the kids. You’d never been particularly good with children, mainly because you’d never had much of a chance to interact with any, and you’d never felt any particular desire to be around them. But seeing Steve looking like he did talking to those kids made your belly swoop again and something inside you pulse with a need you didn’t want to fully unpack.

Shoving those thoughts into a box in the back corner of your mind, you forced yourself to look away from your childhood friend and up at the menu that listed all the ice cream flavors. You’d been to Seaside Scoops hundreds of times in your life, if not thousands, and, at one time, you’d had the list memorized.

Hopefully you still had that knowledge tucked away somewhere in your brain, because you weren’t taking in anything you were reading as you not-so-patiently waited for Steve to finish up with the customers in front of you.

It felt like forever, and by the time the family took their cups and cones of ice cream toward the side door that opened up into an outdoor seating area, you’d already cycled through three rounds of the same argument with yourself about why you should leave Seaside Scoops without talking to Steve. You couldn’t imagine your first conversation in 15 years going well.

Still, it took you a few extra seconds to gather the courage to lower your eyes from the menu board and finally look at your childhood friend. When you did, your gaze caught immediately on Steve’s, and your heart gave a little flip at the devastatingly charming smile on his impossibly handsome face.

“Hey there, buttercup,” Steve rumbled, his tone as friendly and familiar as it had always been. All of a sudden, it felt like no time had passed at all.

“Hi, Steve,” you said, trying for the same casualness he’d achieved, but your voice sounded faint and faraway in your ears. The corners of your mouth flickered in a tremulous smile.

You couldn’t understand the surge of emotion filling your chest and rising in your throat, pricking at the backs of your eyes like you wanted to throw yourself into your oldest friend’s arms and sob about everything wrong in your life.

The same deluge of emotion had hit you when you’d stubbed your toe on your walk to Seaside Scoops and you’d had to stand there by yourself, sucking in deep breaths of salty Brambleberry Cove air, nails biting into the flesh of your palms to keep yourself from breaking down.

Just as you’d done then, you beat back the emotion, blinking your eyes rapidly to rid them of tears. Still, a thought needled you as you stood across the counter from Steve—the knowledge that if you did let yourself break down and cry, he wouldn’t hesitate to fold you into that broad chest of his, wrapping you up in his thick arms and holding you so securely, the world might not seem so grim anymore.

You chalked it up to nostalgia and the rough time you were having, forcing yourself to take a deep breath and paste on a bright smile. Casting your eyes around Seaside Scoops, you pretended to give the place a real look, though you didn’t really notice much as you continued to blink back tears.

“You work here now?” you asked lightly, looking at the new standee in the corner.

It was a cartoon shark holding up a sign advertising Seaside Scoops and their many ice cream flavors. But what caught your eye was that it looked a bit like the shark Steve had drawn for you when you’d gotten a bad grade sophomore year and wanted to cheer you up. It even had the same little sailor hat sitting perched on top of his head—which only made sense because sharks didn’t have blowholes, he’d told you at the time.

You’d smiled then, and you smiled again remembering it.

“Uhh,” Steve started, and you turned tear-free eyes back on your old friend, your gaze drawn to the way his bicep bulged against the sleeve of his t-shirt as he scuffed the back of his neck. There was a little bit of a sheepish tinge to his smile. “I actually own Scoops now,” he said in a rush, like he was confessing to something, though you couldn’t imagine what. “I bought it when Mr. Wallace retired down to Florida.”

“Oh,” was all you could think to say, glancing around the ice cream shop with a keener eye.

The shark standee wasn’t the only new thing in the place. Everything, from the tables and chairs to the menu board and counter, looked slightly newer than you remembered. Nothing was wildly different, which was why you hadn’t noticed it when you first looked around. Everything just looked better than it should if it had aged a decade since you’d last stepped into the shop.

Something about it made you think Seaside Scoops looked exactly like your memory of it—but the polished, perfect version in your head, instead of the place as it had been. Yellowed with age and a lack of upkeep. It was genuinely astounding what Steve had done with the place and it took you a few moments to find the right words, though they still felt pale in comparison to the bittersweet nostalgia in your heart.

“The place looks great,” you said with a half smile as you turned back to Steve. A small thread of pride wormed through your heart at seeing what your oldest friend had accomplished and your smile widened when he brightened under your praise. “I like the shark,” you said, hooking a thumb over your shoulder at the standee.

A bit of pink tinted Steve’s cheeks above his beard, and he cleared his throat.

You swallowed back a lump in your throat and nodded. “Yeah, that’s still my favorite,” you answered, more than a little surprised Steve remembered your order.

Sure, you’d gone to Seaside Scoops together countless times as kids. It had been your hangout spot for most of your childhood, and even into your teen years. You’d study together over a cup of cookie dough with sprinkles for Steve and a cone of vanilla and chocolate softserve dipped in chocolate sauce for you. But that was more than a decade ago.

Your heart gave a heavy squeeze when you remembered the night before you’d left Brambleberry Cove, the way Steve reminded you of the promise you’d made as children—that you’d always be friends. Your stomach twisted into knots as you were confronted with the reality that you hadn’t kept up your end of the deal. You’d left, and you’d allowed your oldest friend to become a stranger.

You wondered if Steve remembered the promise you’d made, the reminder he’d given you as a parting gift, or if he’d forgotten. You wondered if he’d ever want to be friends again.

Steve’s back was to you, his wrist flicking expertly beneath the softserve machine as he filled up a sugar cone with the twist of chocolate and vanilla. You forced yourself to push aside the memories of the past, blinking back more tears before Steve could catch them in your eyes.

With a great amount of effort, you kept your mind blissfully blank as you let your gaze trail idly over Steve’s broad back, unable to stop yourself from noticing just how wide his shoulders were, or the way they moved beneath the soft, worn cotton of his t-shirt. He really did fill out the shirt well, his sides tapering down to a thin waist. And his ass looked particularly good in the curve-hugging denim of his jeans.

As Steve turned around, you raised your eyes quickly and arranged your expression into one of innocence. Steve paused, giving you a shrewd look like he would’ve done when you were teenagers and you were hiding something from him, but then he just shook his head and laughed under his breath, turning to the chocolate sauce where he’d dip your ice cream cone.

“So, what brings you back to Brambleberry Cove, buttercup?” Steve asked, his gaze focusing on dipping your ice cream just right, a look of determination on his face that was endlessly endearing.

You grimaced at the exact moment he glanced up at you, and he chuckled at the face you made. The sound was smooth as warm caramel and sent a new wave of heat rolling down your spine.

“That bad, huh?” he asked, genuine interest in his tone.

Although there was a point in your life when you could’ve told Steve anything, and the urge to do so still lingered deep in your bones, you knew your relationship was different. You couldn’t dump all your problems on your childhood friend after not talking to him for 15 years. You didn’t even know if you were still friends anymore.

Plus, there was a small crowd gathering behind you as the late dinner rush started to filter into Seaside Scoops. Even if you’d wanted to tell Steve everything that had happened to you in the 15 years since you’d last seen him, it wasn’t the time.

So you just gave him a sad smile and accepted the ice cream cone from Steve’s hand, ignoring the butterflies and ticklish warmth that fluttered through your body at his touch. You gripped the sugar cone tight—but not too tight—so you didn’t fumble it.

“Yeah,” you whispered in answer to his question, leaving it at that. There was an awkward beat, and your eyes dropped to the ice cream that was already beginning to melt despite the air conditioning in the shop. Thankfully, you had an easy way to move past Steve’s questions.

You pulled some cash from the wristlet where you’d also stashed your phone and I.D., asking, “What do I owe you?” because you figured it must’ve been more expensive than what you remembered. And you didn’t want to risk looking up at the menu and catching Steve’s eye, not wanting any of the emotions or heat that seemed to flood you whenever you looked at him.

But a large, warm, golden hand closed over your fumbling fingers, startling you enough to look up into the sky blue eyes of your childhood friend. Your lips fell open in surprise as tingling warmth worked its way up your arm from your hand, wrapping around your heart and making it beat harder.

“It’s on the house,” he murmured, his voice low and earnest, the thrum of some emotion you couldn’t identify laced through his words. “It was nice to see an old friend,” he said, giving your hand a squeeze before he pulled his away.

It wasn’t until Steve straightened up to his full height that you realized he’d been leaning over the counter, and your faces had been very close together. Heat crept into your cheeks at the realization that Steve had been in your personal space, and all you’d thought about was his eyes.

Shoving all the money in your hand into the tip jar, you muttered, “Thanks, Steve.” As you zipped up your wristlet, you noticed that some of your ice cream was in danger of dripping onto your hand.

Without thinking, you licked quickly around the edge of the sugar cone, a soft moan slipping free when the cool sweetness of the ice cream hit your brain.

Steve made a strangled sound that dragged your attention away from your treat, finding your childhood best friend looking away and coughing into his fist, a deeper pink flushing his cheeks. You quirked your eyebrow in confusion when he looked back at you, but his expression gave nothing away and you had to wonder if you’d imagined the noise. It had almost sounded…aroused.

Shaking that thought clear from your mind, you gave Steve a smile and began to step away from the counter so he could help the next customer.

Steve’s eyes lingered on you, and he offered you one last charming, friendly smile, raising his hand in a wave. “Don’t be a stranger, buttercup,” he rumbled, his low words managing to reach your ears over the chatter in the shop. He gave you a long look, emotion swirling in those familiar eyes of his, and your breath caught in your throat.

The intensity of his gaze and the warmth in his parting words hit you straight in the gut, and you stood stunned in front of the register while Steve turned and walked to the other end of the ice cream case to help the next people in line.

But then the rational side of your brain resurfaced from wherever your heart had momentarily buried it, and you remembered his farewell was a normal thing for people to say to each other. Especially people who hadn’t seen each other in a while and likely would again because they both lived in a very small town. That’s all it was, just a normal goodbye.

Not Steve Rogers somehow reading your mind because he knew you so well.

With those rationalities ringing in your head, you dashed out of Seaside Scoops and it wasn’t until your feet had carried you to the next block that you remembered your broken shoes and stubbed toe and chafed thighs.

But those problems didn’t seem quite so bad anymore. Not with the delicious ice cream cone in your hand, and the sunset casting Brambleberry Cove in gorgeous, golden light—and especially not with Steve’s warm, honeyed voice ringing in your head, calling you buttercup.

It had felt so normal to hear the nickname roll off Steve’s tongue that you hadn’t even thought about it, hadn’t realized how long it had been since you’d last heard it. But, just as it had when you were younger, it filled your chest with a bright, golden warmth. You grinned to yourself as you strolled back to your little bungalow, licking up the melting ice cream as fast as you could.

“You’re staring.” Steve’s voice was low, the undercurrent of laughter in it almost mixing with the sounds of the distant waves. You could hear them through the open windows of his truck as he eased the vehicle down the winding road leading away from the docks on the north side of Brambleberry Cove.

His comment dragged you out of your drunken haze, and you took a deep breath to get your bearings. Your lungs filled with the salty nighttime air of the sea and the earthy leather interior of your childhood best friend’s truck, a small smile curling the corners of your lips and your eyes sliding closed. When you forced them back open, you realized he was right.

Huh, you really were staring at Steve.

Your head was swiveled to the side, your cheek pressed to the brown leather of the seat back, your eyes fixed on the profile of his face that was highlighted in the glossy silver of the moon and warmed by the golden light of the town’s street lamps.

You couldn’t find it in yourself to feel embarrassed or ashamed for staring at Steve, though. And it was at that moment you realized you were drunk.

It didn’t surprise you. After all, you were the one who’d thrown on some jean shorts and a cute top and then took yourself to Shanty’s, the only place in Brambleberry Cove to go if you were a local looking to avoid tourists.

You’d been happy to see Bucky Barnes, your other oldest friend after Steve, manning the bar. But you’d been much less happy with him when he’d insisted on calling Steve to take you home after you’d downed more than your fair share of liquor.

Focusing back on Steve, you couldn’t fault Bucky too much for calling your old friend to pick you up—not when it had ended with you able to watch his side profile while he kept his eyes on the road. It felt practically shameful to indulge yourself so much. That is, if you’d had any shame left, but you’d drowned it all in alcohol.

“You’re still staring, buttercup,” Steve rumbled, the humor clearer in his tone. The edges of his mouth were flickering beneath the silvery golden light of Brambleberry Cove at night and you knew he was trying to suppress a smile. It was fascinating to watch, but then Steve rubbed his hand across his mouth, scrubbing through his beard, and it broke you free of your drunken trance.

“I just can’t get over how different you look,” you huffed, raising your arms and flopping them back against the seat in your best approximation of a shrug. “And how exactly the same.”

Steve barked a laugh, the sharp sound bringing a smile instantly to your face. You’d never heard him laugh like that, and you couldn’t help but love that you were still discovering new things about him, even after knowing him all your life.

He glanced over at you, his expression bemused like he was sure you were drunker than he’d thought. You probably were, but that didn’t stop you from being right, and you tried to convey that in the brief moment he looked at you.

Steve’s gaze slid quickly down your body, not like he was checking you out—more like he was checking to make sure your seatbelt was still buckled and you weren’t in danger of doing anything ridiculous. You were only in danger of saying ridiculous things, at least, according to him apparently. He shook his head after he’d turned back to watching the road.

“You’re gonna have to explain that one to me, buttercup,” Steve said, a little bit of gruffness in his tone. He cleared his throat before he went on. “Usually when someone we went to high school with comes back, they tell me they never woulda recognized me.”

You gave an unladylike snort, drawing another surprised laugh out of Steve before he bit off the sound to let you speak.

“Well those people should have their eyes checked,” you muttered scornfully, pushing yourself up from where you’d been slumped against the warm leather seat. You twisted your body in your seat so you were facing Steve, your eyes tracing the lines of his face from across the cab. “You still have the same eyes,” you pointed out vehemently, as if Steve was arguing with you, even though he wasn’t. “And your nose still has that little bump in it, and your lips are still so soft and full…”

You trailed off, realizing far too late that you were saying your inside thoughts out loud. Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, you watched Steve as he processed what you’d said—the way his fingers scratched a little nervously at his beard, those twin lines forming between his brows. Your gazed traced every curve and line and divot in his face, examining his expression, wanting to memorize it and save it for the rest of your life.

“I don’t think any of those people noticed those things,” Steve murmured, his voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear it over the slight breeze drifting through the windows while he drove through town.

Your heart lurched at the implication of Steve’s words, but you couldn’t bring yourself to take them back, even if they were dangerously close to revealing something you hadn’t even had the courage to admit to yourself yet.

Instead, you focused on your anger at the hypothetical people who weren’t recognizing Steve just because he’d grown up, gotten tall, gotten buff, grown out his hair and his beard and looked altogether very different to the skinny teenager he’d been.

“If they didn’t see those things, they didn’t really see you,” you muttered to yourself, indignant on Steve’s behalf, but trying to keep it to yourself. Apparently, you weren’t good at moderating the volume of your voice, because Steve snorted at your remark.

“No, no one ever saw me as well as you did, buttercup,” Steve said, his voice low and warm, and your heart promptly rioted in your chest.

It was on the tip of your tongue to tell him…something. The thing you hadn’t admitted to yourself yet. But you were still you, and your brain tripped at the last moment, and instead you blurted, “Do you ever think about our first time?”

Steve choked on a snort, his eyes darting to you with honest surprise. You couldn’t blame him. You’d had no idea those words were gonna spill from your mouth until they were out, but you supposed they weren’t as bad as what you’d almost confessed, so you didn’t try to take them back or change the topic of conversation. You waited with bated breath for Steve’s response, and whether he remembered your night together when you were both 18.

When he saw you were anticipating his answer, he spluttered, “You mean when I came three seconds after getting inside you?”

You began to smile, because he remembered, but then Steve continued talking.

“Y’know, I told Bucky about that once,” he said, his eyes fixed so fully on the road that you got the impression he didn’t want to meet your gaze and your stomach plummeted. “I was drunk, and didn’t know if it really counted as sex. Bucky was no help, of course—he said he didn’t know either since it was so quick.”

Something new was swirling in your gut, and for long moments you could only sit there on the warm leather of the truck and stew in that hot, feral feeling. It must’ve showed on your face because, when Steve finally looked over at you after you’d been quiet for so long, the truck lurched forward, his foot pressing too hard to the gas.

“Don’t worry,” he rushed to say, guessing at what was upsetting you and guessing wrong. “I didn’t tell him it was with you.”

Steve glanced over at you, something like shock written across his face, but when he looked back at the road, his brows settled low over his eyes. The muscle in his jaw popped and you knew he was grinding his teeth together, taking his time to gather his thoughts before he spoke. It took him a long moment to respond.

“You deserved better.”

The noise of your scoff was loud, even to your ears, and you strained against the seatbelt still buckling you into the passenger seat as you leaned toward your childhood friend.

“You ate me out until I came three times, Steve!” you cried, holding up three fingers as if the adult man your friend had grown into somehow didn’t know how many three was. “No man has ever made me come so many times in one night as you did then.”

When Steve still didn’t look at you, just kept driving with his hands gripping the wheel and the muscle in his jaw popping, you huffed an exasperated sound and flopped back into your seat. Your back was to the leather as you crossed your arms over your chest and stared out at Brambleberry Cove through the open passenger side window.

The silence grew until it was suffocating, and you needed to break it. So you said the first thing that came to mind. Again.

“You’re who I think about when I touch myself, Steve.” Your words drifted from your side of the truck to the other, carried on the light breeze floating through the cab. “I think about you and that night, and it gets me off every single time.”

Steve made a strangled kind of sound, like a growl that was torn free from his throat against his will. Then he was quiet, and he was quiet for so long, you thought that was the only reaction you’d get to admitting the truth. Until…

“I think about you, too, buttercup.”

The confession hung in the air between you, settling heavily onto the leather bench seat in Steve’s truck, the air rushing in through the open windows buffetting around it.

You didn’t feel Steve’s admission sink into you. There was simply a before and an after. And in the after, you were moving. You were unbuckling your seatbelt and scooting across the seat toward Steve until your bare knee brushed against the denim of his jeans.

He shot a startled look in your direction—which, in a distant part of your brain, you registered as completely adorable—before quickly pulling over to the side of the road. He was just throwing the truck into park when you slid into his lap, straddling his thighs and pressing your chest to his.

“We should do it again,” you purred, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and leaning close. When Steve didn’t respond right away, just kept giving you that surprised look, you thought he might not have understood you, so you explained, “Have sex.”

Steve closed his eyes and a light tremor shuddered through his body as his hands settled respectfully on your waist, a few of his fingers brushing the skin where the edge of your tank top didn’t quite meet the waist of your shorts. Then, it was your turn to shudder, the feeling of his warm, calloused hands against your bare skin making heat flood between your thighs, your core warming and your body melting into your old friend’s hands.

“Please, Steve,” you whispered, tipping your head forward until your lips were a hairsbreadth from his, so close you could taste mint chocolate chip ice cream on his tongue and it took everything in you not to lick into his mouth desperately. Your voice was practically a whine as you went on, “Let’s see if we can do better this time.”

Steve’s hands shifted to your hips, his fingers digging into your soft flesh hard enough to almost hurt, and you thought he was going to give in. But then he swallowed audibly, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, and he pushed you gently away, his head tilting back against the leather seat so your lips no longer teased him with an almost-kiss.

“You’re drunk, buttercup.”

Steve’s voice was a delicious rasp, and you couldn’t help but shiver at the sound of it even as the meaning of his words settled into your drunken mind. You pouted at your childhood friend, hoping the fact that he hadn’t pushed you off his lap entirely meant he wasn’t saying no.

“And horny,” you said, the words slipping from your lips on another whine. Of their own volition, your hips squirmed on your oldest friend’s lap, trying to get closer, trying to find some kind of friction to work against the aching heat pulsing between your thighs. But Steve’s firm grip held you in place. “Stevie.” His name was nothing but a pathetic whimper.

A low growl rumbled in Steve’s chest, and then one of his hands was abandoning your hip to cup your face, tilting it up so he could loom over you. The lines of his face were hard, stubborn, and the look in his eyes left no room for argument.

“You know I won’t touch you when you’re drunk,” he bit out, his voice soft, but as firm as his hold on your body.

A memory slammed into you—you and Steve planning your first time together. You’d made a deal at the start of high school that if neither of you lost your virginity through all four years, then before going off to college, you’d lose it together.

When the time came, you’d been a little nervous, even though it was Steve, and you’d joked that you could take some wine coolers to the beach and get it over with, just like all the other kids in your school. Even then, Steve had looked at you stubbornly, and said, without a shred of willingness to waver, that he wouldn’t touch you if you were drunk.

Back then, it had sent a shiver down your spine, and it had much the same effect more than a decade later in his truck. Your body trembled with arousal, and you pushed feebly against Steve’s hold—not really trying to break it, just enjoying the feeling that came from realizing how strong he was. Those biceps and corded forearms of his weren’t just for show.

“What about just the tip?” you murmured, the words tumbling past your lips before you could think better of them, knowing there was no use trying to argue with Steve when he’d made a decision. But you were clearly thinking with something other than your brain, because the words kept coming. “That’s not sex, just the tip—please, Steve.” You were begging shamelessly, but your shame and embarrassment were still nowhere to be found since you were still definitely drunk.

Steve’s jaw ticked so hard, you could’ve sworn you heard the muscle pop in the quiet of his truck as he ground his teeth together.

“Buttercup,” he growled, a warning in his tone. “That’s not happening.”

Your fists gathered in the front of Steve’s t-shirt and you yanked on it restlessly, not trying to do anything more than annoy him. “Whyyy,” you whined, drawing out the word until it was nearly a wail. Unslaked heat burned in your blood and, while you knew why he was refusing to have sex with you, in the moment, you couldn’t understand why your oldest friend was torturing you.

Your oldest friend’s eyes roamed over you, taking in your reaction. At first he seemed surprised, but then a glint of something you’d never seen before sparked to life in the depths of his blue eyes. You watched his gaze drop to your mouth, and nearly whimpered at the way the corner of his lips flickered in the ghost of a smirk. But then he fixed his gaze back on yours, pinning you in place with that stubborn look in his eye, though it was slightly dimmed in favor of that new, hungry glimmer.

Your lungs dragged in a soundless gasp and you finally understood his reticence, even if you couldn’t imagine ever regretting doing anything with Steve. But when you opened your mouth to protest, Steve’s fingers squeezed the sides of your throat.

Your words died on your tongue, and your mouth went slack, your eyes going hazy with pleasure. You couldn’t have been more obvious that you liked the way Steve choked you if you tried. And he read your enjoyment easily from the expression on your face, that look of hunger sparking brighter in Steve’s eyes before he went on.

“When I fuck you again,” he growled, his words a promise. “I don’t want you drunk on anything but my cock.”

“Stevie,” you whined his nickname again, the name only you were allowed to call him, your lips forming into a pout. It hadn’t escaped your notice that he’d said ‘when’, and not ‘if’, about having sex with you again, but you didn’t want to push your luck. And besides, unslaked need was still burning brightly through your body, consuming most of your focus. “I need…something, please.” You let out a little whimper and squirmed in his lap again, unable to stop yourself.

Steve huffed a laugh, his thumb stroking down the side of your neck, over your thrumming pulsepoint, while the fingers of his other hand slipped half an inch into the waist of your shorts, only far enough to dig harder into your soft curves.

“I’m not going to touch you more than this, buttercup,” Steve began, his voice a low, delicious rumble that you swore you could feel in the clenching of your core. “But I didn’t say anything about stopping you from touching yourself.”

Your eyes widened in excitement, and you wasted no time in acting on the implication in Steve’s words. Holding his gaze, one of your hands slipped free from his shirt and trailed down your body. When you reached between your thighs, the backs of your fingers brushed against a thick bulge in the front of Steve’s jeans.

It twitched against your soft touch, and you gasped in delight, loving the proof that Steve’s body recognized you just as much as his mind.

But when you twisted your hand, intent on giving Steve’s bulge a friendly squeeze, his hand darted down from your hips to your wrist, his fingers circling around you and stilling your hand. “Buttercup,” he rumbled, another warning.

A shiver raced down your spine and you reveled in the way it made you feel to hear Steve say your nickname like that. It occurred to you that it was new—you’d never heard him say it quite like that before, with frustration and arousal flooding his tone.

But the look in Steve’s eyes was stubborn again, and you knew you’d have to wait to hear all the ways he could say your nickname.

“OK, Steve, ‘m sorry,” you mumbled, twisting your hand in his hold and pressing the tips of your fingers to the seam of your shorts, your hips jerking forward to seek more of the friction you offered yourself.

Steve’s hold loosened, but he didn’t let go of you entirely, like he didn’t trust you just yet. But you didn’t care, your fingers were pressing into your clit through the thin denim of your shorts, and you were rocking your hips to grind against them, your wetness soaking through your panties almost immediately.

The moment when your fingers found just the right spot, you sucked in a sharp breath, your spine arching and your hips pressing down hard against your hand. Your head tipped back, your eyes narrowing into slits as you held Steve’s gaze. You moaned while you rubbed tight circles against your clit through your shorts.

“I’m going to come embarrassingly fast,” you huffed in warning, your chest heaving already with labored breaths.

But Steve only smirked, a touch of smugness in the curve of his lips.

“Don’t worry, buttercup, I remember exactly how sensitive your sweet little clit is,” he rumbled, and you moaned loudly. His fingers flexed against your throat, digging in enough to quiet your sounds and making your eyes widen as your hips lurched in their rhythm. He chuckled at your reaction before continuing on.

“I remember sucking on your puffy little pearl, your thighs squeezing my head, my fingers buried deep in your tight, warm hole,” Steve purred, seemingly knowing exactly what to say to drive your pleasure higher. “I remember the exact way your pussy gripped my fingers when you came, like you wanted me deeper—deep enough that you could feel me in your belly.”

“God, Steve,” you groaned, your head falling back listlessly on your shoulders, too heavy to keep it up. But Steve’s fingers dug into the back of your neck, and you understood the wordless command immediately. You lifted your head and caught your oldest friend’s eye while you kept rubbing your clit, pushing yourself closer to coming apart in his lap.

“I remember how big your cock felt inside me,” you confessed, spurred on by Steve’s own filthy words. “I remember how long it took for you to sink your thick, fat cock into my tight pussy.” You paused only to take a quick, hitching breath. “I was already so close when you came, and I remember, I thought, maybe if you hadn’t been wearing a condom, maybe I would’ve come, too.”

The lines of Steve’s face shifted, hardening, his jaw ticking wildly and his eyes going molten fierce, like the blue at the center a campfire that burns too hot to sit near.

“Don’t fucking say that, buttercup,” Steve growled, his voice gravelly like he was chewing on seashells. “If I hadn’t been wearing a condom, I would’ve come so much faster—I never woulda made it all the way inside you. Woulda been coming with just my tip inside your warm, wet pussy, baby—woulda been too risky, buttercup.”

Your eyes wanted to fall closed as you moaned, but you didn’t let them. You couldn’t tear your gaze away from Steve, not with that furious and ferocious hunger in his eyes, his desire for you etched into every single line and curve of his face.

You were so close. You just needed a little more to push you over the edge.

“Fuck, Steve, I know I shouldn’t, but I love the thought of you coming inside me, filling me up, making me yours,” you confessed, the words bubbling up from the very depths of your soul. It was on the tip of your tongue again, that thing you hadn’t admitted to yourself. Instead of letting it free, you moaned, long and loud, your fingers rubbing faster against your clit and your hips grinding against your hand.

“Christ, baby,” Steve gritted through tightly clenched teeth. His fingers were digging into your hip again, diving further beneath the waist of your shorts, nearly skimming the edge of your panties. His other hand tightened around your throat and dragged you into him, until your face was right in front of his and he could watch every twitch and change in your expression as you pleasured yourself.

“Come on, baby,” he said, his voice urgent with need. “Come before I do something we’ll both regret.”

The hand that wasn’t wedged between your thighs pressed to the center of Steve’s chest, just above his heart, and a moment later, you felt his warm palm cover it. He was still holding your throat, his fingers digging into the sides hard enough that you knew he could feel your fluttering pulse beneath his touch. And you could feel his heart pounding beneath your palm, the rapid pace nearly matching the frantic one in your chest.

“Come, buttercup, come for me,” Steve commanded, his eyes holding yours. For a moment, it felt like he could see straight into your soul. It was a scorching intimacy you hadn’t felt since that night you’d first been with Steve, and you were helpless to it.

“Stevie,” you cried his name as your pleasure rose up and consumed you, sending you over the edge into a earth-quaking orgasm. Your body writhed in Steve’s lap, your hips grinding gracelessly against your hand as you collapsed forward, leaning into the grip of his hand around your throat. You sobbed your pleasure, the waves of your release wracking your body for long moments.

Eventually, the final swell ebbed and the last of your energy receded with it. Your damp forehead fell against Steve’s cool, dry one and you struggled to catch your breath. His hand slipped from the front of your throat around to the back of your neck and he smoothed it down your spine.

He held you close, whispering in your ear, “Such a good girl, buttercup, you did so good.”

Once you finally settled, Steve shifted, his beard grazing your lips as he pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“Can I take you home now?” he asked.

You huffed a laugh and slumped against his chest, laying your head sleepily on his shoulder. “I don’t think I can move yet,” you said, slurring your words with tiredness. And drunkenness.

Steve chuckled, but made no attempt to move you. You only felt him lifting his arms around you, though his hands didn’t settle on your body.

“If you see Sam while you’re back in town, don’t tell him I did this,” Steve murmured in your ear. Then you felt the truck rumbling to life and getting back onto the road and you realized where your oldest friend’s hands were. He was driving you home, with you still sitting boneless in his lap.

When Steve arrived at your rental house, not too long after, he helped you down from his truck and looped an arm around your waist, getting you into the bungalow. Thankfully, you were sated from your release in his truck so you didn’t try to proposition him again, just dutifully did as he said, changing into your pajamas in your bedroom while he waited outside the closed door.

Then he let you lean against his broad chest while you brushed your teeth and washed your face, before guiding you back to your room and tucking you into bed. Last, he pressed a sweet kiss to your forehead that was so comforting, and made you feel so safe, your eyes fluttered closed and a soft smile curled your lips.

Before he could leave, your hand darted out and grabbed Steve’s wrist with surprising precision given your state and the fact that your eyes were closed. You dragged them open again, blinking away the bleariness until your childhood friend’s face came into focus.

For a long moment, Steve was quiet. He seemed to wait until you were just on the edge of sleep before responding to your drunken confession.

“Tell me that again when you’re not drunk, and I’ll believe you, buttercup,” Steve murmured, ducking down to press a kiss to your hand, still wrapped loosely around his wrist, before carefully extricating himself.

You were snoring before Steve closed and locked the front door of your bungalow behind him. He walked down the short path to his truck, which sat at the curb, a subtle smile on his lips and a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

#steve rogers #fan fiction #feedback #marvel #drag queen #animations #AND mine #divina de campo #trixie mattel #lala ri #baga chipz #vanessa vanjie mateo

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islandheartprincess · 1 day ago

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bully!rafe cameron x reader ˖˚⊹ ꣑ৎ‎

part 1 ✧ part 2 (coming soon)

summary: rafe hated you, but he mainly hated how obsessed he was with you. placed during senior year of HS. both are of age

warnings: smut, swearing, masturbation (m), reader catching rafe masturbating, bullying, 18+ mdni

pairing: bully!rafe x reader

rafe cameron made sure to make your life at school a living nightmare. he went out of his way to trouble you, and despite your best efforts to ignore his childish behavior, you just couldn't seem to get him to lay off you. it was odd, the way he found pleasure in making you angry, or uncomfortable.

you never knew why he only treated you like this so consistently. you knew that he was in no means a kind person in general, other than the girls he often hooked up with and led on, but he never hung on to someone the way he did with you.

you weren't some annoying, loud, pogue. you kept to yourself on most occasions and found yourself finding peace alone and reading books, or hanging out with your small but close-knit friend group. you honestly couldn't wait till summer, or just graduation in general.

rafe cameron hated her, or so he wanted to. he hated the way she made him feel, vulnerable, and unlike his usual cocky self.

maybe it was the way she kept her calm, when anyone else would've ran away crying? or maybe it was the way she would look up at him, with her doe eyes, a slight glimmer that just told him how she could read through his arrogant front easily. she knew what he was. he hated, hated, that.

why couldn't he just forget about her? why did he find himself thinking about her at the most unconventional times. and why, when her face came up in his mind, he felt his body grow hot and an uncomfortable tightness in his pants. god, when it would happen, often so, he never felt more embarrassed. he was rafe cameron, he could find any dumb cheerleader at the school to fuck and throw away.

yet he found himself yearning after the girl in the back of the class, quiet, smart, and mature. in all his best efforts to make himself forget about her, he only made his obsession worse, and her hatred for him deeper.

rafe cameron was your worst enemy. you couldn't think of a more emotionally immature person than him. you heard the stories about how he ghosted this girl, or cheated on his girlfriend, or hooked up with his best friends ex.

you found yourself having to remind yourself how much of a horrible person he was. it was just that, when he would make fun of you, you'd look at him. really, look at him. you saw his insecurities, his vulnerability.

gosh, was he good looking though. you understood why so many girls at your school pined after him. when he would make fun of you, you felt a lot of things. you felt upset, mostly at yourself due to the wetness you could feel between your thighs. you didn't like how your brain heard his words, but focused on his distracting eyes, and smooth lips.

you wanted him to stay away from you. mostly, you just wanted the uncontrollable needy thoughts to stay away. you knew he would never, ever, be attracted to a girl like you. of course, that's why he hated you, right? he thought you were ugly, and a bother, that had to be why.

you were at your locker, as unbothered as anyone could be. until your locker slammed shut right in front of you, revealing nonetheless then rafe cameron.

this time, he didn't say anything immediately. his mouth opened, but shut after he eyed you up and down. his eyes trailed over the stockings you had decided to wear today, which you couldn't have regretted more in the moment. you squeezed tightly onto your books, just wanting to hear whatever snarky comment he had to make and get it over with.

"really? nice choice of clothes, you going for a degree in slut?" he laughed, and walked away. you were thankful he quickly left so he didn't see the way your face turned red. if only you knew the reason he left in a hurry was to avoid you seeing his rising boner, on a rush to the bathroom stall.

you knew you had to go neaten up, get yourself together. your panties felt damp, your shamefulness deepening. haven being so deep in embarrassment, you didn't notice the boys restroom sign when you walked into the bathroom.

looking into the mirror, you took a deep breath, brushing the loose strands of hair out of your face, until you heard a noise from the end of the bathroom. the bell had rung, so the stalls were all empty, except one. the one all the way on the end of the hall, which you thought you could've heard a small noise from.

taking a step closer with caution, but almost choking on your spit when you heard... a moan? you halted yourself, and your assumptions were true. you wondered who on earth would be jerking off in a bathroom stall, waiting for the next noise to try and recognize the voice.

rafe quickened his pace, feeling himself reaching his climax. he knew the bathroom was empty, but he still tried his best to control his voice. it almost made him mad how desperate he felt thinking about fucking you with those stockings on, or you sucking him off while looking up at him with your gorgeous innocent eyes. it was hard to control his voice thinking about you, so he naturally loudened his moans a little.

oh my god. it all clicked with you. you accidentally walked into the boys bathroom, and rafe cameron was in the stall jerking off. your throat closed up, mind unable to process how this was real. all you were able to do was slap your hand over your mouth to cover your gasp. until you heard- "fuck, y/n." how'd he- oh gosh. correction, rafe Cameron was jerking off, thinking about you. you froze, but knew you had to get out of there before he caught you.

coming down from his high, rafe cleaned himself up, his breathing raggedy. he was ready to get out of this stall, act like it never happened, and go back to class. until, his heart dropped at the sound of the bathroom door shut. no way someone was in here, how'd he not here them? whatever, they probably didn't even know it was him.

@anitalenia for the borders! ♡

part 2 coming soon! follow for more (⁠◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕⁠✿⁠)

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sleepyparalysisdmon · 20 hours ago

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LMLY - Act One

Choi Y/N hasn’t seen her long lost best friend Yoon Jeonghan in four years and doesn’t even recognize at first him when paramedics roll him into the OR after a motorcycle accident during her shift. She kind of expects to go back being total strangers as soon as he’s discharged, but Seungcheol has something to say about that when he asks them to be Best Man and Maid of Honor for his wedding.

You can find the masterlist here.

LMLY is the sequel to Calico. You don’t need to read Calico to follow along with most of this story, but it will make things more enjoyable if you do.

Genres: fluff; angst; smut; best friends to strangers to lovers; wedding au

Pairing: Jeonghan x female reader

TW/CW: MDNI, contains explicit smut, some tough family dynamics such as divorce, a lot of marriage and wedding talk, mentions of having children, mentions of depression, mentions of manipulative relationships, quite a few details about accidents and subsequent medical procedures and issues.

A/N: I am not in the medical field, so please forgive any inaccuracies included in this story.

Word count: 13.6k

This is a repost of a previous fic I did. It was one of the first fics that I ever posted on here and I wish I had made some different choices aesthetically. The content will be the same, it will just be a little prettier and more readable.

“Be honest. Would you tell me if you were practicing witchcraft?”

Y/N stared blankly at Joshua. “I think you’d know since we’ve lived together for 7 years. Have you ever caught me working on a spell at 3am or drawing pentagrams on our floors?”

Joshua’s eyes narrowed across the break room table. “You’re starting to sound an awful lot like someone that knows something about witchcraft.”

“And this is starting to feel like another witch hunt. This isn’t The Crucible, Joshua,” Y/N exhaled loudly. “Why are you accusing me this time?”

“The curse of threes!” Joshua cried. A tired nurse grumbled from one of the break room couches and Joshua mumbled a ‘sorry’. “My date last night was terrible!” He adopted a whisper yell.

Y/N hummed. “What was it this time?”

Joshua huffed, “Well, for starters she was late, which is whatever. Things happen. But then she was rude to the waitress the whole time. You know I can’t stand that after waiting tables as long as I did. And then she chewed with her mouth open the whole time and straight up slurped her drink.” Y/N mumbled a sympathetic, ‘gross’, which had Joshua yelling again. “I know! Disgusting.”

“I’m sorry, but I fail to see what I have to do with that, Shua,” Y/N rolled her eyes, taking a bite of salad. The two of them often ate lunch together when they were on the same shift. It’s what they would do back home in their apartment where they’ve been roommates for years. Conveniently, they’re on the same shift tonight and popped into the cafeteria for something to eat in between patients.

Joshua is an emergency room physician with a shiny new license as of this year. Y/N is still a resident training under Dr. Hwang, one of the most renowned surgeons in the country. It’s sheer luck that Y/N got that placement three years ago, and Dr. Hwang is kind of a hard ass, but he’s hands down the best to learn from.

“You’ve cursed us,” Joshua insists. “Only Mingyu has survived past the third date and it’s all your fault.”

“No, no! This is karma at work. And Mingyu shouldn’t have made it past date number two but Harin is just too sweet of a person to tell him that,” Y/N reminded, wagging a finger. Joshua scoffs, reaching out to grab it.

“We’ve said we’re sorry for nearly a decade. When will it be enough?”

Joshua is referring to the time that he and a number of other guys tried to ruin Y/N’s life. Y/N had been quite the prolific serial dater back in college and it had hurt enough mens’ feelings to make them seek revenge. Even years later, they still experienced what they unaffectionately called the ‘curse of threes’ and blame her entirely for it. Y/N didn’t take it seriously and believed it was just one big case of confirmation bias. They were seeing what they wanted to see because they still had a guilty conscious.

“It seems that the universe says no, it hasn’t been enough,” Y/N teased. “I don’t want to jinx it, but I think they’ve finally forgotten about setting us up though.”

This lightens Joshua’s mood and he laughs. “Yeah, it’s a record. Five whole months of no blind dates.”

Their friends had got it into their head years ago that she and Joshua would make a good pair. They got along on most things and when they didn’t they bickered like an old married couple. Their friends had tried numerous times over the years to set them up, but it hadn’t gone anywhere and it probably wouldn’t.

“When are you going to get back out there? It’s been years since you’ve been on a date that you weren’t forced to go on or that wasn’t with me. Or both,” Joshua asked.

“Joshua, you know I’m too busy. I’m not really interested in adding anything to my plate.”

Joshua rolls his eyes because he’s heard that excuse before. He’s about to snap back when both of their pagers go off. Abandoning their lunches, they hustle out of the break room.

The charge nurse met them in the hallway. “What is it?” Joshua asked calmly, though they’re both tense and waiting.

“Motorcycle accident. No helmet apparently. Paramedics suspect internal bleeding. ETA about two minutes,” the nurse says quickly. She’s experienced and Y/N can tell. You don’t react this nonchalantly if you haven’t seen this sort of thing everyday for years.

“Has anyone called Dr. Hwang yet?” Y/N asked. As a resident, she was limited in what she could do without him present, and he was on call tonight while she was here.

“Yep. He’s on his way but he said you can assist Dr. Hong until he gets here,” the nurse said.

The doors to the ER fly open and paramedics are rushing a gurney in. Things move fast from that point. There’s some blood, and the paramedics are talking about rapid heart rate and low blood pressure. Y/N follows Joshua into the OR immediately because it’s looking like that’s where they’ll need to be shortly anyway and there’s more room and equipment to handle the complications that may come up until then.

“Do we have an ID yet?” One of the nurses asks.

“A Yoon Jeonghan, according to the ID in his pocket,” one of the paramedics answers.

Joshua and Y/N both freeze. Y/N is staring at the patient now. How could she not recognize her childhood best friend through a little blood? “Y/N,” Joshua snaps. “Lock in and think about this later. I need your help.”

Y/N follows every instruction that Joshua gives her including starting CPR at one point. Her hands ache by the time a heartbeat comes back and she doesn’t have time to think about any of it right now. She’s relieved that Joshua is so cool under pressure because she’s doing everything she can to quell a panic attack that’s crawling up her throat.

“Internal bleeding is a definite,” Joshua says when the heart rate is somewhat steady again. Y/N looks at him blankly. “The bleeding around the eyes, nose, and ears. Skin is clammy. Abdomen is swelling. I think you and Hwang are going to have to go in and check it out.” Now Joshua has turned to a nurse to document his findings. “Internal bleeding likely. Looks like a broken wrist. Bad case of road rash. Concussion and whiplash are likely. After surgery, I want a fully body X-ray and MRI to make sure there’s nothing we’re missing.”

Y/N finds herself speaking before she can help it. “No contrast dye. He has an allergy.”

“Good to know,” Joshua said, gesturing to the nurse to write it down.

Dr. Hwang arrives and Y/N thinks her heart might beat out of her chest as she scrubs in. She’d like to think she’s usually cool under pressure, but this isn’t just anyone on the table tonight. Dr. Hwang is all business, talking fast as he gets started right away. They’re performing a thoracotomy, which is a fancy way of saying they need to check for internal bleeding around the lungs or heart, usually caused by broken ribs. And Jeonghan certainly has a few.

Dr. Hwang makes the first cut and Y/N has to suck back tears. She’s on autopilot as Dr. Hwang lets her take over after he finds the source of the bleeding. She carefully closes the source, praying she’s doing it right because her hands want to shake so badly. Somewhere in the back of her mind, logic tells her that Dr. Hwang wouldn’t wait a single second to correct her if she was doing something wrong. He must assume it’s nerves and he’s not totally wrong.

Then she’s stitching Jeonghan’s chest up and moving on to set his broken wrist while a couple nurses treat the road rash and lacerations that scatter his body. He’s surprisingly stable and Dr. Hwang and Joshua both comment on it. His heart rate is still elevated but his blood pressure as come up a little.

When Y/N finally steps out of the OR, she’s in a daze. She barely hears Dr. Hwang congratulate her as he passes by, patting her on the back. Not the way she expected to spend her night. She never thought she’d be saving her childhood best friend’s life.

Jeonghan wakes up to sunlight and it confuses him. Last he was aware, it was the middle of the night. What confuses him more is the way his body aches before he even moves. He can’t help but groan at the intensity of it. His sight is blurry, but he can make out an unfamiliar white tiled ceiling. His whole body screams as he lifts his head to look around. A hospital room?

He needs an explanation fast because he’s starting to panic. He hates hospitals. He presses the call button laying next to him half a dozen times and it feels like it takes an eternity for someone to come in. It’s a smiling nurse in blue scrubs. “Good to see you’re awake, Mr. Yoon.”

Normally, he’d try to be friendly, but he wants out of here pronto. “What happened? Why am I here and when can I go home?”

His throat is bone dry when he talks and she must be able to tell because she’s quickly holding a cup of water with a straw to his mouth. “You were in a motorcycle accident last night. I’m not sure how long you’ll be here for, but the doctors and surgeons were optimistic. Your surgery went surprisingly well given your injuries.”

He doesn’t feel like it went surprisingly well. He feels like he’s been run over by a truck, which… okay, not far from the truth, from the sounds of it. “When can I see a doctor? I’d like to leave today.”

The nurse looks sympathetic but shakes her head firmly. “I’m sorry, Mr. Yoon. That’s probably unlikely. But I’ll let your doctors know you’re up and ready to chat. How would you rate your pain from 1-10?”

He wants to say 12, but it’ll keep him here longer for them to poke and prod him, so he bites his tongue and says 6. The nurse pats his hand. “I’ll bring you some pain medication.” He must doze off again, because he wakes up to the nurse hooking up his IV. She’s on her way out when she passes by someone else and that someone surprises him in the worst way.

“I think you owe me a drink, Yoon Jeonghan.”

Jeonghan wants to groan. “Joshua? Didn’t realize you worked here now.”

Joshua is smiling ear to ear, wearing a pristine white coat with a stethoscope around his neck and everything. He’s the textbook image of a young doctor just out of med school. “Been here for years in one way or another, but I’m officially an ER doctor as of earlier this year.” Jeonghan knew that, but he didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of admitting it. He hated Joshua and he was pretty sure Joshua knew it.

“So, what’s the damage?” Jeonghan says, trying to keep it light. The morphine is kicking in and Jeonghan can sort of think again, but they’ll have to talk fast before it doesn’t too much.

Joshua whistled, flipping a page on his clipboard. “Not as bad as it could be. The big one is broken ribs causing internal bleeding in a lung. Broken wrist, concussion, whiplash, a serious case of road rash, and some nice cuts and bruises.”

“Not as bad as it could be, huh?” Jeonghan says dryly. “When can I leave?”

“We want to keep you for a few days at least to monitor any potential complications. Surgeons’ orders. Internal bleeding is a fickle thing. Sometimes it’s obvious like it was last night, but sometimes it’s pretty sneaky and we don’t want to send you home until we’re sure there’s nothing else. Plus, your pain is going to be worse over the next few days and we can help manage it here.” Joshua’s tone leaves little room for argument so Jeonghan sighs.

“I guess I owe the surgeon a drink too, huh?”

Joshua laughs but there’s something weird about it that makes Jeonghan raise an eyebrow. “Yeah, you do. Y/N worked hard on that. I saw it myself.”

Jeonghan’s heart skips a beat and he hates that Joshua can hear it on the monitor. “Y/N? What are you talking about?”

Joshua raises an eyebrow in entertainment. “She’s a general surgery resident here and was working last night. She helped stitch you back up inside and out.” Jeonghan cursed, flopping back onto the pillow and he’d punch Joshua if he could reach him because he’s laughing now. “Even Dr. Hwang was impressed with her work, which is saying something. You’re lucky to call her your best friend. Anyway, I’ll come back around later to check on you, but call if you need anything.”

Jeonghan covered his face, groaning. Could she even be called a best friend if they hadn’t talked in years?

Y/N wanted to do anything and everything besides go upstairs and see Jeonghan in the ICU. She was still feeling pretty raw about last night but she couldn’t exactly tell Dr. Hwang that when he waved her towards the elevator. It’s standard procedure to brief the patient about their surgery when they’re awake. She knows this and has done it hundreds of times now, but she just wanted any excuse to not walk into room 205.

Jeonghan is propped up in bed as he watches TV. Supposedly he’s been awake since about 10am and he looks incredibly alert at 4pm. He also looks like he’s not totally surprised to see her. Y/N wonders if Joshua had mentioned her when he visited earlier.

“Mr. Yoon, I’m Dr. Hwang and this is my resident, Dr. Choi. How are you feeling?”

“Could be worse, probably,” Jeonghan says lightly and Y/N has to resist the urge to slap him. He’s always had a habit of avoiding taking things seriously, and laying in the hospital bed after emergency surgery last night classifies as a time to be serious.

Nevertheless, Dr. Hwang appreciates the humor and laughs. He always likes the patients that can crack a joke because most of the job is pretty doom and gloom. “That’s good to hear. Well, I know Dr. Hong has already stopped by to see you. But we did your surgery last night when you came in and we wanted to give you a rundown of what happened and what’s happening next. You had some pretty severe internal bleeding in one of your lungs so we had to perform a thoracotomy, which means we had to open up the chest cavity to find the source of the bleeding and stop it. It was touch and go for a while but I’m very impressed with how quickly you stabilized. That being said, we want to keep you for a bit for observation and do a few more tests to make sure there’s nothing sneaky happening before we send you home.”

Jeonghan sighed. “I’d love to get out of here but I guess I’ll take your word for it.”

Again, Dr. Hwang must find him funny. “I don’t have a pretty medical degree for nothing. But it was actually Dr. Choi that made the decision. She’s got the steadiest hands of any resident I’ve ever trained, but she’d like to check your stitches and rebandage you while she’s here.” Y/N is so surprised by both the compliment and unplanned bandage check that she doesn’t react much when Dr. Hwang dismisses himself as his pager goes off. That leaves Y/N alone with Jeonghan and her temper is flaring fast.

She approaches the bed, ignoring Jeonghan when he calls her name questioningly. The clipboard in Y/N’s hand slams down on the foot of the bed. “Yoon Jeonghan, what the fuck were you thinking? Speeding on a motorcycle with no helmet? Do you realize how bad that could have been?!”

Jeonghan’s eyes are wide. “Y/N, I can explain…” She knows she’s never yelled at him like this, but this moment feels appropriate because it’s the first time she’s ever had a good reason to.

“Can you explain how my heart nearly fell out of my ass when I realized it was you on the operating table? Or how I had to do CPR to keep you alive for nearly ten minutes? Do you have any idea how scared I was? And don’t even get me started on the surgery. I never ever wanted to see your lungs and heart.” Y/N is biting back tears because it would be entirely unprofessional to cry right now. But she’s known Jeonghan since she was in diapers and she’s probably going to have nightmares for a long time about last night.

“Y/N, I’m okay, both Joshua and Dr. Hwang said so…” Jeonghan tries to soothe but it doesn’t have much of an effect. Y/N is too worked up now.

“Do you realize you could have been decapitated? Or had a traumatic brain injury? Or a spinal cord injury? Do you realize how lucky you are to even be alive and alert right now? And I had the absolute displeasure of calling your mother at 5am to tell her where you were. That poor woman was hyperventilating.”

“You called my parents?” Jeonghan asked.

“Of course I did,” Y/N hissed. “I called Seungcheol and Sora too.”

“What?! Why would you call Sora? I don’t want to see her,” Jeonghan’s breathing catches in an unnatural way and it gives Y/N pause.

“Why don’t you want to see your girlfriend of 5 years?”

“She’s not my girlfriend anymore,” Jeonghan snapped but there’s something weak about it. “If she shows up, turn her away.”

“Okay…” Y/N drawls out. “We can come back to that. Now answer me, why the fuck were you riding without a helmet? Or speeding?”

“I was in a hurry,” Jeonghan mumbled.

Y/N runs a hand down her face. “That’s such a piss poor excuse, Jeonghan. I’m so mad at you I can’t even look at you.”

“Then don’t! You haven’t in four years,” Jeonghan snapped. The heart monitor was beeping faster.

“I haven’t? What about you? The phone works both ways,” Y/N bit. She was about to say something else when she notices beads of sweat beginning to drip down his forehead. He was starting to become pale. “Hold on, how are you feeling right now?” He scoffs angrily and Y/N is in front of him in seconds, reaching out to him. “Talk to me, Hannie.”

He doesn’t. Or he can’t. His breathing is catching. Y/N moves quickly, pulling up open his gown to see that the gauze is soaking through with bright red. She presses the call button and starts yelling.

This time, Dr. Hwang doesn’t let her help when they roll Jeonghan into the OR. She’s too busy standing outside of the elevator looking down at blood smeared hands to really fight him on it. Dr. Hwang had warned her early on that sometimes these kinds of moments would catch you off guard and it was best to hand it over to someone that could act quickly and with a clear mind.

She washes her hands a few times, scrubbing underneath her nails to try to get rid of the red. Then she sits in the break room. A couple hours later, that’s where Dr. Hwang finds her. His smile is surprisingly kind for being such a hard ass. “How are you doing, kid?”

“Okay. How’s Jeonghan?”

“I think he’ll be okay. We must have missed another spot in his lungs. It was microscopic really, so it was a slow bleeder. I did a few good once-overs while I was in there to make sure there weren’t others.” Y/N sighs in relief at his words. “You did a good job, kid. You noticed the signs and reacted quickly. Don’t take this too hard. I’ve been practicing for nearly 20 years and I missed that spot too.”

“I kind of wish you’d go back to being a hard ass. I’m not sure how to take your compliments,” Y/N chortles, but it’s weak. This is the man that has yelled in her face in the OR and snatched tools out of her hand when he’s not pleased with how she’s doing something. He’s called her all kinds of names and told her to not bother coming back tomorrow in the heat of the moment. The compliments warm her if only because they’re so rare from him.

“No, you deserve the compliment today. I’ll be a hard ass again tomorrow,” Dr. Hwang adopts a teasing tone. “Anyway, I came to find you because someone claiming to be your brother is here. Says he’s also here for Jeonghan… you should have told me you knew him.”

“Would it have mattered?” Y/N asks, though she already knows the answer. It makes you less objective if you know the patient personally.

“You know it would,” Dr. Hwang admonished, finally sitting down next to her. “How do you know him?”

Y/N bit her lip. “We grew up together. We were best friends for most of our lives until we drifted a few years ago. I didn’t even recognize him until the paramedics said his name. It felt like it was too late to back out then because Joshua needed the help.”

Dr. Hwang hums. “I get it. But say something next time. I wouldn’t have asked you to assist on the first surgery if I’d known that. Now go see your brother and then go home. You’ve been here too long.”

Y/N finds Seungcheol sitting in the ICU waiting room. He pops up out of his chair as soon as he spots her. “What the hell happened?”

Y/N feels so worn out by now so she sits down and he joins her again. “He was in a motorcycle accident. Speeding without a helmet.”

Seungcheol curses under his breath. He looks afraid, much like Y/N has been feeling for nearly 24 hours. “How is he?”

“The worst of his injuries was internal bleeding. We patched him up last night but it seems like we missed a spot because we had to roll him back into surgery earlier this afternoon. Sounds like he’ll be okay though.”

“We?” Seungcheol is wide eyed. “You helped with his surgeries?”

“The first one. Dr. Hwang made me sit out on the second one.”

“Jesus… Y/N, are you okay?”

That’s not a question you get asked here often. You’re expected to be poised and put together the whole time. Responding calmly and rationally is an absolute job requirement and you deal with everything else off the clock. So she blinks away tears because she doesn’t want to react this way in front of any of her colleagues who might pass by. “Yeah. He’s okay, so I’m okay. What took you so long to get here? I called earlier this morning.”

Seungcheol huffs. “New secretary. She didn’t tell me until about an hour ago that you’d called and left a message. I’ve been in meetings all day with my phone off so I missed your calls and texts there. Who else have you called?”

Y/N sighed. “I called his mother, but his parents are in Japan so they haven’t been able to make it back yet. And I called Sora… but Jeonghan said he didn’t want to see her. Any idea what that’s about?”

Seungcheol doesn’t look surprised. “Oh yeah. They broke up last week. Very messy, especially since they lived together.”

“Oh.”

Now Seungcheol looked surprised. “He didn’t tell you that when you spoke to him? Or has he been asleep most of the day?”

“No, he was alert most of the day, but… we argued, so he wasn’t very forthcoming with information.”

“Argued?” Seungcheol breathed, concern pinching his face. “That doesn’t happen often.”

He’s right. It’s never happened. In 30 years of knowing each other, today was the first fight they’d ever had. There had been a time or two that things were awkward and they had to talk it out, but they’d never argued. The memory of it makes Y/N’s chest ache.

“How long have you been here?” Seungcheol asked.

“I don’t know, since midnight last night?”

Seungcheol stood. “Are you free to go? I’ll drive you home and come back.”

There’s something firm in his eyes and Y/N knows she can’t argue. If she does, Dr. Hwang or Joshua will order her an uber and send her home anyway. So she goes to the locker room and gathers her things. Seungcheol lets her enjoy the silence during the car ride and promises to call her if anything comes up with Jeonghan.

She falls asleep almost as soon as her head hits the pillow but she dreams of seeing blood on her hands. It’s one of those dreams where you wake up and try to clear your mind, but when you go back to sleep you’re right where you left off again. Eventually, she gives up and watches TV.

Jeonghan is pissed. Has been since he woke up in the hospital bed again. He’s hooked up to a few more machines now and the nurses are still refusing to let him leave. They’re also refusing to give him anything to eat quite yet and he’s the hungriest he thinks he’s ever been.

All of that would piss him off, but Seungcheol’s lecture starts as soon as he opens his eyes and he wants to go back to sleep immediately. But his morphine has worn off and the nurse hasn’t come back yet with more.

“I cannot believe you would do something like that. That’s so dangerous, man. What were you thinking?”

Jeonghan’s eyes narrow at his friend. “I was thinking,” he snaps, “that I was in a hurry and I forgot my helmet.”

“That’s stupid, Han,” Seungcheol admonishes and he knows he’s right. But Jeonghan is stubborn and pissed to still be here. “You call someone else for a ride, or at the very least go the speed limit. You should have seen Y/N’s face. This wrecked her.”

Jeonghan scoffs. “Sure it did. Haven’t seen her or spoken to her in 4 years and the first thing she does is hang it over my head that she saved my life.”

“And maybe she should. Imagine if roles were reversed and she needed your help after she did something reckless,” Seungcheol seethes. Jeonghan doesn’t have much to say to that because thinking about roles being reversed makes his chest hurt more than it already does. Seungcheol sighs. “Okay, lecture over for now. How are you feeling?”

“Not great. But I’d like to get out of here ASAP. You know I hate hospitals.”

“Well it sounds like you better get comfy for a few more days. I heard they have to keep you for observation, especially after they found the second spot of internal bleeding,” Seungcheol smarts.

“Wish I could eat something. I’m starving,” Jeonghan all but whined.

“Yeah, but you won’t be able to keep anything down if you’re taking pain medication. Better to wait.”

Jeonghan hated how logical that was because his stomach growled for the third time since he’d woken up. He stared back at the TV which is playing some kind of sitcom reruns. “So you spoke to Y/N?” He asks hesitantly.

“Yeah, I drove her home earlier. She’d been here since midnight last night, approaching 24 hours,” Seungcheol says and Jeonghan’s chest twinges again. He knows she works some weird, long hours due to the nature of her job, but he hates that he was the cause of it this time. “Han, she said that you guys fought. Has that ever happened before?”

Jeonghan frowns. Now that she’s not here, he feels guilty for how he snapped at her. She was upset because she was concerned, and he threw the distance between them in her face. And then there was the panic on her face that he could sort of make out as his vision faded. “No, never. It sucked.”

“Did you say something you regret?” Seungcheol asked carefully. He knew they weren’t close anymore like they used to be but he wasn’t sure how to navigate any animosity between the two people closest to him. It was totally unheard of.

“Yeah,” Jeonghan mumbles. “She said she was so mad she couldn’t look at me, and I told her not to because she hadn’t in 4 years anyway. She said that the phone worked both ways or something, but I don’t remember much after that.”

“I don’t get you two,” Seungcheol said simply. Jeonghan gives him a confused look and Seungcheol continues. “You guys have been inseparable since we were babies. I always kind of felt like the third wheel with you guys because you were always so close. And then we graduate and Y/N goes to med school and neither of you can make time for each other anymore after being glued to each others’ side for 25 years? I don’t get it.”

“What’s there to get? The phone calls and texts slowed and then stopped completely. We both bailed on too many plans,” Jeonghan says sadly. He feels like he’s getting a bit of a headache. Joshua had said that might happen because of his concussion. “I don’t know what else there is to say.”

“Well, you guys are going to have to get over it soon.”

Jeonghan gave him a look. “Why? Because she saved my life, you think we’ll start using the phone again?”

Seungcheol looks a little bit like the Cheshire Cat. “No. Because we have a wedding to plan.”

Jeonghan gasped even though it hurt a ton. “She said yes?”

Seungcheol laughs. “Yeah, a few days ago. Byeol wanted to do a formal announcement so I couldn’t say anything quite yet. But it goes without saying you’ll be the best man and Y/N will be the maid of honor. So you guys better figure this out.”

Jeonghan can’t think about spending that much time with Y/N because he has no idea how he feels about it right now. Instead he smiles. “I’m happy for you, Cheol. I told you she’d say yes.”

“You were right. I’m sorry I doubted you,” Seungcheol laughed again. After a beat of silence, Seungcheol pursed his lips awkwardly. “You and Y/N will work it out, won’t you? I’m not trying to guilt trip you, especially since you’re laying in a hospital bed right now. But it would mean a lot to both Byeol and I if you two were involved and could be civil.”

“Yeah, Cheol. Of course, we will.” Jeonghan hopes it’s not an empty promise.

A couple days later, Y/N finds herself outside of room 205 again. She hesitates to knock. Dr. Hwang and Joshua both say that Jeonghan is stable but she feels guilty for their argument and how it might have added stress for him. She knows the internal bleeding would do what internal bleeding does, but she feels like she made it all worse by blowing up at him. But she couldn’t tell Dr. Hwang that when he asked her to cover some of his rounds.

After a deep breath, she knocks and enters. A nurse is helping Jeonghan get back in bed after what looks like a sponge bath. “Dr. Choi, I was just about to go looking for someone. He has some symptoms that he’d like to discuss,” the nurse says before excusing herself.

“Okay, what’s going on?” Y/N asks professionally. After the emotional conversation a couple days ago, she’s determined to maintain composure.

Jeonghan frowns. “I’ve had a headache for days now, nausea, and I’m disoriented a lot of the time even when I’m laying down.”

Y/N nods. “Could be the concussion or pain medication, or a little of both. On a scale of one to ten, how would you rank each symptom?”

“Headache is a 7, nausea is a 9, and disorientation is a 5.”

Y/N wants to laugh. He’s answering these questions like a pro, and she wonders if it’s because she’s demanded straight forward answers like this from him his whole life, particularly when he’s been sick. A lot of patients want to tell a story before they ever give a number. “What’s your pain level? We might try a different pain medication.”

He hums and she can tell he wants to shrug but he resists because it will probably hurt. “A 4?”

“That’s an improvement. Let’s try some NSAIDs today instead of morphine and see how you do. Can I take a look at a few things?” She asks, stepping up to the bedside. Jeonghan lets her shine a light in his eyes and put a stethoscope to his back to listen to his lungs. He doesn’t have a fever when she pushes his hair back and runs a thermometer across his forehead. She looks at the monitor by the bedside and is pleased with the heart rate and blood pressure. “Mind if I check the bandage?”

Jeonghan lays back and lets her pull his gown apart at the top. The bandage is pristine and white and she can’t help but sigh in relief. The stitches look okay too when she peels the bandage away. “Looks good.”

“Why do you look so nervous?” Jeonghan teased. The lightheartedness of it makes her lips turn up at the corners as she tapes the bandage down again and closes his gown.

“You almost died on me again the other day, so forgive me if I’m relieved to not see any blood today.” She does her best to match his lighthearted tone, but she can still picture what he looked like that night he was rolled in on a gurney and what he looked like the other day when blood was soaking the bandage.

Jeonghan’s smile dips a little. “Yeah, sorry about that. I’ll try not to do it again.” Y/N has to laugh a bit at this.

“You better try not to. Good news is, if your test results keep coming back the way they are right now, you should be able to go home in two or three days. We think you’re probably out of the woods as far as internal bleeding goes.”

“And when can I eat?”

The question makes her laugh again. “I’ll talk to Joshua and Dr. Hwang and see if we can get you something. It’ll be bland but it’ll be better than nothing, I promise.”

“I don’t even care anymore if it’s bland. I’ve been starving for days.”

They’re laughing when the door flies open and a woman runs in. “Jeonghan, I came as soon as I could! Are you okay?”

Jeonghan’s not laughing now. His eyes level with Y/N’s and they’re hard. “I thought I told you not to let her in.” Sora has pushed Y/N out of the way now, leaning over the edge of the bed, reaching for Jeonghan. Despite the pain he’s probably in, Jeonghan is leaning away from her, wincing as he pushes her back. “Stop it, Sora. Why are you here?”

Sora sputters. “Because you were in an accident. Someone called me.”

“Days ago. I’ve been here for days, Sora. Besides, I don’t want you here. Leave.”

“Oh come on, Hannie,” Sora scoffs. “It was just a stupid fight. We can work it out like we always do.”

“No thanks. I want you out of my apartment by the time they release me, so you should go take care of that,” Jeonghan insists. Then he turns to Y/N. “Can you get her out of here? And make sure she can’t come back in?”

Sora’s just now realized who’s in the room with them and her face drops into a sneer immediately. “Oh, absolutely not. Call another doctor right now.”

Y/N isn’t surprised by the animosity. Sora has never really been her biggest fan, not even back in college when Y/N was her big in the sorority. Y/N tries to stay even and professional. “No can do. I’m part of his care team. Now he’s asked you to leave, so I’ll walk you out.”

It takes a few glances between Y/N and Jeonghan before Sora seems to realize she’s not winning today. She scoffs and stomps out of the room and Y/N follows, thinking she kind of resembles a child throwing a temper tantrum. Y/N closes the door to Jeonghan’s room behind them and Sora wheels in her immediately. “How dare you? You try to ruin everything, don’t you?”

Y/N struggles to stay relaxed but her arms cross over her chest uncomfortably. “By ruining everything, do you mean stitching him back up and saving his life?”

“I was so glad to be rid of you, but here you are worming your way in again,” Sora yells. “You haven’t changed at all since college. Still taking whoever you want, including my boyfriend.”

“Sora, I don’t know what’s happened between you two, but I know I had nothing to do with it because I haven’t spoken to him in years until a few days ago when he was brought in. Whatever happened between you two is none of my business. But you showing up when he doesn’t want you here is.”

Y/N sees a security guard barreling down the hall after hearing Sora’s yelling. Fits of anger aren’t unusual here, but security responds quickly to it. He pulls Sora away by the waist just as she starts to lunge. She watches as the security guard gets Sora into the elevator, before going over to the phone at the nurses station. She’s dialing the front desk when Joshua approaches looking concerned.

“Are you okay? What was that about?”

“I’m fine, angry ex-girlfriend apparently,” Y/N mumbles. She ignores Joshua’s question of ‘ex?’ Because the receptionist downstairs has answered. “This is Dr. Choi. Please do not allow Lee Sora back in to see Yoon Jeonghan, room 205. He says she’s not welcome.” Once she gets confirmation, she hangs up.

Joshua is still looking very concerned. “Since when are they exes? They’ve been together for years.”

Y/N shrugged. “I wish I could tell you. Anyway, I think we should switch Jeonghan to NSAIDs and let him eat something.”

Slowly, Joshua nods. “Okay, I believe you. I’ll get it started, but we’re talking about this later. You’re having quite the week.”

Y/N looks at the clock as Joshua walks away. 10 more hours of her shift to go.

Y/N and Seungcheol sit at Jeonghan’s dining room table. This is her first time being here in his apartment. Seungcheol says he’s lived here for a few years now, but they didn’t exactly do a tour of the place today. Jeonghan came home from the hospital and it was a chore to get him settled in. Jeonghan’s parents had visited briefly the other day but Y/N hadn’t been surprised to find out that they didn’t stick around. He’d never been terribly close with them, particularly after he went to college. Once his parents saw that he was very much alive and heard that Y/N and Seungcheol were going to be around, they said they had some things to attend to back home.

So Seungcheol had taken the day off to bring him home and get him settled and he’d asked for Y/N’s assistance since she had the day off as well. It felt weird in so many ways. The first was to have all three of them back together. In some ways, they went back to how they’d always been, but there was a tinge of awkwardness when Y/N didn’t know what was happening lately with Jeonghan or vice versa. Seungcheol had done is best to smooth it over.

And it felt really awkward to sit in Jeonghan’s sleek, expensive apartment that she’d never been to. She’d noticed that Sora had indeed moved out. There were big gaps throughout the apartment that implied she’d emptied everything that was hers, and maybe even some that weren’t too. The missing gaming console was the least of Jeonghan’s worries right now though.

Seungcheol and Y/N are eating together and catching up. Y/N might talk to her brother regularly, but they don’t get to see much of each other. She’s still surprised when Seungcheol drops a bomb.

“What do you mean, you’re getting married?!” It comes out as more of a screech and Seungcheol shushes her. Jeonghan had gone right to bed when they got here and it seemed he needed the rest.

“I mean, I proposed last week and Byeol said yes,” Seungcheol looked giddy.

“Last week?!” Y/N whisper yells. “Where was my phone call? Do you have a picture of the ring?” He seemed to anticipate that question, because he’s shoving his phone across the table. Y/N gasps. “How did you pick out something like this? Your taste is abysmal sometimes but this is so cool.”

Seungcheol scoffs, snatching back his phone. “My taste is not abysmal. Besides, Jeonghan helped. He’s got an eye for that sort of thing apparently.”

Y/N pouted. “Seriously, Cheol, why didn’t you tell me? I thought we agreed on no secrets.”

Seungcheol gives her a sympathetic look. “It’s not like that, I promise. Byeol just wanted to prepare a formal announcement. Given what’s been going on with you and Jeonghan lately, she let me tell you guys now.”

“But I didn’t even know you’d been ring shopping,” Y/N whined. “I would have loved to help.”

Seungcheol hesitates for a beat. “Jeonghan had already offered and I didn’t know if you two would want to run into each other… not that it matters considering what I’m about to ask.” Y/N raises an eyebrow expectantly. “Naturally, we want you and Jeonghan to be maid of honor and best man. I know that might be a lot to ask, given how you guys have been lately.”

“Of course, I’d love to be maid of honor!” Y/N cries out, hand on her chest.

“Okay, no tears please,” Seungcheol tries to soothe. “But are you sure? That means spending a lot of time with Jeonghan. I’m not sure where you guys stand right now…”

Y/N huffs. “I don’t know either, but I feel pretty confident that neither of us would jeopardize something as important as this. We both love you and Byeol too much to do that.”

“Good,” Seungcheol looks kind of smug. “That’s what Jeonghan said too.”

Y/N suppresses her surprise. “Oh, you’ve already talked to him about it?”

“Yeah, at the hospital. Look, I love you both and I understand things can change over time, but I wish it could be like it was before. Maybe this is a good opportunity to fix things.” Seungcheol sounds like he’s kind of pleading and it makes Y/N frown.

“I’m not even sure what’s broken. But, Cheol, you don’t have to worry about it. We’ll make sure to get along,” Y/N promises.

“Okay. And you’re sure you don’t mind helping him out over the next few weeks?”

Y/N shrugged. “Of course not. I’m used to the weird hours anyway. Just come relieve me so I can get some sleep every now and then.”

That was another development. Seungcheol wouldn’t be able to avoid work completely and while he could do quite a bit remotely, there were some things he couldn’t avoid the office for. Y/N had some vacation time to use, so they’d decided to split staying with Jeonghan until he was a little more independent.

“If you insist. I should get back to Byeol, it’s late. But call me if you need anything, okay? I’ll be here right away.”

With that, Seungcheol leaves. It shouldn’t be awkward to move around Jeonghan’s apartment but it is. She puts the leftovers in the fridge and throws away the trash. Then she decides to peek in on Jeonghan. She finds him awake in bed, watching TV.

“Doing okay?”

Jeonghan shrugs and winces. “Fine, I guess. At least I’m in my own bed now.” He eyes her carefully where she’s standing in the middle of the room, arms crossed over her stomach. She’s never looked so awkward around him. “You know, I’m sure I can’t talk you into leaving to go home and rest, but the least you could do is relax a little if you’re going to stay.”

“I’m not good at that, Hannie,” Y/N laughs. “Besides, I don’t want to impose. I’m sure you need your space. I’ll just go out to the living room.”

“When have I ever needed space from you?” Jeonghan chuckles, patting the other side of the bed. That’s the type of thing he’d say 4 years ago. “Come on.”

Y/N is silent as she slowly walks around the bed and sits down against the headboard. Finally, she says, “Kind of funny that you’d say that, considering that it’s been a while.”

She hopes he doesn’t take offense to it and is relieved when he just frowns, looking back at the TV. “Yeah, kind of weird how easily it came out, isn’t it?”

Y/N watches the TV without really seeing it. “What happened to us?”

Jeonghan hums. “I can’t really tell you. It’s confusing to me too… and then there was a point that even if I did want to reach out, I didn’t know how to. Or didn’t know if you’d want me to.”

Y/N glances at him. He’s being serious, a rarity in their years of friendship. “Of course, I’d want you to. But I didn’t know how to either, so I get it. I thought about you a lot.”

Jeonghan eyes widen with surprise. “Did you?”

“Yeah. I asked Cheol about you all the time,” Y/N answers simply. He doesn’t need to know that it drove Seungcheol crazy, sometimes to the point of just insisting she hang up the phone and dial Jeonghan herself.

“Same,” he says, and her head snaps back to him. “I’m really proud of you, you know? I was even before this week, but it’s nice to see you doing something you always wanted to do. Plus, Dr. Hwang and Joshua were very complimentary.”

Y/N’s eyes water for reasons she can’t really identify right now. “Thanks, Hannie. That means a lot. For the record, I’m proud of you too. You’ve really climbed the corporate ladder, huh?”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes. “You hate it, if only because of where I work.” He’s right, of course. Jeonghan got a job at her father’s company shortly after graduation and Jeonghan knows all about how she feels about her father.

“I don’t hate it if you’re happy. There are just a lot of better people you can work for.” Y/N bites her lip. “Are you happy though? I mean, not just with work, but in general.”

He doesn’t answer for a long time. Finally he looks at her and she knows he’s about to be honest. Something about his eyes is completely unguarded. “Not really, no. I don’t think I have been for a while now.” Y/N doesn’t speak right away and Jeonghan continues. “The job is fine but it’s nothing I’m passionate about, and I’m not sure what I’d replace it with. I don’t see my family as often as I should, but they don’t ask me to visit either. And then Sora… well, that was a train wreck in slow motion.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Y/N offers openly.

Jeonghan laughs and there’s a bit do ingenuity to it. “Wasn’t that what I was just doing?”

Y/N sighs in exasperation. “You know what I mean. We were best friends once… I don’t know what you’d consider us now, but I’d still listen to you all the same.”

Jeonghan looks pensive. Instead of acknowledging the trauma dump that he just did, he bites his lip. “I’d still consider you my best friend, even if we haven’t been very good about it lately. Don’t tell Cheol he’s being replaced.” Y/N’s eyes are watering again despite his joke and Jeonghan shakes his head when she blinks the tears back. “Stop doing that. It’s okay to be upset.”

“I thought I was comforting you, not the other way around,” Y/N laughed but both her voice and her vision are getting watery. She kind of thinks maybe his eyes are too but she can’t be sure with how her vision clouds. She didn’t expect this conversation to flow the way it has. She expected him to turn her away and go back to being strangers as soon as he feels better.

“Fine, you can comfort me. Lay down.”

She follows his instructions, sliding down to lay her head on the pillow. He grabs her wrist with his uninjured hand, pulling her arm to lay flat. And then he’s laying into her side. They used to cuddle like this as kids, and even as teenagers. His head buries in her neck and she can feel his sigh. Mindlessly, her hand comes up to his hair, softly combing through it. Another sigh and then he’s snoring. Y/N wants to laugh because that was so fast and she’s stuck here now, but she’s the most comfortable she’s been in a long time and she finds herself dozing off too.

The next few days pass quietly at Jeonghan’s apartment. Y/N has made herself comfortable. Jeonghan is improving by the day, but today is a big one. He’s out of bed and on the couch, albeit laying down. And Y/N is preparing some soup for him to eat. He was relieved that it wasn’t anymore plain oatmeal or plain broth and finally something with a little flavor and substance to it.

Y/N helps him to the dining table and sits the bowl of soup in front of him. He’d laughed at her when she joked that she’d spoon feed him, but he had ultimately refused insisting he’s not dying anymore. Y/N is sitting next to him, watching TV when he speaks up. “I’m sorry you have to take care of me.”

She gives him a quizzical look. “What do you mean?” She laughs. “I kind of do that for a living.”

“I know,” Jeonghan says. “That’s why I’m sorry. You aren’t getting to enjoy any of your days off.”

Y/N frowns. “I don’t want to hear that, Hannie. You know I’d be here at a moment’s notice if you needed me.”

“I know,” he answers in a small voice. “I just feel like I don’t deserve it after the way I let things go a few years ago. And then how I yelled at you the other day at the hospital, despite the fact that you’re part of the reason I’m still here at all.”

Y/N turns to him and slides the empty bowl away. Then she’s gripping his good hand as she gives him a firm look. “Don’t you dare say that again. We let things go, not just you. You did nothing but take care of me and look out for me for nearly 25 years as I made a fool of myself. A few years of distance and a single argument don’t negate any of that. Think of this as me paying back an IOU.”

“This is a lot to ask for an IOU,” Jeonghan tries to laugh but it gets caught in his throat. “I mean, I can’t do anything for myself really.”

“And I’ll help you until you don’t need it anymore and you kick me out,” Y/N insists.

“Man, you’re still so stubborn. How has Joshua put up with you for this long?”

Y/N rolls her eyes in amusement. “He loves me, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Mhm. Very in love with you,” Jeonghan teases, but there’s a little tension settling in his shoulders. His fingers twitch around hers.

Y/N scoffs. “Not you too. Nothing like that’s happening.”

“Whatever you say, angel,” Jeonghan says easily and Y/N feels her face light up. She hasn’t heard that nickname in years and it warms her whole body. The response startles her once she realizes what it is and she pulls her hand away.

“Are you still hungry? There’s plenty left.”

Jeonghan nods and watches Y/N go back to the kitchen with the bowl. His eyes linger a while before he pulls them away. Things were the same in so many ways but so different in others.

Jeonghan wakes up sometime midday. He’s getting his days and nights mixed up and the only reason he’s getting out of bed slowly now is because he’s hungry again. It feels like he can’t eat enough. Y/N says that’s a good thing and that she would be more concerned if he didn’t have an appetite. He shuffles out to the living room to find Seungcheol on the couch with his laptop. While Y/N couldn’t exactly work from here, Seungcheol could and usually brought something with him to keep himself busy while Jeonghan slept. It kept him from using all of his leave time to help out.

Sitting on the couch next to Seungcheol, he asks, “Where’s Y/N?”

Seungcheol gave him a look that had him rolling his eyes. “Sorry to disappoint, but she had to go back to work today. She’ll be back later, much much later, so you’re stuck with me for a while.”

“Okay then. Like that’s a bad thing,” Jeonghan chuckled, leaning back and propping his feet up on the coffee tables. It feels nice to not have to be totally horizontal for a change.

Seungcheol’s doing that secretive smile again. “Yeah, you like her company better. You always have. It’s okay to admit it.” Seungcheol stands. “And you’re lucky she cooked before she left. You know I can’t do much there.”

Jeonghan is practically salivating when Seungcheol hands him bowl of simple stir fry. “Finally, some real food!”

“Yeah, she figured you’d be excited about that,” Seungcheol laughs, plopping back down. “So, how’s being nursed back to health by your ex best friend?”

Jeonghan raises an eyebrow. “Ex? I considered her my best friend the whole time. I just… wasn’t showing it very well.”

This seems to entertain Seungcheol. “So you guys have talked? Are things back to normal yet?”

Jeonghan plays with his food because despite his hunger, this topic makes his stomach roll a bit. “Yes and no?” Seungcheol gives him a puzzled look. “In a lot of ways, yes. The banter, the jokes, the taking care of each other. But something seems different and I don’t know what it is. Things seem… emotional now, if we acknowledge the distance for too long.”

Seungcheol hummed and shrugged. “I guess that makes sense. The situation that got you guys here isn’t exactly light either.” Jeonghan nods and tries to eat as silence falls over them. “Do you remember what we talked about our last semester of college?”

“You might need to be more specific,” Jeonghan chortled. “We’ve known each other a long time and talk about a lot of things.”

“After we fought - well, after I hit you, I guess.”

Jeonghan can’t quite look him in the eyes. He’s referring to one of the only tough times in their friendship. A baseless rumor had gotten started on campus that Y/N and Jeonghan had been sleeping together. Seungcheol had been furious and it resulted in a bloody nose and the silent treatment for Jeonghan. When they finally made up, they had to have a nerve wrecking conversation. Cheol had been his friend for a long time but even that was too open for Jeonghan looking back on it. Jeonghan tries to be casual. “What about it?”

“How do you feel now?”

Jeonghan glances to his friend, wondering if he really wants a genuine answer. “Are you going to hit me again?”

Seungcheol looks entertained by the question even though Jeonghan’s very serious. “No, you look like you can’t fight back much right now, so I’ll let it slide.”

Jeonghan swallows. “I feel the same, but it’s ten times more complicated than it was before.” Seungcheol nods because he gets it. He doesn’t need a rundown of why it’s complicated.

“Have you guys talked about working together for the wedding?” Seungcheol asks and Jeonghan nods. “How’d that go?”

“There won’t be any problems. We promise that.”

“Good. But for the record, I feel the same about that topic from senior year too. Do what you will with that.”

Jeonghan doesn’t know what to say so he takes a huge bite of stir fry and lets Seungcheol get back to work.

Joshua looks entertained as he watches Y/N unpack and repack her suitcase with clean clothes that he washed today. “So how’s it going?” He sings and doesn’t stop smiling when she gives him a look.

“Fine. Thanks for doing my laundry, it helps a lot,” Y/N said genuinely. She would have been another couple hours if she’d had to do it herself.

Joshua shrugs from her bedroom door. “You know I don’t care to do it. But really how are things going?”

“He’s better. Moving around by himself and eating well. His injuries aren’t bothering him as much anymore,” Y/N lists off like they’re at work.

“I know all of that, Y/N. I got Dr. Hwang’s report from his follow up today,” Joshua still looks entertained. “I meant, how’s taking care of your ex best friend going?”

“The same as what it would be like to take care of my best friend, because that’s what he is.”

Joshua cries out, throwing himself on the bed dramatically. “I’m being replaced!”

Y/N has to laugh. “I kind of miss when you played things cooler than this. Besides, if anything, you replaced him first. He’s got at least 22 years of seniority on you,” she teased.

“It’s fine, I get it,” he gave a dramatic, fake sniffle, before it cleared to something serious. “Really, though. Is it awkward? Is it good? I’m dying to know.”

Y/N struggles to find the right words to describe it. “It feels the same as it always did most of the time. But then there have been 4 years of distance and sometimes I feel like we’re strangers. We both did quite a bit of growing up during that time.”

“And?” Joshua presses. She hates how he knew there was more.

“I don’t know, Joshua. It feels different. I missed him so much and now that he’s right there I don’t know how to act sometimes. I never worried about that before with him,” Y/N mumbles.

When she looks up, Joshua is frowning. “You’re insecure about it.” She gives him a perplexed look and he waves it off. “I know because I’ve seen that look on your face before. You gave me that look all the time when you weren’t sure how I felt or how to act.”

Y/N frowns back at him. They don’t talk often outside of the occasional inside joke about how they met. They used to date, or ‘date’, Y/N guesses. Single quotes only because it was fake for Joshua the whole time. A mean trick to get back at her for her reckless dating habits. Looking back on it now, the Joshua that apologized and became her roommate and friend is a totally different Joshua than the one she met his first semester here. Y/N tries not to think about it because it still stings sometimes. They’ve all apologized dozens of times over the years and have been really great friends to her ever since so she should really stop feeling that little pang in her chest when it comes up.

“Of course, I’m insecure about it. I don’t understand why the distance happened in the first place and being around him reminds me that I could have been there the whole time.”

“Have you asked why it happened?” Joshua asked carefully. He remembered watching her hover over Jeonghan’s contact so many times before locking her phone entirely. He’d been curious about why she didn’t just call him, but she’d never given much of an answer.

Y/N shrugs. “Neither of us can really explain why. But then it reached a point where we didn’t know how to reach out or if the other even wanted that.”

Joshua purses his lips and says, “Maybe you just need a heart to heart. Even if it’s hard to talk about, you might feel better about getting all of it on the table.”

Y/N doubts it but she doesn’t argue with Joshua. But she’s laying on Jeonghan’s couch later that night and he’s curled into her again. He’s not asleep despite it being the middle of the night. Instead, he’s got his head on her chest while he watches TV and she plays with his hair. The whole thing feels intimate like their friendship always did, especially before she started med school and he started dating Sora. She can’t help but giggle. “What?” He mumbles.

“I’m still not used to your hair being so short.” Jeonghan had always had long hair, often flat out refusing a haircut, and at some point during their time apart he’d chopped most of it off.

“What, you don’t like it?” To anyone else, it would sound teasing, but Y/N can hear that it’s a serious question with just a hint of insecurity to it.

“Oh no, I do. I think you look great with short hair, but I think maybe that’s why I almost didn’t recognize you that night in the ER. It’s still weird to see and feel,” Y/N insists.

Jeonghan is laughing, now fully teasing. “You think I’m handsome. It’s okay, you can say it.”

“Don’t make me push you off. It’ll hurt,” Y/N threatens but it’s totally empty. Nevertheless, his grip tightens around her waist because he knows she would have done it any other time without hesitation, just as he would have done.

They fall quiet - so long that when Y/N speaks again, she can tell she’s woken a dozing Jeonghan. “Hannie?” He grumbles. “Can I ask what happened with you and Sora?”

“Not much to say,” he says shortly. “It wasn’t going to work out.”

“But, it worked out for so long. Do you just wake up and decide one day that it won’t work anymore?”

She hopes Jeonghan knows it’s a genuine question. Y/N has never had anything long term, so everything about it perplexes her. It’s not six months, but rather five years. He sighs into her chest and she can feel the heat of it through her shirt. “Not just one day, no. It was kind of like watching it fall apart day by day. Each fight got harder and harder to recover from. What was overnight was the realization that I didn’t want to try to fix it anymore.”

“Do you love her? Or did you?” Y/N really wants Jeonghan to be honest.

After a few long beats of silence, he says, “At some point, I’m sure I did. It wouldn’t have gone on as long as it did if there wasn’t some kind of emotion behind it. But now I don’t think I do, which is why it won’t work anymore, amongst other reasons.”

“What are those other reasons?” She asks gently.

“So nosy,” Jeonghan teases, but she knows he’s hoping she’ll let it go. But she stays silent, hand still running through his hair, so he purses his lips. “I didn’t see a future with her. She kept hinting that she wanted to get married. She even thought I was ring shopping for her when she caught Seungcheol and I looking for something for Byeol. When that ring never showed up in front of her, she confronted me about it. She gave me an ultimatum and I decided to walk away.”

Y/N is frowning. “I thought you always wanted to get married.” She remembers the silly fake weddings as little kids when they’d yell in disgust at their parents’ joking suggestion to kiss the bride. Those little fake ceremonies had always been his idea and Y/N liked dressing up for them.

“I did. I do. But it didn’t feel right so I left.”

“Then maybe you made the right decision,” Y/N says with some finality. She doesn’t need to be a fly on the wall for that argument to know that ‘it didn’t feel right’ is a good enough reason. God only knows that she’d used that reason over and over again in a past life of serial dating. She had a lot of trust in intuition, even if she couldn’t always put a name to what she was feeling. “She really seems to hate me, huh?”

Y/N is trying to make a joke, but Jeonghan’s chuckle is pretty dim. “Yeah, that was a sore spot.”

Her fingers freeze in his hair. “How do you mean?”

Jeonghan hesitates. “I hate myself for this, but please don’t hate me too, okay?” Y/N nods and Jeonghan continues, fingers playing with the ends of her shirt. “Sora didn’t like me hanging out with you or talking to you. There were sometimes early on that I’d listen to her just to avoid a fight. One too many times of that contributed to us losing contact. And then when Sora and I fought about anything after you and I lost contact, she always made me feel guilty for thinking about reaching out to you for support.”

Y/N’s stomach drops. “I’m… sorry, Hannie. I didn’t realize I’d cause so much trouble in your relationship.”

“You’re too kind, Y/N. You never cared much for Sora. I knew that before we even started dating. You don’t owe an apology,” Jeonghan is back to teasing, trying to lighten the mood up, but Y/N is feeling crushed that she had anything at all to do with the end of Jeonghan and Sora’s relationship.

“Maybe not, but I cared for you and you liked her. I still care for you and if Sora was what you wanted I would understand the distance, or at least the boundaries. That would be totally understandable. I want you to be happy above everything else.”

Jeonghan is laughing now but it’s a bit humorless. “That’s just it, I’m not happy and I haven’t been for a while now. I lost my best friend and it wasn’t even for a relationship that made me happy 90% of the time.”

“You didn’t lose me. I’m right here,” Y/N insists immediately. “Even if I wasn’t brave enough to pick up the phone, if you would have been I would have answered right away. Besides you deserve to be happy. If Sora wasn’t it, then it’s time to move on.”

Jeonghan hums like he’s deep in thought. “Are you happy, Y/N?”

“What do you mean? Of course, I am. I’m just worn out with residency,” Y/N laughs.

“I don’t know,” Jeonghan drawls, voice tinged with concern. “You used to have this sparkle about you. It’s one of the things I admired most about you back then. You had so much enthusiasm for everything, even stupid things like my math homework. How long have you been missing that?”

Y/N pouted, and though Jeonghan couldn’t see it, she’s sure he knows. The truth was that she’d been flirting with depression for a long time and the stress of med school and residency hadn’t helped. On her days off, she spent most of her time in bed. “I don’t know, Hannie. I haven’t felt that way in years. So much of that ‘sparkle’ as you call it was found in other people hoping they could make me happy.”

“And you don’t find any of that sparkle anymore?” Jeonghan’s finger tips are grazing the skin of her stomach where her shirt has ridden up. It leaves goosebumps in its wake.

“I don’t really look anymore. I don’t really make new friends now, and the few dates I’ve been on over the years were set up by some of my friends and didn’t really go anywhere. Maybe that’s a good thing. I was so naive about love, looking back on it. And now I’m too jaded.”

Jeonghan’s thumb rubs against her stomach and it’s both soothing and lights a fire. She hasn’t been with anyone in a really long time and the touch is so foreign to her. “Maybe you were a little naive sometimes, but there was always a lot of charm and honesty about it. I always thought it was sweet and you just needed the right person to give the same thing back to you.”

“I don’t know how to be like that now. I don’t even know what I’m looking for anymore.”

Jeonghan hummed. “You need someone that will be sweet with you and do the romantic things. Someone who makes you laugh and that you can stop being so serious with. But also someone that lets you be emotional because you have a tendency to bottle it up until you explode. Someone who helps you forgive your own mistakes. Someone who remembers the little things.”

The answer is so fast that Y/N lets out a laugh of disbelief. “You’ve thought about this before?”

“You’ve been my best friend for forever, Y/N. Of course I thought about who was right for you, especially after I watched the wrong ones show up time and time again,” Jeonghan insists.

Y/N lets out another laugh of disbelief. “Well, if you find Mr. Right for me, let me know.”

“Yeah, like you’d ever let me set you up. Come on, let’s go to bed. This couch is too cramped,” Jeonghan groans, hand on her waist pushing her now. It returns to her waist out of sheer habit again when they crawl into bed.

It’s been six weeks since the accident and Jeonghan is what Y/N considers 75% healed. His ribs still ache most of the time and she says he’ll probably feel that for a while, but the cast has been taken off of his wrist as of yesterday, and he’s getting fewer headaches due to the concussion and whiplash. Visibly, the only reminder of the accident now is some road rash, lacerations, and bruising that haven’t quite faded yet. Most of that is covered by his slacks and dress shirt as he looks in the mirror.

And he feels good because it’s the first time he’s been able to leave the house, save for a couple walks around the block when he became restless and Y/N couldn’t keep him in the house any longer, or his followup appointments with doctors.

Seungcheol and Byeol pick him up at his apartment and Y/N is already in the back seat when he gets in the car. Tonight is the ‘official’ engagement celebration with the wedding party. Over the last six weeks, Seungcheol and Byeol have been picking people and reaching out to ask if they’d like to be in the wedding. It’s a small group, only three people on each side, because they said they wanted the wedding party to be both intimate and manageable. Jeonghan thinks they might have taken their time with this selection process so that he can heal up and attend everything, and he wants to thank them for it but doesn’t know how bring it up.

Byeol’s choices for the wedding party don’t surprise Jeonghan. Y/N is the only possible choice for maid of honor because she and Byeol have been close since college and Byeol has no sisters or even cousins that she’s close with. Her two other bridesmaids are their friends from the sorority, Ara and… Sora. Jeonghan didn’t want to think much about that because he’d been enjoying not seeing her lately.

Seungcheol’s choices did surprise him though. He’d already asked Jeonghan to be the best man (and Jeonghan would have been deeply offended if he hadn’t after 30 years of friendship), but his two groomsmen were none of their than Kim Mingyu and Jeon Wonwoo. Mingyu was a surprise because Seungcheol had hated him while they were on the basketball team together for a variety of reasons, but Mingyu was good friends with Y/N now and he and Seungcheol seem to be on good terms now and even have a lot in common. Wonwoo had gotten a job in the IT department at the company that both Jeonghan and Seungcheol worked for and he was a little awkward but easy to get along with. When Jeonghan asked, Seungcheol said that he’d bailed him out of a lot of technical issues over the years at work and they’d become friends. He’d also liked that Wonwoo had stuck up for Y/N in college when no one else did. That was really enough for Jeonghan because treating Y/N well was a non-negotiable for anyone in their lives.

Jeonghan regrets that he let Sora break that rule for so long. It crosses his mind that if Seungcheol knew about how deeply Sora’s animosity towards Y/N ran, then Sora would be out of the wedding at the snap of a finger.

Seungcheol and Byeol have picked an upscale Italian place for their dinner and rented out a private room. As Y/N and Jeonghan follow them inside, Jeonghan leaned down to her ear. “Under no circumstances will you let me sit next to Sora.” And after a beat he added, “and neither should you, actually. I don’t know that she’s not above poisoning our food.”

Y/N gave him an entertained look. She’s dressed up tonight, something she says she doesn’t really do anymore given that she lives in scrubs. She’s curled her hair and put on make up, and is wearing a tight fitting dark green dress that plunges at the neckline along with heels. Jeonghan avoids looking anywhere but her face even when he tells her she looks nice, but it presents a challenge because ‘nice’ is putting it so lightly.

“Deal. Let’s get through this dinner unscathed.” Jeonghan can’t help but giggle at her words and Seungcheol and Byeol look back in amusement.

The giggles die down when they enter the private room though. Sora is already there with Ara and she does not look happy. Y/N and Jeonghan intentionally pick seats on the opposite end of the table. When Mingyu and Wonwoo arrive they greet Y/N with a hug and it diffuses some of the tension when they sit down. The waiter serves them some champagne and Seungcheol stands up. Jeonghan thinks he might tease him later for whatever speech he’s about to give, but Seungcheol looks too happy.

“Thank you guys for making it tonight and for agreeing to be part of the wedding party. Byeol has promised to not be a bridezilla and I promise to keep my temper in check when things inevitably go wrong.” This earns a laugh from the table. “Anyway, we wanted to get everyone together to celebrate and get reacquainted before we start any serious planning. So please enjoy. Dinner and drinks are on us.”

“Dangerous words, Cheol. I’m about to drink my weight in wine,” Mingyu teases.

“And I’m about to eat my weight in pasta,” Wonwoo tacks on for good measure.

The vibe is good, besides Sora who has a sour look on her face the whole time. Jeonghan is pretty unconcerned about it. He bounces between conversation with Mingyu and Wonwoo across the table and Y/N next to him. When their food arrives, Jeonghan doesn’t really think twice about pushing his and Y/N’s plates together to split what each other has. Before their years apart, this was an old habit and Y/N smiles when he glances at her. He’s relieved by that because for a moment he was afraid he’d overstepped. In some ways, they weren’t like they used to be and they were still finding these new boundaries.

She leans in to put her lips next to Jeonghan’s ear. “You’re making someone really unhappy.” Jeonghan glances to Sora, who is seething and it seems dangerous that she has a knife for her chicken parmigiana. He just shakes his head at Y/N, who looks a little anxious, and starts eating. He feels too light right now to let it get to him.

Between dinner and dessert, Jeonghan excuses himself to run to the restroom. None other than Sora is waiting for him when he comes out and his light mood comes crashing down. “Y/N? Really?” She snaps. She’s wearing a blue dress that Jeonghan usually likes on her and she looks perfect, really - besides the disgusting sneer she’s making as she crosses her arms and taps her foot like a petulant child.

“What about her?” Jeonghan breathes because this is already exhausting.

“You moved on that quickly? I guess it’s a good thing I kept you guys apart while we were together. I know you two have a history of cheating together.”

Jeonghan’s jaw clenches. “Yeah, it’s not moving on to someone else. It’s fixing something that you broke over the course of years. And you know for a fact that we never cheated together, not even back then.” Sora scoffs and looks like she’s about to snap back at him, but he cuts her off. “Look, Sora. All that I’m interested in at this point is making sure that Seungcheol and Byeol have a happy and peaceful wedding. I need you to cooperate with me on that, regardless of whose here.”

“But what about us?” Sora says in a bratty tone. He used to enjoy that - specifically, reminding her who was in charge in bed after she acted like that. It had happened constantly over the years because she was constantly bratty. Now it’s grating on his nerves and he wanted as much space as possible from her. A lifetime worth of space actually.

“There is no us. You said marriage or nothing, so I chose nothing. And after an ultimatum like that, I’m not interested in finding somewhere in between with you again,” Jeonghan says impatiently.

“But we were good together for a long time, Jeonghan! I don’t understand what’s so bad about marrying me,” she’s still whining and the pout she’s taken on won’t work now. Frankly, it had never worked because he particularly cared that she was upset. Most of the time he knew it would lead to a fight and he wanted to avoid it.

“Do you define ‘good’ as keeping me from my best friend? That’s really strange, Sora,” Jeonghan bit.

Sora looks taken aback. “It’s not strange when I don’t trust that slut of a ‘best friend’ as far as I can throw her.”

Jeonghan gave her a dead stare and his voice turned hard. “Yeah, Sora. Let me make something clear. You say one more thing like that about her and we’re going to have problems. I should have never let you talk like that about her and I won’t stand for it anymore. I’m going back to the table. Come back if you’d like, I don’t care.”

Thankfully, Mingyu is in the middle of an animated story when Jeonghan sits back down. His mood shift is only noticed by Y/N who frowns at him and he shakes his head. It doesn’t take much for Y/N to figure out what happened when Sora comes back to the table looking dejected. Y/N gives him a sympathetic smile, leaning over to whisper to him. “I ordered your dessert already.”

Jeonghan lightens up. “Thanks.”

As he eats the dessert that Y/N ordered for him, which he loves, he feels eyes on him. He decides Sora will be a problem, but he’s not sure what to do about it. The last thing he wants to do is ruin this wedding.

#jeonghan #yoon jeonghan #jeonghan x reader #Yoon Jeonghan x reader #seventeen #svt #seventeen x reader #svt x reader

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litnerdwrites · 2 days ago

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But even then, he only shows her respect when he didn't gain anything from not doing so, or if Rhys ordered him.

He didn't respect her choice when the IC decided to lock her up. He didn't even ask what Nesta might prefer, or offer alternatives that might help her in the same way they (Feyre) hoped training might, like dancing as a form of exercise instead of training.

He was amused as he asked if Cassian pushed her down the stairs, which doesn't imply that he'd even do anything if he did push her.

Oh, and his willingness to push Nesta into scrying, despite the very thought clearly being incredibly distraught at the thought, just because 'Elain shouldn't be exposed to that kind of darkness' when one of them is clearly adjusting better than the other, and actively volunteering.

Speaking of, Amren admits that they used Elain to manipulate Nesta, which Azriel didn't voice any issue with, but the fact that they were willing to approach her after letting Nesta try, implies she was willing and able to do it from the start, in which case, A) Why approach Nesta to begin with, if she's as 'difficult' and 'wretched' as they say she is? And B) Azriel undermines Elain's autonomy by doing so, based on what he thinks is best for her. Much like Cassian and the IC do to Nesta throughout ACOSF.

He's the one who packed her bags to send her on that hike, without ever asking for her side of the story, or making an attempt to understand why it clearly distressed her.

There's also the bonus chapter for HOSAB, in which Azriel, much like the rest of the IC, was quick to turn against Nesta when she did something they didn't like. When Rhys went behind everyone's back to sell out Velaris to Kier, and make a deal with Eris, his actions were forgiven within the chapter, even by Mor and Azriel. However, when Nesta handed over the mask, taking an understandable, calculated risk that with an item that, for all intents and purposes, belonged to her, and gave it to someone she made the informed decision to trust. Yet, Azriel was just as quick to turn against her.

If you asked me a year or so ago, I might have agreed that Azriel was the safest of the IC, but since I started looking deeper into the books, I'd argue that he's just as bad, if not worse. He's only 'safe' for so long, and will go behind your back to undermine your autonomy if he feels like he knows better, or his High Lord wants him too. Much like Cassian, he's incredibly loyal to the Rhys, and while he may argue a bit more, he seems to back down pretty easily, as we saw when Rhys told him to stay away from Elain.

Ultimately, Azriel is only decent when he there's nothing to gain by not being. His moments of concerning behaviour, especially during times when Nesta isn't necessarily around to see it, make the rest of his less concerning actions less genuine. His actions, when looked at from this perspective, also seem more manipulative, which ends up making him just as dangerous as the rest of the IC, in my opinion. Arguably worse, cause I feel like it's much harder to spot it in him, than in the others.

the inner circle sucks so hard that azriel gets glorified for literally just showing basic respect to nesta. free her please.

#anti azriel #pro nesta #pro nesta archeron #nesta archeron deserves better #nesta deserves better #anti nessian #anti acosf #anti acotar #acotar critical #azriel critical #acosf critical

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awardenandacrow · 2 days ago

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FANFIC SNIPPET 19

NOTE: for those of you who don’t know, my husband and I share an XBox and been th play Dragon Age. He has now finished his first playthrough (which is why I know things) and consistently was ahead of me in the story even though I started before him (I’m a SAHM of two kids under 4 — for another couple weeks anyway). He romanced Taash, so in his playthrough what was my commitment scene to Lucanis was Lucanis making dessert for Neve. I didn’t ✨know✨ at the time that that would be my commitment scene, and I was FRESH off the almost-kiss, and I was like oh man, if he makes Neve dessert now, Naimy is gonna ✨loooose it.✨ Anyway, I got Inner Demons (which he did not, because we made different decisions at The Choice), and then the commitment scene, and breathed a sigh of relief. Then I thought, BUT WHAT IF THO. And so we have this snippet, which I thoroughly enjoy, and hope you will too.

[Lucanis makes a special dessert to welcome Neve back to the Lighthouse, and Naimeryn maaaaay have some feelings about it…]

CW/TW: strong language

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“Oh! And Harding says gooseberry pie is Neve’s favorite, so I made that for dessert.”

Naimeryn’s heart sank like a rock into the pit of her stomach.

“That’s so… thoughtful of you,” Naimeryn forced out a smile. Neve’s. Favorite. For dessert.

“I just want to make sure she knows she was missed while she was gone,” Lucanis looked a little sheepish. The same expression he’d had after picking the dress for her at the shop in Treviso.

“Right, right,” Naimeryn nodded. It was just dessert. That didn’t mean anything. But then… this was the first time he’d made a special dessert.

“Are you all right?” Lucanis asked her, frowning.

“I just…” Naimeryn felt suddenly as though the Fade were closing in around her. She’d upset him. He was being sweet, and she was being weird. And if he liked Neve… of course he liked Neve. There was very literally nothing *not* to like. “I, I just… remembered. I completely forgot something I have to get done. Tonight. Right now. Um. Dinner really does smell delicious. I hope everyone enjoys. I mean, I’m sure they will. Everyone loves your cooking. Especially me! Oh — not *especially* me, I just meant — I’m upset I’m going to have to… Miss it. Um. I’m sorry. I’ve gotta go.”

Naimeryn turned and hurried to the door, but hesitated as she reached it. It wasn’t official, but this was Neve’s welcome back dinner — or at least, that’s what Lucanis had created. She and Neve had a long way to go before their relationship was repeaired. Was she really going to skip out on Neve? Would Neve see it that way? Would she see it as just another let down?

Her mind conjured an image of Lucanis serving Neve *gooseberry pie* and how excited she would be, and him wearing an expression of pride and admiration. The two of them, making eyes at each other across the table. She balked. She couldn’t sit, straight faced, through that. She pulled the door open and headed back to the library.

“Dinner ready?” Harding called from her door as she was coming down the stairs.

“Almost,” Naimeryn said, forcing a smile. “It smells amazing.”

“Then where are you gong?” Harding wanted to know. “You’ve been sneaking to the kitchen for a little alone time with *him* before dinner for weeks.”

“I haven’t,” Naimeryn shook her head with a strangled attempt to keep the smile plastered on her face. “I just head there when I’m hungry and wait is all. I just have… missives and things to catch up on.”

“And those can’t wait until after dinner?” Harding laughed.

“No,” Naimeryn shook her head. “I’ll find something to eat once I finish up. Go enjoy though! See you later.”

…

Naimeryn woke with a start, a crink in her neck, and a missive stuck to her face. She sighed, pulling the paper away. She hadn’t *meant* to fall asleep. But then, she’d been tired a lot more lately. Maybe it was good for her.

Her stomach rumbled, and she remembered the smell of the dinner she’d skipped. She was starving. How long had it been, she wondered? Would it be safe to sneak back and see if there were any leftovers? Maybe Harding had saved her a plate.

She sighed again and unfolded herself from the floor, straightening the missives on the table before standing fully upright and stretching. She was stiff. She hadn’t even finished all the missive work. She sighed a third time. Maybe she should just crank out the last few first? But no, she was almost unbearably hungry. When had she eaten last? Breakfast? Had she eaten breakfast?

Naimeryn hesitated a few more minutes, contemplating if she could get away with *not* going back to the kitchen. But then, if she didn’t, she’d have to go somewhere to get something, and she suspected it was too late into the night for that. So long as everyone was asleep, it should be fine.

Lucanis didn’t sleep, though. Not really. Could she sneak in and out without having to face him?

She snorted at herself. She, Naimeryn, clumsy mess that she was, getting in and out of the kitchen without the assassin who lived there — the Demon of Vyrantium, no less — knowing she was there? Fat chance.

She could apologize again. And nonchalantly ask how dinner… and dessert… had gone. And if it turned out she was right…

Naimeryn swallowed thickly. Neve deserved him — someone reliable, and thoughtful, and strong, and sweet. Someone she could count on. She was far more deserving of that than…

Naimeryn cut off the thought before she could make herself cry again. She wouldn’t be able to face him if she was crying again, and she was so hungry.

Naimeryn didn’t bother putting her boots back on, padding quietly around the Lighthouse. It was quieter this way, anyway, and she didn’t want to wake Taash or Emmrich. She slipped out of the Library, thankful the doors were noiseless. Solas had certainly gotten that right.

Only Neve’s room and the kitchen seemed to be lit. So, everyone else was certainly asleep. Her stomach churned. Maybe he was with her. That would save her having to see him, but… she also didn’t want to think about it.

He deserved someone as pretty, and as smart, and passionate, and caring as Neve was. Not someone clumsy, and inexperienced, and who had no idea what she was doing and just got lucky sometimes.

Naimeryn almost turned and went back to her room, but her stomach growled more earnestly. She sucked in a steadying breath, and started across the courtyard. She’d expected the stones to be cold, but just like everything else here, the temperature was constant, and neither hot nor cold to the touch. Even though she was pretty sure most everyone was asleep, she found herself tiptoeing and moving quickly. Her heartbeat sounded far too loud in her ears. She took another deep breath, then opened the kitchen door just enough to squeeze through. As she’d hoped, the room was empty. She did her best to move soundlessly across the floor, and around the table.

Someone *had* left a plate for her, piled high with Lucanis’s pasta dish. A small plate was also next to it with a sliver of the pie.

Forgetting herself, Naimeryn sighed.

“Rook?”

*Fuck.*

“Yeah, it’s me,” she did her best to sound cheerful. “I’m sorry, I was trying to be quiet.”

She turned to him as he exited the pantry. He looked… worried?

“Did you get your work done?” He wanted to know, closing the distance between them to come stand uncertainly by the fire. She thought she heard Spite whisper something, but Lucanis’s lips didn’t move, and she didn’t quite catch it. Something in his expression changed for a moment, but it was gone so quickly she thought maybe the lack of sleep was affecting her more than she’d initially believed. Seeing *and* hearing things. That couldn’t be good.

“Almost,” she admitted sheepishly, “I kind of… fell asleep. I’ve got a couple more missives to reply to.”

“It’s good you took a break to eat,” he said gently, slipping his hands into his pants pockets.

“Yes, I’m starved,” she said, picking up the plate of pasta and leaving the pie, “I’m sorry, again, for not getting to have it fresh. Do I have you to thank for the plate?”

“And Neve insisted you get a piece of pie.”

Naimeryn forced a smile and reached for the offending dessert. She’d never had gooseberry pie, but he’d made it. Everything he’d made had been delicious.

“That was really nice of her, since it’s her favorite.”

Lucanis took a few more steps closer to where she stood, slowly reaching and taking the plates from her. He set them at her spot at the table, never taking his eyes off of her face. Naimeryn reminded herself to keep breathing. Play it cool. Everything was fine. Her mind was not racing. Her heart was not beating out of her chest.

Oh, no. Were her eyes red? No, definitely not. Not red. Not puffy. Creators, please let that not be why he was peering at her so earnestly.

“You should stay and eat,” he said quietly. “I was hoping you wouldn’t skip dinner entirely.

I made a pot of coffee for you just in case you came back.”

Naimeryn’s heart fluttered in her chest. “You did?”

He nodded, stepping around her. Their shoulders brushed, ever so slightly, and she heard him pouring her a cup. She turned in time to accept the drink from him. He hesitated for a moment, as if he were thinking of saying something else, then seemed to think better of it, and simply handed it to her.

Naimeryn took a sip, expecting his usual brew. Her eyes flew open wide as the sweet taste of honey and the richness of lavender cream floated across her tongue. She gripped the cup tightly and stared at him in shock.

“This — this is…”

A small smile which did not overpower his concerned expression curved the corners of his mouth. She sucked in a breath as he tentatively reached up, brushing a wayward strand of hair out of her face and tucking it behind her mangled ear.

“Good,” he said softly, “you *do* remember.”

*I remember everything you say to me.*

Say it.

*Say* it.

But her mouth refused to comply. Lucanis seemed to remember himself, and quickly pulled his hand away.

“I’ll let you eat. You have to remember to take care of yourself, Rook. You don’t have to work so hard.”

“Thank you,” was all she could manage. He smiled, and headed back to the pantry. Naimeryn bit her lip. Now was not the time to be a coward.

“Lucanis?” She asked, spinning and setting her cup next to her plates.

“Yes?” He asked, stopping and turning partially back towards her. For a moment, Naimeryn was struck by just how handsome he was in the firelight glow.

“It’s just… I really hate eating alone,” she told him honestly. “I know I did it to myself, but… would you stay with me?”

His smile was warm, genuine, and it took her breath away, just a little.

“Sure, Rook.”

#fanfic #dragon age rook #dragon age the veilguard #dragon age the veilguard spoilers #rookanis #my rook #rook x lucanis #dragon age #rook #original character #grey warden rook #Naimeryn Thorne #fanfic snippet

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thequeenofsastiel · 2 days ago

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I'll say this about UHC's weird ass system. As long time or at least semi long time followers know, I got very sick a few months ago. Admittedly it was because of choices I made, but, in my defense, I didn't realize that the choices I made would have the effect they did.

I was hospitalized for five days and then spent six days in a physical rehab center so I could regain the ability to walk. Not the finest experience of my life, but I'm lucky enough to say that I had good nurses looking after me, and one really good nurse who stood up for me to the dismissive doctor who wanted to send me home when I couldn't get out of bed because none of the tests they ran were able to find anything(which I think is because there is so little known about what was wrong with me and thus they don't even have tests yet to discern my illness(Cannabinoid Hyperemesis Syndrome for anyone who wants to know; look for that tag on my blog if you want the longer story, I recommend it because it's very good information to have if you or someone you know regularly or even sometimes consumes cannabis in some way)). He was amazing. I also had really awesome physical and occupational therapists. My only complaint is that they were understaffed, but I blame that on the fact that we treat nurses so poorly that not nearly enough people want to become them.

The point is, I got home, and received letters from UHC. They were willing to cover my physical rehab, because they determined it to be medically necessary, but not the hospital stay, because they thought that wasn't medically necessary. Which is honestly the most absurd thing I've ever heard. Why would I need the rehab but not the hospitalization prior to the rehab?

I fought. They didn't care. So I owe the hospital about $56,000 for a five day stay, which I'll likely never be able to pay off unless I somehow stumble onto a high paying job that doesn't make me miserable, which seems unlikely.

So yeah. Thanks, UHC. You can go ahead and buy some sympathy for Brian Thompson with that money you're saving from your bullshit policies. I'm never using UHC again. Fuck that company. And, more importantly, fuck the US government for being swayed by healthcare lobbyists and not giving us the universal health care we deserve as citizens. Nay, as human beings. Stop letting the rich control the country. I don't want a class war, the vulnerable will suffer first, but if you keep letting this happen, the people are going to revolt. Stop pearl clutching about the response to the killing, and take a good long look in the mirror about why we feel this way. Because honestly, I think it's the only chance we have to avoid a revolution.

#uhc ceo #uhc shooting #brian thompson #brian thompson assassination #united healthcare #united health group #universal healthcare #us government #politics #the poor deserve better #eat the rich #personal post #cannabinoid Hyperemesis Syndrome

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athousandbyeol · 3 days ago

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keep up the thamepo [episode 3]

this episode is deliciously insane. so many things happened and there are so many things I want to say. but in this post, I think I want to focus on some little details about thame and po/thame and jun the most.

at this point, i shouldn't be surprised at how good thamepo is at switching the narratives, allowing us to perceive the story from both ends. but I'm still pleasantly blown away by every watch. I'm really happy that thamepo is courageous to show the story from two sides. i think it gives us (the audience) the liberty to choose or relate to the side we favour more. maybe it doesn't work that way for others, but I love how these multiple perspectives allow me to weigh the characters from both sides and not only one, somewhat giving me the chance to either 1) be biased of one side or 2) be open to both. i just think it's very well-executed and thought out. kudos to p'mui and her team for thamepo's wonderful structural premise.

it's such a treat that we're introduced to the friend arc in thamepo. it's about time we entered the minds of the members, while still laying out thame and po's thoughts and traits in the open. maybe it's just me (or how I actually write my stories) but I'm so amazed at p'mui's storybuilding and characterbuilding. i find it so fascinating because nothing feels rushed or uncertain. every choice she and her team made was perfect for the past three episodes. I'm in awe, really.

but the thing that surprises me the most in this episode is how the story is mainly focused on jun and thame, but with the lingering presence of po as the 'healer' or 'fixer'. he exists as a binder that glues thame with his members. and it's fascinating to see how po somehow camouflages himself to every member's personality and need, offering a different approach (with thame's guidance). po and thame made such a great team. i understand now how and why they'll fall (heels over head) in love with each other in the future.

1. after thame, jun loves mars the most

i was a bit scared last week because I never foresaw someone from mars to betray thame. it was never in my head. so when I saw last week's teaser, I believed jun wouldn't be the person some might assumed he would be. but thamepo has always been a surprise and very good at twists and turns, so I tried to be more open about it.

so… jun's a bit like a diva to me? he's kind of… a lot (at least to someone like me, jun intimidates me beyond my comfort zone). throughout this very awkward exchange between thame and jun, one thing I realised after I watched the episode again was they were actually covering up each other.

thame was trying to send jun a signal. jun received it. but he didn't think it would be a smart choice to talk about it in front of the reporters. so that's why he steered the conversation to (presumably) thame's benefit, in hopes the media wouldn't doubt him (because at this point the news of thame going on a hiatus was already released by the company). i think it's more of jun trying to save thame from further damage than breaking their friendship apart even more.

it's very smart of p'mui and the team to 'paint' jun as the bad guy initially because he did seem like a person that might stab someone's back for his benefit. i think it's the typical stereotyping of characters that appear aloof or unbothered—this coldness that jun exuded—many might assume jun would definitely go against thame.

but he didn't.

and it's an exceptional twist! (for me, it really is!)

thamepo is breaking the norms i see in many dramas of the past and like I mentioned, it's so refreshing to look at the story from multiple lenses all at once, but it was unveiled at the right pacing and time. very, very well done!

another thing that i find very interesting is when po carried out the interview with jun, even though it was mentioned that this was scripted, I believe this is everything jun wanted to say to thame.

again, they're switching the perspective here. in the previous episode, we knew that thame followed the script he was given because he lost his voice. his words no longer hold importance in the company. everything thame said to po for the interview was what the company wanted him to say. we (the audience) are aware that those were lies.

but here, i believe this is what jun wanted thame to know. he might never get a chance to say it to thame in this manner (because I see that jun is the kind of best friend who would say he hates thame when in fact, he loves him the most). it's 'PR' friendly but it holds this sincerity; everything that jun silently wishes for thame (when he embarks on a new journey in Korea).

it's amazing how they give us two things to ponder about the significance of these scripts: 1) a forced responsibility for thame, and 2) jun's inner voice that he couldn't express aloud (perhaps because jun doesn't want to sound/look sappy in front of thame [very very best friend behaviour right there hahaha]).

it's so heartwarming to me that thame isn't alone, after all. like baifern to po, jun is thame's best friend, someone he can confide in. I'm glad jun saw everything that thame tried to hide from the members. I'm glad jun really saw him.

and i have to say, this scene made me smile because thame is so leader-coded through and through. he took the blame for jun because he didn't want khun pemika to 'punish' jun (and take away jun's chance at debuting). thame's selflessness goes beyond everything I have in mind. I'm so excited to see to what extent thame helped the other members in the past because that would be one of the reasons for them to reunite—they just love thame as much as thame loves them.

along the way, thame might think he lost jun, but that's not the case. i guess both of them just needed something (or someone) to break the (very fragile) wall separating them. these two have so much love in their big hearts, but they aren't the best at communicating. so this is when po plays an important role as their messenger.

po is so crucial to mars because he advocates communication and peace. honestly, it would save po from a world of heartbreaks if he just minded his own business and got the documentary over with. but he is just selfless and has too much love and is too kind for the world—so he definitely would want to help his nongs. the bond they'll share is going to be so beautiful and heart-wrenching. God knows what will happen to po and mars (and us) once the company forces another separation between them (I'm ready to jump and cry my eyes out).

i can't help but think maybe some of mars's fans ship them (and I can see why xD). but these two are better off being the best frienemies. (but maybe in an alternate universe… who knows… they might be a thing…) [slaps myself] [drags myself away from the mic] ok that's enough delusional talk for today…

2. thame and po; "i find comfort in you"

when messages from the company buzzed into thame's phone endlessly, thame was visibly restless. he knew what he did was causing more damage to the company. but damage to the company equates to chances for his friendship to mend. so, thame took every chance he had to seize it, despite the circumstances.

in this scene, po addressed that thame should at least give a call or do something to clear the air. but I think thame has better judgement and control over the issue, that's why he ignored it and turned off his phone. clearly, thame was searching for a distraction. he didn't want to think about this problem now. he just wanted peace. and being with po gave him peace.

so they did this activity together; thame threading the thread into the needle while po was doing another fixing. it's a therapeutic activity for thame, and we can see how he immediately relaxes once po stops pushing the idea of confronting the problem right now. it's so thoughtful of po, and I'm happy that thame noticed it too.

all the while, his eyes were always at po. he was looking. studying. understanding. i think thame found so much comfort just in po's presence because of po's quietness. he's such a grounding figure, and I think it helps thame both grasp the essence of reality while also indulging in this dream-like sensation whenever they're together.

the stares… thame's smile. oh. by now I know, thame's feelings for po are certain. but how about po? i don't know about others, but to me, po's still struggling. still healing. still scared. but he's slowly opening up again towards the end of this episode. it's so bittersweet.

it's also very heartbreaking how po quickly apologised because he thought he caused another trouble for thame—and thame did the same, insisting he was another damage po needed to fix. these two deserve each other because they'll help each other realise just how important love and sincerity are. these will be their strongest suits when they're in a relationship, but also be a double-edged sword if they don't overcome their weakness: communication.

some words don't have to be spoken to be understood. this is when thame and po are speaking the language of love and affection. but they tend to keep everything to themselves whenever danger arrives. i hope they can deal with this together because if they don't, it'll be another gut-wrenching heartbreak for them.

i don't know if thame is aware of how po's world has turned downside up whenever he offers a promise of sincerity and comfort. i also don't know if po is aware of how thame's world has turned upside down whenever he offers a promise of peace and assurance. i hope they do. someday.

3. messages po didn't send — "i see you in ways I didn't before"

early on in episode one, we were informed that po was a clingy lover. it might be one of the things that earn despised (I'm just assuming this because they made po being clingy as a negative for his character).

po was restless. he knew thame would handle it well with jun, but he couldn't help but worry. it's clear that thame has become an important figure in his life, but to what extent? i think po's still clueless about it, too.

these messages, he kept typing and deleting. he wanted to send them, but he didn't want to come off as 'clingy' in thame's eyes. he didn't want thame to be annoyed or—hate him—for worrying—for caring.

but i believe, in one way or another, thame will enjoy this attention from po in the future. the messages po will send to thame definitely will help thame emotionally. it's going to be so vital in their upcoming relationship as they have to be secretive about it. these texts will save and heal them. i hope it won't destroy them, though…

throughout the episode, i was a bit frustrated because thame—friend—how can you not save po's phone number? or at least give him a call from po's phone so that you could have his number immediately?

but when i watched this episode again… i realised… perhaps the reason why thame didn't save po's number—not until his friendship with jun was salvaged—was probably because it was at this point that thame was certain of his feelings for po.

thame has always had feelings for po, even from the first event he saw po briefly. but this was the time that thame knew he liked po, romantically. some might say it's too fast, but for someone like thame who might never have a chance for romantic relationships throughout the years of being in mars, meeting someone as incredible as po, how could he not harbour feelings?

when thame said he wanted to remember po's number, it was him wanting to remember po's existence forever—he wanted to keep po in his memory for a lifetime. it was thame accepting that he's in fact… in love with po.

the severity of his emotions is still on the surface, but it's more than enough for thame to act on it—to have po in every way possible. thame wouldn't want to forget his saviour, his future lover.

when he repeated the number after po, it echoed and reverberated not only in thame but also po. maybe at this point, they're almost reaching the same line, but po needs a little more push to come clean with feelings. and I have a feeling next week will be po's trigger in accepting his fond feelings for thame. (the smile on po's face is so precious... :( I hope he has more reasons to smile now because of thame...)

but at what cost?

if i can make speculation, next week's episode will be rough and heartbreaking because thame's going to confront someone who holds a grudge against him—the fire in the group—dylan.

it's either dylan will burn thame to ashes, or thame will let dylan burn him to cinders, or po will tame dylan's fire for thame. it could be all. and I'm so excited about every possibility.

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whetstonefires · 23 hours ago

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You know I'm realizing one reason you keep seeing mdzs modern AUs where the Jiang parents are alive mainly so they can dramatically fail and betray Wei Wuxian by cutting him off financially--defaulting on his college tuition or formally disowning him etc--isn't just that people want to translate the Burial Mounds II arc into modern terms while keeping Jiang Cheng clean of it.

(Despite the fact that the internal logic of Jiang Cheng's character is largely built around him being a person who would abandon someone he intensely cared about under these specific circumstances.)

It's because it's hard to set up a modern analogue for the way that Jiang Cheng is responsible for Wei Wuxian, as his Sect Leader.

We live in a highly individualistic society. People are trying to write Wei Wuxian Tragically Wronged, and because there's a normative expectation that people in the position of parents will provide you with resources, and certainly won't withdraw them without warning, but no such assumption that people in the position of siblings necessarily owe each other support, making this work in modern setting with Jiang Cheng in his canon role would require a lot of extra work, just to get a less readily resonant result.

But I keep thinking about it. Because something that's getting lost here is, not just the nuances of character and relationship, but like...it's sort of key to the story that cutting Wei Wuxian off was, in fact, Completely Socially Appropriate.

The level on which it was a betrayal is subtle, and deeply cutting. And intensely tied up in the very different opinions each of Jiang Cheng's parents had about what obligations existed in their family wrt Wei Wuxian, and what these meant.

The level on which it was the obvious, normal course of action is blatant. That is to a huge extent why it happens: because Jiang Cheng's instinct to conform is a survival instinct, reinforced by trauma, and Wei Wuxian's choices meant he had no coherently compelling reason not to obey it, and enormous peer pressure to do so.

The fact is that Jiang Cheng was making a reasonable choice, the actual thing 'anyone would do in that situation,' unlike Wei Wuxian and Jin Guangyao's respective wildly warped ideas about what that is.

Wei Wuxian wasn't betrayed by Jiang Sect like your foster parents cutting you off because you're disobedient. Wei Wuxian was betrayed by Jiang Sect like your brother refusing to drop fifty grand to bail you out of jail.

Of course Wei Wuxian tells him not to. And of course the fact that Jiang Cheng already chose in the moment not to pay a cent because Fuck You Wei Ying still stands there glaring, a precedent that can never be taken back.

And then later he's betrayed by Jiang Cheng like your brother cooperating with a police investigation into a manslaughter you really did commit, that's being handled like domestic terrorism. And then like your brother calling the cops on you. And then like your brother helping the cops find where you're hiding.

I'm personally fascinated by the way Jiang Cheng's lifelong resentment for the way Jiang Fengmian reliably bailed Wei Wuxian out of everything informed those decisions to do the normal thing, the way he's reacting against his dead father as well as against Wei Wuxian and the actual situation.

But even without that daddy issues angle, the fact that the person who made that choice was Jiang Cheng, and that it was simultaneously the reasonable appropriate normal upstanding citizen rational thing to do and so shitty Wei Wuxian would be entitled never to forgive it is sort of. The Point.

Of the scenario, and also to a considerable degree of the entire finely tuned narrative construct that is Jiang Cheng.

#hoc est meum #mdzs #jiang cheng #wei wuxian #meta #like sometimes people commit transgressions #and you have to actually decide what that means to you #what you're willing to let them cost you #whether you agree that that transgression deserves punishment #and even if it does what role you're willing to take in that process #jiang cheng is someone whose sense of right and wrong operates along emotional and pragmatic axes before consulting the moral #which means that without being a *bad* person he's someone who's highly susceptible to pressure #as long as it comes from either a superior or Society At Large #especially if his insecurities get tripped #but like sometimes just for example it's illegal to be gay #or people have less rights because of who their parents were #and those instincts can lead you into bad choices #it's good to be able to set boundaries but jiang cheng is not good at setting them where he personally actually wants them #and when he does they're the boundaries Angry Jiang Cheng wants #and calmed-down jiang cheng just has to live with them #which ofc is something that applies to wwx too in very different ways #the fact that BOTH jiang cheng and lan xichen when the chips are down choose society over their respective halves of wangxian #at one crucial point #and that lan xichen does so in a way that he can live with and not withdraw from the relationship because of #while jiang cheng is almost insane with the need for wei wuxian to deserve everything that happened to him #and how much of that is who they are as people?#and how much is that lan wangji is not dead #and how much is it that lan xichen understands exactly what happened and why #while jiang cheng doesn't and can't so he has to make up his own story to make sense of it #so much going on here

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bloedewir · 2 days ago

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Fine maybe I'm dumb (it's a possibility, I daresay) but I really can't understand all that Prison of Regrets plan.

What is Rook supposed to regret about?

Varric is always extra supportive like a proud mother. "You did great! You can do it! WOO-HOO GO VEILGUARD 🥳". Rook questioned their decisions after the ritual site (Harding/Neve choice and Varric got injured), but even then they don't have a chance to feel something close to regret.

Solas acts like a bitch (depending on the story) at the beginning, so I thought, "yup here it is" and I even tried to play the "oh i screwed up with Weisshaupt it's all my fault" card but he said it was a victory.

I mean.. ???

How Rook can even get trapped in the Prison if Solas and his Varric minion just didn't give Rook a chance to regret anything they did?

Solas was supposed to do one simple thing: grow guilt. His words mean nothing to Rook (depending on relationship) but Varric's? Oh, he could use it. He should've use it. Varric don't actually blame Rook, but make them doubt? Varric commenting on their deeds? Varric says something like: "are you sure you're up to this job, kid?" and "so there were no other options at all?" and "well, shit.. let's hope it was right thing to do".

Solas said he had to mold Rook into someone he could use as a replacement. But it seems like he molds Rook into the person he never allow himself to be but wanted to: someone who's not alone in the darkness, someone who has supportive friends to help get through all this, someone who doesn't feel guilt for every step they make.

Solas shouldn't be so surprised when he sees Rook in Minrathous because.. hello it's you "molded" them, no? You and your stupid supportive attitude. You're one of the reasons why Rook is still fighting.

You made them stronger, you dumb wolf.

#Elgar'nan wouldn't have that problem btw #in case you were wondering #dragon age the veilguard #dragon age veilguard #datv #datv solas #datv rook #datv varric #prison of regrets

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ask-the-clergy-bc · 3 days ago

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Could I please request headcanons of the Papas meeting their S/O's very religious family for the first time, only for the family to be hostile and constantly made snide remarks about the Papas position in the Church/try to argue theology with them?

I swear I wrote something like this before, but I can’t find it so I can’t link it! But I’m still gonna answer this, just sorry if I’ve done it already! Lol!

This is also unlocking one of my favorite Papa I headcanons, so I hope you enjoy it as much as I did getting to write it!

Also proof reading; I’m sorry if this misses the mark. I got carried away with thinking of different scenarios to put reader in!

Notes:

-Written with younger Nihil in mind, but reader’s choice.

-GN Reader

-Reader implied to have one or both parents/parental figures, some grandparents, and siblings. Each is different and can be swapped out per reader preference.

(Trigger warnings: emotional abusive families, unhealthy relationships with family, religious trauma for the reader.)

Papas Meeting Their S/O’s Heavily Religious Families

Papa Nihil: Your Papa never understood why you kept in contact with your toxic family. They constantly belittled you and tried to convince you to abandon your place at the clergy. You admitted that despite the nasty things they said about your faith, you still loved them. They were your family and you didn’t have the heart to completely abandon them over it. Nihil despises them but can’t force you to cut contact, so he remained supportive. One day you did get an invitation to come home as a peace offering. Nihil was suspicious but agreed that you should go. Primarily because he didn’t trust your family and didn’t want to leave you alone with them… but wait, they willingly invited him too? Shit. Now he was REALLY SUSPICIOUS! But you asked him to go with your puppy dog eyes, and he couldn’t say no.

This would be the first time he’s met them and he wasn’t going to let you down. So he reluctantly agreed to come home with you. Nihil grabbed a fine bottle of wine and a dish he had his personal ghoul made. Despite being very grumpy at having to go, your Papa was polite and charming as he could be. It lasted about ten minutes getting into the door. Because, unfortunately, your grand father was there. Your grandpa was one of those super traditional, old school types who thought everyone should bow to him as head of the household. Your grandpa didn’t even let you sit before he was criticizing your beloved. Citing him as being rude for imaginary slights, and that he would expect nothing less from a demon worshipper.

Nihil wasn’t having any of it. “Actually, I should be at the head of the table: I outrank all of you where I came from.” Your lover smirked. Then all Hell broke loose. It went from your Grandpa shouting about sin, to your mother crying for him to calm down, and then Nihil laughing in everyone’s face. You both didn’t make it an hour before you were being pushed out of the house and told to never come back. Nihil’s only regret was seeing you cry, because he knows how badly you wanted to be accepted. But he decided to take you out to dinner, instead.

Papa I: Quite frankly, your family had picked the absolute worst person to ever have a theological debate with. Papa I isn’t just a dedicated anti pope; Theology is his passion and special interest! He does nothing but study various religions, INCLUDING every single denomination of his dreaded nemesis. So you knew the day Papa met your family they would be humbled VERY quickly. Actually, you couldn’t wait to see it if you were being honest.

Your family had been pestering you for ages to come home and visit. They hated where you ran off to, but insisted they still loved you and just wanted you to come see them. God would always forgive you, right? You agreed only if you could bring Papa. With a lot of reluctance they did agree. Papa was happy to accept thinking it was your way of reconnecting with your family. He knew the stories but was willing to play nice for your sake…. Yet he was intrigued as to why you were so giddy the trip to your childhood home.

Aside from a lot of passive aggressive comments towards him (which he ignored), the family had been well behaved. It’s not until dinner that your uncle decided to have a ‘good faith’ argument ‘for fun’ with Papa’s and yours beliefs. Papa was calm at first until your uncle started preaching. You sat back with a small smile as Papa dressed the man down. Papa not only contradicted all of your uncle’s arguments with actual Bible verses, but Papa even showed he knew more about his faith than anyone could have guessed. Your family was stunned and dinner was finished in silence. Papa thanked them for a lovely time and you never fought with your family again… they were too scared for it.

Papa II: If it wasn’t for the fact that Papa genuinely cared about you he would have never agreed to this. Papa openly despises your family after hearing stories of how they treated you. You had to literally beg him to meet them just once. One dinner to meet him so they would stop hounding you about your mysterious partner and the “crazy cult you joined.” All you wanted was this one dinner so you could go back to ignoring them for the rest of the year… until Christmas, at least. You’re very lucky Papa has committed to you enough to agree. The compromise is that HE chose where to meet the family.

This is how your family got invited to one of the most prestigious Italian Restaurants in the city. Not Papa’s cherished favorite, mind you. But good enough that it cost a pretty penny. Your parents and sister didn’t seem to mind ‘dirty Satanist money’ when it got them the finest dishes in the world. Plus, it was neutral ground. so Papa was a touch more relaxed than he would have been otherwise. Even after thanking Papa, your family seemed like they couldn’t wait to be incredibly rude to him. You pushed your risotto around your plate and kept your head down as your mom kept asking questions. The kind that were thinly veiled passive aggressiveness under a sweet tone. Papa sipped his wine and answered non committaly to questions about his faith, his role in the ministry, how much he made, what made him part of the congregation…

Papa was a classy man, so one worded and cool answers kept him from being snarky. ‘Lucifer. Anti Pope. more than jesus. Birth right.’ Your mother seemed to sour more and more at his answers, and your sister sneered in barely concealed disgust. But the line was finally crossed when your mom whole heartedly smiled at Papa. “It’s never too late to be saved by Jesus. You know you both could always come home, receive forgiveness, and stop living in sin.” Papa set down his wine. “And you could stop giving tidings to a Mega Church where your pastor has a criminal record.” Your family’s stunned face was enough to make you almost choke on your food. Needless to say, you’ve never seen the three of them run out on a bill so fast after that. But you did thank Papa for being nice. After all, you know the man could have done so much worse.

Papa III: To his credit, Papa wanted to be absolutely gracious and was happy to put aside religion if it meant keeping peace with your family. He knew it was important to you to just have your family on good terms. Even if that meant a healthy arms length away from him. So he was prepared to not speak of his faith and be his cordial and charming self. Anything to make future contact easier for you! Despite your rocky differences, he knew you and your family were incredibly close.

Papa had agreed to let your family come over for dinner to help mend the bridge. He was happy to host! You didn’t think they would ever agree, but you always gave small invitations. Your family declined every single one. Until one day you decided to try again for Easter… and they accepted?? Your were a bit panicked, but Papa was ecstatic! He wanted them to like him and possibly be more communicative with you! Maybe even visit more! He had his fill of extremists in the past, so he wasn’t expecting a miracle. But he definitely wasn’t expecting to be as disrespected in his own home as he was that day.

Papa had the kitchens prepare the nicest Easter brunch in the gardens. No Jesus, but plenty of bunnies and plastic eggs for your baby cousins. Your family (and extended family) pretty much all ignored every greeting he tried to make. They didn’t acknowledge Papa and instead decided to nit-pick you, the abbey, and even the siblings serving you. Papa had gritted teeth the whole day. Trying to be level headed and supportive. but when they told him they didn’t want him saying ‘grace’ at the meal did Papa finally react. “You come into MY HOME, on YOUR HOLIDAY that we accommodated for YOU, and you treat me and my home like GARBAGE?” When your mom pointed out he was a Satanist anyway Papa yelled, “GET THE FUCK OUT!!” Papa called them everything from hypocrite to their faith to disgraces. You were happy to see all of them run out with their tails tucked between their legs. Papa never invited your family to anything ever again.

Papa IV/Copia: Copia meeting your family had been entirely by accident! You were little to no contact with them and intended to keep your partner and life AWAY from them! Yet fate had other plans. You had attended the last of the tour shows with the band and one of the destinations had been your hometown. Copia always knew you hated traveling back there. Originally he had asked if you wanted to skip over the city and take a mini break away from the crew. Happy to let you go off on your own solo trip and just reconnect with the tour after this particular show. But you vehemently were against leaving and assured him the chances of your family being around a ritual was one in a million… until you saw your entire family protesting outside of the venue. (Swiss told you to buy a lottery ticket with your odds after you picked your jaw off of the ground.)

You almost couldn’t believe your eyes. They must have stayed out for hours to yell at the band’s tour bus. The only reason you were even out there was to wrangle some of the ghouls from screwing with some of the protesters. That’s when you saw your siblings and cousins in the midst of the signs. When one of them recognized you Hell broke loose. Your brother, a proud pastor, called you out by name. Copia had come to grab you and heard it. “Beloved, is that… your brother?” You begged Copia to just go back into the bus with you. Normally, he’s a more passive man in tense events and likes to handle issues more calmly. But when your brother, sister in law, and even cousins started shouting biblical insults at you he snapped.

Very calmly Copia strolled over to your brother and met him eye to eye. You knew that Copia being calm meant he was absolutely livid. Your brother went from being belligerent to gulping at the blazing white eye of your lover. Copia recited word for word all the passages he knew about not being above God and judging your neighbor. Every time your brother tried to respond, Copia spoke over him louder and louder until he was practically shouting verses. Soon all the protestors were staring in horror until all were muttering and quiet. Copia just scoffed at your brother before turning to you. “What a terrible child of God you are. Pathetic.” You felt on top of the world when Copia guided you away, leaving behind a stunned and silent brother.

#the band ghost #ghost bc #ghost headcanons #papa emeritus x reader #ghost reader insert #ghost reader #minor triggers #minor trigger warning #papa nihil #papa emeritus i #papa emeritus iv #papa emeritus iii #papa emeritus II #reader insert

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charmwasjess · 1 day ago

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you know what this is about. so, without further ado: i'll let u pick between

Jocasta + tikken (tooka kitten)

and

Rael + shrimp cocktail

RAEL + SHRIMP COCKTAIL IT IS

Furthering my beloved "Dooku wouldn't know SHIT about fancy rich people stuff in his Jedi era" agenda. I got the idea for this because I literally watched a friend do the thing at the end.

“Finally.” The two Jedi crash into the backseat of the airtaxi, tangling as a pair of very long legs and two shorter, albeit slightly more intoxicated ones try to find room in the tight space. The droid driver acknowledges their Temple destination coordinates, and, with a lurch and swoop, they join the Coruscanti traffic and leave the heat and noise of the event behind them.

“What an utter, unconscionable disaster,” Dooku, usually the architect of such disasters on missions, announces before Rael can even put his standard distracting-him protocols in place. “A complete farce.”

“Aw, Master, it wasn’t so bad…”

Rael’s both lying and stalling, of course, trying to figure out which point of failure Dooku is even so upset about. If it’s related to Rael’s own misbehavior, or some social misstep of Dooku’s, or both.

“Really?” Dooku’s voice rises incredulously. He’s going wide: his internal targets expanding beyond the particulars into the concept itself, his exhaustion warring with his need to deliver a scathing monologue about the very existence of such fancy political events. “An egregious waste of taxpayer resources with no purpose but pageantry, overindulgence in liquor and ego in equal measures. And both tedious and invasive! For a Jedi of my position? The delegation from Mandriss clearly felt they were entitled to my entire life story.”

“Hmm.”

“And,” Dooku’s tone is aghast now, detailing the worst of the worst, “why do they even have that fork?”

Rael’s been doing the dutifully-listening Padawan bit, since it seems Dooku is just upset in general, not mad at him specifically, but the fork thing makes him snort. Too bad he wasn’t there to see whatever Dooku did with the fork.

“And you?” Dooku rounds on him. “Where were you? You left me trapped with that governor!”

Whoops. Distraction protocol. “I thought the whole thing was that you needed to talk to the governor. Fact-finding stuff. I was giving you space to work your magic!”

“Talk to him? Yes. I needed a single piece of information from him. But our good governor would simply not…” shut up is the sentiment that flashes like heat lightning behind Dooku’s clouded presence, but of course, his dear Master would never say such a thing, so he simply groans into his hands and continues his internal combustion.

It’s a little funny, or would be, if Rael didn’t actually feel bad for Dooku. Tall and elegant with a holostar’s velvet voice and a legitimate family connection to royal governance on Serenno, his Master makes an obvious choice to represent the Order at the occasional high-end political function. Except Rael knows Dooku’s heart is made for the battlefield, not the banquet hall. He actually loves that about him.

“I feel wretched,” Dooku admits, massaging his temples. His righteous outrage seems to be collapsing into ennui.

Odd. When they first started together as Master and Padawan, Rael thought Dooku was a complete stoic: an unfeeling mountain. Once you got to know him though, it was actually amazing how much bitching the man was capable of. Maybe it was that Dooku treated Rael differently now than he had when he was a little kid. There weren’t actually so many years between eighteen and twenty-nine.

“Yeah, yeah, you feel bad ‘cause you didn’t eat hardly anything.” Rael doesn’t have to guess: Dooku has that exact flavor of cranky that has the aftertaste of emptiness and unacknowledged need that always just made everything worse.

Dooku glowers at him.

Rael slings an arm around his shoulders, affection –or possibly the several atomic sting shots he’d taken with the bridesmaids - bubbling up in his chest. Hell, he loves this old man.

“Here,” Consoling now, Rael fishes into his robe pocket. “Want some shrimp?”

“Shrimp?”

He holds out the upsettingly pink offering for Dooku. Five nice, plump cocktail shrimp. Only a little warm from his body heat. Better that way, really.

Dooku is quiet.

“Got the cocktail sauce in the other pocket.”

Rael can’t decide if it is awe or horror dawning in his Master’s eyes. Hell, maybe it’s both.

“They weren’t… even serving shrimp?” That deep, polished voice of Dooku’s is oddly faint.

Yeah. Maybe not at the event Dooku was at. Now, at the wedding party taking place on the event space’s lower level, on the other hand… Rael fixes on his widest, most appealing grin.

A Master may keep a few private secrets, Dooku is sometimes fond of saying, usually about something totally obvious to Rael, like the source of the occasional mark on his collarbone, the one that's always the exact same size and shape as Sifo-Dyas’s mouth.

Well, Rael figures, a Padawan can keep some too.

Dooku glances between his open palm and his smile, calculations happening behind his eyes.

It doesn’t matter. Rael already knows he’s going to eat the shrimp.

#writing low stakes snippets to shake up my creative block over the next few days #so send me a character + prompt if you want one!#might post 'em all in a series on AO3 if I keep my steam up or not #thank you Boli for the great suggestion this was actually super fun <3 <3 #I intended these to be much shorter but this one really got me

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anavatazes · 3 days ago

Text

Decisions

Summary: Magneto is called away from Utopia to help care for an injured Rogue. Set just after the Schism, when Mags is still in Utopia, and Rogue is with Wolverine at the Jean Grey School for Gifted Youngsters back in Westchester County, NY.

Pairing: Rogue/Magneto

Warnings: Trigger Warning: I am ruining the plot for my own story here by choice. There is a discussion of and partial scene of a character having a miscarriage. Because this can be a very sensitive topic and triggering for some, please proceed with caution. I did not go with anything graphic, but to each their own on what they can and cannot handle. You have been warned.

Author’s Notes: I am working on a rather large Magneto/OC fic, and I am behind on the schedule I set up for myself for it. This is partly to blame. It wouldn’t leave me alone. Anywho, enjoy. There may or may not be a second part.

********

Checking on the generators of Utopia, Magneto found himself listless. Since Rogue left to join Wolverine's team of X-Men, communication and visits have been brief to non-existent. He was not thrilled with this situation, but he could not abandon Scott, nor could he force Rogue to stay. He missed her. Her companionship. Everything. The generators were just an excuse to avoid the others right now. Erik did not want to intermingle with the others. If he could use the excuse of being busy, then all the better for him. And them, if he was being honest. In the last few training sessions with the younger members, he had been needlessly rougher than he probably should have. If Rogue had been present…

“Your helmet is useless right now, Erik. I don't need to use telepathy to know your thoughts. What you’re thinking about? Or should I say, who?” Emma Frost's voice broke through his introspection. It was softer and gentler than it normally is with him.

“What may I assist you with, Emma?” Wanting to get this over, Erik turned his back to her, looking over the readout from the machines, again.

Shaking her head,” Wolverine has been in contact.” He stopped ignoring her then. To have the full attention of Magneto on you when he was in any kind of mood other than neutral or happy, the entire area he was in felt static and alive with electromagnetic energy. It was his way of letting everyone know they had his full, undivided attention. And Emma reasoned, it made it difficult for others to concentrate on anything but paying attention to him. Even using mutant abilities under those conditions was difficult. “It's Rogue. She's been injured. He's asking for you to be at the mansion.”

“She's not?” He didn't want to think of why.

“He said get there as soon as you could.” Emma, taking a chance, reached a comforting hand out for this complicated man. She rarely had a soothing word for anyone, but seeing the slight change in him since Rogue's departure, she hoped this simple gesture would help him. Utopia sure needed it.

He accepted the comforting hand on his shoulder, holding her hand with his. “I leave in thirty minutes. I assume Cyclops already knows?”

“He was there when I took the call. He knows what she means to you. Go, take what time you need. We'll keep you in the loop.”

He was gone in fifteen minutes.

*****

Beast led Magneto to the medical labs beneath the Jean Grey School for Gifted Youngsters. The younger mutant caught him up to speed about the battle, protecting the school, again. Before he leaves, if he does, looking over and ensuring school security is more than sufficient was an item he placed on an ever-growing list. Dr. McCoy said that Rogue had attempted to absorb the renegade mutant's abilities, but Gambit hadn't seen her making her way, nor had he heard her saying what her intentions were. The blast threw the both of them back, the renegade using the force to incapacitate Rogue with a serious head wound. Beast backed out of the fight, getting her out of danger.

Holding a clawed hand up, the blue-furred man stopped their progress outside the room that contained Rogue. “Now, she has been in and out of consciousness for the last hour, but not coherent. I normally hold to the strictest of practices when it comes to HIPAA and my patients and their privacy. But I felt this was something you deserved to know.”

Feeling his anxiety spiking, Erik had to force himself to calm down, lest he lose control and affect whatever machinery was assisting Rogue. Not speaking, he gave the doctor a decided and pointed look.

Glancing around them, Hank assured himself that no one was nearby. Pushing his glasses up, he took a breath. “Were you aware that Rogue was pregnant?”

Erik felt the world shift as he grabbed the wall, using his powers to help keep his balance. They'd been so careful… except that last night together. Neither had said anything, knowing full well they hadn't been careful. They let their emotions get in the way. A baby? She was carrying… wait?

He swallowed hard, “Was?”

“I'm sorry, Erik. I truly am. Rachel was helping me with her exam when we noticed the blood.” Hank saw all the emotions on display on Magneto's face. A rare show for the older mutant. Anger was the emotion one would most associate with him. Pure, unadulterated, anger. Right now, it looked as though despair and heartbreak were fighting for ownership.

Voice cracking, Erik barely got out, “I need to see her…”

“Of course,” Beast nodded, opening the door. Rachel Summers sat in a chair next to Rogue's bed, but Magneto barely registered her presence. Beast motioned her to leave, which she was doing anyway, wanting to give the distraught man time alone with Rogue. She sent a gentle telepathic message to him that she should be waking soon, and the last time she was more herself. He barely nodded in acknowledgment.

As soon as the door closed behind them, the man known as Magneto climbed upon the bed, wrapping his body carefully around Rogue, allowing himself to cry.

*****

Warmth and safety. That is what she felt when Rogue began to awaken. The room was not hers, she knew that. The lights were dimmed really low and it smelled too sterile. She also smelled something familiar, someone she’d been missing. Attempting to move about, Rogue felt strong arms around her. She cuddled into them, having needed them for so long. “Are you awake, libechen?”

That voice was music to her ears. “Gettin’ there. Am Ah dreamin’?”

“If this is a dream, then it's not a bad one. You are in my arms.” Erik kissed the side of her forehead ever so gently.

He wasn't waxing his usual poetic, so she knew something was wrong. Her head hurt, and her lower body was cramping. “What happened?”

“You were downed in battle and now you are in the Infirmary. Do you need, Dr. McCoy?” He had already sent a few thoughts to Rachel, who had perched herself nearby, to alert the doctor that Rogue was awake, and likely experiencing pain from a headache and cramping from the miscarriage. Rogue nodded in ascent.

“Rachel send for ya?”

“Wolverine did.”

Rogue lay in silence, dumbfounded.

“This surprises you?”

“How bad am Ah hurt?”

Erik didn't relish this next conversation. He didn't know if Rogue was even aware of the pregnancy. Rachel told him as much. She never acted like it. They both doubted that she would have risked a pregnancy like that if she had known. And he hoped that if she had known, that she would have shared the information with him.

As it was, if she didn't know, that would mean four people who knew before her: Erik, Beast, Rachel, and Wolverine. The latter because he’d barged into the room to find out how she was when Beast and Rachel were discussing it. Erik reasoned with himself that was the reason why Logan called and sent for him.

“You have a concussion, a large wound on your head, and…,” It killed him to say this next part. How did one say this? Was there ever a good way to do this? “You had a miscarriage.”

Rogue stiffened in Magneto's arms. The first two made sense. Those were a dime a dozen in this business. But… a miscarriage? That meant she had to have been… “Ah was pregnant?”

Magneto breathed an inward sigh of relief that he was correct that she didn't know. His Rogue was many things to many people, but like he was to her, she was always open and honest to him. “You were, my dear.”

Feeling her shake in his arms, he knew from experience with Magda, that words were no longer needed. What was needed was to be there. They’d never talked about children, and never about a future for them. But he decided that once the dust settled from this if Rogue desired a future with him, he was more than happy to stay at her side, wherever that is.

He wanted and needed her in ways he hadn’t needed a woman since Magda. But even still, this was different. Rogue didn't depend on him for survival. Not like Magda had. She treated him like an equal, and someone she wanted around, desired to be with, and cared for a great amount. He felt all of that, and more. And now that he knew that a baby was in the realm of possibility with Rogue, he had to admit, it did increase his desire for her more. That, however, was something for later. The now concerned Rogue and her present condition.

Rachel entered the room, with the medicine, fresh bandages, and clothing for Rogue. Together, in silence, Erik assisted Rachel in caring for Rogue. She refused to let him out of the room. She was showing him a vulnerability that was rarely let out. Even for the others to see. He welcomed it, as he needed her just as much. The child lost had been just as much his. He was gentle with her, surprising Rachel with the care and love he showed for her friend.

Rogue was a robot on the outside. On the inside? On the inside, she was a complete mess at war with herself. Learning in one breath that not only were you pregnant, but that you also lost the baby?! That was devastating. The fact that Magnus was being so kind and understanding, and not yelling and screaming at her scared her. She went into how many battles and fights with his child, and then she ended up killing it? She killed the baby! Her baby! How could she be so stupid? The signs had been there? Hadn’t they? Did she miss her period? Did she even have her period?

Could the ringing in her head stop? The room was closing in on her, and spinning, her breathing becoming erratic. Magnus kissed her forehead and put a hand by her uninjured side, speaking calmly to her. The room soon became dark.

“What did you do?” Rachel checked over Rogue's vitals as Beast came into the room.

“I merely gave her the hypnotic suggestion to sleep,” Erik replied.

“And this won't cause an issue with her injuries?” Beast asked, concerned and slightly accusatory.

“None. I have done it before. It is faster than medicine and won't cause any groggy after effects.” They settled Rogue back down onto the bed and Erik covered her up with a fresh blanket.

The other two looked at him conspicuously. Glowering, Erik explains in a steady and angered voice, “In cases of medical emergencies, it has proven beneficial to give a hypnotic suggestion of sleep when the patient is suffering from severe anxiety, like Rogue. It helps to keep them calm, and to keep them from further injuring themselves and others.”

Beast nodded in acknowledgment, dropping the silent subject.

****

“Are ya mad at me?” Rogue was frightened, that much was clear to him. And it did not sit well with him. Having the woman he cared for so deeply, to be frightened of him, in any way? No, this will not do.

“Rogue, how could I be mad at you? You did not know.” Clasping her hands into his, he kissed them. Seeing her relax some, gave him hope. “I cannot be angry with you over any of this. None of it is your fault. If anyone is at fault, I am. It was gross negligence on my part, my dear.”

“But, Magnus, how, ya didn't know either…?”

“Shhhh,” he interrupted. “Had I possessed the balls to join you here, instead of being a stubborn fool, I could have prevented you from being injured in such a way. I also would have kept you from being in distress, you and I both would have noticed the changes in your body. And we would have made the appropriate decisions from there. So, if there is anyone here who is truly at fault, I am.”

Sitting there, for a moment, ruminating over his words, Rogue stroked his cheek, feeling Magnus lean into her touch. “So we're both damned fools. An’ you aren't to blame. Ah could have just as easily stayed behind with ya. But ah, didn't.”

“Then, do us both a favor,” his eyes pleaded with her.

“What?”

“Do not ever feel you need to be frightened of me or that I could ever be angry at you for something like this. Ever.” Looking deep into her eyes, he hoped his words rang true with her. Rogue's hormone levels would be all over the place for the near foreseeable future, making life topsy turvy for her and him if they didn't navigate it with love and care.

She nodded, waiting to see where he went with this. “I am here for you during this, Rogue. I love you. And you need not apologize for anything, either.”

It clicked then. He was being very attentive. It was like he knew what to do, what to say. What she was going through. He'd been here for almost a day now, much of that time spent with her asleep. He'd been through this before. “Magnus?”

“Yes?”

“Did Magda ever miscarry?” His crestfallen face told her that yes, she had. “Oh, Magnus.”

“Do not fret over my past, Rogue. If I can draw on those experiences to aid us both now, I do so willingly and without trepidation.” Reaching his arms around Rogue, Magneto pulls her into a loving embrace.

“Ah love you.”

“And I you.”

“Ah am glad that you came,” nuzzling his neck, Rogue seeks and freely gives him comfort.

Magneto smiles sadly at her words. Had they defined their relationship before she left, perhaps she wouldn't have the feelings attached to those words that he knew were present.

“You are injured, my dear. You need me. And I must confess,” leaving a peck on her cheek Magneto continued, “I missed you.”

Rogue, his Rogue, began crying. While this made others uncomfortable, he refused to shy away. Magneto held her closer, cradling her head, leaving the occasional kiss and comforting word.

A few minutes pass, and Rogue breaks the contact. Wiping her tears away, sniffling and stuttering slightly, she says, “Look at me, Ah'm a frightful mess.”

Chuckling slightly, Magneto moves her hair from her face. “Liebchen, you are beautiful. Even after everything you have faced in these past twenty-four hours. You are my strong, beautiful, fully capable Rogue. And I am here to be at your side for as long as you want me there.”

This stunned Rogue. She was used to Magnus calling her his. Saying she was strong, capable, and more. But… for as long as she wanted? “Are you serious? Or is it because Ah was carryin’ your baby?”

“I would be amiss to say that the baby wasn't a small part of this decision. However, I have given this some thought since your departure.” Magnus stood up from the bed. He took her right hand, holding it above his heart. “A decision does not need to be made at present. You are dealing with a great deal. However, my impatience to share my feelings at an inopportune time may be my undoing…”

Rogue interrupts him by placing her index finger over his lips. “Look, we both heard Beast's speech about how it could take a while for muh body's hormones an whatnot, and Ah’m all sorts of confused, and Ah want to cry and break things. But,” dropping her hand from his lips to join his and her hand over his heart, “one thing Ah know for sure, was Ah had already made up muh mind before this happened. Rogue needs her Magnus with her. Here or in Utopia, it don't matter.”

Magnus lowered his lips to hers for a soft, yet powerful kiss.

******

The next day, Wolverine was in his office when his door was slammed open by a magnetic force. Magneto stood in the doorway. “Took ya long enough.”

“I made sure Rogue was well and resting comfortably first. There were things we needed to discuss, though those full discussions will have to wait until she is fully recovered.” As he stepped into the room, the door shut behind Magneto. Standing before the desk, he narrows his eyes at the other mutant.

“The only decision that has been made thus far is where Rogue goes, I go,” Erik smirked as Logan visibly bristled at this. “If she decides to stay here, I will sign on as your new physics instructor. And your poor treatment of her will cease.”

“She tell ya ‘bout me not trustin’ her anymore?” Logan figured she went ballin’ to him.

“Mortimer did. And he will not face any repercussions for talking to me. Any issues you have with me, take them with me, Logan. Not Rogue or Toad.” The need to snarl and become primal against the man in front of him was great. But, he did not want to upset Rogue.

“That a threat?”

“A promise.”

“She aware you’re up here?”

“Fully.” Magneto reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small thumb drive. “Here. I promised Miss Pryde I would hand you a copy. I upgraded the school's security systems. These are the schematics. You should experience fewer attacks and if you are attacked, have more assistance from the school itself. The probability of teammates becoming injured is decreased by half.”

With that, the Master of Magnetism turns and leaves the room. Wolverine looks on in stunned silence.

#magneto #rogue #rogueneto #rogneto #rogue x magneto #magneto x rogue #x men comics #x men legacy #x-men utopia

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