#largely done in a sort of AU way or focusing on different things

[gay-artificer]

I feel like I see much more complaining about innocent sad mom girlboss fandomized Artificer than i actually see innocent sad mom girlboss Artificer. Past like, jokes about them being a girlboss. Which don't count.

[loliwrites]

The One You Need | one

🎶 I spent most my life thinkin' love was out of reach, so maybe just this once, you could be the one I need, if you let me be the one you need 🎶

Pairing: neighbor!joel miller x f!reader  Rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni  Summary: when you move into town hellbent on keeping everyone at an arm’s length, your neighbor Joel finds his way into your life. Warnings/Tags: au, neighbor joel, age gap [reader is late 20s/early 30s, Joel is late 40s], slow burn [ish], hyper-independent reader, a bit of a misandrist mindset [boys are problems], mentions of family drama/turmoil, passing mention of death [elderly neighbor], brief non-violent use of a pocket knife, mention of stabbing [as self-defense], furniture building, reader described as female, hair long enough to tie up, no other physical descriptions, eventual smut, protective!joel, soft!joel, no use of y/n. Word Count: 4.6k Series Masterlist | part two a/n: this is my first time writing with this sort of format so pls be gentle. i’ve done my best to tag as thoroughly as possible, but if you think i’ve missed something, let me know. i have no outline for this. but i’ve got a whim and a direction and i’m going with it. **please read the warnings/tags for every part as they will be updated**

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You’d done it. Finally. No one ever thought you would, including you. And yet, here you were, lugging your sparse personal belongings out of the back of a U-Haul truck and in through the front door of your new home. And for once in your adult life, it wasn’t in some impersonal apartment building or complex. It was a house. In a town that was actually affordable, though it was further from home than you might’ve preferred. A town that was away from family, which had been the impetus, but also away from friends, which hadn’t been. 

There was a perk to this being the first house you’d ever moved into. Being confined to seven hundred square feet had meant there was only so much room to fill. And it had all been cozy. But now there was a bit more space to work with. Not to say this house was large by any stretch of the imagination – it was on the smaller side of all the houses in the neighborhood – but you had rooms now. And as you loaded in different boxes and suitcases full of clothes and books, you realized how much of the space was going to be left empty. With the exception of a mattress, bed frame, dresser, a couple chairs, and bookcases, you left every other large piece of furniture behind. Couches, dining table, kitchen chairs, media console, TV… you planned on buying all of that in town. You only wanted to bring what you felt you could move yourself. 

It was the season of life you were in. Young enough for people to say you had time before focusing on creating a family for yourself, but not young enough to avoid their awkward and worried glances when you told them you were only focused on your career. It was odd; never something that settled right. With each birthday, every time a candle was added, the world around you seemed less secure with your aloneness. As if you, a single female, were something of a threat to the rest of the world. Your solitude, an act of rebellion. God forbid you didn’t have a man to look after you. In your experience, boys didn’t do too good a job at much. Were they useful? Absolutely. You’d much rather delegate tasks to a boy than have to do them yourself. Mow the lawn, fix a creaky door, seal a drafty window, get you off… sure, there were any number of things a boy could do, but not only were they not necessary, you generally found you were better at any job than they were. That had been instilled in you long before you began dating. 

How many times had it been proven that dad could not be held accountable for his entire emotional spectrum? And instead you, a mere child, were to be responsible for it. Though it wasn’t always bad – somewhere deep down you knew your parents had done the absolute best they knew how to do with the tools they had – but the emotion dad was never short on was anger. Thus, it was the emotion he was most comfortable expressing. And yes, you apparently were the catalyst for all of his loud expressions of anger and rage. Everything was always conditional. I’m sorry but you did this… 

I love you but…

By the time dating had entered your life (which only happened post-college), let’s just say no therapist was surprised by the pattern of boys you chose to have in your life. All of them modeled the thing you were familiar with, which only served to imbed the quality you hated most about yourself. There was a tendency to accept any treatment a boy was willing to give you, without expressing needs or desires or even if there was a problem. Boundaries? Never heard of her. As far as boys were concerned, they seemed to have carte blanche over you. Your own resentment and anger would grow by the lack of your needs (which had never been verbally expressed) being met, until you’d had enough and cut them off. Every new relationship felt like a complete betrayal of yourself.

The highly independent and ‘don’t need a man’ personality quirk had strung a ribbon of apathy around your life. You liked to think of it that way. Like a Christmas bow around a present. Realizing you didn’t care about forming intimate relationships with men seemed a little less painful when given the image of a box neatly wrapped beneath a tree donning tinsel and colorful lights. It was at that point, while pondering your ribbon of apathy and clumsily shoving your mattress up the front porch steps, that a voice interrupted your progress.

“Lemme help ya’ with that, ma’am,”

The voice had arms. And those arms were simultaneously reaching for the same end of the mattress you already had hands on. Instinctively, you tugged your bed out of reach, “I got it.” But hands kept coming. They were insistent. Of course they were a man’s hands. A woman would’ve listened the first time. So with an extra strong tug and a tone that spat fire, you turned toward the owner of the hands and stood your ground, “I said, I got it!”

Dark brown eyes that almost looked black had the sun not been playing in their favor. They were soft. Gentle. Despite the fact that he’d just gotten yelled at. And those soft dark brown eyes… well they looked dumbfounded. Whether it was because of the volume of the statement or the fact that people generally didn’t turn down friendly help here in the South, he lifted his hands off the mattress and held them up innocently. 

The force with which your action had been committed meant that the moment he released  the bed, you went stumbling over, the entire thing thudding down on the porch. You shot him another icy glare as he slowly backed off the steps, though he remained in place and watched you crouch down to lift your mattress once again; the pad now harboring dirty stains.

“Can I help you with something in the truck?” He offered again. Unwanted persistence was a uniquely male quality.

“I don’t need your help, thanks. I got it,”

He watched for just a second longer at the image of you fumbling with the heavy mattress, barely able to keep it upright. Then he turned on his heels and went back from whence he came. Which you came to realize, when you looked over your shoulder to ensure he’d actually gone, was across the street and a few houses down. Fuck. Back in California, not too many people were neighborly but it wasn’t a point you were hoping to make. Especially not on the first day. There was a quaintness to the idea of a neighborhood full of people who liked and looked out for one another. You’d just hoped that would’ve come in the form of some old, opinionated woman sipping tea in a rocking chair on her front porch. The kind that maybe the kids were afraid of, but she was awesome. That’s when it came to mind that maybe that was the void in the neighborhood you were filling. You were to be the crotchety old woman, yelling at “those darn kids”. Fabulous.

Unfortunately (for no other reason than your own ego) you only got the mattress in through the threshold of the front door before it fell to the side and flopped back down to the floor. With a sigh and a thought that maybe it wasn’t so bad if it just lived there, you stepped over it and padded into the kitchen. Managed to place the boxes designated to the room in it, but had yet to unpack anything. You turned on the tap and tilted your head to the side, leaning in to take a sip of water directly from it. Only to find that upon turning off the tap and looking out the bay window by the sink, the man that had offered to help was visible from his yard. He wheeled out his trash and recycling bins to the curb. Resting his hands on his hips, he glanced around and took stock of the neighborhood. All seemed quiet and to his liking.

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Joel liked routine. Habit-forming had become a sort of habit. It meant he knew what his days looked like. It meant he was prepared. And after having been handed a life where being ill-prepared meant something was going wrong, there was great comfort in knowing how things were going to go day by day. Though he wasn’t rigid. He could include new things in his routine. For instance…

One morning he woke up, made his usual pot of coffee before work, and stood out on his porch. It’d be one of his only moments to slow down and actually notice the day. That’s when he noticed something new in his routine. A “For Sale” sign went up on Mrs. Wilson’s front lawn. Everyone in the neighborhood had been expecting it because, well, Mrs. Wilson had passed away. In her sleep one night. Joel thought that must’ve been the nicest way to go. And every morning, he’d go out on his porch and ponder Mrs. Wilson before carrying on with the rest of his routine. As such, he saw when it sold and went into escrow. He saw Mrs. Wilson’s son move out all of his mother’s old furniture until the place was left empty. Everything was routine. 

That is, until the U-Haul showed up this morning. It was a small one and he remembered thinking there was no way that little truck contained enough furniture to fill up that house. But he brushed it off, continued with his routine, and went off to work. Though he had to admit, he was wholly curious about the new neighbor he was about to inherit.

He left his jobsite early afternoon, his truck ambling back to his house when another neighbor waved him down to stop him.

“Hey, Mr. Cole,” Joel smiled at the elderly man. Mr. Cole had been the first one to greet Joel when he’d first moved into town. Mr. Cole knew everything going on in the neighborhood, courtesy of Mrs. Cole.

“You see that gal move into Mrs. Wilson’s house?”

Joel nodded, “saw that woman move in, yeah.”

“Mighty pretty,”

Joel chuckled, “surely not as pretty as Mrs. Cole,”

“I don’t know,”

Joel laughed a little harder. “I’ll see ya’ around. Stop snoopin’.”

He’d only just arrived back home and parked his truck in the driveway when he saw you struggling with the mattress. And his mama raised him better than that so he went to offer his help. There hadn’t been a fiber in his being that thought you’d snap back like you had. That’s why he tried a second time. And when the second snap was stronger than the first, he raised his hands and backed off.

Shit. Out-of-towners were getting meaner and meaner.

He meandered to his house and only looked back once, just in time to see the mattress fall to the floor just inside the front door. He smiled to himself and continued on with his routine as much as possible. Tomorrow was trash day which meant the bins needed to be brought out.  Simple enough task, just the way he liked it. He liked it even more when he spotted a glimpse of you looking at him through your kitchen window. 

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You forwent unpacking anything that day. It wasn’t worth it. Nothing you pulled out would truly have a place to live until you got the furniture situation handled. And seeing as though your bed was still in the entryway, you figured there were bigger problems to handle. But just by looking at the hallway, and the thin doorways, you knew you were going to have a hell of a time bending and twisting the mattress to your will… and the architecture. Grocery shopping proved to be more time-sensitive, and once the fridge was as fully stocked as your bank account would allow, it already started to feel more like home. Which also meant, the way you’d snapped at your neighbor started to bother you more. You had to live in this person’s realm – whatever that looked like. He was your neighbor, and short of literally becoming the crotchety old woman that never left her home, there wasn’t a way for you to avoid him altogether. He seemed to have a lot of friends on the block. That’s also when you decided to suck up to your pride. To apologize to this man who really didn’t deserve an apology at all. Whatever it took to just live in peace.

The more you thought about it, the more it angered you. That was pretty par for the course. It would’ve been more odd if a man wasn’t pissing you off. It was still running through your mind as you plucked a six-pack from your fridge and crossed the street in the direction of his house. You thought about how you were going to have to plaster a phony smile on your face and make niceties to this person who you didn’t want to get to know. You just wanted to live. And you thought you’d have more time. As you ascended his porch steps, you made for the front door, zeroed in on it.

“Hey,” 

The voice startled you, tripping over your own feet and stumbling, very nearly losing the six-pack of bottles to the wooden porch. You glanced over at him, and in the dim light his porch light gave off, watched him take an acoustic guitar out of his lap and set it beside his chair.

“Hi,” you mumbled and walked in his direction. “I’m your new neighbor,”

“I know. You yelled at me,”

You rolled your eyes, “I didn’t yell at you. I was just letting you know–”

“S’for me?”

You looked back down at him and noticed how he pointed at the six-pack of beer. “We got off on the wrong foot and I just want to live in peace and quiet so,” gesturing to the beer, “peace offering.” You handed the pack to him.

Joel cradled the cardboard sleeve in his lap and pulled out a bottle. “Want one?”

“No, thanks. I just came to drop them off,”

He flicked his eyes up and pulled out a second bottle. Then, setting the remaining bottles on the floor beside him, he twisted the first cap off. “S’not nice to yell at someone and then refuse their offer to share a drink,”

“I didn’t yell at you,”

“Sit down.”

And for whatever reason, you listened. In the past, had any man spoken to you like that, especially one you didn’t know from Adam, you’d’ve smacked him. But not this time. This time you sat in the chair perched next to his and awkwardly took the open beer from his hand when he passed it over to you.

The silence that ensued was tense and palpable. Neither willing to bend first. Joel kept his eyes focused on his beer bottle and you kept your focus on… him. Naturally suspicious and wary, you thought if you kept your gaze on him, you’d catch him before he did anything out of hand. But really all you noticed was the way his nose had a slight downward curve to it. And the way the graying hair at the back of his head curled along his neck. And the way his beard, also graying, came in in patches, but in the most endearing way. Wrinkles and worry lines had etched their way deep in his forehead. Crow’s feet found a home in the corners of his eyes. Both told you this was a man who had felt and lived a lot of life: the good and the bad. You thought you saw a small scar on his cheek just below his eye, but you couldn’t be sure. The man was middle-aged. His skin and hands gave the appearance he was a blue-collar, working man who’d spent his life in the beating sun.

“Get everything moved in?” He took a sip and eyed you, aware that you were nodding, but still the glance he gave you made you think he knew you were lying. Obviously you were.

“My bed is still by the front door,” you relented.

“Not where I’d recommend a bedroom be, but to each their own,”

“I can’t get it down the hallway by myself.” You tried to ignore that he seemed to light up at the admission. You? Needing his help? “It’s too narrow,”

“Want help?”

You looked at him almost incredulously. Had you treated California neighbors the way you treated them, you'd have been lucky if you didn’t find your car keyed the next day. But he was offering his help? Again?

“You’d help me after the way I yelled at you?”

He pursed his lips and shrugged. “You didn’t yell at me,” another smile flashed over his face and he looked over at you again.

You hated that it made you smile, too. Yet you waved him off. “That’s alright. I’ll figure out a way,”

Joel chuckled and shook his head, taking a pause before he downed another long sip of his beer.

“What?” You urged. 

“S’nothin’,'' he shook his head again with another grin. “Know you probably could figure out a way, but… s’just that you don’t need to. Why won’t you let me help you?”

You sucked in a deep breath, “look, I’m sure you’re a nice guy…” you trailed off realizing you didn’t know his name more than referring to him to yourself as that nosy neighbor guy.

He seemed to pick up on it and pointed to himself, “Joel. Miller,”

“But I don’t need a guy to get on with life, y’know? I’m a self-sufficient woman. I don’t need to rely on anyone but myself.”

Joel finished off his beer and stood up from his chair, “acceptin’ help when it’s offered isn’t relying on anyone else. It just makes life easier.” He started down the steps and crossed over his lawn.

“Where’re you going?!”

“To move your bed!”

Leaping up from your chair, you ran after him, in quick pursuit as he neared your home. You knew it was a wreck inside. Trash and boxes everywhere. Not ready for any visitors, even ones you didn’t want there in the first place. 

“Really! It’s alright.” When that didn’t stop him from advancing toward your house, you tried another path, “the bed frame’s not even put together!”

“Then I’ll put it together,” he said over his shoulder, nearly in your front yard now. 

You managed to lunge forward and grab onto his jacket sleeve, effectively stopping his advance. At least for the time being. “I don’t usually let men I don’t know into my home,”

“What?”

“You know… in case they’re crazy and kill me.”

Joel furrowed his eyebrows, utterly perplexed. He tried to make heads or tails of you as a whole and was having a hell of a time trying to do so. But he shoved his hand into the back pocket of his jeans and produced from it, a pocket knife. He unfolded it, which gave you some pause, but then he quickly held it out for you to take. You did, and as soon as the small weapon left his hand, he turned and continued toward your porch.

“Hey! What am I supposed to do with this?!”

“Stab me,”

“What?!”

He ascended the porch steps and waited at your front door, where you soon joined him. “If I do something weird, and you think I’m gonna kill you in your own house, you can stab me. Full permission,”

You looked down at the knife, and then back up at Joel. 

“Can you open your door?”

Gulping down nerves, “it’s unlocked.”

“Still,” Joel pressed a smile, “I’m not in the habit of letting myself into women’s homes. I’d prefer if you opened it and let me in.”

For the second time today, you found yourself doing something all because a man told you to do so and you wondered if the move was making you soft. Regardless, you reached past Joel, pressed down on the lever, and nudged the door open. It stopped short from opening all the way as it hit the edge of your mattress. Joel flicked his eyes at you, as if silently saying see, you need me.

He shimmied his way in, with you close behind, half-heartedly pointing the pocket knife in his direction. He bent over and picked the mattress up off the floor, seemingly with ease. Though you did hear his knees click when he crouched down, but due to his age, you thought better than to bring it to attention. Hell, even your knees creaked every now and again.

“I’ll go backwards and steer it. Think you can be the muscle?” He waited until you nodded and set the knife down, and gathered your hair in a messy bun on top of your head to keep it out of the way. Poised at the other end of the mattress, he lined it up for its plight down the hallway. “Alright, nice and easy,” he began to pull, feeling more frictionless movement as you began helping on the other end. It wasn’t too hard; more awkward than anything. But he guessed the mattress weighed as much as, if not more than, you, so by yourself it must’ve been like dragging dead weight around. “Easy, easy,” he murmured, tilting the mattress to the side to accommodate for the doorjamb, “that’s it. Take it slow,” he elongated the end of the word, completely focused on the side of the mattress as it brushed along the door. “We’re in,”

You helped him lean the mattress out of the way and against the wall. “Thanks for your help, Joel,” you backed up toward the door, hoping he’d follow you.

But he ignored you completely, and instead found the parts to your metal bed frame laying on the floor. He lowered himself to his knees and inspected it. “You got a Phillips head?”

“Joel…”

“S’gonna take me ten minutes. The longer you stall, the longer I’m gonna be here.”

He had a point. And a very good one at that. So you turned and all but ran down the hall, searching for the box you’d so astutely labeled as “tools”. A fear set in that the longer you were away, the more time Joel had to go through your belongings (albeit sparse). You didn’t want him getting too comfortable in your home, least of all in your bedroom. So you rushed, tore open the “tools” box, dug through it until you found the screwdriver, and then raced back down the hall as if you’d have time to catch him snooping. But as soon as you arrived back in your bedroom doorway, you didn’t find him snooping. You found him still on his knees, crawling around, laying the different parts out to make the square your bed would soon sit on. 

Joel smiled when he noticed you returned, and held his hand up to take the screwdriver from you. Only when he grabbed it, his face turned to horror and he grimaced at the pink floral design on the handle. “What’s this?”

“A screwdriver,”

“It’s got flowers on it,” he protested.

“It’s cute!”

He chuckled and started putting the bed frame together. “Y’know they charged you thirty percent more because they slapped flowers on it and marketed it toward women,”

You sat on the floor beside him and watched him work. “Well if I have to be the man in my life, my tools are gonna be a little more feminine,”

Joel glanced at you momentarily. Just long enough to question your statement, but not long enough for you to really notice he’d stopped working at all. “What about the actual man in your life?”

“Don’t have one. Don’t need one. I’ve got my floral tool set to prove it,”

A hum was the only acknowledgement Joel gave to that. As if that answered all his questions.

“What?”

“You talk a lot about how you don’t need anyone. I’m gatherin’ you actually only mean you don’t need a man. Which is fine and all, but s’just that that seems kinda lonely.” He set the screwdriver down and held the next two pieces together. “You remind me of me ten years ago. Stubborn. Determined to be alone.” He moved on to the next piece, “thing is… if you don’t need anyone, it also kind of implies that you’re not needed by anyone. And what good is life if you can’t give yourself to someone in that way?”

Jaw-dropped, you gathered yourself, eyes widening. “Wow, your wife must love having you as a husband,”

He smiled and chuckled, “I don’t have a wife.”

“So what do you know about giving yourself to someone and being needed?”

Joel flashed his eyes to you. Gentle and filled with love, “I have a daughter. Sarah. She’s in college now. She’s quite literally the best thing that’s ever happened in my life,”

“I wouldn’t have pegged you for a father,”

“‘Cause I look so young?” He grinned and tightened one final screw. With the frame now positioned where it needed to be, he stood up and went back to your mattress. You scooted out of the way as he single-handedly maneuvered it onto the frame and adjusted it until it was just perfect. “Check it off the to-do list. Now you can get a good night’s sleep,”

You admired his work and it wasn’t lost on you that it only took him a third of the time it would’ve taken you. Before you’d even gotten through that realization, Joel had already passed you and had made his way back out to the hall, where he walked down it back toward your front door. You followed after him, remaining quiet as he picked up his pocket knife from where you’d left it and tucked it back into his pant pocket. His hand got to the doorknob and you still hadn’t spoken, so he was the one to bite the bullet.

“You know, I never got your name.”

Heat crept up your neck, trying to make a home in your cheeks, as you mentioned your name to him. He smiled and nodded but offered nothing more, so you figured it was still your turn. “Thanks for your help, Joel,”

“No problem,” he waved you off.

“Maybe if more guys were like you, I wouldn’t hate them so much,”

“Give it time. You’ll be back to yellin’ at me soon.” He opened the front door and took a step through it. “Give me a holler if you need something, you know where I live,”

“Will do,”

He started to close the door but then opened it again and poked his head through. “Make sure you lock the door this time,”

You pressed a smile and approached the door where he waited until your hand was on the knob. With one last quiet goodbye, he pulled the door shut and you followed it up by locking it. Then with little time to spare, you ran to the window in the living room to watch him walk away. He pressed his hands into his pockets and looked around. Then a smile stretched over his face and he kicked at the grass before he crossed the street and moseyed back to his house.

[fischlcatgirl]

GENSHIN X FILES AU. WAIT LISTEN HEAR ME OUT

ok so in this au there exists a branch of the x files fbi made up specifically of children. this is useful because though one can certainly get a ways going up to people and saying hey. we're the fbi. let us in. there is a different kind of infiltration for which literal children work most effectively. if an fbi agent comes to your evil church and talks about investigating everyone is going to be on high alert. but if you have a highly trained small child sneak out of sunday school they'll have probably at least ten minutes before anyone goes looking for them. and even then when theyre found in the records department they say oh im a child. i got lost. whoops.

naturally its a very small department. very niche. very need to know. especially because the cases entrusted to these Literal Children tend to be very weird in nature.

so the main characters of this au are Nahida and Scaramouche NOT IN A SHIP WAY. I NEED THIS TO BE ABUNDANTLY CLEAR. i may be an msr lover but this is an AU with DIFFERENT CHARACTERS you have to UNDERSTAND.

Nahida is the department's agent with the highest efficiency. She is maybe 8 years old and has been a part of the department for as long as she can remember. As long as she can remember is actually only since she was like, five, though. anything earlier than that is a complete blank. this is because, and she does not know this, she is the product of a human cloning experiment done using the combined dna of both the fbi's now deceased actual best adult agent, Rukkadevata, and AN ALIEN. This was done with the INTENT of creating a second functioning adult agent but there were complications and Nahida had to be taken out early, so naturally Nahida is considered a failure for reasons she does not know and thus cannot explain. She is incredibly focused and serious as an agent because she is trying to get people to like her. ITS NOT WORKING.

The cloning project's name is PROJECT BUER. There are still attempts being made at it, but Nahida was their best shot so everyone involved is still kind of pissed at Nahida.

Scaramouche was taken out of a military experiment to see how far they could take mechanical enhancements to the human body. He is 14, and was chosen as a child (10) specifically to see how his regular human growth would impede the enhancements. He and the Raiden Shogun are Makoto's children, and though he was volunteered by Ei following Makoto's death, Raiden was allowed to stay because she was older and less of a kind of. handful. He only cares about completing his missions well because he's been threatened with being sent back to the project if he doesn't. He actually knows about Project Buer on account of some snooping around he did when he was first introduced to the department of literal children, but again, he was threatened with being sent back to the project if he told anyone, especially Nahida.

The project he was part of was run by DOTTORE. Collei and Niwa were also a part of it, and the three of them met while inside, but Collei and Niwa managed to escape. Katsuragi was part of this escape attempt, but Dottore actually managed to capture him. He was terminated, and Dottore told Scaramouche that Katsuragi had said he was involved in the plan, and that he would be punished accordingly. This was. a lie. Dottore just knew the two of them were friends and didn't want Scara to get any IDEAS about escaping as well, and also wanted to take out the fact that two of his other subjects had escaped on someone. The boy who was Scara's friend had basically the same thing happen as in canon, except instead of being in some village in Inazuma, he was part of this project. Afterwards, Scara patently refused to cooperate in any sort of test. They could have kept going, but it would have been more difficult, so he was pulled.

Basically, Scaramouche (the department's "problem agent") and Nahida (not a problem, but still largely low within the pecking order for reasons out of her control) start getting sent on sham missions as an excuse to get both of them out of the department. These are the X Files. Unfortunately for the department's head (Azar, probably), this DOES NOT WORK. Nahida and Scaramouche KEEP SOLVING THE CASES.

Scaramouche's original plan is to keep doing the bare minimum, but he realizes at some point that even then they might deem them to not be doing well enough, and while yeah, he definitely doesn't want to go back to the project, he also realizes that he doesn't know what will happen to Nahida if she gets kicked out of the department? and he doesn't want to admit it but he definitely doesn't want to be responsible for the death of this eight year old girl who puts on her most serious faces but is secretly. deep inside. very silly. SO THEYRE FUCKING KICKING ASS.

Eventually they start getting really hard cases. Ones which, you know, turn out to be really bad for them. Nahida gets trapped inside a computer and lives out a false life that is. unbeknownst to her. Rukkadevta's life. She's reaching out from beyond the grave. And Nahida just kind of has to. Deal with that. They get assigned to a case where they inadvertently run into Raiden, because she's dating a police chief (Sara) in the small town they're in. But they can also tell that they keep brushing against some truth, some hidden scheme, and so they keep going, they keep giving it their absolute all.

But before we get to that and because if you've gotten to this point in the post you're really in it now, let us go over some of the other characters involved in this au.

Alhaitham takes Azar's place after he is dismissed for not being able to get rid of Nahida and Scara. He takes a kind of interesting role, where he does not support the x files, believing the reports Nahida and Scara give to be ridiculous fabrications even when they get results, but also being forced to acknowledge that well. they GET RESULTS, and also that it's very strange that the higher ups are trying to get rid of Nahida and Scaramouche. He's aware of Scara's background, but not Nahida's, and his primary goal is The Truth, so he keeps them together and keeps sending them on x file cases.

Kaveh is Alhaitham's former partner (in an fbi way) who also functions as the department's stand-in Parent Figure, so when they need to pull a kid out of a situation fast they send Kaveh in to go "oh my poor child has been on the run im so glad that theyve been found anyway goodbye" he's there because he and Alhaitham keep getting put in the SAME DEPARTMENTS. they both HATE IT. Kaveh is conflicted about his role but ultimately he's actually in a ton of debt and needs this job, so he stays on until later when he and Alhaitham join up with Tighnari.

ON TIGHNARI. you may have noticed earlier when I mentioned that Collei escaped from Dottore. Well. She is technically currently on the run from the government. But she is in fact. Right underneath their noses, because Tighnari (also an fbi agent) took her in and keeps redirecting any attempts to find her. His primary goal is to take down the experiments Dottore is running, and then once that is achieved, to take down the Literal Children Department so they can have Normal Lives. Cyno is a part of this effort, but he mostly appears in conjunction with Tighnari. They're like. Co-heads of this attempt, which is. Naturally. Secret.

Collei is slowly dying because the older she gets the less her enhancements "fit her". They're all kind of jerry-rigged into working still, but it's definitely not a lasting solution. Something needs to be done about it, but obviously she doesn't want to have to go back to the military, especially because now since she's been out of containment and observation for so long there's a good chance they'll just kill her.

Faruzan is a Deep Throat (normal name) sort of character for Nahida and Scara. She secretly helps them in cases while also being frustratingly vague. It's her who eventually leads Nahida to the Project Buer stuff, which is when Nahida really starts going like ohhh nooo i need to get out of here. She's found out and made to vanish by the higher ups once they find out she's been helping, and then replaced by Kaveh, who is really there to take the fall for the person who is telling him to help them, Dori.

THE KNIGHTS OF FAVONIUS. The knights make up a much normaller section of the fbi EXCEPT for Jean and Kaeya, who are Basically Scully and Mulder (AGAIN NOT IN A SHIP WAY). They take care of different X files, and due to some mix-ups regarding how secret the Literal Children Department is, keep getting assigned to the same cases as Nahida and Scara, which makes them go hey. why do these two children keep showing up.

Jean is kind of the Mulder of the two of them, because Barbara was abducted by aliens when they were kids, and when she came back she became the puppet figurehead of a cult. Jean wants these invaders GONE and is very upset by the fact that everywhere she turns it seems like the government is COLLABORATING with them???

Kaeya is an alien. That's all there is to it really. Diluc found out and tried to kill him. When that didn't work he tried to report him to the fbi. when the fbi was like "yeah we know" Diluc quit. And now he's trying to expose the fact that the government is working with aliens but mostly he just gets dismissed as a freak.

Albedo is Jean and Kaeya's Deep Throat (again, normal name) and his main goal is really just revealing the existence of the Literal Children Department to them, mostly because he was the product of the same kind of cloning Nahida was, and he wants her to be able to live a normal life. Also because the head of his project, Alice, has started talking about volunteering her daughter Klee for the Children Department. And Albedo, who was raised basically as Gold and Alice's son (this has created unique problems for him, as being raised by two women who will sacrifice not only their department(the hexenzirkl)'s freak chalk baby but also Alice's flesh baby to the FBI might), cares deeply about Klee. He thinks that Jean and Kaeya are uniquely suited to this because 1. they both care about children (Jean because of the Barbara thing, Kaeya because of his own thing) and 2. They both have a unique sort of untouchability within the fbi, because Barbara's cult is actually generating a lot of revenue for the fbi (alien and government partnership) and because Kaeya. um. (alien and government partnership)

BACK TO THE PLOT.

Nahida discovers the Project Buer thing. Faruzan starts contacting them and helping them on cases. Both her and Scaramouche find out about the Tighnari thing, because Scaramouche recognizes Collei while they're out on a case and they follow her back home because they think it might be relevant to their case. And also for personal reasons. They agree to help.

They actually aren't doing well on a case because of Government Alien Nonsense and Alhaitham comes up to them like hey. youre not doing well on your case. And Nahida blows up in his face about Project Buer and Scara backs her up (they are close at this point). Alhaitham says. Hey. What. What are you talking about.

Alhaitham starts trying to help them figure out what's going on with this whole alien thing. Naturally they are trying to be so stealthy and fly under the radar, but it does not work and eventually he and Faruzan both go missing. He's replaced by an officer from the military, Arlecchino, who actually joins that which is under her purview (also literal children, but this time they're child soldiers instead of child fbi agents) with the fbi one.

Kaveh starts acting as both the kids' informant as well as Tighnari's. He's Nahida and Scara's man on the outside, and Tighnari, Collei, and Cyno's man on the inside. He also wants to know what exactly happened to Alhaitham.

Nahida and Scara get a name for what it is they're chasing: PROJECT CELESTIA, and find that it's connected to Project Buer. Basically. It's aliens.

Jean and Kaeya find out about Scara and Nahida by basically cornering them and saying HEY. WHATS GOING ON. But Albedo shows up and hes like "no.... it isn't time yet... it will be Bad if anyone finds out you met and talked in person". And Jean says NO. WHAT IS HAPPENING. But after everything gets explained to them and everything seems like it's going back to normal Kaeya disappears. And Jean goes to the kids and is like. "I hate to do this but I need help to find Kaeya".

So they find out Kaeya has been basically kidnapped and is being held hostage at one of the Project Celestia like. Stronghouses. Government. Buildings. Whatever. All three of them go to rescue him and they find out he's an alien. It's crazy. But ultimately Jean decides to put her hatred of aliens aside because like. that's her partner (in an fbi way).

They all keep investigating Project Celestia together but separately so that the fbi doesn't detect that they're working together. It's like both the knights' department and the Literal Children Department are working in tandem. But then things seem to be going a little too well?? Like, it seems like they keep getting new evidence that actually turns out to be nothing, like they're being strung along.

AND THEN. Through a massive group effort the Children Department gets SHUT DOWN. Diluc's credibility has been slowly rising because he's been getting fed the results of the cases from Kaeya (begrudgingly), and he's threatened to expose the Literal Children Department if it doesn't get disbanded, with the extra backup of the article ready if he happens to mysteriously vanish because of it (the backup is in Tighnari's possession, not that the fbi knows that).

So Nahida and Scara get put in like a special sort of fbi containment orphanage (lead by Arlecchino still, who may or may not have been part of this plan it's unclear) where they can lead Kind Of Normal lives (it's not ideal) except now they're not agents anymore. So they can't investigate Project Celestia anymore. And all of the adults in their lives are like "that's good!!" but they hate it.

So Nahida, Scara, Collei (who is also a part of the orphanage as part of the deal to not publish the expose about the Children Department), Klee, and Lyney & Lynette & Freminet ALL run away and Try To Get Answers. They are all on the run. They contact Jean and Kaeya, who, with the help of all of these. children. are able to sneak into the government facility where the Project Celestia files are being kept.

THEY GET THE FILES. THEY PUBLISH A LARGELY INCONSEQUENTIAL PART OF THEM BUT ITS STILL LIKE. ALIENS ARE REAL 2K24. EIGHT ADULTS AND SIX CHILDREN GO ON THE RUN. THEY CHANGE THEIR NAMES AND IDENTITIES AND ARE NEVER FOUND BECAUSE PART OF BEING AN AU MEANS DESPITE BEING IN THE X FILES THEY CAN BE HAPPY.

THE END <3

if you made it this far. i hope you enjoyed this post. i'm sorry it was 1 million miles long and if you have any like thoughts or ideas or whatever i would love to hear them.

[totaleclipse573]

Lo and behold

A Terios Lore Post (LONG POST WARNING!)

REASON FOR CREATION

Terios was first made back when I was ten (maybe 11?) I knew the trend of people giving Shadow a brother through the whole “he was created, not born” thing was common, but I didn’t like how it was always done. People kept making Shadow’s “brother” into the most boring, over-powered edge lords with absolutely no flaws or weaknesses whatsoever, their only character was simply to be evil. So I wanted to use the concept, but change it in a good way. I decided Terios would instead be a sort of shy and sweet character who doesn’t have much confidence (and a small fear of heights,) his traits being mostly the opposite of Shadow’s. Though, I didn’t want to make his past or backstory EXACTLY the same as Shadow, so I decided to change things up a bit with his side of the story.

Also, making your own canon is FUN AS HELL, I LOVE THIS

Before I start, I’ll just put these details in here in case you haven’t seen the original post : 

Species : Darkhog (I should explain this one. It’s sort of a mutated combination of a hedgehog, and a darkling, which from what I’ve gathered due to Eclipse, are extremely young, full-blooded Black Arms ‘superiors.’ That part is also based a bit off of personal headcanon though, for context. So he’s a hybrid! Because…it's cool.)

Age : Like Shadow and Eclipse, Terios is ageless, but mentally I feel like he’d be 17 or so. 

Personality : Shy, lacking in confidence, intelligent, very boyfail

Weaknesses : Letting his past get the better of him, loss of control over his emotions (it ends up as a ‘power overload’,) his naivete, low resistance against mental manipulation/overpowering

Fears : Heights, being used for evil, accidentally hurting the people he’s closest to

Sexuality : 24/7 Bisexual Panic

People he’s closest to/feels closest to : Shadow (twin,) Eclipse (half-brother,) Rouge, Tails, Silver (best friend.)

CREATION ERA

(Note here : I know Shadow and Terios technically shouldn’t be “young” per say, but I’ve seen a few people portray Shadow as a little kid in this stage of his life regardless sooo…why not? It’s cute. They stop growing when they look the same as the rest of the teenage cast, AKA their present looks.)

Terios was created by Gerald Robotnik along with Shadow. The original intent of the project was only to create one Ultimate Lifeform, but something went wrong in the process involving their DNA + Chaos Energy, cloning the project in its early stage. 

Doleon (in case you don’t remember or haven’t seen, he’s a sort of AU version I created a while back of Doom, now being a part of a strange alien species with his own lore to be discussed at some point,) was aware of the project from the beginning because of his involvement in their creation (due to his DNA being used, he would be the biological father of both Shadow and Terios,) knew of the accidental cloning, and decided it would be beneficial to him to create a pact. Once both projects were completed, the pact stated that Doleon was entitled to at least one of them as his own, since they were both his biologically. 

Before Doleon arrived, Shadow and Terios spent a bit of time together before they were to actually meet Maria, and got along well. Shadow was a bit more confident and outgoing, while Terios seemed to be quite the opposite, typically even hiding behind his twin when they were spoken to. They were basically each other's best friend at that point. BUUUUUUT…

When the time came, Doleon arrived, a large green gem in hand (we’ll get to that later.) Directing it towards the twins, he stated he felt an odd, but nevertheless powerful presence coming from “the grey-eyed one.” The young Terios himself even seemed to have a different reaction to it than Shadow, seemingly more focused on and attentive of the shard. So, Terios was the one he took. Shadow remained with Gerald and Maria, while Doleon decided he would raise Terios and the power he seemingly had to aid him in his own efforts. 

EXPERIMENTATION ERA

(Quick note here, Terios DID grow up on the Black Comet. This is probably the most lore heavy of all the eras for Terios.)

Doleon has Terios for his future plans now, but the downside on his end is that he now actually has to care for this small child until he’s old enough to begin his training. He needs to teach the hybrid the basics of what his powers and abilities are, and after a while, simple ways he can use them. Typically while Terios is asleep, though, he’s being unknowingly experimented on, in a way, (its mainly exposure, taking note of reactions to certain exposures, and repeat,) and it’s being done by Doleon and certain gems known as “The Shards of Chaos.”

The Shards of Chaos, as the same suggests, are a bit like the Chaos Emeralds, gems filled to the brim with a special sort of energy. Only, where the Chaos Emeralds are positive, the Shards of Chaos are extremely negative, using their energy to corrupt their users with their addictive power, turning the users into hosts. And the longer the user has been exposed to their power, the worse the corruption (which is more so mental than physical, but it can be both) becomes. And Doleon had a connection to them from the start (was technically his choice, but the point being, he’s been being corrupted for centuries, leading to who he is now. They also used to have individual guardians for the shards, who were Doleon’s siblings, but that's another backstory for another day.) 

This goes on until Terios is mentally about five. It's then that Doleon finally introduces Terios to the Shards of Chaos consciously. He summons them by his side, capturing Terios’ attention immensely. Doleon explains that the shards have been with him for centuries, and carry a great source of power. He is their guardian at the moment, but soon enough, the honor will be passed down to Terios, and he will gain their power as well (keep in mind he has to paint these things in a better light so that Terios will go along with practically anything relating to them. He even calls them a part of his destiny, something Terios has always believed highly of.) He then goes on to explain that in order to someday become their guardian, Terios must first form a connection to the energy the shards emit. It's his first time, though, and he’s still mentally a small child, so naturally, he’s still a bit nervous and hesitant. 

Soon enough, he was convinced. When Terios was younger, being exposed to the energy of the shards was quite visibly painful for him, and he did everything in his power to try and get Doleon to stop whenever he had to do all this. As he grew older though, the shards' power started to feel strangely calming and natural. It even started to sound nice for a little while, just letting them take over. All he had to do was shut his eyes, let them drown out his conscious thoughts, then everything would be okay.

He would be safe. And he was really starting to believe that too.

These experiments caused the negative energy of the Shards of Chaos to clash with the positive chaos energy in his system, and his powers to henceforth become unstable and hard to control, a downside on Doleon’s part. This instability soon became evident when he started to spark green bolts of energy all over his body when he felt any sort of strong emotion (ex. Rage, sadness, or if he’s just straight up flustered,) as well as his eyes and stripes glowing green to match. 

Soon enough though, guess who arrived? None other than Tikal’s spirit. (I was…I was ten okay. This comes from back then. The idea of Tikal being able to KNOW Doleon and the other shard guardians due to them being alive a few thousand years after her time seemed cool at the time. And I’m keeping it.) Since she already knew Doleon and what he had done in the past, she knew he had no good intentions. While he was away from Terios, she went to him, alerting and telling him of what the shards really were, and what they could do to a person. After that, all the fear and paranoia Terios once had of the shards came right back, and he started to panic. Was he being corrupted right now? Was he ALREADY corrupted? He needed to escape. But how? There was no escape. 

Luckily for Terios, Tikal’s spirit was able to transport him back to where he was created, the ARK (not without Doleon putting up a fight of course. He even managed to make Terios completely forget who Tikal was through the overwhelming amount of power he had over him with the hivemind.) Unluckily, however, at the time he was transported there, the whole ARK fiasco was going on, and Maria had already sent Shadow down to Earth and stuff. Now there were only G.U.N. soldiers, and they spotted him, calling him “the second project.” So he tries to run from them, but can’t, and they catch up to him. Soon enough, they lock him up in a facility, putting him into cryostasis. 

AWAKENED ERA

(This one isn’t really that fleshed out yet, so here I’ll just describe the things that happened in a summarized sort of way.)

Terios has now been in the facility for, let's say 54 years? (4 years after SA2,) and guess who was the one to find him? None other than Doleon, who had broken in and planned to reawaken Terios to have his power on the side of the Black Arms.

Terios awoke very much confused, not remembering where he was, who he was, or who the hedgehog standing before him was. After Doleon reminded Terios of both their names, he explained that he was the one to “release him from the prison humans had kept him in.” for the past fifty years or so. He had also told Terios about his past, but twisted it to his own benefit, labeling someone named “Shadow” as a traitor to him, and an ally to the humans who tried to keep Terios in the facility. Saying he himself was working for the greater good, Doleon managed to manipulate Terios and get him on his side. 

So Terios is now an ally to the Black Arms, and he’s ordered to go after Shadow and kill him (on a previous ask post I explained that Terios exists in an oc universe au, where Shadow was able to regain his memories through the help of the others.) He goes to fight him, but fails. Terios ends up meeting people like Rouge and Tails a bit afterwards. He meets Rouge on the streets while she's on one of her missions, and he REALLY doesn’t like her at first. They go around with each other for a bit though (Terios got sidetracked from his main goal and he didn’t even realize it. The power of Rouge was too much XD) and Terios’ opinion starts to change, forming a sort of small bond with her (and even finding himself weirdly flustered at times.) 

After receiving a lecture from Doleon on how he shouldn’t socialize with allies of the enemy, Terios happens to run into Tails. (Lol lecture down the drain.) Tails is excessively curious about Terios. What’s his name? He LOOKS like Shadow…but he’s pretty different too…why is that? He’s never seen this guy before…are he and Shadow related somehow? Shadow’s never SAID anything about having any relatives. Why is his tail so long? Can he use it in battle? Does he have any powers? He could ask questions all day if it weren’t for Terios starting to look overwhelmed by them all. All the sudden, a fleet of Black Arms start raiding the area Tails and Terios are in, so Tails grabs Terios by the hand and tells him he knows a safe place. It's his lab. But eventually Terios says he needs to go, saying he has someone he needs to find. But he certainly won’t forget about that kid…he was actually pretty nice, for an enemy ally.

Come to think of it, Rouge wasn’t so bad either. Plus, he hadn’t seen either one of them working with any humans at all. And Shadow…it was more like he wanted to help Terios. He told him Doleon was up to nothing good. He said something about…going in the wrong direction before? Being misled? Then things start to click. 

He starts to remember more accurate details about his past, and becomes angry with Doleon for manipulating him. Terios goes to Doleon and confronts him on the manner, only for Doleon to reveal his mental power over him, and cause him to forget everything all over again. Except this time, Terios kind of gets his free will taken away from him, being dragged into the hivemind and reduced to a silent obedient. But don’t worry! Somehow in a way I haven’t figured out yet, he gets his free will and those memories back, he and Shadow find out from Doleon himself about his involvement in both their creations, they go super together, and defeat the guy. (There's a crippling feeling of betrayal throughout all of this)

And after all that, Terios can finally learn to be himself with his new allies, which leads to the redemption era.

REDEMPTION ERA

This part of his story moreso revolves around Terios learning to break free from what had happened before, taking place not too long after the awakened era, and learn to better himself with the help of others. He also needs to learn some decent self care (whether it be simple things like taking better care of his fur, or more complex things like learning to accept help with his current mental state.)

At first, he’s still a bit paranoid about everything that happened. He’s worried Doleon could somehow come back at any moment, that the Black Arms could return along with him, that he would be forcibly dragged back in again, even after his life had only just started getting better. Luckily for him, though, now he has people that can actually help with these fears, and he eventually does decide to move on. It’s here that Terios’ current personality starts to form too. He doesn’t feel like he needs to hide or fake or lie about his emotions or thoughts anymore, and it honestly brings him a lot of relief. Then he feels comfortable enough to start meeting people, and interacts with more of the cast!

This is also the era where he meets Eclipse and the Dark Arms! And Terios wants to do a Steven Universe and help Eclipse the way all the others helped him. Terios just kinda randomly stumbled into him while he was out one day and got VERY much lost. Eclipse doesn't like him and his sappy “I can help you bc power of friendship!” attitude at first, but then he's able to sense Terios' connection to the hivemind. It feels a bit different than Shadow. So now he's pretty curious as to why and starts asking Terios questions. Eventually Eclipse kinda grows to like Terios, this hybrid is actually nice to him, for some reason. But then Shadow finds them. You can probably tell where that goes (It’s bad for a long while, but it eventually ends with Shadow, Eclipse and Terios all living together bc it’s my own little canon and I can do as I wish XD)

DOOM ERA

(This technically doesn’t count as his past, but it is most DEFINITELY lore. This part is still actually a WIP and has been for a long time, so there could be random updates or ideas on this era over time. I’m open to ideas BTW XD There are gaps in the story, plus it being somewhat jumbled and confusing as of now because of it being a WIP. But for now, I’ll badly summarize it so far)

Bad things keep happening in the dead of night, with some mysterious figure causing it all, one who has still failed to be caught on any sort of photo or recording. Only silhouette. 

The silhouette figure noticeably wears a scarf, and is typically seen with a strange glowing gem, lately two at times. It is assumed the figure is trying to find more of these, based on their actions. And finally, despite it being a pure silhouette figure, there have been times where it was reported being seen with “three glowing red and yellow eyes”

G.U.N. is accusing either Shadow, Terios or Eclipse of being the silhouette after examining evidence. None of them have any memory of ever doing any of those things, and thus it couldn’t have been them. But humanity hates them now anyways. And thus we get ✨outlaws ✨

They know they need to leave immediately, but Rouge promises to give them the heads up on anything regarding the situation, as she still firmly believes in them. (Also I apologize if I make it seem like Omega is just non-existent, I can just never find the right places to mention him) She’s not the only one, though, Sonic and Tails are also alerted of this, and are perfectly willing to help out too. (Eclipse also reluctantly decides it would be best given the situation at hand for the Dark Arms to stay with the two for the time being, in case the worse comes to pass.)

Both Shadow and Eclipse start noticing changes going on with Terios. He’s tired all the time, pretty jumpy and shaky, and strangely impatient in a way unlike his own. But Eclipse individually swears he can somehow sense a strange presence in Terios’ mind through their mental link. 

It couldn’t have been any of them, huh? WRONG. It was Terios, actually, and Eclipse is the one to find out after a little while of the three brothers being on the run, when he finally gets tired of being accused of crimes he didn’t commit, and sets off late in the night in hopes of finding the actual culprit. 

Remember when I said the Shards of Chaos would be relevant later? Well this is later, when the negative energy is beginning to corrupt him the same way it corrupted Doleon. Only, Terios is having a different reaction, with the shards slowly starting to create a form of their own through Terios so they have a proper host (so yes it's basically possession but slower, more painful, and with magic gems with conscious thought.)

Terios starts apologizing and panicking like crazy once Eclipse somehow manages to snap him out of it. He never meant to do any of this, he didn’t WANT to do any of this. Something made him…there were too many voices screaming in his ear all at once to not listen. He couldn’t even remember getting here, nor waking up at all. Now he was worried about what Shadow or Rouge or anyone else would think of him if they knew…what did Eclipse think now? But Eclipse…he wants to help figure all this out. After all, its only fair, he says, after Terios helped him before. 

Eventually, after a while of Terios and Eclipse trying to figure everything out with the form and the Shards of Chaos returning and all that, Terios decides he needs to come clean to Shadow and the others about it all. (They have to find a safe place to gather, probably Tails’ lab.) Terios starts apologizing and panicking again, but Rouge steps up first to assure him they can help find a way to stop it, giving him the comfort and confidence in the situation he needed. 

The Shards of Chaos used their energy and connection to him to revive Doleon. And he’s after the shards, planning on gathering all seven again.

At some point later on the others all find Doleon again once he finally has the seven shards, and the shards can finally complete their full transformation of Terios and take full control of him. This is his Doom!Terios form (I need to talk about it more in depth eventually, but I think the concept of it is pretty clear. This form isn’t always active, nor are its effects, but it will always lie dormant within Terios after this.) 

There's a fight and after that the shards decide they need to leave Terios for their own good, exiting him and scattering all over Mobius once more. Doleon immediately takes notice of this, and sets off once again to re-find them for himself before the others could even think of it. And once again Terios descends into paranoia about himself and his powers. Hooray!

Now his powers are even more out of control, so Espio is called in to get involved, being the one to train Terios to find a way to be able to control them and becoming a mentor to him in the process. 

Tikal is also back, as a sort of moral guide to Terios to try and help him stay away and resist whatever corruption the Shards of Chaos are bringing upon him.

Even if Terios is being actively affected by them, he suggests to the others that they need to find the shards before Doleon can.  

Soooo…if you were interested enough in my little scrimblo and made it all the way down here, congrats! And thank you! It's all pretty messy right now, probably not even halfway done with this part. I’m REALLY hoping Terios didn’t come off as OP or annoyingly typical or anything, because I can assure you that wasn’t my intention, I simply cannot write small sentences while describing things I like XD (Also, if things feel a bit too Terios centered it's mainly because this is a post just for him, so I talked about him the most. Not trying to steal the spotlight from any other characters.)

Regardless, I finally got his lore written down and I hope I was able to explain what I have in a way that makes sense. If I didn’t do that well at it though and it leads to any confusion, or just general curiosity, feel free to ask me about it, and I’ll be willing to answer.  

(I love how my other Sonic oc’s are normal with no lore at all, they just kinda exist for fun, BUT TERIOS HAS ALL THIS TO GO THROUGH. Very fun.)

[heyitschartic]

Please, post the speedrunner cluster 🙏

Yes!!! The Speedrunner cluster. Now this idea was originally for a story I was writing called Pine, a Ward AU where the triumvirate weren't created until Scion's rampage began and a different group of people took their place. A bunch of wild ideas sprung off from that, but one of my favorites was replacing the Speedrunners from Ward with a cluster cause I hate the Speedrunners but love the name. My friend Maya was CRUCIAL to this getting made.

The theme was originally a bunch of nerds working together but definitely moved away from that over time. The main ideas were a mover who can run fast and then expand that speed as a teleport, a tinker who makes large-scale alter time effects, and a master whose power summons shadow minions.

Mover's power is pretty straight forward, he moves faster, and he can turn that speed into a teleport based on how fast he's moving. Pretty simple for a simple guy. His secondary from the tinker turns into time manipulation devices with a quick but effective use. A sword that ages a hundred years after its swung. A gun with a charge up that stops what it hits like Clockblocker. Finally, his secondary from the master. Now, with all that stuff, the guy is gonna be an up close and personal sort of fighter, so his master power should play into that. The minions he summons come as 2-D shapes at first; tattoos on his skin, murals on walls, that sort of thing. They're invulnerable like that and can move around, but are able to jump out and strike in a way shadows normally can't. Bestial or mythos in theming.

The masters secondaries are pretty weak fighting-wise, so his primary is his main source of firepower. He opens a portal on an area, and these little shadow imps start forcing their way out, though only lasting a few seconds before turning to wisps. So, he could create a portal on someone's arm and have their little claws grab them around the throat or open a portal on the ceiling and have these things flood a room. His secondary from the mover is probably my favorite power of the bunch. A teleporter with nigh instantaneous teleportation, but only a few inches. It sort of allows for flight, but in our minds, he just was popping through the skies T-posing. His tinker power was focused more on restoration. A battle-vest with dials and pockets that can rewind time. Legs get blown off, press a button, and they're restored back to how they were. Bigger tinker tech at their base that can restore things through their life, like empty gas cans, cars, or themselves.

Finally, the Tinker. This is where we really leaned into the speedrunner thing. His power operates more on knowing and controlling an area than affecting one or two people. Temporal generators that work on slowing down or speeding up time in an area, a monument in range that causes things to loop till the batteries run out like Grey Boy. All the while, he can equip his guys with stuff that makes them immune to the effects. His mover power is pretty straightforward; a teleportation that let's them turn intangible and run through things with a cool down based on how long they were intangible. Their master power helps play into a lot of their strengths with regard to area denial. Etched markings or symbols on surfaces that cause hallucinations when viewed. Not doing much, but still harassing them. You see a lions mouth with wings for teeth, and suddenly, the shadows coalesce into roaring feathers that dance around, never leaving your vision.

Once the powers started coming together, they turned from this group of dorks committing petty crimes with synergistic powers into a bunch of taggers zooming through their targets, making fools of the guards, and leaving their mark before skating off. Sort of Jet Set Radio meets Games Done Quick. I love these guys. Really need to use them

[hermesserpent-stuff]

Loki lore?

So! At this point Ive deviated from the cannon a lot and it's safe to say I will continue to do so. All of these ideas are very au. And I'm cool with that.

Onto the fun stuff! (I'm mixing some Norse stuff with other things i like from history)

Loki was stolen away much like he is in the first Thor movies flash back. Growing up as a giant on Asgard was not great for him nutrition-wise. Frost giants eat a different sort of food and their realm is built differently. He was always going to be a little smaller and thinner than the other giants due to being of the seidrmadur type. Frost giants generally have two types (like dnd classes) warrior and magic user. The magic users tend to be a little smaller as a lot of their nutrition and energy goes to growing a strong core and using magic. They are valued and normally are tucked away from outside eyes. This gives the impression to outsiders that frost giants are all large and are all warriors. They tend to influence battles from afar and look into prophecy.

Loki is smaller than the giants due to not getting all the right foods and trying to keep up with thor. Frigga did her best but the nutrition of other species is not really a thing the aesir focused on. She taught him magic the Aesir way, which is slightly different from the way of the frost giants but not so different that it did him any true damage. She does not know Loki's parents, only that at least one of them is alive.

Odin knows that Loki is the son of Laufey, leader of the Frost giants. Laufey knows Odin has his son but is not aware that Loki is that child. Odin took Loki to enforce a peace as Laufey did not want to risk harming his own kid. He knows loki is in Asgard, but not sure where, just that he is alive. Taking enemy kings children to force peace/loyalty is something kings have done throughout history

laufey would like his kid back but since he's not sure where/who loki is, he never was able to reach out even secretly.

Loki knows none of this and just thinks he was always destined to be weaker than his brother.

side point, being on Midgard is doing interesting things to loki. Midgard is cooler than Asgard. and the branches of Yggdrasil near Midgard and Jotunheim are more similar than the branch near Asgard.

ahhhh all the thoughts. hope this all makes sense.

[whyyouacknsocraycray]

fanfiction about me tag meme!!

I was tagged by @princeparakeet, thank you!!!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

36 fics! 35 are complete, and one is on hiatus. Currently, they are locked to users with an account.

2. What is your AO3 wordcount?

692,264 words

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Right now, I am focused on RDR2 and Sekiro

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Naturally, it is my longest fics, and all RDR2 fics haha!

Rearrange the Stars - Isaac lives AU, Charthur

One Last Time - sort of has a Sadithur implied ending but mostly gen

Toil and Trouble - 2AM (Albert/Arthur)

The Morgan Family - Arthur Morgan/Mary Gillis

Freedom on the Canvas (ON HIATUS) - Charthur

5. Do you respond to comments?

Yes! I try to respond to every one, though some slip through the cracks.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Probably either Collapse (RDR2) or When the Time Comes (RDR2). Both are rough for Arthur emotionally.

7. What is the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Most of them have happy endings haha! Probably Rearrange the Stars, though.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not on AO3. I have received nasty comments on FFN, though. That's part of the reason I don't post there anymore. The other reason is that FFN's user design is awful.

9. Do you write smut? If so, which kind?

No, unfortunately, I never like how it turns out. Implied sex only over here.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest crossover you’ve ever written?

No, but I've thought about it.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know about.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Also not that I know about.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, but I've done mini-bangs where I've written fic based on an art piece. So co-created, I guess.

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

Oh gosh... for RDR2, I do like Charthur a lot, but lately I've been thinking more and more about Albert/Arthur. And I like Genikiro for Sekiro. I'm not sure which is my favorite.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Freedom on the Canvas. To finish it, I would have to rewrite large chunks of it, so who knows if that will happen.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Outlining, believe it or not! I can usually create the main plot path of a fic fairly well in advance of actually writing. Details end up changing, of course, but usually the main plot stays the same.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Long descriptions and metaphors. I know I don't neeeeeeed to have a lot of those, but sometimes I read fics with amazing, detailed descriptions of the environment and I want to work on my own.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

Hmmmm it depends on a lot of different things. How much dialogue, is there an easy way to translate it for the reader, does current narrating character understand the language of the dialogue? It's very situational. Usually, if the character understands the other language but the reader likely doesn't, I put English in italics with a dialogue tag for which language it is. I did do romanized Korean for one fic because the narrating character didn't quite understand it, and that way readers could also try sounding it out.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Ah, it was for a TV show called Person of Interest.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

How am I supposed to pick???? For Sekiro, it would definitely be Tea House. I'm not sure which of my RDR2 fics is my favorite.

I'm tagging @pipdepop @sentanixiv @emmithar-blog @altairattorney if you are interested! No pressure, of course!

[medusacomplex]

very generic space au notes (or brainstorming really, this is super open to changing and i might decide on a totally different route if i think one up bc i don't think i'm sold on this entirely lol):

nancy was fascinated by the stars from a young age, but terrified –  when it came to her interests, though she held this loose awe-struck desire to investigate the unknown, she found it often too large and too abstract to feel at ease with. she opted instead for the natural world, predators of any sort, sharks and bears and humans alike. a great many things she could touch and see and feel. for that outside of her world, she harbored a reverence, disguised at times as a disinterest.

i think on the opposite side of things, mike was probably more of the space-inclined type between the two of them – verse dependent regarding whether space travel is new or well-established within society, but i think whenever it's developed the party is ecstatic and talk about it nonstop. nancy sort of plays the cool older sister rolling her eyes at the whole thing role.

typical e.t. fashion, jane is an alien i think in this situation –  not from this neck o' the woods. she lands, makes a whole fuss, if space travel is normal then perhaps it's because she's from a planet which is hostile towards earth or vice versa and therefore, whatever the reason, the us govt is trying to track them down.

in terms of barb ... i think getting caught up in a govt vs. aliens sort of deal ... nancy thinks it's likely she's still alive, because will was abducted, and they all seem to believe they can get to him and get him back, but eventually nancy finds barb wasn't that lucky, really. she was killed by govt agents searching for jane, a casualty in the process. in the aftermath, they cover up the death, and only nancy advocates for the truth –  govt agents are determined to keep the cover that barb was a victim of alien abduction, a way of antagonizing their enemy and shrugging off the blame.

while teamed up with jonathan prior to the resolution of everything, i think she and him find some kind of ship or something. it's probably mechanically fucked and needs salvaging, so they start working on it (calling a little on the ingenuity they started to promise us in s1 with jancy because i loved so much the idea of them building those traps, and i think in theory it kind of works that they might be building something more than that). jon thinks it's a little silly maybe, but at the time nancy is dedicated to getting it working because it would mean she's a step closer to finding barb. when all is said and done i think she continues working on it because she is so horrified and alone by the fact that barb is gone, that everyone's pretending it was something it wasn't, that no one seems to care.

once the ship is done, once she's graduated from school, once she's generally able to leave hawkins – she ventures out! and i think ends up in space, with an interest in chronicling her time out there and seeking a sense of closure for barb that she wasn't able to get. she focuses on govt corruption and is a strong advocate in exposing the less-than-savory ways in which earth handles intergalactic politics.

[consumeroflemoans]

Okay, for the several ask games

Writers would you ever:

Would you ever write...

A character you don't know that well?

Fanfiction for someone elses OCs?

Poetry?

The Writers Truth & Dare Ask Game:

🎱, 💌,🧃, 🍄, ❄️, 🎨, 🧩

Ask Game no. 3:

💌, 🔮, 🦖, 🧡, 🧸, 🍪, 😏, 🐰, 📷

-Leuchtturm

Would you ever write a character you don’t know that well?

I would definitely try lmao. I have attempted it before. Usually I have to do a bunch of research beforehand if I do try it. The only thing is it usually comes out pretty dull in my opinion. It’s hard to dive into the nuances of a character I don’t know that well

Would you ever write fanfiction for someone else’s OCs?

Technically I have? A large portion of the Undertale community focuses on fanmade AUs and fanon. I’ve written tons of fanfiction for different AUs (that I will probably never post here it’s so bad)

It’s really similar to the last question of ‘yeah I’ll write pretty much any character as long as I can know/learn something about them’

Would you ever write Poetry?

Probably not. I have tried before, it was bad lol

Really it’s just not the style I prefer to write with

Post your AO3 Total Stats

They’re not great but I post very little of what I actually write lol

How many unread emails do you have right now?

This question is calling me out

930 on my main, 150 on my school, 9 on my fandom acc

It’s so bad

Share some personal lore you’ve never posted about before

Oh crap what have I posted about before

Uh. I’m an Eagle Scout? I was in both Boy Scouts and Girl Scouts for a good chunk of my life

Share a headcanon for one of your favorite ships or pairings

Vil and Idia have anonymous vtubers and they stream together. Idia streams more often since Vil is usually busy, but it’s really the only time they can be openly cute with each other outside of private settings. They usually game but Vil’s released some original music and done a lot of talking streams too

What’s your dream theme/plot for a fic and who would write it best?

Aaaugh this is an interesting question. I really enjoy anything that explores different mythological lore if that wasn’t obvious. I do also really like the idea of crossovers. I can’t think of specific plots but things like the Stoneheart Azul AU and BSD except the Book is a Leitner are both really intriguing ideas to me

Sorry this is so vague I can’t think of anything specific

Link your favorite piece of fanart and explain why you like it

I can’t decide omg. There’s so much good fanart out there I would not be able to choose

I’m going to assume this is asking about stuff I made because there is no way I would be able to choose otherwise

Aventurine Hands I want to chew on this so much the hands are so good and the rendering and lighting is so pretty for no reason

What will make you click away from a fanfiction immediately?

Any sort of fic where it’s like- a pairing having a child together? Whether one of them is pregnant or they’re adopting. I can understand the appeal it is just not for me at all

Do you talk to yourself?

I do sometimes but it’s usually to call myself out when I’m being stupid lol

It doesn’t happen often

What is your dream job?

I would love to be able to do something that allows me to scuba dive professionally. I was considering going into welding for awhile because of that. Underwater welding is such a specialized job that pays a ton. It would also be cool to do research in the ocean too

Buuut there’s also the other part of me that prefers to stay nice and cozy inside with a computer. It’s the safer option that allows me to have a stable life lol

Favorite Extinct Animal?

Probably the Dodo bird. Big friendly guys I love them so much

A color you can’t stand?

I mean I dislike the objectively ugly colors but I don’t think there’s any color I can’t stand. Any color can look good depending on the colors around it imo

Favorite place to nap?

I am so bad at taking naps. It’s really hard for me to fall asleep outside of the usual night time. But I think the place I’ve been able to nap the most is one very specific couch back at my house. Bury me in blankets and put a cat on me and I am out so fast

If you were a cookie what would you be?

The powdered lemon drop cookie at Panera bread methinks

Are you on discord?

Yes I am! Feel free to dm me if you want it lol

What do you think says the most about a person?

Tbh I think this is a hard question. I’m going to base this off of first impressions. Usually the first thing I recognize from someone is their clothes. You can tell a lot about a person from what they wear and how they wear it

What’s set as your phone’s lock screen?

This very specific manga panel of Azul walking

[lubdubsworld]

⋆⋆✵ Perfect Imperfections ✵⋆⋆

Chapter 1

Genre : Arranged Marriage AU! Angst! Explicit Sexual Content.

Rating : 21+

Warnings : Ableism , Chronic disability. OC has limited use of her left leg, Emotional infidelity? Mild Cheating ( nothing very physical.. a kiss or so )

Summary : Marrying Jungkook is a mistake. Falling in love with him? Definitely the worst exercise in masochism .

~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 2

No one tells you how easy it is to imagine yourself in love with a beautiful man. Especially when you don’t have a clear understanding of what love actually is. 

When I met Jungkook, even knowing he was in love with my sister hadn’t done much to douse the flames of hope and attraction. He was a lot of things that other men in my life weren’t. Kind without being pitying. Concerned without being overbearing. He took care of me without making me feel helpless. And there was always such a thin line between these things that I found myself impressed by his ability to toe the line so well.

Jungkook took care of me without making me feel like a burden and I suppose, some part of me had assumed that this could, in due time turn into love. But I was clearly wrong.

Jungkook and Liza had been kissing in the hallway of their hotel room and someone had taken pictures. My father and his had managed to get them taken down but the news was already out, spreading like wildfire . My phone began ringing sometime around eight in the morning and hadn’t stopped. It was now a little past one in the afternoon and I felt queasy, despite the assurances that it was all being taken care of.

It was the pity in everyone’s face that I couldn’t bear.

I wasn’t hurt. Angry, yes? Upset? Of course. But I wasn’t hurt because there really was nothing to be hurt about. Jungkook didn’t love me. He was in love with my sister . He had made it clear, through his words and his actions, over and over again. At this point, I could see this debacle as nothing more than a possible way to get out of the marriage. Perhaps, my father would approve of a divorce?

I glanced at the article again.

The photo is just so annoyingly clear, I thought with a grimace. If it was a little blurry, I could convince myself it wasn’t him and her. But it was clear. That was my husband with his lips locked with my sister’s. Against my better judgment, I read the article again. It was a gossip column, of course there would be nothing good in there. But sometimes curiosity can be a persistent thing.

I felt my skin crawling as I realized that the phrases were all pretty true. There was no gossip here. Just plain facts.

And then my eyes reached the end of the article.

Of note is the fact that Jeon Jungkook’s wife is disabled and perhaps the virile young man is merely looking for pleasure he can’t find in his own marital bed.

I swallowed, quickly exiting the page and tossing the phone on the bed, away from me. I stared out of the window of our bedroom, the large doors left open to let air and sunlight in. There was a tall sycamore tree right outside out bedroom and the branches almost reached in and I stared at the rustling leaves, trying to scrub my mind clean of the words I’d just read.

But it was impossible.

It wasn’t something I hadn’t thought of. The stark difference between me and Jungkook, physically. He spent five days a week in the gym and they were right. He was a young man with healthy sexual appetites.

I’d never cheat on you. Jungkook’s voice from a week ago still echoed somewhere inside my skull.

I sighed, playing with my wedding ring.

I wasn’t a virgin when I married Jungkook. Hadn’t been one , when I got into the accident either. My then boyfriend, a tall strapping lit major had been a very sexual guy as well and our libidos had matched pretty well. But I’d been an athletic nineteen year old, able to bend like a pretzel at his whim and there was just endless time and endless stamina and just a whole lot of attraction . We had spent hours, exploring each other the way college kids do. Weekends in bed spent trying every possible permutation of sex positions and kinks and I’d discovered all the things I liked. All the things I didn’t.

But then the accident had happened and well, when you’re in crippling agony, sometimes sex takes the backseat. I’d been focused on my recovery, on making sure that I came out of this at least with the ability to walk and I’d succeeded. Burying the part of me that craved a man’s touch, it wasn’t easy but it was necessary.

And then Jungkook had happened.

Sex with Jungkook hadn’t been difficult. Not really. I wasn’t completely crippled after all but it was also nowhere near as exciting as it could be with someone who had full use of her legs. I knew that. It was kind of obvious. But I hadn’t dwelt too much on it because to be honest, Jungkook hadn’t looked like he’d minded. He had seemed to enjoy himself .

But then reading about how he probably hadn’t enjoyed it definitely stung.

Worse yet, probably half the country was reading it with me. I felt nauseous. Did no one think that they should have left the last part out of that article? It was terrible enough without adding that bit about me.

A faint buzzing made me turn to the bed.

I glanced at my phone as it rang, my father in law’s name prominent on the screen.

Showtime, I thought with a grimace.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I suppose it was too much to hope for , expecting that boy  to keep his dignity. This is outrageous.” Mr. Jeon’s loud voice rang through the foyer of the house and I flinched, gripping the edge of the futon as Sana jumped a bit . She sat next to me, holding my hand carefully. Moral support I supposed but I was feeling entirely too blasé about the whole thing. None of this was unexpected, I thought miserably and I wasn’t feeling up to pretending otherwise.

“I still wish they’d talked to me about this.”

My brother in law’s voice broke me out of my thoughts. The man looked like he’d been dragged through hell and back and I felt a pang of genuine sympathy. He looked wrecked and it was obvious she was in love with my sister. Resentment coiled thick and deep inside me. Resentment and envy.

With no effort at all she had charmed both the Jeon brothers, I thought bitterly.

Jeon Jihyun looked absolutely stricken at the thought of losing his wife.  

“I’ve asked Lisa to take the first flight out. She called me this morning, hysterical. It was something done in the heat of the moment. She .. She’s very apologetic. I believe her and I’m willing to forgive her. We’re…. We’re thinking of starting a family together. ” He said softly and my stomach turned.

I felt my skin go ice cold as I wrapped my arms around myself. Shivering just a bit, I lightly squeezed Sana’s hand. She looked at me in askance and I had to swallow to get my voice out, throat dry. The words made me want to retch. I could imagine how Jungkook would take this news.

“Can you get me my shawl? It’s in the green room.” I said hoarsely.  She bowed before moving away from me and when I looked back up, Jihyun’s gaze caught mine.

“This must be hard on you.” He said softly and I flushed, staring down at my knees.

“Not like I can run from it. Literally or figuratively.” I smiled without mirth.

“Jungkook is …he’s just confused. He needs some time to sort himself out. I’ve asked him to take a break and come back to Seoul after a couple of weeks. The separation would do him some good.” Jihyun said quietly and I sighed before nodding. What else was I supposed to say to that anyway? There wasn’t much I could do, my influence on things almost nonexistent at this point.

“Are you going to give the boy a break, Jeon?” My father demanded, staring at Jungkook’s father who sighed.

“Yes. I’ve been trying to get these damned reporters off our back. They’re all over the place. And yes, I think Jungkook should stay in Japan for a while.  We’re starting a new distribution branch there and I wanted him to scout places and possible vendors. I’ll tell him to hash out all the details before coming back.”

His phone rang again and he excused himself . I watched him leave the room, trying to make sense of his words.

How long would it take to build a whole branch in Japan? I had no clue. But it could hardly be done in a few weeks, could it?

“That’s.. That’s a long time.” I said hesitantly and my father frowned.

“is that a problem?” he asked.

I sighed. There was no point keeping this to myself. I was supposed to go to the doctor’s tomorrow. And well, it would be better if they heard it from me first.

“I.. I’m pregnant.” I said quietly.

The silence that followed was deafening. I stared at the carpet, not able to bring myself to look up at them. I could guess, what I’d find there. It was what I always found in people’s faces.

“Oh, sweet child.” My father’s sigh made me look up and there it was. The pity. I felt sick to my stomach. Sana returned, settling the hand knit shawl over my shoulders and I wrapped it tight, before glancing at her in some desperation. She smiled reassuringly, settling next to me and gently taking my fingers in hers. The warmth grounded me for a second and when Jihyun growled, I stared at him.

“I… I didn’t know. Fuck, I’m going to kill Jungkook. This fucker…” Jihyung swore and my father sighed, clearly thinking hard.

“you can’t be staying alone now.” He said softly, sitting up and cracking his knuckles, and I swallowed. I wouldn’t bear it if they tried to take me back home. I had hated it there.

“ You must come back home with me.” He said softly but I quickly shook my head.

“ No.. No I won’t. I … Please.” I begged, the mere idea of going back to my childhood home a nightmare. My mother would kill me with just her sharp and vindictive words. I was in no shape to put up with her verbal and emotional abuse. It was one of the things that had made me agree to marry Jungkook in the first place.

“Well, you can’t stay here by yourself.” My father protested. I’ve been by myself my whole damn life, I wanted to scream.

“I’ll be fine. I have Sana and the others to help me.” I said tiredly. My father shook his head before turning to Jihyun again.

“Is Namjoon still working on his book?” My father asked him and Jihyun frowned. The name elicited a tug in my memory and I turned to stare at my father, confused.

“You remember him? He used to tutor you when you were hi High School.”

I had a brief flashback to dimples and almond shaped eyes. I remembered him vaguely. Very vaguely. But nowhere well enough to want him to live with me, alone or not.  

“Dad…” I protested but he held a hand up to silence me, nodding at Jihyun .

“Namjoon? Kim Namjoon? ” He shook his head. “ I’m not sure. Why?”

“I think it would be good if he moves in here. His father was telling me that he was looking for a place to stay, now that he’s moved back to Korea. ” My father said softly, staring at me and I stiffened.

“Father…” I began desperately and my father shook his head.

“Don’t argue. He was a dear friend of yours. I don’t think you should be alone at a time like this. And I think Jungkook would approve. Like Jihyun said, the kid needs some space to sort himself out. Let him finish whatever business is going on in Japan.” My father glanced at Mr. Jeon who looked at me with guilt.

“I owe you an apology , on behalf of my idiot son.”

I looked away, not sure what to say to that. I hated the man quite passionately. Jungkook wasn’t perfect… far from it. But this man had taken a sledgehammer to my husband’s mind and heart at every turn. The disdain, the condescension, the sick way he favored his brother over him, the way nothing Jungkook did was ever good enough. It had all taken a toll on my husband. I had watched it chip away at Jungkook’s self confidence, at his mental health.

“I think more than anything, you owe an apology to your son. You knew he was in love with Lisa and yet…. You forced him to marry me.” I said quietly and the room went eerily quiet. My father rounded on me , eyes blazing.

“Leah!!! Apologize, now!” He roared and I looked away.

“You’re all the same. Ungrateful and entitled.” Mr. Jeon said sharply, before turning to his son. “ I’m leaving Jihyun-ah. Tell me when that wife of yours get home. I want to talk to her.”

He shared a half hug with my father before stalking off and my father grabbed his jacket as well.

“I’ll leave as well. Your mother is being quite hysterical. Apparently, all her friends are hounding her about the article.” He sighed and I nodded , watching him shrug on the jacket before nodding at Jihyun and then following his friend out to the front doors.

Jihyun stayed standing , watching my father’s form disappear through the door before turning to me.

“ Are you alright?” He said quietly, moving to kneel in front of me. Sana stood up, bowing before leaving and I watched her disappear into the hallway leading to the kitchens. Jihyun’s fingers wrapped around mine, brushing my knees and I stared down at him.

“The question is, are you alright?” I brushed the hair off his face. He sighed.

“No. No I’m not. I’m angry and jealous and very much filled with resentment towards my brother.” He said honestly and I laughed, tugging on his hand and patting the seat next to me. He straightened before moving to settle next to me and I leaned on his shoulders, sighing as he wrapped on around me, the warmth of his body comforting .

“Are you going to give your marriage a chance?” I asked carefully.

“She told me she was going to break things off for good. We.. We’ve been talking about it. Starting a family, making this work.” He said quietly. I nodded. It was understandable. Unlike Jungkook and I , Jihyun had a responsibility. He would need a son and even though people liked to act like they didn’t care much about gender, like they didn’t care much about having children , it was sort of an unspoken rule. First son of the house ? You had to have a male heir to carry the family name.

I wondered how that conversation had gone between Jungkook and Lisa. It didn’t really match the photo I’d seen.

“I suppose Jungkook probably put up a fight. He genuinely wants to end up with her. He… He tells me often that he loves her and can’t love anyone else. ” I wondered if I ought to feel embarrassed or insulted.

But the truth was, I was numb to a lot of things that had once hurt quite a lot..

The conversation with Jungkook about my pregnancy had definitely cleared things up for me. There was nothing there worth salvaging. Chasing something that wasn’t real , that was foolishness. Especially when I had a very real baby to think about. A child that counted on me to make the right choices.

“I don’t think he did. She spoke to me last night and said that he agreed. Of course that was before the article came out. I’d like to think she didn’t lie to me but I’m not sure.”

I sighed, settling in closer to his chest. He was warm and firm, solid and reliable. I wondered if it would have been easier, if my father had just married me off to Jihyun instead. Jihyun and I …we were alike. We had been friends , even from childhood. Had watched with fond adoration as our younger siblings had fallen madly, wildly in love. Jungkook and Liza had been drawn to each other from the first. Inevitable.

Jihyun and I were more carefree. We didn’t feel things that intensely and perhaps that was why we could sit here in the calm of the afternoon air, quiet and introspective when we ought to be furious and raging.

“ Should we run off together? You and i?” He said suddenly making me laugh.

“Very much incapable of running.” I reminded him with a grin and he squeezed my shoulder .

“I’d carry you.” He said simply.

“Where would we go?” I asked curiously, indulging the fantasy for just a few minutes.

“Somewhere far away. Maybe India? There’s so many people there and we could get lost in the crowds.”

“That does sound appealing.” I smiled and turned to look up at him. His face inches from mine, not as handsome as Jungkook but strong featured and kind. “ But I’m not alone anymore. I have a child.”

His gaze dipped to my lap.

“Yes. Jungkook’s child.” He said thoughtfully.

“No. Mine. Nobody else’s . Just mine.” I said quietly. Jihyun’s gaze softened. He pressed a quick kiss to the top of my head.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, echoing his father’s words.” On behalf of my idiot brother, I’m sorry.”

And where Mr. Jeon’s words hadn’t made any sort of impact, Jihyun’s made my heart clench and ache in the worst way. Self pity was something I loathed but sometimes, being handed the short end of the stick at every turn in life makes it impossible to not feel sorry for yourself.

Tears stung, welling up in my eyes and spilling over my lashes like water bubbling out of an aquifer.

I blinked slowly, not bothering to wipe them as they traced a path down my face, dripping into the fabric of my shawl. In a moment of clarity I wondered what Jungkook must be going through now. Nothing good for sure.

It definitely said something, that I still worried for him. Sighing, I let Jihyun hug me closer. I would take advantage of his kindness for a few more minutes. It had been a while since someone had held me like I mattered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I called Jungkook that evening.

It wasn’t an easy choice but my heart ached and my mind raced with unanswered questions. I didn’t want to get lost in my own thoughts so I didn’t overthink it. We were still married. I was allowed to call him.

He picked up on the third ring.

“Where are you?” I asked quietly and Jungkook’s groan made my face heat up a little.

“I… Leah?” He sounded groggy. I glanced at the time. It wasn’t late.

“Are you sleeping?”

He didn’t reply for a few minutes.

“I’m sorry about what happened. We.. We didn’t do anything else. It was just.. it was a kiss. Just that.”

“Are you still in the hotel?” I asked quietly ignoring his words.

“ For tonight, yes. Dad wants me to stay with a friend of his. I’ll be going over to their place tomorrow morning.” He replied .

Silence followed for a few seconds.

“Namjoon is moving in tomorrow.” I said stiffly.

Jungkook didn’t respond for a minute or so.

“Yes. Father said it’s a good idea. And I agree. You shouldn’t be alone while I’m here. He’s right. Hyung’s a nice guy. He’ll help you out.” Jungkook said softly.

“Liza came home. She wanted to talk to me.” I said quietly.

Jungkook didn’t reply and I sighed.

“I told her I wasn’t going to talk to her before I talked to you. I don’t… I don’t want to say anything to her that I haven’t already said before. But I still want to know your thoughts on all this. Your plans, that is. I take it you weren’t happy with her ending things.” I said stiltedly.

Jungkook didn’t reply for a few seconds.

“Things between us ended a long time ago, Leah. It was over when we both agreed to marry other people. Maybe even before that, I don’t know… I … I guess I just didn’t want to acknowledge them.” He said quietly. “ She’s different, now. Even that kiss felt so wrong.  She’s moving on. I’m glad in a way. She deserves better than me. She deserves someone like hyung. He’s better than me in everyway and-”

God I wanted to strangle him.

“So why did you kiss her?” I snapped. “ If you’re so generously letting her go why would you…” I stopped.

“I didn’t kiss her. She kissed me. It was barely for a second.” He muttered. “ whoever it was must’ve been videoing us for a while.”

I had to remind myself that in the grand scheme of things, this little detail made no difference.

“Right.” I sighed. “ So, you won’t be home for a while?”

“Six weeks at least.” He said quietly.

I tried to keep the disappointment down. I still wanted to see him, just to make sure he was okay. But I knew that was just the pregnancy hormones talking.

“Okay.” I said simply.

“How are you? Did you go see the doctor?” He asked softly and the question surprised me. I was half sure he had forgotten.

“No, not yet. Maybe in a couple of days.” I scratched at a small stain on my skirt. Lime juice and baking soda, I thought absently. That should get the stain out.  

“Its pretty late. You should go see the doctor, Leah. I.. I looked stuff up. They say you have to be on pre natal vitamins, folic acid and iron supplements  and you have to have  a balanced diet. I called Sana earlier and told her to speak to our doctor and get a diet chart for you. She said she’ll do it soon. So , please take care of yourself.”

Jungkook sounded entirely serious and as always my brain felt muddled, unable to process why he did the things he did. He had looked things up about the pregnancy and that implied some sort of interest, didn’t it? But ….. he had also kissed my sister so what was I supposed to do with this?

“I’ll call you.” I said shakily, drained. I was done for the day.

“Right.” He said softly. “ Namjoon hyung will be there tomorrow right? Should I talk to him? He could take you to the doctor.”

“No.. That’s fine. I’ll manage.” I said quickly.

“You’re sure?” There was genuine worry there.

“Yes.” I sighed.

“Alright.”

Silence again. I exhaled shakily.

“Should I hang up?” I asked quietly.

“Yeah. Good night. ” He breathed.

“Good night, Jungkook.”

Click.

I stared at the wall, gently lowering the phone and placing it on the bed next to me.

She deserves better than me, his voice echoed in my head.

Well, so did I.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Namjoon looked nothing like the twenty one year old college student I’d seen a decade ago. I knew he was a successful novelist and I’d read all his books. They were mostly philosophical or commentaries on life and emotions. I enjoyed the way he wrote : melancholic and deep but also clear and easy to understand. It was like staring at a particularly deep pool, being able to see all the way down to the bottom because of how clean the waters were. But once you put your feet in, the depth  always surprised you.

“That’s a lot of books.” I laughed, gripping the edge of the door frame as I watched him stumble under the weight of a crate full of bound books. Namjoon’s messy brown hair peeked over the top, and when he adjusted the huge load to stare at me, I caught sight of his handsome face stretched in a dimpled grin, eyes glinting.

“Research.” He grunted, straightening himself up and I watched the flex of his muscles as he carefully moved to place the crate down in one corner of the large bedroom that I’d had cleaned for him. It was on the west wing of the house, parallel to my own bedroom that I shared with Jungkook . Namjoon had spent three years working as a professor somewhere in Indonesia. And I knew that he’d spent a year backpacking all over Scandinavia. I stared at his tall strapping figure, watching him set up his writing space carefully, sorting out boxes and electronics.

He had driven here in his Range Rover and I knew all his clothes were still there in the back of the car.

“Should I ask the footmen to get your clothes?” I asked and he glanced up at me, frowning.

“Footmen?” He looked confused and I rolled my eyes.

“Namjoon…” I said chidingly and he grinned again.

“I keep forgetting you’re filthy rich. Makes me wish I should have beaten Jungkook to the game and bagged myself a rich wife.” He winked. It was a joke but there was no mistaking the hint of interest in his eye. Or maybe it was just wishful thinking on my part. Being married to Jungkook had definitely made me question the attraction I held for men so it felt good, having someone as handsome and whole and successful as Namjoon look at me like that.

“I’ll ask them to get your clothes. You should shower and settle in. We’ll meet for dinner tonight.” I said quickly and he nodded.

“You’re going to be okay heading back to your room? Let me know if you need help.” He pointed at my feet and I nodded. It was sweet of him to offer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dinner was surprisingly not awkward at all. Namjoon had a lot of interesting stories to share and I found myself clinging to ever word in rapt attention. He spoke about all the folklore he’d run into in different places, how he thought that no matter the culture, there were always some common things you could find in every one of them. He also talked a little about his next book, which he hadn’t named yet.

“It’s about second chances. Forgiving and moving on.” He said, taking another bite of his braised pork and moving to make another lettuce wrap.

“ Heavy stuff.” I said thoughtfully. “ Most of my writing is commercial. I just try to sell stuff to reluctant people. It’s not much but it keeps me occupied and it’s always nice to make money that you can call your own.”

“It’s because you don’t write for yourself. When you start writing for yourself, you can truly be who you are.” He said firmly and I nodded in agreement.

My writing in college had been vivid and bright and filled with life. But after the accident, it had turned grey and gloomy. The words seemed to drip with loss and longing and  I didn’t enjoy it, because it was a reminder that I was no longer the vibrant, attractive fulsome girl I once was.

“Maybe that’s what I’m afraid of.” I smiled. “ Being who I am. I would rather pretend I’m at least a little alright.”

Namjoon stared at me, thoughtful.

“You used to run track.” He said softly and I grinned.

“You remember.” I said, pleased.

“Of course I do and you were captain of the volleyball team as well. You used to organize all those hikes and treks and stuff.”

“Yes I did. I loved the outdoors.” I stared out of the window.

“Loved? Past tense?” He tilted his head. I stared at him, shaking my head.

“What kind of question is that.” I shook my head. “ Look at me. I’m not trekking anytime soon, considering how the last time ended.”

“You can still go out.” He frowned. “ When was the last time you went somewhere?”

I shook my head.

“Oppa…”

“Listen. You know me. You’ve known me for more than a decade. Do you honestly think I’m going to let you rattle around this old house like a ghost when you should be out there taking in all the sunshine you can get?” Namjoon placed his chopsticks down and linked his fingers together, staring at me.

I stared at him, and it was definitely there. The concern, the affection. Not that different from when I was sixteen and struggling to understand what pathos meant.

But now there was a definite undercurrent of attraction. Back then it had been childish, the wild crush of a teenager on her hot tutor but now, now I knew that he was so much more than just a hot guy.

“I’m pregnant.” I said softly, more a reminder to myself than anything else.

Namjoon grinned.

“We’ll steer clear of horse riding and alcohol. Anything else you can just let me know.”

“Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack.”

“I think I’m getting one now.” I deadpanned.

“Because you’re nervous.” He grinned.

“Because your dimples look too adorable.” I retorted.

He laughed.

“I’ll talk to Jihyun and we’ll go see your doctor first. Then we’ll go out and have  a nice picnic.”

“Namjoon, I can’t…”

“You don’t know that.” He said firmly.” You don’t know if you can or can’t because you’ve never tried. Listen I love picnics and I love going out and I want company. I’m agreeing to be stuck with you for a while and the least you can do is  give me company at a picnic. You know how big a loser I’d seem like if I went by myself?”

It was like I was sixteen again getting brow beaten into things by a tutor who just hated the idea of not getting his way. I shook my head fondly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fourteen weeks. Three and a half months.

I stared at the ultrasound, feeling a multitude of things, not all of them good. The baby was growing well and I had all my prescriptions filled. Namjoon had offered to come with me but I had refused. It was too intimate and he was still a stranger. I did take a photo of the ultrasound and sent it to Jungkook.

/Jungkook called me back almost at once.

“You went to the doctor?” He asked, sounding a little breathless.

“Were you running?” I asked, surprised.

“Not really. I’m supposed to be meeting one of the vendors for lunch and I thought I could walk to the restaurant but its farther than I thought.” He huffed.

“Everything’s fine. Baby’s due in July.” I said quietly.

“Summer. That’s good.” He replied. “Right?”

I hesitated. What did that mean? What did it matter when the baby would be born?

“Because winter would mean it being too cold . Summer we can take the baby out and stuff without worrying too much.” Jungkook said softly.

Oh.

“How’s work?” I asked awkwardly. The non conversation was getting tedious. There was just so much to talk about and it was obvious that both of us weren’t in the mood to actually ask or answer anything worthwhile.

“Did dad say something?” Jungkook asked quickly and I frowned.

“No. Why?”

“He wants me to join hyung in the corporate office. Leave the smelter units.” Jungkook sounded subdued and upset and I felt sympathy well inside me.

“Join him? As what?” I asked quietly.

“Head of the marketing department. I’ll be reporting to Seokjin hyung.” Jungkook had clearly started walking again, breath coming in little exhales.

“You don’t want it?” I asked confused, not sure if this was a good or bad thing.

“I mean… I have a degree in Business and Finance. Hyung’s the CEO , I was hoping I’d be the CFO.” Jungkook sighed, “ But I suppose I should be grateful he didn’t disown me altogether after what happened earlier.”

I stayed quiet and so did he.

“We need to talk . When you get back. You … I know you don’t like sharing about what you feel but you owe me an explanation.” I said firmly.

“I know. But I meant what I said when I left. I’m going to be there for you and the baby. You’re still my wife. That’s not going to change.”

I ran my fingers over the ultrasound.

“Did you also mean the part where you said you can’t stand me.” I said bitterly .

Jungkook didn’t reply.

“I… You know I didn’t. That was just something I said on impulse. I’m sorry. You’re… You’ve been nothing but good to me. And honestly, just the fact that you’re carrying my child is proof that I can definitely stand you.” He sounded just a little hoarse.

I bit my lips, staring up at the door when I heard a knock.

“Leah? I’m going to have some tea in the garden … You wanna come with?” Namjoon’s voice rang through the room and I froze.

“Oh.. Oh.. yes. I’ll be down.” I said quickly, nodding . Namjoon pointed at the phone and gave to thumbs up before moving back out.

“Was that Namjoon hyung?” Jungkook’s voice came over the line.

“Oh… yeah. Yeah, he’s… he wants me to have tea with him in the gardens.” I said awkwardly.

“That’s nice.  You should go. Get out of the house once in a while.” I didn’t know what to say to that so I stayed quiet.

After another minute or so of silence, Jungkook cleared his throat.

“ I got that form you sent in for me to fill, about my medical history. I’ll fill it up and mail it to the doctor’s office. Is that alright?” He asked hesitantly. “ If not I can fly back home. If they need me in person or something.”

I frowned a bit.

“They don’t need you in person, Jungkook of course not. Mail it, that’s fine.”

Another pause.

“This is really happening huh? A baby. We’re having a baby.” The exhaustion in his voice was palpable and I wondered.

“Yes. We are.” I said simply, not having anything else to elaborate on. It was happening. I was torn between pleasure at having something to look forward to and guilt at forcing Jungkook into a role he wasn’t ready for. But , for better or for worse we were married. The child was his. It would be a Jeon.

“ I’ll do better.” He said quietly. “ With the little one. I’ll be better.”

Tears these days, sprung up out of nowhere I thought miserably, furiously swiping at my face.

“Leah?” His voice came over the line. “ Leah are you there?”

“I need to go.”

“Alright.”

“Take care of yourself too, Jungkook.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Loneliness .

It’s such an odd sort of feeling. Sometimes you get used to it so much, that you forget all about it.

It stays , a part of you that doesn’t make much of an impression on you until one day, suddenly it becomes unbearable,

Until you get a glimpse of what it’s like to not be lonely.

And then suddenly it’s like a deep chasm of longing and desperation just opens up inside you, craving love and warmth and company with a hunger that feels like it can never ever be satisfied.

I’d never paid much mind to the fact that my life revolved around myself, my writing and the flowers in the garden. Not until Namjoon had come, demanding to be felt and seen and heard .

 Namjoon hadn’t joked about not letting me rattle around the house. Our days were spent sprawled on the lawns of the Jeon estate, each of us occupied with our own writing . Namjoon typed away on his laptop while I preferred my leather bound notebook. It was oddly soothing, lying there on the clean cut grass, the sharp blades rubbing against my bare legs, as I leaned back against a tree trunk, watching Namjoon’s furrowed brows as he wrote.

Namjoon had changed in a lot of ways and yet he was still somehow just as I remembered, focused and often lost in his own head. He was a contemplative man and seemed to spend as much time reading as he did writing.

“There’s a poetry club that meets every Tuesday in Gangnam. Would you like to come with me?” He asked casually, about a week after he’d moved in and I considered it. The paparazzi had finally stopped hanging about the estate and Jungkook had called the previous night with a ETA for when he would be back.

Four weeks at most, he had said firmly and I wasn’t sure if I was feeling all that excited for his return anymore. Days spent with Namjoon were more exciting. He included me in every little thing and I was addicted.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew this was probably wrong. Namjoon was sweet and kind but I was still married. But on the wake of that thought came the bitter reminder that there was nothing between Jungkook and I. He was in love with someone else. Why should I deny myself the joy of Namjoon’s company over a relationship that really wasn’t a relationship at all.

Namjoon treated me as an equal, teased and flirted like there was nothing wrong with the two of us living like this, together and away from the rest of the world and I liked it. It made me feel like perhaps happiness wasn’t such an abstract, unreachable thing after all. That perhaps I could find happiness like this. In friendship and mindless conversation with a man who didn’t see me as a burden.

“I’d love that.” I said with a smile, letting my fingers knit together with his.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Scorned wife getting even? We spotted the recently cheated on Mrs Jeon getting cozy with a strapping, buff hottie in a private restaurant last Friday and we can’t help but wonder if perhaps the reclusive lady is trying to get back at her husband by flashing her own boytoy.” Namjoon read cheerfully from his phone, looking way too entertained as he showed me the zoomed photo of us holding hands over the dinner table .

“That’s quite the description they’ve put for you.” I grimaced, sipping my chamomile tea slowly. My father and Mr. Jeon had reacted with their usual anger, threatening to sue the gossip rag for libel but it was pointless. They would keep being intrusive rats. There was nothing much to be done beyond enduring them.

“My agent’s losing his mind. He’s been at me trying to get me to agree to book signings and public appearances and he’s pissed that this is the way I get introduced to Seoul’s High society. Poor guy.” Namjoon chuckled and I felt guilt churn.

“I’m sorry, Namjoon. I really didn’t think they’d be following me. I mean… usually they’re only tailing Jungkook but I guess with the whole thing with Lisa , they’re just looking for ways to make things worse.” I said hesitantly.

Namjoon hesitated, staring at me for a few seconds.

“We never really talked about how things are.” He said quietly. “ Between you and Jungkook, that is.”

I ran the edge of my chopsticks on the brim of my soup bowl.

“ There’s not much to say. He’s…. He’s still sorting things out. With my sister.” I smiled a little. It ached a lot less, I realized with surprise.

“They loved each other deeply.” Namjoon said softly. “ that sort of thing doesn’t go away that quickly.”

I nodded.

“Of course. And I’ve been …understanding of that. I like to think.”

“But its unfair to you. You deserve to be loved too. Fully and well .”

I leaned back to stare at him.

“Are you offering?” I laughed, teasing.

Namjoon didn’t smile, leaning forward instead.

“Depends. Will you ever consider leaving him, for me?” He said seriously.

My heart turned over inside me.

“Namjoon…” I choked out and he reached out and lightly touched my palm.

“I know how marriages work with people like you, so I think I should draw boundaries now, if I want to keep myself safe.” He smiled a bit.

“I’m pregnant. With his child.” I swallowed and Namjoon’s brows went up.

“I thought it was your child. Yours and no one else’s.”

I felt torn, staring at him and wanting to say that I didn’t consider Jungkook as the child’s father, not in the way most people did. But I also remembered my husbands determined voice, the way he kept insisting that he wouldn’t neglect the child.

“Its not about Jungkook or the child, Leah. Its about you. You married Jungkook knowing he was in love with your sister and that tells me that you listen to your parents. You don’t want to stand up against the rules set by our parents and I don’t fault you for it. But I can’t let myself fall for you, knowing you’re going to be bound by your obligations to yurr family.”

I shook my head.

“Don’t fall in love with me.” I said easily. “ You’re right. My family comes first. And whether I want to be or not, I’m bound to Jungkook for life. So don’t fall in love with me.”

He smiled and nodded.

“Alright then.”

“Do you want to move out?” I asked bitterly and he looked genuinely surprised.

“What?”

“You clearly think I’m trying to seduce you or something when really, I-“

“Hey. Hey, Leah…no. No alright, that’s not what I meant. These two weeks, it was amazing. I love your mind and you’re easily one of my favorite people on this planet. We’re friends. And we’ll stay friends no matter what but you must know why I said what I said. You’re a beautiful woman and I’m a lonely guy.” He smiled a bit, “ I just don’t want to make it hard for myself when you want me to leave.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jungkook arrived back in Korea on a cold, rainy morning and against my better judgment I let Jihyun and Lisa drag me to the airport. It was some kind of publicity stunt, that much I could fathom but I didn’t know if Jungkook was in on it. I hadn’t spoken to him in a few days, he had been busy wrapping things up with the new branch in Japan.

It was another bad day for my leg and I found myself leaning heavily on my sister, her arm wrapped around my waist as we walked over to the waiting area. I could already identify a few men with cameras staring at us discreetly. Paparazzi . I saw them move their cameras down to the now obvious curve of my stomach and I swallowed. I could already imagine the articles wondering who the father was : Jungkook or Namjoon.

“You alright?” My sister asked worriedly and I nodded, not looking at her. Lisa hadn’t been discouraged by initial refusal to speak to her, keeping at it till I finally caved and let her visit me at the estate. She didn’t love Jungkook anymore, she insisted . It was over. They were over . She wanted to give her marriage a chance. Very sweet and nice, that. And it was obvious that she wasn’t lying, what with the way she and her husband kept

Jihyun and Lisa had made amends with each other and it annoyed me that they seemed to be madly in love with each other all of a sudden. Like the past couple months hadn’t even happened. I stared down at my wedding ring feeling stricken. Was it unfair that I resented them for this? Why hadn’t the two of them thought of this, of breaking things off and moving on before the damn wedding. And then maybe Jungkook and I would have had a real marriage too.

Bitter and hormonal was definitely not a good combination I thought with a wince, fingers splaying on the curve of my lower belly. It was so odd, being pregnant. The extra weight somehow foreign but also …so soothing. The last scan had shown that I had an anterior placenta and that meant that I may not feel movements for a while. I didn’t mind, having found comfort in just tracing my palm over the bare skin of my stomach.

“There he is.” Jihyun’s voice made me look up and ure enough there he was.

It wasn’t the longest we’d been away from each other and yet, I felt my heart leap at the sight of him. He truly was a very handsome man, I thought miserably. And no matter what people said, it was infinitely more difficult to hate your husband when he looked that good.

Jungkook’s eyes caught mine first and I saw the way his gaze dipped straight to the curve of my bump. Even from the ten feet between us , I saw hi lips part in surprise , eyes going wide. It probably hadn’t felt real to him till now, I thought biting my lips as he carefully handed his bags over to the two chauffeurs who had rushed to help him.

Jihyun wasted no time in bounding over and hugging his little brother tight.

I glanced at the man who had been taking photos, pleased to see the surprise in his face. Was he hoping that the CEO would punch his little brother in the face ? Idiots. Lisa stayed by my side and I exhaled shakily.

“ Dad told me something and I want to know if its true.” I said quietly.

She didn’t reply.

I took a deep breath, still watching the two brothers embrace each other, Jungkook’s face buried in Jihyun’s shoulders. I could see him shaking just a little and I felt my gut clench.

“He told me that …that you never told him that you wanted to marry Jungkook. That when he suggested Jihyun you agreed at once.”

She looked away.

“Lets talk about this later.” She said quietly.

“Does Jungkook know?” I demanded. “ Because he spent that first month of our marriage cursing our father out for forcing you to marry Jihyun. Forcing. And dad says that he did no such thing. So what is the truth.”

Lisa didn’t respond.

“Jungkook  knows.” She said finally, “ I told him… the truth. When we were in Japan.” and I laughed in disbelief.

“Was that before or after you kissed him?” I snapped and she looked genuinely pained.

“Leah, I never meant to hurt you or Jungkook.” She said shakily.

“My God.” I shook my head. “ I always knew you were a selfish, greedy person but I didn’t take you for being a liar and a deceitful coward. ”

She stared down at her feet.

“Yes. I’m greedy..”  She whispered “ And you may not understand it now but I did it for you and for Jungkook.”

She moved away and I watched as Jihyun pulled away from Jungkook, still holding his arm as he held a hand out to Lisa. The smile on her face seemed genuine as she took her husband’s hand and I shifted my gaze to mine. Jihyun and Lisa walked away to their car and Jungkook stepped closer to me, his face stoic and impossible to read.  

“Leah.” He said quietly, dark hair falling into even darker eyes.

I didn’t reply, merely stepping up to gently press my palms on either side of his face.

“Welcome back.” I said softly, before reaching up and kissing him full on the lips. Jungkook’s entire body went stiff as a board at the gesture but he didn’t pull away , thankfully. It felt cold and impersonal and barely lasted a few seconds but hopefully the man had gotten a few good shots. I closed my eyes for effect, running my thumb over the clean shaven curve of his jaw, before pulling away slowly.

I peered over Jungkook’s shoulder, just to make sure and sure enough, the man was moving closer to get better angles. I smiled a little. Good. That should hold these vultures off for a while. I turned back to Jungkook and his eyes followed my gaze catching sight of the man with the camera and his entire body seemed to go stiff with anger.

“Why did you do that?” He growled and I bit my lips.

“You know why.” I made to turn away but he gripped my arm, hard. So hard that I winced.

“What are you doing?” I asked panicking, glancing at the man who was still watching.

“Since when did you start pandering to those pigs?” He whispered angrily and I flinched.

“Your father wants to introduce you to the Board of directors this weekend.” I whispered quietly, “Most of them read the news Jungkook. The last news about us can’t be about you cheating on me.”

“That’s my business. And I’ll deal with it. We’re not doing this, Leah. I’m not putting on some kind of act just to please my fucking father.” He looked furious and the taut line of his jaw made me flinch.

“I’m sorry.” I said quickly, guilt churning inside me. He was right. I shouldn’t have done that without talking to him about it but I knew that the scandal with him and Lisa wouldn’t go down well with the Board. And the Board generally had a direct say on who got hired to top managerial positions.

“I just want you to get that job.” I said softly and he stared at me, stiff body relaxing marginally.

“Let’s just go home. Yeah?” Jungkook said tiredly and I bit my lips.

Less than fifteen minutes since he came home and we were already at odds with each other.

The most ill suited couple in the universe, I thought with a grimace as he stepped right next to me and wrapped a hand around my waist.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I had a very terrible tendency to forget taking my pills. So I generally left them by the bedside table. Stepping out of the shower, I found Jungkook sitting on my side of the bed, examining the bottle carefully. I tugged on the white t shirt I had on, suddenly embarrassed because it was Jungkook’s

I’d asked to borrow a couple over the phone,  simply because I no longer fit into my own and the ones I’d ordered weren’t here yet. Jungkook had agreed but still, it felt awkward when he was wearing the exact same t shirt himself.

He turned around when I moved to the vanity to put on moisturizer for the night and through the reflection I saw his gaze linger on my attire.

“Aspirin? Didn’t know that was part of pre natal vitamins?” He said seriously and I blinked., surprised. I turned around to stare at him, licking my lips nervously.

“How much research did you do?” I asked, genuinely curious and he flushed.

“I had a lot of free time. “ He said defensively. “ These six weeks.”

I frowned, before turning back to grab the small pot of night cream from the draw.

“My blood pressure is a little elevated. My mother had pre eclampsia with my sister and they just want to be careful.”

“Pre eclampsia?” Jungkook’s voice was fraught with nervousness and I turned back to see him almost white as a sheet.

“Jungkook…I.. its nothing serious.” I said hastily and his jaw went even more taut.

“What do you mean its not serious? Do you even know what it is?” He demanded.

“Do you?” I snapped back, annoyed at being treated like I was an errant child.

“I know that it’s the leading cause of maternal death during birth.” He all but shouted and I flinched.

“Okay…that’s only in extreme cases.” I held both my hands up. “ it’s a bit too premature to be panicking over that.”

Jungkook opened his mouth, as though to argue but then seemed to calm himself down.

“When’s your next check up?” He asked casually.

“This weekend. But its okay, Namjoon is-“

“I’ll come with you. I.. I want to come with you.” He said quietly.

I stared at him, feeling too awkward to outright refuse.

“You have the meeting with the Board. This weekend.” I said softly.

“So?” Jungkook shrugged. “ I’ll just tell them your appointment and health is more important to me. Besides isn’t that what you wanted? The reason you kissed me at the airport? You want the board to think we’re happily in love. I think that would be an excellent way to show them that. ”

Jungkook stared at me , head tilted curiously, daring me to deny what I had old him myself.

Sighing, I nodded.

“Alright.” I managed a weak smile. “ You can come with me.”

“Namjoon hyung left today, you said?” He asked casually.

I nodded.

“I should send him a bottle of his favorite wine for taking care of you so well. You look good.”

“He did it because he wanted to. Because he enjoyed it.” I retorted, his words rubbing me just a little wrong.

Jungkook smiled although it was more of a smirk.

“I’m sure he did. But I’m here now. And I did promise you that I’ll be there for you.”

“For the baby.” I said sharply, not liking the way he looked. The things he seemed to b implying.” You promised me you’d be there for the baby.”

“And right now, said baby is inside you.” He grinned now and I felt my pulse quicken at the sight. Jungkook didn’t smile with me. It wasn’t something that happened. At all. “ So I’ll have to take care of you.”

I stared at him, biting my lips.

“What are you doing?” I demanded. “My sister told you she never wanted you so now you want to start fucking me again?”

It was cruel. A terrible thing to say and I regretted it at once.

The smile faded.

“What?”

“ I…fuck Jungkook.” I groaned.

“is that what you think of me? Need I remind you that you were the one who came to me all those months ago? I never…. I would never force myself on you, Leah.” He looked like he’d been stabbed and I heart clenched.

“Jungkook , I…”

“I’ve been honest. Through all of this I’ve been honest to you. I lied to your sister, I lied to my father and fuck I even lied to myself. But I’ve been honest with you , Leah.”

“And that’s supposed to make me feel better?!” I cried out, despairing. “ You were in love with my sister and –“

“And she wanted to marry my brother.” Jungkook yelled, standing up and turning to me, eyes blazing. “  All along. Know what she told me Leah? That it was never supposed to be me. That five years of us being together…it was because she was in love with my brother and she couldn’t bear the thought of being alone. She started dating me to make him jealous and when she saw that I spent so much time with Jihyun she stuck around . So she could spend time with him.” He shook his head.

I stared at him, horrified.

“Jungkook….”

“I thought I could never feel more pathetic than when I stood there listening her tel me how she never felt a single thing for me. But wow…. Thank you for proving me wrong. Because right now, standing here begging you to let me a part of the child we both made knowing you only see me as some kind of pervert just looking to get into your bed….” he shook his head,” I feel worse. I feel dirty.”

My throat went dry.

“You know what?” He moved to the closet and to my horror he grabbed a bunch of his clothes and a small suitcase. “ I’m going to go get a Hotel room.”

“What? No… Jungkook, wait!” I rushed to his side, grabbing his arm but he threw my hand off quickly.

“Ask Namjoon hyung to move back in. Better yet, tell dad the truth. That you think I’m disgusting. That the thought of me being in your life makes you sick. Tell him you want a divorce and-“

“It’s a girl.” I exhaled sharply.

Jungkook went completely still.

I swallowed, my heart racing so fast I couldn’t catch my breath.

I took a deep breath and moved to lightly touch his back, fingers splaying on the broad expanse of his shoulder blade .

He turned around at that and my heart lurched at the tear tracks down his cheeks. He looked wrecked.

“ A girl?” He whispered.

I bit my lips, nodding.

“We’re having a little girl.” He looked a little shell shocked.

“Yes. And hopefully, she isn’t as dramatic as her father.” I said softly, grabbing the dozen or so t shirts he’d pulled out of the closet and pushing them back into the shelves.

Jungkook didn’t protest, still staring into space, probably just taking the news in. I felt awful for one second because I hadn’t even cared all that much when the technician had told me.

I closed the closet door and moved back to the vanity trying to process all that had been said in the last five minutes, only to feel a headache come on. I would think about it tomorrow.

I finished braiding my hair when Jungkook’s voice came from the bed.

“If you don’t want me to intrude into your space you can tell me. I’m okay with only getting information about the baby.” He said quietly.

I stared at myself in the mirror.

I turned to him slowly. i took a deep breath, considered that what i was going to say would likely change everything between us. But i had to. 

I’ve always been honest with you Leah, He had said and I decided that perhaps he deserved some honesty in return.

“I think I’m in love with Namjoon.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s Note : these two are such a mess istg. 

ooh i don’t have a taglist for this so please comment if you wanna be on it. 

[keeper0fthestars]

would you let me

din djarin x fem!reader (au)

summary: tattooed!din. guys you should know me by now, there’s no plot this is shamelessly soft and a little bit of filth (you can assume this takes place well after the events of ywmnd, but it can be read as a stand-alone fic)

warnings: Din without his helmet, 18+ explicit, fluff/smut, love and affection, oral f receiving, praise kink, y’all din is Hor-neeeee, dirty talk sort of, possessive din, cock warming, unprotected sex, oh yea- din doesn’t realize how enamoured you are with his tattoos.

a/n: Did I intend for this to be 2.8k words? Hahaha, oh god, in my head this was only 600 words at the most and i have nothing to say for myself, all i want is Din Djarin to be being safe, stable and happy.

✨immaculate✨moodboard at the bottom by: @bxbafett​

~~

His skin tingles where you still touch him.

The sweat has dried but he can’t yet bring himself to move from where he'd collapsed next to you on the pillows a few minutes ago. Sprawled on his stomach, he takes up your side of the bed, the comfortable weight of your leg bent over the back of his thigh. The heat of your mouth and the exquisite grip of your pussy would stay with him for days.

The peaceful glow blanketing the room hangs in contrast to the raging wind outside. The storm arrived unexpectedly before dawn and continues to rattle the windows every so often, a promise that it's far from over. 

Muscles protesting, he bunches the pillow under his arms. His eyes struggle to stay open and he sees you’re doing no better, not a lick of tension left in your body. His shoulders bulging, he rests his head on his forearms, lulled by the sensation of your slow fingers tracing the dark ink over his shoulder blade. 

He wonders what you're thinking about, he wonders if you even realize you’re doing it. Not that he minds. Not that he needed a reason to keep you in bed today. Drowsy and spent, the look on your face tells him you wouldn't be able to recall a single thing you’d carried over from yesterday’s to-do list. He likes days like this when the only thing on your mind is him. Even now, especially now, when all that exists is the delicious scent of you and he’s on the verge of dozing off and it's not even noon. He can't get enough of how fucking beautiful you are after he's fucked you. 

//

The dwindling fire dances in the corner of the room, creating shadows across the dips and valleys of his back. Coals begin to crackle but neither of you seems to care about the chill creeping back in the room. The window could be wide open right now and neither of you would even notice.

At the moment, other things occupy your mind. Lazy, your fingers continue over the smooth slope of his shoulder, repeatedly admiring the same path of black ink. 

With a languid exhale, he shifts, turning on his side, ruffling the toasty air under the quilt between you. One arm propped under his head, his other hand slipping warm underneath the blanket, hugging your hip, he settles heavy and solid beside you. 

Your eyes are drawn to the intricate pattern that spreads across his chest and curls around his biceps and disappears under the blankets. You know the significance of each piece of ink. The one on his shoulder, the one bigger than your palm is your favourite. Ever since he'd gotten it, you found yourself silently longing for something you’d never thought you’d want. But then, you’ve never done anything as reckless as being in love before. 

You've often wondered if he'd like that; to see a similar version of one of his tattoos somewhere on you, to watch him brush his fingers over it, or his mouth- tracing the pattern in the dark, knowing the shape of it from memory alone. Tender evidence of just how entwined your life with him is. 

The thought of it pulls delightfully inside your stomach.

When you look up, he’s already watching you. 

He sees the flash of eagerness in your eyes before you blink it away, he sees the cautious way you wet your bottom lip as you consider your words. He can see you’re itching to say something. 

"If I wanted something like this, would you do it for me?"

His brow flattens, his lips part and you can tell the question catches him off guard. You hear the hitch in the air but you don’t know the half of it. 

You do not know that his throat jams with adrenaline when he opens his mouth to answer you— he barely manages to swallow it down and level his voice enough to speak. He’s powerless to stop the grin that sneaks into the corner of his mouth.

‘Of course, I would.’ 

The kick of overwhelming pride in his veins is instant, a punch to his lungs. This timid little request sets off fireworks in his stomach, floods hot up his chest, flushing the roots of his scalp. Something so tangible, so primal he thinks he could reach in and touch it. He thinks if he does, it might lay him to waste. The more he visualizes you this way, the more light-headed he becomes. 

And then you weaken him further. Sweet little apples forming on your cheeks— and he gives in. Allows the sensation to shatter him.

His girl, his girl, wants ink that matches his. 

He wants to bask in it, drown himself in it. Arousal licks hot inside his stomach, tightens his cock so fast it makes him dizzy-  

Instead of on your hip, the heat of his hand is now curling around the back of your neck and his forehead collides gently with yours. Warm and solid.

He has to close his eyes, focus on you, or the muscles around his heart will squeeze right out of his chest and turn him into a puddle. His cock, painfully heavy between his legs.

Tethering himself against your warm brow, he lingers, focuses on your breath fanning down his cheek. Eventually, he comes back down again. 

You'd said you want him to do it.

You'd be wearing a part of him on your skin. Forever. 

Fuck.

How he wants it.

His lungs threaten to collapse again.

Gentle fingers squeeze the nape of your neck, spreading warmth down your spine. Nudging your forehead up, you are met with the imploring depths of his eyes carefully fixed on yours, circling your features. You watch his brows pull together, the earnestness on his face tugs at the strings around your heart.

“You would let me?” He asks.

You know exactly what he means.  Giving him the power to adorn you, stinging with needles.

To hurt you. Trust that he wouldn’t. 

Like his name hasn’t already been written on the inside of your heart since the day you met.

Your hand curves along the scruffy edge of his jaw, reaching further, tangling in his hair. Tipping your face up, your mouth slides between his supple lips and you answer him the only way you can.  

He melts immediately, nose pressing into your cheek, tugging you closer with a soft hungry moan. Stubble grazing, you’re lost inside the slick of his mouth, his tongue sliding deeper, reaching for yours. His hand trails down the curve of your back, his cock rigid, presses against your softness and heat swoops low in your belly. Much too soon he pulls away and you already feel his burning gaze as you struggle to pull your eyelids open.

Bloomed and dark, his eyes burn with adoration so intense it would blot out both suns.

"Where would you want it?" 

The softness in his voice makes your heart flutter. You already see the possibilities flickering in his eyes; his ink decorating you.  

Easing you back on the pillows, you barely get a chance to give his question any thought when you feel the ends of his hair tickling your jaw, his mouth ghosting over your clavicle. 

"Maybe here?" his voice lilts up at the end, satisfied at the goosebumps erupting across your skin.

He doesn't give you time to answer, instead, he grasps your hand, softly brushing his thumb over the tendons on the inside of your wrist. "Or, here."

And then it hits you and your mouth goes dry. “You’ve already thought about this.”

‘Yeah,’ he says softly, bending to slot his lips over your open mouth. ‘I have.’

His admission just about ruins you.

Ugh. This man.

Curiosity ignites inside you, in sync with an eagerness of an entirely different kind. One that charges your pulse, makes your voice weak.

‘Where would you want it?’ 

He's slow with his answer. Even slower gripping the blanket from underneath. Pulling it down, watching the satin edge slide over your skin, watching it slowly catch on your nipples. Bit by bit, exposing the soft fullness of your curves. Doesn't stop pulling until the blanket bunches around your knees. 

You watch his mouth tug into a crooked grin. 

Crowding over the side of you, he’s so long and so broad. Your skin tingles under his appreciative gaze. A warm hand trails up the side of your hip, fingertips counting ribs, so gentle it's almost ticklish. You struggle to breathe around the quivering in your stomach where your heart thuds erratically from one corner of your ribcage to the other. 

Unhurried fingers trace a slow semicircle underneath your breast.

‘I want one here,’ his head dips down, his nose following the swell of soft skin. ‘So I can see it every time I fuck you.’

Your pussy twinges, heat flaring all the way to your nipples. 

Oh.

Grasping a handful of your breast, he circles his tongue over your nipple and before you can put a single thought together, his large hand moves to your hip, squeezes, then melts into the softest of touches.  

“And I want one down here.”

You catch his gaze, blazing and dark, before his mop of messy dark hair trails down your stomach. 

He licks a hot stripe over the spot he's just identified on the inside of your hip bone, teeth nipping. Your core clenches painfully at the contact and your vision goes hazy. He is pleased with your splintered gasp, but you can think of a few other uses for that smug grin.  As though reading your mind, his open mouth finds more bare skin, hot and wet, scraping slower, pushing your legs apart. 

His voice low, possessive, ‘No one but me would ever know about them.’

The thought sends a spectacular sting of arousal around your ass and up your spine. 

Something only for him. Maker. He renders you so defenseless so fast your head spins. 

"So, what do you think?" his voice dips lower, his stubble scrapes up the inside of your thigh. "Where should we start?"

You know he just asked you a question but his thumb is toying with the seam of your pussy now and the words he just said have nothing to cling to inside your head. He’s slow about it, pressing just far enough to collect your wetness and push it up around your clit. Painting. Teasing. Dipping further each time only to pull away and bring it to his mouth. Spreading you wider so he can see how flushed and swollen you are and he hasn’t even used his mouth yet.  

“You gonna answer me?” Using his palm to pin your leg open, his mouth sinks into the inside of your thigh, teeth and all, and he hears you pull air from the beams of your ceiling.

“Tha-s not fair..” you plead.

He moans his agreement into the flesh of your other thigh. “We can finish this conversation after you cum.”

His mouth closes over your clit and your eyes roll back in your head. He doesn’t let up.

“Din-,” you gasp.

He pulls off your swollen clit and sucks the taste off his lips, watching you clench for him at the loss of contact.  

“Yeah?” 

You’re so fucking wet for him that his cock throbs, leaking between his stomach and the sheets. Bending his index finger he drags the side of his knuckle over your clit, pushing deep until he snags your entrance, holding you there. You’re already fluttering around him, so eager. With every clench, more slick leaks between his fingers. Your ragged breathing turns into the most filthy whimpers every time he laps at your clit. His other hand pries your fist from the sheet beside you, curls his fingers through yours and holds tight. Collects wetness on his tongue and leaves it on your clit again.

“You wanna cum on my mouth... or my cock.”

“Yes…” you plead, chest heaving, not sure if he even hears you. 

He doesn’t know what you’re moaning ‘yes’ to but he doesn’t care because your pussy is too fucking tempting to stop now. Two fingers buried to the knuckle, they twist and curl and he has to hold your hips from seizing and climbing off the bed when you cry out and come apart at the seams. 

He moans blissfully, mouth buried in your pussy, working you through it until your grip on his hair loosens and your thighs finally lay limp around his shoulders.  His mouth becomes patient, gently cleaning you up until you’re too sensitive to take anymore.

He crawls up to your mouth, forearms crowding you on either side, settling his weight between your legs. Your hands tug through his hair and he moans again, taking his time inside your mouth, sloppy and breathless.

Blissed out and shaky, you let him nudge you over on your side. Bringing the blanket over your bodies, he climbs up behind you like a massive wall of warmth. 

Soft kisses to your shoulder, his hand splays firm on your belly; he needs to be as close as possible, needs to fit himself between your legs, perfectly content to just keep himself there for the rest of the day if that’s all you wanted. 

He knows it’s not. 

Still keyed-up from your orgasm, the heavy length of his cock slides exquisitely through your folds, the wide ridges catch perfectly on your tender clit. He throbs hot and your eyes cloud over with a need so obscene, so sharp, it would take no effort at all to angle your hips and ease every inch of him into you. Your fingertips reach down, smearing your fingers over the blunt head of his cock and he twitches for you, leaking and hot, a broken groan shuddering within his chest behind you. The ache goes straight to your pussy.

His mouth gone dry, his hand like steel on your hip now. He holds delightfully still, right over your clit and he feels you shudder and clench, more heat spilling out around his cock. 

“Does my girl want more?”  His hand dips below the swell of your ass, he squeezes into your flesh, pulling you apart, making more room for himself, fixed on supplying you another heavenly inch of contact. You oblige and squeeze the muscles between your legs, giving him more friction and he keens for you, whimpering ‘fuck’  

He sees you bring your slippery fingers into your mouth, and he has to force his eyes shut and rein himself in, dazed at how dangerously close he is to that sweet blinding edge of oblivion. He feels you clench desperately again, knows it’s because you’re gathering more slick from his weeping cock and swallowing it down.

Pressing your ass into the base of his hips you arch your back, sliding him once more through the same path. The desperate sound he makes against the back of your neck makes you throb. 

He hums wet kisses into your neck, bringing three fingers soaked from his mouth to your nipple, rolling them over the hardened peaks. You shudder for him and grind harder into his lap, legs trembling, your nails digging into his arm.

“What d’you need, my girl?” 

Your only answer is a low whine. “I need you in me.”  

Grasping your knee from behind, he lifts your leg just enough to wedge his hips properly... ‘like this, you want me just like this’ ...and it’s effortless. He drags through your whimpers, through the haze of his own blurry desperation, burying himself into your slick heat all at once. When he reaches the hilt, you gasp high and tight, the stretch fucking divine. 

He groans through a string of filthy curses, low and needy and breathless through gritted teeth, ‘this what you want, just like this?’ A delicious ache burning deep in his stomach, he stills, waiting for you to breathe again. ‘...good girl, y-es,’ he hushes against your neck, ‘...relax for me.’

There is no more room for him to move but slowly, somehow, he still manages to rock into you, continues to gush praise into your hair, easing your leg down on his, ‘so fucking good for me,’  keeping you anchored, close and unmoving.

Your grip on his cock is intoxicating, nothing could ever come close. Buried deep in you is the only place he feels truly weightless. 

It’s a heady thing, the way you claim him, the way you light up when he walks in the door, how much you trust him, how much you care for him. It takes his breath away.  Erases every fear he’s ever had and every worry yet to come. 

Snug in your bed like this, forever is a real thing. 

//

Shielding you from the cold room, you’re both on the edge of sleep again when it occurs to him and he smiles. “You never answered my question, sweetheart.” 

You inhale with a soft contented sound, burying deeper underneath his arm.

“On my wrist.” Your drowsy slurred voice makes his heart swoon. 

“I want everyone that sees it, to know who I belong to.”

His arm tightens around your waist.

~~

TO BE CONTINUED...! HOPEFULLY :)

thank you so much for reading! I would love to know what you think of this! if you’ve every left me a comment on anything i’ve written -please know i’ve never forgotten it xx

perm taglist: @opheliaelysia @oldstuffnewstuff @sistasarah-sallysaidso @fromthedeskoftheraven @hiscyarika @oloreaa @punkpascal @wickedfrsgrl @b0n-chann @buckstaposition @mstgsmy @the-wishmonger @givemethatgold @cinewhore @ksgeekgirl @princessxkenobi @getinthepoolkeanu @paintballkid711 @yespolkadotkitty @pedropascalito @randomness501 @demigod-dragonrider-schoolidol @dearspacepirates @jaime1110 @chews-erotically @this-cat-is-dea @cryptkeepersoul @findhimfives

din djarin tag: @tiffdawg 

@seawhisperer deserves all the pancakes in the fcking world for tolerating my incoherent messages at all hours of the night and her endless supply of inspiration xx

If anyone is interested, you can use this link to add or remove yourself from my tag list :)

[dollslayer]

Botanical Interest

Soft!Mob!Steve Rogers x reader

Summary: You’re a florist working the wedding of Brooklyn’s most respected mob boss when you catch the eye of his best man.

W/C: 1557

Warnings: Allusions to violence, swearing, copious amounts of blushing

A/N: My second ever fic! I wrote this as an entry to @stargazingfangirl18 ‘s Soft Dark 5k Challenge (congrats!) using dialogue prompt 9 (bolded) with a Mob!AU. No smut, just fluff. While I’m a sucker for Soft!Dark I thought I’d keep it light and fluffy! Might enter a second one with some darker themes.

I’m brand new to writing and the fandom so if you want you can check out my first fic (also a Mob!AU!) and please reach out with any and all comments or thoughts! I’m eager to know!! Cheers!

Botanical Interest Masterlist I Main Masterlist

_______________________

The first time you saw him you didn’t actually see him because you ran square into him while you were looking the other way. Stubbing your nose right into his chest and nearly spilling the contents of the box you were holding.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I wasn’t looking where I was going and I’ve got so much to do so I’ve been running around and I just didn’t see you I’m-“

“Forgiven. You’re forgiven, sweetheart” a smoky voice with confidence and amusement informed you.

You loved being a florist but you were short handed for this wedding and needed to get a move on. You wouldn’t have taken the job but the infamous Bucky Barnes, King of Brooklyn himself was getting married. It would be great exposure for you but when a man like him asks something of you you don’t exactly have a choice. In all the chaos of it you didn’t watch your step.

Cheeks still burning with embarrassment, your eyes met those of Barnes’ right hand man, Steve Rogers. Now you weren’t just embarrassed you were nervous.

Taking a step back and shuffling the box in your hands you sent him a sheepish smile. “Right, well, sorry again. I’ve really got a lot to do before the ceremony, so...” trailing off you started to walk away. Just distract yourself with the work and try not to worry whether you’d just offended a member of the mob.

—————————————

Steve nodded and gave you a small smile, letting you return to the task at hand. There was some issue with the venue and the owners were being stubborn but the wedding planner was busy putting out a different fire. So, being the best man that he was, he decided to come down and use his ‘persuasive skills’.

He almost forgot what he was there for as he watched you walk away. Sure, you looked a little crazed in your work but you were cute. Frazzled but determined as you tinkered with the centerpieces, he let himself be distracted for a moment.

Sighing as his phone buzzed asking for an update on the venue, he shook his head. With a scowl he straightened his posture and clenched his fists as he set off in search of the property manager. Poor bastard.

—————————

30 minutes, 2 punches, and one very credible threat later Steve was leaving the manager's office. He held the door and looked at the man one last time, “And I think I’ll stay to make sure you don’t get any ideas about going back on the agreement.”

At least that was his excuse for sticking around. He still had some time before he needed to get changed so he ambled around until he spotted you across the large room. Planting himself against the wall, a tiny smile on his face as he watched you place each stem with care.

You still looked a little pressed but he could tell you were really enjoying what you were doing. He liked to see a woman hard at work and good at what she does. He liked seeing you so flustered earlier when you ran into him. The heat flooding to your face told him you knew exactly who he was. Good.

Bending to reach a stray peony he took a moment to admire your body. He had to wonder if the blush on your face earlier would be the same one you’d have when he’d whisper dirty things into your ear.

Letting his imagination wander a little bit he didn’t realize you’d gone outside. Maybe it was a good time for Steve to step out and have a smoke.

———————————

You felt some relief as you saw him take off in another direction and felt relief. Finally letting yourself relax a bit you started on the arch. You heard yelling from down the hall but decided to ignore it, you didn’t have time to worry about it.

Some time later you were still working on the arch when you noticed something in the corner of your eye. Taking a moment to look up you saw that it was Steve. What was he doing? Whatever. He said he forgave you just focus on the arch. You worked the best you could to not let his presence bother you.

Finally done with the arch, you needed to go back to the van for more supplies and finishing touches. Letting yourself forget about your unexpected company you climbed into the back of the van and hauled out some boxes.

“You need help with that, sweetheart?” He offered.

You hadn’t expected him out here and let out a shriek. Jesus Christ is he following me now? Steve casually walked over to you with a quirk in his brow waiting for an answer.

“I- Uh, no. No, I’m good. I’m great, actually. My assistant is somewhere around so I don’t need help so you can just, uh, go, I guess. Thanks though.” How you managed to get the entire sentence out only stumbling slightly in your words was beyond you.

“Alright. Well if you need some muscle or a strong set of hands... I’ll be around for a while.” He responded while sporting what you were sure was his signature grin.

You watched him make his way back inside and let out the breath you definitely knew you were holding. Just finish the flowers and get out. You can do this.

—————————

The reception was winding down and you waited for the last guests to leave before you started disassembling things. Waiting out back with the van and your assistant you thought back to your awkward interactions with Steve.

You knew he was dangerous, or at least what he did was dangerous. He didn’t say one threatening word to you and he still had your palms sweating. Hopefully the wedding party would be long gone and you wouldn’t have to see him again.

The lights were starting to come up and you put yourself to task but before you did you took a moment to really admire the arch. Hours of work, hundreds of peonies and ranunculus and so much greenery all put together in one beautiful piece. You couldn’t help but snag a picture.

“It really is gorgeous. Not as gorgeous as you though.” That voice again, seemingly out of nowhere.

“Jesus Christ!” Startled for the second time by him that night your anger got the better of you. “What’s your deal huh? Why are you watching me? Am I on some list now?”

He barked out a laugh in response. “I swear I didn’t mean to start watching you, it just sort of... happened” He admittedly almost sheepishly. “You’re cute when you’re focused, you’re also cute when you’re mad.”

You could only blink at him. What do you even say to that? ‘Thanks, I find you terrifying’? “Um, thanks, I guess.” Good enough.

He held his hand out to you. “Steve Rogers.” You held your hand out to shake when he took it and kissed it instead. You stated your name as calm as you could. When he released your hand you noticed some bruises on his knuckles. Lest you forget who he is.

He seemed to notice you caught that detail. “Don’t worry. I don’t hurt anyone who don’t deserve it, certainly could never hurt a pretty face like yours.” You blushed at the compliment and turned your head. 

“I… should probably get back to the flowers. Don’t wanna be here all night.” You shifted your attention to the arch and began the process of dismantling it. 

“I wouldn’t mind it. Here, Doll”. He noticed you searching around for your tools and handed them to you. “Let me help you, these things look heavy”. You really shouldn’t. A piece of you kept placing this warning around him but every time he opened his mouth he was so sweet. How could you say no?

____________________________

So that’s how the big scary mobster found himself surrounded by flowers and skipping out on the after party. He asked you about yourself, how you got into floristry, he listened to you geek out about flowers. You asked him about himself and he did his best to answer while trying not to scare you off. Something about how confident you were in your work but how shy you got reeled him in. He didn’t care who saw him grinning like an idiot at you. 

As he helped you load the last of your things and close the back doors of your van he leaned against it. “So, the Brooklyn Botanic Garden is just around the corner from my place but I’ve never been. Think a professional like you could spare some time for an uninformed punk like myself?” 

______________________________

Was he asking you out? You couldn’t fight the growing smile on your face. You know what he does is… less than ideal but talking to him you really felt good chemistry between the two of you. He was funny and genuine and those moments where he was a little shy telling you about growing up as a scrawny kid had you feeling like you were peeking in on a side of him that you’d never expect. You looked up at him still smiling.

“Oh what the hell? When are you free?”

[demonsandmischief]

Our Moment Pt 2

Marvel - A Captain America Fairytale AU

King! Steve Rogers x Female Reader

Here's Part 1

1.2K Words

Here's my Masterlist.

Our Moment Pt 2

the beginning of the end - angst alert

---

The scent of books hit your nose and you grinned at the familiar comfort.

"I take it you like this room," Steve smiled down at you.

His smile was contagious, and you gave an eager nod. "I've never seen so many. The bookstore in town only has a small collection that I have already read through three times."

"You are welcome to borrow whatever you'd like. This shelf here are my personal favorites. "

"Really?" you asked shocked, a smile finding its way onto your lips. It was almost always there when Steve was around. "I've read most of these."

"You have incredible taste."

You and the king had been spending a lot of time together for the last few weeks. You were undeniable close, and that terrified you, even still, you absolutely adored Steve.

You pulled gently on a book that caught your eye, tracing your finger over the cover.

"Will you be coming to the ball in a few days?" He stepped closer. You could feel the heat of him on your back and you bit back a blush.

"I don't-"

"I would like you to be there."

You turned around so you were facing him, and meeting his solemn blue eyes.

"You would?" your voice is a gentle whisper, and Steve's features soften as his lips curl up once more. His thumb grazes your cheek hesitantly.

"They're not much fun," he admits, keeping his voice as quiet as yours. "but they would be tolerable with you there."

"I'll think about it," you said.

He nodded, stepping back. "I'll wait for you under the gazebo in the courtyard just before midnight. I wish I could meet you earlier, but-"

"It's okay, I understand," you reassured. He took your hand in his and you bit your lip to hide the giddy smile.

---

"Mother, if I finish my chores may I please go to the ball with you?" you asked as you cleared the dinner dishes.

The lanky woman with dark eyes and a polished face flashed you an assuming look. "Why would you ever want to go there? You know it's not a place for your kind."

"I understand," you whispered, even though everything in you recoiled at her harshness. "But I have never been to one and I would just like to see what it's like. That's all."

You swore she could see right through your sort-of lie. She sipped her tea. "I'll think about it. Continue along." She dismissed you.

You didn't expect her to give in so easily and it left an uneasy feeling in your gut.

The day of the ball, you were serving your step-mother and step-sister breakfast.

"You can go, but you must find your own dress and your own ride. You must get everything on this list done first."

You step-sister huffed, but you couldn't be more excited. You did your best to school your features as you took the folded piece of paper from her fingers.

"Thank you," you said, only to find out there was double the amount of chores as usual. There was no way you were going to finish before midnight. You didn't even have a dress.

Yet, you still did your best to remain optimistic and got started right away.

It was nearly ten at night when you finished, and an idea struck you about a dress. You yanked an old, dusty trunk from under your bed. It was the only box of things you had of your mother's.

You had kept her favorite dress tucked and wrapped protectively away. It wasn't nearly as fancy as some of the newer ball gowns, but it was perfect to you.

The soft baby blue bodice hung to your body before splaying out into a silky skirt. It felt like a dream, and luckily hid your tattered shoes.

You saddled up Peaches, and sped down the trail.

The large luminous clocktower in the distance was your only sense of time. The minute hand seemed to be moving faster then you could keep up with as you caught glimmers of it through the trees.

The loud croaks of midnight came just after you landed in the courtyard. You could hear the noise from the ballroom above, but the garden felt miles away as you focused in on the tall man with his back turned to you. He appeared lost in thought.

"Hello," you greeted gently, hoping he heard you approach. His body language unnerved you. "I know I am late-"

"I knew it was too good to be true. It was a set up all along," he said, his back still facing you.

"What are you talking about?" you asked, feeling your heart pick up speed.

He finally turned to face you, his blue eyes steely and unreadable. They gleamed from the glow of the party. "You don't have to keep up the charade. I know."

"You know what, Steve?"

"Don't call me that," his voice remained even, but you felt the bite to it as you took a trembling step back. "Your mother told me of your plan." He ran a hand through his hair, an aggravated sigh escaping his lips.

---

The presumptuous looking lady blocked Steve's sight of the door he was watching. He couldn't wait to see you tonight. He hoped you would show.

"Your highness," she greeted with an exaggerated curtsey. "I have something you would like to know."

"Alright," he answered, dismissing the men he was half listening to and shifting his full focus to her. "Please continue."

"My daughter had been sneaking out, and as a worried mother, I had to check in on her. She's never opened up to me, so I went to her diary. As it turns out, y/n has been meeting up with you."

He straightened. "You're her mother?" You didn't seem to have anything in common with this woman, certainly not looks. You were beautiful and natural and-. He shook his head.

She gave a fake charming laugh, "Don't act so surprised, My King." She dropped her smile to something that could only be seen as pitiful. "I hate to be the one to tell you this, but it's better to hear it from me. In her diary, she writes about how boring you are, and how much she dreads hanging out with you. She's only doing it for the crown."

Steve didn't want to believe her, but it was his worst fear coming into light. He felt his heart sink into his stomach.

Why else would anyone hang out with him? Should it really bother him that everyone was the same?

You though, he had expected different.

"Thank you for telling me," he said, turning away and missing the lady's evil, satisfied smirk.

---

"Why would your mother lie?" he asked you. He couldn't deny the miserable feeling in his gut from your hurt expression.

"She's not my mother. She's my step-mom."

"She found your diary," he pressed.

"I don't even have a diary," you whispered exasperated, smearing a fallen tear with your palm.

The silence was tangible.

"Why would you believe her over me?" The tears continue to fall and you decided to let them.

Steve extended his arm, but you stepped back, feeling the heartbreak close your throat. You struggled to swallow the lump.

You liked him a lot, maybe even loved him. You had spent an unbelievable amount of time together for how busy the both of you were, and maybe you should have clued him in on your home life. You just didn't want to be pitied.

Maybe this was for the better. You were world's apart, and you weren't ready to be something you weren't.

----

He called your name, but you were already walking away.

PART THREE

AN:

This was only supposed to be two parts but it got too long 🙈 a third is on its way. Hopefully it won't take me as long to get published.

If you want tagged in part 3, please comment on the FIRST PART. helps me keep track better.

Taglist:@lharrietg @eralen @animegirlgeeky @trudy-shams @liecastillo

Thank you for reading and comment and reblogging. I see every single one. It makes my day ❤️❤️❤️

[candlewaxandp0lar0ids]

if I can never give you peace — one || Jungkook

Pairing: Jungkook x reader // Word count (chapter): 6k // Genre: Mafia AU, Hybrid AU, enemies to lovers // Ao3

↳ It starts like quite a few stories do, in your world. Girl meets boy, who happens to be a hybrid, girl buys him at an auction where hybrids are sold, boy falls in love with her, girl gets bored of him. Then it’s not so typical anymore, when the boy ends up forced into illegal fighting rings, until he makes a wrong move and the girl’s father decides he needs to be killed.

Where does that leave you? Well, you’re the one who handled Jungkook’s fight and generally organized his life, and, when the girl’s father, your boss and mafia leader, tells you he wants him ‘put down’, you’re the one who has to get it done. Except, instead, you let him escape, and everything turns out fine.

Until he comes back.

Warnings and tags (chapter): Descriptions of violence, Minor Character Death, Guns, kind of dark in general

Previous · Next

The first gunshot takes everyone by surprise. Unsure glances are exchanged all around, “did you guys hear that”, and disbelief is clear as day on people’s faces. There’s no way this would happen here, right? People are mostly aware of the fact that they’re technically working for a mafia leader, but this is the legal side of the business, and this building is in the middle of the town’s business centre. This cannot be happening.

You stay perfectly still, immobile where you were standing. Out of all the people here, you’re the one who is the most involved in the questionable parts of the family’s activities. In fact, you were just about to go up to Mr. X’s floor to discuss said questionable things — in this case, the smuggling of a large cargo of weapons.

The gunshot is still ringing in your ears when it is followed by another one, and then possibly more, but you can’t hear them because chaos erupts all around you.

People get up, start running around, some towards the elevators, some towards the stairs. Your brain tells you those choices are probably bad. If those gunshots are for the Family — and who are you kidding, they are — then whoever is firing them is coming up.

“Don’t use the stairs,” you order, and some people stop to look at you, unsure of what to do. They trust your decisions, to a degree, but you doubt it’s enough in this situation. “They’re probably coming,” you explain, even if three of the employees have already slipped through the door and left, “and I don’t think you should be in front of the elevator when the door opens.”

Blood drains from people’s faces. Downstairs, there are more shots fired. A woman starts to cry. Your brain is going in overdrive, processing everything, trying to come up with the best decision, and yet it doesn’t feel like anything is actually registering.

“You should barricade yourself in a room,” you say. Your voice is eerily calm, even to your ears, and it feels strange to hear it. It’s like a curtain has fallen between you and the world around you. You understand that this situation is terrifying, that you should have a reaction that is not apathy. You just don’t. “I don’t think you’re the main targets here. I’ll be going up to see Mr. X.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” a man shouts. “You just want to leave us here to be canon fodder! You—”

He’s shut up by your bodyguard pulling out a gun of his own.

“I suggest you do what she’s saying,” he orders, voice deep and gravelly.

On top of being armed, Hector is a bear hybrid you hired about a year ago. He’s tall and large, very impressive physically, which is generally enough to discourage any kind of altercation. He’s also a calm and gentle person most of the time. This is the first time you’ve ever seen him hold the gun he carries.

“You should stay here with them,” you tell him. He send you a disconcerted look.

“Are you sure? Even if they’re not the target, you might be.”

The statement shouldn’t take you by surprise. It’s something you should have considered immediately, and it takes you a second to figure out why you haven’t. If you are a target, that means the attacker knows about the workings of the organization. That would mean that they’ve been planning this for a while, and that they’ve simply gone completely under your radar all this time. Which is a lot more worrying to you than anything else.

“Stay,” you insist. When this is over, it will be better if people here think you had their best interest at heart.

If you make it out, that is.

Hector ushers people inside a conference room, and you walk towards the stairs. From there, you hear gunshots better than you did earlier, and you wince at the sound. You’re not used to it. It’s strange, since you’ve been working for the Family for years now, but you’ve very rarely heard people firing guns. You’ve never even had a gun pulled on you. You’d like to think it’s because you’re too careful, or too smart to find yourself in those situations, but the truth is you’ve just never been in situations where that sort of things would happen.

Sure, someone could send a killer for you — they have, actually — and then the carefully crafted net of precautions you’ve woven around yourself would — did — stop them, but you don’t participate in drug deals and you’re rarely out in the street, and that’s where those things happen most of the time.

You glance down. You’re on the fifteenth floor, so you doubt the employees who ignored your warning have made it out yet. You doubt they will, to be honest.

Glancing up, you wonder if you’ll make it to the twentieth before someone catches up with you and, since it’s a useless thing to think about, you begin your ascension. You’re not the most in shape, most of your daily exercise consisting in walking from places to places. That is a lot of walking, and you can do it without getting breathless, but you never take the stairs. Soon, you’re panting, and you’re about to take a break after three floors when you hear new gunshots that make you freeze.

These were in the stairwell. They echo deafeningly, and, for the first time since this all started, fear actually grips you. You swallow, heart beating loudly, and you keep going. You hear some screams, down there, and the horrible sound of flesh — bodies — hitting the floor, and then nothing. You’re sure someone must be climbing up those stairs, but you can’t hear them at all, and that terrifies you. You have no idea how fast they are, how soon they’ll catch up with you, how—

You slam open the door to the last floor. The time is not to discretion, and anyway, whoever is down there is probably coming for the twentieth floor.

The second you walk out, three guns are pointed towards you, and someone is screaming at you to stay where you are. You obey, until Mr. X’s bodyguards identify you. You had told him that hiring hybrids would be a good idea, since they rely more on their heightened senses and tend to have better reflexes, but you’d been ignored, so you had just shrugged it off and followed your own advice.

“Mr. X is inside,” one of the men tells you, pointing at the door, but not moving to take you there. You walk by him, and they all keep their eyes firmly on the stairwell’s door. That makes you assume the elevators don’t work, otherwise they’d have part of their focus on there.

“Mr. X, do we have any idea what— Miss Xanders, I apologize, I hadn’t seen you there.”

“It’s fine, (Y/N),” Anna says. “We really have more important things to concern ourselves with.”

“Do we know who’s attacking us?” you ask, giving your attention back to Mr. Xanders.

Mr. Xanders is an old man, you feel that he was already an old man when you’d joined. He had Anna quite late, when he was nearing his fifties, and he recently celebrated his seventieth birthday. You would know, you organized the party.

He’s looked old for as long as you’ve worked for him, using a walking stick, small eyes hidden behind large glasses, skin marked with wrinkles. But there was always something sharp and smart, cunning, in his eyes. Despite everything, he felt dangerous, and you had never doubted that he was not a man to underestimate.

Right now, though, he looks tired. Exhausted. He’s staring at his laptop screen and shaking his head, utterly confused.

“I can’t recognize anyone,” he says, and your heart misses a beat. Not good, that’s not good at all. “Can you?”

You walk around the desk quickly, examining the view you get from various cameras placed all around the building, and your hands involuntarily clench into fists as you see how dire everything is. On several different floors, men with machine guns are walking around, and you know for a fact they’re not working for you. You can’t see what’s happened to your people in the low-resolution, but you can guess, and your stomach tightens at the thought.

“How is that possible?” you whisper. “How has no one intervened yet?”

You know the police isn’t too keen on coming here, but this is genuinely insane. The only explanation you can think of is that they’ve been paid-off, and again, you don’t know how you wouldn’t have heard about that.

“That’s not what I asked you,” Mr. X says harshly, and you wince, focusing again on the men on the screen. You scan the men again, quickly. Some are wearing masks, but a lot of them are brazenly showing their faces, and that is one more thing that is not good. They should want to make sure no one would recognize them. If they’re confident enough to do that…

“I don’t know them,” you whisper. Some look vaguely familiar, but you just can’t place it, so you’re sure they aren’t big names. You have definitely not been on the look-out for them.

“Dad, we should really go up to the helicopter,” Anna says urgently.

Mr. Xanders hesitates, then nods, getting up in a movement that is slow and clearly painful. You help him out without thinking much about it, holding his arm and giving him his walking stick.

“How will you do that? The elevators aren’t working and the stairs don’t go to the roof.”

“We’ll reactivate the elevators,” Anna explains with a shrug, and you stare at her in disbelief.

“That will mean those people will be able to move freely in the building. I don’t think—”

“They are already moving freely,” Mr. Xanders barks.

“Still—”

Then, a lot of things happen at the same time. You were standing in front of the elevator, Anna calling it with a special key, the bodyguards surrounding you, eyes and weapons still directed at the stairwell door.

The elevator opens with a ding. And the door slams open.

There are gunshots everywhere. You dive to the ground, or maybe you’re pushed down, you’re not too sure. You look up to see two men falling down around you, the third guard ushering Anna and her father in. You try to push yourself to your feet, but the door is already closing. You call out, you can’t hear your own voice, ears ringing from all the noise.

You meet Anna’s eyes, filled with indifference and a complete lack of remorse, and then the door is closed, and you know they’re gone.

And someone, someone who wanted them dead and just killed two men, is in this room with you.

Slowly, oh so slowly, you turn around. As you do, you feel your lower lip starting to tremble, and you sink your teeth into the flesh to stop it. You push yourself on your elbows, and your eyes fall on a man with bleached blonde hair pushed back with a bandana, a round face that makes him look younger than you suspect he is, and a mocking smirk. Once more, you’re struck by the fact that you don’t know him. He’s alone and he took out two trained guards, not to mention the people he must have killed to get there, and you have no clue who he is.

His eyes confuse you, at first, and then you realize it’s their color that is throwing you off, an unnatural yellow, and the slit of his pupils. He’s a hybrid, you understand, and you curse yourself for how slow your brain is at the moment. You don’t have time to wonder if he’s part cat or part snake before he takes a step towards you. Fear grips you, and you consider crawling back, but you force yourself to stay unmoving. You don’t let emotions control you. That’s not who you are.

Instead, you stare at him straight in the eyes, even as you feel tears well up in yours. You’ve never been afraid of death, and yet it seems that you can’t stop your body’s reaction as you understand that this is it. This is how you die, where you die, this is who kills you.

The man crouches down in front of you, and lifts his gun to press the barrel against your forehead. He looks at you like an animal playing with its food. The situation seems to be amusing to him, and you think he is waiting for you to beg. You have no intention of doing that.

“Just make it quick,” you say.

You don’t recognize your own voice. The man’s smile widens, revealing pearly white teeth and a set of fangs. Tears start to roll down your cheeks, and you’re completely unable to stop them. You don’t feel sad or afraid, you just feel empty, but the tears keep falling. Still, you hold the man’s gaze. You won’t beg for your life.

“What if I let you go?” he drawls, and you can’t help the way your eyes widen at the possibility. Then, he laughs, pleased by your reaction, and you’re horrified to find out that this had an effect on you. The treacherous hope you’d just felt makes the reality of your imminent death crushing. A sob escapes you before you can get yourself under control again.

“Please,” you whisper. “Just get it over with.”

A pout forms on his face, and he shrugs. Then, to your surprise, he removes the gun from your forehead. The next thing you feel is the grip of the weapon, violently connecting with your temple, and then you don’t feel anything at all, not even the floor when your head hits it in your fall.

You wake up to the sound of soft, muffled sobs. It takes you a few seconds to piece things together, your head throbbing painfully and your mind in shambles. You lift your head with a groan, trying to take in your surroundings. Your thoughts are slow and you hate it. It makes you feel so vulnerable and defenseless.

Of course, that gets worse when you realize your hands are tied behind your back. That sends a jolt of adrenaline through your body, and you manage to look around you. It seems like you are in some warehouse, which, in your experience, is not a good thing. That’s where executions happen. They’re places that are accident prone, so the presence of blood could be explained easily, and they aren’t inspected that often anyway.

There's another sob beside you, and when you turn to look where it’s coming from, you find Anna, not just tied up but gagged, tears streaming down her cheeks. You assume that means her and her father were caught before they made it to the helicopter. On the other side of her is Mr. X, who seems to be in the same situation as her.

I’m here to be killed, you think. You can’t see another explanation. Mr. X and Anna are definitely here for that reason, so if you’re there with them— it means you’re here to die. You hope it will be quick, like you had asked that man, but you doubt it. If they took you here, it’s probably because they intend to make an example out of you. Intellectually, you don’t blame them. If this is a takeover of the family, they’ll probably need all the intimidation power they can get to keep the situation under control. It’s a ballsy move, certainly, and you would be at least a little impressed if you weren’t thinking about the creative and painful ways they can choose to get rid of you.

“Is she awake?” a voice asks. You turn your head quickly, too quickly, and another groan escapes you as your head painfully reminds you of the blow you just took.

You meet the mocking eyes of the man who knocked you out, before he looks away from you, at a large man you don’t think you’ve seen before.

“He wants to see her.”

The man nods, and then he’s on you in just a few steps, roughly forcing you up, his grip tight around your arm. You groan again as he drags you through the warehouse, to a large black car. You have just the time to think that someone must not want to be seen, if they’re in that, before you’re pushed into it. You lose your balance and land on your knees, and that’s when legs appear in your field of vision. They’re clad in black suit trousers.

You slowly look up. First, you discover elbows resting on spread knees, tattooed hands joined between them. Then there’s an elegant white shirt, unbuttoned at the top, muscular shoulders, a strong jaw, an amused, mocking smile and—

Your mouth drops open. Today is definitely proving to be a trying day for your reputation of never expressing your emotions, no matter the situation.

“Jungkook?” you ask, in disbelief.

Because it’s him. There’s something harsher in his eyes, his hair is longer, dark locks falling down to his jaw, and he’s lost any remaining softness he still had two years ago, when you last saw him, but it’s definitely him. He looks confident, and he’s more relaxed than you’ve ever seen him, clearly knowing that he’s in full control of the situation.

“Hey,” he says. “Wanna take a seat?”

He watches you struggle to get to your feet, something that turns out not to be that easy when your hands are tied behind your back, and doesn’t make a movement to help you. When you manage to sit opposite him, you’re still watching him like you’ve seen a ghost.

“What are you doing here?”

You know you should be able to piece things together to get an answer now. The deferential tone the man had when he talked about him earlier, everything that happened since these first gunshots… In another situation, it would be obvious to you. But because it’s Jungkook, you can’t bring yourself to come to the natural conclusion.

Jungkook had an out. He could have left this world behind altogether. So why wouldn’t he?

“Come on, you’re supposed to be smart,” he says, mocking, and his smile is harsh and condescending. “I’m taking over for the Xanders family. I think that should have been pretty clear.”

There’s a moment of silence, a long moment, as he waits for it to sink in. He’s in no hurry.

“But why?”

He shrugs, lean back against the leather seat.

“Because I can. Don’t you wanna why you’re here?”

That… would be a good idea, actually, and you’re bothered by how long it took you to think about it. You’re also bothered by how you lost track of that the second you saw Jungkook. You blame it on the surprise and on the fact that you’ve known him since before you became as— you’d like to say ‘efficient’, but the right word is probably ‘emotionless’. Empty.

“Why am I here?” you ask, frowning. If he wanted to kill you, he would have done it outside. It could be that he just wants to gloat, but something tell you he has—

“I have an offer for you,” he says, and then he grins and reveals his teeth. “It’s my way of saying thanks for how generous you were when you gave me five minutes to save my life.”

His tone is so abrasive it almost makes you wince, but you’re already falling back into your normal self. ‘Offer’ is a good thing, it means negotiation, conversation, things you can do, things you’re good at, things you can focus on to block out everything else, like the pain in your head or the guilt that settles in when he describes your actions.

“What offer?”

The grin disappears. He doesn’t seem happy he didn’t get a reaction from you.

“Work for me.”

That… makes sense, you suppose.

“I’m taking over for Mr. X. You know everything around here, and some people say you’re the best there is at what you do.” Then he shrugs, and casually pulls out a gun that you think was tucked in his back pocket. “That, or join him out there. I’m not sure you’ll like the outcome for that though.”

Despite the obvious threat, you can’t help but seriously consider the offer. If there’s one thing you’re sure of, it’s that it’s not a good one. Even if he manages to replace Mr. X, you doubt all the people who work for him will obey him. Stabilizing the whole thing will be a titanic task, but that’s not even what worries you — you can appreciate a challenge. No, the issue is that if you switch your allegiance, people will remember it. You will make a lot of enemies, and that doesn’t even include the people who simply will not trust you because you used to work for someone else. It’s a poisoned gift, really, and you’re sure Jungkook knows it.

“How do you plan on making the families follow suit?” you ask with a frown.

He rolls his eyes.

“Do people ever tell you how boring you are?”

They do, actually.

“This is not the only coup happening today. Some people who have already agreed to work for me will get in power. And the others… will take some convincing, but I’m sure they’ll come around.” He gives you a joyless, aggressive smile.

You’re still focused on his first words. You were already so puzzled that you wouldn’t have heard about what’s going on today — about how Jungkook is back in town, about how he’s been planning an entire takeover — but this is on a whole other level.

“How did you do that?” you ask, and when he lifts an eyebrow, you know you didn’t manage to keep your surprise out of your voice.

“Which part?”

“How did I not hear about that? I mean, Mr. X could sneeze and I would have known about it. People couldn’t open speakeasies without getting approved by me first — and they tried more than once.”

Jungkook looks at you, and disbelief passes on his face. This is what gets you? You couldn’t be bothered to give a shit about anything earlier, now you seem barely affected by the fact that he was threatening to kill you, but that caught your interest. Not just that, but you almost look impressed.

Okay, maybe you’re not as boring as he’d said, but you sure are fucking weird.

“We can smell you,” he says, tapping his nose. “It’s not too hard to figure out who you’re in contact with. Just had to make sure to avoid them. There were a few close calls, but we took care of it.” Then he shrugs. “It wasn’t as hard as you think it was. You’re not as cautious around hybrids.”

You stare at him for a while. He starts picking at his suit, looking annoyed by the turn the situation has taken, and you think about what he said. He’s right, you realize. You fucked up here — badly. You should have taken hybrids’ senses into consideration. You’d like to tell yourself that you didn’t think about it because there were no hybrids in high places, in the organization, but that’s not a good excuse. You file the information in your brain. You’ll do better.

“I’ll do it,” you say, and Jungkook glances at you.

“What changed your mind?”

“I’m— curious, I suppose. I’d like to see where this thing is going.”

Jungkook considers taking back his offer. He didn’t know what he thought would happen, but he expected it to be more interesting than this. Instead, you sat there, face as stiff as ever, and now you’re talking about being curious, which sounds wildly out of character, if you ask him. Yoongi’s told him you cried when you thought he was about to kill him, but he doubts it right now. It doesn’t look like anything can get through that thick shell of yours — and even if it did, he doesn’t think there would be a lot underneath it.

But the thing is, he was telling the truth earlier, when he said you were rumored to be the best there was at your job, and Jungkook is nothing if not a perfectionist. He likes to surround himself with the best. Which, unfortunately, means you.

“Suga!” he shouts, opening the door.

The man with the slit pupils jumps in easily, and looks at you with a disapproving twist of his lips.

“I’m not killing her, am I?”

He sounds disappointed.

Jungkook shakes his head in response.

“That’s Suga,” he tells you, pointing at the man. “He’ll explain how we work to you.”

You nod.

“I think he should kill you,” Suga informs you off-handedly, dropping on the seat next to you. “I think you’ll betray us.”

“If she does, I’ll kill her, if she fucks up her job, I’ll kill her, ” Jungkook says, and you have no doubt he means it. “Consider this your five minutes. Let them go, and you won’t have another shot.”

“That’s fine by me,” you say evenly. Betrayal has never been an option for you. You had no loyalty towards Mr. X, but the threat over your family was too big to risk it. And now, with Jungkook— you guess you’ll have to wait and see. You don’t think you’ll betray him, but if things turn sour… You suppose you’re not above it.

Maybe it should worry you, how little you value your own life, but you brush it off quickly. Thinking about it too much could compromise the way you do your job, and you can’t have that.

“So,” Jungkook says, leaning back, eyes watching you carefully. “What do you suggest we do with the Xanders?”

Suga opens his mouth, but Jungkook lifts a hand, signaling that he wants your answer. You wonder if this is some kind of test.

“Killing them would be the best decision,” you say, somewhat reluctantly. You know your decisions in the past, your suggestions, have lead to the death of people, but you’ve rarely been so direct about it. Then again, death is part of the game, when you work this kind of job. Mr. Xanders is about as close to an actual monster as it gets. And Anna… Well, maybe Anna isn’t. You don’t like her, and you absolutely believe that she was happy to enjoy everything that came with what her father did, but she’s not him. Which is a low bar to clear.

“She’s not wrong,” Suga echoes, sounding annoyed.

“Letting them live would be seen as a proof of weakness and they would try to come back. It’s just— a bad idea.”

You can see Jungkook’s jaw tensing. Next to you, Suga starts to make his leg shake. You suppose he has the same kind of bad feeling you do.

“What if we kill Mr. X but not Anna?” he asks, and Suga groans. Jungkook rolls his eyes and develops. “Yoongi, we’re not taking over the legal part of the business. We can just— leave that to her, and not bother about it.”

“We’ll have to figure out something else to launder money,” you say, because that was the main point of that side of things, legal just in name really. That is not your biggest concern, though. “But if you kill her father and not her—”

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” Yoongi snaps. “She needs to die.”

He’s right. It’s just the smart thing to do.

“People here aren’t impressed by mercy,” you insist, and that’s when you realize you’ve lost that fight already. Jungkook knows it. There’s no way he doesn’t. He’s made his decision, even if it’s a bad one, and trying to change his mind is useless. So you’re quick to jump to the things that need to be done if he lets Anna live. “You need to get her to sign emancipation papers.”

Jungkook tenses suddenly at the suggestion and a low growl comes from his throat as he bares his teeth at you threateningly. Yoongi barely moves, but you see his hand settling on his hip, near his gun, which you guess serves as a reassuring gesture. The car fills with tension, and you swallow. You feel small and defenseless. It’s not that rare a sentiment, but you suddenly become extremely aware of the fact that you’re alone with them, hands still fucking tied behind your back, and there’s absolutely nothing you can do.

“Anna doesn’t own me,” Jungkook snarls.

“Legally she does,” you explain. You’re choosing your words carefully, making sure not to anger him any more, but you’re still staring right at him. “You may have forged an ID or something, but if she lives and she can prove she hasn’t freed you— the consequences will be bad.”

There is a second that feels like an eternity, Jungkook just staring at you, lips now in a tight line, before he shrugs and you can breathe again.

“Okay. Let’s do that.”

Yoongi groans and sends you a furious glare that you don’t understand. You agreed with him. What did you do to deserve that?

“I’ll take care of Xanders,” Jungkook adds. “C’mon. Let’s go.”

“Can someone— Can someone untie me?” you ask as they’re moving towards the door.

Jungkook glances at you.

“We’ll see when we come back.”

A grin flashes on his lips when your lips twist into an offended expression, and then he jumps out of the car, followed by Yoongi, and leaves you alone in there.

Fuck.

What an asshole.

Jungkook walks towards his captives with long, confident strides. Yoongi is right behind him, of course, his shadow, the perfect killer. He may disapprove of Jungkook’s plan, if you can even call it that, and he sure doesn’t like how easily you dropped the topic, but he’s still loyal to him. If he fucks up, he’ll clean up after him.

Jungkook savors the moment when Anna’s eyes fall on him. He can tell she recognizes him immediately by the way they widen and how she tries to speak through her gag. It’s been years since the last time he saw her. Much longer than the last time he saw you, which leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. He’s thought about this so much. A long time ago, he dreamt of her telling him she wanted him back, but over the years, it mostly turned into him finally taking revenge, and he intends to fully savor it now that it’s happening.

He removes the gag from her mouth, and takes an unhealthy pleasure from the way she sobs out, loud and desperate.

“Jungkook, Jungkook, baby, please, please…”

Jungkook only needs to glance at Yoongi for him to set her free, albeit after an annoyed roll of his eyes. The second he does, Anna falls from the chair, right into his arms. Jungkook knows that she’s only trying to save her life, doubts she’s thought of him for more than a split second since he’s disappeared, but that doesn’t mean he’s not going to enjoy it.

“Hey baby,” he grins, and he watches as she winces when she sees his sharp teeth. Right, she didn’t see him after that.

Fuck. It’s been a long, long time. She really didn’t give a fuck about him, huh?

And yet he can’t kill her. And yet he knows her bright, pleading eyes, the light weight of her body, the curve of her neck by heart.

“I’m going to need you to do something for me,” he says, voice deep and eyes boring into hers.

She blinks.

“And if I do you won’t— you won’t kill me?”

Jungkook’s opinion of Anna is far less charitable than yours. He thinks she’s an opportunist, will do anything to preserve herself and, sure, she’s not personally involved in her father’s business, but she wouldn’t bat an eye if she was. She likes to play the innocent girl who’s horrified by what’s going on with her family, but she just isn’t. As simple as that.

“Nah. I won’t.”

It doesn’t take long before Anna is kneeling on the floor, writing down what Yoongi is dictating to her, reading from his phone. Jungkook could do it, knows the text by heart, learned it a long time ago when he still hoped for it, but he just stays there immobile instead, watching her at his mercy.

It’s not as nice as he’d imagined.

Finally, she hands him the piece of paper with trembling hands, a small smile forming on her lips as she thinks that her nightmare is over.

Jungkook takes it, reads it over, and nods. Then he pulls his gun out, and Anna’s smile vanishes. Jungkook thrives on her reaction, on the idea that he has complete power over her in that moment. It feels dark and twisted, but fuck, it also feels good.

“But I—”

He shoots and Anna yelps, protecting her ears in reflex.

It takes her a second to realize he wasn’t aiming at her, and relief washes over her, before she understands what it means. She turns around, slowly. And screams.

A clean shot, Jungkook decides, looking at Mr. X. The man had been glaring at him the entire time, and he doubts he would have groveled like Anna had. Now, his blood is splattered on the floor, head thrown back, mouth open, staring at the ceiling with empty, dead eyes. Jungkook doesn’t care when Anna runs to him, sobbing, calling for him, trying to shake him awake.

“We’re going,” Jungkook announces to Yoongi, who finally seems a little less angry with him.

He doesn’t look back at Anna as he walks away.

You rub your wrists, then your shoulders after Yoongi has cut you free. Jungkook doesn’t say anything about it, just sits back in the luxurious car. You thought he would look content, happy with himself. He doesn’t.

When the car stops in front of your building, you’re not sure what to do. Part of you still can’t believe he’s letting you live.

“We’ll come and get you tomorrow to get things started,” Jungkook informs you while staring out the window. “You know, you probably should have moved two years ago,” he adds, and for some reason, that really rubs you the wrong way.

“I changed the locks,” you answer, and he grins.

“You still haven’t figured out how I did it, right?”

You frown. You haven’t.

He looks genuinely pleased by that.

“What should I call you?” you ask. “Do you want to be the new Mr. X?”

He growls at the suggestion, but seriously thinks about your question.

“Call me— Call me Mr. Jeon,” he decides spontaneously, without explaining his decision, and you nod. This should help make things more professional, isn’t if this isn’t actually a professional setting.

“Fine, Mr. Jeon. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You’re pleased to find that your voice is back to normal, calm and even, not letting anyone know of whatever you’re feeling.

Except Jungkook and Yoongi can probably hear how fast your heart is still beating, but that’s a problem you’ll have to deal with some other time.

You step out, and linger there a second too long, the door open. Finally, you gather the courage to turn around and look at Jungkook.

“Why are you back?”

You mean a lot by that. In the city, sure, but also in that setting. You’d always thought— you’d always thought Jungkook was better than that. You’d always thought he should get the opportunity to get away and he’d be fine. That’s something you can’t shake away, can’t push under the rug.

He couldn’t escape.

He stares at you blankly.

“Where else am I supposed to go?”

Then he leans in and closes the door, and you’re left alone on the pavement.

Tagging list: @chaiwivluv​ @mintyrae​

[bobohu4eva]

Sweet Tooth (Part 3)

Characters: Baekhyun x Reader

Genre: Royalty AU, fluff, angst, eventual smut, mutual pining

Summary: Life as the palace baker got a lot more interesting after catching the devastatingly cute prince sneaking around your kitchen.

WC: 5.1k

Tag List: @wooya1224 @dixnysustae @bbhile @geniusloey @blahblahblah-boo @leave-me-in-the-summertime @baekyeonoreo @cupreoussyzygy @nana-banana

Masterlist

Baekhyun stayed true to his word. He kept you company almost every other day, usually just watching, talking, and snacking on whatever leftovers there would be.

It had taken several more visits for you to truly start opening up to him. Luckily his looks and his silliness balanced each other quite well, making him less and less intimidating the more you saw of him and the more he got comfortable with you as well.

You were surprised when he told you that he was actually a couple years older than you. It wasn’t that you found him immature, but he just had that optimistic boyishness to him that made him appear much more youthful.

Sometimes he would say things that worried you. Usually remarks about his family or his status as a prince. He never wanted to talk about it past those fleeting remarks though, quickly putting back on a smile and asking you about whatever you were baking that day. He seemed like the kind of person who would rarely let any negative emotions show, pushing them down and making jokes to try to make it seem like it wasn’t that big of a deal.

Sometimes you thought about pushing it, and trying to get him to talk to you about it. He was your friend, and you worried about him. But on the other hand, he was the prince. You had no right to try and force your way into his family’s business like that. He would come to you if he really needed you, you hoped at least.

You didn’t get nervous about his visits anymore. You had actually started to look forward to them quite a bit. He was a true friend. An annoyingly beautiful one.

In a way, you got used to that too. Of course you still couldn’t help being attracted to him, but you were able to fight it better now and act much more normal. You had really tried, and didn’t have a single mess up in front of Baekhyun since your tart accident. You just had to try a little extra hard when he was around, but that was okay. You took it as a challenge. After years of always doing the same thing having him there was still a nice way to spice things up.

You knew you had a crush, you were just learning to deal with it better.

Today was particularly busy. All morning you’d been preparing for some kind of event and Baekhyun just sat on his little stool across the table from you as you worked, occasionally asking if he could try something or why you did a certain thing. He knew that on busy days, it was better to stay out of your way. He always offered to help, insisting that you could just tell him what to do at any time, but that felt too weird.

“Are you sure you don’t want any help? I feel bad just sitting here.”

This was probably the busiest he’d ever seen you. It must’ve been a pretty big event you were preparing for and you had no time to waste, trying to get things done as quickly and carefully as possible.

“Don’t feel bad.”

First it was the sugar, then the flour. You ran out. You needed to go haul two giant bags up the stairs from the basement. You groaned.

“What is it?” He asked.

“I just have to grab new bags of flour and sugar.” You yelled over your shoulder as you made your way towards the stairs to the basement.

He followed you and you rolled your eyes, pretty certain you knew what was coming next, and it would not be good for your already weak heart.

As expected, he immediately scolded you for not asking him to just help out and ended up carrying both bags up the stairs for you.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want the help, it was really nice, but especially things like this that involved heavy lifting made you feel too much like some sort of damsel in distress and the fact that he felt such a need to always help out only made your crush worse and worse. It would’ve been easier to handle if he wasn’t always so nice and considerate.

“Why do you always do that?” He asked once you were back at your work table.

“Do what?”

“You never ask me for help even if you know it’s something I could do more easily than you. You always try to do it yourself until I notice it and go to help. You know sometimes I really worry that you just never get jars open by yourself if I’m not here.”

You grinned at his usual antics, “You know Baekhyun, I did this for years all on my own before you decided to pop in on me, I can handle myself.”

He shot you an accusing look. “So you’re saying that before I showed up, the jars would magically open themselves? No assistance needed? Or when you had to get one of those giant bags out of the basement? They would just float up the stairs? Come on, Creampuff, don't lie to me.”

It was surprising to you how much he seemed to like that nickname, and he especially liked to use it when he was teasing you.

Of course he was right, there were times when you couldn’t open a jar or there was an especially large bag of sugar that you couldn’t get up the stairs on your own. But he wasn’t the only one there to help. “Well I can also just go next door to the cooks and ask one of the guys there to do it for me too.”

His jaw seemed to tense before he spoke up again. “But you ask them for help, you never ask me though.”

You swallowed. That was also true, but it wasn’t for whatever reason he probably thought, asking him for help seemed like a boundary you didn’t want to cross, for a number of reasons. For one, he was the prince, and therefore you worked for him, not the other way around. It also made you feel too strange with how bad your crush had gotten, you didn’t want to seem like you were prying for his attention so you always tried as hard as you could to do things by yourself first. But he probably shouldn’t know about the second reason.

“Well I work for you, you don’t work for me. It’s not your job to come here and help me carry things and open jars.”

“Don’t remind me.” He mumbled. “It’s not their job either.”

He seemed oddly down after that but you didn’t have any time to dwell on it with how busy you were so you let him be. You decided to just focus on the task at hand, and let him eat some leftover icing so he wouldn’t talk so much. As much as you appreciated it on boring days, Baekhyun could be pretty damn chatty and on days like this one where there was a lot to do it could be a bit taxing having to talk to him too, no matter how much you enjoyed his company. If he was just another guy it would’ve been a different story but having to focus on talking to him and not saying anything dumb on top of all your work was a lot. Despite being much more comfortable with him now, he was still your friend that you were growing more and more attracted to, to the point where even just saying it was a crush seemed like an understatement.

You felt that disgustingly sweet, heart fluttering sensation that had been plaguing you for weeks now when you focused your attention back to him, watching as he scooped up icing with his finger before sticking it into his mouth.

Crush wasn’t a good enough word. You felt stupidly, helplessly infatuated, to the point where just watching him messily eat his icing had you working way too hard to fight the smile that was forcing its way to your lips.

Unfortunately Baekhyun caught on to these things quickly. Unlike you, he had nothing better to do in that kitchen than watch you as you worked, so he noticed every smile, every eye roll, and every time he would make you blush.

You assumed he knew, he just had to by now, with how bad you were at hiding how he made you feel. You’d accepted that, and that he didn’t see you the same way. You were just friends and he probably thought it was cute that you had a little crush on him, the silly little baker girl who liked the prince too much. But you knew it was best to keep it at that.

“Why are you smiling like that?” He asked as he once again licked a scoop of icing off his finger.

You shook your head, still smiling and looking down at what you were working on.

“I wish my mom would smile like that when I eat too instead of telling me I’m an embarrassment.”

He sounded far too lighthearted as he said it, as usual. It had been bothering you for weeks now. You knew you probably shouldn’t, but you asked anyway.

“Baekhyun, you don’t have to tell me anything, because it’s not my business anyway, but why do you say things like that? Sometimes I really worry about you.”

You had stopped kneading your dough, eyes remaining fixed on the soft mass beneath your hands, not trusting yourself to look up at him.

“You worry about me?”

Still looking down at your hands, you gave him a small nod.

“You don’t have to worry about me, I’m a big boy, I’ve been dealing with this my whole life.”

When you finally looked up and met his gaze he was giving you a soft smile, although you could see the hint of sadness in his cute droopy eyes.

“I just want you to know that you can talk to me if you need someone.” The words came out too quietly, but you meant it. It made you sad to hear him say such things and you wanted to be there for your friend.

All the sadness left his face when his cheeks pulled up into a grin, his eyes turning into the cutest half-moon shapes. “Aww, you really do worry about me.”

These were the type of things that made you so sure that he knew your little secret. His teasing you when you got flustered around him, and now this too. It almost felt a bit cruel at this point, that he knew how you felt and he still teased you about it like it was nothing. “You’re so mean.” You pouted, returning your attention back to your dough.

“How am I mean? I remember when we first met you thought I was the nicest.”

“You say stuff like that and then when I get worried you make fun of me for it.” You wanted to add something along the lines of ‘You also get a kick out of my stupid unrequited crush on you’ but you held your tongue. “Am I supposed to listen to you say those things and just not care?”

His brows furrowed at your question, and he paused for a minute.

“I didn’t realize you would care, at least not so much.”

Was he really this blind? This clueless?

“Of course I care Baekhyun, you said it yourself, we’re friends. Friends care when someone says things like that.”

“Oh..” His face had shifted into something you hadn’t seen before. “Then I’m sorry I worried you.”

You weren’t quite sure what it was, but he seemed genuinely taken aback by what you were telling him. It didn’t make any sense to you considering how obvious it was that you liked him, but you couldn’t exactly just say that either.

“You don’t need to feel bad. Like I said, I want to be able to help if you need someone to talk to. I’m here for you.”

You smiled when you saw him smile, his emotions rubbing off on you so easily with how much you cared for him.

“Thank you, y/n. I appreciate that a lot, really.”

As sweet as the moment was, you still had a lot of work to do. You gave him another smile and got back to what you were doing, and he stayed quiet as well. Eventually Baekhyun had somewhere else he needed to be and he excused himself and left, after sweetly thanking you again for your friendship and your kindness. There was so much about his actions that you didn’t understand, but you wanted to learn, to get to know him better and to really figure the guy out.

A couple hours after Baekhyun left you were finally done for the day, and as you were leaving the kitchen you found a small note where you always hung up your apron at the end of the day.

“Meet me in the garden at half past midnight, at the bench where you like to sit and read. That’s a royal order. - B”

~

You checked the clock again before slipping out of your room as quietly as possible, heart pounding in your chest in anticipation. Why Baekhyun had asked you to meet him so late was beyond you, and hundreds of possibilities, good and bad, flooded your mind with you powerless to stop it. The nervous giddyness you felt before he would show up at the bakery was nothing compared to this. What if you got caught? What would you say? What if he got caught? Or worst of all, if both of you were caught?

Despite your nerves, you had to go. Standing him up would feel too awful anyway, since you really did want to see him. And either way, you couldn’t disobey a royal order. You had never interacted with him outside your little bakery space, where people were popping in and out all the time and there was no real privacy for the two of you to talk about more serious matters.

You tried to walk through the halls as quietly as possible, unsure of if and where there were guards. Luckily it wasn’t too far from where you stayed to the gardens and you were already outside of the castle, feeling the warm spring air on your skin as you made your way towards your favorite spot to read.

Despite the darkness you could already make out the silhouette of your friend as he sat on the bench waiting for you. You smiled looking around at your surroundings. You had never been in the garden at night before, but the soft glow from the castle over the lush spring flowers in the dim light was breathtaking.

As you got closer you saw him stand up, and start walking towards you, meeting you halfway. He kept getting closer, and you expected him to stop but before you could fully process what he was doing, both of his arms were wrapped around you in a tight hug and he held you close.

For a second you stopped breathing completely, but after a couple seconds when reality sunk in you were able to catch your breath. Baekhyun was hugging you. And it wasn’t just some wimpy half assed side hug either, both of his arms were wrapped firmly around your back as he held you against his chest. Your whole body suddenly felt very hot.

“Baekhyun?” You said softly, bringing your arms up and around him as well.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long.” You heard him whisper.

If your heart rate had been a bit high earlier already, you were surely in danger now. And with your chest pressed against his own, of course he noticed, he always did.

You pulled back but his hands stayed on your shoulders and he looked down at you with concern. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m just jumpy, I was really scared of getting caught on my way down here.” You lied, trying to avoid eye contact with the close proximity of your faces. He moved his thumb, gently running it over your collarbone and you felt his eyes on you when it made you gasp slightly.

“Aww poor Creampuff.” He cooed, making you pout back at him. “After midnight there’s only one guard left outside the castle, and he stays on the other side, near the main gates, not back here in the gardens. We’re totally safe, I promise.”

You tried to act like that helped reassure you but there were still a thousand other little things running through your mind about him. You decided you just had to start asking the man if you wanted answers.

“Baekhyun, why did you ask me to meet you here? Isn’t this a bit foolish?”

He grabbed your hand and led you to sit down on the bench next to him. “Maybe it is, but since we’re friends I think there are some things I want you to know.”

You had been so caught up in your own worries that you hadn’t even noticed how nervous he looked too. When you sat down with him you were surprised when his hand stayed firmly intertwined with yours. His hand was soft and warm and felt just right holding yours.

He looked down at the ground and the hand that held your own rested between you on the bench.

“Baekhyun?”

He was the one acting shy now. This beautiful person who was also so far above you in so many ways, seemed genuinely nervous.

“I’m sorry if this is strange for you, I’m not quite sure what to say, I’ve never had someone I can talk about these things with.”

He was still looking nervously down at his feet so you decided to scoot a bit closer and face your body towards his. When you were looking at him, and gently squeezed his hand which was still holding yours, he finally looked up at you.

“What things? You asked. “About your family?”

He nodded. “I don’t even know where to start. Do you know how much I envy you? You get to do something you like every day and you’re so good at it too. There’s nobody telling you you have to be something you’re not.”

His eyes had drifted to the garden around you as he spoke, and his grip on your hand only grew stronger.

“What do you mean?”

You had an idea, albeit a very vague one, of what was wrong, from the things he’d said to you in the bakery. Often it was about disappointing his mother, other times it was something implying how he’d never be able to live up to his older brother.

“I never asked to be born into royalty. I know that it seems horribly ungrateful for me to complain, because I have so much and so many people would love to be in my position, but I’m just not cut out to be a prince.”

You felt the weight of his words sinking in as he spoke to you, looking at you with a newfound seriousness you weren’t yet familiar with.

“I wish I could be what they want me to be, like my brother is, but whenever I try I usually end up making a fool of myself or do something that makes my mom mad. I don’t know how he does it, he’s so good at all this stuff it makes me feel even worse for being so shit at everything. I just wish I could do something with my life that actually makes me happy.”

His voice was growing more and more shaky and you had no clue what you could possibly say back to him when he was hurting so badly, over something you’d never be able to fully experience or understand. Eventually you mustered up a meager “I’m sorry.”

“I know it’s probably hard for you to understand, but that’s a good thing, really. I wouldn’t wish this upon anyone.”

He looked so defeated and your heart ached for him, wishing you could somehow help, but knowing there was nothing you could do.

“Baekhyun, you aren't ungrateful and it’s okay to mess up, I can’t even imagine how much pressure you must be under, of course that’s hard.”

A small smile tugged at his lips briefly but disappeared as quickly as it arose. His eyes looked glassy. You wanted nothing more than to be able to comfort him, to protect him from everything that made him sad. He was so lovely and he deserved so much more than this.

“You’re the first person I’ve ever talked about this with, aside from my brother, but talking to him isn’t much help. I wish I could just be like the rest of them, and fit in with my family and the nobility without having to try so hard.”

His hand left yours and moved to wipe away the wetness in his eyes. When he didn’t lace his fingers back between your own, you took his hand and did it yourself, resting your hands on your thigh. “I don’t wish you were like the rest of them. I like you like this.”

It came out as barely a whisper, but with all his attention on you in that moment he heard you clear as day. He stared back at you, almost making you think that he didn’t believe you.

“Do you really mean that?”

You kept your eyes on him and nodded. “As much as you like to tease me, you’re so much nicer than I ever expected you to be. You’re also funny, and helpful, even though I never ask you to be. You’re really really sweet, Baekhyun, I like you a lot just the way you are now.”

With your last sentence you found yourself looking down in embarrassment, hoping he wouldn’t make fun of you for saying something so vulnerable.

“I like you a lot too.” You saw how his cheeks pulled up into a shy smile and although it was hard to tell in the dim moonlight, you could’ve sworn he was blushing as well. “You’re my best friend, you know.”

“I am?”

As much as you were flattered, and happy that he was so fond of you too, you always assumed he had other friends with how outgoing he seemed.

He nodded. “I told you, I don’t really get along with most of the people my family surrounds themselves with. Most of them don’t like me and think I’m strange and the few I got along with aren’t close with the family anymore, and I don’t blame them.”

“What about people like me?”

He just laughed, “There’s a reason we have to meet like this, I’m definitely not supposed to befriend palace maids, servants, cooks, anyone like that, anyone who doesn’t have some higher status really. I was worried that someone would rat me out for coming to see you so much but surprisingly nobody seems to care.”

“The kitchen staff all generally mind their own business, we know that what you and your family are up to isn’t our business. I doubt they care that you’re in my bakery so often. We aren’t a particularly nosy bunch.”

Baekhyun was smiling, and you were having trouble looking away. You were his best friend. He thought that highly of you. This beautiful, kind, lovely prince really cared about you this much, enough to tell you about his family and the things that upset him. And you were the only person outside of his family that he’d even mentioned it to.

“Baekhyun, you’re my best friend too.”

Baekhyun’s smile became even more blinding and next thing you knew he scooted himself to sit directly next to you, thighs pressed together, and he rested his head on your shoulder. You felt his breath on your neck, and tried to conceal how it made you shiver for a second.

“I’m glad I was craving creampuffs so badly that night.” He hummed and his low voice so close to your ear made your skin tingle.

“Me too.” You responded, squeezing his hand. “If you weren’t the prince, and you could do whatever you wanted, what would you want to be?” You asked him.

“I want to sing, and I want to be in love.” He replied softly.

You felt your heart flutter, you wanted him to be able to be happy, to do what he loves, and to love someone, someone he could actually be with. You couldn’t help the slight lump in your throat when you thought about how that could never be you.

“You can sing?” You asked, trying to ignore the other wish of his for your own sanity. “You’ve never sung for me before.”

“I haven’t in a while now, when I was younger sometimes I would get to sing at events, but eventually my mother deemed it an unnecessary distraction, and I had to stop.”

You frowned. “I’d love to hear you sing.”

With that he started faintly singing a familiar melody, a traditional wedding hymn, and of course his voice was just as pretty as the man himself. You were already so fond of his speaking voice, it wasn’t surprising to you that you loved his singing voice even more.

“You’d be a fantastic singer.”

He groaned, and leaned further into you. “It’s so unfair.” He whispered, and you could feel his lips slightly brush against your neck as he spoke. “Why don’t I get to be happy? Why do I have to live a life I don’t want, why can’t I love who I want?”

It was becoming more and more difficult to keep your composure with how he was pressed up against you, his lips almost touching your neck, breathing you in with every breath, his hand tightly intertwined with yours. Your infatuation was too much to bear, and with a shaky breath you leaned into him as well, resting your head atop of his. “It is unfair. So fucking unfair. I wish there was any way I could help, something I could do to make things better but I’m just a baker. I shouldn’t even be here right now.”

“You’ve done more than you realize. I have someone who will listen to me now, someone who’s nice to me and I can be myself around without feeling bad about it. On days when I can’t come see you, I just look forward to seeing you again the whole day.”

I just look forward to seeing you again the whole day.

The words rung in your mind, and you thought about the days when he wouldn’t be there. You missed him on those days too, and usually spent hours daydreaming about him as you did your work. His laugh, his smile, his silly jokes, his enthusiasm any time you made him something. It was just better when he was there. The bakery felt too quiet and lonely without him ever since he’d made it a regular thing.

“It feels so lonely now, working when you aren’t there. I always miss having you around on days when you’re too busy.”

You were glad he couldn’t see your face from where he was, and how hard you were blushing. Your heart felt like it was about to burst. The affection you had for him was overflowing, and with all of his sweet words whispered into the crook of your neck it was hard to not just start weeping. If you didn’t know better you would’ve thought that maybe, he actually liked you the same way you liked him.

But that was a foolish thing to even think about. He was a prince, and you were a nobody, a commoner. Even if he did feel the same way about you, you would never be able to be together anyway. He deserved happiness with someone he could actually start a life with, someone that his family would approve of, who he could marry and start a family with, and live happily together as royalty, like he was born to.

Did he not think that was possible?

“Baekhyun, why do you say that you can’t be in love?”

You wanted to protest at first when he sat up, but then he looked at you, and you saw the sadness in his eyes.

“I don’t get to meet people, fall in love, all that. Some day my parents will arrange a marriage for some sort of political advantage and I’ll just have to deal with it. The well-being of the people goes before any one individual's happiness, I suppose.”

This time you leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder. “That still isn’t fair.” You mumbled.

“Have you ever been in love?”

Have you ever been in love? You had to think about it for a second, but looking back on the past flings you’d had here and there, it was never really love.

“No, I haven’t. Have you?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“I’m not sure I know what love even is, in the romantic sense. I’ve been attracted to people, sure, but I was never able to act on it anyway. I bet it feels amazing, though. Loving someone and them loving you back. But of course people always want what they can’t have.”

He sighed, and you felt his thumb gently rubbing back and forth across the back of your hand.

“Even if it’s just for a little while, I hope you get to feel that someday.”

“Me too.” He whispered. “And I hope you get to live a long, happy life like that.”

You felt the lump in your throat again. Of course you wanted that, but your infatuation for him at that moment made it hard not to be sad at the notion that you’d never experience that with him. Of course you’d daydreamed about different worlds, where he loved you and the two of you could be together, but this wasn’t your reality.

You stayed quiet after that, focusing your eyes on the garden in front of you, the colorful flowers in the moonlight and the occasional flickering of a firefly. You and Baekhyun sat like that, simply enjoying each other’s presence, until you heard yawning coming from both of you, and decided it was time to call it a night before you could accidentally fall asleep.

Baekhyun thanked you oh so sweetly for coming and spending time with him, and gave you another hug before you parted ways.

As you drifted to sleep his words and actions rang in your mind, and you already felt yourself missing him and his touches.

Baekhyun, your best friend.

Next Chapter

[perpetualcontrolleddrowning]

Blackbonnet Soulmate AU - Part 10

The Nettles in the Garden Don't Go Away

JRaylin441

Summary: It's party time, y'all

Read on AO3 (x)

Read Part Nine Here (x)

Read Part Eleven Here (x)

Ed wants to go to the party. It’s clear from every motion in his body. The way his enormous eyes are focused so intently on the invitation in Stede’s hand. It’s clear from the way that he asks questions and then interrupts the answers to announce that they’re going.

This is something Ed really wants to do. And the man has done so much for Stede at this point, taught him so many things, it would be selfish to let his own hangups get in the way of showing Ed all the different levels of society.

He promised that he would teach Ed how to be a gentleman. A large part of that is going to events like these and rubbing elbows with all the other important people. He’s taught Ed how to dine and how to dance and the different forms of address. What was that for, if not this?

Stede does not want to go to the party. That’s the crux of it, really. Stede has always hated events like these. He had always thought that it would be better if he had an ally in all of the socializing, someone who he could count on to have his back, but the thought of going to this party with Ed isn’t doing anything to soothe his usual anxiety. The stress is already buzzing and upset in the back of his mind, but Stede ignores it, packs it away.

He made a promise. Stede Bonnet promised he would teach Ed the ways of being a gentleman, and he is trying so hard to become the kind of man who keeps his word.

He walks to his quarters and finds Ed already there, eagerly going through the auxiliary closet. He’s pulling out things that are part of a darker, jewel-toned color palette, and Stede is proud to see it. He shakes off the last of his low mood. This is for Ed. He’ll have an ally. It’ll be fine.

“For tonight,” Ed calls, over his shoulder from where he is finding his way to the formalwear section of Stede’s closet, “I was thinking I could wear purple. You said that it’s a good color for me, right?”

This is going to be fun. The buzzing in the back of his head is leftover from a different life. Everything is going to be fine.

He helps Ed pick out an outfit and then guides him over to the table in the corner of his cabin.

“We’re going to have to do something with your hair,” Stede says, carefully not thinking about everything that might entail.

“Yeah, man, we have to make it fancy, right?”

“Right,” Stede echoes. “If you don’t mind, I would be happy to style your hair for you?”

“Are you sure you’d be able to? It’s quite a bit different from yours.” Ed meets Stede’s eyes skeptically, and Stede feels a flare of indignation on his own behalf.

“I have a daughter, Edward. I know how to style long hair.” Ed laughs a bit and lounges easily in the chair, waving his hand toward his own head in a ‘do what you must’ sort of motion. “And of course I know you have different hair from my own. I spoke with a woman last time we stopped to restock and gathered some oils and combs that would be more appropriate for you.”

Stede isn’t watching Ed’s face when he says this, because he is too busy gathering all of the supplies that he needs for the task ahead. Hair oil and pins and combs and silk flowers and small purple ribbon to match the piping on the coat they picked out. His avoiding Ed’s eyes has nothing to do with the fact that he is starting to fear that this was all a bit presumptuous. That perhaps he, as always, has crossed an unspoken social boundary in buying hair products for a man he has known for only a few weeks.

Well. It’s too late now. He’s already said the words out loud. Awkward or not, Baby Bonnet does nothing if not soldier on.

*~*~*

There’s something so fascinating about all the little details that, apparently, go into preparation for a night. Usually, when Ed wakes up in the morning, he splashes some water on his face, scrubs at his teeth for a bit, and wrangles his hair into something that will stay out of the way. When it becomes impossible to manage, he’ll angrily yank a comb through the gray curls. If he pulls strands out or makes it frizz up around his head, that just adds to the energy he’s trying to bring.

He’s never spent this long getting ready for something. Stede helps Ed pick out his outfit for the night, and it’s all rich silk and brocade and embroidery. There are some fabrics and textures that Ed has been obsessed with since the first moment Stede showed them to him, but Stede had assured him that they weren’t the sort of thing used for daily wear. That they should be saved for special occasions.

Maybe that has something to do with how quickly Ed jumped at the opportunity to attend a party like this.

He’s sitting at this small table, Stede once a-fucking-gain at his back, and he is not going to waste the next few hours thinking about that. Instead, he keeps thinking about the things that Stede described earlier. Fancy people and dancing and gossip and meeting eyes across a room. Brushing elbows with important people. Seeing the world that Stede comes from. The idea is intoxicating.

He can’t sit still, but Stede doesn’t seem to mind too much. The man is seated behind him, slowly pulling a hair oil through Ed’s curls while humming quietly to himself. It’s something that Ed has noticed the past few days, ever since Stede hummed for them when they danced together. He does it all the time, really, whenever it’s been quiet for too long. Ed’s not even sure Stede knows that he does it.

Ed’s fingers keep tapping on the table next to him, on the chair, on his own legs. He gets ahold of this tiny silk ribbon that Stede’s brought over and keeps running it in curlicues through his fingers. Fascinating texture. He shifts seating position and swings his legs back and forth. Stede just continues messing with his hair and chuckles softly when Ed’s movements make it difficult to do his work.

“You’re wiggling more than my Alma ever did,” he laughs, jokingly. And it’s fucking Ed up, actually, the way that Stede has been talking more and more about his kids. About Alma and Louis. He sounds so soft and proud when he talks about them. It fucks with Ed’s head a bit. The idea that there are fathers who talk about their children like this. Who learned how to brush hair patiently and steadily, unphased by knots and dirt and rats nests. Who touch so gently and then weave flowers in behind them.

Normally, Ed wouldn’t be able to stand sitting in one place for this long. Especially when he’s this excited. But it’s the combination of Stede’s humming, the soothing and steady touches to his hair, the feeling of silk and brocade against his skin, the way his fancy clothes weigh heavier on his frame than his leather getup usually does. There are so many different sensations from so many different sources, and none of them are overwhelming, and so Ed is just left sitting in the almost-silence of the room. Buzzing with energy but satiated. Ed is a tuning fork, resonating with the echo of Stede’s humming. The beast is awake and at attention, but not yet in motion.

And, see, this is the shit they don’t warn you about, with all these fancy men. It’s easy to hate them from a distance. Easy to plan their deaths then.

But now.

Stede’s fingers are smoothly pulling apart the snarls against the nape of Ed’s neck. He never has the patience to get that far with his brush. With the untangling strands of hair comes the heavy smell of tobacco smoke and Ed’s own hair oil.

“Your hair is absolutely lovely,” Stede says, like that’s something anyone has ever fucking said to Blackbeard. “The gray in here looks more like silver. It’s almost like a night sky. With the stars and everything. When I go gray, I’m afraid it’s going to look quite a bit like I’m being washed out in the sun.”

Ed sits there, struck frozen by Stede’s words. It’s fucking things like this. Moments like this where he’s 100% sure, because what kind of line is that, if not the kind you use right before you slam someone up against the wall to give it to them rough and dirty? Why would anyone ever say something like that unless they were trying to get something with it.

His whole body is aflame, frantically burning through any kindling within him and stretching toward the fresh fuel in Stede. He’s tugging at sections of hair now, seeming to weave them into something beautiful. Every part of Ed is yearning toward every touch. He wants to flop, boneless, back into Stede’s lap and let the man do anything he wants for as long as he wants. Ed wants to be back in that beautiful moment from nights ago, when he was dancing with Stede and happily following his lead.

It’s all muddy again now. Will they or fucking won’t they, except it’s horribly, terrifyingly clear that one of them fucking will.

Stede comes around to the front of Ed. He’s utterly focused on his task, not a thought behind those eyes except what he will do to style Ed’s facial hair. Stede combs his fingers through the wild black and gray strands of Blackbeard’s black beard.

Has anyone ever actually touched his beard? He only started growing it out properly after he’d split up from Jack and Hornigold’s crew. Surely someone must have done, at one point, but Ed can’t remember a moment.

Stede is patiently dampening Ed’s beard, dabbing oil onto his hands, pulling it through with fingers and comb. Ed can’t stop looking at his eyes. They’re some fucking color that’s a mix of brown and blue and green and gray. Ed wants to throw something at the wall, just to hear it shatter, just to break this moment. He wants to pause this moment and never let it stop. He wants to shout so that Stede will stop focusing on his beard and look at him again.

Stede holds Ed’s chin gently in his hands. He reaches into Blackbeard’s black fucking beard and ties little, purple silk bows into it. Like everything Stede Bonnet has ever fucking touched, he pulls away and he’s made it beautiful.

Stede directs Ed’s gaze to the looking glass in the corner. Stede has made him beautiful. There are flowers in his hair and bows in his beard and they match the color of his outfit. Ed can’t recognize himself. He doesn’t think anyone he’s met before this moment would recognize him.

Ed looks in the mirror, and he can’t see a trace of Blackbeard. He doesn’t even know who the man looking back at him is. He likes it.

*~*~*

Stede has been uncomfortable from the moment he walked into the party, and the anxiety has been buzzing louder and louder at the back of his skull, but he still can’t quite put a finger on what it is that is making him so uncomfortable.

The hosts of the party come to greet him, and they are smiling and indolent and fake, just like Stede had known they would be. They invite him and Ed, sorry, Jeff, into the parlor. They announce it to the group and half the party follows.

They’re all whispering and looking and pointing and there is something horribly, awfully familiar about it. Stede wants to duck and run, to do anything it takes to get the two of them out of the spotlight before. Before. Before something happens.

He’s trying to make inoffensive guesses with his “phrenology.” He’s trying to touch Antoinette as little as possible while still passing as a master phrenologist.

And then Ed speaks up. Stede feels the bright spotlight swing from him to his companion. There is a gasping, desperate fear that rises within him at the thought, and he’s doing everything he can to catch Ed’s eye, signal him, communicate abort, abort.

The buzzing is getting louder, the spotlight is getting brighter, and Stede can’t breathe. He’s been here before. He’s been the center of attention at a party like this, and it doesn’t go well. Not when you’re Stede Bonnet. The best thing they can do is stay out of everyone’s eyesight and fly under the radar.

Ed isn’t listening. He’s standing up, talking louder, drawing attention to him like a magician’s cape. Ed has always been larger-than-life. Blackbeard is able to command the attention of thousands and thrive on it. But this is a party for the upper crust. This is not a safe place to test if that same charisma transfers to other social contexts. It’s testing out miracle shark-repellant for the first time in the middle of a feeding frenzy.

He sees the way the crowd is watching the two of them. An interesting, new attraction to assess. James’s good friend Stede.

Stede knows what lies at the heart of himself, and he knows the way that people like this search for any mistake, any flaw, and hold it up in the spotlight for all to see.

I heard that you attended a celebration at the Belgrave estate last year.

My parents say that you're a bad influence.

After the first few times that Stede manages to catch Ed’s eye and shake his head, Ed stops looking at him. That buzzing in the back of his mind is getting louder and louder. He has to do something. Something to draw attention away from Ed, before something happens to him.

It’s terrifying. He can feel the steel bands of panic tightening in his chest the way that they haven’t in weeks. It’s difficult to take a deep breath, even thinking of drawing the attention back to him. But Stede was raised among these people. Stede’s felt their derision before and he knows what to do with it. Knows how to handle it.

Like jumping from a cliff into freezing water. He just has to take the first leap and then there’s no backing out.

The crowd is laughing and they’re all turned to face Ed and he doesn’t know how cruel they can be.

Stede pastes on a smile, screws his courage to the sticking point, and steps forward.

“Actually! I too have traveled and, in fact, I’ve got an amusing anecdote-” That man who first greeted them, Stede can’t remember his name, interrupts with a bored yell and that’s fine, Stede was expecting that, and it gives him a bit more time to scrounge through his own memory in search of anything resembling an amusing anecdote.

There’s a hand on his shoulder, followed immediately by the warm, lounging weight of Ed.

“Forgive him! Forgive my friend here. Once he’s palmed your cranium a few times, it’s impossible to shut him up!”

The crowd immediately bursts into laughter. Stede feels all of it, the hand on his shoulder and the laughter like a physical force, through a crackling layer of ice. He tries to smile, and laugh, and act like he was in on the joke this whole time. He tries, he tries, he tries.

There’s snow in his ears.

It’s hard to keep track of things, after that. Someone reached into Stede’s chest and stole his voice. He tries one more time to pull Ed aside, to warn him, but it’s hard to even focus on the words. He can’t hear anything Ed is saying in response.

Ed’s playing the pianoforte. He’s dancing with the other guests. He’s joking and laughing and wrapping them all around his littlest finger.

He’s not even looking at Stede.

No one’s looking at Stede anymore. He could leave the room, the party, the boat and no one would think twice.

He stands there for a while, waiting for the crowd to turn on Ed, but they don’t. And maybe that was always what was going to happen. What had Stede been thinking? He’s been around Ed for weeks now, seen the way that others respond to his presence. The way everyone loves him from the moment they first see him.

In what universe would Stede Bonnet’s experiences be a useful measure for someone like Blackbeard?

A few more minutes pass, but the crowd is so loud and they all keep laughing and he’s so far away from it all that the distant sound is becoming overwhelming. So, Stede does what everyone has been hoping he would do since the moment he arrived, and he sees himself out.

He tries to find Frenchie and Oluwande, see if they need his help with anything, but they’re thriving too. Of course they are. Of course everyone here would love the two of them. Stede knows his crew is fantastic, that’s why they’re his crew.

It’s good that everyone is loving them.

Stede goes to find a privy. He lowers the toilet seat and spends an indeterminate amount of time staring ahead of himself, dead-eyed.

Once his buttocks start to go numb, and his mind is nothing more than an even, sparkling snow field, Stede stands up. He splashes cool water on his face. He goes to wait outside for everyone else to finish up with all their frivolity.

*~*~*

There’s something Ed knows he’s forgetting. He knows it’s something important.

He always gets like this, when there’s a crowd like this. If everyone is in high spirits, and everyone’s laughing, and they’re all looking at him, he gets swept up in it so easily. It’s like the beast fucking lives for this shit.

There was that first moment, when Ed had mentioned killing a Prussian, and the room went quiet. He’d thought that he’d fucked it all up. But then everyone had started laughing, and that was it.

It’s intoxicating. It’s dizzying and overwhelming and giddy, the way that it always feels when he’s the center of attention. Ed doesn’t know how to describe it because he’s never bothered talking to other people about it. He feels lighter than air and like he’s watching everything happening from outside of himself but in a good way. People are laughing and he’s shouting, he’s joking, he’s moving and dancing and laughing.

It’s good. It’s good and he’s high on it. This was such a good fucking idea. There’s no filter between his thoughts or his actions. Ed has no idea what he’s going to do next because he’s outside himself, a few seconds behind his own body, watching it happen. But it doesn’t matter if he’s out of control. Everyone’s having a good time, the whole party fucking loves him, and there are no consequences. This isn’t his boat. This isn’t his crew. He isn’t Blackbeard. He’s Jeff, the accountant, and if something starts to go wrong, that’s someone else’s problem.

There are dizzying gaps in his memory. He’s laughing with that woman who he first talked to when he walked in. There’s a gap and then he’s got a mask on top of his head. He’s making animal noises and people are laughing.

Gap.

He’s seated at the piano, singing a bawdy sea shanty for the third time and emphasizing every word so the others can sing along.

Gap.

He’s dancing around in circles, circles, circles, moving from one person in the crowd to the next. Everyone’s blood is up and everyone is shouting and laughing and they all love him. When he moves from one person to the next, they always meet him with a smile.

Gap.

There’s something Ed knows he’s forgetting.

*~*~*

Stede has always known that his crew is the best of all the crews out there. That’s only confirmed as Frenchie greets him, encourages him, and then lets the two of them sit in silence for a while. Stede stares out over the dark water, reflecting the stars. After the time he spent with Ed’s hair this afternoon, he can hardly look at the night sky and think of anything else.

It’s a few more minutes of silence before he realizes that Frenchie is working his way up to something. He keeps saying half a syllable and then cutting himself off and frowning. Stede tilts his head in Frenchie’s direction but doesn’t look at him just yet. When Stede’s struggling for words, he doesn’t like eyes on him. It always makes it so much harder for him to think, if someone is looking at him and waiting.

“I’m not sure you should have left him like that, Captain.”

They’re both facing out over the side of the boat, so the words fall with a splash in the water, rather than hitting Stede directly in the chest. If he weren’t so buried in snow, if he weren’t so outside of himself, Stede would probably be feeling shocked and offended right now. Frenchie doesn’t have any idea what happened. Frenchie has no idea how hard these parties are for someone like Stede.

But. Stede is buried in the snow, the drifts high above his head. And Frenchie’s words ended up in the water. So, instead, Stede lets out a vague hum of acknowledgement and inquisition.

“Just saying. I checked in there before I came out here, and it looked like he was putting on a spectacle for all those people. Would have joined him myself, but after what Olu and I got up to, it was better for me to avoid showing my face. If you and he are going to have any kind of relationship, and I’m not saying I know anything, just that it’s obvious the two of you like spending time with each other, you’re gonna have to learn to have his back.”

The words are only half registering through the icy cocoon around Stede, but that last sentence sounded like a threat. Like Stede had left Ed in danger. He’s pushing, pushing, pushing against the snow, trying to make his brain focus and stay present, because this sounds important.

“Sorry, Frenchie, could you say that again? I didn’t abandon Ed. He was doing well and made it quite clear that he didn’t need me there. I figured I would leave him with all his fans.” Maybe some bitterness sneaks in. Stede should work on that. It’s not fair to Ed that he’s feeling jealous like this. It’s not Ed’s fault that he’s so charming and wonderful.

“Yeah, maybe it’ll all be fine. But I know people like this, and they’re vicious. And being different around people like that, it’s dangerous, you know?” Stede is doing everything he can to keep focus, but Frenchie’s words are bringing back a thousand memories of a thousand luncheons. Of parties and balls and gatherings and the way that Stede had always been on the outside. How any input he offered was met with derision and dislike and laughter. How his input tonight had been met with mocking. From Ed.

“I do, actually, know that, Frenchie. I have been to more than enough of these sorts of events myself, and I am quite aware of what happens when you’re the odd one out in the group.”

Frenchie is no longer pretending to stare out over the sea. He’s kind of side-eyeing Stede and scrubbing his hands through his hair.

“Look, captain, I get that you don’t fit in with those people, and that’s why you ended up out here with us. I’m just saying, sometimes you lump your experiences in with the rest of us, and I’m trying to say that it’s not always the same. Sure, you’re with us now, but you were still raised with people like this. You still look like you fit in. You still know all the rules better than someone who just started learning.”

“I don’t think,” Stede starts, feeling the rocking of the ship beneath him more than he’s felt it in weeks, “that anyone in the room is really thinking about that. They all seemed to love him.”

“You and I both know how quickly that can change.” Frenchie is fully turned toward Stede now, and his eyes are steadier and more serious than Stede has seen them since he joined the crew.

They sit in silence for a little bit longer. In the face of this reminder, the snow is starting to melt. Or maybe it hasn’t melted, but Stede has climbed to the top of it. He can feel it against his back, but he’s laying above it, for now.

“Thank you, Frenchie, for saying something.”

They sit together, in the dark, and Stede tries to look back over the night through this new lens. He has been so caught up in the buzzing in his head, in the ticking sense of some impending doom, of his own crippling inadequacy, that he forgot just how uncomplicatedly cruel the upper class often are.

He’s starting to regret leaving Ed alone back there. If Frenchie’s right, then it will be Stede’s fault if something goes wrong. He needs to be there, even if nothing happens. In case Ed needs something. Instead, he’d just slipped out without saying a word. He’d brought Ed to this party, among a crowd of people the man had never interacted with before, and then just left him.

Stede is turning to go back in when Ed comes out instead. He’s hurt and angry and ranting to Frenchie and Stede. And Stede is listening, but he’s also looking at the jerky way Ed is moving his body. The way that his earlier pride and flamboyance in his outfit has crumpled into a hunched, defensive posture.

He’s not expecting it, and so the boiling rage gets him by the throat and hurtles Stede into its steaming depths before he has a second to think. One moment, Stede Bonnet is feeling guilty and useless on the deck of a ship. The next moment, Stede Bonnet is a growling, beastly thing composed of rage and flame.

How dare they. Ed is beautiful tonight, with his starlight hair up around his face and woven with flowers and ribbons. Ed had poured all of his charm and light and joy into the party. Stede had seen it.

And these people, his people, had laughed at it. As if the condescending, uninspiring lackwits had done a single thing in their lives to deserve the absolute miracle of Ed’s attention. Of his care. What had any of them done to deserve their place at that party? Resting on their generational laurels, day after day, never once having an original thought. Indolent and utter wastes of space, stealing all the air that Ed could have put to better use.

These were Stede’s people. He had seen the way they responded to Ed’s presence and been idiotic enough to assume they understood what a gift they had been handed.

Stede sees Ed readying his pistol. He stops him for several reasons. The most logical reason is that people like this disrespect acts of violence and passion. That’s the whole point of passive aggression. Show an emotion, give them a reaction, and you have already lost the war. It’s all fine and good to fling daggers of words at each other, but the second someone shows the bleeding wounds or cries out in pain, it’s over for them. The rest of the room would be on Ed like hyenas if he stormed in there, guns blazing and anger in his eyes.

The most emotional reason that Stede stops Ed is because he keeps seeing an image of Ed overlaid on the one in front of him. Just before they stepped out of his cabins and readied themselves to depart, Ed had taken one last glance in the mirror. He had puffed himself up, pulled a few theatrical and uppity faces, watched the way that his clothes draped on his frame. It’s a joy, such a deep and unending joy, to watch Ed love things. That image overtop of this defensive and devastated Ed is untenable.

The main reason, of course, is that this is Stede’s fault. He brought Ed here and he left him here. And Stede is trying to become the kind of man who stands by his word and stands by his friends. He is trying to become the kind of person who Ed can trust to have his back, just as he trusts Ed to have his back when they walk into an ambush or raid another ship. Stede is livid, angrier than he can remember being since that moment in the carriage with Louis in his lap. He made the mistake of trusting the party to treat Ed the way that he deserves.

He is going to make them regret ever looking at Ed. As if they had ever been worthy in the first place.

And he’s going to use their fucking language to do it. He’ll smile blandly and hide his emotions away and he will burn this ship and shatter its remains upon the rocks. Watch them try to apologize. See if they’re ever privileged enough to see Ed again.

*~*~*

Ed fucking hates looking stupid. One of the best parts of being Blackbeard, really, is the fact that everyone always assumes that he knows something they don’t. No one ever questions him anymore.

That moment at dinner? With everyone laughing and the noises growing louder and louder in his ears? Fuck that. Stede wasn’t kidding when he said that these people could use their words to be cruel.

Ed wanted to blow them all to hell. Show them who they were messing with. Stede told him to stand down, and so he is, but that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t still want to.

Stede went back belowdecks with the other two from his crew, but fuck if Ed is going to have anything else to do with this crowd. If he’s going to keep his word to Stede, then he’d rather just get off this ship as soon as possible. As soon as they all finish with whatever tomfoolery they’re up to.

Now that he’s out in the night, though, with the darkness and the rocking of the sea and the rhythmic slap of waves, he can feel his heart slowing a bit. The few lights on deck are less glaring, and the noises from below aren’t grating on his ears. It feels the same as he does when he’s coming down from a raid, one where the other crew actually put up a good fight for once. That come-down from the electric high.

And, now that it’s not quite so loud in his brain, he’s starting to remember some of the things he said to Stede. Potentially not the most, gentlemanly type of things, considering that’s what he was pretending to be tonight. Not the sort of thing a man like Jeff The Accountant is supposed to say.

When did Stede actually leave the party? He can’t remember a moment, just that Stede was there at the beginning and, by the time they moved to dinner, he was gone.

Well, fuck. What the fuck is he supposed to do with this? It’s been years since anyone other than Izzy even dared to get mad at him over something. And, when Izzy’s upset, all you’ve got to do is slap him on the shoulder and point him in the direction of some good old-fashioned pirating and he’s right back on your side. No…words. Or, even worse, feelings needed.

Stede is not exactly the type to enjoy that kind of stuff. From what Ed’s seen of his interactions with the crew of The Revenge, Stede is the type of person who wants to get snippy and moody and then complain a bit before sitting down and having some kind of, fucking, heart-to-heart.

Fuck, but the man is going to be utterly unbearable to be around on the trip back. And Ed’s going to have to figure out how to fix things, and it’s going to be messy and difficult and an utter disaster. If they don’t get chased off this ship first for whatever half-cocked plan Stede was up to right-

There’s a scream belowdecks. That’s Blackbeard’s fucking cue, he supposes. Back on duty, with a crew that’s relying on him to have all the fucking answers to every problem. It was nice to be Jeff, while it lasted.

Except.

Except,

Except, and it takes a moment for Ed’s brain to comprehend what he’s seeing, but when he arrives back in the parlor room, it is to the sight of Stede and his crew standing calmly and peacefully above a scene of chaos. People are screaming and crying and wrestling on the ground. A curtain just caught fire.

Stede’s smiling. Stede did this on purpose. He told Ed to stand down and that he would handle the people who spoke down to him. And then he did.

Fuck.

Whoever is watching from above, whatever imbecile it is that decides soulmates for the people here on Earth, Ed wants to strangle them. This is entirely too on the nose. This is obscene, seeing the flames rise while Stede smiles.

When was the last time? Or, was this the only time that Ed had stepped away from a problem and someone else had solved it for him?

Does it count when Izzy does it? Izzy, who checks with Ed and follows his every command to the letter. Izzy, who goes above and beyond and who has spent decades learning Ed’s every quirk in an effort to anticipate his moods. Izzy, who stands behind Ed and waits with bated breath for the next command, the next direction.

Ed was ready to blow up or leave. Stede commanded him to stand down. And then Ed dicked around on the deck while Stede exacted revenge. And not just any fucking revenge. These people are full-blown panicking at this point.

“We should,” Stede says, in that conciliatory, calm voice of his, “We should probably get going.” And he leads them all out.

Back to their dinghy, his crewmembers rowing them back while Ed just…sits there. When was the last time he just sat there?

And, it’s, okay, he doesn’t feel bad, because he’s Blackbeard and Blackbeard can do whatever the fuck he wants. It just sucks that he was all revved up to have this blowout fight with Stede, and Stede is just sitting quietly next to him, smiling vacantly when he catches Ed’s eye. People are screaming behind them from the boat Stede set on fire on Ed’s behalf.

It’s a side of Stede he never expected to see because he genuinely believed it didn’t exist. The worst sort of anger he’d managed to draw from the man was a scowl and fake-threatening tone.

And if Stede was perfectly capable of doing that all night, if he could have done that before he ducked out of the party, long before Ed, that means that he was choosing not to. And it means that he only did all of that to defend Ed.

It was Ed who fucked up the party so badly that Stede had to defend him. Stede had tried at every point of preparation to warn Ed that he wasn’t ready, and he’d been so fucking stupid to ignore the warnings. And now the man wasn’t even going to chew Ed out. No, Stede was going to sit there and smile instead of turning that rage and retribution on Ed for putting him in that situation.

Inconsiderate motherfucker. Why won’t he just lash out? Is this what he does, when he’s upset? Just, sits in it and thinks about the things he did wrong? This is infinitely worse than just punching a man in the face and moving on like that resolved it all.

No one’s talking on the way back, and Ed’s thoughts are so fucking loud in his head. This fucking sucks.

*~*~*

Okay, so perhaps Stede hadn’t intended to mean it literally when he said he was going to burn the ship down. That’s always been the way it works for him. Stede’s anger at the defense of people he cares for burns bright and shimmering, and sometimes he’ll get out a sharp remark or two, but fire doesn’t burn long in snow, and he’s never been sure enough of the social contracts around him to really follow through. How far is far enough? How far is well beyond what was deserved by the original offense?

In all his life, for the few moments his anger flared before melting in snow, Stede had never managed to do something this drastic. Not by a hundredth. He’s been at sea for almost a month and a half now, and it feels like years of experience. Maybe that’s what happens when he lives his life outside of the snowstorm or maybe that’s how the life of a pirate always is.

The point is: the fury had howled and growled and pounced and Stede hadn’t done a thing to stop it. And now all those people are scattering overboard and dropping in the few dinghies they have. Stede can hear their screams as they’re rowing away.

He’s searching through himself, like that incredibly kind man had taught him to, back when he was haunted by the ghost of Nigel, but Stede can’t find that same curdling guilt in his stomach. They’re fairly close to several different islands and there were multiple rowboats on that ship. Besides, all Stede had done was make the people confront their own poor decisions. If they can’t handle that news, is it really Stede’s fault, what’s happening to them?

Maybe. Maybe it is. But, well, these were the same people who had said unkind and hurtful things to Stede’s friend. If they couldn’t handle the same treatment, they really should have considered that.

When Stede gets back to his cabin, his first stop is to wash his face again. This time, it’s more to remove the scent of smoke than it is to hide any evidence of tears.

He’s trying to calm down. The snow from earlier in the night is long gone, and Stede is left feeling like a prowling, beastly thing. In the quiet of the bathroom, with so many noises removed, Stede can feel himself coming down from the high of it.

When he steps back out into his living quarters, he finds Lucius lounging on one of the couches.

“How was the party?” he asks, not looking up from where he’s sketching in his book. It looks like he’s putting the finishing touches on a, ahem, rather risque piece.

“Terrible, like I knew it would be,” Stede mumbles, throwing himself into a chair nearby and relishing the solid plush-thump of his body falling into furniture. His body calms a little further. “I set a ship on fire before we left.”

“Uh huh, great,” Lucius says, leaning close as he focuses on what seems to be a particularly tricky bit of shading. “I spent the day waging psychological warfare against Izzy.”

“Dear lord. But, then again, he is a truly unpleasant man, isn’t he?” Stede is taking a moment to push against the floor, leaning his full body weight into the back of his favorite chair and feeling as more and more of the upholstery surrounds his body and presses back. It can’t hurt to spend a little time debriefing with his crew. “I’ll never understand why Ed feels the need to keep him around.”

“Do you think anyone’s ever led a mutiny against a first mate? Like, if the whole crew got together and agreed to take Izzy down, could anyone really stop us?”

“I don’t think that’s a mutiny. I’m pretty sure it’s the captain that dismisses the first mate. So, we would really have to focus on convincing Ed.”

Lucius snorts a laugh and then erases the resulting wobbly line. “Yeah, but I’m talking about ways that the crew could do it. Maybe if we just tossed him over while Blackbeard’s distracted. You know? Ask for forgiveness, not permission and all that.”

“As if you’ll be able to pull something like that over on Ed.” Stede feels obligated to defend his friend, seeing as the man isn’t there to do it for himself.

“Please,” Lucius scoffs, “I mean, obviously he’s a great captain and tactician and stuff, but he’s distracted all the time when it’s just the crew. I’m pretty sure I saw him when I was sneaking over here, just standing on the deck and staring over the edge.”

“Alone?” Stede asks, sidetracked by this idea. Maybe Ed is still upset over the events of the night. It was a trying night for everyone. Not just Stede. He’s trying to remember what Frenchie talked to him about. “Maybe I’ll go check on him.”

“Wow,” Lucius drawls. “Imagine my surprise.” But he waves a hand in Stede’s direction and continues to draw while Stede gathers himself to leave. “Send him my love, all that.”

*~*~*

Beautiful things, Ed reminds himself, because he was a fool to ever forget. We’re just not those kind of people.

It was nice, for a moment, to pretend like that wasn’t true. Nice of Stede to indulge him in the fantasy, as if anyone has ever been brave enough to say no to Blackbeard once he’s got an idea in his head.

The red silk is wrapped around and around his fingers. The red handkerchief. His first gift from his soulmate. His first gift from…Stede. Because it was Stede. He must have been just as young as Ed, back then. Maybe younger, and isn’t that a fucking thought.

It had been the softest thing Ed had ever touched. He had kept it up his sleeve for weeks, feeling the slippery, body-warm liquid of it up against his pulse point. The first thing that had ever fed the beast. Moved from sleeve to inner pocket over the years. Taken out less and less.

He tries not to risk it or get it dirty, but that’s pretty much impossible with the life of a pirate. Within a few years, the vibrant red of it had faded to something ruddier, mottled with stains. Salt water. Grog. Rum, a few times. Whiskey, once. And, of course, it gets sweaty as hell in all the black leather. In the last few years, Ed’s started to notice that the fabric itself is wearing away, pulling thin in some places and the weave falling loose in others.

It’s the first fucking nice thing that he ever owned. Secreted away from his rich fucking white man of a soulmate who, Ed now knows for sure, owns hundreds like it. His soulmate who, even with all that, stole and stole and stole from Ed over the years. His soulmate, who gave Ed something fine and beautiful and that Ed’s lifestyle has left gritty and uneven, stained and falling apart.

Ed’s still in his fucking fancy outfit, and it’s stupid. He’s so fucking stupid, standing out here in the dark, sweating all over this wonderful outfit he took out of Stede’s closet. Even in the night, out here, it’s so fucking hot all the time. There’s sweat all bundled up with his fancy hairstyle and ribbons and flowers. He’s making these clothes stink. Stede will probably have to burn them, to get all the Ed off of them. Lost fucking cause.

He’s too focused on all of these thoughts, building a home in the self-pity that hurts so fucking good. When he really gets into it, he can wallow like this for days. Drives Izzy absolutely out of his mind.

It’s the self-pity that’s so loud in his ears he doesn’t hear Stede walk up.

“That’s a lovely piece of silk you’ve got there,” Stede says. Ed wants to hide it away and never let Stede or anyone else see it ever again. He knows better than to show such a clear weakness to anyone.

“Oh, this tatty old thing?” he scoffs, because it’s always been safest for him to hide the most vulnerable parts of himself by putting them on display and striking before anyone else could.

“Sometimes,” Stede says, and he’s whispering. Talking so gently. Like he fucking knows, the bastard. “The old things are the best things.” The man reaches out for a second, and the beast rears up, snarls in warning, but before anything can make its way to Ed’s expression, he’s already stopped.

“May I?” Stede asks, checking, always checking. The hand hangs in the space between them, patient and undemanding. Ed could shut this shit down, stomp away, slam the door behind him, and Stede would simply approach him again tomorrow. He could say ‘no’ and Stede would move on like nothing had happened. Stede asks if he ‘may’ and it’s a soothing stroke along the beast’s flank.

And, well, why the fuck not? Ed’s already embarrassed himself in every possible way tonight. Already made it quite clear what happens when he’s allowed within spitting distance of anything fine.

Might as well hand the handkerchief over to someone who knows what to do with it. Stede probably would have stolen it back through the soulbond at some point anyway.

Ed hands over the red silk, and Stede cradles it between his fingers. Stede’s hands are soft and lightly tanned and unblemished. He’s maneuvering the silk carefully and gently. There’s a fishing hook caught in Ed’s stomach, pulling him forward. He keeps waiting for Stede to drop the fabric to the floor, throw it over the side, tuck it away from sight.

Stede folds the silk up into a neat little flower and, after glancing in Ed’s eyes to make sure it’s okay, he leans forward and carefully arranges Ed’s handkerchief in the breast pocket of his stolen jacket.

And what else did Ed think would happen? He’s been telling himself for years that his soulmate is stealing from him. That his soulmate has taken everything and he’s going to steal it back with interest. But this is the truth of it, isn’t it? That blaring, glaring truth that Ed has done everything to avoid seeing for the past few weeks.

Stede hasn’t stolen anything and Stede isn’t hoarding his beautiful things. Stede would hand it all over to Ed in a second if he thought it would make Ed happy. Stede has been doing that the whole time. He’s cake on Ed’s birthday and shiny rocks that catch in the sun. Giving and giving and giving, ten presents for every one he took.

Stede pulls away, and he’s made the handkerchief beautiful. He makes everything he touches beautiful. That ratty, stained piece of fabric Ed has never been able to let go of is sitting prim and proud in his breast pocket. Stede’s outstretched hand is a treasure trove with the doors blown open.

The moon is high and loud above them, and the stars in the night sky are so fucking bright, and it’s all turning Stede’s eyes dark and liquid. Stede’s smiling, but it’s not his usual, giddy, up-to-fuckery grin. It’s this quiet, wondrous thing.

“There we go,” he says, and his eyes are the only thing Ed can see, the only thing in the whole fucking world. This moment is the whole fucking world. Stede reached out and touched him and made him beautiful and now he’s staring at Ed like he can see that beauty mirrored back.

“Look at that,” Stede says. “You wear fine things well.”

And that’s it.

Just like that, Ed’s heart has leapt from his chest and deposited itself, bloody and aching, in the loose curl of Stede’s fingers. It’s a shriveled, blackened thing. There’s a hole blown clean through Ed’s chest from where it escaped, but it doesn’t even hurt. The wind is echoing through him. He just keeps staring, keeps feeling the way every gentle flex of Stede’s fingers unwittingly constrict around the gory organ.

Make it beautiful, Ed thinks, for a wild, irrational moment.

And Stede is looking at him, and his eyes could swallow the world whole, and Ed is 100% sure, this has to be it. He’s dying here, and his heart is settling comfortably, snug against the hollow in the center of Stede’s palm.

He’s going to kiss Stede. Because it’s the only thing he can do. Because to do anything else might kill him. There’s this moment, with the ocean and the sky and the stars in a riot around them, when Ed really thinks it’s going to happen.

And Stede leans back.

So, Ed leans back.

And then there’s another moment, a shuffle, scramble, mumble of a thing. Putting the space back between them. Ed’s pretty sure he claps Stede on the shoulder at one point, but he can only guess that from the lingering warmth on his fingers and the panic-black hole in his memory.

This is where he slinks off to lick his wounds. This is where Stede decides whether he’s going to run screaming for the hills or if he’s just going to come back the next day with firmer boundaries. 

Except, when was the last time that Stede fucking Bonnet did anything according to expectation? Ed hasn’t even had his first taste of self-pity, is just beginning to glance over his shoulder to steal a final look, when he catches Stede’s eye.

And then. They just. Stand there. There’s a gleaming white thread tied in the air between them. It’s the thing that pulled Ed in before and it still isn’t gone. Stede’s just standing there, the starlight caught in his crows feet and the feathery ends of his hair. He’s smiling and looking right into the center of Ed (and then clear through to the other side, owing to the recently-acquired hole).

Stede smiles, and nods one last time, and then finally turns back toward his quarters.

And Ed is left standing there. He’s waiting for the icy, creeping dread to arrive. For the self-pity and the panic and the surety that he’s gone and blown a cannon-shot through the center of every good thing. And it doesn’t come.

The wind is glancing over the hole in his chest, setting his body singing like the lip of a wine bottle. Somewhere far outside of himself, Ed feels his heart constrict with the grasp of someone else’s hands.

He rubs a palm over the place in his chest where his heart used to be.

In that empty space, there’s a tiny, wavering flame, just brought to life. Set there by his soulmate.

And just like that, he knows. Ed’s still reeling from all the revelations tonight, and it’s about time he let Stede in on one or two of the things he knows. Like the fact that they’re soulmates, for a start.