#like I'm at the end of my tether here

[blakbonnet]

Season 2 is great on 40% budget but our Unicorn man deserved a nice goodbye and proper apology from Blackbeard. That is my only complain.

I think Ned Low deserved an apology actually because he worked so hard on his record and then no one even acknowledged it, yknow? Like ed should've apologised to him for breaking his record on half a whim (and when they said whim prone it was actually a nod to Ned and nothing about blackbonnet), because he's such an important character who followed them and everything, and he actually had ed's true interests at heart the entire time when he called him a low born dirtbag, I feel like those words could be taken to mean as words of concern and love, and he never got a proper apology and that's my real complaint from s2 tbh

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

I'm a doctor, not a miracle worker.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[shotmrmiller]

re: rugby team ghoap

it'd been a one-off, seize-the-moment kind of thing. casual hookups aren't really for you, plus you distinctly remember your ex prating on about how the team would only be here for the weekend hence the absolute burning need to go, and you've got work monday.

goodbye, great knowing them. you'd traipsed out of the hotel room with your sneakers in hand, soap's used jersey in the other- a memento of sorts, a trophy. mild serial killer behavior but you reckon since you just became another pearl in their long string of conquests, the least you could do is take something with you that won't be gone with a warm epsom salt bath and a couple of days rest.

("would ye believe yer the prettiest we've ever brought back with us?" right. you know where you stand on that scale, and people like you don't typically pull men like them. another cringe-worthy comment like that and you'd mistake their interest with pity.)

you'd put both jerseys in the wash later that day, and the rattling of your washing machine marked the end of your exciting weekend.

or so you'd thought. from your side of things, you'd wiped your hands clean of their sweat, spit and come and went home, once again falling back into semi-familiarity, expecting to go to work feeling completely relaxed and loose, in more ways than one, while ignoring the photos taken of you and the "star players" at the stadium on social media.

(no one caught your face, what bloody luck.)

when you see them again, it's by pure chance. you'd been ordering a sandwich at a deli down the street, hand already reaching for your wallet when an arm curls around your shoulders, dark, coarse hair of a forearm brushing against your cheek.

cedarwood and citrus. it clings to your senses— a sharp, tangy reminder of that time you'd only look back on when the familiar pang of want pooled searing hot between your legs. small world, you suppose.

"didnae leave a note. stole my jersey. 'm surprised ye didnae leave us money on the table, bonnie." warmth flared beneath your cheeks but you didn't cow to his crude joke.

"i suppose i could've left a tip. what do you want?"

the playful lines around his eyes smoothed as his lips straightened into a firm line, his eyes frostbitten. you ignore the way his touch makes you feel trapped, tethered, a cage made of velvet.

"took my shirt and then didn't show up to a single game after tha'. jus' gettin' wha' i'm owed. unless he's yer favorite."

how can he be your favorite when you know nothing about the sport they play and have no interest in knowing?

"too bad. we come as a package. get yer food, we've a place nearby."

(simon had been nowhere near as good-natured as johnny had about you leaving without a word. made you spit out apologies with swollen lips, only accepted the ones that came with a fluttering of your raw pussy around the splitting thickness of him while soap condescendingly cooed in your ear about lessons having to be learned the hard way.)

[peachesofteal]

Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic Simon Riley / female reader - warnings: panic attack, PPD

"Does tomorrow morning work? I'll be heading to base immediately after. Want to make sure I have enough time to say goodbye."

"Yeah, we'll see you then."

Simon goes to bed early that night.

He's good at clearing his mind and willing himself to sleep, hovering just barely there on the surface, never dipping too deep, and has done it for years. It enables his ability to rest in even some of the most uncomfortable circumstances (and that includes Johnny's snoring). It's compartmentalizing at it's finest, something he's tried to impress upon the sergeants too, over time.

Learn how to do this. It may save your life.

The pendulum swing keeps him somewhat aware, connected to a very small piece still tethered to the conscious world.

It's how he hears his phone ring at twenty hundred.

The caller ID flashes your name and he picks up immediately, sitting straight up. "Hey-"

"Hi, um..." You're crying. He flips himself out of bed, already partially dress, and manages to locate his shoes in a millisecond.

"What's wrong?"

"Can you... can you c-come- take the baby for a little while?" Your exhale whistles through the phone sharply. "P-please. I know you- you're leaving tomorrow but I-"

"It's alright, I'm on my way. I'll be there in a minute. Are you okay?"

"I- I... don't know wh-what to do." You're hyperventilating, caught in the grip of something, scared and alone. The sidewalk stretches for miles, his lungs burning as the oxygen stays trapped in his chest from the weight of his fear, and the line goes quiet, call ending as he makes it to the lobby of your building and up the stairs.

The copy of your key he never returned gets him inside, and the first thing he notices, or realizes, is Orion's screaming. He calls your name, yells it, beelining for the nursery where the baby lays on his back, hands and feet wriggling wildly in the air, tears coursing down his cheeks as he wails. "Alright, Ry, alright. C'mere, I've got you." You're not in here, not anywhere in sight, and his stomach flips.

You have to be here. He just talked to you.

But you wouldn't know how to signal him if something was really wrong, would you? He didn't prepare you. If something happened, how would you tell him?

He tucks Orion into his arms, cradles him to his chest, and bounces him gently. "Hey, you're okay, you're okay. What's all this crying about, hmm? What is it? Where's your mama?" The crying gentles, barely, and Simon holds him at a distance, quickly, checking him over. He's not overheated, he doesn't seem to be hurt, he's freshly bathed and in a clean onesie. His nappy is new and doesn't need to be changed. "Mama took good care of you, huh? You're all clean, fresh nappy, ready for bed, aren't you bub? Yeah." Simon paces in a circle, trying to settle his cries, before lowering him back into the crib. "You stay right here, little man, alright? Close your eyes. Daddy's gonna find mama and he'll be right back."

You're not in the living room, and he finds your bedroom dark when he opens the door. For a very brief moment, his panic blooms into paralyzation, before he spots the light from your bathroom.

His heart breaks when he opens the door.

You're on the floor, back against the vanity, sobbing with your palms covering your ears. You look like you haven't showered in days, and your light blue t shirt is soaked, slicked to your breasts and belly.

There's no distance between the two of you in this moment, no barriers, no time, no need for space. He kneels, and you look up, tearful eyes telling him all he needs to know. "I'm here, mama. I've got you."

You go into his arms willingly, diaphragm heaving with tiny hiccups and sobs, unable to catch your breath. Your entire body shakes, and wraps himself around you, holding you tight where you've buried your face in his chest. "I- I'm s-sorry." You're hoarse, voice cracked and broken. "He w-won't stop."

"Shhh, don't worry about that right now, just take a deep breath." You shake your head.

"I can't."

"Yes you can." You're frozen, panicked, and he smoothes his hand over your head. "You can do it, honey. Try f'me." The baby is still crying, and with the bathroom door slightly ajar, it bounces off the tile, all around you. Simon grimaces.

He's fine, he's safe. He's in his crib.

Simon shuts the door.

"Breathe with me, alright?" he maneuvers you so that you're in his arms, laying on his chest, face tipped back to his. "Just follow me," he pulls the hand that's gripping onto his forearm like rebar away and places it over his heart, "like this." You try and try to sync your breathing with his, and once you finally get there, evening out slowly, he kisses your hair. "There you go, good girl."

Simon keeps you close, happy to hold you, even if it was in these circumstances. It's so selfish, so wrong, but he can't find it in himself to let you go, waiting long past the point when you've calmed down to finally speak again. "Can you tell me what happened?"

"He... he wouldn't stop crying. For hours and I... I tried everything, but I felt like I couldn't breathe and I felt... dizzy, and when I went to feed him he didn't want me and I was crying too, but I felt so- so mad at the same time, and I didn't know what to do so I j-just put him in his crib and came in here and c-called you. I don't kn-know what I did wrong-" your breathing slips into shallow territory again, and he rubs your back.

"You didn't do anything wrong. He's okay, he's safe. He's even got a fresh nappy on. You made sure you took care of him, which is all you need to do, okay?"

"I feel awful," you whisper, drenched in shame, "he needs to eat, and I just- I abandoned him."

"No, you did the right thing and took a break. There's nothing wrong with taking a break." You sniffle, pulling the sopping shirt away from your body, shivering with discomfort. "Do you want to try again? See if it goes any better?" You give him a frightened look, unsure and nervous. "I'll be right here with you."

"Okay."

"Let's go see your mama." Orion has worked himself into a state, and it tears Simon to pieces, guilt about leaving him in here ripping through his heart.

He feels responsible. He is responsible, at the end of the day. If he had been upfront with you from the beginning, this might have never happened. He would have been here. You would have the support you need.

He was supposed to take care of you, but all he did was make it worse.

He kisses Orion gently. It helps quell the anxiety growing like a plague inside him, worry and fear about leaving you on your own for weeks, or more, chipping away at his resolve. He tells himself you'll be okay, that you did it on your own before he came along, and that you can do it again, but the admission of another dizzy spell doesn't make him feel any better in the long run.

"Don't worry, she's okay now. She loves you so much, you know that? She takes such good care of you, all the time. Even when she doesn't feel good, doesn't she?" He doesn't turn the lights on to your bedroom, and finds you on the bed, sitting up, wet shirt discarded on the floor. He doesn't rush it, doesn't push you, even though the baby cries at the top of his lungs in Simon's arms.

Finally, you hold your hands out. He helps get Orion settled, stroking his cheek over and over until he starts to instinctually seek you out, latching after a few long minutes.

Your eyes slip closed at the silence and you lean to the side, nestling into Simon's chest.

He holds you. You hold his baby.

How it was always meant to be.

He whispers above your ear, working his fingers into the knots of your neck, your shoulders. "You're doing great, mama." You hum but stay quiet, head down, fingers stroking over Ry's cheek, again and again.

"Thank you... for being here. I know things are complicated but it means a lot that you would come. I'm sorry I freaked out, about your job. I just... it's a lot to take in. I don't really know how to feel. I need some time." That's good, he thinks. Better than last week, when you asked him to leave with tears in your eyes. There's hope. He can fix this.

"You can have all the time you want sweetheart, but... I need to ask you a favor." Orion's body full relaxes, little fist clenched in the swell of your breast falling away, and you sigh.

"What is it?"

"When I'm away... I can turn my phone on every now and then, in specific places. D'you think you could send me some pictures? Or maybe I could call, when I'm able?"

"Of course."

He stays most of the night, until the sun comes up. Gets Ry back down, stands watch while you're in shower, helps you get settled in bed. There's a special place in his heart for you when you're soft and sweet and sleepy, a tiny kitten, curling up in the palm of his hand, purring. His moon. His everything.

"You be good for your mama, okay? I expect a good report when I get home. And try not to grow too much, alright little man?" He kisses his head, holding it there, walking around in the kitchen with Ry in his arms. "I love you, Orion. You and your mama. I'll be home real soon."

You turn the corner, something clenched in your hands, what, he can't tell, and you smile sadly. "I uh... I have something for you." He cocks, his head, shifting the baby to one arm, and you hold your fist out. "It's kind of dumb, honestly, but I thought you might... I don't know. I thought you might like it. I made it myself." It's a small fabric square, embroidered with a constellation, Orion's, he recognizes now, and a compass. "It's so you can always find it in the night sky. If you're in the northern hemisphere it should be south west, and if you're in the southern, it's in the north west. I didn't know like, what you could take with you but I figured this is small enough..." You look embarrassed, and all he wants to do is pull you into his arms and kiss you.

But he can't. He can only whisper your name, thick with emotion.

"It's great. I'll use it every night. Thank you." You blink, eyes wet, and then nod. He glances at his watch.

"Time to go?"

"Yeah," he hands you the baby, and picks up his duffle, the weight foreign now but still familiar. "Take care of yourself, alright?"

"I will."

"Promise me." He's stern, pushing a little bit of lieutenant into it, and you agree again, quickly.

"I will." You follow him to the door, holding Orion up for him to kiss one last time, and then he presses his mouth to your forehead, pleased when you don't pull away. He's dragging it out, the reluctance too ripe, and finally hangs his head in defeat after the too short minutes tick away.

"I'll see you soon." He gives you one last look, memorizing your face, Orion's, as much as he can, before heading down the hall.

"Simon," you call, turning him on a dime, "be careful, okay? Make sure... make sure you come home." Home.

"I will. I promise."

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Honey Girl.

Synopsis - The Universe shows you your soulmate when it feels like you need them most. When you least expect it, you're given yours - Bucky Barnes. Your Dad's best friend. You can try to refuse it all you like; but the Universe wants what it wants. There's no denying fate.

Pairing - Dad'sBestFriend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader - soulmate au

Age Rating - 18+

Word Count - 5.1k

Warnings - cursing. sexual content towards the end. mild alcohol consumption. age gap. smut in next chapter(s).

Author's Note - part one is finally here!! thank you so much to everyone who asked to be tagged, and who liked and reblogged the masterlist. i am SO excited to share this with you. i've built this world in my head and trust me it is gorgeous - salty ocean breezes, sunsoaked sailboats and billowing white linen shirts. i hope you can lose yourself in my little seaside town with bucky for the time it takes you to read this, just as i did while writing it. i can't wait to write more of this series for you x

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback!) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3

Masterlist. Requests. Series Masterlist. The Playlist.

next chapter (two).

Tethering /tɛð(ə)rɪŋ/

An event in which two soulmates are bound together forever. Only occurs when the Universe decides it is time. No sooner, no later.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The gentle ocean breeze gives you a moment of respite from the scorching sun that's beating down. You're half asleep, laying on the cool tile of your balcony when your phone rings.

"Babe! Babe! Babe!"

"Lacie? Are you okay? What's wrong?"

"I am freaking out right now, oh my god. I didn't know who to call. You'll never guess what just happened to me!"

You can guess. In fact, you already have.

Lacie's Tethering. It's finally happened.

You're taught, growing up, that your Tethering is the biggest moment of your life. It shapes who you are forever. Sets you on your eternal path. You're presented with your soulmate in a big display of love and affection and metaphorical fireworks. It's supposed to be magical.

You wish people would shut up about it.

The World seems to be split into two categories - the people that have been Tethered, and the people that haven't.

You fall into the latter.

You're repeatedly told it'll happen one day. It'll happen when the time is right. It'll happen when you least expect it.

You're not sure you ever want it to happen.

The idea that the Universe determines the person you're with forever has never sat right with you. What happened to free will? What happened to personal preference? You believe you should at least have a choice in the matter. It's your future, after all.

Not everyone shares the same sentiment.

"Babe, you still there?"

Lacie's excitement filled voice pulls you back to reality.

"Yeah, I'm here."

"Are you busy? Can you meet me for coffee, like, now?"

You take a deep breath and plaster a fake smile on your face.

"Sure. I'll see you in ten."

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"Oh my god babe, it was just incredible! You won't even believe it. There's nothing like it, truly."

You remind yourself quickly that Lacie is your best friend, and that you owe it to her to be happy for her. Personal feelings about soulmates aside.

"Tell me all about it, Lace!" you encourage, grabbing a hold of her hand excitedly.

The blonde girl squeals before shuffling closer to you, pressing her knees against yours.

"Okay, so. Picture this. I'm at my gym, doing my usual routine. I'm wearing my super cute pink Lulu Lemon set, you know the one with the flowers?"

She waits for you to nod in affirmation before she continues.

"So, I accidentally drop a weight on the ground, and it makes the biggest noise. I'm super embarrassed, and I'm trying to pick it up, but it's so heavy. And then, the hottest guy I have ever seen appears. Like, seriously gorgeous."

As much as you despise the whole soulmate thing, you can't deny how happy Lacie seems. She's almost vibrating with it, bouncing up and down in her seat.

"He comes over and picks it up for me, sets in back on the rack. And then he introduces himself, and shakes my hand, and it happened."

"What was it like?" you smile, eager for her to carry on.

"Like fucking magic."

You've heard that before. A million times. From literally everyone. Surely it can't be that magical if billions of people have experienced it.

"Magic?" you prompt.

"It is indescribable, babe. It's like... it's like everything just falls into place. Like everything finally makes sense!"

She jumps out of her chair, hugging you tightly. She's practically sat on your lap in the coffee shop, but neither of you really care.

"So, what's his name? What's he like?"

"His name is Cameron. He's new in town, he just moved here for work. He's a personal trainer, so he's like, super fit. And gorgeous. Did I mention gorgeous?"

"Maybe once or twice," you laugh.

"I'm so happy," Lacie whispers, emotion choking her voice. "I can't believe it finally happened. This is the day I've been waiting for since I was a little girl."

You hug her tighter, and ignore the look you get from the barista.

"I love you," she declares, suddenly serious. "You know that me being Tethered now doesn't change that, right?"

"I know," you confirm. "I love you too, Lace. I'm really happy for you."

You genuinely mean it. Lacie has talked about meeting her soulmate every day since you met her in the 3rd grade. You may have never quite shared her enthusiasm, but you admire her passion. And you adore her, more than anyone.

"So, what now? Are you gonna get married tomorrow and run off into the sunset?"

"I'm choosing to ignore your sarcasm because I know you're using it as a coping mechanism," she tells you pointedly. "And I know that there's a tiny part of you that wishes you'd been Tethered already, so you don't have to deal with everyone talking to you about it."

Jackpot. She's read you like a book.

"No, we're not getting married tomorrow," she rolls her eyes before continuing, "but we are going on a real date tonight. We're gonna get dinner and get to know each other. Isn't this crazy? I'm going on a date with the guy I'm gonna be spending the rest of my life with!"

"That is kinda crazy, actually," you laugh. "What are you gonna wear?"

"It doesn't matter - we're going to be together forever anyway!"

You make Lacie promise to send you a picture of her outfit as you're leaving the coffee shop, which she agrees to with glee. On your way home, you pick up some of your Mom's favourite wine, and prepare yourself for another soulmate based conversation that will inevitably happen when you tell your parents the events of the day at dinner tonight.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"Hi, sweetheart!" your Dad beams as you step through the front door of your childhood home.

"Hey, Dad," you greet, allowing him to pull you in for a hug. "Where's Mom? I brought wine."

"Kitchen," he gestures with a nod of his head. "She's making that mango dessert you like."

Walking into your Mother's kitchen is like dipping your feet into a pool on a scorching hot day. The windows are propped open, curtains billowing softly in the wind. The ocean breeze drifts through the room, ruffling your Mom's dress and floating the hair away from her face. The evening sun beams in, illuminating the space with a golden glow. It smells like fresh fruit, mint, and salt water. It's a haven.

"Hi, Mama."

"Oh, my love! Just in time. I was about to call you to see if you were alright."

She makes her way over to you and kisses you on the head swiftly, before walking to the cabinet to grab wine glasses.

"Sorry I'm a little later than I said. I changed my outfit three times - it's warmer than I thought it was going to be."

"I know! Summer, finally. We've been waiting long enough."

She takes the bottle of wine from your hand and pours it into the glasses.

"You've poured four, Mama."

"Didn't your Dad tell you? Bucky's joining us for dinner."

"Oh. No, he didn't mention anything."

"He's back from his vacation. He promised he'd show us all of the pictures he took!"

She grabs the glasses and floats out of the room, leaving you alone in the kitchen, thoughts of Bucky Barnes swirling around like dust in the sunlight.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

James Buchanan Barnes. Bucky.

Your Dad's best friend.

They met a few years ago, when Bucky moved to town. He said he was looking for something quieter, sick of city living. He wanted to slow down a bit, finally take a breath.

He was out for a run around town, getting his bearings, when he stopped your Dad on the driveway to ask about his car. They bonded over their love for motorcycles and vintage vehicles, and the rest is history.

Bucky's been a regular fixture in your life for so long, you can't remember a time before. All you know, is that it was probably a little more peaceful. His boyish charm is infectious, bringing out the youth in your Dad. They're like teenagers, when they're together. Long lost frat brothers, your Mom jokes.

She's got a soft spot for him. Most people do. It might have something to do with the fact he's devastatingly handsome.

It's no secret that Bucky Barnes is a ladies man. He is without even trying. He's charming, gorgeous, funny in all the right ways. He's mysterious, but not disarming. Tough, but not scary. Rebellious, but not a liability. He's a catch.

A catch, with a taste for beautiful women.

Your Dad always jokes that he's the towns most eligible bachelor. You can't count on two hands the amount of women you know that have dated him - but nothing seems to stick. He isn't Tethered, after all.

Some people choose not to date, if they haven't met their soulmate. They wait and wait, and when the time comes, they're complete. Others take pleasure in dating before it happens. Might as well make the most of the freedom, Bucky said once. You can't help but agree.

Might as well make the most of the freedom.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"Hey, buddy!" you hear from the hallway. You make your way out of the kitchen to be met with the sight of Bucky, sun-kissed and practically glowing. His hair has a few light streaks from the sun, and the faint freckles on his cheeks are more prominent now. His steel blue eyes meet yours, mischief rife in them.

"Hi, honey," he greets, draping an arm around your shoulders. He kisses you on the cheek, light stubble scratching your skin. You throw an arm around his back and look up at him.

"There's no way this tan is natural," you tease, nudging him slightly.

"It makes me even more gorgeous, doesn't it?" he jokes, winking at you. He squeezes your shoulder before letting go, grabbing a bottle of wine from his bag.

"I brought your favourite, Lori."

"So did I," you echo, laughing.

"Great minds, honey. Great minds!"

"You can never have too much wine," your Mom yells out from the kitchen doorway. "Bring it in here, Buck. I'll put it in the refrigerator."

"Yes ma'am," he obliges, making his way to her with a smile on his face.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"Guess what happened today," you begin, in between bites of your strawberry salad.

The three of them look at you intently, urging you to continue.

"Lacie got Tethered."

"How exciting!" your Mom squeals.

"That's a long time coming," Bucky chimes in. You look at him and smirk.

"Tell me about it."

"Here we go," your Dad smiles. "Our two anti soulmate protestors."

"Don't make it sound so political," Bucky laughs. "She's the only one that gets it."

"I've said it a thousand times, and I'll say it again. Just. You. Wait," your Mom lectures. "The two of you don't get it."

"Magic, fireworks, eternal love, blah blah blah. Trust me, I get it."

"She gets it," Bucky echoes. "And so do I. The Universe decides our fate, and we get no choice whatsoever. I don't believe in it, is all. I have no faith in the system. I should get to choose."

"But you feel like you are choosing," your Dad defends. "It didn't feel like it was being determined for me. It's hard to explain."

"It's just so... backwards," you justify. "I can't believe we live in a Universe where we have all the choices in the world, but don't get to choose the person we spend the rest of our lives with."

"It's worked out pretty well for us," your Mom smiles.

And it has. The first thing anyone notices when they meet your parents is that they are undeniably in love. You've never met two people more perfect for each other - which should solidify your belief in the Universe, really. But it doesn't. You can't explain where your lack of faith in it came from. It just appeared one day, and you haven't been able to shake it since. You're grateful every day to have two Tethered, happy, smitten parents. You've seen how hard it is for people with Untethered Mothers and Fathers. The judgment, the uncertainty, the hushed whispers. It sounds unbearable.

"Yes it did," your Dad confirms, shaking you from your thoughts. He reaches for your Mom's hand and kisses the back of it tenderly, eyes never once leaving hers. You look to Bucky next to you, who smiles at you gently. Feelings about soulmates aside, the both of you love these two people sat across the table with all your heart.

"Trust me, sweetheart," your Mom begins. "I know you're against the idea now - God knows I was the same at your age. But when it happens, you'll forget about all of your rebellion. You'll just be happy."

You nod in agreement, praying for the conversation to be over. As if he can read your mind, Bucky pipes up.

"Let me show you some pictures from Italy. I did promise I would."

You shoot him a grateful look before picking up your empty wine glass and making your way to the kitchen for a refill.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The dining room is now lit solely by candlelight, wax dripping onto the white lace tablecloth like condensation on a cold glass. The sun fell asleep hours ago, the four of you enjoying each others company with no regard for time.

"Oh, shit. It's late," your Dad says suddenly.

"You got big late night plans?" you tease.

"We have Clara and Mike's wedding at the weekend, so we're flying out tomorrow. We should probably get some sleep, so we're not exhausted."

Your Mom rises from her chair and kisses you on the head, before grabbing the dessert bowls from the table. Your Dad helps, smiling every time his hand brushes hers accidentally.

"Thanks for coming, kiddo. Your place next week?"

"Of course. I think I'll try that salmon recipe you sent me."

"Can't wait," your Dad assures you, giving you a one sided hug. He squeezes you once before letting you go to grab your shoes.

You can hear your parents saying their goodbyes to Bucky as you tie your laces, smoothing out the skirt of your dress as you stand. They all join you in the hallway, Bucky leaning over to grab his jacket from behind you. Fuck, he smells good.

"Have a great time at the wedding, you guys. Send me pictures, please!" you say as you hug your Mom goodbye.

"We will! Drive home safe, the both of you!"

They shut the door softly, leaving you and Bucky stood on the porch. The evening air chills your bare legs, salt in the breeze sticking to your lips.

"Where's your car?" he asks, looking around.

"Oh, I walked. It was a nice day, and I'm trying to be a little greener. Save the planet, and all," you chuckle.

"You want a ride, then?" he offers, leaning against the side of his truck.

"Uh - maybe," you hesitate, shifting your weight from foot to foot. You feel antsy, for some reason. There's a buzz flowing through your veins, making you a little restless.

"Maybe?" he smirks.

"I just, I'm not sure if I wanna go home yet. It might be that I've had three glasses of wine, but I'm kinda... jittery? Think I need to burn off some energy. Maybe I'll walk home."

"Like hell you will," he grumbles.

You quirk a brow in confusion.

"It's dark, and all those college kids are in town on their break. I don't trust 'em."

You fight to keep the grin off your face. You weirdly like it when Bucky gets protective. He's always so calm, so relaxed - it takes a lot to rile him up. He looks hot with a clenched jaw.

"Why don't we go somewhere?"

"Where?" you ask tentatively.

"I don't know," he thinks for a second. "How about the beach?"

You smile, gazing at him with a twinkle in your eyes.

"I fucking love the beach."

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The ocean waves break the shore steadily, the repetitive pattern calming you both. You're sat on the sand, grains slipping through your hands where you're pouring it out through your fingers. The light of the moon reflects off the surface of the sea, illuminating the abandoned cove. It's just you, Bucky, and the night sky.

The alcohol in your system has evened you out, warm buzz keeping you sheltered from the chill. Bucky's stretched out next to you, strong arms folded underneath his head. His shirt rides up slightly, exposing a slither of sun kissed skin. You pretend not to notice his Adonis belt, or the little trail of hair that leads down into his waistband.

The silence is easy, comfortable. You don't get to hang out like this often, just the two of you. It's nice.

A notification on your phone breaks through the tranquility. You both flinch.

"Sorry," you mutter, checking the screen. "It's Lacie, telling me about her perfect date."

He chuckles lowly at your tone, sitting up to look at you.

"This is hard for you, isn't it?" he asks. "You hate the whole soulmate thing, but you like seeing her happy."

Bingo. It's like he's read your mind.

"I don't know why I hate it so much" you confess quietly. "It's a part of life. I can't avoid it. I just think - what if... what if I'm like, the exception, or something? What if I never meet my soulmate - or - what if I meet them when I'm like, seventy? That happens, you know! And then I'll be fucking cursed to spend my entire life feeling like this."

"And what is this?"

"Hopeless. That's what this is. I just feel pretty fucking hopeless."

You're not sure why you're baring your soul to Bucky tonight. You could blame the wine, but you know that's not what it is. Maybe it's because he seems to be the only one that understands.

"Me too," he whispers.

You whip your head around to stare at him in shock. He laughs at the look on your face, and continues.

"You're young - you have time. I'm forty in a couple of years. Every single one of my friends is married to their soulmate - except for me."

You bite at your lip nervously, but refuse to tear your eyes away from his steel blue ones. His face is lit by the glow from the moon, and it takes your breath away for a second. He looks almost ethereal.

"You always act so... unbothered. I didn't realise... I guess I just, I didn't -" you try to gather your thoughts before continuing. "This fucking sucks, huh?"

He laughs with his whole chest, and you're convinced the sound is so special, so rare, that you should bottle it. Sell it as medicine. It'd cure anything, you're sure of it.

"Yeah, it does," he agrees with a chuckle. "It's the waiting around that's the worst part. The unknown. It could be minutes, it could be decades. I just don't know."

"At least for now, we have each other," you joke.

"Every cloud has a silver lining, huh?" he teases, nudging you with his shoulder.

You allow your weight to press into his side a little, leaning in. He's warm, and he's familiar, and in this moment, he understands you better than anyone else in the world.

"We'll be okay, honey," he murmurs. "It'll all work out the way it's supposed to."

You close your eyes, and allow his words and the breaking waves to calm your nerves. Bucky wraps an arm around you, and all the tension melts from your muscles.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You're not sure if it's the honest conversation, or the brisk ocean breeze, but you've sobered up in record time. Your body registers this, and sends a shiver down your spine.

"You cold?" Bucky asks you. "You wanna go home?"

"Not yet," you whisper. "Not yet."

He shrugs off his worn brown leather jacket and slips it over your shoulders. It smells so strongly of him that it makes you dizzy. Bucky settles back down in his original place, returning his arm to where it was draped over you. His rough fingertips rub patterns into the material that now covers your arms, and you wish, for a fleeting moment, that it was your bare skin instead.

"You been working on anything new recently?" he enquires in a hushed tone, careful not to ruin the atmosphere.

"I made a damn good batch of macarons yesterday," you reply, beaming smile etched across your face. "Raspberry and lemon. I'll bring you some, next time I pass the Garage. You're gonna love them."

"You know, I think the only reason I ever get Mechanic of the Month is because you bring by all of your sweet treats."

You laugh melodiously, and the sound makes Bucky's heart stutter in his chest without warning.

"Happy to be of service," you tease. "I take requests, too, if you ever want something specific. Just let me know."

"You're the best, sugar."

You sink into Bucky's hold a little, daring to rest your head on his shoulder. When he doesn't stop you, you exhale, and relax even more.

"Are you working tomorrow?" he asks.

"Nope. You?"

"Nah. I'm going sailing, finally. It's been way too fuckin' long," he grumbles. "Your Dad's usually my right hand man, but he'll be in Ohio. You wanna come?"

The idea of laying on the deck of a boat in the blazing sunshine with a shirtless Bucky Barnes sounds like heaven. Who could say no to an offer like that?

"Yeah, of course. I'll bring a picnic, if you like. It's the least I can do."

"Sounds perfect," he replies, squeezing your shoulder.

Suddenly, he rises to his feet, extending a hand out to you. You grab it, and he pulls you up, the both of you shaking sand off yourselves.

"It's late, and dark, and a little cold. You ready to go?"

You nod your head, and make your way over to his truck, ignoring the heat that blooms over your chest when he opens the passenger door for you before his own.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"Thank you, for tonight," you say as he pulls up in front of your apartment building.

"Thank you," he replies, killing the engine. "It's nice to have you back, you know. Wondered if you were gonna finish college and stay out there in California. Thought we might not see you again."

He almost sounds... relieved. The idea that he might have missed you if you didn't return effects you more than it should.

"I liked it there, but... I don't know. My family's here. I'm only twenty three. I've got time to move around the country. I missed this place too much when I was away."

"Never thought I'd hear you say that," he chuckles.

"I know, trust me. They do say absence makes the heart grow fonder."

"Yeah, they say a lot of fuckin' things," he jokes.

Bucky swings his door open, hopping down from the drivers seat. He makes his way over to your side, holding out a hand so you can jump out.

"Careful," he warns. "It's higher than it looks."

You grab his hand, and step onto the metal sill. Your foot slips slightly, sending you tumbling down and forward, out of the truck. Luckily, Bucky catches you, one hand in yours, other on your hip.

"Woah, easy. You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good," you breathe.

He places his hands on your cheeks and cradles your face, searching for any signs of distress. You place your palms over his, silently reassuring him.

And then, it happens.

Warm, golden, molten electricity surges through your veins, lighting up each and every one of your nerve endings. Your surroundings explode into glorious technicolour, everything suddenly brighter and more vibrant. It feels like your heart is being ripped out of your chest, only to be replaced by one that beats in a slightly different rhythm. There's flowers blooming in your ribcage, new life happening inside of you. You catch eyes with Bucky, expecting to see his stormy blue ones looking back at you. Instead, all you see is your future.

Vivid, flashing images of Bucky Barnes fill your mind, each one of them tinted with a warm, rosy hue. You feel like you're being reinvented. Your skin is alive, hyperaware of the way Bucky's palms are still gently cupping your cheeks. Your fingertips tingle with anticipation where they rest on his, itching to touch every inch of him. You feel as if the oxygen has been stolen from your lungs, and replaced with love.

Your knees are the first to buckle, the weight of the moment taking you down. You hit the ground, and so does Bucky, his palms not once leaving your face. You're both kneeling on the warm concrete, ocean waves providing a distant soundtrack. Blood is rushing in your ears, and you wonder for a second if you're about to pass out. You squeeze Bucky's hands so hard, it's a miracle you don't break his fingers. He squeezes back, eyes locked on one another.

After what feels like an eternity, you both break out of your reverie. You lean forward, resting your forehead against Bucky's, both of you panting.

You're trying to catch your breath unsuccessfully. You move one of your hands to rest on Bucky's chest, right on his heart. You swear the steady beat of it spells out your name.

He mirrors you, and moves his own hand to rest above your frantic heart, the other still glued to your cheek. You both breathe, in and out, trying to match each other. When you finally do, it's as if time stops. It's just you and Bucky. One heartbeat. One soul.

You break away from him to look into his eyes again. They look different, you think. He looks different.

He gazes back at you, cheeks flushed and chest heaving. The moonlight dances off your faces, illuminating the moment both your lives changed forever.

"It's you," he breathes in disbelief.

A laugh escapes your chest, surprising you both. He chuckles with you, and before you know it, the both of you are in hysterics, sitting on the sidewalk at three in the morning.

"Of course it's me," you giggle. "The two people that hate soulmates, Tethered together. You couldn't write it."

Bucky grins at you, clutching at his stomach.

You both take a breath, and realise your surroundings. Bucky gets up first, heaving you up by your arms. He towers over you, suddenly close. Not close enough, you decide. Never close enough.

You lunge forward and crash your lips to his. Bucky instinctively wraps one arm around your back, moving his other hand to hold you by the back of your neck. He tastes like salt and spearmint and every kiss for the rest of your life.

Bucky presses himself into you, attempting to tangle your bodies together. He wants to feel every inch of you against his skin, willing you to come closer. He aches to climb into you, sew himself into your ribcage. He'd be content to live there, beating your heart, forever.

You whine, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, exploring eagerly. You tilt your head back, and fist your hands into his shirt, plastering yourself to his front. He shoves his thigh in between your legs, the rough denim a welcome contrast to your soft skin. You buck your hips forward, and the friction is so delicious it makes you dizzy. You've never been kissed like this. It's almost feral. You're both surrendering to your fates, giving in to the animalistic urges coursing through you.

A seagull caws on a nearby street lamp, and the sound makes you both jump. You suddenly realise your scenario. Your Dad's best friend, who also happens to be your soulmate, has you pressed against his truck in the street, kissing you like he's running out of air and you're his only oxygen source. If it goes any further, you'll both get arrested for public indecency.

"Fuck, sugar," he murmurs against your mouth. "My pretty girl. My honey."

"My soulmate," you whisper.

The reality of it comes crashing down like a tsunami, drenching the both of you.

Bucky kisses you again, gentler this time. The tenderness makes you want to cry.

"What do we do now?" you mumble, fear coating your voice.

He senses your trepidation instantly. He feels it, actually, right in the front of his chest. It's like you suddenly share one body. There's no guessing, anymore. He knows exactly how you feel.

He takes a deep breath, trying to settle his building anxiety. He knows that if he stays calm, you'll stay calm. That's how Tethering works, right? He has to keep it together for the both of you, despite the panic that's rising in him, vibrating in his bones.

"How about... how about we both go to bed, get some sleep - and then we go sailing, later on today, just like we planned? And no matter what, we take everything one step at a time."

"One step at a time," you repeat, attempting to pacify you both.

"We'll figure it out," he reassures. "I know we will."

You find the will to step apart, which proves harder than you thought. It's like Bucky's an anchor - fastening you to peace, to happiness, to serenity. The more distance you put between your bodies, the more unsettled you feel. When you're not touching him, it's as if everything becomes unsteady, more difficult. You feel like you're on a rogue sailboat, battling the waves, threatened to be thrown overboard. Bucky is your lifevest, your lighthouse in the dark night. You're not sure how you're supposed to live your life any more than two feet away from him at all times.

You breathe, and smooth down your dress, running your fingers through your hair. You reach out and adjust Bucky's shirt where it's been wrinkled due to your tight grip.

"Goodnight, sweetheart," he murmurs, fingers tangling around your own.

"Goodnight, Buck," you echo.

He leans in to press a chaste kiss to your lips, savouring the taste of your cherry lip balm. He wraps his arms around you, unable to resist. Bucky breathes you in deeply, smiling uncontrollably. Nudging your nose with his, he murmurs gently against your mouth.

"My honey girl."

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[risingode]

loml (loss of my life)

summary: in which ellie's only ever cried in front of you three times. yet the fourth is the most devastating of them all.

pairing: ellie williams x y/n

genre: angst

wc: 962

please comment or message letting me know your thoughts! it helps motivate me :)

once again inspired by taylor swfit :)

a/n: hello everyone! it has been quite a while since i have uploaded on here. i've had a lot of changes in my life since the last time i posted a writing of mine, primarily, i am now in my third (!!!) year of university. crazy to even think about tbh. anyways, i know i primarily write about jungkook from bts, but recently i was gifted a ps5 by my brother in law and the first game i bought was tlou part 2 remastered because i never quite got over the game, or more specifically, ellie williams lmaooooo. anyways pls enjoy this short little drabble, i am excited to get back into writing! and yes, i will keep writing for jungkook as well, i'm just mixing it up a bit!

Ellie Williams was an enigma to the world, and right now, her mystery is unfurling in the cruelest of ways. The room before you is a tapestry of shattered dreams, clothes scattered like discarded promises, each garment a silent witness to the betrayal unfolding before your eyes.

Your heart, once so full of trust and love, feels like it's disintegrating. A heart-shaped void appears on the floor beneath you, a grotesque reflection of the pain ripping through your chest. There, in the dim light, your fiancée lies entwined with another woman, their bodies a stark betrayal of the vows once promised to you.

It's almost absurd, the way a love that once made you feel invincible can crumble so easily, as if it was all a cruel joke. The sight is so surreal that you question its reality, your mind unable to reconcile the image before you with the life you thought you shared. Your feet are rooted to the ground, as if some invisible force has tethered you to this unbearable truth.

The diamond ring on your finger, once a symbol of unending love, now feels like a shackle, its weight a painful reminder of the promises that were so carelessly broken. You stand there, numb and hollow, the ache in your chest growing more insistent with every breath. 

Her voice is a faint murmur, drowned out by the protective haze your mind has wrapped around you, shielding you from the full weight of her betrayal. The woman who promised to stand by you for the rest of your life is now an almost surreal presence, a distant echo as the reality of the situation sinks in.

They scramble to untangle themselves from the bed—your bed. Clothes are hastily pulled on, and you feel a wave of nausea rise up, the bile surging before you can even hope to stop it. The force of the moment propels you into action, and you sprint through the house, your heart pounding with the realization that every corner holds a painful reminder of the life you built together.

The couch you assembled in your first apartment, the dishes you chose together, each one a piece of your shared dream, perfectly matching the white and royal blue of your kitchen. The kitchen where you cooked meals side by side, dancing to songs from artists you discovered together, 

“This one’s the song I want to walk down the aisle to,” you’d said, stirring the pasta as you both cooked together.

Ellie looked up from where she stood, buttering garlic bread. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you replied, smiling as you watched her. “Do you like it?”

Her eyes twinkled with that familiar warmth as she walked over to you, wrapping her arms around your waist. “I don’t care what song you walk down the aisle to,” her tender voice whispers into your ear, “as long as the person standing at the end of it is me.” 

The air is cold against your hot skin, a reminder of how real everything you just experienced was. You couldn’t seem to care, though, almost prying open the door to your poorly parked car. The silence of it deafening as you give yourself time to catch your breath, finally it was quiet. Still, the sounds of their shared moans and whimpers echoes in your mind. The silence doesn’t last long, a loud thump breaks you out of your dissociated trance. Your neck snaps towards your driver’s side window, Ellie’s tearful face is the sight you’re met with. You think back to all the times you’ve seen her cry before. You conclude it’s three. 

The first time was when she was drunk, confessing her feelings, afraid you didn’t feel the same. You had held her close, whispering reassurances. 

“Oh, Ellie, you’re silly to think I don’t like you too.”

The second was when you were rushed to the hospital after a fall at work. The memory is a blur of bright lights and pain, but Ellie’s tear-streaked face as she clung to you is vivid. 

“You scared me so bad, baby,” she had sobbed into your shoulder.

You had tried to lighten the moment, chuckling despite your discomfort. “I just have a mild concussion. The only thing I’m worried about is how I’m going to step back into that office without a bag over my head. I’m so embarrassed.” 

She pulls away to look at your pouting face, noticing a light purple bruise decorating your pretty eye. She frowns, leaning in to leave a kiss on it. “Shut up, you’re never leaving my side again.”

The third and only time you cried alongside her was the day she proposed, her hand shaking in your grasp as she got down on one knee. 

“You’re the love of my life, Y/N. I don’t care how many years pass, or how many hurdles we come across, I will always be there for you. I can’t imagine loving anyone as much as I love you, baby.” 

You’re choking on your tears, your hand feels almost numb at the tightening of her grip. You reach your empty hand up to your chest, willing your beating heart to still. 

“Will you marry me?” 

Now, in the cold car, you’re confronting the fourth time, a cruel twist of fate that you never anticipated would be this moment. You thought the tears would come on your wedding day, as you exchanged vows to love and cherish each other, for better or for worse. The irony makes you laugh, a broken, hollow sound, as you shift the car into reverse.

Ignoring the pleading sobs muffled by the glass, you drive away, each mile feeling like a mile further from the life you once knew and the promises that were so easily shattered.

[kookslastbutton]

Guilty Pleasures ༓ jjk, kth (m) | chapter iv

✑ Summary: Three years of being Seoul's power couple earns you nothing but a big fat divorce settlement and your face plaster on every gossip column around town. You're angry, hurt, and desperately want to move on, but worst of all? You're still in love with the man who started the whole mess, even though the most he can ever see you as is a friend. The renowned actor you've hired to be your company's new endorser seems to have a soft spot for you though. He's easy on the eyes, you'll admit, but who actually wants a divorcee like yourself? It's unrealistic really.

pairing: ex-husband ceo!jungkook x ceo!reader, actor!taehyung x ceo!reader (not poly)

genre/AU: angst, smut, fluff, loverstoexesto ?, coworkers2?, unrequited love

Word count: 11.3k

Warnings: oc and jk are both 30, Taehyung is 32, swearing, tornado of emotions (you might laugh, you might cry, and you might just wanna punch something after this chapter), morally grey characters, mentions of toxic relationships, mentions of broken home/families, mentions of therapy, struggles of self-blame, regret, guilt, denial, self-deprecation in some aspect, etc., mentions of alcohol consumption, mentions of sexism in the media and business world

playlist: Unkiss Me, Apologize, Hate That I Love You, etc.

a/n: So, elephant in the room....how did this get past 11k when other chapters are significantly shorter? Well...I had ideas? I'm sorry!! 🫠 ANYWAY more angst in this chapter. Sorry not sorry for what you will consume here. I honestly love this chapter so much though! Okay, I won't say any more bc spoilers are cool but not in my fic! (hehe) Enjoy! 🥰

series masterlist | next >>

Numb.

It’s the only word you can rummage up to describe the sudden shift in your demeanor. You’d think one’s typical response to their ex-husband’s drunken confession would be one of confusion, anger, hurt, or the like.

But you’ve gone stone cold instead, barely able to feel the steaming hot water that kisses your skin from within the tub. The room seems to have become a bit of a haze too, your vision blurring as you grip your cell phone in your hand.

The absurdity of it all—the man who handed you divorce papers now professing his love—feels like a cruel joke. The sheer impossibility of the situation is almost laughable, yet you can't even bring yourself to do that at this point. You've exhausted all of your emotional resources.

You’re unsure how many seconds pass before his voice calls your name again.

“__? Are you still there?” His voice is a muffled echo in your mind. It sounds so far away, though you know he’s right here on the other end of the line.

"Honestly Jungkook…I don’t know what you expect me to say.”  The words come out slow, measured, and almost emotionless.

There's a pause, and when he speaks again, his voice is hoarse, cracking under the weight of his confession. "I guess—I'm not sure either. But I just needed you to know. I needed to tell you everything."

“You're drunk. You realize that, right?"

“I had a few beers, yeah," he admits. "Maybe I'm a little tipsy. But it doesn’t change the fact that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you lately. I miss you, __, a lot."

The words hang in the air, and for a moment, you’re back in the past, back when those words would have meant the world to you. But now, they feel hollow, devoid of the warmth they once carried. And how can they not? You tethered yourself to your ex-husband for three years, learned his patterns, became acquainted with his needs, and danced with his indifference. In the end, the result is always the same, and this time is no different. By morning, he'll likely forget everything he's ever said to you and return to his normal habits.

You take a deep breath, your head resting on the cool porcelain tub, and close your eyes. "I can’t do this," you say quietly. "Not now."

"It's late. I understand-"

"No," you interrupt, voice firmer, "you don't understand, Jungkook. You don't understand me and you never have. I'm hanging up now."

"Please don't. I know I've hurt-"

"Stop. Do you know how patronizing that sounds to me? Please don't call this number again."

"But... I love you, __," his voice is barely a whisper. "Do you not love me anymore?"

"Goodbye, Jungkook." You end the call before another word can drop from his lips, or yours for that matter. It's time you accept that you are never more than an impulsive decision, a temporary solution, and an item on his agenda. Tonight's conversation solidifies that for you.

Despite being sleep-deprived the next morning, you refuse to let fatigue keep you from fulfilling your promise to visit Taehyung at the hospital. You've been anxious about him all night, tossing and turning without respite. The weight of your ex-husband's drunken confession added to your restlessness as well. Nevertheless, you push it out of your mind as you bound out the front door.

Upon arrival, you are greeted by an abundance of flowers, cards, and thoughtful gifts scattered around Taehyung’s hospital room. One bouquet on the windowsill catches your attention in particular—its familiar scent of lavender is instantly recognizable.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” a voice says from behind you. You turn to see Dr. Min entering the room, Taehyung’s chart in hand. He seems more lively than last night, his expression noticeably brighter with a faint smile on his lips.

“Yes, they’re lovely,” you reply. “I’m guessing these are from Taehyung’s fans and colleagues?”

He nods. “Indeed. Lavender is a calming scent. It’s no wonder people chose it for him.” The corners of his mouth lift slightly before he continues, “My girlfriend loves it too. She says it helps her relax after a long day.”

The comment is unexpected yet sweet. You notice the suppressed grin and the warmth in his eyes easily, signaling his deep affection for her. You wonder how it must feel to love someone so purely and without restraint. Before the thought lingers, your gaze shifts involuntarily to the man on the hospital bed, still asleep. Though the bandages are gone and his breathing is stable, your concern deepens as you take in his nearly still form.

“How’s he doing?” you ask, moving closer to his bed. Your heart tightens with each step as the cuts and burns on his face become more visible.

“He’s lucky,” Dr. Min says, walking to the opposite side of the bed, his tone growing serious. “He has multiple rib fractures, a mild concussion, and a few burns, but it could have been worse. Taehyung is stable now, and we’re monitoring his progress closely.”

“How long will it take for him to heal?”

“His face burns are only second-degree, so they should heal in a couple of weeks. The concussion should also resolve with ample rest and by avoiding strenuous activity—both physical and mental.”

“Which means he won’t be able to act for a while?” you ask, reading between the lines.

“Afraid not,” Dr. Min dismisses the idea. “Hopefully, his projects can accommodate his absence.”

“What about his rib fractures? I imagine those will require the most attention.” You feel like you might be asking too many questions, knowing Dr. Min will likely need to repeat everything to Taehyung later, but you can't hold back. After all, you made a promise to yourself last night that you'd ensure he'd be alright.

“Yes," Dr. Min answers carefully, "they could take up to three months to fully heal. We recommend applying ice for 20 minutes at a time, several times a day. As long as he remains stable over the next few days, he can be discharged to continue his recovery at home." He pauses, allowing you to process the information before continuing. "It's crucial that he rests. Even if he feels bursts of energy, he needs to let his body heal. Light activities like breathing exercises and short walks are fine, but he should avoid intense exercises until we give the all-clear.”

You nod thoughtfully, absorbing Dr. Min’s detailed prognosis. Taehyung’s condition sounds serious but manageable. After such a traumatic accident, it's clear he'll need months to heal. Getting him to adhere to the doctor's orders will be challenging, given his profession and active social calendar. However, if you need to be the one to remind him, you will.

“I’ll make sure he follows your recommendations,” you assure Dr. Min, your voice tinged with concern.

“I have no doubt,” Dr. Min replies with a reassuring smile. “You know, you're the first person who’s shown up for him both last night and today. Aside from that young man who came in briefly. Namjoon, right?”

“Yeah,” you respond slowly, the revelation catching you off guard. “He works as my secretary but he's also a good friend of Taehyung's. His family really hasn’t come in yet?” You circle back to Dr. Min's first point with a sense of urgency.

You wouldn't normally be this insistent on the matter; however, past conversations with Taehyung have revealed how much he cherishes his family, often sharing stories about their reunions with warmth and enthusiasm. With such a loving family, you’re taken aback that they haven’t shown up yet. Then again, his accident was sudden, and there could be various reasons for their delay. Do they even know about his accident, for that matter?

“They called, of course, but you’re the first to actually come in,” Dr. Min clarifies, his gaze thoughtful as he responds to your concern. "You must be quite an attentive boss to show this level of care for your colleague."

There's an underlying suggestiveness laced in his tone, but you're quick to brush it off, redirecting the focus to Taehyung’s condition. “It’s the least I can do, given what he’s going through,” you say, trying to sound matter-of-fact. “He’s a valuable member of our team, and I want to make sure he gets back on his feet as soon as possible.”

Dr. Min's eyes twinkle, as if holding back further commentary. “Even from a professional standpoint, not everyone would go to such lengths for a coworker. He’s fortunate to have you.”

You feel a slight flush as his subtle implications continue. “Well, I just…care about his well-being. Besides,” you glance back at Taehyung, your expression softening more than you intend, “I know he'd do the same for me.”

For a few short breaths, Dr. Min remains silent as your attention remains fixed on your colleague. “I need to check on a few other patients so I’ll leave you two alone for now," he finally says, breaking the silence. “I'll be back to check in on him again later, but if you have any questions or need anything in the meantime, the nurse is nearby."

With a nod and a soft "thank you," you watch Dr. Min exit the room, leaving you alone with Taehyung once more. After settling into a chair beside his bed, you silently observe the steady rise and fall of his chest. The rhythmic sound of his breathing is a small comfort amidst his vulnerable state. Despite everything, you're glad he's going to be okay.

As each minute passes, nurses come and go, and the hum of activity outside the room gradually fades into a background murmur. You had only planned to stay for an hour this morning, but time seems to slip away as the clock now nears 1 p.m. You had hoped Taehyung would be awake by now, but he remains still.

After a brief sigh, the thought occurs to you that you don't have to spend so many hours here, waiting for Taehyung to wake up. It's the weekend, and there are plenty of other things you could be doing instead. Dr. Min could easily call you the moment Taehyung wakes up. But something in your conscience urges you not to leave. Just give it another hour, you think. If he isn’t awake by then, you can come back tomorrow.

Suddenly, a slight movement catches your eye. Taehyung's fingers twitch, and his eyelids flutter. You nearly missed it with how lost you were in your thoughts.

Leaning forward with nervous relief, you softly call his name. It takes him a few seconds, but slowly, his eyes blink open. He turns his head slightly, gaze eventually finding yours, and you feel momentarily transfixed. It's unlike you to respond this way, but you had forgotten how piercing and comforting his eyes could be. A genuine smile immediately spreads across his face once your eyes meet, though not as boxy as usual due to his condition. Nevertheless, it's encouraging to see him awake and responsive.

“Hi," his voice is strained but recognizable. "It's...nice to see you."

“The feeling's mutual,” you respond gently. “How are you feeling?”

He shifts slightly, wincing a bit. “Like I got hit by a truck,” he mutters. “I’m sore all over.”

“You had a close call, but you’re in good hands now. Your doctor, Dr. Min, says you'll be okay, as long as you take it easy for a while. He was here earlier this morning, but he'll check in with you again soon.”

"You..." He hesitates, surprise flickering in his eyes. "You've been here since morning? What time is it now?"

"Oh, uh, it's around 1 in the afternoon," you say, gradually realizing the weight of your words. You consider whether or not to tell him the full extent of your stay. “I got here a few hours ago. Don’t worry.”

Taehyung nods slightly, a mix of gratitude and concern evident in his expression. “Thank you for being here,” he murmurs. “I wasn't sure if I'd be alone.”

A sinking feeling settles in your chest at his words, your throat tightening. Before you can ask what he means, he continues, “I must have taken a lot of your weekend from you.” His tone is apologetic, and your heart aches. Here he is, lying on a hospital bed, in pain and vulnerable, and he’s worried about inconveniencing you.

“I'm glad to be here,” you reassure gently. “I promise, you’re not alone. A lot of people care about you.”

Taehyung glances around, taking in the gifts and flowers scattered throughout the room. “From my fans, I’m guessing?” he asks, attempting to keep his tone light.

“And your colleagues too,” you reply. “We all want to see you get better." Taehyung returns his gaze to you, a faint smile lingering on his lips. Neither of you says anything, which unsettles you.

“Did you sleep okay?” you ask, the question coming out more hurriedly than intended.

“I drifted in and out for most of the night. It’s hard to get comfortable,” he admits, "I think I could still hear a lot around me. It felt like someone was holding my hand for a few minutes too, but I’m not sure how much of it was real or just dreams, though.”

Oh shit. You weren't expecting that answer.

The possibility that Taehyung might have heard you talking to him last night shouldn't be that embarrassing, yet your mind races with thoughts of what he might have heard or understood in his semi-conscious state. Not only did you share more than you probably should have, but you also touched his hand to feel his pulse, and he felt it.

“Well, um, I'm sorry to hear you had a rough night. You should rest more,” you suggest, trying to compose yourself. "I should get going anyway and let you sleep.” You begin standing from your seat but don't get far before the gentlest of touches brush against your wrist. When you look at Taehyung, he quickly retracts his fingers, concerned he overstepped.

"Shit, I'm sorry, __. I didn't mean to grab at you like that," he says softly. "It's just...would you mind staying with me a little longer, please? I'd really appreciate the company."

You can hear the yearning in his request. It's clear that he doesn't want to be alone, and you don't blame him, especially after the accident he's endured. Settling back into the chair, you agree to stay a bit longer, perhaps another half hour, before heading home; you realize you haven't eaten lunch yet.

"So, how are you doing?" he asks. "We haven't talked in bit."

His question triggers a flood of thoughts, the most recent interaction with your ex-husband being one of them. Up until now, you've managed to push his drunken call out of your mind, preferring to focus on Taehyung instead. However, Jungkook's unexpected confession still throws you for a loop. It's not that you're riddled with the need for clarity on its validity, especially since you don't believe him anyway. How could he claim to love you when he also admits he doesn't understand his own feelings? On top of that, being drunk while doing so—it doesn't make sense.

No, the real question now is what happens next. How do you proceed? Will he try to reach out again? The way he asked if you still loved him before you ended the call weighs on your mind even now.

You know you'll need to discuss this with Melody during your next therapy session.

Before you spiral further, you decide to steer the conversation away from personal matters and opt for a safer topic.

"The company is doing well," you reply with a smile. "The new campaigns we've put out recently have been pretty successful. Although," you add, a hint of curiosity in your tone, "the team has missed your frequent drop-ins, especially Namjoon." If you're honest with yourself, you've missed them too.

"How is he? Namjoon?"

"He's okay, but he's been concerned for you," you answer carefully. "When we heard the news, we came to see you together, but he was quite affected. He promised to visit once you woke up."

"So," Taehyung takes a moment to process. "That was this morning, right?"

"No, actually, it was yesterday."

There's a brief, awkward silence as you sense Taehyung might be thinking the same thing you are—about your presence last night. Surprisingly, he doesn't bring it up. Instead, he eyes you curiously, biting down on his lip slightly.

"I meant to stop by last week," he admits. "But we were wrapping up the final scenes of my film shoots. The producers were eager to finish them. I'm just thankful we got them done. I wanted to spend a day riding my bike along a scenic route until... well, until all of this happened. I don't remember much, but I'm just grateful Tan wasn't with me."

"Tan?" you ask, curious now.

"Yeontan, my pomeranian," Taehyung explains with a soft smile. "He means the world to me. My parents take care of him when I'm busy with filming. I was actually planning to drive up and visit them this weekend. And, of course, bring Tan back home with me. They live pretty far from here, so it's better that I go up to them if I can."

Well, that answers the question about his parents not being here yet, you think to yourself.

As Taehyung speaks, you can see a flicker of fondness and relief in his eyes when he mentions his dog. It must have been months since he last saw him.

"I bet you miss him a lot," you comment softly, "Tan."

"I do," he admits with a slight smile, "but I know he's being well taken care of. Hopefully, I can see him soon. And my parents too."

"I understand that feeling," you reply, nodding thoughtfully. "Pets have a way of becoming family, don't they? I had a cat named Evie when I was growing up. She was a feisty little thing with green eyes, always getting into mischief. We got her from the streets and she was so slim, but it didn't take her long to beef up with all the treats we gave her. Whenever I was feeling down, she would curl up next to me, as if she knew. It's funny how they have that kind of intuition, isn't it?"

Taehyung listens intently, a small smile playing on his lips. You feel a slight flush of embarrassment at your tangent. It's one of the few times you've shared something personal about yourself that wasn't work-related. Feeling like you might have overshared, you decide to stop, assuming Taehyung isn't interested in knowing that much.

You chuckle inwardly at yourself.

Jungkook was your husband for three years, and he never seemed to care about such personal details.

I—" you start, intending to apologize, but Taehyung interrupts.

"Did you have any other pets?" he asks, curiosity piqued.

You chuckle softly, reminiscing. "Yeah, we had... uh, god, you don't want to know how many pets we had."

"Try me," his eyes become playful, yet there's a seriousness behind them, like he really wants to know. It's unfamiliar.

"Alright," you chuckle, "aside from Evie, there were three other cats. Calvin and Misha were the adventurous ones, always climbing trees, while Pip was the cuddly lap cat. Then there were two dogs: Toby, our sneaky Chihuahua, and Bella, a terrier who growled at everyone. Oh, and we had three rabbits too. Cute, but also feisty."

Taehyung laughs, "I sense a theme going on."

"What theme?"

"Well," he grins, "It seems like your household was filled with some strong main characters."

You chuckle at his joke. "Yeah, our house was never quiet, that's for sure. Each one had their own personality and quirks."

"You don't have any now though? Pets, I mean," Taehyung asks.

"Sadly, I don't," you reply with a hint of regret. "The company takes up a lot of my time, and I don't think it would be right to leave a pet alone for extended periods. I might consider getting another cat, but right now, focusing on running the company leaves me with little spare time. I miss having them around though."

Taehyung mulls over your word carefully. “If I ever get out of this hospital...maybe I—”

Before he has the chance to finish, the hospital room door opens, and Dr. Min enters, his expression serious yet composed. His eyes widen slightly in surprise, not expecting to see you still here and Taehyung awake. “I’m sorry to interrupt,” he begins, glancing between you and his patient. “It’s good to see you up and looking a bit better."

Dr. Min approaches Taehyung's side, opposite to you. “How are you feeling?” he asks.

Taehyung's demeanor shifts instantly, his playful expression fading as he turns to answer. “Pretty sore, honestly,” he replies.

Dr. Min nods. “Let’s run a few checks to see how you’re doing.”

Sensing this is your cue to leave, you rise from your chair and reach out to touch Taehyung's hand. But you stop yourself short. Something about performing the physical action while he’s fully conscious instills a flutter of nerves within you. Instead, you gently tap his shoulder, causing him to meet your eyes. “I think I'll be going now, but it was nice talking to you,” you say softly. "Was there something you wanted to say earlier, though?"

He pauses for a moment before replying, his expression reminiscent of the time a few weeks ago when you declined his dinner invitation. You still don’t understand why he seemed somewhat disappointed; it's not like it was a date. He had made it clear he wanted to go out as colleagues. The only reason you declined was because you didn’t want him feeling pity for you, or the struggles that came with the divorce.

"It's okay, we'll have to save that conversation for another time," Taehyung's voice brings you back to the present. "Enjoy the rest of your day, __. Thanks again for staying with me."

"Of course," you reply, then turn to Dr. Min. "If you wouldn't mind letting me know when and if he can be discharged, I'd appreciate it. And Kim Namjoon too, since we're both nearby." Dr. Min nods in agreement. With that, you sling your bag over your shoulder and exit the room.

“He said what?!” Your best friend Jimin almost shouts through the video call, eyes wide with disbelief. You’ve just finished recounting your ex-husband's unexpected, drunken confession from the previous night. Jimin, who already holds a deep-seated grudge against Jungkook, looks livid.

“He had the nerve to say that to you? While he was drunk?” Jimin continues, his hands clenching into fists.

You nod, feeling a mixture of frustration and exhaustion. “Yeah, I told him not to call my number again and he hasn't contacted me since.” As expected, he likely forgot all about it.

“Good,” Jimin declares with a fierce protectiveness, his tone leaving no room for doubt. “You don’t need that kind of drama in your life, especially not from him. And if he even thinks about calling you again, just say the word, and I'll come down there and handle it personally.” He emphasizes 'personally' with such intensity that it makes you giggle for the first time tonight.

“Thanks, Jimin,” you say, a warm feeling spreading through you at his unwavering support. “I’m just trying to move on, focus on work, and other things.”

Jimin’s expression softens, and he nods firmly. “You're incredibly strong, __. Are you really okay though? It was a huge blow for him to make a confession like that and even though I dislike him, I know you still have some lingering feelings for him. I'm not a fool to believe you're unaffected.”

You take a deep breath, appreciating your best friend's perceptiveness. “It’s complicated. I’m trying so hard to move past everything, especially with Melody's help, and then he just…throws that at me. It’s like he’s trying to pull me back into his mess.”

Jimin’s eyes are filled with concern. “You don’t owe him anything. Remember that. He made his choices, and you have every right to move on without his baggage.”

“I know,” you sigh, rubbing your temples. “It’s just…easier said than done. But I’m working on it.”

“You’re doing great,” Jimin reassures, his voice gentle. “And you have every right to focus on yourself now. Don’t let him mess with your head.”

You nod, feeling a bit lighter with the support. “Thanks, I needed to hear that.”

“I'm always here for you love,” he says, his protective demeanor softening into a warm smile. “Now, enough about that idiot. How’s everything else? Work? Taehyung? Everyone at the office is talking about his unfortunate accident, poor sucker.”

At the mention of your colleague, you feel a sudden heat rise to your cheeks. Did the heaters in your apartment just turn up or something?

“He’s slowly recovering," you answer. "I saw him this morning and we talked for a bit. He’s... he’s been through a lot.”

Jimin raises an eyebrow, “You saw him yesterday too, right? And if my memory serves, you were at the hospital with him until the afternoon. I remember I texted you to see if you were free to call earlier than planned. Something you'd like to tell me?” A teasing grin suddenly spreads across his face, and you shake your head, knowing exactly what he's insinuating. It's like talking to Dr. Min all over again.

“Seriously, Chim, no, it's not like that," you deny instantly, heart racing a little. "He's been my company endorser for a little over six months now, and he’s been nothing but kind to me. With everything he’s been through, I just want to make sure he'll be okay. I feel somewhat responsible for him. Maybe I'm crazy.”

“Responsibility, huh?” Jimin smirks, unconvinced of your denial. “Sure. Because ‘responsibility’ usually makes people blush.”

You wave off his suspicions, a nervous chuckle escaping you. “I’m not, so if you wouldn't mind ceasing your teasing, that'd be great."

“Okay, okay,” Jimin chuckles, raising his hands in mock surrender. “But if you ask me, it sounds like more than just responsibility. Taehyung seems like a sweet guy, and you care about him. And I sense he feels the same way about you. Don't think I forgot about his little dinner request weeks back.”

You chuckle, brushing off his suspicions. “Oh, come on, enough. Believing that Kim Taehyung has any kind of interest in me is like believing that Jungkook loves me. It’s unfathomable. Taehyung's a colleague, that’s all.”

“Okay, excuse me? Unfathomable?” he scoffs, shaking his head. “Someone help! My best friend is selling themselves short, again. __, you’re amazing, and anyone, including Taehyung, would be lucky to have you. That ex-husband of yours was an idiot, but just because he couldn't see what he had doesn’t mean others can’t.”

You roll your eyes playfully, but Jimin’s words hit a soft spot. “Chim, you're sweet, but I'm just saying that Taehyung is on a completely different level. I’m just me... a 30-year-old divorcee with a half-decent startup.” Those alone are enough to have any man steer clear of you.

“Stop this, __. You're much more than that, and it's pretty damn incredible,” Jimin insists, his voice firm. “You’ve been through so much, and you’re still standing. That’s not something to brush off. Taehyung sees that. Anyone with half a brain can see that.”

You sigh, feeling a mixture of gratitude and skepticism. “I appreciate it, Chim. But let’s just drop it, please?”

“Alright, I won't push it," he concedes gently, "just know I’m here whenever you need.”

“Thanks, Jimin,” you reply, feeling a warmth in your heart. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Probably explode from all that bottled-up stress,” he jokes, making you laugh again. “But seriously, you’re doing great. Just keep taking it one step at a time, and call me if you need anything!”

As the call ends, you’re left with a lot to think about. Jimin’s words echo in your mind, and for a brief second, you find yourself wondering if maybe your best friend is right—that perhaps you do care about your colleague more than you’re willing to admit.

Well, either way, it doesn't matter; you've got enough on your plate as it is.

Starting with the stack of papers laid out on the coffee table, work you brought home that's awaiting your attention. It's a critical deal for your startup, one that could secure much-needed funding and propel your business to the next level.

Sighing softly, you reach for your laptop and open the latest project proposal.

You start your Sunday as you always do, with a book in hand, heading to your favorite café. It’s a ritual that’s been with you since your teenage years, and today, you feel a desperate need for its familiar comfort. After wrapping up the project proposal late into the night, your brain craved a break.

Entering the quaint café, you’re greeted by the comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the soft murmur of conversation. Finding a cozy spot by the large window, you settle in for a day of reading, occasionally looking up to observe people passing by outside.

Hours slip away unnoticed in the serene atmosphere, lost in the pages of your book. Somewhere along the way, mid-sentence, your thoughts subconsciously drift to a conversation with Taehyung weeks before his accident—the day of your six-month anniversary.

You remember how he mentioned his interest in books that day, leaving you curious about what he enjoys reading. You imagine he might be into classic authors like Charles Dickens or Oscar Wilde. Then again, you might be mistaken.

Refocusing on your book, you manage to read another paragraph before thoughts of Taehyung intrude again. Did he have any company today? You quietly hope Namjoon paid him a visit. "Okay, __, calm down," you tell yourself, "Taehyung will be fine, and Namjoon definitely would have visited him now that he's awake." With a determined effort, you return to your book.

It isn't until the sun begins its descent that you decide it's time to pack up your things and head home. Passing by the hospital on your way, a sense of restlessness tugs at you once more. Should you stop and see Taehyung, even if only for a few minutes? The thought lingers, but then you recall Dr. Min's pending update on his discharge status. Maybe it's best to wait for his confirmation.

You continue driving, but the concern refuses to leave your mind. Eventually, you make a decisive turn, heading back towards the hospital. It wouldn't be as lengthy as last time—just a quick visit to check on how he's doing.

When you arrive at the hospital, you hesitate for a moment outside the entrance. It's Sunday evening, and visiting hours are likely limited. You check your phone quickly to see if Dr. Min has sent any updates, but there's nothing new.

Taking a deep breath, you decide to go in anyway.

Taehyung is awake when the nurse leads you to his room, casually flipping through a magazine. He looks up, his expression softening into a smile upon seeing you.

"Hey," you say softly, stepping inside. "I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd stop by. I hope it's okay."

"It's more than okay," he replies warmly, setting the magazine aside. "I'm happy to see you."

You nod, feeling relieved that he isn't disturbed by your presence.

"Though, in all honesty," he continues, "I didn't expect you back today."

"I just wanted to check on you and make sure you're okay," you admit quietly, taking a seat nearby. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm better, just a bit sore still," he says sincerely, his gaze meeting yours. "What about you? How's your Sunday been?"

"Quiet," you respond with a small smile. "Spent most of it reading at a café, and then decided to stop by here."

"Really?" His interest piqued, he asks, "Which one? Sometimes I do the same thing when I have some free time. Or, I'll read at the beach too. It's relaxing."

"Well, have you tried the one on Willow Street? I've been a regular there since I was 16."

"No... I'm not familiar with that one," he admits, "I usually go to the one on 5th."

"5th? You know, I don't recall a café on 5th, unless..." you pause, realization dawning, "oh no," you blurt out unintentionally.

"What?" Taehyung's eyes twinkle with amusement at your spontaneous reaction. "Have you been?"

You hesitate to answer, not wanting to risk offending him.

"Yes..."

"And?" Crap, you were hoping he wouldn't ask for details.

"Um... it's okay," you reply simply.

"What? Just okay?" Taehyung exclaims, feigning offense. "Their coffee and tea are decent, and they have those comfy armchairs by the window."

"I know, but there's just something about it," you reply with a playful shrug. "Maybe it's the lighting, or maybe I'm just picky."

"Fair enough," he chuckles. "Maybe I'll check out this Willow Street café sometime. You've been going there for years, so it must be good."

"Well, I highly recommend it." You can't help but feel a bit smug, though you try to keep a straight face. It's just nice to have someone take your suggestion seriously. "You'll have to tell me your review of the place if you go."

Taehyung nods thoughtfully in reply, his gaze lingering on you with a hint of admiration. You look away, pretending to straighten your jacket. Why is he staring like that? You're not used to being looked at without some sense of hostility.

Just as you begin to feel a bit awkward, the door swings open, and a nurse peeks inside.

"Sorry to interrupt," she says kindly, "but visiting hours are over for the evening."

You glance at your watch, surprised at how quickly time has flown. "Oh, okay," you reply, a touch disappointed. "I'll be heading out then, thank you."

Once the nurse leaves, you direct your focus back to Taehyung. He smiles understandingly, sitting up a bit straighter. "Thanks for stopping by," he says warmly.

"Yeah, of course," you reply, gathering your things. "Did Dr. Min mention having you discharged any time soon?"

He shakes his head. "Nothing yet. Might be here for a couple more days."

You nod, feeling sympathy for his extended stay. "Well, take care of yourself, okay? Let me know if you need anything."

"I will," Taehyung assures you with a grateful smile. He watches as you make your way to the door, but just before you can twist the metal knob, he speaks up agian. "Uhm...if you have time tomorrow, I wouldn't mind if you came in again. It was nice to...chat."

For the first time, Taehyung seems to stumble over his words. As someone who's naturally charismatic, not to mention a skilled actor, there's a hint of nervousness in his voice.

When you turn your head to glance back at him, his smile has faded, replaced by a hopeful look, hands gently clutching the blankets.

"Sure," you agree to his innocent request, somehow unable to resist. "I'll try to stop in tomorrow if I can."

His boxy smile returns instantly as he bids you one final goodnight.

As you walk out of the room, that same smile lingers in your mind—you're glad you decided to come by.

In the days that follow, you find yourself at Taehyung's hospital bed every evening after work. Initially fulfilling his wishes, you gradually realize you've grown fond of his company. Taehyung turns out to be easy to talk to, a good listener who encourages questions you wouldn't normally ask within office walls. Here you are again, immersed in yet another spontaneous conversation that neither of you minds.

"So, what's it really like?" you inquire, curiosity lacing your voice. "Being an actor? And what about kissing strangers? I've heard some co-stars end up together after playing an onscreen couple for so long."

Taehyung chuckles softly, his eyes crinkling with amusement. "Being an actor is both exhilarating and challenging," he begins, reflecting on his experiences. "Kissing scenes... well, they're not as glamorous as they seem on screen. There are a lot of technical aspects to consider, like camera angles and timing. As for getting involved with co-stars outside of filming, I wouldn't be familiar with that. I prefer to keep those lines pretty separate."

You listen intently, fascinated by his insights into a world so different from your own. But one thing sticks out to you—how does he handle kissing scenes if he were to be in a relationship? Wouldn't that get complicated?

"I often wonder what I'd do if I had a partner," Taehyung muses suddenly, his voice thoughtful, as if sensing your unspoken question. "About the kiss scenes, I mean. I haven't actually dated for a while." Really? You think, he cant be serious...

"I'd imagine they'd be understanding since it's part of the job," you offer, trying to match his contemplative tone.

"Is that how you'd respond?" Taehyung's question catches you off guard.

"Me?" you ask, feeling slightly dumbfounded.

"Yeah, I'm just curious. Would you be okay with that?"

"Uhm... well, honestly, probably not," you admit, feeling a bit awkward. "I think I'd have a hard time wrapping my mind around it. I'd kind of feel like I was sharing my partner. I don't want to share like that."

Shut up, shut up, shut up, you mentally chastise yourself. You definitely said too much.

To your surprise, Taehyung merely gives a small smile in response. "I think I'd feel the same," he says softly.

The subject ends there, as the conversation soon shifts to his latest project instead—a romantic comedy series titled with a playful nod to a four-leaf clover.

"You know, I've never seen a four-leaf clover in my life," you admit with a slight chuckle.

Taehyung laughs softly, his eyes brightening. "Really? They're supposed to bring good luck, you know."

"Good luck, huh? I guess I've never had the pleasure," you replied with a grin.

"Well, then it's settled," he declared with a playful glint in his eyes. "I'll find one for you once I'm out of here," he promises warmly.

You smile, exchanging a silent moment before hitting him with your next question. "Do you watch your own shows or movies?" you ask, genuinely curious.

Taehyung's expression shifts subtly, his gaze momentarily distant. "Honestly, I don't," he admits, his tone tinged with a hint of embarrassment. "I guess I've always felt a bit awkward seeing myself on screen. It's strange, right?"

You reassure him with a smile. "It's not so far-fetched, but I don't think there's anything to be embarrassed about. You're talented, Taehyung. I'm sure your performances are amazing."

Taehyung nods thoughtfully but then quirks an eyebrow at you. "But have you actually seen any of my work? It's a little cheesy."

You hesitate, feeling a touch sheepish. "Honestly, no," you confess. "I've never watched any of your shows or movies. But I will!"

A flicker of déjà vu crosses Taehyung's face, his expression turning thoughtful. "That's funny," he murmurs. "I feel like I've heard those exact words before, recently."

You chuckle nervously, trying to lighten the mood. He can't be referring to that night you spoke to him while he was asleep, right? "Maybe it's just a sign that I need to catch up on all the great acting I've been missing out on," you quip, hoping to diffuse any awkwardness.

Taehyung grins, his playful demeanor returning. "Well, I'll hold you to that. You'll have to give me your honest review."

"Deal," you agree with a nod. "So, as much as I hate to cut this short, I think I'm going to have to get going now."

"I understand, it's past 6:30 pm. See you tomorrow?"

"Sure thing," you reply warmly. "Get some rest."

By Thursday afternoon, you finally receive the long-awaited call from Dr. Min, informing you that Taehyung will be discharged the next morning. You're relieved that Taehyung is healthy enough to continue his recovery at home. Seeing him yesterday, he looked the best he's been since his accident. However, a small part of you feels annoyed that Dr. Min didn't call you—he called Namjoon instead.

It was an ordinary afternoon when your secretary's phone rang. Namjoon was crouched over at his desk, concentrating on a number of spreadsheets just moments before. You remember leaping over to him as soon as you heard the words, "he's ready for discharge tomorrow," leave his lips.

It's now Friday morning, and you're standing in front of your secretary's desk.

"So, you're off to pick up Taehyung now?" you ask, as casually as you can. You do your best to ignore the lingering irritation growing inside you.

"Yeah," your secretary finally replies, glancing up from his screen. "I'll drive over to the hospital in about half an hour."

"Okay." You nod, biting your tongue. So what if Namjoon gets to pick him up instead of you? It's fine, you should get over it.

It's just a little odd that Dr. Min chose to call Namjoon instead of you though. You know for a fact you've been much more involved with Taehyung's well-being than he has.

Of course, Taehyung and Namjoon are good friends, but your secretary has only gone to see him twice over the past week his buddy's been in the hospital. You've been there every day, so wouldn't it make sense that you be called first?

Evidently not.

Namjoon will be taking Taehyung home, and you likely won't be seeing him at all today. In fact, you're not even sure when you'll see him next. Technically, you have his address stored away in an HR file, but you're no creep. And you most certainly are not about to show up at his place unannounced.

It's not like Taehyung has texted you today either. Not even a quick update on his condition.

"Um..." Namjoon starts, shifting awkwardly in his chair. "Is there something else you wanted to say? I feel like you're kinda hovering over me now, to be quite honest."

"Oh, sorry," you respond, stepping back a bit. You didn't realize you were staring at him, wordless, for longer than normal. "Nothing else. Drive safe."

As if seeing right through you, Namjoon's expression softens. "If you want to see how Taehyung is, you can just text him. I'm sure he'll respond to you."

"No, it's okay," you quickly dismiss the suggestion. You don't want to bombard a man who's just getting out of the hospital with your texts. You'll leave him alone to rest.

Namjoon gives you a knowing look, eyeing your slightly hesitant state. "I'm serious, boss. Text him. You've been at his side this entire week, so if there's anyone who'd be more deserving of knowing what's up, it’d be you."

Deserving? That's a bit far, is it not? Yes, you've been visiting him, but it's not like you saved his life or anything. It's not that big of a deal. You just wanted to...make sure he was okay.

"I—When did you decide to call me boss again?" you switch subjects, but Namjoon remains unaffected.

"Text him," Namjoon says for the final time before reaching for his keys in his desk drawer. "I gotta get going, but I'll be back after I drop Tae off."

"Tae?" You haven't heard him called that before.

"Yeah, it's kinda a pet name. Sorry, I started calling him that once we became friends, so it slips out here and there. It's like second nature now."

"Got it," you nod, a bit disappointed. Maybe you weren't as close to Taehyung as you thought. "Make sure he gets home okay," you finish.

"I will." Namjoon gets up from his desk and heads out of the office. You turn around and return to your own office once he's out of sight.

While Namjoon is out, his phone rings incessantly. You find yourself getting up from your desk multiple times to take calls. By the afternoon, you're exhausted from the constant interruptions.

Maybe you should consider giving the poor man a raise.

Before the thought fully develops, his phone rings again. You don't even bother checking the caller ID anymore; you simply pick up the phone and answer in your sweetest voice.

"__? I thought I’d be hearing Namjoon first... hey," his voice is hesitant. "I hope I’m not interrupting anything."

"Jungkook," you reply cautiously, instantly recognizing his voice. "Why are you calling my work phone?"

"I... I didn't know how else to reach you. Can I come in or can you come into the parking lot? I have something to give you."

You pause, feeling a rush of unease. You haven’t spoken to Jungkook since last Friday when he called you out of the blue. Honestly, you hoped you wouldn’t hear from him, especially after telling him not to call again. It's strange that he keeps finding ways to show up unexpectedly.

"What is it you need to give me, Jungkook?" you ask bluntly, "I'm very busy."

There’s a brief silence on the other end before he answers, "It’s... It’s something personal. I’d rather not discuss it over the phone. Please, can you just come down for a moment?"

You weigh your options, torn between curiosity and apprehension. His unpredictability lately has left you unsure of what to expect. "Jungkook, I really don’t think—"

"Please," he interrupts, his voice sounding more urgent. "I promise it won’t take long."

Taking a deep breath, you decide to handle this with as much grace as you can muster. "Fine. I’ll be down in a minute."

You end the call and sit back, trying to steady your thoughts. His sudden request feels odd, and part of you worries about what he might say or do next. As you make your way to the parking lot, you mentally prepare yourself for another potentially difficult encounter.

When you arrive, Jungkook stands near his car, nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other. His usual confident demeanor seems replaced by a sense of unease.

"Hey," he starts, his voice tentative, "thanks for agreeing to meet."

You give a brief nod, keeping your tone neutral. "Yeah, sure. What's up?"

Jungkook shifts awkwardly, his gaze dropping momentarily before meeting yours. "I wanted to apologize," he continues, his voice tinged with regret. "I'm sorry for calling you up drunk."

You feel a flicker of irritation. This is what he wanted to give you? An apology that's seven days late? You figured he would have just forgone the apology by now.

"Why now?" you ask, crossing your arms over your chest, a defense mechanism you've developed. "It's been a week. I’m not sure if you realize that or not though."

"I know," he says quickly, his eyes earnest. "I wanted to come sooner, but I wasn't sure if you'd want to see me or just never hear from me again."

You scoff slightly, "Well, for the first time, you are completely right. I don't want to see you, Jungkook." You try to keep your voice steady, but the raw edges of your emotions bleed through. There’s no point sugarcoating it at this stage; he’ll just keep pushing your boundaries if you don’t become firm with him.

He winces at your words, nodding slowly. "You have every right to feel that way. I messed up, big time. I just wanted you to know that I'm truly sorry. You deserve someone who isn't as screwed up as I am. But I still mean everything I said that night. I do love you. It took me until now to realize that, apparently."

You sigh, the weight of his words pressing down on you. Love? Now? After everything? Somehow, it feels more like a burden than anything.

"Jungkook, love isn't a get-out-of-jail-free card," you say slowly, your voice somewhat shaky. "It's not something you can just throw out there to fix things. Not only did you divorce me, but you also led me to believe we could actually be something. All those weeks of you being attentive and showing up for me after I shared my feelings made me believe that you were honestly trying to make our marriage work, that you were committed. You lied to me, discarded me, and now that I'm not around, you suddenly miss me? No, I'm sorry. You broke my trust, and that's not something you can just apologize away."

You pause, feeling the weight of your words settle in the tense air between you and Jungkook.

He looks down, nodding again. "I get it. I really do. And I don't expect you to forgive me or anything. I just wanted you to know that I understand how much I hurt you, and I'm sorry. I understand if you hate me."

You take a moment to collect your thoughts, trying to keep your voice steady despite the emotions threatening to stir inside. "Jungkook," you begin carefully, meeting his eyes. "What happened between us was painful. You calling me drunk last week was also painful. I'm sorry about the challenges you had with your parents, but it's no excuse to put that on others. If you need someone to discuss personal matters with, I suggest you see a professional."

You pause, taking a deep breath before continuing.

"I don't hate you, okay? I'm not that cold-hearted. There's still part of me that I think might always hold space for you, but I can't just forget everything. I need to move on, and that means you can't keep calling me at random times. It’s not fair to either of us. I appreciate the apology, but I don't think we can go much further."

He nods solemnly, understanding your stance. "Okay," Jungkook replies softly, his voice filled with a sadness you hadn’t expected. "I understand. I'll respect your wishes and leave you alone. Take care of yourself, okay? I...I want you to be happy, even if it’s not with me," he says, his eyes earnest. "And... I'm really sorry for everything."

He begins to back away toward his car, and as he does, it hits you—it’s over.

"Take care, Jungkook," you say gently. "Don't overwork yourself, alright? Stay healthy."

He looks at you, forcing a smile. "You know I can't do that. It isn't in my blood." He sings the last part, referencing a song you both used to joke about, and you let out a small chuckle despite yourself.

"God, Jeon, I thought you'd stop with that song by now." you say, shaking your head.

"Nah," he replies, shaking his head with a faint grin as he opens his car door. "I'm taking it to my grave. I'll see you later, __."

You know the last part is a lie, an empty promise to soften the blow. Still, you respond, "Yeah, see you."

With that, you part ways in the parking lot, each going your separate ways. As you walk back to your office, the weight of the finality settles in. It's all over, you think, feeling the sting of a single tear trailing down your cheek. Unbeknownst to you, a similar tear streams down Jungkook's face as he drives away, each tear falling for completely different reasons.

Two weeks pass, and Jungkook keeps his word. He hasn’t called, texted, or shown up at your work. It’s as if he’s become a stranger, someone you once knew but is now part of a distant past.

Your days begin to regain a sense of normalcy. The emotional weight of the past few months slowly starts to lift, allowing you to refocus on your work and personal well-being. The company demands your attention, and you dive into projects, meetings, and strategies with a renewed energy.

Yet, despite the return to routine, there's a persistent sense of something missing. You haven’t talked to Taehyung at all since he got discharged from the hospital. You haven’t seen him either, and the silence pulls at you more each day.

Every time you try to get information about him from Namjoon, he gives you the same response: "Just text him. Don’t overthink it; he’ll be glad to hear from you." Once, you sensed that Namjoon wanted to say more but stopped himself short, making the excuse that it wasn’t for him to say. Whatever that meant.

You’re on your way home from running errands when the thought enters your mind for the umpteenth time: should you text Taehyung?

You’re torn between respecting his privacy and wanting to check in on him. He hasn’t reached out, so maybe he’s trying to distance himself or just needs time to recover alone, now that he’s in the comfort of his own home. On the other hand, you can’t shake the feeling that checking in would be the right thing to do.

As you approach your apartment building, you pull over into a quiet parking spot, letting your car idle. Gripping your phone, you take a deep breath and finally decide to text him.

You: Hey, Taehyung. I hope you’re doing well. Just wanted to check in and see how you’re feeling. Let me know if you need anything. We still miss you at the office!

You stare at the message for a moment before hitting send. The butterflies in your stomach flutter as you wait. What if he doesn’t respond? What if he doesn't want to hear from you?

You end up deleting the message entirely.

Forget it, you think, if he wanted to hear from you he would have texted by now, right? Just leave it alone. You said you'd support him while he was in the hospital and you did. Now he needs his space to finish healing. He'll reach out when he's ready.

Your phone buzzes the next minute, snapping you out of your thoughts. You glance at it, half hoping that Taehyung was secretly telepathic. But it isn’t from him. Instead, it’s a notification from a friend inviting you to a small get-together this coming weekend.

Smiling, you accept the invitation.

Turns out your friend's get-together was a singles mixer. Unsurprisingly, you weren't approached much, if at all. It seemed the men were either too nervous, still associating you with your ex-husband, or not quite into accomplished women. That didn't stop them from ogling you, though, as your friend insisted that you dress for the affair. You didn't choose anything flashy, but it was certainly flattering.

Leaving without a phone number didn't bother you, though. At thirty years old, most of the people were younger than you, including your friend who was a couple of years younger. Plus, you found your mind often wandering to the one man you hadn't heard from in nearly three weeks—Kim Taehyung. Should you stop overthinking and finally listen to Namjoon's suggestion? Maybe it's time to contact him.

Lost in thought on your drive home, you snap back to reality when you slam on the brakes at a sudden red light. Damn, you hadn't noticed it change so quickly. Shaking off any lingering daze, you refocus and spot a man crossing the street ahead, a little dog trotting beside him on a leash.

"Taehyung," you whisper to yourself. "What is he doing out here, especially on this slipper—shit!"

Your heart skips a beat as Taehyung stumbles on the ice, struggling to keep his balance. Concerned, you pull up to the side of the road as soon as the light turns green, parking quickly and jumping out of your car to rush over to him. He leans against a brick building, his dog, Tan, yelping at your approach. Cute little guy, but you're focus is on Taehyung.

"Damn," he mutters, trying to steady himself. His eyes widen when he catches sight of you. "__, I—" he begins.

"What are you doing, Kim Taehyung?" you scold gently. "Are you trying to hurt yourself again?"

Taehyung meets your gaze, his Gucci scarf wrapped snugly around his neck. "No," he replies earnestly. "I just needed some fresh air. It's been nearly three weeks since I was discharged, and Dr. Min said short walks with Tan are okay now. My parents were here for a while, but they left this weekend."

His explanation sinks in as you take in his appearance. Despite the chill in the air, he looks better than the last time you saw him. His cheeks are slightly flushed from the cold, and there's a determination in his eyes that wasn't there before.

"You should be more careful," you reply softly, stepping closer to him. Tan, sensing the shift in attention, continues to bark happily, tail wagging. "Are you okay? My car is right here, if you need me to take you home or anything."

Taehyung nods, a small smile playing on his lips. "I know, I know. Sorry for worrying you." He gestures to Tan, who is now circling around your legs in excitement. "Tan here doesn't seem to mind the ice at all, and surprisingly, he doesn't mind you either."

You chuckle softly, crouching down to pet the little dog. "Is he usually this friendly?"

"Not at first, no," Taehyung replies, his tone lighter now. He glances down at you, his eyes softening. "I'm glad I ran into you, though. It's been...a while."

You nod, standing to your feet. "It has. I'm glad to see you're doing better."

"I am," he affirms, his gaze steady on yours. "Thanks to you, mostly. You were there for me when I needed it the most."

"Oh, come on," you say, waving off the comment. "I didn't do that much."

Taehyung's smile widens, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "You did more than you realize."

You feel a slight blush creeping up your cheeks at his words, but you maintain eye contact, appreciating the warmth in his gaze. The longer you stand there, staring at each other, the uneasier you feel. Perhaps you shouldn't ask the question that's been on your mind, but it slips out before you can stop it.

"Why didn't you call?" you ask, surprising both yourself and Taehyung as he simultaneously voices the exact same question.

Taken aback by the simultaneous question, you both chuckle nervously, breaking the tension. Taehyung scratches the back of his neck, sheepish.

"I thought about it every day," he admits, his voice quiet but sincere. "But I wasn't sure if you wanted to hear from me. I already took so much of your time, and I didn't want to ask more from you. So, I asked Namjoon to pick me up from the hospital. I thought maybe it would be better for me to wait for you to reach out and focus on recovering."

You nod, understanding flooding your expression. "I felt quite similar. I thought maybe you asked Namjoon because he's your friend. I didn't want to hound you when you just got released from the hospital, so I decided to let you recover in peace. I guess in the end, I was also waiting for you to reach out with an update of some kind."

Taehyung takes a few seconds to fully absorb your words before replying. "I'm sorry," he says softly, his eyes reflecting genuine remorse. "I didn't mean to make you feel like I was avoiding you. I would have been more than happy with you picking me up instead of Namjoon. I realize that I should have at least reached out to update you instead of going silent. I'd like to think of you as my friend too. But I wasn’t sure if you felt the same, and I just didn't want to burden you." His gaze becomes downcast as he stares at the ground beneath him.

You're unsure where you find the courage, but you bring your hands up to cup his cheeks, gently lifting his face so he meets your eyes. You have to stand on your tiptoes a bit, which he finds endearing.

"I’d like to consider you my friend too, and that means you shouldn't worry about burdening me anymore, Tae," you say softly, your touch lingering momentarily on his face, caught up in the moment. When you realize what you've done, you pull back slightly, flustered. "Um… sorry, I didn't mean to call you that."

"It's okay," he responds, his voice gentle. "I don't mind. You can call me Tae from now on if you'd like. Also, you're not a burden either, you never were to me."

You're speechless for a second before replying. "So, friends then?" you ask. "No more mixed signals and reaching out when we want?"

"I mean, I’d like that as long as you do too," he confirms with a warm smile, though his eyes say there's more that he's left unsaid. You don't notice, however.

"Text me whenever you have something on your mind," he continues.

"I will," you promise. “You too.”

"Definitely.” Taehyung pauses, glancing down at Tan who's decided to lay down by his feet. "So, I was going to take a walk with Tan at the park nearby. Any chance you'd like to join me?" His gaze shifts back to you, hopeful yet uncertain.

"I'd like that," you reply genuinely. "But we're taking my car over, so you don't break a hip on this ice, old man."

Taehyung's mouth gapes open as he shakes his head. "How many times do I need to tell you? I'm only two years older than you. Two!"

It's surreal.

How much you and Taehyung have started becoming friends, that is.

Almost two months have already passed, and it feels like just yesterday you were merely colleagues, you his boss.

Saturdays have become your day with Taehyung now. While part of you insists it's to prevent him from slipping on the ice again, deep down, you both know there's more to it now that he's almost fully recovered from his injuries.

Each weekend, you find yourselves exploring different parks and streets, swapping childhood stories, and sharing laughter over the dumbest things. Today, however, would be different. With rain threatening to drench the city, Taehyung suggested a change of plans—a cozy movie day indoors. Little did he know, you had a surprise in store for him.

You dash up to the front door, a bag of homemade food in one hand and an umbrella in the other.

Taehyung opens the door with a grin, holding his own umbrella. "Hey! Perfect timing," he chuckles, taking the umbrella from you and gesturing inside. "Come in. It's freezing out there today."

You step inside, shaking off the raindrops and removing your shoes. The warmth of his home envelopes you, a comforting contrast to the chilly rain outside.

"I brought something," you announce, holding up the bag. "Guess what it is?"

Taehyung looks at you curiously, his eyebrows raised in anticipation. "Hmm," he muses, pretending to ponder. "Knowing you, it's probably my favorite spicy chicken wings from that place near your office."

"Very close, Tae. Except these chicken wings were made by your favorite person in the whole world," you tease, handing him the bag with a grin.

Taehyung's eyes lit up as he takes the bag from you. "No way," he says, a mix of disbelief and excitement in his voice. "You made them yourself? You're the best, __. Seriously."

"It's the least I could do," you reply with a smile, following him into the living room where the TV flickers. "Besides, it's pouring out there. Movie day with good food seems like the perfect plan."

"Absolutely," he agrees, setting the food down on the coffee table. "I was thinking we could start with that new action flick I heard about."

"Aww, but I thought you said we could watch one of your movies instead?" you argue playfully, sinking into the couch. Tan bounds over, wagging his tail in excitement at the prospect of company. You scratch behind his ears while Taehyung sets up the movie.

"What? I don't remember saying that. Was I drunk that day?" he jokes.

"Well... maybe?" you tease back.

"I told you, __, I don't like watching my own films. It's weird, and half the time it's me kissing the female lead. You're going to need to watch those on your own time," he quips, his tone more serious than intended. The truth is, he really would rather not be there when you watch him kiss his co-stars.

"Alright, alright, getting aggressive over there," you chuckle, not seeing the faint rosy tint that's crept up on his cheeks. "We'll watch the action movie."

As the opening scenes roll, you can't help but steal glances at Taehyung. Despite the seriousness of his recent health issues, he seems more at ease today, a genuine smile gracing his face as he takes a seat beside you. It feels good to see him like this, relaxed and feeling more like himself.

Halfway through the movie, he nudges you gently. "Thanks for coming over today," he says softly, his gaze warm as it meets yours. "And for the food, of course."

"You don't have to thank me," you reply sincerely, nudging him back with a smile. "I'm happy to do it."

Unexpectedly, Taehyung reaches for the TV remote, pausing the scene playing in front of you. "Hey, __," he says, turning to face you, a hint of nervousness in his eyes as they shift from side to side.

"What is it, Tae?" You feel a slight unease, sensing tension. He's once again just staring into your eyes, wordless.

"Do you..." he starts but stops short, his voice trailing off.

"Yes?" You search his face for clues as to what he's trying to say.

"Would you want to go to a party with my family?" he finally asks, his words coming out in a rush. "My parents are hosting to celebrate my recovery, but really it's just an excuse to get the family together."

"So, a family reunion?" Your voice drops slightly, a mix of surprise and...disappointment? Why had you been expecting something different?

"I mean, yes, sort of. You don't have to if you don't want to," he adds quickly, almost anxiously. "I know it might be uncomfortable for you, but you've been here for me during so much of my recovery. It would mean a lot to have you there. My parents want to meet you too."

"Um... well, I've never been to a family function before," you admit hesitantly.

"You haven't?" Taehyung looks genuinely surprised.

You shake your head. "My family's never been one to do those types of things."

"Well, consider yourself part of my family then. Come with me, __. They'll love you."

"I-I don't know about that," you say softly, a flicker of uncertainty crossing your face. "How can you be so sure that they'll like me?"

"Because I do," he urges gently, "and if I like you, so will they."

You're taken aback by his words, unsure how to respond. Surely he means this in a platonic way. Despite growing closer, you and Taehyung are just friends, setting aside any previous suspicions of romantic interest. Maybe if circumstances were different—if you weren't divorced—then maybe you could entertain the idea.

For now, you'll leave that side of him alone and simply be his friend. You feel a bitter aftertaste in your mouth.

"Okay," you finally say, nodding your head. "I'll come. When is it?"

"They want to do it next weekend, weather permitting. We can carpool if you'd like, or you can take your own car," he offers.

"I'll think about it," you reply, trying to process the unexpected turn of events.

"Great." Taehyung flashes a boxy grin. "Thank you, I was so nervous to ask."

"Of course," you say, offering a tight-lipped smile. Taehyung unpauses the movie, and you return your attention to the TV screen. Minutes following your phone buzzes and a text message from Jimin appears on your screen.

Chim 🐥: __! Hate to be bringing this up, but have you seen the news about Jungkook? Looks like he's preparing to step down as CEO. Did you know about this?"

What? You had no clue.

a/n: If you are mad at me, well....I'm sorry but pls blame jk instead. But I am hoping you enjoyed! 🥰 vote jjk or kth

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side note: I tried tagging readers in comments but most of them didn't go through, so i'm sorry about the clutter here...😬

no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

[the-faceless-bride]

Some Of my current ideas and obsession Blurbs (if you find any of them interesting, I'm open to hearing ideas 👀👀)

Part 2 ->

Imagine being a demon...

Imagine Part of your power has to do with death, corruption, and seeing who someone was when they were alive... as a demon, the death of Rengoku Kyojuro broke you. He was such a beautiful, loving, caring man. Giving such an unfair and unfortunate death... you just couldn't accept this...

Imagine You bring him back as he springs up after your ritual. His hair was a mess, covered in dirt, his clothes ripped. He gasps for air as if it was the first he's had in centuries... "Poor unfortunate soul, so sad, in need... come allow me to give you a second chance."

Imagine His horror. Him. Now a Demon. Tethered to you. Unable to die again unless you give him permission to do so... he tired. Sat in the sun. But while he felt weak and itchy, he didn't die. He hated it. Hated himself. He hated you. You who, while yes, didn't have malicious intent. Who gave him a second chance at 'life' as you called this... you who brought him back and unlike when he was alive in his final moments felt no pain, no hunger, he hated you.

Imagine slowly helping him come to terms with his eternal life. From Enemies (one sided) to Lovers letting him stay with you in your small hidden village of other demon families that have also been brought back and tethered to you. Still fulfilling his dreams, taking down the demons who "lost their humanity and deserved their eternity to end."

Imagine the conflict you face, when His once friends and found family find him... a demon... still classic Kyojuro but yet so different... what do you do? An angry group of Hashira Pillars cursing you for what you did to their friend. Kyojuro broken and ashamed of what he is once more at the heart break of his friends being scared of him, some of them hating him all together...

Imagine him calling out to you, help him. Make them listen. Please. His Angel... his little firefly... please make them understand. He can't bare the way they look at him... help him... he needs you.

Rengoku Kyojuro × demon Reader Trope: Enemies to lovers

Now also Imagine being a demon...

Imagine being a demon who was so desperately, hopelessly, in love with Gyomei Himejima. Hopelessly devoted to a man who didn't even know you existed. You watched him at night, singing your sweet song and lulling him to a deeper sleep each night. Wishing nothing more than to one day be able to caress and memorize every inch of his mind, body, and soul. Wishing to kiss his soft looking lips...

Imagine desperately trying to deny what you know is true... you've heard it from your fellow demon 'friend' over and over again. And tonight, you were desperately trying to hold on to your dreams... "[name] just face it... he's a Demon slayer. A hashira. And to him, you're a monster... that something no amount of love is going to change. You'd be better off not thinking about him anymore. If you really love him, you'd let him go... besides a pretty human girl will probably catch his attention sooner or later..." You hang your head as tears fill your eyes, it's not true... it's not. He could love you. He could...

Imagine one day, you run into him in the Forest. The Forrest trees are so thick that the completely block out the sun, it's only a small section of the Forest. You liked to come here to lay in the flowers, and apparently Gyomei had thought the same...

Imagine He needed a quiet place, today had been a very hectic day. No peace and quiet today at all. He'd simply sat under a particularly large tree, focusing on his breath. You'd sat so unbelievably still. Not wanting to move and risk ruining this perfect moment. You were so close. You'd never been this close to him before and it made every part of your cold body ache.

Imagine accidently rustling the flowers catching his attention instantly, and he jumps to stand in a defensive position. You quickly kneel head pressing to the ground as you apologize for disturbing him, and not wanting any trouble. But oddly he doesn't attack you and instead he apologizes for startling you. At first you were confused. But then it clicked, you Had not attacked him like a demon would. He's blind. He doesn't yet realize you're a demon... this was it. Your chance. To speak to him. To hear him address you... to hear him say your name...

Imagine Pretending to be human, making it seem like you were a measly human girl who came here to sit in the flowers to relax... and this was how it went for some time... days turn to weeks, and weeks turn into months. You'd been keeping this secret of yours for 3 months, your love for Gyomei stronger and flame of obsession brighter. And he'd become so open to you. Telling you almost eveeything... sure you'd felt guilty lying to him... but you just couldn't let him. Go...

Imagine one evening, the sun setting, the fireflies and the colorful flowers surrounding you... you gain the courage to confess... stilling your heart of how much you admire him, you know that he way not feel the same way... but even if he'll never belong to you... that's OK, you are happy to just dream and be his dear friend... but to your shock and joy he accepts your confession. He's gained feelings for you. You could almost cry... but then... in an instant the happiness... your happily ever after was ripped away from you in an unfortunate series of events "Dearest... your hands are so cold..." - "GYOMEI!" A his friend Mitsuri calls out her foot steps quickly approaching, more footsteps following behind. "AWAY DISGUSTING MONSTER!" she cries her sword just barley missing you as your arm is severed clean off. And instantly Gyomei's face goes through so many emotions... worry, Confusion, shock and finally realization... and he let's you go. You dash away vanishing... "Gyomei! Are you ok?! That awful creature tricked you! She must've planned to devower you then and there if I hadn't noticed your absence! Are you OK my friend!?" The sounds of other Confused voices all speaking over each other planning to find you... Gyomei thinks of her question... is he OK?... honestly... he doesn't know...

Gyomei Himejima × Demon Reader Trope: unrequited love/Forbidden love

[lady-raziel]

and alright, here's my last (let's hope) and boldest take yet. lots of people have been talking about the level of staff (around 25-ish people) at watcher, and whether downsizing that number could have been a potential avenue of reducing costs before just jumping to a subscription model. at first i was like yeah, i'm not sure that there needs to be 18 people involved in making a lets play. i was in the fucking trenches in the unus annus days and i'm still amazed how markiplier and ethan nestor managed to put out pretty well edited videos every day for a whole year with only a handful of editors and a couple people filming. what unus annus was trying to do and what watcher is trying to do are obviously pretty different, but the point is that you really don't need a whole crew of people to make lots of different types of content and do it well.

i still think there probably doesn't need to be a whole production crew involved with the creation of some of the simpler types of content watcher puts out. however, i don't think the size of the staff is the real problem. in fact, i think the staff of watcher probably should have been larger.

let me explain. if i begrudgingly go to one of my most detested websites (linkedin. *bleeegh*) and look up watcher, i can see that pretty much every person on staff is in a creative role of some sort by their own admission. at first glance, its like, oh, that makes sense. they're making creative products, it's natural that they should all be in creative roles. however, once you think about it for a little longer from a business perspective, that fact is really concerning.

after all, by watcher's own definition, this is a production studio. this is a company. So in this sea of creative roles, who's doing corporate planning? Who's managing finance? Who's doing payroll? Or brand outreach? Or human-freaking-resources??? you can hire outside groups for all this. i'm aware. but those services cost a lot of money to contract too. i'm just finding it concerning that there is pretty much no one on full time staff that is there to at least do some of this stuff. if watcher wants to be a big-boy company, that's fine, but that means you have to pay some people to be part of your company to do the not-fun business stuff like accounting. or resource management.

if they want to be a real company, they should actually have a lot more people on staff to deal with all the non-creative parts of running a company. even if they contract out most of it, you want at least a few people that are your people and don't actually work for someone else. that's how you don't get screwed over or end up in a contract you can't get out of.

which leads me to my last train of thought. like, as i go through the staff of watcher and look at what they do, it really seems like one of the ONLY people who's job it was to look at the business side of things WAS steven lim in his role as CEO. and thinking about that, i'm like god, can you imagine?? here's a guy who just wants to create cool stuff too but as one of the few people who has to think about the realities of Brand and the Business, HE has to be the one to burst the bubble. He as CEO has to say no to people and make decisions to make sure the company survives. In a group of creative people who just want to make things they're interested in, no expense spared, he was probably the guy who had to stay at least a little tethered to reality.

I'm not about to say that steven lim isn't to blame here. everyone involved in making the decisions that have led up to this point is part of this. but shit, it absolutely sucks to have to be the person at the end of the brainstorm session when everyone is coming up with their best ideas and to have to say "guys, i don't think any of these things are possible unless we make some big decisions."

is that what happened at watcher HQ? i don't know. at this point, with radio silence from everyone, speculation is all we've got. but if you follow the thread of a bunch of creatives striking out on their own to make their own business after being burned by their former employer, despite not knowing really how to run a business, and then only hiring fellow creative people and not other people who actually run business things... well, all of this starts to make slightly more sense in WHY none of watcher's actions make sense. everybody wants to stick it to the man and be their own boss with their own business, until it actually comes to the hard parts of doing that. at that point people start to realize, "oh, maybe some of the things that existed at my old job were there for a reason, actually."

all this is why lots of creatives striking out and starting their own businesses don't work in the end. they're thinking about in terms of creative products still, when they really need to be focusing more on the "business" part of the "creative business." it's sad. it sucks. it destroys a lot of good ideas and good people, because one person in every company like that has to be the one who thinks practically. could this have been avoided if watcher had been hiring people all along to manage this business and not just adding people to add to the creative output? maybe. even then it might not have been enough to curb other predictable impulses that led us down this path.

i feel bad for watcher, and i feel bad for the fandom. but i can't help but wonder if this was always the kind of situation we were going to end up in, and we just missed some of the warning signs because ALL of us were thinking, "well, that could never happen to us. we're different. not the Ghoul Boys."

[winterzsurprise]

Change My Mind [6]

Pairing: BTS x reader

SUMMARY: As a make-up artist, you were expected to glamorize your clients with brushes and products that cost a week-worth of food, not to befriend them outside of work, let alone have them save you from dates yet here you are five years later as one of their closest confidants.

Being a stylist of the world's biggest boyband is no easy feat, someone is doing flips, someone can't stay still and one's asleep but its fine, you can work around their chaos but then one day, you find out they're all your soulmates, a whole different can of chaos you don't think you can handle.

Tags: Soulmates AU, Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Not Beta Read, Slow Build, Polyamory, Attempts at Humor

Words: 6.9k

If you weren't able to catch the author's note, update will be very slow due to my campus enrolling us to a government extracurricular that spans for three months so updates with be VERY slow until then. Sorry this one took long, had to remove one chunk out of this chapter so I could have it posted as soon as I could. Also ik the last chapter's ending was so rushed, I'll try to fix it once I get the time so for now, ignore that mess ;-;

EDIT: plenty of details edited out but nothing too important, also fixed a few mistakes.

Please vote Jimin in Visa Choice in MAMA voting and push Namseok to the top 10 for Fan's Choice award! STREAM I'LL BE THERE

<<Prev || MASTERLIST || Next>>

________

“Noona, please… Just turn around…”

“I would if I could, but I'm at my limit here!”

“I will break your fingers if you don’t move.”

“Try it and I’ll tell Namjoon you were the one who spilled alcohol on the book he was reading the other day!”

“Just turn around damn it!”

“I already am! I'm not gonna take a fucking peak!”

You're living through a nightmare.

Never in your life did you think working as a make-up artist for an up-and-rising boy idol group would eventually lead you to where you are now; with half of your body out of the bathroom with an arm stretched inside to hold Jimin’s hand that's also reaching out for yours while he stands in front of the toilet.

What are you, Bangtan's—The current biggest boyband in the world—makeup artists doing, holding onto one of the member’s hands while he’s in the bathroom exactly?

Soulbond strain, that’s what the doctor had said. That's what caused the constant fatigue you and Jimin were feeling yesterday which eventually caused you both to pass out from exhaustion. Due to how ill-informed they are of both your marks, they weren't aware of how fragile your new bond was and how much touching should be involved for the first few days.

So now, you are sentenced—sentenced because having to hold your soulmate's hand while you piss, and eventually, shower and shit is the most embarrassing thing to ever happen to you—to nonstop skinship with Jimin for a week. Though after a few days, your body could withstand not holding his hand for almost a minute and you hoped it goes past an hour when the week finally ends.

Today marks the last day you both will be confined to the hospital as they've finally cleaned up one of the spare rooms in the dorm so you could move in.

You were so glad you could finally eat something more nutritious than bland soup. It should be a talent to be able to cook a soup so tasteless it would even make a white person frown despite the numerous vegetables and meat on them.

Since Jungkook's Birthday, you found yourself more often than not staring at the ceiling after eating, dreaming about eating other food so intensely it's like you could taste them in your buds.

A few days have passed since you found out you were soulmates with your best friends but you still couldn’t wrap your head around it.

The thought that these five—possibly seven depending on Seokjin and Hoseok’s test results later today—down to earth, aphrodite-blessed men with even more beautiful traits were tethered to you is bizarre. The idea never fails to short-circuit your brain every time you think about it. 

And it's hard not to, not when you wake up sleeping next to the peaceful face of South Korea’s IT boy—with his arms wrapped around you and his head nuzzled under your chin; Its something you’re still trying to get used to as you’ve never dared to sleep while cuddling with your friends, no matter how tired you might be. It was far too intimate of an act, reserved for those who are romantically involved and for someone with feelings as fickle as yours back then, it was inappropriate.

Not that it mattered much now but it's still difficult to be comfortable with the domesticity of it all.

Save for Taehyung and Seokjin, everyone else has continued working, although you had advised a weary looking Hoseok to take a break, he insisted that he's fine whilst practically dragging himself out of the room. Namjoon had assured you that he'll watch over his hyung but you had threatened Yoongi for extra measures. 

Speaking of work, your friends have been blowing up your phone since Jungkook's birthday, asking why they were required to sign a whole different NDA and you told them about your soulmates. 

All of them reacted positively, Minhyuk had even pleaded to hear about how you discovered and had asked to be informed of all the latest happenings, from the courting, dates, and even the bedroom—something you had promised to hit him for once you're back to work.

But for now, you were stuck with a foot out of the bathroom and body turned to the opposite with an arm stretched far out to hold Jimin's hand as he finished his business. 

So far, there's been no accidental flashing, to which you've been thankful for. The whole ordeal is already awkward as it is with only having to hear each other pee.

Jimin couldn’t even jokingly flirt with you the whole time, far too mortified with the idea of both parties being able to hear the stream of piss to even bother coming up with jokes to lighten up the situation, nor could you dare look into his eyes after the first few times you both had to go through this. You had refrained from eating too much in fear of having to shit during the week but you knew it would eventually happen.

Especially since you both have been greenlit to eat take outs and Seokjin had generously offered to buy you both food—bless that wonderful, handsome man—and dragged Taehyung out with him. 

You had been hesitant to make a few demands at first because do you even deserve the kindness Seokjin is showing you after hurting him for years? But the man proved himself devoted once more when he listed down the food you’ve been craving desperately for without hearing it from your lips.

(Tae had joked that maybe it's the soulmate mark manifesting a little late and Jimin elbowed him for that.)

You didn’t even get to tell him not to bother when he began to loudly chant gibberish as he pulled Taehyung out of the room with him.

After all the babying and princess treatment you've been receiving in the short time of knowing you were soulmates, it's hard not to feel frustrated having your best friends become your beck and call when they—save for Yoongi—hadn't been doing so for the past few years. It was somewhat pressuring that you could ask Jungkook to brush his teeth and immediately drink orange juice and he'd do it without question, if not gargling the juice for a little while longer just because you asked him to do it. 

From living alone and getting used to doing things by yourself, to suddenly having five people who'd follow your whims almost blindly, was overwhelming and slowly becoming more annoying than it is helpful.

If it wasn't for the guilt from getting irritated, you would've blown up on the first day when most of your soulmates had refused to let you stand up and walk around the room in fear of having you collapse.

Sure you had passed out from the soulbond strain but that same bond rendered you invulnerable to most things, you're not about to die walking around the room with Jimin, Yoongs.

You couldn't fault Jungkook and Tae for wanting to baby you. Jungkook never had someone to pamper and spoil, and Taehyung only had Jungkook; Even then, it wasn't in a romantic way and Jungkook was also being taken care of by the others so he didn't need to do much. His ex and him didn't last long enough for when BTS’ fame had skyrocketed and he had more money than he could ever spend in his life and is quickly running out of things to spend it on.

Still, it was hard to take all the coddling. It was better when they treated you with the distance platonic relationships had granted you.

The sound of a zipper broke through the awkward atmosphere before the flush of the toilet came. With a tug on your hand, you stepped back into the bathroom to follow Jimin to the sink so he could wash his hand, eyes still refusing to meet.

God, how did a friendship where he could literally strip off to his underwear in front of each other could turn so awkward like this?!

After spraying his hands with an overloading amount of alcohol—”Noona that’s overkill, I’ve already washed my hands.” “That’s just water, I’m not letting you touch me with a hand only washed with water!”— you and Jimin returned to the bed, huddled next to each other as you both scrolled on social media with both your bare legs thrown over his.

There's been comments left on your instagram page asking for Jimin's health and you decided to reply to one comment to say that he's fine and recovering. Silencing the app, you move to twitter when the door suddenly opens and in comes Seokjin holding up two plastic bags of takeout, flexing them as if they were golden medals and you sit up.

“Your handsome savior has arrived with fries and actually good food!”

“Hi noona!” Taehyung greets as he steps out of Jin's shadow.

“Jin you're actually the most good looking man I've ever seen in this forsaken planet, did you get me cheese and sour cream flav—”

“Of course I did,” He scoffed, putting down two paper bags and one drink carrier on your bedside table before placing the rest on the table near the bathroom door. “Who do you think I am?!”

“He almost ordered it all in cheese until I reminded him that you wanted sour cream too, noona.” Taehyung chimes in with a grin as he closes the door, a hand hidden behind his back while he holds a covered cup in the other. 

Seokjin snapped his head towards him with an indignant ‘Ya!’, to which Tae only giggled at.

“You bought that heinous, god awful sweet tea with my money! How could you do this to me?!”

“I offered to pay but you—”

“WITH MY MONEY!”

Everyone only laughed and Jin trudged over with Jimin’s lunch in hand, offering it with an outreached arm and he took it. At least, he tried to. Jin suddenly raised his hand over his head. You watched as Jin continuously teased Jimin whose reach is limited due to the need to be holding your hand. 

Jimin then finally got a grip on the plastic bag’s bottom and suddenly, their fishing game became a tug of war.

“Wait wait wait! You're going to tear it! It's going to spill!”

“Just fucking give it to me, hyung!” Jimin grunt, tugging one last time and the side of the bag rips, immediately Jin lets go.

“Why would you pull that hard?!”

Jimin ignored him in favor of pulling out his container, which he realized is overwhelmingly little compared to your three packages.

“Hyung!” He screams with his bottom lip jut out, dragging out the word. “How come I only have one food package? I'm also a patient, you know?!”

“You didn't request anything.” Jin says nonchalantly, shrugging.

“We've been together for years hyung! You should've known what I wanted like you did noona! This is blatant favoritism hyung!”

Seokjin ignored him, handing you a large bowl of mixed flavored fries, a large boba tea, and a plastic container where an aroma of caramelized fried chicken is leaking out of it the moment it leaves the paper bag. Next to you, Jimin scoffed, incredulous as he crossed his arms.

“She gets fried chicken, fries and boba but I only get Jajangmyeon?!” 

Once again, he ignored the younger man, rolling his eyes as Taehyung bounds up to his disgruntled best friend to reveal the half occupied half empty paper beverage carrier hidden behind his back, grinning widely as Jimin’s face morphs into disbelieving betrayal.

“Wow, so this is how we do things now, huh? I can’t believe you’d do this to me when I’m a patient!” 

“I’m so sorry, you poor poor thing.” Taehyung pouts as he offers out the food and Jimin spared no time in swiping the bag from him.

With their bicker finally coming to an end and Taehyung comfortably sitting crossed legs at the foot of you and Jimin’s bed, you turned to your food.

After eating nothing but bland, runny soup since the night at Jungkook’s birthday, tasting the cheddar almost made you tear up. You had taken advantage of the privilege of tasting far too long, being able to finally ingest something else felt euphoric, as if you were given the chance to walk through the garden of eden.

Exaggerated much but it's the only way you could explain the feeling.

Wasting no more time, you dug into the french fries bowl. 

You hear Seokjin whisper something underneath his breath, sounding incredulous. You watched as he crossed over to Taehyung and snatched his cup, ignoring the younger man’s indignant yelp and took a sip.

Instantly, the mixed taste of cheddar and sour cream was washed away by the familiar taste of Taehyung��s heinous tea preference of illegal amounts of tea and milk. The harsh difference of the three flavors along with the texture of fries gliding on your tongue makes you gag. Your soulmates react, Jimin placing his food down to place his cupped hands under you as if trying to catch your puke while Tae flinches, about to reach over until he sees his brother already positioned to help you and turns to fetch you a glass of water instead.

“You ate too fast noona, try to chew it first.”

“You ate too fast noona, try to chew it first.” You mimic in a tone far too high to be his and Jimin rolled his eyes.

“Why are you being so annoying today?”

“I’m sorry I’m getting cranky after someone disrupted me eating—” Your words abruptly end as Jin suddenly surged in to hug you.

You look at Taehyung who’s staring longingly at his tea still in Jin’s grasp behind you before turning to a similarly perplexed Jimin mid-bite of his tteokbokki. Raising an eyebrow at him, he responds with a shrug before continuing to stuff food into his mouth.

But as you rested both hands on his shoulders, Jin suddenly sniffled.

“Jin?”

Alert, you gently push him off and your eyes meet with his misty pairs, matched with a teary smile stretching plush red lips. Your heart leapt to your throat as both his hands cupped your cheeks and kissed your forehead in under a second. But instead of getting a seizure or being struck with an overwhelming amount of pain, nothing happened.

Instead a warm feeling, akin to what the rest of your soulmates caused you, wrapped around you like a thick blanket and you froze.

Then, Jin stands with an excited yip and excused himself out of the room, leaving you and the others confused.

What?

You didn't need to look at Jimin or Tae to know they all had huge question marks hanging over their heads as they stared at where they last saw their hyung disappear out of the room.

Why didn't your body react from having someone kiss your forehead while your bonds were still unsettled? From what you've read, there's always a chance of it happening, yet even if your relationship with him stretched over years, there shouldn't be any reason why he's not causing you and Jimin pain.

Unless he's also a soulmate.

Immediately you were reminded of the time he had carried you and wondered why no one ever questioned why nothing fatal had happened when he had done that in the DFA. Even if it had everyone in a flurry of panic, someone should've noticed and questioned it right? Yoongi should have at least.

There was also that one time Hoseok had held your hand in the car, it was brief but it should've done something still with a Nexus bond as complicated and huge as yours. Yet like with Seokjin, nothing happened.

“What did I just watch?” Taehyung began and you wish you had the answer. “Did I just witness my soulmate get stolen by Seokjin hyung?”

“No,” Jimin says, eyes thoughtful as he looks at you before turning to the bathroom door. “I think we just discovered that hyung is also tethered to her.”

Both your head snapped to the man next to you.

In the small amount of time you stared at your soulmate, the pieces began to click as the cogs in your mind whirs with all the possibilities before it took you back to the moment the horrendous taste of Taehyung's tea violated your tongue. Your mouth falls into an ‘o’.

“Shared Tastebuds.” You mutter.

Jimin opens his mouth to ask you to elaborate when Seokjin reenters with a doctor following behind him, red faced but the blinding wide smile he wore was enough to make you forget he was crying not a second before. The doctor next to him looked ecstatic, eyes a little crazy at the newfound discovery.

“Congratulations, it seems that also Mr. Kim here is a part of your Nexus bond!” He says a little cheerily as he hugs the clipboard close to his chest. “It would do you all well to inform the rest of the group of this finding. From a professional standpoint, I do think that Mr. Jung has a huge chance of also being a part of your Nexus.”

To say you never had doubts that the other two members were a part of your nexus would be a lie, you had hoped they were but the absence of mark manifestation symptoms made it hard to believe they’ll be one of your soulmates.

Who knew all it took to find out if you and Jin were connected was eating while in the presence of each other? If you hadn’t fainted from the lack of food and the Soulbond strain, would you have found out about it earlier?

Was he the reason you’d taste the savory taste of a well-seasoned grilled meat or the sweet fizzling taste of a soda late at night yesterday?

Or is the bond you both have will allow for long distance sense sharing? There are two types of Shared Tastebuds after all.

“The results are due today right?” Jimin asks and the doctor turns to his watch.

“This afternoon I'm sure just before you both are discharged. But,” He turns to Jin. “For now I'll be taking Mr. Kim with me to register his soulbond and involvement in your Nexus.”

When they left again, the three of you remained unmoving, stunned. 

It must be Jimin’s touch that had kept you calm throughout the revelation because you didn’t know how to react. There’s no doubt joy in the hurricane of emotions swirling in your chest, as well as the pacifying effect from both your and Jimin’s touch overwhelming the rising stress and conflict at the back of your head, forcing and pushing them back into the shadows.

You knew you should be stressing over the possibilities of having seven soulmates and how you’d divide your time to be able to equally spend time with everyone, it was already difficult having five these past few days. More often than not, you found yourself suffering a headache caused by the constant noise and overwhelming sensations each individual soulmarks gave you. 

From the constant sounds of Namjoon’s heartbeat at the back of your head, and Jimin’s touch making your skin thrum, even the Amoneuron in your blood is having a hard time keeping you away from soulbond hyperactivity.

Someone’s phone erupted into a shrill scream, it was Taehyung’s. Picking it up, he automatically puts it on speaker and holds the end of the phone close to his mouth. 

“Is it true? Please tell me it’s not true! I’m already competing with most of my hyungs for noona’s time!”

“This isn’t a competition, gguk.” Yoongi drawled in the background. “Didn’t we already establish that? No fighting for her hear—”

“What soulmark do they have?!” 

“Manager Sejin is already on the way with a lawyer to handle the legal side of things, how are you guys doing right now? Is noona good?” Namjoon asks, sounding closer to the mic.

“She didn't faint if that's what you're asking about. If anything,” Taehyung turns to you. “She looks a little out of it.”

“How did it happen? Is it the test? Is it out already?” Hoseok's voice came through, nervous.

“Yeah we'll deliver it to you later also, remember hyung complaining about tasting something weird? Apparently he was tasting the hospital special soup—”

_______

On your dismissal, the doctor had handed the eldest their test results. Seokjin had thrown him out since he already knew what it'll entail but held on protectively on Hoseok's envelope.

Jimin had proposed a small celebration for the mark's manifestation for everyone, nothing too grand, just a few take outs appropriate for tomorrow’s dinner—because Jungkook and Tae had requested pancakes and waffles for whatever reason—and a small cake. 

With five—not counting Jimin as he insisted that you both sit the activity out and Hoseok who visited his sister but promised to return the next day to read his result at dinner—men at your disposal, boxing up and moving your items into their dorm was easy, even if Yoongi has noticeably slowed down the stairs carrying the same one box he’s picked up since earlier; not that you’d call him out on it but you knew Seokjin and Jimin would to do it instead.

If it wasn't for Jungkook's eagerness to have you move in, it would have taken you all longer than you had today.

It was surreal seeing the items in your home slowly decrease, the mass on your shelves and all the personality of every room disappear with every box filled. You had been staying in the same apartment since you were 21, to have its familiar sights and spots be slowly stripped off of its glow felt sadder than you thought it would be.

BigHit had requested your company friends do all the basic packing such as your clothes and products while you were at the hospital, it wasn't forced but they acted like it was anyway. They (read: Minhyuk and Nabi) had jokingly complained about being tasked with doing things your soulmates should’ve been doing, Minhyuk going as far as threatening to sneak off something into one of the boxes and you feared for your life for what that something might entail.

You offered to buy them anything they want the next time you all visit the mall in exchange for their full cooperation and Minhyuk had vowed to run your bank dry with a sly grin.

“It's not like you’d even need them anymore when you’ve got the world’s biggest boyband as your soulmates, might as well spend your hard earned money on important things; friends, especially me though.”

You wouldn't deny the fact that you tried dating Guwon with the hopes of living lavishly without lifting a finger but the world would have to bathe in fire and water before you'd let them buy you expensive things outside of food; that you accept because you'd be able to taste and experience delicious dishes. Not to mention, it's practical.

Having your furniture moved out as well was out of the question after an hour of argument with Jimin and Jin who insisted on having you buy new decorations, except for the books, trinkets, and plethora of BTS collection you were given by the members themselves every comeback.

You argued that you didn’t need them to buy new furniture when you already have working ones.

But that argument was easily disproved when the maknaes (plus you as an unwilling participant and Namjoon because: "hyung you’re big, we need to weight test it!") had jumped into your bed and the frames creaked and trembled.

He was right, as much as it pains you to accept it.

But just because he's right doesn't mean you agree with him.

In the end, with one against eventually all of them, you were due for furniture shopping with Jimin, Yoongi and Namjoon the next day. Today though, you were bunking with Jimin due to the need for constant skinship and the lack of bed in your new room.

You spent the better half of the afternoon unboxing and filling your closet with your items which barely filled two shelves out of six that were bolted onto the wall of the small well-lit room.

“Noona, your closet is a bit… barren.”

“The closets are just huge, I have plenty.”

“I’m concerned that you think this is plenty.” He says, thumbing the material of your cream cardigan.

“Don't you fucking dare Park Jimin.”

He smiled. “Who says I'm the one who'll do the buying? I don’t gift clothes noona, you should know that.”

After finding out your and Jin’s soulmark, you had thought deciding what you ate for dinner until the bond settled would be a hassle or until you both learn how to disable it. But Jin had simply agreed on your choices that night with a shrug of his shoulder.

And that amount of trust in whatever you’ll pick scares you in ways you never thought it would.

It's just a simple decision, one would say, but the ugly voices at the back of your head wondered if you even deserve this amount of consideration from him when you hadn’t noticed his lingering feelings for you for years.

But it seems like that fact has long been swept under the rug when the maknaes bounded up to you with mischief in their eyes.

Upon the realization that their Jin hyung would agree to almost anything you’d eat for a while, Jungkook and Taehyung wasted no second running up to you to propose the idea of ordering you a strawberry ice cream for dessert, claiming it was the only way to test their hyung’s love for her.

“You see noona, if hyung really loves you like he said he does, he would suck it up like the man he is.” Jungkook had reasoned to you with Taehyung nodding behind him and Jimin grinning mischievously next to you.

Fortunately for Jin, you don’t think forcing him to taste strawberry flavored things on the day he found out he wasn’t untethered would be a good decision despite the loud voice at the back of your head goading you to follow through their plan for fun.

But you promised the maknaes that you’ll do it someday.

Dinner was surprisingly uneventful with a few talks about the schedule changes and the rumors Jungkook had read and heard from his small friend group outside his brothers. If it wasn’t for the soft glow of gold at the edge of your vision from where your foot is resting on top of Jimin’s under the table and the faint outline of the red string of fate stretching across to Yoongi’s right pinkie, you would’ve tricked your brain into thinking it was a normal dinner with your friends.

With the words streaming out of Jungkook’s mouth, Tae and Jimin’s additional information and the scandalous gasp and widened eyes around the table once the pieces began to form a picture, you almost thought it was an average weekly dinner with your bosses.

But soon enough, plates are taken into the kitchen and Jimin is already pulling you up to your room, saying how he wants to take a shower and that you should take your toiletries.

Something you had dreaded since you heard the doctor had sentenced you to be in constant skinship with Jimin.

Why are you even nervous?! You had seen him and his brothers in their boxers from being one of their make up artists yet your heart had been thudding loudly in your ears the moment you had entered his room with your travel bag in hand.

Turns out, there was a truth in the saying “Ignorance is bliss” in the fact that knowing something could alter the way you think and perceive even the smallest of actions. In your case, knowing Jimin's your soulmate while facing the dilemma of showering together had you completely fucked up.

On the verge of a breakdown, half a foot on the ledge and the other hanging over the fall.

You had swam in public pools with him before but it was always with the presence of others, to be alone in a small room in nothing but your undies while maintaining skinship with your soulmate—

Isn't that a bit too intimate?

Will you even survive?

To stand half naked in a minimal space alone with Jimin, your heart might just collapse.

Seeing him in his underwear shouldn't faze you as much as it should. He and the others has stripped in front of you in a haste of changing into the next costume for the next performance but in the minimal space of his bathroom where you both are secluded away from the other dwellers of the building and he's already topless and is now unbuttoning and sliding the zippers of his jorts, the mass in your throat kept on thickening with the tension in the air.

Your eyes roamed the soft, flatness of his stomach; from up his lightly freckled bare chest and down to the thin trail of hair down his abdomen. The prominent bones of his adonis belt had your throat drying up.

Seeing him topless shouldn't affect you the way it should yet you found yourself heating up at the sight of them.

When he begins to remove his pants, you force yourself to look away, cheeks burning hot as you thumb the top buttons of your—Taehyung’s—polo before beginning to undo them all with your heart thudding loudly in your ears.

The string tied to your finger lights up in a rhythmic beat, persistent and hurried. Wrapping your fingers around it, Yoongi's loud concern immediately washes over your body. You respond to him by pushing down reassurance down the lane and the thread dulls from one side.

“Did hyung contact you?”

You turn to Jimin, already stripped down to his boxers.

God is really testing you today, putting a handsome man in his underwear in front of you and tempting you to let your gaze fall down for a glimpse of his thick muscled thighs you always saw through the fabric of his skinny jeans.

“Ye-yeah, nothing to worry about though. Give me your foot, I need to remove my shirt.”

Obediently, he puts his foot forward and you step on it before making quick work of your shirt. You feel his burning gaze roam your skin and you shiver from its intensity.

By the time you had your pants pooling on the floor alongside his, your heart is thudding uncontrollably in a way that might concern Namjoon at how fast it's going.

Why is the calming effect of Jimin's touch absent when you need it?

“Ready to go?” 

You almost jumped at how hoarse his voice had gotten but recovered quickly and nodded, stepping first into the shower and twisting the valve towards the hotter temperature. Jimin hissed the moment the water touched his skin, breaking the stifling tension for a moment.

“How are your skin not burning off?! It's so hot!”

You rolled your eyes. “You're being dramatic, it's not that hot.”

“It is! The mirror is literally steaming!” He exclaimed, pointing at the long horizontal mirror above the sink which is indeed, fogging up. 

Jimin then leaned over, his naked chest touching your back. Goosebumps prickled your skin and you barely stopped the urge to shiver as he manipulated the valve until he was satisfied with the temperature. When he steps back, you finally let out the breath you didn't realize you were holding.

Hearing your exhale, he laughed lightheartedly. The fucker did it on purpose.

Trying to ignore the thumps of your racing heart, you busied yourself with the task of washing your hair. You reached for the shampoo bottle and popped open the cap, body still facing the wall.

“Noona.”

You looked over your shoulder and Jimin was scratching the back of his head sheepishly.

“Can I wash your hair for you?” He shyly asks, his sly attitude from earlier nonexistent. “I've never done that with someone else before. I-I’ve always wanted to do that now and now that we're soulmates, I was–I was wondering if maybe I–we could—”

“Not even with that girl you’ve dated before?”

He shook his head. “We were too busy to do something like that, noona. Idol lives and all that. It's one of the reasons why we broke up.”

“She was pretty nice though.”

His lips quirks up. “Don’t get jealous noona, you’re my soulmate after all.”

You hit his shoulder and he brought his arms up to shield himself, giggling. “Do you want to wash each other’s hair or not?!”

Despite your agreement, you were beyond nervous as you handed him the shampoo and turned around to shut the shower off. The string on your finger thrummed once more, still concerned as your heart leapt up to your throat when Jimin's fingers began to thread and scrape his nails against your scalp.

A thrill of pleasure shoots down your spine and you hold back the urge to mewl as he begins to put more pressure on his motions.

It stayed like that for a while and you reveled in the pure domesticity of it all. 

When Jimin retracts his hands, you reach for his shampoo and order him to turn around.

“What if I don't want to?” He challenges with a mischievous smirk.

“If it gets in your eyes, it's your fault.”

He giggled and shrunk down to your height, to which you hit his shoulder for and he laughed, standing back up. 

“Can you even reach the top of my head like this?”

“Fine but don't complain about your knees hurting, you wanted this.” You jokingly say as he bends his knees once more, a playful lilt in his eyes.

Once you lathered the shampoo enough, you began. 

You’ve seen multiple couples on screen shower together and had once wondered how it’d felt having someone to help reach the spots you couldn’t as well as do those domestic things such as brushing your teeth together and just washing each other in general. The actors always made them natural and romantic, with the soft lighting bouncing off their skin and their laughter ringing in the small space.

But showering with Jimin is anything you’ve ever thought of.

Against the other members, Jimin is easily dwarfed by them, matched with the constant jokes about his height, it's easy to forget that the man is still taller than the average man. He towered over you, his eyes intense and lit with a playful sultriness. His lips twisted into a mischievous smirk as he bent his knees low enough where you could touch the top of his head without risking a stiff neck or standing on your tiptoes.

He’s peering up at you yet you feel smaller under his gaze.

He had always done this, getting into your face while you retouched his makeup. In a way, it was nice that you’re slowly regaining the normalcy 

But it's not appreciated when he’s doing it when you’re already fighting demons trying so hard not to ogle at his body and explode from how flustered you are.

“Are you seriously getting flushed now noona? We’ve done this plenty of times already, why now?”

Is he seriously asking you that?

He laughed. Your thoughts must’ve reflected on your face.

“Didn’t know you’d be affected by something as normal as this. Don’t you see us naked at least every other day?” He asks with a quirk to his eyebrow and you narrowed your eyes further at him.

“You know damn well why,” You say, slapping his shoulder before turning to open the shower once more. Laughing when the water burst open above him, cutting him off from replying.

With the tension dissolving with the shampoo on his hair, a playful grin replaced the coy smirk and with his newly washed hair, he grabbed your arms in an iron grip and began to shake his head at you, flicking water from his hair and onto you.

When he was done, he then pulled you into the stream with a bubbling laugh as he watched the shampoo suds dissolve with the water. But with both your arms pinned in place, you weren't able to wipe your eyes and had them closed the moment he had you under the shower head.

“I'm—I’m going to put chili in your fucking water, I can't see!”

With sorrys in between fits of giggles, Jimin reached up to wipe your face for you when he realized this.

Shower with Jimin sailed smoothly from that point on. After his teasing, he made no more attempts to fluster you, even when he was scrubbing your back a little longer than it should've taken. 

He had, however, made comments on how many steps there are for you to shower.

“Why do you need to shampoo twice, use soap AND body wash? It’s not like you’d ever get sick anymore when I’m here.”

You just rolled your eyes and told him to leave if he’s going to complain about your routine. Eventually though, you speed through your routine due to him whining about how he’s starting to feel cold, lightheaded—to which he dramatized by leaning his hurting head on your shoulder—, and is suddenly sleepy.

Changing into your pajamas was a little hard as you attempted to do it all under the safety of a towel while also maintaining skinship with Jimin every other ten seconds who's also doing the same.

You managed somehow and soon enough, you both situated yourselves into the bed, with your legs thrown over his and backreading the bangtan gc that had awakened the moment Jimin had his phone.

Surprisingly, even Jungkook was active.

           [21:24] Mimi: It's so weird tae            [21:24] Mimi: I’ve never seen someone use soap AND body wash THEN washes their hair t w i c e            [21:24] Hoba: I do that…            [21:25] Mimi: That’s expected hyung, you’re a neat freak.            [21:25] You: Why are you so weird about me being clean?!            [21:26] Mimi: ITS PSYCHOPATH BEHAVIOR            [21:26] Jinnie: hoba I think he just called you a psychopath            [21:26] Hoba: 🙁            [21:27] Ggukie: NOW YOU MADE HYUNG SAD            [21:27] Hoba: 🙁            [21:27] Hoba: you think im weird jimin-ah?🙁            [21:27] Yoongs: why is this even a conversation            [21:27] Joonie: Jimin just because you don’t do it, doesn’t mean it's unorthodox.            [21:28] Minnie: you’re one of them, are you hyung?!            [21:28] Tete: I still cant believe Jimin just showered with noona…            [21:28] Tete: why are we breezing through that information?            [21:28] Jinnie: ok so lets not talk about that            [21:29] Jinnie: what do you want for breakfast, beautiful?

Reading his message felt like cold water dousing you awake and you’re suddenly attacked by a wave of guilt.

Is it okay for you to even make demands like this? Do you even deserve being Seokjin’s dearest?

“Ask him for waffles, I'm craving for them.” Jimin says, his voice slicing through your thoughts and you turn back to your phone.

           [21:29] Ggukie: ask me too hyung!            [21:29] Jinnie: alright I’ll bite            [21:29] Jinnie: what do you want brat?            [21:30] Ggukie: noona’s love :DD

You watched as Jin’s profile pic pop up and came down multiple times, and each time they do, your and Jimin’s giggles multiply.

           [21:32] Jinnie: I’m blocking you            [21:32] Joonie: I should have you kicked out for that stupid, corny ass joke oh my god            [21:32] Yoongs: that activated my fight or flight            [21:32] Yoongs: don’t do that again            [21:32] Ggukie: hyung ask me again            [21:32] Ggukie: promise I’ll respond properly this time :]            [21:33] Jinnie: Y/N?            [21:33] Ggukie: HYUNG            [21:33] Minnie: she says she wants waffles :>            [21:33] Jinnie: I don’t believe anything that comes out of your mouth, Park Jimin            [21:34] Minnie: D:            [21:34] You: I want scrambled eggs and pancakes :D

“Betrayal!”

“You shouldn’t have played around earlier then.” 

“You shouldn’t have played around earlier then. Give me that!” You stretch your arm away from him but Jimin was faster, managing to pluck your phone from your grasp and moving to place it on his side of the floor.

Without hesitation, you launched yourself at his hand making him yelp before it dissolved into giggles when you managed to catch him and had curled up around his arm, fingers attempting to pry him away from your phone.

It was how Tae had found you both in and immediately lept in, taking your side the moment he had seen you and Jimin tussled for your phone. 

With Tae’s help, you were able to take back your phone only to see that it had locked itself from the many times the screen had picked up on both you and Jimin’s palms and had typed in the wrong combination after the other. For that, you slapped his arm.

“What did I do wrong?! It’s not my fault the stupid phone couldn’t differentiate between palm and fingers!”

“If I wasn’t required to touch you, I’d have you kicked out of this room.”

Jimin pushed himself up, face incredulous. “This is literally my room.”

“Next week you should sleep in my room instead, noona. I’d love to have you there.” Taehyung says, pulling you to his chest and side-eyeing his friend. “I wouldn’t be as mean as Jiminie.”

“Why am I getting disrespected in my own room? Is it gang up on Jimin day?!”

“When is it not gang up on Jimin day?”

“Why you—GET OUT OF MY ROOM!”

TAGLIST: @wildestdreamsblog @canarystwin @prettywheenicry @jmnscutie @sassy-snassy @misuguru @11thenightwemet11 @yoongibaybee @rinkud @bri602 @igetcarriedawaywithyou @marvel-potter-1d-korea @comingupwithacoolnameishard @sooha-neul @juju-227592 @coffeewanderer @x-uno @diamonddia-mond @eggsysstuff @dearmyfavoritepeople-bts @sld88 @katsukis1wife

[onmyyan]

Cold cases warm faces pt.2

A/n: part two for the lovely anon who requested it, thank you for your sweet words I'm so happy you're enjoying my work!! 🥰 Headcannons and a drabble at the end part one here

Shortly after you're brought to your new "home" a fight breaks out over who gets to feed you.

You sat silent and amused by the situation, after all it wasn't every day you got kidnapped by a group of vigilantes

At first you thought this was a betrayal, thought you'd end up in a box or something worse, but then the argument breaks out and you can't help but grin at the lovestruck idiots before you.

Leaned back, legs spread an aura of confidence pours out from your bound form.

Dick was the first to approach you, crouched down to be eye level with you, Dick smiles at you like you held the sun in your hands.

"I'm sorry about all this- I know you have questions but there's pressing matters to attend to," he rolls up the sleeve of his costume revealing a toned forearm, you could hear his blood flowing, calling your name like a siren song.

Before he could come any closer he was yanked backwards by Jason, the behemoth of a man glared down at his older brother an air of danger around him.

"the fuck you think you're doing Dickie? If anyone's feeding her it's me."

"and why is that exactly?" Tim speaks up, his question on everyone's mind

"Because I'm healthy -"

This argument included everyone but Damien, who amidst the commotion, slits his arm open with his sword, proudly displaying his wrist with gleaming eyes, "Take it." He says quietly, as if the words were only for you to hear.

Without hesitation your lips are wrapped around his wrist, fangs sinking in with not even a flinch from the man before you

After this a schedule is worked out.

You could escape if you wanted to, but you were having too much fun with them all.

Five men fighting tooth and claw for the slightest bit of affection from you

You're dressed in the finest luxuries money can afford Bruce wouldn't admit it but he loves dressing you up , lathering you in gifts

Dick is utterly enamored by you, he love listening to you talk about your past, as long as you don't bring up past lovers of course .

Jason is your lapdog he rarely leaves his side, absolutely needs to have his head in your lap while you speak of anything and everything

Tim studies everything there is to know about your kind because he completely intends to join you in eternity

Although he's not the first to approach you about this subject, that title goes to Jason, one afternoon during one of your many talks, he breached the subject of your maker, someone you hadn't thought about in years.

“It’s difficult to explain to humans. Hell I wouldn’t have understood it 100 years ago,” you paused to lick your lips, scouring your mind for the right words to describe the answer to their question. “A sire bond is kind of unavoidable tethering between a maker and their well, sire.” Jason’s eyes didn’t dare look away from your form, eagerly drinking your word. “If she told me to jump I’d have to ask how high.” Your hands rubbed together, an anxious habit from your human life that hadn’t shown itself in centuries. The mere thought of your maker left you with a complex cocktail of emotions, clearly visible on your face, an ugly feeling settled at the pit of Jason’s stomach, he’d never seen such a look on your face, and for it to come from some woman he didn't know- he forced himself from his darkening thoughts at your sudden movement.

You were now pacing the room, gracefully maneuvering around the space. “For the first few years it’s all but impossible to be without them, it’s like this incessant burn that can’t be soothed without them.” He nodded, all too familiar with the feeling.

"supposedly your closest bond is that of a maker and their sire

"Turn me" your shock couldn't be hidden but he didn't let you sit in it for long.

"I'm dead serious. You're the air in my lungs and the idea of you spending eternity alone don't sit right with me, I've already died once, whats one more time?"

"Jason-"

"I love you- every fiber in my being was pulled into existance to love you. Please let me."

[hardlyinteresting]

To Have and To Hold

Jake Seresin x Reader

Jake comes home

Warnings: The reader is referred to as she/her, with no physical description, (please let me know if you'd like me to tag anything please), I grew up in an Army household so some of my Navy knowledge may be slightly off base (no pun intended) Word count: 1.8K

The floorboards creak with the weight of his footsteps still. there's a strange comfort in the sounds of this old house settling; the hum of the refrigerator downstairs, the quiet slide of his socks across wood floors. If he listens carefully, he can hear the whistle of the wind blowing past the window he meant to reseal all those months ago. The reminder of another missed task weighs heavy in his heart; a failure to provide a safe, warm home. It's the little things that matter most, his mama's voice reminds him, but it's the little things he so often misses-- always overlooked with the prayer that he won't be made a liar when he says he'll do it later. 

Time plays him for a fool. At 35 he rushes to make sure he meets the milestones he set out for himself, steadfast and resilient in his resolve to do more-- to be more. He breaks records, and sets precedents. But, he struggles to relax. Breathing doesn't come easy to him when it's not through his aviator's mask. In for seven, out for five. He counts the seconds of his inhales and exhales grounding himself in the moment. 

He does his best to hold tight to the moments he has here, But still, it never seems to be enough. like sand through an hourglass it all seems to slip away from him; these new found days of domestic bliss escape through his fingers like the memories of his childhood back in Texas. He wonders if one day he might be afforded the chance to pick up all the pieces and fit them together in some semblance of a “normal” life. He worries about his time away from home, what he's missed, and worse yet what he stands to miss if this life is taken from him too soon. 

Tonight marks the end of a six month separation, and tomorrow morning the count down to his next inevitable departure will begin. Always running out of time. It never used to bother him, it exhilarated him even, time blasting by in a blink of an eye. Back when he was younger, back when he had nothing to lose, and no idea what he stood to gain by sticking around. Now he worries about the quality of the lock on the front door, he thinks about restaining the floor downstairs and fixing up the kitchen. Domestic life snuck up on him. Slowly but surely his house became a home. Sun-baked bricks and weather-worn siding, with a shade of green paint he's been told matches his eyes. Four walls and roof that keep the outside world at bay. 

Down the hall in their bedroom, he Expects to find his wife sleeping, waiting in dreams for him to come home to her. It's the part of his job he struggles with the most now. It's so hard to leave this life they've built now that part of him is forever tethered to the earth. 

“I worry sometimes that I'm holding you back,” she confessed one night, “your job is hard enough as it is…I don't want to make it harder for you”. He hadn't been able to find the words to tell her how wrong she was.How could he describe the ways she had changed him? 

The need to return home to her never leaves him stunted in the sky, it fuels him. Long gone are the days where he fought just to be seen; she sees him. He's quick up there, tens of thousands of feet above the ground, he's calm and he's brilliant. His colleagues can call him cocky all they want, but his confidence is founded on his proven ability, and sometimes it's necessary to show off a little bit even if it's just so he can have another story to tell his sweetheart when he gets home. He imagines himself writing her name in the sky, carving her likeness in the clouds, a blazing trail racing home to her. 

So many of his earlier years had been spent playing the field too afraid to commit, too afraid to be loved. Adaptability, while necessary for his job, had never been his strong suit. A tiny part of him deep in the back of his mind always left the hair at the back of his neck on end when faced with change.

He had struggled in school, not academically, but socially and learned to over compensate to make up for his discomfort. The navy had given him the structure he had craved, a way to make his bed and fold his clothes, instructions that weren't open to interpretation. Living on his own allowed him to follow the same schedule and practices as he did on base.  In a split second, his life on the line, he never hesitates, but sustained change to his daily life left him nauseated. Welcoming another person into his life, and into his home had pushed him past the edges of where he believed his comfort laid, but forced him to confide in a support system outside of routine. 

Over the course of a few weeks her belongings joined his, sprinkled through out the house like a treasures to be found. Without a word she had taken care to intermix her books with the few of his own on the shelf, sorting them by alphabetical order just as he'd been doing for years. His anxiety slowly waned as his darling girl continued to prove she understood him better than anyone else ever had. 

“Do you prefer flying at dusk or dawn?” She had asked a few weeks after she moved in. curled up on their sofa, her head tucked under his chin, college football playing on the tv, she traced invisible shapes across his chest. “I don't have a preference, sweetheart. I just like flying,” his response felt half-baked, but it was the honest-to-good truth. 

“But if you had to pick?” she persisted. He weighed his answer before giving it to her, “if I had to pick, it would be dusk. There’s a moment, if you're up at the right time where you can see the night sky blending into the sunset…the sky is a gray-blue and you can see the sun at the horizon and the little pinpricks of stars”. 

“It sounds beautiful,” her smile was soft and genuine when she cupped his cheek to make sure he was looking at her. A habit of hers, not letting him hide away from the softer parts of himself, she seemed to so easily pull out. “It is”.

That weekend he’d spent 72 hours on base and returned home on Monday evening to the faintest smell of fresh paint. In the low evening light, it took him a moment to figure it out, standing puzzled in the middle of the living room, still dressed in his service khakis trying to identify the source of the smell. “You’re home!” she’d grinned coming down the stairs, her jeans and t-shirt splattered with gray. It’s then he noticed with his darling girl looking so proud of herself, the walls of the living room coated in a soft heather blue-grey, no longer just a coat of contractor-grade white reflecting the shade of twilight through the windows. Flicking on the light he watched her grow nervous as he felt his brow furrow processing the unexpected change. “Do you like it?” she asked. 

“It’s perfect, baby,” he promised pulling her close and kissing her thoroughly, “It’s beautiful”. 

A few months later he came home from work to find his shower gel and shampoo had both been replaced by a new set. Confused and with no other option, he chose to use them, deciding he liked the smell of eucalyptus and mint much more than he'd liked sport: for men anyway. 

“Baby, what happened to my shower gel?” 

“You were complaining about how dry your skin has been”.

“Hmm,” the consideration to change his routine to better himself hadn't occurred to him before she moved in. 

More recently he'd come home from a night out with the squadron, and woken up under a Forest green duvet, a jarring difference to the burgundy plaid cover he'd owned for years. Momentary panic filled his chest. Like a sharp, sudden plunge into cold water he'd gasped his eyes scanning the room to confirm his location. The familiar scent of her perfume, the sound of the ocean breeze, assured him he was in fact in their room. In the dark when he'd come home, colour of the duvet hadn't been noticeable and he found himself mildly embarrassed by how badly it startled him. Her hand reaching out for him, stretching across the sheets to touch him lured him back to a flat position letting her snuggle herself right up against his side. It was then he noticed that the weight of the blanket was the same as before, and it was just as plush as it had always been. Her on going respect for his comfort continued to leave him floored. A memory of her texting him to ask his favourite colour (green) filled his mind and left him drifting back to sleep with a smile on his face. 

Secretly, he'd begun to look forward to the tiny changes she brought into his life and into the house. The littlest reminders of their strengthening bond, their lives stitching together in more tangible and visible ways. The Navy had taught him to think literally, latteral thinking developed and honed to reach conclusions and make decisions quickly and effectively, but the metaphor of their lives blending like the presence of her belongings along side his own, and freshly painted walls is not lost on him. 

Tonight the house is quiet as it often is when he returns so late. He knows if she knew what day he was set to come back home she would've done her best to stay awake for him, dozing off on the sofa with the living room curtains wide open, hoping to catch the sight of his headlights pulling into the driveway. It's thoughts of her safe and waiting for him that have pulled him through this latest deployment, so he does his best not to disturb her sleep as he makes his way to her. Like a silent sirens call an unspeakable force drags him through the house. His boots are left by the door, laces tucked in. His bag is heavy in his hand, more than just its physical weight tugging at him, and he's glad to be able to put it down by the bedroom door. 

“Welcome home,” she whispers stirring from her sleep as he slips beneath the sheets, freshly showered. 

[achillean-heartbeat]

Hey friend!!! Can you recommend any good fics for Teen Wolf?

I'm about to start watching it this weekend, and kinda want to supplement it with the fics..

Thank you in advance

HELLO TO YOUUU!!

ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME!!! i would absolutely fucking LOOVEEE TOOO!!!

First of all, thank you so much for this ask. Can't believe you just gave me a reason to recommend some of my fave teen wolf fics.

second of all, IT'S AWESOME THAT YOU'RE GONNA WATCH IT!!! It is a shitshow of a show (hah) BUT I HOPE YOU ENJOYY!!<<<<33333

third, a little disclaimer, i mostly read sterek (stiles x derek) and thiam (theo x liam), so this list is going to be mostly them. However, i do read any and all ships as long as its fun and i like the tropes of the fic. So when you start watching it and there is a particular ship you liked that is not mentioned in this list i would love to rec u more stuff!!!<<33

fourth, i will also be putting at the end a list of fics i plan to read soon and have not read yet, cuz why not.

fifth and finally, i'm pretty sure i don't have to say this but i just thought i'd give you a heads up just in case: in some of these fics there are certain triggers, certain kinks, so please make sure not to miss any surprise tags, especially 01001in the short fics.

OKAAYYY NOW THAT THAT'S SETTLED HERE WE GOOO!

SOME FICS I HAVE READ AND LOVED:

LONG FICS: (>50k)

THIAM: Airplanes by Captinmintyfresh (236k) what still grows in darkness by eneiryu (137k) To be Led by a Liar GoldFox99 (79k) Tethered by Tonytones(85k)

STEREK: Put Down in Words by paintedrecs (200K) Windows by dr_girlfriend (83k) Foxgloves by formeldehyde (71k) To The End by formeldehyde (181k) Strange Turns That Bring Us Closer demonicfairie2009 (100k) Sex Therapy by Asterekmess (51k)

SHORT FICS: (<50k)

THIAM: i loathe you i love you by tonytones (30k) here in the twilight it's all hearsay by eneiryu (2k) Craving Every Part of Your Raw, Wild Soul by ksbbb (29k) you can say that we are nothing, but you know the truth by pansexual-puppy-pack (1k) i think i left my conscience on your front door step pansexual-puppy-pack (8k)

STEREK: we are tangled by drunktuesdays (5k) Lock All The Doors Behind You by entanglednow (25k) I don't know why, but I guess it has something to do with you by LunasCanisLupus_22 (17k)

Choice by Omni (8k) Last Lovesong of a Dying Lemon by wldnst (10k) Romance In Progress by Asterekmess (32k) here is the deepest secret nobody knows by owlpostagain (22k) How To Be a Normal Person by drunktuesdays (8k) Five Days of Dickings by mklutz (17k) I Wanna Take Down The Walls With You by drunktuesdays (10k) bigger, longer and uncut by drunktuesdays (4k)

BONUS: Theo/Josh/Corey/Tracy/Hayden we ain't ever getting older (6k)

FICS I HAVE NOT READ YET THAT ARE IMPATIENTLY CALLING OUT FOR ME FROM MY ENDLESS OPEN TABS:

LONG FICS: (>50K)

THIAM: "Where no Hope is Left, is Left no Fear" ( No mere Human can Stand in a Fire and not be Consumed) by ksbbb (71K) Take my heart (and put it somewhere safe) by not_carrying_on (172k) Consequences of Our Past by xTarmanderx (70k) All About Control Universe by EquallyLoyalAndLethal (152k) Handle With Care by Attempted Eloquence (190k)

STEREK: Predators by Hedwig221b (74k) Words Cannot Espresso How Much You Bean to Me by isthatbloodonhisshirt (68k) Not So Boring by beerwolves and isthatbloodonhisshirt (69k) yes chef seaweedwater (228k) You're stronger than you know by littleredridinghunter (234k) Getting Better by thebadassisin (205k) A New Perspective by Asterekmess (323k) The Moon's Gonna Follow Me Home by turningterrific (82k) Home by thetypewritergirl (167k)

SHORT FICS: (<50K)

THIAM: I Love You as Certain Dark Things are To Be Loved, in Secret.” by ksbbb (46K) Sweet talkings by captainmintyfresh (28k) i'm not ready to die yet, should i pray? (i'm wasting time, haunted by the ghost of you) by petitommo (6k) when oblivion is calling out your name, you always take it further than i ever can by likelightninginabottle (8k) you're my head, you're my heart Or: The Shameless Thiam 'verse by likelightninginabottle (20k) loving you's a bloodsport by THENINTH09 (21k) a thing with sellable skin by Attempted Eloquence (22k) a shot in the heart (doesn't make it unbreak) (4k) it gets so hard to breathe when i think of you (thinking of me) by wingsoutforshin (5k) Too Afraid to Follow Through by dangerouscoffeetheorist (14k) i know about things i wish I didn't - the not yet a corpse series by yikeshereiam (29k) Absence makes the heart grow fonder by laheysmythes (11k)

get him back! by marymacgf (21k)

STEREK: Together, Apart by justanotherbusyfangirl (14k) Spellbinding Mishap by isthatbloodonhisshirt (45k) Untouchable by Hedwig221b (17k) the feral wind that lit him ablaze by quackquackcey (37k) Which Con at Witch Con? by quackquackcey (10k) Stilinski's Speakeasy by sinna_bon (10k) the way our horizons meet by dumpac (3k) Even Greenberg has a Soulmate by beerwolves and deancebra (22k) red hoodies and bronze daggers (the secrets you keep glow in the dark) by patolemus (19k) Ground Me With Your Touch by asterekmess (7k) Let Me Take My Time With You by asterekmess (6k) Whispered in the Sound of Silence by dr_girlfriend (7k) always the sidekick by mirrorkill (49k)

BONUS: Stiles x Theo: Partners in Crime by snaeken (2k)

Okay i'm done!

oof sorry for the long ass post!

i'm not gonna lie, the story and writing is kinda wonky in some places, but the characters are so loveable it's impossible not to find them endearing in some way or another.

but no matter the outcome, i hope you enjoy it and have a great time!!

i hope you have an amazing day!!

[cordeliasdarling]

Staring is Rude — Larissa Weems x Reader

——

A/N: Took a while to get motivation to write again, but here I am. I hope it’s alright, I just love the thought of Larissa being a stalker. A bit darker than my usual few stuff but hey. If someone likes this I may make it into a lil series. Any interactions will be appreciated!!

— Beta read by the wonderful @poulengp — idk what I’d do without your support :))

Warnings: Larissa being a bit creepy but in a soft way????

——

You always look good in the morning.

At least that's what Larissa thinks. The way you comb your hair with a green brush despite blue being your favourite colour. The way you do your makeup but always try the eyeliner a few times before you're happy with the results. All of this makes her smile. It's a part of her morning routine now— parking outside your apartment block and using those trusty binoculars to spy on you. Well, she doesn't see it as spying, merely observing. That's not a crime, is it?

One particular Tuesday, Larissa sits in her expensive looking car, one she could easily afford with the salary she earns at Nevermore mixed with her savings. Why not splash out for once? She sits there, humming a tune she heard on the radio as she was getting ready for the day. But you don't appear in the window. She checks, and checks again, and you don't appear. The window is empty, just showing the cream wall of your bedroom.

Worry sinks into Larissa like a bite. Are you okay? Did you need help? All those panicked thoughts flood her mind, starting to feel nauseous. Where were you? Her eyes scan the road, searching for your car, and it isn't there. She swallows thickly, suddenly nervous. At the same time, her phone pings, and she hastily picks it up, seeing it's her alarm, notifying her that it's time to go back to Nevermore and start the school day. She sighs. You are okay, she tells herself, you are okay. Probably just crashing at a friend's house after a long night. It wouldn't be the first time

After one last look, Larissa tucks her binoculars in the glove compartment and drives off.

—

"I'm at the end of my tether." Larissa booms, pinching the bridge of her nose. It didn't help but it is always something she does out of habit. A habit that is growing increasingly more common.

The young girl lets no emotion show on her face. Her foot simply taps against the hardwood floor rhythmically, almost as if she was bored— the cheek she had!

Principal Weems bites her tongue, because she is very close to cursing under her breath, something she would never do in front of a student but Wednesday evokes a lot of feelings like that. She simply takes a deep breath, the air filling her lungs as she rises from her leather lined chair. Her deep crimson heels clacks against the varnished wood, though she stops in her tracks when she hears a small 'ping'. She knows what it is, a personalised tone for the tracking app she uses for you. She had paid for the customization, wanting it to be different to the default tone in case someone were to hear and recognise it somehow. Stupid technology, she briefly thinks to herself. It is very tempting to retrieve her phone from the bag she had placed beside her desk, though looking at Wednesday's curious expression, she fights the urge.

"You have one more chance in this academy. One more toe out of line and you're out of here. I don't care what your mother says. Do you understand me?" The undertone in her voice is deep, letting the young girl know she truly means it.

"Fine." Wednesday stands up and Larissa sits down. Once the girl is gone, Larissa picks up her bag, fishing around and finding the phone. Her hands are almost shaky as she unlocks the thing and opens the app.

According to it, your car is on the move, heading from downtown to your home. Relief settles in Larissa like never before.

—

"One hot chocolate please."

Larissa Weems announces as she locks eyes with the usual barista in the Weathervane. He nods with a smile which she returns. She scans the small café, breathing in the warm scent of coffee beans. She's never been a fan of coffee but she can appreciate the warmth it gives. Eventually she sees you. It takes a great deal of strength not to grin and walk over.

"Here you go, Ms Weems." The man calls out, handing over the steaming cup. She thanks him and sits down at the table behind you. Her eyes lay on the back of your head, staring intently. She's struck by the memory of when she first met you. When you wore those loose fitting jeans, lilac sweater, scruffy shoes, not caring about what anyone thought. You'd walked into this café with your laptop, typing away, utterly unaware of what was going on around you. Perhaps if you had looked up, you would have noticed the way Larissa's eyes widened, almost dropping her drink and scolding herself. Your beauty was beyond anything she'd ever seen before. Had you just moved into town? Surely, because she'd never seen you before.

And that's when it all started. The following home, the tracker planted under your car, the sussing out of your house and working out your routine. It had never occurred to Larissa that it might have been creepy. She used the excuse that she was just interested.

"Staring is rude, you know."

Larissa jumps out of her daydream and is shocked to find that you have swivelled around in your chair and are now looking at her directly. There is a lump in her throat. She has heard you speak before, that soft tone like a lullaby, but never directed at her.

"Sorry—" She utters, hands clenching around her cardboard cup. This is new, out of what she had planned for the day. It feels uneasy, breaking the routine.

"No worries. I just felt someone's eyes on the back of my head." Your head tilts back as you laugh quietly. Butterflies erupt in Larissa's stomach. She feels so special, to be the object of your focus.

Larissa smiles faintly, "Just thought I recognised you." Her voice is a little strained.

"You must recognise me very often." Your tone is nonchalant but it shows what you mean. That you have noticed her staring over the last few months. A blush rises to Weems' cheeks, luckily not too visibly, due to the makeup she applies every morning.

Just in time to save her, Larissa's phone rings. She looks at you apologetically, picking it up. It is the mayor, asking to arrange a time to meet. She takes her time talking, as part of her mind wants to think of something normal to say to you. But by the time she's finished, you've already slipped on your coat and left, continuing with your evening. Larissa exhales, letting go of the breath she doesn't know she's been holding.

"Damnit—" She mutters to herself as she shoves her phone in her bag. Her mind drifts back to the morning, wondering what on earth you had been up to. Being at a friend's house was the only possible solution, unless you had been up to no good. Terrible scenarios of you hanging out with dangerous people cross her mind, but she shakes them off before she can get too carried away.

She pulls out her phone again.

She opens the app she probably opens at least sixteen times a day, noting that your location is moving swiftly down the main road, indicating that you are driving home. This gives Larissa some comfort, knowing you're going to be safely inside with the doors locked.

She finds her way home fifteen minutes later, settling on the couch with a generous glass of red wine, something that always sooths her. Perhaps some would say she drinks too much, but to that Larissa would say to mind your own business.

She thinks of the small interaction you two have now shared, and it is like a drug. Now she craves to be the centre of your attention again.

So she plans for the next afternoon, when she knows you'll be in the local library choosing a book.

——

[soulofapatrick]

Domesticated - Jace Herondale x Female (Daylighter) Reader

Summary: this is a 5 + 1 of all the times you and Jace act like a couple even before you admit feelings for each other

Words: 6k

Warnings: injury, bleeding, blood drinking

Y/N’s POV - 

Part One

I’m not really sure when Jace appearing at random hours of the day in my apartment became a normal things. He’s dirty and covered in ichor from a demon hunt the Clave sent him and Alec on and he’s grumbling to himself as he shrugs off his leather jacket. There’s dried blood on him from wounds his iratze rune probably healed and he’s toeing off his shoes before grumbling more about the demons. 

“I’m going to shower.” He tells me, voice gruff but there’s a softness to it as he addresses me. 

“Alright Jace.” I respond, turning back to the show I was watching, waiting up for him to get back as it’s nearly 2am. Being a vampire is weird, especially a daylighter like Simon as at first I was nocturnal and now, suddenly, I’m back to daylight hours. It was weird getting used to humanity again but ever since Jace has been coming round it’s been easier somehow. 

As I listen to the sound of the water running in the bathroom, I can’t help but think about how effortlessly Jace fits into my life. We’ve been…friends? Yeah, friends for so long, and lately, it feels like we’ve crossed some invisible line into something more. But whenever I’m around him, my heart would be pounding if it could still beat and there’s a stirring in my undead soul, a flutter of excitement I though I had long forgotten. 

If it weren’t for Jace, I might have left the Shadowhunter world behind altogether, taken Magnus up on whisking me somewhere far away, maybe Canada, Clary and Simon, my own best friends, seem to have forgotten about me again, lost in their own adventures and relationship. And Luke, the only parental figure in my life, is more invested in his pack than checking up on me. But somehow, Jace always manages to find his way back to my doorstep, like a guiding light in the darkness. 

I remember the first time he appeared on my doorstep, how he looked at me with those piercing golden eyes and saw something in me that no one else seemed to. He didn’t treat me like a monster or a freak because of what I had become, but instead, he saw me for who I truly am—a creature worthy of love and friendship.

And now, sitting here on the couch, waiting for him to remerge from the bathroom, I can’t help but wonder how the hell we ended up here in this weird dance and routine, so domesticated. One moment we’re battling demons and next, we’re lounging on the couch like a couple of teenagers on a lazy Sunday afternoon. 

Finally, after what feel like an eternity, Jace remerges from the bathroom, looking surprisingly innocent and boyish in a pair of tracksuit bottoms and a graphic tee-shirt that I’m pretty sure is either mine or my brothers. His hair is still damp from the shower, tousled in a way that makes him look disarmingly handsome. Despite the exhaustion tech into his features, there’s a spark in his golden eyes that never fails to draw me in. 

Jace collapses onto the couch beside me, his head finding its place on my shoulder, it feels like the most natural thing in the world. His weight against me is comforting, like an anchor tethering me to reality amidst the chaos of our lives. I close my eyes, revelling in the warmth of his presence and the steady rhythm of his breath against my skin.

As exhaustion finally catches up to him, his breathing evens out, lulling me into a sense of peace. I listen to the sound of his steady inhales and exhales, a gentle melody that soothes my restless mind. And as I drift off into sleep, I'm enveloped in the cocoon of his scent—sunshine and something uniquely Jace, mixed with the subtle fragrance of my shower products. It's a comforting aroma, one that fills me with a sense of belonging and contentment.

In the depths of slumber, I feel his warmth beside me, a constant presence that eases my fears and worries. But when I wake in the morning, he's gone, leaving behind only a hastily scrawled note on my coffee table. My heart sinks as I read his words, explaining that Alec called him in early for paperwork and debriefing on the previous day's hunt.

Despite the pang of disappointment at his absence, I can't help but smile at the thought of him, out there in the world, fighting alongside his fellow Shadowhunters. And as I rise to start the day, I carry with me the memory of his presence, the echo of his warmth lingering in the air like a promise of his return.

Part Two

I awake to a crashing and the grumbled cry of Jace, my panic immediately vanishing at the sound of his voice. My phone reads 7.03pm and I’m realising my nap was longer than I had planned or anticipated, having tried to stay awake for Jace who had messaged me to say he’d be home in time for dinner. 

As I groggily process the situation, something within me stirs at the realisation Jace used the word “home” to describe my place. It’s a simple word, but coming from him, it carries a weight that sends a flutter through my un-beating heart. I push aside the covers and pull myself sleepy from bed, feeling the fabric of a shirt that definitely isn’t mine brush against my skin as it reaches mid-thigh. 

Shuffling towards the kitchen, I’m met with the sight and smell of chaos. Jace is in the midst of a culinary disaster, his brow furrowed in frustration as he grumbles to himself. The scent of burning food fills the air, assaulting my sensitive vampire senses, But despite the mess and the mishap, there’s something oddly endearing about the scene—the way Jace is so determined to make dinner for us, even if it means nothing is going according to plan. 

As I approach him, I can’t help but smile at the sight of him, his hir tousled and his expression a mix of annoyance and determination. Despite the chaos, there a sense of warmth and familiarity in the air, a feeling of him that I’ve come to associate with him. 

I head straight for the fridge to grab fresh ingredients as soon as I get the gist of what he was trying to make by the minced meat and the spaghetti, catching the way he looks at me. There’s a softness in his gaze, a silent appreciation for my presence and the way I effortlessly step in to salvage the situation. But when I reach for the pasta sauce, Jace stops me, holding up a jar of red liquid. 

My heart tries to burst out of my chest when I realise what it is. Jace wasn’t just trying to make dinner for us; he was trying to recreate a meal I loved as a human, altered for my now vampire self. It’s a small gesture, but it speaks volumes about his thoughtfulness and the depth of his care for me. 

“Raphael said it was the best of the best and told me how to prepare it so it doesn’t…” Jace waves his hands around trying to think of the word Raphael used, “Separate?” 

I can’t help but laugh softly at the face Jace makes as he says the word ‘separate’. It’s moments like these that remind me of just how endearing he can be, even when he’s trying his best to navigate unfamiliar territory like helping a vampire like me. 

Stepping closer to him, I wrap my arms around him in a hug, feeling the tension in his muscles as he hesitates before finally relaxing enough to return the embrace. His strong arms wrap around me, pulling me close as he buries his face in my hair. In the moment, with the scent of blood and spices lingering in the air and the warmth of Jace’s embrace surrounding me, I feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude and love for the man standing in front of me. 

Reluctantly, Jace finally lets me go, suggesting we try cooking again. As I try to assist him, he’s suddenly spinning me back to face and him and gripping my waist in his strong hands, lifting me and sitting me on a clean area of the counter top, “You’re to just sit there and look pretty while I work this out.” He says with a smirk, a hint of redness colouring his cheeks. 

I can’t help but let out the most embarrassing giggle at his sudden shyness, feeling a warmth spread through me at his playfulness. As I watch him move around the pitch with practiced ease, a sense of contentment washes over me. Despite the chaos and mishaps, being here with Jace feels like home. 

And as I sit on the counter, watching him cook, I cant’t help but feel grateful for moments like these—simple, ordinary, mundane moments that remind me of what I could have had when human. Surrounded by the warmth and aroma of our makeshift meal and Jace’s soft humming as he cooks, I know that no matter what challenges may come our way, as long as we have each other, we'll always find a way to make it through.

Part Three

The library is quiet as I slip inside, the familiar scent of old books and parchment greeting me like an old friend. Alec had given me permission to use the Institute as a safe haven whenever I like, and I often find myself wandering towards the library. It’s become my sanctuary, a place where I can escape the weird world I’m now a part of and lose myself in the pages of novels and histories. 

As I roam the aisles, my fingers trailing along the spines of countless books, I feel a sense of calm wash over me. The library is a treasure trove of knowledge, and I’ve made it my mission to learn as much as I can about the Shadowhunter world. I immerse myself in the histories of the Clave, learning about the battles fought and the heroes who rose to prominence, the history of the main families in this world. 

Eventually, I pick a book off the shelves, one that Alec had actually recommended to me during one of our conversations. It’s a thick volume filled with tales of Shadowhunter lore, and I can’t wait to delve into its pages. With a contented sigh, I sink into one of the soft loveseats scattered throughout the massive library, feeling eh weight of the book in my hands as I lose myself in the pages. 

For the rest of the afternoon, I’m lost in a world of magic and mystery, my surroundings fading away as I become immersed in the story unfolding before me. The hours pass in a blur, but in the moment, surrounded by the knowledge and history of the Shadowhunters, I feel a sense of belonging and purpose that I’ve been searching for since the day I was turned. 

My attention is momentarily drawn away from the pages of the book in my hand by the faint murmur of voices approaching. It takes a moment but I’m recognising the voices, the cadence of their speech familiar to me even from a distance with my new hearing abilities. But it’s the sound of the library door opening that truly captures my attention, and when I look up, my heart skips a beat at the sight of a familiar blonde figure standing in the doorway. 

Jace. 

His golden eyes scan the room, searching, until they land on me. A smile spreads across his face, lighting up his features in a way that never fails to make my heart flutter like it’s still beating, “There you are, Mouse,” He greets, using the stupid pet name he’s decided for me, “You weren’t at home.” 

As he strides over, my attention is captivated by the way his muscles ripple beneath the fabric of his tight black shirt, each movement a testament to his strength and grace. My pulse would be skyrocketing if it could, and I can feel a flush from the recent blood I drank creeping its way up my neck as he stops in front of me, his presence commanding and magnetic. 

“Hey Jace,” I manage to say, voice betraying the flutters of excitement I feel within me. 

He smirks, golden eyes dancing with amusement as if he knows what he’s doing to me, “What were you doing here all alone?” He asks, tone teasing yet filled with genuine curiosity. 

I just shrug, attempting to maintain an air of casualness despite the turmoil of emotions swirling within me, “Just needed the quiet.” I reply, my voice soft. 

He nods in understanding, his expression softening as he reaches out to gently tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. The simple gesture sending a shiver down my spine, igniting a rush of sensations that I struggle to contain. His proximity, his touch—it's all too much, and yet not enough.

“Hey, listen,” He says, his voice warm and inviting, “We’re all heading to the Hunter’s Moon to hear Simon sing, You wanna join us?” 

The thought of being surrounded by so many voices, sounds and smells—the overwhelming sensory overload—has me shuddering involuntarily. I feel a knot form in my stomach, a wave of anxiety washing over me at the mere thought of venturing out into the bustling world beyond the quiet of the Institute currently. 

With a shaky breath, I shake my head almost aggressively, “No, I think I’ll pass.” I reply, my voice barely above a whisper, “I’m… I’m not really in the mood for crowds tonight.” 

Jace nods in understanding, his expression sympathetic, “Hey, that’s okay,” He reassures me, his voice gentle, and he’s surprising me by leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to my cheek, “You do what feels right for you. But if you ever change your mind, we’ll be there.” 

I offer him a weak smile, grateful for his understanding, “Thanks Sunshine.” I murmur, the weight of my anxiety slowly easing with his words of reassurance and his sweet actions. 

As Jace turns to leave, I watch him go, feeling a sense of longing wash over me like a gentle tide. His departure leaves an ache in my chest, a yearning for something more, something I can't quite name. But then, I feel the lingering warmth of his kiss on my cheek, a fleeting touch that sends a jolt of electricity through me.

Despite my reluctance to join them, a part of me wishes I could be there, sharing in the camaraderie and laughter with Jace and the others. The thought of being by his side, laughing and joking like we always do, fills me with a bittersweet longing. 

In the moment, as I sit alone in the quiet solitude of the library, the whole interaction feels strangely domesticated, as if it’s something we’ve done a thousand times before. Jace’s kiss was casual yet intimate, like it was a natural extension of our friendship, and yet it leaves me yearning for more. 

I can’t help but replay the moment in my mind, the sensation of his lips against my cold skin, the warmth of his touch. It’s a memory I want to hold onto, to savour and cherish, and yet it only serves to deepen my desire for him. 

As I sink back into the soft cushions of the loveseat, the ache in my chest lingers, a constant reminder of the feelings I can’t shake. I want him to kiss me again, to make me feel alive in a way I never thought possible. And as I close my eyes and let out a heavy sigh, I know that despite the risks and uncertainties, I can't deny the pull he has on my undead heart.

Part Four

I honestly have no idea how I ended up in the training room with Jace but I definitely know how I ended up on my ass glaring up at his laughing figure. Jace decided that he was going to teach me how to defend myself as Alec wants downworlders to help Shadowhunters on patrols to bridge the gap that had formed since Valentine. 

So here I am, climbing to my feet and glaring at Jace who readies himself for another round and my body is already aching. Jace is already readying himself for another round, and I steel myself for the onslaught, determined to at least make him break a sweat. As he lunges at me, I use my vampire speed to dodge and jab him in the back with my elbow with precision. But before I can revel in the small victory, he’s already spinning around and swiping my feet out from underneath me again. 

I hit the ground with a frustrated grunt, the air would have been knocked out of me if I were still breathing. I let out a sound of pure annoyance as I lie there, staring up at the ceiling, feeling so goddamn angry that I haven’t managed to get Jace down once. 

“Come on, Mouse,” Jace says, offering me a hand up, “You’re getting better, I promise.” 

I take his hand and pull myself to my feet yet again, but the weight of defeat still hangs heavy on my shoulders. No matter how hard I try, I can't seem to measure up to Jace's level of skill and agility. It's frustrating, disheartening even, to constantly fall short despite my best efforts.

With a heavy sigh, I get back into position, expecting Jace to do the same but instead a small gasp is drawn from me when I feel his body practically pressed to my back as he adjusts my positioning. I feel a rush of warmth as he nudges my feet into a better position and adjusts my arms, guiding them a little higher. 

His touch is firm yet gentle, his hands moving with practiced precision as he adjusts my stance. And then, his hands fall to my hips, twisting them slightly to improve my balance before he steps back, satisfied with his work. 

I’m left standing there, the lingering sensations of his touch sending a shiver down my spine. Despite the lack of a heartbeat or any physical sensations, I can’t deny the way he makes me feel. Safe. Protected. As if, just for a moment, the weight of the world is lifted from my shoulders and I can simply be. 

With a renewed determination, I square my shoulder and focus on the task at hand. As we being sparring again, I find myself moving with a newfound confidence, each strike more precise than the last. And then, miraculously, it happens—I actually manage to get Jace down for once. 

I just watch in disbelief as he hits the ground, a surprised laugh escaping him as he looks up at me with sparkling eyes. In the moment, his laughter is like music to y ears, lighthearted. As Jace lies there, sprawled on the ground with a grin that could light up the room, I can't help but feel a rush of exhilaration. His boyish charm and playful energy are infectious, making me forget for a moment that we're supposed to be training. But as he starts to rise, that cocky smirk forming on his lips, I know the challenge isn't over yet.

With a twinkle in his eyes, he beckons me forward, goading me to try again. His confidence is palpable, almost tangible in the air between us. And I, of course, take the bait, eager to prove myself once more. 

But, as I unleash my vampire strength and speed, throwing my self into the spar with all I’ve got, I quickly realise that Jace has activated both runes, his agility now matching mine. His speed rune makes him a formidable opponent, dodging and waving with ease, always one step ahead. 

In the blink of an eye, he’s behind me, sweeping my feet out from under me with a swift motion. I feel the ground rushing up to meet me, but my reflexes kick in instinctively. As I tumble backwards, I grab onto Jace’s shirt, pulling him down with me. 

We land in a tangled heap, laughter bubbling up between us as we lie there, catching our breath. For a moment, time seems to stand still, the world around us fading away until it's just the two of us, tangled together on the ground. I can smell how sweet and like sunshine Jace’s blood smells in his veins and feel the way his heart is pounding as he buries his face in my neck. 

And in the moment, I realise just how much I enjoy being with him, the easy camaraderie and undeniable chemistry between us, making me, again, realise just how domesticated we are with each other. 

Part Five

The rain is coming down so hard it’s bordering on hail and as overwhelming as my senses are, the sound of it hitting the windows of my apartment is actually very comforting. Jace is in the shower again, coming back from another demon nest hunt and he’s told me he ordered pizzas on his way home as he invited the others around to jin us for the movie night before he jumped in the shower. 

As grateful as I am for his presence, a flicker of anxiety creeps into my mind at the thought of the others joining us. Alec and Magnus have always been welcoming, their easygoing nature together putting me at ease from the start. But Simon and Clary, lost in their own bubble of love, often seem oblivious to anyone around them nowadays, especially me their childhood friend. And Izzy.. well, Izzy can get anyone she wants with a bat of her eyelashes has me a little jealous. 

As I wait for Jace to emerge from the shower, the sound of the rain drumming against the window grows louder, echoing the turmoil of my thoughts. I find myself questioning whether I’ll be able to navigate the dynamics of the evening, whether I’ll be able to hold my own amidst the company of the Shadowhunters and Downworlders that make up Jace’s inner circle. 

But then, as if sensing my apprehension, Jace appears, a towel draped casually around his waist and a smile lighting up his face. It’s as if time itself pauses for a moment, allowing me to drink in the sight before me. His presence is like a beacon of light in the dimly lit apartment, his golden eyes sparkling with warmth and mischief. With his damp hair tousled and his skin glistening with droplets of water, he looks every bit like an adonis, a vision of strength and beauty. 

The towel draped casually around his waist hangs dangerously low, teasingly revealing the beginnings of his happy trail. My gaze is drawn to the tantalising glimpse of skin, the curve of his hips, the sculptured muscles of his abdomen. It's a sight that leaves me breathless, a reminder of just how effortlessly attractive he is.

But it's not just his physical appearance that captivates me; it's the way he carries himself, with a confidence that borders on arrogance yet somehow remains endearing. His smile is like a beacon of warmth, infectious and irresistible, drawing me closer with its magnetic pull.

As he moves closer, the scent of his shower gel fills the air, a heady mixture of musk and citrus that sends a shiver down my spine. I find myself mesmerised by the play of light and shadow on his skin, the way the droplets of water cling to his body like liquid diamonds. He brushes a gentle kiss against my cheek, his touch reassuring in its familiarity, a warmth spreading through me, soothing the lingering traces of anxiety that had gripped me moments before. His touch is a familiar reassurance, grounding me to the present moment and easing the flutter of my nonexistent heartbeat. 

But before I can fully lose myself in the intimacy of the moment, a sharp knock at the door interrupts us, shattering the fragile bubble of privacy we’ve created. With a playful smack to Jace’s arm I stop him from heading to the door, “Go get some damn clothes on, I’ll answer it.” Before I’m striding over to answer the door, cheeks flushed with a heat that most likely betrays the intensity of my emotions. 

As I swing the door open, Jace is ducking into our room and I’m met with the amused gazes of Alec and Magnus, their eyebrows raised in teasing curiosity. Magnus’ playful smirk hints at the mischief dancing in his eyes, while Alec's expression is a mix of amusement and affection. 

Despite my embarrassment at being caught in such a vulnerable moment, I can't help but smile at the sight of them. Their presence is like a ray of sunshine breaking through the clouds, casting a warm glow over the room and dispelling the tension that had threatened to linger.

Suppressing the urge to bury my burning cheeks in my hands, I offer them a sheepish grin, knowing they heard what I said through the door, hoping to deflect their teasing with a lighthearted remark. But as Magnus's eyebrow quirks suggestively, I know that my attempt at nonchalance has fallen short. So, with a sigh of resignation, I step aside to let them in, knowing that there's no use in trying to hide the flush that still colours my cheeks

As I step aside to let them in, Alec hands me a DVD with a knowing smile. I can’t help bit roll my eyes fondly at his choice—Dracula. It’s become somewhat of an inside joke between me and Jace so I just know Jace told him to bring it. But before I have a chance to protest, Magnus is interjecting, his tone unreadable as he tells me “I’m afraid the others won’t be joining us tonight,” 

But Magnus’ words cut through the light-hearted banter, his tone carrying an unexpected weight as he informs me of the absence of our other friends. A pang of disappointment courses through me, a subtle ache in my chest as I realise that Clary and Simon won't be joining us tonight. They were more than just friends—they were my childhood companions, the ones who had been there through thick and thin. Their absence feels like a tangible loss, a reminder of how much our lives have changed since those carefree days of youth.

As I put the DVD in and get it ready, sinking into the couch with a heavy heart, I can't help but feel a sense of longing for the comfort of their presence. But I push aside those feelings, focusing instead on the company of Alec and Magnus, who have become like family to me in their own right. 

I sink into the cushions, allowing Alec and Magnus to take the other couch as we wait for Jace to return with the pizzas. Despite the disappointment lingering in the air, there's a quiet camaraderie between us, a shared understanding that in times of need, we can always rely on each other.

As the anticipation of Jace's return hangs in the air, the sound of the door opening signals his arrival. He appears just in time to answer the door, a grin spreading across his face as he enters with pizzas in hand. The sight of him brings a flicker of warmth to my heart, dispelling the lingering disappointment of our missing friends. 

Jace sets the pizzas down on the table with a flourish, his presence injecting a sense of energy into the room. With a casual ease, he joins us on the couch, seamlessly sliding in beside me. Without a second thought, he wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulling me snugly into his side. The gesture both  comforting and familiar, a silent reassurance of his affection for me. I lean into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his body against mine as he adjusts the blanket to cover us both. It's a simple act, but it speaks volumes about the bond we share—a bond that transcends words and barriers, connecting us on a deeper level.

With the remote in hand, Jace settles back against the cushions, his gaze fixed on the screen as he starts the movie. As the opening credits roll, I feel a sense of contentment wash over me, grateful for the warmth of Jace's embrace and the company of friends who feel like family.

Despite the disappointments and challenges we may face, in this moment, surrounded by laughter and love, I know that we'll always have each other. And as we lose ourselves in the world of Dracula, I find solace in the simple pleasures of friendship and companionship, knowing that no matter what the future may hold, we'll face it together, as a team.

Plus One

I’m not really sure how it happened but one moment I’m walking home from a day at the coffee shop and the next I’m being thrown into a wall. A wave of disorientating pain washes over me, leaving me gasping for breath and struggling to make sense eo what just happened. My sense reel, the world spinning in a dizzying blur as I try to focus on what just hit me. 

For a terrifying moment, I’m convinced that this is it—that I’m facing my end, torn to shreds by whatever unseen force assaulted me. Panic claws at the edges of my consciousness, threatening to consume me as I brace for the final blow. 

But then, as suddenly as it began, the assault ceases, leaving me trembling and shaken in its wake, unable to heal as I’ve lost too much blood. Slowly, I stagger to my feet, the world still spinning around me as I struggle to regain my bearings.The realisation that I’ve lost too much blood to heal hits me like a physical blow, leaving me lightheaded and unsteady. Every step is a battle against the dizziness and weakness that threatens to overwhelm me, but I push forward with grim determination. 

With each faltering step, the distance to the institute feels impossibly far, unable to use vampire speed without passing out. Panic sets in as I realise that Jace, my lifeline, is at the Institute today, and he hasn’t called to tell me he’s on his way home. Fear grips me like a vice, squeezing the breath from my lungs as I struggle to keep moving forwards. 

The world around me blurs as I stumble out of the alleyway and into the desired streets. My vision swims, the darkness closing in around me as I fight to stay conscious. Each breath is a struggle, my lungs burning with exertion as I push my body beyond its limits. 

Time loses all meaning as I continue to trudge forwards my footsteps echoing in the empty silence of the night. The Institute looms in the distance like a beacon of hope, its towering walls offering the promise of safety and sanctuary. But with each passing moment, it feels as though I'm slipping further and further away, teetering on the brink of unconsciousness.

Desperation claws at the edge of my consciousness as I force myself to keep moving, driven by the fear of what awaits me if I don’t reach the Institute in time. Every step is a battle against the darkness that threatens to engulf me, but I refuse to give up. 

With every ounce of strength I can muster, I push myself forward, determination fuelling my movements as I draw upon the last reserves of energy within me. As I approach the looming doors of the Institute, desperation spurs me to action, and I unleash the full force of my vampire speed. 

The doors fly open before me with a forceful momentum, swinging wide as if welcoming me home. But even as I breach the threshold, I trigger the wards surrounding the entrance, setting off alarms that echo through the empty halls. Before I can fully comprehend the situation, Jace appears before me, his weapon raised in a defensive stance. The sight of him, strong and unwavering, fills me with both relief and a sense of impending doom. I choke out his name, my voice barely a whisper as I struggle to remain upright. 

My knees give way beneath me, threatening to send me crashing to the unforgiving tiles below. But in the blink of an eye, Jace is there, his arms wrapping around me with lightning speed, catching me before I can hit the ground. The seraph blade clatters to the floor, forgotten in the urgency of the moment as Jace sinks us to the floor, cradling me in his arms, his eyes filled with concern and a hint of fear. I reach out to him, my fingers trembling as they brush against his cheek, a silent plea for reassurance. 

Despite my initial resistance, Jace's urgency is palpable, his wrist pressed insistently against my mouth as he pleads with me to drink. Fear courses through me as I shake my head, the thought of losing control terrifying me to the core. But as the scent of his blood fills my senses, a primal hunger takes hold, overpowering my rational thoughts. With a grip on my hair that borders on painful, Jace guides my mouth to the wound on his wrist, his other hand pressing against the back of my head. The taste of his blood is like nothing I've ever experienced before—warm and intoxicating, with a sweetness that rivals the warmth of the sun. 

As I drink, the fog that had clouded my mind begins to lift, clarity returning with each swallow. Guilt washes over me in waves, but I can't bring myself to stop. Jace's blood is a lifeline, grounding me in the present moment and soothing the ache of my wounds. I feed until I can feel the worst of the wounds stopping bleeding, my tongue lapping at the skin on Jace’s wrist to seal it shut. The taste of his blood lingering on my lips, a bittersweet taste. 

With a sigh of relief, I collapse against Jace's safe chest, my body trembling with exhaustion and relief. His touch is gentle yet firm, his hand cupping my jaw with a tenderness that tugs at my heartstrings. I feel his thumb under my chin, lifting my gaze to meet his, and as I look into those golden eyes, I see the raw emotion reflected in their depths.

Tears glisten in his eyes, a silent testament to the fear and concern he's been harboring for me. His voice is soft as he checks if I'm okay, the sound of it like a soothing balm to my battered soul. In that moment, I realise just how much he cares, how deeply he feels, and the thought fills me with a warmth that transcends the physical. 

As he leans down, his lips ghosting over mine with a hesitance that speaks volumes, I can feel the tension building between us, a palpable electricity that crackles in the air. My heart would be hammering in my chest, a rhythm that matches the erratic beat of his own. A small whine escapes my throat, a sound born of longing and need, and in that instant, his resolve crumbles. His lips crash against mine with a fervour that steals my breath away, a kiss so full of passion and intensity that it leaves me reeling. 

In that moment, I feel alive in a way I never have before, as if every nerve in my body is on fire with the intensity of his touch. It's as if he's breathing life back into me with each caress of his lips, each touch igniting a fire that burns brighter than the sun. 

“Maybe don’t almost die to act upon mutual feelings.” Jace is mumbling against my lips, earning a weak smack from me. 

“Shut up.” 

“Make me.” He retorts, kissing me softly once again. 

“Later I will.” 

The Shadowhunters Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 21st Dec 2023

[subway-tolkien]

Okay, this is 1600 words of (positive!) meta regarding the OFMD finale. Included is character analysis and a treatise on why a certain trope people keep throwing around does not apply here.

This is of course just my take, and I'm sure people will disagree, but I needed to get this out. Apologies if it comes off disjointed, I've had like no sleep.

Spoilers within, obviously. You have been warned. Heed the tags. I didn't tag any characters because I consider it a spoiler, but you know who this is about.

Listen. Listen.

Let me start off by saying I have been where you are. I’ve had beloved characters die, either because it was important to the narrative or for shock value. I’ve been there, so I’m not coming at this without empathy. I’m not an Izzy hater. I loved him as a character. I’m truly sad to see him go.

But from what I’m seeing around Twitter and tumblr, some of you do not understand the role of an antagonist in a story.

Izzy was always meant to die. The moment he said, in the first season, “the only retirement we get is death,” I knew he was meant to die in the end. The foreshadowing ran through both seasons. Izzy was the true antagonist of S1. He was there to keep Blackbeard tethered when he started pulling away, and yet he also set the plot in motion. He inadvertently introduced Blackbeard to the person who let him be just Ed. He put Ed on his own path to redemption without even knowing it.

S1 ended with Izzy getting what he wanted as Ed lost everything he had. S2 was about Izzy coming to terms with the fact that he’d gone too far, he’d turned Ed into a monster. It wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted Blackbeard back, just like old times. Instead, he got the Kraken, and it was more than he bargained for.

Especially after it cost him his leg and he realized how far gone Ed really was. The conversation that ended with Izzy’s half-assed suicide attempt was the final blow to Izzy—Ed really didn’t seem to care anymore. Where Izzy wanted him to stop giving a shit about his silly boyfriend, he instead got a Blackbeard who didn’t care about anything, and he was apparently now included in that category.

(I said half-assed suicide attempt because Izzy wasn’t meant to die then, THAT would have been an empty, pointless death. It wouldn’t have taught Ed anything—in fact, all it did was make him more self-destructive, which was Izzy’s purpose to the narrative, but not his endgame. That Ed thought Izzy killed himself pushed Ed to the brink. Ed wanted to die and take every scrap of Blackbeard with him. Had Izzy successfully killed himself, Ed and the Revenge would be at the bottom of the ocean.

It wasn’t until the crew left Izzy the unicorn leg that he realized the power of compassion, the incredible act of grace from a crew that suffered so much from Izzy’s own machinations and didn't need to forgive him. It moved him to tears, and it moved him to accept that maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to let people in, to let himself be cared for. It was a foreign concept and something Izzy likely hadn’t experienced since losing his family (I fully expect a shit ton of fanfic of Izzy’s life before piracy).

Israel Hands found the capacity to let love all the way in and by god, did he pursue it.

But, again, Izzy was always meant to die, and I’m glad they stuck to the narrative they set out with instead of placating fandom and letting our influence dictate how they told this story That’s never good, trust me. Fandom should not influence a creator’s decisions regarding their own characters. It rarely if ever ends well.

[Stares in Voltron S8]

And I see a lot of people out here throwing the “bury your gays” phrase around—I beg you, please look up the definition of the trope. Izzy didn’t die because he was queer, he didn’t die because of his disability. He wasn’t one half of the only queer couple in the show fridged for shock value. He wasn’t killed off due to pressure from conservative viewers. He wasn’t the only queer, disabled character.

They didn’t kill off Lucius, or Jackie, or Wee John. Would you be as outraged if it was any of them?

Killing Eve is bury your gays. Supernatural is bury your gays. Pretty much any film, book, TV show, whatever, where a queer character dies because they’re queer, of AIDs, to further the narrative for a straight person, etc—that is burying your gays.

Izzy’s death was none of those things. Izzy’s death had meaning.

Izzy’s death freed Ed from the Blackbeard persona. It finally forced Izzy to say the things he couldn’t say until he realized it was his last chance. Izzy was also tired. I honestly think he stuck it out for Ed’s sake, because he was afraid to let Blackbeard go without making sure Ed would be ok.

He loved the idea of Blackbeard, but over time, he learned to love Ed. He finally understood what Ed tried to tell him the whole time.

“Fuck off, you twat. You’re surrounded by family.”

You’re safe. You’re loved. You don’t need me anymore. You don’t need to be reminded of who you’re capable of being, you need the people who will guide you to who you will become, and I’m not one of them.

I know a lot of Izzy fans are stung by his death, some of you are deeply upset. I get that. Like I said, I’ve been there. Sirius’s death made me throw that fucking book across the room. That Fucking Woman™ killed off my entire OTP, purely for shock value and, imho, a direct response to shippers. Trust me, I have felt betrayed by a creator for their decisions.

But I need you to understand that no, this was not a personal attack, this was not malicious, this was not “bury your gays." A show that celebrates queerness and diversity is not suddenly homophobic and ableist because your favorite character died and happened to be both of those things. But when the majority of your cast of characters is different in some way, and they’re in a show about 18th century pirates, you have to accept that one of them could, in fact, die. “Anyone Can Die” is also a trope and the more accurate one to describe E8.

If only being queer and disabled made you invincible.

Spoiler alert: it doesn’t.

And no, I’m not an Izzy hater. I loved him, I loved him as an antagonist, and I loved his redemption arc. He was fascinating and Con put his whole O’Nussy into that part. I’m sorry to see him go, but as a mystery writer who often has to kill off beloved characters, I understand that he served the purpose he had from the beginning.

I swear, if some of you had your way, there’d be no conflict at all in any form of media. This what a steady diet of nothing but fanfic gets you. This is not a fluffy one-shot with magical healing dick and a happy ending where everyone sails off into the sunset. If that’s what you wanted, what you headcanoned, you did this to yourself. It’s not David et al’s fault that we took that character and babygirled him. That’s the risk we take when we decide to love a specific character, when we take a genuinely terrible person (in S1) and woobify him.

So, please stop harassing and attacking David, Alex, et al. David did not and should not change his story to placate us. The fact he went ahead with it despite the backlash I’m sure he expected makes me respect him as a creator even more.

Anyway, I’m going to revel that we have three (!) queer relationships with happy endings where one or both didn’t immediately die (again, the actual definition of “bury your gays”) and that we got at least two seasons of a little show that celebrated individualism, diversity, queerness, compassion, and love.

In the end, it all came down to love.

“There he is.”

Goodbye, Blackbeard.

Hello, Ed.