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thesewordsareallihavetogive · 4 years ago

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no body, no crime - allison argent x reader

(gif source)

Summary: When y/n disappears after confronting her husband about his affair, Allison takes matters into her own hands. Based on “no body, no crime (feat. HAIM)” by taylor swift [x]. You can find the mood board for this fic here

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: cursing, infidelity, implied kidnapping, implied murder, murder, alleged murder, alleged/implied death of reader, reader is married to a man with a j name 🤢

a/n: hi everyone! it’s been a hot minute since i posted a new fic & this is why. i’ve been working on this since late december of 2020, so this is the longest i’ve ever spent on a stand-alone work. i’ll include more gory details about the writing process at the end if you’re interested :)

dedicated to: elle (@demxters) for all of her help and ideas! this fic literally wouldn’t have gotten finished without her, send her some love <3

this is also dedicated to caoimhe (@free-pool-trash) for not murdering me after i gave her a preview several weeks ago and then just ✨stopped writing✨

master list

Este's a friend of mine

We meet up every Tuesday night for dinner and a glass of wine

“Hey!” Allison greeted cheerily as she met y/n at their usual table tucked in the corner of their favorite restaurant. y/n returned the brunette’s smile as she stood up to hug her friend, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Allison saw through y/n’s facade and furrowed her eyebrows. “What’s wrong?” she asked as concern spread across her features.

“I think Justin is having an affair,” y/n admitted. The statement dropped like a bomb between the two women, causing Allison to nearly spew the wine in her mouth all over the table. She coughed a few times and drank some water to clear her throat before she composed herself enough to ask questions.

“What happened? Did you see something?” Allison asked hesitantly. Her mind was still reeling from the mere concept of y/n’s husband cheating on her. Sure, Justin had never been Allison’s favorite guy, but it was normal for girls to think that no guy would ever be good enough for their best friend. Right?

Her husband's acting different and it smells like infidelity

She says, "That ain't my merlot on his mouth"

"That ain't my jewelry on our joint account"

y/n explained what had been going on over the past few weeks. Justin had been acting distant, which wasn’t too abnormal, but when he started coming home from work much later than his shifts ended and disappearing at odd hours of the night, y/n got concerned. The day that she had planned to approach him about everything and ask if anything was wrong, she got a call from her bank while driving home from work.

“Hi Mrs. y/l/n, this is Kathy from the bank. I’m calling to inform you that there have been a few large cash withdrawals from your joint account recently under your husband’s name, as well as a pretty expensive purchase yesterday at the jeweler,” the rest of Kathy’s words sounded muffled to y/n. It was nowhere near her birthday, Valentine’s day, or their anniversary, so y/n didn’t know what he could possibly be spending all their money on.

The next incident came a few days later when both y/n and Justin were home. y/n’s husband was in the shower and his phone buzzed with a new text message alert. Typically, y/n was never the type to snoop on her husband’s phone, but she figured she should check in case it was a work message. At least that’s how she justified it in her head. Justin had saved the sender’s number under the contact name “Spam Risk.” It was clever, y/n had to give him credit for that at least. Upon further inspection, y/n quickly realized that those texts weren’t sent from a telemarketer bot.

6:24 p.m. I can’t wait to see you tonight, baby - Spam Risk

6:25 p.m. Don’t keep me waiting too long ;) - Spam Risk

y/n thought the messages were strange, but the picture that followed the messages was definitely what threw y/n for a loop. There, on her husband’s text message thread, was a racy photo of a woman’s body that definitely wasn’t hers. y/n was quite literally stunned to silence as she dropped the phone back down onto the dresser. For the rest of the night, y/n was numb and quiet, not that Justin noticed. Then, like clockwork, he left the house at 11 p.m. with no explanation of where he was going or when he would be back.

By the end of y/n’s story, Allison’s mouth was open so wide she was sure her jaw would hit the table.

“What are you going to do?” Allison whispered, still in shock. y/n grimaced before clearing her throat and speaking her next words with finality.

No, there ain't no doubt

I think I'm gonna call him out

Este wasn't there

Tuesday night at Olive Garden at her job or anywhere

“Hi, there should be a reservation for two under Allison Argent or y/n y/l/n for tonight,” Allison greeted warmly as she approached the hostess stand at their go-to girl’s night restaurant.

“Right this way, ma’am,” the hostess said with a smile as she grabbed two menus and led her towards their usual table. Two menus. That must mean that y/n wasn’t there yet? Allison thought it was strange, y/n almost always was the first of the two to arrive. Allison brushed off the thought as she thanked the hostess and sat down. She had intended to look over the menu, but the strangeness of it all wouldn’t leave her mind. y/n was late. She was never late. Allison pulled out her phone to text her best friend, and it then occurred to her that she hadn’t heard from y/n since last week. Allison had been away on a “work” trip with her dad for the past six days and had just gotten back into town. After 30 minutes of sitting at the table alone, half a dozen unanswered text messages, and even more calls sent straight to voicemail, Allison dropped a few bills on the table and left.

As Allison pulled out of the parking lot, she turned on the radio in a futile attempt to drown out some of her racing thoughts. Between songs the radio host took to the mic to make an announcement.

“Hello Beacon Hills, we now interrupt your regularly scheduled listening with an urgent message from the Sheriff's department. Speaking now is Sheriff Noah Stilinski,” the host trailed off before there was a brief crackle as the audio transitioned to the Sheriff’s press briefing. Allison turned up the volume as the Sheriff’s voice carried across the radio.

“Thank you all for attending and tuning in. It is with great displeasure and a heavy heart that I inform you all that y/n y/l/n has been reported missing. Shortly after 8 a.m. this morning, we were informed by her husband that she didn’t show up for work yesterday morning and also didn’t come home last night,” Sheriff Stilinski continued speaking but it all began to sound like white noise to Allison. It took everything she had in her to focus on not veering off the road so that she could head to the Sheriff’s station and speak to Stilinski in person.

Conveniently, her route took her right past y/n and Justin’s house. Allison didn’t know what to expect as she sped by their house, but the fact that Justin’s normally filthy truck had been cleaned and waxed definitely caught her eye. The truck and driveway were soon out of sight due to the speed she was driving at, but at first glance, it looked as though his tires and grill had been replaced.

He reports his missing wife

And I noticed when I passed his house his truck has got some brand new tires

About a week had passed since y/n had been reported missing. Allison wasn’t sure how many search parties had been held, but they all resulted in the same thing: nothing. There wasn’t a single trace of her best friend, in fact, everything in Beacon Hills looked completely unchanged and normal. Allison’s focus and appetite seemed to have left with her other half, try as she might to desperately hold onto them. Her marksmanship had even been affected, something that hadn’t happened since high school.

Allison started driving around town during her free time. She wasn’t headed anywhere in particular, she mostly did it to try to clear her mind, though most times she was unsuccessful. She’d been mindlessly taking right and left turns and before she realized where she was, she passed y/n’s house.

Allison hadn’t planned to slow down as she passed the house, it was a mindless act if anything. Seeing a moving truck backed up to the house while Justin and some unfamiliar blonde woman were unloading boxes ensured that her decision to park her car where it couldn’t be seen and spy on the pair wasn’t mindless. Despite her gut telling her not to, Allison decided to give Justin the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he needed a roommate now since y/n couldn’t pay her share of the rent? Allison tried her best to keep all of her judgments and suspicions at bay as she watched the otherwise uneventful event unfold while biting her fingernails.

A few boxes later, Justin pulled the blonde in by her waist and kissed her with a fervor that would make most people blush. Allison’s eyes nearly popped out of her head as she sat there in shock with her mouth wide open. It took a while, mostly because the kiss lasted for an obnoxious amount of time, but Allison finally regained control of her body. It was like her brain had to go through a hard reset before she was able to face the reality of the situation.

y/n was right. Justin was cheating on her. Not only that, but Justin had cheated on y/n, spent less than a week grieving her disappearance, then allowed this to happen.

And his mistress moved in

Sleeps in Este's bed and everything

Allison found out that Justin Smith’s mistress’s name was Rebecca Baker. She was a few years younger than y/n and she worked at the same company as Justin. It didn’t take long for Allison to hack into both of their iCloud accounts. A few hours of scrolling later she was really regretting her decision, especially when she got to Justin’s messages to Rebecca about y/n.

2:47 a.m. What about your wife? - Spam Risk

2:47 a.m. What about her? - Justin

2:48 a.m. Are you going to leave her or kick her out or something? - Spam Risk

2:48 a.m. It’s been taken care of. - Justin

2:48 a.m. Taken care of? Justin, what does that mean? - Spam Risk

2:49 a.m. Justin??? - Spam Risk

Each new message ensured that bits of Allison’s fingernails had been gnawed off while her left hand fidgeted anxiously in front of her mouth. Allison decided that those messages were probably the most incriminating thing she’d find digitally, but the time and date stamps caught her eye. The texts were sent early Monday morning, the day that y/n allegedly left home and then didn’t show up for work or return home.

A chill spread from deep within Allison’s bones up to the surface of her skin, making goosebumps appear. Allison didn’t know what exactly, but she knew something terrible had happened to y/n and Justin had something to do with it. She shut her laptop a little harder than necessary as a resolved look spread across her face.

No, there ain't no doubt

Somebody's gotta catch him out

Good thing my daddy made me get a boating license when I was fifteen

Allison regularly accessed her personal armory, whether it was to prepare for a job or pack for a trip to the shooting range, but it had been a while since a powerful and unforgiving feeling hung over her shoulders. Allison carefully ran her fingers over her custom silver arrowheads as she considered her options. Her father’s words from one of her adolescent archery lessons rung in her head.

“The type of bow and arrows you use doesn’t matter. As long as you use them right, you’ll be able to make any shot. Don’t get hung up on the technicalities.”

Not too long after, her bag was stocked with her essentials: a bow, her trusted black leather archery glove, as well as a handful of arrows, though these ones lacked the silver heads she typically reserved for more exotic expeditions.

The rare dark clouds in the California sky at sunset were reflected in Allison’s cold eyes. The drive to her target’s house was familiar, the turns she made were almost instinctual. Normally these roads reminded her of her coffee dates with y/n and nights they spent talking for hours until sunlight crept through the windows. Now, her mind was blank and her heart was devoid of all emotion.

Even though Allison had disabled her car’s GPS earlier, she parked her car about a mile away from his house. When she was done, there wouldn’t be any evidence that could be traced back to her. She memorized his schedule; at 5:00 p.m. his shift ended and recently he’d been getting home by 5:20. His girlfriend got home sometime between 5:30 and 5:45, but she would leave for her pilates class around 6:30 and wouldn’t get home until 7:45. Allison had just over an hour window to get the job done, but it wouldn’t take that long. If everything went according to plan, she’d be off the property within a few minutes of taking the shot.

When she arrived her target had just come home from work and was alone in the house. She waited patiently, hidden by the trees that the property backed up to. She watched as he moved around through the open curtains and then as his girlfriend entered the house and kissed him with a passion that made Allison’s stomach churn. She watched as they ate dinner together, as her target’s girlfriend got ready for her gym class, and watched as she got in her car and drove away. When Allison checked her watch it was only 6:25 p.m., she had far more time than she needed.

The plan was simple, really. Under the cover of darkness, she’d flip the breakers, effectively cutting the power. When her target came out to investigate, she’d let him fumble around in the darkness for a while. He’d always been a paranoid individual, so it wouldn’t take much to get him on edge. A rustle in the bushes here, a small snapped tree branch there, and then something that would get his attention. Allison wanted his eyes to be on her when she took the shot.

Allison’s target was watching TV so he knew immediately when the power went out, plus the fact that the once illuminated house was suddenly bathed in darkness. The high-pitched yelp that escaped his throat almost made Allison laugh. She had to keep quiet though, at least for now. As expected, the dopey man scurried around to the side of the house where the breakers were located in no time. The batteries in the flashlight he held were on their last leg, that much was evident in the way the light beam flickered every few seconds.

Just as he opened the door to the circuit breaker panel, Allison moved. A rustle here. The sound practically echoed in the silence of the night, causing the man to whip around and shine his flashlight directly at the source of the noise. There was nothing there. It’s just the wind, he reasoned before getting back to work. After a few switches had been flipped - none of them for the outdoor lights - he heard another noise. This one was much louder than the last, a small snapped tree branch there. Again, the flashlight’s flickering light beam uncovered nothing, but it was enough to make all of the hairs on the back of Allison’s target’s neck stand up straight. He hastily flipped the rest of the breakers and the outdoor lights finally came on.

When yellow light from the backyard fixtures flooded the area, both Allison and her target were revealed. Allison stood a considerable distance away from the man, but she was close enough to see the blood drain from his face and his Adam's apple bob. When his eyes darted to the bow hung by her side, realization dawned on his face. He began to turn away with the intention of running, but Allison’s voice held him frozen in place.

“Don’t move,” she ordered quietly without any aggression behind her tone. Her face wasn’t threatening, she just looked calm and focused. Allison’s smooth features and peaceful expression was what scared the man the most.

“I- I’m sorry- I didn’t-” he stammered out, his arms and legs beginning to tremble.

“Shh,” Allison chastised as she raised her bow, loading it with an arrow. Her fingers moved with precision, her muscles knew this routine well.

“Please don’t- no, you can’t, you can’t do this!” the man pleaded. He wasn’t above begging on his knees, but Allison wasn’t about to give him the chance. Her gaze was sharply focused on her target, the view of her tightly grasped bow in her peripheral vision.

“Nous chassons ceux qui nous chassent.”

When Allison’s fingers let go of the bowstring the arrow flew smoothly through the air. The only sounds heard were the arrowhead piercing skin and the man wordlessly falling to the ground. The arrow went straight through his heart. Maybe Allison’s shot landed right where she intended. Maybe there was a metaphor in there. Allison checked her wristwatch, the numbers 6:45 shining back at her. An entire hour to spare.

Time to take out the trash.

I've cleaned enough houses to know how to cover up a scene

The job didn’t take long at all and it was definitely one of Allison’s least challenging ones, but it still felt nice to take a hot shower and sit in front of her fireplace with a cup of tea. The fire served a dual purpose; the crackles of the burning wood soothed her like a lullaby while the flames licked around and destroyed her bloody clothes from earlier. All of her equipment had been cleaned and put away, positioned exactly as it had been before. Everything was the same, nothing changed or out of place. There was just one less heartbeat in the world that night.

Good thing Este's sister's gonna swear she was with me

On the second day of the trial, Rebecca Baker’s lawyers were throwing whatever they could against the wall to see if something would stick. That morning they began to argue that Allison Argent might’ve abducted and murdered Justin Smith in retaliation for y/n’s disappearance. It was all speculation at best, but the theory unfortunately made sense to the jury. Before things could get too far, the prosecution called its first witness of the day to the stand.

“Mrs. Martin, where were you on the night of Mr. Smith’s suspected disappearance?” the prosecution lawyer questioned calmly.

“I was with Allison at my house. We were having a girls night in, you can check my security cameras,” Lydia answered confidently. Lydia still had a pocketful of favors from her MIT days, so when the jurors were shown the clips from Lydia’s home security cameras, they saw exactly what they would’ve expected based on Lydia’s testimony.

Truth be told, Lydia didn’t know anything about what happened that night; including Allison’s whereabouts and any details related to Justin’s alleged demise. All she knew was that Allison called and asked for a simple favor - an alibi for just a few hours. Lydia didn’t ask questions and Allison didn’t give answers.

Good thing his mistress took out a big life insurance policy

On the third day of the trial, Rebecca Baker took the stand. Her lawyers tried to help her as best they could, but the prosecution was ruthless. All of the evidence was circumstantial at best - all parties, including the judge and jurors, knew that - but it was enough to make everyone reconsider the spotless image the defense had tried to create for Ms. Baker.

“Ms. Baker, is it true that you knowingly engaged in a romantic relationship while Justin Smith was married to and living with his wife?” another one of the prosecution’s attorneys began.

“Yes,” Rebecca replied meekly. Allison internally scoffed from her seat in the gallery. She found irony in the fact that Rebecca didn’t find any humility or shame in sleeping with another woman’s husband until she was under oath.

“Is it also true that within approximately a week of Mrs. y/l/n’s disappearance, you moved into Mr. Smith and Mrs. y/l/n’s house?”

“That is correct,” Rebecca said as she began to wring her hands together anxiously. The judge tapped his wrist watch and shot a stern look towards the prosecutor. The man nodded in response and continued to his final points.

“I’ll wrap up my questions for you, Ms. Baker. Can you confirm that shortly after moving in with Mr. Smith, multiple legal and financial arrangements and adjustments were made? And these new arrangements make you the sole beneficiary of Mr. Smith’s life issuance policy, assets, and investments?”

By the end of the prosecution’s final question, every jury member and spectator sat up straighter and waited to hear Rebecca’s response with bated breath. The blonde ball of nerves sighed defeatedly before turning to face the attorney directly as she answered his question.

“Yes, that’s true.”

“No further questions, your honor.” As the lead prosecutor returned to the plaintiff’s table, Rebecca’s attorney stood up to address the judge.

“Your honor, the defense would like to request a brief recess,” the defense attorney nearly pleaded. Though his poker face was much better than his client’s, it was clear that he was getting nervous.

“We’ll reconvene in 15 minutes,” the judge ordered with a stern glare cast towards Rebecca.

They think she did it but they just can't prove it

It soon became clear to Rebecca that the recess her legal team requested was nothing more than a “kiss your dignity goodbye” meeting. If she hadn’t been queasy before the recess was called, she definitely was upon re-entering the courtroom.

The rest of the trial seemed to move in slow motion for Rebecca. A few more witnesses were called to the stand, more lackluster evidence was presented, both sides made their closing arguments, and the jury left to discuss the verdict. After what felt like an eternity, the jury returned with an official decision.

Silence settled over the room as a single juror stood to address the court.

“The jury finds the defendant not guilty on count 1 of murder in the first degree based on lack of sufficient evidence. The jury finds the defendant not guilty on count 2 of kidnapping based on lack of sufficient evidence. The jury finds the defendant guilty on count 3 of insurance fraud based on…”

The rest of the jurors’ statement sounded like white noise to Rebecca. She was just barely coherent enough to hear the judge deliver her punishment a few minutes later. $50,000 fine and 200 hours of community service.

Allison stuck around to the bitter end of the trial to hear the verdict in person. In all honesty, Allison didn’t want Rebecca to go to jail. It wouldn’t be right for her to serve time for a crime she didn’t commit, but Allison did find satisfaction in the fact that Rebecca would soon be picking up garbage in a fluorescent orange vest.

After the majority of the spectators had vacated the courtroom gallery, Allison leisurely gathered her things. Justice had been served to Justin, she personally made sure of that, and now justice had been served to Rebecca. The blonde and brunette women briefly locked eye contact as Allison made her way towards the exit.

“You did this,” Rebecca whispered to Allison. Suddenly, it was like a flip switched within her. One moment she was numb, yet calm and collected, and the next moment she was screaming (literal) bloody murder and had to be held back by her lawyers.

“YOU DID THIS! YOU KILLED JUSTIN, YOU BITCH!” Rebecca cried, though her words fell on deaf ears. Allison exited the courtroom with her head held high as the courtroom deputy and defense lawyers did their best to calm the hysterical woman.

She thinks I did it but she just can't prove it

A week later the court case was still on Allison’s mind but the emotional scars had begun to scab. Healing was never a straight or smooth path, Allison had learned that the hard way over the years, but this was a start.

y/n’s landlord had been generous enough to allow Allison to gather y/n’s things before he cleaned out the house for new renters. As Allison walked through the home she once considered to be an extension of her own, she felt her throat dry out and tighten up. She hadn’t realized she was crying until she was wiping salty tears off of the picture frames she’d carefully picked up. Each photo unlocked a new memory, some even elicited a chuckle out of Allison amidst her tears.

A photo from y/n’s wedding day stood out among all the rest as Allison’s eyes jumped from frame to frame. It was a candid shot Lydia had taken while they were in y/n’s dressing room before the ceremony. y/n looked as beautiful as ever in her flowy white gown and Allison’s mulberry maid of honor dress complemented it well. As Allison put the final touches on y/n’s hair and makeup, y/n fastened the clasp of a custom necklace behind Allison’s neck. On a thin, medium-length chain hung an arrowhead from the first time Allison had ever tried to teach y/n how to shoot a bow and arrow. y/n failed miserably, but it was a cherished memory for both girls. Since that day, Allison had only taken the necklace off a handful of times.

Allison smiled bittersweetly at the memory and wiped a fresh tear off of the decorative frame before pulling her necklace out from underneath her shirt. She pressed a gentle kiss to the cool silver arrowhead and then to the photo frame, right above y/n’s styled hair.

A feeling that Allison couldn’t quite explain flowed through her body just then; it was like taking a deep breath of fresh air after being stuck underwater or seeing the gentle rays of the sun for the first time after a hurricane, it felt like freedom. Allison felt almost as if y/n was right there next to her, with her head resting on Allison's shoulder and wrapping her arms around the brunette’s torso. In that moment, Allison somehow wordlessly knew with every fiber in her being that y/n was finally at peace.

No, no body, no crime

I wasn't letting up until the day he died

a/n: AHHHH DID YOU LIKE IT? it was kind of a wild ride from start to finish and i definitely shed a few tears while i was writing it. please lmk what you think!

okay, now onto the writing process from hell: i started drafting ideas for the fic on dec. 21 or 22 of 2020, after i put together a mood board. i had written more than half of the fic when i decided i hated it and scrapped the whole thing on xmas eve (~3000 words 🤡). after that i was kinda in a rut and couldn’t decide how i wanted to end the fic so i ended up writing and deleting ~2500 words over the past month and a half. @demxters is an absolute GODDESS and helped me come up with the ending, so i am eternally grateful to her for that. if any of this seems a lil strange it’s probably because i finished writing it at 4:45 a.m. after working on it for 3ish hours straight. have a great day lovelies!

join my tag list!

@dashkana @rogershoe @basicbibitxh @sweetfairyprincess17 @samkysnks @ellxpsismm @pure-ghost @lilyspells @ineedyourskulls @loveheathens @plq-cid @linkpk88 @grace-wade-08 @brithedemonspawn @fanfichoex @wistful-chaos @silveralma @malfoysadore @miss-i-ship-it @sonnydoesrandomshit

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mimisempai · 3 years ago

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When you feel weak, let me be your strength

Summary:

Sam, slightly injured during a mission, is going through a moment of doubt. But Bucky is there to take care of him.

🌈 Happy Pride month ! 🌈

To celebrate, 1 day, 1 story.

Be ready for smiles, laugh, fluff, tooth rotthing fluff, positive vibes and a lot of love!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31944619

1427 words - Rating G

Bucky felt Sam roll over next to him several times.

Until finally, Sam sat down on the edge of the bed with a heavy sigh.

"Sam? You can't sleep?"

"It's mostly that I can't find the right position." He sighed and reluctantly continued, "because of the pain."

This simple admission showed Bucky how much Sam trusted him. Sam never complained.

At the beginning of their relationship, getting Sam to open up about his pain was like pulling teeth. His lover was so used to relying only on himself, being strong for others, taking care of others, that he took it all on himself and forgot about his own self. But Bucky was there now.

"May I see?" asked Bucky softly.

He knew that during his last mission, Sam had been hit by a rock that had come off a cliff and hit him in mid-air, and even though his armor was reinforced with vibranium-a requirement of Bucky’s who had literally begged Shuri-it didn't stop him from feeling the shock.

"What? What do you want to see? That I'm not a super soldier like you? That I can't take a beating without getting hurt?" Sam questioned him bitterly.

But Bucky didn't let Sam's defiant tone deter him, he kept his composure, put everything he felt into his eyes and said softly, as if he was talking to a scared animal, "Show me Sam, please."

They stayed like that for a few moments. Bucky was unimpressed by the dark looks Sam was giving him and continued to stare at him in the same way until with a sigh of defeat, Sam gave in.

Although reluctant, he lifted his shirt and Bucky held his breath at the extent of the bruise. No wonder Sam was having trouble sleeping. It stretched from the top of his shoulder to his ribs and back again.

Bucky decided that if his lover wouldn't take care of himself, then he was going to do it for him.

He stood up, kissed Sam lightly on the forehead and said, still in the same gentle tone, "Stay like that, I'll be right back."

He went into the bathroom and Sam heard him rummaging through the drawers until he came back with a tube of cream that Sam recognized as a pain remedy. Bucky studied the bruise for a second, trying to figure out what to do so that Sam would suffer as little as possible and then said, "Lie down on your stomach, I'll apply some cream."

Sam huffed and said, "Bucky, there's no need, it will go away. You don't need to worry."

"Sorry, but I can't. I'm your husband, it's my duty to worry about you. It's the direct consequence of my love, deal with it."

Bucky put a finger on his lip and continued, as gently as ever, "Hush Doll now, let me take care of you. I know it's not easy, I know you don't like to feel weak, but I told you before, here with me there is no Captain America, no expectations of the outside world. Just Sam Wilson and his husband Bucky Barnes who takes care of him after a difficult mission. So try to let go, I'll take care of everything ok?"

"Okay." Sam did as Bucky asked. He was never able to resist him anyway, Bucky having shown him time and time again that he was more than capable of taking care of himself. Sam's bravado was just his last defense to keep himself from letting go and they both knew it.

Once Sam was on his stomach, Bucky straddled his thighs. He opened the tube of cream, took a dab and warmed it in his hands before starting to apply it to Sam's skin.

Sam flinched slightly.

Bucky stopped immediately and asked him, "Am I hurting you?"

"No, on the contrary." To emphasize his point, Sam put his hands along his body, his shoulders completely relaxed

Bucky, reassured, continued to apply the cream and then massage the rest of Sam's back, loosening all the cramped muscles. Keeping the touch light though so as not to increase the pain.

"Bucky... actually it wasn't just the pain that was keeping me awake." said Sam softly in a slightly broken voice after a few moments.

"Hm? What else?"

Bucky knew this was coming, it wasn't the first time, so he just listened.

"I'm trained, I'm not afraid to get into the fight when I have to, but sometimes I... "

He paused, as if he didn't dare continue his sentence or had trouble putting into words what he was feeling.

Bucky continued his massage and simply asked, "But sometimes you what Sam?"

"Sometimes I'm afraid of being too confident, of getting carried away by the power of this shield. And when I got hit by that stone, the pain I felt on the impact, I realized that without the shield and the armor, I was just mortal. And I was scared for the first time in a long time, I felt the same shock as when Riley had been hit in mid-air by the rocket. I wondered if I had not let myself be carried away by the feeling of omnipotence that the armor and the shield gave me. I wondered if I was able to keep going. "

Bucky lay down next to Sam, turning him so that he could wrap his arms around him while being careful not to put pressure on his bruise.

Then he began to whisper against his hair, "Just because you ask that kind of question, I can tell you that yes Sam you are still capable of doing it. Did you get carried away? So what? It happens to everyone. It took a rock to make you realize that but I know you Sam, you're an extremely lucid person, - well not always about your own needs-, so you would have seen it sooner or later. But to get so carried away that you forget your responsibilities? No Sam, I'm sure of that.The proof is in your reluctance to take the shield 10 years ago, you didn't jump on it, you didn't believe that the shield was everything. You chose to take on the Captain America costume fully aware of the weight of that responsibility and you still wear it today in the same way. You are human Sam, you are allowed to stumble. You're allowed to have doubts."

"But I'm supposed to..." Bucky cut him off gently.

"Hey Sam, having a moment of doubt or weakness is not being weak. It's what you do with it that determines that. And I already know you're going to turn this into a stepping stone to move forward. You're not supposed to be anything. And never forget that you're not the only one with these responsibilities, even if you're the one in the spotlight. There's Sarah and the kids, Joaquin, Rhodey, Peter -don't roll your eyes, I know you love him- me-"

"Meow?"

"Haha and yes there is also the most supportive of all, Alpine."

Sam smiled, as Alpine jumped on the bed and lay against his belly, feeling he needed comfort.

After kissing Sam on the neck, Bucky whispered softly," So now you'll get some sleep, we'll enjoy this weekend of rest and I promise you that with hindsight, you'll see things differently."

"What if I don't?" asked Sam, the doubt still lingering in him a little.

Bucky placed his hands on Sam's head and began to make hypnotic circles with his fingertips.

"Then you'll consider other options, we'll consider other options together and if that means hanging up the Cap's outfit for a while, then that's what you'll do and I'll support you whatever your decision is. Anything is possible, Sam. Anything is possible for you. But we're not there yet, so try to get some sleep sweetheart."

"Hm Bucky, I don't know what I would do without you."

"That darling, we don't need to know, I have no intention of leaving.

As Bucky massaged his head, Sam gradually felt the fears, the questions disappear, letting a restful sleep take over.

It was only when he felt Sam's breathing take on a regular, deep rhythm that Bucky surrendered and fell asleep as well.

Tomorrow everything would be better.

Tomorrow there would be no mission, no fight, just the two of them, preparing for another tomorrow.

After tomorrow, this time, it might be Bucky who would need Sam.

After tomorrow and forever, only one truth would remain unchanged: Each of them was the other's safe place.

_____

Not beta'd I hope you enjoyed it 🥰

#sambucky fics #sambucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #tfatws #caatws #winterfalcon #sam x bucky #caring bucky #married

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jimins-ass-eater · 4 years ago

Text

the goblin queen | pjm

➛authors: @illneverrecover & @jimins-ass-eater ; executive consultant @quinnkook

➛pairing: Park Jimin x reader

➛genre: Labyrinth!AU, Goblin Queen!Reader, action, fantasy, some fluff, smut

➛word count: 11,298 (definitely didn’t think we’d write this much)

➛rating: M

➛warnings: action scenes, cursing, half naked tattooed & pierced Jungkook, mentions of alcohol, mentions of drugging/poisoning, heavy kissing, light bondage, power play (with both reader & Jimin), oral sex (male receiving), mentions of face sitting, unprotected vaginal sex, marking/biting, slight dirty talk

➛summary: When Jimin makes a desperate wish after giant mistake, he didn’t expect to find himself stuck in a Labyrinth, under the control of a mysterious Goblin Queen. Unable to escape, he has to defeat the trials of the maze - with the help of some new friends - in order to defeat her. However, she has a penchant for pretty things, and well, Jimin sure is pretty.

➛notes: I can’t think of a better way to break back into writing again than with two of my favorite people by my side, @illneverrecover and @quinnkook. Thank you both for being there to cheer me on, give feedback, and be the kindest support system ever. For this project, we decided to take the story/movie of Labyrinth, and turn it on its head for the network @ksmutclub “Twisted Fairtytales: Members in Distress”, with Jimin as Sarah, and the reader as mysterious and sexy Goblin Queen. This was exciting to write and I really hope that this gives me more confidence to continue writing in the future! Thank you for reading!

Failure has never been a thing in Jimin’s world.

He knew what it was, of course. Has seen others fall to its clutches, danced with the devil a few times himself, but he always pulled out at the last moment. Toed the line before forging ahead.

He was a perfectionist, and it showed. From his perfectly colored silver hair, his immaculate wardrobe, to his charming presence, his pristine work record. Jimin had worked hard his whole life to get where he was, and it wasn’t something he took lightly.

Which is why he cannot believe he made such a stupid mistake.

A small miscalculation, an extra digit where one shouldn’t be. He should have triple checked it, should have quadruple checked it - hell, he should have sent it to that obnoxious, always smirking auditor Wooyoung, just to be sure - but he didn’t. Not this time. He was confident, he was in a hurry, and he never made mistakes.

Until now.

It wasn’t something he could sweep under the rug, either. It had cost his company, Han Industries, an absurd amount of money; an amount that while only a drop in the bucket for the multimillionaire of a CEO, was still a substantial loss. His boss didn’t even seem angry, which was one of the worst parts, honestly. Jimin could handle yelling, berating, a stapler flying past his head - but what he couldn’t handle was the low disappointment in his superior’s tone, the disapproval in his eyes as he sent him home for the rest of the day.

He doesn’t know what’s next. Despite a spotless record before now, he wouldn’t be surprised if they suspend him. Fire him. He deserves it anyway, making such an idiotic error. How could he be so stupid?

Drinking a glass of wine on the back deck doesn’t relax him like he had hoped, instead it makes him feel itchy in his button down, has panic clawing in his throat. With one miscalculation, the perfect life Jimin had built for himself has all but crumbled, and what does he have to show for it?

The moon is full, bright, illuminating his balcony and shedding light to his shame. He feels tears prick behind his eyes, his vision swimming.

“I wish I could just disappear,”

The words hang heavy in the air alongside his anguish, and he blinks the wetness away, wiping at his cheeks. Sighing, he goes to take another sip of wine, when something appears in his periphery.

It seemed to be a small animal, creeping across the expanse of his backyard, however what stood out to him was the way it seemed to be glowing. Straining his eyes, he makes out the shape of a fox; long, bushy tail perked up in the air, sharp eyes and ears trained towards him, staring. It’s fur was as white as fresh snow, but the cast of the moon made it look like it was made of starlight, silver and shining.

Gasping, he freezes, watching as it slowly trots through the grass, edging closer to where he stands and the vast forest to the side of his home. It’s only when it gets closer that Jimin can see that it has something perched in it’s mouth, a rectangular shaped piece of leather, about the size of a-

Wait, is that his briefcase?

Without thinking, Jimin drops his wine glass and takes off towards the creature, shouting and waving his arms.

“HEY! Hey, drop that! That’s not YOURS!”

Sprinting through the grass, he continues to chase the silver fox, startling a bit when it tears off in the direction of the woods. “No! No, don’t go in there, drop it! Give it back!”

His desperation has him following, any sense of danger pushed to the back of his mind as he pursues the animal deeper into the forest, shouting expletives as he weaves through the trees. He couldn’t afford to lose his briefcase, lose his last connection and only hope at getting his job back, and it fuels him to run farther, even when the woodland becomes so thick he can barely see the light of the moon.

After what seems like ages, the fox sprints into a large open field, a clearing that is stopped abruptly by a large, intimating wall. Jimin stumbles to stop, his momentum making him fall forward, dropping his hands on his knees to catch his breath.

“Where the hell did that come from?”

It had to be at least 12 feet high, made of dark brick covered in vines and foliage interwoven throughout. He has no idea what it would belong to - can’t recall any buildings this far out into the country - but before he can ponder for too long, the sly little beast gives him one last lingering stare before leaping through the wall, vanishing into thin air.

“What? No! HEY!”

Exasperation, misery, and a bit of stupidity has him following suit, speeding towards the place in the wall where it had disappeared in foolish determination.

“I’m going to catch you!” he yells before squeezing his eyes tight, and leaping towards the same spot in the wall -

-before leaping through it, vanishing into thin air.

When he opens his eyes, Jimin finds himself surrounded by the giant walls, sandwiched into a vast alley, no end in sight. He groans, fingers immediately flying up to massage his throbbing temple. How he got here, he can’t quite remember. It was like how one falls into a dream, except the pain in his head reminds him that this is all very much real. He remembers the fox, and his briefcase, and not much else. His hands, well groomed and adorned in silver rings, reach out for the giant walls that surround him. They’re solid, cool to the touch and so smooth that there’s no way he could climb them. He huffs. Jimin has one of two options: stay put or explore. Not one to sit around and do nothing, he decides to walk, his fingers trailing along the wall on his left as he makes his way forward.

He walks for an indeterminate length of time. The sun overhead barely moves, but it feels like very early morning. The landscape remains unchanged. Just two large walls on either side that cage him in, until he stumbles literally across an opening. Well, actually it was the legs of someone huddled up against the wall in front of an opening. The jostled stranger grunts as Jimin composes himself.

“Ouch. Why don’t you watch where you’re going,” the grumpy stranger snarls.

“I’m so sorry. I was walking, and I didn’t even see you! Where did you even come from?”

“Me? I’ve been here this whole time. It’s you that came out of nowhere.”

Jimin scoffs. “Well, sorry. Look. I’m trying to get out of this place. Do you know where I am?”

“I don’t even know who you are, so how should I know where you are?”

“My name is Jimin,” he extends a hand out of habit.

The stranger grasps his hand. “Woah, would you look at that. You’ve got some very nice rings, there, Jimin.”

Jimin pulls back his hand and wipes it inconspicuously on his pant leg, “Yes, well. Thank you. I’m sorry but I didn’t catch your name.”

“That’s because I didn’t say it.” The stranger smirks. “My name is Yoongi. And I’m just a simple troll who guards the entrance to the labyrinth by order of the Goblin Queen herself.”

Jimin blinks. “I’m sorry. Troll? Goblin Queen? I must be dreaming.”

“No, I’m afraid to tell you this is very much real. But you don’t have to take my word for it. You see that hourglass over there? You have 24 hours before the sand is up. If you can’t reach the Goblin Queen’s castle in that time, then you’ll be stuck here forever… and that briefcase of yours will be hers.”

Wait a minute, briefcase? “How do you know about the briefcase?�� Jimin crosses his arms suspiciously.

“Because she told me about it! Obviously!” Yoongi huffs his dark hair out of his face and rolls his eyes in exasperation. “Look, are you going to flap your jaws here all day? Time’s a’ wastin’. I’d get a move on if I were you.”

Jimin looks past Yoongi’s shoulder. The labyrinth continued on, but there was no way for him to know how to get to the Goblin Queen’s castle. He met Yoongi’s gaze. “Take me to her castle.”

“What?” Yoongi starts to laugh. “Wow. That was a good one. I almost believed you for a second.”

“I’m serious. Take me there. You know the Queen so surely you know the way.”

Yoongi narrows his dark eyes. “And why should I take you there? Out of the goodness of my heart? The Queen will have my head if she finds out I helped you!”

Jimin folds his arms across his chest. Yoongi’s eyes flit down to the rings on his finger for a brief moment. It gives him an idea. “No, of course not. I’ll offer you a trade. My rings for your guidance.”

Yoongi’s face falters. “Who says I want those things?”

“Oh! Well, I guess that wasn’t a good trade then. Seeing as I have nothing left to offer, I guess I’ll just be on my way. Nice to meet you, Yoongi.” He waves his fingers in front of Yoongi’s face on purpose and sets off into the labyrinth. A few moments later he hears it:

“Wait!”

Jimin smiles, then turns around. “Yes?”

“I’ll do it. The trade. I’ll take your rings.”

“Wonderful,” Jimin beams as he begins to slide the rings loose.

Yoongi hobbles over to him, and Jimin thinks he must have been sleeping there a long time. He snatches the rings from Jimin’s outstretched palm and places them gleefully in his own fingers. He flexes his fingers in the sunlight as he admires them. Satisfied, he squares his shoulders and looks Jimin in the eye. “Before we go, I have one thing to say.”

Jimin nods for him to continue.

“Remember this. Things in the labyrinth aren’t always what they seem. Wherever you came from… this place is very different. I can assure you.”

“Oh… kay. Well, thanks for the terrifying reminder. I will be sure to take care. Plus, I have you now. Right?” He smiles widely and claps Yoongi on the shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah. Sure, sure. Just try to keep up,” Yoongi grumbles as he starts down the packed earth path.

Jimin curses out loud as another low branch catches on his pant leg. As the path they walk on takes yet another winding curve, he can’t help but whine. “Is there no end in sight? God, I feel like I’ve been walking forever.” His feet land heavy on the packed dry earth.

“Well, this is a labyrinth. I’m not sure what to tell you,” Yoongi replies dryly.

“You could, I don’t know… lie to me? Tell me it’s over soon? Give me some hope of seeing the end?!”

Yoongi rolls his eyes. “And have to deal with the whining when you inevitably figure out the truth? No thanks. You’re lucky I’m even helping you, remember? The Queen will surely punish me when she finds out.” Yoongi’s lips quirk slightly as he imagines for a moment what sweet torment the Queen would plan for him.

Jimin opens his mouth to retort, but a primal yell stops them both in their tracks. It’s coming from up ahead, the same direction they’re supposed to be traveling. Jimin’s eyes find Yoongi’s, wide with an unspoken question. Before he can attempt to ask what the hell is going on, another yell can be heard, this time it sounds like one of pain.

“Someone’s hurt!” Jimin yells before dashing off toward the sound. He hears Yoongi shout behind him but the message is scrambled and he’s too far gone to care. He jumps over gnarled roots, flies down the twisting, shaded labyrinthine path. Another wail, closer now, and he’s answering out, “Hold on! I’m coming!” He crashes into a clearing, eyes scanning the unexpected sight before him. Bodies, goblins of sorts, lie crumpled and groaning in a heap. They’re injured and broken, but that’s not what makes his eyes widen. The tall, chest heaving hunk of sweaty shirtless muscle is what takes his breath from him. “W-who are you?” Jimin’s voice sounds more afraid than he’d like it to.

The beast turns toward him. Long black shaggy curls cover half of its face, but Jimin can feel its eyes on him. It straightens up to its full height and Jimin gulps as he scans it from head to toe. Two large, black gnarled horns sprout from its thick locks, a large rounded nose sits above pink sculpted lips. His jaw is set firm and determined. His shoulders, the widest part of him so far, are bare in the sunlight as is his torso. A silver ring decorates each nipple, and tattoos spiral down both arms and end at his fingers. His waist cinches in and is accentuated by his tight fitting black pants that strain under the hulk of his thighs.

He’s breathtaking.

The beast smirks and stalks towards Jimin. He starts from his staring with a shout and raises his fists. “Hey! Hey you! D-dont come closer! I’ll kick your ass!”

The beast only chuckles and raises his fists in kind, but looks relaxed, as one does when they’re fighting a much weaker and pitiful opponent.

“I’m warning you!” Jimin puffs out his chest to look more menacing.

“Woah woah! Wait! Wait!” Yoongi’s voice cuts the tension and the fighters both relax their stance. Yoongi breaks up the scene but is so winded from running after Jimin that he needs a moment. He raises a finger into the air as he bends at the waist and holds onto a knee. “Phew. God. I hate. Hate. Running. Ugh.” He straightens up and wipes his brow. “Jimin, meet Jungkook. Jungkook, meet Jimin. Jimin is a friend. Okay?”

Jungkook’s shoulders sag, and all the fight leaves him. He flicks his hair out of his eyes and big, brown eyes twinkle in wonder as he opens his mouth to speak. “Friend?”

“Yes, Jungkook. He’s a friend,” Yoongi pants out, still trying to find his breath.

Jungkook turns towards Jimin and smiles brightly, his eyes crinkling adorably. “Friend!” he shouts and runs toward Jimin, gathering the smaller man up in his arms and hugging him tightly despite Jimin’s obvious struggling.

“Nice… to meet… you too. Buddy.” Jimin croaks out, the breath nearly squashed from his lungs.

Jungkook beams and sets him back down. He’s all smiles as he looks back and forth between Jimin and Yoongi. He was so very glad to have another friend here. It was lonely in the labyrinth. And now he would have a new friend to beat up goblins with. It would be so much fun!

Yoongi straightens up. “Well. I’m glad I was able to stop that from going down. Thank goodness. Jungkook is the nicest person in this forsaken place, can’t imagine what I would have done if I came onto the scene to see you laying a hand on him.”

Jimin laughs. “What are you talking about? I wouldn’t have even landed a punch on him.”

“Shame on you for even thinking of hitting our Jungkookie. He’s our soft baby. No one is allowed to hurt him.”

Jimin smiles and shakes his head. “Aww, Yoongi. I’m starting to think the biggest soft baby in this place isn’t Jungkook, but you.”

“What are you talking about? I’m vicious.”

“Yeah, sure. Says the guy who helps a stranger through a labyrinth even though he hates physical exercise and protects big muscle baby here from getting picked on.” Jimin’s eyes sparkle as Yoongi’s cheeks start to turn pink. Jimin can’t help but coo and try to pinch them. “Aww, are you blushing? You are! So cute! Oh I just want to hug you now!” He approaches Yoongi with open arms.

“No! Absolutely not! No hugging!”

“Too bad! I’m going to!”

“No! Don’t!!!”

Poor Yoongi is too tired to evade Jimin for long, and winds up caged in the younger man’s arms. As soon as Jimin connects, the ground beneath the three of them begins to shake violently.

“What’s happening!” Jimin yells.

Jungkook looks around in panic.

“You idiot! I said no hugging!!!!” Yoongi bellows as the ground beneath them gives out and swallows the three of them up without a trace.

A tiny worm inches across the ground that just moments ago had swallowed them whole. It shakes its little head and sighs in pity. “What a shame,” it squeaks. “Had they kept going along this path, they’d be at the Queen’s castle in no time.”

The fall is only a moment, but it’s disorienting all the same. Jimin lands on a grassy knoll then rolls several feet before coming to a stop flat on his ass. He sits up, slowly, while groaning and trying to figure out where the hell they are. Yoongi and Jungkook are equally slow to get up, but seem to be otherwise unharmed. Jimin blinks, the area around him is nothing like he’s ever seen in the labyrinth before. It looks like a muggy swampland. Thick, murky water burbles and bubbles, and moss covered trees curl towards the sky with gnarled branches. It takes a deep breath to calm himself, and nearly wretches. The stench of death and flatulence and all things rotten slides into his nostrils and decides to make a permanent home there.

Jimin turns towards his companions. “What is that SMELL?”

“That,” Yoongi sighs, pinching his nose, “is the bog of eternal stench.”

“Smells bad!” Jungkook wails pathetically.

Yoongi extends a hand to poor Jungkook and helps him stand. Jimin stands as well, and wonders if he should breathe through his mouth and risk tasting the foul air, or if he should just give up and suffocate right there and then.

“I’m never hugging you again,” Jimin pouts.

“Preferable, honestly.”

Yoongi walks to the edge of the swamp and surveys the situation. He frowns as Jungkook and Jimin join him on either side. “Do you see that?” He points at the far end of the swampy bog. “There’s a bridge that leads out of here. The only problem is-”

“How do we get to it?” Jimin finishes Yoongi’s question.

“That… I don’t know,” Yoongi ponders deep in thought.

“Why can’t we just swim across?”

Yoongi looks at Jimin, “It’s not a bad idea except that, well, you’d drown. This muck is as thick as quicksand. Once you go in, you never get out.”

Jimin swallowed. He was willing to trust Yoongi on this one. “Well, could we make a boat?”

“Hmmm,” Yoongi answers noncommittally and continues to stew in his thoughts.

Jimin chews on his lip. “What do you think, Jungkook?” There’s no answer. Not even a grunt. Panic sets off in his gut. Oh no, did the poor guy wander off and get sucked into the bog? “Hey, Yoongi. Where’s Jungkook?”

“Hmm? Oh. He walked off over there, somewhere.” Yoongi’s hand waves off in the direction of Jungkook’s travel, and then he goes right back to sitting in his thoughts, muttering to himself.

Jimin jogs off in search of the man of few words. It was crazy to think that just a bit ago, Jimin was about to fight him and now he’s worried for his safety. The labyrinth works in strange ways like that - you can meet someone and suddenly they become your lifelong best friend. Jimin continued along the waterline, carefully tip-toeing over tree roots and making sure not to step too close to the water’s edge. The bog still reeked of death, and there was no getting used to the smell. He pushed through low lying branches and bushes, hoping the big lug would show himself at any moment. “Jungkook? Where are you?” He waited for a response. Nothing. His shoulders slumped. If he went too far, would he be able to find his way back to Yoongi? He looked back nervously the way he came. Resolve took hold in his gut. No, it didn’t matter. He was going to find Jungkook, and then they could look for Yoongi together. He nodded and pushed onward.

The sound of Jungkook’s laughter breaks through the symphony of the swamp. Jimin sighs in relief and starts off in its direction. “Jungkook! Hey! Where are you? Answer me!” The laughter gets louder and Jimin breaks into a run, and after pushing through some thick underbrush, he stumbles into a little beach of sorts on the bog. Jungkook turns and stares at him in surprise.

“Jimin?”

“Yeah! Why didn’t you answer me? I kept calling your name. We were looking for you. You can’t just run off like that.” Jimin huffs in annoyance, brushing sticks out of his silver hair. He stops and looks around. There’s not a soul to be seen. “Who were you laughing with, Jungkook?”

Jungkook points to the boulders on the shoreline. “Rocks!”

“You… were laughing at the… rocks?”

Jungkook nods and smiles. “With the rocks,” he corrects.

“...Right. Okay. Well. Um, we should probably get back to Yoongi. We’re trying to figure out how to get across this place to the other side. Say goodbye to the rocks.”

Jungkook waves enthusiastically to the rocks, then follows Jimin back to Yoongi, who from the looks of things has decided to give up from the way he sits dejectedly on his rump with his nose pinched. “It’s hopeless,” he declares. “There’s no way to get across this place. Might as well just… wallow.”

“What? No! I refuse to wallow.” Jimin puts his hands on his hips and surveys the surroundings. “What if… What if we used something to cross, like… a tree branch or something.”

“And how are you going to cut down some branches? Do you have an axe on you?” Yoongi sasses.

“Well, no. But… I’m sure there’s some fallen branches somewhere.”

“Already checked.”

“Ugh!” Jimin plops down next to Yoongi. “This is awful.”

“Yep.”

“If I hug you again, would we leave this place?” Jimin starts to wrap his arm around Yoongi’s shoulders.

“Please, don’t touch me,” he flinches but doesn’t push Jimin off him when he goes in for a one armed hug.

“Well, it was worth a try,” Jimin sighed, and looked back out to the bog. He narrowed his eyes. Something was different. He heard Jungkook giggling again with some large stones and rocks and then it hit him. Those rocks weren’t there before! “Hey, Jungkook!”

The shaggy haired man turned around.

“Where did those rocks come from?”

Jungkook pointed at the boggy water. “From the swamp!”

Jimin and Yoongi looked at each other. “Jungkook,” Jimin continued, “did you pull them out of the swamp?”

“No! Rocks come when I call for them.”

Yoongi grabs Jimin’s shoulder. “We could use them as stepping stones across the swamp! Hey! Jungkookie, could you ask the rocks to make a path for us across the swamp? We want to get the bridge over there.”

Jungkook puts his hand over his brow and squints at the bridge, then turns around and flashes them a big smile. “Of course! The rocks are my friends!” He then whistles a short little tune and suddenly the rocks begin to rumble and roll towards the water. Jimin jumps to his feet in wonderment as rocks and boulders from all directions roll and tumble over the landscape and into the marsh. Some bubble up from the murky depths below. Soon enough there is a neat little path that leads from one side to the other. The trio quickly makes their way across the stones, and once on the other side they rush towards the bridge.

“Come on, it’s just over this bridge and then we’re out of here,” Yoongi shouts.

The sound of a sword being unsheathed slices through the air. “Halt,” a deep voice bellows.

They skid to a halt.

“Not so fast,” the stranger declares as he steps into view.

“Who are you?” Jimin blurts out before he can think twice.

“Who am I? You don’t know of the great, the brave, the fashionable Sir Taehyung?” The stranger, Sir Taehyung is just as confused as they are. He sheathed his sword. “I can’t believe you’ve never heard of me.” He pouts adorably, looking less like a knight and more like a kid who’s just been told fairytales aren’t real. Jimin takes him in - Taehyung is dressed smartly in a tan, billowy shirt tucked into black slacks, which in turn are tucked into worn leather boots. Around his waist his scabbard hangs, bejeweled in scarlet rubies and navy sapphires. His thick dark hair is styled longer in the back than in the front, and is curled and waved in a way that looks dashing. Atop his head is a hat that is punctuated with a long, thin, ruby red tail of a bird. He looks every part of the knight in shining armor except… he doesn’t have the armor.

“I’m very sorry, Sir Taehyung,” Jimin steps forward. “But I’m new here. My name is Jimin, and this is Yoong and Jungkook. I was led here by the Goblin Queen, and she sent us to this dreadful place. We just want to get out.”

Sir Taehyung nods. “Hmm, a very sad story. Still. I can’t let you cross. It’s my duty to protect this bridge. None shall cross without my permission.”

Jimin pauses for a moment, then decides to test his luck. “Well then. May we have your permission?”

Sir Taehyung opens his mouth. Then closes it. He furrows his brow deep in thought. “Well. I suppose. No one has ever asked before. But well, why not?” He smiles wide, a large box-like grin and gestures for the trio to pass. “You may cross the bridge!”

“Thank you!” Jimin smiles. Jungkook and Yoongi head over first, but Jimin stops halfway across. It felt wrong to leave the knight there all alone. Something in his heart decided he should invite him along for the journey. “Hey, Sir Taehyung. Why don’t you come with us?”

Taehyung blinked in surprise. “Me? But… I… the bridge?”

“We’re going on a quest to defeat the labyrinth and Goblin Queen. We could surely use your skills along the way?” Yoongi and Jungkook crossed back and stood with Jimin now, nodding encouragingly at the knight.

He blushed a little, “Well, I suppose I could help. Knights should always help those in need, after all.” He looked around at the bog, the bridge, the place he had protected for as long as he could remember. No one had ever come by until today. Perhaps it would be years before someone would again. He nodded. “Right, well. I shall join your company, and help you defeat this evil Goblin Queen. Or I shall die trying.” He bowed respectfully, tipping his hat off in the process. He grabbed it off the ground and stood back up. “Ahem. Well. Lead the way, Jimin, Yoongi, and Jungkook.”

Jungkook smiled, “New friend!”

Sir Taehyung’s lip quirked into a shy smile. “Yes, I suppose I am.”

“Yoongi.”

Your sultry voice in his ear sends a shiver down his spine. He hates it. Hates how badly you affect him. Jimin, Jungkook, and Sir Taehyung are up ahead, taking a rest and chatting while Yoongi was supposed to be taking a bathroom break in the dense woods. Then you showed up.

“What do you want?” He spits out, trying to sound gruff. It’s cute how tough he’s trying to be.

Choosing to ignore his attitude for the moment, you continue. “I want you to give our Jimin a little something from me.”

Yoongi crosses his arms and turns his head. He looks so much like a petulant child that you almost bark out a laugh. You manage a cough at the last moment. “Ahem. Come on, Yoongi baby, don’t be like this.”

His eyes glance over at you for a second, before he turns away again. “No. Why don’t you do it yourself.”

You click your tongue. “Stop being a little brat. You know I can’t give him anything in person. That ruins the fun.” When he doesn’t budge you let out a sigh. “Are you jealous?”

Yoongi takes the bait. “...No.”

You raise your eyebrow.

Your silence makes him sweat. He breaks. “I just don’t understand why you need more.”

“There it is.”

“You’ve already got me. And…Seokjin. Namjoon. Why him? He’s just a dramatic brat.”

You crack a smile at that. “Oh? I would say it takes one to know one.”

Yoongi whines. “Exactly! So why do you need another one?”

“Because,” you saunter forward and tap his nose, “I quite like the idea of punishing two little brats. Sounds fun, doesn’t it?”

“...I guess. But why do I have to do it? Why can’t I just stay in the castle with you?”

“Awww, is someone jealous? Well, maybe you should have thought of that before you touched yourself without permission last week. I told you I’d have to punish you.” His expression sours at having been put in place. “Now, give him this.” You pull a soft, delectable peach from thin air. Yoongi snatches it and tucks it away in his vest.

“Is it poisoned?” He tries to ask without sounding too excited.

“Oh god, no. I just wanted to give him a little boost. I was quite impressed with his show of strength against Jungkook, and with how quickly he was able to get out of the bog.” You sigh wistfully as your eyes drool over Jungkook’s body. “I do wish the little sweet wasn’t so terrified of me.”

“I don’t think he’d survive you,” Yoongi sniffs.

“I think it’s the other way around, darling.” Yoongi pulls a face. You turn to vanish back to the castle. “Don’t forget to give that to him, baby. If you do well, I’ll consider your punishment over.” The tinkle of your giggles rings in the air long after you’re gone, teasing Yoongi and making him huff.

“Fine. I guess I will.” He fights the curl of his lips that threaten to smile as he turns and joins up the rest of the party.

The hot sun beats overhead. How many hours has it been since entering? Does time even exist here? Jimin lets his body collapse, first onto his knees and then back on his rear. He kicks his feet out.

“I’m just so tired!” He whines.

Yoongi rolls eyes and mutters something about a drama queen, but it goes undetected by Jimin. He takes a seat on a nearby rock and begins to fiddle with his rings, smiling softly at them. “You know,” he muses, fingering the delicate silverwork of his new favorite, “you could just, I don’t know. Stop whining so much. No one’s made it this far into the labyrinth before. Consider yourself lucky you’re not dead.”

Jimin furrows his brow. “I’ve been walking for ages, and I’m so hungry that I’m sure I’ll die of starvation at this point. Not that you care.” He pauses, a thought runs across his face and he sits up, eyes now narrowed in suspicion. “Yoongi.”

The tone of his voice makes the troll pause and slowly turn his head towards Jimin.

“Yes?”

“Why aren’t you hungry? Do trolls not eat?”

“Uh. Um. Well, we do, but-”

“So then, what. Have you been snacking without me? What the hell?”

“No! I haven’t-”

“What’s in all those pockets anyway? No one wears a stupid vest like that unless they’ve got snacks in their pockets. Share. Now.”

Yoongi crosses his arms protectively over his chest and vest as Jimin stalks toward him, a murderous hangry glint in his eyes. “Wait! No!” He protests but Jimin is already patting him down, feeling for anything - a cracker, a crumb, something. Soon enough, he finds it. The round globe of a peach that Yoongi had been hiding from him.

“What is this?” Jimin fumes.

“You don’t want to eat it.” Yoongi gulps.

“Like hell I don’t! I’m starving.” His hand dives in for the peach but Yoongi grabs his wrist with surprising force. “What are you doing? At least you could share it!”

Yoongi chews on his lip, and then meets Jimin’s eyes. “Are you sure you want to eat this peach?”

Jimin screws up his face in disbelief. “Uhhh? What the hell? Yes! I’m hungry!”

Yoongi sighs, heavy and full of burden. It’s no ordinary peach, but of course he can’t say that. The Queen would have his head. He grimaces as he pulls the fruit from his vest pocket. It’s a beautiful specimen - perfectly ripe, a gorgeous hue of orange and coral, and the sweet smell of its juicy innards perfume the air. It’s mouthwatering and enticing - just as the Queen intended.

Jimin snatches it from Yoongi’s outstretched hand. “How could you hold out on me like this?!”

But Yoongi stays silent, watching him devour the fruit with a strange twinge of some unfamiliar emotion in his gut. For a brief moment he wonders what this means. Could he have started to care for this poor, wayward soul? A loud thud breaks him out of his thoughts. The remains of the peach rolls along the ground, stopping against his boot. Yoongi grunts down at it, then shrugs, and the feelings he wondered about disappeared as quickly as they came.

“What happened to Jimin!” Sir Taehyung rushes over and begins to check the pulse against Jimin’s limp wrist.

“He’s fine. Sleeping. Just ate a bewitched peach. It will wear off in a little while. For now I suggest we all just relax and wait for him to wake up.” Yoongi adjusts himself into a suitable position for a snooze. His fingers hypnotically stroke his rings until he’s snoring peacefully. Taehyung and Jungkook decide to follow suit, and soon, they begin to doze in the afternoon sun.

Jimin gasps, suddenly transplanted into an unfamiliar place. He blinks his eyes. The air around him is hazy, and his mind feels fuzzy. It feels like a dream, but he knows he isn’t dreaming. Right? The haze pulls back and his body is revealed in a full length mirror that wraps around him on all four sides. What he sees reflected back confuses him - it’s him, but not how he remembers himself. He steps closer to the mirror. The crisp sound of dress shoes clack across the hardwood floor. He stops and examines himself. His silver hair is swept effortlessly back off his face, his eyes are smoked out in soft hues of brown, and one rhinestone is placed delicately under each eye. His full lips are soft pink, a light sheen of tint on them. He lifts his hands and marvels at his clothing. All white. His shirt is almost sheer, the gauzy fabric is cool and soft over his skin, and is tucked neatly into white slacks that fit tightly to his legs.

A laugh breaks his concentration, and he whips his head around, the silver pendant earrings dangling from the quickness of his movement. The mirrored walls are now gone and he finds himself in the middle of a lively ballroom. Men and women and other creatures wear masks that hide their faces, but they don’t seem to be bothered by his sudden appearance. Some dance. Some drink champagne. Some hang on the bodies of others, their hands groping in obvious debauchery. The whole scene is dizzying and intoxicating. Chandeliers and jewels sparkle overhead. Tables laden with food and drink invite him to imbibe. Jimin steps forward into the ballroom and is folded into the mix of bodies and merriment. He goes to grasp a crystal champagne flute, but stops short. Warmth runs down his spine like liquid gold, as if painted on his skin with a lover’s caress. He shivers, eyes fluttering for the briefest of moments, and then he turns to see you, the Goblin Queen.

You’re surrounded by party-goers but all of your attention is on him. Jimin swallows under your intense gaze. Dressed in all black, your costume for the evening amplifies your power which radiates off of you in waves. You stand from your place of honor and Jimin swears the whole party seems to fade away. You smirk and tilt your head, and then lift a finger to beckon him closer. He takes one step, two, and then crashes into the shoulder of someone dancing, knocking him off course. When he regains his footing, he’s lost you in the crowd again. With annoyance he pushes on. Can’t these people see that you’ve called for him? He weaves between dancing bodies. His patience grows thin. Why? He doesn’t know. Jimin feels he must get to you anyway he can, but try as he might he just can’t find you. He slumps and exhales to blow off steam. Where are you?

“Caught you, pretty.” A melodious voice rings lowly in his ear. Yours. He tries to turn around but your fingers wrap around his hip. “Ah, ah. You’ll stay put. Let me admire you.”

He chews on his plush bottom lip as your hand drops away from his body, and you pull back to gaze at the glorious view his back holds. A smile curls your lips up and you slink around to his front, taking slow steps to allow your eyes to drink him in. Jimin squirms. He’s not in control, but he’s quickly finding out he doesn’t hate this. By the time you round his front, he’s itching to hear your thoughts. Did you like what you saw? Was he good enough for you? He’d be anything you wanted him to be. He can’t help but let his eyes wander down your body, appreciating the way your dress hugs your body. The dips and valleys he wants to sink his fingers into. His fingers curl into fists at his side.

You giggle, and it sounds like twinkling diamonds in his ears. Your index finger catches under his chin, and you lift his gaze up to meet yours. “I can tell you’re dying to touch me, Jimin.” He gulps. “Why don’t you dance with me, then?” He nods obediently and steps forward to pull your waist against him. His hand splays across your lower back and you feel his fingers press into the curve of your spine. Your chest pushes against his as he takes a step and leads you into a waltz. He’s beautiful up close. Perfection. You smile at your luck in luring him into your labyrinth. But he wasn’t yours yet. He still needed to find you in your castle.

“Jimin.” His name sighs past your lips. “Do you know who I am?”

He nods. “I do.” He voices his thready reply.

“Say it.”

“You’re the Goblin Queen.”

You grin. “So smart.” He twirls you into his arms as he preens. “Now indulge me,” you resume as the steps pick back up, “do you wish to see me in private? Without all these eyes around?” Your smirk insinuates the pleasures you could show him.

Jimin feels entranced. “Yes,” he answers without thinking.

The music stops but you don’t pull away. You cup his cheek and bring your face closer to his, and you can feel the warm puff of his breath as it escapes his lips with a shudder. “Then come find me,” you whisper against his lips. You pull back, and begin to walk backwards. “Wake up, and come to me, Jimin. I’m waiting.”

Jimin frowns. “Wake up?”

The sound of glass cracking pierces the moment, and with a jump he looks around. The party around him begins to break apart like shards of mirror, distorting the once beautiful party into a horrific sight. “No!” He cries. “Wait! How will I find you?” But you are nowhere to be found. He tries to run, but can’t move forward. And then he feels himself slipping, slipping, until everything goes black.

“Do you think the poor lad will wake up,” Sir Taehyung muses, cleaning his monocle against his fine silk shirt.

Yoongi grunts in his sleep, not bothering to open his eyes. “S’fine. She said it wouldn’t kill him, anyhow.” He readjusts and yawns. “Let’s just enjoy the peace and quiet while we-”

“Look!” Jungkook points towards Jimin, who now begins to twitch to life.

“So much for a long nap,” Yoongi grumbles, as Jungkook and Sir Taehyung rush to Jimin’s side. They attempt to help him up, but Jimin shoots up with a gasp and exclaims, “I must get to the castle!”

Sir Taehyung and Jungkook blink at each other. “Are you,” Sir Taehyung starts, and then shakes his head, “you do realize the Goblin Queen just tried to poison you? Are you sure?”

Jungkook looks worried and shakes his head.

“I don’t care what you think, I have to get there. As fast as I can!” He scrambles to stand up but his legs aren’t working yet and he crashes into Jungkook, who easily steadies his body and holds him upright. Jimin struggles in his grip.

“Jimin, I really don’t think it’s a good idea-” Sir Taehyung starts.

“-Let him go.”

They all turn to look at Yoongi, who speaks with such resignation that it renders them silent. Jungkook blinks his wide eyes a few times as if to process what his friend just said, but soon his hands fall from Jimin’s shoulders. Jimin rubs at the skin tenderly, his eyebrows furrowing and lips pouting at the strength of Jungkook’s grip. Yoongi hops down from his perch on the rock, all eyes on him as he silently makes off down the path. He stops for a moment and calls out, not bothering to turn around, “Are you going to follow me, or what?” then continues down the path. Jungkook and Sir Taehyung exchange bewildered glances, but Jimin nearly trips over his own feet as he goes to follow Yoongi. He’s practically skipping circles around Yoongi as they walk off down the path. Jungkook sighs and shakes his head.

“Yeah, I know. I’m worried about him, too,” Sir Taehyung admits. His hand grips Jungkook’s bare shoulder in comfort. “But, what can we do? He’s made up his mind. Let’s just see that he gets to the castle safely, alright?”

Jungkook nods solemnly. “Yeah,” his voice is quiet, but clear. “I’m just afraid we’ll be meeting the Queen, too, if we get too close.” He chews on his lip, a worried habit of his. “I’ve never met her before, Tae. What if she tries to...” his eyes dart around and then he lowers his voice, “...curse us?”

Sir Taehyung shrugs as his eyes focus on Yoongi’s retreating back. “I’ve never met her before, either. But Yoongi told me that the Queen is someone you’d wish you’d never meet, because after you do, your mind and body are never right again unless she makes it so.” He shivers. “I didn’t have the heart to ask him what he meant after that, he looked so tormented.”

“Ah, that sounds so scary!”

Sir Taehyung stares at the path towards the castle. “Yes, it does. I think one of these days I will have to go to the castle and deal with the Queen myself. I am, afterall, a knight!” He squares his shoulders and valiantly marches off. Jungkook watches in awe as his friend in figurative shining armor walks bravely towards the castle. He nods resolutely and scrambles to catch up.

The walk to the castle isn’t as long as Jimin thought it would be. Once they cleared the thick maze of woods, the path opened up to a clearing that revealed the castle in all its splendor. The company all stopped and looked on in awe. Towers of crystal and white stone gleamed in the sun. The grounds that surrounded the castle were beautifully landscaped. There were flowers of every type and color imaginable, perfectly frozen in full bloom by what Jimin guessed had to be by the power of your magic. There were no guards. No gates that kept people out. Only an open invitation inside. The thought made his heart race. He wanted to run the rest of the way and into the castle, but Yoongi spoke before his legs could move.

“Well. This is where we say goodbye.” Yoongi turned toward Jimin and held his hand out, Jimin’s rings glittering on his fingers.

Jimin smiled at his outstretched hand. “You speak as if we’ll never see each other again. But we know that’s not the case, right?” He takes Yoongi’s hand and shakes it.

“Hmph. You’ve grown to be pretty full of yourself in a short amount of time. What makes you think I want to see you again?” The smile on Yoongi’s face betrays his brusque words.

Jimin shakes his head and turns toward Sir Taehyung. “Thank you, for all your help Sir Taehyung. If not for your bravery and kindness, I would have probably killed Yoongi long ago-”

“-Why you little-”

“-I hope we can see each other soon,” Jimin continues, despite Yoongi’s grumbles.

Sir Taehyung balks. “But, shouldn’t we go inside with you?”

Jimin shakes his head. “No, I need to… Want to face her alone.”

“But why?”

Jimin smiles. “Because… that’s the way I like to do things.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes.

“Alright,” Sir Taehyung agrees, “if that’s the way you want to do it, then that’s the way it must be done. But should you need us…”

“Yes, should you need us...,” Jungkook steps forward.

“Don’t worry,” Jimin smirks. “I won’t need you. But should things get exhausting, I suppose I could call.”

Sir Taehyung and Jungkook exchange bewildered expressions. “Right,” Yoongi waves his hands and pushes Jimin at the back. “Get a move on lover boy. The Queen is waiting for you, and she doesn’t like it when her guests are late.”

The inside of the castle is dark, despite the sun shining only moments before he stepped through the cool walls. Jimin’s eyes strain to adjust to the dim light, scanning the room. He can’t say he’s ever been inside a castle before, but it’s just what he would have pictured. Giant, orante rooms filled with large furniture and decadent furnishings, everything gold and shining and ethereal.

He isn’t sure where to go, but that doesn’t stop him. His feet lead him on the path that feels right, a pull of an invisible thread. As he climbs a set of stairs, he rounds a corner before he's in front of a heavyweight door, embellished with gold, red, and black swirling designs. His gut told him you would be waiting behind it, and his hand raises in anticipation of a knock.

Instead, it swings open, beckoning him inside. This room wasn’t any brighter than the others, however a copious amount of pillar candles have been lit, edging around the base of the room.

And in the center is you.

Adorning your true self to greet your guest, you had spared no expense in preparing for Jimin’s arrival. Plush lips were painted blood red, eyes lined with dark kohl, your body draped in midnight silk. You were a vision, and you knew it.

Blinking, he squints, heart racing. “Are… are you.. Her?”

Instead of a response, he feels the air change, an electricity licking up his spine. Every nerve from his head to the tips of his toes lights up as you saunter closer, his vision clearing just as you step before him.

He sucks air between his teeth. You’re beautiful.

Beautiful and powerful and terrifying, all at once, and Jimin feels like his heart will beat out of his chest.

“I am the Goblin Queen, yes,” you purr, stepping into his inseam. A single manicured finger reaches out to trace the bottom of his pout, the nail leaving a reddened path to his mouth. “You have seen me before, in many forms - but not my true one.”

The fox. He hadn’t thought about the shining silver creature in what seems like days, but at your words it all came rushing back, how he got here, what the little vixen had stolen from him…

His briefcase.

As if his thought summoned it out of thin air, he notes it off to the side of the room, resting safely on top of an ornate desk to your right. It was in pristine condition, not a single scratch on the leather, but he couldn’t seem to focus on that. His attention kept being drawn back to you.

Jimin forces his gaze away from your sparkling irises, instead roaming over your body in a full assessment. Stunning, he thinks, the way your black skin tight silk dress hugs every line of your form, the way you’re soft in all the right places, skin luminous. He feels like a moth drawn to flame, a helpless creature finally falling into your trap, right where you want him.

A small voice in the back of his mind told him that he should be scared; should be nervous as to what it means that he was in your clutches, after surviving the trials you had forced him into. Yoongi and the others had told him just how dangerous you were, all the wicked things you had done. His guard should be up - he should be looking for a way to grab the briefcase, escape, be ready to battle - but instead he just felt the blood rushing to his groin at the way you were looking at him like he was your next meal.

“What do you think?”

Blinking, it takes Jimin a moment to realize you’ve asked a question. “I think… I think you’re amazing,” he breathes, earning him a small smile.

“I’m so glad you think so, sweet boy.” Your breath was warm on his cheek, and Jimin felt drunk on your voice alone. “I did this all for you, you know.”

When he didn’t answer, seemingly too awestruck, you continue. “Stealing your briefcase. Bringing you here, the trials, the friends you made along the way - coming to me now. It was all for you Jimin, all by design.”

Draping your arms around his shoulders, you remain still for a moment before dragging your hands down his body until they were laced on top of his own. You place them around your waist, squeezing once to make sure he maintains the hold before going back to encircle his neck.

Leaning closer, your lips ghost the shell of his ear. “So tell me again… do you like it?”

Jimin gulps, swallowing thickly around the lump in his throat. His lungs feel like they’re going to burst, his eyes rolling back before closing. He didn’t know what was happening, what you want from him, but he knew he didn’t want to stop.

“Y-yes, I like it....” He stumbles, trying to find the right word. “Your Majesty?”

Your answering giggle sounded like the tinkling of bells, and Jimin wonders if he’s ever heard a laugh sound that pretty before.

“You can call me that,” you murmur, returning to your feet to stare into his warm gaze. “Or, if you’re really good, you can call me Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he tries, the name feeling odd on his tongue yet making sense once said aloud. It fit you somehow, this otherworldly being, this goddess queen who had brought him here…

His brow furrows, and he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth. Why had you brought him here? He was no one, nothing special, just a stupid man who made an arrogant wish in a moment of weakness. He wasn’t worth all of this trouble. So why?

As if you can read his mind, you grasp his jaw gently in your palm, forcing his eyes back on your own. “What are you thinking in that pretty head of yours, hmm?”

“I just - I’m trying to make sense of it all,” His tongue darts out to wet his lips. “Why someone like you would bring me here? Would want me?”

Cupping his face, you cluck your tongue, shaking your head. “Of course I would want you, don’t think such dreadful things about yourself. I won’t have it.”

Jimin nods and you give him a smile, thumb still tracing over the delicate bone in his cheek. “I wanted you for the same reason I want anything - because I’m a collector of pretty things,” you tap his nose playfully, before moving to caress his plush pout.

“And you, my dear Jimin, are very pretty.”

Taking a step back, you let your hand fall to his chest, moving to walk around him in a slow circle, a predator assessing her prey. “You’re pretty, and brave, and strong. Kind. The others took to you so quickly. Yoongi was so protective, so jealous - after a mere day. You’re a good man, with a good heart. Passed all the trials with ease.”

Arriving back in front of him, you follow the line of his collarbone to his shoulders, kneading the muscle there before pressing your chest against his own. “I want to spoil you, make you feel good. Don’t you think you deserve a reward for all your hard work?”

Jimin shivers, your statements sinking deep into his mind. It didn’t make sense; how he had come here to defeat you, to demand to go home, and now… now all he can think about is pleasing you. Intoxicating, that’s what you are - with words dripping with honey and hands that can’t seem to stop touching him - and the idea of you continuing to do so makes him ache with need.

“Yes,” he croaks, voice thick. “I want that.”

An exquisite, almost sinister smirk tugs the edge of your lips. “Good boy.”

He’s being guided further into your chambers before he can speak another word, stumbling over his own feet until the backs of his legs hit something soft, yet firm.

The edge of the bed.

A gentle push has him plopping down, his body boneless as he watches you in wonderment, your every move captivating him completely. He stares hungrily as you let your hands explore his abdomen, one leg raising to hitch over his hip.

“Is it okay if I sit here?”

“Y-yes. Yes please,”

And then you’re in his lap, and his senses are in overload as he breathes you in, feels your warmth through the confines of his clothes. You haven’t even kissed him, yet Jimin feels arousal pooling low in his gut at how you feel on top of him. He wants to kiss you, wants to dig his fingers into the flesh on your hips, but instead he stays still, waiting for your next move.

“First things first, let’s get rid of this,” you breathe, yanking the cotton shirt over his head and tossing it behind you.

Bare before you, you lick your lips at the sight of his golden chest, his toned stomach. Manicured nails rake through his silvered hair, lulling his eyes close as you lean forward, nose lightly grazing his own. In this moment, Jimin can’t think of anything else - what got him here, what he’s gone through - only you, only how much he wants to feel your lips on his own.

And then the space between you is gone - your mouth eager, sliding his bottom lip between your teeth as your tongue seeks its mate. He reciprocates with a groan, frozen hands now free and grasping at your waist in his desire to taste you, to feel you deeper. You smile against his mouth at his boldness, drinking in the way the lust builds in the air between you, fueling your fervor.

You allow him to continue the passionate kiss for several moments, enjoying the sweetness of his tongue in your mouth before pulling away, chest heaving.

Jimin tries to chase your lips, making you giggle as you refrain from giving in. Instead you click your tongue, chastising him. “Ah ha, behave yourself,” you croon, watching as his gaze darkens. “I’m supposed to be giving you a treat, remember?”

“But kissing you is a treat, please-”

“Oh, listen to that. What good manners.” You twist back, reaching for something beside the bed that Jimin can’t see. “I’ll give you what you want, don’t worry.”

Righting yourself, he sees what you’ve grabbed - a long, midnight black silk ribbon, the matching companion to your dress, about the width of his hand. You drag the material against his exposed skin, delighting in the shiver it sends down his spine.

“But first, I’m going to tie your hands. You touch me when I say you can.” It’s a demand, not a request, but you pause, giving him a chance to speak up. When he nods, you reward him with a wide smile, arranging his arms around his back.

It’s torture, feeling you pressed up against him while you bind him, your hands working deftly despite not being able to have a good view around his body. He feels the tickle of the excess fabric as you finish it off into a bow, arms flexing to test the strength of the bind - which was more secure than he expected.

“There,” you sigh, arranging yourself back on his lap. “You look like a pretty present, all tied up for me like this.”

Jimin gulps visibly, his pants becoming impossibly tight against his growing length. He could feel the desperation to have you build, your tease slowly becoming torture.

“Yes, all for you, Y/N… your majesty.”

Wrapping your hands around his neck, you rock your hips forward, moaning when you feel his hardness beneath you. Jimin whines, pelvis raising in attempts to recreate the pressure.

“Please, please touch me… I’m being so good…” he’s babbling, but he can’t make himself care, almost delirious in his need. “Right?”

“You are,” you murmur, writhing against his bulge once more. “So good, Jiminie.”

This time when you meet his lips, you take your time, pressing chaste closed mouth kisses over every inch of his mouth before taking it deeper, your tongue taking it’s time to savor his taste. The passion from before was still there, just more tempered, lips moving languidly as if you had all the time in the world to explore him.

A gentle shove is all it takes to have Jimin falling onto his back, wincing at the weight on his trapped wrists. Nipping at his lip, you pull the flesh between your teeth before trailing down his form, pausing to nuzzle at his neck.

He’s panting as you lick and suck blossoms on the base of his throat, hips rising to undulate against you. You allow it, enjoying his blatant wanton desire for you, the way it makes your panties cling to your center. Having the beautiful man pliant under your fingertips made you flush, dominance coursing through your veins, re-energizing your soul.

Sliding down, you continue your path, pausing to admire and lavish his abdomen with affection, arousal building at each noise he rewarded you with. Jimin certainly wasn’t afraid to be vocal, and it was something you didn’t know you were missing; something you certainly never got much of with Yoongi. It was delicious,to have him moan and whine your name, and you couldn’t wait to take him in your mouth to see what pretty music he’d make for you then.

Sharpened nails play with the elastic at his waist, a deft hand unbuttoning his slacks to begin to drag them down his legs. Hunger burned in your throat at the thought of seeing him naked, tied and splayed before you, at your mercy willingly. But it’s as you are slipping his briefs down his form that Jimin raises his head to look at you, eyebrows pinched.

“Is there something wrong, sweet boy?”

He gulps, as if he’s been drowning and has finally breached the surface for air. “No no, nothing’s wrong.. It’s just… I don’t,”

Hushing him, you rub soothing circles on his bare thighs. “It’s okay, love. We have all the time in the world, there’s no rush, no pressure. We can stop at any time-”

“No! I don’t want to stop!” his eyes are wide, earnest. “It’s just, I was thinking… and what happens after? After all this?”

His voice is so genuine, sincerity in every word, and it takes you a moment to stop from giggling at how serious he looks while half naked and tied up on your bed.

Instead you give a reassuring smile, rising up to meet his eyes. “Whatever you want, Jiminie. You aren’t a prisoner. You made it through the labyrinth, beat all the challenges laid before you. When we’re finished, I can return you home - right back into bed, if you so wish.”

“And what if,” he pauses, breaking your gaze and looking down. “What if I don’t want to leave?”

The question surprises you, but in a thrilling way that has your heart racing. You had never thought he’d want to stay, amongst you and the others, become yours for eternity. But it was an appetizing thought.

“Then don’t.”

Gliding back down over his lap, you rip the remaining fabric blocking him from your vision, his cock throbbing and glistening at it’s reddened tip. Tracing a finger up his length, you collect some of his arousal from his leaking tip, before bringing it up to your lips.

Locking eyes, you send the silent command for him to not look away before popping the digit into your mouth, humming lowly at the taste.

Jimin’s answering groan is almost feral, pupils lust blown and pleading.

“Shall I continue?”

He nods frantically, babbles of “yes” and “please” still echoing around the room as you return to his length, stroking it softly, pressing your lips gently at the junction of his hip.

The slow pace gave you a chance to fully admire him like this; flushed, tied up, painfully hard under your touch. His cock was every bit as pretty as he was - not too long but wonderfully thick, with a slight curve up towards his belly.

“You’re so beautiful, Jiminie,” you murmur between kisses, tongue flicking out to swirl at his tip. “Beautiful and delicious.”

It’s then that you sink him deeper on to the bed of your tongue, encircling your lips around him. Slowly you drag up and down, lowering a bit more on his length at each pass until you’ve swallowed him completely, moaning.

“Oh god,” he whines, his pelvis rising to thrust against you. “You feel so good, Y/N.”

His words spur you on and you kick up the pace, bobbing on him until he’s squirming against the bed, lost to his pleasure. Seeing him in this state fuels your arousal, the wetness between your legs now accompanied with a throbbing need to be filled. You want nothing more than to straddle his waist and slip him inside of you, feel him fully - but not yet. You want to savor him for just a bit longer.

A free hand comes to cup his balls as you work him over with your mouth, squeezing them slightly, and he cries out your name. “If you keep doing that, I’m gonna cum.”

Smirking, you pull him out of your mouth with a lewd pop. “What if that’s what I want?” your hand comes to replace your lips, gliding up and down his salvia slickened length. “What if I want you to lose control?”

“Fuck,” he keens, tossing his head back on the bed. He wants so badly to reach out for you, to feel you, to make you moan out his name. He could return the favor, have you come undone on his tongue, his fingers. If he closes his eyes, he can almost taste you, imagine how tightly you’d squeeze him as he worked you open.

He wants it, desperately.

“Please, I want to touch you too, want to make you feel good,” he meets your eyes, unshed pleas in his gaze. “You can come sit on my face if you don’t want to untie me. Or let me finish inside you, whatever you want. Please, Your Majesty,”

“You beg so prettily too, Jiminie,” cooing, you languidly lick up his shaft, considering his words.

You did like the idea of lowering yourself over his mouth, leaving him only with his tongue and lips to bring you to the brink, hands still trapped behind his back. Letting him get you off, but still having the control, having the power. But ultimately, you were too impatient for drawn out foreplay. You needed to have him inside of you, and you needed it now.

Instead of answering, you give his cock one last peck before maneuvering up on the bed, kneeling before him. You tease the straps of your negligee, letting them fall around your shoulders before pulling it down over your breasts, your hips.

Jimin gasps in awe, wishing for the millionth time that his hands weren’t bound. “I can’t believe you're real,” he whispers, licking his lips. “You’re gorgeous.”

For some reason, his candor has you blushing, his words striking something deep within your chest. You try to shrug it off, paint a salacious grin on your lips, but you feel your legs shaking as you swing to straddle his hips.

Leaning down, you hover over his mouth for a moment.

“Thank you.”

And then your lips are intertwined, pelvis rocking against his, soaked panties the only barrier stopping him from slipping inside of you. A flick of the wrist has them discarded, and the warmth of your center directly on his dick has Jimin groaning into your mouth.

Raising your hips, you line yourself up with his tip before plunging down, crying out at the sudden fullness of him deep inside you. For a moment, neither of you move, measuring your breaths to adjust to the pleasant burn. Looking down at him, a pang of fondness rings through your core, and you give him a small smile before you move again, this time with more speed.

Carnal hunger takes over as your hips gain momentum, sheathing him deep within your cunt over and over, head rolling back with a moan. Relentless, you place your hands on his chest for balance, clenching against him as you bounce on his lap, blistering heat building low in your belly.

“You feel so good, Jiminie,” you sigh, eyes closing. “Gonna make me cum.”

“Y/N,” Jimin growls, voice low. “Untie my hands, please.”

His request goes through you, his words heard but not processed. Instead, you dig your nails into his chest, arch your back into him more.

Jimin sits up then, core strength lifting his torso off the bed and causing you to fall back against his thighs. His mouth is immediately on your breasts, sucking and toying with your hardened bud as you continue to ride him.

“I said - untie me, please.”

Head dizzy with lust, your hands move automatically, reaching behind him to pull at the end of the black ribbon to release him. It’s only when his hands rise to grasp your waist, his pelvis thrusting up into yours at an alarming rate that you realize what you’ve done.

“Jimin, oh god-”

Now that he’s free he cannot get enough of your flesh beneath his palms, hands roving and groping you all over - pulling at your thighs, your hips, your breasts. His pace never slows; burying himself within you so deep that he hits the spot inside that makes you see stars, hurtling you towards your end. It’s as if you’ve awoken a ravenous beast inside him, one that feeds on the pleasures of your body, and he won’t stop until he gets his fill and has you pulsing around him, cries of his name on your lips.

The band in your belly pulls taunt at his onslaught, orgasm teetering on the edge - and you sink your hands into his hair, yanking back at the base to expose his throat for you to descend your mouth onto.

“So good, such a good boy - gonna make me cum,”

Jimin growls, hands enclosing around your waist before pinning you down on your back, cock never leaving your cunt, his sweat sheened form now towering above you.

“Yes, Y/N, give it to me. Let go for me,” he praises, lifting your legs to rest on his shoulders, bending you in half. He begins plunging into you, long digits toying with your clit, rolling it between his thumb and finger. “Wanna feel you come undone.”

Once his mouth returns to your nipple, biting it softly, you feel a snap in your gut, throwing you over the edge and full force into your high. You close your eyes against the euphoria, riding out the shockwaves hammering through your body as he continues his ministrations. It takes centuries for you to come down, for your breath to return, and when you open your eyes you see Jimin’s gaze black and lust blown, full bottom lip trapped between his teeth.

“I c-can’t last,” he breathes, voice rushed. “Feels too good, you feel too-”

“Jiminie, cum for me. Fill your queen up,”

A pained cry tears free from his throat, staccato hips pressing into you once, twice before he’s releasing inside of you, fingers bruising on the meat of your thigh. Just like everything else about him, Jimin is pretty when he cums, face flushed and eyes squeezed tight, chest glistening and heaving.

He gives a final thrust, as if ensuring that his seed was deep in your core before collapsing on top of you with a heavy sigh, nuzzling into the crook of your neck.

A hand comes up to play with the hair at his nape as if it's the most natural thing in the world, soothing and melting him against you. You were always tender afterwards, always attentive to your pretty little play things, but there was something about Jimin that makes you feel a bit vulnerable as well.

Waiting until his breathing slows, you gently nudge him onto the bed, sliding out to head to the washroom and clean yourself up. When you return, you're dressed in a new flowing nightgown, this one a deep royal purple, a matching wash cloth in your hand.

Jimin barely even blinks while you clean him up and tuck him under the covers, only opening his eyes when you bring a glass to his lips.

"Will you stay with me?" his eyes are round, bright, and you begin to realize how much this beautiful brave man and his brazen sincerity has affected you.

"If you want me to." You shrug, swallowing a smile at his request. "Or you can just rest, and I can come back in the morning-"

"No!" his voice is loud, but there's no edge to it, only urgency. "Please - I want you to stay."

Climbing in beside him, you pull the man to your chest, petting him once more as he curls into you, his eyes returning closed. He's asleep in moments, and you spend most of the night watching him as he rests, tracing your hands over his broad shoulders, drinking in the way he looks in your bed. Memorizing his form so that when day breaks, you’ll have a way to remember him.

And as the sun starts to rise, the early light of dawn casting the room in a pink glow, you can't help but to think how his last words were the one thing you wanted to request of him as well.

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queenerdloser · 4 years ago

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okay i finally (finally!) finished gr*duation after what felt like three hundred years and i have many thoughts that i just.. want to get down to process my own very VERY mixed feelings on this season

overall it was a fun romp at the end with some highly enjoyable goofs. i enjoy fitz maplecourt so much & relished griffin being able to do a character. the firbolg lives in my heart. argo is great.

that said, the plot was, overall, messy as shit, considering at the end i still had very little clear idea of a) what exactly order/chaos wanted to achieve and b) why the fuck they were even doing what they were doing. we spent all that time on a hog heist that, in the end, had... very little to do with what was going on at the time. (would the narrative have been significantly changed without the hog heist? if, instead, hog hadn’t responded due to their internal greed/indifference - something that’s already been established in world and isn’t a stretch to imagine - and thus had the exact same ramifications and end result as the heist gave us? like don’t get me wrong, the heist has some of my favorite goofs in it, but it’s essentially like six episodes of nonsense that, in the end, has almost nothing to do with the main plot & whose end goal could have been summed up in the finale.) the whiplash of suddenly taking gray on as an ally to we’re heisting hog for reasons to actually the real threat was the demons at the castle attacking now for reasons is... bad plot. (look at how many times i have to say ‘reasons’ bc there’s no real in-universe or external force that explains why something is happening at that specific time.)

i haven’t listened to the final ttazz about grad but it kind of felt like travis just gave up on his narrative arc and this sloppy plot mess is what we have left. like, okay order/chaos is a cool concept but what were they actually trying to achieve? why could order just be booted out of their shared body and why didn’t they just do that instead of having that whole climatic battle? why both using fitzroy at all for anything if they could always just take over the world with demons? why did we have all these characters allied together if in the end we were going to op the three pc and have them fight basically one-on-one with order? why did the commodore suddenly and inexplicably switch sides after working with the boys literally like three episodes ago other than to shoehorn in a conclusion to argo’s arc that, ultimately, fell short bc it was so utterly anti-climatic?

and like!!! maybe some of these questions were answered but none of them to an extent that felt grounded enough in the narrative that they made sense, lingered, or didn’t feel like a macguffin to cover a sudden plot twist or plot hole. a lot of plot felt sacrificed for cool concepts and fun character twists and i get that, but when all you have is cool concepts and fun character twists, there’s no real foundation for it to rest on.

i AM going to compare to amnesty bc i do think amnesty is the strongest arc plot-wise of the three major seasons of taz. balance recovers in the back half but the first three parts are very loosely connected to the major plot and then there’s that huge info dump in crystal kingdom so like - it’s also messy there, even though it manages to make it work in a way that graduation doesn’t. but amnesty is tightly plotted from the beginning - there’s a clear trajectory, foreshadowing built in, characters have actual arcs that make sense, most of the major villains and antagonists have motivations that make sense and even the act three twist is something that’s reasonably built in from the beginning. even if it wasn’t ALL planned (such as billy the goat’s involvement) it’s clear that new elements were worked into an already existing framework with an eye towards cohesiveness. i know people complain about the main three not being “together” enough or “friendly” enough with each other (as if that’s all that matters in a good story lmao) but i also think that amnesty has the strongest character arcs of the three seasons because we do see all three major characters start in one place and end up somewhere radically different, make movements in cohesive and reasonable ways, and change in a way that is not off-the-wall or just for a fun twist.

graduation... doesn’t really do that. the main three are a fun time but in the epilogue i was genuinely struggling to get why fitz decided to suddenly be a lawyer or why the firbolg, who has never shown any interest in having a name before that moment (quite the opposite, really) is suddenly emotional over having a name. argo, who has spent all of his time honoring his mother, decides to... run a cruise ship? and even leaving aside the epilogues, these characters... don’t really have an arc. argo is the closest and even his emotional narrative falls flat bc the commodore’s ending is so anti-climatic and bc, other than the trial scene, he and the commodore largely don’t interact. if the commodore had played a larger part in the actual narrative maybe it would have felt less like an aborted attempt at an arc but. he didn’t. fitz also has an attempt at an arc but it also falls flat bc so much of fitz has remained unchanged from when we first meet him. he’s a little more empathetic and better at magic, but how has fitz really changed since the first episode?

(tangent: thinking again about justin having to ask why the firbolg was doing what he was doing during that whole dog-is-the-headmaster reveal portion, to the point of asking travis point-blank why his character was doing the things he was doing. thinking again of how travis just told the boys point-blank that this side character they couldn’t even remember the name of was their best friend. and then again about how that “best friend” just like... fucking disappeared from the narrative after that, never to be seen or heard from again until the epilogue twenty episodes later for two brief seconds. in fact pretty much every character except rainier just disappears from the narrative at a certain point and i’m pretty sure it’s in reaction to the complaints about the numerous characters - but the answer to those complaints wasn’t to just mysteriously cut everyone else from the narrative without warning or reason laksfsafjlfj. what happened to that one villain posh guy from the first episodes???? what about the accounting owl teacher??????)

this is just my rambly processing of grad bc i’m trying to figure out what about it fell so dramatically flat for me that it was a literal slog to get through most of it even though i found the characters themselves delightful and enjoyed the mcelroy goofs as much as ever. and i think the thing is... for some listeners, the most important thing is going to be the interaction with the players or the goofs or how friendly and found family-ish the main group is with each other. which is great and fine! but for me, a good story or good character arcs or something well thought-out and plotted out is always going to be more engaging, no matter how much i like the found family or how much i like the goofs. it’s why i struggled to get why people complained so bitterly about amnesty - who cares if the main three are always together or getting along really well or being friends if they’re having interesting, satisfying character arcs and personal growth set in an interesting, dynamic plot? in graduation, that foundation is just missing and i’m sure part of it was due to the unnecessarily vitriolic backlash against travis (that’s enough to steal anyone’s thunder) but also just like... an underdeveloped plot in an overdeveloped world, a trap so many authors have fallen into. (like travis can describe in minute detail the inner workings of hog that are only applicable for about five episodes but chaos/order’s motivations are largely handwaved despite them being the central antagonists for the entire season.)

anyway. once again, great goofs. i would die for fitzroy maplecourt. but i can’t imagine ever listening to the whole thing again or even more than a couple of episodes here or there (ironically of the hog heist, which, despite how unnecessary it was, was a fun romp and had some of my favorite moments. so, you know. sometimes unnecessary is still good lmao).

#also if literally anyone says that it's all bc of travis' adhd or w/e One More Time i will lose it #look i also have adhd and i am still capable of writing a cohesive plot okay??? having mental illness does not #somehow prevent you from being able to write a cohesive and well-thought-out story #i do think he got some very unnecessary backlash and a lot of the problems in gr*d were also present in early balance #the difference is that balance... balanced out eventually and grew stronger #whereas gr*d collapsed in on itself and became a mess plot-wise #and even tho i enjoyed the characters i felt no real emotional investment in their arcs bc their arcs were... not really arcs #anyway i dont regret listening to it BUT it was a slog & i dont think i'll ever really relisten #taz

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hollyxqx · 4 years ago

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LOVER, LEAVER // JIMIN // 05

↪ PAIRING: Reader/Park Jimin (initially reader/Jungkook) ↪ SUMMARY: There’s only so much cheating you can take from your boyfriend when he’s on tour before you take matters in to your own hands. ↪ WORD COUNT: 8.3k

↪ WARNINGS: mentions of addiction/drugs, alcohol abuse, there’s FLUFF people can you believe it, jimin is a slight rich bitch in this lol, a baby is born, slight smut

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | FINAL

Jimin very kindly and patiently lets you vent your concerns about Jungkook to him. You know you're rambling, you know it's not Jimin's duty to listen to fret over your ex-boyfriend but he does anyway, and without complaint. Jimin merely holds you tightly, nodding and offering encouraging agreement when needed. He cares about Jungkook too and you know your worries are shared.

Your eyes spill with tears and he wipes them away without question. How are you so lucky to have someone as understanding as him? Jimin doesn't protest or tell you to stop; instead he tells you he appreciates how compassionate you are. When you're finished with your tirade you thank him over and over again until he shushes you with a kiss.

The sofa you're curled up on with him creaks as he stands, reluctantly pulling away from you. He returns after a few moments with some tea for you both and it's so kind it makes your heart ache. You accept it from him with a mumbled thank you.

Taehyung, a former stranger turned roommate of three days, enters your apartment as you set your cup back down. Jimin peers over his shoulder as Taehyung removes his outdoor clothing and shoes. He stiffens beside you. The arrangement is still new and you can sense there is something going on inside Jimin's head. Taehyung waves and shouts hello to you both upon seeing on the sofa before disappearing inside the kitchen.

Taehyung is a video editor for a local news station and works absurd hours, you've noticed. In the short time you've lived together your paths have only crossed a handful of times.

You return his greeting with feigned cheerfulness and look back to Jimin, his lips press together in a stern line. "What?" You ask, sensing his hesitancy. To your confusion, he looks uncomfortable.

"Nothing." He shakes his head dismissively and looks away. His own tea is still untouched.

"Wanna stay over tonight?" You ask after another sip of tea. Jimin nods, eyes anywhere but you.

Jimin heads straight for your bedroom after that, obviously expecting you to follow. It's late and he wants to retire to bed you assume. However you head in to the kitchen to catch up with your new house mate. Taehyung is nice, thoughtful and so far, a good person to share a living space with. Although the only other boy you've ever lived with was Jungkook so you don't have much room for comparison.

"How was work?" You ask casually, leaning against the doorframe. Taehyung eats like a horse and he's already biting into a cereal bar whilst stacking a mountain of ingredients atop the counter.

"Good!" He mumbles, catching some of the food that spills out of his mouth as he tries to smile. He swallows. "How are you?"

"Fine. Jimin's here by the way. Do you mind if he stays overnight?" You ask. Jimin has never stayed over while Taehyung has been home and you don't want to be disrespectful.

"He's your boyfriend of course not." Taehyung shrugs, kicking the fridge shut with his foot. You eye his potential meal and wonder how he remains so slim. He must work out a ton. "I've got noise cancelling headphones." He flashes you a boxy grin over his shoulder as he begins to prep his food.

"He's not my - He's not..." You stammer quietly, blushing at the comment. Jimin and you have made nothing official. If Taehyung senses your awkwardness he says nothing. "We're not animals Taehyung, we'll be quiet. I just wanted to give you a heads up."

"Appreciate it, roomie. You guys heading to bed? Can I watch the big TV?" He asks.

"It's all yours roomie." You laugh a little. "Goodnight."

Taehyung bids you goodnight and you head to your own bedroom, where Jimin is waiting. When you enter inside he's standing with his back to you, shirtless as he undoes his belt. The sound of the door opening he doesn't even turn to face you, merely continues getting ready for bed.

"Just wanted to let Tae know you're spending the night." You murmur as you pace over, ghosting a gentle hand against his skin.

"Oh, ok." He responds quietly.

"I'm working tomorrow, so we're going to have to get up early." You sigh.

"That's fine."

"Can I wear this to bed?" You ask hopefully, picking up Jimin's discarded tee. It smells like his cologne, it's comforting. He nods. You notice he's still acting rather stiff and unusual but you're not sure why. "Thanks Jiminie."

He slips under the duvet first, while you crawl in behind him, wearing nothing but his shirt and a thong. He lies on his back, one arm behind his head. You reach across him to flick the bedside lamp off. Even in the moonlight you can see a worried expression twisting his beautiful features.

"There's something on your mind." You state, just above a whisper. You rest your head against his warm chest and loosely throw and arm across his waist. Normally he'd nuzzle into you but his position remains unchanged.

"It's nothing." You're not sure if he even convinces himself, voice thick and quiet, something heavy underlying his words.

"You can talk to me, about anything." You assure. There's a palpable tension weighing in the room as Jimin hesitates. You can feel the tension in his body, muscles constricting slightly underneath you. He inhales as if he's about to speak but lets out a long breath instead. "Is it Jungkook? Have I been going on too much about him?"

"No." Jimin is quick to firmly interject. "No." He repeats, softer. "It's Taehyung."

Surely you hear him incorrectly. "Taehyung?" You repeat incredulously, propping yourself up to see his face, hoping this is some kind of joke. It's so absurd you almost want to laugh.

He looks at you with a frown. "Yes. It's stupid. It's nothing. Nevermind."

You soften at his words. "Your feelings are not nothing to me, Jimin."

He runs a distressed hand through his long locks. "I'm being jealous and irrational. I hate it."

"Of Taehyung? Why does Tae of all people make you jealous? I just sat and cried about my ex boyfriend to you!" You tease, hoping to at least coax a little smile from him. It doesn't work.

"Well, look how me and you got started..." He trails off, almost if he knows how awful that thought is to voice aloud.

"Jimin," You're wounded, a visceral sting within your ribcage. "Don't throw that in my face. That's not fair."

“I’m sorry! That came out weird.” He groans, frustrated at the sight of your hurt expression.

“You don’t trust me.” You point out.

He shakes his head. “I do. I told you I’m being irrational.”

“Then what’s the big deal with Taehyung?! Tell me and I can make you feel better. There is literally zero reason to feel jealousy towards my roommate.”

He seems reluctant to explain, dragging his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes locked with yours. “I know how this story ends.” He sighs. You raise a brow at him. “He’s a nice guy, you’re a nice girl. You’ll get really close, you’ll hang out all the time since you live together, then one day you and I will have a big argument, and who will be around to pick up the pieces? Taehyung.”

“- Jimin,”

“ - Who are you going to bitch about me to when you’re mad? Taehyung. He’s single right? What will stop him from making a move on you? And if you’re mad at me you might let him. Look what happened with -” He cuts himself short but you both know the word ‘Jungkook’ was about to slip out.

He looks away guiltily.

You nod quietly absorbing the information. It’s understandable, albeit borderline crazy, that Jimin feels this way. He’s not perfect, he has insecurities like everyone else but there’s two things you have gathered from this conversation. One; Jimin is a lot more sensitive than you first thought and two; he isn’t as easy going about Jungkook as he appears.

“I understand why you would think that.” You want to be assuring but your voice sounds so small. You know there is no real defence for your infidelity. Jimin looks worried, anticipating what you’ll say next. “I do think you’re getting a little ahead of yourself, I’ll be honest.”

“I know. I’m just scared.” He admits.

That takes you by surprise. “Scared of what?”

“Of losing you. Again.”

“Again?”

“This is so embarrassing,” He laughs a little but it’s humourless. “All I do is make myself look more pathetic huh? It’s no secret I’ve liked you since the day we met.”

“That doesn’t make you pathetic, jiminie.” You squeeze his hand affectionately. “It’s sweet.”

“But I’d lost you to Kook, and then when I finally had you, even though it wasn’t how I imagined, you told me you didn’t want me.”

“That’s not strictly true.” You chastise.

“You know what I mean.” He reaches out to cup your face, a delicate thumb rests on the apples of your cheek. “Things are going well now. I don’t want a repeat of history.”

“I would never do anything behind your back. You’re not Jungkook, and I’m not that person anymore.” Your words are firm, because they’re true and you mean them wholeheartedly.

“If you’re not happy. Ever, about anything, tell me.” Jimin murmurs as he pulls you close for a kiss.

“I promise I will. It’s different this time,” You whisper against his lips.

***

From: Kim Namjoon Hoseok found Jungkook. He’s fine, unhurt, just drunk and kind of emotional. He’s holing up @ Hoseok’s place until the trial date.

No news is definitely not good news when it comes to Jungkook, so even though this information is hard to hear you’re glad he is at least safe. Hoseok has always been the most responsible one out of Jungkook’s circle of friends. You know he’s likely there against his will but maybe thats for the best.

From: Y/N Thank you for letting me know. Namjoon be really careful, he’s probably going to be having withdrawal. He’s been shooting up. I don’t know what but keep his phone away from him and make sure Hoseok has his doctor’s number.

From: Kim Namjoon I know. I noticed the track marks too. Ill tell hoeseok and keep you updated.

Your head is pounding as you flop back against the pillow, tossing your phone somewhere on the bed. Jimin is sleeping soundly beside you and you wish to join him again but you know your alarm is going to ring in thirty minutes anyway. You doubt you’d get much rest in that time.

The early hours of the morning are always where you do your best overthinking. You wonder if Jungkook would have ended up on this path if it wasn’t for you. It’s likely. Maybe you just accelerated it. Maybe his lifestyle is the real culprit here. Maybe it was his fate all along.

As you stare blankly into the blue early morning hue of the room all you can hope is that this will be a turning point for everyone, especially Jungkook.

***

It’s on what you anticipate to be a regular boring Thursday when you receive two shocking pieces of news, almost within a few minutes of one another.

Firstly, the most recent job interview you had attended (for a role that seemed too good to be true, but Jimin convinced you to go anyway and on shaky, unprepared legs you went.) had left a very eager voicemail for you while you’d been waiting tables. Your hands shook as you played and replayed the message. You almost thought you were imagining the praise they were giving you.

They wanted you. Not for the role you initially applied for but as an assistant to one of their mid level designers. It was probably better for you anyway and you returned the call to accept the offer immediately.

The second call comes from Namjoon of all people and it’s with your heart thundering in your chest you answer, fearing the worst.

His voice is equal parts breathless and terrified, as if he’s walking very quickly somewhere. After getting him to slow down eventually you’re able to understand the message he’s trying to convey. Hyerin is in labour. It’s still a week and a half before her due date so the news definitely comes as a surprise.

You let out a long sigh of relief. It’s happy news.

He informs you that it’s still early stages, they’re at the hospital however so you know the baby is going to be here soon. It feels surreal and you’re not even the person who is going to be a parent in a few hours. Namjoon promises to call you as soon as he can (Hyerin’s request) and you shoo him off the phone so you can call Jimin.

“It’s been a wild day and it’s not even lunchtime yet.” Jimin laughs once you relay the news. “I’m so happy for you butterfly. You’ve worked so hard.”

You can’t stop the smile that spreads across your face at his sincerity. “Wouldn’t have been able to do it without you.” And that’s the truth.

***

Jimin arranges a celebratory dinner in your honour later that evening. He implores you to wear something nice and you can hear the glint of mischief in his voice. “Promise me nothing too upmarket or expensive Jimin.” You warn but he just laughs and assures you be ready for him to pick you up later.

You slip on a nice dress that’s slit dangerously high up on your thigh and some heels, a lot more chic than you normally would wear for a date with Jimin. His initial reaction when you swing open the front door makes you feel beautiful.

He looks dapper himself, dressed in an extremely well tailored suit, the top few buttons exposing the jewellery around his neck. He looks every bit the successful artist he is.

Several times in the car you ask him where he’s taking you but Jimin remains coy and cryptic, shushing you with a knowing smile. You’re paying attention to the route he’s taking but you’re unfamiliar with the area you’re in. Eventually the car comes to a stop in front of a high end japanese restaurant.

“Huh.” You hum, eyes raking the building as he opens the car door for you. “I love Japanese food.”

“I know, I remembered.” Jimin grins tapping the side of his temple while extending an arm for you. You grip on to the crook of his elbow. “This place is the next best thing to actually going to Japan.”

After being seated on the upper level of the restaurant, a private table in the corner with an incredible view of the city you can’t help but feel out of your depth. “Can you tell I don’t normally come to places like this?” You joke.

“Of course not.” He smiles.

“I would have been happy wherever we went, y’know. Even if it was Subway”

“I know,” He playfully rolls his eyes. “I recently sold one of my paintings at auction and made more money than I ever have in my career. Let me treat my favorite lady Next time you can treat me to a meatball sub.”

“Deal.”

“Any word from Namjoon or Hyerin?” He asks, taking a sip of the crimson liquid in his glass.

“No,” You sigh. “I’m excited for them! They don’t even know what sex the baby is.”

“I bet it’s a girl.” Jimin smiles.

“No, it’s a boy. I can feel it. You can tell by the shape of the bump.”

Jimin quirks a questioning brow at you. “Sorry, Doctor Y/N. I forgot about your expertise for a moment.” He says sarcastically.

“Apology accepted.” You play along.

“Let’s make a bet. If it’s a girl, I win. If it’s a boy, you win.”

“What’s at stake?” You question.

“If I win…” He pauses for a moment in thought. “You have to model for me.”

“For a painting?”

“Or a drawing.” He shrugs.

“And if I’m right?” You pry.

“You can say I told you so as much as you want.” He replies and you roll your eyes. It’s hardly a fair bet.

“No, if i'm correct you have to watch whatever movie I want for the next month.”

“Fine. Cruel but fair.”

“Deal!”

As expected the meal is wonderful, and you feel spoiled beyond belief, especially when Jimin toasts to you with a glass of probably the most expensive wine you’ve ever had. After dinner, instead of returning to the car he links your fingers together and pulls you in the opposite direction, citing he needs to walk off the glass of wine he had before he drives anywhere.

Jimin guides you to a nearby river that you can’t remember the name of. At night it’s lit up beautifully, the twinkling lights of the cityscape behind it only adding to the view. The weather is almost perfect and you feel utterly content.

He cages your body with his as he stands behind you, arms looping around your waist, hugging your body tightly to his. “I had such a nice time with you, butterfly.” He murmurs against your neck, before placing a few open mouthed kisses against your skin. A dreamy sigh escapes your parted lips. “Mmm, you smell so good.”

“Thank you for tonight Jimin. It was perfect.” You twist in his arms until you’re chest to chest. His eyes sparkle, reflecting the scenery behind you. His eyes lock with yours as if you’re the only thing in the universe.

Soft lips brush against yours as you cling tightly to him. Jimin’s hands slide underneath your jacket touching the bare skin of your back. He moans quietly into the kiss. “Fuck, I want to take you home.”

“Want you to take me home.” You smirk, raking your hands down his chest. He bites his lip.

“I have a gift for you first though.”

“Jimin,” You whine. “You’ve done more than enough for me.”

“Never.” He teases, stealing a few more kisses from you.

By the time you’re back at the car, Jimin is sober enough to drive and grinning like a cheshire cat. You eye him with a quirked brow. He unlocks the car with a chirp before striding to the trunk and popping it open. “Why do you look like you’re up to something?”

“Me?” He feigns innocence, clutching dramatically at his chest as if you’ve hurt him deeply. “Get in the car.” He instructs, sensing your hesitation.

You hold his playful stare for a moment before giving in and climbing into the passenger side.

The car obstructs most of the view, so you can’t see what he’s up to, although it doesn’t stop you from trying. Only a moment later he’s sliding into the driver’s side, a large pastel pink, flat rectangle box in one hand. You don’t miss the black lace bow holding the gift together. You know exactly what it’s contents are.

“Jimin…”

“For you.” He gives you a sly smile as he hands over the box.

Carefully you unwrap the packaging, revealing some of the most beautiful lingerie you’ve ever seen. “Oh my god.” You gasp. “This is…wow. Oh my god! It’s Agent Provocateur for crying out loud! It’s stunning. You must be broke after tonight.”

He laughs while you ramble on about how stunning the lacy garment is. “I’m glad you like it.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” You lean across the console pecking Jimin enthusiastically several times on the cheek.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.” He says gently. “I love seeing you happy.”

“I’m assuming the intention is for me to wear this...for you?” You suggest with a smirk.

“I said no such thing.”

“So, essentially. This is a gift for Jimin. I haven’t forgotten about your little lingerie kink.”

His blush is noticeable even in the dim streetlight. “Lingerie on you.” He corrects. “You don’t have to wear it for me. I just know you like that sort of thing.”

“How did you even know what size I am?” You query.

“Um,” Jimin, scratches the back of his neck and laughs at himself. “I may have checked the tags on your underwear.”

“Ah. sneaky.” You tease, kissing him once more. “Take me to your place before I beg you to fuck me right here, right now.”

Jimin’s eyes widen in surprise, wondering whether you're being serious or not, no doubt. But he listens anyway and does as you ask, turning the key in the ignition before peeling out of the parking space.

***

Several hours later, as you’re both about to turn in for the night, you receive the text you have eagerly been anticipating the entire day. Hyerin has given birth to a healthy, baby girl.

You nudge Jimin who is on the verge of sleep beside you, spent from the evening, heavy eyelids blinking slowly as he struggles to stay awake. “Hmm?” He mumbles

“It’s a baby girl. Look.”

It takes a minute to register in his mind exactly what you’re talking about before his eyes shoot open, mouth formed in a perfect ‘o’. You thrust your phone screen towards him, a picture of the newborn on display. “Cute.” He yawns.

“Isn’t she?” You hum in agreement, smiling down at the image. “She looks like Hyerin.”

“She’s only a few hours old, she doesn’t look like anyone yet.” Jimin laughs.

“Look at her eyes and tell me that’s not Hyerin!” You defend.

“Are we just going to pretend I didn’t win the bet?” He reminds you, pulling you close to him as soon as you put your phone away. “You owe me, butterfly.”

You nuzzle into the crook of his neck, feeling safe and secure. You can’t help but smile into his skin. “Just let me know when and where you want me.”

“How about this weekend?” He suggests, stroking your hair. “At my studio?”

“Sounds perfect.”

***

It’s only a few days later you find yourself, along with Jimin, at Namjoon and Hyerin’s apartment. Excitement bubbles in your chest at the prospect of meeting their new arrival. You’ve never really been crazy about children, however something about having witnessed the growth of this infant since day one has created a special connection with her.

“Here she is,” Hyerin gives you an exhausted smile, handing the bundle of yellow blankets over to you. The tiny face of a newborn peeking out from underneath, dark hair poking out at the top of the blankets. She seems impossibly tiny. Gently you cradle her, carefully because she looks so fragile and new you can’t quite believe it.

“Nice to meet you beautiful girl.” You coo, unable to stop a wide smile from forming on your face. Jimin sits next to you, an arm slung over the back of the couch, leaning forward so he can see her too. “It’s Auntie y/n.”

She blinks up at you owlishly and it’s amazing to you how intently she’s focusing on your face. You don’t even know if someone her age can register a face yet but it still feels magical.

“I think she recognises your voice.” Hyerin points out, smiling at the pair of you. “She’s heard it enough over the past few months.”

“Is that even possible?” You blink in surprise.

“According to some of the stuff I’ve read, yeah.” Hyerin nods.

“Does she have a name yet?” Jimin asks, eyes never leaving the baby.

“We’re still not sure,” Namjoon answers. “We were thinking Yeona, maybe.”

“It means beautiful baby. Or heart of gold.” Hyerin laughs. “It fits, no?”

“Definitely.” You breathe. “Hello Yeona.” You sing-song to see if she reacts, but she merely yawns earning a laugh from the room. “Message received, pretty girl.”

Her eyes start to flutter shut and you place the pacifier Hyerin hands to you into her small mouth. It doesn’t take long for her to fall asleep in your arms while you rock her gently.

“You’re stuck with her now, y/n.” Namjoon laughs. “It’s not good to wake a sleeping baby, you know. Sit tight so Hyerin and I can go nap for four hours.”

“Joonie!” Hyerin scolds with a laugh. He was only joking of course.

“No offense, but both of you look like you could use it.” Jimin quips.

“You’re telling me,” Namjoon groans. “She sleeps a lot at the moment, but honestly, i’m just in a constant state of worry for her wellbeing. 24/7. I haven’t relaxed even for a second in days”

“Me too.” Hyerin agrees. “Top that off with my recovery from the birth and I feel like a zombie.”

“It’ll be worth it.” You say sincerely. Namjoon and Hyerin share a look, the kind of secret exchange two people in love would have. It brings you so much happiness to see them thriving together. Silence falls between the four of you but it isn’t awkward or uncomfortable. Everyone is at ease.

A vibrating sound buzzes, followed by a shrill ring, interrupting the peace. Your phone is ringing from your handbag that sits at your feet. “Ah, I can’t get that. Jimin can you see who it is? It might be work, I don’t want to miss another call from them.”

Jimin reaches for your cellphone and his face falls at the caller id. He says nothing, merely showing you the screen that reads ‘Jeon Jungkook incoming call’. He hasn’t contacted you directly once since the breakup. A knot forms in the pit of your stomach. This can’t be good.

“I’ll call them back later.” You tell Jimin with a shake of your head. You don’t want to be the person that ruins this evening. Tactfully picking up on your tone, he silences the call before slipping his phone back into your bag.

***

Hyerin is putting the baby down for the night whilst Namjoon, you and Jimin have some coffee. Finally having your arms back to yourself you check your phone, only to feel horrified at the sheer amount of notifications. All from Jungkook.

“I need to go make a call,” You announce standing up. Jimin looks at you, worry flashing in his eyes. “I’ll be right back.”

You don’t wait for a response, choosing to instead quickly slip out the front door and into the hallway of their complex, shutting it quietly behind you. You press Jungkook’s name on your call list and wait.

It rings out, before going to voicemail. You try again.

And again.

And again until he answers on the seventh call. “Baaabyy.” He’s drunk and barely coherent. “I’m outside your apartment. Let me in.”

Fuck.

“Jungkook, I’m not home right now.” You say firmly, praying that Taehyung isn’t home either. He shouldn’t have to deal with this, it’s not what he signed up for when he agreed to be your roommate.

“Where are you? Are you at Jimin’s place?” He spits.

“No I’m with Namjoon and Hyerin.” You sigh. “I��m on my way home though. Where is Hoseok?”

“Hoseok tried to lock me up like a fucking prisoner. I don’t give a fuck where he is.”

Exasperated, you pinch the bridge of your nose between your thumb and forefinger, inhaling a deep breath. It’s frustrating to remain calm with someone who is so clearly self sabotaging. “Kook, I’m gonna come get you okay. Will you wait for me?”

“Of course baby. I’ll be - “ He hiccups. “Right here.”

“Don’t go anywhere.” You warn. “I won’t be long.”

You hurry back inside to find Jimin and Namjoon laughing about something, but as soon as their eyes land on you it dies away. “Is everything okay?” Jimin is quick to ask.

“We have to go.” You reply bluntly, cutting straight to the chase. “Jungkook is wasted, hanging outside my apartment, begging to be let in.”

“Christ.” Namjoon groans. “Where was Hoseok? He was keeping an eye on him. Apparently he was completely sober the last few days!”

“I don’t know but I can’t leave Jungkook wandering around shit-faced like that.” You share his frustration. “I’m sorry Namjoon. Tell Hyerin I’m sorry and I’ll call her later.”

Namjoon can only nod as you and Jimin scramble your things together and rush out the door.

***

Taehyung texts you on the drive over. You breathe a sigh of small relief when you realise he’s at work and won’t be home until the small hours of the morning. Still, you don’t intend to risk your living situation so Jimin agrees that the best course of action is to take Jungkook to his place. Jimin lives alone, it’s the easiest option.

“Should I come with you? Or do you want me to wait here?” Jimin asks as he parks the car.

“Stay here for now. I think he might get angry if he sees you.” You head hurts already at the prospect of dealing with that drama. Jimin gives you a solemn look before giving you the okay.

Walking up the stairs and down the hallway to your apartment, your stomach twists with dread, anticipating the condition you might find Jungkook in. You take a deep breath as you round the final corner. Thankfully, it’s not as bad as you had expected.

Jungkook, adorned in his trademark all black outfit, sits on the floor. His back is pressed flush against the wall opposite your front door. A hood covers most of his face and his arms are crossed on his chest, legs sprawled out in front of him. He almost looks like he’s sleeping.

“Jungkook?” You ask gently, crouching down beside him. He stirs slightly. You push the hood off his face and brush some of his long hair away from his eyes. “Kookie.” You repeat.

His eyes slowly flutter open and it takes a few seconds for him to focus on you. “Baby.” He grins lopsidedly, fumbling to hold you. It’s an awkward embrace given that you're not in the right position for a hug right now.

“Do you want to stand up for me?” You’re unsure how to approach telling him he’s going to Jimin’s, so for right now trepidation and caution is key. Jungkook nods. He slings an arm around your shoulder, while you slide one around his waist, letting him lean on your for support.

“Are we going inside now?” He mumbles. “...m’tired.”

“We can’t, My roommate is home.” You lie.

“Roommate?” Jungkook frowns. “Jimin?”

“Taehyung.” You correct.

“Who the fuck is that?”

“Come on, my car is downstairs, we’re going somewhere else.” You avoid his question, and he seems momentarily satisfied with your answer. “Let’s walk to the elevator.”

He doesn’t remove his arm from your shoulders as you make your way out of the building. “Are you mad at me baby?” He asks, slumping against you in the elevator.

“No. I’m not.” It’s the truth, you’re not angry. Above anything and everything you’re concerned for him.

Jimin spots you walking out the building and immediately springs up and out of the driver's seat to help you. He appears at the side of the car, opening the door to the backseat. “I’m not going anywhere with him.” Jungkook snarls, pointing obnoxiously at Jimin.

“Kookie, kookie, please - “ You beg.

“NO! You’ll take me to Hoseok’s or rehab. No.” He yells.

“I promise we won’t, Jungkook.” Jimin assures him quietly. “You can just crash at my apartment. We won’t tell Hoseok if you don’t want us to.”

Jungkook looks down cautiously at you, as if he can gauge whether Jimin is serious or not by your expression. He sways a little as he stands. “Baby girl,” he sighs dramatically. “I don’t want to go.”

“Please,” You say quietly. “I don’t want to leave you by yourself right now.”

“You want me?” He asks, his intoxicated brain clearly misinterpreting your words. That’s not exactly what you meant but if it will get him in the car and on the way to safety you’ll agree to almost anything.

“Of course. Come get in.”

He hesitates for a minute, but lets you bundle him in the car anyway. As you go to close the door, he grabs your wrist. “Noooo,” He whines. “Sit in the back with me.”

“Jungk - “

“Sit with me or I’m not going.”

You exchange a glance with Jimin who looks unhappy but nods, encouraging you to just continue playing along. When you slip into your side, Jungkook hastily and roughly pulls you into the middle of the backseat, then wraps his arms around you.

“Jungkook,” You warn, attempting to push his arms away.

“You said you’d sit with me.” He pouts, burying his face into your neck. You sigh, accepting defeat, mouthing ‘I’m sorry’ to Jimin when your eyes meet in the rear view mirror. He shakes his head ‘don’t worry’ he mouths back.

Jungkook soon falls asleep on your shoulder. His grip on you slackens a little. Using this as an opportunity you slowly roll one sleeve up his arm. In the light of the passing street lamps it’s hard to tell but there doesn’t appear to be any track marks. From his behaviour tonight he didn’t seem high; only inebriated. A threadbare silver lining, you suppose.

By the time all three of you have made it inside of Jimin’s apartment, Jungkook is just about completely blacked out. Together you and Jimin place him on the sofa. Jimin has a luxury corner couch so it’s basically like a small bed anyway. You help him out of his shoes while Jimin fetches some water and a bucket, knowing Jungkook’s tendendancy for vomiting after alcohol.

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook sounds emotional, but you know it’s the liquor talking. You perch on the side of the couch beside him.

“It’s alright.” You say kindly. “Why did you drink so much tonight?”

“I’m not allowed to do drugs, so may as well get drunk.” He grumbles, rubbing at his eyes.

You shake your head at his ridiculous logic. It’s quiet as you wait for Jimin to return, and by the time he has Jungkook is once again unconscious. As if by muscle memory from having done it so many times before, you make sure he’s laying on his side, so he doesn’t die if he vomits in his sleep.

Jimin sets down the bucket and water next to Jungkook. “Thank you.” Your voice is hoarse.

It’s silent as you head to Jimin’s bedroom together. Emotionally you feel drained. How long does this pattern with Jungkook have to repeat before something changes? Inevitably it will take its toll. Not just on Jungkook himself, not just your relationship, but every one in your social group. It hurts to see Jungkook so out of control. He always used to be so outgoing. So free. So happy.

Robotically you go through the motions of your bedtime routine, as does Jimin. Without asking, you grab his shirt to wear to bed. You finish changing before him and watch as he rakes through a drawer, pulling on a pair of pyjama pants.

You’re so lucky to have him. After everything you’ve put him through, he’s been nothing but supportive. It’s so different to how you felt about Jungkook. That all consuming passion you and Jungkook had burns bright but fades quickly. How you feel about Jimin has been a slow, steady burn. It feels authentic. Stable. Real.

“Jimin.” You begin quietly.

“Hm?” He climbs into bed next to you. “Are you okay?”

“I just wanted you to know, you’re an amazing person for doing this tonight. I don’t know many people who would go to the lengths you have for Jungkook, or for me.” You breathe, suddenly feeling very nervous. He squeezes you a little tighter. “I love you Jimin.”

“Uh - “ He pulls away, looking flustered and immediately your stomach drops. Maybe he has changed his mind.

“Oh god! I’m sorry, I stupidly just assumed you’d still be in the same place as before, and I know i’ve kept you waiting for so long. Fuck, Jimin, I’m sorry, really - “

He silences your overthinking with a press of his lips against yours. “I love you too.”

Jimin is smiling now, his big eyes almost closed with how hard he’s grinning.

“It’s a weird time to say it huh?” You laugh, kissing him again. “I don’t think I’ve ever loved you as much as I do at this moment.” You hide your face against his chest, feeling shy from your admission. His chest vibrates as he chuckles.

“I love you, I love you so much butterfly.”

“I love you. We took a long route to get here, but I’m glad we did.”

“Does this mean we’re together now? Officially? I overheard you panic when Taehyung referred to me as your boyfriend.” Jimin teases. You were not aware he heard that.

“Yes. I’m all yours.” You smile into his shirt.

He kisses the top of your head. You fall asleep in his embrace not long afterwards.

***

The digital bedside clock reads 5:03am when you jolt awake. Unsure of what startled you, you listen carefully for a noise but all that can be heard is your own heartbeat thrumming in your ears with Jimin’s soft breathing in the background.

You roll over as best you can because he’s still clinging to you (although your positions have changed) even in slumber. You press a kiss to his cheek, watching him fondly for a few moments. His perfect mouth is parted slightly and his hair is adorably messy.

Suddenly you recall Jungkook passed out in the living room. Not that you forgot about him per say, you were just distracted by Jimin for a moment. Quietly you tip toe out of the bedroom and down the hall.

Jungkook is still in almost exactly the same position as he was when you left him several hours ago. As silently as you can you sit down next to him, just to make sure he’s okay. Evidently he’s not as deep asleep as you’d presumed because his eyes flutter open at the weight of your body sinking down on to the couch.

“y/n.” He croaks at the sight of you. “Where am I? Is this your place?” He coughs a few times, his voice hoarse from lack of use.

You forgot he had never been to Jimin’s new apartment. Jimin had moved after everything went down. No wonder the surroundings were unfamiliar. He probably didn’t remember much from the previous night either.

“This is Jimin’s apartment.” For some reason you feel guilty admitting that. “Are you thirsty? Can I get you anything?”

“What?” He sits up on his elbows, looking around the room. “Did he move?” You nod. “Oh…”

“Do you remember much from last night?” You ask nervously.

“Ahhh, kind of,” He looks embarrassed, eyes darting away. “I remember wanting to see you. Going to your house. Vaguely remember hugging you in the car. That’s about it.”

“Where was Hoseok? Last I heard you were staying with him. Namjoon said you were sober.”

“Hobi’s girlfriend broke her ankle so he took her to hospital. I snuck out, even though I promised Hobi I wouldn’t.” Jungkook has the decency to look ashamed. “I am sober….I was at least. I haven’t done drugs in a long time. I guess I just got cabin fever.”

“That’s understandable,” You sigh. “You shouldn’t drink if you get in such a state. What if you had driven again!? How did you even make it to my apartment last night?”

“Walked.” He shrugs.

“Jungkook.” You hide your face behind your palms when you feel the tears begin to burn in your eyes. He doesn’t say anything. You feel him shuffle a little and then wrap his arms around you in a hug.

“Don’t cry.” He whispers.

“I can’t keep doing this. You need to get help.” You choke back a sob. “Why won’t you?”

His hold on you tightens. “I’m scared. I’m ashamed. I’m supposed to be a fun, party guy. Not an addict.”

Gently you push him away. “There is nothing wrong with needing help Jungkook. From the outside, it appears as if you desperately need it. What can I say to convince you?”

“I…”

“I’ll do anything. I’ll drive you anywhere, Jimin will drive you anywhere. God knows Hoseok, Namjoon and Yoongi will do anything for you. Take you to AA meetings, therapy, anything. Just tell me what, Jungkook, and I’ll do it.”

“Will everyone think less of me? Will you think less of me?” He asks quietly, taking you aback. “You hate me now. I was awful to you when we were together.”

“No. If anything I’d think more highly of you. It’s infinitely more difficult to take control than it is to lose it.” A lone tear escapes. “In regards to us? We weren’t compatible Kookie, but I loved you very much.”

“I still love you. I think I always will. I’m sorry I fucked up.”

“It’s done. There’s nothing we can do about the past. I’m sorry too. Obviously I care about you, which is why I’m trying my best to help.”

Jungkook nods slowly, processing everything you’ve just explained.

“I’ll do it.” He says with certainty.

“Jungkook,” You desperately want to get your hopes up, he sounds so sure.

“If you help me.”

“Of course.”

“Jimin won’t mind? I know you’re together now.” He asks. Jungkook doesn’t look angry, or even hurt. It’s worse. He looks sad.

“Jimin loves you Jungkook, regardless of everything that’s transpired. I know he won’t mind.”

“Okay.” He replies quietly.

“Stay here for the rest of the day. I’ll make you food, and we can figure out what is the right help for you. I know you felt pressured before but we’ll find what is best for you. You don’t have to do anything against your will. Sound good?” You ask.

“Thank you.” He mumbles meekly.

“It’s still early. Get some sleep.” You give him a small smile before you stand up and leave.

***

Once you return to the privacy of Jimin’s room, you get back into bed. Your boyfriend rouses at the sound of the door clicking shut, which you’re thankful for because you would feel guilty waking him. “Hey beautiful.” He says sleepily. “Where’d you go?”

“I was checking on Jungkook.” You explain. “We need to help him Jimin.”

“I know.” He sits up a little in bed, yawning.

“He promised he would take this seriously. Only if I help him.” You pause, waiting for a negative reaction but Jimin is merely patient, waiting for you to continue. “I told him we all would as long as he stays here today. He might be more receptive to help if we do it more...casually? I think he felt like a hostage at Hoseoks.”

“That’s fine. He can stay here as long as he wants. I hate seeing him like he was last night. He acts like a completely different person when he’s drinking.”

You’re instantly reminded of the physical fight the two men had had, knowing there was no way it would have occurred if Jungkook had been sober. Maybe that’s why Jimin seemed to have forgiven him so quickly.

Lacing your hands with Jimin, you squeeze his hand in reassurance. “Thank you.”

***

Jimin has the tact to remain elusive around the apartment in the following hours. It’s a smart idea to alleviate any tension that his presence may create. You shower first, throwing a hoodie of his and some shorts on before going to see Jungkook. Having spent many nights with Jimin you’re familiar with his morning routine, which is why you’re able to deduce that he’s deliberately taking a long time.

“Can I borrow your phone charger?” Is the first thing Jungkook asks you as you stride into the living room. “My phone died.”

You give him your charger, along with a cup of coffee and sit yourself down beside him. As his phone turns on you can hear the many notifications go off, god knows who he had been calling and texting last night. “How are you feeling?”

“Fuckin’ hungover.” He grimaces. “Where’s Jimin?”

“Shower.”

“Is he pissed off?” Jungkook peers at you over the rim of his coffee mug. His hands are trembling from the after affects of the alcohol.

“No. He’s worried. Everyone is.” You answer truthfully. A few moments of slightly stiff silence pass. You have no idea what is going through Jungkook’s mind at the moment. He’s frowning. “You know, when you attend your trial, if you’re in AA or anything similar it will make you look genuinely remorseful in front of the judge.”

“I am genuinely remorseful.” He mutters. “It’s not as easy as people think just to stop drinking. It’s been my lifestyle for so long now. How am I supposed to tour if I’m sober?!”

The question is rhetorical but you answer anyway. “Lots of rockstars do, you know. If you get treatment you’ll develop coping mechanisms to deal with all of that.”

He makes an agreeable sound but still appears rather skeptical.

After a lengthy discussion (which Jimin awkwardly interrupts to offer food), you manage to convince Jungkook to at least look at AA meetings with you. You promise someone will go with him to everyone one, not to babysit but to be supportive. He’s not allowed to drive at the moment so you surmise having a friend with him would be better than taking a taxi.

Jimin joins you both a little bit later with said promised food, Jungkook calls Hobi to let him know he’s safe. Even though the phone is not on speaker you can hear Hoseok yell. Jungkook simply rolls his eyes.

After he’s eaten Jungkook announces he’s going to leave and head back to Hoseoks. You want him to text you when he’s there (you’re not sure if you even believe him) but you know any amount of pressure right now when he’s this fragile could ruin everything.

The goodbye is awkward, it’s to be expected. He thanks you both, lingers for a moment and then he’s gone. He assured you both that he would text when he is going to go for his first meeting. You really hope he does.

***

Jimin makes sure not to let you forget your promise to model for him. Although the situation with Jungkook left the two of you feeling slightly off kilter for the rest of Saturday, by lunch time Sunday his lingering touches and innuendos leave little to the imagination. He kisses your neck as you’re making food, whispering: “Want to go to my studio? I believe you owe me.”

“Now?” You smile dreamily, leaning into his touch.

“We can eat first, if you want.” He nips the skin at the junction of your neck before running his tongue over the flesh and beginning to suckle. It’s going to leave a bruise, which you absolutely cannot have the day before starting a new job.

“Jimin,” You complain, pushing him off you. “I’ve got work tomorrow, I can’t go in there looking like some horny teenager who let her boyfriend play vampire on their neck.”

“Sorry.” He snickers. “I was thinking some hickeys might look pretty when I paint you. You know most live models are nude...”

“I knew this was a ploy to get me naked.” You smirk, wiping the knife you were using to cut fruit on a dishtowel. It gets tossed in the sink, leaving you hands free to spin in his arms and face him.

“Kind of,” He grins. “But I also really want my muse to model for me.”

“Naked?”

“If you’re comfortable.” His fingers begin to unbutton the oversize plaid shirt of his you’re wearing (stolen of course), until you’re exposed all the way to your navel. Plush lips travel down from your neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. You shiver feeling his saliva meet the cool air. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want. I think your body is art, y/n. Every inch of it.”

You gasp when he yanks down the cups of your bra, taking a nipple in his mouth. He repeats this on your other breast before gently sucking a bruise on the skin next to it. After a minute or two he pulls away to assess his work with a smirk.

“Jimin,” You pant as your hands fly to grip the counter behind you. He’s barely done anything and you’re already weak for him. “You can’t leave a mark anywhere someone might see.”

“Unless you’re going to work without clothes on, these are just for my eyes only sweetheart.” More buttons are undone as Jimin kneels on the floor before you, grasping your hips in his hands. His mouth trails to the flesh right above your hip bone where he works on forming another lovebite. “Is this turning you on, butterfly?” He asks breathlessly.

Jimin’s big eyes meet yours as he looks up to confirm what he already knows is true. When you don’t answer immediately, he strokes a thumb over your quickly dampening panties, right where your swollen clit would be underneath. “Y-yeah.” You manage to choke out.

“Mhm,” Jimin carries on rubbing you as he resumes sucking a hickey slightly above the mark he just made. After one particular harsh suck and a nip with his teeth you jolt with pleasure. “I can feel how wet you are through your panties.”

“It feels so good.” You almost whimper. “I want more. Take my underwear off.”

“No.” He bites his lip, holding back a devilish look.

“Jimin, please.” You whine. It’s not like him to tease you. “Please.”

“Nuh uh.” He shakes his head. “You’re going to be a good girl for me first.” He punctuates his words by increasing the pressure.

“I am being good.” You breath hitches when he stops. “Jimin.”

“I meant, be good and model for me.” He stands up, kissing you teasingly on the lips. “Get dressed, we are going to my studio.”

a/n: if anyone is curious, THIS is what I imagined Jimin’s apartment to be like. THIS is what i imagined the lingerie gift as. (i’m a really visual person & always love it when other writers include stuff like this). p.s the next chapter is one of the smuttiest things ive ever written oh lawd. prepare yourselves.

p.p.s the next chapter is the end :(

MASTERLIST

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redcameleon · 4 years ago

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SSM 2020 Day 3

Prompt: Sleeping Soundly

Summary: Sakura has the ability to travel to people’s dreams and alter them. So she helps resolve Sasuke’s nightmares.

Rating: K+.

A/N: The story is set during ancient times when kingdoms still existed. This was inspired by the drama Mystic Pop Up Bar. Go check out the show!

Life is surely filled with mysteries. Mysteries of the mind and the body. One can argue that they both are just equally as important, equally dependent on each other, and equally strong. But Sakura would argue otherwise. The mind is the key to everything. A strong-willed mind can withstand anything. It can even push one’s limit beyond anything they imagine. Unbeknownst to some, it even has the ability to affect one’s body. When the mind is strong, the body is as well. And when the mind is weak, so too is the body. Thus, becoming the key to unlock one’s potential.

This is what Sakura has control over. Not necessarily the mind itself, but the thoughts underlying it. One might ask, how is this possible? Through dreams.

A scholar once believed that the mind is the door that to peak into person’s subconsciousness. A dream is like a projection of one’s beliefs, thoughts, and hopes. Many things are uncertain, but one thing Sakura’s certain, is that she is not like other people. Ever since she was little, her dreams have never stopped being so vivid, so clear. Her mind has always been so alert and conscious, even during sleep, movements so clear and swift, she can practically do whatever she wants in the dream plane.

That’s when she realizes she’s special. She was ten when she found out her abilities can be stretched out to enter other people’s dreams. Seeing what they see, standing in the sidelines, watching the events unfold and change from one thing to the other.

She was thirteen when she found out she was able to alter those events. Creating her own playground in other people’s dreams, architecting rooms and houses, making things disappear or appear.

Back then she had to learn to manipulate her powers and hone them by using it on her friends. But soon, she realizes, it’s both a blessing and a curse. She was then feared by many. Feared that she is a puppet master who can control people’s minds to do whatever she wants. Feared that she will someday bring doom to their village.

The thing is, she did believe them. By the time she was sixteen, she decided to run away and leave her village behind.

Sasuke’s day has finally come to an end. With a war coming, the palace is becoming more eager to manufacture weapons and armors. Bows, arrows, swords, and spears are constantly in the make each day. Constantly being surrounded by the hot furnaces, handling scolding metal and heavy hammers, Sasuke’s body aches all over.

The walk back to his house feels the most rewarding. A day at the forge earned him three days’ worth of meals. He can barely remember when he started working there. The only thing he remembers is the face of his brother going into war. It’s been two years since he last saw him. He wonders if he’ll ever see him again.

Boiling some water in a pot and cutting up vegetables, he settles for a simple meal for his dinner before deciding to sleep right away. All cleaned up from the coal and dirt on his body, he lays himself on the futon, closing his eyes.

Just as his mind is starting to drift, flashes of blood fill his mind. He can hear the screams of women, of children. He sees arrows lodged into trees and ground. He keeps running and running deeper into the forest, running as fast as his legs could carry him. His body feels sluggish, as if putting one leg over the other is the hardest thing to do. His whole body feels heavy. He looks back to see if anyone’s following him when he accidentally trips on a branch, rolling down a hill and falling into a dark endless pit.

His body jolts as he sits up, covered in sweat. This has been the nth time he’s had the same dream. They never fall far from similar themes of blood, war, and fear. It’s like he’s watching his memories on tape being rewinded over and over again. Memories of the civil war that happened in his village years ago. Sometimes he gets to see his brother in them and they’re not as bad as he thinks. But some days they’re worse because he sees his brother in them, dead.

He runs a hand over his tired face and ruffles his hair in frustration. He lies back on the futon and stares at the ceiling.

Brother, where are you?

“Hey, Sasuke, Sasuke!” Someone finally snaps him out of his musings. He turns to the source of the voice.

“Careful with that.” The man points to the hot rod in his hand. Sasuke quickly sets it on the table before taking off his gloves.

“You okay? You look like you barely got any sleep last night.” It’s apparently too obvious that he didn’t get any sleep last night.

“I’m fine.” He goes to the back and splashes some water on his face. He lets it cool himself down as he stands there, staring at his reflection in the water. The man places a hand on Sasuke’s shoulder.

“Hey, you know what might help? I heard there’s a shaman in town that can give you good dreams!” Sasuke quirks an eyebrow at the suggestion. He surely is not one to believe in ghosts or spirits. He might believe in an afterlife, but hearing about someone who can supposedly give him good dreams is a bit too far-fetched.

“I’m telling you it really works! My brother went to see her the other day and he said she could really do it! Just try it once. You got nothing to lose, right?” He’s right. He doesn’t have anything to lose. His nightmares are already bad anyway, he can only hope that things get better from there, right?

He decides to give this shaman a try. At the end of the day, following the directions the man gave him, he comes across a small house at the edge of the village. The house looks small and humble. The yard seems barren except for the clay jars lined up along the sides. He notices the bell that hangs from the ceiling. He approaches the entrance and knocks a few times.

“Come in.” He hears a voice from inside. He slides the door and steps inside. He finds a woman sitting on the floor behind a table. He’s never been inside a shaman’s house before but he can say it’s not like anything he imagines. The room appears empty, except for a futon on the right side of the room, and an incense on the other side of the room.

She eyes him and chuckles.

“Wow you must really need my help.” Sasuke is beginning to re-evaluate his decision. But he might need her help after all. He steps closer and takes a seat in front of her.

“I’ve been having nightmares.”

“I see. And what kind of nightmares?” She’s probably heard this so many times, judging by the unchanging tone in her voice.

“People dying. War.” He can’t tell if it’s just his imagination but he can see her eyes widen a bit.

“That’s rare. You see most people say they want dreams of meeting their loved ones, flying, travelling.” She can tell that he only wants one thing. Peace. Peace of mind.

“Okay. I’ll help you.” She gets up and sits next to the futon. She gestures him to sit as well. He gives her a questioning look before he decides to follow her words. He sits there and Sakura hands him a cup of tea.

“This will help you relax. It’s chamomile tea.” He takes a sniff before sipping the beverage. He then lies down and tries to even his breathing. She’s lying of course. It’s not just any regular tea. It’s a special liquor of hers that can put a person into a deep slumber. Not long after that, Sasuke begins to drift into sleep. His eyes flutter closed.

Sakura grabs his hand in hers and touches his pulse. She closes her eyes and tries to match his breathing. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. She focuses on Sasuke’s heartbeat in her fingertips. A few minutes pass and she begins to enter his dream.

Darkness. Everywhere around her. The moon is the only thing lighting up her path. She notices she’s in a forest. She walks a few steps before she sees an arrow lodged in the ground, followed by a trail of blood. She then begins to hear screams. She keeps walking and starts hearing fast footsteps. She quickly steps to the side, hiding behind a tree. She then sees Sasuke panting and running. She follows behind him to see where he’s heading. He keeps on turning back, as if someone is chasing him. She looks back to see no one.

She keeps following him. Deciding that she should end his misery, she grabs both his shoulders, startling him.

“Hey.” He turns around, fear evident in his eyes. His face is covered in dirt and sweat.

“Who are you? Let me go!” He tries to break free, but she holds him in place, remaining calm.

“There’s no one here. No one will hurt you.” Sasuke keeps his gaze on the ground, seeming afraid to look at his surroundings. Sakura decides to brighten the surroundings. Literally.

The sun slowly starts to rise, a colorful orange and yellow hue appearing from the horizon. Sasuke notices this and looks up to the sky. He can see the woods clearer now. The arrows stuck on the ground begin to crumble and sprout branches and leaves. The blood on the ground and barks slowly fades to nothing.

His eyes widen in surprise. Fear and terror seem to have dissipated from his eyes and Sakura can’t help but let out a relieved sigh.

“Look, there’s nothing here that will hurt you.” She points towards the path behind him. He turns around to see a clear road ahead of him. The trees surrounding him appear livelier. Birds are singing and the sun shines down on him, engulfing him with warmth that he hasn’t felt in a long time. He breathes in the clear air.

Sakura takes his hand and starts walking along the path. He lets her lead him to wherever they’re going. A village is starting to come into view and before he knows it, he’s arrived at the entrance of his village, of the village where he grew up in.

He takes in the surroundings. Children are running around laughing, women are carrying tubs of leaves, and the men are carrying a boar, laughing and patting each other on the back, celebrating their hunt.

He can’t remember the last time he’s seen his village this happy. He feels his mind is more at ease as he finally spends a well-rested night.

He opens his eyes, and finds sunlight peeking through the cracks and edges of the house. He rubs his eyes and looks around. He sits up and notices he’s still at the shaman’s house. However, the shaman is nowhere to be found.

He spends some time to recollect his thoughts and remember what had happened the night before. He remembers seeing sunlight and trees in his dream. He remembers hearing children laughing. He gets up to find the shaman to thank her before he hears a door being opened.

Unbeknownst to him, a door at the back of the house open and he sees her walk in with a bowl and a glass of water.

“Good morning. I see you must’ve slept well last night.” She sets the items on the table in front of him and kneels. He sits himself back down.

“Thank you.” It’s the best rest he’s had in years and he has her to thank for it. She shakes her head and smiles at him.

“I’m glad I can help. Here’s some breakfast for you.” He eyes the bowl of soup in front of him and thanks her for the meal before downing it all in one go.

He gets up to head out for the forge.

“My name is Sasuke.” Sakura looks at him for a moment before responding.

“Nice to meet you, Sasuke. I’m Sakura.”

Sakura.

He will surely remember that name from now on..

tbc?

A/N: I have a few more ideas on how to expand the story. So let me know if you guys are interested in reading more :)

#ssff #ssfanfiction #sasusaku fanfiction #sasusaku #sasuke #sakura #otp #redcameleon!writes #ssm20 #ssm20d3

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toko-ton · 5 years ago

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Kizuna novel ch.3-4 notes

Ch. 3:

- Back in chapter 2, when Yamato asks the 02 group to investigate Menoa, Ken mentions that he's heard of her, and he specifically says that he knows she's a prodigy who skipped grades to get into college early and has a doctorate and some patents. I didn't think of it until I realized that she's actually close in age to the Adventure kids, but the part about skipping grades reminded me of this:

I wonder if maybe Ken first heard about Menoa because people insisted on comparing him to her back when he was the Kaiser?

- Menoa wasn't blocked from entering the Digital World, so presumably anyone with the tech to open a gate can go there, regardless of whether they have a Digimon partner or not. Which means that partner Digimon do cease to exist in both worlds when their bond disappears, because otherwise, she'd be able to reunite with Morphomon.

- I know it's supposed to be a serious scene, but it's almost comedic when Taichi and Yamato brag about having the edge in numbers and experience as Greymon and Garurumon finish off Eosmon, only for Menoa to casually snap her fingers and summon an entire swarm.

- Menoa indirectly explains the origin of Eosmon's name. She spent years trying to bring Morphomon back, but failed trying to bring the data to life. Then on the day the mysterious aurora appeared three months ago, she was suddenly able to create Eosmon, who was presumably named after the aurora. (I'm kind of surprised that the book doesn't point out that Eos and Aurora were equivalent Greek and Roman goddesses. I guess they assumed that people already know that?)

- If Menoa only made Eosmon three months ago, why has Imura been investigating her for years? It's never hinted that she did anything illegal or even unethical before that point, unless people have a problem with her trying to create a Digimon.

- Sora is the only one of the original Adventure kids missing from Menoa's neverland. Even without Koushirou's list, Menoa knows who all of them are, so I guess it must have already been too late by the time Menoa tried to send an Eosmon?

- If Menoa and Eosmon can't reunite people with Digimon partners who have already been lost (or at least illusions of them), then this scene confirms that Meicoomon did come back to life at some point.

- Menoa insists over and over that all the Chosen are there of their own free will, no mental influence involved, but the fact that they all turn silent and emotionless with glowing red eyes makes that a little bit difficult to believe.

Ch. 4:

- Eosmon start popping out of internet-connected devices all over the world and attacking Chosen. Despite Hawkmon warning that it's probably a bad idea, Miyako uses her laptop to try to find information on what's happening in the confusion, and of course, she only ends up letting another one through.

- Yamato must have given them a partial explanation at some point, since Daisuke knows enough to guess that the Digimon they're fighting are Eosmon. Likewise, Iori worries that the chaos means that something has happened to Yamato and the others, but they're too busy fighting off Eosmon to do anything to help.

- The entire 02 team seems to be calling Yamato "Yamato-senpai" now, or at least Daisuke, Ken, and Iori all do. (I don't think Miyako ever says his name, so I'm not sure about her.)

- Taichi and Yamato are hiding, uncertain of what to do. After some encouragement from Gabumon and Agumon (who says he gets the feeling that they'll be with Taichi and Yamato forever), the two of them resolve to fight. Taichi, who had been wearing his old goggles around his neck, finally puts them up on his head and says "We'll show them the bonds we have. Let's do this!"

- The kids with Menoa are back to playing with their Digimon, and still acting extremely creepy: The children gazed at Menoa with eyes filled with adoration. Perhaps she seemed like a goddess or Madonna to them.

- Daisuke and Ken don't evolve Paildramon or Imperialdramon even though the 02 team is having a rough time fending off all the Eosmon. I guess Yamato must have warned them to avoid unnecessary evolutions, even if he didn't say why? They're much too upbeat to have been confronted with the full truth.

- This just occurred to me... The Eosmon aren't invisible, so back in chapter 1, how did one of them steal Ayaka's consciousness in the middle of a restaurant without being seen?

- After Eosmon defeats Omegamon, the other Adventure kids restrain Taichi and Yamato to keep them from running to Agumon and Gabumon (Hikari and Koushirou for Taichi, and Takeru, Mimi, and Jou for Yamato), and then their partners start attacking the two.

- As soon as they come to their senses, Hikari and the others return to their present-day appearances. Koushirou is fascinated by the evolved Eosmon, and Tentomon has to exasperatedly remind him that he really doesn't have time to stand around lost in thought.

- Menoa lost her partner when she got into college... because she wanted to be self-sufficient? It looks like they're trying to portray partner Digimon as existing solely for the kids' personal growth, and that's why they disappear when the kids are sufficiently mature? I'm not a fan of the idea. (Just to be completely clear, the the scenes of the Digimon disappearing strongly gave me this impression, but it isn’t explicitly stated anywhere. So it’s entirely possible that this isn’t what the creators intended.)

- I mean, I don’t think that the sudden and traumatic loss of one of your closest loved ones is a good metaphor for the struggles of becoming an adult.

- I'm also not fond of the way it reduces the Digimon to literal props for the kids, in-universe, even if the original anime never did a particularly good job of treating them as individuals.

- "Menoa! I'll save you!" Taichi yelled. Yamato shouted, "Your choice wasn't a mistake!" "But even if a choice leads to something happening..." "We have to live in the future we chose!" (This dialogue would work better for me if the kids had any meaningful choice in the first place. Menoa was going to lose Morphomon before long, no matter what she did.)

- "We may not be able to change fate*..." "But we can change our destiny**!" * 宿命 = absolute, unchangeable fate ** 運命 = destiny/fate in general (Why are they so sure that losing their Digimon is the latter and not the former? What makes Taichi and Yamato’s refusal to accept the loss of their partners optimism, while Menoa’s is just denial?)

- Sorry if this has been a little too negative! I do like Kizuna overall, especially for the character interaction. I’m just disappointed in this particular element of the plot.

- I’ve now finished the book, and they never do explain the aurora that allowed Eosmon to come to life. I wonder if it’ll be brought up again if there’s a sequel?

- I can’t think of anything else I want to comment on right now, so just in case anyone reading this hasn’t seen it yet, I’ll link to Onkei’s summary again:

https://pastebin.com/hqVwmAaS

It’s much more comprehensive than my notes here (especially since I tried to focus on things that weren’t already covered there), so if you haven’t already, go read it!

- Also, I’ll be glad to answer any questions about the story (if I can), so if there’s anything you’re curious about, please feel free to ask!

#digimon #spoilers #kizuna novelization #last evolution kizuna

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rueitae · 5 years ago

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Abandoned

Read my whumptober collection on Ao3

Earth setting, Pidge is a mythical creature, bad first meeting

~~~~~

Lance absentmindedly shuts the car door with a thud, his senses overcome with the sheer presence of this place.

The mansion left to him by his late grandfather is surprisingly well preserved for its setting deep in the forest. Vines creep around the ornate tresses while pine and birch obscure its view further down the road - their roots upending some of the stone foundation.

Lance had almost thought the forest ranger’s directions were wrong, but it seemed Keith really did know this place like the back of his hand.

The chill fall breeze carries fallen leaves around the still warm engine of his car. Lance shivers. Leave it to his recluse grandfather to have lived in such a place that looks like it could fit into a Halloween film. He’d have preferred to come during the summer, but the Will stated he need to visit by today’s date.

Lance huffs and glares again the place. “Well, let's go see what Grand-Dad thought was more important than his family.”

Grandpa McClain all but disappeared after his wife passed away and apparently this is where he stayed - not that any of them knew that until Lance found himself in ownership of it through the Will. Mom and Dad had been suspicious when the extravagant gifts (that he never used to be able to afford) came for the grandchildren with no grandfather in sight.

Lance opens the large door, wanting to know why his beloved grandfather left them to become a rich recluse. He steps in, walking over the cobwebs, wanting to understand why his siblings will spend the rest of their lives with perfectly happy memories of him, when all Lance can recall of him is getting a remote control airplane.

The cold air is made worse inside, where its stuffy and still. Lance bends over between two armchairs and pushes, having to put more muscle into it than he expected, making the window fly open.

A moth flutters in past him and as if by magic, the air around him fills with the sweet scents of spring flowers. Lance inhales deeply, mood lifting slightly by the refreshment.

Until he turns around.

The living room is clean. The furniture looks as bright and colorful as it must have when it was first made and a fire crackles below the chimney.

Lance raises an eyebrow warily. He’s heard stories that this forest contains ancient magic, but never has he believed them. Children’s stories, he figured.

But the fire is rather nice and surely it was just his senses playing tricks on him to have missed something so obvious as the fire. So he treads over and kneels down, moving the wood closer to the center of the fire, beckoning it to burn brighter. He sighs. He doesn’t know where he’s going to start cataloging things. How is he supposed to know what things his grandfather held most dear? Of all the grandchildren, he knew him the least.

He looks up, hoping for some inspiration in the painting above the fireplace.

But there’s a girl sitting atop the mantle.

Not just any girl. Antenna that remind him of a summer wheat field twitch inquisitively above her auburn colored hair. A furry cloak of greens, browns, and purples cover her shoulders - not unlike the moth that had just flittered inside.

Lance screams, falling onto his butt, crawling backwards with everything he has until he crashes into the sofa.

The girl tilts her head and frown. “Why are you screaming?” she asks. Standing, her cloak is more like a shawl wrapped around her body down to her knees. Her bare and shoeless legs remain nearly glued together as she jumps daintily down to the floor. “Am I not the most beautiful creature you’ve ever seen?”

Lance’s jaw drops. Oh Quiznak, she was talking. “No. No way. Mythical creatures aren’t real.”

The girl’s eyes narrow darkly. “And I thought you humans had manners.” She clears her throat. “Will Silas be arriving later, then?”

His blood goes cold. “How... do you know my grandpa?” Lance asks cautiously.

Her face lights up with delight. “You are one of Silas’s grandchildren? That’s great! I’ve heard so much about you!” In a flourish, the shawl unfolds into a pair of brilliant wings that takes Lance’s breath away. Her body is covered in a tight-fitting green dress, adorned with colorful flowers.

She’s in his face a moment later, clasping his hands. “Which one are you? Marco, Luis?”

Lance’s heart beats wildly, blood rushing to his cheeks at such close proximity to a girl as lightly clothed as she. He’d be the first to admit how much of an incorrigible flirt he is, but this goes beyond a waggle of the eyebrows and display of finger-guns.

“I’m Lance,” he chokes.

“Lance!” Inexplicably she drags him into a tight hug and the suggestiveness of having her on top of him while on the floor is not lost to him. “The baby!” she declares.

All awkwardness is lifted instantly.

“Who are you calling ‘baby’?” he shrieks, far more high pitched than he’d intended. He shoves her off of him, standing clumsily and backpedaling as far from her as he can. “Who even are you?”

The brightness in the girl’s eyes dims, the lines of her mouth falling. “I’m Pidge,” she says, wings drooping and Lance isn’t sure if he imagines it, but the colors seem to fade. “He… never told you about me?”

“He hardly ever talked to us after grandma died,” Lance says in frustration. “Apparently,” he continues with growing anger, “because he was hanging out with you.”

To Pidge’s credit, she takes the accusation with grace, inhaling deeply through her wobbling lip. “Silas was the kindest human I ever knew. I can’t believe the sweet grandson of his is rude and cruel.”

“You took my grandpa from me!” Lance seethes. “What did you do? Put him under a spell to forget about us?”

Pidge gasps. “I would never--”

“I’m leaving,” Lance declares. He’s had enough of this magic that isn’t supposed to exist but does. How could Grand-Dad care about a flighty mythical creature over his own flesh and blood? The mere thought makes his blood boil. “I’m going home. Keep all his stuff, I don’t need any of it.”

And Lance thinks that’s the last he’ll ever see of her.

“Wait, you can’t leave!”

The door slams shut in his face, stopping Lance from going outside. He clenches his fists and turns sharply. “Are you going to keep me prisoner like you did him?”

“It's not like that!” Pidge closes the distance between them, but thinks better of approaching too close when Lance growls. “Your grandfather saved my life. I swore I would spend it protecting him and his kin. So long as you or any of your relatives stay here, you’ll be blessed with natural health and riches beyond your wildest dreams.”

So that’s how he’d gotten rich so quick.

“No,” Lance replies quickly, not even needing to think about it. “I don't need any of that stuff. Goodbye.”

He tries the door. Its locked.

“You don’t understand,” Pidge implores of him. “I swore an oath. Your family is my family. I’ll be here for your grandchildren's grandchildren. Just ask Silas, he understood. He promised to leave the house to one of you.”

“I can’t ask him,” Lance snaps. “Because he’s dead. He gave me the house, but I’m only here to collect his things.”

Pidge’s antenna fall flat over her hair. “He’s dead.” It isn’t a question, she seems to at least understand the concept.

“Yes, so would you let me go,” he continues with a glare. “I’ve had enough of his magic hullabaloo.”

Her breath hitches and her skin is noticeably more pale. Her hands shake. “It’s late,” she rasps with tears in her eyes. “Stay the night at least. You - you can go home in the morning if you want.”

Lance huffs. He wants to leave now, it isn’t nearly that late and his car headlights work perfectly fine… but there’s something in the way about how sickly she looks right now that gives him pause.

He pinches his brows. “Okay. I’ll stay the night,” he relents.

Pidge’s demeanor remains unchanged, but she does smile just a little bit. “Thank you,” she says softly.

~~~~~

Lance wraps the blanket closer to his shoulders and shivers. The rest of the mansion is still freezing, enough so that even the covers of the bed don’t provide the warmth he needs in the middle of the night. So he finds himself sitting cross-legged in front of the fireplace, stroking the fading embers.

“I should have gone home,” he grumbles.

Behind him, Pidge coughs.

Lance sighs and throws his head back. His mother would never forgive him for being so cruel to a lady, supernatural being or not. He grabs his phone from his back pocket and turns on the flashlight.

“You okay?” he asks as he walks over to her. For the last several hours she’s kept to herself, simply lying on the couch as if to sleep.

Lance shines the light on her and gasps.

Her wings are translucent, no longer vibrant with color. Her skin is deathly pale and she pants for breath as if she had pneumonia.

Lance drops to his knees beside her. “Hey, Pidge. What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

Pidge opens her eyes to acknowledge him for just a moment before wincing in pain. “I… I swore,” she sobs.

“Yeah, I remember,” Lance says, hands hovering over her - quiznak, he has no idea what to do! “But you don’t have to. I don’t want you to.”

Almost as soon as the words leave his mouth, Pidge goes into a spasm, coughing up blood. “Can’t,” she rasps, “can’t break a promise.”

Oh.

Oh sweet mercy. Lance may have just been introduced to actual magic only earlier today, but he gets the gist now. Pidge had literally sworn. With magic. Somehow she’d bound herself to helping Grand-Dad and if she didn’t fulfill her end of the bargain... She was dying because he didn’t want her around.

Grand-Dad had known this. That’s why he gave Lance the house.

“I’ll stay,” Lance blurts out. “I’ll move in. Quiznak, I didn’t know your life depended on this!”

A pale green glow surrounds Pidge as soon as he says the words. The lights in the living room turn on and the fireplace reignites in full force. Her breathing calms and pink returns to her cheeks. Slowly, she opens her eyes, a soft smile on her face.

“He knew you’d stay,” she breathes quietly. “Thank you. I didn’t want to die alone if you didn’t.”

Lance falls to his bum, near speechless at the turn of events. He doesn’t know how he’s going to work this out - he has a life back in the city. For now, he’s just glad Pidge doesn’t suffer at the cost of his ignorance.

“I was dying when he found me,” Pidge tells her. “Stuck in a hunter’s trap. So I swore my life to make sure his was the best it could possibly be and the contract just… came out like that.” Tears fall from her eyes. “My father used to tell me that once I found a good mortal, they’d be just like family. Your grandfather was so kind, and reminded me of my own father so much,” she chuckles “always telling me I was like a grandchild to him even though I was hundreds of years older. So please understand,” she says looking into his eyes. “That’s why I tied my life to his bloodline - to your bloodline.”

Lance sighs deeply, defeated. “What am I supposed to say to that? It doesn’t feel right.”

“There are benefits to me too,” she says, a teasing grin growing on her face. “That you’ll find out in time.”

Lance stands and takes the blanket from his shoulders and lays it on top of Pidge. “Get some rest. We have a lot to sort out tomorrow.”

She’s snoring softly before he even finishes, a smile permanently stuck to her face. Lance grabs a smaller blanket from over top of an armchair and sits down.

He doesn’t know how much sleep he’ll be getting personally tonight with all the new information running through his head. Adrenaline works against his weary body. He still can’t fathom why his grandfather would enter into such a deal with a creature like Pidge.

Well, it seems he’ll have a while to figure it out.

#plance #whumptober2019 #no.26 #abandoned #voltron legendary defender #vld fanfic #vld pidge #vld lance #pidge is a supernatural creature #magical contracts #slight blood

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sleepless-in-starbucks · 5 years ago

Text

Sleep Police

Summary: Nearly everything about Remy, from the bags under his eyes to the coffee in his hand, was illegal. But how do you catch something you can’t find? Warnings: Sleep deprivation (both in story and from the author), being forced to go asleep, mention of drugs (but not really), open/unresolved ending

Remy wandered the backstreets of the town, eyes wary from behind his sunglasses, looking for another catch. He took a sip from his illegal drug, resisting the urge to yawn and risk the whole thing being called off.

It wasn’t long before he ran into the day’s victim: a kid he recognized by day as Virgil Something. He had bags under his eyes that were only partly due to eyeshadow being abused and a jitter in the way he walked that reminded Remy of himself. As Remy approached, the kid raised his eyes from where he was sitting on top of a dumpster, back rigid to prevent himself from slipping asleep.

“Who are you?” He croaked, and Remy winced at how rough his voice sounded. Even he didn’t sound like that on his longest streaks.

“Remy, but you can call me Remy.” Remy replied, taking another sip of his coffee as Virgil’s eyes widened.

“Remy?” He repeated, somewhat incredulously. “The Remy?”

“In the flesh.”

Virgil scoffed in admiration. “Record holder of longest sleepless streak. One hundred and forty-three hours, right?”

“Something like that.” Remy responded nonchalantly, hiding his grin at his fame behind another sip of coffee.

“And you’re drinking coffee past curfew.” Virgil said, sounding awed. “You’re a literal legend.” “Nice to know I’ve got a good legacy.”

“So, what are you doing back here?” Virgil asked, relaxing slightly as he recognized a fellow rule-breaker. “You’ve got to have better hiding spots.”

Remy shrugged. “I do. But a walk is always nice.” He clambered onto the dumpster beside Virgil, careful not to slosh his coffee as he did so. “Meeting new people, challenging the cops; gotta have a reason to break the rules, hun, or it’s just boring.”

“Fair enough.” Virgil responded.

Remy let the silence grow for a moment, watching the empty alleyway as a trash bag flew by. “What’s your reason?”

“Huh? Oh.” Virgil said after he realized what Remy meant. “Just a little too anxious to sleep, I guess. Too many nightmares and all that. Plus I’m trying to get my rebellious kicks in before I’m too old to run from the cops.”

“Ah, don’t worry about that, sweetie.” Remy assured him, patting his shoulder, careful to ‘accidentally’ hit his neck, and some actual skin, as well. “The Sleep Police in this town are mostly lazy fuckers. Just don’t go at a snail’s pace and you’ll be fine.”

Virgil laughed, ending with a yawn he barely managed to stifle. “Is that how you stay free? I know you must be high priority on the wanted list.”

Remy grinned. “You know it, babe. My one claim to fame is that I’m never going down for it, though, so you better believe no respectable cop on Earth’s going to be catching me.”

Virgil yawned again, posture slumping as he responded, “Oh, yeah? Must be- be nice to…” He frowned. “I feel… odd.”

“I think the word you’re looking for’s sleepy.” Remy supplied helpfully. “Happens to the best of us. We can’t all be me.”

“I was fine a minute ago.” Virgil said, though he got broken into by two separate yawns as he did so. He started to slump, Remy happy to direct his head onto his shoulder.

“Sleep can hit you like a hurricane, luv, nothing to stress about.” Remy explained simply. “And with an angel such as myself watching over you tonight, I can guarantee even nightmares will stay far away.”

Virgil mumbled something else, but between his face being pressed into Remy’s neck and the sudden pull to fall asleep already making him mostly incoherent, Remy didn’t catch what it was.

They sat there for another minute before Remy sighed and scooped Virgil up into his arms, carefully sliding off the dumpster as he held both the sleeping boy and his coffee. He made his way out of the alleyway, not at all surprised to see the sunset purples and reds of a Sleep Police patrol car waiting for him.

The driver’s door was open, Roman leaning on it with an amused look in his eyes. “Y’know, you probably should have left the coffee in the alleyway. Seeing as I’m here and all.”

“What about it, sugar?” Remy asked, using his one barely free hand to pull open the back seat and slip Virgil inside. “You know this is green tea, not that nasty illegal coffee.”

“Uh huh.” Roman hummed with a grin. “You’re lucky Logan’s off duty for the night. He’d have your hide.”

Remy glanced into the passenger side with a frown, realizing that his favorite cop to mess with wasn’t trying to pretend he didn’t exist in there. “Shucks. That means he missed my quip.”

“What, about no respectable cops being able to catch you?”

“Yeah.” Remy replied, pouting. “He would’ve had a fit about those implications.”

Roman laughed. “I’m still pretty insulted by them.”

“You’re insulted when it’s rainy because it’ll mess up your hair.” Remy responded. “I’m not too worried about that.”

“I’m insulted by that.” Roman replied with a grin.

“Point proven. Can I have more of the sleep-y lotion?”

Roman rolled his eyes. “It has a name, you know.”

“I don’t remember it. Do you?”

“Nah.” Roman responded, pulling the mental relaxant out of the police car. The lotion, due to complicated science Remy didn’t even pretend to understand, when rubbed into skin, released a mix of chemicals to relax, destress, and often make the party it was applied to fall asleep.

Remy rubbed a bit of it onto his fingers, perfect for casual touches that led to the second party suddenly falling asleep. Felt a little like betrayal to his people, yeah, but it was apparently this or the Sleep Slammer.

And Remy wasn’t up to avoid nightmares or even just for the thrill of it. If he had to wager, he’d say he was the only person within the reach of the Sleep Police to have good reasons to be up.

“Why doesn’t it work on you?” Roman asked as Remy handed the lotion back. “You rub it right onto your fingers. Shouldn’t you be falling asleep too?”

Remy laughed, drily. “If relaxing could put me to sleep, babes, I’d never be awake a day in my life. I know how to chillax.”

Roman mimed hitting his head. “Speaking of, almost forgot.” He pulled the scary looking helmet that was the Sleep Monitor out of the car. “You know you’re not allowed to work if you haven’t slept in the past twenty hours.”

“I thought I got an exception?” Remy protested as he stepped away from the machine. “Since I’m only helping y’all to catch more fish.”

“You and I both know that’s a lie.” Roman responded, stepping closer while he waggled the Sleep Monitor threateningly. “No exceptions. We already barely let you get away with the coffee.”

“It’s tea.” Remy repeated. “And, uh, I think I’m just going to call it a metaphorical night. See ya later, sweetheart.”

Roman rolled his eyes as Remy started to walk faster backwards. “You know I have to send the squad after you, right?”

“Not like you’ll catch me!” Remy called back, turning to properly start running away.

Roman sighed as he watched the retreating figure of the barely-a-consultant disappear into the darkness of the night. He was too good at escaping, given Roman was sure the last time he had slept wasn’t in the last twenty-four hours. Doubtful it was in the last forty-eight, either.

Pulling out his radio, he didn’t even bother giving details, the squad already plenty aware that once the Sleep Monitor was brought into question Remy would run. He did that a lot.

But, like always, when the officers appeared out of the alleyways and corners they were hiding in, Remy wasn’t there to be surrounded. He shouldn’t have been able to escape, and yet, he had. Again.

All that was left to remind them he had been there was a cup that would be too clean, no traces of anything having ever been in it, and the unspoken reminder that in a week or so, Remy would be back, bags under his eyes unchanged, yet somehow able to pass any test they threw at him.

Roman gave the all clear, the squad going back to their own cars, knowing that any further searching of the area would be useless. He climbed back into his own, resting his head on the wheel for a second before going.

One day, Roman knew, they’d catch him and actually make him pay for his crimes (the hefty fine of sleeping a lot, which seemed more nightmarish to Remy than it should have been). But that wasn’t what he cared about. He just wanted to know where Remy went when he fled into the shadows and vanished.

Because it sure as Hell wasn’t anywhere natural.

#remy sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #logan sanders #ts remy #ts roman #ts virgil #ts logan #ts sleep #fanfic #sander sides fanfic #ts sides fanfic #Sleep Police

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takingcourage · 5 years ago

Text

Additions: Part 3

Pairing: Jaime x MC

Word Count: 5,050

Summary: As the school year begins and tensions mount, Jaime and Arden start to wonder if they might be out of their depth.

Note: This chapter has been fighting me for the past two weeks, probably because it represents the true low point of the story and I hate making these characters suffer. While it’s not going to be completely smooth sailing from here on out, I can assure you that things will be better in Part 4.

Warning: This section contains references to childhood depression and self-harm. There’s nothing graphic or gratuitous, but the mentions may still be upsetting. Please read at your own discretion.

August, 2027

“You keep spacing out over there. Should I be concerned?”

Smiling coyly, Arden glanced up from her carton of stir fry. Jaime sat across their dining room table, a half-eaten spring roll held between his fingers. It was the first time in days that she’d actually taken a proper look at him, and she was a little disappointed that she couldn’t do more than just look.

In seven years of marriage, his appearance had remained relatively unchanged. His eyes were still thoughtful and kind, his hair thick and just unruly enough to be perfect without him having to try. Maybe it was just his glorious golden tan skewing her perceptions, but she could swear that becoming a father had made him infinitely more attractive.

Probably just wishful thinking since I don’t have him to myself anymore, she mused, meeting his inquiring eyes with decision. “Can’t I enjoy having a lunch date with my husband?”

His demeanor warmed. “I’ve kind of missed having time for just the two of us.”

“Me too. If these monthly meetings mean getting some of that time back, I’m all for them.”

She knew neither one of them would choose to change their circumstances. Having time together with the kids meant the world to both of them, but it also meant that things were different.

“These days, I feel like I’m lucky to get ten minutes alone with you before we go to bed.” Jaime chewed his last bite of spring roll contemplatively. “And even then, we’re usually talking about the kids.”

“I know. By the time we make it to our room, we’re so exhausted that there’s usually just enough time to exchange a few sentences before we pass out. It’s not like we have time for a lot of conversation…or anything else.” Arden stretched a leg toward him, gently toeing his bare shin.

His eyebrows raised at the contact, but there was a sparkle of humor in his deep brown eyes. “Maybe we should start having these meetings more often?”

“I’d love to, but with all the projects you have slated for the rest of the year, I don’t think it’s very feasible. But we’ll keep finding ways to spend time together, I’m sure.” With a wink, she straightened back into her seat. “Besides, that’s not what we’re here for now anyway. We’re supposed to be comparing notes and making sure we’re still on the same page about parenting.”

“So we are.” In spite of his jocular tone, she knew he hadn’t forgotten. “All right, getting down to business.” He pulled a notecard from his pocket, unfolded it, and laid it between them on the wooden surface. “Question 1: What are your highs and lows of the first full week of school?”

Arden took a long sip from her glass of water. They’d prepared the questions beforehand, so she’d known exactly what was coming, but it was still difficult to separate the events of the past five days into those two extremes.

The week had been filled with so many little triumphs, from Sophia making band to Alex finally waking up on his own without needing a full half-hour of reminders. But in the end, one stood out.

“I think my high was getting that email from Will’s teacher. He’s a social guy at home, but I was afraid that he might struggle to connect with with kids in class. Hearing that he’s been making friends was really heartening.” Jaime’s lips parted, and she paused to let him speak.

“I especially liked what she said about him seeking out the shy kids during recess. He reminds me a lot of someone I knew when I was about his age…” Jaime’s voice trailed, but he ended the sentiment with a meaningful nod.

Arden smirked at his suggestion. “Maybe we should pack some ice-cream bars in his lunch?”

“That might not be such a bad idea,” he said with a low laugh.

Eyes crinkling affectionately, she shook her head and fished out another bite of vegetables. Despite the momentary diversion, she knew they needed to get back to the other half of his question. “Now for the hard part. My low was…Alex’s attitude about school and his refusal to talk about it. I keep hearing his thoughts about how stupid it is, but I can’t ask him anything pointed unless he actually tells me out loud.”

Jaime pinched his entree open with a sigh. “I think that’s probably mine too. He keeps shutting down whenever I try to talk to him about it. I keep hoping it’s just the adjustment period and he’ll find a new routine, but…”

But they both knew his history was discouraging. Though they’d decided long before the kids ever came to live with them that their case files weren’t going to define their expectations, it was impossible not to see the similarities between their own experience and what had come before.

All three of Alex’s previous foster families had reported problems with managing anger, along with some variety of troubles in school – missing assignments, incomplete tests, refusing to speak in class. Though this year was off to a rough start, they still hoped to finally break the mold.

“So what do we do moving forward?”

It was hardly the first time they’d posed the question to one another, but brilliant solutions were few and far between. For several seconds, Jaime stared at the wall behind her head, his thoughts indiscernible. “I think we just keep doing what we’ve been doing -- we deescalate when he’s upset and encourage him to talk about what’s bothering him. We have to get through to him eventually.”

“I just wonder if there’s more going on,” Arden ventured. The half-formed thought had been stewing in her mind for a while. “I think he’s more scared than he is angry.”

“I’ve been getting that sense too. Starting in a new school is tough -- I remember. Maybe I’ll get a chance to talk to him about it soon.”

“It might help,” Arden encouraged. “He might share more if he knew what you’ve been through.”

"I hope so.” His smile returned, clearing the worries from his face. “Anyway, my high was Sophia asking me to help with that question on her homework last night. You were right there, so it’s not like we were alone or anything, but it’s one of the only times she’s initiated conversation with me.”

Arden still remembered the sound of Jaime’s jubilant thoughts as he’d read the problem over Sophia’s shoulder. Even just recalling it to memory sent a fresh wave of shivers over her shoulders. “You’re bonding with our daughter over math homework, Jaime. Who would have thought we’d be saying that a year ago?”

He shook his head with a half smile. “It’s finally starting to feel kind of normal. Not quite there yet, but I feel like we’re really close in a lot of ways.”

“I think so too.”

“And I have to say, I think we’ve been doing a pretty amazing job with them so far.”

So far. Behind her smile, those two words lingered like a bitter aftertaste. As much as he’d intended them as an encouragement, Arden longed for the day when such compliments no longer came with conditions.

_____

September, 2027

Arden tossed in a dishwasher tablet, sealed the door, and pressed start. For a moment, she stood in front of the noisy appliance, giving her mind a rest before she could start questioning why the other end of the house was so quiet.

Twenty minutes ago, all three kids had assured her that they were working hard at their studies. For her oldest and youngest, it wasn’t difficult to believe that they were still on task. For Alex, it was a completely different story.

Much as he hated being told what to do, he needed frequent reminders to continue working. The number of times she’d walked in to find him doodling in the margins when he was supposed to be reading was alarming. Thankfully, between the thoughts she overheard and her ability to read his body language, she could typically walk the fine line between motivation and bringing him to the point of anger.

She’d never seen a child so hostile to any kind of instruction. They were only a month into the school year, but she was already convinced that the child’s teacher must be a literal angel to put up with his stubbornness for so much of the day.

He’s probably drawing again, she determined as her husband’s sure step broke through the after-dinner lull. Coming from the garage, Jaime met her in the hallway, a pair of lightbulbs in his hand.

“Are those for the upstairs bathroom?”

“They are.” He kissed her cheek before poking his head into the empty dining room. “The kids?”

“Alex is in his room. Will’s upstairs with Sophia, working on some vocab. She finished her homework before we ate.”

“Even exponents?”

“She’s got the hang of them now.”

Their daughter’s light tread came tripping down the stairs at that moment, her body a blur as she flew through the hall.

“Looks like she’s keeping both of them on top of their work,” Jaime commented when Sophia disappeared into the boys’ room.

“I should probably check in,” Arden suggested. “Make sure she’s not bossing him around too much.” She caught her husband’s attention once more before he mounted the stairs. “While you’re up there, could you tell Will that I’m ready to work on social studies whenever he is?”

With a nod, he continued his climb. As the sound of his steps faded, her ears detected a far different noise coming from Alex’s room -- a noise that sounded very much like ripping paper.

That can’t be good.

Picking up speed, she crossed the threshold just a few seconds later. A pile of roughly torn half-sheets from a notebook lay on the floor before her. Examining the scene, Arden was vaguely conscious of Sophia’s feeble attempts to retrieve them, but what stood out to her more than anything was the florid coloring of her son’s face.

“I told you to leave me alone!” he shouted, pushing a stack of school books from his desk to the floor.

Sophia sidestepped in time to avoid the collision, but Arden still winced when they hit the floor.

“Hey, hey, hey. Let’s take a deep breath and calm things down in here,” she began, determining that it was probably best to insert herself into the confrontation before the things went any further.

“He needs to finish his homework so he can pass and not get held back another grade,” Sophia summarized. “He can’t keep doing this!”

The hint of piety in her tone grated the entire length of Arden’s spine. Even though she found herself agreeing with her daughter’s assessment, it was all-too evident that the accusation wasn’t going to do Alex any good.

That child was still seated, his heaving chest and white knuckles providing a glimpse of just how much frustration he’d been bottling up. If the objects on the floor were any indication, his anger had started to spill over.

“You’re not my boss!”

Arden swallowed hard. She knew these moments were important – that she needed to make it clear that she was the parent and that they couldn’t just make rules for themselves. But the emotional tension was almost paralyzing. She could hardly think, much less find a solution to the conflict brewing in front of her.

Still, she had to do something.

“Okay,” she started, still trying to gauge the situation. “It’s obvious that you’re both upset right now. I think it’s best for us to all take a few minutes to calm down before we try to work through this. Sophia, you can come with me to the living room. Alex, we’ll let you have some space and be back in a little bit to sort things out.”

…to the docks…

Arden raised a quizzical brow at her son’s arbitrary thought, but pressed on. “We’ll come back in a few minutes,” she reiterated, hoping that the reminder would get him help to calm him.

Passing through the hallway, she checked the lock on the front door. As far as she knew, he had no history of running away, but his thought about the docks had left her unsettled. She wasn’t taking any chances.

_____

Jaime sauntered down to the main level of the house a few minutes later, expired lightbulbs in hand. By the time he located the proper recycling box and returned from the garage, his wife was waiting in the doorway.

In hushed tones, she filled him in on what had passed while he’d been upstairs. Feeling almost guilty for the time he’d spent joking around with Will, he was determined to pick up the slack in handling the aftermath.

“I’ll go and talk to Alex,” he volunteered, rubbing his palm over the line of his jaw. “I’d like to figure things out with him before we bring Sophia back into it.”

“Thanks. Good luck.”

Making his way to the open bedroom door, he rapped a finger on the wood before pushing it the rest of the way. As the door swung wide, the first thing he noticed was that the room was empty. The second was that the window was wide open.

"Alex?” His heart sank even before the word had left his mouth. This can’t be happening.

Both girls came running at his elevated voice, quickly coming to the same conclusion that he had on seeing the scene.

Jaime didn’t waste time searching the room, instinct telling him that the boy had run from the house. All that mattered was finding him as soon as possible.

Arden’s small wave attracted his attention. When he looked to her, she mouthed a single word: docks.

“I’ll help!” Sophia offered, voice cracking under the pressure of tears. “He gets this way when he’s really upset, but I can usually calm him down.”

With a hand to his daughter’s trembling shoulder, Jaime inclined his head to look her in the eyes. The glistening pools flicked up to his for less than a second before falling back to the papers on the floor.

“Sophia, I know where to find him, and I’ll do everything I can to calm him down myself. For now, I think it’s best for you to stay here with Arden and Will,” he proposed, squeezing her shoulder gently.

“Okay,” she relented, though he could tell from her sigh that she was skeptical about his plan.

Can you explain it to her? he asked his wife as he slipped through the door.

At her nod, he started for the lake.

It seemed unlikely that the boy was in any real danger, but that didn’t stop Jaime’s heart from hammering harder with every step he took through the deepening twilight. Threat or no threat, he needed Alex to know that he wasn’t going to face anything alone.

He relaxed his pace on seeing the small figure at the end of the dock, but he was still breathing hard by the time he made it to the boy’s side.

His son was seated at the corner of the deck, eyes shining with a defiance that Jaime had seen more times than he could count. This particular display of anger would have worried him far more if his son wasn’t sitting with his chin tucked into his knees, curled smaller than he’d ever seen him.

Every part of his consciousness was screaming for him to bundle the boy up in his arms, hold him tightly, and promise that he was never going to let him go. Better judgement was all that held him back.

“Hey,” he started simply, making sure the child was aware of his presence.

Alex ignored him, teeth ground in frustration.

With a deep breath, Jaime lowered himself beside the boy, careful to maintain several inches of distance between them. He looked him over again, catching a glimpse of the sunset on a series of haphazard lines along his forearm.

Leaning closer, he could see that they were scratches. No blood had been drawn, but there was no mistaking that they’d been made by a set of fingernails.

Instinctively, his eyes jumped to the boy’s hands. Jaime’s stomach churned. No explanation was good, and he knew with absolute certainty that the marks hadn’t been there during dinner.

He found himself wishing for Arden’s abilities -- for any advantage that could help him in the conversation that lay ahead.

“Alex, we need to talk, bud,” he started gently, almost relieved that his son still hadn’t worked up the courage to look him in the eyes. Staring out at the water was easier for both of them.

The boy’s only reply was a noncommittal, “Hmph.”

When Jaime looked at his face again, he couldn’t help noting the deep set of his brow. Arden was right. There was something more to this than just being angry.

Whatever it was that plagued his son, this was probably the best opportunity he’d get to help sort it out. Adrenaline pumping, he launched in. “Alex, I know that sometimes running away from problems seems like the best way to solve them, but it usually just makes things worse.”

The child’s hands shifted, the fingers of one hand trailing up and down the series of angry red lines on his arm.

Jaime counted through several long breaths, hoping that Alex would take initiative to break the awkward silence. “Could you tell me what upset you tonight? If I have to try to guess, we’re going to be out here a long time.”

“I hate school.”

“Did something happen today?” he pressed further. They’d known that the transition to a new school would be challenging, but nothing they’d seen in the first three-and-a-half weeks had given any particular cause for alarm.

“It’s just stupid and I hate it.”

Trying another tactic, Jaime delved into his own past. “I hated school too when I first moved in with Paula. I came to live with her toward the end of the school year, so I didn’t know a single person in my class. I spent the whole first month arguing with her every morning before I got on the bus.”

Alex didn’t say anything, though his grip on his knees loosened almost imperceptibly.

“She always made me go, so one morning, I hid under the bed so she couldn’t find me.”

“Did she?” His voice was soft, but curious.

“She did.” Jaime shifted to straighten his legs, propping both arms behind him. His stomach was almost sick with the desire to keep his son talking. “And you know what she said?”

“Huh?”

“She told me that I was a superhero.”

Confused, Alex lowered his knees and crossed them, head inclining away from the water for the first time since Jaime had arrived.

From the corner of his eye, He could see that the boy’s eyes were on him. “She told me that feeling upset could be a superpower, but that I wasted all of its potential when I let it control me instead of being the one to take control. Then she drove me to school and told me to try using my frustration to be the best second-grader I could be.”

Jaime monitored his response, catching the sneer that came over Alex’s features. He didn’t need Arden’s powers to know that the boy was unimpressed.

“I know, I know. It was cheesy. I realized that at the time too, but I wanted to prove to her that I was stronger than those angry feelings. In the end, her advice actually helped.”

Alex rolled his eyes, but said nothing.

“Look, I don’t want to make assumptions, but it seems like some of your feelings have been getting control of you too. Can you tell me what’s been happening?”

“I got angry. Couldn’t help it.”

“What couldn’t you help?”

“I don’t know.”

“You mean throwing your books and running away?” He didn’t even want to give voice to his other suspicion. “Hurting yourself?”

“I don’t know. I just couldn’t help it.”

“Can you tell me what upset you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Are you sure? Did something happen at school? Was it something Sophia said?” He asked the questions at measured intervals, allowing the boy ample time to respond. When his answer finally, came, the harsh edge in his voice left no doubt in his mind that the conversation was over.

“I said I don’t know.”

Drawing a ragged breath through his nose, Jaime stared out across the water. There was only so much he could do. It was eminently clear that his son wasn’t interested in sharing any more with him at this point, and pushing him further wouldn’t end well for either one of them.

Conscious that the rest of his family had been left in a state of upheaval, Jaime determined that it was in everyone’s best interest for them to return home. The matter hadn’t been resolved, but there was still one final reminder he could offer the boy.

“Alex, I’m not sure how to help you right now, but I want you to know that you’re not going to have to deal with this on your own. We’re going to figure this out together, okay?”

The child gave no verbal response, but he joined Jaime in standing and returning to the house.

_____

Two hours later, Arden opened their bedroom door to find Jaime sitting motionless on the bed. They’d parted ways shortly after saying their goodnights to all three kids in the boys’ room.

With the teary reunion that had occurred when Jaime returned with their runaway, it was little wonder that Sophia had insisted on sleeping on the floor between her brothers. The three of them shared a bond that was unlike anything Arden had ever known as an only child. For her own selfish reasons, she was grateful for the arrangement. Knowing Sophia would keep an eye on things made it all the more likely that she and Jaime could find some rest during the night.

“I just got off the phone with the caseworker again.” She joined him at the end of the bed, legs close enough feel his presence even without actually touching. “She said we did everything we could.” The words felt as hollow as the sentiment behind them.

Jaime’s hand slipped into hers, and she gave the clammy fingers a reassuring squeeze.

“Anyway, I was hoping we could talk for a minute. I wrote up most of the incident report while I was talking with her, but there’s still time to add more details before I send it until tomorrow. Is there anything I should put in based on what happened at the docks? Did he tell you anything?”

“No, I just made things worse.”

Unaccustomed to the defeat in her husband’s tone, Arden pulled up a leg to angle toward him. His face was a mask, though his thoughts were easy to read.

I can’t believe I let this happen.

“Jaime, this isn’t just you,” she implored, “I’m the one who left him alone in there. It never occurred to me that he would climb through the window.” Her strength waning, she dropped fully to the mattress.

They’d known that parenting would come with its share of struggles, but she hadn’t anticipated that it would leave them feeling so helpless. She was used to problems that could be solved with the right combination of research and discussion. Their children’s hardships were far too ambiguous for such treatment -- especially when it came to their middle child.

She’d thought that they could head off all of his anger and frustration – prevent it from factoring into this school year to any large degree. But instead, it seemed that he’d been bottling everything up and making it worse. Whatever it was that had set him off this evening was just the indication of a larger worry bubbling below the surface.

“What did we do wrong?”

Arden regarded him solemnly, forehead leaning against her palm as she propped an elbow on the bed. She allowed his question to soak over her mind, flirting with the temptation to take blame for something that she knew had been beyond their control. “I don’t know what else we could have done, honestly. Short of nailing his window shut, I’m not sure how we could have made things any better.”

Jaime fell to his back, emitting a long sigh before he attempted an answer. “I failed, Arden. I went out there thinking I’d be able to talk him through this and we’d be okay. I always figured that my past would give me an edge in dealing with these kinds of things, but I’m at a loss. I don’t know what else to do for him.”

Arden scooted next to him, her ankle hooking his as she drew close enough for contact. “Maybe there isn’t anything else we can do. Especially if there’s more to this than anger.”

“I know he’s been upset before, but this was a new low. If what the caseworker’s told us is right, he’s never run away or hurt himself like this. Why now?”

Shaking her head, she considered the flurry of thoughts that had been in the boy’s mind after they’d returned inside. “I think resentment and fear have been building for a long time. I don’t know who’s responsible for putting them there, but it breaks my heart.” Her throat clogged as she fought over her next words. “I hate that I’m even having to say this, but I think there’s something else going on too. He’s internalizing everything except his anger, and that really worries me.”

Jaime tensed. “I thought he was just having trouble adjusting. New house, new family, new school – I get how difficult that is. But I never wanted to hurt myself because of it.”

“I know.” She buried her face in the mattress as she gathered her thoughts. When she surfaced, it was with a question. “Do you remember that new mental-health initiative Ellen and I covered a couple of years ago? I remember thinking at the time that rates of childhood depression were way higher than I would have expected. I don’t think it’s totally off base to find a therapist for Alex to talk to. Even if that’s not what it is, he clearly needs someone more qualified to help him work through this.”

The more she thought about it, the more determined she was to pursue that course of action. She began drafting a conversation in her head, already making plans to call a therapist the next morning. It wasn’t until some minutes later that she realized Jaime still hadn’t spoken.

When she turned back to him, his face was furrowed with an agonizing thought.

Why am I not enough?

Arden’s blood ran cold. It had been so long since he’d doubted himself like this that she’d vainly hoped they’d moved beyond it. Her husband’s sensitivity was one of the things she loved about him most, but it had a tendency to make him vulnerable at the worst moments.

“Jaime, whatever’s going on with him has nothing to do with you.”

“But I’m his dad. Fixing things is part of my job.” He rubbed his temple, expression still strained.

Rolling closer to him, she splayed a hand over his chest. The hard muscles eased under her touch. “It’s impossible to fix everything,” she murmured, needing to hear the words every bit as much as he did. “And don’t you dare sell yourself short. As far as I’m concerned, all three of them are the luckiest kids in the world because they get to have you as their dad.”

“You’d never know it from what happened tonight.”

She hushed him with a tap of her finger. “Humor me for a second.” When he remained silent, she continued. “What were you doing outside with Will yesterday after they got home from school?”

His face softened, though it wasn’t quite a smile. “Kicking around a soccer ball.”

“Exactly. Babe, you’ve seen me play soccer. I fell over once because I wasn’t coordinated enough to kick with one foot at a time. Do you think Will would have had nearly as much fun if I’d been out there instead?”

“No,” he agreed grudgingly.

“And do you realize that you might be the first man in Sophia’s life that actually deserves to earn her trust? You can’t put a value on how important that is.”

“Then why can’t I get my own son to talk to me?”

Arden stopped short at the pitiful question. “It’s not just you. Sometimes I feel like ninety percent of what I know about that child comes from Sophia. He still isn’t ready to come out of his shell around the two of us, and I guess we’re going to have to be okay with that for now. It’s easier with the other two, sure. We keep seeing progress with them. Sooner or later, we’ll see it with Alex too.”

He turned toward her, capturing her in his embrace. She held fast, sighing with relief at the security in his arms. “I can probably count on one hand the number of times you’ve been the one telling me to be patient.”

Arden’s laugh came out in hot breaths against his shoulder. “See? That’s just another reason why I need you in my life. Can you imagine all of the trouble I’d get into without you?” For long moments, he held her tight, strength coursing through every inch of skin that touched. “We’re going to make it through this.”

“We’re not quitters,” he added, combing a hand through her hair.

“Especially not when the prize is worth it in the end. Those kids downstairs are so worth it. Our family is worth it.”

I love you.

The corners of her mouth tipped up at his thought. “I love you too, babe. So, so much.”

Three months into parenting, they felt so far from where they wanted to be. Yet, as they clung to one another that night, both dared to believe that it was still within their reach.

#tw: depression #tw: self-harm #playchoices #playchoices fanfiction #wishful thinking #jaime lewis #jaime x mc

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mf-despair-queen · 6 years ago

Text

Doctor, Doctor - Thomas

Author: @mf-despair-queen

Characters: Thomas/Reader

Word Count: 10,229

Summary: Thomas cares about your health. And with that, he cares enough to give you a healthy dose of Vitamin D when you ask for Doctor Thomas’ prognosis.

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Really poorly done Role Playing, Oral (both receiving), Sexy Finger Sucking, Doggy, Hair Pulling, Spanking, Choking, Dirty Talk, Side Sex, Over stimulation, Bondage, Daddy Kink, Teasing

Notes: A belated birthday fic for my favorite Cubs fan in the world, Julia aka @savage-stilinski. I hope you enjoy your man in all his fine glory. Note, this ALMOST could read as a sequel to Infected but it is a separate, standalone story.

The gentle sound of the waves splashing against the sand outside lulled you from your sleep, blinking tired eyes open slowly. The chilled air made you shiver and curl more into the blankets, huddling into the warm body that slept peacefully beside you. The scent of bacon blended with the salty air, a hint of greenery hovering through the air. A roaring gurgle met your ears, earning a sigh from your lips. The last thing you wanted was to leave the comfort of the bed, but food was calling.

“Tommy, breakfast,” you murmured, nudging the deadweight body beside you. The man shifted, his arm resting on his stomach and his head lolled to the side on his pillow. His pale pink lips parted with his steady breaths and a small bit of drool dribbling down his chin, caramel orbs hidden behind his eyelids. Chocolate locks were spiked in random directions, splayed wildly on his head. It screamed of sleep, having been tousled restlessly from the pillow he slept on. The blanket had been stolen through the night by you, a small fraction left to cover his lower half, leaving his bare torso to rise and fall without shelter. Even in the coldest nights, Thomas was a furnace, providing you warmth and comfort. “Thomas, breakfast.”

You heard his faint mumble, unable to discern his words. With a huff, you rolled out of the bed, taking the blanket with you. Thomas didn’t seem to care, only rolling onto his stomach, hugging your pillow to his chest. Without waiting for the man to wake up, you grabbed your clothes for the day, changing in the bathroom to head out. Your baggy pajamas were discarded in a pile and swapped for a comfortable tank top and jeans, your boots on your feet. Thomas was left with a single kiss to the forehead that made him smile in his sleep, hugging the pillow more.

The walk through the Safe Haven was refreshing, people up and working already, though the sun had barely arisen over the mountains in the east. Waves were shared by the occupants of paradise, smiles growing on their faces. It made you smile in return, kicking off your boots to walk through the oceanic waves that frothed against the sand on your way to the kitchens. The water was cold and the breeze was calming, making your hair float around your form in billows. The low chatter around you made your heart thud with joy, the blue sky above your head a change from the destroyed world you were used to for so long. Even if you had been safe from the cruelties of the world for weeks now, every day still felt new.

Frypan greeted you with a plate of eggs, toast and bacon when you walked into the kitchen. The eggs were sunny side up and the bacon made a smile. The plate was happiness incarnate held in the palms of your hands. A giggle left your lips, thanking the former glade’s cook, finding the friends you spent years with at your normal table. Minho was trying to steal Brenda’s bacon, the short haired girl swatting his hand away and jabbing a fist in his side. Newt shifted uncomfortable across from them, scratching at his bandaged torso as he ate his toast.

“Stop scratching it. It’s healing,” you scolded, planting yourself beside the Brit. Your long time friend glowered at you from the corner of his eye, sipping his juice. “Don’t give me that look. You should be glad that stab didn’t kill you!”

“I should be dead though,” he whispered dejectedly.

“No. No negativity, Newt,” you huffed, waving your bacon at him. “You are safe. You aren’t infected. Thomas was able to give you the cure because Teresa made enough. You aren’t dead. You are here with us. And we are glad you are.”

“I know. I’m glad I’m here too,” he said, giving you a side hug. “And you are too.”

“Love you, Newtie.”

“Love you, Y/N.”

“You guys are a load of depression,” Minho cut in, specks of bacon flying from his mouth. You grimaced in disgust, shaking your head. “We are in the Safe Haven. You have no Flare virus. We are all together.”

“I just said that, Minho,” you huffed.

“I just said it better.”

“You guys are children,” Brenda sighed.

“Enough of that,” Newt chuckled. “Where is your other half, Y/N?”

“Tommy?” you clarified, the three nodding. “Sleeping, of course. I tried to wake him up for breakfast, but he wouldn’t wake up. So, I left him. I’m not missing out on food because my lump of a boyfriend wouldn’t get out of bed.”

“So, how long before he flies through that door and drags you away?” Newt chuckled, making your brow rise.

“What? He wouldn’t-”

“Yeah, he will,” Minho confirmed.

“No!”

“Yeah,” Brenda reiterated.

“Oh, my god, guys. Thomas is not going to run through that door screaming-”

“Y/N!”

“Fuck me.”

Thomas stormed through the kitchen, all eyes on the flustered man. He was panting and sweating, his hair still untame from rest. His eyes were wide and slightly red to match his face. Panic was laced on every feature on his face, the distressed look he gave as he approached making you frown. His clothes were wrinkled, his sweats hanging low on his hips, unchanged after he awoke, and a blue henley on his body. He had obviously through the clothes on before rushing out of the tiny hut you called home. Even his boots were still untied.

“You’re ok,” he breathed, running a veiny hand through his hair. You moved so he could collapse beside you, his head in your shoulder. “I was so worried when I woke up and you weren’t there. I didn’t know where you went or if you were safe.”

“I’m fine, Tommy.”

“But something could have happened!” he scolded. “You should have woken me up before you left.”

“I tried-”

“We need to head home and make sure you are ok, baby.”

You huffed. Thomas was the sweetest man you could ever wish to date. Since meeting him in the Glade, he had cared for you like nothing else. He protected you, he supported you, and he loved you. You loved him back. His strength of heart and willful spirit lured you in, keeping you trapped. You wanted nothing else than to be by his side through everything, especially now that you were free from WICKED’s clawed grasp.

However, ever since he woke up after getting shot by Janson, he had been on your case twenty-four-seven. You had gotten infected through the airborne virus since you were unknowingly not immune. Thomas was devastated, but he was determined to find you a cure. In his hand when you helped pull him into the berg were two vials of serum that he mumbled were the cure before passing out from blood loss. It saved you and Newt, who was barely clinging to life between a stab to the chest and his infection.

Now that he was awake from his gunshot wound that was almost completely healed, he wanted to make sure the cure was, indeed, a cure. Every day, he took it upon himself to check your vitals, testing to see if the virus had somehow returned and he was at risk of losing you yet again. At least three times a day, you would hear the words ‘How are you feeling?’ fall from his mouth before a hand pressed to your forehead.

Honestly, his caring nature and the need to make sure you were safe was a mixture of emotions. It was caring and made you fuzzy inside, knowing that he was worried and wanted you to be safe. But, it was irksome.

“Why don’t you ever dote on Newt?” you asked the man, taking a bite of your eggs. “He was infected too, you know!”

“He isn’t my girlfriend and the love of my life,” Thomas told you. You giggled when Newt feigned heartbreak. “Besides, he has Minho to dote on him!”

“But Minho doesn’t give a rat’s ass because Newt is perfectly healthy! There are no signs of the Flare!”

“This is accurate,” Minho teased.

“That is besides the point,” Thomas argued, taking your hand. “We have to get you checked on.”

“But, my bacon-” you cried, getting dragged off. You whimpered sadly whe of your bacon, giving you a wink from afar. “I love you, Thomas. But you’re going to drive me insane.”

“Less talking, more making sure you are ok.”

“You owe me bacon, asshole.”

It wasn’t until nightfall that you could sneak away. Thomas had kept you close since your abrupt disappearance from your calling for food until Vince requested his help on some building plans. Thomas was always helping Vince plan, and you were proud of him for assuming such a leadership role, but he expected you to stay in bed.

Ha. Nope.

You wandered down to the beach, seeing the flames of a fire flickering in the distance. It was normal that her friends would make a small bonfire on the beach to relax after a long day, and that’s exactly where they were now. The former gladers were sat around the fire, joined in part by Brenda and a few friends from Maze B, drinking Gally’s special drink he whipped up. Newt was the first to see you approaching, grabbing you a jar with the pale yellow liquid.

“Finally escape Doctor Thomas?” he joked. You glared at him while collapsing in the sand, sipping the bitterly strong drink.

“Not funny.”

“It kind of is,” Minho laughed. He received a swift boot to the head, the runner groaning.

“It’s not! I spent all day by his side because he didn’t want me running off again,” you sneered. “He literally expected me to stay in bed all day and not do anything.”

“Aw, Doctor Thomas taking care of you,” Minho poked.

“He’s always checking on his patient,” Aris laughed.

“Does he ask what level of pain you are? Then you can make a face to express it. Like this,” Frypan joke, making a pained, strained face.

“He always checking your temperature, tucking you into bed before feeding you some soup,” Brenda laughed.

“Guys, it’s not funny,” you seethed. “Trust me. I love Thomas so fucking much. He means the world to me. He makes me so happy and I’m glad I can be here with him today. I shouldn’t be here because of the Flare and he made it possible to live. He’s the best man I have ever met, no offense guys.” You glanced at the guy gladers who shrugged. “I feel special with him and I look up to him.

“But, he’s driving me insane. Every day is the same. I love that he cares and I love knowing that he wants me to be safe. But, he’s so worried that I’m going to be sick again that he’s going overboard. I’m suffocating under him because he just… ugh!” You fell back on the sand, arms spread wide. “I hate him. I hate him. I hate him! Why does my boyfriend have to care so much?!”

“Because he loves you?”

“That was rhetorical, Minho!” you growled, throwing sand his way. “I know he does! But, I just need him to calm down! I’m not on the verge of death and he’s treating me like some fragile baby bird that isn’t ready to leave the nest. I am losing my mind because he’s always there to make sure I’m not sick. I love his compassion but I hate his compassion!”

“That’s… redundant.”

You blinked, standing from your spot. “Come here, Minho. I’m going to strangle you and you will wish I will have had the Flare because then people won’t question why your body is scattered across the beach!”

Brenda held you by the waist, dragging your flailing form away. “Come on. We are going on a walk.”

“I don’t want a walk! I want to kill Minho!”

“Naw. I think she wants Doctor Thomas to give her a prescription,” Minho teased with a wink. “Of his dick!”

Your face was bright red. “You’re dead, Minho. You hear me? DEAD.”

“Walk!” Brenda forced, pushing you down the sandy walkway. Grumbles filled the dark air, your feet trudging away from the group. The drink in your hand was tipped back, sliding down your throat with a burning elegance. Brenda watched you silently, sipping her own drink. “You know, I don’t see what the big deal is. Having Thomas checking up on you like that, playing personal doctor. I’d think you would enjoy that more.”

“It’s frustrating!”

“No,” Brenda laughed. “It’s kind of hot, Y/N. I can only imagine what things he could do to you while playing doctor. And you tell me once that the sex is amazing. Just thinking about what an attractive guy like that could do when he drags you away to make sure you are ok gets me hot.”

“That’s my boyfriend you are talking about, Bren,” you deadpanned.

“I know. But, you can’t tell me you aren’t the least bit aroused by Thomas constantly taking care of you,” she pressed.

“I mean, I guess…”

“Y/N, let me spell this out to you. You have a hot ass man that loves you with all his heart. He is there for you to give you whatever you need. Just think about when he goes to give you your next check up how he strips you down and pleases you all night long.”

“Jesus, Bren!” you screeched, shaking your head in a flustered state. “Stop thinking about this please!”

“What? You guys are hot and I ship it. I’d live to know that he can fuck you like you deserve,” she laughed. Your face turned beet red at her words. “I’m just trying to say this. Why are you complaining about it? I get that it’s annoying because he does it all the time. But, embrace it!”

“Embrace it?” you asked into your drink.

She nodded with a evil grin. “Let Doctor Thomas do his job and give you the treatment you deserve.”

You stared at the girl, mouth parting in surprise. No words came out, your lips sealing together and curling upright. Brenda noticed the smile that grew, bouncing like a kid in a candy store. She nudged your side, wiggling her eyebrows as you walked, divulging the plan you were concocting.

The door slammed shut behind Thomas the following evening. He was exhausted, his body sluggish after his long day. His boots were kicked off, a hand running through his hair to feel the sweat that seeped from the top of his head. The sun pounded on him while he built a new hut on the edge of town. The sleeves of his henley were pushed up. The buttons were completely undone, showing off the dark chest hairs that were splayed across his pecs.

“Tommy?” you called from your room, Thomas’ ears perking up. His heart lifted, a sigh of relief leaving his lips. He had miraculously managed to convince you to stay in while he was working, but a small part of him worried since he couldn’t check on you all day. To know you were home, safe and sound, put his nerves at ease. The only thing that could drop it is if you developed the Flare again and were going to Crank out on him the second he walked into the room.

He didn’t need to move forward. He saw the shadow of your form on the wall, hearing your footsteps patter against the ground, stepping out of the room. You stayed near the doorway, leaning on it almost seductively. You appearance made the runner’s heart freeze, his pants growing tighter and his body heat no longer from the setting sun that had scorched his skin.

“Holy…”

You played with the lacy designed robe that did nothing to conceal your body, the mesh design see through. It ended at your mid thigh, the material skimming them as it swayed. Under the black robe was the blue lingerie set he loved the most. The bra pushed your breasts up until they were ready to spill out of the top, almost see through so he could see your breasts clearly. The flowers beautifully decorated your chest, hugging to your skin. The bottoms matched with the flower design, hugging your core and backside in just the right way. A tiny bow was plastered in the middle, acting as a landmark for the center he wanted to be part of.

You bit your lips that were more red than normal - a lip gloss that was salvaged from the ruins of the fallen world outside the Safe Haven making them shimmer. Your eyes were shadowed from some eye make up, the glance from the side of your eye making your eyes clouded with mystery and beauty. Your stance made you look sexy, willingly waiting for him to advance on you. You noticed the man fidget where he stood, keeping from launching himself across the house to ravage you.

“You know,” you started, voice sultry. “I’m not feeling too well. I was wondering if you could give me a proper diagnosis, Doctor Thomas. Help a girl out, please? Your patient is ready.”

Thomas’ normally caramel eyes flashed completely black, taking slow, calculated steps in your direction. You remained where you stood, waiting until he was flesh against you, towering above you in overwhelming glory. His hands cupped your face, thumbs skimming the outline of your jaw, brushing your glimmering lips. The gesture made you mewl, sinking into his touch.

“Well, I’m sorry to hear you aren’t feeling too well, miss,” he played along, the low octave of his voice making it gruff and husky. “Please, tell me all about what is going on. How are you feeling?”

Thomas knocked over the basket of laundry that was on the table just inside the room in search for a pad of old paper and a dying pen. You giggled, tilting your head as he pretended to write. “Well, I have this horrible ache that I can’t seem to get rid of. I’m always hungry for some sausage. And I have all this pent up energy that doesn’t seem to go away. I really need your help, Doctor.”

Thomas glanced up from the paper, biting his lip. “I see. Well, I will need to run some extra tests on you first to make a proper diagnosis.”

He was backing you into the room, your legs hitting the bed in a flash. The pad of paper was tossed into the hallway outside the room, the page having some scribbles that was supposed to resemble words. In the process of walking to the bed, Thomas’ strong hands moved from your face to your hands, moving slowly up your arms to your shoulders. The silky robe you were wearing to cover your lingerie was pushed from your body, melting off your arms into a puddle on the floor. The steps left it forgot and unneeded, your underwear soon to follow.

His luscious lips were attached to yours in a fiery kiss before your back even met the lumpy mattress. The former runner laid on his side, propped up on his elbow to hover over you as you laid back completely. The kiss was smooth yet messy, lips dragging against each other in a sloppy fashion. His strong hand skimmed against your waist, letting his lips work magic up above. The soft smack of lips against lips filled the small room,open-mouth kisses shared without remorse. Tongues twisted and tangled together, circling each other in blissful silence. His lips commanded every kiss, dictating when he would pull back for air before dipping back down for another greedy intake. Teeth occasionally clashed and noses frequently bumped, both of you beginning to get a high from the sensual kisses, his tongue tracing the insides of your cheeks.

Your hands found the bottom of his shirt, struggling to tug it up and off of him between kisses. He sat you both up so you could properly remove it. The fabric peeled from his skin in slow motion, the reveal of his almost pristine skin making your eyes glimmer. The scar of his gunshot was dark in contrast to his somewhat pale skin, his chest and back speckled with dark dots in the form of moles and beauty marks. As the sleeves unraveled from his arms, his biceps were revealed, the henley having concealed the true strength he possessed. Veins ran along his arms, his biceps flexed from the simple bend of an arm. His shoulders tensed and relaxed, pecs with the patch of chest hair you loved jumping slightly. His dark caramel eyes were shadowed when he glanced up at you through his eyelashes, the stare cut short when he resumed watching you remove the fabric from his skin, tossing it aside.

You were pushed back on the bed again with his lips on yours, your hands now free to roam his bare torso. His hands moved strategically down your body - first roaming your chest and giving your breasts a firm squeeze, then tugging your waist a bit closer to him so you were flesh against him, limb to limb, and finally gripping at your backside. The hem of your panties were snapped against your waist, the tender touch of his digits sending shivers up your spine at the same time. He played with the front of your panties, pushing you back on the bed before slipping his hand in your underwear.

The tips grazed your clit, a moan loud muffled by his lips. The faint noise made his finger rub faster and push harder. Your body began to burn from the pressure on your swollen nub, arching into his touch. His lips never broke from yours, only pushing harder against the while rubbing circles to your center. He could feel your shakes and trembles, breathy moans making his throat vibrate. His fingers rubs vigorously to your clit, making you swoon for the man.

Two fingers slid further down, spreading your folds to playfully tease your core. The tips slid in first, toying with your entrance by parting the pussy lips. When they dipped further in, the tips curled, nails beginning to scratch against your walls carefully. It didn’t hurt; it just made your stomach tingle with that sensation you were familiar with when it came to sex with your boyfriend. It fluttered and twisted in all the right ways, a coil slowly swirling itself into a tight knot.

Your lips broke from his when his fingers were knuckle deep inside you, beginning to thrust quickly into you despite the restriction of the panties catching on his hand. Your lips still skimmed his, sharing the occasional kiss as he moved in and out of you, pleasing you relentlessly. When he pulled out, he spread wide, scissoring your entracing until you were exposed to everything and leaking around his fingers and down your thighs. They snapped back together so he could push into you once more, shoving deep enough to find your sweet spot. The touch made you shake, throwing your head back with loud moans. Thomas’ lips trailed down your cheek to your neck, placing kisses on your shoulder. His ears perked up at the squishing sound that came from his powerful thrusts, pursing his lips to keep from grunting.

“Thomas,” you whimpered, clawing your nails down his arms. His biceps flexed under the tips of your fingers, grinning into your shoulder. “More. I’m so close.”

“Do it,” he whispered back, sucking a dark mark to your skin. The pluck of his lips against your shoulder made you quiver, the knot inside you becoming unexplainably tighter. Your back arched off the bed, toes curling into the blankets you were laying on top of. You flailed around for anything to hold onto, settling on Thomas’ free hand, fingers naturally lacing together passionately. Your walls hugged around his digits, trying to keep them inside long enough for you to orgasm.

“Oh god,” you cried, tightening your hold on him. “I’m cumming. I’m cumming!”

“I love the sound of that, baby,” he said, pushing into you harder.

The powerful press of his fingers to your sweet spot, the rake of his nails along your sensitive walls, was the last straw. Your walls crumbled and the knot broke - not just unraveled. It was burned to a crisp in an everlasting flame that smoldering inside you from his touch. Your juices spilled out around him with a screaming moan from your mouth, coating his slender digits and escaping to soak your panties, core and legs.

He pulled out slowly, letting you relax against the bed. He watched your chest heave up and down unevenly, the look of contentment making you glow. His attention was turned to his freed fingers, watching drops of your juices drip slowly along them. They glistened and sparkled, his caramel eyes twinkling mischievously. His thumb pressed to the pointer finger and middle finger he had used to finger you, smearing the juices around seductively. Your eyes, hazy and shadowed, watched him, glued to the way his long, bony fingers rubbed together tauntingly.

Thomas turned to your, adjusting himself against the bed to hover over you better. Your legs tangled together and his chest was hot against your arm, making you sweat. The two wet fingers that were dipped in your sweetness touched your lips, your eyes meeting his dark ones. You questioned him silently, the man grinning.

“I have to check your mouth for any… signs of illness,” he murmured gruffly, trying to sound like the doctor you proclaimed him to be. “Now, baby. Say ahh.”

No hesitation befell you. Your lips parted and your eyes closed, taking the two digits into your mouth. He tasted of your salty sweetness, an odd tang coming from your own arousal. It wasn’t something you often tasted - it only came around if he kissed you after he crawled between your legs. This was much more prominent than you were used to, but you didn’t dismiss it. The digits played between your cheeks, wiggling around while your tongue lapped at the liquid on them. Your throat rumbled with the ahh noise you made for him, your tongue pressing down and the tip extending against his joint.

When his fingers were fully engulfed between your cheeks, knuckle deep while being cleaned, he pulled out slowly. Your lips parted, the pads of his fingers tugging your bottom lip on the way out. Your lips stayed parted, panting slightly. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips, tasting the last of yourself that remained from his removal, Thomas grunting in approval.

The runner stood from the bed, fumbling with the button on his jeans. With the pop of it and the zip sliding down, the denim sunk against his hips, showing the black band of his boxer briefs and the deep v-lines that were embedded into his sides. The dark trail of hair disappeared beneath the black band, a noticeable bulge at the end of the path. He seemed to be in a taunting mood, the drop of the jeans down his legs slower than you would prefer. His boxers followed thereafter, the man left bare after an agonizing wait. With the boxers removed, his cock was free, hard, long and girthy. It stuck straight out, pointed in your direction like it was a compass pointing north. The tip was red and swollen, wet with precum. Veins ran along the shaft, disappearing in the curly patch of hair at the base, residing on his groin in a bushy bundle.

He stroked himself slowly, looking down at his cock proudly. A lopsided smile curled on his lips, his dark eyes glowering at you when he peered upwards. “Time to take your temperature, baby.”

The man stood on the side of the bed, watching you twist onto your hands and knees. Eagerly, his tip was taken between your hollowed cheeks, harshly sucking at the head of his cock. Thomas let out an inhuman groan, threading his fingers through your hair, gripping it tight on the back of your head. He stared down at you, hungrily watching you ravish is length with your mouth.

You bobbed along his length, swirling your tongue around the tip and along the pulsating vein on the underside of him. He twitched when you passed over the rough patch on his frenulum, grunting as it slithered down his length. Every inch of him disappeared into your mouth and down your throat, expertly managing the size of him. Your hand moved to caress his balls, fondling them in the palm of your hand. The deeper you slid on his length, the closer you hugged his balls to his body.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his head falling back. The motion inadvertently made him tug on your hair, pushing you closer to his groin. Your nose buried into the hairs at the base of his shaft, eyes watering slightly from how deep he was going. It didn’t stop you from sucking, licking furiously at his length. “Just like that.”

His hand went slack, guiding you to bob ferociously along his length. Your slurped, gagging on his cock. You pulled away with subtle pops, kissing along the length while kissing at it. Thomas groaned, mumbling for more.

But before you could give him more, he pushed you back onto the bed, a squeak leaving your mouth. The man was hovering over you, hands on either side of your head. Eyes locked in a passionate connection, his smile curling. “I’m going to administer a quick breast and vaginal exam. Alright?”

“Whatever you need to do, Doctor Thomas.”

Your back arched off the bed, allowing Thomas to strip off the bra you were wearing. His lips attached to the right breast immediately, his hand groping the left in the palm. Much of the skin around the plump bud was taken into his mouth, Thomas happily sucking at your breast. Your hands wove through his dark locks, feeling the soft silk between your fingers. Your hand rest against the back of his head, pushing him closer to your chest.

Your moans didn’t cover the pop that resounded around the room when he pulled back, lips leaving your skin for a single second. He peppered red marks on every inch of your chest, flicking his tongue across your nipple hastily. His hand, wrapped firmly around your other breast, squeezed it, jiggling it between his fingers. When his lips swapped to the other breast to repeat the process, you were seeing stars.

Traveling south, you barely made out the words he spoke against your stomach between kisses. “No lumps. You definitely have some healthy breasts there, ma’am.”

“That’s good,” you mused. “My boyfriend likes them a lot, so it’s good that they are healthy.”

“You should definitely let him keep doing whatever he is doing to them,” Thomas quipped, spreading your legs to kiss at your thighs. “He’s helping keep them healthy.”

“Right,” you laughed, not believing his professional reasoning.

Thomas shook his head, dragging your panties down your legs. You expected him to bury his face in your pussy as soon as you saw the panties fly across the room - and you were half right. He lips were on your core, tongue deep inside you. But, his cock hovered above you, still thick and ready for you. His legs were on either side of your head, his mouth going to town between yours.

His tongue swirled in circles around your core, tracing the tip along your walls. In return, your hand wrapped around the base of his shaft, keeping him steady so you could suck him back. Your head bobbed up and down along his length, going as fast and hard as he was with your pussy. You were growing wet, your taste buds tickled with pleasure and your core slick with your juices that leaked onto his tongue. Thomas was selfish, lapping up every drop you let out in his search for your sweet spot.

You moaned around him when he managed to graze it with the tip of his tongue, vibrating the entire length of him. You were growing weak already, his magical tongue skillfully pleasing you in the ways you always imagined. Your body was tensing and your stomach was coiling, the orgasm you had before making your will weak. His touch made you more sensitive, ready to burst at any second. But you tried to stay strong, stroking and bobbing him just as he licked you, trying to get him to an orgasm he had yet to have.

When your body was wracked with intense quivers, your bobbing growing sluggish and sloppy, Thomas pulled away. His cock was pulled from your mouth with a low whimper from you. Your back, having arched off the bed to shove your body into his, dropped heavily to the bed in defeat, pouting at the former runner. He walked to a pile of objects that had been discarded in the corner of the room, your frown piercing his bare backside. Slowly relaxing, the knot vanishing from inside you, you huffed.

“Seriously?” you asked yourself. Thomas must have heard since he sent you a sideways glance. “Rude much.”

“Sorry, baby,” he breathed, grabbing something from the pile. A rope dangled between his fingers when he turned back to you, the same one you used frequently to do the laundry at your tiny home, stringing up clothes to dry outside. Your brow rose, wondering what he was planning to do with that. “I had to go get ready for your treatment.”

“Oh really?” you asked. Thomas pulled you up into a sitting position, wrapping the rope around your dainty wrists. Tugging it into a knot, the rope didn’t constrict you too tightly to cut off circulation. There was no chance of escape though. If you struggled, your wrists would turn red with raw burn itching them. “Well, what’s the prognosis, doc?”

“You, my dear, are in dire need of cum in your pussy,” he whispered seductively, making you shiver and mewl quietly. “You haven’t had the proper dosage lately and you aren’t feeling well because of it. We don’t want it to get worse, so we will do some emergency treatments to make sure that you are going to be ok.”

“Whatever you say, Doctor Thomas.”

Thomas grinned, settling between your legs. His shaft slid between your folds, making you cry out for him. You were eagerly waiting for him to do something more, but nothing immediate came. “I need to give you a shot now, baby. To give you the proper medicine. It’ll make you feel good. I promise.”

The tip prodded at your entrance before slipping in entirely - and all too slowly. The former runner pushed your legs apart to spread you wide, listening to the moan that erupted from your mouth when he pushed inside you. The sensation didn’t last, Thomas pulling out completely and leaving you whimpering for more. The process was put on repeat, his cock sliding into you so you felt otherworldly before disappearing completely, leaving you void yet wet with desire.

His lips trailed down your face, kissing your forehead, cheeks, chin and nose before colliding with your lips in a short connection. Your tongues tangled shortly, a trail of saliva stringing you together when he pulled away abruptly. Your eyes were glazed over with ecstasy, the emotion dulled because of his inconsistent thrusts. It was kept alive by his plump lips lavishing your face and neck, sucking dark marks that discolored your skin. Each thrust into you vanished before it could do more, teasing you into oblivion.

With a whine and scratch of bound hands along his chest, his cock stayed deep inside you, stilling absolutely. The slow circle of his hips against yours did little to keep the fire inside you burning, praying for more. More pleasure, more moans, more of his hips smacking into yours as he pounding hard into you, more arousal from his fingers to your swollen clit. When he finally pulled back, the feeling was kept low, his thrusts slow and calculated. The ease of his dick sliding out and the gradual push back in made you tremble with desperation. They didn’t hit the spots you knew he was capable of hitting every time he fucked you and the pleasure that came from his enormous member stretching you, filling you to the brim, was lackluster.

“Please,” you whined, scratching at his chest since you couldn’t wrap your arms around his neck as you wished. Brown orbs, darkened from the angle and lust, met yours in a spicy stare, waiting for you to continue - almost as if he was waiting for this exact moment. He knew deep inside what you were going to say and he had been waiting for this exact moment. His calculated movements were intended for this exact second.

“What do you need, baby?” he asked, kissing your lips softly, his slow thrusts never ceasing. “Did the shot hurt? I know you’ve never enjoyed shots.” He was speaking the truth; you hated shots. But this kind of shot was the one you wanted. It just wanted doing it for you. “Or is the medicine working? Do you need more?”

“I need more,” you cried, desperate to cling to him. The binding around your hands kept you from holding him between your arms, hugging him to your chest. “Please, Tommy. I need more.”

“More what?” he asked, pushing you to beg for him more. He wanted to hear you plead. He wanted to hear you cry. He wanted you to ask him for everything you wanted before he pushed so fast and hard into you that you were seeing stars. It killed him, but he waited, pursing his lips into a tight line to keep from smirking. “What do you need from your doctor, baby?”

“More!” you cried loudly, throwing your head back. Your hands left his red, scraped chest, extending above your head. Thomas’ eyes directed to your outstretched chest, your back arching off the bed and pushing into him more. “Please, Tommy. I need to feel you. I need you to go faster and harder until I am screaming your name. I want to feel your thick cock pounding my aching pussy. I want my tits to bounce when you thrust into me relentlessly. God, I need to feel you so bad. This slow moving shit isn’t doing it. The medicine you are giving me isn’t making me feel better. I need more of you. You are my medicine.”

“So, you want more?”

“Yes,” you panted, turning to meet his eye. “I need more, Doctor. I need more of you, daddy.”

“Mmm,” he let out, licking his lips. “Say that again.”

“I need you to pound me hard and fast, Doctor Daddy,” you begged teasingly, Thomas grunting. The name got to him, his hidden attraction for the daddy kink exposed to the confines of your room. “Please, daddy. I want you to fuck me. Have your way with me. Just, please, I beg of you, make me cum.”

“Say it one more time, baby,” came his gruff voice.

“Please, daddy,” you breathed, struggling to take his face in your hands. You did you best, pulling him towards you. Your lips brushed, hot breath hitting each of your faces. “Please, fuck me. Hard and fast so I scream. Then everyone can know who I love and who is taking care of me.”

You shared a lingering kiss, the touch of your lips so scarce, it felt like a dream. The tingle that was left from his lips on yours was all that remained when he backed away, leaving you to wonder if this was real or fake. It bordered on reality, the sensation making your heart pump harder and your blood flow faster. Only Thomas could make you feel that way from a simple kiss.

The next time he pulled out, he shoved back into you as quick as the pull was. A scream resonated off the walls, a spike of pleasure hitting your system. And it didn’t stop there. His thrusts grew hard and fast, just as you had pleaded. His cock pistoned in and out of you at godly speeds, the clap of your hips growing loud and more frequent as sweat built up between your bodies. His hands held your hips down against the bed, your legs staying parted so he could easily move in and out of you.

“You like that, baby?” he asked, voice low and husky. You moaned in response, squirming against his grip slightly. That noise you made only made his thrusts faster and harder, the man pounding you into the mattress under you. The entire bed squeaked under the weight of your thrusting forms, banging against the wall in a constant ‘thump, thump thump’ that got louder and more frequent as time passed. The stream of his cock thrusting in and out of you, hitting your sweet spot, was marvelous, your sight spotting. “You like me fucking you like this?”

“Yes,” you panted.

“You always love when I push my cock so deep inside you that you can’t breath. You always moan and pant like a dog, begging me to make you cum.” His hand moved from your hip to your chest, fondling a breast in his hand. The other remained bouncing with his countless thrusts, making his mouth water. “I love the way your breasts move when I thrust into you and the way your pussy clings around me. You like the feeling of my big, fat cock between your walls?”

“Yes, daddy,” you squeaked, head thrown back further. “You feel so good, Tommy. Please, don’t stop! Faster, harder!”

He did as you requested - if that were even possible. Your bodies crashed in a noisy array of smacks and claps, the skin on skin contact echoing around the crisp air of the room. It smelled of sweat and sex, a lustful scent ingrained in the wood and sheets around you. Sweat poured from your body from the heated aura of your bodies against one another, making you stick together. Thomas’ wild thrusts hit your g-spot every time he pushed into you like it was a magnet drawn to the source of your pleasure. Each tap made your walls hug around him more, clamping down on every inch of his erect cock that fit inside you, stretching you wide.

His fingers found your clit, rubbing harsh circles to it. He was trying to push you over the edge with the extra stimulation. The nub he pushed against was sensitive, every gentle swipe of the pads against it making you quiver. The subtle distinction of his fingers tracing letters against your arousal, spelling out his name for you to remember for all of time, was ebbed in your mind, your body beginning to writhe against the sheets, getting tangled in them. Your bound hands struggled to tangling through his messy locks, wet with sweat, trying not to smack him in the face in the process. Tugs to the dark tendrils made Thomas release a breathy moan, his adam’s Apple bobbing.

“Oh God, Tommy,” you cried out. The knot in your stomach twisted tightly, clenching almost painfully from holding on to your release. Your limbs were aching and your head was pounding, the pressure of ecstasy weighing down on your body. The coil was urgently ready to unwind, yet it didn’t. It sat like a lump inside you, craving release that couldn’t seem to come. No matter how hard or fast Thomas thrust, how good he made you feel, the orgasm never arrived. His heavy breathing was an indication he was close, but it was growing hard on you. Each pulse of his cock through your walls made you itch with pain. His finger on your clit made you wish he wouldn’t. “Stop. Tommy, stop.”

His thrusts slowed to a stop when he heard your plea, his eyes growing worried. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

“No,” you panted, relaxing into the bed. The pain was slowly beginning to subside, your limbs going limp. “I-I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed. “Just… a little much I guess.”

Thomas chuckled, burying his head in your neck. “Guess I pleased you too much, huh?”

“You’re just that good I guess,” you joked.

“So, are you trying to say I gave you too much medicine?” he laughed, making your lips pucker sourly at his joke with the role playing circumstance you had put upon yourselves. “You’re not going to overdose on me, are you?”

“Not this time,” you laughed. “You’re taking good care of me.”

You had a double meaning in your words. In the current situation, you meant that he was making you feel good with the sex. But, you also implied that he took good care of you since curing you from the Flare. Even if he irritated you with the constant home care, you were thankful that he was taking such good care of you.

“I’m glad,” he said, kissing your forehead.

His eyes met yours, the man giving a gentle smile before leaning in to give you a tender, loving kiss. You eased into it, returning the kiss with an equal amount of passion. It wasn’t messy or careless where spit was flying and tongues tangled in messy swirled between your cheeks. It was the simple ones where his lips overtook yours, dragging along them in blissful silence. The quiet smack of your lips pulling apart made your heart race, pushing up for another kiss.

You felt emptiness hit you when he pulled out of you, his lips parting from yours. You felt him smile before he vanished from your view. You were flipped onto your stomach, propped up on shaky hands and knees. His toned body pressed against you, his shaft between your legs in your folds. His hands pushed your hair over your shoulders, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“We’re not done with your treatment though, baby,” he whispered. Kissing your ear, he continued. “You need some more medicine and this time, it’ll work. Just one more shot, alright?”

“Of course, Doctor Thomas.”

Thomas grinned, leaning back on his legs. His shaft slid into you, hearing you moan into the pillows your face was buried in. He pulled out slowly at first, slamming into you furiously. The speed picked up quickly until his hips were slamming into your backside in a noisy clatter. Your butt pushed up and into him, the angle allowing him to push deep inside you until he was hitting your cervix and g-spot. You moaned loudly with every push he did, shaking intensely.

“Thomas!” you screamed, the name muffled. Thomas pouted, his unseen expression displaying how much he wanted to hear you scream his name. So, his hand darted out, finding the hair he pushed aside before, pulling it back just enough so you couldn’t hide. His ears rang with the shrill screams from your mouth, the pout turning upright into a bright grin. His name flowed from your lips repeatedly, something to the effect of ‘fuck me, Thomas’.

“That’s right,” he hummed, smacking your backside with the palm of his hand. It ripped out a louder noise, a bright red hand print glowing against your skin. Thomas grunted in approval, jerking your head back further and placing more loud slaps to your behind. You were quivering under him, his powerful thrusts allowing his cock to piston in and out of you rapidly. Your walls tightened around him, his pulsating increasing and flowing through your walls into your veins. Your stomach clenched, the orgasm you hadn’t gotten before resurfacing - and quickly. “Moan for me, baby. Scream for me. Cum for me. Fuck, tell everyone who is fucking you.”

“Thomas is,” you squealed, tugging at the sheets with your bound hands. “Fuck! Thomas, you feel so good. I’m going to cum!”

“Cum for me,” he gasped, his thrusts getting sloppier. He was close, the knot inside of him constricting just like yours. It was burning, sitting in a fire that was crisping the edges to loosen it, shredding it into pieces. His chest heaved, panting for air as he pushed to an end. “Cum with me, baby.”

“Give me all of my medicine,” you teased. “I’m ready for it.”

The air caught in Thomas’ throat, hitching completely. His thrusts sputtered, letting out a raspy gasp. Your sultry words made the knot vanish, his seed spilling into you. Strings of hot, white juices shot out of the tip with force, filling your insides with warmth. Your walls, tightly hugging his entire shaft, milked the drops out of him, his orgasm long overdue. More of his essence seeped out of him, having built up from every delayed end, ejaculated deep into your womb.

The warmth he gave you, the full feeling you got, made your own knot crack. Your toes curled into the sides of his legs, your legs and arms going weak. Your juices splattered out around him, coating his shaft in arousal. A prolonged moan of his name slid off your tongue, feeling his thrusts slow to ride you both through your highs. Juices combined inside you, mixing together in a sea of salty sweet gold.

You collapsed on your stomach when he pulled out, Thomas falling on your side. His hand ran along your back, rubbing out knots that formed from the countless amounts of sex. He heard your content sigh, smiling to himself. His hand rested to your bum, carefully running his fingers along the stinging skin where his hand prints remained. Playfully, the tips of his fingers slid back between your legs, feeling the wetness of your core that was oozing from your combined juices.

That made him harden.

The heat of his hand left, the man swapping to stroke his length. He was hardening from his half-limp state, elongating and beginning to twitch, ready for another round. His girthy length sat in his palm, skin tugged over the head before resuming it’s normal state. You turned to watch him jerk his cock, preparing himself for a new round of sex. The red tip glared your way, your mouth watering behind seals lips. You loved watching him stroke himself, veins popping from his hand from his strong hold on the length. It glistened slightly from your juices still residing on his skin, the twinkle matching the mischief in his eye.

His tongue passed over his lips, rolling you onto your side. Your back was against his chest, his heart beating heaving against his ribs. A hand slid under your torso, locked around a breast, while the other slid between your legs, gripping your thigh and lifting your leg up. It shook weakly but remained danling in the open air, giving Thomas the perfect space to place his cock at your core. His lips found your ear once more, nipping the lobe.

“Your treatment isn’t over yet,” he huskily muttered. “You are desperately need of some Vitamin D that only I can give you. It’ll keep you happy and healthy.”

“Then what are you waiting for, Doctor Thomas?” you asked, turning your head to kiss his lips. “Give me my treatment. I’m still not feeling so well. Please, Doctor. Make me feel better.”

Thomas groaned incoherently. His cock slid into your tight hole, the tip resting to your g-spot. You moaned loudly, the noisy drawn out with a odd vibration that echoed off the walls. The former runner you called your boyfriend wasted no time, thrusting into you quickly and powerfully. One leg remained flat to the bed while the other bent, his foot pressing into the bed to give him some leverage with his thrusts. Your head fell back against his shoulder from the pleasure he was causing you, tilted enough to see the focused look on his face. His lips were puckered in concentration, but his eyes were loving, staring back into yours.

His face leaned down, connecting your lips in a passionate kiss. Your lips parted, your tongue taking control and slipping between his. The man let you control it, pushing harder into you while still focusing on his cock pushing into you at a fast but steady pace. His hips pressed against your butt when he pushed harshly into you, shaft sliding in and out in a slick mess. He was coated in your arousal when he emerged, disappearing back with a swift thrust. His balls, tighter than normal from his prior orgasm, still managed to flounced against your folds. Every thrust into you allowed your leg to bounce up and down through the air like your breasts.

Pulling from the sloppy kiss, he nuzzled into your cheek, kissing it tenderly. “I love you,” he whispered for the first time that night. His fingers lifted from your chest, running through your hair lovingly. Your heart rate picked up, slamming against your ribs. He always managed to make you float away on cloud nine, his declaration of love amanging to pique your own emotions for the man. He was one of a kind and made your life complete. And even if he was deeply dug in your pussy for added bliss, you were in heaven from being in his arms, hearing him mumble those three words.

“I love you too,” you returned, kissing his speckled jawline that had the teeniest bit of scruff growing on it. “Now, please Tommy. Make me cum. Give me that vitamin D. Fuck me fast and hard. Choke me. Pull my hair. Do anything, as long as I cum while you are inside me.”

“That’s hot,” he groaned into your cheek.

Running his fingers one last time through your hair, he placed it on your neck, constricting lightly. It kept your breathing tight, but the lack of one sense amplified the rest. His cock sliding into you felt ten times better, your core clenching around him. The pleasure was intense, flooding your body quickly. Your moans were choppy, your hands trying to grab at anything you could since they were still wrapped together, red from constant struggles. Your nerves were heightened from his neverending thrusts, feeling your stomach tightening once more. His tip hit your sweetest spot, the happiness you got from it making you quiver.

You came first this time. Your walls retracted into him, the knot exploding in fireworks through your system. You moaned - despite how gurgled it came out from the lack of air. Juices washed out around his shaft, your walls clinging to him as you spilled out. Your toes curled through the air, flexing and extending as your high hit. You wished you could have wrapped your arms back around him, scratching and tugging at his body until he was scraped with long red marks that showed your pleasure.

The moisture and heat from your orgasm made him break. His seed shot out of the tip, filling you to the brim in a mixture of your juices. Your body shook while his lurched, each pulse of his cock sending another string into you. His thrusts eased to a stop, the last drops trickling into your system. He could feel your walls throbbing around him, making him twitch. His hand dropped from your throat, both of you relaxing into the other in post orgasm glow.

The ropes were unwound before he pulled out of you, dipping down to kiss your core that seeped of your combined juices. You whimpered from his tender kisses, afraid you would get aroused again. But he carefully kissed any pain away, the taste of you both on his lips. Inching up your body, he left a tasteful kiss to your lips, falling to your side.

His fingers traced to your stomach, drawing random shapes to your bare skin. The other hand was back to running through your hair, your head angled to watch him. His content face had sparkling eyes and a toothy, lopsided smile. Neither of your cared that you were laying in bed naked without a cover. The heat around you was enough to counter the chill that hit you from the sweat on your skin. Your hand lifted to run fingers against his speckled cheek, tracing the constellation of moles on his skin. His hair was sticking up and his chest was still heaving, making his muscled bulge as he tried to relax into a state of normalcy.

“So,” you started, meeting his bright caramel eyes. “What do you recommend, Doctor?”

Thomas chuckled, burying into your shoulder to hide his amusement. You grinned, feeling the love radiating from his pores. “Well, I could write you a prescription,” he started, kissing your shoulder. “But, you definitely need a dose of sex with Doctor Thomas at least once a day until you are feeling better. We don’t want to keep you feeling so wound up and unreleased.”

“What if I never get better?” you challenged playfully.

“Guess you are stuck with me then, huh?” Thomas teased.

“I don’t know if that’s necessarily a bad thing.”

Thomas nodded, taking a deep breath. A silence formed between your both, your hand resting on his on your stomach. You jumped in surprise when he propped up on his elbow staring down at you. “Something has been bugging me this entire time, Y/N,” he stated, making you frown. The use of your name instead of a cute pet name had you worried. “I’m not really complaining because this entire thing was sexy and hot and I would do it again in a heartbeat. I will never forget this and the sex… god, this was the best sex ever. But…”

“But what, Tommy?”

“Why?” he asked. “What was the point in all of this? I highly doubt that it has to do with you just wanting to be kinky and wanting to play doctor and patient. I know you better than that. What are you trying to tell me?”

“Sometimes, I really hate how smart you are,” you laughed bitterly. “WICKED was right to use you, Tommy.”

“Y/N.”

“Sorry,” you sighed. “I… I was just feeling so overwhelmed, Thomas. You know I love you and I always will. I want to be by your side for the rest of my life. But, your constant checking on me like I’m going to suddenly get sick again and die just is stressful. I love knowing that you care but you take it too far. I’m suffocating under your constant care. I know you want me to be ok but I’m not going to up and die randomly. You can relax, babe.”

Thomas’ mouth parted and closed, trying to find the words he wanted to say. His fingers moved to lace with yours, giving it a gentle, comforting squeeze. “I’m sorry, baby,” he whispered, rubbing his lips together. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like that. I just wanted to know you were ok. I almost lost you once and I’m scared something will happen and I will lose you for real. I’m afraid I will catch on too late and won’t be able to save you. I’m sorry that I made you feel like that. I really am.”

“It’s fine, Tommy,” you told him, pulling him into a tender kiss. “I know you didn’t mean it. I know you care. Just… lay off a bit. We can arrange something to keep an eye on me since we know I’m not immune. But don’t stress yourself. Don’t drag me off to take my temperature and check for signs of the Flare. Don’t panic and think I will drop dead if I walk through the Safe Haven. Don’t keep me locked up in bed because you want me to be safe in your mind. I will be fine because I have you and the others helping me if I need it. But, definitely, I have you caring for me every step of the way because you love me and I love you.”

“Alright,” he agreed, kissing your forehead. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop being sorry,” you laughed. “Shit happens. We work it out, Tommy. That’s what a couple does.”

“I don’t deserve you.”

“No, I don’t deserve you,” you laughed. “You know, I do have a reason now to see my doctor. I need my medicine, Tommy.”

Thomas’ eyes lit up, a smirk curling on his face. “That’s right. Your prescription,” he hummed. “What are the chances that by cumming in you, I’m keeping you Flare free?”

“Oh god, Thomas,” you groaned. “I was just implying that we need to have more sex.”

“I know,” he hummed, kissing you softly before moving to straddle you. His shaft, growing harder by the second, slid between your folds. “I need to give you lots of medicine to make sure you are safe. So, let me give that to you.”

“I like that idea,” you mewled, wrapping your arms around his neck like you hadn’t done since you crawled into bed. “Doctor Thomas to the rescue.”

“Damn straight.”

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nettlestonenell · 6 years ago

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How Peggy Carter Shows Up in Avengers: Endgame

...is actually a really important question to ponder, Gentle Readers. Thanks for asking.

As I recently set forth here, Peggy Carter is the central bedrock of the MCU. If you don’t like her, you don’t like it.

As such, it seems unlikely that the attention she will be given in Endgame will be limited to the infamous black and white picture Steve keeps in his old compass (which some fans believe he looks to for moral guidance. About which I stringently disagree.)

Insert your own traveling-across-realms Once Upon a Time Swanfire keychain reference here.

Just to cover all the possible bases, then;

SCENARIO #1: Peggy used solely as image/misunderstood totem for Cap.

NOPE.

I firmly expect “actual” Peggy Carter to make an appearance in Endgame, and according to the internet at large, I am not alone.

HOW she makes that appearance, and what is made of her appearance is entirely unknown at this time, but here are the strongest possibilities. (All following scenarios involve Time Travel or universe-shifting.)

SCENARIO #2:

Cap sent back in time to his version of a Valhalla/warrior’s paradise: right after his jet goes into the ice he manages somehow to arrive the following Saturday at the Stork Club at 8pm as she and he were talking about in his last moments on the radio.

While iconic for that time period, The Stork Club (of New York City) has always seemed a rather upscale venue for Peggy and Steve to pick. (Coincidentally, it closed its doors in 1965)

(Ultimately, you may recall Steve saying he’s going to need a raincheck on that dance.)

I don’t see it. Doing this robs those moments in The First Avenger entirely of their gravity and their far-reaching impact in the MCU. Peggy wouldn’t even have a hot moment to grieve for what she lost. What’s more, Peggy in the immediate aftermath of Steve’s disappearance hasn’t got anything to offer the plot/Cap in the way of fighting Thanos/the power of Infinity Stones. She’s just relegated to a sort of trophy/reward, without any utility in the storyline.

If Peggy Carter is used in Endgame without having something to contribute to the forward motion of the plot, IF, for example, she’s reduced to a sort of ‘Grey Havens’ for Cap, what an utter waste of everything MCU has put into her over the years. If going back to be with Peggy (pre-Marvel’s Agent Carter and ongoing developments in the MCU) is simply Cap’s “reward”, then Peggy gets reduced to nothing but a dog treat. [which, I daresay from reading enough tumblr plenty of bloggers think she is]

Just as I said in that earlier blog, narratively it’s Steve in TFA who has to “come up” to Peggy’s level, both physically

She could snap him in two if they tried that dance, now.

(at least narratively-speaking—obviously there’s absolutely NOTHING wrong in real life with two partners not being the physical equal of one another, in fact it’s rather more standard than not) and also heroic conviction-wise; he has to be willing to step out there and join the fight (as when he left the showgirls, etc).

Of course, even leaving the showgirls behind, Steve won’t miss out on the sight of a great pair of legs, Angie Martinelli will gladly tell you.

Ahem. It’s been awhile since Cap woke up from the ice. He’s seen and done a lot. But Peggy, in the immediate wake of his crash, well, she’s hasn’t had a chance to grow similarly.

TFA-era Peggy and Infinity War-era Cap are far from on the same footing. She’s only just had her first brush with the supernatural (Vibranium and the Tesseract, super-soldier serum). She’s still WWII-Peggy, and Cap hasn’t been WWII-Cap for awhile (remember his government’s betrayal in Winter Soldier? His own rebellion in Civil War?).

Unlikely we’ll see this noobishly terrified expression ever again.

Lots has happened since next Saturday at the Stork Club, 8pm. Let’s talk funerals. Cap has gone to Peggy’s,

I’m not proud of showing you this.

and in the season one finale of Agent Carter, Peggy “Goodbye, My Darling” (words, btw, she never said to him in real-life) Carter takes a moment to pour Steve’s blood sample off the Brooklyn Bridge to prevent it being used for ill, and memorialize and let him go in a real way, which she had yet to be able to do.

Do you think the military held a funeral/event in memory of Steve after he was lost to the ice?

A day or two (or even a year) after the crash, she hasn’t been able to bring herself to do that.

Secondarily, as I said in that earlier blog, Peggy has to live and operate in a world without Steve IF ONLY TO BE SHOWN AS SUCCESSFUL ON HER OWN TERMS and not viewed merely as Captain America’s Girlfriend.

Having him show up ON TIME for their dance doesn’t allow her that. It also doesn’t see her co-found S.H.I.E.L.D. (for one example). Peggy would have remained Peggy unchanged, and Cap—well, Cap’s changed plenty. He doesn’t even dress the same.

Just look at the confidence in this man’s face. This man has grown and changed since burying that plane in the ice.

If he wakes up in TFA the same year that film came out, that’s almost nine years ‘til Infinity War, and who knows how long ‘til the plot of Endgame picks up. All of WWII lasted six years. It doesn’t seem like Cap’s life since waking up has been any less of a crucible.

I absolutely understand the emotional desire fans have to see that dance and that date take place as though nothing has happened. I. Get. It. But from a story standpoint, it’s a bad idea that negates so much work and development that’s come before.

I deeply apologize for my story-based convictions on this matter.

SCENARIO #3: Parallel Peggy

Parallel universes make my brain hurt. Literally anything could happen in them. Except Steve getting time with actual Peggy.

Also, that would be something of a Whovian #10/Rose re-tread, wouldn’t it?

SCENARIO #4:

(Possibly one-way) Time Travel to Just the Sweet Spot Where Peggy Has Access to an Answer the Avengers Need

Peggy Carter’s life and work have meant a lot to the MCU (don’t get me started on the fact the franchise didn’t have Nick Fury, Coulson, Hill, and Tony Stark attend her funeral).

We know some of what she was involved in with SSR and S.H.I.E.L.D. (okay, well, likely she was involved with literally EVERYTHING). We know she had two children, a boy and girl, and a granddaughter (we don’t want to negate them, do we?[Aside: Could Steve and Peggy even have kids?]).

Children on the right, on the left the photo is taken later (note clothing style), indicating a granddaughter.

We know she was married, though the powers that be have stopped short of ever naming her husband.

Sorry, wrong wedding dress, wrong wedding, v.v. sad day about to happen.

Season Two of Agent Carter shows her embarking on a relationship with Daniel Sousa,

All my love, Daniel!

but for all we know that proved a non-starter, and in a twist she wed Jack Thompson—or even Dum Dum—or some other guy we never met. We’re simply not told. No man appears in photos by her bedside in Winter Soldier, her husband is given no name in her official obit from Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.

In her 1953 interview we’re told that she’s married by that time, she speaks about her husband, a WWII vet. (The bedside picture with her two children shows her with a similar hairstyle to this interview)

What we’ve never been given is information about how long that married lasted. Divorce, death of a spouse? Entirely possible. If Cap’s being sent back (at least in part) to pitch woo to Peggy, I’m betting her husband will have passed on. (Truly sorry if it’s you, Daniel!)

I’m betting that in those files Cap was reviewing in The Winter Soldier, there may have been something among his research about what Peggy got up to after he was gone.

In my memory, there’s like a whole box of this sort of thing sitting around Cap’s apartment.

And that among her work, or even among Howard’s Bad Babies, might well be technology or an item needed to help defeat Thanos or reverse the snap.

So, Cap shaves his beard (to be more recognizable to her),

goes back not to 1940, but sometime after Peggy’s interview in 1953

(recall the motion-capture dots on Hayley in that Instagram pic which may be used to age her, recall also the casting call for 1960s office girls).

This gives us BOTH a Peggy who had moved on and done important work, AND a Cap who has grown and changed since being pulled from the ice.

In a scenario like this, what we are presented with (again) are Steve and Peggy as two EQUALS, the reward for each of whom, and their lifetime of service and sacrifice is each other. And a Cap returned to a world more in- line with his human life expectancy (and among which he might feel more comfortable—and in which some of his friends/the Howling Commandos might still live). Peggy would be in her 40s in the 1960s*. (Don’t even get me started on loving middle-aged awesome, reaching her sexual peak Peggy getting to be with constantly on-peak super-soldier Steve.)

I mean, check out Peggy in her late 60s: Here, hot, and still happening.

SCENARIO #4 doesn’t diminish a possible Steggy happy ending. In fact, it just deepens and burnishes it.

*Perhaps whatever takes place in the 60s also involves the long-unexplained tease of how Peggy as head and founder of S.H.I.E.L.D. remained (we assume) unaware that Hydra had long infiltrated her organization. #utterpipedreams

COMPLICATIONS:…now don’t get me started that if Cap-Now goes back, Cap-Then is still in the ice, destined to wake up, and that gets all kind of weird—sort of like Parallel Universes.

Time Travel and the potential plurality of existence is treacherous and headache-y to contemplate.

QUESTIONS THAT PERSIST: IF Cap is able to go back in time, and there’s nothing in-story that can be gained by it other than his reunion with Peggy, doesn’t it make more sense that he’d choose to go back and reverse something terrible in history, such as prevent the US from dropping atomic bombs, saving countless (estimated around 250k) lives?

Or that he would go back and rescue Bucky from Armin Zola?

After all, he’s seen that Peggy’s life was happy. She died loved, safe, and respected as a (very) old woman in her bed. Ya can’t say that for ole Buck.

Truly, if the power of time travel is in your hands, and you choose to use it purely for selfish reasons, well, that’s about the most un-Cap thing I’ve ever heard of.

So, Gentle Readers, how do you think this thing is going to go down?

#captain america #avengers endgame #mcu #peggy carter #steve rogers #steggy #marvel's agent carter #is my marvel superhero #cap won't mind #peggy in endgame #meta #daniel sousa #never forgotten

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bookishbloggerreviews · 7 years ago

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Obsidio and the Illuminae Series --An Honest Review

[Warning: I give an honest review that focuses not only on plot but on writing and character as well. As this is an opinion, you can take it as as seriously as you want, but understand that my goal is to review, not shame or praise the author.]

Finally, the conclusion to a stunning and (in my opinion it seriously needs one) award worthy series. Before I get into my review I want to thank the authors for providing this enchanting, one of a kind series as it certainly was worth the read and easily became a top favorite in my science fiction collection. I hope that they produce more content and I’m excited to see more from them in the future. Now onto the review.

As anyone who has read my reviews before know, I start reading books with a general expectation that the book will be 5/10. If the book is better or worse than expected, the score adjusts from there, but I guess this rating system is rather pointless when the book is a 10/10, or a 5/5 stars.

The ending of a series, I find, is such a difficult one for authors. Many of my favorite, and many popular series have endings that fans simply aren’t happy about and didn’t conclude “successfully” (I’m using this in the terms of a poorly thought out, or poorly planned ending), or were emotionally rewarding. (Ex: The Maze Runner, Divergent, Michael Vey, The Reign of Shadows, etc.) So when I say that this book has one of the most satisfying, well-ended, and peaceful, eased into endings that I’ve read, that should be one of the highest compliments the ending to a series can get.

As we already know, Kaufman and Kristoff can write well, produce excellent, relate-able characters, and make the story work together flawlessly, but once again, in Obsidio, they prove just how excellent books should be. So having covered the basics, lets get into the spoilers, shall we?

[WARNING: SPOILERS]

From this point on, everything I mention or include will probably have some spoilers laced through it. So if you have not read the previous two books, or have not read this one and are continuing to read this, just know that you’re ruining the ending for yourself.

Starting off I’d like to take a moment to address the AI, which is probably the most complex AI I’ve ever seen pulled off in a book, and even worthy to be compared to one of my all-time favorite characters from the Alien series, David.

Aidan is a true chaotic neutral in all of his loving glory, and we’ve seen that in the previous books but now we get to see what should be an almost characterless-character develop into a chaotic good. And not only is the character development well-paced, well-written, entertaining and charming, but it truly is development. Often times I see many writers claim their characters have changed or developed from the course of actions that have taken place in a series, when, in the end, they remain the same stubbornly attached or unchanged person that they were in the beginning. (Ex: Bella Swan.) It’s essentially the same principle of a character walking into a fire and coming out of it unscathed. But the authors have truly delivered this time.

With each book, Aidan gets “smaller”, as he refers to himself. In the beginning of the series he establishes himself somewhat as a god over his crew and considers it mercy when he attempts to kill them as peacefully as he can. However, as time passes and Aidan gets “smaller”, he changes from a very-god-like character to a very human and very mortal character, and seems to gain human emotion while he is at it until at the very end, Aidan literally sacrifices himself to keep Kady safe.

To have an AI become so human that it prizes the life of one human above all the others on a ship of many thousand is such a remarkable character ark that I am thrilled that I have gotten to be apart of it. But oh, the goodness and excellence of this book does not stop there.

Moving onto Kady we have yet another well-developed character ark and in many times of the book, we see Aidan described Kady as a ghost of the girl he once knew her as, or looking like she could literally just disappear. Which is, once again, astounding, to take a character that we would often define as hard-headed rebel-leader into such a small and quiet, obedient presence, that I just want to stamp an award on it. As I often find myself saying, characters don’t necessarily have to get better to have good character development. In fact, a neutrally or lawfully good character who turns to the dark to achieve their goals is far more interesting than an already chaotically good character becoming more chaotically good.

Now I wish I could say the same about Nick, Ezra, and Hannah, but in truth, their characters were more minor characters in the book so we didn’t see very much character development other than what we have already seen in previous books.

However, we were introduced to more side characters that also displayed excellent character development. Oshiro, Asha, and Ben, all followed the exact same patterns that I refer to. Oshiro from Lawful neutral to neutral good, Asha from Chaotic good to chaotic neutral, and Ben from Lawful good to chaotic evil. Once again, music to my character-loving ears and even worthy of Zuko level of good.

(May the king of character development forever reign.)

Moving on from character development to plot and writing style, everyone knows how incredibly done the writing style is so I guess plot will be the main focus here but the ability to take something so abstract and make it seem so real is another thing this series has up its sleeves. This series shows that a thousand and one things can go wrong with your plans. This series shows that sometimes you can’t just make it on what you have and sometimes you have to make sacrifices you’re not prepared to make. This series shows that even the most ordinary humans can play big parts into the plot. But most importantly, it shows that you don’t need magical dragons flying out every other chapter (Ex: Gilded) to make a book interesting. In fact, the human interaction and how they deal with stress and organize things is part of what makes this book so enjoyable because it is so realistic.

This book isn’t about a bunch of teenagers getting together at the last moment, disobeying orders to save a country. This book has support systems, rebellions, mutiny, organization, planning, and thorough detail. There are just as many adult characters in this book as there are teenagers, and they’re doing just as much to impact the series although they may be side characters.

And finally, moving onto romance... the romance in this series was not the highlight and I would not suggest this series or this book to someone if they expect romance. This book does not excel in romance and it’s not it’s theme either. And while I believe that the romance made about as much difference to the plot as it not-existing in the first place, it’s clear to show that this is first and foremost a science fiction series.

In fact, I believe that if romance had been the focus of the series, the romance would have been between Kady and Aidan, instead of Kady and Ezra, as those two characters grow together and are far more compatible than Kady and Ezra ever were. And if you want romance out of it, I suggest re-reading it believing that Aidan and Kady are the main love interests because that’s the only way you’re going to get the fullest and most fulfilled senses of love and connection out of that series.

But regardless, the book and the series overall was incredible. The book, a flawless 10/10, and the series, a solid 9/10.

If you have any siblings or family members who want to read but are dulled by paragraphs and words, I would highly suggest this book to them as it is a series I believe anyone can get invested in. Once again, I cannot wait to see what more this duo have in store for the writing community and if they will pair up and produce again. It was more than worth the money (as this series does cost a bit extra to get) but you certainly won’t be forgetting it anytime soon.

If you liked this review or this series, or care to agree or disagree, please leave it in the comments below. I am always happy for some book chatter on my blog and love to see fellow fans. Until the next review, your average bookish blogger out!

#the illuminae files #illuminae #book #books #bookreview #bookseries #booklover #bookstagram #bookworm #things to read #things i love #amazing #bookstoread #sohappy

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aion-rsa · 3 years ago

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Candyman: How Bernard Rose and Clive Barker created the horror classic

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

In the winter of 1992, one word was enough to send a chill down the spine of horror fans far and wide: Candyman.

Released in October of that year, Candyman was a slasher movie with a killer hook – quite literally. A horror movie built around an urban legend claiming that if you say the word “Candyman” five times into a mirror, a murderous spirit with a hook for a hand would appear, with grave consequences for those who summoned him.

In a time before the internet and social media, the original Candyman’s lore was enough to spark discussion among curious moviegoers who asked each other: would you say the potentially deadly incantation?

It was a talking point the movie’s marketing leaned heavily into with taglines like “We dare you to say his name five times!” and “Candyman, Candyman, Candyman, Candyman… Don’t Say Again!”

Director Bernard Rose took inspiration for the idea from the urban legend of Bloody Mary, rather than the Clive Barker short story “The Forbidden,” which Candyman was adapted from.

According to the legend, Bloody Mary’s spectre could be summoned by chanting her name repeatedly into a mirror. One of Rose’s masterstrokes was to assimilate this folklore into the Candyman mythology, although it was not without its teething problems.

“In the original script, they were supposed to say Candyman 13 times, not five times, because in the Bloody Mary legend they say it 13 times,” Rose tells Den of Geek. “During the first read through they started going ‘Candyman, Candyman…’ and I was falling asleep. You can’t do it 13 times. It goes on too long. Five is about the largest number you can hear. It did come from Bloody Mary but I had seen Beetlejuice, so I’d have to say Beetlejuice should probably get some credit.”

Rose first hit upon the idea of adapting “The Forbidden” after he was approached about making a film out of another story from Barker’s lauded Books of Blood anthology, “In the Flesh.” But that story wasn’t quite suited to a cinematic adaptation.

“I thought it was really well written, but impossible to make because it’s about two prisoners in complete darkness in a cell,” he says. “And of course, the one thing you can’t represent in a movie is darkness, because if you are in a movie theater there’s nothing to see. It would make a great radio play but wasn’t really a great idea for a movie.”

It was during his initial research into the Books of Blood that Rose read “The Forbidden,” Barker’s short story about a university student who, while studying and photographing graffiti at a local housing estate, learns from locals about a string of murders attributed to a mythical killer known as Candyman.

A rising star at the time, Rose had already collaborated with Jim Henson on The Muppet Show and The Dark Crystal, as well as directing iconic music videos like the S&M themed promo for Frankie Goes To Hollywood’s “Relax,” which ended up being banned by MTV. His debut feature, the dream-like dark fantasy horror Paperhouse, had been released to widespread acclaim opening up a wealth of possibilities when it came to his next film.

Rose was immediately struck by Barker’s story and the way it played on “the idea of belief.”

“All of these people believe in the Candyman, which actually means the Candyman exists, whereas if they stop believing in him he disappears, like how the old deities, like the Roman gods, died because people stopped caring. The idea that if enough people believe something, they manifest it. That’s scary.”

By the time he read “The Forbidden,” Rose had already struck up a friendship with Barker, who he met at Pinewood Studios while the latter was working on Nightbreed, the follow-up to his wildly successful directorial debut Hellraiser.

It was a match made in heaven – or maybe that should be hell – and a bond that made securing the rights to the short story that would become Candyman “really easy” according to Rose, who simply called Barker up with the author agreeing to sign off on the deal and sign on as executive producer.

Rose credits Professor Jan Harold Brunvand’s book The Vanishing Hitchhiker as a major inspiration to his script. A folklore scholar, Brunvand’s book explored the origins of several notable urban legends and has been widely credited with igniting America’s obsession with the phenomenon.

“The whole urban legends thing hadn’t actually been addressed in a movie at that point, which is kind of extraordinary when you think about it,” Rose says. “It helped give the film this intellectual aspect, the idea of having an intellectual elite character studying the myth not from a sociological point of view, but from a semiotics point of view. Somebody who was intellectual and therefore naturally skeptical about something supernatural.”

While some authors have been known to be especially protective of their source material when it comes to adaptation, Rose recalls Barker encouraging him to “run free with it.”

“He liked the script very much. He was very behind it and at certain key moments, as much as anything, he was an enthusiast. Clive is wonderful. A really nice, smart guy.”

One thing they agreed on was that the story would need to be relocated from its original setting in Liverpool, England, for a very specific reason.

“At the time within genre films, there was there was a real problem with people understanding regional accents, and Clive had that problem on Hellraiser where they ended up having to loop (ADR) the whole movie and change it into a sort of weird unspecific setting, when it’s clearly some market town outside London,” he says. “If we were starting the film now, unquestionably we would have done it in Liverpool. It’s funny, things change, but back then, we wanted it to be somewhere specific. So I said, let’s make it specifically American. That seemed like the easiest thing to do.”

Rose hit upon the idea of setting the film in Chicago after noting similarities in the public housing found there and in the story’s original Liverpool setting.

The Illinois Film Commission took Rose on a tour of the city’s most troubled neighborhoods, which included Cabrini Green. “It wasn’t the worst place they showed us by any means, the Robert Taylor Homes on the South Side but Cabrini Green was right by downtown Chicago and was just spectacular.”

Rose recalls first being taken there in the company of a “full police escort.” Eager to see the neighborhood from a different perspective, he returned later on his own and befriended somebody who lived there.

“That’s the woman who the character of Anne Marie [the single mother who helps Helen with her investigation and whose infant son Anthony ends up being abducted by the Candyman] is based on,” Rose says.

Another crucial step in the development of Candyman came when the filmmaker began researching the history of Cabrini Green.

“I discovered old articles in the Chicago Reader about a series of murders that happened in Cabrini Green, including one where the killer came into the apartment through the medicine cabinet through a breeze block.”

One such article, by Steve Bogira, detailed the killing of 52-year-old Ruthie McCoy, whose pleas to a 911 caller explaining that intruders were breaking in through her bathroom cabinet went ignored.

“There was a weak spot that you could actually get into people’s medicine cabinets, which is basically inserting holes in the breeze block and you can just literally punch them out and get into somebody’s apartment.”

These articles ended up featuring in the film for real, during the scene where Helen (Virginia Madsen) began researching the Candyman myth. Another element that rang true to life was the fact that the nearby Sandburg Village was “architecturally identical” to Cabrini Green with the only difference being that the former was turned into condos while the latter became public housing. These elements all combined to inform Candyman’s biggest departure from the original short story: Candyman would be Black.

“I wanted to make the film grounded in reality and the whole racial subtext of the film came out of that,” he says. “It wasn’t part of the original story. That was about politics and class differences. The racial element was added to it by the specificity of the location.”

Rose also incorporated his own experience discovering much of this material into Helen’s narrative. “I think that’s why it still feels relevant and powerful now because it came out of something real.”

The filmmaker credits the architecture of Cabrini Green with adding a layer of dread to proceedings.

“The early 80s was the point where we were seeing how modernist architecture could really decay in the most frightening ways and be more scary than the old Gothic spaces that were always designed to be plain and simple.”

Rose felt the film offered an opportunity to draw parallels between the Candyman myth and the myths attached to life in Cabrini Green.

“There was always this kind of exaggerated fear of the place like you might get shot, which is ultimately a very powerful form of racism,” he says. “The real danger is probably very, very small unless you happen to be very unlucky.”

While the stories of murderers emerging through mirrored medicine cabinets tied into the Candyman mythology, mirrors played a wider thematic role in Rose’s film.

“The film has got a lot of mirroring in it, from the imagery to the mirrored apartment. The idea that Helen’s apartment is the same as the ones in Cabrini green. It’s just about what side of the road you are on.”

Even so, Rose refutes any suggestion of Candyman having any kind of deep agenda.

“The film was not done with a thesis in mind that I then went out to prove. It was more like I was interested in the setting we had and the story which is unchanged from the short story.”

Madsen ended up landing the role of Helen, the protagonist after Rose’s then-wife Alexandra Pigg, who had been cast in the role, was forced to drop out after discovering she was pregnant.

When it came to the Candyman himself, one rumor Rose immediately squashes is the notion that Eddie Murphy was ever considered or even interested in the part.

“If Eddie Murphy had wanted to do it in 1991, it wouldn’t have even been a discussion, it would have just happened,” he says. “Yeah, that’s not even a tiny bit true.”

Instead, Rose and the film’s producers only ever had eyes for Tony Todd.

“He pretty much just came in and was fabulous and that was that. He just had it in every sense of the word and it was pretty obvious. There wasn’t even a discussion about it.”

Securing the rights, finding a great location and landing a stellar cast had all proven relatively straightforward for Rose. One thing that definitely wasn’t straightforward, however, would be the film’s use of bees.

The film called for scenes in which Madsen would be covered in bees, while in one particularly memorable shot, the insects would be seen emerging from Todd’s mouth, as per Barker’s story, which took its inspiration from the Bible and the story of how Samson killed a young lion only to find bees and honey in its corpse. The imagery struck a chord with the author, who weaved it into the ever-expanding Candyman mythology.

Coming at a time before filmmakers could fall back on CGI, Rose was in need of an expert bee wrangler. He found one in apiarist Norman Gary.

“I saw him, he was on the Johnny Carson show playing the clarinet, covered in bees. He was quite a character,” Rose says. “He had synthesized queen bee pheromones and had hives of bees on the top of the studio and he was hatching them for the first 48 hours of their lives. Their stingers aren’t fully developed at that point so they’re not really that dangerous.”

Gary would supply the immature bees for the crucial scenes, using pheromones to have them cluster in the areas Rose required before gently vacuuming them up into a pouch when filming was complete.

Rose speaks in glowing terms about the bees themselves, describing them as “intelligent but also very predictable” which made filming the scenes somewhat pain free. Except in the most obvious sense of the word.

“Everybody got stung quite a bit and certainly when we were doing those scenes, there were quite a lot of crew members who just stopped turning up to work,” he says. “I think people didn’t want to go into a studio that was literally buzzing with bees all the time because you would get stung. I remember asking Norman ‘How do you prevent yourself from getting stung?’ and he said ‘You don’t. You just decide it doesn’t bother you.’”

Away from the sound of bees, Rose credits composer Philip Glass with delivering a pitch perfect score, that imbued the film with a sense of both the Gothic and the academically-minded analytical.

“I gave him a brief to just score it for organ, voices, and piano,” Rose says. “He loved that idea of it being very kind of minimal orchestration. So he wrote the suite basically of the music that’s in the film. I think he’s hands down the best living American composer. Very original.”

For all the praise the film and its score received, Candyman was not without its detractors including several notable Black film directors at the time.

Reginald Hudlin, who had directed Boomerang and House Party and would go on to serve as a producer on Django Unchained called it “worrisome” while fellow filmmaker Carl Franklin said the decision to made Candyman Black and move the story to Cabrini Green was “irresponsible and racist” for casting a Black man in the role of a killer.

“People were nervous before we made the film because of his ethnicity, but I always said I understand how horror villains work,” Rose says. “The bogeyman is the hero. That’s it. That’s how they function. And it’s certainly true in the case of Candyman in that Tony’s character becomes larger than the film’s other characters.”

Much of that was down to timing. “The most disappointing thing you can do in a movie is bring out the monster,” he says. “This is why The Exorcist is a masterpiece. You never see a monster. What you see is its effect on the little girl.”

In the case of the Candyman, Rose used the first half of the film to build a sense of dread tinged with a sense of tragedy with the character’s backstory which explained how he was killed in the late 19th century over his relationship with a white woman. Even as audiences catch their first glimpse of Todd in that striking leather, fur-lined coat, they are being told a story.

“The idea of the costume was to show that he was quite bourgeois, like he was on his way to the opera when he was killed. It was a reminder that he was successful and affluent yet none of that protected him.”

Rose took his cues from the Orson Welles classic The Third Man in holding back on the introduction of his titular killer.

“Every single conversation in the first half of The Third Man is about Harry Lime.” he says. “So when Orson Welles finally appears It’s one of the great entrances in film history because you’re just dying to hear what he’s got to say,”

The Candyman writer also points to an alternative reading of the film that adds a fascinating subtext to the role of race in the movie.

“It’s an entirely subjective movie told from the perspective of Helen,” Rose says. “So whatever happens in the film, it’s what she thought happened and isn’t necessarily objective. There is definitely an interpretation of the film where she committed the murders.”

The film, he says, offers up an extension of one of the original themes of Barker’s book which was the fear of poverty.

“Inequality and oppression creates fear among the oppressors, because they’re afraid of one day being called to account,” he says. “The film is about that in some ways, and that’s why it is still powerful. But I did not have any sort of agenda except to try to represent what I’d seen in Chicago as realistically as possible.”

Rose would not return for any of the sequels, with 1995’s Candyman: Farewell to the Flesh helmed by future Twilight Saga director Bill Condon. In his absence and despite the best efforts of Todd in the titular role, the franchise died out after a third film, 1999’s lamentable Candyman: Day of the Dead.

Rose puts these failures down to a mismanagement of the properties and a rush to get a follow-up out after the surprise runaway success of his film, which made $25 million from a modest $8 million budget.

“The temptation when making sequels is to just basically do the same thing again which actually doesn’t satisfy anyone,” he says. “You have to develop it and you have to make it more complex and make the story actually have a grander arc. I had ideas, but they wanted to make damn sure that they got them out of me as quickly as possible so they could get on with the serious business of fucking it up. But that’s fairly normal, unfortunately.”

However, he says he submitted a proposal for a sequel which was “pretty extreme.”

“One of the producers read it and said it was the most disgusting thing he’s ever read. All I can say about it is that it involved cannibalism and royalty.”

Though he remains coy on the finer details, he insists it would have made a “great movie” though it wouldn’t have been a straightforward sequel by any means.

“It was an expansion of the ideas in Candyman and also involved another short story of Clive’s that was actually made later by somebody else, ‘The Midnight Meat Train,’ which was set on the London Underground.”

That said, Rose remains fully supportive of Nia DaCosta’s new film, which has breathed life back into Candyman once again.

“Honestly, I think that sequel is probably better than anything I could have come up with,” he says. “It needed to be taken over by someone African-American, so it’s better that way because if I make the film again, it’s just going to be about the same thing as the first one.”

Ultimately, he feels “immense pride” at the idea that Candyman has earned a place as a horror icon to rival the likes of Michael Myers and Freddy Krueger though he sees that as “something separate to the movie in a weird way.”

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“It was intended as a horror film, as a subjective, visceral experience. Obviously, if you write something and direct it, whatever you make is a reflection of your views on a myriad number of subjects. That’s one of the things that’s good about the film, the story is open to exploration.”

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