#listen i could do that BUT consider i get another more IMPORTANT side plot started >:3c

[colormepurplex2]

Make You Mine | Purple Silk

↳  Alpha Jungkook x Omega f.Reader ⤜ Enemies/Lovers ⤜ Rating: MA 🔞 ⤜ WC: 3,544 ⚠️  Angst, Omega presenting, mostly plot and setting the scene

Next Chapter⇾ ◅ Back to chapter list  

"How many times are you going to bring up the eastern territory lines? My answer is still no." Roland, your pack leader, crosses his muscle-banded arms across his chest. "We have enough trouble from the Jeons without trying to shift the claim lines again. I don't care what that musty old map shows, we keep to this side of the river and that's that."

You clamp your mouth shut, fighting the urge to argue again. Are all alpha's this ignorant or just the one leading your pack? You snuff out that thought before it can be read on your face. It's not fair that the Jeon family keeps pushing their claim further onto your family's land. Over the last five years, they've taken almost 100 acres along the river and Roland doesn't seem to give a shit. It makes you hot under the collar.

"Sir, can we move on to the import tariffs from the north? They're increasing again, the fields haven't been producing the way they should so we're relying more on those goods," your father, a well-to-do beta and Rolands second, speaks up from where he's seated across from you at the large oak conference table. It makes your stomach sour how they can move on so quickly from such an important topic. Sweat pops up along your brow, you scrub it away and sneer at the shine on the back of your hand. The leather jacket you're wearing slides quickly down your arms as you shrug out of it.

"Aye, so the reports say." Roland nods then unwinds his large arms to gesture to the man seated beside your father. "Lou, what's going on in the fields?"

Louis, beta and second to your father, shuffles some papers on the table in front of him. "It's not good, Ro. We think the soils are not turning over the way they should. Not enough water coming up through the ground well. It could take us another season, maybe two, before we can get it back to where we need it to produce for the family." By family, he means your pack. It's not really a family like some would think. It's not a set of parents and their children. It's more like several of those kinds of family units joined together. You're not all blood-related, nor even by marriage for that matter. Family, as you know it, is a choice.

You're part of Roland's family because your great-great-grandfather joined Roland's great grandfather's pack. The only reason you'd ever leave the family is if you were cast out or if by some miracle you find a soulmate. That idea makes you snort to yourself. Yeah, right. Already approaching your late twenties, you're starting to consider maybe you're just a really fucked up anomaly when it comes to designations. Most of your kind present just into their early twenties. It's unheard of for someone your age to not know where they fit in the hierarchy. Even if you were to present tomorrow, not everyone gets a soulmate, you have to be extra special for that. No, you're pretty sure that's off the table for you. Speaking of table...

"-this time next year, if we're lucky it won't be th-" Lou is speaking again, explaining to Roland the best process to roll over the vegetable fields.

The smack of your palm hitting the polished wood surface of the table cuts him off. You're not normally this hostile, but this is just an itch you can't seem to scratch. All eyes go to you, narrowing. You know you're being a bit hot-headed, but honestly, why can't they just fucking listen to you? You ask as much. "Why can't you see the obvious fix to this issue?" You lurch out of your chair, the back of your knees knocking it so hard it almost topples. "That land, the land you refuse to acknowledge as being taken from us, is fertile. We grew plenty there before the Jeon's snatched it up. It's close enough to the river that the irrigation possibilities alone would make it worth it. Stop being such a...a-...being such a..." You swallow hard, throat suddenly parched. Black spots pop up in your vision, the maps go out of focus before you on the table. "If you wo-would j-jus-st," the words slur from your mouth.

Why is it so hot in here? You tug at the collar of your shirt, willing some air past the fabric to cool your heated skin. A hand clamps hard on your shoulder, a blurred face looms before yours. You can faintly hear your name being called, sounding miles away. Words, drifting in and out like they're caught in a swirling wind, come just close enough that you can snatch a few here and there.

Okay?

Towel

Ice

Presenting

No. This can't be happening right now. You shake your head sharply from side to side to dispel the absurdity, but it only proves to worsen the ache settling behind your eyes. There isn't enough oxygen in the room, your lungs don't want to fully expand. You're hyperventilating. "Hot," you manage to croak out, staggering back from the hand on your shoulder. The last thing you want is to be touched right now. Everything burns. Somehow you've ended up on your knees, clutching your head in your hands.

"Sweetie," the voice of your mother is like aloe against the pain. "Shh," she coos softly.

"Mom," you whimper, dropping your hands and trying to lift your head to seek her out.

She's kneeling beside you, her graying hair spilling over her shoulder as she leans forward. "It's okay, sweetie, it'll pass soon." You reach out trembling hands, needing her comfort. "Not right now, we have to wait for it to pass," she murmurs brokenly. Part of her aches with you, knowing what you're experiencing. Presenting for a female is different than it is for a male. Biology, always giving someone the short end of the stick. "Just lay down, like that, good." Her constant praise and gentle words keep you grounded.

You slump down onto the cool tile floor of the conference room. Your shirt clings to you, sweat-soaked and uncomfortable. "Hurts," you whine. Everything hurts. You roll onto your side, curling in on yourself. Everything in your abdomen cramps up, a powerful force that makes you whimper low in your throat.

"Here, the ice and towel," it's the voice of your dad. He sounds so concerned, you want to go to him, tell him it's okay. Another wave of nausea steals your breath before you can even begin to form words of comfort.

A sudden coolness is pressed to your brow. The smallest bit of relief in the inferno that is consuming you. "Why is it taking so long?" The voice of your pack alpha is brisk, borderline brutish, and laced with...something, something new, something you've never heard before.

"Ro, sometimes these things take time. There's never been someone presenting as late as she is, it could just be her body working harder to adjust." Again, your mother's words soothe you. Your mother is what many would call a den mother of sorts. She takes care of everyone. Though she isn't an alpha, she sure as hell can act like it sometimes, commanding those around her with just a look. Even Roland won't challenge your mother most of the time. Usually, it's the pack omega's place to be in charge like that. However, after Roland's wife and soulmate, your family's most recent pack omega, passed away a few years ago, your mother fell into the role until another alpha, and their soulmate, take Roland's place.

"What's that smell?" Louis sniffs the air, wrinkling his nose. "It's way too sweet."

A low rumble sounds from Roland, making you flinch. The burning starts to ease, cramps dissipate slowly. Your muscles and arms continue to tremble as you stretch out onto your back. The lights overhead are bright, you have to blink several times before you can keep your eyes open and assess your situation.

"Mom?" You test your tongue against your teeth, prodding at your now slightly elongated canines. "What happened?"

Your mom's beautiful face comes into view, blocking out the blinding lights overhead. "Oh! My sweet, beautiful daughter." She places a cool palm against your cheek and thumbs away a tear you didn't know was there. "It finally happened, sweetie, you presented." There are tears glistening in her eyes, a brilliant smile forms on her lips.

"I did?" You ask hesitantly. She helps you sit up, careful that you don't move too quickly and get dizzy.

"You did, princess," your father's voice is rough, full of emotion. He hasn't called you princess since you were a kid.

There are odd smells in the air. You scrub at your nose with the end of your shirtsleeve. The smells make your nose burn, like walking into a candle shop during the holidays, it's overwhelming.

"What does...?" You trail off, not sure how to ask. Shouldn't you know? You'd think your body would be able to tell you what you are. But, right now, your body just seems confused. There is too much going on around you. The smells, the bright lights, the subtle shift in the air that makes the fine hair along your arms stand up.

Roland steps into your view. He looks so much bigger now for some reason. It must be because you're sitting on the floor at his feet. His dark eyes stare into yours and you know he's measuring your worth. For a moment you think he might hit you, his fists clench at his sides, you hear the faint creak of leather as his shoulders bunch beneath his vest. You're waiting for him to speak, maybe offer something, a crumb of explanation but all he does is glance at your father and shake his head before swiftly exiting the conference room.

You're confused even more now. You look to your mother and open your mouth to ask but she just holds up a hand to silence you. "Roland was just trying to see whether or not you could be...well, whether or not...Mari..." You blanch, eyes going wide at the mention of Roland's late soulmate. Why in the hell would he think you have anything to do with Mari? Your mother quickly continues, "It's just that, well, sweetie, you've presented as omega."

You think you might pass out.

🌘🌗🌕🌓🌒

"Mom, can we not make a big deal about this?" You grumble as she grabs another giant, fluffy ball gown from the rack on the wall.

She turns a cool eye on you. "This is a right of passage," she doesn't snap at you, but you can tell her patients with your increasing distress over everything is wearing thin. "I don't care how old you are. Even if you were fifty, I'd still be dressing you in silk and parading you around the flaming estate for all to see. Now, I don't want to hear another word of protest about it."

It's been a week since you presented as...omega. You still cringe thinking about it. It's not that you don't want to be an omega, you're just not sure why everyone keeps treating you like you're made of glass now. You know Omegas are rare, even more rare than an Alpha. But, it's bad enough you feel like every alpha in your family wrinkles their nose at you, saying you smell kind of funny. They don't smell so great themselves. You just wish they would treat you the same as before.

Your dad explained that because omegas are the only designation an alpha can be truly mated with, we're talking soulmate level bonding, all the alphas in your family have been trying to determine whether your scent matches theirs. It doesn't. The way you smell puts them on edge, their alpha knows you're an omega and they also know that either your true mate hasn't been born yet (maybe never will) or they're part of another family. That last possibility doesn't make anyone happy.

You puff out your cheeks and follow behind your mom as she grabs a few more gowns. She's reserved the entire shop for the whole day, just so you could spend several hours being poked and prodded by the seamstress, to find the perfect gown for your designation celebration.

"I'm sorry I'm being a bit of a mood-killer, mom. It's all just so much already. Everyone is treating me differently and none of my friends seem to want anything to do with me anymore."

Her eyes soften, full of knowing. "Aww, sweetie, I know it's not easy. You just have to understand, being omega means things are going to be different. Granted, I don't know from personal experience, but you know how close Mari and I were. You'd have thought we were weened on the same teet," she chuckles brightly, remembering her best friend, "she confided in me just how demanding it was to be omega. Now, I'm not trying to scare you or anything, but you need to understand that nothing is going to be the same for you moving forward. People are going to look at you differently, they might be wary of you at first, but eventually, that wariness turns into reverence and respect. You're part of the hierarchy now, but a rare part that many could go their entire lives without encountering. So, of course, they're going to treat you a little differently at first. It's lucky that our family has experience with omegas, Mari is a fresh memory for us all."

You get it, you really do, but that doesn't make it any easier. Mari always seemed happy, even after she fell ill, she was quick with a smile and comforting words for any who needed it. "Thanks, mom." You smile but it doesn't quite reach your eyes. Perhaps, all it will take is some time. Time for everyone to adjust.

"Come on, let's get you to try these gowns on. Jules said she'll need at least a week for any alterations and we don't have much more time than that before the full moon. Lots of work to do!" You can't help but smile as your mother continues to chatter about the preparations for your designation celebration. You'd endure this a thousand times over just to see her bright eyes and smile. It's not like your parents will get this experience again. You're their only child, quite uncommon, but your mom had a rough time getting pregnant and an even tougher time being pregnant. No, you can't keep being a stick in the mud over this party, your mom and dad deserve better than that.

The rest of the day passes in a blur of satins and silks. The gown you and your mother finally decide on is exquisite and you're honestly, if a bit surprisingly, looking forward to wearing it. The plunging neckline accentuates your full breast, the tapered waist gives a nice defining line to the swell of your hips. It's rich, violet silk that shifts to darker tones of indigo under the lights. It's floor length with a slit that hits you mid-thigh on one side. The back of the gown is one large panel of intricate, dainty lace with iridescent moon opal accents sewn in the shape of a giant crescent moon in the center of the back. The shiny stones match the moon opal necklace and earrings your mother passed down to you on your eighteenth birthday. They were gifted to her by her mother when she presented. The silver heels that peek out from beneath the hem complete the look perfectly. Your hair is pinned perfectly with thick curling tendrils cascading just so.

The full moon arrives before you know it, the preparations for your party continued right up until just an hour ago when your mother shooed you away upstairs to begin getting ready. Roland is hosting your party, his lavish and extensive home the apex of your pack's land. The sprawling mansion has been in the family for many generations, each new alpha adding his own flair. A man of few words and fewer niceties, Roland begrudgingly allowed your mother to redecorate the bottom floor of his home for tonight. There are beautiful strands of garland wrapping around banisters, beautiful and exotic rugs covering the white marble floors, and flickering candles blaze on every available surface. It's to be a grand affair, one your family will be known for, for years to come.

"You look beautiful," your father states softly. The tender look in his eye makes your heart ache. There is pride shining there, pride in seeing his little girl all grown up, despite being well into your twenties. That's a fact you've tried to remind him of the last few days. Each time he just waves a hand in the air, dismissively, and proclaims you'll never be too old to be his little girl.

There is a swift knock at the door that draws your attention. Before you can move to open it, the door swings open to reveal Roland. He's dressed in a smart suit, charcoal gray with subtle black pinstripes and a white collared shirt. "The Jeons. Really?"

"Now, Ro, let's not get heated over this," your dad begins, stepping around you.

The alpha huffs a low growl. "You expect me to not get heated over them being invited into my house?"

"Dad, what is he talking about? Ro," you turn to your pack leader, "what are you talking about?"

Roland's eyes drift from your father to you. "Apparently, it seems your parents have decided to invite everyone to your designation party. Everyone."

Your eyes flash, heat rises under your skin. "I'm sorry," you turn to your father, hands going onto your hips, "you did what?!"

Your father puffs up his chest, meeting both your and Roland's challenges glares. "She's presented as omega, Roland. You know as well as I do, that means everyone gets invited. Bad blood and feuds are put to bed for the night and we all grit our teeth, plaster on a smile, and celebrate."

You want nothing more than to scream. The last thing you need tonight is seeing any of those smug, land stealing assholes. Five years ago the youngest Jeon presented as alpha and took over their family. He's the one that pushed their borders, he's the one that took land from your family...and now he's going to be showing up at your party. That scream demands to be released. "I need a minute," you grate out between your clenched teeth.

Your dad at least has the graces to give you an apologetic look. "Okay, honey, but don't be too long. Guests are already arriving downstairs. I'll send your mother up in a few."

Your stomach is in knots. You knew for an omegas designation celebration that it's customary to invite all packs. It's a night for rejoicing, a night for true celebration that should put even the worst enemies into good spirits around one another. Your designation is so rare it can bridge the gap between centuries-long blood feuds. If the Jeons are coming then that surely means the Kims, Jungs, Mins, and Parks will be in attendance, too. They're not all of the same family, but they're so close they might as well merge ties. Then, on the other hand, you know the Bartons will be here, too. If there is one centuries-old blood feud that is famous above the rest, it's between the Parks and the Bartons. You're not even really sure why, something about a stolen pack omega some four hundred years ago. Longer than anyone can really remember to get the story right.

The night air is cool as you push open the double doors leading out onto the balcony of your borrowed room. Roland's house is big enough to house many guests when the need arises. This particular room is fairly secluded, overlooking the small rose garden off of the east wing. If you crane your neck and lean out over the railing you can see the lights from the large patio and pool deck. The back doors are wide open, the sound of music faintly carrying to your ears. The patio and giant pergola are draped in twinkling fairy lights. You see bodies moving around, mingling and wonder if any of the figures you see are people you've sworn as your enemy.

You can smell the rose garden below, fragrant even this late in the season. The wind picks up, pulling your hair over your shoulder, the strands tickling along the side of your neck. You take a deep breath to calm yourself. As you fill your lungs with the cool night air you freeze. On the undercurrent of the breath you just inhaled, there is something...something strange. A smell you've never smelled before. You take another large lungful of air, catching the faint scent again. You can't place it. It's heady and intoxicating. You want to stand here and pull in large breaths until you go fuzzy in the head. Whatever it is, it smells delicious.

Before you can take in another tantalizing lungful the door to your room opens. Your mom's light voice breaks through your hazy fog, "it's time, sweetie, let's present you to the world."

Next Chapter⇾ ◅ Back to chapter list  

◅ Back to Master List ©️       2022-02-14   ColorMePurplex2

[frecklenog]

after spending an evening listening to jessie gender tell me about starfield, capitalism, gender, selfhood, and ursula k leguin, i had. some Thoughts about another science fiction series; one you're probably at least somewhat familiar with if you follow this blog or watch ms gender's videos.

to start off; hey. this is partially based on my own experiences, my understanding of them, and how that lens can be applied to star trek. it's also very much inspired by the work of jessie earl, whose channel i can't recommend enough. she's funny, intelligent, kind, and an incredibly gifted writer, and she's a gift to both the star trek, trans, and "video essay youtuber" communities. show her some love!

that said, i want to start by looking at star trek. we all know the vulcans, don't we? pointy ears, green blood — spock's dad's side of the family. gifted with telepathic abilities, vulcans are practitioners of the mind meld, also called things like a mind link, probe, touch, or fusion, which is exactly what it sounds like. it allows two (or more, on occasion) sentient life forms to exchange thoughts as though they were one being.

of course, this kind of thing is common in media. steven universe has gem fusions, which should be examined from a plural viewpoint in their own right. x-man charles xavier almost routinely delves into the minds of others. but rarely does it have any lasting impact on the characters. even star trek itself falls into this, with doctor leonard mccoy not getting nearly enough screentime in the voyage home to show off what must have been the intensely strange experience of carrying spock's katra within him. (maybe that's addressed in a novelization or comic that i'm just unaware of, but regardless, i haven't seen it, and i think that's a travesty. (and if you know of a book where that gets touched on oh my god give me the fucking link now-))

there are instances of star trek mind melds having lasting effects, as discovery shows part of sarek's katra being permanently linked to michael burnham, though that could be considered an extenuating circumstance, what with her being on death's doorstep at the time of the meld. which most trek fans probably already know, and is honestly more fantastical than i care to bother reading with a plural lens. however, star trek is a fandom with nearly sixty years of history, including hundreds of books and comics from various authors and publishers. these stories are plentiful, bizzare, and sometimes outright terribly written. i don't blame anyone for not having read them all — to do so seems like a terrifying task.

but the one i want to look at right now is a particular run of the star trek: the next generation comic, published in 2000 by wildstorm comics.

the run is called perchance to dream — a lovely, flourishing name for a comic where half of the plot could be it's very own jessie gender video for how much sexual weirdness goes on (but i'll leave that to the professionals). the part we're going to focus on is that the b-plot of the run surrounds captain jean luc picard, captain of the uss enterprise-d. the comic is set after the events of the star trek: the next generation season 3 premiere, best of both worlds: part 2. in that episode, the captain had been disconnected from the borg hivemind (after being assimilated in part 1), and he returned to duty as usual at the end of the episode (though he does choose to go on leave in the following episode). it's also set after another episode from later on in season 3, — episode 23, sarek, wherein picard preformed a mind meld with sarek in order to allow the aging ambassador better emotional control, as it was being ravaged by his bendii syndrome — essentially, vulcan dementia.

the a-plot of the run isn't really important to us, i'm afraid — although it reveals to us in the second issue that worf accidentally killed a kid on another soccer team as a child. suffice to say, one of the abilities of the aliens the crew has to play diplomacy with is that they can prod into people's traumas through their nightmares. they have a lot going on. it's a comic book from 2000, what did you expect?

and, speaking of things that are easily dated, the third issue of the run brings us to the second part of today's topic.

image id: a comic book page. beginning at the top, a narration box reads: "chief medical officer's log, stardate 48503.8. lieutenant commander data, doctor selar, and i have gone through the damiano [alien] records regarding the chova. while no direct way to combat the weapon was ever developed we have discovered that certain people were immune to the chova's effects and could destroy the weapon." doctor beverly crusher is beside the narration box, depicted from the shoulders up, facing slightly to the right and saying "there has to be another way." a vulcan -- doctor selar -- is viewed from the waist up, holding a padd in her right hand and facing to the right of the page. she is saying "we have been over the records six times a piece, doctor. if there is anything to find, it is likely that we would have found it by now." data, an android designed to appear as a human with pale yellow plastic skin, is holding a book slightly behind doctor selar. his mouth is slightly open as he speaks. "i believe doctor selar is correct. this is the only course of action open to us under the circumstances." to the right of this panel is another shot of beverly from the shoulders up, this time facing to the left. her expression is stern as she says "i know, i know, it's just-- it could kill him." in the next panel. beverly is shown from the back, and captain jean-luc picard enters, saying "you sent for me, doctor?" beverly responds, "yes, jean-luc. please sit down." below this, the left panel takes most of the remaining page. this time we see captain picard from the back, while beverly faces the reader head-on, speaking first. "we've gone through the records chief du're [irrelevant one-off character from the a-plot] provided. it turns out that there was one group of people who were immune to the chova when it was first used. mpd's." jean-luc repeats "mpd's?" curiously. to the right, data is shown from the shoulders up, saying; "mpd stands for multiple personality disorder. mpd can come about through psycholo--" but beverly interrupts him; "not now, data." end id.

ah, multiple personality disorder. a term that hasn't been clinically used since 1994. these days, we call this dissociative identity disorder (did), but it's one dissociative disorder of many, which is what beverly is talking about. for whatever reason, people with this sort of dissociative plurality seem to be immune to the specific trauma nightmares induced by these aliens. (finally, some good news.)

okay, neat! so, dissociative disorders and plurality have been canonically addressed in star trek. let's see how it goes!

image id also available unbroken in alt text. image id pt 1: beginning in the top left corner, beverly is shown from the shoulders up, facing the right side of the page as she speaks. "the point is the people who are afflicted with more than one personality would destroy the chova before it could affect them. the chova was only built for one personality. mpds would literally overwhelm it." in the next panel, to the right, picard is shown from the chest up, partially obstructed by speech bubbles. facing right, he asks; "how does this help us?" beverly is also in this right panel, although from behind, and nearly completely obfuscated by speech bubbles. she answers; "well, mpd was never a common occurance, and it's almost unheard of these days.there've only been two cases reported in the federation in the last two hundred years -- and damiano [the alien planet] hasn't seen a case in the last fifty."beverly continues. "however, we do have someone on the enterprise who has the makings of a classic mpd. i'd like your permission to ask this person to volunteer to undergo a mind-meld with doctor selar in order to bring the submerged personalities to the fore."

this particular line, i take umbrage with, as dissociative disorders are a lot more common than people might think, and star trek has shown us a future as tumultuous as our own present for decades. there would absolutely be people experiencing some level of multiplicity in everyday life both within the federation and without. but, again, this was written in the 90s, i think? i don't know how long it takes a team of professionals to make a comic book. but, i digress.

image id pt 2: picard responds; "permission granted, as long as it remains on a volunteer basis. who is the officer in question?" below, the leftmost panel is larger than the right. beverly crusher is shown in profile, facing right, with doctor selar and data behind her from the chest and shoulders up. picard is on the right of the page, slightly smaller, but also in profile, facing right to contrast beverly as he listens to her speak. "it's someone who's been exposed to an especially intense vulcan mind-meld, who lived another life for thirty-five subjective years— and who had a second personality grafted onto his own for a brief period by the borg. the next panel takes the entire width of the page, and much of the height. picard is shown in the middle, standing in a purple void. around him are three other male characters shown in bust. from left to right, they are; kamin, a humanoid man bearing great resemblance to an older imagining of jean-luc picard, wearing a plain blue shirt. sarek, a vulcan with grey hair, a turquoise shirt, and a green stone amulet on a large gold chain around his neck. he is cast in shadow and his eyes are not visible. locutus, an ashen version of jean-luc picard, with about a third of his face obscured by black metal exoplating and implants that surround his right eye. tubes come off of his face and neck, trailing behind him, and a red light made to shine at his point of focus shines from the side of his head. there are several yellow narration boxes, which read as follows. "sarek of vulcan. picard mind-melded with the legendary ambassador in order to lend him strength for an important negotiation — an act that almost cost picard his sanity." "kamin of kataan. a probe sent out by kataan before their sun went nova allowed picard to live most of kamin's adult life as a way to remember his people."

oh, yeah. did... did i not mention that that happened?

basically, he was targeted by a device that beamed him into the world's most immersive vr game — kind of like the one from rick and morty? if you watched that? if you didn't, sorry for bringing it up, and if you did, ditto. but it forced picard to live out an entire life as though he'd been abducted by aliens and placed in a sims game. though, ultimately, the plot intricacies of the inner light are beside my point.

image id pt 3: "locutus of borg. quite simply, the greatest nightmare of picard's entire life. the subversion of his intellect, his will, his very self to the collective of the borg." "all three are part of him, but they do not dominate. if picard does as doctor crusher suggests, he will subsume himself in order to let the others come to the fore. for sarek, for kamin, he would be willing." "but locutus--?" the next panel takes a little more than half of the remainder of the page. a narration box in the upper left reads; "then he thinks of his first officer, counselor, chief of security, chief engineer, and all the others who have fallen victim to this vicious weapon." the rest of the panel shows two sleeping figures, both humanoid, in what is presumably sickbay. the last panel takes the remainder. a narration box in the upper left reads; "and jean-luc picard makes the only decision he is capable of making." captain picard is shown from the shoulders up, facing slightly to the left and saying; "what do i need to do?" below his speech bubble is another yellow text box, which reads "to be concluded..."

...which is how issue 3 leaves us.

fortunately, we can pick up in issue 4 with ease, since these comics are over twenty years old. i'm going to do my best to limit my use of comic pages, juuuuust in case, but once we reach the sixth page, with the credits...

image id: a two-page spread. beginning in the uppermost left corner, narration boxes read; "welcome to the mind of jean-luc picard." "'locutus' was a personality superimposed upon picard when he was taken by the borg, meant to serve as the spokesperson for that cybernetic race's ruthless assimilation of what they described as the 'authority-driven culture' of the federation." "ambassador sarek of vulcan suffered from bendii syndrome. in order to keep the effects of this devastating illness from endangering his final mission, sarek entered into a deep mind-meld with picard in order to give the ambassador emotional control and stability." "kamin was a prominent member of the community of ressik on the long-dead world of kataan. a probe sent by the kataan people allowed picard to live kamin's life for several subjective decades, although less than half an hour passed in reality." "all of these personalities have made up a part of jean-luc picard, but he remained dominant." "until now." "this is the mind of jean-luc picard." the left page is mostly taken up by a large illustration of locutus, drawn in far more detail than before. trailing off to the right are two tubes or wires, as well as a speech bubble that reads "resistance is futile." also on this page are the details of the comic title, run, issue number, writers/artists, and copyright. taking up most of the right half of the right page is sarek of vulcan, drawn in less detail than locutus, but easily recognizable. his hair is a lighter grey, he is wearing white and cream robes and an amber amulet on a thick gold ring around his neck, and he is holding up his right hand in a vulcan salute/ta'al. depicted below sarek is kamin, drawn from the shoulders up, wearing a plain white shirt with a collar. below kamin is captain picard, also shown from the shoulders up, in his starfleet uniform, and surrounded by four lights, with two on either side of him. (there is also further copyright information beside him in fine print.)

...i'm pretty sure that this analysis falls under the "commentary" part of fair use. right?

but, regardless, this is kind of a huge thing to drop in a comic that virtually no one has bothered to read. i mean, especially when, amidst the clashing of picard's plurality with the a-plot, we get this panel;

image id: a single comic panel. kamin is shown from behind, speaking to locutus and sarek within a noneuclidean space with four circular white lights shining in the distance. "what is going on?" kamin asks. "we have been subdued for too long. but now we shall dominate, as we were meant to." locutus replies. sarek interrupts. "your logic is flawed, locutus. we are all merely aspects of jean-luc picard's mind." "you may be sarek of vulcan, but we are of the borg."

sarek is able to acknowledge himself, kamin, and locutus as "aspects" of captain picard, despite picard rarely if ever sensing them or their influence. picard is being, not just implied, but explicitly stated to have a latent form of plurality, and perchance to dream depicts it in a way that strikes true to members of my own system, at times, with certain alters first making themselves known in the front already well aware of who they are, and having existed without the my knowledge due to dissociative barriers that only came down later in life.

unfortunately, because this is a star trek media, locutus ends up assimilating kamin in the headspace and forcing himself into the front. however, as he does it, he says something that does, to an extent, resonate with the experience of being one among many, for better or worse.

image id: a single comic panel. locutus is shown facing the viewer, and his chin and the top of his head are cut off by the borders of the panel. his light breaks the plane of the panel to simulate the effect that it is shining into the "camera." locutus's mouth is open as he speaks; "for too long you have suppressed us, picard. but you are of the borg."

plurality is a defense mechanism by the brain to protect against trauma. it is, from what i have seen, more common among those who are already neurodivergent, which already presents in a myriad of ways. mixing the ugly truth of trauma with the raw reality of mental illness caused by it can result in certain alters feeling as though they are being suppressed by not being allowed to front and live their own life, depending on how the system functions. admittedly it is more common in fictional depictions of dissociative disorders for these alters to simply live their own lives in secret anyway, as is the case in the marvel tv series moon knight with marc spector, steven grant, and jake lockley (along with the other possible members of their system who may or may not be present depending on the canon, but those are the main three). but, in reality — or at least my experience — this more often translates to alters making themselves social media accounts, or using services like tupperbox or pluralkit on discord, or finding other ways to more discretely express themselves, such as icon changes or status updates.

but, getting back to star trek, this is ultimately a one-off comic. so captain picard saves the day with his secret alters, ends the mind meld with doctor selar, and goes back to living his life as a singlet, ready for the people of the future to be able to easily comprehend without having to read a very specific comic run from 2000.

...right?

image id: part of a comic page. each panel takes up roughly one quarter of the page each. in the first panel, counselor deanna troi is seen standing, having just entered captain picard's ready room. picard is shown from the back, sitting at his desk. "counselor! good to see you up and about." he greets her. "it's good to be up and about." she responds. "playing some old tunes?" [picard had been playing the ressikan flute prior to her entry.] picard responds. "mmm. i wanted to make sure that i still remembered how." in the next panel, we look over counselor troi's shoulder and across the desk at captain picard. "were you worried that you wouldn't?" she wonders. "actually, yes," picard answers. "after what happened..." the third panel shows picard facing the viewer head-on from the shoulders up. he continues, "i suppose i knew intellectually how close to the surface locutus, sarek, and kamin were. but i never really thought about it. they were — memories, experiences. no different from any other. but they're much more than that." the fourth panel shows counselor troi, facing slightly to the right as she speaks. "not much more. all three of them are part of you. but the important word is you. the fragmentation was artificially induced." picard asks; "was it?"

ultimately, yes, this is a one-off comic run that isn't very well known, and i only read because i took a personal interest in the subject matter. i knew going in that it wasn't going to fundamentally change the entire fandom's understanding of captain picard, or make the star trek fandom an instant haven for systems everywhere. but, still, captain picard has his doubts, and that truly touched me when i first read it as someone who was actively reckoning with the fact that past traumas that had impacted me more than i realized.

the comic goes on for a while longer, but the last thing it has to say on the subject of plurality is this.

image id: a single comic panel. counselor troi is seated in one of the chairs in captain picard's ready room, facing him from across his desk. she is on the left, facing partially right, and he is on the right, in profile facing left. the dialogue reads as follows. picard wonders, "was it [the dissociative fragmentation of his identity] truly a creation of the mind-meld, or was it simply breaking a dam that was already cracked?" riker interrupts over the comm. "riker to picard." "go ahead, number one," picard tells him. "it's time to beam down to damiano for the ceremony, sir." "thank you, commander."

and that's it. picard asks a question, then gets called away and never tells us his answer.

i think, at least subconsciously, that might be part of why i held star trek: picard to such a high standard.

to be clear, i hadn't read this comic when the first season of picard was coming out. but i was starting to grapple with my plurality, and i used fictional media as a means to do that (as is still evidenced by things like my system simon tag). the first season of the show was centered around both picard's relationship with both his legacy and his history with the borg collective. as mentioned in perchance to dream, captain picard had previously been assimilated by the borg collective — a cybernetic hivemind from the delta quadrant that absorbed cultures and species into itself, effectively wiping out the cultural histories of entire planets, at times, in their quest to become the "perfect" life form through a combination of genetic engineering and mechanical augmentation. and, as this happened, i came to know a young man named hugh who took form within my mind. a fictional introject, or fictive, of the character of the same name from season 5, episode 23, i, borg. with his help, i grew to further understand my own plurality, and saw the potential for our stories to be told in the wake of reclamations from the borg collective. the reclamation project became a hyperfixation, and—

and then came the jurati collective.

my own system bears no connection to the jurati collective, but it is a wonder, and can be examined through a plural lens as an allegory for our own experiences as dissociatives. many consciousnesses, all working together as one towards a common goal, and willingly. after all, what is a system if not a hive within one body?

and then came picard's third season, completely ignoring her, along with all the unique perspectives that stories surrounding her might have offered in favor of what felt like a final next generation movie.

ignoring me, it felt like.

is that silly? probably. but, try as i might, i am human, and so i have a propensity for illogic — no matter how much my autistic brain craves structure and definitive explanations in order to understand the world.

i'll be honest, i'm not sure how to end this. but, sometimes i remember the time in season 6, episode 20, the chase, when picard became incredibly excited about an ancient alien society that believed people were, indeed, collectives within themselves.

"...the kurlan civilisation believed that an individual was a community of individuals. inside us are many voices, each with its own desires, its own style, its own view of the world." -captain jean-luc picard

and i realize that, with the core tenant of this series lying in the infinite diversity of both the known and the unknowable — the building blocks are already in place. star trek is a media that has grown over the decades, and hopefully will continue to do so, because there are still so many ways for new and interesting and meaningful stories to be told within this franchise.

but, if you can't summon your representation from a nostalgiabait sequel/reboot within a preexisting intellectual property... there's nothing to stop you from crafting your own story and letting loose as many systems as you like.

[tb-gerschutz]

Three

Word Count: 2,087

Trigger Warning(s): explosive temper/extreme anger, persuasion/attempted brainwashing, verbal arguing

Summary: King Brandeth is angry that his daughter escaped from her execution and fled to Dorne.

**********

BRANDETH

How could she do such a thing to me? Out of all the things she has done, this had to be the most out-of-line. I always knew that she was an extremely spirited, headstrong individual who is the perfect mix between me and her mother, but this...this was extremely deviant. How could my daughter—my dear Anaysha—be such a deviant person like this? That is definitely not the way you ascend to the throne, my dear. That will never be the way to get to the throne. I swear on my life that if she ever tries something like this again...you know what? There will never be another chance for her because once she arrives back here, she'll be dead.

I will not make an exception for her execution just because she is my daughter.

That's when I started plotting different scenarios into my head. How could I possibly bring Anaysha back here? I know all too well that she won't be coming back any time soon, so I had to come up with a plan. A plan so impeccable that poor Anaysha would not notice a thing. Not even the tiniest detail.

I was even so lost in my thoughts that I didn't even notice my eldest quietly walking in. Why he was there was quite simple. I had called him, telling him that I simply needed to talk to him about something. Something that will most certainly affect him and his future with this kingdom.

"You wanted to see me, Father?" he questioned.

I turned away from the fireplace to face my eldest son, who was almost an exact copy of me. Sure, he had some traces of his mother in him, but he looked mostly like myself.

"Yes, I did. I needed to talk to you about something rather important."

"Whatever it is, Father, I will listen with open ears," Crodell said firmly.

I inhaled sharply before telling my son the advice that I wanted to share with him. "It's time you start learning the tips and tricks into being a good king since you'll be taking over the throne after I die."

He then joined my side, showing at least some interest in what I had to offer. I considered it crucial advice for when you're ready to take the throne, but I wasn't sure of what Crodell thought of it.

"You have to understand, Crodell, that it takes a lot of courage and guts to be a king. You have to be able to use all that pent-up power against other people. Without doing that, you simply cannot get anything," I started as I showed Crodell the seaside view on a nearby balcony. "Without power, you simply cannot gain all of this. This will all be yours someday, Crodell. But you have to have enough strength to control all this and more."

Crodell looked hesitant after I said that in such a cruel tone. "Do I really get all of this one day?" he asked.

"Of course, son. Once it is time, you shall inherit the throne and the land that comes with it. But in order to get all this, you need to be firm and demanding. Don't let others stop you on your path to greatness," I explained.

Crodell hesitated. "But do we need to use such aggressive methods all the time?"

I turned my head to Crodell, being dumbfounded by what he just asked me. Usually, my eldest would always go along with my word, obeying it down to the last detail. His question, however, indicated something different. It was like he was veering away from his typical behavior, which is something I didn't want. I expected my son—and all of my children—to obey my every command without questioning it. After the ongoing debate I have with Anaysha, I don't want the same to happen with any of my other children, especially Crodell—the heir to the throne.

"What are you talking about?"

"We don't necessarily have to use such aggression all the time," Crodell elaborated. "Sometimes, royals use diplomatic reasoning. Actually, Anaysha resorts to this usually and doesn't use aggression unless it is absolutely necessary."

My expression immediately changed. "Anaysha doesn't know any better about being a royal and shouldn't be trusted. She's a conceited brat, and you shouldn't listen to her over me."

"With all due respect, Father, Anaysha was only defending herself," Crodell answered.

"She may have tried to defend herself, but it won't last long, dear boy. Once she returns, she will immediately get beheaded for her crimes."

My son sighed. "If that's how you feel, then go ahead and do it. I simply do not have the power to stop you."

"You certainly do not, Crodell, because I am king! And you and your siblings will do exactly as I say. No exceptions!'

The doors to the throne room opened up, and in walked my highest-ranked servant, Luras Spirre. Although he was only about twenty-one years of age, this particular boy had surely and confidently flown high through the ranks and became a version of my right-hand man at quite the young age. He was an extremely gifted young boy with great intelligence in multiple areas and the confidence level of the highest-ranked royal. This young boy impressed me so much during our first initial meeting that I knew in an instant that he was going to make quite the impact in this kingdom.

"My Lord, Your Highness," he said, bowing to both me and Crodell. Such a generous boy!

Crodell and I turned to Luras to acknowledge his presence. "What is it, dear boy? Tell us the news that you bring before us."

"It's your daughter, My Lord," Luras announced quietly and somberly, as if he was afraid to tell me the news.

I yearned for more details. "I'm afraid you'll have to give more details. I have several daughters. Which one is the subject of your news?"

"Anaysha. The second eldest," Luras confirmed. "Word traveled and confirmed that Anaysha has escaped to Dorne, where she is allegedly residing in its capital of Sunspear."

Crodell turned to me. "Well, Father. You got your wish. You found out where Anaysha has fled to."

Luras had something to add on. "It gets worse, my Lord. I have yet to confirm it, but word has it that Anaysha has agreed to a courtship with Oberyn Martell, the crown prince of Dorne."

I couldn't believe what I heard, nor would I even consider believing it. I refused to believe that my insolent daughter would agree to a courtship with the most dangerous man in all of Westeros after I specifically told her not to. Granted, I tried to convince her that he was as dangerous as those claim, but she and her stubborn head wouldn't listen.

"Are you absolutely sure?"

"Like I said, my Lord, I cannot confirm the news yet. I'd advise you brace yourself just in case the news turns out to be true," Luras carefully advised.

The anger inside of me burned inside of me as though gasoline was fueling a fire. Even though it was boiling up to a high climax, I managed to somehow keep this anger from riddling me whilst Luras was still in the room.

"Thank you, Luras. I will look into this matter further," I said as he departed the room rather quickly.

As soon as he shut the door behind him, I let out a high-pitched, deafening scream that could've been heard across the whole castle. By this point, my family is used to my rage-fueled screams, so they didn't worry one bit. My son was completely unphased, mainly because, like the rest of my family, he was so used to my deafening yells and screams that had an angry undertone.

"At least we know where she is now," Crodell added, trying—to no avail—to lighten the mood.

"Yes. She's off in the kingdom of Dorne, probably fucking the most dangerous man in all of Westeros," I shouted.

Crodell raised one of his eyebrows. "I highly doubt that she'll be fucking him. Anaysha is pretty adamant when it comes to her boundaries and what she wants. She's good at saying no when she isn't quite ready."

"Even if she isn't, boy, she is still dabbling with the Red Viper after I specifically told her how dangerous he is. She deliberately disobeyed me!" I snarled in such a tone full of hatred and burning rage.

I paced about the room, trying ever so hard to not unleash my frustrations and anger out on my own child. Even though I was tempted to do so with my own daughter Anaysha, I was determined not to do so on my eldest son—the heir to the throne. This was my frustration that only I had to try and resolve. Crodell shouldn't be involved unless I directed him to be.

Then, I had an idea. An awful idea that I hadn't yet thought of throughout this ordeal. Why not have someone do my dirty work, while I stay here in Pyke Castle commanding them? It'd be as if they were the puppet, and I was their puppetmaster.

"Dravor! Get in here!" I shouted at the top of my lungs.

Not even a minute goes by before my highest-ranked military general Dravor Caerlight burst in. He was a giant of a man whose stature was much taller than mine. He made me feel like a meekling with his height and build, though I considered myself fairly muscular. Every moment that he unlocks his deadly stare, I tremble in the greatest fear I've ever felt.

"Yes, Your Highness?" Dravor questioned.

"Build up our military's offenses and prepare as if we're invading Dorne," I commanded with such force. "I don't want to invade Dorne quite yet, but I want to prepare our armies just in case."

Dravor nodded. "I will do just that, Your Highness."

As quickly as he emerged into the room, Dravor exited, leaving me and my son to ourselves in an atmosphere so tense and stressed.

"You're preparing the armies right now when there isn't a need to invade?" Crodell questioned.

"I am," I confirmed boldly.

"Why are you doing such a thing?"

"Oh, dear boy. I'm only doing this just in case we're threatened. I have a feeling that we will be threatened, so I'm preparing for the worst," I responded.

I could sense my son's frustrations building up to the surface, but they emerged a lot slower than mine did. "Now, who could possibly threaten the Iron Islands?"

"Anaysha, Oberyn Martell...it could be anyone," I answered.

"Anaysha is not dumb enough to do that, nor is Oberyn Martell," Crodell pointed out. "Oberyn Martell will only strike another kingdom if his kingdom of Dorne is threatened first."

I managed to suppress my anger and not unleash it on my own son. "We can't trust them. Not even your own sister."

That is when my son erupted, his anger shooting through the roof. "Why can't you just repair your relationship with Anaysha and put all of this behind?"

"I will not have a daughter that associates with the most dangerous bastard in all of Westeros, so no. I cannot and will not put this behind me."

"But, Father, she is your daughter, and she was only defending herself! Did you ever think that she is only doing this because she actually seeks comfort in someone so volatile? No, you never did! All because you're too conceited and selfish to take notice of your own children!"

"I will not have my own children supporting such a traitor like Anaysha, and that's the end of it!" I shouted, becoming so irate with what my son was possibly becoming. "Get out! Get out of here before I chop your head in place of Anaysha's!"

Crodell stormed out of the room, slamming the doors behind him. I was very irritated with him, mainly because I felt he was sympathizing with the enemy. The enemy that I saw in my own daughter. And despite her not doing anything to threaten me and her own kingdom, I was afraid of what she might do in the future, considering she now had the Red Viper in her back pocket. From this point forward, she was my enemy. The enemy that I feared. The enemy that I hoped would not be the reason for my downfall. The enemy that would, hopefully never, claim themselves to be the victorious, bigger dog in the fight. 

[sabraeal]

Truth in Masquerade, Chapter 7: In Wine, Truth

[Read on AO3]

Obiyuki Trope Madness 2022, Semifinal #1: Fake Relationship

Beneath his damasks and his silks, his brocades and his cambrics, Milan is warm. “I must thank you, cousin.” 

Not that Shirayuki expected to find him a dead fish beneath her fingertips, but there is a remove in his manner, a hesitation between thought and action that reminds her at times of Kiki-- perhaps even Izana, when that smile of his gives a clever curl. There’s a coolness beneath his cheerful facade, a reticence to be known. But as her palm stretches over the fine linen of his shirtsleeve-- we are family are we not? he laughed as his coat slumped over the elegant chair back. There’s no need for such formality, not on a night as fine as this-- heat radiates through it, the way it did through her father’s.

It’s almost a shock when his hand closes over hers and there’s not a single callus, not a single hint of a working hand. But maybe, in time, she’d find that an equal comfort as well. “Oh?”

“I had a delightful evening.” His mouth parts on a satisfied grin. “Surprisingly.”

“I...” would have, if I knew where Obi was. She hesitates, the truth dangling from the tip of her tongue. “We should do this again.”

His smirk smooths to a softer cousin, thumb brushing over the ribbed rise of her knuckles. It’s soothing-- or rather, it’s supposed to be. Her nerves jangle at the closeness, shoulders longing to flinch. She stifles it.

Soon, she would know him better. Soon, his easy affection would be as familiar to her as Suzu’s, or even Obi’s. Enjoying it would become first nature instead of second thought. But not yet.

“I agree.” His shoulder bumps into hers, playful; the way they might have if they were childhood companions, used to bending their heads together. The way they should have been, had her father and his uncle ever reconciled. “Maybe you will invite me next time.”

Shirayuki blinks. “To your own dinner?”

Laughter bounds across the room, bright and buoyant; the sort that bubbles out rather than expels. Shirayuki glances over her shoulder; there must be some servant her eyes have drifted over, a footman that she’s been too distracted to see. For surely, it cannot be--

No, but it is. That joyful sound spills from Milan’s mouth, like champagne overflowing its glass.

Artless, Eisetsu called her once, fondly. She must look it now, her mouth hanging open, eyes country wide. But surely her cousin cannot blame her, not when this is the first genuine noise he’s made in their short acquaintance. The first of many, she hopes.

“No, Shirayuki.” Even now his words stumble over his good humor, as wriggling and eager as puppies escaping their kennel. “To yours.”

Her jaw drops, slack. “O-oh. I...”

It had never crossed her mind that she might entertain at Tanbarun. Compared to her room in the dorms, a private bath and parlor seemed the height of luxury-- but these were only guest quarters, hardly the full compliment of rooms provided in the residential wing. A visiting pharmacist hardly needed more. But a margravine...

She shakes her head. The last thing she needs is to use that title where Raj’s father could hear. The room has a terrace, one with a fine view of the gardens-- Raj would allows her no less, as his special guest. Making it into a table fine enough for titles to sit around might take some elbow grease, but it’d be a cold day in Yuris before she’d let that get her down.

Ah, but there was that, um, one other problem...

“I’ll have to ask Obi about it.” Convince him, really. But Milan would take far too much joy from that little bit. “It would take a little doing.”

His smile cants knowingly. “Do not put yourself out, cousin, I was simply teasing. You know that I am happy enough to play host to your every wh--”

“No.” Ah, it comes out too firm, as if he’s a student rather than a cousin. But still, it makes him straighten, gazing down at her with wide eyes of his own. “It’s a fair enough request. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Really, you...” Milan hesitates, his smile uncertain. “I will look forward to it.”

Shirayuki nods. “Please do.”

His pace lingers as they reach the hall. Reluctant, almost, as he cups his palm over hers.

“I hope,” he murmurs, lifting her hand from his arm and into his own. “That if you cannot receive me here, cousin, you consider me as your first guest when you have settled at home.”

Again, she blinks, tilting her head for good measure. “You mean in Clarines?”

It would certainly be a shock for him. To see a blood relative of his living in a single room, mingling with the scholars at the commissary, sharing a bathroom-- well there would be no way to explain it, not to someone like Milan. How could he possibly understand what it was to spend a morning in the pharmacy before rushing back to the lab, working until even the moon found the hour too late? To only have time for a quick wash before falling face-first onto a mattress?

Impossible. And to say that his very own cousin has spent enough days without a place to rest her head that even a single room seems a luxury...surely he could never understand. Zen hadn’t when she told him of those desperate days making for the border, all on foot with no friendly face to greet her when she arrived elsewhere.

Thankfully, Milan spares her.

“No, my darling.” He pats her hand, too kind. “I mean your estate.”

Shirayuki stares. “My...”

“You do mean to visit, don’t you?” His smile is all sunny when he tells her, “I’ve heard the orchards at Entaepode are particularly divine this time of year.”

(For all that the days drag now that they’ve arrived in this pretty little trap-- and their nights too, even if he’s the only one between them that lays awake, staring at the ceiling, listening to her kitten snores and thinking far too much-- Miss’s jaw still drops when he asks, “So what are you going to do with the spoils?”

“Spoils?” Her voice cracks; he stifles a grin. “What do you mean?”

“His Majesty gave you a title,” Obi reminds her, so innocent, though he valiantly decides batting his eyelashes might be too much. “That usually comes with perks.”

“Perks?” she echoes, uncertain. Miss must be in a whole other country when it comes to this line of thought; he hasn’t even tried to be outrageous yet. “You mean marrying Raj?”

“No, Miss, I definitely do not mean marrying Prince Raj.” It’s a temptation to tease her-- why settle for marrying well when that title of yours could get you an experienced and entirely inappropriate lover?-- but that’s a dangerous road to forge down with someone like Miss.

Sure, she might blush and flap her hands and protest just the way he likes, but it’s equally likely she’ll turn to him with that sweet face set stern and say, there’s nothing inappropriate about you Obi.

It’d be a new angle on an old argument to be sure. One they’d had before every soiree in Lyrias, when she inquired if he’d be asking any of the North’s fine young debutantes to dance. It’d been a question that got funnier every year-- as if any of these mamas would hitch their pedigreed mares to his aging cart-- but Miss hadn’t thought so. Any lady would be lucky to catch your eye, she’d tell him again, title or no. 

He won’t survive it, hearing it again. Not when any lady would turn to I, and it would sound like-- like--

She could want him. That would please him in a different way, give him hope that maybe...maybe...

Haah. Even just thinking about that hurts. “I meant that titles come with things like positions. Or land. Estates.”

“Oh,” she hums, her curiosity banked. “You mean responsibilities.”

The fruit hangs too low for him to resist plucking it. “Why, Miss, are you complaining about your duty? I have to write to Suzu right away--”

“I’m not complaining!” She waves her hands at him, as if that’s ever warned him off from a joke as good as this. “It’s just...I have responsibilities already. A duty. And it’s not here.”

There’s something raw in her words, something that savors of a bear that’s taken one too many pokes, and Obi sits, balanced on the back of her sofa.

“I have classes to teach.” Her hands curl into fits, clutching at her too-fine skirt. “I have experiments I left running, and even if Ryuu is overseeing them, it can’t be forever. I have to help Yuzuri the next time one of the novices ruins a greenhouse, and I-- I want to go home. I have so much holding me in Clarines, I don’t need to be held here too.”

He leans in, knees knocking at her shoulder. “You don’t want to be held here, you mean.”

“I...” Politeness wars with honesty in her eyes; long and hard enough that she looks away before she answers, “No. I don’t want to have anything here to keep drawing me back. Except friendship. I can handle that duty.”

His mouth twitches. “Because Prince Raj is best handled in small but occasional doses.”

Her elbow nudges his calf. “Oh, come on, he’s not that bad.”

“Anymore.”

“Anymore,” she agrees. Her head tilts back beside his thigh, eyes clenched shut. “What am I going to do?”

There’s no good answer-- at least, not one they’ll both agree on-- so he just grins, sly enough that her eyes open in suspicion.

“Look on the bright side, Miss,” he tells her, far too sunny for a storm like this. “The wine’s always better on this side of the border.”)

It’s strange how empty the halls can feel when there’s only her walking down them. The carpets are plush, and the paintings and tapestries on the walls still jockey over every inch, but Shirayuki could swear that her breath echoes as she walks, chasing the muffled clack of her heels. She’d been too polite to roll her eyes when Obi told her how dangerous it was to walk these corridors alone, how exposed, but now-- now she feels naked, even fully clothed.

There’s no reason for it. She paces the halls of Wilant at all hours, and never once thought twice at being alone in Wistal. But here, in Tanbarun, there’s a target painted on her back, the way there never was in Clarines. Well, not since Obi stopped aiming at it.

Any moment she expects Obi to peel from the shadows, dress blacks buttoned all the way up to his neck, like wool and propriety could be armor too. Not the slightest bit of it would be wrinkled as he fell silently into step, the very picture of a concerned bodyguard-- or attentive lover, he would insist, mouth cocked. Oh, he’d certainly have things to say about dinner: the competence of the dishes, the ambiance of the terrace...the position of Milan’s hands in relation to her person. Things he couldn’t possibly know unless he’d been nearby. Ah, how he’d revel in telling her where he hid, how much he could hear, but--

But he never materializes. Not when she takes her first steps into the hall, nor during any point of her long walk back to her rooms. Even when she gets to her own door, he’s absent, not even his scent lingering in her rooms.

“Obi?” she calls out, voice trembling in the dark. She should light the lamps, something to keep the shadows from pressing too tight around her, to chase them back into their corners. Worry claws at her throat, a creature trying to gain purchase, trying to flee--

A squawk breaks through the night. A familiar, Obi-shaped one.

Her eyes narrow as she approaches the adjoining door. It’s far from her nature to keep silent, but her footsteps are swallowed whole by the carpet, making her approach as quiet as any sneak thief’s. Not that it matters; she could have an entire six band parade, complete with acrobats and elephants, and still it would have made less noise then the scene she finds.

“Don’t let me fall!” the prince and heir of Tanbarun yelps, sprawled across Obi’s back, long limbs practically choking him. “Eugena isn’t ready to rule!”

“I’m not--” Obi’s jaw dropping as he catches sight of her slippers, then her skirts, then-- “Miss. I can explain.”

“I cannot,” she says, eyeing the sprawl of shirts and sleeves across the floor, “guess how.”

Obi has to admit that Miss may have a point. “You see,” he attempts, wincing when the words slur. Ah, he should have said no to that fourth bottle. “His Highness started it.”

Miss does not reply, not in words. Oh no, she leaves that to her eyes, glaring at him with the sort of disappointment she usually keeps on a high shelf, just for Suzu. And the noise she makes, well...maybe another bottle might take the sting from it.

“Shirayuki,” Raj slurs, arm pulling tight around to make him gag. “You’ve arrived! We should celebrate.”

With a look so dry deserts would weep, Miss remarks, “It looks like you’ve already started without me.”

“My apologies!” Raj topples from his back, rolling onto the sofa with a deafening crunch. “I am but a creature of jollity, and I must spread it everywhere I go! Especially now that you have returned.”

Well, if anything’s broken it’s springs, not ribs. One thing he can finally be glad of. Even if breaking Tanbarun’s heir might be a quicker way to make an exit from this place, the king’s hope for a royal engagement long forgotten. Certainly better for his peace of mind than-- than--

Miss sweeps up beside him, an ankle flashing beneath her voluminous skirts, and he bites back a groan. That fifth bottle is looking better and better.

“How much having you been celebrating?” Miss approaches the word on eggshells, like a single wrong step will send it-- and them-- scattering to the four winds. She’d be right, if his princeliness was in any shape to do anything other than lay prone. “I see an empty bottle.”

It seems Miss must have attended the same classes on diplomacy as His Majesty; the “that can’t be it” remains unsaid, but thoroughly implied by the bracing look she fixes on him. One that also clearly communicates that’ll he’ll be giving her An Accounting before the night’s end.

He smothers a grin. Wouldn’t do to let her know he’s looking forward to it, after all.

“Oh, not to worry,” Raj assures her, arm flailing wildly toward the door, like the capital’s drunkest dancer. “It’s only that the footman hasn’t come yet. He’ll gather it up tout suite, just like the others.”

Obi could strangle him if it wouldn’t cause an immediate succession crisis. Or be the inciting event to put Rona’s ass end anywhere near the throne.

Miss must restrain herself; it’s the only explanation for how she strangles her shriek down to a range human ears can hear. “Others?”

“Four others,” His Highness informs her blithely, oblivious to her glare. A luxury he can only claim since it isn’t pinned to him. Oh no, it’s Obi who’s on her corkboard now, about to be preserved for posterity. “But do not let yourself feel even a shade of concern, Shirayuki, for Shenezard’s cellars are as deep as our pockets! I’ll have them bring out the best vintage just for you.”

Miss shakes her head,fingers braced on the bridge of her nose. “You are--”

“Too kind, I know.” He pats her hand, or at least he tries; each one ends up being more of a sloppy whack than the last. “Just give me but a moment to rest my eyes, and I’ll call one of my men up here in a...a snap.”

The next king of Tanbarun giggles, the way only the insensible can. With one last thrust of lucidity, his finger snap, loud as a thunder cap, and then they collapse straight to his chest, breath eliding into a snore.

Miss’s mouth purses, like a matron with her allowance. Only instead of money, Miss is short on patience.

“I already sent for Sir Sakaki.” Miss hasn’t fixed such a look on him since he got Ryuu thoroughly sussed a year ago at his coming-of-age.

(”I understand that boys need secrets,” Miss murmurs, letting the door to the privy swing half shut behind her. For a good solid minute, he’s sure the storm has passed, but before she can open her mouth, retching echoes out from the tile, louder than his own heartbeat. “But did you really think you keep me from knowing about this?”

“To be fair.” Ah, this is not going to be his best defense, he can already tell. The words slosh around in his mouth more wildly than the booze in his belly. “If he’d followed the rhyme I taught him, you wouldn’t have.”

“It’s the cocktails,” Suzu volunteers helpfully, slumped against the wall. “They never tell you what’s in ‘em!”

“See?” Obi thrusts back his hand; a little too hard since it connects palm-first to Suzu’s head. “Cocktails.”

She heaves a great big sigh, wearing Mister’s patented, I’m not upset I’m just disappointed face. “Well, I hope Garrack sees it your way too.”

“Garrack Gazelt?” Suzu squeaks, as if there were any other.

“That’s right.” Her arms fold, eyes glinting with a sick sort of satisfaction. At least that’s what it looks like as he withers under it. “Because you’ll be the one writing to explain the public indecency charge.”

“Aw, but Miss,” he sighs, “vomiting is perfectly decent...”)

Miss settles back on her heels, the prince’s hand flopping onto his stomach, rattling beneath his snores. “That doesn’t explain the shirts.”

He glances down, eyeing the tangle of linen at his feet. “Well, it got hot in here. His Highness insisted.”

She hums, dubious. “I’m sure.”

Obi sweeps up what he’s reasonably sure his his own shirt, sliding it on over his head as he perches on the other end of the sofa. Its arm is hard against balls of his feet, slippery too with only socks for purchase, but he leans over the prince anyway, getting a good enough view to see all the way to his tonsils.

“Don’t worry, Miss. He’s in his healing sleep.” He grins as he assures her, “If he’s going to void the contents of his stomach, it won’t be until he gets back to his own commode.”

“Lucky Sakaki,” she mutters, hands hooking around her hips. “And I’m supposed to believe you just...found him like this?”

“Of course not!” Her presses a hand to his chest, ankles wobbling beneath him. Alright, maybe the fourth bottle was a bit much. “I assure you I was the one that got him piss drunk, all under my special care. The wine was his though.”

Her lips pull thin, and all at once his thoughts collide, bent on coaxing them out of hiding, making her soft beneath him, melting into his arms--

Ah, he’s-- he’s definitely had a bit too much.

“So,” he says, giving her a smile bright enough to make his cheeks ache. “How was dinner?”

Obi may perch like a particularly soused gargoyle, but Shiryauki does not miss the point concealed in his pleasant tone, the sharp glint in his golden gaze. Even deep in his cups, he’s alert, playing a game she’s only half learned. Not for the first time, she wonders what he could have become if Zen hadn’t taken him in, if he had sworn himself to a master that would hone that edge rather than keep it sheathed.

“Fine.” She winces; what a way to damn a man by faint praise. Obi’s brows jump and inch, scar crumpled in the first shades of his satisfaction. “I mean, good. Well. Milan is very...”

Affectionate. Her teeth snap around the word. The last thing she needs is Obi reminding her about kissing cousins and how the court of Tanbarun manages to keep their bloodlines so pure.

“Very...?” he prompts gleefully. Ah, she is taking far too long with her adjectives.

“Generous,” she decides. It’s close enough to what she means anyway. “And, erm, entertaining?”

Obi snorts. “I’m sure.”

He’s far too self-satisfied for being two drinks shy of pitching face-first onto a prince. It’s only right that she adds, “He missed you, by the way.”

That gets a yelp from him, his balance swinging wildly as gets his feet beneath him. “Me?”

“You,” she agrees, mouth twitching. “He asked after you quite a few times. He even asked me where I thought you might be.”

Shadows hang dreadfully onto his face as he huffs, arms hooked over his knees. “Only because he wanted to know if he could bat his eyelashes at you in peace.”

There’s no need to tell him he’s right. Not when it will make him absolutely insufferable. “He was quite surprised when you weren’t waiting in the hall.”

“I would have been there, if it wasn’t for...” In a blink, he’s sober, staring at her with a intensity that makes her stomach careen straight into her ribs. “You didn’t walk back alone, did you?”

Guilt stokes the heat beneath her skin. “Ah...well...”

“Miss.”

Obi unfurls to his full height, slipping off his perch to stand nearly a whole head above her. He doesn’t loom-- he never does, not over her, unless it’s a peek over her shoulder-- but even at a distance he’s larger than she remembers, more solid. When he’d grabbed her hand in the gardens years ago, he’d been all limb, just mischief and sinew wrapped in skin, but now--

Ah, well, it seems those hearty Lyrias dinners have paid off after all.

“Don’t tell me you came back all on your own.” She doesn’t even muster a reply; one look at her face and his brow knots, giving him purchase to pinch it. “With things as they are? Miss...”

“Nothing happened,” she’s quick to assure him, for all the good it does.

“That’s not--” his thumb rubs at the arch of his eye, the place all his headaches come to roost-- “that’s not the point, Miss. We’re in not in Clarines anymore, and the king’s painted a target straight on your back. And Master...”

His mouth clenches tight, quickly covered by his hand. He may not say it, but she knows: though no announcement had ever been made, her and Zen’s relationship was Wistal’s poorest kept secret. And what Wistal knew, so did Tanbarun. Their understanding had afforded her some form of protection, and with it removed--

Well, she had only her titles to save her. Titles plenty of the peers in this court would be happy to see her divested of as quickly as possible.

“You know,” he says, tone deceptively light. “I would have thought your most attentive cousin would have leapt at the chance to walk you back.”

(”It seems your knight in not in evidence.” Milan may pride himself on subtlety, but there is no secret in the way his mouth cants at the empty hall, too pleased. “A shame.”

“He’ll be here,” Shirayuki insists, even as her stomach clenches, twisting itself into knots, each more complex than the last. “I’m sure he’s on his way.”

Milan is not big, not the way Mitsuhide is-- or even Suzu, even if it’s only in one dimension-- but as he steps up to her, her hand trapped between his two larger ones, he feels twice her size. “Why wait? I’m perfectly capable of seeing you safely to your rooms, cousin.”

He’s right: there’s no reason for her to idle like a child lost in the market, waiting for her mother to come fetch her. But still she cannot lift her heels, cannot take his arm and let herself be led.

“I couldn’t possibly trouble you,” she blurts out, social graces as left-footed as her dancing. “Really--”

“It’s no trouble at all.” There’s no change to his smile; it’s still easy, heavy with mischief, but-- but there is something stiff in the wave of him, something sharp as it cuts through the air. Impatient. “Besides, if you cannot impose upon family, cousin, who can you impose upon?”

Shirayuki turns her head, mumbling, “I try not to at all,” into her shoulder.

It’s not nearly quiet enough. His brows raise, flirting heavily with the part of his hairline. “Shirayuki, really--”

“I think,” she says, too loud as she slips her hand from his, “I’ll just go myself!”)

“Well,” Shirayuki hedges. “He did try.”

“Not hard enough.” Obi snorts, so loud that Raj flops over, grumbling in his stupor. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think your dashing cousin was just as eager to relieve you of your title as your less subtle ones.”

“But you do.” When he blinks, too slow for sobriety, she adds, “Know better. About my cousin.”

His mouth rucks up into a pout, but still, he nods, begrudging every inch. “I looked into it.”

There’s no use trying to tame her brows as they bid for her hairline; if she did, Obi would only know a hundred more ways to read her skepticism. “You did? Over dinner?”

It’s not that she thinks it’s impossible; Obi has made a career of tracking down information in days that Zen has spent months trying to uncover-- he’d complain about it in his letters, the way he did when he was secretly pleased. But considering his company and their collective intoxication...it’s improbable.

Raj shifts again, snores ceasing with a choked snuffle before picking up with increased vigor. If the gaze she fixes on the prone prince is pointed, verging on dubious, then, well, perhaps it’s earned.

Obi doesn’t so much sigh as grimace; a sure sign he’s been thoroughly caught. “I asked Sleeping Beauty here.”

With the way Raj had admitted to arranging his seating plan to put her directly in Milan’s path, Shirayuki hadn’t been under the impression that Obi would be willing to take his opinion. “Directly?”

His eyes roll, two coins flashing in the lamplight. “As direct as anyone can ever approach a conversation with His Highness here.”

She blinks, eyeing the bottle sprawled on the carpet. “Did you--?”

“The wine was his idea!” Obi yelps, waving his hands. She wonders if he notices how his body sways in suite. “Like I said, he just showed up with it and wanted to...” He draws up short, brow knotted. “Huh. I don’t know if he ever said. I think he just wanted to get me drunk.”

“Maybe you’ve just forgotten,” she offers, the less worrying option. It’d be one thing if Raj had just mistaken Obi for a close friend, one that would be an equal partner in his petty debaucheries, but it’s been a long time since Raj has been the boy that fainted in brothels, or found himself drunk with the best courtesy titles in the country. If he came with no real objective, then perhaps, perhaps--

He had his own motives. Ones that were unknown and, with the way his mind worked, unknowable.

“But you said Raj told you something--” coherent?-- “helpful about Milan?”

(”You know,” Raj muses as the bottle clinks against the glass, “if I were a more suspicious man, I’d say you’re trying to change the topic.”

Obi frowns at the wine the dribbles on the floor as he pulls back, bottle on its last dregs. That might be a cause for worry, if he wasn’t so sure the Shenezard supply ran whole caverns deeper. “But?”

Raj laughs. No, the prince does, deeper, more resonant, and more carefully careless than Obi has ever heard from him before. A stranger in the body of a...somewhat friend. 

“But,” he hums, swirling the wine around his glass. “I’ve always been thirstier than I have been suspicious.”

Obi grins, more teeth than humor. “Lucky me.”)

His cheeks flush; however much they drank between them, it has to be far too much for Obi’s skin to show it. “Eventually.”

With a wobbling grace, he lowers himself to the table, knee knocking into her shoulder. “He may not have it now, but he’s in line for Count Salonika, and gets a hefty allowance to keep him happy about it. And unless there’s been a few more kissing cousins that we know about--” his eyebrow waggle, obscene-- “he’s no where close to putting his ass on Entaepode’s cushions. Far as he’s concerned, you becoming margravine couldn’t be a better windfall.”

The knot in her chest eases. “See?”

Obi clucks, mouth pulled tight into a grimace. “C’mon, Miss, don’t act like you knew. You have enough relatives trying to put poison in your porridge, what’s one more?”

Shirayuki turns to him then, and she can’t help it, she grins. Just the smallest bit. “You wanted him to have ulterior motives.”

“Miss, be fair.” He presses a hand to his chest, utterly put-upon. “I still think he has ulterior motives. They just aren’t to see you face down in your dinner.”

“If he meant to, he had the perfect opportunity tonight.” It’s not as comforting a thought aloud as it was in the confines of her head. “And here I am.”

“Here you are.” This close she can see a spray of green circling his pupil, a faint patina on that flawless expanse of gold. “Did he says anything interesting, at least? Try to woo you into one of those marriages these nobles like so--”

“No!” A laugh slips out of her, unwanted. The last thing she needs to do is encourage this sort of speculation. “We mostly talked about you.”

The scar biting into his brow wrinkles, folded in on itself like paper. “Me? Please tell me you’re kidding, Miss.”

“It’s true,” she insisted, leaning an elbow over his knee. He’s warm-- warmer than he was in Lyrias. An effect of the alcohol, most likely. “I wasn’t joking when I said he asked after you. He even grabbed my hand--”

The scar disappears, but then again, so does Obi’s smile.

“It sounds worse than it is!” If anything, this only makes his mouth pulls tighter. His muscles coil beneath his buckskins, thighs tense and ready to spring. “Really, it was nothing at all, just a friendly touch.”

“Friendly?” he repeats, a more dubious echo.

“Yes! You see--” she rises up on her knees, catching his hand between both of her-- “just like this.”

Her breath catches as she looks down; the position of their hands might be the same, but that’s where the similarities end. Milan’s hands had enveloped hers, soft and sweet-scented, but hers are far too small, too slender. They might as well be lace from how much they cover, so pale against the warm bronze of his skin. And his hands are not soft, calluses catching against her own; a delicious shiver trembling through her at the touch.

“Miss.” His breath huffs across the skin of her cheek, incredulous. “You’re far too trusting.”

“What--?”

“Whossat?” Raj harrumphs, turning over beside her. She glances back, catching a single fluttering open, but--

But Obi’s hand-- his free one, not the one in her grasp, a point that seems important for no reason at all-- reaches out. The motion catches her eyes, the way light does a moth, her attention darting back just as his palm cups her cheek.

It’s warm too, but that pales in comparison to heat in his eyes, shadows darkening gold to honey as he leans in and--

And kisses her.

[rayshippouuchiha]

Yamada: so how did you and izuku start dating

Aizawa: I saw him crush a watermelon with his thighs and I accidentally said out loud “oh god I wish that were me right now” and here we are now

~The way this immediately and completely ate my entire brain~

Of three things Aizawa Shouta is absolutely sure:

One, he simply was not built for operating during the daylight hours. Nighttime really is where it's at in his opinion. The general lack of crowds and eye-searing sunlight just can't be beaten. (Dusk and dawn hours also get a pass but they're both on thin ice.)

Two, the beach is a sandy hell-scape whose only redeeming factor is the convenient access it provides to the eldritch horror that is the ocean aka the place he'll doubtlessly end up drowning himself when he finally, and according to Hizashi inevitably, snaps and runs gibbering mad into the abyss.

And three, he's absolutely and irrevocably cursed. He's being singled out and punished from on high by the gods themselves. His name is writ large across the cosmos in mockery. There is a cosmic "kick me" sign taped to his spiritual back and Shouta's going to hunt his former student Sero down and give him detention for life for encouraging his family's patron god to put it there.

By this point it's really the only logical explanation.

Which, as a card-carrying atheist, he's pretty sure is saying something about the depth of his feelings regarding his current circumstances.

Because there's no other explanation for why or how he's managed to find himself in this current situation.

The situation being, of course, Shouta, in full hero gear, standing in the hot sun on a pristine sandy beach, surrounded by screaming fans as he provides extra security and crowd control for the 20th Annual Heroic Sukiwari Charity Drive.

Shouta has seen hell and it is both Ms. Joke's open mic night and this exact moment right here.

Because, again, he's absolutely 100% cursed.

And the avatar of said curse is, obviously, his soon-to-be ex-best friend who somehow roped him into this entire thing.

Because some people say divine retribution when talking about cosmic revenge plots but Shouta tends to just says Yamada Hizashi. The two are, in many ways, interchangeable.

Shouta's going to put purify salts in all of Hizashi's hair products and also his sugar jar and possibly his energy drinks the next chance he gets.

Because if he never sees another shirtless pro-hero or another watermelon again in his life it'll be too soon.

He's pretty sure he has permanent hearing damage from all of the screaming and screeching the crowd's been doing since this thing started.

And if, after all these years of friendship with the personification of a megaphone, watching a bunch of pro's crush watermelons with nothing but their personal strength on a beach to raise money for various charities is what finally destroys his hearing Shouta is going to shave Hizashi bald before he finally embraces sweet death.

Or enacts Nezu's birthday plans and becomes a supervillain.

The jury's honestly still out at this point.

Shouta does his best to shut out the screaming behind him as one of the cameramen slides up beside him, getting a better angle on the stage as Hizashi, who's currently screeching about Miruko's performance, practically dances across the sand in front of where Shouta's standing.

"Wow, wow, wow," Present Mic chants as he dramatically fans himself, "that was one on heart-stopping, hare-raising show. Let's give it up for everyone's favorite bad, bad, bunny, Miruko!"

For her part, Miruko just struts off the small stage with a nonchalant wave to the crowd, her tiny white bikini in place and the pulverized remains of the half dozen watermelons she'd dropped kicked into soup left behind her.

"But don't lose that rhythm yet listeners," Mic announces gleefully. "Because we've got one more hero set to take the stage! So, without further ado, it's the moment I know a lot of you have been waiting for, myself included if we're being honest. The pièce de résistance of our little shindig, the showstopper himself, the one, the only, the #1 Can Do Hero Dekiru."

The crowd is absolutely deafening.

And, for once, Shouta has to grudgingly admit that he can't actually blame them.

Shirtless, sculpted shoulders and tight abs on display thanks to his low sitting and almost criminally short green swim shorts, and with his trademark bashful smile in place, Dekiru trots out from behind the curtained-off area with a crate of watermelons resting on his shoulder like it's no big deal.

Shouta's pretty sure someone to his immediate right faints but considering they're not currently a trample risk he ignores it.

But the casual show of strength with no quirk use in sight is more than a bit impressive.

For all that people, romance specifically, and attraction in general, have all been things to be considered on a firm case-by-case basis for Shouta, even he has to admit that Dekiru is ... captivating.

Rather drastically so for Shouta considering he's never actually met the man before in person.

Though Shouta does feel like he almost knows him on some level considering the fact that it really would take an act of the actual gods to get Yagi to shut up about his erstwhile protege during staff meetings.

Dekiru waves his free hand at the crowd as he sets his crate of watermelons down on the stage.

"Show us what you've got!" Mic demands from a few feet to Shouta's left. "And let's give him some encouragement listeners!"

The crowd starts up a loud and steady chant of "De~ki~ru!" as the hero pulls his first watermelon out and begins his set.

With an effortless flex of muscles, Dekiru digs his fingers into the watermelon and wrenches it completely in two.

Shouta reaches up to tug at the top of his uniform, relishing the small sip of cool air it grants him.

Shoulders and biceps flexing, another watermelon meets its end between Dekiru's palms.

Shouta really needs to add a water bottle to his utility belt because hydration is important. Or so he's been repeatedly told.

"Those hands, those muscles," Mic groans dramatically. "He really is the Can Do Hero!"

Cheeks noticeably flushed, Dekiru sits down on the stage and fits a watermelon between thick, toned thighs.

His hips twist, those thighs flex, and the watermelon cracks, spilling juice and sweet pink flesh all over Dekiru's lap.

"Oh god," Shouta can't help but say, "I wish that was me right now."

On stage Dekiru's eyes go wide as his attention somehow abruptly zero's in on Shouta.

It's at that moment that Shouta becomes aware of the deafening silence that's fallen over the beach.

Head-turning agonizingly slowly to the left, Shouta's confronted with the sight of Mic, microphone in hand, standing shoulder to shoulder with him.

His sunglasses are askew and he's staring at Shouta with a look on his face that's one part horror and one part unholy glee.

As a matter of fact, the entire beach is staring at him in much the same way.

For a moment Shouta just freezes, body going still at having so much attention turned in his direction.

This ... was not the turn he was expecting the day to take by far.

His first instinct is to, honestly, use his scarf to slingshot himself directly into the sun so his soul can be cleansed with cosmic fire.

But then ...

"Ah," Dekiru speaks up from on the stage, one hand ruffling the back of his hair and cheeks darker than before, "maybe we could go on a date first though? If you'd like?"

There's suddenly a part of Shouta that doesn't actually want to delete himself from existence via self-immolation.

And there's an even large part that doesn't want to outright reject Dekiru's seemingly sincere offer.

Because, when it all comes down to it, Dekiru seems to be, by all accounts, what passes for exactly Shouta's type.

Whip-smart if his very public arrest record and tendency to argue online and on the air with people he disagrees with is anything to go by.

Cute, with that dark green hair and sharp undercut, matching wide eyes, and a face sprinkled liberally with freckles.

Leanly built and small enough that Shouta's sure he could move him around easily but obviously muscular enough to be able to put up just the right amount of resistance in the right situation.

And, above all else, if the stories are to be believed, obviously some degree of batshit insane.

More than one story Yagi had told during breaks had Shouta questioning if the man had imported special American demons back to Japan and then stuffed them all into the deceptively charming and approachable-looking hero that is Dekiru.

So there's really only one logical way to proceed forward in this situation.

Shouta grins.

Several people in the crowd around him step back.

He's pretty sure he hears someone start reciting a prayer.

But Dekiru just blushes, eyes locked on Shouta's and teeth tugging at his lower lip.

"Hope you like coffee," Shouta finally says into the breathless silence that's fallen over them, "and cats."

Dekiru lights up, a smile brighter than the sun and twice as deadly blossoming across his face.

Just off of Shouta's side, Hizashi's busy having some kind of hysterical seizure.

Around them the crowd is going absolutely feral.

Yagi's going to birth actual kittens in the middle of the staff room when he finds out about this.

Shouta can't wait.

[idontblushsrry]

Love Language|| Jujutsu Kaisen

“I wanna be fluent in your love language. Learning your love language.” 

A/N: If you didn’t guess from the tagline this is inspired by the song love language by Kehlani. I’ll probably do more of these with different shows and what not because why not. If I missed anyone lmk and I can make a part 2. Also please tag spoilers appropriately esp for manga readers, that being said spoilers for the prequel? manga on Yuuta’s part.

Characters: Itadori, Fushiguro, Kugisaki, Maki, Inumaki, Okkotsu, Gojo, Nanami, Sukuna

Warnings: said it b4 but spoiler warnings in general but esp on Yuuji, Yuuta, and Maki’s parts

Plot synopsis: The 5 love languages; physical affection, quality time, words of affirmation, gift giving and acts of service, and how each jujutsu kaisen character shows their love and affection for you. Ft. a gender neutral reader!

Word count: 2352

Itadori Yuuji

Love Language: Quality time and physical affection

Ok listen-

So for physical affection, Yuuji’s just that kind of person

He is all about giving to you

He’s holding hands with you if you’re ever walking anywhere, and if you’re not a hand holder pls pls pls let him hold your pinky he likes the reassurance

No but seriously he loves to hold you like yall could be walking in completely opposite directions and he’ll try to find some way to hold onto you until the very last second

And even then he’s all ‘:( babe imy’

‘Yuuji we just talked 2 minutes ago’

Another way he shows his love is through quality time

I think for him this is the biggest thing overall, esp as a jujutsu sorcerer bcus you never know yk but also because you’re important to him

Like remember how he literally went to occult club so that he could get out of school in time to go visit his grandpa...ye :(

He also loves finding dumb touristy things to do with you while in Tokyo or anywhere yall go together on a mission 

If you get together before he died and came back then that time he had to spend away from you literally killed him

Like my mans was goin THROUGH it

He almost considered spoiling Gojo’s secret

When he sees you again, he’s not gonna let go for like a solid day

Fushiguro Megumi

Love Language: acts of service and words of affirmation

This boy loves you so much

He loves to tell you all the things he loves about you when you’re alone

But he’s a little awkward with his words sometimes, hence where acts of service come in

He’ll immediately offer to hold your things, run to help you train or study, and if you’re cold? He’s fully prepared to never see his jacket again

Also he can’t cook but he’s fully prepared to suffer hearing Sukuna and suffering through Yuuji’s antics if it means he can learn how to make your favorite food

He also will surprise you by making you a playlist of all the songs that you’ve had stuck in your head and sends it to you randomly out of the blue one day like ‘thought you might like this’

However the best of both worlds is when he leaves you little notes throughout the day or sends you texts asking if you need anything or just encouraging you to keep going 

Negl he’s lowkey the president of the Y/N support club bcus-

You need anything? It’s yours

Cravings? Sad? Angry? What do you need bby, I’ve got it for you

Also he’s totally the type to be like you need help fuckin this person up? 

Also before yall started dating, Fushiguro was a mess

He was constantly asking to spar with you and go on missions, basically anything he could do to be near you  

End of the day, Fushiguro loves you and makes sure you know it whether it’s through his actions or his words

Kugisaki Nobara

Love Language: physical affection

So, she’s not the best with words, she tries but like someone help her bcus she is LOST

Like when she had a crush on you she was like “c’mere dumbass i wanna give you a hug”

In fact, she still is like “c’mere” but now you are dating :)

She loves you though and at first she doesn’t really know how to show it 

But one day you both come home from training and you just look at each other like ‘yeah today sucks’ and yall both just held each other for the rest of the day 

After that, she decided that she wants to do that with you but like always

She’s holding your hand, kissing your cheek when you go shopping, etc. etc.

She really loves to cling to you because she always has this fear that maybe one day you’ll get killed or just disappear so she figures might as well hold onto you for as long as we’ve got

After missions, she’s running up to you and if you aren’t prepared for the tackle, you’re probably gonna fall

On dates too, like if you guys have to meet up for a date, she’s tackling you

On the subject of dates...

She doesn’t mind PDA, and while she might hold your hand or arm so that you don’t get separated

She also doesn’t mind wiping food off your face and eating it, only to then kiss the spot on your face the food was previously at

She will split her shopping load between the two of you, however she will be slightly pouty if she’s carrying more than you (she then cheers up when she realizes she can do more shopping to “balance” the two of you)

In private she’s very cuddly and kissy which honestly isn’t that bad until it gets hot

At which point she’ll just say turn on the ac or convince you to walk around in a tank top (or something like it) so that she can continue holding you

Tbh she prefers the big spoon, but if she’s ever upset you let her be the little spoon >:(

All in all a very loving girlfriend who tries her best to show how much she loves you by glomping you at any given moment. 

Zenin Maki

Love language: acts of service and quality time

So you’re telling me that Maki wouldn’t immediately go out of her way to make sure her and her s/o can spend as much time together as possible?????

Like she’s super observant (which can cause her to be a bit harsh, see Yuuta) but she can always tell what’s bothering you

So if you’re upset that you haven’t been spending enough time together due to her being out on missions or otherwise busy she’s immediately running to finish her stuff and spend time with you.

((She’s very sorry, but on the bright side she brought your favorites!))

Maki is also an acts of service type

This mostly ties in with her kind of direct action way of thinking

She thinks she’s slick but you can always see her sneaking around to do small things like grabbing your laundry for you and folding it

She’s very much like if you love someone, you gotta prove it

Overall, dates with her are very intimate and personal to the two of you

Like she’ll take you to a frog pond you landed in during a fight once

Or you’ll take her to a street fair that serves this exclusive food that Maki mentioned wanting to try 

However, Maki shows her love through quality time and acts of service and while she does receive love from these to a degree, she is very much a words of affirmation gal

She’s not insecure in her day to day life but she has her moments, everyone does

Sometimes, she’ll feel like shit and a failure and all she wants is for you to say that she’s doing amazing and that she’s a great girlfriend.

Inumaki Toge

Love language: Physical affection

Because of his curse, he can’t exactly express how he feels about you through words

He does text you frequently throughout the day (I’ll have to do a hc abt that someday)

But he’d prefer not to be on his phone to communicate if you’re right in front of him

So he does the next best thing and just smothers you in physical affection

He loves kissing you the most

Like he could spend hours just kissing you if you let him (please let him)

But in public, he gets if you’re not a big fan of pda he’s willing to tone it down as long as he gets kisses later in private

He’d still prefer it if you held his hand or linked pinkies maintaining touch in some way

Also, unrelated, but it means so much to him if you try to understand his sushi language

He knows realistically the foundation of any relationship is communication so already he’s at a disadvantage because of his curse 

But if he sees you like take notes after he says something or start to need him to text you to translate, his heart is swelling

Like ‘omg this person loves me enough to learn a whole new language <333′

Another tangent but before you were together he was struggling so muchhhh

Like how does one express their feelings for someone without words?

If you’re Inumaki, you buy some flowers and text said person to meet you at a cafe

It took an embarrassingly long time for you to realize it was a date, but once you did, you ever so gently linked pinkies with Toge

Okkotsu Yuuta

Love language: words. of. affirmation. 

He’s literally so sensitive please tell him you love him regularly

In return he’ll be sure to tell you how much he loves you too

He knows that he can’t really be there for you as much as he’d like but he likes to let you know that he’s thinking of you

Doesn’t matter the time, if you call, he’s answering

If he doesn’t he’ll cry he’ll immediately call you back and is apologizing for missing your call

You assure him it’s no big deal but the man has his volume turned all the way up and changed your ringtone to one specific for you by the time you’ve even said hey

Aside from that, he really is sensitive

He’s been through a lot especially with Rika as well as growing up alone and bullied 

So for him, it’s everything to hear that you like having him around and don’t think he’s too much or anything like that

Of course, he gets better with time, trusting you and having the confidence in himself to not need constant assurance

That being said, if you ever just whisper in his ear, “I love you, Yuuta.”

That’s not your boyfriend, that’s a puddle of love on the floor

(Maki, Panda, and Inumaki had a field day when they saw him, Fushiguro now questions if Yuuta really is a respectable 2nd year.)

Gojo Satoru

Love language: gift giving and quality time

So Gojo doesn’t exactly get to spend a ton of time

Between missions, him beefing with higher ups, and you and him playing parent the baby sorcerers yall don’t exactly get time to go out much

In which case Gojo tends to default to two options:

He’ll either go the extra mile to try and spend time with you 

Whether that be an at home date where he tries and fails to surprise you with a home cooked meal

Or a date out at a restaurant or cafe (which you tend to visit after his home cooking efforts)

OR he’ll bring you various souvenirs from his missions

He loves to spoil you, and if he could he’d probably bring you back a whole store’s worth of stuff

But alas, airport security regulations

Anyways, he loves to spoil you especially if he can spoil you with sweets because it benefits him in two ways 

He treasures all the time you spend together, and he does try to overcompensate for his absence with gifts

Despite your assurances, it’s kind of a guilty pleasure at this point (just let him, trying to argue just goads him on further)

He doesn’t only buy you small things, he enjoys buying you outfits

And he especially likes seeing you in them 

Kento Nanami

Love Language: acts of service

Y’all remember the episode where he killed that curse that was bothering that baker lady?? Yea that

He’s literally such an acts of service boyfriend it’s not even funny

Before you got together, he would memorize your coffee order and bring you a cup pretty much everyday like clockwork

Now that you’re togehter, he wakes up before you so h=that when you wake up there’s the smell of coffee throughout the house

When you come out of you’re shared bedroom and he’s just scrooling through his phone like “mornin’”

Of course you already made the bed and ironed his clothes because relationships are give and take

And then when you leave for your jobs in the morning, he kisses you and holds the door open for you

He’ll draw a bath for you if he gets home before you, if you let him join or not is up to you

Also, if you ever get sick, he’s actually the best

Like he isn’t the best cook but he can heat up soup and tea

He’ll run to the store while you’re asleep and when you wake up, there’s like a whole tray of food in front of you and he’s like ‘it’s important to eat and drink so your body can heal’

And when you inevitably fall asleep after eating and taking medicine at his insistence, he tucks you in and clears away the dishes, exiting with little more than a kiss to your head

Ryoumen Sukuna

Love Language: gift giving and acts of service

So like Sukuna never says he loves you...ever

But he does notice if someone or something’s making you uncomfortable, and if so, said entity’s head will be presented to you later that day

You also just so happen to be the only person he can tolerate being around him for longer than 20 seconds

He also loves to give you jewelry, he likes seeing you adorned in something from him

He also isn’t gonna just handle all your problems for you, he will push you to become stronger by training with you 

He’ll also expect this energy to be reciprocated, as long as you’re pushing yourself to be better, he’s content with that

(He wants to see you grow because he’s scared that if he ever gets caught lackin one day you’ll end up dead)

He’ll never tell you or admit it, but Sukuna truly does care for you and hold you in a regard that he doesn’t have for others

So be grateful jkjk

[spunkpunx]

I Don’t Share - Kai Anderson

Plot: Reader is the only person who Kai Anderson ever really listened to.

Word count: 1899

Warnings: SMUT, Manipulative reader, Smoking, Blood, Aggressive Sex, Mocking, It’s AHS Cult so it’s gonna be dark, Misogyny

I walked down the steps, into the basement. The place he dwelled. The dark web was a strange place, full of internet trolls, but something about Kai Anderson was different. Something in his words garnered attention, and now, it was time to find out.

“Hello?” I called out confidently. At this point in my life, nothing scared me, not even death, but my survival was important. After all, what could I achieve from beyond the grave? To be without fear is to be dangerous.

“Who are you?” a voice called out from the sofa. The man sat there was not the man I expected to see, and I was pleasantly surprised.

“Kai Anderson?” I queried, and he nodded. I had expected someone much less attractive, but Kai’s dark eyes, handsome face and fit body were all things that played into my hands. His eyes bore into me as I walked into the room and sat opposite him. he wore sweatpants, and his shoulder length hair was dyed blue.

“Answer my question, bitch,” he snapped at me, but I just looked at him disapprovingly, taking a cigarette from my pocket and lighting it. He glared at my lack of response, but I made sure to take my time before I replied.

“When a dog bites it’s master, they take it into the yard and put a bullet in its head,” I calmly spoke, resisting a smile at the taken aback expression on his face. The surprise soon turned into rage, and he stood up and grabbed me by the collar of my t-shirt, making me jump.

“I don’t even know you! No bitch will be the master of me!” Kai yelled, and I met his eyes with a level gaze. I gave him a look, a look of indifference, and he released me from his grasp. He stood above me.

“Sit down Kai, I’m not speaking to you until you sit.”

“Fuck off.”

I met his eye with a steely glare, and reluctantly, he took a seat the other side of the coffee table.

“Now, I’m (y/n) (l/n), and I came to see you because I need you,” I began to explain. Kai raised an eyebrow. “There’s something about you Kai, that shocks people, that commands attention, but you’re wasting it away sat sweating in this shitty basement.”

He leant foreword in his seat, starting to listen more attentively. It was almost too easy.

“Now I have a proposal, because I need you to realise your potential,” I continued, and he was captivated.

•

The cult had been running for just over a month. Of course, no one had identified it as what it was yet, but it was coming together as intended. When I first met Kai, I wanted to rile him up and let him lose to wreak havoc on the world, to scare people into action, but after speaking to him, I realised an intelligence more than I had initially thought. It was a waste not to push him forward into something on a national level. Of course, he had been harder to break than I first thought, but eventually I had had him wrapped around my finger using the only weapon women had against men, the weapon that sat between my legs.

Within the ring I took the position of Kai’s right hand and lover, his assistant, and it was widely assumed that I was abused and too love struck by our “Divine Ruler” to realise. As much as they admired him, they feared him. In reality, I was in control. Everything Kai had become was because of me.

I knew I had control at the first “pinky ritual”. As soon as our fingers made contact he dived into the first questions, but by that point I’d already won. He was angry, emotional, irrational. I’d got under his skin. It didn’t take long for me to turn the questioning round onto him, and soon he was spilling his guts to me. Everything about his parents, his brother and sister, every fear, hate, love and regret in his life he gave to me. We had sex and with that he’d given me all of his power.

Despite the impression that the rest of the cult held, Kai was ready to lick the shit off of my shoe if I asked. Of course, that didn’t mean I had absolute control. His ideas were his own, I just gave him a push in the right direction. After the killing of Bob Thompson and his gimp, I had pulled Kai’s mask off and kissed him, hard, to show my appreciation. He pulled our bodies closer together and when he brushed his finger across my lip I could taste the blood on it. From that point on, there was no better sight for me than a bloodied Kai Anderson.

•

“I don’t share Kai,” I stated, coldly, as he walked down into the basement. I had been sat on the sofa, waiting for him to return.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t lie to me,” I spat. “You’ve been upstairs fucking Mrs. Lavender,” I pointed out, referring to Meadow.

“There’s a reason,” he defended himself simply. “She needed to think I loved her so she’ll be willing to die for me. It’s exactly what you asked.”

“I don’t think you understand,” I replied slowly, opening my legs to reveal no underwear on beneath my skirt, and I noticed Kai’s next words catch in his throat. “You belong to me. To this.” I gestured my womanhood. He knelt in front of me on the floor, tracing his hands along my thighs, temptation in his eyes.

“No, I don’t,” Kai spat. I snapped my thighs shut and he pulled his hands away sharply. “I am the Divine Ruler,” he announced, standing to lean over me, taking my throat in his hand and squeezing slightly. I looked him back in his dark eyes coolly, daring him to do what he was threatening to do. Kai didn’t have the strength in him to kill me.

“I made you what you are.” I felt his grip tighten. “You’re nothing without me,” I croaked, my voice hoarse as he cut off my breath. His grip tightened more, and for a moment I almost considered he might go through with it. I saw a tear run down his face and then he let go. He dropped his head, tears running down his face, and I opened my arms to him. He dropped down to the sofa, next to me, falling into my embrace. He buried his head into my shoulder and sobbed, while I stroked his hair, shushing him.

“I’m sorry,” he almost whimpered. I pushed him down of the sofa, back on his knees in front of me, opening my legs. He sighed in appreciation, his eyes darkening with lust. As he reached his hand towards my leg I smacked it away.

“No, you have to beg,” I instructed. He looked up to meet my eye. There’s nothing more dangerous than a humiliated man, he had once said, but here he was, willing to get down on his knees in front of me and beg for my attention.

“Please, forgive me, (y/n). Let me touch you,” he pleaded pathetically. I leant forward and took his jaw in my hand, guiding his lips up to meet my own. He desperately leaned into the kiss, sitting up on his knees to pull us closer. His hand ran along my thigh and brushed across my heat, and when I didn’t pull away he rubbed the rough pad of his thumb against my clit before pushing a finger inside of me. I let myself moan against his kiss. He added another finger and curled them inside of me, swallowing my noises up with his lips. I pulled away from the kiss, panting.

“I want you to show me how much you hate me Kai,” I told him, and he removed his fingers from me, confused. I continued, pulling my shirt over my head leaving me in my bra. “Oh, I know you do. The way I make you feel confused, the way I treat you. I let you know how much of a piece of shit you are and you let me tell you that. What kind of man are you? You hate the way I make your prick harder than anyone else could,” I tease, reaching to grab his erect cock through his trousers. I pull my knees back, showing my full pussy out in front of him and that’s all he takes to snap. He stands up and pushes me down on the couch, kneeling himself between my knees before pulling his shirt over his head. It’s hard not to admire his muscular body. It’s no wonder he could get people to believe he was their god, he looked exactly like one. He unzipped his jeans and pulled them down, freeing his cock from his boxers and stroking it while looking at me.

“You’re right,” he told me harshly, grabbing my jaw and resting his thumb in my mouth so I kept it open. “I do fucking hate you.” With that he leant forward towards me and spat directly into my mouth. His harsh words were making me drip with lust. Without any warning he plunged his cock into my warmth, grunting and dropping his hands to my grip onto my waist and the flesh of my stomach. He pounded into me relentlessly, letting out small moans of pleasure. I panted, and when he hit a spot inside of me I let out a breathy moan. I felt a sting across my face, realising that he’d slapped me. He moved a hand to my thigh, pressing it back toward my chest. He growled as he hit my cervix, his hands heavy and his grip tight. Kai grabbed my throat and leant over my body to give the most bruising kiss, and as he pushed my legs back, his cock hit even deeper in me. I even whimpered as he mercilessly pounded into me, harder and harder. His kiss travelled, down my neck, and I felt him take the skin between his teeth, leaving bite marks. I took his head in my hands, fingers tangled in his hair, and I connected our mouths once more, tongues and teeth colliding. He let out another desperate moan. Even when he hated me I still controlled him. The room was filled with the sound of wet kisses and skin slapping. I felt the pleasure build and reached down to rub myself, reaching a shuddering climax and clenching around Kai. He let out a groan and swore, pounding into me faster, his thrusts sloppy. He pulled my bra down and grabbed onto my tits, desperately panting and he brought himself closer to finish. I could do nothing but moan and tremble as his thrusting overstimulated me. His breathy moans brought me to finish a second time, a wave of pleasure hitting me and making me shake again. Kai groaned, pushing himself balls deep inside me and spilling hot cum. He collapsed down on top of me and I let him rest his head on my chest, wrapping my legs around his waist and kissing the top of his head.

“I do think I could love you, Kai,” I murmured against his hair, and I had no reason to say it, but I truly meant it.

[lubdubsworld]

物の哀れ ( ‘the sadness of things’.)

Characters : Alpha! Jungkook x Omega ! OC.

ABO Dynamics.

Genre : Arranged Marriage / Temporary contractual Marriage.

Warnings : Non- Con/ Extremely Dubious Consent . High functioning alcoholism. Genre related consent issues. Implied suicidal thoughts. 

Summary : A recently widowed Jungkook agrees to a contract marriage to keep his company afloat. His grief overwhelms him and it is hard to look at his new wife as anything other than an intruder .

[  Author’s Note :  物の哀れ ~ Mono no aware can be translated as ‘the sadness of things’. It comes from the words 物 (mono – thing) and 哀れ (aware – poignancy or pathos). The ‘sadness’ in question comes from an awareness of the transience of things, as taught by Zen Buddhism. When we view something exceptionally beautiful, we might feel sad because we know it won’t stay so beautiful forever – but appreciation only heightens the pleasure we take in the beautiful thing in that moment. ]

Chapter 1

 Chapter 2

I wrapped the white wool shawl tighter around my shoulders. The night was still chilly and the and smelt faintly of impending rain. Why they would plan a party outside while it rained, was beyond me.

After my little skirmish with Jungkook, I had found Namjoon quickly only to be told that we couldn’t leave for another hour at least because there was a  certain investor who wanted to meet Namjoon . The guy was running late and he had to wait for him. So here I stood, shivering lightly, all while keeping an eye on my husband as he got progressively drunk.

Namjoon’s words made me sigh a little.

“You can’t decide what someone else’s normal is, Namjoon. Especially when it comes to grief.  But the drinking is an issue. And you’re right about the therapist. I know she’s doing her best but I’m not sure if she has the right answers for him. Or even the right tools to help him.”

“I’ve been searching up on therapists who specialize with alphas. There’s one in Itaewon , his name is Kim Taehyung. I really think he could help. He’s an alpha himself.”

“That sounds good. Betas may not fully understand alpha mating bonds or what it’s like when one of them dies. Taehyung may have a better understanding of what Jungkook’s going through.” I nodded, a little hopeful. 

Therapy with the beta lady the hospital had recommended wasn’t really helping Jungkook the way it ought to.

Namjoon hesitated.

“Would you be willing to go with him? Taehyung insists a family member stay in the waiting room just in case...” he asked gently. I turned back to look at my husband, leaning on the mahogany countertop of the bar, fingers curled around a glass of whiskey.

“And I’m the one you want to consider for that? That’s ridiculous. Jungkook hates me.” Did I really have remind him of this salient fact? 

“I’ve offered to, before.  He doesn’t want me there." I sighed as Jungkook threw the drink back with ease.

“That was three months ago though. Things have changed now right?” Namjoon prodded.

I laughed, shaking my head.

“Not between us they haven’t. He’s spending more time with Mina and he isn’t throwing stuff around but he still loathes me.”

“He loathes what you represent: his own shortcomings and failures. Your father wasn’t kind in his approach and you are a reminder of all the things he can’t control.”

How fucking unfair,  I thought playing with the tiny  ring on my finger ( or should i say handcuff really? ), my wedding ring , the platinum band engraved with my husband’s name, a drop of his blood embossed into the metal. 

An archaic tradition, that carried no meaning in modern Seoul but the idea of it was still alive and well. The idea that what we had was a blood bond, imbued in our veins now.  An alpha’s connection with a beta or an alpha mate was usually quite fragile. But an alpha and omega mate bond. That was supposed to be powerful. 

Unless the alpha was still phantom bonded to a dead wife , that is. It was odd thing. Mate bonds had to be mutual to work. So there was no bond between Jungkook and I . We didn’t have any feelings for each other of course. But wearing someone’s blood on yourself changed that . it forced a bond that wasn’t there. It was ancient magic and it worked on my kind. Not on his. 

How fucking unfair because it wasn’t like I could control any of this either? 

I grimaced. I had thought of taking the ring off 

“Ouch.” I said with a smile. Namjoon waved off my self pity with an eye roll. 

“You know what I mean. Even for an Alpha, Jungkook has always held on to his pride. Losing his wife and his company all in the same week probably left him feeling incredibly helpless and your father browbeat him into this whole thing. Of course he isn’t going to be eager to share heart to heart talks with you. ”

I held my hand up. 

“I know all that Namjoon. I was there, remember? And I’m not blaming him for any of that. Trauma makes you do shitty things and I understand that . I also understand that if he was in his right mind he wouldn’t behave the way he does now. But that doesn’t change the fact that I can’t change his mind for him. If he doesn’t want to get help, I’m kind of helpless myself, you know?”

Namjoon reached out and squeezed my hand.  

“I’m just asking you this because , he does listen to you at times. I’ve noticed it. He doesn’t outwardly agree with you but he takes your opinions into consideration. And, Heejin you live with him and you’re the one who managed to convince him to start scenting Mina. ”

And God, how exhausting that had been. I had kept at it because Mina was so young and she needed her father’s scent to grow. And while i could be persistent when necessary,  I couldn’t work miracles. 

“Namjoon oppa, “ I said softly, trying to explain myself without sounding like a horrible human, “  I don’t hate Jungkook. Far from it. I want him to get the help he needs and I’m here for him. If you can convince him to go see Taehyung and he’s okay with me coming along, I won’t say no. Mina needs him and there’s nothing I would like more than for him to get better. ” i smiled a little, “ But he’s still going to have to be the one to make that choice. i can’t make it for him.” 

Namjoon nodded.

“ Fair enough. Well,  I’ll talk to him about it. We’ll set something up. Thank you for not refusing Heejinah. I know it can’t be easy for you either. 

I opened my mouth to respond but out of the corner of my eyes I caught a glimpse of someone, staring intently right at me.

 I turned sharply, eyes locking with those of Kim Yugyeom and I stiffened, stepping closer to Namjoon on instinct.  Yugyeom smirked, winking at me. 

I shuddered in disgust. 

Creep.

Namjoon followed my line of vision and swore.

“This motherfucker.” He made to move towards him. and I grabbed his arm, fingers digging into his forearm. The last thing i wanted to witness was an alpha alpha showdown in the middle of a party with me in the middle. 

“Please, no. Don’t make a scene. It’s what he wants.”

“Jungkook has the shittiest friends on the planet.” Namjoon shook his head and I couldn’t agree more. 

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

Mina’s appointment with the doctor went about as expected. She was right on time with her milestones and I sat in the waiting office for a mere twenty minutes before being called in. The doctor, an alpha named Min Yoongi gave me a small smile of recognition before flipping through the pages of her file.

“ Jungkook didn’t come along?” He asked casually, grabbing a pen and making a note of her weight and length before plotting it on the small graph. She was a little on the smaller side but she was growing well. 

“He’s busy...” i said with a shrug, “ So I still keep giving her the polyvisol supplements?” 

Yoongi nodded, “ The nurse will fill in the prescription for you. Are you sure he’s busy? He called me last night and told me he wanted to come see me?” 

I blinked. 

“He did ? “ I couldn’t quite process this. 

“He wanted to talk about how she’s doing and I told him he could come in for her appointment today.”

I imagined a world where Jungkook actually spoke to me, instead of forcing  me to navigate stormy waters on rotten plywood. Nine more months, i told myself firmly, already digging for my phone. Nine more months and I would be out of this living hell I’d gotten trapped in. 

“Can I try calling him? He’s probably forgotten. I think he might regret missing out.” I begged and Yoongi gave me a small smile, waving me off. 

“Of course you can Heejin-ah and tell him that if he wants I can drop by at the office and talk to him as well.” 

I nodded quickly , moving out to the waiting area while the nurses held Mina, soothing her before getting her ready for her shots. I tried calling him and not surprisingly he didn’t pick up. I called his office next and Jungkook’s secretary picked up the phone .

The woman hated me. 

“He’s busy.” She said curtly.” He’s specifically asked me not to bother him with stuff that isn’t important.” 

Her whiny voice grated on my ears and i bit my lips to keep the irritation in. 

“Since when does his daughter make that list, Ms Lee?” I said calmly and she hesitated. 

“He’s in a meeting right now and-”

“I’m in the hospital with his daughter. I hope you’re willing to take the heat when he finds out that you wouldn’t let me get through to him. “ I said casually. 

It was a twisted version of the truth for sure. Meant to imply that Mina was hurt in some way. But I couldn’t bring myself to regret it much. I had enough on my plate without dealing with twenty year old secretaries who fancied themselves in love with their hot boss. 

 “I... just a moment, Mrs. Jeon.” 

I loathed the name. It wasn’t mine. It was hers and I felt like a thief every time someone addressed me that way.

After two minutes, Jungkook’s  familiarly low and perpetually exhausted voice came out ,

“Hello? Heejin?” He sounded listless and his voice just a little slurred and i groaned. 

“Please tell me you aren’t drunk.” I whispered. 

“I’m not. “ He said shortly. “ What’s wrong? What happened? Is Mina alright? ”

“Did you tell Yoongi that you were going to meet him today?” 

He was quiet for a second. 

“i’ll talk to him.”

He hung up and I stared at the phone. I realized that I shouldn’t have called him in the first place. Should have asked Yoongi to call him himself. What was wrong with me? Even a few syllables exchanged with Jungkook felt like staring into an abyss . 

I moved back to the clinic , just as Mina plaintive wail filled the room. The shots were done. It took us another thirty five minutes to finish filling her prescriptions and for Yoongi to finish examining her. She was already dozing off and I wasn’t supposed to feed her for another thirty minutes so perhaps the nap would do her good.  I had just finished settling her into her Bjorn carrier  when Jungkook’s voice came from the entryway. 

“Is this the way to Dr. Min’s office?” 

I glanced back to watch him . He looked ridiculously handsome in a three piece suit, jacket thrown over his arm and hair lightly damp from the misty drizzle outside. I saw the secretary’s mouth actually drop open and stay agape as she tried to process his questions. i could see the way his beauty had rendered her entirely witless and as someone who had experienced it first hand , i could sympathize, 

But Jungkook was beginning to look annoyed from the lack of response and i decided to give the poor girl a break. 

“He’s waiting for you.” I called out and Jungkook startled. He glanced up at me and for some reason he looked surprised. He always looked surprised when he saw me. As if i was just some monster out of his worst nightmares turning up in odd places . As if he couldn’t quite believe that i did exist in his life now. Unwelcome but impossible to avoid. 

“You’re here.” He said blankly. 

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. 

“Yes, i am. I’ve been here for three months now. “ i said shortly, before i could stop myself, “ Mina’s fine.  She just had her shots. I’m going to drive home and put her down for a nap. Do you want me to come with you ?” I pointed at the clinic. 

He hesitated before shaking his head. 

It was all according to script then. Jungkook would never include me in a single thing. Even if i was smack damn in the middle of the room with nowhere else to go. 

“Alright. i’ll see you after work.” 

“We’ll have guests for dinner today. ” He said suddenly. 

I stared at him, confused.

“For dinner??”

“ Sooah’s parents.” 

Oh, God. 

Wary of the extra nurses suddenly filling the room, the little whispers and the curious glances, i kept my smile even. 

“Of course. ” I bowed a little before turning on my heel and walking away. 

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

Sooah’s parents were, for lack of a better word, selfish . 

They had lost a daughter, so of course i could understand with their need to keep their daughter’s memory alive. But the way they chose to do it was unhealthy and borderline vindictive. 

" She’s growing well.” Mrs. Kim had the same statuesque figure as her model daughter and she held her grandchild with a slightly unsure grip and Mina felt the uncertainty in her grip, breaking out into cries at once. I stayed still, my throat dry from disuse. I hadn’t said a word since they came in. 

We were seated at the table, dinner was done. 

Jungkook sat next to me, staring straight ahead while his father in law tried to engage him in conversation. 

With Jungkook, the grief came in waves. Some days, the waves were small and gentle, like the ones that lapped at your feet on the shore of a tranquil lake. on those days e went about his day as usual, spoke to his friends and signed deals.  And somedays they were big, behemoths carrying guilt and accusation, crashing over his head with a vengeance. 

On those days , he looked like he’d been run over by a two ton truck. 

Today was just one of those days and i could sense it.

The man was going on an on about some charity that Sooah had been involved in as a young girl... Could Jungkook make a contribution in her name?. Could Jungkook pay for a concert of her favorite singer in her hometown..?  Could Jungkook possibly consider contributing to opening a foundation in her name? 

I could feel the urge to scream, grow by the minute.

 Each syllable that spilled out of her father’s mouth was aggravating, the sentences began and ended with her name, over and over over again and It felt terribly like she was standing right next to me, ice cold and dead but real and relentless at the same time. He spoke of her like she was still alive and i couldn’t fathom how that was healthy. How that was going to help Jungkook move on.

 If anything it made it harder for him to move on. 

And in a moment of chilling clarity, i realized  that this is what they wanted. 

They didn’t want Jungkook to move on from her. They wanted him to be consumed by her. In the wake of that realization , i felt anger surge. 

There was just enough hurt and heartbreak and pain and grief in this room without these idiots adding to it. 

“Jungkook is tired tonight, uncle.. Perhaps we can discuss this later.” I said finally, unable to bear it any more.

The man gave me a glare.

“I wasn’t talking to you girl.” He said sharply. I frowned. 

“We’re trying to help Jungkook. “ The woman said sharply. “ Unlike you and your father we do not prey on the weak. “ 

Jungkook shifted at the phrase and I glared at her.

“He isn’t weak. “ I snapped, resisting the urge to add on a you bitch , “He’s grieving . And what he needs is space to process his grief. Not you people trying to shove your daughter into his throat with every sentence. “

“Don’t you dare talk about our daughter!” Mrs. Kim snarled and i felt a headache come on.

“I thought that was why you were here? To talk about her? Or should I say use her as an excuse to get money out of him??  What you’re doing is unfair and awful!! . Jungkook isn’t ready to talk about this and one look at his face should tell you that, if you even bothered looking at anything except his wallet.” I shouted. 

“Heejin, that’s enough.” Jungkook said hoarsely and i bit my lips. 

Of course he wasn’t going to support me even if we were on the same side. Defending him, protecting him was exhausting and it was such a thankless job. i wanted it to end. 

“I think we should call this a night. please, just leave” I said sharply, standing up and reaching for Mina. She glared at me but handed the baby over. 

“You don’t get to make that decision. My son in law is who I’m here to see. You’re just the parasite that’s attached herself to him. You sit there in my daughter’s place and you dare disrespect me this way. ” The woman snapped.

“Its still my house. “ I gritted out. “ I’m married to Jungkook whether you like it or not and so i have the right to ask you to get out of my house.” 

“Heejin, stop.” Jungkook’s voice only made me angrier. He sounded drained and empty and still these leeches wanted to suck him dry. And he was too  blind to see it. 

“I’m done with this” I stood up moving to the small pack and play that sat in the corner of the living room. i placed Mina in and watcher her eyes flutter shut gently. 

i turned back to stare at Mrs. Kim.

“i want the pair of you to leave. Get out before I call security.” 

She gaped at me. 

“you had a wedding... that doesn’t make it a fucking marriage. “ she sneered. “ Its probably not even legal until you consummate it. So go ahead, call the cops right now. You think i wouldn’t take you to court. ??!! ” 

She was spouting absolute nonsense, probably driven by her own grief  but i wasn’t feeling particularly charitable tonight. 

“Why don’t you ask your son in law that? Ask him if the marriage was consummated or not...” I smirked. 

She faltered, eyes wide and disbelieving.

“No. You’re lying ...he wouldn’t.” She turned to Jungkook who looked at me with fury in his eyes. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He said sharply and I scoffed.

“With me? What the fuck is wrong with me? What the fuck is wrong with these idiots that they think they can come here and ask you to sign a fucking cheque when you’re still out here grieving for their daughter?!”

“You don’t know shit about them or her...” 

“I don’t have to. I don’t have to and i don’t care to either. All I know is that i married you and you’re my husband and whether you meant those vows or not, i did. I swore in front of my God and my family and I’m going to keep those promises. I’m going to protect you because I love your daughter . I’m going to protect you because you need to fucking live to be able to care for her. “ 

i turned to stare at his in-laws. They were staring at me, some of the fire dying out and in the span of a few minutes they somehow looked older . 

“You don’t deserve to be here.” Mr. Kim said finally, voice cracking and i exhaled. 

“And yet, here I am. And I’m not leaving. you are.” I said calmly. 

They stared at me for one more second before standing up and moving out of the dining space and into the hallways leading out. 

“We’ll call you later Jungkook-ah...” The man said before walking out of the door and slamming it shut behind him. 

The silence between us grew heavier as the seconds ticked. 

“We can’t decide how people grieve.” Jungkook said softly. 

I stared at him in disbelief. 

“You’re telling  me  that , Jungkook? Or did you forget all the times I indulged you when the only way you could grieve was apparently  by forcing yourself on me.” i snapped. 

His eyes widened , just a fraction before going blank again. 

He took a deep breath and went on. 

“They lost their daughter and they’re hurting. We can’t tell them they aren’t allowed to honor her memory...They’re clearly in pain...”

“Not more than you!” i snapped. “ You’re the one in pain here Jungkook. Your pain is so much more than theirs ..... Or may be it isn’t i don’t know.. But i do know that I can’t sit here and watch them bleed all over you when you’re cut just as deep as them.” 

“You don’t know shit about e!” He roared. “ Don’t you fucking dare talk about my grief like you can understand it...like you actually know what its like to lose the woman who had your fucking heart, because if you did you wouldn’t have agreed to this fucking marriage...you wouldn’t be here in this room with me, intruding on my grief and my pain... “

The sound of his voice made my entire body freeze in fear. I stayed perfectly still, jumping when he crossed the distance between us and grabbed my face, fingers curling around my jaw. 

“ You want to know how i wanted to grieve? I wanted to grieve in solitude!!! I wanted to grieve without some fucking stranger hovering over my shoulder like a fucking plague!”

I exhaled shakily, fingers trembling as i reached up to hold his wrist, my entire jaw throbbing with how hard his grip was. 

“It’s the price you pay for getting your company back. Jeon Jungkook. “ I choked out.” Or did you forget that marrying me is the reason you aren’t homeless on the streets “

He laughed a little yanking me closer and wrapping an arm around my waist.

“You’ve learned to talk back these days...” He muttered , “ I think I preferred the girl who hid in the nursery for the first three weeks of our wedding.” 

“I wasn’t hiding . I was avoiding you. Because your misery was contagious and i didn’t want any of it on me.” I snapped and his hold on my waist tightened. 

“Are you trying to make me angry? ” He snapped, fingers curling on my waist and I swallowed the whimper of pain that threatened. 

“Maybe i am... Maybe anything is better than watching you walk around this house like a corpse. You’re alive so I don’t see why you act like you died with her.” 

He growled at that, eyes blazing as he stepped back enough to stare into my face. 

“You’re right... I didn’t die with her. Although i wanted to...Maybe if i wasn’t such a fucking coward, i would have gone through with it.  .” He laughed and I felt my heart go ice cold at the very thought of it. 

“You didn’t die... So why don’t you get some help. There’s no shame in getting help... Taehyung...”

“I don’t need help. i need to be alone.” He snarled. “ I need to be allowed to cry and mourn my wife the way I want to but you and your father made sure that i couldn’t.”

I sighed, looking away in defeat. 

“Fucking look at me!” He snarled, hands grabbing both my arms and yanking me forward. “ Why won’t you look at me huh?  is the guilt finally catching up?” 

“No. No guilt. Just loathing and resentment.” I snapped back and he laughed again.

“Well too bad. Because you know what? You’re right. I paid for my company with my right to grieve and you...you paid for my name with your right to say no . “ 

I swallowed as he yanked me away from the table, dragging me to the couch in the side. 

“ I never refused you a thing.” I choked out, breathing ragged as he shoved me into the soft leather surface, crawling on top of me at once. “ I only said no when you were drunk out of your mind. When you thought it was okay to fuck me and call me by her name.” 

He made swift work of the buttons of my blouse and I stayed still, arms lying by my side. 

“ Are you telling me you want this ? You expect me to believe you want my hands on your body?” He sneered, fingers moving up to grip my hair. “You don’t want this and you don’t want me....Just like i don’t want you either. i’ll never want you. ” 

“You don’t want me.??.. You have a funny way of showing it..”  I scoffed , staring right into his eyes rolling my hips up into his  , greeted by the hard press of his length against my thigh.   “ And to be honest i don’t give a damn if you’re still in love with her , all I want is my name on your lips if you want to get off with me. Because I’m not just a toy you can use to replace your dead wife. I have  a name and you should remember it.  "

He growled again, fingers squeezing hard against the back of my head till my scalp felt like it was on fire.

“I hate you. “ He said clearly. “ I hate you and everything you’ve done to me.” 

“Everything I’ve done to you? Oh you mean save your life? Taek care of your baby girl like she was my own? Give you the chance to rebuild your entire career.? Turn you into multi millionaire again?  Good. Hate me. The feelings mutual. “ I snapped. “Now if you hate me so much why are you still here? Get off me.” 

“I’m not going anywhere, wife.” He sneered. “ Because like you said, I’ve paid for this.” He drawled, reaching down and squeezing between my legs. “And I’d be a pretty bad businessman if i don’t collect from my investments.” 

Before I could retort, he pulled back, just enough to grab me by the waist and flip me over on my front. I flinched when he grabbed my arms, yanking them back and trapping my wrists together in his fist at the base of my spine. My cheeks pressed into the leather couch, sticky and uncomfortable. 

i heard the sound of his zipper, the clink of his belt buckle. 

Coward. 

I shivered when he pushed my skirt up.

“Don’t enjoy this too much, yeah?” I snapped, “ You hate me remember?” 

“Easy enough to forget its you when I don’t have to look at you.” he retorted. 

He slipped one arm under my waist, lifting me up just enough for him to yank my panties down. 

“Just remember , you don’t get to blame the alcohol for this .” I sneered. “ You’re sober and clear headed and you’re hard for me. “ 

Somehow that seemed to bother him.

He stopped . 

I could feel the hesitation in his limbs. 

It made me laugh. 

“You know Jungkook, i took you for lot of things but a coward wasn’t one of them.”

“What the fuck does that mean huh? I should put you in your fucking place for how insolent you are with me... ” he pressed down on me and i gasped when I felt his chest pressing into my back, his face inches from my own. I flinched when he sank his teeth into the mating mark on my neck. 

“it means that if you’re going to do this, if you’re going to talk big about putting me in my place like the big bad alpha that you are, at least own up to the fact that you’re attracted to me. ” 

“ You forget your fucking place, omega.”  he hissed, voice sharp and furious against my ear. “ Another word out of that mouth and i won’t be responsible for what i do.” I gritted my teeth when he curled his fingers around the inside of my thigh, parting my legs and settling in between. 

He pushed into me in one strong thrust and my eyes flew open in shock. 

“Fuck.... why are you so fucking tight...” He groaned and my shoulders began to throb as he fucked into me, setting a punishing speed that left both of us panting . We were too fucking would up for it to last any longer than a few minutes and yet, i could feel pleasure swell inside me, wetness seeping out of me and onto the leather couch beneath us. 

I wondered just how fucked up this whole thing was. Just how much damage were we doing to each other?? But it was hard to care too much about it, because even if though it was a terrible way to talk things out at least he had talked. It was nothing new....nothing earth shatteringly enlightening but he had said it all out loud and that made a difference. 

“You think you can come into my life and dictate how i fucking live.” He grunted against my ear, fingers tightening on my hair. “ it pisses me off.” 

“Everyone dies, Jungkook. People die and they leave loved ones behind but Life goes on. It has to go on. You can’t just pause life to grieve. Mina needs you.” I felt my eyes begin to sting with tears, the adrenaline from the argument fading and my body threatening to go limp as he drove into me at the same punishing pace. 

He didn’t respond, fingers closing around my throat and squeezing lightly instead.

“Save your platitudes before i decide that the warmth of your body isn’t worth the grate of your voice on my ear.” He snapped and I whimpered when he stilled, spilling into me. 

He stayed pressed up against me. breathing harshly against my ear and i waited till both our breaths evened out. 

“It’s not selfish to move on Jungkook. You aren’t insulting your wife’s memory by wanting to move on.  “ I said softly. ” Someday your heart and mind will agree with me. Whether you like it or not. That’s just how pain works, Jungkook. One day it’ll pack itself up and walk out of your heart in the middle of the night. You just have to hold on till then.” 

He didn’t reply, merely drawing himself up and off me. 

Once i heard the door to his bedroom slam shut i dragged myself up , thighs shaking and sticky. I grimaced at the mess on the couch. I stared at the packet of baby wipes on the table nearby and shuddered. That just felt wrong. 

I’d just have to go grab a washcloth from the bathroom. 

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

On that weekend, we had another dinner to attend, this time with a few investors from out of the country or so Namjoon told me. 

Although we didn’t talk about what happened and he didn’t try to touch me again, things were subtly different. 

Something had changed in the way Jungkook behaved with me. There was a little less of the usual zombie like indifference and he actually seemed to be avoiding alcohol actively. It was a welcome change. But to make up for it, Mina went into a growth spurt. Which meant ten minute naps every hours or so with wailing sobs in between. 

i was exhausted. 

So much so that Jungkook told me that he didn’t want to pick Mina up from Seokjin’s place till the next day. 

It was a little past one in the morning when I finally trudged into the apartment. Jungkook wasn’t black out drunk but he was definitely a little loose limbed, eyes just a shade more glassy than usual.

“Tonight went well. I’m thinking the guy from Macau is definitely going to consider investing.” He muttered, gripping the door frame and taking off his shoes.

I toed my own heels off, feeling upset and bereft.

“Why would you tell Jin oppa that we’ll get Mina in the morning? She’s not used to being away the whole night.” I complained, feeling jittery and nervous because the house felt so empty and strange .

I didn’t like the idea of being alone with Jungkook without the buffer of his daughter between us. The house felt foreign, the walls seemingly closer together , the space to cramped.

Jungkook dropped his keys in the bowl and tugged on his tie, watching me carefully.

“It’s too late and Jin hyung said she was already asleep. He’ll drop her off in the morning. Just relax. Would you like a drink?”

I stared at him. 

What now? 

He looked nervous and a tad worried.

 Swallowing , I shook my head, turning on my heel.  

“I’m going to bed.” I was almost at the door to the nursery when he grabbed my arm, seemingly moving faster than I could breathe.

“Wait, Heejin… “ He stopped, worrying his lip between his teeth before sighing, “I… I need to say something..” He finished and I exhaled sharply.

I tugged on my arm but he wouldn’t let go.

“Jungkook , let me go.” I said sharply. “ I’m not in the mood tonight . You aren’t drunk now and I’m running out of reasons to excuse your actions.”

His hold on my arm relaxed but he didn’t let go.

“Namjoon hyung told me about that new therapist.... Kim Taehyung?? . I don’t think it’s a good idea.” He said roughly.  

I sighed, defeated. It was expected and yet it stung. I wondered if perhaps I was just beating a dead horse at this point. But Mina deserved to have a father who loved her with all his heart and Jungkook’s heart was so filled with grief it had no place for his daughter. If there was any chance I could help change that, I would take it.

I tugged my arm away again and this time he let go.

I tried to smile encouragingly. it was hard because i was all out of comfort, my own exhaustion too overwhelming at the moment.

So I took a deep breath and reached out to lightly touch his arm. 

“Listen, no one’s asking you to make a decision tonight, Jungkook.” I tried to smile a bit more widely but it probably came out as a grimace, “ Just sleep on it and think about why you think it isn’t a good idea. Taehyung’s an alpha and he may understand you better. Think about it and you can let Namjoon know later.”

He didn’t reply, merely staring at me till I began to feel a little hot around the collar.

“Well, Good night then.” I made to turn away but he grabbed me again, this time by my wrist.

“Wait.”

Patience wearing just a little thin, I stared at him, waiting as he requested.

“I’m sorry about what I said that night. At the party last week. About you not being her mother.   I shouldn’t have said that.”

It was the first time he had apologized for anything.

It took me a second to even remember what he was talking about. 

“Alright. I’m not mad. And I understand why you said it. Its fine. And you’re right. I’m not her mother and I should be more careful. ”

He nodded and then stepped back.

“ I’m sorry. For a lot of things. ”  He bowed awkwardly and I could only stare at him, shaking my head. The apologies were somehow both welcome and abhorrent to me. 

They were the kind of apology you would offer a stranger. And that made them insincere because I wasn’t a stranger. I’d been through too much these past few months, to be treated that way. 

For now I could only accept them at face value. 

“ Its alright. Just go to bed Jungkook. And listen to Namjoon oppa . I know you don’t trust me but you should trust him. He only wants what’s best for you. ”

I sounded twenty years older than I actually was and grimaced.

"There’s one more thing. Can I... I need... “ He stopped and stared at the floor. 

I felt a huge sense of foreboding rise up at that. 

“Are you going to pull the i paid for your body card? “ I said bitterly. “ You made it very clear that i can’t say no. I don’t see why you’re bothering to-”

“You can say no.” He said softly. “ You can say no.” 

And then he looked up at with limpid doe eyes, shining with all the stars in the galaxy and I wanted to sob at the unfairness of it all. 

“ And if I say no, where will you go? To a brothel? you’ll come back smelling like another beta or omega and you can’t come near your daughter till it fades. Which is what? A week? “ 

Jungkook didn’t say anything and I felt helpless. 

“Is that why you sent her away tonight?” I demanded and he looked genuinely surprised. 

“What? No. Of course not . i just...You looked exhausted. I thought you’d like a night off. And just... I don’t want to have sex. Can you just sleep with me. I just... I don’t want to be alone tonight.” 

“What’s so special about tonight?” i rolled my eyes already moving to his bedroom instead of the nursery. 

He stared at me for a few seconds, eyes empty in the dark of the hallway. 

I waited a whole minute before sighing. This was excruciating and my heels hurt from wearing heels all evening. i wanted to curl into the air mattress on the floor of the nursery , possibly lie sleepless till dawn and then drive down to pick Mina up from Jin’s place. 

“Jungkook , let’s just go to bed and forget-” 

“Its her birthday.” 

I barely heard him, his lips barely moved and his voice was so low. 

I stared at him. Not sure if I’d misheard. 

“What?”

“Its her birthday. “ He repeated. 

“You can say her name.” i said calmly. “ You’re not betraying her by saying her name out loud in front of me.” 

He went a little stiff at that and i wanted to kick myself for the remark. What a hypocrite I was. I’d reprimanded Namjoon for trying to dictate Jungkook’s grief and here I was , doing the exact same thing. 

“I’m sorry. God, Jungkook... I’m sorry. i shouldn’t have said that.  i didn’t know. Why didn’t you tell me.. I... of course you don’t have to be alone. Should i call Namjoon oppa? Or Jimin?” I asked gently. 

“It’s Sooah’s birthday.” He was still staring at the floor, apparently he hadn’t heard a word I’d said. 

I had a sudden flash of memory, remembering that Jungkook used to sing. He had sung at his wedding seven years ago. Serenaded his wife as she walked down the aisle. I had been young then but i remembered thinking how evident his love was in every syllable sung .

Something i could hear even now, in the way he said her name. 

“Okay. What would you like to do? I... I can make seaweed soup.” I said softly. “ We can go see her if you like?” 

He stared at me. 

“I want to go alone.” He said finally. 

I hesitated. 

“I’ll drive you. i’ll stay in the car. You can’t drive.” I reminded him. 

Jungkook’s driver’s license had been suspended after one too many traffic violations. I drove him around often . 

He didn’t reply, staring out of the huge bay windows and i sighed. 

“Alright... Why don’t you go change  into something more comfortable yeah? i’ll get the soup going and we, “ i bit my lips, “ , I’m sorry, And you can go see her.  “ I smiled, before moving to the kitchen and grabbing the dried seaweed. I soaked it in cold water, before getting the beef, garlic, soy sauce, salt and pepper and the sesame oil from the cupboards. 

Ten minutes later, the soup was boiling away and I peered out at the door leading to his bedroom. I was still wearing the cocktail gown and my head was beginning to throb. I oved to the nursery and stripped quickly, slipping on my white t shirt and a pair of pink corduroy shorts. 

I would be in the car anyway.  By the time i finished taking off all my make up, the soup was done and Jungkook was slumped over the counter. He looked drained, more so than usual . In fact he looked notably worse than how he was ten minutes ago. 

Torn between the urge to draw him into my arms and the helpless knowledge that he would absolutely hate me touching him , i merely hovered near the stove, pouring the stove into a small airtight container. 

On a whim I moved to the cupboard  in the corner that housed all the crockery and threw it open. 

“What was her favorite bowl?” I said casually, staring at him. 

He blinked, staring at me like i was speaking a foreign tongue. 

“Her favorite bowl , Jungkook The one she always drank or ate from?” 

He swallowed but leaned his palms down on the granite countertop, levering himself off the tall stool of the kitchen island and making his way over to me. I stepped back, giving him space to peer into the depths of the black marble shelves. 

He finally stuck a hand in and drew out a pale yellow and mauve bowl , a little worn but intact. 

He held it carefully, running his fingers gently over the bowl, savoring the surface his wife had once caressed with her own fingers. I watched as his lips curved, a pale pale imitation of a smile but a smile nonetheless and I felt my breath catch in my throat. 

This was probably the first time he’d smiled in the three months i’d known him. 

My heart began to pound, a steady staccato that began rising in volume and i willed myself to stay calm. 

“I..uh.. I can wash it for you.” I said softly .

The smile disappeared as quickly as it had come and he stared at my outstretched hand like it was a snake . 

Face almost eerily blank he cleared his throat. 

“I’ll do it.” 

i watched as he moved to wash the bowl under the spray from the faucet and finished clearing up the kitchen. i grabbed a small bag to keep the sea wood soup in and held the bag open when Jungkook finished washing the bowls. He grabbed a fresh kitchen towel and carefully wiped down the moisture before wrapping the bowl in the towel and keeping it inside the bag, carefully. 

I smiled and zipped the bag shut. 

“Lets go shall we?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

I sat waiting in the car, staring out into the darkness of the parking lot, while the rain poured torrents outside the glass windows of the car. I felt unaccountably alone, like I was the only human being left on the planet. 

It had been a little past an hour since Jungkook had disappeared into the building that held his wife’s ashes. I wasn’t sure if i should give him a call. Had he fallen asleep in there. 

I told myself I would wait another hour and if he didn’t come out, I would go check on him. 

I dozed lightly against the window, exhaustion beginning to creep in. I wanted to sob at how tired i was. I could have gotten a full nights sleep, something i hadn’t had since the day I took Mina into my arms. 

But then, i remembered the tiny smile that had sprung up on his face and i grinned despite myself. That was progress wasn’t it? It definitely was. I was sure that if only Jungkook could be convinced to go meet Taehyung , the alpha therapist, things could get so much better for him. I wanted to have him at least halfway to being ..... capable of handling his own daughter, before i left him. if not the worry alone would eat me alive. 

I was just getting ready to perhaps climb over the console and nap in the backseat when my phone rang. 

I glanced at the dashboard, frowning. it was two thirty in the morning. 

Who?

I grabbed my phone from the bag and my heart leapt to my throat. 

“Jin? What’s wrong? What happened to her?” I could feel my heart threatening to give out, any number of terrible possibilities running through my head in a vicious loop.

“nothing happened, Heejin , take a deep breath... She’s just running a fever. it was quite low earlier but its hitting 101  now and I’m getting a little worried. I’ve given her cold baths and kept a wet towel on her but it doesn’t seem to be coming down.” 

“We’ll be there in ten minutes! “ i said quickly.

“I’m sorry, Heejinah, i don’t have any experience with babies and-”

“it’s alright...thank you for calling me oppa!” i hung up , already fumbling with the door and stepping out into the rain. i was soaked through in three second flat. What a day to wear a white t shirt. 

I ran quickly, stumbling a little on the gravel pathway and hoping to God i was going the right way. I ran into the foyer, the poor security guard falling asleep over his desk glancing up at me in sympathy. 

“there was a man here earlier?”

“Second floor third room.” He said casually.

I nodded, already rushing for the steps. I climbed the four flights of stair in two minutes, my heart threatening to give out. I found Jungkook in the room , kneeling on the floor and he looked at me in shock that swiftly turned to anger.

“Jungkook-” i gasped because the run up had robbed me of my breath. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He moved so quickly I could barely blink before he was right up in front of me. 

“Jungkook, I... We need...” I tried to draw a breath in but before I could form the words he grabbed my arm, so hard that I whimpered in pain. 

“I told you i wanted to be alone, what the fuck is your fucking problem?!” He snarled.

“Jungkook-” Before i could finish, he yanked me just a bit closer to him before shoving me out of the room with his wife’s portraits and the small ornate vase that held her ashes. 

it wasn’t that hard. 

He didn’t push me in a very brutal way. 

In fact it was probably with lesser force than what anyone slamming a door would use. 

But,

Jungkook was six feet two. He weighed a 170 pounds. 

I was a hundred pounds wet and barely came up to his shoulders. 

And it was just my luck that the wall opposite to the door had a large concrete and granite horse figurine placed right in front of it.  

I crashed into the torso of the equine, my bones rattling inside me and I whimpered when my wrist made contact with the hard surface, bending a bit out of place. 

I slid to the floor in a wet lump, trying to catch my breath and process what had just happened.

Jungkook stood frozen by the door horrified as he stared at his hands, as thought he couldn’t quite fathom what he had just done. 

A sharp burning pain began in my sides and I gasped out.

“Oh, fuck.” I swore. 

Jungkook moved to help me up but i was already crawling away from him, scrambling to my feet, ignoring the ache in my side.

“I’m sorry.” I said softly, holding both my hands up. “ It’s Mina...she’s running a fever. We need to go get her.” 

“Heejin-ah, I’m...”

One more apology and i would officially lose it, i thought slightly hysterically. 

“its my fault.” I said sharply, “  I should have probably tried calling you from the car instead of barging in like this but Jin called and i got worried...I wasn’t thinking straight so I’m sorry about that... I think we should go get her as soon as we can.” 

“Did i hurt you?” He demanded , reaching out for me again and I nearly fell again trying to move away from his touch. 

“No.. No I’m fine.” 

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

“Are you sure, we don’t have to go the doctor.?  “ He asked nervously, watching me carefully wipe down her body with the slightly damp wet cloth. I nodded, carefully squeezing the water out before dipping the towel in water again. 

“She’ll be fine. Her fever’s come down and with babies this young, its safer to care for them at home than to take them to a hospital.” I said casually, 

 “I wasn’t talking about her.” He said stiltedly. 

I blinked, staring up at him in surprise. 

“What?”

“I think we should go to the doctor. You fell hard. ”

“Jungkook what are you even on about?” I said crossly, steadfastly ignoring the pain in my sides. It was sharp and unbearable with every breath I took in but I was too terrified to go to the hospital and have them tell me I’d cracked my rib or something. 

Partly because that would be so inconvenient. 

Partly because Jungkook would probably go back to being a guilt ridden shadow of himself if that happened. 

“I’m going to call Yoongi hyung.” 

Before I could protests some more he was already on his feet, moving to the living room.

Yoongi arrived thirty minutes later , annoyed and sleepy, dressed in a soft white t shirt and stone wash jeans. 

“It’s four thirty in the morning , she better be dying Jungkook..” He rasped out near the front door and i flinched at the murderous tone to his voice. 

Suddenly , i hoped desperately that my ribs had cracked. 

Yoongi stepped in , staring at me . He took in the mess of quilts i sat on and sighed. 

“Come here and take your shirt off.” He said gruffly. 

I blinked, feeling blood rush to my face. Was he always this handsome? Hating the very unwelcome flutter of nerves, I moved to stand in front of him, grabbing the hem of my t shirt .

But the movement jolted my rib and pain sharp and lancing shot through my side. I yelped and dropped my hand again breathing harshly which only seemed to make things worse. 

I swallowed and Yoongi blinked, reaching out to gently grip my elbows. 

“Hey...relax ... “ He said gently. 

I felt the press of a warm chest at my back.

“Let me help hyung.” Jungkook’s voice rumbled through my body, his chin brushing the top of my head and he bent over me from the back, fingers gripping the hem of my shirt and carefully lifting it up to just above the curve of my breasts. 

Yoongi was staring at Jungkook over my shoulders expression unreadable. 

“So you do know how to act after all.” He commented drily and I heard Jungkook inhale sharply behind me. 

“Hyung...” He said sharply, and Yoongi merely rolled his eyes. 

“How did this happen?” He ran slender fingers all over my skin, feeling each dent and dip carefully. 

“I ..uh.. I sort of fell into a statue? It was made of concrete and quite heavy.” 

His face shifted into a frown. 

“Jungkook , tell me you didn’t push her.” He said sharply and I jumped a bit.

“No...he didn’t.” i said sharply and Yoongi ignored me , staring right at the alpha behind me. 

“I didn’t mean to.” He said finally.

“You broke her rib, kid.” 

I groaned in defeat. Behind me Jungkook stiffened.

“It was an accident.” I said sharply and Yoongi gave me an unimpressed look.

“If i had a won for every wife that told me that.” 

“It was my fault and-” I shut my mouth. I did sound like the poster child for abused wife in denial. 

“Relax... I’m not going to send your handsome husband to prison.” He chuckled. “ This time.” He added, giving Jungkook another glare. 

“It won’t happen again. ever. “ Jungkook’s voice shook a little. 

I sighed, already imagining the self flagellation that was probably going on inside the alpha’s head.

Yoongi’s voice drew me out of my head. 

 “Its not a break. It looks like a crack which is easier to heal. But i still want you to come in tomorrow. We’ll get it x rayed. Its going to take a couple of months to heal.” 

I gaped.

“Months?” 

“As long as you take it easy you’ll be fine. Now where’s the little one?” 

Yoongi dropped off a small bottle of pediatric paracetamol and told me to keep an eye on her temperature before bidding us goodbye. 

Once the door closed behind him, Jungkook turned to me , eyes wide and lips parted. 

“If you apologize , I’m going to throw this  at your face.” i said calmly, fingers closing over the neck of the ceramic vase on the table. 

Jungkook blinked. 

“I’m sorry. “ He said nonetheless and I sighed, pulling my hands away. 

How fitting. Neither of us could act out of character. 

Jungkook couldn’t stop blaming himself for everything under the sun. 

I just couldn’t bring myself to hurt him in any way. 

“Just go to bed , Jungkook. I’ll be fine.” 

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

Author’s Note : As always the pain is here and probably going to get worse. But Jungkook seems to be turning mildly human so let’s see if he can keep that up. Also handsome pediatric doctor Yoongi as second lead because i like to torture myself. 

If you want to be on the taglist please leave a comment!! 

@girlinthemikrokosmos  @xius-exos  @sugainfireslex  @yunkichiee

@kpopstudybee @ephyraaaa  @peachoney9795 @ggukkieland  

@veronawrites  @blr1004   @tinyhoagiepartylover @btsis7okay

@squishyjk  @itsdingdong @emmmui  @honeeybunneey  @yeonkiminnie

[shotorozu]

attractive things you do a lot

[sorta milestone celebration, but also something i made during todo’s birthday]

character(s) : multiple; five or more.

legend : [Y/N = your name] they/them pronouns used, hinted to have a strong quirk but it’s not mentioned alot

post type : headcanons + scenario [fluff, the mildest of spice.] third year au! but it’s nothing nsfw, so no need to worry.

note(s) : i was planning on doing denki, tamaki, monoma, and 2 other characters— but my idea train stopped at shinsou so i’m sorry about that! just let me manifest some ideas rq, and i’ll make a part two.

»»————-　♡　————-««

todoroki shouto

eye contact is so attractive to him, he can’t explain it’s exact details

it’s definitely the way the both of you guys can practically read each other’s expressions just by staring into each other’s eyes it’s sorta telepathic?? im half joking

he absolutely loves the way you look away bashfully when you realize he’s staring at you— as you try to pretend he wasn’t just staring at you not so discreetly

and if you feel like it, you’ll stare back at him— totally teasing him with your eyes, as he slowly realizes that you’ve caught him staring

really adores your thinking face for some reason, you could be plotting about giving bakugou a knuckle sandwich, and shouto would just stare like “my s/o’s so attractive :))”

another thing he really likes is when you hold onto his hand, dragging his left side to your face whenever you feel colder than usual

you practically do the same thing when it’s too hot, and he doesn’t care if you’re sweaty or not. nope, not one bit.

he always found it attractive when he sees you bop your head to songs you really like. shouto just really likes seeing you enjoy yourself.

an extra to the cool/hot bit, he makes you run towards his direction by turning off the ac/heater.

last but not the least, his heart swoons when you kiss his scar. he has always been insecure about it, and you have helped him a lot!

mild spice here— whenever you bite your lip, his heart skips a beat

your lips are just so perfect to him, the shape, size, and color. so biting your lip does something alright. he doesn’t know what exactly though.

to conclude this, todoroki’s just whipped for you— it’s very noticable when he finds you extra attractive.

midoriya izuku

he loves seeing you hyped about something you’re really interested in.

like todoroki, seeing you enjoy yourself genuinely makes him content. his s/o having their own interests is really big for him

strength is something he admires (but he’s not power hungry like end*avor, don’t get confused).

so no, it doesn’t just reflect on your strong and capable quirk—

no. it’s so much deeper than that to him, seeing that you can overcome challenges makes his heart swoon

when you tilt your head when listening to him- omg. he might just short circuit from the way you’re looking at him intensely. 

he likes it a lot when you reach for his hand, enveloping your hand against his

an extra point if you pay extra attention to the callouses and scars on his hands— purposely rubbing a thumb across his scars

fixing his tie.

like.. [SIMP SCREAMS] he doesn’t really know how to fix it properly, but if you do it for him— he’ll start imagining a rather domestic life so BWNDNWNS warn him

mild spice here— but he loves seeing you fix your hero costume?? there’s something about it that makes him refuse to look away. he thinks you’re very hot btw

but the top tier? it’s when you get along with his mom, and children

like.. you don’t have to be good with them, but you should at least be nice to them! midoriya’s deal breaker is if you don’t get along with his mom so.. you really have to in this relationship

bakugou katsuki

when you put him back in his place- well.. let me explain this one

people are so easily intimidated by him, so people don’t talk at him when he says some shit

so he’ll be genuinely surprised if you talk back at him, because it shows him that you're not afraid of him (and that’s important in a relationship with bakugou) 

when you put his face in his palms. he’ll scowl and tell you off, but he actually likes holding your face in his palms

his hands are naturally clammy, so he’s secretly so insecure about them, and if you show him that you really don’t care- then.. that’ll keep him up at night. 

same thing with shouto, but if you run to him for warm in colder weathers, that’ll give him an ego boost. 

knowing that you’ll only look for him, whenever you feel cold makes him feel all “mushy” inside. again, like how bakugou is- he’ll pretend he absolutely despises it but he’ll actually love it.

mild spice here- but seeing you all worn out, panting under him when he spars with you is something that’ll leave him speechless for the rest of the day. man can’t stop thinking about it, and he has to restrain himself. 

last but not the least- it’s when you touch/play with his hair. 

YUUUP. 

so unexpected because he never lets anyone touch it, sometimes not even his own mother. 

but the only hands that are touching the ash blond mesh that is his hair is you. 

do whatever with them. create small braids, comb it, tie it with a scrunchy, straighten it. really- he has trust in you

he’s just so whipped when you do it, and it calms him down. 

kirishima eijirou

when you call him manly 🤠

and when you do things he considers as ‘manly’ like going out of your way to train your quirk— and helping him study for something he doesn’t quite get and when you succeed

another ‘manly’ thing is when you manage to encourage him— because he himself had confidence issues

so if you do that, he’ll be planning the wedding asap

whenever you just make grabby hands at his hair— wanting to style his hair

oh and if you wanted to redo his roots (if they grow back) then he’ll let you <3 because he absolutely adores it

when you start tracing his jawline when you’re staring at him. he was very caught off guard when you did this for the first time

but he absolutely loves the sensation.

stretching before any exercise! just the way you twist yourself with ease.. he’s mesmerized

he stares a little too much, to the point he gets called out by bakugou multiple times

a little spicy here — he likes your teeth. normal teeth, canine teeth, fangs, whatever!

doesn’t matter if you’re bite your lip, or runnig your tongue along the edge of a tooth. are you trying to seduce him?

he will be seduced 💀 face practically rivalling his faux red hair, trying to avert his gaze— thinking about how pretty you just looked like.

last but not the least!

back hugs. he’s such a fan of them, regardless if you’re taller than him, or shorter

surprise him, and he’ll turn around with this big dopey smile— and he’ll trap you in his arms

shinsou hitoshi

okay, if you randomly send him pictures of yourself (either your prettiest pictures, or the weirdest pictures) he’ll be so in love

like— just look at you! you’re gorgeous to him (saves every singe candid photo you’ve send him)

this is a really weird one but.. when you pick up things with your feet (bonus points if you do it with ease.)

when you start fixing your hair, doing whatever to it— he’s just in awe. (have you hypnotized him with your beauty?)

get him things for his hair like headbands, scrunchies, little barretts and pigtails

he’ll keep it in for as long as he can— since his hair is a little wild, a little braid or ponytail wouldn’t hurt, right?

spice warning (?) whispering into his ear makes his heart pound 10x faster like.. are you trying to kill him?

his quirk gave him a habit of listening to someone’s voice.. a little too much.

SO IF YOU WHISPER IN HIS EAR, HE’LL STOP FUNCTIONING :) do whatever with that info tbh

last but never the least— when you support him, and his journey to becoming a hero

because people have told him that he’ll never be a hero because his quirk was too villainy

nope. you think differently, and that’s what he thinks is most attractive about you.

the ability to support and believe him, even if his quirk seems a little misleading.

»»————-　♡　————-««

likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading!

i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters. boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei. i only own the writing.

do not plagiarize my work :))

[borkthemork]

‘Ivy on the Run’, and What Sasha Needs

So, back when I was rewatching Season 2B, I had considered a lot of the tiny details found in prior episodes that seemed to promise massive comebacks later on.

I’m talking about the mossmen, who were alluded to way back in Wally and Anne, who were mentioned later with the mural and the sleepover episode.

We also have stuff such as the ability for Anne to bend light into imagery, which I definitely absolutely believe is one of her powers that will be delved into in Season Three.

With all these details, I decided to really put my foot into the series and see how much could potentially be planted throughout what I once considered to be episodic episodes.

And that was where I had a realization.

Ivy on the Run wasn’t just a Sprig and Ivy episode. It wasn’t just some random episode for the sake of having fun with the characters.

This episode is where the show tells the audience subtly that Ivy Sundew is going to be an important character to the plot when it comes to being Sasha Waybrights’s Sprig equivalent, and I’m going to be talking about why I believe that here.

Ivy on the Run is established with three things in mind: to tell the audience about who Ivy is as a character, how she interacts with her family, and what she yearns for overall in the story.

The first scene showcases her personality through the environment itself.

She has a map of the Amphibian continent to track Sprig’s progress, she has posters that talk about finding your own path in life, and you can see that she is a very action-oriented person with the amount of knives and axes on the throwing board.

This entire episode is mainly about Ivy’s wanting to find adventure. She feels trapped in Wartwood because she saw nothing in her family but boring tea sessions, and continuously does actions that shows she’s antsy for her turn in the spotlight, for her turn to explore and conquer the world in her own way since she’s never been out of the Valley.

And here, the narrative makes sure to highlight the more rambunctious and feisty sides of the family too. With Ivy’s debut episode, we were never really given much information about her that wasn’t just one-dimensional tomboy attitude; there were moments where she showed genuine awkwardness over the whole courtship incident, but it wasn’t until Season Two where we were able to flesh her out more as a character overall.

She hates the rules and regulations her mother does for her, she is very much okay with going against said rules if she believes her boundaries were crossed, she can be pretty adaptable in stressful situations, and it isn’t until the end of the episode — where she sees more sides of her mother being an experienced traveler — do we get to see her become more open-minded and excited for learning about this side of her family that she’s never heard of before.

And when the two Sundews went face to face...

We get a parallel.

These episodes are similar in a lot of ways, but how they’re handled is executed differently.

They both focus on the wanting for communication and open-mindedness in a family dynamic, but what’s interesting here is that Sprig deliberately loses to let Hop Pop return to his role as the head of the house, while Felicia deliberately allows Ivy to win as a reassurance that she knows what her daughter needs.

In spite of Felicia’s strict actions, she pushes Ivy because she knows that Ivy will have to leave the Valley one day, and the ending makes a big promise that her part of the journey is almost ready.

"Ivy, you think I don't see you, but I do. You want to travel the world and I get it. But you have to be patient, because it's dangerous out there, and I just want you to be ready before we go."

Of course, the last part is all about their tea trip outside the Valley, but this perhaps could be foreshadowing to another big event in Ivy’s life that will make her leave the Valley.

Now, let’s talk about Sasha and the theme of nurture in Amphibia.

With Sasha, we have an interesting arc going on with her. She has a promised redemption arc, but the thing with her is that the Season Three opening explicitly promises that she’s going to have to compromise with Wartwood if she ever wants to fight Andrias. And we all know how the town is slow when it comes to the respect department.

This is where we start to get some potential parallels with Anne and Sasha. The thing with these two characters is that they do make genuine connections, however the theme of nurture found throughout the story itself emphasizes heavily on the environment and the support system the girls have.

For Anne, she was dropped into a place that knew boundaries and yet opened up to love instead of doubling down on punishment, and this leads to not only empathy but growth if Anne so chooses to become a good person.

For Sasha, she’s not given that place to grow. It has been confirmed in the show itself that Sasha, ever since she dropped into Amphibia, had been imprisoned in Toad Tower for one month. One month. It wasn’t a surprise that Sasha took advantage of the chaos found in Prison Break, since it was a lot better than having nothing by being stubborn. She played it smart, however, that meant Sasha’s manipulative nature and wanting for control became more noticeable and a key to her own survival. And this environment didn’t get any better in spite the fallout of Reunion.

Now take this angry and repressed teenager, who has no clue how to execute her actions in a genuine and authentic manner, and place her into Wartwood.

This is where Ivy Sundew comes in.

Ivy Sundew is not Sprig Plantar by any means; she is a fierce, no-can-do girl who loves adventure, fighting, ambushes, and won’t back down when it comes to being pushed around. Sprig is very emphatic but this makes him easy to push around if you look at him in Sasha’s eyes; we’ve seen him be desperate at times for the affection of people such as Sadie Croaker, and if Sasha ended up with him then the poor boy was gonna get chewed out eventually.

Sasha has the strength, she really has the capability to do amazing things, but the major factor that she needs right now is a careful guide in showing how she could improve as a person, and that means she needs someone who believes in her first and foremost while not taking her shit.

This is why Ivy Sundew could be absolutely crucial to Sasha’s development.

Sasha right now has learned some tips from people such as Toadie when it comes to listening to others, but she needs more than just one person to make lessons about empathy and collaboration stick.

Ivy is not going to take Sasha when she’s pushy, rude, or plain manipulative. She’ll call her out, she’ll mark the boundaries, she won’t let Sasha just foot around her just because she can — and if you think about it, the Sundews have the same attitude too, they’re all fighters who won’t allow themselves to be pushed around by some external force.

And we wouldn’t have known these specific details at all if Ivy on the Run didn’t air.

[yelena-bellova]

Safe Haven: tfatws!Bucky Barnes x fem!reader - Chapter Eight

chapter seven - Chapter Eight: Bloodshed - chapter nine

Series Masterlist

Plot: After murdering one of the Flag Smashers in broad daylight, Sam, Bucky and Y/n confront John Walker.

Warnings: violence, blood, talk of death, injuries, hospitals, minor panic attack, ANGST GALORE, one teeny tiny little bit of fluff so ya’ll don’t completely hate me, Bucky’s a flirt and a concerned (almost) boyfriend, Y/n is still a badass, heartbreak, did I mention angst, more angst, and some more angst, k bye...

Word Count: 8k

A/N: THIS CHAPTER was the hardest one to write, I seriously struggled with this and drafted it so many times. I love writing angst but this shit actually hurt to write. I read up on blunt trauma injuries but I’m not a doctor so this definitely isn’t 100% accurate. I’m also super unoriginal with my titles but this one holds two meanings. Hope you enjoy it!!

----

Anger. Disgust. Horror. Fear.

All emotions that were coursing through me as Bucky, Sam and followed Walker’s signal via Sharon’s satellite. One thing I noticed about the dynamic between the three of us was that we didn’t always need to communicate verbally. With a single shared look, we had made the unanimous decision that we needed to do what had crossed all our minds at some point.

Sharon’s satellite had led us to a warehouse on the outskirts of the city that we approached with caution. Once we were outside the door, Sam turned and held up a hand to me. “You’re staying out here,” he said.

“That’s not happening,” I replied firmly. “No, he’s right,” Bucky nodded, “We don’t know what Walker’s capable of right now-“ “We know exactly what he’s capable of right now,” I interrupted, shoving Sam’s hand down to his side, “And I’m not about to watch you two walk in there and sit out here wondering if the same thing’s going to happen, because you wouldn’t if it were me.” I had successfully tied their hands, both flesh and metal, behind their backs. They both turned back around, sandwiching me between them as we took the first step through the door and into a very uncertain situation.

We entered to see Walker, kneeled on the ground and bracing his head against the bloodied shield. He stood up, slipping the now deadly weapon onto his wrist and began walking towards us. “Walker…” Sam started. “You guys should see a medic, you don’t look so good,” he said as he passed us by, heading for the exit. “Stop, Walker,” Sam stepped forward, Bucky and I following.

Walker turned around, breathless in his anger. “What? You saw what happened, you know what I had to do. I killed him because I had to!” his voice rose with each word, his face turning more and more with rage, “He killed Lemar!” “He didn’t kill Lemar, John,” Bucky stated, “Don’t go down that road. Believe me, it doesn’t end well.” “I’m not like you,” John said lowly.

“Listen, it was the heat of the battle. Okay?” Sam’s voice was calm, contrasting Walker’s energy, “If you explain what happened, they may consider your record.” “Nobody else needs to get hurt in this, Walker,” I spoke up, the first non-sarcastic and non-confrontational thing I had said to the man. 

“John…” Sam paused, gauging what the reaction to what he was about to say may be, “You gotta give me the shield, man.” Walker’s head raised up slowly, the look in his eyes was unsettling as they danced between Sam, Bucky and I. “Oh, so that’s what this is. You almost got me.” “You made a mistake,” Sam shrugged.

He gave us a small sneer, “You don’t wanna do this.” A tense silence fell upon us, a preface to the inevitable moment about to take place. Sharon’s voice rang in my ear, how far was I willing to go? Would it be worth it if I lost my life or worse, lost Sam or Bucky? Without needing to think about my answer, I was resolved in my decision that this fight was too important to all three of us not to push forward. “Yeah, we do,” Bucky replied, speaking for us. 

And thus, it began.

We shot forward towards Walker at the same time, Bucky landing a couple punches on him while Walker kicked Sam backwards. I focused on sending energy blasts that he easily dodged with the shield, even with Bucky’s attacks coinciding. Bucky got a hand on the shield finally and tried to wrench it from Walker, who elbowed him causing him to wobble a little. Walker swung his arm and landed a perfect punch against Bucky’s cheek, sending Bucky to the ground and giving Walker the opportunity to stand above him and raise the shield threateningly. I quickly built a force field around Bucky as Sam came forward and kicked Walker, turning his attention away from Bucky and I. Sam released his wings to hit the shield, Walker’s arm flying back before coming back forward to try and hit Sam. Bucky leapt forward and banged his metal fist against the shield to no avail. I let the blue energy flow from my fingertips and towards to shield, trying to pull it from his grasp. Walker spun the shield around trying to hit all three of us, Sam and I dodging it while Bucky wasn’t as fortunate. Once he knocked Sam over, it was just him and I. He lunged at me with the shield  and I quickly formed an idea, I didn’t need Vibranium to have an equal shield. 

I created a force field with my hands about the size of Walker’s weapon, charged forward to meet him and my energy based shield made contact with his metal one. I shoved and threw him off balance, he quickly caught his footing and looked up at me in shock. Once he had gotten over his initial surprise, what followed was pure rage. In my efforts to take the shield from him, I’d taken the power it brought without actually confiscating the weapon. He growled and lunged at me again, meeting the same end result except he bounced back faster and continued his rapid attack. After a dozen unsuccessful hits, he kicked my leg out from under me and I landed on my back against the concrete. He stood over me and raised his shield, but was tackled to the side by Bucky before he could bring it down on me. Bucky landed punch after punch against the shield, Walker got in a few hits as well until they were pushing on either side of the shield towards one another, glowering. Walker ducked as Bucky was about to hit him, his metal fist instead hitting and taking out a beam. Sam was behind me on his feet only to have Walker kick him in the face, I threw my hands out and paused his fall, returning him to a standing position. I turned at just the right moment to see Walker fling the shield at Bucky with a yell, sending Bucky clutching the metal and slamming into a piece of machinery. Angrily, my eyes located a smaller piece of equipment and telepathically lifted it into the air, flicking my fingertips towards Walker and making it hit him in the head. He groaned as it made contact before doing the same as Bucky charged at him and hit him in the back with the shield. With his focus back on Bucky, Walker stalked towards him and gripped the shield, shoving him back against the same piece of machinery. “Why are you making me do this?” Walker growled in Bucky’s face before raising to a complete yell, “Why are you making me do this?” To accent his words, he swung the shield around as Bucky was still attached and sent him flying across the room, landing against a piece of electrical equipment. He fell to the ground with a pained grunt, his eyes shut and electricity causing his Vibranium arm to cease up.

“Bucky!” I cried before taking off across the room to him, fearing the worst. I dropped to my knees and attempted to roll him onto his back, my hands cradling both his cheeks. “Bucky, Bucky, I need you to wake up. C’mon, wake up,” I said, leaning closer to his face in hopes that he’d hear me better. I could see his stomach rising up and falling down rapidly, but he showed no signs of waking. “Bucky, we need you. Please don’t do this to me, wake up,” my voice quivered, tears starting to water my eyes as he stayed unresponsive. The grunts and groans echoing through the room finally registered with me, I looked over my shoulder to see Sam and Walker engaged in heavy combat. I quickly looked back to Bucky in hopes he would awaken on the spot, when that didn’t happen I brushed my thumbs across his cheekbones, touched my forehead to his and prayed for the best. 

I rose to see Sam flying around the room with his grappling hook attached to the shield and dragging Walker across the floor. He caught his footing and stood horizontally against a machine. I raised my hands to aid Sam and energetically pulled him in his direction. It wasn’t enough as both Sam and Walker lost their grip, both face planting on the cold ground. The shield rattled as it hit the floor, the three of us watching from where we stood before bolting towards it. Just as Sam was closing in on it, Walker tackled him to the floor. Sam extended his wings and did a loop in the air, trying to shake the iron-like grip Walker had on him to no avail. I took the chance to grab to shield, groaning at the weight of it as I picked it up. Walker had mounted Sam by now and without knowing what I was doing, I clumsily flung the shield at Walker but didn’t actually injure him. What I did succeed at doing was making him even madder than he already was. Still atop Sam, he twisted to land a punch to my gut that left me clutching the area. He didn’t stop in his attack and pulled me down by my throat, squeezing tight while still keeping a hand on Sam to prevent him from interfering. I gasped and gagged, trying to find any shred of air to take in just before Walker threw me away from them, my body sliding across the ground. I wheezed as I sucked in a breath and cradled my stomach, the pain in both my throat and abdomen screaming for relief. From my spot, I couldn’t hear what Walker was snarling to Sam but I could see what he was trying to do. His hands had a vice like grip on each of Sam’s wings, it didn’t take more than a loud cry and a good pull for the two pieces of Stark tech to be ripped from the EXO-7 pack. Sam writhed beneath him, desperately trying to free himself as Walker raised his shield in the air. 

It was then, at the sight of my brother about to be murdered in cold blood, not at the hands of a police officer or a Madripoorian bounty hunter, but a deranged Super Soldier that something inside me snapped.

I found the strength the rise to my knees, I could feel the energy that surged through my body rise to a level I’d never felt before. I stuck out my hands and with a yell, I fired two steady streams of blue energy straight at the shield to keep it from coming down on Sam’s throat. Walker was thrown off, his position on top of Sam losing stability as he tried to deflect my attack. I screamed as I rose to my feet, the rage I felt with Walker coming to its crescendo. He could take the shield, the mantle of Captain America, but he wasn’t going to take my brother from me.

I adjusted my stance as it was taking everything I had in me not to fall over, I was trying to keep my balance and ignore the pain that was demanding my attention. Just as I started to question if I had enough strength the keep this newfound power going, a now conscious Bucky jumped in from the side and tackled Walker. I let the energy die in my hands as I stumbled towards Sam, making sure he was alright. 

“Get to Bucky,” he gritted out.

Wasting no time, I turned around and made a beeline for Bucky, who was getting pummeled by Walker. He rammed Bucky’s head into the shield before sitting atop him, crazed and ready to drive the shield into his neck. “No!” I screamed, coming behind Bucky’s head and expelling streams of energy from my palms that hit the shield and once again prevented Walker from going any further. I was losing strength fast, unlike them I wasn’t a super soldier and Walker’s blows had left me in some of the worst pain I’d ever known. Sam sprung into action beside me and punched Walker in the side of his head before twisting his arm and pulling it back. He turned on his thrustesr and pushed, Bucky was freed from Walker’s grip and kneeled in front of him, their faces inches apart. I came to stand on the other side of Sam and used my energy to pull, aiding us in our efforts to rid the man of the power he was so determined not to lose. The four of us were piled together, each crying out of pain or yelling out of anger, fighting for a symbol that was supposed to bring us together.

A sickening crack sounded off as Walker’s arm snapped, sending Sam tumbling with the shield in his hands and me landing on my back. I cried as my head smacked against the concrete and found myself unable to rise, my ears ringing and my mind spinning. I felt two arms wrap around my torso and raise me up, refusing to let go even when I was steady on my feet. I didn’t need to open my eyes to knock that it was Bucky, his hot and heavy breaths against my ear and his scent invading my nose. My eyes fluttered open and though I wanted nothing more than to let sleep take me over in his arms, I pulled out of them as Walker stood to his feet again. “It’s mine,” he said. From behind me, I could hear Sam panting. “It’s over, John.” “It’s mine,” Walker growled as he stepped forward with his fist raised to Bucky. Exhaustedly, I shot a large blast at him that left him stumbling to catch his footing. His unhinged eyes sought me out and came charging towards me, I sent another blast but my weariness was beginning to sink its teeth into me and the blast wasn’t as strong as it should have been. He caught himself much quicker and swung again only this time, I wasn’t fast enough in my attack and he successfully grabbed me by the throat and raised me in the air. I kicked and clawed at his hand, desperately trying to free myself from the grip that was slowly tightening and causing my throat to constrict further. I couldn’t find any hole that would allow any air to fill my lungs, all I could do was continue pathetically trying to pull his fingers off me as I looked at his manic expression.

“You’ll never be a hero,” he snarled at me.

My eyes blurred with tears, not from his insult, but from the fact that I knew I was inching closer towards death. It was then that I made out Bucky’s body hurling itself towards Walker, tackling both of us to the ground. I felt Walker’s grip loosen ever so slightly just when Sam’s arms wrapped around me and pulled me backwards, freeing me. I wheezed and took a strained breath in, the cool air flooding my lungs blissfully. Sam laid me down carefully on the ground, a safe distance away from them as Bucky began using Walker as a punching bag. The wannabe Captain America may have been unhinged, but Bucky wasn’t far behind him as he kept up his unrelenting attack. With my ability to breathe returned to me, a fraction of my strength returned but not enough to rise and join the fight. As Bucky hoisted Walker into the air and Sam charged towards them with the shield, I raised a shaky hand and sent a blast of energy at Walker that hit just as his body made contact with the shield. The three of them fell to the ground with a collective groan, once I saw through my half shut eyes that both Bucky and Sam were still breathing, I allowed my head to loll to the side and closed my lids. I felt the warm blood on the back of my head, the drying drops on each of my cheeks, and the ghost of Walker’s handprint around my throat. The pain was starting to overtake me, whether leading me to death or unconsciousness, I wasn’t sure. All I knew was Sam and Bucky were safe and if that was true, then I could slip into whatever state was coming for me at ease.

Just on the outskirts of falling asleep, I heard a heavy set of footsteps coming towards me. “Y/n, Y/n, c’mon, stay with me. Stay with me, honey, come on,” Bucky’s voice flooded my ringing ears, his fingertips gently cradling my bruising neck. “Get her to the hospital,” Sam strained from nearby.

The last thing I remember was being lifted into Bucky’s arms, the cool Latvian air hitting my skin as we made it out of the warehouse and his warm lips pressing themselves against my forehead.

——

Beep. Beep. Beep.

My eyes drowsily opened, the lids feeling as heavy as lead. I had to blink several times just to make sense of the blur of white surrounding me. Eventually I gained enough clarity to see it was a hospital room and I was laying in a bed, a cannula looped over my ears and drying my nose up with ice cold oxygen. I had stickers on my chest with wires coming off them and snaking into the beeping machine, monitoring my steady heartbeat.

“You got,” a voice to the side of me said quietly, “So lucky.” I tilted my head carefully against the pillow to see Sam, still in his suit, seated at my bedside looking more relieved than I’d ever seen him. I laid my palm out for him to grasp, squeezing with what little strength I had left. 

“Are you alright?” I asked, not recognizing my own voice with how hoarse it was. 

Sam scoffed, I could see he had a few stitches on his face accompanying a couple bruises. “I’m fine. You however’ve got three bruised ribs, a bruised stomach, a concussion and your face is all stitched up.” I made a noise of acknowledgement before looking on the other side of the room, someone was missing. “Where’s Bucky?” “Getting stitched up, we’ve been here about two hours but he wasn’t leaving until the doctor assured us you were gonna be fine,” Sam answered, rubbing my frigid hand between his warm ones.

I cleared my throat, trying to regain my voice. “What about Walker?” “Don’t know,” he replied, “My priority was making sure you were alive.”

My head was spinning, both literally and metaphorically as I thought back to the last sight I’d caught of Walker, laid out on the ground after being used as a human hammer. Walker and I were never going to be friends, he’d even tried to kill me, but I hoped that we hadn’t left him for dead in that warehouse.

“Doc says they’re gonna keep you here tonight for observation but if you do alright,” Sam explained, “They can release you tomorrow.” I gave a small nod, my head pounding with the movement causing me to shut my eyes again. “Get some sleep, you’re not missin’ anything. I’ll be here when you-“ I was already gone.

——

The next day, I woke up feeling as well as one could for someone who had gotten their ass kicked by a Super Soldier. The hospital agreed to release me with the instructions that I rest and took my painkillers. Both Sam and Bucky spent the night in chairs, I learned, the two men refusing to leave my side and clinging to the doctor’s every word when they discharged me. 

If Bucky and I hadn’t been skirting a line before, we definitely were now. His eyes were trained solely on me at all times, he guided me out of the hospital with a protective hand on my back. As I’d been cleaning myself up before discharge, changing into the clothes that Sam had brought me that morning once he knew I was alright to be left alone, I thought back to the last thing I remembered before passing out. Bucky’s gentle kiss was imprinted on my forehead, he was the only clear thing in the chaos of that moment where I didn’t know if I’d live or die. What wasn’t clear was whether or not we would ever speak about these stolen moments we were sharing and the intimacy that had come so naturally to us. Maybe after this was all over, before Sam and I returned to Louisiana and Bucky to Brooklyn, we could talk. But until then, we had bigger fish to fry…

The three of us stood in our respective corners of one of the resettlement camps which the police had come and swept clean of all life, trying to determine our next move. Bucky and Sam seemingly weren’t speaking unless absolutely necessary, I knew that Bucky still held it against Sam that he’d given up the shield. The fight with Walker would have only amplified those feelings, we’d had to go to such great lengths to correct Sam’s “mistake” and Bucky’s cold stare reflected that. I sat to the side trying to ignore the pain that radiated in my chest each time I inhaled, my bruised ribs forcing me to take shallower breaths.

“The GRC is conducting raids to try and find Karli,” Sam stated to the room, “But so far they’ve only found her followers. They’ve searched this camp and just like the last camp, nothing. She’s gone, we’ll never find her.” “You don’t know that,” I said hopefully from my seat, “She’s popped up before, she’ll pop up again. She can’t help but make a show of all this.” 

“Hey,” Torres announced his entrance, looking to Bucky, “You got your sleeve back.” I chuckled quietly at the memory of the first day we’d worked together, instantly regretting it at the pain in my abdomen. Bucky, however, didn’t find Torres as amusing as I did and made for the exit of the room, brooding as usual.

“Are you off to take care of Zemo?” Sam asked mockingly.

Bucky shot him a glare from the doorway before looking at me once more, making sure I was alright. Without a word, he walked out of the room. “Alright, good to know you survived!” Torres called. 

It was clear that Bucky was indeed going to catch Zemo, possibly kill him even. If that were the case, I needed to get one piece of information from the Baron before he met whatever fate the Super Soldier was going to deal him. 

I rose from my seat with a groan, walking over to Sam, “I need to go with him.” “What?” he furrowed his brows and looked me up and down, “Are those painkillers making you high?” “Zemo said something very…Zemo-ish, when you were talking to Karli,” I explained, placing hand on his arm, “He was fascinated by my last name, he said it sounded familiar.” “Why would your last name sound familiar to Zemo?” he echoed the question in my mind.

“It shouldn’t. He escaped before I could get a chance to ask him about it, I need to go with Bucky and talk to him before he slips again.” 

Sam sighed heavily, weighing the scenarios in his head. He couldn’t stop me from going and I wasn’t asking permission. I’d promised to follow his lead throughout this, but this regarded my family and not even my own brother could get in the way of the concerns I had. “Alright, call and let me know where you two end up.” I pecked his cheek quickly and took off power walking since I couldn’t run due to my injuries. There weren’t many exits available to us since the police had marked a lot of the building off limits, I followed the way we’d come in and spotted Bucky making his way out to the street. “Bucky!” I yelled as I hurried towards him, he turned at the sound of my voice. “What’re you doing?” he asked, gripping each of my arms gently in his hands, “You shouldn’t be moving this much.” “I’m coming with you,” I said, ignoring his concern for my wellbeing. “What?” I took a second to catch the breath, my stamina hadn’t been great before the fight but now I was practically leveled by simple tasks. Bucky waited patiently and guided the two of us to a bench to sit. “Yesterday when Sam was talking to Karli, Zemo made a point of telling me that my last name sounded familiar. He wouldn’t go into any further detail and obviously the wheels came off of that whole situation, but I need to find out what he meant by that.” “Are you sure he’s not just messing with you?” he asked, trying to keep me away from the situation at all costs.

“He very well may be, but he may not be. But I won’t be able to sleep if I let you do whatever you’re going to do to him without finding out the truth.”

Bucky copied Sam’s sigh almost to the exact pitch, his worry for me taking center stage. But as it had been with my brother, I wasn’t asking for permission. “Alright, come on,” he said defeatedly, standing up and helping to pull me up, “We gotta find a ride.” “You think you have an idea of where he is?” I asked as we started off down the sidewalk. “I know where he is,” Bucky answered confidently, his hand returning to its familiar spot on my back as we crossed the street.

——

While I didn’t agree with Bucky’s methods of getting us transportation, hot-wiring an old European made car, we were successfully on our way to Sokovia.

The car itself was rusty and on the slower side, there weren’t even seat belts but it would do the job of getting us there. Bucky had informed me we were driving straight through the night, he’d also turned down my offering to take a shift at the wheel stating that all I needed to focus on was resting. We’d been driving for a few hours now in comfortable silence, me watching the scenery out the window and sneaking a long glance at Bucky every once in a while.

“So what are you planning on doing when we get there?” I finally asked, “I don’t like the guy but I don’t necessarily want to kill him.” “I’m not gonna kill him,” Bucky quickly shut down the idea, “I’m gonna do what I should’ve done, turn him over to the Wakandans.” I hummed in acknowledgment, thinking of a question that I wanted to ask but didn’t want to make Bucky uncomfortable. In the end, curiosity got the better of me. “Can I ask you something?” “Hmm?”

“You know I don’t condone it,” I said firmly, “But Zemo ruined your life, what is it that’s stopping you from killing him?” Bucky squeezed the steering wheel a little tighter, his glove creating a sound as it stretched across his hand. I held my breath as I awaited his answer, praying that he didn’t go silent on me. Instead, he reached into his pocket with his free hand and fished out his book with the list of names he needed to make amends with, waving it a little. “He didn’t ruin my life, he certainly didn’t make it any better, but he didn’t ruin it.” “What if he tries to kill you? He seems to have a vendetta against all Super Soldiers, even the good ones.” “You think I’m one of the good ones, huh?” Bucky briefly took his eyes off the road to look over at me, his eyebrow quickly rising and one corner of his lips turning upwards.

My smile grew, though I still tried to control it. “Don’t let it go to your head, Barnes.”

Bucky turned his attention back to the road, his smug grin still showcased on his face. I was utterly convinced with the rays from the sunset shining through the car windows hitting him perfectly, his features bathed in gold, that there was no way he could be more beautiful. This was the most at ease I had seen him since I’d met him which was strange considering the circumstances.

“So how is it all going down?” I asked, watching him slip the pocketbook back in his jeans “I already made a call, the Dora’s gonna meet us there,” he answered plainly, though I could see the guilt that was threatening to peek through at betraying the people who had gone to such great lengths for him. I moved to adjust myself in my seat, sending a shooting pain through my abdomen. I hissed at the sensation, my hand flying to cover the area. “What? What is it?” Bucky’s mood had shifted from calm to panicked in seconds. “They said that might happen,” I said, my voice slightly strained from the pain, “I’m fine.” Bucky’s head rotated between watching me and the road, I knew that it was only because we were too far away from Latvia that he wasn’t turning the car around and taking me back to Sam. “Hey,” I said softly, reaching for his nearest arm to give it a reassuring squeeze, “I’m fine.” He sighed, both stress and relief seeping out of the sound and telling me it wasn’t time yet to remove my hand. A few breaths were taken before he decided to finally speak, “You gave me a heart attack yesterday, when you passed out I thought you…”

His sentence trailed off leaving me to fill in the gaps of what he thought had happened to me. I was just as terrified when it was him who laid unconscious in my arms. “You scared me too, I was practically slapping you silly trying to get you to wake up.” “I know, I heard you.”

“You heard me?” “I couldn’t move, felt like I couldn’t even open my eyes,” Bucky said, pausing for a second as he relived the moment, “You sounded like you were underwater, but I knew you were there. I could feel you.” The air had shifted from light to tense and now to the great something that Bucky and I always seemed to be enveloped by. And this, this small admittance of recognizing one’s presence in the middle of battle was the most we’d ever acknowledged it. Something about Bucky’s voice when he’d said he could feel me, my hands pressed and stroking against his cheeks, that led me to believe he wasn’t just stating a fact. It didn’t break or quiver, he didn’t stutter or stumble on his words, but I could hear in his serious tone that there were emotions he was holding back. The phantom of that dark moment was clear and present in the car, pushing the two of us together while the spirit of hesitation was wedged between us.

I embodied both as my hand slipped from Bucky’s arm and I gathered the courage to speak. “I heard you too, just before Sam told you to bring me to the hospital.” There was a pregnant pause as Bucky absorbed the news, “You remember anything after that?” I knew, he knew, we both knew what he was asking. He wanted to know if I remembered the kiss, the last thing I’d felt before giving into my body’s trauma. The way his lips had brushed my forehead so softly as if he was afraid to break me any more, yet somehow I’d felt every bit of his concern and care. It had crossed a line that we’d come so close to crossing in that alley, him caging me in and me pressing his hand to my chest. Had I not lost consciousness, I’d have pressed my hand against the back of his head, threaded my fingers through his hair and redirected those lips down to meet mine. Did I remember? “Yes.” Bucky glanced over at me, carefully scanning my face for any signs of discomfort with his decision. When he found none, one side of his lips pulled up in the now familiar smirk. “Good.”

I found myself biting down on my bottom lip to keep from breaking into a grin, forcing my mouth into submission. If in another lifetime I had ever met 1940’s Bucky Barnes, I had a feeling he was like this but all the time. Flirty, bold and a smash hit with the women. And here he was, eighty years later, charming me so well that I had forgotten momentarily that we were on our way to essentially arrest one of the world’s most dangerous men. Such was the hold he had on me…

“Get some sleep,” he said like nothing had transpired, the audacity of him…”It’s gonna be a while till we get to Sokovia.” “You don’t get to tell me what to do, Mr. Barnes,” I said playfully.

“Oh, now I’m Mr. Barnes?” he shot back with a single laugh. “That’s how you’re supposed to address your elders.” “Ha ha ha,” he unenthusiastically shot back, the smile on his face contradicting his words.

I moved to settle into my side of the bench seat but stopped myself before I could truly get comfortable. If Bucky could be bold, then I could be too. Careful to not awaken the pain in my abdomen or chest, I slid across the long seat until I was pressed against the Super Soldier. I placed my head against his arm, effectively making him my pillow and letting myself be swept away to sleep, comforted by the warmth he provided and how his tense body relaxed at my touch.

There was a chance for us.

——

Bucky parked our car in the Sokovian woodland, saying we needed to walk to rest of the way as not to alert Zemo to our being there a second before he should be made aware. He hadn’t been wrong, there stood the Baron in front of the memorial to his once whole country. As we silently approached, Bucky pulled the gun he had out of his coat pocket, holding it at his side instead of in the air. We had an agreement, he’d get his closure with Zemo and then I would get my answers.

“I thought you’d be here sooner,” Zemo said, acknowledging our presences, “And I figured you would be with him. Don’t worry,” he spared Bucky a glance, “I’ve decided I’m not going to kill you.”

“Imagine my relief,” Bucky sarcastically retorted, clicking the gun as a period to his sentence.

Zemo pivoted and slowly walked towards us, “The girl has been radicalized beyond salvation. I warned Sam, but he didn’t listen to me. He’s as stubborn as Steve Rogers before him. But you…They literally programmed you to kill. James, do what needs to be done. Karli has people everywhere, and there’s only one way to make sure she cannot continue her mission.” “I appreciate the advice,” Bucky replied, “But we’re gonna do it our own way.”

Zemo chuckled softly, “Yeah, I was afraid you would say that.”

Bucky stayed silent, the only sound between the three of us was the sound of the pistol’s safety being turned off. I paid close attention to how Zemo’s eyes followed the noise and how they expectantly waited as Bucky cocked the weapon and aimed at Zemo’s face. He nodded, giving Bucky permission to prove that his killer instinct was still there. The Baron wanted sweet death to take him and reunite him with the family he’d lost years ago. Perhaps I would want the same thing if I had lost everyone, but not everybody deserved an ending so sweet.

Bucky pulled the trigger, the chamber revealing its secret that it was indeed empty.

Zemo flinched at the shot that never fired, his face painted with shock that Bucky hadn’t committed the deed we all assumed he’d want to. Once the victim, the small smirk of victory across his lips proved that Bucky was actually the winner in Zemo’s plot to bring down Super Soldiers. Not just because he had escaped with his life, but because he had healed his wound. With each bullet that clanked to the ground, released from his metal hand, the power his grudges against Zemo had held over him disappeared.

The Dora Milaje appeared then, marching in from behind Zemo to come and escort him to his fate of their choosing. “Ladies…” he greeted them before turning back to Bucky, “I took the liberty of crossing off my name in your book. I hold no grudges for what you thought you had to do. Goodbye, James.”

“We’re not done yet,” I stepped forward from behind Bucky, “You still owe me an answer. You said my name was familiar, why is that?” Zemo’s lips parted only to close once more, eventually nodding and taking a breath. “Very well, I suppose everybody deserves to know their roots. What did your father tell you he did?” My father? What could he have possibly known about him? How could he ever have been on his radar? “He was a soldier, US Army, he came home to Louisiana and became a contractor,” I answered, not letting on to my confusion. “Sadly, what he told you was a lie,” Zemo stated, “When I heard your last name, I could not place where I had heard it before. It wasn’t until I brought it up to you that I had figured out you were his daughter. Your father was in service of a kind, but not to your country’s government. Not at least in the way you think.”

Fear was starting to creep in, its inky black tentacles starting to take swipes at me threatening to drag me down. I did my best to keep my expression steeled, “How dare you say my father was a liar...He bled and fought for my country, he dedicated himself to the service.” Zemo paused, he didn’t seem like he was taking any enjoyment in having this conversation with me. “Y/n, your father was a part of HYDRA.”

I could no longer keep my emotions off my face as my jaw went slack and my brows scrunched together. “No, you’re lying,” I shook my head, trying to deny what he had no reason to make up. “His name was listed in the files that Black Widow released to the public years ago. When I was deciphering the files and I found his name, I quickly learned that he dropped his last name in favor of his middle once he left their service. Perhaps he was afraid they would find him or your family,” Zemo further explained, “When I came looking for him and discovered he had killed himself long ago, I let you and your family be. I had no interest in tearing the three of you apart, only your father.” 

“W-why were you trying to find him? How could he have possibly been of use to y-“ my sentence stopped cold in its tracks. There had only been one reason Zemo was interested in HYDRA, why he had scoured file after file and become obsessed with the organization. And as I connected the dots, I quickly tried to scramble them again.

“Your father,” Zemo stopped once again, knowing his words would have a lasting impact on me, “Was one of the Winter Soldier’s handlers. One of the men in charge of containing, controlling and torturing the man standing next to you.”

In my life, I had known a little too much pain. There were three moments that stuck out as the worst in my life. The first was as a child when the police knocked on our door, telling us that my father had been found dead. The second was when Steve informed me that Sam was dead. This was the third and it struck me like a dagger in both my heart and back. My father had posthumously wounded me and betrayed me.

“I am sorry,” Zemo said, his thick accent dragging me out of my pain for only a second, “I don’t take any joy in telling you this.” It wouldn’t have mattered to me how he felt, my entire life was crashing down around me and I was struggling just to find the strength to draw another breath. My father had painted himself a veteran, he’d allowed me and my family to believe him to be a hero, when all along he had been working for the enemy. And the worst part of it all was that he hadn’t hurt just anybody…He had hurt Bucky.

There was nothing left to say, through my teary eyes I watched the red and silver blurs that were the Dora Milaje lead Zemo away. After the shock came the panic, leaving me to stumble away from Bucky to brace myself against the memorial statue. My breathing started to quicken as I conjured up images of my father, young and ambitious, hooking Bucky up to machines. Torturing him. Breaking him. He may not have been one of the masterminds behind the creation of the Winter Soldier, but he had played one of the worst parts. He had beaten Bucky down day in and day out, stripping him of his humanity and everything that made him the man I had fallen for. Now, however many years later, here I stood, the offspring of someone capable of such evil. 

A familiar hand gently gripped my elbow, “Y/n…”

“No,” I trembled, violently ripping my arm out of Bucky’s grasp, “No, don’t.” “Y/n, you didn’t do anything,” Bucky hurriedly assured me, reaching out for one of my hands, “You didn’t know-“ Guilt had taken full hold of me and I couldn’t stand to watch Bucky, the person who suffered most at the hands of my father, try to tell me that any part of this was acceptable. “Bucky, get away from me,” I took several steps backwards, holding a warning hand out, “You can’t.” “Don’t do this,” he urged, disregarding my order and walking closer toward me, “You’re innocent in all this.” “Stop,” I yelled through my tears, throwing up a force field to separate the two of us. Bucky looked heartbrokenly at the barrier, placing his metal hand over it and pleading with his eyes to drop it. “Don’t say it’s okay, don’t say that I’m innocent. H-he hurt you and I’m…I’m him.” Before Bucky could argue the point that I had no role in my father’s sins, I dropped the force field and redirected the energy to my palms. I shot into the air and flew off in the same direction we’d come, desperate to take myself as far away from Bucky as I could. I wouldn’t have hurt him even if my life had depended on it, but the guilt I felt for what my father had done to him was overwhelming. The whole time I had known him I’d been trying to help him through his trauma, so desperate to be of any service to him to save him from being swallowed by his demons. I had made my father the example, the cautionary tale, when all along he had been the villain. And I, in some way, felt responsible for all of it.

With Zemo’s one sentence, he’d taken a match to everything. The man my father had made himself out to be, my family’s belief in him, my belief in myself and the chance that Bucky and I could find happiness with one another. I wasn’t sure which one hurt the most to lose, all I knew was that my little experiment was over. A child of HYDRA trying to be a hero was nothing more than smoke and mirrors.

——

Three plane rides and one rental car later, I was turning my key in the door of my house, the only luggage with me was my newly attained emotional baggage.

It was past AJ and Cass’ bedtime, a thought that occurred to me as the front door creaked to announce my arrival. Had it been a normal night, Sarah and I might have watched a movie with them, indulging in ice cream sundaes before sending them to bed. We’d have retired soon after, a long day of catching and selling awaiting us at the crack of dawn.

How far away it all seemed now, this life that a week ago had been the only life I’d known...

I found myself frozen in the entryway, knowing once I took the first step in that I could no longer go back to who I’d been the past few days. The energy that I’d used to protect and shield those I cared about in battle would stay trapped forever in my veins. The drive I had to help people would have to be utilized in different ways, but never again on such a grand scale as saving the world. I was to go back to being exactly who I was before I’d gotten to notion in my head that I could play some bigger role in the world.

I took steady strides down my hall, each step taking me further and further away from the person I foolishly thought I could be. Walker had been right, I wasn’t a hero. 

I made my way into the living room, the sight of Sam dozing on our couch surprising me. The fact that he was here let me know that either he’d given up on Karli or there was simply nothing left to do. Knowing my brother, who never gave up on anyone or anything, it was the latter. I patted his knee just hard enough to alert him of my presence, he stirred and blearily opened his eyes, blinking a few times before focusing on me. “Hey.” “Did you bring back Sarah and the boys?” I asked, tossing my keys on a nearby end table.

“Safe and sound,” he answered, some of the tension in my body dissipating. I settled down next to him in the corner of the couch, the two of us leaning on one another physically and metaphorically. Since the beginning, it had always been Sam and I against the world. Now the world had gone against us and here we were, both fighting to keep our eyes open after being dealt a good many blows. 

“You went to see him, didn’t you?” I broke up the silence we were resting in, with our backs pressed to one another, I couldn’t see his face, “Isaiah.” “Yeah,” Sam mumbled, his head falling back against mine. I’d known since we’d left the man’s house that my brother wasn’t done with him, there were too many questions to be asked. “You guys catch Zemo?”

“Mmhmm,” I replied, knowing the inevitable question was coming but still praying it didn’t, “The Wakandans came for him.” “So where’s Bucky?” Sam asked tiredly.

With my last look at James Buchanan Barnes, I had seen heartache etched into every line of his face. The pain I had caused him when I’d barred him from coming any closer to me had birthed equal hurt within me. The last thing I had ever wanted to do was hurt Bucky, and I knew that between my father’s past and my disappearance from his life, I had done just that. But in my heart, I knew that eventually he would resent me for what my family had done to him. And the day when he stopped gazing at me with the softness in those piercing blue eyes I adored so much was a day I couldn’t bear to experience. The connection we had would eventually fade, he’d continue avenging and I would live quietly in my corner of the south. I was letting him go to protect him, to prevent him from having to relive every trauma every day each time he looked at me. It was my final way of helping him.

“He’s safe,” I answered, mumbling the words as my eyes watered and my voice threatened to crack.

----

A/N: ........So........How we feeling? (Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in this angst fest of a series!)

Safe Haven taglist: @tanyaherondale​ @wanniiieeee​ @asoftie4bucky​ @edencherries​ @i-reblog-fics-i-like​ @ttalisa​ @gcfty @withyoutilltheendofthismess​ @rinaispunk​ @weirdowithnobeardo​ @felicityofbakerstreet​ @godlypotterwhodiaries @eternalharry​ @voguesir​ @mizz-kraziii​ @okayline​ @smellmymisunderstoodfluff @wanderin-stories​ @nicklet94 @intricate-melody​ @aesthethickks​ @stumbleonmywords​ @simplybarnes​ @21bruhs​ @lostinwonderland314​ @superbookishhufflepuff​ @kaelyn-lobrutto24​ @zozebo​ @fandomxreaders @kittengirl998​ @sarai-ibn-la-ahad​ @i-know-i-can​ @x-judyjude-x​ @thebi-valkyrieofvalhalla​ @buckverse​ @living-that-best-life​ @haphazardhufflepuff​ @citlalireedus @lindseyrae20​ @missstef23​ @qhbr2013​ @sebby-stann​ @bluemoon-icecream​ @iixbella​ @lets-love-little-me​

[ack3rlady]

Good evening

So here is one of the plots I always imagine you being erwin's little sister and levi is his best friend so he loves you and levi being levi would show through actions like buying the best gifts because he listens and cares also picking you up from places and agrees with erwin that you aren't allowed to have a boyfriend

Is that kinda out of character 🤔

Dinaaaaaaa! Sorry it took me forever to write this! It started off as something and turned into something else and then i had to sit and clean it up. Hope you like it bby!!

Pocket Watch

Summary: You and Levi go from despising each other to being two fools in unrequited love. Hange comes up with a disastrous plan to bring you both together that backfires. Big brother Erwin comes to the rescue :)

Notes: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff with a dash of angst, Hange being Hange.

WC: ~3k

Master List

You and Levi had a turbulent start. From the moment you laid eyes on him, you absolutely loathed the man so much that even his presence made you see red. He was rude, disrespectful and above all, tried to murder your brother. From the looks of it, he disliked you too, given you were Erwin’s sister, and also because you charged towards him with your blade right after, only to be restrained by Erwin himself.

Unfortunately, with the loss of Flagon and his squad, Shadis transferred Levi over to yours after that fateful expedition. And for the first time in your life, you hated your job. The thought of waking up in the morning and seeing his grouchy face, listening to his flat, uninterested voice irked you. You lost the will to get out of bed. Hange had to physically drag your body to the training grounds every day.

To say that you and Levi didn’t get along, would be an understatement. It would take mere seconds of being around each other for a new argument to break out. And because you were his new Squad Leader, you were forced to be around him almost all the time. The day mainly consisted of excessive eye-rolling, taunts, sarcastic retorts which would soon turn into a quarrel and then a massive brawl until Miche or Hange stepped in to pry you off each other's throats.

The new nicknames you coined for each other had traveled throughout the regiment. He referred to you as Shithead, and you called him Shitface.

For him, your interactions had turned into a strange form of entertainment. In no time, he had figured out which button of yours to push to get the reaction he wished to see. Meal time, which used to be the only two hours you could spend without him, was also brutally snatched away from you when Erwin insisted that Levi should sit at your table from now on.

“I have to look at Shitface’s shitty face all day. Did you absolutely have to invite him over to eat with us?”, you asked Erwin with your eyes boring holes into Levi, face contorted as if you just bit into a lemon.

The new commander suppressed a smirk; Hange and Miche were not polite enough to do the same.

“As if I want to be around your shitty head for any longer than I need to.”, he quipped nonchalantly, taking a sip of steaming tea out of his cup.

The back-and-forth, constant bickering and impromptu sparring continued until both you and Levi were promoted to captain’s position, a few months after Erwin became commander. Now that you both had your own squads to manage, you didn’t see him as much anymore.

You refused to admit it to yourself, but you missed him; missed being around him even if it only led to another one of your infamous fights. Your eyes would search for that familiar midnight head everywhere you went; relentlessly darting from one face to another until they landed on a silver pair looking right back at them.

Levi was in a similar dilemma. His life seemed a bit too calm, too quiet. No one glowered at him when he began training in the morning. No one screamed bloody murder in his ears every few hours. He actually missed the sound of your voice, even though he considered it the shrillest cacophony until a few days ago.

He found himself looking for reasons to be near you, scheduling his squad’s training sessions around yours. Awkward glances would be exchanged every few minutes, with both of you clearly realizing the difference in the way you looked at each other ever since your new roles drew you apart. They weren't glares of annoyance anymore. There was an unknown warmth present in your gazes. What was this foreign feeling?

“Miss me, Shitface?”, you asked upon bumping into him for the fifth time since morning.

“You wish, Shithead.”, he responded, lips upturned into a smirk.

Lately, there was a new found playfulness in your interactions. The words you exchanged pretty much remained the same, sans the sharp edge they had before.

.

.

It was late in the evening. It was also the first anniversary of that catastrophic expedition which stole Isabel, Furlan, and your childhood friend Victoria from this world. You snuck a bottle of whiskey from Erwin’s cherished collection of spirits and fled to the roof, a place you generally retreated to when feeling low.

You were greeted by a lone figure who was already sitting in your spot. But today, Levi’s presence didn’t bother you. On the contrary, you felt relieved to see him. When did the sight of him go from being bothersome to soothing? You took a seat by his side, popped open the bottle, drank to all the loved ones you had lost, and shared stories about them.

Well, you did. He only listened.

“If only I got there in time. I could’ve saved her.”, you sighed, thinking about Victoria.

Levi felt a pang in his heart, because that was exactly how he felt about Isabel and Furlan. If only he had never left. If only he made it back before it was too late.

If only.

You were not much different from him. He regretted treating you harshly without ever understanding your story. He felt terrible about how he never bothered to find out you too were silently suffering from the same pain as him, that there was a tragic reason why you even had a vacant spot on your squad for him to fill.

He watched your face glow under the moon light, your lips spread into a gorgeous yet melancholy smile as you fondly remembered the departed. His breath hitched when he felt a delicate weight on his shoulder, body tensing because this was the first time someone was this close to him.

He slowly looked down at your head leaning on his shoulder, teary eyes looking up at the moon. This moment, this image would forever be etched into his memory. Because the reason why he perpetually craved your presence around him suddenly became clear. Because this was the exact moment, he realized that he was in love.

After you were finished talking to your heart’s content, Levi walked you to your room and stayed long enough to make sure that you fell asleep. That night, he fought hard against this new feeling bubbling up in his heart as he watched your angelic face while you slept – A need to be with you, an urge to tell you how he felt, a longing to feel your skin underneath his fingers, to make you the first and the last face he would see every day.

He valiantly fought against the flutter in his heart, conquered it, and locked it away in the remotest corner of his mind.

.

.

You could see the faint light of the rising sun from behind your closed eyelids. You needed to be on the move in a few minutes and start preparing for the day. But instead, you chose to stay in bed, and replay the events from last night that brought a smile to your face – the way Levi’s pale skin shone in the silver luminescence of the moon, the way his softened eyes stayed pinned on yours when you spoke, how the strands of his hair swayed with the cool breeze, how you suppressed the urge to run your fingers through them, how you wanted time to stop just so that you could steal a few more moments with him.

You begrudgingly opened your eyes and removed yourself from the sweet flashback, only to find a delicate pocket watch on your nightstand with a note neatly tucked underneath it. It read -

Time took away my old friends, but also gave me a new one.

- L

.

.

Six months had passed since that day. Six months since you were both confronted by your feelings, and also six months since they remained unrequited. He had accepted that this was how it was meant to be, because, one – The world was a shitty place that could rip you away from him at any moment, two – his relationship with Erwin was far too important to jeopardize. Levi decided it was best to remain silent.

You, on the other hand, wanted to live every day like it was your last; and try to experience as many things in life as you could before death knocked at the door. But you knew of Levi’s outlook on relationships, and decided to respect his beliefs, without forcing your ideas on him.

So, you would both hold on to the little things, like having tea and meals in each other company, training together, watching the moon from that same spot on the roof and mainly, searching for each other among the multitude of soldiers, just to exchange silent smiles of assurance before each expedition as if it would be the last time you would be seeing one another.

This didn’t go unnoticed since another pair of eyes, four eyes were hanging on to every single one of these acts.

Hange was an intelligent person, not letting one thing escape their sight. When they were not immersed in analyzing titans, they were studying humans, and their vision was made even stronger by the thick pair of glasses adorning their face.

That is why they did not miss the subtle glances or a single smile exchanged between you and Levi, or even how the man who hated people with a burning passion would willingly enter crowded markets just to find you the perfect present.

It first struck them when he bought a stunning painting of the sun setting beyond the mountains. But instead of finding it hung on the wall of his office, they found it sitting on your desk the next morning. Then it was an intricate tea set that he purchased, which was now located on your table. And finally, the multiple books he painstakingly selected from a quaint shop in the bylanes of Trost that were all lined up on the bookshelf in your quarters. 

And they were not the only one noticing these patterns.

The silent but dazzling sparks flying between his sister and his right-hand-man caught Erwin’s eye too. His prominent brow would rise in curiosity when Levi would expressly insist on positioning you in the safer zone of the formation during expeditions. He saw how the captain would turn to you for your opinion on important matters, and you’d respond with a quiet nod. He also observed how Levi was not rude to you anymore, a complete paradox of his behavior from just six months ago, when you used to be the bane of his existence.

His suspicions were confirmed when he casually asked Hange about it. They squealed in excitement when Erwin’s account matched theirs. Miche agreed too, adding his own two cents to the story.

Erwin’s mind was racing, the usual calm in his blue eyes looking stormy. His brotherly instincts were tingling. He had never approved of any man you introduced him to in the past, always finding some or the other reason why they were not good enough for you.

But, upon giving it further thought, he couldn’t fault Levi. He knew that if there was anyone who could protect you better than Erwin himself, it was him.

The only area of concern was his quirky behavior. But he personally witnessed how you could hold your own before the man on numerous occasions. He had noticed how you had begun to smile more often when he was around, and how you remained calm and made better decisions in the face of danger outside the walls ever since you became close with Levi.

Your happiness and safety were all that mattered to your brother.

So, he gave Hange his blessings to carry out their ‘diabolical plan’ to bring you and him together. Together, they recruited Miche as the perfect decoy. According to Hange, the plan was simple. Miche would sweet-talk with you, in turn making Levi jealous. The jealousy would eventually make him flee the comfort of his shell and confess his feelings to you. Simple, right? Unfortunately, it wasn't.

.

.

“Hey gorgeous! You look wonderful today.”, Miche appeared out of thin air while you and Levi were sipping on tea and reading the newspaper on a bench under a tree in silence.

Levi’s eyes slightly widened upon seeing the tall man’s hand snake around your shoulder.

“Thanks, Miche.”, you replied politely, albeit a little confused, but not swatting him away.

Miche had been your friend ever since you were a fresh-faced cadet. And he was known for getting close to people to get a good sniff. So, his proximity wasn't a surprise, although the sudden compliments were. But you didn’t dwell over them, assuming that the beautiful morning had him in a pleasant mood.

Levi knew that you were strong enough to tackle Miche to the ground if his touch was unwelcome. The fact that you didn’t refute his advance, meant that you didn’t mind.

Maybe he wasn’t as special to you as he thought. Maybe the unspoken bond between you and him was all in his head. His thoughts immediately began to spiral, and he abruptly stood up and left without a word, leaving a baffled you, and a triumphantly grinning Miche behind.

What Hange, Erwin and Miche thought was the successful execution of their plan, was playing out to be the exact opposite, much to their ignorance.

This happened a few more times over the next week – during training, lunch, meetings – wherever you went, Miche followed. Levi felt his heart skip a beat every time he saw you smile in the other man’s presence. His jaw clenched whenever Miche cooed in your ears, his face just inches away from yours.

Levi was obviously jealous. But instead of stepping in and owning up to his feelings, he began to distance himself from you, only seeing you during work meetings and barely acknowledging your presence even then. He would turn in his tracks every time you were about to cross paths. The serene tea breaks in his company came to an abrupt halt when you would find his office locked and empty when you visited at your designated time.

You were beginning to feel hurt by this newly cold Levi, the equivalent of how he used to be before that night on the roof. Maybe him reciprocating your feelings was all in your head. You felt lonely after suddenly having lost your best friend and support system without even knowing why.

Erwin began to notice changes in your demeanor once more. The beaming and chirpy little sister that he was used to, was showing signs of suffering. But you would never admit to it when he asked; saying that you didn’t want to add to his already full plate.

He found you one night, sitting by the window of your dark quarters in tears. He slapped his palm over his forehead upon finding out that the sole reason behind your heartache was the debacle of a plan that the three had come up with. He came clean and encouraged you to go talk to Levi, revealing that the whole plan was only intended to bring you both closer.

You ran through the hallways, first to his quarters, just to find the doors locked again. Then you headed to the mess hall, hoping to catch him sipping on his late-night tea. But the vast room was deserted except for the scouts scrubbing it clean. So, you nervously headed to the place you were sure to see him. And that’s exactly where you found him.

There he was, perched at the exact spot on the rooftop, the same place where you had spent numerous nights together over the last whole year.

Levi perked up upon hearing your approaching footsteps. He didn’t even need to turn around to know it was you.

“You don’t talk to me anymore.”, you said, taking a seat at your old spot beside him.

“Well, you found someone else to talk to.”

“So, you just decided to leave?”

“I figured you had Miche and didn’t need me anymore.”

You turned to him in disbelief. The unchanged expression on his face was a sign that he did indeed believe what he just said.

“Do you just think you're that easily replaceable in my life? That someone can just walk in and take your position?”, you asked

“You did just let him do it, didn’t you?”

“Ugh!”, you harshly pushed his shoulders with both your hands. “I did not! Stop saying that you Shitface!”

“Tch! What's your problem, Shithead?”, he scolded, tightly clenching the collar of your jacket in his fist.

“My problem is that I’m in love with you and you’re too stupid to see it.”

His eyes and lips shaped into three round Os. “Huh?”, he huffed breathlessly.

“I love you. Since that evening that we spent right here one year ago, and I’ve been in love with you ever since . Miche was acting on some stupid directions that Hange gave him. There’s nothing between him and I, Levi. It’s you. It’s always been you.”, you said, quoting Erwin’s words and revealing Hange’s plan to him.

With that same fist around your jacket, Levi pulled you close; crashing your body into his, gently pressing his lips upon yours. Your heart began to pound upon his touch that you had been yearning for since over a year. His lips were warm, and soft, and he gingerly nibbled on yours, making you smile into the kiss. You felt his cool fingers raking through your hair accompanied by gentle hums of bliss. He finally broke away, allowing you both to catch your breath, resting his forehead on yours.

“I love you, Shithead.”, he whispered. “But, I’m going to kill those two giants and four eyes tomorrow.”

[becomingbts]

Time heals (sometimes) - Teaser 1

Summary: 6 years ago, (Y/N) thought that she was finally taking her life into her hands, leaving behind a toxic and abusive relationship with a man who taught her she’d never be worthy of love. However, it became hard to ignore his words when she met her seven soulmates who rejected her without even giving her a chance to prove herself. It took (Y/N) 3 years to realize that it wouldn’t be her end. She would live on to prove them all wrong; she would become what they all thought she wasn’t: someone worthy of love. And as she stands proudly on the stage, under the burning spotlights and the applause and the cries of the delirious crowd, she feels alive. Alive, just like the bond she believed to be broken.

Pairings: Y/N x OT7

GENRE: Soulmate AU!, Idol Y/NAU!, semi social-media AU!, ANGST (mainly), fluff, romance, maybe smut in the series.

Ask or comment to be tagged!

Warnings: The series is going to be heavy with a lot of personal experiences mixed into the fiction, so this is going to be kind of therapeutic for me. Please, consider not reading the series if you are not comfortable with: abandonment issues, anxiety, panic attacks, depression, self-harm (not descriptive and only part of MC’s past), suicide thoughts (in the past), toxic behavior, toxic and abusive relationship (in the past), depreciating self-talk and low self-esteem, a lot of curse, physical and mental pain, near death experience situation (in the past), and maybe smut scenes (happy ending though, but it will probably be quite the ride).

NOTE: I was thinking of “Moonchild” and for some reasons, some memories I’d prefer to have forgotten came back to my mind and instead of making a full-blown panic attack like I used to, I thought that it would make a great plot if I mingled that with a soulmate and idol verse and that’s how I started going into it. This is going to be loaded with personal experiences, even if they’ll probably be a bit differently explained compared to what I experienced. Despite the heavy themes and many warnings, I hope you guys will like it. I think I really needed to write it. It will be a semisocial media AU!, because I like the idea of being to write some of their conversations through texts. However, I do plan on fully writing most of it. Though, you’ll have some updates about their social medias as I will update their profiles soon after you see this. I will probably mix a lot of different media for this story such as songs written and produced by myself. I’ll upload for real MC’s EP. So expect a lot for this story. Please take well care, feedback is always very warmly welcomed, it helps me to write for real. If you need to talk to someone, my dms are always opened and if you really don’t feel well, please call urgency numbers.

Thank you for reading,

-Dolly

"And we will close our night show with the most awaited segment! The audience jumped during the commercial break, it's amazing how many people just joined us! Welcome to our interview segment and especially, welcome and thank you so much for being with us Moon!”

"Of course, thank you for having me on your radio show." 

"Thank you for coming! I have to mention that this is your very first interview with another media than your usual personal platforms like Vlive, YouTube, or Instagram, so we are honored to be the first ones to greet you! Do you plan on making more activities outside your personal schedule for the promotion of your new album?" 

"If I may be honest, not really. I'm the most comfortable in my own safe zone and I tend to try not to get out of it too often. It might close some doors to me but I'm comfortable with my fans that way. However, I often listen to this radio show and a lot of my fans were enthusiastic about that so I thought: why not."

"Ah, thank you so much, it means a lot! Your fans are indeed a strong community and they support you whether you go to TV shows or not. Besides, you've been a very active artist on social media and your whole career started on YouTube and SoundCloud before you signed to your current agency. We have to congratulate you on your journey! It's barely been two years but here you are, with your second EP 'People'! Congratulations on the release!" 

"Thank you very much."

“For our listeners who might not know who Moon is, I’m going to introduce her to you: Moon, your real name is (Y/N), you were born on August 4th, 1998, Incheon and your mother was American so you pursued your studies in America. You have been taking online classes since the start of your career at the HULT, university of Florida, and even recently got your Business Bachelor, now aiming for a Ph.D. You started your journey on Youtube, uploading covers and vlogs until you finally started producing your own songs, releasing them on Soundcloud. You started gaining a lot of followers; thus, you started on other social media such as Twitter or Instagram. One year ago, you release your first EP called ‘BALANCE’  which is the reason why the music label BigHit reached to you and asked you if you wanted to sign with them. Did I get everything right?”

“You are. It feels like you know my life better than I do.”

"Ah not at all, but thank you, I am glad that I didn’t say something wrong! Would you mind sharing the concept of this EP? Many of your fans probably already know but maybe some of our daily listeners might not!" 

"Of course. As you said, 'People' is my second EP, yet the first to be studio recorded. Signing with BigHit is a big step in my career and it created a lot of changes, hence I decided to focus on the people I have met, stayed with, became close to, or detached myself from… This is dedicated to the people who changed my life, whether they intended to or not. It could be interpreted as my social life diary in a way." 

"I see, many of your fans have said that the album held a very distinct duality, with a bright and a much darker side that made quite the storm on social media. ‘Y/N our Moon’ and ‘MOONISBACK’ trended for a few nights on Twitter. Do you have anything you'd like to say about that?" 

"I guess it was a surprise because this mini-album is really raw and uncensored. I didn't try to sugarcoat it nor to romanticize my experiences. I hope it brings comfort to people who haven't been feeling well. Because I think that it’s always easy to say that it's going to be okay to someone who’s not feeling well. Everything doesn’t suddenly become okay. And it's fine to be hurting, you can learn to live with this pain and move on while still hoping for better days. There is no end to hopes, and this is why my EP has a brighter side to it. Not everything is always a vast cold ocean. Sometimes, there are small or big waves that come crashing into our universe and they form something that we couldn't have imagined. They bring a little piece of sunshine in life and it helps to move on. So I hope that people who are struggling know that, despite how insignificant I might be, there is a person that understands and can relate to their struggles. I hope it can comfort them, even just slightly, to know that they are not alone." 

"That's a beautiful way to put it."

"Ah, thank you." 

"I have to ask because I'm really curious and I’m definitely not the only one: a lot of your fans have been theorizing about who could your title track ‘TIME’ be about? I have to ask you on the behalf of everyone. Is it okay for me to break the mystery?" 

"Time is a track that shouldn’t have made it to the EP. It’s a bit like a fit of personal anger that I didn’t know I needed to let out.”

“Your anger was definitely heard and understood. People have been curious about the addressee of the song especially because of the line ‘maybe it’s time I finally let go of you’. So can you tell us who is it about?” 

“Uh...Time was written for my seven soulmates who rejected me years ago." 

"Seven!?"

"Yeah, it's a lot I know.”

“Is that why you have covered your soul mark with this tattoo on your arm? Netizens talked about it a lot; normally idols tend to cover their arm from the public eyes to avoid for their soulmates’ names to be known, but instead, you were proudly showing your tattooed arm, fully covering what might be under the ink. Many people assumed that it meant that you didn’t have a soulmate at all.” 

“Well, I decided to cover the mark because there was no reason for me to keep it without hurting myself. I decided that I have been hurt enough to let myself take a rest. I didn’t see the point in hiding my arm either, I’m proud of my tattoo, I mean; it’s really a beautiful piece in my opinion. But to answer the assumptions, I don’t consider that I have soulmates anymore, hence why the tattoo as well." 

"This is really a heartbreaking story, it must have been extremely hard. Breaking a soul bond is immensely dangerous, my link with my husband already itches when I spend the day away from him, so seven soul bonds? It must have been terrible." 

"It was, but the most important is where I am now. I'm not lingering on that anymore because they made their choices and I thus made mine. I just hope that they all are healthy and happy where they are." 

"I have to say I'm really impressed (Y/N)-shi, you really have a delicate and caring soul. I probably wouldn't be able to have such soft words about your soulmates had I been in your shoes."

"I think living the actual experience made me reflect on myself a lot. I'm comfortable where I am now, I'm able to do music and make what I love. I have nothing to complain about, I'm surrounded by lovely and supportive fans, I have the best manager I could have ever hoped for and a warm and healthy family. I don't need more on my side." 

"I'm glad you are happy then. Many of your fans have pointed out it's really hard to make you smile and some wonder if you are happy, especially after the release of ‘TIME’, I don’t blame some of your fans for being worried." 

"Ahhh, is smiling the only way to prove that we are happy? I believe my words are usually a bit more impactful than my facial expressions. I have to admit that I don't often smile, it's not a bad thing, at least I don't think so, but I just don't feel the need to smile when I don’t feel like it. Besides, I get shy easily when I expose my emotions too much." 

"It's hard to imagine you being shy but at the same time now that I have you in front of me, our listeners cannot see you, but I definitely feel that you have a very shy and reserved aura despite the energy you give off when you are on stage. It’s not unfriendly either, but you’re just very soft-spoken and quiet in everything you do. Like when you came in, I barely heard you entering at all; you’re just silently making your way without a fuss, it’s really endearing, to be honest."

"Ah... I’ve been told that my stage persona and the ‘me’ in real life were two different entities but I don’t really think it’s true. I'm extremely introverted and it doesn't really mix well with the stage. So I just put it on the side for the people who came to see me and deserve to see more than a 24 years old woman who has troubles speaking without stuttering in front of other people." 

"You stutter when you have to speak in front of other people?" 

"Sometimes it happens when I’m nervous, and I’m very often nervous. Like right now, I’m extremely nervous. But it's something I'm working on." 

"Well it's definitely paying off because I couldn't sense that you were nervous at all, just very calm and soft, but I wouldn’t be able to imagine you being nervous enough to stutter."

"A lot of artists actually have stage fright, most of them just don't want to admit it because it doesn't sound sexy when you tell your fans you're actually shaking before going up there for the show." 

"This is very true, but it's refreshing to hear it from someone who actually lives through that rather than fan theories." 

"That's understandable." 

"Our time is coming to the end, do you have anything you would like to add before we sadly get our mics taken away?" 

"Oh uhm, everyone, my new mini-album 'People' came out very recently and yet it already received a lot of love so I want to thank you for that. This EP was a very personal project and I was worried about how it would be welcomed but you all made me realize that I have nothing to fear because we'll always find someone who can relate to our stories. As long as I can help even one person with my songs, then it's enough for me. Thank you for listening to me and my voice. I hope we'll be able to meet soon. Love you my fans and non-fans as well, please take well care of yourselves in those times. Be careful and stay safe. Wear your mask!" 

“Thank you so much Moon for being with us tonight. Our time was short but I really enjoyed it, I hope our listeners were able to feel that very warm presence of yours through the mic. ‘Give Me A Song’ of Moon’s EP ‘People’ will now be playing and we will see each other tomorrow night with IU for the release of her new album LILAC. Take care!”

Comments or Ask to be tagged!

Uploaded : 08/04/2021

[the-modernmary]

my best habit || aaron hotchner x reader (prologue)

Summary: When Aaron Hotchner ended your affair with him, saying that a serial killer was going after him and his family, you were content with the idea that you'd probably never see him again. Two years have come and gone since then, but when you get dragged into an FBI investigation as a key witness, you and Hotch are forced to come face to face with all the things left unsaid.

Warnings: Age gap (15-ish years), smut, degradation, unprotected sex. This story is 18+ older. This is not a story for minors.

A/N: Hello, hello!! I figured that since I've made a writing tumblr, I should post my story on here!! This is a multichapter story, so I am very excited to go on this journey with y'all!! I already have multiple chapters written and published, so these should be coming out VERY quickly. If you don't want to wait to catch up, you can read everything I have on ao3! This chapter starts as a flashback, and then the next chapter and the rest from here on out will be actual plot!

masterlist || read on ao3

“If you were waitin’ on the sunshine, blue sky

Cheap high, lullaby

Then my best habit’s letting you down”

- The Maine, “My Best Habit”

Two years earlier

Your eyes scanned the University Ballroom, your champagne glass practically ignored in your hand. You hated all these alumni networking galas and avoided going to them as much as possible. Old, sleazy lawyers with much younger women on their arm reliving their best cases with each other and expecting all the new law students to laugh when they were able to get their defendant acquitted because of some dumb technicality. It made you sick.

It didn’t help that you were already going in with a bad attitude. Your ex-boyfriend had dropped by your apartment that morning to pick up the rest of his stuff, and he decided that the best person to help him with that was the girl he had been cheating on you with. You caught them together three weeks ago, and you had been so stressed from midterms that you hadn’t even had the chance to go out, get drunk, and have wildly irresponsible rebound sex.

But you had to suck it up for the night, at least until you were able to get the answer you came for. After that, you could go back to your apartment, replace your too tight and too short dress with some nice pajamas, and watch trashy reality TV until you passed out on your couch.

You scanned the room a few more times until you caught sight of a tall man in a dark suit leaning against the bar. Bingo. You set your champagne flute down and ran over to him as fast as your heels could take you. Once you were just a few steps away, you quickly composed yourself and walked straight into his line of sight.

SSA Aaron Hotchner rarely came to alumni events here at George Washington Law School, citing that he wasn’t even a prosecutor anymore and had much more important work to do back at the BAU, but he was going as favor to his old law school buddy. Plus, it was either coming to this or going out to the bar with the team, and seeing as he had just signed the divorce papers with Haley, he wanted to be somewhere he wasn’t going to be profiled all night. The free champagne was also a bonus.

When you saw that his name was on the RSVP list, you knew that you had to go.

“Agent Hotchner?” you asked, giving him your best straight A student smile.

He refused to look up right away, not giving you the chance to charm him. “I’m not currently on duty. If there is a case you would like the BAU to look over, that’s handled by our media liaison,” he said absently, taking another sip of champagne.

You frowned but kept your hand out for him to shake. “That’s not what I’m here for, I-” You took a breath to compose yourself. “My name is Y/N Y/L/N. I’m a first year here- getting a joint JD and masters in forensic psychology. My goal is to become a prosecutor,” you pressed, and you were rewarded when he perked up in interest. He slid his drink on the table.

“Most law firms don’t usually want a prosecutor who’s going to empathize with the person you’re prosecuting,” he mused, and shook your hand, his grip just tight enough to pass as faux politeness.

You shook your head and clasped your hands behind your back, trying to ignore how warm his hands were. “I think the best prosecutors empathize with the defendants,” you admitted. “Isn’t that how you succeeded as both a prosecutor and as a federal agent? That’s actually why I came to you, I wanted to ask you a question... about my thesis,” you added quickly, figuring that the best way to get him to talk to you.

Aaron’s posture changed from half asleep to maybe listening, and your face went red. Sure, you only came to the event to talk to him, but you never thought that you’d actually get Aaron Hotchner to pay attention to you. “I didn’t empathize with the people I was putting in jail,” he told you, his voice ice cold. “That didn’t come until I worked in the BAU, and even now, I wouldn’t call it empathy. Just understanding of how they became the type of person they are.” He leaned sideways on the bar counter and you felt yourself shrink under his gaze. You shifted slightly and felt the hem of your dress move up your thighs ever so slightly. Aaron noticed too, if the lick of his lips was anything to go by.

You took his silence as your signal to ask your question. “You offered Jessica Michaelson a lesser sentence that had her released in just three years despite the fact that she murdered her brother in cold blood in his sleep. You had the evidence, why didn’t you push for premeditation?” you asked, and his eyebrow quirked upwards. “In the case The People vs. Michaelson,” you added unnecessarily, trying to break the silence.

“I know the case you’re referring to. I was the lead on it,” he reminded you, his voice edging on dangerous. “You know, most people aren’t interested in my days as a lawyer.”

You shrugged, hoping to appear more confident than you felt. “I’m not most people,” you agreed, biting down on your lower lip. His gaze was so intense, and it was affecting you in ways you couldn’t have imagined. It was turning you on, you realized with a start. It had been a while since you had last had sex, and it was driving you only slightly crazy. “But that doesn’t answer my question.”

Aaron grabbed a champagne flute from a server walking by, and shoved it in your direction. You grabbed it cautiously. “Did you read the police report on the case?” he asked, and you nodded wordlessly, taking a sip of the champagne. The alcohol was making you bolder, and you stepped towards him. “Then you’ll know that there was very little physical evidence tying her to the muder. We chose to offer the charge that would have stuck instead of risking her being found not guilty.”

You gritted your teeth together in an effort to calm yourself down. “She murdered four people within the six months after she was released from prison,” you reminded him.

That seemed to have struck a chord with Aaron, and his steely persona seemed to fade ever so slightly. He sighed exasperatedly; you were obviously getting on his nerves. “The prints and DNA that were collected and put into VICAP when she was in prison are what got her caught in the end, and that was the evidence needed to lock her away for life. We wouldn’t have gotten those prints without her original charge. It all worked out.”

You groaned and threw your hands in the air. “You couldn’t have predicted that, though,” you argued. “And people have been found guilty with way less evidence than you had in the original case. I think you just felt bad for her, considering her brother was a real piece of shit.” You were being difficult now, you knew that. But there was something about Aaron Hotcher that was pulling you in, and you wanted to see how far you could push him.

Aaron gave you a predatory grin and he stepped towards you ever so slightly, finishing his drink. He must have had multiple drinks too, judging by the soft flush on his face. “Oh, you do?” He seemed amused now. He slowly raked his eyes from your face, down your neck, and down the rest of your body, and you forgot how to breath. You knew that it was inappropriate and that he was a highly respected FBI agent, even if he was kind of an asshole at the moment. You also knew that the two of you were crossing lines that neither of you should have even been close to, but you shivered under the weight of his gaze all the same.

You shifted back and forth, your brain trying to process what was happening. “Yeah, I do. And I know that you transferred to the FBI after Michaelson was arrested again, which makes me think that this case was your breaking point,” you ranted, your hands becoming more and more animated.

Aaron chuckled, but there was very little amusement behind it. “Are you sure you want to be a lawyer?” he asked, cocking his head to the side. “Because you’re starting to talk like a profiler.”

You arched an eyebrow at him. “No thanks,” you said firmly, and he just shrugged before making a move to walk past you. You sidestepped in front of him, effectively blocking him from going anywhere. But it was obvious that he was done talking about this.

In your mind, you had two options now. You could keep pushing him about a case that he obviously didn’t want to talk to you about, or you could switch gears in your brain and have him help you solve your... other problem. Aaron was attractive, and you were getting tired of guys your age. You noticed the distinct lack of a wedding ring on his finger, but there was still a tan to show that it had been there. So either he was recently separated or just trying to cheat on his wife. You wanted to not care whichever it was, but a pang in your heart told you to be considerate. Besides, you did not want to get involved with another cheater.

“Must be hard to be at these events without your wife here to scare off all the lonely female law students,” you mused cautiously. You didn’t want to come on too strong, but the alcohol in your system was slowly clouding your ability to be subtle.

Aaron cleared his throat, obviously taken aback by the sudden shift in conversation. “I’m not married,” he said, too quickly and too defensively. So he’s separated, you thought, and you stepped closer to him.

His eyebrows furrowed as he tried to figure out your endgame. “Well, I would love to discuss your work as a prosecutor more when there are less… distractions around,” you whispered, your words breathy. “Tell me Agent Hotchner, do I make you nervous?” You sounded a lot more confident than you felt.

Aaron just smirked and grabbed your free hand, covering it in both of his, and the action was surprisingly soft, even if it was way too late for him to try acting suave. His eyes, on the other hand, told a whole other story. His pupils were so dilated that his eyes were practically black. “I face the worst people in society on a daily basis. Desperate law students don’t make me nervous. In fact…” He stepped towards you, looking around to make sure nobody else was looking. Aaron leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear with every word. “I think that I make you nervous. And more than nervous, I make you very excited.”

Your breath hitched as he pulled back, a smug smile gracing his lips. You yanked your hand back to preserve what little dignity you had left, but it was too late. “Now, if you would like to discuss my prosecuting career more in depth, then you can set up a formal meeting with me at the BAU,” he continued, obviously proud of himself and the effect he was having on you. He pulled out a business card and upon further instruction, you realized that it wasn’t even his. Jennifer Jareu the name read. “Our media liaison will be able to help you organize that. Now if you don’t mind, I am going to retire for the night.”

Aaron finished the rest of his drink and brushed past you while you were still trying to get your thoughts under control. “Oh, and you’ll make a wonderful lawyer someday, I’m sure of it,” he called over his shoulder, and that snapped you back into action.

You followed, running around him and cutting him off. “And if I don’t want to discuss your prosecuting career?” you asked, batting your eyelashes at him. “What if I was interested in a… less formal meeting?”

That was all the permission he needed. Aaron grabbed your hand and pulled you out of the ballroom, the two of you moving so fast that nobody in the room even had a chance to put two and two together. There was an empty hallway just next to the entrance of the room and Aaron pulled you in that direction, pressing you against the wall and kissing you fiercely the second the two of you were alone.

There was nothing gentle about the kiss, but in a strange role reversal, he let you take the lead. It’s certainly not what you expected from Aaron Hotchner who, until now, had been controlling every aspect of your meeting. You realized then that this was his way of making sure you were okay with what was happening- giving you a chance to back out and change your mind. You just answered by tangling your hands in his hair, pulling so that he was at just the right angle to kiss you.

Aaron dug his fingers into your hips, hard enough to make you gasp out. You were definitely going to have bruises the next day, but you couldn’t be bothered to care. He shoved his leg in between yours and tugged on your lip with his teeth, which made you whimper involuntarily. He smirked against your lips, obviously proud of the noises he was drawing from you. You pulled on his hair harder as a sign of irritation, but that seemed to only make him more amused as he pulled away to laugh into your neck.

“Are we just going to make out against a wall like we’re back in high school, or are you going to actually do something worth my time?” you breathe, fighting to keep your voice even and light. It only halfway worked as he dragged his tongue up your neck to your pulse point. And then he bit down, hard.

It took everything in your power to stay quiet, especially as he softly kissed the newly forming bruise. His attack on your neck was relentless as he pulled your hips and back forth against his thigh. You whimpered as you desperately tried to get any friction from the simple movement. Your skirt was now dangerously close to being pushed so far up your legs that you would be completely exposed.

You pulled away first- you had to or your legs were going to completely give out from under you. You desperately tried to get your breathing under control and, to your annoyance, he looked perfectly composed. The only thing giving him away was his slightly swollen lips.

His fingers trailed up your thigh, getting so close to where you want him. “What would you like me to do then?” he asked easily, his voice almost sounding bored. You were speechless, like your brain had just short circuited. There were a lot of things you wanted him to do, but the words were lost on the tip of your tongue. “If you want something, you have to ask for it.” That was a demand, and he punctuated it by pressing his thigh further into you. You were sure he was going to have a wet spot on his slacks. He took the hand not in between your legs and grabbed your jaw forcefully, his thumb resting on your bottom lip. “Use your words, little girl.”

You realize that the two of you were standing on the edge of a cliff, and you had the power to decide whether or not to jump over. It gave you a strange sense of power. Logically, you knew it was a bad idea. He was too old for you, obviously going through some sort of relationship trauma, and wasn’t somebody you could talk to your friends and family about. But the less rational side wanted him so badly it hurt. You wanted him more than you’ve wanted anything or anyone in a long time.

You noticed your strawberry colored lipstick was smudged ever so slightly on the corner of his mouth, and that’s all it took for you to jump off the side of the cliff. “I want you to drag me into the empty classroom just down the hall and fuck me senseless. I want you to use me,” you moan before taking his thumb into your mouth and sucking.

The look on his face is something you’ll never forget. There was a mix of shock and arousal, but also something primitive; His eyes darkened when you told him to use you, and there was a fluttering in your stomach. You couldn’t tell if it was from excitement or dread. Maybe even both.

He removed his hands from your mouth and legs, only to place his hand on the small of your back. He began walking towards the classroom you had pointed out, much too slow for your liking, but he knew exactly what he was doing. “You’re going to regret asking me to use you,” he practically growls in your ear, each word increasing your arousal. “Are you one of those lonely female law students you warned me about? So desperate and needy for a real man to bend you over a table and fuck you until you can’t walk straight? Ready and willing to whore yourself out for the first man who gives you a second glance?”

Your breath hitched as you stuttered out your answer. “Y-yes, Agent Hotchner,” you whispered as he opened the classroom door and guided you in.

As soon as the door was shut and locked, he was back on your lips again, lifting you so that you were sitting on one of the desks with your legs wrapped around his waist. “Call me Aaron,” he mumbled in between kisses, and you were all too happy to oblige.

You were a moaning mess at this point as his hands pushed your dress up to your waist. His hands and lips were somehow everywhere at once and you were so hot and all you could think about was getting your damn dress off, but Aaron seemed to have other plans.

He ran his fingers up your lace covered slit and he just chuckled into your lips. “You’re so wet for me, already,” he groaned and you let out an embarrassingly loud moan. “And I’ve barely touched you. Do my words really have that much effect on you? Do you like it when I call you a whore?”

He hooked his fingers under the waistband of your panties and quickly pulled them down. You could feel his bulge pressing against you and all you could think about was how badly you wanted it. How badly you wanted him. Your hands moved down his chest to make quick work of his belt, and his pants followed after.

“Please, please Aaron,” you begged, desperately trying to create some friction against him. His fingers tangled in your hair and he pulled your head back so that you were looking at him.

“You’re so pretty when you beg.” His fingers slowly ran up your slit, not enough to give you any pleasure. He was teasing you and enjoying every second of it. “And I wish I could take my time with you. The things I want to do to you…” Two of his fingers entered you and you cried out loudly. “But somebody could walk in on us at any second. I’m sure they can all hear you moaning like a dirty whore, all for me. But you’d like that, wouldn’t you? So desperate for my attention and approval.”

His words turned you on more than you would have liked to admit. “Yes, Aaron yes. Please-” you were cut off by Aaron curling his fingers, hitting that spot that made you want to scream out in pleasure. But all too soon, they were gone.

He inspected his fingers, which were now covered in your juices, before bringing them to your mouth. “Suck,” he ordered, and you eagerly complied, wrapping your lips around his fingers and moaning at the taste of yourself. “I’ll just have to fuck you quickly here, and then you’ll be begging for more next time,” he groaned and finally- finally- entered you.

He didn’t give you time to adjust to him, thrusting roughly into you. He removed his fingers from your mouth and brought his hand to your neck. He didn’t put any pressure, but he wanted you to know that he could and would if you decided to get mouthy with him.

Your hands gripped the edge of the desk you were sitting on, your knuckles turning white. Your eyes started to close in pleasure as his hips slammed into yours, but they shot open as he tightened his grip on your throat. “Look at me. I want to see you when you cum,” he ordered, and you nodded the best you could.

“Yes sir!” you cried out, unsure of what else to say.

Seemingly satisfied with your answer, Aaron released your throat and moved his hand down so that he was stimulating your clit. You could feel the coil in your stomach tighten as your legs started to twitch. Aaron took this as motivation to slam into you even harder, relishing each time you gasped out his name.

His pace was unforgiving, leaving you gasping for air. Keeping your eyes open was a challenge, but you were able to do it with his soft mutters of praise. “Even brats like you can be good girls,” he groaned, his thrusts becoming erratic. “You just need somebody to fuck it into you.”

You were unable to respond coherently, so you just settled on begging even more, although you weren’t sure what you were begging for exactly. Aaron seemed to know, and he sped up his fingers against your clit. You wanted to scream out for him, but your voice wasn’t working. “What did I say before?” he asks roughly. “If you want something, ask for it.”

“Please… please can I cum?” you cried out, feeling yourself getting close to the edge. “Please let me cum around your cock!”

He nodded in approval and you had to muffle yourself in his neck to keep quiet. He fucked you through your orgasm, the overstimulation almost too much, but it wasn’t long before he was moaning your name, and you felt him fill you.

The two of you stayed like that for a few moments, both breathing heavily as the situation started to sink in. You just let a guy almost 15 years older than you that you just met fuck you in an empty classroom, and you really enjoyed it. Aaron, on the other hand, looked like he was going through a full crisis.

He pulled out of you slowly, and you winced at the feeling. He pulled up his pants quickly. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, looking around the empty classroom. “I don’t have anything good to clean you up with.” A box of kleenex caught his eye and he grabbed a few tissues. It was better than nothing.

You chuckled nervously and waved it off. “It’s fine,” you promised, your voice coming out shakier than you expected, but he ignored you. He wiped the mess dripping down your thighs. You were cold. He must have noticed, because he took off his suit jacket and wrapped it around your shoulders.

“Are you okay?” Aaron asked softly, and it was a full 180 from the way he had just been talking to you.

“I’m great,” you admitted honestly. “Seriously, that was… great.”

Aaron smiled at you- the first real smile he had given you all night. “It wasn’t too much?” he confirmed, and you suddenly remembered what he had said to you earlier. ...then you’ll be begging for more next time. Was he planning on a next time? You wouldn’t have minded it.

You shook your head and slowly slid off the table. You took one of the tissues and wiped up the mess that was left on the table. “Not at all. In fact, I could take more. Next time.” Your voice was light and airy. Aaron watched as you picked your underwear off the floor. There was no way you were putting those back on, not when you had no idea when the floor was last cleaned.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” he teased, eyeing you carefully.

“Well I can’t keep it if I only have your media liaison’s number,” you reminded him, your eyebrow raised. Aaron chuckled and pulled out another business card, except this time it was his. You plucked the card out of his hands and inspected it carefully. “I’ll call you sometime. You can do all those other things we didn’t have time to do.” You were on your tiptoes now, whispering in his ear. “You know… my mouth can do a lot more than just ask for things.” As you spoke, you slipped your panties into his back pocket. You just laughed as you heard a soft gasp escape his lips.

You made your way towards the door, your legs wobbling dangerously underneath you. You were sure that you looked like a mess, but you didn’t care. All that mattered to you was Aaron Hotchner’s eyes glued to your ass. “Get home safe,” he told you and you let yourself smile. Maybe it was a bad idea to start sleeping with a recent divorcee, but the sex was great and you both knew where you stood with the other person. No feelings, just fucking out your frustrations and stress.

Oh yeah, coming to this event was definitely a good call on your part.

[whirlybirbs]

✶  ———  MENDING  ;   d.d.

summary: something has unsettled din. you set to find out what. affections brew.   * set post!chapter 11. contains spoilers! *

pairing: din djarin x gender nuetral!reader

word count: 1.8k of pure pining ‘n’ identity crises !

a/n: it’s another notes app fic, baby! the gif above is from this set by the lovely @thewaythisis​! anyways, din can plow me like a field of wheat under the harvest moon whew (panting spongebob meme)

something is bothering him.

it would be a lie to say that din djarin was quiet soul — plainly put, he wasn’t.

he was, if anything, a purposeful and succinct soul who knew how to measure the weight of words when they were spoken. with all the little bell-like tinkers that came from his every step — beskar on beskar — quiet was not a fitting adjective to match that of din djarin. no. he was strong. sturdy. a chant of mando’a in the afternoon sun. intimidating.

something is definitely bothering him.

the ship is a wreck — you’re sure that alone is enough to strike a sore nerve with the mandalorian piloting the vessel. so, as he plots course for the little planet on the edge of nowhere that the striking bo-katan spoke of, you make work on what you can. reinforcing some structural plating, running diagnostics on the fuel-lining that runs beneath the floor plates, and welding the paneling the mon calamari engineer installed to cover the gaping hole in the side of the ship occupies you for a long while.

just the bright flicker of flame and your thoughts.

din hasn’t uttered a word since entering the ship.

you hope, at the very least, he’s taken the time to eat something away from your prying eyes.

the welding torch is hot in your gloved hands when you hear footsteps coming down the ladder into the swaying belly of the razor crest. you knew it was the wing equilibrium counter-weights the moment you took off. not much you can do about it from the inside.

the good news is that the rocking put the child right to sleep.

you pull your goggles down and watch as din djarin carefully carries the little woolen bundle to the hanging hammock within the small cot compartment. he’s exceedingly gentle, incredibly careful. once the child is inside, din dims the lights and closes the door.

you work your gloves off.

he sighs.

again, you can’t help but be struck with worry. the sort that nibbles on your heartstrings just enough to wring a flinch out of you.

“have you eaten?” he asks. his voice is even, almost cold.

you shake your head.

his helmet glints in the overhead light as he juts his chin to the cockpit; wordlessly, you stand and follow — swallows whole by his bulky shadow that looms over you as you hike yourself up the ladder.

din has done some mending of his own, it seems. the netting and twine that was keeping the dash steady had been removed. you can see the tedious, small welding marks from his own tool kit along the seams. you make a mental note to go over it later. in the corner, there’s a pile of the mess.

you land into the passenger’s seat with a huff.

the tube of protein paste that din offers you from his stash beneath the razor crest’s controls has you frowning. but, it’s bantha flavored. better than nothing. if you close your eyes, you can almost imagine it being a piece of steak.

almost.

if a steak was cold, pureed, and poured into a jerky-shaped tube.

din is quiet when swings in his chair, turning to nearly face you. he stretches, straightening his back out, then he crosses his arms. his boots plant themselves on the floor. his stance is wide. his posture is sagging.

you swallow your meal.

“did you eat?” your voice feels small.

din nods.

hm.

“... are you hurt?”

more silence. finally, he shakes his head. you know it’s a lie — the last forty-eight hours have left you both with your fair share of lacerations and deep-tissue bruising. beneath the armor, you can only imagine the sort of bruises he’s gotten.

“... tired?”

“this checklist you’re doing,” he rasps out, head lulling to the side as he looks up at the ceiling, “you should be doing it on yourself.”

you scoff into your meal paste.

“maybe.”

a grunt.

silence follows the exchange for a few minutes. it’s once you’ve managed to choke down the entirety of the bantha-flavored mush that you speak again. it’s not courage the drives the question, but concern.

“be honest, din,” you breathe, “are you alright?”

his helmet turns, t-visor glaring at you in the dim light of the cabin. you can see his fingers, gloved and tucked neatly against his biceps, twitch. he inhales deeply. the beskar glimmers with the light of stars that pass by beyond the cockpit window.

he’s rather a sight to behold.

“no.”

you’re startled back to the moment.

when you speak, your voice is soft. the sort of soft that’s begun to erode din’s usual beskar-grade composure. he’s begun to waver, begun to hesitate around you. he finds he can’t help it. he’d grown quite fond of you and your innate ability to give a shit. you’re not asking because you want to get paid, because you expect something of him. no, you’re asking because it matters to you.

he’s finally starting to understand that after cycles and cycles of time spent trying to find the child’s true place in this mess of a galaxy. you’ve been traveling with him since before nevarro — before... before the covert’s split.

before he started to feel so alone.

and confused.

and angry.

so angry.

how many moments has he denied himself because of this armor? how much kindness, how much care? how many friendships has he ignored for the sake of the creed? how many loves have come and gone, as fickle as stardust? what has he missed?

... has he truly even missed anything? that is the way.

he is all sorts of swirling bitterness now, mouth pulled into a firm line beneath the lip of his helmet. to see those others — true mandalorians, ones with clan-names, with lineage-graced armor, who speak the tongue and have touched the soil of the place he has never called home, but always idolized — reveal their faces...

he’s one of them...

children of the watch...

din’s foot taps.

you lean forward.

“din...?”

“the others,” he speaks suddenly, almost in a bark, “called my clan a coven of zealots. fringe radicalists. they showed me their faces and —”

a ragged sigh.

suddenly, you’re beginning to understand.

he’s frustrated.

“i’ve lived my life under a strict code,” din continues, helmet tilted up the ceiling. he’s tracing the bolts with his dark eyes, “one that has given me a purpose, a family, a home. but i can’t help but begin to question the cost.”

you’re listening. you’re pulling your knees up, arms cradling them close. your expression is soft.

“i thought...” then, he lets out a gritted huff of frustration, “i — i never considered my practices to be radical. i thought they were as every mandalorian lived.”

your words are soft. “... in all fairness, your people are living in a diaspora, din. the empire scattered you all to the far corners of the galaxy. it wasn’t as if you were seeing your kin every weekend."

din grunts.

you roll the hem of your tunic between your fingers.

“why is this bothering you?”

“i’ve spent my entire life in armor.”

you frown. din’s head turns and you feel a sad look pull your brows together. you hadn’t... well. his mood is beginning to make a lot of sense now. the frustration, the quiet. all of it.

“i’ve never felt the sea breeze on my face,” he continues, “or... or the kiss of another person. all because i lived my life by the creed i was raised upon. and i was told upon breaking that creed, i’d no longer have a purpose. dar’manda.”

“dar’manda?” the language is harsh on your tongue.

“to... to lose your heritage. to not be mandalorian. the covert believed that bearing your face to another outside of marriage was grounds for ex-communication from the clan. exile.”

“well,” you say after a long moment, crossing your legs and perching on the chair, “that explains the lack the kissing. certainly wasn’t the most important thing on the docket, was it?”

that manages to worm a laugh out of din. the sort that rattles his shoulders and makes his armor swell. he ducks his chin. the sound is still warm as it crackles through his vocalizer.

“interesting point of focus.”

“shut up,” you shirk, “you brought it up.”

“... do you blame me?”

you grow quiet at that but shake your head. your chin finds your hand.

“no,” you say softly, “i don’t. i’m sorry.”

“don’t be.”

“what will you do?”

din straightens a bit at that.

there’s only kindness in your eyes.

“it doesn’t matter now,” din says curtly, as if it’s the easiest answer in the world, “the child is my priority. keep you both safe is my priority.”

slowly, you amble up. your hand finds his pauldron, pressing gently into the fabric between his neck and shoulder oh-so-gently. you mind the affection blooming at his words; you’re careful with how you approach it, just as he is. as if a reflex, his hand snatches up to grip yours tightly.

you welcome it.

you squeeze the cold leather of his gloved hand.

“it does matter,” is uttered out like a sigh; din can’t look up at you. he’s sure his entire chest will burst, “you can’t bear the weight of the world on your shoulders, din.”

“i can manage.”

“let me help.”

a scoff. suddenly his hold tightens. his thumb, ever-so-carefully, ghosts the knuckle of your hand. 

“you do enough.”

it’s your turn to snort.

“i’m practically freeloading, din —”

“no,” he barks, sitting up a bit straighter. now his visor tilts up, and you swear if you looked hard enough, you could see the slope of a nose, the curve of a lip. maybe, if he tilted his head, you could see his jaw — a ghost of a beard, a flash of a throat. he is human. it’s moments like these that remind you, “no, you’re important. you care.”

“— and i eat all your food —”

“you care about me and you care about the child and it matters more than you realize.”

his tone is so final, you feel as if it’s struck an ending note. as if the conversation has ended. that the welling of emotion behind his words is not to be questioned, not to be considered. in the last few cycles, moments like these have become more frequent but still cherished. as rare as they are, they never fail to make you feel like there’s star-shine in your veins. he isn’t one for grandiose confessions. but... this feel special.

his words leave your lips parted, mouth agape. 

and then, in the tiny cockpit, hand in hand with din djarin, all you can muster is a flustered:

“you know, if that helmet wasn’t in the way i would have kissed you cycles ago.”

now, he’s embarassed. it has him laughing — but quiet and shy and all sorts of meak that make the brute of a man seem boyish. his voice is crackled alive with a new-found comfort. he is better now, more like himself and more.

“don’t feed the indentity crisis.”

[thedeviljudges]

For today’s ‘i really, really love kang yohan’ post, we’re gonna be develing into a little bit of emotional intelligence and the fact that Yohan both possesses it while simultaneously doesn’t, lmao.

Yohan is portrayed as a hunter and a shark. He’s said this himself in his own words. He’s read up on dynamics of humans and instincts and basis himself off of a monster for a couple of different reasons, but the main one being the fact that people believed him to be as such instead of coming down to his level as a child to understand him.

This by far, means Yohan was emotionally neglected (physically too, but that’s, in some ways, addressed in my other meta post) by parental figures in his life except for the nanny, possibly, on occasion, and isaac - but even then, we know it must’ve only been to a certain extent. On top of that, yohan’s only true witness to emotions is through those people in the house, and needless to say, one of them was off the walls abusive.

It’s why we get scenes like the choking one because when Yohan is angry, guess how he’s learned to express that? It’s physical, but it ties in emotionally. Yohan lashes out the only way he knows how, but this is also an indicator that he’s lied about being a monster. Why? Because people with extreme reactions to emotionally charged questions (like your associate judge accusing you of killing your brother, for example) can often mean that it’s more than just a sensitive topic; it actually matters to that person. At this point, gaon does not know isaac’s story, but we later learn yohan’s version of the fire, and it’s slowly revealed through Elijah, specifically, just how much family is a tough topic for Yohan.

And fortunately, gaon sees right through yohan’s bullshit when he calls him out about how he should be a victim, not a monster. Which opens up the door to us understanding why Yohan does what he does and says what he says even more because it’s revealed through that conversation that these are specific words Yohan has heard before. So not only has he been emotionally stunted as a child by way of abuse, he’s had so many people in his life look at him as a callous monster. And when that happens, don’t you start to believe it? Don’t you lose a little bit of your humanity and become the very thing people say you are?

However, this is also yohan’s strength in the world he lives in, especially with the intent to seek revenge for Isaac. He can put his emotions aside and think clearly, even in situations that should rile him up. You can actually see him get… amused when someone tries to put him in a corner. Yohan doesn’t rely on emotions because it’s logic, rational and strategy that gets him every single checkmate. It’s what’s got him to the point he’s at now. It’s how he’s able to push gaon into seeing reason because if you look at things from the perspective of philosophy and science (by way of human nature), it becomes easier to see a path and a plan so very clearly to whatever outcome you’re wanting.

The issue that comes into play circles back around with family. Because Yohan did not grow up in a healthy environment, he doesn’t know what family actually means and what dynamic it should look like. The past several years he’s spent with Elijah, he’s lived it logically because it means keeping her safe without taking into consideration the fact that Elijah is not like himself and did not grow up in the same environment he did. Only, Yohan also has a habit of not telling anyone his plans, and that’s where the miscommunication starts. How is Elijah to know why Yohan keeps her away from the world? It’s revealed she’s been kidnapped twice, but does Elijah truly understand yohan’s perspective? No, she’s a teenager, and gaon was right about it not being fair to keep her locked away.

But I digress. Here you have a man with a plan with repressed emotions and then enter one kim gaon, and he’s asked for trouble. One of the reasons Yohan, I believe, has kept gaon around is because he defies the typical. He challenges Yohan, not in an act of dominance, but out of another way of thinking, and that’s a big difference. Things might go over gaon’s head, and he’s not always right, but he’s looking at all perspectives, even if they’re wrong. Multiple times Yohan has been surprised by gaon’s way of thinking. That’s intriguing and it’s different.

Which lead to situations where gaon’s confronting Yohan about himself, holding up a mirror and asking him if that’s truly who he is or if it’s someone he’s trying to be, if he’s listening to what other people have told him or if he’s actually listening to himself. Which is kind of ironic with Yohan only being able to trust himself, but he can’t even do that, can he? He lies to himself in order not to face what he truly feels. And that’s because it’s filled with pain, and Yohan doesn’t have time for that.

But there is also a reason why a lot of his progress takes place in his house and away from the world because a home is meant for vulnerability and while Yohan and Elijah haven’t had that in a while, Yohan didn’t take into account gaon’s ability to see things differently. Yohan saw gaon’s mind for his plan and for the overarching plot to oust the rich, but what he did not consider is how that would translate into his personal life. Which is hilarious because Yohan is the one that brought gaon into his home in the first place and ultimately ended up with a surprise of a man who’s clearly moved in because Yohan never tells him he has to leave.

So, that’s where things begin to unravel. Gaon tests Yohan’s patience and emotions in ways he hasn’t been tested. Again, gaon’s held up the mirror and asked him to consider looking deeper for the actual truth instead of the façade Yohan lets himself believe is real. Gaon is also one of the only other people in yohan’s life that has actually considered yohan’s feelings and, in turn, elijah’s. gaon is also a man of righteousness and it makes sense that he’s not afraid to share parts of himself if it means it’s doing something good.

We see this particularly with Elijah, telling her about his parents, not reprimanding her over her murder plot, lmao. gaon grew up in an emotionally healthy, and most likely, happy household where he could express himself without feeling like a burden. He has patience and kindness imbedded into his being.

So with that dynamic of being in a home where people are not on display in front of the world, with gaon’s ability to emotionally connect with people, and finding out the looming secrets of the kang household, it becomes rife with opportunity to peel back those layers and expose them for what they are and talk about it and instead of hiding it away in the shadows. Gaon gives them all space to have those emotions, and while he prods and he asks questions, it’s generally in the form of a gentle reminder that other perspectives exists than the ones that are within those four walls. Gaon doesn’t get angry necessarily, and he apologizes when he’s wrong. His straightforwardness and heart-on-his-sleeve demeanor actually works in his favor, albeit a bit misguided at times.

And with all of this, it’s how Yohan slowly begins to open up. Gaon might be accusatory from his distrust of Yohan, but it’s from a place of curiosity and determination to understand, ultimately, rather than a motive of punishment. I think gaon connecting with Elijah is also the icing on the cake and driving motivator that yohan made a good choice in keeping gaon around because Yohan notices the change in his niece and how much happier she is. Gaon’s directly pointed fingers at Yohan and he’s spied on him, but he’s also confronted Yohan about what he’s done head on without taking justice into his own hands. So with those two things combined (helping elijah and wanting understanding), and even yohan’s determination to get gaon on his side, means that level of trust has slowly, but surely, grown into something much more than Yohan ever thought it could be.

Because again, Yohan did not think about the intricacies of living with other people at home and how well you get to know them by merely existing under the same roof. Gaon learns little things about Yohan and doesn’t use them to his advantage or as a slight – maybe in the beginning with the spying, if we want to give him any credit at all for that. Gaon sees a problem and tries to fix it – just like he sees a problem with the world and with corruption and uses the justice system to fix it.

With all of that understanding and poking and prodding, gaon learns how much Yohan cares for Isaac and for Elijah and validates those emotions while still giving Yohan a slap on the wrist for how he’s expressed that care. He learns of yohan’s abuse and confirmed and supported the idea of being a victim and how that’s okay, that Yohan needs to learn to accept it for himself in order to truly heal. He’s berated Yohan for not showing more kindness to Elijah, the only family he has left and just how important that bond is, after discovering what Elijah means to Yohan.

And that’s given Yohan agency with his own emotions. He’s cried over the memory of his father abusing him and wishing he could’ve stopped it. He’s admitted that he hates when gaon looks at him like he’s a monster, and he definitely hates it when gaon makes assumptions and dives in head first without actually thinking things through. But that is also an advantage of Yohan: understanding someone emotionally because it means that Yohan has learned so much about gaon and the way he thinks that when in episode 9 he tells gaon about how he reminds him of Isaac with his assumptions, it comes from a place of discussion rather than anger. He’s realized the way to get through to gaon is through talking and physically showing gaon how he thinks (the prison reveal). Granted, he’s been doing this with gaon since the beginning, but it’s become even more pertinent now.

The thing is, Yohan has recognized gaon’s kindness at this point. He’s witnessed it in his misguided understanding of the justice system. But what’s truly interesting is that Yohan understands gaon’s kindness, but he still doesn’t understand the world’s. Yohan has a very different perspective of what kindness looks like because it’s not actual kindness but motivation and ulterior motives. Kindness to Yohan is power play – it’s people using others by any means necessary to get a leg up. It’s self-serving for their own benefit and not for others.

Which is also how that first seed of trust is planted with gaon – when he saved the little girl and the bus driver. And how more seeds are trusted by way of gaon doing what gaon does best – provoking Yohan with different thoughts, especially when it comes to family.

But this also applies to yohan’s understanding and hypocrisy when it comes to Elijah and kindness. At this point and by episode 9, Yohan has accepted gaon’s kindness. He’s let it in, lets Elijah indulge in it because he’s noticed that their home is happier – by way of making gaon come back because Elijah missed him. Yohan believes Elijah naïve for trusting others who show her any ounce of kindness, but the thing is, Yohan has come to trust gaon. He’s witnessed the kindness and the understanding, and yet it’s much easier to continue believing that it’s actually a cruel and ugly thing, especially in the wake of Elijah getting hurt, and that’s his default method of coping. Kindness got Elijah hurt and in trouble. It’s what makes you weak.

And if there is one thing we know about Yohan is that he’s anything but weak, but it’s another lie. Kindness did not get Yohan anywhere in life. Kindness got his brother murdered and his family taken away from him.

But the saving grace from that way of thinking? Gaon, yet again, telling Yohan why he’s wrong. Gaon tells Yohan every human needs someone to rely on as long as they’re human, and I think that was certainly a pain point of remembrance in how Yohan had no one but Isaac and then no one after. only this time, a point is made by way of Elijah because she only has Yohan now and she, unlike what Yohan convinces himself he doesn’t need, actually wants to experience human nature – that innate thing kang Yohan has so desperately read about and studied without taking into consideration that the carnal desires of humanity don’t always outweigh the good found within.

And isn’t that just a little bit ironic how someone so capable of understanding the human psyche cannot simply recognize kindness when it’s so freely given? If he weren’t the skeptic and the hypocrite, maybe he’d see what’s right before his eyes, and maybe he’d see just how far he’s come in allowing someone to see parts of himself he’d always been led to believe didn’t matter.

Kang Yohan is a complex character, but he has so much room for growth, and it’s exciting witnessing that in baby steps – and that’s all because he couldn’t tell his doe-eyed associate judge no. sucks for Yohan, I guess; getting himself into a mess he cannot get himself out of, an issue of his own doing and one we very clearly have seen he doesn’t want to rectify, lmao.

also one more thing..... that dinner scene in ep 9 is also a true testament of what can be done with just a little provocation because there you have yohan realizeing what a happy home can look like if he just tries to be more vulnerable and that it actually, in fact, does matter.