#not to mention tiny with red dot cheeks

[alixezae]

Staring ๋࣭⭑ ryomen sukuna x reader

Synopsis: ever since you got pregnant you've never felt so happy in your life and ryomen by your side the king of curses soft for you and the baby, but that doesn't change the fact the ryomen kills whoever and whomever touches you and your swollen belly

Warnings: slight mention of murder, pet names (wife, queen, sun) - reader being a sweetheart, fluff, sukina being soft for reader, heian era

As the sun slowly crept above the horizon, casting a warm golden glow across the land, a soft gentle breeze rustled through the cherry blossom trees that dotted the lush, emerald green hillsides of heian-kyõ. The air was filled with the intoxicating scent of their delicate pink petals, which fluttered like confetti across the verdant landscape. In the distance, the gentle hum of bees busily collecting nectar from flowers created a soothing, almost meditative atmosphere

It was on this idyllic morning ryomen, the king of curses, awoke from his slumber, the warmth of the sun caressing his soft pink hair, he stretched languidly, yawning wide before blinking several times to clear his sleep from his vivid red eyes. His gaze drifted over to the figure of his beloved wife, the queen, as she lay curled up in a makeshift bed they had fashioned for her. Her swollen belly rose and fell gently with each breath she took

Ryomen nuzzled her gently, careful not to disturb her rest. He couldn't help but marvel at the miracle growing inside her, her tiny life that would soon be a part of their world. A pang of guilt shot through him as he remembered the countless times he had been to defend her and their child from those who dare harm them. But he knew that he would do it again and again, a thousand times over, if it meant keeping them safe.

As he watched her sleep, he felt a wave of tenderness wash over him. Despite the hard exterior he often presented, he was deeply in love with his wife, the queen, and cherished her more than anything else in the world. He had never known such happiness as he did with her by his side, and the thought of losing her, or worse, their child, filled him with dread.

She woke from her slumber and saw his eyes filled with tenderness she kissed his cheeks softly and he smiled, she was amazed by the tenderness and care that ryomen showed during her pregnancy. He would place his hand gently on he swollen belly, feeling the baby move and kick. His eyes would soften with love and adoration, and he would whisper sweet words to both his wife and their child. Despite his fearsome reputation, ryomen was a devoted and loving husband, eager to protect and cherish his growing family.

As days passed, y/n and ryomen prepared for the arrival of their little one. The palace was filled with joy, the married couple basking in the happiness of their new life together. Y/n's heart swelled with love for her husband, grateful for his love and support throughout her pregnancy.

However, despite their happiness, there was always an underlying sense of danger surrounding ryomen. The king of curses was fiercely protective of his wife and their unborn child, and he made it clear that he would not hesitate to eliminate anyone who posed a threat to them. He gaze was sharp and unyielding, his power palpable as he stood guard over y/n wnd their precious baby.

Y/n, known as the queen of the palace, was a gentle and kind-hearted woman who radiated warmth and love. She was adored by all who knew her, her sweet nature and caring personality making her a beloved figure in the heian court. Ryomen, the fearsome king of curses, was utterly smitten by his wife, referring to her as his "sun" and his "queen" with a tenderness that belied his reputation.

And so, in the world of heian era, where curses and magic mingled with love and devotion, y/n and ryomen loved happily ever after, their bond growing stronger with each passing day. The queen and the king of curses, a match made in heaven, their love shining brighter than any star in the night sky, and as their child entered the world, welcomed with open arms and hearts full of love, y/n ryomen knew that they were truly blessed to have found each other in this lifetime abd the next.

[loveshotzz]

My name’s Elvira, but you can call me tonight

steve harrington x eddie’sbestfriend!reader

Melt With You

summary: A cancelled movie night, Steve’s first high, and a realization you weren’t expecting.

wc: 2.7k

warnings: my blog is 18+ but this will be pretty safe for work. takes place in 1988 when Elvira Mistress of the Dark came out. post season four but no mention of the upside down, fem!reader, mentions of weed smoking, mentions of being stoned and being high for the first time, mutual pining, cuddling.

A/N: first I want to dedicate this to @bewilderedbunny for pointing out that Steve Harrington is Bob coded which made me fall even more in love with him. You can also thank @dr-aculaaa for putting this brain worm in my head where it spiraled and then she entertained it again and it spiraled some more. p.s. I know her movie macabre was cancelled in 86 but brought back in the 90’s but let’s pretend.

mini series masterlist -> chapter two 🎃

Steve was close. Too close.

His thigh is warm pressed against yours, long legs spread wide taking up most of the room on the couch. The cedar that clings to the threads of his maroon sweater mix with the old spice that he’s almost sprayed too much of, and you’re surprised at how much you actually like it. You blame it on the joint you both shared, and you do it again when his socked foot touches yours from under the blanket draped across your laps and your heart rate kicks up a few beats. This was just Steve, your new friend. Eddie’s new unlikely friend.

The living room in your apartment is dimly lit in a mess of Halloween colored string lights strung up along your walls that Eddie helped you hang up last week on the first official day of fall. They fill the small space in bursts of warm orange pumpkins and tiny purple bats while Elvira Mistress of The Dark glows from the screen of your TV in front of your couch. The couch where Steve is still sitting too close. 

The flicker of your candles dances across your walls and you’re tempted to blow them all out when they keep catching the corner of your eye. Maybe that's why you can't focus on the movie you were so excited about. The movie you raised a big fuss over when the group canceled your weekly night in favor of dates and work. The movie Steve still offered to watch with you saying he had no plans anyway. You really contemplate it when you realize it’s filling your living room with the kind of smell that’s eerily similar to the one embedded in the leather of the BMW you recently started getting more rides in.

When Steve laughs you can smell the berry on his breath from the Red Vines he can’t stop eating, his fingertips glisten from the half finished tub of popcorn on the coffee table. His arm brushes the length of yours when he leans forward to toss the almost empty pack of candy with the rest of the snacks and your stare immediately finds the sliver of tan skin revealed to you when the maroon hem rides up. Stomach flipping when you spot more freckles than the ones that seem to dot the endless expanses of his perpetually sun kissed skin. 

“Wow, she’s funny!” He snickers like he just got a good surprise, leaning back into the cushions. “I didn’t know she was so funny.”

The shift in his weight makes the couch dip, bringing you closer to him. Shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh. Why is your chest tight?

Turning your head, you meet his blood shot, heavy lidded gaze and lazy smile that pushes up his pink cheeks. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Steve Harrington so content. So relaxed. It might have something to do with the fact that the joint you both shared was his first.

“Beauty, humor and brains? How could you go wrong?” You grin and it makes the amber in his eyes light up.

“Yeah,” He stares at you for a second longer than he’d have the guts to on a normal day before adding with a sigh “tell me about it.”

There was something different about the way he was looking at you tonight, and it makes your palms sweat. The fly away honey strands that stick out wildly by his ears look softer than normal too. Why do you want to find out? Clearing your throat, he raises his eyebrows up at you in an unphased offering of his attention.

“How are you doing big boy? You coughed quite a bit earlier.” His gaze narrows at the nickname letting you know that Steve was still very much in there.

“I think it’s perfectly normal for someone who hasn’t smoked before to cough when they take an accidental big hit,” he challenges, his sock covered toes finding yours again seemingly on their own, “and to answer your rudely asked question, I’m having a very nice time.”

He tries to keep his face straight but the smile that stretches a mile wide across yours makes him snort, the whites of his perfect teeth blinding in the dark when you wiggle your feet with his. 

“Good, I wouldn’t want Robin to come hunt me down or something.” You giggle leaning back letting your own high relax you into the couch.

Your eyes find Elvira’s generous cleavage on the screen as you try to ignore the feeling of Steve’s hand touching yours when he scratches his thigh and again when he leaves it there. 

“Robin won’t care, it’s Nance you gotta worry about. Worry wart Wheeler.” The nickname rolls off his tongue too easily and makes you both stop, letting the sounds of the towns committee trying to get Elvira out fill the silence before you both fall into a fit of laughter.

It was the kind of laughter that left hot tears streaming down your faces as you leaned even further into each other trying to catch your breath, only for one of you to mutter ‘worry wart wheeler’ when the other would finally be holding it together just to start all over again. By the time it was done, and the last few chuckles subsided, his head had found a new home on your shoulder with his forehead buried in the crook of your neck. 

The smell of his hairspray, and the soft flyaways you’d wondered about tickle your nose with his hair pressed to your cheek. Your socked feet stay tangled together as you try not to think about the size difference and that stupid saying you’d heard in middle school, and you definitely try not to think about how the tip of his pinky bumps into the side of your hand and how you don’t hesitate to hook it with yours.

Cozy. Too Cozy.

There’s a comfortable silence that falls between you both when your attention is finally brought back to the movie and you wonder if he’s having the same existential crisis as you at how good this feels. Eddie would never let you live it down. You and the hair?! Steve’s amused hum breaks you out of your train of thought and you already know you’ll have to watch this again when you aren’t so…distracted. 

Elvira and Bob are fighting with a monster she accidentally concocted inside of a pot instead of the casserole she was trying to make, and his finger tightens around yours when Bob almost loses the fight before he shakes against you with a chuckle. The longer the movie goes on, the more you start noticing Steve’s similarities to the hunk who stole the Mistress of the Dark’s affections, mumbling an ‘oh my god’.

God dammit, you have a crush on Steve Harrington.

The weed makes the realization floor you more than it probably would on a normal day, because you aren’t blind, anyone could tell you how handsome the former king of Hawkins is. But no one could have warned you about how soft he is, especially right now with sleepy eyes and messy hair that smells like pine and too much hair product. They wouldn’t be able to tell you how big of a dweeb he is, or as Robin affectionately calls him a ‘dingus’. They also don’t know how good of a friend he is to anyone who’s lucky to have him, like refusing to let you spend the night alone and watching a movie he knew you were excited about just because he’d actually listened when you talked about it for weeks, even saving you the first copy in Keith’s possession. 

Too bad you’ve barely retained any of it. 

As if he could hear your thoughts, you feel the slight turn of his head and the heavy weight of his stare on the side of your face. You try not to give yourself away and keep your gaze locked on the TV where the town has Elvira ready to be burned at the stake, and Bob has to rescue her. You have to resist the urge to roll your eyes, the universe just rubbing it in now. 

The side of your body he’s been leaning against starts to go numb, and no matter how much you want to stay exactly like this for whatever is left of the night, the need for circulation becomes too much. Your eyes flick down to his that haven’t haven’t wavered and that slow happy smile spreads across his pink lips when they meet. 

“You doing okay, honey.” The nickname he’s called you sarcastically in arguments sounds different when it’s wrapped in affection like this. 

“Not that I’m not enjoying -,” nerves make your throat close up and you have to clear them out before you finish, “not that I’m not enjoying this. My arm is just kind of going numb.”

Heat rises to your cheeks with embarrassment that you know is misplaced, and his eyes go wide when your words click. His reaction is fast despite the smoked joint that's snuffed out in an empty coke can on the table when he pulls away. The warmth of his body that’s invaded what feels like every inch of yours for the last hour is gone and the tightness in your chest worsens now that you miss it. Stupid crush. Stupid blood flow. 

“Oh my god, sorry, sorry, I was just so comfortable I wasn’t even thinking.” There’s stress in his tone that you haven’t heard all night and you decide that you hate it, he’s always stressed.

“Hey,” Your fingers curl around his bicep, and it flexes under the thick material of his sweater when his eyes meet yours, making you forget how to speak for a moment, “if we lay down on our sides we’ll - we’ll be more comfortable?” 

Your heart beats loud in your ears after you throw out your suggestion fully knowing there’s gotta be less than twenty minutes left of the movie at most. 

“Yeah, we can do that, like, big spoon?” He points to himself, with eyes as red as his cheeks before pointing to you with a small grin, “little spoon?”

You bite your bottom lip to contain the smile that threatens to break across your face, and it only makes his grow. 

“Yeah, just like that Harrington.” You giggle and you don’t miss the kind of glint in his eyes that sparkles because of it.

“Harrington? I thought I was big boy?” He mocks with fake offense, clumsily clambering back onto the couch letting himself fully extend.

His socked feet almost hang off the armrest but the problem is quickly solved when he turns onto his side leaving just enough room for you. One of his big hands patting the cushions in an invitation that makes you both laugh. 

“I thought you hated that nickname?” you tease, butterflies that never existed before erupting when he watches you with soft eyes climb into the spot next to him.

Your head lands in the crook of his elbow, amber and spice enveloping you while one of his long fingers curl around your hip not hesitating to pull you flush against his chest like he missed you. Maybe you weren’t the only one with a wandering mind tonight. 

“I don’t,” he agrees, lips coming up right next to your ear and you wonder if he can feel the shiver that runs down your spine, “but I kinda like it when you say it.”

Your body curls into him when you giggle with a throb in your core that makes your thighs press together. Steve chuckles, hooking his chin over your shoulder and his feet find yours at the end of the couch like they did under the blanket. Grabbing the throw off the floor, you drape it back over the two of you when you both finally get situated. 

He feels like he’s everywhere and it’s even harder to concentrate like this, especially when all his fingers are laced with yours now. The pad of his thumb rubs circles on the top of your hand, and you can feel the way his cheeks push up into a grin every time something makes him laugh. You spend the last bit of what’s left of the movie tangled up with him like this, and neither one of you try to move when the credits roll or when the screen goes black. 

The air buzzes with the kind of tension that’s laid dormant until there’s nothing to distract you from it anymore in the new silence. His breath fans hot across your neck while the strokes of his thumb get slower, adding a little more pressure to the muscle there, and feels good enough to have your eyes flutter closed. 

Maybe it’s the darkness of your living room, or the way the tip of his nose starts to trace the shell of your ear but you get the surge of confidence you need to turn around and face him. Steve doesn’t protest at all, letting you move with the kind of ease that makes you wonder if he was waiting for it all along. The small smile on his face tells you he absolutely was.

The new angle has you looking up at him from under your lashes, while his hand that held yours all night covers the middle of your back bringing you to his chest, getting you just as close as before. Your legs slot together while warm lights flicker across his face, they bounce and reflect off the lingering glaze that coats his eyes. Embers burning in a mossy ground. 

It starts to feel like Steve Harrington wants to kiss you, and you’d be lying if your said you didn’t want him too.

“Hi” You whisper, the corners of your lips pulling up because they can’t help it when he looks at you like this.

“Hi” the rich honey of his voice comes out low as he dips his head down to rest on his forearm right above yours.

The tips of your noses are dangerously close to touching, and you swear you hear his breath hitch when your feet find his again. Holding his gaze, you silently dare him to read your mind so you don’t have to say it out loud. You do it first.

“I had a lot of fun tonight.” You try not to think about how it sounds like something you’d say at the end of a date.

“Me too, I’m uh -“ a puff of hot air fans across your face when he laughs, and you notice his first sign of nerves all night, “I’m glad I didn’t make a fool of myself or anything.” 

“I have to say I’m impressed, you handled your first joint like a pro.” Your hands dare to run up his chest, plucking a piece of lint from the threads of his sweater. You feel the way the muscles in his stomach flex for you, and you have to bite back your smirk.

“I had good company is all.” He hums, the blunt ends of his nails scratching along the dip of your back, before whispering “Is this okay?”

Your eyes flutter shut with contentment you haven’t felt in a while, your whole body melting into his with a mumbled ‘mmmhm’

“Does Elvira have any other movies we could watch sometime?” His question makes your eyes pop open, and he tries to look as nonchalant as possible before adding, “you know just me and you.”

“Not a movie, per say but she has a show I like to watch where she does funny commentary on B rated horror films.” Your two feet trap one of his between them playfully to try and ease the nerves he shouldn’t have, earning you that megawatt smile that’s made half the ladies in Hawkins swoon. 

So, Steve Harrington wasn’t a mind reader.

“That sounds like fun,” He lets out a relieved sigh that you didn’t know he was holding, close enough now for your noses to touch.

“Yeah? You wanna come have fun with me?” You tease, but it comes out sounding like a double entendre that makes your skin heat up, especially when Steve closes his eyes and groans. The nails that scratch your back freeze as he tries regaining some semblance of self control. Licking his lips, he exhales a breath out of his nose before he speaks,

“Abso-“

His answer gets cut off by the sound of your front door slamming open, followed by the bellowing voice of the only other person who has keys to your apartment.

“I’ve come for boobies and I brought beer! Better late than never am I ri- Whoa, whoa, WHOA, what is going on here?” Eddie’s shock is quickly replaced by amusement, dimples poking deep holes in his cheeks when he grins wildly as he takes in the two of you on the couch.

What was going on here?

[gfguren]

pro hero!bakugou x sidekick!reader | fluff, mutual pining, blatant flirting, bakugou calls reader darlin', bakugou is soft(ish) | cw: injury, mentions of alcohol, name calling (idiot), kisses kisses kisses

-bakugou tends to your injury, pining for you nearly as much as you do for him-

Your arm burns in waves, like kindling fire, the plain between your elbow and wrist a bramble of red and purple. It stings like a million tiny thorns pricking your skin.

"Why'd'cha get in the way, y'damn idiot!" Bakugou's words are fierce and his brow is drawn, but you see the way his cheeks flush. He's embarrassed, guilt-ridden though it's not his fault. Not really.

You were both too overzealous for your own goods, determined to land the final blow on the villains. But his quirk was bigger, more explosive, harder to stop when your hands inevitably collided. You're just lucky your arm took the brunt of it.

Still, you smile despite the pain and his frown deepens, "What? Hit y'r head too?"

You take a step forward, then two, crossing the threshold of your front door, reveling in the way his blush travels to his ears. "Did you come all the way here just to nag me?" There's a lilt of amusement in your voice, and he huffs, exasperation on his breath. "Or are you finally gonna give me that?"

You point to the bag dangling from his fingertips, pharmacy label half hidden by his baggy combat trousers. He's still in costume, mask pushed up over his wild, blonde hair, light sheen of sweat dotting his forehead and shoulders.

He's a proper distraction from the pain at least.

His gaze falls to his own hand, as if he'd entirely forgotten. There's a palpable moment of hesitation, and then he grunts, knuckles clenching; he thrusts it against your chest.

"Did'cha sterilize it, at least?"

You're half listening, shuffling through the contents of the bag. "Mhm, rinsed it with water when I got home."

"Y'r hopeless, darlin'."

You shrug, "If a little burn could take me out, I wouldn't be much of a hero, now would I?"

He snorts, "If y'were such a good hero, you'd have dodged in the first place."

"You think?" You humor his attitude, heart swelling in your chest when you spot your favorite candy hidden beneath the ointments and bandages. You have half a mind to tease him about it. "Are you gonna help me put this on?"

His arms fold across his chest, half a scowl twisting his face. He leans back, tapping a heavy boot against the floorboards. "And why would I do that?"

He must think he's subtle but you read him like a book, finger the pages, read between the lines. There's worry in his brow, guilt, turmoil, anger directed at his own self.

You figured it would help alleviate his conscience, at least.

"That's fine. I'll get around to it eventually." You turn on your heel, adding a cheeky "probably" to accentuate the wave of your hand, nudge him into action. It works.

Warm fingers encircle your wrist and you bite your tongue, suppress the laugh inching it's way up your throat. Predictable, cute. It takes everything in you not to grin.

Two big hands push you down by the shoulders, cushions folding beneath your thighs. Bakugou holds a palm out expectantly and you place your own atop his, reveling in the way his nose scrunches in frustration.

You don't miss the way he lets it linger—just for a moment—before finally swatting it away with a half-hearted flick of the wrist. "The ointment, idiot."

You relent, handing him the thin white tube. He spreads a stripe down his fingertips, seat dipping beside you; he extends his opposite hand. "Now your hand."

You grin, fingers gently curling around his own. It's not meant to be romantic, the way he draws you forward, presses your knuckles to his chest. He's just trying to get a better look at the wound, head tilting this way and that. But his hand is so warm, and he's so pretty from this angle, and when his eyes rise to meet yours his breath hitches in his throat; and so does yours.

It's intimate, familiar.

It makes you want to break whatever this unspoken 'something' is that the two of you have fostered—this growing affection you're both too proud to admit that wears on you, leaves you yearning to lean just a little closer and finally concede.

Just like all those nights ago, when he got a little too drunk at the hero convention, quickly annoyed by the crowds and reporters, the loud, boasting heroes. His champagne glass was quickly emptied once more, grunting when he pushed back in his chair. You remember leaning closer, close enough to discretely ask if he was alright. His red hot stare followed, burned through your chest and down to your core, left you shifting restlessly in your seat.

The air was thick when he finally careened upward, swaying perilously as he took you by the wrist, led you up and out of the dining hall until it was just the two of you, alone in an empty corridor. You could still hear the echo of stranger's voices, but it didn't bother him, not when he crowded you against the wall, not when his big hand fell to the space beside your head, or when his face dipped to linger just close enough to have your heart beating wildly in your chest.

"What about the party?"

"'S boring." He'd replied, fingers 'round your wrist, lingering on your pulse; he feels it stutter beneath his touch. "Y'scared?"

You would be, should be, if it was anyone else. Big, leering, all rippling muscle and explosive temper—but it was Bakugou, your mentor, your best friend, heart of a hero and handsome as hell. You've loved him as long as you've known him.

"No."

He'd grinned, leaned forward til' his lips found yours, deeper, sweeter than you'd ever imagined, and gods you had, too many times.

"Good."

You're so lost in thought that you miss the way skin meets skin, thin buffer of ointment between you, and it burns—his fingers against your aching forearm. Your cheeky smile twists into a grimace and you can almost taste his guilt.

"Quit bein' a baby." Bakugou's bark holds no bite, touch softening until his rough fingers border featherlight. "Y'r a hero, r'member."

You watch as he carefully applies the medicine, touch gentling each time you flinch until he's barely touching you at all.

"You've said that a lot today. 'Hero'." You muse. "It's usually sidekick this, sidekick that."

He shoots you a look before wiping the ointment from his fingers. "Y'r my sidekick."

"Yeah?" You tilt your head, leaning forward to rest your chin on your unattended hand. "And what's the difference?"

He could answer you honestly, if he wanted. You're capable, brave, strong in your own right—beautiful to boot. You're the best of the best; Bakugou would never settle for less after all. Not that he was going to admit that.

Instead his lips twist in amusement, curling, lopsided, askew; you realize you won't be getting a straight answer.

"Y'should know by now when t'stay out of my way, is the difference." He pulls a bandage as big as his fist from the bag, pressing one corner to the flat of your palm, working it up and around until it reaches your wrist, and further still. "Was perfectly capable of handlin' it on my own."

"Seemed like you had your hands full with the big guy," you quip back, rubbing your thumb absently over the scratchy bandage. "Was I supposed to watch while the other one pummeled you from behind?"

He quirks a brow, you're not sure if he's annoyed or amused. "Woulda been fine. How d'ya think I made it to the top twenty, 've practically got eyes on the back of my head."

"You sure? Think I recall a time or two you've been whacked upside the head."

His eyes stray for only a moment, simmering up at you beneath dark lashes. "Think we might need t'get y'r eyes checked, darlin', seems y'r seein' things."

"Guess I need a hearing test too, since I remember you being a total crybaby about it."

He centers the tips of his thumb and pointer just above your brow, fingertips bouncing off your forehead, a tepid flick! and he's resuming his handiwork.

"Hey!" you pout, rubbing the offended area with your unfettered hand. "I'm injured, you're supposed to be nice to me!"

"And who's fault is that." He grins, light and easy and gone in an instant, with a flash of realization, guilt that reaches his eyes and worries his brow. It's his, still.

You sigh, "Look at me." And he does, begrudgingly as it may be. "It's not your fault. I should have trusted you more. And you should have trusted me. We're both idiots so quit blaming yourself." You lightly flick his forehead in return; he doesn't flinch, eyes never leaving your own. "Finish the wrapping and we'll call it even, yeah?"

He grumbles something lost on you, stretching the last bit of fabric beneath your elbow and tucking it into itself. He turns your arm over in his palm, lightly, carefully inspecting it before leaning back against the cushions. You can feel his guilt dissipate, the stress in his shoulders slowly deflating.

"Y'hurt anywhere else?" His voice is low, quiet. He desperately hopes not.

You think for a moment, read his face, his body language, and then you're rubbing the space above your brow, faking a pout if only to lighten the mood. "Yeah, some brute bruised my forehead earlier, think it needs medical attention."

He crosses his arms, muscles flexing, brow tightening in discontent. "I'm being serious."

You struggle to suppress the laugh bubbling up in your chest. "So am I. What a devastating injury, I fear I won't live long." You dramatically throw yourself over his lap, knuckles laid flat over your brow. There's a conflicting look in his eye; you struggle to read it. "If only a big, handsome hero woul-"

You nearly miss the annoyed huff, the subtle roll of his eyes, too enamored in the way he encircles your wrist with one big hand, guides it to rest against his chest before leaning down and pressing his lips to your forehead.

You're sure there's hearts in your eyes when he straightens his shoulders, hand still idle against his heartbeat; his thumb absently strokes the soft underside of your wrist but his gaze doesn't linger. A hint of a blush creeps up his neck, eyes fixated on the opposite corner of the room. "Done bein' a crybaby?"

You try and fail, miserably so, to hide the delight dancing in your chest and curling your toes. There's a grin splitting your cheeks when you sit up, face an inch from his own. "Mhm."

You can feel his breath, his hesitation, the slippery, fluttering feelings he's struggling to catch, and name, and put into words. He decides it's easier to turn his back to them, to you—again.

It's always the same song and dance, one step forward, two steps back.

He's up in a moment, fidgeting with his tank, his gloves, his mask, anything he can get his hands on. You sigh, pushing off the couch, taking one step, two, arms wrapping snug around his middle. "What're y'doin'?"

"Checking something."

"And what's that, hah?"

"Whether or not you have eyes on the back of your head." He ignores your teasing, so you press a little further, tease a little more. "Either you don't," you squeeze him tighter, closer, smush your cheek against his back. "Or you totally just let me hug you."

He croons his head to stare you down, if looks could kill, you'd be very very toasty right about now. Still you laugh, hide your smile in the shadow of his broad shoulders, tip toe around him when twists around to face you.

Finally he catches you, two big hands clamped down on either shoulder. You wait for him to scold you, tongue between your teeth, bated breath in your lungs. But he only grunts, fingers curling around the base of your neck until he can slant his lips over your own.

You sigh, it's the second time Katsuki Bakugou's lips have been on yours. But they no longer taste of saltines, white wine, impulse or hesitation; it's not some drunken mistake or whimsy he'll pretend to have forgotten by morning. This time he's kissing you because he wants to. Because the feelings he harbors are just the same as yours.

And when he pulls away his red eyes have mellowed, a dull amber, an expectant cinnabar. There's a palpable silence, one beat, two, three—possibly. His impatience gets the better of him. "Well?"

You stifle a laugh, keen up at him, hands absently against his chest. "Well what?"

"What d'ya mean 'well what'?!"

What ever self control you had wavers, the incredulous look in his eyes sending you over the edge until your devolving into a fit of laughter.

"What's so funny, hah?"

"'m sorry." The laughter rattles you, chest like a suitcase too small to pack away the joy that fills you, spills over the brim in fits of laughter. It's infectious; Bakugou grins.

Your hands cup his cheeks. "You're too cute not to tease."

He sucks on his teeth. "Cute huh?" His hand cups your wrist, thumbs the bandage, careful, cute. "I nearly cooked ya and 'm 'cute?'"

You lean forward, bump your nose against his. "Mhm."

"There's somethin' wrong with you."

"Yeah, it's called the guy I like is completely oblivious and won't tell me he likes me."

"I kissed ya, twice. If y'didn't take the hint, that's on you."

You're smiling when you press your lips to his—quick, tepid, chaste, and over and over and over again.

He breaks away, eyes full of suspicion. "What was that for?"

"What? Didn't you take the hint?" You slant your mouth over his, linger a little longer this time. "I like you." You kiss him again, again, again.

He snorts, palm falling to the small of your back, big hand heavy on your skin. "Point taken."

He dips his head low, kisses you, soft and slow, fingers flexing against your shirt, dragging you closer when you move to pull back. "I like ya." His breath is hot against your mouth. "Always have."

[hollyhomburg]

Before I Leave you (Pt. 74)

(Sneak Peek) (Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: A planned vacation with Namjoon might not offer the respite you hope it will; Something is wrong with Jin and he just wont say what.

Tags: Hurt/comfort, Harmless Sickfic, So much fluff, Light angst, Brief smut, brief mentions of intercrural sex, slick, implied d/s, Mommy kink, mommy tae, Brief daddy kink too 🥺, clothing control, implied omegaspace

W/c: 20.0k

A/n: Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter out <3 the last couple of weeks have been...not great! Here it is! I will repay you guys with my hiatus by giving you possibly the longest bily chapter ever! The heat arc will take two more chapters! No idea how long those will be but i greatly enjoyed making this chapter the fluffiest little bundle of scenes I could. i did not hold back- i think we've all needed a bit of softness.

Previous part - Masterlist - First part

You excuse yourself to change. But you find yourself pacing back and forth in front of the mirror for a moment. Struggling with your fancy dress that’s for tomorrow night’s dinner, hanging it up with a huff. Unsure why you’re so stressed, why you’re so anxious. An animal in your chest that just won’t stop clawing at your breath.

You knew what you were agreeing to going on this vacation with Namjoon. A solo vacation just for the two of you sends a very very pointed message. This is a sexy vacation- a private suite and a private onsen only means one thing and now at the precipice of it you feel- you feel-

Namjoon knocks, but you tell him you need a minute trying not to sound scared. You don’t even know why you feel scared; you’ve had sex with Namjoon before, and taking him is no longer quite as daunting of a task as it once was. But you feel unsettled and out of your depth here. Intimacy and romance are so much harder without your pack around you to reassure you to egg you on.

You need to call Tae.

She picks up on the second ring, “Pup!” she sounds happy and bubbly even through the phone. You even hear a bit of relief in her voice. “I’m doing my nails upstairs because Jin and Jungkook are being loud; did you get to the hotel yet? How are the flowers?”

“Tae” you hiss, keeping your voice down. “Did you think I’d spend the whole weekend lounging in lingerie!? You didn’t even pack me a bathing suit!” You whine. Still pacing.

“Well, I was actually hoping you’d spend the whole weekend getting your lingerie torn off of you by Namjoon but-”

“Mommy” you whine, and she quiets.

“It’s at the bottom, the dark red one with the flowers.” You find it, if only because it’s a bright oxblood in the mess of pastels. It’s dotted with pale yellow flowers and crossing straps that are supposed to tie around the slimmest part of your waist several times. It’s very Tae. Strappy and sexy and so tiny. The triangles are so small, it might as well be lingerie too.

“Tae- this isn’t going to fit me.”

“Yes, it does” she quips. “I measured.” You flush. You’re sure she did actually measure, probably during one of your morning preening and grooming sessions that you have a habit of spending mostly in omegaspace, an eager puppet to her hands. The idea that you’d been so far down, so trusting that you didn’t even notice warms your cheeks.

But Tae chose this for you, your alpha chose this for you and your other alpha. Tae does often know best. She knows what Namjoon likes.

Your heart rate slows a little.

“Tae- this is just a mess of strings,” she giggles, and you know just from the sound of it that she did this on purpose.

“Come on, live a little.”

“I know but- but-” you sit on the toilet, and she hums.

You wait, sensing that she’s yet to speak. You can hear Namjoon in the other room, starting to pace. You swear you hear him talking too. The hushed grumble as he talks to someone over the phone to someone.

“I’m sorry, I should have packed you something more modest. I just thought you’d want to- I don’t know, tell me off if I'm wrong but- Don't you want to explore a little? You don’t always have to know what you want, You don’t always have to want it- you can have both. Being wanted and being treated delicately- it's not one or the other.”

Your breath hitches, and you wonder how she managed to hit it right on the head. You do feel delicate- you've felt delicate the whole day.

“You can wear skimpy clothes and Namjoon will just be happy he gets to look at you. He still won’t do anything unless you say you want him to. He’s well-behaved like that.”

“Mommy-”

“You love feeling cute, you love feeling wanted. Let him want you pup, it doesn’t have to mean anything.”

“You’re just saying that because you like to give Namjoon a hard time.”

“It’s a love language” that does get a giggle out of you. She sounds satisfied, her voice a purr, but she still apologizes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

“You didn’t, I just panicked in the moment.” You pause, and Tae doesn’t fill the space with chatter. “I feel so innocent around him, so- not like this. Not that it’s dirty to dress this way, just…” You trail off.

"The pack alpha loves you, he’s gonna think you’re stunning no matter what. You could walk out in nothing and he’d still probably ask before he looked at you.”

“I kinda want him to look at me,” You admit, confess. “I kinda like making him have to restrain himself.” You have no reason to be nervous.

Tae’s voice is a purr, “There’s my girl. What do you say?”

“Thank you mommy.”

“Are you gonna be a good girl for the pack alpha?” Her voice is a dark pur.

“No mommy.”

"Perfect."

Coming Saturday Aug 31 at 5pm EST (Time Zone Adjustments Below)

[your-highnessmarvel]

So Much Paperwork

Requested by Anonymous: can you do one with avenger!reader and bucky and they get like either captured by hydra or locked in a room and there sex pollen and they don’t want to get dirty because they’re friends but… eventually they do? ❤️❤️❤️ if you’re not comfortable with this it’s ok!

AN: i’ve never written sex pollen before so bare with me! this is a heeellll of a ride LMMMAAOOOO this is going to spruce up my Bucky masterlist LETS GO

Warnings: smut (oral f!receiving, hand job, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, praising, biting), sex pollen, dub!con action, language, mentions of HYDRA

*gif not mine

Enjoyed this and want more? Send in your requests!

Request Guidelines

MASTERLIST

When Cap had said it was just a Hydra base, you hadn’t expected to enter a motherlode of enemy information. Opening that vault was like finding a cave filled with gold - every inch of the vault was brimming with sensitive Hydra files, all dog-eared, marked up, or highlighted. 

Bucky insisted on going through each and everyone of them. He had you open up each file cabinet, sift through each file, pick out the most interesting of them all, and place them by the door. Thank God you could read German. 

“Look at this one,” he called from the other side of the vault, far off in the corner. 

You were examining a file on something Hydra called Experiment 4H7, Phase 4. You let the file go before even reading the subject of the experiment and made your way towards Bucky. 

He was wearing his familiar all black outfit, the metal arm a stark silver against the vault’s gold and his suit’s black. He looked over his metal shoulder as you approached. 

“I’m guessing they’re keeping more red rooms in Ukraine,” he stated, showing you the file. There were a number of pictures of young girls varying from blondes to brunets to red heads, all different heights, all different shades of skin tones. 

“Yup,” you sighed, pointing to a line in the file. “That’s a graduate class, I’m guessing, look at that.” You pointed to the German word for Graduation and felt a deep pinch in your belly. These poor women. Unaware that they would be stripped of their rights, of what made them woman. 

You swallowed. “Okay,” you said. “I think we should just leave with what’s by the door?”

You stepped back, feeling the tile beneath your booted heel give and fall an inch lower. A metallic sound, like two gears churning to work, echoed loudly in the vault, and slowly, the vault door started shutting. 

“It’s a boobytrap!” Bucky yelled, dropping the file and running to the door, his metallic hand out to stop it.

“Did I step on a mine?” you yelled back, panic gripping every nerve in your body. 

It felt like time slowed as you looked over your shoulder, soft strands of hair slicking against the sweat on your cheek. You saw Bucky arrive at the door when it had but a few inches left to go, jamming his metal fingers between the closing door and the oval frame.

Every beat of your heart burned as you watched his face flush red, veins in his neck pulsing as he struggled to keep the door just a slight inch open. 

And then, overhead, a quiet squirting sound. You felt tiny pinpricks of water touch your cheek and you looked up. 

“Bucky.” But his name was lost to the sound of him groaning, grunting, heels sliding against the cement floor, sweat forming on his upper lip - all to keep the door from closing. “Bucky!”

When he looked back at you, the vault door closed with a deafening boom. 

“Y/N, don’t breathe in!” he gasped, retrieving his fingers form the door, panting as he made his way towards you. 

“Too late,” you said, feeling the minuscule dots of water dampen the inside of your nose, your lips, your tongue. It tasted so sweet. 

“Fuck,” he murmured, bending to your rest his hand on your boot, the one still pressed on the loose tile. “Y/N, I don’t think it’s a mine.”

You shivered, something achy climbing its way up your spine, burying deep in your belly. “Why?” you asked, closing your eyes as you felt his metal fingers clamp hard over your booted ankle. 

“Because,” he answered. “This was just the trigger for the door.”

You sighed. “Of course, I’m the dumbass who triggers the trap.”

“No worries, doll,” he said with a chuckle, and that nickname, that chuckle, made something sticky and thick slide down your belly, settling comfortably between your legs. Oh no. 

“How do we get out?” you asked, finally moving away from the tile as Bucky stood. You met his eyes, towering over you, and your skin suddenly flashed so hot that you feared he could see the heat fuming off your flesh. You sighed, an excuse to get air into your lungs, to fan out the heat invading your bones. 

He frowned, bent over to get on eye level with you. “Fuck,” he spat, walking towards the door. 

“What?” you asked, suddenly feeling your throat stick, parched, thick with saliva all at once. “Bucky, what’s happening?” You’d wanted your voice to sound panicky, but somehow, it came out... breathy. Like a purr. 

Bucky bashed his metal fist into the vault door, but the thing only echoed the sound back, not even denting, not even screeching. 

“Fuck!” Bucky yelled, raking his flesh hand through his short, cropped hair. 

He looked at you over the expanse of the vault, just a few meters apart, and something inside you ached, like an intense burn that made the fabric of your suit hurt against your skin, feel like hot iron against your nipples, the soft flesh on the inside of your thigh. 

God, you needed to get out of this suit. But not here. 

“How long until Cap comes for us?” you asked, falling to your knees, heat blasting from your knees to your scalp as you found the floor. Maybe it was cold. 

Bucky didn’t answer. He watched you fall flat to the ground, press your heated, sweaty cheek to the floor, chasing any kind of relief from this mounting pain, this heat. 

He gritted his teeth and took a step back. 

“What’s happening?” you asked again, rolling onto your back. The floor was but a brief relief of the heat, of the pain burning harshly under your skin. You closed your sweaty lids, scrapped your nails against your damp hairline. When had you gotten so sweaty? 

You reached up to the zipper of your one-piece suit, ready to tug it down. 

“Y/N, don’t.” Bucky’s voice, usually comforting, friendly, guiding - now sounded like a wolfish demand, a famished lion salivating at the sight of bleeding prey. 

You breathed in harshly, suddenly, your mind shifting the narrative of who Bucky was to you in a split second. A heartbeat before, Bucky was your superior, your friend who’d been nothing but a guiding force through your life - taking you from the depths of fear and desperation to acceptance. He’d brought you to the Avengers, to Cap and Nat, to a team of people like you - misfits who fit together. 

But now. Now the Bucky you knew was shadowed by this new grumbling, groaning wolf. 

“It hurts,” you panted, eyes still closed. You reached up anyway and undid your zipper, opening your suit down to your bellybutton, like slicing open a piece of meat. 

You heard something fleshy hit the floor, and you opened your eyes, looking back. It hurt to scrape your head against the cement, but you saw Bucky on his knees there, looking at you with something dark and hungry glazing over his eyes. 

Your eyes fell back to the ceiling above you, and you opened your suit up, arching off the cement in search of air. Your skin was pebbled with sweat, scorched to the touch. 

“If you expose more skin,” Bucky panted, and you realized that he was closer, almost breathing into your ear. “I’m not going to be able to stop myself.”

“What’s happening?” you asked, for the millionth time, feeling an ache start to build dangerously fast in your cunt, throbbing, burning, slicking down your thighs with every beat of your heart. Every rush of blood in your veins was pain, every throb in your hole like a searing demand, an ache insatiable. Even when you wiggled, even when you groaned, clamping your thighs together, turning to your side and trying to find friction.  

Your clit was a pained, throbbing mess. 

“Doll,” Bucky breathed, and God, that sent another wave of hurt coursing down your spine, snapping in your blood like lightning. You could feel your pussy slick even more at the utter wretchedness of his voice.  

You groaned. Shaking your head. “No,” you whined. “Not this.” You’d heard about this - this experiment on something Hydra called sex pollen. They’d first used it in their breeding program they’d started during the second world war, when they wanted more Aryan children. They’d perfected it during the Cold War, and started manufacturing it for breeding camps they’d scattered across barren wastelands to produce more Hydra pawns. And now, they were using it as chemical warfare. 

“Bucky, no,” you whined, feeling hot, steaming tears wet your cheeks. You couldn’t do this. Bucky was your friend, your boss even. He was 7 years older than you (although he was technically like, 109 years old, but still). You were a rookie and he, your training officer. Your were his student and he was your professor. This was wrong on so many levels. “How much time does this last?” you asked, shivering, feeling another nauseating wave of need pulse through you. 

“I’m... I’m not sure,” he said, struggling to say each word. Like air was unknown to his lungs. Like he was fighting every instinct in his bones. 

But just the sound of his voice was enough to make another wave of excruciating pain wash through you, making you groan and wiggle against the floor. That ache in your clit intensified, pulsed painfully.

“Make it stop,” you murmured. “It hurts... so much.”

There was a second of silence until you heard the telltale sound of fabric rustling. Just the thought of Bucky naked, even an inch of skin available to your hungry eyes, made your cunt clench on nothing and you groaned in pain again. 

“I’m so sorry, y/n,” he said. “There’s only one way to make it stop.”

You shook your head, shivering. “No.”

Your heart stuttered as another wash of hot, molten lava scorched through your veins and this time, you sobbed, teeth clenching. 

“You can die, y/n,” Bucky whimpered and this time, his voice was right there, above you, a hand skimming across your thigh. 

You made a whimpering sound at the feel of his hand, even the slightest touch like a bucket of cold water had been dumped over your head. 

You opened your eyes and through tear-stained lashed and heavy lids, you looked back, seeing Bucky hunched over you, shirtless and sweating and with nothing but pain in those dark blue eyes of his. 

He bit his lip, meeting your eyes, and he nodded slowly. 

At this point, your entire body was shivering, sweaty, heating to the point that you thought your body would shut down. 

“Let me help,” he said, wretched, rough. 

When he applied the entire weight of his hand on your hip, it was like a lightning bolt had exploded under your skin. A moan ripped from your throat, utterly wrecked and rough and gone. 

Bucky said something but it was lost to the smoke in your head. He pulled down the rest of your suit, exposing hardened nipples to the air, but it still wasn’t cold enough. You wiggled your hips as he dragged the rest of the fabric down your body, to your legs until he was chucking off your boots and leaving you in nothing but your underwear. 

“Doll,” he rasped, pressing his fingers to your ankles, gently scraping up until he was resting both hands on the inside of your soft, plush thighs. “You’re soaked.”

You groaned, panting on the floor, feeling sticky, achy, and on fire. You pressed your hips forward, searching, searching. “Bucky, please.”

“Jesus, forgive me,” he groaned, and when you opened your eyes to meet the white lights above, he pressed a kiss to your clothed clit and you moaned salaciously.

One hand instinctively gripped at the roots of his brown hair, pulling him ever closer. The other clawed at the arm that came to rest over your tummy. 

A sharp, bruising knot formed in your tummy when he used one finger to move your thong to the side and he pressed a warm, wet kiss to your bare pussy. 

“Fuck, Bucky.” It came as a breath, like this was the first fresh, real breath you’d taken in years. 

He groaned against your skin, the vibrations dribbling up your belly, up your spine. Your toes curled as he gave his first few strokes of his tongue, long and harsh, like he was at a watering hole after days of being parched. 

“You taste like heaven, kitten,” he murmured, flattening his tongue against your clit and stroking it quickly, little flicks that sent your spine arching, your eyes closing, toes curling against his back. 

He gripped your hips in both hands, digging in to his meal, each stroke of his tongue like a spark against your clit. 

Your first orgasm wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough to quench the heat, to cool the fire raging in your belly. Like a monstrous black wave, the pollen kept your senses awaken. 

“Bucky, again,” you whined, closing your thighs against his head, guiding his mouth back to your hole. He kept licking, sucking against your clit. 

Your second orgasm was like a temporary wash of relief. You smiled against each wave, hips stuttering against Bucky’s mouth. 

“It won’t be enough,” he said, voice wrecked, as he kissed up your thighs, igniting another wave of harsh, hot lava to drip from your belly into your clit. You whined. “I know,” he cooed, his eyes glazed as he hovered over you. When you met his gaze, you could see that he was fighting his own seams, that he was just as fragile and wanting and needing as you were. 

You reached between your bodies, skimming your nails down his hard chest, hearing the faint groan that left his lips. You patted down his belly, down until your hand wrapped around the impossibly hard, thick bulge in his suit pants. 

He bowed forward, sighing, moaning as you felt him out. Something like confidence, dark cunning, invaded your senses like a drug. 

“I need to be inside you so bad, y/n,” he groaned, hiding his face in the crook of your shoulder. Just the weight of his body on your chest, feeling his heat, his every breath, every tremble of his fingers as he clawed at your bare hip, your plush thighs, made you tremble with need. 

Hurriedly, he pressed away from you, pushing down his pants until his drooling, hard cock sprang free. He let it flop against your belly, groaning at the feeling, and when you met his eyes, he was nothing but a feral, hungry wolf. 

He claimed your mouth in a sudden, voracious kiss, tasting yourself on his lips as he ground into you. Delving his tongue passed your teeth, nipping at your bottom lip, breathing life into you with every stroke of his tongue against yours. 

You gripped his shaft slowly, feeling the velvety skin, stroking him in slow, languid movements of your wrist. Your other hand found his hair, pushing his mouth closer to yours, kissing him with fervour and need. His own hands cupped your head, positioned you the way he wanted. 

Then his metal fingers closed over your knee, hooking your leg over his hips, and he pulled away form your mouth in a wet, sloppy pop. He breathed, calming himself, but with you clawing at his shoulders, bringing him closer, hands stroking his dick quickly, he couldn’t stop himself. Even if he wanted to. Even if, deep down, in the dark, almost forgotten corners of his mind, he knew this was wrong, wrong, wrong - he wanted to lose himself in you. Just your taste wasn’t enough. Two of your orgasms against his lips wasn’t enough. Kissing you like he’d dreamed of doing so many times in his wet dreams - all of it wasn’t enough. 

He fell to one forearm, bringing his mouth to your ear. Your hand still slicking against him. Your mouth kissing against his neck, up his jaw. Your other hand digging nails into the hard muscle of his tricep. Your hot, wet thigh pressed against his bare hip. 

“I’m going to fuck you, y/n,” he grunted against your ear. 

You nodded, pushing your hips up, towards him. He pulled away from your stroking hand and you felt his tip press at your wet entrance. He shivered when he thrust the tip in, feeling your hole give in to him. 

You gasped as he slid in slowly. Now was when you realized just how big he was. How thick and unforgiving his cock was as he stretched your walls, impaling himself into you inch by inch. 

It was a painful stretch that made your knees tremble, gripping onto his shoulders for dear fucking life. 

“So tight,” he whispered against your ear. “Were you waiting for me, doll?”

His voice was like a sin committed in church. 

You whimpered when he pushed in completely, seating himself to the root, until every inch of him was pressed up against you. 

“Did you save this pussy for me, huh, kitten?” he rasped, pulling back and thrusting in slowly. He groaned, bowing forward. “So wet, doll, I can feel you dripping all over me.”

Who knew Bucky could be this filthy with his mouth. It made your body snap like a rubberband. 

He kissed up your throat, giving you shallow, quick strokes until he could feel your gummy walls relax and when he knew you were ready, he rutted against you like a dog gone mad. 

He gripped your hip, thrusting into you until your body was numb, your walls clenching against him, a pressure building just under your bellybutton. 

“Bucky,” you whined, sobbed, as he kept hitting that spot in you that made sparks dance along your spine.

“I can feel you, doll,” he grunted, teeth biting into your shoulder. “Come on, darlin’, you’re almost there.”

Your mouth opened in a small ‘o’, spine arching off the floor, adding to the pressure against his dick as your walls clenched impossibly tight against him, fluttering, buzzing, until your orgasm exploded through your flesh like a bomb of sparks and fireworks. 

You fell back to the floor, spine loose against the cement, your orgasm spinning through your blood as he kept rutting into you, chasing his own relief. 

You weakly grabbed onto his shoulders, pressed your face against his shoulder. “Fuck me, Bucky,” you pleaded. “Fuck me like I know you’ve always wanted to.” Your voice was so small, so wrecked from him, and it drove him crazy, drilling into you without rhythm. 

“So filthy, my doll,” he cooed, groaning when he heard you moan against his flesh. 

He fell onto you so suddenly, robbing you of air as he ground against you, chasing his own high. And after a few sloppy, shallow thrusts, you felt his cum inside you, his seed filling every inch of your gummy walls until he was dripping out of you and onto the cement. 

He breathed roughly, panting, gasping against your shoulder. And suddenly, his harsh hands became gentle on your cooling skin, stroking slowly against your waist. 

Your heart slowed, numbness filling you up like a dark, tentative wave. You were finally, finally cooling down, at peace, no more pain or ache or desire making every one of your movements excruciating. 

“I’m so sorry, y/n,” Bucky panted quietly, his face still hidden in your shoulder. “I never intended us to do... this.”

You shook your head. But no words formed in your mind, no coherent thought even took place as you just lay there, enjoying his weight, his heat. 

“We can’t stay here,” he said. He was so quiet, so gentle. He helped you get dressed in your soiled, cold suit. He zipped you up, did his best to smooth down your hair, tried to get as much of his cum off the floor with his boot. No use. 

When he got up and tucked himself back in his pants, tugging them over his hips, you couldn’t help the chuckle that left your lips. 

“We’re going to be in so much trouble, Bucky,” you said, almost like if you laughed about it, it wasn’t that bad, right?

He sighed, shaking his head. “Just...” he hesitated, putting his shirt back on. “I couldn’t watch you suffer like that.”

You nodded. 

“Cap will come get us,” he continued, almost reassuringly. “We’ll get some rest... shower too, and then we’ll talk about what’s next.”

You leaned against the wall, so tired, so fucked out that nothing else seemed even remotely satisfying except your bed. 

“What’s next is a lot of fucking paperwork, Buck.”

[catscidr]

i was thinking about dottore when i woke up again (shocker) nd then thought about what his shaving habits would be like. dont ask how my brain works cw: crack if you rly think about it. also mentions of dead ppl and some blood but it’s nothing major i promise this is just silly

dottore’s facial hair doesn’t grow back that fast because of how often he’s had chemical substances explode in his face. not that his entire face has chemical burns on it (he does have scars, they’re just more in the upper area of his face), but with how long he’s been working with chemicals, accidentally creating explosives was bound to happen.

it all worked out well for him though, because he did not want to rock any kind of facial hair and look like a messy, mad scientist (even if that’s… technically what he was)– he prefers to be clean shaven (i mean have you seen those crisp sideburns on his in-game model?)

and of course, because he’s a doctor, he has steady hands.

…which leads to him occasionally shaving his face with a medical-grade scalpel. his logic, the first time he attempted it, was that scalpels are just straight razors meant for cutting people open– and if he used it to shave his face, it would just become a fancier (and bloodier) straight razor.

(he could probably cut a man open with a straight razor too, anyways. so really– what’s the difference?)

since this man is always so busy he doesn’t have time to leave the lab to go shave and take care of that kind of stuff– and he didn’t really want to, either. his time is precious and deadlines can’t wait.

and since he’s so familiar with the dips and curves of his face (he’s made countless clones of himself, after all) he can simply sit at his desk, toss his mask off of his face, grab the scalpel he’d use for non lethal purposes this time, and look off in the distance to focus on the space between the tips of his fingers prodding at his face, the blade, and his skin to shave off his stubble without nicking himself.

it’s probably the only time you would be able to catch him off guard (if you’re even able to step into his office in the first place), but you would, most likely, be the one caught off guard instead.

what are you even supposed to do when you step into his office and see The Doctor himself with a straight, dead expression, head tilted up with a rusty scalpel to the underside of his jaw? scream, probably.

and the scream you scrumpt was enough to make him jolt from surprise. fortunately for him he didn’t cut his head off, but unfortunately for you, you had made him nick his face.

just a smidge.

a tiny dot of blood trickled down the lower part of his left cheek, curving down his jaw. you’re both staring at each other- while you had a multitude of questions begging to be spoken out to get answers (because what the fuck was he doing), his own mind is eerily quiet. all he does is… stare at you.

funnily enough, you felt miles more intimidated being stared down by a considerably more casual dottore; his face unmasked, expressionless red eyes boring holes into your face, patchy stubble on his face (from him not having finished shaving), and gloveless hands frozen in the air- one holding the scalpel, the other in the same position as before but now stunted below his jaw.

(one particular observation that bubbled up to the forefront of your mind was, stupidly enough, “so minty blue really is his natural hair color?”)

he kicks you out of his office with a flat glare and a wave of his free hand so he can finish his job.

[tadpolesonalgae]

The Dregs of Tragedy - Part 5

Mer!Azriel x reader

a/n: took a minute, thanks to the ungodly amount of italicising I had to do, but enjoy mer!az 🧡💛

Word count: 5,969

-Part 4-

——————————————————————————————————————————————

Seaweed flutters gently against your skin, feather-light as it pulls you back to consciousness.

Small, shimmering creatures dart about in between the barnacle-covered rocks and pleasantly-coloured coral, sparkling light reflecting off their tiny scales with easy, hastened movement. Out from a crevice unfurls a purple tentacle, spotted with blue and red dots that glow faintly as it emerges from its cozy home, and you watch as it politely ambles along the cave floor.

The drift of a current eases your hair out from under you, and you push up from the sandy patch you’d chosen for sleeping, set in the top of a particularly large rock, hollowed out to create a dip you can comfortably settle in. Seaweed brushes your upper arms as you peer about the luminescent cave, cast in mellow blue-green light as unknown flora sprouts from the cavern’s walls, lighting it up. Up on the other side of the cave, you spot his long, powerful tail lolling over the ledge, the rest seemingly tucked away into an alcove that he’s chosen to be his sleeping quarters.

With some effort, you manage to leverage yourself into open water, pulling yourself along until you reach the wall, where you attempt to shift your tail to propel forward. It’s a little tricky, but not an unpleasant journey—getting to haul yourself clumsily up the sides, passing other nooks in the stone that house all sorts of fauna.

You reach his ledge, folding your arms over the smooth rock, tail swishing idly beneath you.

Dark, charcoal eyes flit over, and he pauses, before lethargically rolling onto his front, copying your position in folding his arms, cheek propped upon his forearm as he gazes at you intently.

You’re awake, he thinks, and your stomach flutters with surprise, still not entirely accustomed to the way his voice resonates so deeply within your mind. Do you usually sleep up here, or was this a ploy to have me swim some more? You ask quietly, watching as amusement glows in his eyes. Swimming more certainly won’t hurt you, he replies, tail shifting slightly. But no. This is where I like to sleep.

The stone is so smooth, you wonder, glancing down to where the rock looks to have been lathed flat. Centuries of being worn down, he replies, shifting again, and you can see this time how well the slight hollows and curves fit to the shape of his body. Almost making the rock appear soft.

I forget you’re old, you think, a hint of amusement in your tone, the edges of your mouth curving, gaze twinkling. He rolls his eyes, before his features settle into something more serious, watching you quietly. You peer back at him, wondering what’s passing through his mind.

You mentioned a connection to the moon… You hedge slowly, tail swishing a little. That a new moon is when you’re closer to humans, and a full moon is when you…get stronger?

He doesn’t reply, just continues regarding you neutrally, unable to tell what he’s thinking. Your brows twitch. Is that not right? You push, peering at him. I remember you saying we were nearing a new moon. What does that mean?

Azriel’s quiet for a bit, before readjusting himself, pulling his long tail up into the alcove. You understand we are creatures of magic, don’t you? He asks, and you nod in clarification. Quite simply, upon a new moon is when we can become more humanlike. Becoming more distanced from how we are now.

How so? You push, something about the way he’s speaking sounding…slower than usual. Slightly reluctant. Wary.

Again he pauses, and you wait, tension coiling in your arms with apprehension. But then he pushes up from the rock, easily swimming past with effortless grace, so close you feel the sea move with his motion. We can rise from the water, he answers, swimming down toward the seafloor, glancing over his shoulder as he pauses, waiting for you to follow. We can walk among humans.

What do you mean? You ask sharply, scrambling away from the rock as you try to swim downward, using your hands to almost pull the water apart. I can become human again? You push, a spark of something in your chest. You don’t have to remain a mer forever. You aren’t shackled to eternity below the sea.

His brow narrows slightly, and then he’s cutting through the water, smoothly swimming upward. You blink when he moves around you, too unfamiliar with their motion to keep up as he settles in the water above you, hands gently but firmly pulling your arms back, keeping them from pulling you forward. You aren’t going to learn if you keep relying on your hands like that, he reminds, and you reluctantly ease beneath his touch, a look of disgruntlement on your mouth. Just try using your tail more, or you’ll ingrain bad habits into your body during your developing.

There’s more? You ask, aghast, trying to turn to look at him over your shoulder. Aren’t I fully mer already?

You are. But your muscles are still growing, and becoming familiar with your new form. Not to mention your mind will also need time to catch up. He answers succinctly, with surprising coherency. Just try swimming to the floor, he suggests, easing his grip on your forearms, putting a little distance between your bodies, though you can still feel his hands poised to guide your palms away from motion.

But, tell me more about it, you push, trying to figure how to turn yourself over, to see him better. You’re able to catch the way his chest expands in what you think is probably a sigh. Frustration simmers in your chest, brows narrowing as you swiftly pull your arms away, using them to turn, much to his obvious disapproval. I still have people—…I still have someone up there, you think, gazing into his glittering, coal black eyes. Azriel blinks, features flattening to careful neutrality. Who?

I don’t— …I’m not telling you. You answer, head dipped but managing to hold his intense gaze. Tension simmers in your chest, so close to this new information.

You barely know how to swim from one place to another. You aren’t undergoing a shift.

So you’re just going to keep me here? You think sharply, brows narrowing. No, he replies, voice a little softer, you’re free to go where you like. But I’ll keep an eye on you.

I want to go back to being human, you snap, anger forming as your hands tighten into fists. I didn’t even get a choice in becoming like you in the first place, and now I don’t get a choice in returning?

A new moon will come again. We have one each month. Missing this one won’t mean you’ll never have the chance again.

I’m not wasting my time, Azriel, you think, a hint of panic rising to your tone. You may be accustomed to immortality—having enough time for everything—but we…humans don’t live forever! I have no guarantee that he…that my person will be there at the next new moon.

Azriel pauses, something passing behind his eyes.

Tell me who it is, he says, slightly tighter than usual. Maybe you’re waring at his temper.

Someone important, you yield, lips pressing together, someone dear to me.

Who?

Why does it matter? You grit out. He might not be alive by next month. Isn’t that a good enough reason to let me go? Or is the life of a human simply not worth it to you?

You’re putting words in my mouth, he thinks back, tail swishing as he calmly floats down toward the floor, and you’re forced to follow after him. Besides, becoming human and returning to that village… Someone will recognise you.

The transformation would happen overnight, wouldn’t it? Surely I could get back by morning? You push, slowly managing to shift to where he’s come to a halt, coincidentally by the rock you chose to sleep in.

You’re not going. He thinks quietly, though his attention is on the hollow of the stone, able to mark the indentation of the sand—how it dips down and curls in line with how you’d slept.

You stare at him silently, something a little too similar to hurt twinging across your chest. You’d apparently been hoping he was different. But it’s the same story.

Maybe it’ll take the same solutions.

Carefully steering a conversation, gently turning it to the right direction, without a soul knowing.

So you swim forward a little, coming to the lip of the hollow that he’s hovering above. Moving to be at his side, keeping your attention ahead. Would you not be able to change him into a mer, too? You think, careful to keep on topic without a sharp turn. Smoothly bending the flow.

Azriel shakes his head. There are…requirements, that need to be met in order for a transition to occur. We can’t just take humans here and there.

And you need humans because…?

We’re a dwindling species, he thinks quietly. Almost sadly. When an opportunity presents itself, we take it.

I was an opportunity?

Dark, glittering eyes flit to yours, taking in the tension of your jaw, the resentment tucked between your brows. I didn’t mean it like that, he tries, a glimmer of guilt working its way to his surface. It’s fine, you think back with obvious bitterness, we’re treated as objects above water, too. You move to pull yourself away, hands pressing down on barnacle-covered rock, when his palm settles around your wrist. Firm enough to be noticeable, but light enough for you to pull away.

You’re precious, he thinks quietly, features mostly neutral save for the softness at the edge of his irises. Because of what I stand for, right? Not because of who I am? You return, though you don’t pull away—allowing him to feel that control. It’s always about control.

His lips press into a thin line, and you nod slightly. That’s fine, you think quietly, holding his gaze, I’ll try not to let it go to my head.

I’m treating you as I would another mer who had never undergone a shift, he returns, his grip loosening further as you drift a little closer, enough to appear subconscious or accidental. It’s all about having power over people. Let him think he can draw you in.

As I said before, you can hardly swim in a straight line, and you will be recognised if you’re spotted above sea. You can imagine what might happen, he reasons gently.

And it would be a waste if I died, too, you return, resentment becoming more apparent. After all the work you put in to finding someone suitable. Wouldn’t that be a shame.

It’s for your safety. Don’t pretend like you can’t understand that.

No, I don’t understand it, you hiss, moving forward, brows narrowing, because above there is the only person left in this world that I care about, and you are coming between us. All because your fucked up species is too selfish to care for anything else. You drift closer, pulling your hand away to grip his wrist instead, tightly. And just maybe, if your kind weren’t snatching, stealing, and murdering sailors, there’d be more of you left.

His pupils contract, tension shifting beneath his pale blue skin, before he’s firmly withdrawing his wrist, putting a clear distance between you.

I understand you’re upset, he begins.

No, you don’t, you hiss, moving after him, you say you do, but—

I understand you’re distraught, and confused, he states again, sterner than before, though this time he doesn’t retreat at your approach. But that does not mean you can speak so disgracefully. To me, or about our kind. Something inside you flinches at the tone, tension coiling as you wait for the impact, bracing for pain.

You have only seen the end result of their process. You do not understand the pain they will subject us to, nor the degradation of being strung up along the shore for the rest of us to watch as our folk slowly bleed out, so close to their home.

You could swear you hear his voice lilt with emotion before it’s swiftly shut down, as if blocking out the building pressure of what having to witness that slow death does to a creature.

You are not undergoing a shift, he repeats firmly; finally. Not this time around.

He makes to turn, likely to leave, to give time for both of you to cool off, but your hand darts forward, gripping him until your nails are squeezing his skin, and he whirls back to you.

You’re just like him, you think lowly, close enough that—had you been human—you would be sharing breath. Close enough to count his eyelashes, to see the flecks of glittering black and storm cloud grey in his eyes. To number every tiny, shredding tooth that’s concealed by a deceptively soft-looking mouth.

At least Alaric wasn’t aware of how awful he was, you hiss lowly, moving closer still, free palm settling over his other hand, like you’re able to hold him to the ground. But you think you’re so much better. You condemn him, and pretend like you’re anything better and it’s despicable. I’ve just been taken from one cage to another, except in this one, the only beast I have to fear is you.

His eyes shutter, then he’s forcefully ripping his hands away from your hold, and there isn’t a single muscle in your body that amplifies the shockwave of fear that strikes through your body. As you recoil into yourself, eyes squeezing shut as you duck your head, bracing for the staging slap of his palm or the piercing bite of teeth.

Instead, all you feel is the slightly cooler swish of water against your front, the gentle brush of a shift in current.

You open your eyes in time to see his tail disappearing into one of the tunnels.

A shimmer of iridescent blue, and pearly white, vanished in a blink.

———

You find yourself slowly trailing after an octopus, pulling yourself along the sea bed at a similar speed to its friendly amble, tentacles stretching ahead as it swims idly through the coral.

Maybe it’s because you have no one else, but you feel a connection with the creature. One that arises from being granted the wonder to freely follow something through its life, to observe as it goes about satisfying its more common interests: how it peers beneath a rock (maybe looking to move house?), bringing a fragment from the floor (as if to appreciate it!), shifting its movements so it looks as though it’s skipping between the stones after having eaten something.

It’s been still for a while now, though, as if resting, and you’ve found a comfortable section of flattened rock to settle on, shimmering fishes occasionally swimming closer, as if to admire your own scales.

As much as you’d like to return to being human, you can appreciate the difference. Animals and other sea creatures almost seem to like you, no longer flitting away as soon as the water’s disturbed, but rather swishing to float along the currents. They seem to recognise you as one of them, rather than something that will hunt them. Playing nearer, until you’re worried some might get tangled in your hair. But they seem to have fun, darting between and through the floating strands.

You’ve no idea how long he’s gone for, and frankly, you’ve been trying not to think about it. When you think about it, you find a temper beginning to bubble, simmering in your cold blood. You don’t know enough about him to guess at why he refused so adamantly. Can’t understand the deep-rooted desire to keep his species alive, when humanity seems to be existing in every corner, like an infestation of some kind.

Still, it hurts a little to remind yourself his only interest was in changing you to become like him. It’s hard to admit, but you’d felt appreciated. Comforted. But you suppose, by nature, nothing will be that simple. You’ll never be able to truly become something animate in their minds. They seem to have more compassion for fish that for women.

At least a fish’s effort to escape is acknowledged. A woman’s is just beaten out of her until she’s fixed.

Are you enjoying following him?

You startle from your rock, peering about to try and locate him. It’s one drawback to being able to speak mind-to-mind: you have no way of telling direction.

He’s swimming down from another tunnel opening—separate from the one he disappeared into—coming to a pause a more than healthy distance away from you. Really more than heathy.

There’s not much else to do down here, save for looking at things, you reply, not quite able to bring yourself to remove your attention from him. Too wary to do so after your last conversation.

He’ll sleep for another hour or so, Azriel thinks to you, nodding back to the quiet octopus who’s tucked himself up. You might want to find something else to look at.

I think I already have, you reply warily, keeping your gaze on him as you shift atop the smooth rock, not taking your eyes away from where he’s floating.

Why are you here? You ask, tail stretching out to hang off the ledge. Am I not allowed to be here? He replies, glancing throughout the cave. You don’t feel his attention leave you, though.

You left rather abruptly. I’m assuming you had a reason to come back. You counter, regarding him neutrally. Cautiously.

He waits for a few moments, before tentatively swimming forward, delicate swishes of his tail having him drift through the sea, and you shift yourself up and away a bit when he makes to settle on your rock.

Do you still want to go above? He asks quietly. Eyes on you.

Your brows furrow, narrowing as you pin him with a resentful look. I suppose you weren’t listening, earlier? You remark, subtly moving closer to the edge of the rock.

I suppose you have no manners, either? He replies, though it’s without any bite. I have nothing to say to you.

Do you still want to go above?

You remain pointedly quiet. He’s already said he won’t allow you to go, so there’s no point in answering. It’ll likely only boost his ego, knowing you want to leave, but that he’s keeping you here.

Do you still want to leave? He repeats, I won’t know unless you tell me.

Your brow narrows, hands curling as nails press into your palms, trying to find something else to observe. To direct your attention to.

Something brushes against your tail, firm but smooth as it drags lightly over the scales. Deliberately, and you swiftly glance over your shoulder, to see what it is.

The large fins at the base of his tail are gliding over your own, stroking up the spine of the long limb, brushing against it in gentle motions. Your throat rolls, but you don’t make the effort to move away. Instead you meet his gaze, remembering how his eyes had gleamed with an array of hidden colours, suitable for under sea.

I do, you reply tersely. Quietly.

He nods, holding your gaze. Then we’ll go.

We? You ask, slightly skeptical.

We. He repeats, his tail coming to a rest from its soothing motions, settling over your own.

Your lips press together, briefly glancing away, thinking, before you turn back to him, nodding. Okay.

————

So…how does it actually work? You think, awkwardly holding him as you attempt to move in time with his instructions.

We don’t know exactly why these points exist, or what caused them to, but there are certain places that seem to exist with more magic than others, he explains quietly, holding you steady. Some folk think it’s best not to wonder, while others theorise it’s to do with ley lines overlapping, creating an energy strong enough to fuel a transformation.

Azriel had told you he would take you to one of their moon pools, supposedly the only pool near Blackwater you’d be able to reach in time—and also the only pool that would allow you to return to something resembling human. With no other method of transportation, and Azriel deeming your strange half-crawl, half-swim method of movement to be too slow, you’d ended up in this position: your palms settled at the tops of his forearms, while he holds your elbows, theoretically helping to keep you streamlined while making sure you won’t resort to using your arms for swimming. He’s able to hasten your speed, while also helping you become more familiar with the muscles and tendons in your tail.

Though the pace is still slow, both by human and mer standards.

Ley lines? You ask, peering up at him, but his eyes flick down to where you’ve stopped moving, and you restart into motion. It would be easier to show you, but essentially lines drawn to connect significant structures from our history. Throughout the centuries—even millennia—different civilisations have risen and faded, each leaving their marks on the sea bed. There are still mysteries surrounding their collapse, but from some fragments that remain, questions have cropped up relating to certain consistencies. Architecture that should be impossible, long-lost tunnel systems that seem designed to confuse and trap, cave engravings that line up suspiciously with our own history—history that would have been their future.

Moon pools seem to exist where these lines overlap, which some consider to be signs. Others think the world is founded in patterns, and detail—were it not, none of us would exist. We are all fleetingly complex systems of chance and evolution.

That sounds…fascinating, you concede, watching him with interest. To think the mer had the awareness to document their existence, as if understanding it’s not a guarantee they will live on… Acknowledging their gradual disintegration, while remaining free of its fear. It’s admirable.

Moon pools bring out an ancient magic from the surrounding earth, though they can be dangerous. As creatures of the sea, the moon is at the centre of our world, the foundation of many prayers and fables passed down through mind. A new moon is the absence of that stability, hence it turns us into something not. Bringing us up from the waters and onto land, splitting our tails into legs. That sort of change can damage our anatomy, and has in the past, when used incorrectly.

You know how to use it right, right? You ask, peering up at him as you try to remember your motion, attempting to keep up with him as he holds you steady. He nods in answer, nothing bad will happen to you.

So what happens after I…after we go back…I mean, when we change into humans?

Clothes are left for use by the pool, so you have no need for worry. But once we’re above ground, the task will be returning to your village. You will have to guide the way to your… He trails off, watching you silently, waiting for an answer.

You miss the signal, and nod. Okay, you think, gills fluttering with a deeper breath, I can do that. Will you wait on the outskirts?

His hold temporarily tightens on you, the roughened pads of his fingers pressing against your skin before loosening again. I will be coming with you.

But you’re so noticeable, you think back. You’ll draw attention. It’ll be better and quicker if I go by myself.

I will either be there with you, or we will not go at all. It would be irresponsible to let you return on your own, he reasons firmly.

I can manage myself, you return, I understand your point, but I know my village. Having you there might scare someone away.

I can keep to the shadows, he replies.

You peer at him doubtfully. He seems quite big compared to you…Will that be reflected in a human form? You have no idea what the scale would be like.

Okay. But I want privacy, when we get there, you push, following his motions as he guides you through another tunnel, the pale blue lights beginning to fade, replaced by an iridescent shimmer along the walls, like powdered stars. I don’t want to have you looming in a corner the entire time. Please allow me to speak with him alone.

Azriel is about to reply, to think that he won’t be leaving you for a single moment while in such dangerous territory, but you continue, pupils shuttering a little.

…Especially if I might have to be saying goodbye.

His jaw tightens at the obvious sadness in your thoughts. The deep-soaked pain, and loss. He doesn’t want to be listening to this.

You can go into a separate room, he relents, but you will have to be able to leave quickly if something happens. In other words, he doesn’t want you to use this last chance to physically take this man into your body. His teeth grind at the thought alone. Don’t do anything stupid.

I won’t, you reply, unaware of those un-communicated thoughts, just trying to figure out what you’ll tell him. How to ever explain your situation. You hope he won’t be scared.

Your eyes seem to wander of their own accord, moving from the iridescent walls, powdered with shimmer light, to plants perking from the rock, their ends glowing faintly as if to guide the way. The thought starts with a question, curious if he curated these tunnels too, perfectly placing these lovely fascinations at well-timed intervals to keep the caves light and in-oppressive, to transforming itself into a visual wonder of, perhaps, slightly morbid appreciation.

The tales you’d been raised on still have a place in your mind—they’d been true about the shredding teeth, their affinity for dexterity and agility beneath the deceptively calm surface of water. And yet they’d spoken nothing about the unearthly beauty.

Perhaps it’s just him though.

After all, he’s the only one you’ve encountered. Are there many others? He’d mentioned they were a dwindling species, but…

Something on your mind? He thinks, eyes glittering, and you realise you’ve been staring. How long had you been zoned out for?

Why have you been looking after me? You ask, holding his steady gaze, taking in the softness to the edge of his mouth. How his ears flutter slightly as something brushes by, but his attention remains on you.

As opposed to…? He returns, shifting your course once again, directing you toward a tunnel that has a slight upward tilt to it. There are more of you aren’t there? You push cautiously. You said that cave was fashioned after a Rainbow, so there must be more of you somewhere. And earlier you spoke like groups of mer existed to examine past events, and remnants of their buildings. Why not bring me to wherever the rest of your kind are?

Azriel is quiet for a pause, and you wait curiously, watching him steadily. It almost feels like hesitance.

You need time to become accustomed to your surroundings, he replies at last. Your mind needs to adjust to this new life, so it would be unwise to bring you to the centre of our civilisation, where you would likely be overwhelmed.

Your brows narrow as you watch him. It feels like the truth but…not all of it. Like he’s leaving something out. But maybe that’s just you reading into the infection of his thoughts too much. You don’t even know if they have a different method of intonation beneath the sea, or if thought suffices for intention.

No other reason? You push, regarding him cautiously.

He raises a brow, what other reason would I have?

Well that’s why I’m asking, you think, because I don’t know.

A noise enters your mind that sounds similar to a hum, and your spine prickles, making you shudder, ears fluttering. His pupils mark the reaction with a strange intensity, before increasing the pace a little, tail brushing lightly against your own, as if encouraging you to put in more effort. I suppose I might have wanted to see what sort of person you were, he thinks, and you wonder if you’ve subconsciously drifted closer to him.

What’s that supposed to mean? You ask skeptically, peering at him. Is there something I could have done to make you leave me?

Perhaps.

Like what?

Now why would you need to know that? He asks, amusement clear, eyes twinkling as his mouth curves at the edges, thumbs lightly grazing the bone of your elbow as his tail again flicks against you own.

Your expression shifts into one of displeasure, brows pulling together in distaste. Please just answer.

He seems to be thinking in his own mind for a bit, and you watch carefully, wondering if you’ll catch any hints to what’s passing through his head.

Perhaps if you hated us so viscerally… he answers slowly, quietly. That would have complicated things…would have muddied the choices, a little.

Choices?

With what to do with you. How to progress.

You couldn’t have just turned me back into a human using the moon pool?

We only look like humans, he thinks quietly, watching you. You can never return to one.

You blink, lips parting a little before remembering to keep them closed, keeping your mouth filled with air to prevent water rushing in. You said… but you trail off, letting it dawn on you all over again. Then why are there clothes ready? You ask. What happens if you don’t return to the moon pool in time?

The you’re simply stranded until the next new moon. The clothes are there for when folk might wish to be above ground for…longer.

But not as something entirely human.

That’s right, he replies softly, thumbs brushing your skin.

A quiet settles between you, but you try not to let it lower your spirits. You’ll be on two legs again regardless, and you’ll get to say goodbye to him. Though you hate that he’ll be the one to see you go first.

It should never have to be that way.

So what were the choices you mentioned? You ask a touch quietly, easing in a calming breath.

Those don’t matter anymore, he thinks gently, you’re adjusting well.

I want to know. You push, wanting something to focus on. There’s still so much you don’t know about his kind. About mer folk.

Azriel goes silent, his eyes taking on that strange intensity again that at one point had made your insides squirm with discomfort. Now you just hold it, levelling him with your own gaze. Eventually though, he blinks, glancing elsewhere, chest deflating in what you can guess is a sigh.

A strange tension seems to shift beneath his features, carving his expression into one of seriousness.

When you made the choice to cut me free… he begins slowly. Softly.

Do you remember what you had been thinking, when you did it?

Your throat rolls, casting your mind back to that day. Those hours where everything changed. Those few minutes, where a choice had been made. One that had arguably altered the course of your life.

I was thinking what they’d do to you, if your were found, you manage quietly. About how I’d thought it was an unnecessary act of violence, one routed in hatred and revenge, and that a conflict that continuously took lives would never be resolved.

Something flits past behind his gaze, but it’s gone too quickly for you to even catch its trail.

I thought it would be hypercritical of me to leave you. That not helping would be as good as condemning you myself. You manage, grip loosening as you’re called back to the thundering shudder of wooden boards, groaning and creaking as Alaric had approached.

I thought it would be better to save you.

Despite all the stories you’d been fed, Azriel thinks quietly, pace slowing a little, drifting unnoticeably closer. You decided to save a monster.

I don’t think you’re a monster.

But that’s what I was in that moment. Wasn’t I? You didn’t know any different.

You didn’t feel like a monster, you return.

The lowest part of your tail makes a small movement, brushing against him.

Exteriors can be deceiving, he warns softly.

Sometimes they can, you reply, quieter. Not always. But what does that have to do with it all?

Your intention, he almost whispers, so close now. Close enough to again catch a glimpse of the spectrum contained within his irises, glowing with a smattering of stars from the powdery cave light. Close enough to fully see the soft sections of his features, hidden beneath the unforgiving exteriors that you’d almost been fooled by. Close enough to pick out the hint of emotion he’s unable to conceal, raw, and blinding, and—

You recoil in a blink, jerking away as your hands frantically cross over your chest, your breasts having grazed the bare skin of his torso.

You blink with shock, having become so accustomed to your own nakedness, but now overwhelmingly aware of how bare you are. Your skin hasn’t become any less sensitive from shifting to a mer—everything is just as responsive—and your heart pounds with a drive so intense you can feel it in your stomach.

The breath puffs from your gills heavily, caught off guard by the force of your own reaction, arms still covering your breasts as you shift backward. Something brushes just shy of the nape of your neck, a mere finger’s-width from the height of your spine, and something tingling and exhilarating bursts through your blood, flinching away from the wall, hand now slapping over the spot.

Gods above, you think, heart still pounding wildly in your chest, using your hands and tail to shift to see what it was that had brushed so tantalisingly against your skin.

A small plant stares back at you, and you sigh again, returning your attention to him.

Sorry about that, you think, I was startled. You force your arms to remain at your sides as you make to shift closer, hands gliding up to settle at the tops of his powerful forearms.

It’s fine, he replies, though his movements seem a little stiff, his tail less flexible than before. You might find your spine and sternum to be more acute to touch, than before.

My sternum? You ask, peering up at him. Where’s that?

Muscle flexes beneath your fingertips, before calming, and he gestures to the bone down his chest, joining his ribs. Careful not to touch.

You blink, before nodding, looking down at yourself, raising your hand to your chest.

Azriel visibly stiffens, but remains silent as your fingers brush against the bone—between your breasts. Sure enough, that tingling feeling returns, pulse spiking, tiny muscles fluttering beneath your touch, and you hum, the edges of your mouth curving faintly.

I didn’t know you had such obvious weak spots, you think, at last returning your palms to his forearms. Good to know.

He doesn’t reply. Just holds you lightly as he begins moving again, tail shifting with less fluidity than before.

Your brows furrow, wondering at his silence. Did you say something wrong?

Anyway… you think, attention flitting about before settling on him. What were you going to say?

But he shakes his head, eyes flicking to a light at the end of the tunnel. Moonlight spilling into the water.

We’re here.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy

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az taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch @nightcourt-daydreaming @assassinsblade @marvelouslovely-barnes @v3lv3tf0x @kalulakunundrum @vellichor01 @throneofsmut @vickykazuya

[mxdarling]

[“I can’t live without you. I would lose it!”]

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅• •❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

ೃ⁀➷: summary: you're a rule-breaker and you tried resisting him, keyword: tried.

ೃ⁀➷: Word count: 1130

ೃ⁀➷: Reference/Inspiration: N/A

ೃ⁀➷: Event: [200 followers event]

[note:] If there is anything else triggering here that I didn’t list in the warnings section, please tell me. I don’t condone this type of behavior, this is merely just for entertaining purposes and some sort of coping mechanism for me. If you continue to read beyond this point, ignoring my warnings, I am not responsible for your actions from here on out.

[Warnings:] bad oneshot, maybe ooc riddle, after overblot riddle, yandere behavior, slight controlling behavior, unintentionally guilt-tripping, reader is a rule-breaker, reader is insecure, tiny fluff, tiny angst, cursing ("ass" & "fucking"), mentions of an argument.

[GN reader]

RIDDLE ROSEHEART is a strict ruler, a top student, a perfectionist—any other adjective to describe him that wasn't romantic. Even after the overblot incident, it was difficult to imagine anyone liking him with the traits he carried around the campus; it was even more difficult to imagine him, THE riddle roseheart, liking someone else. Especially if that someone is you—an infamous first-year rule-breaker who hangs out with deuce, ace, and grim—and what's even better, they aren't capable of casting a single spell. A bizarre pair was commented on by most of the students and a few of the teachers and staff. A top student, like riddle, who is almost perfect in every aspect of his life, with someone like you who could care less about upholding simple rules and regulations.

No one believed when deuce, ace and grim said, "riddle and prefect are dating!" and "our teapot tyrant is dating our prefect!! can you believe it!?" Yet when heartslabyul students started seeing their dorm leader and you together more often, the dots were starting to connect, and soon enough, almost everyone knew you two were dating. The teasing went up rapidly (by a certain person in octavinelle, who's also 188cm eel), especially towards riddle, not that it offended him, but it would leave him with a tomato face frequently during the day.

Dating riddle was not a journey you would have thought you would ever experience. It was cute the way he would get shy around showing affection towards you in public—the slight brush of his hand hitting yours, the tints of pink on his cheeks, the (not so) sneaky glances he gives to you when he thinks you're not looking. The obvious blush you see when you catch him staring at you red-handed. Everyone can tell you two will have heart eyes whenever the other is near. You can hear the coo's and ew's from your fellow peers, yet you pay no attention to them as riddle takes all your attention for himself. Whether he's aware of that or not, you don't complain; you could never complain when it came to him.

Yet, of course, all relationships have their fights and disagreements. Most of them would be about you, your rule-breaking habits, and how you don't care enough about your studies. How you don't seem to care that you would fail your classes if your current grades keep up like this. It's at these times that you can clearly feel his disappointment in you. It's these times where you can't help but feel like he can do so much better than you, wondering why he even settled for you in the first place. It's these times where you can see riddle trying to change and not let his old habits slip in again. He's trying, and you can see that all his hardest efforts are never unnoticed by you.

As sweet as the relationship you two shared was, somehow its flavor turned slightly bitter. It was starting to get draining, draining, and draining. Each day, a riddle will ask you to do something or wear something for him, and you do it in a heartbeat! The way he started to slowly change your schedule to match his, the way he started to limit your free time with friends and activities. Spending less time inside your own dorm and more in riddle's bedroom. Gradually, you seem to know more about parts of a book than you do outdoors. It didn't bother you to sacrifice these little things for riddle. Doing little things and doing favors for him was never a bother to you—never at all—until it started getting way, way too much for you.

Here you are again, sitting in his bedroom. If you weren't returning to your dorm, you most likely would've forgotten what it looked like. The history book in front of you started to feel like hands dragging your head to its incredibly long text full of everything that you weren't going to try and digest. You want to throw away the book and do something without sitting your ass on the floor for more than 8 hours. You stand up, telling riddle you're leaving. Replying defensively, he tried to stop you, but, of course, being the natural rule-breaker you are, you resisted him. You aren't sure how exactly it happened, but what was supposed to be a little act of rebellion against his strict behavior turned into a full-blown argument. There were tears. You couldn't take this any longer than you had; you were at your breaking point, and you think now is a good time to fucking leave.

Stomping angrily towards the door, not even bothering to grab and bring your books with you, turning the knob to open the door to leave, or attempting to turn the knob, turns out it's locked. You scoff at his effort to keep you within his room before you could try and unlock the door and actually be able to turn the knob—you feel a pair of arms locking themselves around your stomach.

"Please, don't leave me," he says in a whisper, yet with the quiet atmosphere, you can hear what he says perfectly. Pleading, he's pleading... That's.. unusual. It's not like him to be pleading, yet knowing his home life, you should've known. Behind all that strict and commanding demeanor was a traumatized child wanting to play and have fun like other kids. He sounded so lost and so alone; he was trembling behind your back. His tears tainted the back of your shirt, and he tightened his grip around your stomach like a child not wanting their parents to leave for work. You are mad; you are so mad at him, acting like he was the one suffering in this relationship, yet something in you can't be mad at him.

In your head, your rational side advises you to leave. Leave him weeping at the entrance of his bedroom door as he watches you walk away from this exhausting relationship, away from this draining push and pull, and away from him and his emotional baggage. You want to leave; you need to leave. The door is right there in front of you, waiting for it to be opened, waiting for you to leave. Taking several glances at the door knob and your hand, you let your hand lose grip of the handle. You lost all the energy to try and leave, and frankly, giving up seemed like a good option for you. You could just sit back and let riddle take the lead. riddle wouldn't have to be alone during his toughest times because you would be there for him.

"Thank you.. thank you for not leaving... I can't live without you. I would lose it!"

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅• •❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

[a/n; woah first yandere riddle work in this blog (as of now since i have another yandere riddle work that i have saved in my drafts) and i must say a very interesting character to write as a yandere, also another one i'm not quite familiar in yandere terms. also i was a little addicted to grinding on honkai star rail for my bronya built i've almost completed so this may have took a little while aha.. (though it's nothing new in this blog LMAOO) but thank you anon for requesting riddle with dialogue #39! terribly sorry for not doing azul i really only had motivation to finish riddle's part so for the sake of my sanity i just didn't write for azul, perhaps next time i will loll. (SORRY I'VE BEEN SO DEAD!!!)]

(edit: WHY AM I ONLY NOTICING THAT I WROTE RIDDLE WITH AZUL'S DIALOGUE??? omg i;m so sorry anon for this mistake....)

[preciouslandmermaid]

🕸🕷 Free Fall 🕸🕷

Pairing: Insomniac Peter Parker/Spider-Man x Fem!Reader (code name: “Huntress” + she is Kraven's daughter)

Rating: T (there are mentions to Kraven's abuse toward his children, but nothing described.)

Prompt: It was strange to touch each other without one of them dying, but maybe touch was also something for the living.

This is a drabble for the enemies-to-lovers fic that I haven’t written (and idk if I will write it). This takes place after the events of Spider-Man 2.

tags: angst, pov second person, no use of Y/N, no hurt/some comfort, unhinged fmc lmao

🕷🕷 ( read on ao3 ) 🕷🕷

New York City :: 4:25AM

Your legs dangle from the edge of the building, but the height doesn’t terrify you—never has, never could—not with Kraven as your father. Your necklace emanates a soft click-click-clack as the wind knocks its animal teeth together. For each kill, your father once said, take a trophy with you. Their coat, their teeth, their claws and wear it with pride, Huntress. You press your thumb into the tip of the largest canine tooth.

You think, what’s the point of collecting a trophy when I have no one to share the victory with?

Lower Manhattan sleeps fitfully below you. Three police cars, one ambulance, and groups of tiny black dots like fleas jumping on the back of a tremendous gray-skinned beast. You wonder where the fleas are going. Home? Work? To their lovers and friends? Something akin to loneliness bites at your heels and you stubbornly kick it away.

How can you be lonely in a city of millions? You twirl the canine tooth in your grip. Snow flurries drift through the sky like dandruff and the crystallized air scraping through your nasal cavities reminds you of home. Or whatever you could call a ‘home’. Kraven had home-bases, with all the luxury and technology money could afford, but they forever lacked warmth.

I should leave this city, the traffic lights below switch to red and a car screeches to a stop, I should leave…

An influx of cold air hits your spine followed by the sound of someone’s feet touching the rooftop.

“Hey, this doesn’t look like Barcelona,” Spider-Man says casually.

He’s referring to your last conversation---“there’s nothing left for me here. I’m relocating.” When Spider-Man asked where, you said “Barcelona, obviously.”Granted, your tone wasn’t as cauterizing as you wanted. You were bleeding out thanks to the Symbiote that speared you through the collarbone and it’s difficult to be snarky when your vision is doubled and your brain is on fire.

“Plane’s delayed,” you toss the words over your shoulder and catch a glimpse of him. The sun hasn’t risen and all the artificial light reflecting from skyscraper windows paints Spider-Man in an interesting arrangement of shadowy grays and muted red. You recall the not-so-distant time when you hunted him. All the tricks you played, all the injuries you gave each other, and you have nothing to show for it.

You release the tooth from between your fingers and it knocks against the others. What trophy would I take from the spider anyway? You return your focus to the fleas and machines between the gap in your feet. A piece of his suit, perhaps. You search within for the rage, the anger that typically fueled you, the desire to hunt that Kraven taught you—instilled in you—through his cruel voice and crueler hands.

Yet, no rage comes to greet you with its fiery white-hot grip. You find stark emptiness akin to the featureless skyscrapers that cage around you.

“Seriously,” he leaps onto the ledge beside you, “there is a place for you in New York, I mean, you’ve met Tombstone, and Martin Li, you could help at FEAST or--” he makes a plaintive gesture with his hand, “there’s other places for you.”

You clench your jaw and create a low ‘hmm’ sound with the back of your throat. His eyes burn into your cheek. Why haven’t I left yet? You could’ve at any moment after Kraven’s death.

You had a complicated relationship with your father. On the one hand, you wanted him to find a worthy opponent and achieve his ‘warrior’s death’, but on the other hand—you wanted to be that warrior. You stayed in New York to kill Venom because he killed Kraven before you could. But then...well...that didn’t work out, now did it? Venom was dead. Kraven was dead. The vultures and crows were circling, circling, circling, and if you were smart then you’d get out before they started plucking out your eyes.

“You know anyone in need of a big game hunter?”

“You’re more than that.”

Your gaze slices toward Spider-Man. His lenses widen. You don’t say anything and let him stew in the uncomfortable silence. How dare he presume to know you? The gall of these heroes. You are what Kraven made you to be. A hunter. A killer. A panther stalking through humid forests, a polar bear staining its white fur red, a sharpened blade sinking between the ribs and puncturing a lung.

You recall the wheezing, rattled breath leaving Spider-Man’s lips. His blood on your hands, staining your palms crimson, drying rusty on your wrists. ‘Gotcha’ you had said before he kicked you in the chest with both feet and sent you into the wall. He was flexible and fast, you’d give him that. An almost worthy opponent.

A true worthy opponent would’ve killed you, you think.

“I saw your notes in Kraven’s study,” he says it quietly, like it’s a secret, and your shoulders bristle close to your ears.

“What about it?” You snap, annoyance corrodes your tone and hides the soft and vulnerable parts of you. My worthless notes. Saving no one. Healing nothing.

“Oncology isn’t an easy field of study,” if he’s trying to convince you of your goodness then he is destined to fail. Your motivations for studying tumors and cancer were inherently selfish. You were trying to save your father—as cruel, and mean, and abusive as he was—you tried to save him. That wasn’t virtue at work. It was fear.

You were afraid of a world without Kraven. A world without purpose, without something to prove, without something to overcome. Kraven never loved you—never could. But he gave you a reason to live, to fight, to thrive against all odds.

You wanted to kill him with your own hands and you wanted him alive. A paradox, you know, but your relationship to your parent’s was an unsolved Rubik's cube, a labyrinth of missed opportunities. You grew up in a home made of kerosene and lit matches. What do you say to a child who grew up breathing smoke? And how can you expect them to live in the clean, fresh-air? You catch a snowflake on your thumb.

“Those notes could help someone,” he continues, gesturing, his voice growing more animated the more he spoke, “I glanced at them and I’m not saying I’m an expert, but they were thorough and they were--”

you cut in, “useless.”

“I know a guy--”

“I’m sure you do, friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.”

Spider-Man continues, unperturbed by your interruptions, “he’s continuing the Emily-May foundation on a much, much smaller scale. Maybe he could use the notes. Maybe it could help someone.”

“Or maybe it winds up in a drawer, or in a box somewhere, and is eaten by rats.”

Spider-Man huffs, “he doesn’t have rats!” A thoughtful pause, “at least, I don’t think so.”

“It’s New York,” you roll your eyes, “there are rats everywhere.”

The silence slips into the space between you, but it’s not uncomfortable or cold. It’s just there. Like the dusting of snowflakes coating the ledge. This is the longest you’ve ever spoken to him without trying to maul him. You watch him out of the corner of your eye, waiting for an attack, but his body language is relaxed. His elbows rest on his knees, his sinewy yet lanky arms, and supplicant bowed spine. You trace the curve of his throat with your eyes.

Kraven would tell you to strike. He’d say to take a tooth hanging from your necklace and ram it into his jugular. But Kraven is gone.

Why am I here?

Spider-Man stands, “can I show you something?” he extends his hand toward you and his long fingers curl slightly as they await your hand.

Your heartbeat is loud in your ears; loud, and hot, and claustrophobic and begging you to say ‘no’. Toss the spider from the ledge. Reassert your status as his enemy. Remind him of the blood you’ve spilled from his body. Reignite the animosity between you. It would be so simple. Like lighting a match in a house of gasoline.

But, you’re so tired of inhaling smoke.

Your hand slides into his. It’s solid and warm. His fingers encase yours and bring you close.

It’s strange to touch each other without one of you dying, but maybe touch is also something for the living.

“Hang on,” he mutters before the space between your bodies vanishes.

You dig your fingertips into the strong sinew of his shoulder as cold wind whistles through your ears. The skyscrapers and snowfall dim into smears of chrome and white, the noise of the city deafens, and you feel Spider-Man’s heartbeat against your own.

Your feet hit solid ground. The air tastes colder, thinner.

“Just in time,” Spider-Man says.

You open your eyes. You’re standing in a sea of roiling clouds. You look below, seeking the maze of streets and honking taxi cabs, but fluffy, blue-gray cotton greets you instead. You’re above it all. Above the constant noise, the mesmerizing traffic lights, and warm bagel shops, and kitschy tourist stalls. It’s dizzying.

A spark hits the horizon. An orange light, a tiny flame, and illuminates the clouds into a pastel landscape of pink hues. Your breath catches. Your fingertips tighten on his shoulders. The sun pushes from the clouds like a seed emerging from soil and the clouds ignite. You can’t feel the warmth of the sun, but you see it in every stroke of color, against every bulbous mound of cloud.

Spider-Man’s arm hasn’t left your waist.

Maybe touch isn’t meant to always be sharp and serrated and bloody.

“Give me your friend’s number,” you don’t turn your face away from the sunrise.

“Sure, yeah, of course,” his voice is warm, “no problem.”

A gentle orange and pink hue bleeds out; like sliced grape fruit, or a flock of flamingo feathers, or a painting done by a child with an enthusiasm for warm-tones.

“Does that – I mean – are you staying?”

“Hmm,” you step out of his embrace, “catch me and I’ll stay.”

His lenses widen, “w-what?”

You drop sideways into the cotton-candy colored clouds with laughter bubbling up from your throat.

You place one hand on the grappling hook at your waist—just in case.

He catches you.

And you stay.

[writemywaytoyourheart]

Bedeviled | Chapter 12a: Apple

Pairing: demon!jungkook x female reader

Genre: romance, drama, angst, horror

WC part 1: 19.1k

Warnings for this part: panic attacks, anxiety, bullying, brief mention of menstrual blood, physical and emotional abuse, depression, mentions of an arranged marriage.

Previous ML

It was the year 1508 when you met him. 

You were four years old.

You were sitting under the apple tree, fully entertained by watching your toes wiggle around in the soft green grass.

The sun was shining after it had rained the day before last. There were still remnants of rainfall on the grass, but you didn’t mind. You loved the sound of heavy showers as they quenched the earth’s thirst, but you loved the sun even more. 

There was a small wicker basket sitting next to you, a few different herbs lying in it. That was the reason you went out in the first place; to gather. Mother always had you go to the forest to get some things that did not grow near the village. 

No one in the village was ever worried about sending their children out; it was a very remote place and one where everyone knew everyone else. If anything happened, people would know about it. Then they would talk.

It was a comfort to know that everyone living around you knew you and everything about you…until it wasn’t. 

That day, under the apple tree, you were so distracted by flexing and unflexing your little toes that you didn’t hear the scuffling behind you.

You had no idea you weren’t alone until you felt a harsh smack right on top of your head. 

“Ah!” You cried out and touched where it was already beginning to feel sore. Then you looked to the side to see a bright red apple lying against the vibrant green grass, the contrast alarming enough to take your mind off the pain for a moment. 

“Hm?” You reached over and took the apple, one hand not big enough to wrap around it, so you held it with two.

The sound of something scrambling down the tree made you gasp and stand up, backing away and dropping the sweet fruit as your wide eyes stared at the thick trunk.

Moments later, a boy stepped out from behind it, wide brown eyes looking terribly guilty. 

“I’m sorry!” His hands wrung in front of him, anxiously twisting his fingers, “I didn’t know you were there. Are you okay?”

You said nothing, just stared at him. 

He had black hair that was down to his chin and the biggest brown eyes, a few freckles dotted along his cheeks. He was taller than you, but not by much. His clothes were typical of the little boys around the village, cream-colored and ratty, a small brown vine wrapped around his waist.

Although he looked like the boys from your village, you did not recall ever seeing him before. 

You had never been much of a talker and you didn’t start then. Truth be told, you were a little frightened at first. The only people you really spoke to were your mother and older cousin, Yoongi. The other children in the village avoided you most of the time, so why was this boy speaking to you?

You both stood there for a moment, then the boy spoke again, voice soft, “I was climbing the tree to get some fruit for my mother. Do you like apples?”

It was a random question, and it had you even more confused. Your eyes darted to the apple on the ground and you nodded slowly.

When you looked back at him, he had a bright smile on his face; one with larger front teeth that reminded you of a bunny.

A tiny smile of your own spread on your lips at the sight. You loved bunnies...maybe this boy wasn’t so scary after all.

“What’s your name?” He asked, voice tinged with excitement.

You didn’t answer, an overwhelming feeling in your chest of not knowing how to speak to strangers. His smile faltered a bit, then he shrugged, and a small giggle left his mouth. He went over to the apple you had dropped and picked it up, then walked to you. 

When you stepped back as he came closer, he stopped a few feet away, “Sorry,” He whispered, then he reached his arm out as far as it could go, holding the apple out to you, “Here, you can have this one.”

You stared at it for a minute, then looked into his eyes before looking back at the fruit. Ever so slowly, you reached out and took the apple, quickly holding it to your chest. 

“My name is Jungkook,” The boy said slowly with a hand on his chest, almost as if he thought perhaps you might be hard of hearing. When all you did was stare back, he smiled sadly. 

He’d moved to the village only a week prior, their old home had been burned in a terrible fire. Even after trying to get along with the children in this new village, he had yet to make any friends. Everyone seemed to already know one another and were not ready to let in an outsider. 

Both of you flinched at the sound of your mother calling, saying you had better get home before you let the herbs get too withered. She usually didn’t come this far into the woods.

You quickly grabbed your wicker basket and turned to run off. Only after a few feet though, you stopped and turned around to see him looking down at his tattered shoes and biting his lip.

He seemed quite sad. 

Setting down your basket, you walked closer until he looked up at you. When he saw the apple in your hands, being held out to him, he gulped back the tears that had threatened to spill.

“Thank you,” He whispered, taking it. He looked back at you and saw a very shy smile on your round face. Then you turned and took off, grabbing your basket and running as fast as your tiny legs could carry you. 

-

It wasn’t until a few days later that you saw him again. You were walking with Yoongi to the barn, carrying an empty pail with both arms and struggling to catch up with the older boy that had a larger pail in each hand. 

The boy was sitting under the shade of a small tree, messing with a long piece of grass, tying and twisting it up in his fingers. It seemed like he was trying to make something with it, but it kept coming apart. He glanced up and saw the two of you walking and immediately jumped up, running over. 

“Hi, apple girl!”

You flinched to a stop, still clutching the pail in your arms as Yoongi stopped walking next to you.

The older boy smiled at the newcomer, “Hey, I’ve seen you around a few times. Are you new here?”

Jungkook nodded, his fluffy hair bouncing, “Mother and I moved here.”

“Ah,” Yoongi held out a pail and the smaller boy took it, “Come on, half-pint. You can help us out in the barn.”

Yoongi led the way; you and Jungkook followed behind as the new kid chatted on and on about how his mother made something delicious with the apples he brought home and how you two should try it. Oh yeah and he was still very sorry about dropping the apple on your head, he hoped it didn't hurt too bad and oh my it had been quite hot the past few days and how he wished it would rain again. 

You kept quiet the whole way, but were listening very attentively to each word he said. Even though you were still shy, there was no longer a confused fear around this child that didn’t avoid you like the others. At one point, he looked over at you and saw you smiling at something he said. It lit an excited flame in him that perhaps he might have finally made some new friends after all. 

-

You were never alone again after that day.

Yoongi was older, so he had lots of chores and responsibilities that you weren’t able to do yet. Usually that meant you stayed at home or off in the woods to be out of everyone’s way. But ever since the new boy approached you and your cousin and helped with the barn chores, he stuck around. 

It didn’t matter that you never spoke much -only a few words at a time- he was good at filling the extra silence all on his own. He could tell you were listening when he told stories and he could see the smile on your face when he spoke of silly things. It was new for both of you not to be on your own, but you enjoyed it. 

You quickly found out he was only two years bigger than you, he could use all the fingers on his hand when talking about his age, and he would soon move to two hands!

He and his mother were both kind, always smiling and making you feel welcome whenever he dragged you home with him; sharing food and the little toys he made himself out of bark and different types of grass.

You and Jungkook went to the woods a lot, to sit under the apple tree. One time he finally convinced you to climb it. You had always been a little too scared, but the way he wasn’t afraid of anything made you feel brave.

“You’re almost there!” The recently turned six-year-old cheered as you grabbed onto the rough branch close to your head. 

“I think I’m done,” You called down, voice as soft as always, “I’m frightened.”

Jungkook quickly climbed up to where you stayed clutching the tree, “You did so good, Apple!” He patted you gently on the back, “Look how brave you are.”

You smiled shakily, eyeing the ground from so high up.

He knew your name a few weeks after meeting you, Yoongi said it a few times, but the nickname kind of stuck, he always told you it fit. He used to say you were bright and sweet, just like an apple. That it reminded him of the day he realized he was never going to be alone again. 

-

Then it was your fifth birthday. The first birthday you would have with your best friend. 

He let you have his share of honey rice cake. Part of you wondered if he still felt guilty for cutting your hair too short a few months prior. You had gotten over that quickly and your hair was already down to your chin by the time your birthday rolled around. You secretly liked that you both had the same length hair. 

He also gave you one of the toys he made; a tiny person, only the size of your little finger, made entirely of grass. It was the best birthday gift you had ever received and you kept it safe in the corner of your room, under the handkerchief he’d given you one time after you’d fallen and scraped your knee. 

-

Spring was always your favorite season, his too. It meant honeysuckles and green grass, crisp apples and cold streams to dip your feet in, flower and berry picking, running through the sunlit fields where no one but you cared to go. It seemed like the others always had something else to think about, too busy in the village to go out and explore. The two of you couldn’t get enough of it. 

The years passed by and you only ever grew closer and closer together. At times it felt like it was just you and Jungkook against the world. Neither of you minded though, you didn’t need anything more. 

-

The other kids in the village began to point fingers early on. They only hung around when Yoongi made the swing, and when there were big games of hide n’ seek. Sometimes if you and Jungkook had dumb ideas that they wanted to be involved in, like seeing who could eat the most honey rice cakes. Other than that, they had a tendency to shun the two of you. Jungkook was never bothered by it after the two of you became friends. He didn’t care as long as he had you. You had always been used to it anyway, spending most of your days alone in the woods. You never understood why the other kids didn’t like you, but it was a normal part of life, nothing that you questioned. Usually they would just call you two weird, nothing too harmful. 

The bigger rumors started when you were ten years old. Jungkook had recently turned twelve. It was Cha Hae Soo that told you. 

You were in the small garden outside of your home, knees muddy and fingernails caked with dirt as you pulled weeds up from the ground. 

“____!”

You turned and saw her approaching. 

You were a little confused; Hae Soo never really spoke to you. She wasn’t cruel to you, she just never had anything to say and neither did you. 

“Hi,” You said as you wiped the dirt from your hands onto your skirt, leaning back on your heels as she came right to the outside of the small garden. Your hair was up in a hastily pulled bun, a ratty scarf wrapped around it to keep the sweaty strands from your neck and back. 

“Have you seen Jungkook today?” She asked. 

Your brows furrowed, mind slipping further into confusion as you looked at her.

Why was she asking that? Did she have a crush on him? A little flame of jealousy burned in your stomach as you looked at the pretty girl in front of you. 

“Not yet. We’re going to meet up later…why?”

A smile played on her lips, but it was one that made you feel like you were unknowingly part of some mean joke. It was not a kind smile. 

“Meet up later, why?” She asked, biting her lip to hold in the laughter. 

You looked around, wondering if someone else was listening in, trying to catch you saying something foolish. Why else would she be acting so strange?

“Why are you asking about Jungkook and I meeting up? We’ve done it every day since we were little.”

Hae Soo nodded, “I know. So, what do you guys do?”

“We just-...I don’t know, we talk-”

“Oh, you talk?” Hae Soo laughed, “Is that what you two call it?”

“Call what?” You were confused. 

“You know,” The girl said in a sing-song voice. Then she used two hands to mime people kissing. 

You narrowed your eyes, anger taking root once you realized what she had been implying. The only reason she had approached you at all.

“Everyone already knows you do it,” She laughed again, far from kind, “Why else would a girl and a boy run away into the woods for hours?”

You had never thought about what people might be thinking. At ten years old, that was the farthest thought from your mind. Boys were icky. Except for Jungkook. But he was your best friend…

“I-...We don’t ki-...We don’t do that.”

“Jungkook probably wants to,” Hae Soo leaned in and whispered, then giggled when you looked even more confused, “Boys don’t like to be friends with girls, silly. He just wants to kiss you!” 

You tuned Hae Soo’s mocking out as you gulped, suddenly very uncomfortable. When you finally gathered yourself and snapped back to your senses, you glared at her. You were never one to raise your voice or pick any fights. But this was beyond what kids used to say.

“Why did you come here just to say that? Go away!” 

When she didn’t listen and continued to say nasty things about Jungkook just because he was a boy, you bent down and grabbed a handful of muddy weeds that you had just pulled, then you threw them at her. 

“Go away, I said! Go!”

Hae Soo shrieked when the mud splattered on her skirt, “Agh! They’re right about you two hermits! Jungkook is a creep and you’re just a lunatic!!”

“That’s right!” You bent down and grabbed more weeds, “I am!”

Before you could throw them, she ran away screaming, but you took off after her. People watched in interest as two muddied ten year-olds ran through the village, screaming nonsense. 

Jungkook’s mother saw the scene from her front door, her eyes widening. 

“Jungkook!” She called into the house, alerting the boy that was just finishing sweeping like she had asked him to, “Jungkook, get out here!”

“What’s the matter?” He asked, confused as he came out into the sun, squinting. 

“It’s ____! I don’t know what’s happened, but I’m afraid she’s going to tear Hae Soo to shreds-”

Jungkook took off running in the direction everyone was looking, not needing to hear any more explanation. 

He soon saw the two girls over by the Kim’s barn; Hae Soo shrieking on the ground as his best friend stood over her, dress positively covered in mud and rage clear on her face. Jungkook ran over as fast as he could, only hearing a bit of what you were screaming. 

“-ay that about Jungkook again and I’ll mess up all your stupid little dresses, you little witch!!!”

“Apple!”

You turned and saw him moments before he grabbed your arm and pulled you away from the sobbing wretch. 

“Don’t!” You pulled your arm from his grasp, even more angry now that he was defending her. Jungkook saw tear streaks through the dirt on your cheeks, his heart clenching at the sight, “Apple-”

You turned and stormed off before he could say anything else, betrayal forming a nasty pit in your stomach as you trudged through the village, ignoring all of the nosy stares the whole way.

Jungkook turned back to Hae Soo and glared as she sniffled. 

“What did you do?” He seethed. 

She looked at him incredulously and pointed where you had stormed off, “Me?! She’s the crazy one that just attacked me for no reason!”

He scoffed, “____? Try and come up with a more believable story, you little brat. If you hurt her, you’re gonna deal with me. You got it?”

When she just avoided his gaze, he walked off to find you, only stopping for a moment as Hae Soo screamed, “Yeah, go on and have your private little talks! Everyone knows what you two really do!”

Jungkook started walking again without a word, heading for the woods where he knew you would be. 

-

“Apple?”

You wiped your nose with the back of your hand, rolling your eyes at the soft voice coming through the door of the shack. 

“I won’t come in unless you say I can. I’ll just sit out here and wait in the hot sun, I don’t mind sweating and-”

“Oh, just come in,” You huffed, trying not to smile at his annoying behavior. 

The door creaked and you immediately saw his cheeky smile, so you turned your head the other way. 

“I can’t believe you defended her over me. Do you like her or somethi-”

His brows furrowed, “Hae Soo? I wasn’t defending her-”

You scoffed as he came over and sat next to you, leaning back against the wall. 

“I already knew she deserved whatever you did,” He whispered after a moment, “I wasn’t stopping you, I just wanted to make sure you weren’t hurt.”

You wiped your eyes and turned to look at him, knowing he was telling the truth, “Sorry, Jungkook. I shouldn’t have assumed. I couldn’t control myself, I just-...She was-”

“It’s okay,” He smiled, “I understand. Next time though-...”

Your best friend shifted and leaned down to whisper in your ear, even though no one was around to hear, “-just don’t do it in the middle of all the grown-ups, Apple girl. You won’t get to finish before someone stops you.”

A laugh burst from your lips at his words. You knew he’d take your side. 

He pointed at his chest, “I’ll cover for you next time.”

“Thanks,” You mumbled, wiping at your nose again. 

“You really scared her,” Jungkook chuckled, “I don’t think anyone ever expected, of all people, for that voice to come out of you.”

“She deserved it,” You laughed, “I wasn’t going to let her say stuff like that.”

“Like what?” He asked, curious. 

You looked at him for a moment before shaking your head, “Never mind. It doesn’t matter now.”

There was no point in telling him the horrible things she accused him of. That’s why you went after her in the first place. You’d do anything to make sure he would never hear the nasty things they said behind closed doors.

-

Jungkook always knew how to get rid of the fears in your mind. 

You were anxious about a lot of things whenever you weren’t in your beloved forest. So many expectations, so many accusations. Whenever the two of you stepped foot into the village, it all came rushing back. 

He knew you struggled with anxiety. He knew you always had. There were instances that he’d speak up for you when you were trying to explain things to people. You couldn’t articulate what you wanted to say very well at times. It felt like they were judging you, looking at you as if you were stupid, which led to you stumbling over words and finding it hard to get across what you meant.

It never bothered you when he finished your sentences, especially when you were speaking to people you weren’t comfortable with. It was so comforting to have someone that cared so much. 

Even though he wasn’t friends with everyone, he was never one to shy away from a conversation. He wasn’t awkward with people, like you were. He just didn’t care to be around anyone but you.

There were nights that you would feel so overwhelmed with simply existing, that he would take you into the woods and do his best to make a little fire. The two of you would sit there and stare at the orange and red streaks against the dark background of night, each time an anxious thought floated in, he told you to toss it into the crackling flames.

It became more and more regular. Before needing to head home for the night, he would make that small fire. You would sit there and stare at the flames. You would toss those anxious thoughts into them, watching them snap and crackle and burn to ashes. 

Jungkook always knew how to get rid of the fears in your mind. 

-

One day, shortly before your fourteenth birthday, you were out in the woods. 

It was a normal day, the sun was shining and the bees were buzzing. You and Jungkook were up in the apple tree, lounging on the thicker branches. As you relaxed, you looked at the swing on the lowest branch, smiling softly as it swung just a little in the breeze. Jungkook was busy, messing with thick blades of grass he had gathered earlier that day. 

“What are you making now?” You asked softly. 

He smiled, glancing up at you before looking back at his newest work, “It’s a surprise.”

“Mm,” Your eyes left the swing and went to where he was working, carefully tying and twisting the grass, “It looks like a bracelet.”

He sighed, but there was still a smile on his face, “You really have no idea how to let things be a surprise, do you?”

You laughed. 

“Not when you’re making my birthday present right in front of me.”

“Apple,” He whined, trying to turn so you couldn’t see it.

“I’m sorry!” You sat up, still giggling, “It’s beautiful though, I already love it.”

Jungkook looked back at you, glaring playfully, “Honest?”

“Honest, honest,” You whispered. 

His smile grew a little more, “Give me your wrist.”

“Why? You’ve already got two-”

“Apple!”

“Fine!” 

You smiled cheekily at him, finding it amusing how easy it was to rile him up. Holding out your right hand you let him test out the size on your wrist, then when he was satisfied, he let you lay down again. 

“I really do love it.”

Jungkook smiled softly, hyper focused on the complicated braid he was attempting. 

You smiled back even though he wasn’t looking at you. All the other fifteen year-old boys in the village were busy acting tough and bossing people around as they tried to find their place in society. Their place above women.

And here he was. Your best friend and most favorite person on Earth, making little old you a bracelet out of grass for your birthday. Just because he wanted to. 

You looked out at the forest again, taking a deep breath in and blowing it out. 

A few minutes later, you began to shift, trying to find a comfy position. Your stomach had been cramping since a few days prior, but it was particularly bad that afternoon. Nothing seemed to help.

It wasn’t long before your best friend took note of your discomfort, hesitating only briefly because he didn’t want to embarrass you. But he eventually caved and spoke up, “Are you okay?”

You shrugged, “I feel sick.”

He frowned, “Did you eat something bad?”

“I’m not sure,” You groaned, holding a hand to your abdomen. 

Jungkook tucked the bracelet into the pocket sewn into his clothes, then scooted himself along the branch he’d been perched on for a while. 

“Come on, let’s get down from here.”

You took his outstretched hand and gingerly followed him down the tree. He jumped down first, landing with a soft thump against the grass. Then he looked up to watch your footing, but something else caught his eye.

His sudden exclamation of surprise startled you as you clambered down, finally reaching the grass. 

“What? What is it?!” You shrieked as he turned you around to look at your dress. 

“You’re bleeding!” He screamed, which made you scream, which made him scream louder. 

“What do you mean?!” You twisted and turned, trying to see what he was talking about, then you finally saw the dark red splotch on your dress and screamed even louder. 

“Why am I bleeding??”

“I don’t know!” 

He took your arms and turned you this way and that, but couldn’t see blood anywhere else. 

“Jungkook, am I dying?!” You broke down sobbing. 

“No, you’re not,” He tried to assure you as best he could even as his voice shook, “I- I’ll go get my mother. She’ll know what to do. Just- sit down and don’t move!” Then he took off, running as fast as he could through the trees and bushes, soon disappearing from your sight. You sat down and cried some more, hot tears streaming down your face as you worried your bottom lip. This kind of thing had not happened before and you were sure it was the end for you.

Only a few minutes passed before he came back, but it had felt like an eternity. He was no longer running like his life depended on it, but was still hurrying through the brush, something in his hands that you couldn’t see. 

“I’m back,” He called, even though you could already see him.

When he got to you, he sat next to you on the grass. You could see that in his hands were rags, but that didn’t provide you with any explanation. 

“You’re alright, Apple. I promise,” He put a hand on your shoulder, instantly grounding you and almost physically sucking the anxiety right out of your body. 

“My mother explained everything,” Jungkook said gently as he placed the rags in your hands. Strangely enough, it wasn’t embarrassing at all for your male best friend to explain your first menstruation to you. It wasn’t weird or uncomfortable. He just recited what his mother had told him, about how it was normal, and how it would happen again each month. He even congratulated you on becoming a woman, which brightened your spirits a lot. 

Jungkook sat on the other side of the apple tree, keeping watch as you hid behind the trunk and stuffed the rags into your undergarments as his mother had said you should do. He made casual conversation, making the whole ordeal seem rather normal. After you were finished, you two discussed it a little more, until all of your fears were gone and you felt like you could breathe again. Not once did he cringe or tell you not to give him too much information. 

A little while later, you were sitting side by side in front of the fire he made that night. 

You whispered your fears to the flames and let them take each one away forever. 

“I have something for you.”

You looked over and saw Jungkook holding out a closed fist. You put your hand under it and he carefully placed the beautiful bracelet he had made into your palm. 

“I know your birthday is tomorrow, but I couldn’t wait.”

“Thank you,” You whispered tearfully, choking back the overwhelming feeling of how touched you were. 

“Try it on.”

It fit perfectly. Just like you knew it would. 

-

As the two of you grew older, there were times that you couldn’t get away to hide in the woods. 

When that happened, you would usually end up helping each other with the chores you were swamped with, still getting to talk and joke around as you worked. 

The rumors never stopped, they only ever got worse. Despite that, it got easier to cope with.

There were days that you’d run through the lush forest by yourself before he was supposed to meet you. You couldn’t get enough of the trees that danced in the wind, the flowers that shared their sweet scents, the cold creeks that laughed as you ran across them, the birds that sang their stories to you. 

Nature was always something you’d loved with all of your heart, Jungkook only made that love increase. Sharing it with someone made it grow more each day, especially when it was with someone that loved it nearly as much as you. 

You would be lying in the grass in the clearing, the sweet sweet sunlight kissing your cheeks by the time he got there. You never knew, but he would always wait, right at the edge of the clearing. Just for a moment. 

A few seconds to take in the beauty in front of him. 

It was just so breathtaking he couldn’t help it.

He didn’t try to, but it was inevitable; he had fallen so in love with you. 

So he would stand there. 

Just for a moment. 

A few seconds to admire the way your cheeks shined. The way your smile spread when the birds sang. The way that even your dress that was always filthy, only added to your beauty. 

Your fingers in the sun as you raised your arms, reaching. 

Reaching for the blue sky that you always longed to go to. 

You had always loved the sky. 

So he would stand there. 

You would smile at the bird’s songs. 

You would reach for the clouds. 

And he could never love anything more. 

He would be there only for a moment.

For a few seconds, before he would walk into the clearing and call out to you. 

And you would sit up right away, look at him, and smile brighter than all the stars in the sky. 

Your eyes would find his. 

And everything was okay. 

And he would love you. 

-

That night in the rain, when you were both trapped in the shack for a few hours, he had spoken of finding a way to become immortal. You couldn’t lie that the thought had crossed your mind a few times; that’s why you started the conversation with a silly joke. Especially those days when the two of you were in the woods from dawn to dusk; it truly felt like you could live there forever with just him and never be bored. 

Of course, shortly after thinking it, the thought would pass on. Immortality wasn’t possible. 

Then he became serious and whispered to you that night as he helped button your dress. 

“If either of us finds a way, we have to try. Deal?”

You shook on it, but soon came to the realization that there was never any reason to dwell on the possibility; no signs showed that it could actually happen. Instead of wasting the life you had on the beautiful Earth around you, you decided to enjoy each moment instead of wishing for more. 

-

You were just barely fifteen years old when you found out that you were dying. 

It wasn’t in the middle of the night, as you laid in your bed, withered with old age and remembering all the moments of your long life that meant something. Of the people you changed and the ones that changed you. 

It wasn’t a lingering thought in your mind as your feeble body came to terms with the fact that you would soon become one with the earth.

You had always thought you’d warm up to the idea, after you and your best friend lived lives full of love and laughter. 

It was anything but warm and inviting, a sweet ending to a story well made. 

It was sudden.

You weren’t sure how to take the news. 

One moment you were feeling a little off; a little weak and out of breath after running around in the woods that morning. A few weeks later you were given a death sentence. 

The day your mother told you what was happening, she seemed indifferent. That hurt almost more than the news that your time on this beautiful planet was going to be a lot shorter than you’d thought. 

“I had a feeling,” Your mother sighed after you had told her your symptoms the past few weeks, “I guess Jisoo’s mother was right.”

“What?” You instantly felt buzzed with anxiety, having thought she would just brush it off and tell you that you were exaggerating. Then you would realize she was right and you’d be on your way to meet Jungkook in the clearing, no more lingering doubts.

“She always said it would be you,” She waved her hand dismissively, “That woman spread it around faster than a spark in a haystack.”

You were confused. 

“What are you talking about?” You choked out quietly, still spiraling. 

“You know this village, everyone knows everyone else’s dirty little secrets.”

Dirty little secrets?

“They all knew our family was cursed. That someone always died unexpectedly.”

Your mind was spinning with confusion as a horrible fear settled deep in your bones.

“...c-cursed?” Was all you could say. 

Back then, no one knew the term. People in those times believed it had to be a curse, that your family had done something so horrible in the past that they deserved to have their descendants fall ill and die for no apparent reason. The people in the village didn’t understand that it was a genetic disease, not a spiritual one, so they came up with their own explanations. 

“Same thing happened to Yoongi’s mother, that’s why you don’t remember her.”

“Oh.”

You briefly wondered if something to do with it had happened to your father as well. No one ever spoke of him.

“Anyway,” She carried on like the two of you were discussing the weather, “Jisoo’s mother always told me it’d be you. Even when you seemed fine. She never wanted her precious little girl to be friends with the sick one.”

She sounded bitter. As if you being the one to suffer the consequences of your ancestor’s sins was causing her a headache.

Everything after that started to click into place. The way people would always stare at you as you walked through the village. Their eyes that darted away quickly if you happened to look at them. The reason you were always alone. 

For all those years…

They thought you were contagious, so they started spinning horrid lies to their children in order for them to steer clear of the sick one. Even when you appeared fine. 

Your chest rose and fell with heavy breaths as everything started to make sense. 

Did Jungkook know? He had been your first thought when she told you, even before the fear of death itself. 

…was he the only one that didn’t know?

He moved to your village when he was five, after the kids already knew to stay away from you. If he knew, he wouldn’t have kept it to himself for the past twelve years. 

You gulped, “H-How long do I have?”

Your mother shrugged and stood up, “Your aunt passed away only two years after the symptoms started. The longest to live with the curse was your great great grandfather.”

“And-...” You cleared your throat, “How long did he live?”

Part of you didn’t want to know. 

“Five years after the symptoms started. The curse took a hold of them in their later years, though. You’re the first to have symptoms this early on.”

Every thought in your mind was colliding into another, all of them trying to be seen. 

“Who knows,” Your mother chuckled, “Maybe you and your young body will fight it longer. I wouldn’t hold too strongly to that, though.”

She left you then. Had things to do. 

You stayed sitting on your bed for a few minutes more.

I thought Jisoo was starting to like me. I thought we were friends.

That was the only thought in your brain. 

She lived a few houses down; always avoided you as kids but recently had begun to exchange more pleasant conversations with you. It occurred to you then, that perhaps she pitied you. Perhaps marriage had softened her. 

You hated the way that things made so much sense. The way the people you knew your whole life treated you like some stranger. The way your own mother had always been cold, treating Yoongi more like her own child than you. 

It must have been because deep down inside, she knew it would be you too, and she didn’t want to get too attached. 

You stood up, the cot underneath you creaking loudly. 

-

The grass against your bare feet did not feel the same. 

It was not as soft. 

It was not as green. 

The frigid water that splashed from the tiny creek onto your legs did not feel the same. 

It was not as gentle. 

You ran until you could run no longer. A few months ago you could’ve gone for hours. 

You stumbled over to a big boulder that sat near the rocky face of a small mountain, then you leaned against it, breath short and a bit frantic. Sweat poured down your neck and back as your mind raced. 

A horrible dark part inside of you thought maybe you ought to keep running. Maybe it would be too much for your body and make the whole thing happen quickly and quietly. 

Maybe you wouldn’t have to tell your best friend you were dying. 

-

You didn’t tell him that day. 

Or the day after. Or the week after. Or even a month after that.

You kept it to yourself, hyper aware of the eyes that watched your every step as you passed. It was like you could hear the thoughts in their minds; the pity, the fear, the relief that it wasn’t them. 

It was bad enough that you were dying. But not telling your best friend was what killed you the most. 

Jungkook was always the same. 

Even as the rest of the world began to dull; the colors diminished and the smells faded. 

His smile was still bright, his laughter your favorite sound. 

Jungkook was always the same. 

-

The two of you were walking through the forest, it was early in the morning and the birds were singing their greeting songs as you passed. 

“I bet I could beat you to the river,” Jungkook suddenly said, a hint of mischief in his voice. You laughed, holding back the sudden feeling in your throat that you were being choked with silent sobs. 

“Not today, Kook. I don’t feel like running.”

You didn’t mention that it was getting harder to run anywhere for even the shortest amount of time; your lungs couldn’t handle it. He pouted a bit but let it go quickly. 

It took longer than usual to get to the water, but neither of you discussed it. 

Just let it be another day, don’t ruin it-

“Apple.”

You looked up from where you were sitting on a large rock, sullen. Jungkook was waving to you from behind a curve in the river bank, stones and plants covering what he was pointing at with his other hand. 

“Come here!” He shouted. 

You got up, pushing down everything you were feeling once more. 

“What is it?” You walked carefully over the slippery stones to where he was beaming excitedly. 

Then you saw it; the prettiest rose bush, bursting with blood red flowers.

“Oh,” You gasped and touched a petal on one of the pretty things gently. 

“It came back,” He whispered, eyes shining. You nodded. 

It was the same bush that saved your lives when you were little. 

Jungkook was seven, you were almost six. The two of you had been playing in the stream like you had many times before, but that time it had rained heavily for a few days prior. The water rose and you, being little and unaware, went in anyway. 

You got caught in the current first. The water swept over your face, taking your breath away within seconds; before you could even register that you were drowning. Jungkook noticed almost immediately and didn’t hesitate before going after you, getting stuck in the strong water flow right along with you. 

You didn’t remember much, only bright sun and cold water and fear. You could hear him screaming for you, but you couldn’t scream back. 

Then suddenly you felt a warm hand wrap around your wrist. You thought it was him, but when you were pulled to the surface you couldn’t see him anywhere. There was no one. 

Then when you turned and saw where you were floating, you noticed him up ahead. He was holding onto a dead rose bush, sopping wet and shaking. You had seen that bush many times before, but it never bloomed.

His eyes were glued on you as you floated down the river. Just as you almost passed him, he reached out and grabbed your arm, pulling with all his strength until you could grab the bush and hang on alongside him. 

The shriveled thorns didn’t even prick you. You held on until he had enough energy to climb out of the water, then he helped you out too. You both laid on the ground and stared at the dead bush for a while, saying nothing. You were completely soaked, but you were alive. 

It never made sense though. You knew he was too far away and hadn’t pulled you out. You didn’t know who did and never got an answer. 

Jungkook cried a lot that day. 

After the initial shock, he sobbed until he ran out of tears. He said he thought you had died and that he’d never see you ever again. Then he saw you pop out of the water and he could breathe. 

Yoongi found you hours later, both wet to the bone and Jungkook’s cheeks sticky with tears. 

After that day, red roses were always your favorite. 

The rose bush had apparently decided to bloom again. 

Your heart ached as you looked at it, suddenly back to the present. Jungkook was saying something, but you didn’t hear what. 

“Hm?” 

You watched numbly as he bent down and as carefully as he could, got a rose. 

“Thank you, bush,” He said sincerely, giving it a little bow before he turned to present you with your most beloved flower. 

“Thanks,” You whispered, taking it and tucking it into the sash on your waist, “I love it.”

You inspected the bush a little more, talking about how it might have bloomed again after being dead for years. Neither of you could figure it out, eventually growing hungry and deciding to head back for food. 

Jungkook stepped over the rocks first, then held out a hand for you to take, helping you over the wet stones. When you were on grass again and walking back, you stumbled and would have fallen if he hadn’t caught you.  

“Whoa, hey, are you okay?” He asked, concern thick in his voice as he held your arm tightly. 

You nodded, “Yeah, just tripped, sorry.”

He didn’t ask anything more, but you knew he didn’t believe you. 

You mentally cursed your stupid weakening muscles until you had no more words left to use. 

-

His seventeenth birthday came almost three months after you found out, yet you still kept it to yourself. 

That was the day you were finally able to stay out all night. You were so excited… 

But after your mother had called you the village whore for running off to be with your best friend, and telling you how useless you were since you were going to die without leaving any offspring behind, your excitement dwindled. 

It was soon rekindled though, when you met up with him by the old swing and went to the shed together. That night, you refused to think about death. 

He grinned at you as he handed you a pear and kept one for himself, “No one can reach us here, Apple. We’ve got all day and all night to talk about whatever we want, to do whatever we want.”

You ate the fruit, covering up the way that it didn’t taste the same with a smile ten times as sweet. You gossiped about other people, about Jisoo, because it was a lot easier to do than tell him you didn’t know how much longer you had to live. 

After you gave him the handkerchief that you messily embroidered with his initials JK, which he positively gushed over, the two of you went outside.

He smiled when he saw you walking over with your arms full of sticks, a lost look in your eyes. 

“Hey,” He called to you softly, snapping you back to reality, “You feeling okay?”

When you said nothing, just stared at the pretty fire he had made, he frowned and stood up to carefully take the sticks from you. 

“Anyone home?” He joked, nudging you gently. 

Once again, you snapped back to the present, your heart lodging itself into your throat. 

“Uh, yeah…sorry.”

Jungkook placed the bundle of wood on the ground, then turned back to you again. 

“Are you…?”

“No,” You laughed and shook your head, “Just because I don’t feel well doesn’t mean I’m on that time.”

His frown only deepened, not laughing like you thought he would. 

“You don’t feel well?”

“Jungkook,” You placed your hands on each of his shoulders so he had to face you. 

He’s gotten really tall.

“I was just out of it for a second,” You smiled at him, “Doesn’t that ever happen to you?”

He nodded slowly. 

“Ok then! I’m fine now.”

“Alright,” He sighed, then reached up and pushed your forehead so you’d move away from him, then he moved to sit on the dirt a few feet from the fire. 

You laughed at his behavior, sitting down next to him and leaning your head on his shoulder, watching the beautiful fire in front of you. As much as you fought it, you couldn’t stop all of the thoughts from coming back. 

It was too quiet. Those reminders thrived off of the quiet. 

It could be the last time you ever celebrated his birthday. 

“You’re crying.”

At his soft words, you quickly wiped at your eyes, “It’s the smoke.”

“Liar,” He whispered, but said nothing more. 

A few minutes later, you felt his arm move around your waist and pull you closer, his other arm moving to wrap you in a hug. 

“Why are you sad?”

“I’m not,” You lied, “I just love you is all.”

“I love you too, Apple.”

“I know,” You moved closer and let him hold you as you tossed those thoughts into the flames, watching them suffocate and burn.

“Happy birthday,” You whispered, heart aching deeply at his soft thank you in response.

-

You sat outside for hours that night, lying on the ground and pointing out the shapes in the stars. 

When it started to get cold, you also started to get a bit creeped out, so he suggested going inside. The walls of the shed separating you from the darkness was a welcome change in scenery. You loved those woods, but at night time they were more creepy than you liked to admit. 

“Hey, look!”

You looked over to where Jungkook was pointing at the wall behind the cot. 

Walking over, you laughed out loud at the drawing scribbled there with coal dust and old mashed berries. 

“I had no idea it was still here,” Jungkook laughed in disbelief, “How long ago did we do this?”

“I think I was only…seven?” You smiled at the image of two stick figures holding hands, a poorly drawn bunch of red flowers in the shorter figure’s hands and a sun between them, “It was the same day we found this place, remember?”

Jungkook nodded as he crouched and gently touched the work of art, “I do, yeah. We weren’t very good.”

“Well,” You shrugged, “Drawing has never been either of our strong suits.”

He chuckled, “You’re right.”

You helped him push the cot up against the wall again. 

“Hey, do you-...”

He looked at you, curious when you didn’t finish your sentence. 

“Mm?”

“Can we-...” You laughed nervously, “Can we both sleep on the floor tonight?”

He had told you earlier that you could have the bed and he’d take the floor.

“Oh, sure,” He laughed, “You scared me, I thought it was something serious.”

You gulped as you watched him move all of the blankets to the floor, trying to listen as he chattered on and on about something. You couldn’t pay attention, as much as you wanted to. 

“-aby?...Apple?”

“What?” You stammered, noticing that he turned to look at you, a question in his eyes. 

“I asked if you wanted me to teach you another lullaby. You seem nervous, and they always helped before.”

“Yes, please,” You choked out. 

The two of you laid down to rest, except it did anything but relax you.

It wasn’t a very long lullaby, so you learned it pretty quickly. You always preferred it when he sang though, so you insisted he do it alone. The sound of his sweet voice was what finally calmed your nerves. 

Jungkook sighed as you both stared at the ceiling a while later. The small lantern was flickering, the light fading quickly. You felt him shift and turned your head to see that he moved to his right side so that he was facing you, a silly little smile on his handsome face. 

You had always found him pretty, just never admitted it, not even to yourself. 

The look in his eyes was clear that he wanted you to do the same, so you chuckled lightly as you moved onto your left side, facing him. His hair wasn’t pulled back into a bun or a braid like it was a lot more recently, it had gotten longer- down to the middle of his back- and the days grew hotter. 

All that kept the long bangs out of his face was the strip of faded blue cloth wrapped around his forehead. Even then, little pieces of soft black hair fell into his eyes as he smiled at you. 

“Hey, Apple?”

“Mm?”

“I’ve been thinking about leaving. What do you think?”

“What?” You frowned and pushed the hair out of your own eyes, “Why? We just got here. Do you know how long I’ve had to wait for my mother to let me-”

“Not here and not now,” He laughed softly, “I mean the village.”

That surprised you. He never mentioned wanting to move from the village. Why would he even want to do that?

“But- I-...what about the forest? What about me?” You asked quietly, being a little selfish. 

The look on his face was one of confusion and almost horror, “What? Apple, I’m not talking about me leaving you behind. I’m talking about us, leaving everything else behind. We could go into the forest and never have to come back out.”

Oh how you wanted so badly to say yes. 

A few months ago you would’ve jumped at the chance, would’ve told him he better not back out because you’d fight him if he did. 

Oh how you wanted so badly to run away and never look back. 

“I-...”

But you couldn’t. 

You didn’t know how much longer you had, and you weren’t going to let him make such a decision when it would end up with him being alone with no one, not even Yoongi. You couldn’t be selfish. 

His face fell at your hesitance. 

Before he could get the wrong idea, you spluttered an explanation, “I want to. I want so much to, Jungkook. But I-...it- wouldn’t be fair.”

His dark brows furrowed, “To who?”

To you.

Your voice got weak, “To…anyone, really-”

“Seriously?” His voice became more firm, “When has anyone in this village ever done anything to deserve even getting to look at you?”

His words made you pause, and you could tell by the look on his face that he hadn’t meant to say it like that. 

“I just-...” He sighed, “They’ve never treated you right. Why should they play any part in you wanting to leave or stay? What is it that you’re so afraid of leaving behind?”

When you didn’t answer, he laid down on his back, gaze going back to the ceiling. 

“Jungkook…”

“What?” He whispered, clearly upset, “If it’s about Yoongi I already spoke to him. He’s all for it, and thinks it would be the best choice for you anyway.”

“Why are you talking like this is just for me?” You said jokingly, trying to ease the sudden tension, “Making it all my decision to take the blame off you. Don’t you want to leave too?”

“Yes. I’d do anything to get you out of there.”

Your face fell when he didn’t laugh at your teasing like he usually did and the words he chose to use. Sitting up, you leaned closer to him, but he refused to look at you. 

“What’s this really about?” You asked quietly, watching his pretty dark eyes stare at the ceiling. 

Then his gaze shifted to you leaning over him and it felt like your heart stopped at the way he was looking at you. 

“Don’t you know?” He whispered, a pained longing in his eyes. 

You didn’t know what made you do it. Maybe it was years of pent up feelings, or the timing, or even just the fact that you suddenly felt brave.

You weren’t thinking clearly. If you were, you wouldn’t have made the selfish selfish decision to lean closer until your noses almost touched. 

But he didn’t move away, he didn’t tell you to stop and that you must have misunderstood things. 

He glanced down at your lips before looking back into your eyes, then placed a warm hand on the nape of your neck and pulled you down to him, closing the distance. 

All of the fears in your mind were wiped away. 

He only ever had one fear. 

Losing the one that meant the most to him.

The moment your lips touched, it faded away. He knew that he was never ever going to lose you. He couldn’t.

Even if you didn’t like him back, he was never going to risk losing his best friend in the entire world. He would live with the painful knowledge that you couldn’t return his feelings, if only it meant he could stay beside you. 

He pulled back to get a breath, to confirm that you wanted it.

“Apple-” 

You cut him off as you kissed him again.

The way you leaned over him more, hugged him tighter as your lips pressed together, he knew he wouldn’t have to worry about any of that. 

He only pulled away when a tear fell onto his cheek; worry immediately made him detach his lips from yours as he looked at you, concerned. 

“Why are you crying?” He asked, a little out of breath.

His eyes darted back and forth between yours as a few more tears fell. 

“Apple,” The sound of his voice so soft and full of care, made you break a little more.

“I’m sorry,” You whispered, “Please forgive me.”

“Forgive you for what?” He sat up, holding your arms gently. 

For leaving first.

“I don’t know,” You said brokenly, heart aching so badly you thought maybe you would die right then and there. 

He lifted a finger and brushed a stray hair from your wet cheek before leaning in and kissing your cheek gently. 

“Nothing you might have done and nothing you’ll do in the future will ever require my forgiveness. Those people have only ever made you feel the need to apologize just for breathing. No more apologies, okay?”

You took his hand, holding onto it tightly, as if it was the only thing keeping you there, on the floor of the shed with the only person in the entire world that you could love and that loved you back without any strings attached. 

“No more wasting your breath and life being sorry for existing,” He whispered, wiping the tears from your cheeks with the hand that wasn’t holding yours, “From now on, I want you to simply live.”

A few more tears spilled down your cheeks. His words healed and hurt you more than he would ever know.

-

It was like you couldn’t catch a break. 

For months you had been spiraling with the news of your inevitable death sometime in the not so distant future, then your mother threw more right on top of it. Only days after you and Jungkook kissed for the first time.

She told you it was arranged that you'd marry Hoseok shortly after your sixteenth birthday, which was in eight months. 

You threw a fit. It was unlike you, but you’d had enough. You were sick and tired of speaking up for yourself being “unlike you.”

You wouldn’t do it, you wouldn’t marry someone that was just plucked at random to make sure you would ‘do something’ with your life. 

You had no life left to do much with, you weren’t going to waste it on being sold to a man just so he could get some use out of you. 

Your mother’s words that day stung like venom. 

“Look at you…might as well try to bring something to the table. You are so self-centered. How do you think I feel? How do you think Hoseok feels knowing he’s going to be stuck with you? The village whore. The sick one,” She spat.

“If you disobey me, if you ruin this in any way…you are dead to me. Do you understand?”

You knew she didn’t love you, you had always felt it. After learning about the curse, you understood why. But knowing she didn’t love you didn’t soften the blow of those words to your already shaken heart. 

You were being sold off, to lighten the burden you had been to her since you were born. 

It wasn’t that Hoseok was a horrible person, you had seen him a few times. The Jungs lived a few towns over and had a lot more money than even the most well off person in your village. 

He was kind. But you did not know him and you certainly did not love him. You couldn’t love him. 

Your heart already belonged to someone else, it always had. 

-

That day was the first in months that you ran all the way to the apple tree. It hurt, it felt like your lungs were bruised and beaten by the time you fell to the ground by the old swing and sobbed loudly. You couldn’t handle it. The pain was too much. 

Knowing you were dying, knowing you could never be with the one person you loved with every ounce of your being. 

Carrying it all by yourself was too… much…

The forest floor caught your tears, holding them for you as you cried, enveloping you in its soft warmth. It had always been there for you. Just like Jungkook. 

He was busy that day, his mother needed him to go with the new kid, Taehyung, to the town a few miles away to do something for her. 

He promised you that he would meet up with you the next day by the shed, saying that he had something to say. 

After his birthday when you kissed, things felt different, but not in the way you had feared. He acted the way he always had. You realized over the days after, that the things he did even as a child, had always been out of love for you.

The tears never ceased, choking you as they poured relentlessly, drowning you in the agony you had felt for months. You had no idea what to do.

That was the first day that you ever prayed. 

You didn’t know how, you didn’t know to who. But there had to be someone out there, there had to be someone listening. You couldn’t handle it if there wasn’t. 

If there was no reason for any of it. 

That empty hole in your heart that your mother carved out felt like it could never be filled. 

You sobbed and you screamed and you pleaded. 

To someone. 

Someone. 

You needed to understand. You needed to understand why it had to be you.

-

You couldn’t lie to him. 

But you couldn’t make yourself tell the truth either. 

The next day, you met him at the shed. 

He told you about how he had things planned for leaving, all you needed to do was say yes. Even Tae, who you both had grown close to, said he would help in any way he could.

He wouldn’t force you, the second you told him no he would drop the whole thing. 

You knew this was for you. You knew that he would do anything to make you happy. 

That only made it worse. 

You couldn’t lie to him. 

But you couldn’t tell him the truth either.

-

You kept it to yourself for a few more weeks, until you couldn’t hold it in anymore. 

There was already too much you were keeping bottled up, you couldn’t keep the arranged marriage a secret any longer. You finally came clean about Hoseok in the middle of November.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

You dropped your head into your hands at the sound of your best friend’s shaky voice, finally confronting you. 

“I didn’t know how,” You whispered weakly, “I’m sorry.”

The feeling of his hands running down your arms sent a warm feeling into your chest as he knelt in front of you, now face to face with you as you sat on the rickety old bed. 

You didn’t have the courage to look at him, so you turned your head to look out the small window above the bed, noting how ratty the little drapes looked.

You made a mental note to ask Tae later if he could sew them up for you.

“Please look at me.”

You shook your head, biting your lip harshly to hold in the tears. 

“You have no reason to be sorry, ____.”

You finally looked at him, “Don’t call me that,” you whispered brokenly, a single tear finally escaping. 

His brows furrowed, “Why not?”

“Every time you call me that, it means you’re being serious. I don’t want you to be serious.”

A sad smile appeared on his handsome face and you felt your heart lodge itself into your throat.

You dragged your eyes away from his, “Don’t look at me like that, either.”

I can’t handle it. 

A small chuckle reached your ears, and you felt his soft touch as he tucked a piece of hair behind your ear that had fallen out of your braid.

“Apple.”

You bit your lip even harder before finally looking at him again. 

“I don’t want things to change,” You croaked out tearfully, emotions finally betraying you. 

“Nothing is going to change.”

You scoffed and looked away, messily wiping the tears that escaped. 

“Apple, nothing is going to change.” He said more firmly. 

“Let’s just forget it for now,” You stood up and wiped at your face and runny nose, “I have to go. Mother wants me to help with dinner, the Jungs are coming over.” You avoided his gaze. 

He stood up too and when you chanced a glance at him you could see it on his face. You could always tell when he lied to you. 

Things were going to change. And there was nothing you could do to stop it. 

-

Hoseok was kind, and only five years older than you. It was better than him being a creaky old man just looking for young fresh meat. 

But you could never love him. 

Your heart was taken and was never going to belong to anyone else. 

A few days after you had told Jungkook about the situation, you sat in the swing, pushing yourself back and forth gently. 

You were alone, no one to talk to but the trees and birds. 

And maybe someone that you couldn’t see. 

Perhaps there was someone listening, even if they never responded. 

“I hung laundry today,” You whispered, “But I ruined it all. My arms stopped working and all of it fell in the mud…”

The silence that greeted you felt different. 

You smiled and rocked yourself back on the swing, letting your feet up from the ground and swinging forward. Perhaps you had lost your mind, thinking that some invisible being was there and hanging on to each word you said. 

But it was someone to talk to, if they were there or not. It was one of the only comforts you had left.

“Sometimes I look at the clouds and I wonder if they cry because they’re sad, or happy.”

The swing went forward again, the tips of your toes brushing against the grass. 

“If I was a cloud, I wonder if I would like humans. I wonder if I would cry for them.”

Pull back, let go, swing forward gently. 

“Humans are always crying because they’re sad,” You said quietly, staring at a small stick on the ground. 

Pull back, let go, swing forward gently. 

“Suppose if I look at it like this,” You furrowed your brows as you spoke, thinking to yourself, “If I was born as a cloud, and I watched the people below me talk and laugh and cry. If I watched them love and fear and be angry. I think maybe I would want to be one of them. I think maybe even if I had to hurt, I would want to be there with them. I would want to love with them.”

The ache in your heart eased just a little as you pulled back, let go, and swung forward gently. 

Perhaps there was no one listening as you whispered to the silence. 

But perhaps there was. 

-

Not every conversation you had with the invisible person was pleasant. 

Sometimes you screamed at them, sometimes you cursed them with every breath you had, or cried to them and thought maybe they were holding you as you wept. 

Maybe, just maybe, they cried with you. 

Maybe they hurt just as much as you did. 

-

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

You looked up from where you were picking apart a piece of bark, startled at the sudden arrival of another human. Your best friend. 

You shook your head and looked back at the bark, pulling another piece off and dropping it on the small pile you’d made, “I haven’t.”

Jungkook sat in front of you, reaching forward and taking the bark from your hands. 

“Yes, you have,” He said quietly with a knowing look, “Please, talk to me.”

“I said I haven’t been-”

“I know what you said, Apple. I also know that we haven’t hung out for weeks. You try to look busy whenever I stop by your place, and that’s if you’re even there. You’ve been disappearing without a word, Yoongi said you’re not speaking with him either.” 

You gulped but said nothing. You didn’t need to, he wasn’t finished. 

“At first I thought it was because of the kiss, but I don’t think that’s it. It’s been months. You wouldn’t avoid your cousin if that was the case anyway. Why are you shutting everyone out-”

“Everyone?” You snapped, voice sounding much angrier than you intended, “Who is everyone? I never talk to anyone but you, Yoongi, and Tae anyway. You make it sound like suddenly the whole world is wondering where I’ve gone, as if they ever cared in the first place!”

You stood up, fighting the tears with every bit of strength in you. 

You didn’t want to be angry. Not that day. Not with him. 

But you were scared. Each day you could feel yourself growing weaker.

You woke up every morning wondering if perhaps it would be the day you died. Went to bed each night thinking maybe you wouldn’t wake up again the next day.

It was already almost January; nearly seven months you had kept the curse a secret.

You didn’t want to be mad or scared anymore. You were so tired of it. It was easier to avoid him, to hide the symptoms that grew stronger each day, to pretend like it wasn’t happening. 

You didn’t want to speak to anyone. 

No one but the invisible person. 

You didn’t need to comfort them about your passing, they never tried to make it right, they never tried to tell you to be strong. They let you cry and scream and kick. 

Jungkook watched as you put your hands over your face, his chest tight with anxiety and sadness. 

“What’s going on, Apple?” He whispered, voice unsteady. 

You didn’t tell him. 

Instead, you fell into his arms, taking him by surprise for only a moment before he wrapped his arms around you and held on as if it was the only thing keeping you together. Maybe it was. 

His heart bled as you sobbed into his shoulder, your arms squeezing him like your life depended on it. Maybe it did. 

“I can’t do this,” You cried heavily, “Jungkook, I can’t do this.”

“You don’t have to,” He whispered, misunderstanding what you meant, “You don’t have to marry him, ____. You don’t have to spread yourself thin just to please her. Please, please think of yourself for once.”

You sobbed louder at his words. 

It hadn’t occurred to you that you needed to hear them. You needed someone to give you permission not to care anymore.

He was just waiting for you to ask. He would always wait for you.

“I will do anything, just tell me what you need. Just say the word and I’ll make it happen.”

You knew he meant it. 

“Help me,” You whimpered into his clothes.

“I will,” He rocked you gently as you sat in his lap, still curled into him, “I will. You’ll be okay, Apple. I promise.”

- 

Jungkook didn’t bring it up again for a few days, only tried his very best to keep your mind off of everything. 

He brought you sweets and took you to the frozen river every day. 

It made your heart hurt more, but you didn’t want to tell him that. 

He even made you climb the apple tree again when the weather was nice, which you did with a fake smile plastered onto your face. It hurt, but you covered it up the best you could.

If you were going to die, you weren’t going to let him see you so low before it happened. You wouldn’t let him blame himself. 

You never realized that he could see right through you. 

“Just a little higher, Apple. You’ve got this.”

You bit your lip and pulled yourself up to the branch you used to lay on all the time.

It seemed so long ago. 

Getting comfortable, you waited for him to get to his branch across from yours. 

When he was settled, he smiled at you. Just like he used to. 

On the inside though, he felt sick.

He was scared. He didn’t know why you were so down. You knew that he would figure things out with the arranged marriage, you knew that he would never let anything bad happen to you. 

So, why were you still upset?

It was scary to see his best friend slipping away even as she sat right next to him.

When you were young, it was easy to make you smile and laugh. It was never difficult to put positive thoughts in your head and help you love life. You always did that for each other.

You were always the one to quietly calm him when he was upset about something, your words of comfort always more than enough to heal him.

He didn’t know what to do anymore to make it better, and that scared him.

So he made you trinkets and brought you yummy food. He stayed with you for hours and waited for you to talk. He made his special fires and told you to toss whatever thoughts that haunted you into the flames. 

You would sit there and stare at the smoke floating up into the night sky. You would stare at the leaves on the apple tree. You would stare at him as he talked and talked. Your eyes had no light left in them, they were dull and lifeless even as you smiled. 

You were empty. 

Jungkook would sit up all night and come up with different ways to help you, but none of it worked. 

You pretended like it did. But he could see right through you. 

He began to get moments late at night where his breath was hard to catch, his chest would hurt as the fears consumed his mind, his hands shaky and sweaty. 

He didn’t know what it was, but he didn’t like it. 

Is this what you had always suffered with since you were young? When you had to speak to people you weren’t comfortable around? The reason he started making your fires in the first place…

He felt terrible for not fully understanding what you went through for so long. 

Then the next day he would try again. 

And you would smile. 

And you were empty. 

-

After a few weeks of this, Jungkook came to your door early one morning and asked for you. 

You got dressed and met him by the shed. 

You decided the night before that you couldn’t keep going like this. You had to stop. What little time you had left could not be spent like this.

Poor Jungkook had been trying so hard to get your spirits up, you were just so stuck in your head and couldn’t get out. But you were done being sad. 

-

“Hey!”

Jungkook jumped out of his skin at your loud and excited greeting as you came into the shed and shut the door. 

“Oh, hi!” He seemed to brighten right up when he saw how chipper you were. 

He hadn’t even told you the good news yet. 

“Mother said you wanted to see me, that you seemed excited,” You walked over and sat on the floor, leaning your back against the wall and urging him to do the same. He did. 

“Yeah, I-...” He cleared his throat, “Well, she doesn’t know yet…But, I spoke to Hoseok a while ago. The arranged marriage is officially off, I found out yesterday. He’s going to tell his parents he’s not interested anymore, won’t mention anything about our talk.”

You stared at him, wide-eyed. 

“Oh, and he said he hopes you’re well and wishes you the best of luck in life.”

Your best friend was grinning ear to ear, quite satisfied with himself. 

“Are you sure?” You finally whispered.

When he nodded, still smiling, you felt a weight lift from your shoulders. 

Then you leaned forward and took his face in your hands, pulling him into a kiss for the second time. It was finally okay to show him how you felt, now that you weren’t stuck with someone else.

Jungkook’s hands went to your waist to keep you steady, a chuckle slipping from him as your noses bumped together. 

“I told you,” He said between kisses, “All you had to do was ask.”

You didn’t think you could love him any more. 

The way he waited until you were okay with him doing it, meant so much to you. You were so afraid to disappoint your mother, but you couldn’t do it. It wasn’t fair to you, or Jungkook. You could see how much it affected him too, especially since it all happened shortly after your first kiss. 

“Thank you,” You whispered against his lips, “Thank you so much, Jungkook; for waiting for me.”

He smiled before kissing you once more, his hands cupping your soft face, thumbs caressing your cheeks. 

He had waited for you longer than you knew. 

-

You went to the river with him later that day and had a picnic. The sun was shining, the snow melted almost completely even though it was only February. For the first time in what felt like so long, you could feel the grass against your bare feet, you could smell the sweet water in the breeze. 

You could breathe. 

You could live. 

“Ohh, this one is beautiful!” You held up a little blue flower and waved it around to show Jungkook, laughing as you added it to the rest of the flowers in your fist. It was the first time in months that the flowers were blooming. It seemed like spring might have shown herself a bit early that year.

Gathering your skirts in your free hand, you walked over to the water and cautiously dipped a toe into it, pulling back and shrieking when you felt how cold it was. 

“I’m not sure I wanna…” You called out to him. 

Jungkook shook his head, smiling at the sight of you back to your old self, “Nobody said you had to! You’re the one that decided to go out there.”

Looking over to where your shoes and stockings rested against the rock he sat on, you turned back and let your curiosity get the best of you as you dared to get onto the stone that was about a foot into the small river. You almost lost your balance, giggling as you struggled not to fall while he just laughed at you. Carefully, you moved from rock to rock, until you were almost in the middle of the fully thawed river. 

“Careful,” You heard him call out and waved a dismissive hand at him for being so dramatic. 

You looked over to where the sun was setting, joy nestling deep into your heart as you looked across the water where you were trying to get to; to the other side.

A wrong step made your foot slip, arms pinwheeling after letting go of your skirts right before you tumbled into the small waves, the sound of your own shrieks of laughter getting cut off as the cold water rushed over your head. 

-

You kicked desperately to get to the light.

The beautiful blinding light. 

But the water was quick to soak your skirts and make them as heavy as lead, which made it harder to go up as you continued to sink into the blue water, kicking furiously. 

It was so pretty when you were looking at it from above, you never guessed the damage that something so beautiful could cause. 

A shadow passed over the light.

It was actually kind of peaceful down there in the blue silence. 

Then a hand grabbed your wrist and you felt yourself being pulled toward the surface. You snapped out of it a second before your head broke through the water. 

“Apple, you’re so stupid!” He cried, dragging you onto the shore as you coughed and gasped.

“S-Sorry, I’m sorry-” You coughed and choked out the water that went into your mouth, then you sat there as your teeth chattered uncontrollably. You hadn’t felt so alive in months.

Jungkook gathered your skirts and pulled them from the water before crawling over and sitting next to you, patting your back. 

“No- I-...I’m sorry I didn’t catch you.”

You shook your head and offered him a smile, “I was too far away anyway. I didn’t think I’d actually slip and fall in. N-never happened until now, a-apart from when we were little,” You were shaking even though the sun was warm and bright. 

“You’re alright,” He assured you, pulling you into a side hug.

“Thanks,” You said sheepishly when he pulled away to grab something, then handed you the blanket from your picnic earlier.

He scooted closer again, right against your side, “You can’t go and die on me, Apple. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You turned and looked into his eyes, seeing something there that you feared would come. 

At first you thought he knew. You thought he knew you were dying. But what you realized was even worse. 

He had no idea you were going to leave him. And you could tell by the look in his eyes, that he really didn’t know what would happen to him if he lost you. 

“I-...”

“You don’t have to say anything,” He whispered, “It’s alright. I’m sorry, you just scared me.”

You nodded, then turned your head to look at the forest around you. 

I wish I could just stay here with you, forever.

-

Your mother was livid. 

She found out about the marriage being canceled a few weeks after you did. She said it was because you had nothing to offer, that Hoseok didn’t think you’d even live long enough to give him any offspring. 

How useless could you be? After making her take care of you for years, how could you do this to her? How could you be so selfish?

The words hurt, but not like before. You didn’t need her or her approval. You had wasted enough time worrying about pleasing her in your last years on earth, but no more. 

There was only so much she could say to hurt you anymore; enough had already been said. 

All you did was stand there and take it. You didn’t fight back or explain that it wasn’t what she thought. You kept your mouth shut and let her scream at you. 

You knew the neighbors could hear, but they did nothing. They never did, not even when you were a small child, which was not uncommon. It would be over soon enough anyway and you would figure out what to do from there. 

What you didn’t expect was for her to strike you. 

Even after almost sixteen years, she had never lifted a finger to hurt you in any way. 

She only ever used her words or didn’t speak to you at all, which was bad enough for a small child that didn’t understand. 

She didn’t love you, but she didn’t physically hurt you. 

Until that day. 

She was screaming so loud that you eventually moved to cover your ears because they were hurting. But the moment you did, she raised a hand and hit you across the face, the harsh slap ringing in your ears as you held your cheek and looked at her with wide confused eyes. 

“M-Mother-...”

She didn’t want to hear another word. It was as if it only took that one strike to break the dam. 

“Why do you insist on humiliating me with every chance you get?!” She screeched, pulling on your hair, “Why don’t you just die already, you stupid little whore!”

Your mother hit you again, then again. 

It was unclear how many times you were hit when you faintly heard the front door open. 

You were curled up on the floor, trying to protect your face even though you could already taste the blood in your mouth. 

Everything was blurry as you felt the rough hands leave you and more shouting. It sounded like two different people. But all you could really hear was a piercing ring; she had hit your left ear extremely hard and you felt disoriented. 

It all happened so fast. 

She had never hit you. Never. 

Then there were arms pulling you up and dragging you away from the house. 

The sun was bright. 

You couldn’t walk very well, the world was spinning. 

It was hot and you felt sick. 

Then eventually there was shade. 

Someone was talking, but you weren’t sure what they were saying. 

Gentle hands, nothing like the ones that had just beat you, helped you sit. 

You felt the soft grass underneath your fingertips. 

Were you in the forest? You weren’t sure. You weren’t sure of anything anymore. 

Mother had never hit you. Never. 

Everything was a blur. 

After a little while, you felt a cold touch on your face and flinched. 

“Sorry,” Jungkook breathed as he very carefully dabbed near your split lip with a damp cloth.

You blinked your eyes, watching the world come into focus again. You knew where you were; just at the edge of the forest. 

“I know it’s cold,” He hummed as you tried to move back from the rag again, “I need to clean it though. Try to be still, okay?”

Once it started to make sense, humiliation seeped in. 

Had he really just witnessed your mother beating you?

The tears came swiftly, shame filling you as you messily wiped at your eyes around where he was working. You couldn’t believe he just saw that. 

After he cleaned the blood from your face, it was obvious that your eye was going to bruise, but there was nothing he could do to stop that. 

Jungkook swallowed thickly, his body vibrating with a rage he had never felt before as he barely kept it contained. 

He had been walking over to see you. People were mingling about, whispering and looking towards the little place where you and your mother lived. At first he was confused; didn’t understand what people were doing. 

Then he heard raised voices and things being knocked around, turning his stomach to rot in seconds as he ran as fast as he could. He flung the door open to see you on the floor and your mother screaming as she hit you again and again. 

In only seconds, he had your mother pulled from you, screaming at her to stop. She was startled enough to stop long enough for him to get you out, but she shouted curses after him as you left. 

It was a horrible thing to witness, he couldn’t imagine what it was like to live through it.

His heart broke at the silent tears sliding down your red cheeks as you kept wiping them away and spluttering apologies. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” He whispered when you finally let him get a word in. 

“Mother n-never hit me,” You sniffled loudly, wiping at your face frantically to try and clean yourself up, “She-...she never hit me before. Never.”

He didn’t care if that was the first time; it would never happen again, he would be sure of that.

“Listen to me,” Jungkook very carefully cupped your sore face, “You don’t have to go back there ever again.”

The look on your face was unsure as you shook your head. 

“She was just mad. She just- she was just mad about the arranged marriage. Mother never hit me, Jungkook-” You sounded frantic, “She won’t do it again, she didn’t mean to hurt me.”

But even as you grabbed his hands, speaking quickly and full of panicked adrenaline to assure him, he saw the tears still falling. Eventually you broke down into gut-wrenching sobs.

You were never going back there, he wasn’t going to let that happen. 

It was obvious you were in shock and not thinking clearly. 

He sat there and let you cry and try to explain things. He could see that you were beginning to realize how little sense your words made. Something though, was keeping you from fully believing how horrid your mother was to you. 

He didn’t know what it was. 

He didn’t know that you were dying. 

He didn’t know that you were trying so desperately to hold onto any tiny bit of belief that your mother loved you. 

For just a moment in all the years. She watched you grow, she watched you smile and play and eat yummy food. 

Even just for one second, she must have loved you. 

You didn’t want to believe anything else. You couldn’t possibly be so unlovable that even your own mother was ready to be rid of you. 

You didn’t understand what you did to deserve any of it. 

As you sat there and cried and blubbered, you didn’t realize that he was crying with you. 

His own heart felt like it was being crushed with the weight of the world as he watched you cry for someone that would never love you the way you deserved. 

He quietly wiped his tears. 

Your best friend let you talk as much as you needed, until it was obvious that you were so worn out that there was nothing but nonsense coming from you. 

You went with him to the shed and let him lay you on the cot, tucking the covers up to your chin as you whispered that you would go home the next day. 

He just nodded along until you fell asleep, then he sat on the floor, watching over you as he let the tears slide down his cheeks freely. 

-

The next day, you didn’t go home. 

You assured Jungkook you would go home the day after, you just wanted to let her calm down more. He nodded along, but he knew that you wouldn’t be going back there. 

You knew it too, deep down inside. 

She didn’t want you there anyway. 

-

You laid on the cot on your right side, eyes red and puffy as you stared at the door of the shed. Jungkook had gone out for a bit. 

A single tear slid over the bridge of your nose. 

You had kept the secret for nearly a year. Your body had been slowly but surely failing for that long. 

It was a long time to keep such a heavy weight on your shoulders without anyone to share it with. Each time you thought you could tell Jungkook, the words got stuck in your throat and almost choked you to death. 

We’ve only kissed twice. 

The random thought popped into your head, realizing you had first kissed on his seventeenth birthday in September, then again in December. 

Wiping at your eyes, you continued to stare at the door. 

The silence surrounded you like a blanket, though it did little to calm you. 

Physically, you felt numb yet wracked with pain at the same time. Mentally, you didn’t have enough strength to grab a single one of the hundreds of thoughts whirling about. 

We’ve only kissed twice. 

You bit your bottom lip, chewing on the dry skin there. 

Then suddenly there was a knock at the door. 

You frowned in confusion. Jungkook hadn’t left that long ago, he wasn’t due back for a while. The door slowly creaked open and you saw Tae stick his head in, a goofy grin on his face. 

“Hey, ____.”

You sat up on your elbow, “Hi Taehyung, you startled me.”

“Sorry, I tend to have that effect on people.”

 You laughed quietly at his joke as he came in and sat on the bed next to you while you got into a better sitting position. 

“How does your eye feel?” 

He asked quietly, carefully. Clearly he didn’t want to upset you. 

You resisted the urge to touch the bruise you knew was there, “It’s a little sore,” You whispered, avoiding his gaze. 

He nodded, looking down at his hands.

“I haven’t fixed those curtains yet,” He said softly a few moments later. 

You swallowed, then smiled at him. 

“Show me how?”

-

When Jungkook got back, arms full of a few things to put in the chest, he walked in to see you and Tae on the floor. 

Taehyung was showing you how to sew the curtains that had been bugging you for a while, his voice gentle and patient as you messed up several times. Even so, you tried again and again until you got it right. Jungkook smiled at the two of you, who hadn’t noticed him yet, then he went to the chest to put the things away. 

“Oh, hi Jungkook,” You said softly, focusing on the curtain in your hand as he sat across from you. 

“Hi,” He said, smiling at Tae who grinned at him in greeting. 

Then his eyes were drawn back to his best friend as you giggled quietly at how poorly you were doing. His chest tightened when his gaze landed on the bruise around your eye that looked a lot more painful than you let on. 

____________________

It was finally officially spring. 

You didn’t go home again after the day your mother had hit you. 

Jungkook suggested you stay at the shed; no one knew about it besides Yoongi and Taehyung and they weren’t going to say anything. Every day, Jungkook brought food for you both to eat while you talked.

Each day that passed, your body grew a little more tired. Your spirits were slowly but steadily fading as well, as much as you tried to fight it.

You were free from the prying eyes of the village. But you couldn’t be free of your own mind, which at times was almost worse. 

You supposed you’d grow used to it, like you did the people that always stood and watched your every move. 

Your sixteenth birthday was fast approaching. Jungkook talked nonstop about it, always asking what you wanted to do. You were never sure, the weight of your secret was so heavy you could hardly think of anything else. 

Nevertheless, when the day arrived, Taehyung dragged you into the forest, saying that Jungkook was up to something and he was to keep you distracted. 

That day, for some reason, you felt lighter. 

Your bones didn’t feel quite so heavy, and you only lost your breath once before noon. 

On the way to the apple tree, you got a little dizzy, but Tae caught you when you stumbled. 

“Are you alright?”

You nodded and urged him on as you laughed, “Yes! I want to climb, let’s go.”

The two of you ran the rest of the way to the apple tree. It wasn’t far, but far enough to have your lungs aching. You hid it by breathing carefully, gulping as you looked up at your favorite branch. Tae climbed up first, quickly getting to the sitting branches before turning and smiling at you. 

“Come on!”

It had been so long since you climbed. Your body was feeling better than usual that day though, so you felt like it couldn't be too bad. 

You started to climb. 

Only seconds into it, you began to shake and feel sweaty.  For some reason, the ground felt a lot further away than it used to. Taehyung saw the look on your face after you had glanced at the ground below for the fifth time. 

“Don’t look down,” He called gently, “Just keep looking at the sky, little bird.”

Those words gave you the last bit of courage you needed. 

You kept your eyes up, looking at the beautiful blue sky through the leaves rustling in the soft breeze. I’m coming. 

You looked at the clouds that you knew were watching, cheering you on with each inch you climbed. I’m coming. 

You wondered if they would cry when you reached the top, if they would cry the day you left this earth and joined them in the sky. You wondered if they would be tears of joy, or sadness.

“See? I knew you could,” Tae smiled as he held out his hand and helped you onto your special branch where you got comfy, a huge grin on your face. 

“How are you feeling, ____?”

“Amazing,” You whispered, eyes closed as you felt the wind on your cheeks.

It had been so long. 

“Jungkook told me that you were scared the first time he helped you climb this tree,” He patted the bark lovingly, “But ever since then, you were better than him. He said you always reminded him of a bird hurrying to its nest, the way you would practically fly to the top before he could even start.”

You laughed, “He’s exaggerating. He makes up silly little details to his stories all the time, don’t mind him-”

“I don’t know,” Tae mused teasingly, “I think maybe he’s just paying close attention, Apple.”

Your cheeks burned, you weren’t sure why. 

Did he know the two of you kissed before? Would Jungkook tell him such a thing? Did boys do that? You didn’t have any girl friends to tell, but if you did, you probably would’ve told them. You certainly didn’t tell Tae or Yoongi though. 

“Blush any harder and his nickname for you will be a little too accurate.”

“Stop it!” You pressed your cold palms to your warm cheeks, trying not to let on how embarrassed you were. 

He only laughed at you. 

-

It wasn’t long before Jungkook came to the foot of the tree and called out for you to come down. 

You scrambled down, landing with a soft thump on the grass and smiling brighter than he’d seen in months. 

“Can you believe I’m actually sixteen, Kook?” You laughed, “I’m officially an old maid!”

He shoved your forehead like he always did, “You were already an old maid.”

You stuck your tongue out at him as Taehyung jumped to the ground, dusting himself off. “Well, I’m off. Have fun, you old stinkers. Happy birthday, little bird.”

“You’re older than both of us!” You shouted after him, making Jungkook laugh, “And thanks!”

You turned back to your best friend, who was practically glowing with excitement, “So, what’s the big surprise?” You jumped up and down a little, unable to wait much longer. 

“Come on, it’s at the river.”

You followed him there, mind going around in circles trying to figure out what he could have possibly planned that the two of you hadn’t already done a million times. 

When you saw the small boat, you shouted out loud in excitement as you ran to it.

The boat was very small, only big enough to fit two people, and it was far from fancy. 

It was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen. 

“Did you make this?” You gasped, running your fingers along the rough edges.

“Yeah,” His smile grew even more at your reaction, “Yoongi helped me some.”

You knew he had always been good at making things, but you hadn’t ever seen him make something that size. It was incredible.  

“Can we go in it? Please?”

He nodded and you climbed in, giggling uncontrollably as he pushed it into the mild current before climbing in himself. It was thrilling. It almost felt like you were flying as you floated downstream. 

Jungkook watched quietly as you dipped your hand in the water, watching the crystal clear water run over your fingers, a smile on your pretty face. 

“Are you happy?”

You looked away from the shining water where you just saw a few fish swim past. 

“Yes.”

It had been too long since he believed that. 

-

That night, you and Jungkook were sitting by your special fire, taking turns throwing those bad thoughts into the burning heat. 

“Apple.”

You looked over at him, seeing the red glow from the fire illuminating his handsome face. 

He wasn’t looking at you, nervously nibbling his bottom lip. 

“Yes?”

After a few more moments of silence, you saw his gaze shift, a faint smile on his lips as he looked at you. 

“I-...have a question,” He whispered, eyes darting back to the flames, as if he was too afraid to look at you when you answered. 

You smiled, “What is it? I promise I won’t tease.”

He breathed a chuckle, but still kept his eyes on the fire. 

“It’s not something we have to do now, or anytime soon- I mean, unless you wanted to-...but like, I don’t want you to feel pressured and think you need to say yes now. Not that you have to say yes at all, I just-”

“Jungkook,” You interrupted him, “Spit it out, it’s okay.”

His dark eyes found yours. 

The way your pretty face was lit up with orange and red lights as you smiled at him encouragingly, made his heart hammer in its cage. 

“Do you-...” He gulped, “I mean-...you love me, right?”

“Yes,” You laughed, “Of course I do, you know that.”

“I do, I just-” He swallowed, his voice dropping to a whisper, “I’m…in love with you.”

You sat there, stunned into silence at his confession. 

Part of you already knew. He wouldn’t have kissed you if he wasn’t. But hearing the words as clear as day was entirely different.

“I know you don’t want to right now, you always talked about how you’d never get married-...but I thought, maybe you wouldn’t hate the idea so much if it was us. If we-...” He cleared his throat, eyes flitting back to the crackling fire, “...got married.”

Your heart was beating so fast you feared it might stop. 

“I’ve felt like this for a while,” He tried to explain weakly, “It wasn’t because of Hoseok. It’s not a sudden thing that just occurred to me-...I’ve always thought it would be us forever. It was always you and me against the world and I just-...I-”

“Jungkook.”

“Yeah?” He looked at you, cheeks burning. He hadn’t thought it would be that hard to get the words out. 

“I never wanted to get married-”

“I know,” He dropped his head in his hands, but you continued. 

“-because I didn’t want to be with anyone but you.”

His head lifted slowly, his gaze finding yours again.

“I didn’t really think much about marriage until my mother kept bringing it up. Before that, I just lived knowing it would be you and me, always. I didn’t want someone else. I didn’t want you to want someone else.”

You weren’t sure if you were seeing correctly, but his eyes appeared a bit watery as he listened to you. 

“You’re my best friend in the whole world,” You said, voice breaking a little. 

Jungkook gave you a small smile, “You’re my best friend too.”

“Obviously,” You whispered. 

He laughed quietly, then he turned and messed with something to the side, something you couldn’t see. You realized a moment later that he was digging in his pockets. He turned back to you and held out his hand. 

“We don’t have to get married anytime soon. We can wait until you’re ready. I made these for us to wear. Kind of-” His cheeks turned pink, “Kind of like a promise, I guess. I wanted it to be special.”

Your eyes fell to his open palm where two beautiful rings laid; made entirely of grass braided in intricate designs. It must have taken him a long time. 

Your mind flashed back to all the birthdays where he made you little trinkets, bracelets, and necklaces. He had never made you a ring. 

Your hand shook as you reached out to take the smaller one, holding it up to see it better in the light of the fire. 

Jungkook slipped his on, eyes glued to you holding yours, your eyes full of tears. 

Your hands were trembling, so he reached over and took the ring, “Give me your hand.”

You held it out to him and he took it, stopping the incessant shaking as he slid the ring onto your finger then smiled at you. 

“It fits, thank goodness,” He breathed a laugh. 

“Yeah,” You choked out, heart aching in your chest. 

It was the one thing you had always wanted; a promise that you would be with him forever. That he would never leave. He would grow up with you, you would be old together. Neither of you would be alone again. 

A tear slid down your cheek before you could stop it. 

Jungkook’s face fell, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” You whispered, “I’m just really happy.”

His smile returned immediately, “Me too.”

Your heart felt like it was breaking even as it began to feel whole. You couldn’t keep lying to him, especially not after what just happened. 

“Jungkook…”

“Hm?” He turned back to you after throwing a few more sticks onto the fire.

“Today…was amazing,” You finally whispered, not trusting the strength of your own voice.

He grinned, “Happy birthday, Apple.”

“Thank you.” 

-

You sat curled up in the corner of the shed, knees pulled up to your chest and tears sliding down your soft cheeks as you rocked back and forth. You stared at the pretty green ring on your finger, looking at nothing else for the past hour. 

It was a few days after your birthday. Everything between you and Jungkook was the same. 

All that was different was knowing you would be together forever. 

Until the day you would have to leave. 

A shaky breath escaped you as you continued to rock back and forth, staring at the little reminder on your finger. The reminder that you could only be happy for so long.

The door opened and you looked up at Jungkook with wide teary eyes. 

You hadn’t expected him to be there that day, he said his mother needed him to go to the town again. 

He wasn’t supposed to be there. 

“Apple,” His voice was soft as he slowly walked over and sat in front of you, “Are you okay?”

You shook your head, eyes still locked on the confused seventeen year old in front of you. 

“No?” He asked gently, “What’s going on?”

“I’m-...” 

You couldn’t say it, you couldn’t do it. 

You couldn’t break his heart. 

“It’s alright,” He smiled at you, so gentle that you almost broke, “I can wait-”

“I’m dying.”

You would do anything, anything to forget the look on his face when you first whispered those words.

His smile dropped, eyes full of confusion and then a terror so real you knew you could never relate to what was happening inside him. 

“What…?”

The whispered words were full of so much fear and pain. He was begging you to tell him he heard it wrong.

“Jungkook, I’m sorry-” You started to cry, “I’m so sorry.”

His breath became labored, chest rising and falling quicker with each passing moment. 

“I should’ve told you sooner, I’m so sorry-” You could barely speak with the sobs wracking your body. 

He shook his head, “You’re not-...You’re not dying-”

“I am,” You whispered brokenly. 

“No.”

“Jungkook-” You took a deep shuddering breath.

“Stop.” 

His voice broke, the next breath getting stuck in his throat, “Please. I won’t be mad if you tell me it was a lie,” His words were shaky and full of tears, “Taehyung put you up to it, didn’t he?”

You dropped your face into your hands, shoulders shaking with silent sobs as your best friend looked on in horror. 

His mind was reeling. He didn’t know what to do. 

You finally lifted your head and shook it slowly, tears streaming down your face freely. 

It felt like someone physically carved into his chest and was crushing his heart mercilessly as he shook his head, “Don’t.”

You didn’t say anything else, just pushed yourself into him and held on as tightly as you could. 

Almost instantly, you felt his arms circle you and grip you like you were the very source of his life.

“Don’t,” He whispered into your shoulder.

You could feel his whole body shaking in your arms. No pain that you felt up until that moment could ever compare. 

-

“You’re not going to die,” He said quietly after several minutes of not speaking, clearly still crying, “I don’t know what’s happening, but you aren’t going anywhere. Not without me.”

“Jungkook-”

“Promise me,” He hugged you tighter, tucking his face into the spot between your neck and shoulder, “Promise that you won’t go without me, Apple.”

You couldn’t promise him that. 

So you said nothing, just held him as he continued to cry into your shoulder. There were times over the months that you thought you might run out of tears. If that was ever the case, you didn’t think it would happen any time soon.

Closing your eyes as you held him in your arms, a few more silent tears slid down your splotchy cheeks. 

________________

“My heart,” You whispered as you sat on the bed, staring at your bare feet on the wood floor. 

It was already night time, the lantern on the little table by the door was dim, but light enough to see the room. It was hours of sobbing that led up to where you were sitting on the cot as Jungkook stayed on the floor, his back against the wall and sticky remnants of tears on his cheeks. 

Every once in a while, another tear would escape, dripping from his chin and onto his clothes. He never made a move to wipe them away. After he had cried enough to have no energy left to keep going, he asked what was happening. 

“What do you mean?” His voice cracked, hoarse from the hours of crying his heart out in horrified confusion. 

You gulped, “My mother said it’s a curse.”

You didn’t bother looking at his confused expression as he stared at you. 

“It happened to Yoongi’s mother, and several of my other ancestors. I still don’t understand it myself,” You wiped at a stray tear that managed to escape, “All I know is that once the symptoms start, none of them lived much longer.”

Jungkook gulped but said nothing. 

“The longest any of them lived after the symptoms started was five years,” You whispered. 

It was silent for another few minutes, then you heard him speak. 

“You tripped…at the river.”

You said nothing, but he continued anyway. 

“You’ve been acting differently for months,” He was afraid to ask, but he had to, “How long have you been sick?”

“A year,” You choked out, done with hiding it, done with trying to pretend you weren’t suffering. 

Jungkook closed his eyes, a few straggling tears falling down his cheeks. 

“Damn it, ____.”

“I’m sorry,” You whimpered, “Please don’t call me that. I’m sorry I lied, please don’t be mad at me-”

“I’m not mad,” He assured you quickly, “I’m not mad, Apple, I’m sorry.”

You nodded, bottom lip protruding as you tried to keep yourself together. 

Jungkook stood up and went to you. The soft touch of his hand on your cheek made you tear up again. 

“I’m sorry, Apple. Please don’t cry.”

You nodded again, still biting your lip harshly. 

The cot creaked as he sat next to you.

Hair was stuck to your cheek with tears, pulling a little when he tucked it behind your ear. 

“Please, look at me.”

You did, seeing something in his eyes that you never wanted to. He was terrified. But he was not going to fall apart. 

“This curse is not going to kill you,” He whispered, hand cupping your cheek gently, “You are going to run through this forest for many years. You are going to have beautiful babies that look just like you and you’re going to love them like they deserve.”

Tears sprang to your eyes.

He remembered. 

He remembered when you were little; how you would tell him about the things you would do with your kids when you were older. They would love the swing Yoongi made, they would climb trees and swim in creeks and eat only the sweetest fruit. They would love life, and you would love them more than anything. 

“This forest is going to watch you grow old,” Jungkook brushed his thumb across your cheek, “It was here for you when you were born and it will be here as your hair turns gray; until the day that you have given this world all you were meant to. You are going to live and love for years to come, until you are ready to go with your clouds.”

You swallowed, fighting the urge to look away as your emotions betrayed you. You didn’t understand why it had to be you. Even if you had been born hundreds of years in the future and understood that it was not a curse but a genetic heart disease. It didn’t matter. It would never matter. Nothing would ever make it fair. 

Nothing would ever explain why it had to be you. 

“And you’re crazy if you think I won’t be with you every step of the way,” He smiled softly at you, tucking another lock of hair behind your ear. You could see his smile, and you could see that it didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

You were so sorry it was almost unbearable. 

“Apple.”

You closed your eyes and swallowed the tears threatening to spill as he leaned forward and placed a warm kiss against your forehead, “You’re not going anywhere, I promise.”

Deep down, you knew Jungkook would never accept it. 

It had taken you a while to swallow it, but he was never going to. Not as long as he lived. 

He was going to find out how to break whatever curse had been placed on you. Nothing was going to stop him.  

There wasn’t a single price he wasn’t willing to pay. 

______________________________

Read 12 B HERE

taglist 1: @butterymin @kookxin @telepathytae @kooliv @highoffbaddecisions @meanum @smitssharon02 @kmpac @ggukkieland @jjanjankook @sugaslittlekookies @hobispriteu1306 @kimchibrat @slowlydeliciousjiminie @screamertannie @i-dont-give-a-fok @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @ohyeahjk @babycandy111 @era-genius @xmochiloverx @sopikooo @jamlessstars @bangtannie7 @nuttykittypainter @geniejunn @ane102 @charlesswife @ashbxnny @veronawrites @jjkw-7 @jinsundor @h-g-bts @justvibingsblog @hyuneyeon @hellbornsworld @hiii-priestess @nuttypizzacat @vidaficrecs @royallyjjk @thvslvt @hoseoksluv89 @moonchilddna @idkjustlovingbts @aurorathi

[chrisevansleftpeck]

Reidsgiving

That’s the stupidest title but i thought thanksgiving was bland 😭

Spencer Reid x Wife!Reader

Word Count: 800 (exactly 💅)

Content Warnings: slight mention of ED (mostly just reader forgetting to eat bc she’s so in love with this man)

You tumbled into the kitchen, rifling through your grocery bags. As you unloaded your thanksgiving groceries you smiled, hearing tiny footsteps and little nonsensical babbles. You turned around to surprise your daughter and lift her into the air.

“Silly, wanna help mama cook for daddy and you?” You help her on your hip, sifting through the kitchen drawers for a pair of scissors. You heard a little “daddy” in your ear, and that was enough convincing for you. You placed the red kitchen scissors on the kitchen counter and placed your daughter in her high chair behind you. 

You walked over to the record player Spencer bought you last Christmas and put on some Taylor Swift. Back in the kitchen you cut open the package of frozen bread rolls and popped them in the oven to cook. Then you started on your turkey, mostly completely helpless. You had no idea how to cook a turkey, and you weren’t expected to know until you had a kid and you wanted to give her a real at-home thanksgiving. Basically a thanksgiving that wasn’t prepared by Rossi. 

You hummed to Taylor Swift as your daughter babbled in the background when your husband entered through the front door or your big apartment. You didn’t notice him, preoccupied on your phone searching for how to cook a turkey. Maybe you should’ve figured that out yesterday. Suddenly, Spencer’s arms wrapped around your waist as he planted a sweet kiss on your cheek.

“My girl.” He whispered, arms still around you as he stared down at the raw turkey. His eyebrows furrowed, “It’s three pm.”

“Yes.” You exhaled.

Spencer let go of you, standing beside you instead. “Want help?” You looked at him, wanting to reject him, but a desperate neediness shone through your eyes. He nodded, “How about I’ll take the bread out when it’s done-”

You cut him off, looking down at your feet then at your daughter. “It’s not homemade, sorry. Just frozen. I was busy.” Your face winced a little, trying to ignore the stingy feeling starting in your nose and the water building in your eyes. 

Spencer just walked over to his daughter, lifting her from her chair and placing her on his chest. He carried her over to you then pulled both of you into a hug. “I don’t care about homemade, as long as I get to eat it with my girls.” You smiled against Spencer’s neck, as he ran his hand along your back. “Also she’s one years old, she probably won’t remember this after two to three weeks.” 

You giggled, pulling away from Spencer and your daughter. You exhaled deeply, releasing your own built up tension. “Okay, what was your plan?”

Spencer set your daughter down in her high chair again then headed back to you, “I’ll take the bread out later, I’ll try to deal with the turkey, and you can make the mashed potatoes. Hopefully we’ll be on the same page by then and we can make the sweet potato casserole together.” You took all of his words in, so much clearer than before. You loved watching his mind work.

You simply nodded and got to work. Throughout the next hour you’d take the rolls out and feed a cool sample to your daughter, letting her chew on the bread. You’d also boop Spencer’s nose, leaving a little dot of mashed potatoes that he licked off. 

“Oh, god I hope our daughter doesn’t have that gene.” You laughed. 

Spencer smiled widely, “What?! It’s a talent. She’d be lucky to have it.” Spencer danced his way over to his daughter, holding a spatula in one hand, “A lucky ten percent, huh?” He smiled hearing you and your daughter's giggles mix together. 

It didn’t seem to matter to Spencer that dinner wasn’t finished until 4:50. He was still the happiest man in the world. 

When all three of you finally got to sit down and eat dinner Spencer moved your hand away from your daughter's spoon as you tried to feed her. “I’ll feed her tonight. For once you only have to worry about feeding yourself.” He smiled at your daughter, not breaking his gaze from her. You watched the scene, him flying the sweet, soft casserole into her mouth. 

“You enamor me, Spencer Reid.” You spoke, unable to keep the thought to yourself. He broke away from the two of you’s daughter to look at you.

He twitched a little, smiling softly, “What a beautiful woman.” He nodded at your plate, “Made with love, no reason not to eat it now.” 

You laughed, coming out of a trance only his eyes and his daughter’s could hold over you.

“Happy Thanksgiving, my loves.” Spencer looked at both of his girls, smiling proudly of his sweet little family.

[haecien]

literature obssessed reader × author minghao

Come see the screening.... 🎥📷

THIS IS SUCH A CUTE IDEA??? Hello oh my god

Reader would definitely be a big fan of Minghao's works, they've collected almost every series that Minghao has published. Including special limited edition books other collectors would KILL for.

I have a feeling minghao would hide his face, sure he'd attend a few interviews but the interviewer would only be able to hear his voice, this was intentional ofcourse. Minghao wanted to go out in peace, he never wants interviewers and paparazzi to swarm him whenever he stepped out of his house. It's annoying to him. He only revealed his face to trusted individuals like his publisher. Other than that almost no one has seen his face, But there are times where he has almost gotten caught due to his distinctive voice, but he just argued that he has a similar voice and swear he isn't him.

Reader and Minghao would definitely run into each other by accident, of course reader doesn't know shit and thinks is just some random person they bumped into well... " What's the rush? " Minghao asks.

" Oh! Haha there is this book sale and they're featuring one of my favorite authors LIMITED edition book! It's the last one I need and I would do anything to complete my collection... Plus I really adore the author! He's such a good writer, his poetry books are also so good. "

Minghao's raised an eyebrow, he seems intrigued. " So, What's this authors name? " he leaned down and grabbed your bag which you've dropped. " OH! His name is Xu Minghao! But, now checking the time I don't think I can make it in time... My best bets is that the book has already been grabbed.... Awh man "

Minghao was a bit shocked to hear his name mentioned, he feels a bit bad so he proposed an offer " Oh Xu Minghao? I have some extras of his limited edition collection, Which one are you missing I could lend it to you. "

You were shocked since literally people would pay THOUSANDS for this, and hes giving this for free? Jesus christ is he your lord and savior or something. You tried to refuse but minghao didn't budge, eventually you gave up. " Im the reason why you're late, this is my apology. " You were touched how he was this considerate for a stranger you just so happend to bump into. " You never told me your name by the way? Hehe but my names y/n. " Minghao stood there thinking if he should tell you... " Oh uh, my name? Its Seo myungho. "

" Seo myungho? I see, nice to meet you Myungho! " you would not suspect a thing.

You both spent a lot of time after that, half of your conversations were about Minghao... on the inside minghao is giggling whenever you mentioned him, like. His cheeks got a bit red but you didnt notice it. You were too busy rambling about minghao, but if your conversations weren't about minghao you'd genuinely enjoy talking with "myungho " it was always the highlight of your day

I mean you did find out eventually! Haha in the most embarrassing way ever tho... you and "myungho" were talking and suddenly the topic of minghao was mentioned again and he said " Oh yeah I... " I? Haha ur fucked now minghao. Your eyes widened when he said this, you just connected the dots... Bye this is so embarrassing all this time you've been ranting about minghao to minghao

Minghao eventually came clean and he did confess it but, he made it very sure that you wouldn't tell ANYONE about it, well maybe also minghao had a tiny bit of feelings for you but thats beside the point... he trusted you enough to keep this a secret and you swore you'd take this secret to the grave.

Minghaos "little crush" never left tho! He waited awhile before confessing, like maybe 5 months... you were a bit oblivious to his feelings but eventually you started to catch feelings too... the confession was so sweet tho, he took quotes from your favorite book of his. And made a little love letter, you cried on the spot and hugged him so tightly.

(This ws suppose to be a drabble but its so long LMAOAO)

[daydreaming-en-pointe]

Rangoli Lessons 🪔

——————

A Hobie oneshot

Pairing: Hobie Brown (Spider-Punk) x Indian!Reader

Word count: 990

Warnings: Reader is implied to be female bc of the mention of a dupatta(?), use of pet names (luv, my love) me turning this into a cultural infodump 😅

——————

“Whatcha doin’ there, luv?”

You jumped in surprise at the interruption, almost knocking over the plates full of rangoli powder next to you.

“Hobie, you could’ve given me a warning,” You complained, rising to your feet and dusting off the powder that you had spilled on your clothes. “Honestly, you just pop out of nowhere here into Mumbattan expect me not to get a mini heart attack.”

Hobie just laughed, grabbing your waist and pulling you into a hug and carefully rearranging your dupatta to dip evenly along your neck and rest on your shoulders. “C’mon, loosen up a little. Happy Diwali, by the way. Diwali? Am I saying tha’ right?”

“Well, not quite,” You giggled at his pronunciation of the name of the festival, sounding foreign and strange in his accented voice. “But thank you for remembering. Happy Diwali to you too.”

He gave you a small pout. “Stop laughin’, ‘m tryin’ my best.”

You tapped his nose with your pinky finger, giving him a small smile. “I’m sure you are. Well done for that. Hats off to you. Do you want mithai?”

His confused glance had you chuckling again as you gently extricated yourself from his grasp. “Mithai, mera pyaar. Sweets. Here, try some, you’ll love it.”

You grabbed a rather large box of sweets that you had kept on a plate next to you, handing it to Hobie. Your neighbours, a sweet old couple with a tiny but temperamental cat named Kaccha Aam had given it to you.

“What’s this?” Hobie asked, holding up a silvery diamond-shaped sweet and staring at it curiously.

“That’s kaju katli.”

“Well, I’ve learnt enough to know tha’ it’s be’er not questionin’ the name, much less tryin’ to pronounce it,” Hobie shot you a playful glare as he popped the sweet into his mouth. His eyes widened as he tasted it, eliciting another giggle from you at his reaction. “Bloody ‘ell, thas’ good.”

“Right? It’s one of my favourites.” You crouched down to finish your rangoli, pulling the plates of coloured powder closer to you. You skilfully took some blue powder between your index finger and thumb, drizzling it steadily inside the spaces of the pattern you had drawn in the dirt with other colours.

Hobie knelt next to you, sitting cross-legged in the dirt. “What’s tha’ now? No, wait, lemme guess. It’s, uh… something with an ‘i’. There’s kaju katli and mithai, so it’s…”

He trailed off and you looked up from your work to give him an amused smile. “My god, Hobie, your pronunciations are horrible.”

You let out a giggle and leaned over to kiss his cheek as he let out a dramatic wounded gasp. “Oh, no, my heart can’t take this kind o’ betrayal! My love, how could you be so cruel?”

“It’s called a rangoli, drama queen. Now shush and let me finish this.” You crouched to drop the last bits of powder into place, completing your rangoli and standing up. “Now for the diyas.”

You got out the earthen lamps and placed the cotton wicks into them, pouring oil over it to fuel the fire. Being careful not to smudge any of the painstakingly-arranged powder of the rangoli, you stepped over it and placed the lit diyas around, lining a path to your front door.

“What’s tha’ on your forehead? The red dot thing.”

You turned to face Hobie fully, tilting your head slightly. “Oh, that’s a tilak. Or a teeka. They’re both the same thing. We just finished the pooja, the teeka is just something we wear after it to signify purity and respect to the Gods.”

You angled your gaze downward to your rangoli again, your eyes narrowing as you examined it critically. “It looks empty, doesn’t it?”

Hobie came over to stand next to you, draping a hand across your shoulders. “Well… a li’l bit? S’not empty as much as it is… minimalistic. You could add somethin’ around the corners, maybe?”

You hummed in approval as you tilted your head to calculate how much space you could use up. “Oh, yeah. That’s actually a really good idea. Hey, you wanna try?”

Hobie looked at you in surprise, letting out a small laugh. “I’d prob’ly mess it up, luv. Easier for you to do it how you wan’ it.”

“Noooo, it’ll be fun. Besides, anything you do looks amazing to me.”

Hobie considered it for a second before giving a shrug and crouching down next to the rangoli powder. You stood a few inches behind him, watching him with a soft smile on your face. His tongue slipped between his lips, poking out slightly as he tried to copy the drizzling motion you had done with the powder, his eyes narrowing in intense concentration.

“Luv, y’know I can feel you tryin’ to do tha’. I’m Spider-Man, remember?”

You pouted slightly, sitting back with your legs folded beneath you after being caught in the act of trying to sneak up behind him. “Aw, you’re no fun. Can’t even scare you.”

“That’s… kinda the point o’ spider-senses.” He scooted over so you could come and kneel next to him. “Could you show me how you did tha’ sprinkle thing? ‘ve tried but nothing’s workin’. Keeps spillin’.”

“Oh, sure. Here.” You leaned over to take a pinch of the powder between your fingers. “Here, the trick is to keep the powder in between your thumb and the space of your second knuckle on your index finger. That way the excess doesn’t escape but you also have the freedom to decide where the trail forms. See?”

You turned to face him. “Hobie?”

He was staring at you in wonder, his eyes so soft and loving that you couldn’t help but giggle, getting more flustered by the minute. “Hellooooo, Earth to Hobie. You didn’t hear a word of what I just said, did you?”

“Can’t help it. You’re too pretty”

You rolled your eyes affectionately. “Focus, mera pyaar.”

——————

Mera pyaar means my love :)

Diwali is the Hindu festival of lights, with variations celebrated in other Indian religions. It symbolises the spiritual "victory of light over darkness, good over evil, and knowledge over ignorance".

Rangoli is an art form that originates from in the Indian subcontinent, in which patterns are created on the floor or a tabletop using materials such as powdered lime stone, red ochre, dry rice flour, coloured sand, quartz powder, flower petals, and coloured rocks.

A teeka/tilak/tilaka is a mark (generally a red dot in this context) worn on the forehead, usually after a pooja. The teeka may be worn daily for decorative purposes, as a symbol for sectarian affiliation, for rites of passage or for special spiritual and religious occasions, depending on regional customs. It is also used as an expression of honour or to welcome someone upon arrival.

Mithai (sweets) are the confectionery and desserts of the Indian subcontinent.

Kaju katli, also known as kaju barfi, is an Indian dessert, originating in the Deccan, and is popularly consumed throughout north India. Kaju means cashew; barfi is often made by thickening milk with sugar and other ingredients.

A dupatta is a length of material worn arranged in two folds over the chest and thrown back around the shoulders, typically with a salwar kameez, worn by women from South Asia.

A diya is an earthen lamp, with the fire usually fueled by a wick dipped in oil coiled in the centre.

[edupunkn00b]

Where the Air is Sweet, Chapter 5

Photo by Rachel Martin on Unsplash

Prev - Ch. 5 - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

WC: 1881 - Rating: T - CW: fluff, teensy bit of unfounded worry, a smidge of non-sexual D/s.

The hot water turned on with a little squeak, something that used to irritate Logan when he and Patton had first moved into their apartment. It would grate on him, and his jaw would clench as he’d silently—or not so silently—curse the plumber who’d installed it with insufficient lubrication.

But then one day, Patton had called him in when he’d been preparing his own bath. Enveloped in a fuzzy towel and his baby blue polka-dotted cap on his head, Patton had turned the knob back and forth while squeezing his rubber duck.

“Listen, Lo! They make the same sound!” he’d laughed, the naked joy on his face infectious. Logan couldn’t help but laugh along.

Ever since that day, no matter how tired he was, no matter how long of a day he’d had, that little squeak never failed to curl Logan’s lips into a smile each time he started his shower. He adjusted the spray so only a little water would hit the aromatic tab he'd placed in the corner of the tub, then undressed and tested the temperature. It was still heating up, so he took a moment to stretch before removing the small necklace he wore under his shirt.

He kept the key for it in his dopp kit, hidden in an otherwise empty razor box. Not that he feared Patton would ever violate his privacy by rifling through his belongings, it just felt… safer to keep the key tucked away.

Patton didn’t know about this necklace. Using his reflection to find the tiny keyhole, Logan shrugged to himself. Necklace wasn’t quite the right word for the delicate silver band he wore low on his neck, just above his clavicle. The shop where he’d bought it, not at Mr. D’s, but one two towns over, had labeled it a… collar.

At the time, Logan couldn’t identify what had driven him to research the topic. If asked now, he wasn’t sure he’d really be able to explain. He’d come across a mention of it in a book of poetry. One which he’d wrapped in another dust jacket to obscure its unusual title. The poem had spoken reverently of a collar worn by the writer. It spoke of love and peace, of the quiet that fell over the poet when his… friend had latched it into place around his neck.

Phrases and feelings from the poem danced in Logan’s head for months after he’d first read it. The soft hush that eased sharp, anxious thoughts. The certainty of being needed and wanted and cared for that the simple circle of leather and metal had granted the author.

Logan longed for that.

He’d felt compelled to learn more and, slowly, furtively, as he did with any problem or idea, he researched it. And eventually, that research had brought him to Stolitz’ Treasures.

“Are you looking for something for a gift?” the tall, thin man behind the counter had asked. His voice lilted almost musically, and he spoke deliberately, as though he chose his words with care.

Logan’s cheeks had flushed at the question. “W—well, actually, I am looking for something for myself.”

“Ah, I thought so,” he’d suddenly grinned and nodded knowingly. “No shame in that, not everyone’s needs to be gifted to them.” Long, thin fingers came up and stroked the red and black jewel that hung from a choker around his own neck. “Did you have something in mind already or would you like to browse in peace?”

“Perhaps it would be helpful to look around a bit?” There was a dizzying array of items in the glass cases, rings and bracelets and… collars. The shopkeeper smiled and nodded, then stepped back with a welcoming gesture toward the displays.

Logan had nearly given up, overwhelmed with choice, when a small blue heart hanging from a silver collar had caught his eye. His hand had moved almost automatically, bumping the glass as he reached for it. “Ah, you have a fondness for denim lapis, I see.” The shopkeeper was already opening the case.

“I… I didn’t know lapis grew in both shades of blue in the same stone,” Logan had stammered. “I’ll take it,” he'd said before he could overthink it.

That had been three months ago. Logan didn’t wear his collar everyday. Well… at least not at first. But on days he'd abstained, he’d quickly found himself missing the gentle weight, the way both the stone and the silver warmed against his skin throughout the day. It fit nicely under his shirts and ties and his fingers felt the tiny heart each time he straightened his Windsor knot.

The shopkeeper had warned him the stone could be discolored by some soaps, so he removed it before each shower and, of course, before swimming with Patton. A small part of himself hated to take it off and shame flushed his cheeks. What would Patton think if he knew?

“Lo?” As though summoned, Patton called to him. Logan fumbled the key and it clinked at the bottom of the sink before disappearing down the drain.

“No!” he said, louder than he’d meant to.

“Lo, are you okay?” Patton asked, knocking on the door. “Can I get you something?”

“Uh… uh…” Panic coursed through his veins and his hands shook. He stretched over the sink, reaching for a flashlight from the cabinet, but bumped the faucet. Water rushed down the drain, washing away the key. “Oh, no,” he near-sobbed.

“Lo? Lo, you don’t sound okay…” Patton knocked again. “Please, what’s wrong?”

Without the key there was no way he could get this off. Even if he could somehow protect the precious stone in the shower, he and Patton were due to go to the beach together tomorrow. They’d been planning it for weeks. If he backed out now, Patton would know something was wrong. There'd be no way to hide this collar on the beach. No way to postpone until he could return to the shop for assistance. He could face the music now, or could face it later. Either way…

He’s your friend. He’ll understand.

Patton knocked again. “Um, just a moment,” Logan managed and turned off the shower. Delaying the inevitable, he took his time pulling on his robe and tied it tightly before glancing in the mirror. Without his flannel pajama top, the silver collar poked out, glinting brightly against his skin.

Wordlessly, he opened the door.

“Lo! Are you—“ Patton rushed inside, reaching for him and patting his shoulders and upper arms. Head hung low, Logan stared at the tessellating tile floor, afraid to see Patton’s initial response.

But Patton was having none of that. Logan shivered when Patton’s soft, warm hand cradled his jaw and lifted his chin until their eyes met. “Lo, what’s wrong?”

Unsure how to explain, unsure there really was any way he could explain, Logan pulled aside his robe just enough to show the collar. “I dropped the key down the drain,” he admitted.

“Key?” Patton asked, blinking at him. “Why does your neckl—Oh…” His words faded and he stared at Logan's collar. 

Patton’s fingers now felt cool against his skin, shame burning over his face. Logan closed his eyes, waiting for whatever Patton might say, whatever judgement might fall. He wasn’t sure what was worse, buying himself the collar and hiding it, having his secret revealed, or losing the key out of sheer clumsiness. All of it swirled together, spinning in his head until the blood roared in his ears and he imagined falling through a hole in the floor or washing himself down the drain just as sure as he’d—

“Lo.” His eyes snapped open and he stared back at his friend. Patton smiled at him, and when he spoke, his voice was low and soft. He pointed at another towel folded on the edge of the tub, creating a padded seat. When had Patton set that there? “Sit down for me, Lo.”

Nodding, Logan sat and Patton stood in front of him. “May I?” he asked, fingers hovering over the collar. Logan nodded again, but Patton simply waited, eyebrows raised.

“Y—yes,” he said, then cleared his throat. “Yes, of course.”

Smiling again, Patton smoothed his fingertips over the delicate silver band, then cradled the tiny heart affixed near the locking mechanism. Logan shivered at the gentle touch. “It’s lovely, Lo,” he murmured. “This stone is in both of our favorite colors, too.”

Logan nodded, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat and his adam’s apple grazed against Patton’s knuckles with the movement.

Patton moved his hand then, cradling Logan’s face between his hands. “You’re scared,” he whispered and Logan avoided his gaze. “Oh, Lo, were you afraid I wouldn’t like it?”

“What?” Eyes wide, Logan finally met his eyes again. “N—no… I… Well…”

“I think I can help you take this off,” he leaned close, squinting at the lock for a moment before a bright smile bloomed across his face. “I’ve locked myself out often enough to have picked up a few tricks from the locksmith.”

“You won’t have to break it?” Logan’s hand moved to the collar. While he was confident he could repair it—or find someone who could—just the thought of damaging the delicate metal made something deep under his breastbone ache.

“Only if you asked me to.” Still smiling, Patton stroked his cheek. “Wait for me here?”

“Of course.”

Patton pressed a kiss on his forehead then hurried out and down the hall. He rustled in the kitchen utility drawer for a minute, then returned with a set of tiny screwdrivers. “I think this will work. Lift your chin for me,” he murmured, directing Logan’s gaze up to the ceiling.

After a few moments of fidgeting, the quiet click of the lock disengaging filled Logan’s ears, followed by Patton’s quiet cheer. “Got it! Look!”

The collar seemed even more delicate in Patton’s hands, but he held it with the same care he’d used when helping Logan with the baby pigeons last spring. “Were you taking this off to protect it from your shower?”

Logan nodded. Was this when Patton would ask him not to wear it? Did he—

“Would you like me to help you put it back on again when you’re done?”

“You…” He wasn’t entirely certain he’d heard him correctly. “You don’t think it’s… odd?”

Patton smiled and shook his head. “It looks lovely on you.” His brow furrowed when Logan remained silent. “Do you wish it was still your secret? I can—”

“No.” The word spilled from his lips without his control but Logan knew it was true. “No, I… I like you knowing and…” His mouth clamped shut, cutting off his next thought before it, too, could break free and shatter whatever this fragile thing between them was.

“And?” Patton prompted. He smiled, but his voice told Logan he wasn’t getting out of this discussion without finishing his thought.

He looked down at the collar in Patton’s hands and closed their fingers over it. “And I’d like it if you helped me put it on,” he said more to his hands than anything else. "Even after I get a new key."

“Oh, Lo,” Patton murmured, wiggling one hand free to lift his chin. Impossibly, he was still smiling. “It would be my pleasure.”

[maid-with-sunset-in-her-hair]

I was reading your meta about blood orange tree and the mention of fig which represent greed. There are mention of figs in Dany many times. She quite like enjoying eating them.

Hello Dot! By themselves, the figs just represent the possible happy futures born out of different choices, they only represent greed when linked to the character sitting under a tree, who is unable to make a decision regarding their lives because they want it all.

And yes, she enjoyed eating figs... enjoyed being the key word here. Figs appear a couple of times in Daenerys’ chapters: Her slave offers a plate of them to her and Jorah after she humiliated Viserys by forcing him to walk behind everyone, the plaster that gave Drogo sepsis was made by blue mud and fig leaves, and Daenerys ate a bit of fig before trying to fix a brain-dead Drogo through the power of blowjobs. But I think the most important mention of figs happens in ACOK, right after Daenerys and her khalasar arrive to Vaes Tolorro:

Dany sent out men to search the ruins. Some went reluctantly, yet they went... and one scarred old man returned a brief time later, hopping and grinning, his hands overflowing with figs. They were small, withered things, yet her people grabbed for them greedily, jostling and pushing at each other, stuffing the fruit into their cheeks and chewing blissfully.

Other searchers returned with tales of other fruit trees, hidden behind closed doors in secret gardens. Aggo showed her a courtyard overgrown with twisting vines and tiny green grapes, and Jhogo discovered a well where the water was pure and cold. Yet they found bones too, the skulls of the unburied dead, bleached and broken. "Ghosts," Irri muttered. "Terrible ghosts. We must not stay here, Khaleesi, this is their place."

"I fear no ghosts. Dragons are more powerful than ghosts." And figs are more important. "Go with Jhiqui and find me some clean sand for a bath, and trouble me no more with silly talk."

In the coolness of her tent, Dany blackened horsemeat over a brazier and reflected on her choices. There was food and water here to sustain them, and enough grass for the horses to regain their strength. How pleasant it would be to wake every day in the same place, to linger among shady gardens, eat figs, and drink cool water, as much as she might desire. (ACOK Daenerys I)

The first thing they find to eat after the death march through the Red Waste is a handful of figs, symbolizing the potential happy lives they could find in Vaes Tolorro if they stayed. But while the Dothraki eat the fruit happily, there’s no mention of Daenerys eating any of the old man’s figs. She thinks about how nice it would be to live a peaceful sedentary life and eat figs while preparing meat for her dragons, but imediately discarts that idea:

When Irri and Jhiqui returned with pots of white sand, Dany stripped and let them scrub her clean. "Your hair is coming back, Khaleesi," Jhiqui said as she scraped sand off her back. Dany ran a hand over the top of her head, feeling the new growth. Dothraki men wore their hair in long oiled braids, and cut them only when defeated. Perhaps I should do the same, she thought, to remind them that Drogo's strength lives within me now. Khal Drogo had died with his hair uncut, a boast few men could make.  

Across the tent, Rhaegal unfolded green wings to flap and flutter a half foot before thumping to the carpet. When he landed, his tail lashed back and forth in fury, and he raised his head and screamed. If I had wings, I would want to fly too, Dany thought. The Targaryens of old had ridden upon dragonback when they went to war. She tried to imagine what it would feel like, to straddle a dragon's neck and soar high into the air. It would be like standing on a mountaintop, only better. The whole world would be spread out below. If I flew high enough, I could even see the Seven Kingdoms, and reach up and touch the comet.

Irri broke her reverie to tell her that Ser Jorah Mormont was outside, awaiting her pleasure. "Send him in," Dany commanded, sand-scrubbed skin tingling. She wrapped herself in the lionskin. The hrakkar had been much bigger than Dany, so the pelt covered everything that wanted covering.

"I've brought you a peach," Ser Jorah said, kneeling. It was so small she could almost hide it in her palm, and overripe too, but when she took the first bite, the flesh was so sweet she almost cried. She ate it slowly, savoring every mouthful, while Ser Jorah told her of the tree it had been plucked from, in a garden near the western wall. (ACOK Daenerys I)

She touches her hair and thinks about adopting the Dothraki’s symbols of victory and battle prowess, she looks at her dragon and thinks about how to weaponize it to get the Seven Kingdoms, and fly him to touch the comet she sees as the herald of her coming. And in the end she eats a peach, which symbolizes the Seven Kingdoms and becoming their ruler by conquest.

Daenerys eats figs often while she stays in Meereen, holding court, trying to make the peace with the Great Masters work and keep slavery abolished:

With so many still waiting on her pleasure, she did not stop to eat. Instead she dispatched Jhiqui to the kitchens for a platter of flatbread, olives, figs, and cheese. (ADWD Daenerys I)

Her cooks had prepared them a magnificent meal of honeyed lamb, fragrant with crushed mint and served with the small green figs she liked so much. (ADWD Daenerys IV)

Dany took a fig. It was black and plump, still moist with dew. Will Hizdahr ever make me scream? "It was the wind that you heard screaming." She took a bite, but the fruit had lost its savor now that Daario was gone. (ADWD Daenerys VII)

The rest was a tedium the queen knew well. She sat upon her cushions, listening, one foot jiggling with impatience. Jhiqui brought a platter of figs and ham at midday. There seemed to be no end to the petitioners. (ADWD Daenerys VII)

So it wouldn’t surprise me if figs become scarce and peaches start appearing more often once she embraces her family’s legacy of fire and blood.

[alheria]

MIA (one-shot)

-He did what?

Ghost couldn't believe in what Price was saying. Apparently, without mentioning anything about it, earlier this morning, König got sent with another team on a routine reckon mission that somehow went completely sideways and resulted in him getting separated from the group to heroically act as a diversion. It's been three hours. No one's heard from him since. 

Essentially, at this time, König was considered MIA.

König. MIA.

Not on his fucking watch.

He wasn't fucking around that time he informed the Austrian he belongs to him now. Ghost would burn the world to ashes before letting anything bad happen to his valuable property. Since day one of their "relationship" there has been a tiny tracking device planted in the missing soldier's shoe. Yes, he was secretly tracking König. But solely for safety reasons, such as the rare occurrences like this one, when the younger man forgot to pack his dumb brain before leaving for the day.

The lieutenant firmly let his supervisor know he is leaving the base to conduct a solo rescue operation, and if anyone tries to stop him, he will move them out of his way. Using brutal force, that is. So, he checked the GPS coordinates, which, thank the spirits, seemed to be slowly moving, geared up appropriately and quickly proceeded towards the marked position, hoping the kid doesn't get himself in more trouble before he reaches him.

It was quite a long, troublesome walk, fueled by rage and concern. As he pushed through the dense forest, crunched dry twigs under his heavy shoes, all he could think was, why? Why did König go? It was a low-risk operation, there was no need for him to be sent, unless they asked and he said yes. Unless he requested to go.

Was it his fault? Ghost wondered, watching the red dot ominously pulsating on the screen that stopped moving roughly three minutes ago. Did he do something to upset him? Did he perhaps say something? He looked just fine last night, peacefully dozing off in his arms after a long day of harsh training. And then he left, put himself in danger for no apparent reason.

Made Ghost very, very angry.

The negative feelings did, however, move aside to make space for a blissful wave of relief when he finally found him. Alive.

He was leaning on a tree, with eyes closed panting heavily through the torn mask, holding onto the right, visibly dislocated shoulder. His light colored trousers were covered in smudged blood, a single bullet was stuck in the shredded vest, while his own weapon was nowhere to be seen. The sight of König looking like he just went through a horrible fight, alone, re-ignited the lieutenant's fury. He loudly cleared his throat to gain the attention, and when the surprised soldier reacted to the noise, he swiftly closed the distance between them and pulled the younger man into a tight embrace.

-G-Ghost?! -König exclaimed in shock as the muscular arms wrapped his weakened, aching body. -Wa-what are you doing here? H-h-ow did you find me? -he mumbled, feeling tears roll down his cheeks. The man didn't say a word. He silently held the Austrian for a good two minutes before abruptly pulling away and slamming him back into the tree. -Dammit, Ghost, it hurts! -cried out the soldier when his injured arm hit the hard surface.

-As it should! -growled the lieutenant, fiercely looking into König's wet eyes. -What were you thinking?! Do you have any idea how dangerous it is to get lost out here?! You could've gotten yourself killed, you idiot! -he ranted as his gloved hand firmly squeezed the dislocated shoulder while putting significant amount of pressure on it.

-I'm sorry! I was wrong! Please, Ghost, I'm sorry! Please, stop! -begged König, nearly blinded by the flames of pain that ignited on his flesh. He tried to push the attacker away, but had no strength left, all he could do was beg. For either mercy or quick death. 

-Are you?! -barked the Brit when the shoulder popped back in its place. -I have a hard time believing that. -he huffed, letting go of the shaking man. -To the base. Right. Fucking. Now. -Ghost ordered, glancing at the pathetically sobbing mess of a once feared, cold-blooded killer. The monster was now gone. Only one beast was left standing. -And don't you dare say a word until we're back, or I swear to whichever god is out there, I'll fucking murder you.

The deep silence hanging in the air as they slowly walked was utterly excruciating and lasted all the way to their room. König had no clue which strings Ghost pulled to keep them together in the new place, but now, the Austrian wished they were separated. Cos he was screwed. 

When the door closed behind them, the soldier briefly wondered if perhaps it would've been easier if he died back there in the field. Ghost was so pissed, he could feel the fury on his bruised neck as the torn mask ended up in the bin. Hearing a clear order to turn around, König whispered a short prayer and turned around to face the consequences.

-Why? -Ghost asked calmly, still leaning on the door, watching the other man remove his damaged gear. -Why did you go without getting my permission first? -he continued, taking a step closer. -Was I not clear when I said you belong to me now? -tilted his head upon closing the distance. -Do I need to remind you whose property are you?! -he shouted, out of blue pushing the Austrian onto the nearby bed.

-I was asked to return a favour! -König tried to excuse himself in hope to get spared. -I didn't think it would end like that! 

-Exactly. You didn't think! -responded the lieutenant, rage obvious in his voice, one hand confidently began unbuckling the belt. The lying soldier looked below the movement, his throat instantly went dry. Ghost was rock hard. -So I'm gonna make sure next time you do. -he murmured, walking over to a desk drawer. -And since my words don't seem to have an effect, I shall refer to actions. -informed while going through the contents. Suddenly, the search stopped and Ghost smirked mysteriously. A pair of sharp scissors appeared in his hand. -Time for your punishment, sweetheart.

König was now sure he was about to die. 

The Brit gestured for him to turn around, what the younger man obediently did, hesitating only a bit. A chill went down the Austrian's spine when Ghost kneeled over him and slid the blade under his shirt, lightly grazing the skin with cold metal.

-Are you scared? -he whispered, pressing the strained erection into his teammate's ass. The sound of a first cut made König shiver. A reaction that went straight to the lieutenant's penis. He loved having grown men tremble under him.

Feeling the tears form, the airway close, the flesh burn, all the soldier managed to say was a barely audible yes.

-Good. -Ghost nodded, painfully slowly cutting the material straight to the collar. He paused there for a second, dropped the scissors and loudly threw something away before leaning down to lick the exposed neck. König gasped, feeling the tongue slide through his warm skin, his hips involuntarily thrust into the bed. The Brit laughed, began to gently move his own hips while cutting through the sleeves. When the top was finally gone, forgotten on the floor, Ghost grabbed his lover's wrists and pulled them back, forcing out a muffled cry when pain reignited in König's injured shoulder. He then swiftly looped the belt on them, nicely tight to ensure the squirming man cannot use his hands. Cannot escape. 

Happy with the restraints, the lieutenant backed up a little and, once again, took the scissors in his hand. The soldier's lungs stopped working the second he felt the blade slide between his cheeks, pressing onto the trousers as it travelled towards his balls, where it withdrew and snapped dangerously close. 

A taste of what was yet to come.

Ghost pinched and pulled the material up, making the Austrian whine when on the other side, it stretched over his pulsating bulge, and cut, forming a large hole right in the middle. Right where he needed it to be.

-You have to be fucking kidding me. -Brit's eyes went wide open, his cock violently twitched in anticipation upon seeing the very naked flesh show under the sliced pants. There was no underwear. -What a beautiful monster you are, always ready to take my dick. -he hummed, undoing his own zipper that was about to break under the intense pressure. His penis was already peeking from behind the elastic band, leaking with pre-cum, eager to slam into the warmth of König's burning body. -You're lucky I fucked you last night. Cos you're not getting any prep. -Ghost informed nonchalantly, in the meantime unsealing the bottle of liquid he then poured generously onto his throbbing erection. -Should be grateful I have a weak spot for you. -added, lining himself up through the opening in the trousers, teasing the clenched hole with the wet tip. -Otherwise, there would be no lube either.

König bit the pillow to swallow the scream when the large penis roughly entered him, aiming for the very bottom with such force, the bed creaked dangerously under their combined weight. Not wasting a second, Ghost quickly withdrew to repeat the movement. Then again. And again. He's been fucking into the Austrian so fast and so hard, the soldier couldn't even breathe properly, his mind clouded by lack of air and beyond traumatized by the excruciating pain coming from his twisted shoulder. The pain mixed with a high dose of utter pleasure his penis was experiencing while rubbing the mattress back and forth from inside the strained pants.

-Fuck, you are squeezing me so nicely. -Ghost huffed, feeling the orgasm approach faster than anticipated. The rage railed him up like never before. And the fact that his quietly crying lover was suffering terribly while visibly chasing the release with faint, pathetic humps, only made him hornier. -Suddenly such a good boy you are. -he praised, leaning down to suck the long, sensitive neck, slowing the rushed slams to meticulous, delightful pushes that gently rubbed the prostate, made the younger man moan beautifully at the change of pace. -Maybe I need to give you more attention to stop you from acting up? What do you think? -asked right into König's fiercely red ear. The soldier sobbed in response, his wet face hidden it the soft pillow. -Can't talk, huh? Too bad. -sighed the lieutenant straightening himself up, brushing the sweaty hair out of his blurry eyes. He was close. -But that's fine. All I need from you is to lie down for me. Be my precious toy. -kept ranting, picking up the speed to satisfy his pulsating dick, more than ready to spill inside the spasming around it body. -A pristine vessel for my seed. -he smirked right before the last, hard push that forced out a deep groan out of him as the sea of sperm filled the whimpering man to the brim. Panting heavily, Ghost pulled out of the brat who didn't deserve to reach the blissful end, and when he was about to get up and leave, something down there piques his interest.

He was still hard.

How convenient.

Without a single warning, he thrust back inside, all the way to the bottom. König, not expecting a second round, whined so loud, Ghost was sure half the base heard him. He didn't mind. To make things ever more fun, as he rhythmically fucked into the unbelievably tight, soaking ass, he slid one hand under Austrian's hip to lift it slightly and prevent the screaming for release penis from humping the bed, while the other hand found itself on the muscular back, pushing down to inflict some much deserved pain to the injured shoulder.

Oh, how wet those pants were. The Brit had to bite his lip to not come right away as the twitching dick leaked all over his fingers, accompanied by sobs mixed with little moans whenever Ghost briefly clenched his occupied palm. He couldn't even imagine how König felt, so aroused, yet unable to spend. The sole idea of his lover being on a verge of surely intense orgasm he, holding the pulsating cock in his hand, could inflict in a mere second if he wished, made him burn with raw desire. Desire to make him beg.

-I can't wait to get off this base, so I can finally make you scream. -hummed the lieutenant, pressing the shoulder blade harder. At this point König didn't even tense under the torturous touch, his body was limp, mind numb, he could barely understand any words tormented by the horrendous overstimulation. He couldn't cry no more after the last, single tear rolled down his warm cheek. He wanted to come so badly. -For you, my love, I'll soundproof every room, so I can enjoy your agony in every possible place. I'm gonna fuck you so hard and so long, you'll drown in your own tears. -Ghost kept ranting as he thrust shallowly, making sure to press before withdrawing. A dark smile grew on his scarred face that once again leaned towards Austrian's ear to make sure he hears. -And then, I'll fuck you some more.

The younger man's spine shivered violently when he realized what the sentence meant. His partner only laughed upon registering the tremble, highly aroused by the reaction began to chase another orgasm. A bit differently this time. He bottomed down and proceeded to slowly roll his hips without pulling out even an inch.  

It was König's favourite position.

The soldier started to respond, his body at last woke up from the comatose state, soft moans filled the room, growing in intensity when the large hand moved along the rock hard shaft with each push. Finally, the pain got muted by the immense pleasure from a thick cock soaked in its own cum filling his contracting insides, grazing the sweet spot just right. König floated on this amazing feeling, sensing the overdue orgasm sneak up on him as Ghost caressed his neglected penis, sucked on his bruised neck, peppered the injured shoulder with feather-light kisses while whispering praises. He was almost there, nearly crying in relief, balancing on the edge...

...when it all stopped.

-Do you think I should let you come this time? -Ghost asked, pausing everything he was doing, voice dead serious. König wanted to scream, his mind played WHY on repeat, doubled speed. He knew exactly why. He was told after all. This whole situation was his punishment. -Not gonna say anything? Well, I'll happily let you be then.

-No! -shouted suddenly the Austrian, feeling the man withdraw slightly, his eyes full of desperate tears. -Please! I beg you!

-Please what? -Ghost smiled victoriously. He barely managed to hold back, also impossibly close to his own release. But if he simply went for it, would the bratty soldier learn his lesson? Possibly not.

-Please, please make me come! Oh god, I beg you! -König whined so nicely, the Brit immediately resumed his movements, making sure to rub the soaking penis a tad faster, squeeze a little bit stronger, press deeper. Upon the first wave of brutal spasms clenching his aroused dick, Ghost was done for. He came so hard, he had to cover his own mouth to silence the loud moans as he spilled inside the furiously trembling, violently sobbing man. When he pulled out, the body was still shaking. 

-...rln! -König mumbled, his voice distorted by the pillow, hips still thrusting into the mattress, driven by the prolonged orgasm that almost made his heart stop. 

-What was that, my love? -murmured Ghost, tenderly rubbing the bruised hip he held onto with such force, it left a clear mark on the pale skin.

-Berlin! -repeated the Austrian, weakly lifting the head up. -Please, it hurts so much! -he cried out, tears rolled down the red cheeks like a river. -I'm sorry, I can't take it anymore.

The Brit exhaled loudly and quickly removed the restraints. He then helped König turn around and as he sat next to the miserable soldier, swiftly pulled him into the safety of his arms, to provide the comfort he obviously needed. 

-Shh, baby, it's okay. You're fine now. -Ghost whispered softly, brushing away the wet strands from his lover's sticky forehead before pressing a kiss onto it. -Is it your shoulder that hurts? -he asked, lightly caressing the injured arm. König nodded absently, already dozing off from the utter exhaustion. Ghost frowned and shook him slightly to make sure the man doesn't fall asleep in such an unpleasant state. -Sweetheart, please don't sleep yet, go shower while I fetch you an ice pack and some painkillers. 

Let me take care of you first.