#or parents who kept their children's baby teeth as they fell out

[sad-girl-autism]

We've been carrying around pieces of each other, whether dead or alive, since the beginning of time, and we may very well do that until the end, and that is a beautiful thing

[alannybunnue]

Headcanons of queen!reader with her babies (Aegon, Aemond,Helaena and Daeron) plisssss

Oh, i have some in mind:

♡

When they were younger, the Queen used to read stories for them on the daily basis. Some westerosi others not

But one that had some big impact was the story of a fairy that picks up teeth from the children that fell and use it as a test, for a week, the child should behave while the teeth must be kept under their pillow, if they misbehaved, by the end of the week, the fairy would come and take all their teeths away. But they behave, they would get a gift :3

So one time, Aegon did misbehave, and he spent the entire week crying out of fear for the fairy. Aemond saw that, pick up a wooden sword and stayed the whole week in Aegon's room to make his mama proud for protecting his brother from an evil fairy. Of course, the Queen had to call out saying that the fairy let Aegon go, so Aemond could sleep properly again.

♤

She was the one who taught embroidery to Helaena, but she never expected to her to get such interest in it...Until the Queen's clothes were found with some embroideries of little bugs in it.

And she used them with pride 😌

Actually, there was also one time that Viserys also got one in his clothes, but only noticed them when Lyonel questioned whispering this during council, he looked at his wife, who remained quiet for a while and indicated him to do the same, both knew pretty well what happened.

♧

There were many times when Aegon interrupted his parents "alone time" because he wanted to sleep with his mother. That also indulged his sister to join too.

He stopped after a while.

Also, about Viserys, he doesn't neglect his children here 😚

◇

Daeron in this AU doesn't go to Old town, so he remains in King's Landing and uses his "younger brother card" to gain more privilege without notice.

Remember when i said that the Queen likes to tell stories?

Yeah there were times when Daeron and Aemond would compete to see who would sit with their mother at her lap.

Daeron was the winner most of the time

[prettymuchteddy]

Last Christmas Chapter Two: Merry Town

Summary: Last Christmas Alicent Hightower gave Rhaenyra Targaryen her heart, but the very next day everything fell apart. This year to save herself from tears, Alicent vows to avoid her at their family's Christmas vacation. She'll bear it for her children. It's only a week after all. With aggressive snowball fights, meddling in-laws, Christmas tree decorating, matching pajamas, and hanging mistletoe will Alicent keep her vow? Or will her heart be broken again?

Chapter Summary: I'm hiding from you and your soul of ice

Series Masterlist

Read on AO3

Pairing: Alicent Hightower x Rhaenyra Targaryen

Warning: brief mention of infidelity, enemies with a history together, language, mentions dead parents, Viserys bashing

Words: 4,585

Tagging: @martellspear and @lynnbeth5172

Rhaenyra was convinced the Holidays were the worst time of the year. She kept her gaze fixated on Luke, whose coat needed to be zipped, rather than Alicent. The other woman was tapping her foot against the wooden floor. A hollow thud every time. It was annoying to no fucking end. Then Alicent had the gall to cross her arms and sigh. Rhaenyra resisted the urge to turn and say anything. She zipped up Luke’s red coat and that was that.

“Let’s start heading to the car”, Alicent suggested.

“See you at the town then”, Rhaenyra mumbled.

“What did you say?”

Rhaenyra turned around. “I said see you at the town then.”

Alicent’s brows crinkled together. “Are you going in your own car?”

Rhaenyra nodded as it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Yes?”

“You’ll get lost”, Alicent stated.

Rhaenyra scoffed. “No, I won’t, I’m not a child.”

“I’ve seen your driving, that’s debatable.”

Rhaenyra smiled. “At least I didn’t fail my driving test two times.”

“I had anxiety that’s not even mentioning that you were waving your hands in front of the car.”

Rhaenyra grit her teeth. “I was-“

“Can we go outside?” Luke asked.

Rhaenyra and Alicent both looked at the small boy.

“It’s hot in this coat, please?”

Alicent nodded. “Yes, yes. Go inside my car, we’ll leave soon.”

The children practically sprinted outside. They opened the car doors and shuffled inside. Alicent’s children took the back while her boys went near the front. Rhaenyra rolled her eyes. Of course, Alicent would buy an SUV. 

“Hurry up, we’ll be waiting outside”, Alicent said.

Rhaenyra sighed. She shifted to the car seat on the couch. She bent down to be face level with the wide-eyed Joffrey. He was dressed in his little coat and a pair of black boots Rhaenyra had bought at a baby store near her apartment. She thought they were the cutest things and dropped nearly everything in her arms when she saw them. Joffrey had his fingers in his mouth but stared at her intently. Rhaenyra smiled as she buckled him in.

The drive was awkward. None of the children talked—much less her and Alicent. The only living person who made a sound was Joffrey who occasionally cooed or squirmed around his car seat. To avoid too much silence, Alicent put on the radio. As usual with the time of year, it was Christmas tunes. It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas started playing. Rhaenyra glanced at Alicent. She wasn’t singing, not even humming. Rhaenyra frowned. Alicent liked to sing back when they were younger.

Back when they were teenagers, Alicent would practice driving in Rhaenyra’s neighborhood. To calm her nerves, she would sing whatever was on the radio at the time. When she failed the first driver’s test after accidentally hitting a cone, Rhaenyra insisted on going with her the second time. Alicent ended up having a panic attack behind the wheel from being so nervous about failing again. Rhaenyra remembered she began waving her hands in front of the car. She smiled thinking about it. She yelled out, Alicent you can do it over and over. The man failed Alicent anyway and scolded Rhaenyra for the ‘stunt’ she pulled. Rhaenyra swallowed bitterly. But that was then.

The sky was clear blue. Frozen leaves cascaded down. As Rhaenyra leaned against the window, her breath fogged up the glass. Even with Alicent’s air freshener, Rhaenyra could smell the frost on the trees outside. Her hands warmed against the AC of the car, a welcomed change from the biting cold. Her violet eyes watched them come up to the clearing. Houses began to appear. Then so did gas stations, hotels, grocery stores, and finally the town. Its gentle yellow lights contrasted against the white sheets of snow. As far as she could see there was red and green.

Alicent parked somewhere near the town. She placed her parking ticket on the dashboard before joining the rest of them. She wore a thin smile when her brown eyes met Rhaenyra’s.

“So, where to first?” Rhaenyra asked dryly.

Alicent pulled out her phone. “Well, actually I have a few places written down. They have wonderful reviews online and I think we should start with these.”

Rhaenyra adjusted her hold on Joffrey’s car seated and followed Alicent. The Christmas Town as Rhaenyra referred to it, was beautiful. The houses were an older European style, Bavarian if she was correct and each had a decorated wreath on the doors. Their green pine needles were distinct against the red ribbons tied. The brick roads of the town were a chestnut brown. Life-size models of Santa stood in the front of the town’s entrance, wishing all who entered a merry Christmas. As her eyes roamed, she caught glimpses into the stores. Toys, candies, decorations, candles, trees, and even a store to take pictures with Santa.

Rhaenyra found herself beaming. She knew her father owned a cabin in Tennessee but never knew how enchanting the area was.

She squeezed Jace’s hand and bent down. “Do you like it?”

Jace smiled, his rosy cheeks turning redder. “Yes.”

Then she turned to Luke. “And you, Luke?”

Luke was focused on the candy store. “Can we go there?”

Alicent cleared her throat loudly. “Before we do that, we need to take pictures.”

The children groaned and Rhaenyra found herself joining them.

Alicent shook her head. “Come on, when you’re older you’ll be thanking me for taking these lovely photos that you will look back on for many years.”    

She pulled out a camera from her purse.

“You can just use a phone”, Rhaenyra pointed out.

“Phone quantity doesn’t compare to a professional camera. If I’m taking pictures, they will be good pictures.” Alicent waved her hand and gestured for them to move. “Now everyone get close to the sleigh and smile.”

Rhaenyra shuffled next to the wooden sleigh. It was painted red with golden accents and the town’s name written on it.

“Say vacation!” Alicent said as she pressed the shutter.

Rhaenyra lost count of the number of photos Alicent took. In the end, Aegon was the one who begged her to stop. She begrudgingly put the camera away. When they walked into the candy store, Luke was the first to run ahead. Her second son put his face right in front of the glass, peeking at the sweets behind the barrier. Jace ran to his side, glancing throughout to see everything the little shop had to offer. Chocolates, cookies, fudge, pralines, gummy bears, lollipops, ice cream, and so much more than his brown eyes could take in.

Luke pointed his finger against the glass. “Jace! Look! Look!”

Jace leaned forward. “What is it?”

“Look at that fudge”, Luke stared at the display.

Rhaenyra approached the two and peered over. It was white chocolate with pieces of crushed Oreos inside. It was appropriately named Cookies and Cream Fudge.

Luke smiled the dimples in his cheeks on full display. “It looks like Vermax.”

Rhaenyra chuckled. The resemblance between her son’s Dalmatian and the sweet was funny, to say the least.  

Jace, however, did not find it funny. His tiny face contorted. “That’s not true. Vermax doesn’t like anything like that.”

“Yes, he does”, Luke said bluntly.

Rhaenyra sensed an argument about to erupt at least on Jace’s side and placed a hand on both her sons’ shoulders.

“So, what are you two going to get?” She asked.

Luke’s eyes gleamed. “I want to get ice cream and fudge!”

Rhaenyra gave a confused smile. “Ice cream? But it's cold outside.”

“I want ice cream”, Luke said with confidence.

Rhaenyra nodded slowly before turning to Jace.

“And what about you Jace?”

“I want a caramel apple with sprinkles.”

Rhaenyra leaned over the glass and repeated the order to a woman who worked there. She was given a bag with the treats which were hastily taken from her by her children. They sat down at a table where they were joined by her half-siblings. Aegon was eating sugar cookies with frosted images of Santa Claus, Helaena was eating a marshmallow covered with sprinkles, Aemond was eating chocolates, and Daeron was eating gummy bears that were molded to look like Christmas trees.

Alicent was standing while leaning against the wall. In her hand, she had a small paper bag. Rhaenyra bit the inside of her cheek. Should she even try to speak to her? The Targaryen was angry beyond belief with her, still, they were going to be here for a week.

Without thinking she asked, “Did you get something?”

Alicent’s head whirled around, clearly caught off guard by the question. Her eyes glanced down at the paper bag.

“Oh, this? It's not mine, it's Daeron’s he wanted to get some marshmallows too.”

Rhaenyra stared. “Oh, my bad. I thought you still liked sweets.”

“I never said I didn’t”, Alicent said with no particular emotion.

Rhaenyra pursed her lips. Her gaze slowly drifted away. Even though they were only a few feet away, Rhaenyra felt they were miles apart. Once talking to Alicent was as breathing now she felt herself suffocating whenever she opened her mouth.

They went to a bookstore next, Alicent’s insistence. Most of the kids groaned. Rhaenyra herself was not exactly jumping at the idea either but forced herself to go inside. She gestured for Jace and Luke to sit in the children’s reading circle where there were cushions. Her sons were not the biggest fans of reading but at least they could wait in a comfortable spot. Jace took Joffrey’s car seat and set it beside him. Her son then grabbed a Christmas picture book and began showing it to his baby brother. Rhaenyra warmed at the sight.

Rhaenyra wandered around the bookstore. It was rather cozy, she would admit. The store was filled to the brim with decorations of the season. Rhaenyra couldn’t imagine the lighting bill for this place given the amount of fairy lights she saw. She passed the children’s books and found the books for an older demographic. Oddly enough, when she turned the corner, Rhaenyra saw Helaena standing there, a book in hand.

Rhaenyra realized her half-sister hadn’t seen her. A part of her considered walking away and pretending she was never there. She rubbed the side of her jeans. That was mean but she didn’t really know what to say to her.

She awkwardly scratched her head and went for it. “What are you reading?”

Helaena’s eyes shot up from her book. She eyed her for a moment, likely confused by her attempt at conversation.

“It’s about bugs.”

“Bugs?” Rhaenyra nodded slowly. “That’s super… cool.”

Helaena’s eyes went back to her book. “Hmm.”

Rhaenyra approached her with her hands in her pockets to hide her fidgeting. “What type of bugs are your favorite? I like spiders.”

Helaena lifted her head from her book. “Spiders are arachnids. Not bugs.”

Rhaenyra fidgeted with her rings. “Oh, sorry. Um, are Ladybugs, bugs?” Rhaenyra felt like an idiot, it was literally in the name. Why did she do this to herself? She should have walked away.

“They are.”

“Oh, then those are my favorites”, Rhaenyra replied.

“My favorites are beetles”, Helaena answered.

Rhaenyra glanced at the book. She noticed Helaena was on a page of what looked like a beetle.

“Oh, is that one?” Rhaenyra placed her hand on Helaena’s shoulder while she pointed at the page.

Helaena roughly pulled her shoulder away. Rhaenyra froze. She stared at her half-sister who had widened eyes and a rigid posture.

“I’m sorry, did I do something?”

Helaena gripped her book tightly. “No, it’s fine. I just don’t like it when other people touch me.”

Rhaenyra realized Helaena’s gaze went everywhere expect meeting her own eyes.

She nodded slowly. “Okay, again I’m really sorry Helaena, I didn’t know.”

“It’s fine.”

Rhaenyra walked away, feeling like a piece of crap. She hastily moved toward another section and just when she thought she would get a moment alone, she ran into Alicent. Of course.

Alicent almost dropped the books she was carrying. “Where are you going in such a rush?”

“Nowhere.”

Rhaenyra glanced at the books in her hands. They were all fantasy novels with dragons and knights on the covers.

“I didn’t know you were a fantasy fan”, Rhaenyra commented.

Alicent shook her head. “It’s not for me, it’s for Aemond. He loves fantasy, especially books about dragons. He adores this one particular series that is very popular.”

Rhaenyra squinted at the titles. “I’ve heard of it before. He likes to read?”

“Him and Helaena both do.”

Rhaenyra lowered her shoulders. “That's nice that younger kids like them like reading.”

Alicent nodded. “Helaena’s teacher in Oldtown Middle says she’s one of the best in her English class. When Aemond starts there next year I’m sure he’ll be the same.”

Rhaenyra raised a brow. “Aemond is starting middle school next year?”

“Yes?”

“Isn’t he eight?”

Alicent frowned. “No, Aemond is ten.”

Rhaenyra stared blankly. Alicent scowled before passing by her. Rhaenyra still stared at where Alicent had once stood. Aemond was ten? Helaena didn’t like to be touched? She wasn’t fully a part of their lives, Rhaenyra admitted. But she considered herself to at least know basic information about them. They weren’t close in any regard. Still, she should have known. Why didn’t she know? The thought made her stomach churn. Did she truly not know her half-siblings?

Rhaenyra watched from a distance as Alicent bought the books and hid them inside her purse when Aemond and the rest of her children came over. Jace and Luke returned with Joffrey, with Jace claiming that Joffrey loved the picture books. She didn’t have the heart to tell him Joffrey couldn’t understand pictures yet and likely only loved hearing Jace’s voice. They walked across the street to a Christmas store and Rhaenyra felt herself get lost inside. It smelled of fresh pine needles and something warm in an oven.

She picked up a green nutcracker, chuckling at the funny beard painted on his face. Alicent passed by and picked out gold tree ornaments, placing them in a shopping basket. Rhaenyra’s face scrunched together.

“What are those for?” Rhaenyra asked.

“For the tree?” Alicent picked out more from the shelves—some different shapes and hues of gold.

“Why? We have Christmas ornaments at the cabin in the closet.”

Alicent waved a dismissive hand. “Those are old, the Gods know how long it’s been since someone used them.”

Rhaenyra narrowed her eyes at her. “We’re using the other ones.”

“These can bring out more color than those dusty ones in the cabin.” Alicent gestured at the new ornaments.

“Did you make it your mission to try and worm your way into my family or are you trying to change things now that my father can’t stop you?”

Alicent seemed taken aback but something in her eyes flickered. “Worm my way into your family? I married a consenting adult when I was a consenting adult. Forgive me Rhaenyra if you truly believed that there was room for three in the marriage, that Viserys would always belong to you.”

“You moved into my family home for college”, Rhaenyra pointed. “Then when the semester ends suddenly you and my father want to get married? Do you think I’m a moron? All those hours when I was studying at the library or staying late for night classes, what were you doing Alicent?”

Alicent grabbed one of the ornaments and shoved it in Rhaenyra’s face. “This is a stupid decoration. What does this have anything to do with me and your father?”

Rhaenyra held a stern expression. “The ornaments at the cabin are red and black, that’s how they’ll remain. My father made me his heir before he passed. The cabin is mine. You won’t be decorating my tree with those.”

Alicent stared at her with loathing in her eyes. “Even when your father is dead, you still hide behind him.”

Alicent walked away, though Rhaenyra saw that she still had the ornaments in the basket. The Targaryen picked up one of the golden ornaments. Her mind went back to the ones in the cabin. Those tucked away in the closet were made of glass, they were hand-painted by gentle fingers. Rhaenyra loved watching her mother take her brush and dabble the paint. When they finished, Rhaenyra gave her an ornament she made herself. It was poorly painted with smears of black clashing against the red but in the middle, she had glued on a picture of the two of them. Just her and her mother. Her father, Viserys, tossed those ornaments into a closet when her mother died. He shoved it away like he shoved away anything that was her mother’s. She refused to allow Alicent to toss away her mother’s ornaments too.

Rhaenyra waited with her children outside the store. Eventually, she heard the chiming of the bells on top of the door. From the corner of her eye, she saw Aegon and Helaena walking out. Alicent was surely behind them. Rhaenyra stood up from the bench she was sitting on and turned away toward the car.

Without a word, she marched to the exit. She couldn't wait to get to her room in the cabin and lock the door. Alicent shut her out and Rhaenyra would do the same.

Jace and Luke strolled beside her, they were nearly to the goodbye sign when a voice erupted from the group.

"A snow pile!" Daeron shouted.

Rhaenyra turned to her half-brother and saw his gaze was focused on a small patch of grass that had a pile of snow. Likely from the previous days. Daeron ran off. His little feet sprinted to the snow.

Luke, upon seeing the snow, raced there as well. Soon after, he was followed by Jace. Then surprisingly Aegon and Helaena followed.

“Aemond, come on!”, Daeron called.

Her younger half-brother was standing with his arms crossed. He sighed before shuffling over where the rest of his siblings were. Daeron pulled on Aemond’s sleeve as he fell into the snow, taking Aemond down with him. Daeron began laughing as he pushed the snow away with his arms, creating a snow angel.

Rhaenyra leaned forward. Well, as good as a snow angel could be.

Aegon was lying down on the snow, clearly tired from their ventures. He closed his eyes and ignored the chaos of the children playing. Luke was building a castle out of snow. Jace was helping him create a moat around his kingdom, claiming that a castle needed protection.

“Maybe we can build snowguards,” Luke suggested.

Jace shrugged. “That might be a little harder but we can try.”

Her eldest turned his back to pick up a handful of snow. Then without warning, a snowball hit his back. The snow exploded into white powder. Her son whirled around, red in the face.

“Who did that?” Jace huffed.

Rhaenyra watched as her son scrutinized Aegon first.

He, however, scoffed, “It wasn’t me.”

Jace’s brown eyes went to Aemond suddenly. “You!”

Aemond frowned. “Me?”

“Yes, you. You threw a snowball when my back was turned.”

“No, I didn’t”, Aemond said.

Before Jace could say anything in response another snowball hit his chest. This time Jace and everyone else looked up to see Helaena holding snow in her hand. She was giggling.

“Your face is red, Jace”, Helaena chuckled.

Jace became even warmer in the face, however, the anger he held was gone, replaced with embarrassment.   

“That’s not funny”, Jace mumbled.

“It is a little bit.”

Jace narrowed his eyes, a smirk on his face. “Well then let’s see who’s laughing now.” He dug his hand into the snow and raised his “weapon”.

He threw the snowball, which hit Helaena’s coat. A declaration of war.

Aemond quickly moved toward Helaena and scooped up snow before cascading it down on Jace. Luke sat up from his castle, going to his brother’s defense. Daeron abandoned his snow angel, opting to join the battle. Snowballs began to land everywhere. The icy powder would hit a child resulting in a scream or giggle depending on the victim. Aegon, who almost fell asleep became one such victim. A snowball landed on his face, waking him from his indifference. The thirteen-year-old stood up.

The other children paused to look at him. Aegon turned to them, a distinct scowl on his face. He stood up with his hand behind his back. In a swift motion, he threw snowballs at both sides. Hitting Daeron and Luke at the same time. The battle commenced again.

Whatever teams were at first established quickly fell apart. It became every man for himself.

Rhaenyra glanced at her watch. It was getting late. While she was glad her sons were having fun, she wanted to go back to the cabin. The air was getting colder and she shivered as a harsh wind breezed by her face. Alicent set some of her things on a bench as she watched the snowball fight. A particular sound of glass clanking rang out. Rhaenyra looked over at the bag Alicent set down. It was a shopping bag. From the Christmas store, they had just been at. Her brows furrowed together. She didn’t.

“What’s that?” Rhaenyra inquired.

Alicent tore her eyes away from the children. “What?”

Rhaenyra pointed at the bag. “I said what the fuck is that?”

Alicent’s eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

“Are those the ornaments?” Rhaneyra snapped.

Alicent crossed her arms. “So, what if they are? I can buy whatever I wish it is my money, that I earned for myself. Not something that was handed to me.”

Rhaenyra put down Joffrey’s car seat on the bench. She didn’t want him right there as this was going to escalate.

“As if your father didn’t work for mine. Did he not hand you everything? Otto especially handed you my father, didn’t he?”

“Do you truly see the world as yours, Rhaenyra? That everyone else is simply a character meant to revolve around you? If someone doesn’t worship your feet, they are villains? Have you never even considered how others see you, the so-called perfect princess?”

Rhaenyra clenched her teeth. “You have always been jealous of me. I had a family who loved me. My father was there and he cared. My mother was wonderful and loving. You wanted that and tried to take it for yourself when my mother died. You are no friend of mine.”

“I thank the Gods every day for that. Why would I want to be friends with someone like you? Why would I wish to associate myself with a liar and a cheater? You were with Laenor yet you were unfaithful to him. It wasn’t enough that you publicly humiliated him, no, you went to the family get-together with Jace. Did you ever care for Laenor? Or did you truly just wish to hurt him further by showing your son with Harwin?”

Alicent leaned closer. Her voice was low. “You are selfish and only think of what benefits you. I heard you broke up with Harwin yet again. Was it worth it? Was the trail of victims you left in your wake worth it? You care so much about others’ loyalty to you but you never return the sentiment.”

“You were nothing but a leech, someone who drained my family.”

“And you were nothing but a spoiled brat who can’t survive without her father’s inheritance.”

Alicent turned away and walked to get a better view of the children. Rhaenyra stood shaking with anger. She was not done with that stuck-up.

Rhaneyra marched up to Alicent. With thinking, she bent down and scooped a snowball then threw it at her former friend’s face. The powder landed on her features. Her brown eyes blinked, processing what had happened. They slowly moved to her. Alicent glared.

“You childish…” Alicent bent down and formed a snowball, launching it back at Rhaenyra.

The Targaryen felt the cold powder land on her nose. She growled, “Fuck.” Rhaenyra wiped her face. She picked up the snow, throwing it at Alicent.

“You traitor!” Rhaenyra shouted.

Alicent threw snowballs back. “You liar!”

The children realized they had joined the fray and took positions beside them, oblivious to the argument. Rhaenyra didn’t care, she just kept throwing snow at Alicent. She wanted to hit her stupid eyes, her dumb nose, her conceited lips, and her dreadful hair. Her hands were nearly frozen from the cold of grabbing the snow without gloves. Alicent had married her father. A man who was practically a father to her, better than her own father, Otto. She had children with him, rubbing in the fact that her mother couldn’t have more than one living child. Then she left her. Alicent, fucking left. She said she loved her, yet she left like a coward last Christmas. She never said a word to her. Rhaenyra tried to call her. After the first twenty-five calls, she realized she was blocked. She shivered in the cold wind but still threw the snow. How could she have thought that Alicent changed? Alicent proved what she would do to those she “loved”. She would run.

Rhaenyra’s arms were growing heavy. Her chest was heaving. She glanced to the side. Jace, Daeron, and Aegon had taken up arms together. As the eldest, Aegon acted as a shield while the two younger boys launched the attacks. When she squinted toward the left, Rhaenyra thought she was mistaken by what she saw. Luke had made an alliance with Aemond. The two boys had grown distant since what happened two years ago, yet there they were bent down behind the snow fort, working to throw snowballs.

In the chaos, she realized someone was missing. Where was Helaena? Rhaenyra’s heart dropped for a moment. She dropped the snowball in her hand. Her violet eyes scanned for her little sister, desperately. She quickly found her sitting on the bench. She had removed her glove and let Joffrey hold her finger. He curiously observed her and she gently rocked his car seat while his brown eyes blinked, tiredly.

A snowball hit her face. Rhaenyra was brought back to the fight at hand. Alicent was pissed. Upon seeing her face, Rhaenyra’s rage reignited. Fuck Alicent Hightower. She picked up a snowball and threw it at her traitorous former best friend.

The car ride back was quiet, however, not for the reason it was last time. The children had fallen asleep in the backseats, exhausted after the hour-long snowball fight. Rhaenyra could not blame them as her arm ached from being raised so many times. She rubbed her sore arm. There was no music in the car. Alicent stared straight ahead both hands gripping the wheel. Rhaenyra leaned her head against the window, the coldness of the glass cooling her forehead. She kept herself from looking at Alicent. The snowballs hit her head, leaving white snowflakes in her auburn hair. The Hightower was deathly quiet. She was visibly upset but remained her usual icy self. Rhaenyra was convinced her soul might be made of ice as well. That’s one thing she hated about Alicent; she always wore a mask hiding away her true feelings. Back then she did it to please others with a smile and hid her discomfort. Now, she didn’t even know who this person was beside her because of it.

Rhaenyra sighed softly. It was only five more days. She could make it until then.

[anangelwhodidntfall]

We’re Going To Be Parents: Peter Ballard

Stranger Things Masterlist 

word count: 745

request: listen listen. so a Peter Ballard x Fem!reader the reader is around in her late twenties. where they were in a secret relationship and he helps her escape the lab.

You and Peter had been in a secret relationship for almost two years now, he fell in love with how kind and sweet you were despite working for Dr. Bennett. You were like a ray of sunshine in the lab and the children seemed to enjoy it eventually one day Peter found himself opening up to you which he hadn't done in a long time and it seemed the relationship blossomed from there.

Peter had been thinking about running away from this place with you, so that maybe just maybe you two could live a normal life being married, having children and a house to grow old in, instead of staying here and having to constantly hide your relationship.

"What are you thinking about my love?" You asked running your fingers through his hair.

"What it would be like if we could leave here and live a normal life...Have you ever thought about that?" He asked looking up at you.

"Every day I wish it could be reality." You said sadly making him sit up and look at you.

"Then let's make it. Let's make a plan to get out of here and start living for ourselves instead of someone else." He said lacing his hands with yours.

"You mean that?" You asked looking at him.

"I do. Just give me a few days to finalize everything and then we can plan to leave here and never look back, okay?" He asked you as you nodded.

A few nights later Peter came to you and explained the plan and how the next night you two would leave during the guard changes and how he had a getaway car and where you two would be staying for a few days figured out.

"You really thought of everything." You said looking at him with a smile.

"I did...I told you nothing was going to stop us from leaving here tomorrow and starting our lives together." He said.

You two escaped and made it to the hideout house where you would stay for a week while Peter's friend finished getting your more permanent place set up the only downside is that you had gotten sick.

"Baby that's the like tenth time you've thrown up today alone, maybe we should take you to the  hospital." Peter said as held your hair back and rubbed your back.

"No hospital." You said as you brushed your teeth.

"Fine none today, but if not better by tomorrow then we're going because something is wrong with you." He said.

"Probably just a stomach bug or something. But to ease your worry we'll go." You said as you walked into your room and took a seat on the bed.

The next came and you were feeling even worse so you allowed Peter to take you to the local hospital despite you not wanting to go at all. The nurse got you two checked and you couldn't tell who was more anxious between you and Peter, who kept his hand tightly on yours until your name was called.

After explaining your symptoms and asking you a few questions the nurse suggested that you get some blood work done first then they would have you change into a gown so they could do a sonogram on you.

"This will be cold for a minute." She said to apply some gel to your stomach as Peter kept hold of your hand.

"Just as I thought..." She said moving the wand around your stomach.

"You guys are pregnant, I would say maybe about 4 weeks it's still in the early stages. So I am going to recommend some resources to you guys and get you set up for your next appointment." She said as you lay there stunned, you never suspected that you were pregnant.

"I'll go grab those resources and give you two a minute to talk." She stepping out of the room.

"Peter baby I had no idea..." You start to say but he shushes you.

"No need to apologize, while I would've loved to be more settled in our new home. Starting a family with you is something I've always wanted." He said.

"I can't believe we are going to be parent's." You said looking up at him through glassy eyes.

"I know, but there's no one else I rather do it with. I love you Y/N." He said placing a kiss on your lips.

"I love you Peter." You said leaning your head against his.

[fawnandshadows]

25 Days of Elriel — Day 14

Naughty and Nice

Warnings: Language, slight emotional distress

Word Count: 2.8k

“He’s making a list.” Elain sang and pressed her tree-shaped cookie cutter into the dough.

“And checking it twice.” Azriel continued, frosting the cooled cookies, the sunlight streaming through their kitchen gleamed off of the golden ring Elain had placed on his finger.

“Gon fine out who naughty and nice!” Their daughter finished, clapping her pudgy hands to a rhythm that was all her own.

At five years old Lily was the light of her parents life; She was shy when meeting new people, but incredibly loud and giggly around her parents. Lily had inherited her fathers darker skin tone and hazel eyes, but her mother’s hair fell from her head in spools of gold.

The little girl, who somehow ended up covered in flour despite the fact that she was too short to reach the counter, planted a sticky hand on her mothers rounded belly and asked, “Sister naughty?”

“Why would you think that, sweetie?” Elain asked and glanced down at Lily, but could barely see her daughter over the fullness of her belly. At eight months Elain was massive, at least she thought she was massive. Ever since Elain had been accidentally changing channels on the television with her stomach, and kept knocking their family photos over, she had been incredibly sensitive about her size. Her husband, however, would hear none of her self-deprecating words and went out of his way to make sure she felt lovely and beautiful. And every night before he would kiss his wife he planted a kiss on her ever-growing belly.

“She hurts mommy. She kicks.” Lily looked at her mother with questioning hazel eyes. Her chubby cheeks had a small coating of frosting on them.

“That’s how she talks,” Azriel said and came up behind his messy daughter to lift her up. He placed his own hand on his wife's stomach, and right on cue the child kicked a little foot. “She can’t say hello yet, so she kicks hello,” The baby always responded to her father whoever Azriel would place his hand on his wife’s rounded stomach. “See, feel it, Lily-bean.”

She placed her tiny hand next to her fathers and immediately brought it back when she felt the kick of her younger sibling. Lily looked at her parents with a skepticism beyond her years.

“It doesn’t hurt?” She asked quietly. Her lips, tiny and red and wet, puckered at the thought of her beloved mother in pain.

“No. Sometimes it’s just surprising because I don’t expect it, but that’s all.” Elain replied, hoping that he daughter didn’t pick up on the lie. Sometimes it did hurt, their baby had quite powerful legs and would most likely be an impressive soccer player, but she wanted to ease Lily’s worries.

“So, she’s nice? Santa will bring toys?” Lily asked. She was so serious for being so young, and her parents were touched that Lily’s biggest worry was whether or not her sibling would get presents from Santa; It was a long ways away from the worries either of her parents faced as children.

“Of course.” Azriel said gently and kissed his daughter's head, his hazel eyes sparkling.

“Good,” Lily said and showed off her baby teeth with a grin. “I want to play witt dem.”

Her high-pitched giggles filled the air as Azriel attacked their daughter with tickles.

“You’ll have more than enough of your own toys, little lady,” Azriel said grinning and swung Lily around in a frenzy of gold curls until she was perched over his shoulders, her giggles tinkling through the air like jingle bells. Her little legs, clad in Rudolph and Clarice pajamas, dangled over her fathers strong shoulders. The chubby fingers gripped Azriel’s inky hair with surprising strength — Azriel had at one point confided in his wife about his worries of going bald over Lily’s death grip — and peered over her fathers head at the cookies. “Between the way that Auntie Feyre and Uncle Rhysand spoil you, and the way that Uncle Cassian and Auntie Nesta spoil you,” Azriel lifted a finger to tickle the underside of her foot, which caused the young girl to jerk and yelp out a giddy giggle, and grip his hair even harder. “And they way that your mother and I always spoil you, I think you’re set on toys Lily-bean.” Azriel grinned and turned his head to blow a raspberry into Lily’s potbelly.

Elain watched on with a dopey smile and tears swirling in her eyes. She knew that there was no sweeter music to her husband than the sound of Lily’s laugh.

“Daddy,” Lily said in a loud whisper. She leaned forward to shout into his ear. Lily hadn’t quite grasped the concept of whispering yet. “Can I have cookie?”

For her daughter's sake Elain pretended not to notice, and turned around to check the oven timer.

“Yes, Lily-bean.” Azriel mock whispered, and Elain could see the face-splitting grin on her husband's face even with her back towards him.

A beep startled Elain out of her perfect bubble. She looked down to notice that she had turned the oven off with her belly.

“Az,” Elain whined with a disappointed sigh. “I did it again.”

--

“This is the best thing you have ever done with your hands.” Elain said. Her eyes were closed as she relaxed on their couch later that night. Lily had been sleeping for an hour already, and the lingering smell of sugar cookies still filled the air.

“If I didn’t know how much you loved foot rubs,” Azriel said and Elain could hear the smile in his voice as he pressed a thumb deeper into the sole of her feet. “I would be greatly insulted.”

Elain pried one eyelid open and saw her husband grinning at her. He playfully brought his head down and nipped at her chilly toes, much to Elain’s delight. Azriel hated feet when they first met, in fact he hated touching most people, but he slowly learned to love Elain’s touch, and now he couldn’t think of living without it.

Whenever Elain saw her husband casually touch Lily, or playing with their affectionate daughter, the warmest, sweetest pride glowed in her heart at how much her husband had grown from when they had first met. Elain still remembered the first time Azriel held her hand; He had initiated the contact, and it was so shy, he had just wrapped the pads of his fingers around hers, but it was so deliberate. He was determined to feel her skin against his. She had seen the way his throat strained at the contact, heard his loud swallow, and saw the way he fought off his internal demons just to hold her hand.

“Thank you for doing this,” Elain said with a lazy smile, her hands laid atop her protruding belly. They had been praying for a girl, not because they didn’t want a boy, but because Azriel had lost a drunken bet to Cassian and promised him that their first born son would be named Ficus. “I spent way too much time on my feet today.”

“You still want to go to Feyre and Rhysand’s tomorrow?” Azriel asked, and Elain knew his dark brows were furrowed even though her eyes had drifted shut. 

“We can’t miss their Christmas Eve dinner,” Elain sighed and relaxed even more into the touch of her loving husband. “Plus, Lily will want to see her cousins, and this little one,” Elain gently tapped her belly. “Loves apple pie too much to deny her.” 

--

The windshield wipers furiously cleaned the windshield of Azriel’s truck as they pulled up to Rhysand and Feyre’s house. Their sprawling log cabin, built upon the outskirts of the Sidra, was tucked away into forest, in the part of Velaris that nobody dared venture into. The cozy cabin was perfect for the holidays, away from the hustle and bustle of the city, and nestled into the pine trees. It had only started snowing thirty minutes ago, but it was coming down heavily enough to blanket the Earth and obstruct Azriel’s vision while driving.

“Wait for daddy to unbuckle you.” Elain called to her daughter, who was buzzing with excitement at the idea of seeing her cousins. Lily loved playing with Nyx and Eric — Eric was just a couple years younger than Nyx, and he loved his cousin Lily more than anything on earth. Nesta and Cassian had adopted him after months of trying for a baby, wanting children close to Lily and Nyx in age, and Eric was a blessing in his parents lives. After finding out that they weren’t incapable of having children, Nesta and Cassian decided to adopt. Eric was a little viking — loud and brash and always active — and he could have passed for Cassian’s blood easily, with his long curling dark hair, but Eric’s eyes were darker than anyones in the family. 

Lily loved playing with her cousins, and her cousins loved her.

Elain slowly got out of the car, her boots crunching on the packed snow, and slowly waddled to the door with three giant tupperware containers filled with cookies. Azriel followed her carrying one child and four tupperware boxes, and somehow he still managed to knock on the door, and the minute Rhysand opened it Lily had squirmed out of her father’s embrace and ran off to find her cousins. The stomping of her little feet echoed through the house as Rhysand leaned in to give his sister a kiss on the cheek, carefully avoiding her belly, and taking the containers from her.

“Merry Christmas.” Elain said as she walked through the door, Azriel setting the cookies on the side table before grabbing their bags from the car. She was met with a resounding chorus of ‘Merry Christmas’ from her family.

--

All through dinner Elain smiled. She smiled at Cassian, saying that she still couldn’t eat turkey, but she was sure it was delicious. She smiled at her husband, who was staring at her because he knew something was wrong. And she smiled through the discomfort she felt pulling in her stomach, all Elain wanted was to let everyone enjoy their Christmas Eve dinner uninterrupted.

Elain stood up from the table after everyone had already left their half-eaten dinner plates and empty wine glasses, and she offered to help Feyre clean up. Her plate that was still full from dinner clattered as it fell back onto the table, and her hands immediately gripped the chair to stop herself from collapsing at the stinging pain that radiated from her stomach.

Azriel was at her side in an instant, his hands everywhere on her body as he fussed.

“What is it?”

“I think it’s a —” Elain said and was cut off by liquid gushing from between her legs. She blinked at her husband's worried face. “My water just broke.”

The entire room had gone still and silent. Rhysand had stopped, half raised from his chair, and Feyre froze from collecting plates and glasses from the table. Cassian had stopped playfully wrestling with Nyx and Eric,  Nesta’s fingers froze mid-braid, and Lily sat between her aunt’s legs with her arms wrapped around her own legs as she patiently waited for a braid to match her aunts.

“But,” Feyre said and set the plates back on the table, concern shining brightly on her face. “Buy you’re only eight months pregant.”

“I - I know, but —” Elain broke off and almost doubled over in pain. Her hand was clutching her husband’s as he caught her. “I think we should go to the hospital.”

Azriel nodded and guided her to the door, their family following silently behind as a heavy, glass-like silence fell over them.

“We’re forty minutes away from a hospital.” Rhysand said, his voice betraying his calm demeanor.

They all turned to look the snow piling up outside. It was thick and dense and no way for the tires to actually move through it, and they all came to the realization that no ambulance could get through. 

“Why the fuck do you have a cabin in the middle of no where?” Nesta snapped at him with a venom laced voice, her arms crossed over her chest, but she managed to point one accusatory finger at him. Lily was left on the couch, her braid half-finished and slowly unraveling as she watched the grown ups walk towards the door. She quickly scooted off the cushion to follow them.

Rhysand’s lips curled over his teeth, prepared to say something back, but Elain’s tormented cry stopped whatever fight that was brewing. 

Elain’s hand wrenched around her husband’s hands from the pain.

“Naughty!” Lily cried and pointed at her mother’s belly. Tears streamed down her red face. “Naughty! Sissy hurts mommy!”

Cassian quickly picked up his distraught niece and tucked her wet face into his neck. Her little frame wracked with sobs as she clung to her strong uncle, soaking in the comfort he offered.

“Nuala!” Feyre said. “Nyx’s nurse, she can help. Take Elain to your room.” Feyre quickly ran towards the kitchen where Nuala was spending time with her sister, Cerridwen who had made their Christmas Eve dinner.

Azriel helped Elain up the steps, taking them as fast as Elain could go. Elain’s throat felt too full and heavy to speak. And Elain had been clutching his fingers too tightly to notice how they trembled. 

--

Azriel stared at the closed door.

 It had gone silent, Elain’s painful cries had stopped, and Azriel waited to hear the cries and gurgles of his newborn daughter. The only thing he could hear was the first of the twelve chimes from the grandfather clock downstairs.

The door slowly opened, and closed too quickly for Azriel to see inside. Nuala had stepped out, her tear stained face carefully sympathetic, and blood coated her fingers. Her throat bobbed.

“I’m sorry,” Her voice broke, and Azriel stared at her hands, wondering if they dripped with his wife's blood, or the blood of his child, or both. “I did everything I could. I rubbed her down with the towel, but nothing, it didn’t—”

The grandfather clock had stopped chiming, leaving nothing but a terrible silence in its wake. The silence was broken with the sound of Lily’s wail. 

A hand pushed him from behind, towards the closed door in front of him, but how could he face Elain? His wife was most likely holding their dead daughter, weeping, and what could he do, what could he say to make it better?

Another push towards the door.

Azriel turned to snarl at his brother because he wasn’t capable of forming words — he was only capable of rage and grief and— but someone had opened the door to Elain, and shoved him through.

He turned, preparing to see the worst sight of his life, and saw Elain smiling through her sobs as she clutched a bundle of blankets to her chest. Azriel just blinked at the sight.

“Come,” Elain started and broke off with a wobbly cry, new tears gushing from her eyes. “Come meet your daughter.”

He stared at his wife, her hair frizzy and tangled around her bright red, wet face, and eventually he registered that the cries weren’t coming from Lily, but from the blankets in Elain’s arms.

Another push.

Azriel looked down at the screaming babe in Elain’s arms. Her face was angrily scrunched, scarlet, and caked with snot and tears. It was the most beautiful face Azriel had ever seen.

He wasn’t aware of his family gathering in the room, his eyes wouldn’t move from his daughter.

“I - I thought she —”

“So did I,” Elain rasped, and let loose an unbelieving, shaky laugh. “I, um, I had to smack her bottom rather harshly to get her to, well, to get a reaction. And you can see the liquids that came out,” Elain’s fingers motions to the red liquidating coating her shirt and smudged their daughters face. “I’m afraid she’s upset,” She looked up at her husband, who was entirely too far away, and shifted her aching body to make room for him. “Come here.” She nodded her head to the empty space.

Mindlessly, Azriel laid next to her, and accepted the gift of his daughter from Elain.

“Hi, Rose.” Azriel whispered and finally broke down. 

His entire body shook from the weight of grief that had been lifted off of his heart, and wept as he looked at the screaming baby. A small tuft of black hair on her head, and angry blue eyes.

“Mary,” Elain said gently next to him. “Rosemary if you don’t mind.”

“Of course.”

Azriel placed his lips against his wifes. They kissed desperately through their sobs. The kiss was sloppy and salty and wet, but they could feel each other’s relief and love. 

“Sissy?” A small voice broke them apart. They felt the bed shift under Lily’s weight as their daughter crawled onto the bed and inserted herself between her parents. Her hazel eyes fixed onto her new sister.

“This is Rosemary, Lily.” Azriel said with a watery smile.

“Wosemawy,” Lily tested out the word on her lips, and glanced up at her parents. “Why sad?”

“Not sad, Lily-bean,” Azriel said to his daughter, smiling through his tears. “Just happy.”

--

tagging: @thefangirlofhp @tswaney17 @impossiblescissorspeachpaper @jujugirlfrombookstore @offtorivendell @courtofjurdan @swankii-art-teacher

[sweetbunnykook]

Only You (9)

Word Count: 13,197 // [SPOILER IN WARNINGS] angst (mention of double homicide, gore/blood, miscarriage, mistreatment of a corpse, panic attack), smut (period sex, cunnilungus, blowjob, throatpie, body worship, mommy kink), brief fluff, toxic relationship, manipulation

Photographer!Jungkook X Noona!Reader

Summary: Jeon Jungkook, your wedding photographer, helps you escape on your big day upon learning about a secret your groom-to-be kept hidden. You soon fall for this young, passionate photographer. However, you underestimated just how much he was willing to reciprocate that love. Maybe, you think, he’s loving you just a little too much.  

A/N: If you are still reading this series, I wish you the best of luck. Please leave a review if you can and let me know your thoughts. - 🐰

You were every mother’s blessing – kind, caring, intelligent, obedient. She watched you stumble and fall many times but you manage to catch your footing with a smile. Despite your yearning for independence, your mother kept you in her embrace as all mothers do. In some ways, it would be loving; things like helping you choose the venue for your wedding and holding your hand while you inquire about using chiffon instead of silk for your veil. You were such a wonderful daughter that she didn’t wish for a son even when you decided to carve your own path rather than follow your father’s footsteps into medicine and entrepreneurship.

It’s why your mother sits in the parking lot of your apartment complex, dumbfounded beyond belief, teeth gritted. She looks up at your window to see Jungkook staring back down at her, unable to read him. She holds his steel hard gaze, daring him to look away or pull the curtains close.

He doesn’t take the bait.  

Pulling the shifting gear and rolling out of the parking lot, she peels her eyes away and takes several deep breaths.

There is no way on God’s green Earth that you fell in love with a middle-class photographer. Of all people, of all the men in your circle, affluent men coming from money both new and old, you couldn’t have fallen for a lowly photographer who doesn’t care about you enough to know his place and leave you be. How could Jungkook not know that you aren’t meant to live like this? How could he be so selfish as to hope for marriage when he could barely afford the ring he wants to slip onto your finger?

Your mother throws back her head and cackles. The only reason you were able to study abroad during college, the only reason why you could walk into an upscale neighborhood and look like you belong there, is because she followed the natural way. She never loved your father, not even once, but he was a good husband and an even better financial asset. Not only did she not have to lift a finger after tying the knot, but she also became part of the untouchables.

There’s a sense of power and invincibility that comes with wealth. It comes softly, like a whisper of wind that keeps a dandelion intact; it’s invisible to the eyes but she can feel it when she shakes hands with politicians, celebrities, businessmen and women, important people doing important things.

It took nearly twenty years of work. Getting close to the Kims, making sure you attend the same school as their children, running into Namjoon when you visit their vacation home, and letting his parents witness what a great wife you would be for him – it was all going so well. Puberty treated you well enough too that she didn’t need to consider getting you minor cosmetic procedures when you graduated high school. Sure, you could lose a few more pounds, but you were healthy and fit to give the Kims, and her, the grandchildren who will guarantee a new generation of wealth and prosperity. Gone are the days when she could only dream about creating the perfect family, respected by the social circle and the general public. You, her lifelong project, made it all come true.

Yet, life proves to be cruel once again.

As soon as she set her eyes on Yori she knew she was trouble. She didn’t object when you stayed out later and wore a bit more makeup than what was deemed graceful for a woman of your age. She knew that if she’d raised her voice, you would be compelled to rebel (it didn’t help that you were as stubborn and thick-skinned as your father). However, she wanted to warn you, just a tiny bit, that Yori is the kind of girl whose eyes strayed to find a new target and you were a hair away from standing right in the middle of that mark. She knew, because Yori had the kind of eyes she had as a twenty-year-old woman who climbed that very same social ladder.  

You were such a good daughter, so intelligent and transparent, that she believed you would have the backbone to come into your mother’s arms at the first sign of danger. It looks like you were just as clueless as the rest of the sheep you called your bridesmaids.

A Jeep honks from the next lane as she swerves into the street and bangs on the steering wheel with the heel of her hand, her Cartier bracelets clanking together in unity. The light turns yellow and she stomps on the accelerator, lurching the vehicle forward.

At the end of the day, she knew it was her fault. She could have warned you earlier, planted seeds of doubt in your mind, even pull Namjoon back into your arms if you realized soon enough; but alas, your day was chosen to be one of desolation and misfortune. Her poor daughter, the apple of her eye, the one precious gem of a person who would propel the family into royalty, whisked right away from under her nose.

She shakes her head, tires screaming as she veers into the next semi-busy lane, watching the sun disappear into the horizon as the familiar roads darken.

Letting you mourn on your own terms was the biggest mistake of her life, second to not following her gut feeling and keeping Yori away from you. She knew about this photographer lover of yours who has the face of an angel and seem to follow you like a puppy wherever you go. From a distance, she’d watched you wrap your arms around him and kiss him with such fervor in a public space she felt bile rise for the first time looking at you – her most precious creation acting like a hussy for all to see.

The boy seemed to be in love with you as much as you depended on him. She waited until you would be sick of him like the ones you took to bed after the wedding night (yes, she knew about your shameful conquests). She waited countless nights, praying that you would come to your senses, that you won’t refuse her advances, until months later she sees you living with him and sharing meals and completely forgetting about her. Yes, she had been mainly focused on making sure the investors haven’t pulled out and that you still had a name for yourself after the wedding. It wasn’t an ideal response as a mother because you needed help and she knew you’d throw a hissy fit but you must understand that while you had been taking men to bed, she had been busting her ass saving what’s left of the family pride.

The Kims also attempted to salvage your reputation, but they won’t do so at the cost of Namjoon’s name. The true reality is that parents will only care for their own blood in the end.

It’s why she finds herself confused and drenched with sweat when the car halts in front of the white villa lined with jasmine bushes. There’s a new gate installed, probably to keep away reporters during the first few weeks after the wedding incident hit the papers, and it momentarily angered her that she must now ask an intercom to enter a space that should have been a gift to you from the Kims.

Her hands tighten around the steering wheel with the intent to squeeze something warm and pulsing. She still remembered the day Yori knelt on the floor of your dressing room and she still remembered the strands of hair that squeezed her fingertips as she tore the whore’s flower hair clip off her head. The yelling, the panic, the uproar, the whispers that came from the guests – it was humiliation to the tenth degree.

Wiping the bead of sweat off her temples with the back of her hand, your mother hushes the engine and places the key in her coat. She steps out of the vehicle and marches up to the gate and buzzes in, huffing when her heels wobble on the cobblestone steps.

A few heartbeats later, Yori’s voice pours through her ears and reached into the crevices of her scalp like a dull headache.

“Hello?”

She leans forward. “It’s me.”

There’s a long pause before the gates click open and the stone stairway up to the front door reveals itself with a moist gleam. The garden sprinklers die down just as she steps onto the platform and makes her way up to the front door where Yori is leaning against, one hand on her stomach, the other hand tucking her fringe away from her face. She notes that the knitted silk dress, tied above the swell of her belly, is from the latest Prada collection.

“What a pleasant surprise,” she smiles. “Come in. Welcome to my home. I apologize for the mess…I had a baby shower earlier today and help is gone for the rest of the week.”

Your mother wanted to rip that smug grin off her face but she kept her eyebrows still and her lips soft.

“Excuse my intrusion.”

She walks into the spacious living room, eyes quickly glancing at the stacks of presents on the couch and the empty bottles of sparkling water and champagne sitting on the coffee table. She can recognize, just from the color of the boxes, that the gifts were not cheap. Had you married Namjoon, this would have been your palace.

“I’m in the middle of decorating the nursery. If you don’t mind…” Yori says, not bothering to look back as she makes her way up the stairs. She didn’t have to turn around to see that steam is coming out of your mother’s ears. “Can you help me with unrolling the mat in the hallway? I can’t bend over very well.”

Your mother trails behind in place of answering, watching Yori’s hip swing side to side as she makes her way up the stairs and then turn to leer down at the older woman. It’s a bit laughable, Yori thinks, as your mother pretends not to ogle at the stacks of Tiffany blue boxes tucked beside the living room couch like shoeboxes. Her face flushes when she meets Yori’s eyes once more but she doesn’t comment as she follows the young woman into the hallway just a few feet away from the stairs. Her head turns at the smell of fresh paint to see the nursery on her left, the door left open as if the room expected her arrival.

“Where’s Namjoon?”

Yori fixes her fringe once more. “He needed to attend a conference in Ginza. I’ll tell him you stopped by.”

“There’s no need.” She leers at the stacks of presents next to the crib. More aquamarine boxes, all neatly stacked according to size with the smallest at the top.

The younger woman leans against the tall, heavy vase next to the wall leading into the hallway to the East wing. “If you say so.”

There’s no reason for your mother to be here. It should be you instead, coming back to tie loose ends and perhaps inquire about Namjoon’s injuries if you cared enough. Compared to your mother, you didn’t have much of a backbone when it comes to relationships and it makes it so easy for men to take what they want and go. It’s what made you a bore, what gave Yori the power to pull Namjoon right into her bed and have him calling her name like a prayer.  

“Did you forget basic manners?” Your mother finally snaps, beady eyes darting from side to side to admire the nursery that could have been a snapshot from a furniture magazine. “Not even offering a glass of water?”

Yori only smiles, motioning to the unrolled mat slumped against the wall, adjacent from the staircase.

“I assumed whatever you wanted say would be quick as you came uninvited. You’d probably think the water is poisoned even if I offered any way.”

The older woman glances at the rug – no doubt imported from Dubai with its elegant coloring and silk touch – then walks over to it before tracing her fingers around the rolled edges. She shouldn’t have accepted to do such demeaning housework but given how she pulled into the driveway unannounced and that the woman is heavily pregnant with no help around, it was only fair. She may have left behind her patience with Jungkook but not her manners.  

“Why did you have to pick that day to tell her?”

Yori’s eyebrows raised just slightly before falling back down to its former position. She puts a hand over her stomach and walks towards the giant vase again, rubbing her fingers over the cool lacquered surface. Namjoon’s parents had a thing for porcelain she just couldn’t wrap her head around.

“What do you mean?”

“Why did you wait until the marriage ceremony to tell her you were screwing her husband?”

“Husband?” She cocks her head to the side with an incredulous widening of her pupils. “Last time I checked he only had a fiancée he rarely saw who ran away with some pretty photographer the first chance she got. I’d say that’s far from married.”

Your mother shakes her head. “Answer the question,” she looks down, chin trembling. The world is falling apart, her dreams are nothing but a pebble in quicksand, and you no longer cared. “Please.”

Yori watches, in a way one watches a fly buzzing around a piece of fruit, the older woman bring her hands together in front of her like it has taken all her energy to ask such a question. Maybe for a moment she considers telling the woman the truth. She considers telling her that you broke her heart first, that you had the world succumbing to your every need, that your mother’s greed doesn’t only belong to her but you too because you made Seokjin your lap dog while Namjoon promised you a future. She considers telling her about the night she saw you laying like a swooning damsel in distress as Seokjin – the only man she had to beg for attention – suckle your tits like you were getting paid for it. She considers telling your mother that her daughter is the two-faced whore here, not her. She considers telling her that you touched what belonged to someone else first.

But what difference would it make? What would it change? The baby is still due in a handful of weeks, Namjoon is set to take over the company once he gets his shit together and his nose heals, and you’re perfectly happy with a new and exciting boyfriend of yours. The truth doesn’t set anyone free, it just makes sure the shackles aren’t too tight.

Yori turns her moist eyes away towards the living room downstairs. She walks over to the railing, resting her wrist on the copper before she stares down at the half-eaten cake on the coffee table with utmost disgust, as if she can still smell the overly sweet frosting with too much blue and pink dye. Catching her voice, she brings the smile back onto her face.

“I picked that day,” she turns her head, just slightly to catch your mother’s expression. “Just because I wanted to watch her look as pathetic as you do now.”

Your mother’s lips part, hands falling to her sides.

“It just happened. That’s all there is to it.”

“That’s…all?”

Yori chuckles, her empty gaze falling back down to the cake. “That’s all.”

Years of planning, years of giving you the best education the country has to offer, years of making sure you never have to suffer as she had, years of shaking hands and kissing the ground the Kims walk on, only for this girl without new or old money to come and…

Before your mother can think, she lunges forward and grabs Yori by the ends of her hair, twisting the locks around her wrist as the younger woman gasps and shrieks. Her swollen stomach hits your mother’s side as she screeches and uses both hands to grab at her taught hair, pulling away to place as much distance she can. The heel of her ankle catches the edge of the first step and she watches the older woman’s eyes widen as she slams, back first, into the steps and then bounce off the next step as her jaw and skull slams into the copper pipe railing. Yori’s stomach hits the corners of the last several steps before the swell of her belly squeezes inwards, the final gurgling scream ripping out of her throat as her vision turns black and the house falls in silence.

It all happened so fast. Your mother watches with her hands over her ears, chest pounding and bracelets clattering as her limbs turn cold and her knees buckle.  

Her eyes widen, more and more, as the pool of blood around Yori’s head expands until there lays maroon halo around her crown. She’s lying flat on her stomach and it takes another moment for the trembling woman to realize that, in the silence save for her own labored breathing, the bump is no longer there.

“Oh my god…”

Curling over to the side, your mother’s jaw falls open and the remnants of her early lunch spills over one of Yori’s shoes ledged between the railing and the first step. She empties her stomach until there is nothing left, her knuckles white as she grips the railing for support. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she descends down the staircase, back pressed against the wall and eyes darting from the body to the tinted windows with burgundy curtains tied to the side. When she reaches the body, she trips over Yori’s limp feet as she quickly dashes to the living room to draw the curtains close, her neck craning from side to side as she finds any opening where an imaginary eye might witness the ultimate sin. It was only when she finds herself in the kitchen, washing her hands that she realized she had, in fact, stolen two lives.

Yori, and the baby who never had the chance to see daylight.

…

You’re sitting in a bathroom stall, turning over the small flash drive between your fingers when you hear the clattering of heels against polished tile and the sound of handbags slumping on the counter. One of the women walks into the stall next to yours, undoing the tampon wrapper as if she were scouring for the winning lottery number written on the string.

“Did you see Jin with her again?” The woman outside of the stall says and you recognize her by voice. She works for the accounting department and regularly walks into your office for weekly reports.

“I was keeping an eye of him. It’s annoying that they work together now so he’s always all over her.”

No doubt this conversation is about you.

“Tell me about it. I bet they’re fucking, you saw how he looked at her.”

“Doesn’t she have a boyfriend?” The toilet flushes and you can hear her shrugging her skirt back up to her thighs.

You hear a gasp. “Oh my god, you’re right. It’s that young guy who keep bringing her lunch, right? She didn’t break up with him?”

The stall opens and both women are in front of the counter. You’re stuck in your seat, not knowing whether to kick open the door or to interrupt the conversation but with Seokjin’s flash drive in your clammy hands, you struggle to even breathe.

“They’re still together. Looks like that photographer dick is too good to give up for the office hunk.”

They laugh like hyenas – that high, shrieking kind of laugh that makes their red lipstick bleed onto the corners of their mouths.

“They’re so out of her league. What do they even see in her? She’s painfully average. The only thing she’s got going on is a good wardrobe.”

You keep your head lowered when they walk past your stall as if they could see you. They pull on the paper towel lever until they can rip a generous piece and wipe their hands.

“She’s rich. She’s probably only working here because it keeps her humble or some bullshit like that. You know how girls with daddy’s money are, thinking they’re doing charity for working like the rest of us-”

You don’t hear the rest of their conversation, glad that your face no longer feels hot but you’re angered all the same. Jungkook’s visits, for this reason, had made you nervous in the beginning because you know they’ll talk and come up with their own little villain fantasy about you. It doesn’t bother you as you keep work separate from life (something Jungkook had been interrupting much to your discomfort) but hearing it in person ignited the kind of angry tears that has you cursing at yourself for letting yourself be disturbed by it.

You grab your handbag off the hook, place the flash drive back in your pocket, and unlock the stall before pushing the door open. You wash your hands in haste as the air had become suffocating in the aftermath of the two women. Wiping your wet hands down your black slacks, you let your wavy hair down and let it frame your face to hide your flushed cheeks, making sure that your eyes are no longer moist and your nose isn’t pink. What a way to end a workday.

When you arrive back at the office, most of your coworkers are gone except for the new interns organizing papers for tomorrow and the occasional workaholics making coffee in the makeshift cafeteria. You just hope you won’t run into the two women if they choose to swing by for whatever reason but, thankfully, it was never a common occurrence. They never did above the bare minimum any way.

A sigh of relief leaves your lips when you slump back down your office chair, squeezing your nose bridge as a wave of exhaustion wracks havoc in your pulsing head.

“There are some more sandwiches in the fridge, please help yourself if you’d like.” A student intern says as she carries a crumpled file under one arm, peering from above your divider.

“Oh!” You exclaim, your head darting towards the room Sora left in a mess before turning back to the girl. “Thank you, I’ll help myself. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She gives a short nod before leaving, the glass door squeaking as the office once again is filled with the sound of coffee machines whirring and papers shredding.

The USB flash drive sits heavy in your pocket as you wave goodbye to the last person leaving your department with a cup of coffee. She nods, smiling, and pushes out the heavy glass door and you silently hope she won’t forget to return the mug before leaving the building. You listen to the clacking of her heels fading before turning back to the work computer still logged into your account. The saturated blue screen is harsh on your vision and you find yourself squeezing your eyes shut, turning to look at the clock on the wall momentarily to keep yourself grounded.

Jungkook can call at any minute as your shift is coming to an end.

Maybe it would be easier to do this with your phone turned off but knowing him, he would worry enough to drive over to make sure you’re safe.

Within the gray walls that surround your cubicle, you should feel secure. Yet, some part of you wonders if he would suddenly appear behind you and wrap you in his arms before asking you what you’re up to. In this nightmare of a scenario, you can also feel the antagonizing gaze of the two women.

Looking back down at the USB, you’ve come to realize that you have bigger things to worry about. Some part of you feels just as disgusting as a cheater taking off her ring in the presence of another man.

What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

You’ve rehearsed the same mantra in your head at least a hundred times within the same hour (before you had the unfortunate chance to overhear that unpleasant conversation) and it sickens you that this is a phrase that Namjoon would have used to justify his time with Yori. It’s a cheater’s mentality – a cowardly way of shifting responsibility away from themselves without considering the consequences when the truth comes to light.  

With a sigh, you pull the flash drive out of your pocket and flip the black casing open until the lid hangs off its hinges to reveal the silver end. You look around once more, taking a deep breath, and push the end into the appropriate slot of the system unit. The USB flashes a neon green light, pulsing as it loads, before it dims and a small ping pulls your attention back to the screen.

The file explorer window expands, showing a ZIP file among an array of photos that had you squinting to observe. You jolt straight from the seat as your phone rings. Cursing under your breath as you note an incoming call. You’re just about to turn back to the screen when you recognize that the number flashing across your screen isn’t Jungkook’s but your mother’s. She never called at this time and if she did, she would have texted you first to make sure you weren’t in a meeting.

Just as you reach for the phone, it stops ringing and you contemplate turning it off. But something tells you you should have taken the call. When the phone rings again, causing you to flinch, you let it vibrate twice before swiping across the screen.

In exactly five minutes, you will regret ever picking up the call. In ten minutes, you’re running for your life.

…

Jungkook paces back and forth with his thumb between his teeth. If he bit his nails any shorter, he would pierce through skin. Your voice still rings in his ear as you cry into the phone, your tires screaming through the speaker as you speed through the streets back to the apartment. He’s sick with worry, wondering if you crashed into a tree of if you decided – on a whim – to handle this situation yourself. Because you called him immediately after you left work, he has a feeling you wouldn’t do anything stupid but today has been especially unpredictable.

First, your mother coming to meet him. Second, the same woman pushing Yori down the stairs and threatening you to take care of it. If he’d heard you correctly, the old wench even mentioned she would make his life a living hell if you don’t head over immediately. Some mother you are. It pisses him off to no end that you had to live with her for half of your life but it makes him even more upset that you’ve been hiding your mother’s behavior, throwing excuses about how much she worries when she’d call in the mornings and leave voicemails that you delete without listening.

He changes into a pair of jeans and an old university sweatshirt that is a bit too tight on the cuffs. When he hears the sound of your heels clack on the other side of the door, he barely had the time to wrap his head around such a God-given opportunity.

As soon as the door swings open you’re falling into his arms, wracked with sobs as he engulfs your entire torso in his arms. He presses your head further below his neck, reaching behind you to grab his coat off the hanger and wrap it around you before kicking the door close in case a neighbor passes by. You can’t bear to lift your head, trembling as your teeth chatter and your pupils are wide with fear. He’s never seen you like this – not even during the wedding night – and it makes his insides squeeze as if someone had reached in him and pressed a hand against his organs.

“I-I don’t know w-” you sob, “I don’t know w-what to do. I can’t breathe. Jungkook-”

He hushes you softly, threading his fingers through your hair with his thumbs curling around your ear. He tilts your head up towards his gaze, watching your tears trail down your face and onto the coat. Between gasps, you’re wailing, your throat tightened to the point that even his name sounds like nails on chalkboard on your lips.

“Noona, you have to breathe for me. Inhale,” he brings air into his nostrils as demonstration, “and exhale. Can you do that for me?”

You nod, swallowing first before you mimic and close your eyes. Jungkook brings a hand up to your chest, digging underneath the coat to feel it pounding against your ribcage.

“Keep breathing, noona. It’s going to be okay, keep breathing.” He rubs his warm palm over the chiffon and you find yourself leaning your forehead against his chest in exhaustion.

You wish you could stay in his embrace forever. Locked inside this warm and unassuming apartment, away from your mother, away from the past that has now resurfaced in the worst way imaginable – you wish you can curl into his arms and never leave. That…or you just want the world to swallow you in a deep well and leave you to starve.

“We have to tell the police.” You tremble. You can’t imagine the repercussions, not to mention the heartache of seeing your mother behind bars. She’d rather hang herself than end up in prison, you know that much. You’d sworn to your father before his passing that you’d keep her safe and you’re already thinking of running away.

“Noona…”

“We do. We…I have to. I-I mean it was an accident,” you’re suddenly peeling yourself away from him, bringing your hands up to rub your face. “They’ll give her m-maybe three or four years at most, right? If it was an accident it won’t be…”

Jungkook comes up behind you, placing his hands on your shoulders and rubbing up and down. You’re shaking again, tears streaming even quicker than before and the nausea is causing you to falter from side to side.

“Kookie, I don’t know what to do. Please tell me what to do, I’m going crazy. I don’t know what to do.”

He places his forehead against the crown of your head, staring into the distance. You feel his fingers tighten around your arm before he’s wrapping his arms around your shoulders and resting his weight upon your collarbones.

“Do you trust me, noona?” He whispers.

The fridge hums in the distance. You nod.

“Yes…I trust you. With my life.”

When he doesn’t reply, you turn your body, slowly, as if you were anticipating a monster and not a man, until you can look up at his face. He’s rubs his thumbs over your tears and moves down to your chapped lips, swollen and pink from your incessant gnawing. Your lips part just slightly as you exhale, keeping your eyes locked onto his loving eyes. He looks so angelic under the kitchen lights, the yellow bulbs blurred by the moisture in your eyes to form a halo around his long fringe. His hair is parted in the middle to form a curtain around his structured face, casting a shadow over his eyes in the semi-darkness. You can’t see him clearly with the lights behind him but you can sense his confidence, his reassuring grip on your cheeks; he’s no longer the boy from the night before but a man who is willing to keep the promise he made to you.

“I can help you.” He whispers softly once more, his voice lowered. “If you take me to the body…I can help you, noona.”

He holds your gaze, his thumbs still rubbing softly over your cheeks as if to coax the words into your skin. The implication isn’t lost on you but your body reacts first, fingers shaking as a fresh wave of sweat prickles down your back.

“W-What do you…” you trail off as your breathing grows heavy. Jungkook puts a hand on your chest once more as he did before, rubbing softly over your chest to calm your pounding heart.

He holds you close, breathing in your skin once more as his own eyes sting with unshed tears. Fate is a terrible thing and for every moment of bliss with you, he must pay the price; except, this price is a new opportunity to secure you by his side and earn your mother’s silent approval. It’s okay, Jungkook thinks, he can do this for you. He has the resources, the will, the strength, the plans – the only thing he can’t predict is your mental well-being in the aftermath.

Will you lose respect for him? Will you still love him? One thing he was sure of was that this was the only chance to keep your mother from arranging a marriage partner for you. He must go through it to not only save your sanity, your mother, but your answer when he puts one knee on the ground and opens the velvet box he keeps on top of the fridge for the perfect time. Oh how the universe responded so quickly to the day’s worries.

“Back then…when you said you would…”

Kill

“…You would do that for me. You really meant it, baby?”

Jungkook brings your head back under his chin and keeps you there, rocking from side to side as if to lull you to sleep.

“I meant every word. I’m not afraid, noona, not if it means I can protect you and your family.” His eyes darken as he tangles his fingers into your hair, twirling the ends of your waves between his fingers. “You love me, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“Then I need you to listen to me.”

With great reluctance, he pulls you away and holds your palm in both of his larger hands. Your eyes are closed, whether from fatigue or concentration he doesn’t know until your brows scrunch when he speaks.  

“Call your mother when I tell you to and tell her you’re on your way over. If she asks why you didn’t answer her previous calls, tell her you had an emergency at work. Reassure her and make sure she doesn’t touch anything more than she’s probably already touched by now. Don’t mention that I’m coming with you, understand? She might panic and bring attention to herself if there’s any witnesses.”

You nod continuously, creating a mental checklist. Call, inform, excuse, reassure, move.

“And noona?”

You look back up into his eyes.

“You…you won’t hate me after tonight…would you?”

How could you fathom it? With his warm, sincere stare and willingness to walk to the ends of earth for someone as plain and unlovable as you, you should be on your knees worshipping him. You don’t understand how he can think of you hating him when he had so willingly put his entire life at risk without reluctance. You aren’t asking him to fetch a forgotten carton of milk at the corner store. You’re asking him to clean up the mess your mother made, a mess that can tear your entire world apart, a mess that has nothing to do with your boyfriend who has no boundaries to prove his devotion.

You shake your head. “I could never,” you breathe.

You hold him this time, letting his body bow towards your trembling figure as he breathes in the scent of sweat and perfume on your neck. You give him a moment of peace. You wanted him to remember this touch as after this night is over, you don’t know if you’ll be the same person. You don’t know if he’ll be either.

He goes over the plan once more and leads you to his car. When Jungkook straps you into the passenger seat and turns the ignition key, you curl your fingers around your shaking knees. He notices your anxiety and takes the closest hand in his before letting your palm rest over the gear shift. He places his own hand on top of yours, gripping tightly when he shifts and maneuvers the car out of the parking lot and onto the road before unclenching.

The sky is pitch black and the moon stalks from behind. You count every tree, read every sign, tense at every sign of a police car passing by, and sniffle when your burning eyes refuse to calm. You don’t register where you are until Jungkook lets go of your hand on the shifting gear and undo his seatbelt. You’re inside the garage of his studio, surrounded by wires, cardboard boxes, plastic bins, and office supplies. When you grasp his arm, letting out a small cry, he hushes you instantly, bringing your hand up to his lips to place a tender kiss on your knuckles.

“I’ll be quick, noona. I just need to get some things, okay? I’ll be right there-” he points to the very back of the car – “in view.”

You swallow, nodding before uncurling your grip from his arm.

It takes every ounce of self-restraint for Jungkook not to coo at your desperation. He missed this dependency of yours (he had only seen it during the wedding night and the necklace argument) and for once he wonders if he went a bit too far with his role as the sweet and needy boyfriend. He’s not acting in a way that he doesn’t want to but he is guilty of dramatizing some of his pleas and affectionate touches. He knows, in his head, that he is a man. He’s stronger, taller, capable of committing a crime and not just cleaning its aftermath, and will eventually be the father of your children. He’ll tug his collar open to expose his vulnerabilities, but he will show you his strength too. Tonight is a blessing from the universe that will, finally, keep you where you belong: at his side, looking at him, and needing only him.

You watch as Jungkook swings open the trunk of his car and load three large plastic bins and pile photography equipment – tripods, developer fluids, camera bags, lighting equipment, and even a small monitor. And then you see the last box of supplies: rope, black plastic bags, gloves, masks, bleach, towels, and tape. When his eyes meet yours, he flashes you a small smile between his labored breaths, the kind you’re used to seeing after you make love to him and he’s spent, sprawled on the sheets with an arm over his perspired forehead. The car jolts slightly as pushes the back door shut and hop back into the driver seat, adjusting the temperature in the car, muttering something under his breath, and latching his seat belt back on.

He keeps both hands on the wheel. “Noona…make the call now.”

You’re frozen, hands clasped together on your lap.

“Kookie…”

You’re having doubts. He can see it in the way you can’t even bear to look at him. He digs through your pocket and presses your cell phone on your lap. When the lockscreen awakens to the photo of you two, you feel your heart anchor to the bottom of your stomach.

“I-I can’t do it.” You shake your head. “We have to go to the police. I can’t live without you, I can’t live without mom, we’ll get caught and I-” You press your hands to your face, your hoarse sobs lodged deep in your throat before it rips from your chest in the kind of wailing that makes Jungkook’s own heart squeeze. “I can’t do this. I can’t do this to Yori either e-even if it means my family…I’m sorry…I’m sorry…”

He sees himself in you. He sees himself as the teen boy who let Taehyung drag his scalpel across his father, then his mother, before encouraging him to give it a try. You’re a virgin. Even if tonight worked out perfectly according to his plans, you’d still be a crime virgin. It was your mother who pushed Yori, not you. Knowing how empathetic you are, how tender you are, it might as well be you who pushed the woman down the stairs. He knows your fear all too well and he knows just how quick your hummingbird heartbeat is underneath his coat that you’re wearing. You’re just like him.

“You’re beautiful, noona.” He places a palm over your clasped hands and brings his other hand up to your face, tucking your hair behind your ears and strumming your cheeks with the back of his fingers.

“No one deserves your kindness. It fucking upsets me,” he swallows, allowing his eyes to water, “that even a mother will take advantage of that kindness.”

You sob into his hand, leaning your temple against the head rest. He’s right. How many times have your mother, before Jungkook came into your life, morphed you into something you’re not? The days you spent trying to please her, comparing yourself to other children she would complement to get a reaction out of you, letting yourself be a pawn for when she wanted something from your father that either required money or the right handshake. You still love her above all because she’s your mother but there’s no denying how much it still touches every part of your life from your relationships to your career. Moving away from her and letting her fade into the background was a true feat and it pains you that all that effort crumbled away and you’re left in a bigger mess to clean than before. If only you hadn’t taken the fucking call.

Maybe this was your fault. Maybe, if you hadn’t been such a hard-headed person, she would never had driven over to Yori’s place and none of this wouldn’t have happened. You wouldn’t have to get Jungkook involved either, as willing as he is.

“You trust me, don’t you?” Jungkook slouches back into his seat, putting his hands back onto the steering wheel. “Don’t you, noona?”

You nod, keeping your head lowered.

“Then be good for me and call. I’ll take care of you and I’ll take care of everything else. I’ve never broken that promise, not now, not ever.”

Jungkook hopes that’ll work. He’s rather annoyed but not at you, never at you. Why couldn’t she tumble down those stairs too instead of giving you such unnecessary stress? This kind of stain would be terrible for the baby had you been pregnant. It’s tearing him apart watching how different you are now compared to this morning, leaving the apartment in comfort only to come falling into his arms in tears. He came to the conclusion that you’re simply too pure for the world.

Oh how romantic tonight would be if you were honest with yourself all along. Claiming to loathe your mother with the strength of a thousand suns only to act like this when she shows up with baggage. Jungkook can’t blame you for you shared a majority of your life with the wench, but he finds it exasperating that you can’t see how little of your pity people like her deserve. Nevertheless, you wouldn’t be the love of his life if you weren’t so sensitive and caring.

It was with great relief that you mustered the courage to swipe across the phone screen and type your mother’s number.

He clicks open the garage door and the vehicle begins to descend down the elevated lot.

“M-mom? I’m on my way now…c-can you tell me where you are? It’ll be okay…I know mom, I-I’ll be there soon…”

…

You feel eerily calm as Jungkook drives past your mother’s car parked in the front of the gate to circle around the perimeter of the fence. He doesn’t recognize the new gate but he’d climbed over the old ones many times to watch you on the balcony. The metal may have changed but the level of security should be the same given that the villas are built a good distance apart between trees and the residents – people with mostly new money – keep to themselves. Lodged between a large tree and a partial opening in the back gate that is no doubt left ajar by your mother, Jungkook step out of the vehicle and press the door close before coming over to your side.

He’s relieved that you’re no longer in tears but your hands are still freezing cold despite the heat turned to the max inside. Your eyes are wandering and your breaths are labored as you press your body close to Jungkook’s.

Your mother is waiting near the door, her head poking out just slightly in the darkness and you can see the familiar row of bracelets on her wrist. She seems to have aged several years in just the last few months and the reason for her demise is standing next to you.

“Are you insane?” She seethes as she pulls you by the arm into the dark house and keep her eyes on Jungkook whose gaze bore into her skull. “How could you bring another-”

Jungkook barely had the time to secure your grip on his arm when you gasp, flinching back to hit the chess table next to where he’s standing when you see Yori’s pale arm stretched out from beneath a mat. The deep crimson shade of blood had congealed on the marble, partially smudged by the mat above her weighing her corpse down. Deep inside you had hoped that at least the baby could be saved, by some miracle, but the damage is far too great. Accident or not, a police officer finding this scene would not consider a light sentence if you mother decided to confess.

The older woman’s jaw is clenched, no doubt suppressing the panic she too feels hammering inside her as you hang off of Jungkook arm, trembling still. She looks up to your boyfriend and finds herself jolting awake when his eyes are peering down at her. He looks kind, sympathetic, soft, as if he is still sitting across her on your couch, eager to prove that he can be the son-in-law she’s been looking for all along.

“You should head home for the night. I’ll handle the rest.”

She scratches at her bracelets, her nails tugging the gold free from her skin. “B-But…where are you taking her? Anyone will find it if she’s buried in the yard.”

Jungkook doesn’t answer the question.

“Please go home and make sure there are no witnesses. I know you didn’t inform anyone before coming here,” he turns his head towards the body, “so go home as if you were never here. I promise I’ll take care of it.”

It’s evident the older woman is relieved by the way her shoulders slump but her gaze is still firm as she measures her trust into the young man who is in full control of your heart. Your eyes are still on the body when your mother takes your hands in hers and gives a squeeze.

“Sweetheart…” she croaks. She knew she gave birth to such a dependable, obedient daughter. You’re every mother’s dream and she makes a mental note to come back to your apartment with more boxes of food and perhaps make amends. There are far too many misunderstandings and miscommunication; it’s no way for a mother and child to live.

However, when you rip your hands away and take Jungkook’s hand in yours, her face crumbles.

“I don’t ever want to see you again.” You hiss, your voice straining. You’ve never spoken to her like this and didn’t think about doing so until you saw the body, the mess your boyfriend has to clean. “You did this to us.”

“Wh-”

“Leave me alone. Please, mom. Get out of here, okay?” Your eyes glisten and you wipe away the droplets before they have the chance to fall. “It’s…we’re putting our lives on the line for you. It’s the least you can do now…so please…”

Between your pleas and Jungkook’s silence, your mother bites the inside of her cheek from saying anything more and turns back the way you came in. You watch her figure recede into the darkness, her shoes clacking softly on the cobblestone path. She turns back to look at you before the door closes and for once, you earn the most genuine apology you’ve ever received and this time she didn’t even need to open her mouth.

When the door falls back into place, Jungkook gives your shoulders a comforting rub and leads you towards the staircase, reminding you to breathe. He feels a bit more relieved that your mother didn’t raise too much of a ruckus. How could she when he’s the one getting his hands dirty? It’s what the perfect son-in-law will do and after this night is over, he’ll no longer have doubts about her approval. She wouldn’t have a valid argument anyway – not when he had just proved that he’s willing to go to the ends of Earth for your family and stability.

You’re too cute, Jungkook thinks, as you breathe through your nose and exhale through your lips. You’re a mirror image of his virgin self coated in blood, panicked but euphoric, angered but more than relieved to be rid of the parasites that kept him in the sewers.

“H-how are we going to do this?” You breathe, looking up the stairs as if you were expecting Namjoon to be standing there.

“I’ll handle the body. You can help me wipe down the stairs, okay?”

And handle it he did. He first fetched the supplies from the car, making sure once more that there are no witnesses while also keeping you within sight. Even without a severe puncture wound, Yori made quite a mess.

The terror didn’t come from seeing your former friend of years lay in a puddle of her own secretions. Nor did it come from seeing how calm and collected your boyfriend is peering down at the body with something akin to annoyance. No, terror came from how easily your mind and body adapted to helping Jungkook. You had no more tears left to shed when he lifted the mat from the body and placed a plastic covering next to her before rolling her body onto it. The sheet rustles beneath her weight and the stench of iron and urine fills your nostrils, prompting you to place your gloved hand over your nose.

Jungkook seems to know just what to do. He orders for you to wipe the railings first, which you do so with the slowness of a snail climbing a brick wall. The smell of bleach kept the nausea at bay and prompted you to focus on the smaller tasks because you can feel your heart already beginning to race with the sound of your boyfriend dragging Yori by the feet to straighten her posture. When you risked a glance back, you catch yourself feeling irked by the way Jungkook places her fingers so tenderly on her flattened stomach. Even when he’s wearing gloves, you catch yourself glaring at his touch on her skin, at the way his fingers brush over the ring on her finger. It makes you clench your jaw harder, pour more bleach onto the staircase, and wipe down each step with vigor.

She’s dead, she can’t take him from you.

You spray the bleach onto the top step, scrubbing with the heel of your palm as your shoulder fights through aches and pressure. You can do this. If Jungkook kept his promise, you must too. You will never find another man who will devote his entire life to you and for that you must not be too forgiving to those who don’t deserve your kindness, not this time.

All your life it’s one person after another coming to take what they want and leave. This is your lesson to finally take yourself back from them all, to come to terms with how much you gave and how little you received, see that Jungkook was the catalyst you desperately needed. It was no coincidence that when the elevator doors opened that very night of your wedding, he was the person standing in front of you. He was meant to be there holding your shoes as he rescues you away from those who would eventually suck the life out of you. He’s not someone you should be afraid of – no – because he’s your savior.

When you turn back again, Jungkook is slipping Yori’s legs into a large, black plastic bag identical to the one she’s laying on. He uses the bag beneath her to fight friction as he slides her body forward, careful not to bend her body before the duct tape comes into play.

And suddenly, your shoulder doesn’t ache anymore. Your heartbeat slows as you take another deep breath, this time through your lips, and watch his shoulders hunch over and forearm veins protrude.

“Kookie?”

He looks up, hair damp with sweat as it falls over his eyes. The lights from the front lawn, as it filter through dark maroon curtains, casts a red glow on your lover’s skin. When he meets your eyes he’s filled with glee, seeing that you’re no longer panicking and your eyes are clouded with a kind of protective apathy that lets him know you’ve gotten stronger. You’re dipping a toe into his world.

“Yes, noona?” He huffs, straightening his spine and wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his wrist.

“Nothing will happen to us after tonight…right?”

He physically melts at your saccharine voice. You’re worried about him, about whether he’ll still want you after this and if he’ll want you forever. “Of course not, noona. Are you feeling okay? Do you need to rest?” He asks if he hadn’t been the one packing the corpse into a bag.

You shake your head with a sniffle. “…I’m fine.” You’re not sure what to say, so you rub the cleaning cloth between your fingers and shy away from his eyes. “J just wanted to hear you say that.”

A smile spreads across his face, slow but bright as if he had just heard the most amazing thing. You can’t smile back and instead focus back on the floors and the last few inches of the railing.

You make sure to wipe the decorations nearby, in case your mother left any fingerprints on the lacquered surfaces. She can be rather careless in dire situations. You’re lifting yourself off the floor when something catches your eye: a large crib with layers and layers of blankets and fuzzy cloud and star plushies.

“What kind of bedtime stories should we tell our kids?”

Namjoon puts his head on your lap, sighing in relief when his neck is elevated at just the right position to depressurize the knot.

“What about myths? About the constellations and such.”

You giggle, brushing your fingers through his hair. “Isn’t that a little too mature for babies?”

When he doesn’t answer, you wave you hand in front of his eyes. He squints, chuckling. So this is what marriage life is going to be like – he can get used to it. “You’re right, that is a bit too much. Then…hm…they’ll learn about the types of clouds in the sky and we can go from there.”

“Joonie, I love you, but don’t come crying when our kids prefer mama’s stories over papa’s boring myths and random science facts.”

“We’ll see when we get to that point. Either way, you’re stuck with me.”

Asshole.

A fucking good-for-nothing lying asshole.

Gifting the same toys he promised to give to your future children to the same bitch who ruined your life, your family, and your sanity; they deserved each other, you think, and they both deserve to disappear as if they had never existed. The unborn baby inside Yori is innocent but a part of you is elated that he’ll never experience the kind of fatherhood he wanted. You silently wished Namjoon would tumble down the very same staircase you cleaned and joined Yori in a happy couple’s embrace to…

“Kookie?” You call out to your boyfriend who had duct taped the body in a semi-mummified state and used a shibari knot with his jute rope for easy carrying. He’d dragged the body next to the railing and leaned it against one of the stair planks in an upright position so that after he inspects the house for any evidence, he can bring the corpse easily over his shoulder.

“Yes, noona?”

“Where are we going to bury her?”

Jungkook wets his lips. He can’t possibly tell you the process of disposing a body or else you’ll surely fall back into panic so he gives you the simplest answer he can. “I’ll have to keep her body in the freezer in my studio. I’ll look for a place to burn it soon.”

You nod, swallowing as your throat tightens uncomfortably once more. The waves of anxiety come and goes. Jungkook knows how you’re feeling all too well and he wishes he could just hold you in your arms until tomorrow comes. Much to his distain, he knows you’re partly living your fantasy of making Yori pay for her involvement with Namjoon. You no longer love the man but anyone in your shoes wouldn’t deny there is a sense of satisfaction in seeking vengeance after a lifetime of humiliation that dampened your reputation in both your personal and professional sphere. Jungkook prays that getting rid of Yori will eliminate your mind of their presence although he highly doubts it; you’re not always rainbows and flowers. It’s only natural for you to be curious about taking another life when anger consumes logic. Most of these thoughts are fleeting ,which is why you had surprised Jungkook by your composure. He expected screaming at the very least but all you could do was cry.

He understands.

After he watched the life drain out of his parents, Taehyung had watched him cry for the longest time and when the next day came, it was like the world had turned its back while he washed the blood off his hands. The anxiety was terrible – at least for the first month or two – and then it was as if nothing had happened.

Like he learned before and like you’re learning now, it didn’t take much to get rid of a person. Over time, it just became muscle memory, kind of like making your morning coffee half-asleep. Now that you’ve gotten your first taste of the power, he wonders how you’ll cope. Will you fall into despair and regret it all in the morning? Will you be hungry for more? How will you return his most tiresome display of affection? These are questions he can’t answer. But what he does know is that you finally understand what love is in his world.

Love isn’t just about a ring on the finger or a baby in the crib. Love has to hurt. It has to infest your dreams and turn them into nightmares, wreak havoc on your heart, rip off the magnet in your moral compass. It’s why the human heart is caged behind ribs – it can hardly be tamed.

…

As the car lurches behind trees and between unpaved roads, Jungkook notifies your mother about what to do next. It would not raise suspicion for her to leave the country for a few weeks, especially since she had been traveling to speak to investors abroad. It would take some of the burden off his shoulders too; your mother is a cunning woman who fears losing money more than losing you so he had no trouble alluding to her demise if she disobeys. While you look away, he quickly sends a notification to Jimin to make sure the older man will take care of the rest. When he receives an immediate response back, his shoulders slump in relief and he pockets the phone back into his jeans.

When he takes your hand in his again, the other gripping the wheel, you give him the smallest of smiles through the silence.

Three is a crowd. The body folded and hidden in the rear space between his photography equipment makes your head turn every now and then to make sure it doesn’t escape somehow. You’re exhausted beyond belief but Jungkook is here, his palm over your hand on the shifting gear once more, to keep you grounded. The night feels like it might go on forever.

The streets pass by in a blur – nightlife still alive and pulsing with neon signs – and there’s a kind of peace enclosed in the car that you can’t find anywhere else. It’s the comfort in knowing that Jungkook has always been and will always be there for you. Whether to take you from somewhere or bring you to some place, he’s the only person in your life left that you could depend on. As he expertly drives through tight alleyways where gas station surveillance cameras can’t reach him, you’re dozing off with your head against the window.  

“We’re almost there.” He says while running his thumb over your knuckles. There’s blood on his shirt and your neck but you’re too tired to care.

You awaken with a gasp when Jungkook swings the door open; he had been careful not to wake you but you feel enough residual adrenaline to jolt awake at the smallest of sounds. It takes a moment for you to recognize the inside of his garage, the bright LED lightbulb hanging above causing you to squint as your eyes adjust.

Unaware that you’re awake, Jungkook quickly moves to the rear of the car and swing Yori’s body over his shoulders, tightening the ropes around where her neck and feet are to secure his grip. He carries the wrapped body towards the door next to the shelves and kicks it open to reveal several more stocked shelves before coming to a halt at the buzzing freezer. With a free hand, he lifts the lid open and removes several bags of seafood and miscellaneous food items you can’t quite make out before rolling the body inside the interior. He places the bags on top of the body and latches the freezer shut, securing it with a combination lock from one of his bins.

When he steps back and shut the storage door before turning, he’s surprised to see you standing in the doorway, your hair a mess, his coat hanging loose off one shoulder.  

“Do you remember the night after you took my engagement photos? The ones at that same house?”

His brows scrunch slightly in confusion as he nods. There’s a noticeable flush on your cheeks as you breath in and out from your lips, a puff forming in the chill of the garage. You’re half-asleep, the exhaustion resting well deep in your bones but you can’t bring yourself to find your way towards his bed.

“I left my bedroom door open for you. I-I watched you from the balcony and waited for you to come back.”

Jungkook’s lips part, something foreign stirring in his stomach as the coat weighs down your shoulders and you don’t stop it from sliding down your arms, letting it pool around your feet. You don’t know why you wanted to confess but it felt right. It felt right to confess to something that isn’t about being an accessory in a crime.  

“Why didn’t you say anything, noona?”

You close the distance, putting both of your hands on his chest, over the blood stains on the university sweatshirt. He exhales loudly when you bring him down to your level by a tug of his collar, your lips just a mere centimeter apart.

“Because I wanted you then just as much as I want you now.”

Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to close the gap between your lips, slamming your body onto the car behind you as he brings one of your legs over his waist to press himself against your heat. Your fingers curl around the nape of his neck and he listens to your squeal as he lifts you fully off the ground and lets you wrap both your legs around him this time. You break the kiss and pepper sweet kisses over the mole on his neck and the smears of dried blood that caked onto his sweatshirt.

“I love you so much,” you whisper, moving your head to the other side of his neck to suckle on his warm skin and feel his pulse through the jugular.

Jungkook quickly throws open the door to the studio and steps into the darkness, his memory allowing him to lead you towards the bathroom without his eyes adjusting. Your eyes burn once more when he reaches behind you to shut the bathroom door close and turn on the yellowed lights with the back of his elbow. When your face comes into view, he sits you on the counter next to the sink and pushes his tongue back in your mouth, your name leaving his lips with a whimper.

He’s terribly hard against your thighs, his length straining through his jeans. You tug him forward by the belt as you break the kiss once more and let him rip open your blood and bleach-stained blouse.

“God, you’re so beautiful, noona. I can’t believe you’re mine.”

He moans as you press the heel of your feet up his erection, his voice muffled by skin filling his mouth as he takes the top your left breast spilling from the brassiere on his tongue. You arch to chase the heat of his tongue, back of your head leaning on the mirror behind.

“My good boy…such a good boy…”

The effect your praise has on him is immediate. Jungkook reaches behind his neck and pulls the sweatshirt over his head, ruffling his hair in the process. You watch him unbuckle and tug his belt free from the hoops before unclasping the front of his jeans. Impatient, he circles his arms around you to undo the brassiere, leaning down to kiss the indents on your skin as you slip your blouse off your shoulders and pull the straps down your arms. The coolness of the counter causes a hiss to leave your lips and Jungkook drinks in your state of orgasmic delirium like an aphrodisiac.

It’s a blessing for you to have worn a less difficult pair of pants to shimmy out of. With a short tug, Jungkook slides the waistband of your wool slacks and cotton panties down your ankles. When he pauses, chest rising and falling steadily, you follow his gaze to see a streak of blood in the middle of the light pink fabric.

In the time between your mother’s call and your boyfriend dumping your former best friend’s body in a freezer, your period makes an early appearance. The streak of blood is bright and vibrant, unlike Yori’s blood that oxidized into a deep maroon shade on his tanned skin. Jungkook tugs your pants down your ankles but takes your panties into one hand, his doe eyes coming to rest on the blood before something snaps within him.

He throws the fabric on the floor and hooks his arms beneath your shin, prompting you to gasp as he spreads your thighs apart. He stares down at your dark pubic hair before tracing two fingers up your slit and into the curls. His fingers reappear with your blood, seeping underneath his short nails and the crevices of his nailbed.

“Can I taste you, noona?” He breathes, chest rising and falling even faster. His cheeks are flaming red, the flush reaching his earlobes as his lips part for more air. He feels like he can’t breathe, seeing how beautiful, fertile, and red you are for him.

You’re hesitant, the blood reminding you of what you just done – what he just done – yet the burning in your belly proves that you want this just as much as he does. You barely had the chance to nod before Jungkook pushes his face into your pussy, his tongue lapping the blood on your vulva and clit as his nose buries in your trimmed curls. You taste metallic, as if he’s sucking on a penny, but it’s light and the syrupy texture allows him to take all of your juices in his mouth. When his tongue draws circles around your clit and he presses his lips around the nub like a suction, your fingers immediately grasp his hair from the roots, begging his tongue to fuck your weeping pussy.

Jungkook laps your folds like a starving puppy until you’re arching for him once more, thighs trapping his head where it belongs as your cum gushes out of you with traces with red. Between your blood and your juices, he can’t decide which one tastes better. The metallic tang disappears, leaving a fragrant aftertaste that he can only indulge when he inhales through his nose after swallowing what remains on his teeth. When your knees twitch, Jungkook pulls back to come up for air, watching your expression as your eyes fall to his wet crimson lips, the mess reaching his chin and jaw.

It takes a minute for you to gather yourself together and in your exhaustion a slow but soft smile reaches your lips.

“Does it taste good, baby?”

“Heavenly,” he whispers as he traps your body between his arms and gives you a taste, twisting his tongue deep inside your warm mouth. Your hands stroke the contours of his biceps and triceps, core aching as he groans when you lick your remainings from his chin.

You can tell he’s tired, having to do most of the manual labor. He winces as you knead his shoulders and it makes your chest ache. Even when he’s hurting, he takes care of you first. Your precious boy.

“Turn on the shower for me.”

Jungkook is aching to be inside you but he obeys, turning away to step inside the shower and twist the silver handle lodged into the tile. You stand behind him, moving away just slightly when the water – steadily turning hot – sprays over his hair and onto your breasts. Just as he’s about to turn around you circle your arms around his waist and reach into his jeans, palming his throbbing cock before pulling his jeans and briefs down his ankles. He steps out of the tight fabric, watching the remnants of Yori’s blood spiral down the drain as you kick the fabric in front of his toes.

The shower hose is harsh on his head but he can’t seem to pull away, one arm holding onto the wall for purchase, when you cushion your knees with his wet, blood-stained jeans. He can’t get any harder watching water drip from the ends of his hair down to your erect nipples, sliding down between the valley of your breasts and onto your soft stomach.

You’re delighted to see his cock twitch, taking your bottom lip under your teeth as you look up at him.

“You want mommy to take care of you, Kookie?”

He nods, exhaling as his abdomen clenches.

“You want to cum all over mommy’s tits, yeah? Make me proud?”

“Unng…” He moans in response, hips bucking forward to slide his leaking tip across your lips. He whimpers when you pull away, your smile twisting when his stomach clenches again.

You massage his firm thighs, gliding over every ripple of his muscles and over to the patch of pubic hair above his cock. When you pass your hands over his belly button, you stretch a palm up towards his face.

“Spit.”

The mole beneath his lips appear as he gathers as much saliva as he can produce on his tongue and spits into your palm. There are some traces of blood in your palm but you pay no attention to it as you place your saliva-coated palm over his cock and make a fist around the length.

“Mo-mmy,” he throws his head back, the shower head coming down his flushed pecs. Your fist begins to move slow but tight around his hardness. “It feels so good. Fuck…unng, mommy…please…”

Jungkook can cum just from your warm breath hitting his leaking tip but he doesn’t. When you lean forward and take his entire length in your mouth, tongue stretched as far as you can as you press your nose against his pubes, his jaw drops. You’re warm, wet, and fuck, so tight.

His other hand combs through your hair, reaching underneath the nape to pull your head back until your half-lidded eyes can watch his skin glisten.

With your hands back on his thighs, Jungkook expects you to move. What he doesn’t expect was you to tighten your throat before swallowing with his entire length in your mouth.

“Fuck!”

You gag around him but repeats, breathing through your nose before letting your whimpers and cries vibrate his cock. He’s about to lose it, his tightening grip causing your scalp to burn.

“You’re so pretty, mommy,” he pulls his length back just slightly to let you suction him back inside. When his entire length is warm and pulsing in the back of your throat, you swallow once more and begin moving up and down, your eyes closing as Jungkook backs your head to the tile and fucks your mouth at a steady pace.

“Wanna cum in your throat, all over you, inside you. God, you’re so perfect.” He chants, abdomen clenching when your throat tightens just right over his pink tip.

You hum, hands trailing behind his thighs and up to his firm cheeks to push him forward. His grip tightens once more when he whimpers your name, over and over again, his cock driving into your mouth with a vigor that’s bound to leave your throat sore in the morning.

The first spurt of his warm cum hits your uvula and you cough just as he slides out of your mouth and pumps himself into his fist. Watching his creamy cum dripping down the corner of his mouth intensifies his high, prompting him to burst onto your shoulder blades and over your wet breasts. He doesn’t wait for you to catch your breath before he pushes you down onto the tile, moving away the wet jeans to a corner before finding safety between your legs. His arms, on either side of your head, allows him to prop himself up to lead his tip towards your entrance.

He’d forgotten all about cleaning the blood on your neck when you’re spread for him, your hands cupping his face in admiration. Your eyes and nose are still puffy and red, but he knows the blush on your cheeks come from your need to have him deep inside until you can feel him against your cervix.

“I love you, noona. So, so much.”

You hiss slightly when he pushes inside, your snug velvet walls engulfing his cock and keeping him where he belongs. His body bows in servitude to the goddess that is you.

“I love you too,” you huff, brushing your fingers over his sculped cheekbones and mandible. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You let him take you there despite how painful it was to bear him pounding into your walls with the intent to ruin. You’re not sure how long you lay on the tile, how many times he came inside, how sore and painful your insides will be when he’s done. It was never-ending – how Jungkook muffles your wails and whines, how he pumps his cocks while pressing your shoulders down to bury himself deep, how exhausted you are by the time he’s pushing his cum back into your swollen hole. The last orgasm triggers tears to seep from the corner of his eyes which Jungkook kisses away as he reaches up to the shower cloth and waits for you to fall limp before running the soapy cloth along your body.

You’re freezing cold despite the hot water still coming down onto your boyfriend’s body and, from there, onto you. He’s quick to clean you up and wrap you in the same towel he had laid over you the first time you used his studio shower. You can barely move as he carries you to the bed and lays your damp body on the fresh linen. You can hear the sound of him ripping open a thin menstrual pad and placing it in a pair of fresh panties he fished from the shared armoire closet. He slips the panties up your legs, lifting your hips to pull the fabric over your buttocks, flashing his usual charming grin when you murmur a thank you.

He pulls the towel from your body and squeeze out as much water as he can from your long tresses, careful not to tug. It wasn’t ideal to him that you’ll be sleeping with wet hair but you’re beyond exhausted and, to be frank, he is as well. At least he’s heading to bed satiated.

Jungkook slides under the blankets and brings your body closer by your waist. He groans into your neck, his body immediately softening as the warmth of your skin and the blanket brings him the peace and comfort he craved.

“Kookie?”

“Hm?”

It takes a heartbeat for him to sense your sudden anxiety. “…I’m scared.”

“Why are you scared?” He manages to ask although sleep is weighing heavy on his eyelids.

“I don’t know.” You murmur.

Jungkook is too tired to remember if you said anything afterwards for he falls deep into slumber. As for you, your head won’t let you sleep despite your body pleading for rest. Every part of you can feel Yori’s heavy body in the freezer just several feet away. You’re not sure how you’re supposed to feel about tonight or if tonight should have happened in the first place but in Jungkook’s arms, you can’t find the smallest ounce of pity for the woman.

You close your eyes, snuggle closer into his firm chest, and try your best to pretend nothing will change. You try to forget the flash drive sitting in your bag, the possible evidence your mother may have left behind in the villa, the corpse in the garage. Most of all, you try to forget how Jungkook looked at the bottom of the staircase, slipping the corpse inside the black plastic trash bag with such ease that makes you wonder if he had done this before. He surely must have, that voice inside of your head says but you wave it away.

I don’t know.

You lied to him. For the first time in your relationship, you lied without guilt. You do know why you’re scared and it’s not because after tonight every knock on the door will cause your heart to pound.

No. It’s because you know your boyfriend – your sweet, loving boyfriend who cries watching romantic comedies on Sundays – is truly capable of murder.

[mitsungo]

　∧＿∧

（｡･ω･｡)つ━☆・*。

⊂　　 ノ 　　　・゜+.

しーＪ　　　°。+ *´¨)

　　.· ´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)

(¸.·´ (¸.·’* ✫⌒*･ﾟ

　　

　　I didn’t expect the second part to become more popular! It honestly shocked me! I kinda have an idea of where I’ll be going with the ending—kinda don’t. Idk. We’ll just wait and see how this progresses! Also just go with the flow on this please 😵‍💫

　　✧༺🔥༻∞　🌸　∞༺❄️༻✧

Kyojuro had never wished for nothing more than to live a peaceful life with Y/n after retiring from the demon slayer corps. She was a wonderful person, ever since he had met her, he had known that she would be the girl he would one day call his wife, and she would call him her husband. He and his fellow hashira, named Uzui, would talk about marriage and occasionally talk about children and retiring. Though Uzui would get carried away when it came to the children part, adding more to the conversation about making the children and not imagining how the children would be like. When Uzui talked about that topic, Kyojuro would get startled and start sweating, before he would change the topic as fast as he could. But heaven knows that Uzui would pick up the idea that Kyojuro was still, pure, as Uzui would put it. So what if he was? He and his fiancée agreed that they would consummate their marriage duties once they got married. But then again, Uzui would tell him about how wonderful it felt to, be intimate with a partner.

“Y/n, may I ask you something?” Kyojuro asked, his eyebrows furrowing a bit, to show off that he was going to be serious in the conversation. “Of course Kyo, what is it that you wish to know?” Y/n replied gently, her eyes now fixated on his own. “Have you ever thought of, being intimate…on another level?” Kyojuro felt his cheeks heat up in embarrassment at the question he had just asked his fiancée. Y/n abruptly stopped sewing, she didn’t move for a good minute, before she put the needle and kimono down on her lap. “Well, if I am completely honest. I don’t really know what you mean by that dear. What do you mean, ‘on another level’? Are you trying to say…” she paused, her cheeks turning bright red as she realized what he meant. “I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable by asking you that. But I just, wanted to know. You know? I mean, the farthest we’ve gone to is kissing and occasionally leaving small marks on one another.” Kyojuro said, he really hoped he hadn’t made y/n’s opinion change on him. What if she thought he was a pervert now. How embarrassing. As he was lost in thought, y/n burst into laughter, starling Kyojuro in the process. “You could have just asked me if you wanted to make love Kyo. No need to be shy with me! We’ve known each other since we were children darling!” She let another fit of giggles escape her mouth as she desperately tried to cover it with a hand over her mouth. How cute. “Guess you’re right! I’ll try to be more straightforward next time!” He shot her a bright smile, causing y/n to stop giggling and stare at him in awe. Kyojuro made his way over to y/n, kneeling down in front of her and taking out a small picture of her and him together in kimonos she had made for them. “Always and forever, my beautiful wife.” He felt y/n gently put the picture back into his pocket, her fingers entangling with his own. “Always and forever, my handsome husband.” Kyojuro looked into his future wife’s eyes, those beautiful shining orbs of life and color. She leaned in closer to his face, her lips touching his. “Let’s get married here now then. And we can consummate the marriage before you depart tomorrow for that mission of yours.” Kyojuro closed his eyes, placing his forehead onto her own, smiling gently at her, “Very well. I will marry you here. And you will marry me here. Together, we will bring our two families and more importantly our souls together.” She nodded, smiling back at him with a warm smile like the sun. They both leaned in, closing the gap between them. Just how lucky was he to have such an amazing woman in his life? He would never know.

Now looking at the situation he was in, with upper rank 3’s arm piercing through his stomach, he wished he had married y/n sooner. They had only spent two months secretly married together, he was hoping to be spending his entire lifetime with her. He couldn’t give up now, not without a fight, not until he cut this demon’s head off. Kyojuro knew y/n would want him to fulfill his mission, just as his mother would too. He had to do it now. “I WON’T LET YOU ESCAPE! NOT UNTIL I CUT THAT HEAD OF YOURS!” He yelled at the demon, who had began to panic due to the sun rising. “LET GO! I SAID LET GO!” Akaza screamed, but to no avail. Kyojuro could feel his body start to succumb to his wound, no, he had to continue fighting. His mind started to get a bit fuzzy his vision on his right eye following right behind. Kyojuro felt Akaza rip himself away from his grasp, so this was it. The fight was over. He could finally rest. He had also lost the picture he always kept near his heart of him and y/n, how much he wanted to cry from not being able to see her face one more time.

“You will, live on without me. I will see you again.”

The day after Kyojuro’s funeral, she locked herself up in her room, ignoring her aunt and uncle’s plea for her to come out and eat or be in the garden. How could she eat or do anything when the man she loved had just died? Y/n undid her hair, throwing the pin away in a corner of her room. The sound of it hitting the wall harshly, she didn’t pay no attention to it, nothing mattered anymore. Nor she, or anyone. Her eyes started to tear up again, she looked up and saw one of the unfinished kimono’s in her room. Y/n grit her teeth in anger, yanking the kimono from the rack, grabbing a pair of scissors and tearing it apart. The one beautiful piece of fabric was now a torn up piece of cloth. She fell to her knees, her head starting to hurt from the anger and grief.

“Kyojuro! Why did you leave me all alone? Now who will be my other half if not you? Gods, what have I done to anger you enough to take away my husband from me? Please, take care of him for me until I go with him and my parents. Who am I to judge you for your decisions? Even then, I can not live without Kyojuro!” She proclaimed to no one, her hands gripping tightly on the kimono she had just shred into pieces. Why was this world so cruel to her? To everybody? She knew others had gone through much worse, and only now did she understand those who have lost their entire families, friends, and even themselves. How tragic. Her uncle and aunt were shocked when she had come down later in the night to the garden. Y/n looked up at them, her hair a mess, eyes red and a shredded kimono in hand.

“I renounce my title as a seamstress.”

A whole month has passed since Akaza had met Y/n. The two have gotten closer to one another, almost as if they were best friends. He had just arrived for the night at her home, the scent of her perfume in the room.

“Oh, Akaza. You’re here. Please. Take a seat.” Y/n said, gesturing for him to sit down in his designated spot. As he walked over to the small tea table, his eyes caught a certain picture frame that was placed in between a small shrine. Akaza picked up the frame, glancing behind his back to make sure y/n was not there, he studied the picture, it was Y/n and Kyojuro. Both of them smiling softly with their hands intertwined. It made him a bit jealous seeing kyojuro there with her, he didn’t deserve a woman like y/n. “So, are you going to teach me how to sew details into a kimono today or are you just—.” He stopped mid sentence, his mouth covered by y/n’s hands. She leaned into his ear and said, “I know you were the one that murdered Kyojuro.” He felt his eyes widen. “But don’t worry, I do not hate you. Humans and demons are sworn enemies. One may say that you are evil, doing unspeakable things to mankind, but even so, you are still a living creature, as I know you do not age, and you can be killed. Any living thing can be killed, though your morals are different than ours, I understand. What you think you do is righteous , and what the demon slayers think they do is righteous, it will in the end be the same. Killing one another because of different perspectives.” Y/n pulled her hands off his mouth, and backing away slowly. Akaza turned to face her, his face written with confusion and thoughtfulness. “You truly are an odd woman.” Was all he said in response. “They say the best people are a bit odd.” She giggled, taking his hand into her own. “Come now, let me show you how I do these details.”

The wind had began to pick up more now. With the petals of fallen wisteria flowers being taken away by the air and into the unknown. Akaza had just had a hard night, first he was summoned to an upper moon meeting, it seemed that an upper moon had died and their master was not happy at all, then that idiot with the blood stained hair had to go and bother him. How irritating, if only he could beat that parasite. But at least he would be going to go visit y/n today, since he didn’t have much do to. Akaza arrived in a matter of time, he poked his head into her room, his eyebrows furrowed when he noticed y/n’s scent was different today, sickly almost. He began to panic.

“Y/n? Where are you?” He took another look around the room and ran towards the end of the hall. “I’m downstairs, in the study room.” Akaza heard her say, he quickly made his way down to the room she said she was in. He slid open the door and saw y/n sitting down with her hand over her stomach. “Akaza, I found out, today, that I am pregnant.” His jaw dropped at the news, what the actual fuck? “How are you pregnant? I mean, is that even possible? Who’s baby is it? Have you been seeing men behind my back?” He started asking her, though he knew that couldn’t be the answer, as he would have smelt the scent of another man sooner. “I’ve only ever slept with you and kyojuro. This is very hard for me to even understand.” Akaza frowned when he realized that the baby growing inside had to be Kyojuro’s, it irritated him, now this day has truly become the worst one. As he was lost in thought, he snapped back to reality when he felt y/n’s soft hand tightly grip his. “I do not know why, but I have a feeling that there are two babies in me. And you are the father of one of them. You don’t need to stay by my side anymore. I understand. I wouldn’t stay either.” She happily said. Akaza’s eyes widened at her words, could that be a possibility, and would he actually want to keep staying here with her? Perhaps it was, or not. Only time will tell. As for staying with her, he didn’t know how to feel anymore. Y/n looked at him, her gaze slowly breaking away from his own, as if she was getting the aura that he wasn’t so sure anymore about anything. Y/n felt a smile creep up on her face, she pulled her hand away from his and slowly got up. But Akaza quickly yanked her back and embraced her, not too tightly, as he was worried he would hurt her and the babies. Akaza closed his eyes as he felt her arms wrap around him. This was a familiar feeling. He opened his mouth to finally give a response,

“I will stay with you no matter what.”

[lobakmerahs]

Warm Words (Parent Levi)

Summary: Levi and reader’s experience of hearing the first words of their fraternal twins. 

It was almost late in the evening at that time and you were already in your room, just finished taking your bath with your 10 months old son and daughter. You laid them that were already fully clothed on your bed, and quickly took the extra comforters from the wardrobe and placed them on the shiny floor, layer by layer. The reason of your doing was to let your babies on them so they could do their babies’ activities; your son surely loved to crawl and your daughter knew how to crawl but always preferred to roll her body from one end to another. So, you always let them do their activities on the floor because you had no energy left to keep catching them from falling off the bed. 

Comforters were ready, you placed a few soft pillows on the comforter before you brought your babies down as well. You let them sat carefully on the comforter and started to play around with them using their toys, talking to them and sometimes nudged their faces softly with their toys which earned you a cute giggle from the babies. Both of your children hadn’t started talking yet but both you and your husband, Levi always talked to them about your day, works, wheather and the world that you lived in as an early encourangement for them. At the moment, Levi was out to town to buy you the necessities that just ran out and you offered to take care of your children. 

You watched attentively to your children who was sitting opposite each other;  your daughter was doing the cooing here and there with hands moving around and your son listened and replied with his cute baby laughs as if there was anything funny that came out from his sister’s mouth -- they could be planning on taking down titans by you wouldn't understand anyway. Then, one of them started to stand on his four and crawling on the soft comfortable which then followed by your daughter. You let them did their things so they would learn while you just had to make sure that they didn’t hurt themselves or take something that was dangerous for them. Not only that, but it was also to make them tire themselves so it would be easier to put them to sleep the whole night. Nevertheless, the Ackermann blood was running inside their little veins in their little bodies, so....... We're talking about a lot of time and energy to finally get them tired which lead to Levi putting you and his children to bed all the time since you fell asleep nearly at the same time that your children would. 

Suddenly, soft footsteps started to creep in and then the bedroom door was opened softly by Levi. Both of your babies stared at awe before they started to babble while crawling to their father. Levi didn’t waste another second before he scooped his twin into his muscular arms and kissed their small black-haired heads alternately.

“Hello, you.” You greeted him with a smile and he moved his face slightly, exposing more of his cheek to you as a sign for you to give him a kiss on it-- which you did. 

 “Did the kids behave well?”, he asked which you replied with a nod and Levi sighed in relief as well as rewarding you with a loving kiss on your forehead.

“It’s okay, you can put them down and take a shower. I’ll handle them.” You suggested, knowing full well how much Levi needed a shower after returning from anywhere. Levi slowly put the twin on the bed but both of them quickly grabbed his shirt in their tiny hands, not wanting to let him go all while trying to mimick a crying sound. You shook your head- little actors, you thought to yourself. 

Levi chuckled upon his children’s clingy behaviours before he commented; "this reminds me of you. You clinged to me like this whenever I get too busy and arrived late. Not allowing me to shower, saying that you loved my scent while hugging me”, he said while smiling like a smug at you. 

You rolled your eyes while cheeks became hot with hint of pink blush. GO TAKE YOUR BATH-- you mouthed at him. As Levi was successfully released from his children’s holds, he went into the bathroom and you started to tickle the twin’s round stomachs to get their minds off of Levi for awhile. Then, you took turns to blow raspberries at their stomachs which caused the babies to laugh uncontrollably. Little full mouths were opened widely, crinkles from their laughs appearing at the end of their closed eyes and voices of their laughs became melodies to your ears as to fill in the time while Levi took his bath.

All eyes were glued on Levi when he stepped outside from the bathroom and already put on his plain t shirt and sleeping pants. The babies immediately making sounds to attract their father's attention while the said man was busy folding the comforters and keeping them back into the wardrobe and you were just enjoying the sight before your eyes. Levi carefully climbed onto the bed, laid on his back and rested his head on your lap. Then, he placed the twin to sit on his stomach.

Your fingers moved instinctively into his hair, playing with it and gently massaging his temple which caused Levi to closed his eyes in relaxation. Then, you rested both of your hands on either sides of Levi's shoulders and Levi turned his head to kiss one of your hands before he turned his face upward again. Your son was too busy pinching Levi's veins on his arms while your daughter crawled quickly at one of his shoulder, used her tiny hands to slowly peel away your hand that was on one of Levi's shoulders. Levi noticed the movement and slowly opened his eyes to watch both you and his daughter's interactions. After that, your daughter crawled to her father's other shoulder and did the same thing on your other hand, silently making a clear statement of not wanting you to touch her father which was your husband. You watched in delight while undeniably feeling slightly offended.

"Excuse me, young lady. This is my husband and you're not letting me to touch him?", you asked your daughter which she replied with her baby coos while waving her hands vigorously at you.

"Levi...... I'm slightly hurt." You looked down at him with a slight pout and Levi who was already staring at you just chuckled at your words.

"Don't be." He said before he raised his one free arm to pinch your cheek. Slowly, Levi rose from his lying position while keeping his twin in his arms. Then, he moved backwards to rest his back on the headboard of the bed. You followed his movement before you settled one side of your face on his hard biceps, facing your happy looking son. Upon seeing your face, your son grabbed your nose with his chubby hands, then moved to pinch your cheek and started to use his fingers to dig your mouth. Meanwhile, your daughter was too busy examining her father’s handsome face with her tiny hands which was actually one of your favorite routines to do with Levi. 

“Be careful there, you’re going to hurt your mom.” Levi warned his son in a loving manner, amused with his son’s curiosity but kind of worried that he might hurt you. 

“Mo---mmmmmmyyy”, your son replied while patting your face repeatedly with his baby palm. His short words ended him in a huge smile that made his naturally pouty lips became thin and automatically exposing his four tiny baby teeth. His reply earned a cute laugh from his sister that was sitting just next to him. 

Wait, what? WHAT? 

You immediately lifted your head and turned to Levi. At the exact time, Levi did the same thing and looked at you. Eyes widened, lips slightly apart and breath stopped forawhile. 

“Did he just say mommy, Levi? Did you hear that?” You excitedly asked him, eyebrows slightly frowned since you were actually at the edge of tears. Levi broke into a loving smile at you, he himself felt so vulnerable at the sweet moment that you both were sharing right now. 

“Yeah, I heard it too. Let’s try making him say it again, shall we?” He said encouragingly which made you lend your chin on his shoulder. Both of your hearts were beating fast from the excitement. Levi took a deep breath and attempted to make his son repeated his first word.

“Okay little brat. Try to say mom-my...?”

“Mo-mmmyyyyyyy.” He said excitingly, hands moving up and down and laughing. At the same time, his twin sister watched him while putting her chubby hands into her tiny mouth.

Levi quickly turned his head towards you while breaking his lips into a warm smile, he was just as happy as you. He saw you immediately put your hand to cover your mouth and quickly hid your face behind Levi’s shoulder to laugh, cry, hide your scream all in one. You were too happy, your heart wanted to burst. Levi just chuckled calmly upon seeing your reaction. 

“What about you, young lady? Do you have anything to say?,” you asked your daughter after you calmed down and stretched your hands towards her so you could put her in your arms. Now, your son rested in Levi’s arms and your daughter was in yours. Your question was replied with her showing her tongue repeatedly, no signs of her first word to come out yet. 

“Did you have fun checking on your daddy’s face just now? You sure are not letting me touching my husband, didn’t you?,”  you said with a slight pout, she just smiled to show her baby teeth at you excitingly as if she was teasing you. 

Then suddenly, 

“Tch.” Your daughter shocked you with her new word. 

Hah? You blinked a few seconds. Then you looked at your partner who was just as surprised as you. You used one of your free hands to grab Levi’s arm and let out the laugh that you had kept inside you which was followed by the twin as they also cracked their baby laugh together with you. 

What on earth just happened to your little family tonight? Out of all the words that she could say, that’s her first word? Well well, isn't that just interesting.

You caressed your nose to your daughter’s and smothered her tiny face with your kisses.

“You’re so funnnnnyyyy. Instead of saying daddy or dada, you went for ‘tch’, didn’t you? I’m sooo going to tell Hange about this!” you said in between the kisses. Then you moved your face closer to your son and did the same thing while saying; “thank youuuu baby! For saying mommy as your first words, that was really unexpected!” as you planted kisses on his soft face.

At the same time, Levi was watching you attentively, the way you interacted with the twin, the kisses, the nuzzles on the noses, the way you smelled their scents on their necks and the praises. His heart swelled with contentment and love for the humans that were sharing the bed with him at the moment. He was also waiting for his turn to get his face showered with kisses from you but it seemed to him that you were too busy congratulating your son and daughter on their new words.

“What about me?”, Levi asked, couldn’t control the sliiighhhtt hint of jealousy in his voice. 

"Huh? What about you?,” you nonchalantly asked. 

“You got mommy and I only got ‘tch’. Don’t you think I deserve some of the kisses too?" Then he looked down before mumbled; "You know, as a reward or whatever.” He said, eyebrows slightly frowned and you swore he was slightly, just a little tiny pout of lips. 

“Auwwhhhh Levi, is that jealousy that I am smelling?,” you joked and acting like you sniffed around trying to smell something.

From the way Levi’s lips moved, you could tell that he was about to “tch” you but he stopped and the both of you broke a huge smile at the exact same time while exchanging an understanding look. Then, he leaned his face closer to you which you obliged loyally and left kisses on every inch of his beautiful face. 

Levi’s face searched into your hair and his lips stopped by the ear before softly whispering; 

“Thank you, for bringing such incredible gifts to me.” His deep husky voice entered your ears, bringing the butterflies in your stomach to life and melted your heart.

“It wouldn’t be possible without you.” You whispered back with a wink. 

[bts-hyperfixation]

The Princess and The Duke – Part 1

Duke!Namjoon x Princess!reader

I know I said this wasn’t going to be out until Friday, but after the Scammys, I thought I’d put it out today! This has not yet been edited.

Warnings - future smut, allusions to smut.

The first time you met you were six months old. Barely aware you existed, let alone there was a whole world existing around you. Namjoon was two at the time. A chubby little toddler clinging desperately to his mother as he tried to hide away from all the other strange people in the room. Most of the kingdom had turned out for your christening, so obviously the future Duke’s family had also made an appearance. They stood with the rest of the court at the front of the church, most of the adults attempting to corral children of their own instead of watching the Princess’ baptism.

It was only when a shrill cry echoed through the church hall that Namjoon looked up from his mother’s shoulder trying to locate the noise. Turned out you didn’t appreciate being dipped into freezing cold holy water. From then on, he’d watched intently, each movement made by the priest and your family, craning his neck to watch you wiggle in the queen’s arms. You were just so small, and so pink. He liked pink, and you were wrapped in piles of pink lace. He knew these were traditional colours for your kingdom, his mom liked to tell him stories about the pink flowers that grew throughout his homeland. Beautiful pink daisies. They were his favourite bedtime stories.

Stories of a brave king leading his army into battle. Each week he would send home a bouquet of the only flower that grew on the battlefield. Each week the queen would know he was okay, until one week they didn’t arrive. For the next few days, the queen was inconsolable, after that she was catatonic. She sat draped in black watching the last of the pink daisies wither. As the last petal fell from the shrivelled bud, a shout was heard throughout the kingdom. The king had returned, enemies slain, and with him he brought as many flowers as the cavalry could carry. The seeds were planted throughout the country, and those were the same flowers that remained to this day. The flowers that were lining the pews of the church, and the ballroom at the palace.

After the christening, members of the court were invited for a meal and to meet the infant princess, to meet you. The banquet was held in the ballroom, a long table adorned with wreaths and favours for each of the guests. You were placed in a cradle close to the king. A place where all could visit to pay their respects and your father could protect you. Once his family had finished their meal, they visited your crib, offering a gift and paying their respects to the royals. Namjoon tugged at his mother’s dress until she lifted him to get a better look. As he peered into the cot, he was shocked to find you staring straight up at him. Other babies he met always seemed to be asleep, but not you.

He wriggled in the duchess’ arms until he could reach you. The room fell silent as he extended his chubby hand to poke at your own curled fist. No one outside of your family, the priest, and the doctors had dared to touch you yet. They waited with bated breath for a response from the king. Little Namjoon paid no attention to the eyes on him, too focused on you. Your small fingers wrapped their way around his. The king had cooed at the event, closely followed by everyone else in the room.

…

The next time you met Namjoon properly you were four, he was almost six. You’d been allowed outside to play with the other children of the court. The problem was, many of them were considerably older than you. None of the ‘big’ girls wanted to play silly little girl games. So you sat alone and watched them as they made daisy chains together. You tried to copy them from afar, but your pudgy little fingers wouldn’t cooperate, ripping through the stems instead of creating the holes needed to thread more flowers.

Namjoon had been following around the gardener when he saw you. Decapitated daisies lay by the dozen around your feet. He couldn’t bear to see the carnage continue, so he took pity on you. He picked a flower with a thick enough stem and passed it too you. To say you were thrilled was an understatement. You’d taken the flower excitedly and threaded another through before giving it back to him to make another hole. The two of you had then spent the next half hour together, him piercing stems and you threading them into long chains. He laughed as you concentrated. Your tongue stuck out of the side of your mouth as you focused on the task at hand.

When you decided the chain was long enough, he made one last hole so you could form a circle. With the ring complete you stepped on your tippy toes to place it over his head, nodding in approval as the string draped from his neck to his knees. He looked down, assessing his new accessory and beamed a smile back at you. The first time you ever saw his dimples. Immediately you were compelled to poke them. He didn’t stop you as you reached for his cheek, instead laughing so they deepened.

You weren’t like any princess he had seen in his books. Those princesses were graceful and dainty. You were more like a bull in a china shop. Honestly, he was relived. All the other boys were in high school, they had no time for him. And the girls all wanted him to play ‘prince charming’. It was fun playing with you. You’d run around the gardens with him, dig in the mud, and exchange the stories your parents read at bedtimes.

…

Age six brought the loss of your first tooth. The tooth had been placed in a tissue under your pillow and the next morning it had become money! You had been so excited to tell Namjoon all about it, only for him to burst your bubble.

“The tooth fairy isn’t real Y/N” he’d stated matter-of-factly, his nose turned up at the notion.

“Is too!” you’d cried back petulantly. You’d seen her with your own two eyes. Well you’d been half asleep, and it was dark… but you were certain it had been her.

“Is not!” the eight-year-old boy retorted. “I’ll prove it! Next time you lose a tooth don’t tell nobody. She won’t come I promise.” He’d sounded so smug. You wanted to hit him. instead you set out to prove him wrong. You kept wiggling your teeth hoping one would come loose. It’s around a month later you get your chance. The tooth came out in the apple you were eating for dessert. Carefully you hid the bone from your nanny so she couldn’t tell your parents. After you were tucked in that night, you slid the bone under your pillow and waited for the fairy to visit you. But she never came.

The next day when you saw Namjoon, you were devastated, but still not ready to concede the fairy’s existence.  

“Maybe I upset her?” you sniffle at him “You’re not supposed to wait for her, I broke the rules! That’s why she didn’t come! What if she never visits me again?” tears fell freely down your face. Namjoon had never felt so guilty, not even when he lied about breaking his mom’s favourite vase. He had watched you cry for a moment, unsure of where to go from here. He had made the heir to the throne cry… could he get locked away for this?

“It’s my fault Y/N! I was just jealous” he quickly tried to formulate a believable story in his head as you wiped away your tears.

“Jealous?” your voice was small, a little hope filtering through the sadness.

“Yeah… jealous. See I… uh… I’ve nearly got all my big teeth now, so she doesn’t come to see me as often. I bet if you put the tooth under your pillow tonight and go to sleep, she will come!” your face had lit up at the news. Immediately after he’d said goodbye to you, he went and told the gardener about your tooth. When you woke up the next day, a shiny coin was in the tooth’s place. You’d held the discovery over Namjoon for the few months, but he didn’t care. He was just happy you were happy and that he didn’t get into trouble.

…

At age eight you were definitely not shaping up to be the perfect princess. In fact you were quite the rambunctious little tot. Your mother became more and more exasperated every time you turned up with a new grass stain on one of your best gowns. She begged you to spend more time having tea parties with the girls instead. It was never your fault though. The tea parties were dull and Namjoon would challenge you to a race through the maze, or to see who could climb highest in the trees. You couldn’t just let him win.

If you weren’t running around or rolling down hills, you were lying together staring up at the clouds from the middle of the topless bandstand in the middle of the maze. The beautiful white stone structure had quickly become ‘your’ spot. None of the other palace kids showed any interest in exploring the maze, and the adults always seemed to get lost trying to find you. Hours were wasted with the two of you just staring up at the sky, sometimes talking about your day, sometimes in complete silence. It was just nice to be with him.

On calmer days he would read aloud from a book while you made daisy chains. You could do it by yourself now. Much more in control of your own limbs than you used to be. The summer before Namjoon was due to go to high school you made a chain so long you could coil it around the entire base of the bandstand.

…

After he started high school, you saw a lot less of Namjoon. He wasn’t able to come around as often between his homework and extracurriculars. Instead you begged your father to let you attend his football games. Each Saturday you went in disguise with your nanny to watch Namjoon play, regardless of the weather. You weren’t even sure you enjoyed the sport, but it was worth it for the smile he flashed every time he found you amongst the onlookers.

Each week you wore a different disguise wanting to make it difficult for him, but each time he found you without fail.

You melted every time, knowing that smile was just for you. Originally you told yourself it was just a swell of pride, watching your best friend play. Eventually you had to admit to yourself that maybe it was more than that, but you swallowed the crush. After all he was in high school, he wouldn’t want a silly little girl like you anyway.

…

When you turned fourteen it was time to for you to be presented to the kingdom. A ball was thrown in your honour, the first of many you would attend in your lifetime. The thought of being alone at any big event made you feel queasy. The fact that this one was going to be focused entirely on you made you ill for an entire week before. Namjoon had spent the week trying to reassure you that everything was going to be fine. Luckily, your birthday had been during a break from school so he could spend the time with you. He grew more and more concerned as he watched your health deteriorating to a point where you could barely keep water down. Eventually he came to a decision and asked for an audience with the king himself.

He’d dressed in his best suit making sure not a single hair was out of place. He marched straight up to the double doors to your father’s study and took a deep breath, more than prepared to argue his point. Your father had welcomed Namjoon into his office with open arms. He’d always been fond of the boy, especially knowing the weak spot you held for him. Regardless of the warm reception and his original confidence in his idea, Namjoon felt the nerves begin to overtake him. He wiped his sweaty palms on the sides of his suit jacket, breath coming out shakily.

“Can I escort Y/N to her first ball.” The king had been taken aback by Joon’s sudden outburst, his face showing obvious surprise at the young man’s bold request. Namjoon mistook the expression for a dismissal and so, in a much less eloquent way than he had practiced in is shower, he fought his case.

“Y/N has been ill all week; she doesn’t think she can do this alone…. And I just thought… maybe she would be okay if I were with her. I know I’m only a duke, but I just want her to be okay and I really think this would be good and it’ll only be for this one ball and…” Namjoon’s rambling came to an end when your father raised his hand. Namjoon clenched his fists as he waited for an answer.

Your father had taken his time to consider Namjoon’s proposal, enjoying the way the boy had squirmed under his gaze. To this day, Namjoon refers to it as the second most terrifying day of his life. Eventually a smile had broken over the kings face, no longer able to contain his laugh. He clapped Namjoon on the shoulder and sent him off with his blessing.

On his way to meet you in the gardens afterwards, he had gathered the prettiest daisies he could find. He found you lying on the floor of the bandstand, looking a little too pale as you stared up at the clouds floating past. He cleared his throat on arrival, making you look at him with the offer of a weak smile, not really taking him in.

When he didn’t take his place beside you, you’d sat up to look at him properly. That’s when you saw the pinstripe suit and quaffed hair. It looked so unlike him you couldn’t help but giggle. Normally Joon was a t-shirt and basketball shorts kind of guy. He had rolled his eyes and extended his hand to help you up. You took it, every question in your mind had gotten stuck in your throat when his eyes had met yours. You never did get over that silly little crush. He didn’t release your hand like you expected him too. Instead he placed the bouquet into your free hand and asked you the question you’d been dreaming he would.

“Just to protect you of course… I don’t like when you aren’t well” He’d broken the moment by ruffling your hair, a sure sign he was doing this as a favour.

He took you to every ball you attended after that one.

…

The summer you turned seventeen was the summer before Namjoon left for university. You snuck out passed your guards in the night to see him. There was a very convenient secret passageway that led from your room to the gardens. You would meet him at the bandstand and talk until the sun came over the horizon. The lack of sleep had been worth it to spend those last fleeting days with him. You talked about anything and nothing, just like you would in the daytime, but this felt far more intimate.

The first time you convinced him to meet you after curfew his eyes flitted everywhere. Always nervous someone would find the two of you there and assume the worst. You on the other hand were just desperate to soak up as much of your friends company as you could before he left.

Over time he’d become more comfortable with the routine. In fact he had been certain that your sneaking around hadn’t even been that sneaky, your parents were just allowing you to rebel like this. Eventually he got used to walking you back to the entrance of the secret passageway, spending an extra few moments together.

His final night in town had been an emotional one. You’d sat side by side, your head on his shoulder staring up at the stars in complete silence for a long time. A tear fell down your cheek every time you thought about him leaving you. He’d wrapped an arm around you and pulled you close just as a shooting star arched across the sky. You immediately had a wish in mind. Eyes scrunched tight and fists clenched, you wished as hard as you could that he would stay, or at least that he’d come back fast. But unfortunately, he had to go, and morning came around far too fast.

You’d dragged your feet as he walked you back to the passageway. Shoulders bumping together, fingers brushing, glances stolen when you were sure the other wasn’t looking. The wall that concealed your entrance had come into view far too quickly. You’d sighed as you reluctantly pressed in the stones that would open the doorway, far from ready to say goodbye to the boy you’d grown up with. You hugged him goodbye, tears streaming freely down your face. You’d released him and turned to walk back into the castle, but as you’d taken that first step, he grabbed you sharply by the wrist and pulled you back to him.

His lips were so soft as they met yours. The surprise had knocked all the air out of your lungs forcing you to pull back sooner than you would’ve liked. He wiped the tears from your face and pulled you back to him, kissing you once more. And then he was gone.

…

The following autumn had dragged by. With no Namjoon, you had been forced to invest in the idle gossip of other members of the court, actually pay attention in your elocution lessons, and, perhaps worst of all, prepare for your first ball without your trusty escort. Every time you thought of Namjoon your lips tingled at the memory of your first kiss. You were devastated when his parents had told you he wouldn’t be able to make it home for the Christmas ball.

When the time came, you’d prepared for the ball like you had every other. A team came to pinch, primp, and style you to within an inch of yourself. This year they’d decided on a snow theme. Your pale blue ballgown had been the most beautiful one you’d worn at that point. It glittered like freshly fallen snow in the winter sun. The skirt poofed out around your waist and fell just above your feet so people could still see the matching shoes with little snowflakes. It was the best you thought you’d ever looked, and it broke your heart to know Namjoon wasn’t going to see you like that.

When the time came, you’d taken a breath and readied yourself for a night of refusing advances of handsy nobles, and questions you weren’t prepared to answer about the whereabouts of your usual date. You took a hold of the banister and began your entrance into the grand ballroom, desperately trying to keep your eyes forward and not trip at the same time. Whilst concentrating on not falling flat on your face, you had failed to notice one crucial detail about the room before you, until he took your hand and brought it to his lips. Namjoon had made it home after all.

You spent the entire event together. For every slow dance you were in the middle of the floor swaying together as he whispered sweet things in your ear. Time not on the dance floor had been spent laughing and catching up. The night came to an end with you escaping to your spot.

He’d picked a daisy and threaded it into your hair, trailing his fingers down the side of your face when he was finished. You’d boldly stepped even closer to him, lips inches away from his, daring him to repeat the night he left, and he’d gladly taken the opportunity.  He’d pulled you impossibly closer, lifting you on to your tiptoes and kissed you like a man starved. You’d wrapped your arms around his waist. Desperately trying to make up for lost time. Eventually you came to rest, foreheads resting against one another, breathing hard.

“Y/N I love you.” It was the first time he admitted it out loud, but it certainly wouldn’t be the last. In fact he said it at least twenty more times that night.

“I love you too Joon.” You kissed him one more time before taking his hand and breaking into a sprint. You came to a stop at the passageway to your chambers. “Come in with me?” You’d asked, flashing him doe eyes he had never been able to resist.

“Are you sure?” He brushed a stray hair behind your ear and met your eyes, you’d never seen him look so serious.

“Well I can’t get out of this dress alone.” You’d tried to joke. When his expression didn’t change you gulped down any reservations and nodded. “I’m completely sure.” He’d swept you into his arms and carried you through your room laying you down on your bed. His coat and tie had been immediately discarded across the room. You’d sat up to get a better look as he undid the buttons on his white dress shirt, biting your lip at the thought of running your hands across his bare skin. He stopped undressing himself to look back at you.

“You’re so beautiful.” He embraced you, fingers finding the zipper at the back of your gown. You allowed the sleeves to fall down your arms, exposing your chest to him. Immediately his lips had gone to trail along your collarbones. He mumbled ‘I love you’ as he went. Each kiss punctuated by the words you’d longed to hear from him. You pushed his shirt down his shoulders, letting your hands linger on his biceps, rubbing little circles on the perfect skin.

“Joon?” he answers you with a hmm. “Is this real?” he pulled away from you to meet your eyes.

“I hope so.” He responded before kissing you deeply again. When you’d gotten the chance you’d stood up and allowed the dress to puddle around your feet.  He reached out to pull you in again by your newly expose waist, positioning you underneath him. He’d kissed down your stomach until he reached the top of your underwear.

“Maybe we should stop here?” he’d said, pulling away from you, “I want our first time to be something amazing.” You’d nodded, a little reluctant, but you’d waited this long for him, you could wait a little longer. Instead you’d settled into your bed together, cuddled close in just your underwear, praying that you didn’t wake up from this dream.

…

Everything was perfect, you stayed together throughout both his and your university experience. The whole kingdom knew of their childhood sweethearts. The duke and the princess destined to be together. The night of your graduation, a large ball had been put together in your honour and while no one dared say it aloud, everyone was certain there were hidden intentions behind the congratulatory event. The feeling was in the air, the whole of the kingdom whispered rumours of how the young duke was going to propose. They wondered how it would be announced, if he was going to ask you in the middle of all the guest, or if he’d elect to be more private about it.

But then the day of the ball arrived and Namjoon wasn’t waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs like he usually would. You assumed he would be waiting somewhere to surprise you, but the whispers started as soon as you’d turned up to the ballroom unescorted. No one had seen him. The entire night people had congratulated you on graduating, but your heart wasn’t even your replies. Instead you’d spent the night searching every face in the room for a sign of your missing lover.

As the night wore on it became clear that he had no intentions of attending. You’d put every ounce of your princess training to good use that night as you tried not to cry, humiliated in front of everyone you had ever known.

Awaiting you in your bedroom at the end of the night was a bouquet of pink daisies and a simple note that said ‘I’m so sorry’

You wouldn’t see Namjoon again for two years…

Part 2

Masterlist

Losing Virginity drabble

Taglist: @uraveragefangirlsposts

[dini73]

Not Today

It's finally here! Thanks so much @whatsmyline-pb for all your help and all you wonderful people out there who always are such an inspiration and motivation. Anyone who wants to be added to the tag list, please let me know.

Fandom: Vikings Rating: Mature Categories: M/F; M/M Relationships: Ivar/Hvitserk; Ivar/Heahmund; Ivar/Reader Trigger warning for mentioning of past drug abuse, loss of loved one, psychological child abuse; see Ao3 for all tags Words: 3808

Bright sunlight blinded Hvitserk’s eyes when he climbed up higher and higher into the huge oak, closely followed by his little brother.

“Wait for me,” he heard toddler Ivar cheerfully giggle. “I’ll get you, Hvitserk!”

And Hvitserk turned around, looking into Ivar’s shining eyes, light blue like a frozen lake and yet full of life and warmth. Tiny teeth innocently exposed to the sun, a chubby hand reaching out to his older brother who leaned forward to grip it and lift Ivar up to the next branch. But just as their soft hands touched, Ivar slipped and Hvitserk couldn’t do anything but watch in horror as his little brother fell and fell until he landed in the meadow below with a dull thud.

The sound went straight to Hvitserk’s core, pumping adrenaline through his veins and waking him up with a racing heartbeat, breathing hard, bare chest covered in cold sweat.

“Ivar,” he breathed panicked, still trying to fully escape the dream, having already stumbled out of bed and towards the entrance of his apartment. There in a little clay bowl, made by his half-sister Gyda, were the keys to the next-door apartment, which belonged to his younger brother, Ivar.

When Hvitserk arrived in his brother’s pitch-dark bedroom, he was devastated to make out the shadow of Ivar on the floor. That could only mean two things: that his baby brother was deadly drunk…or worse.

Not sure which option he’d have to face, Hvitserk slowly knelt. He stretched his arm out but hesitated to let his hand touch Ivar yet.

“Hey brother? Ivar!” and when he carefully shook his brother’s shoulder and was not yelled at, he started to wish Ivar was drunk. Selfishly, Hvitserk longed for the less painful explanation, knowing what followed would break both their hearts. Again.

He carefully leaned over Ivar and whispered, “It’s okay, I’m here.” Then he stood up, turned back the covers on the bed and waited for his brother to drag himself onto it. The ongoing silence, so unlike his brother, scared Hvitserk. After Ivargot himself up and into bed Hvitserk’s heart felt enormously heavy, and he got to bed as well, lining himself up behind his brother, carefully pushing one of his knees between Ivar’s cold, lifeless legs. Just when he lay his arm around Ivar’s waist, offering his other arm as a pillow, the latter mumbled, barely audible, “I can’t take it anymore.”

Fuck. What is he supposed to say to that? “It’s all going to be okay”? Because how could it? They both knew it would be such a lie.

So instead Hvitserk drew Ivar closer and asked him: “Hear my heartbeat? Just focus on that. Breathe.”

After a few minutes Ivar’s breathing steadied and Hvitserk calmed down a bit himself, only to start wondering what had put Ivar in such a state. His thoughts wandered and Hvitserk didn’t realise that he was slowly drifting back to sleep until a rough voice suddenly mumbled, “I wish I could be just like everyone else. Not standing out. Not in constant pain. And not needing to be looked after.”

And while that should have made Hvitserk’s heart break, it nearly cheered him up; all his brother longed for, was so reasonable. But above all, the bitterness with which he proclaimed his dreams, although only whispered, showed his strength. Yes, he might be in despair, and who wouldn’t? But Ivar would never give up. That was something Hvitserk was so sure of in that moment.

He cleared his throat: “Well my dear brother, if you of all the people would be just like everybody else, this world would be a damn boring place.” And he knew how Ivar smiled in that moment even if he couldn’t see it, and he felt his chest broaden. And he went on: “And -as much as it hurts me to admit - someone so remarkable, like you, will always stand out.” And hey, that even earned him a little huff.

Ivar had taken his brother’s hand and their thumbs brushed over each other’s fingers, just the way they had done when they were kids.

“Regarding the pain, brother; not the one who never fell, but the one who always stood up again is the strongest of them all.”

“That some wisdom of your Buddha, huh?” Ivar teased playfully.

“Fuck you,” Hvitserk smiled and hurried to bury his face in Ivar’s neck. They both knew that these two words were actually saying: “There is nothing in this world I’d rather do than to take care of you. I love you.”

It was silent again. No cars were driving outside yet and Hvitserk couldn’t even hear a bird over the loud pulsing of his blood. It must be between two or three o’clock in the morning.

Ivar’s strong hands clasped close around his brother’s wrist while his right elbow punched Hvitserk playfully in his side.

“Hey,” he complained.

Ivar then twisted his upper body, pushed himself a bit up and turned his face towards his brother. Their lips were just inches apart and Hvitserk felt Ivar’s warm breath on his when he looked him deep in the eyes and then hummed a drowsy, “Good night”.

They must have fallen asleep straight afterwards since Hvitserk couldn’t remember closing his eyes at all, but now, awake again, he heard many birds chirping outside. Once more he was grateful, they had not only found neighbouring apartments, but that they had come with a roof terrace. Not only thecoolest thing for parties but also a great space to grow strawberries in the summer, some herbs, tomatoes lavender and some tiny trees, which attracted a lot of tiny birds. Sometimes Hvitserk was still surprised how much he really liked gardening, but it had helped him a lot during his past struggle. Taking care of something that could grow and prosper under his touch, through his care, proved to him once again that he was needed and able to do good.

It had always been like that though, Hvitserk had always been the one everyone in the family could rely on. He had always gladly helped and still it was just so often overlooked. Being sandwiched between siblings— three older, two elevated by their superior lineage, and the two youngest, so loud and demanding, constantly fighting for their parent’s attention— Hvitserk shared the fate of most middle children; being taken granted for by everyone.

Somehow no one had ever wondered, why it was him who started to get up at night and go over to the room Sigurd and Ivar shared as kids when the latter cried. Hvitserk didn’t blame Sigurd though, who was still so young himself, and he would never blame anyone anyway. Still, sometimes he had wondered why Ubbe never thought it was his duty as the eldest to help their overtired parents by looking after Ivar at night sometimes. After a while Hvitserk’s sleep got so light that Ivar just had to whimper, and his older brother was there to soothe him before his parents even heard anything.

Of course, it was their mom, and only she, who was able to get through to Ivar when he was in really bad pain, when he had another broken bone or had extreme growing pains. And during the days it was Ubbe or their dad who made sure to keep Ivar entertained and occupied as good as possible, as much as Aslaug allowed, to distract Ivar from his chronic pain. But it was always Hvitserk who calmed Ivar when he had a bad dream or was sad and frustrated and couldn’t sleep because the rising pain kept him awake. Then his older brother would carefully cuddle up to him and retell him the stories he himself had just heard from Ubbe. Hvitserk loved Ubbe dearly and his storytelling abilities was only one of the many things Hvitserk admired him for.

Cuddling up to each other became their routine, and then sometimes Hvitserk would stroke his baby brother’s back in calming circles, sometimes he just held his tiny shaking hand, sometimes he’d whisper stories and sometimes it took never-ending assurances of “it will soon be better” before Ivar fell asleep again.

The calming circles was a trick Gyda had shown him; Hvitserk was sure that he would have had no chance of ever looking after Ivar if Gyda and Björn had lived in the same house. But sharing the same property with two main houses was all Lagertha and Aslaug could agree to. The houses had to be in fact the exact replicas, his father grumbling that this made him look like an idiot to the rest of Kattegat, while Aslaug was furious hers wasn’t bigger, as she had given him not only two but four children and one needed special care, while Lagertha always played the “but I was his first wife and gave birth to his first son” card. This bickering had been a constant background noise to them all throughout their childhood.

The kids all got along well. Sometimes it seemed as if they were making up for their parent’s constant fighting. Hvitserk looked up to Ubbe, Ubbe adored Björn, Sigurd was a needy little pest but was always kept in check by their sweet sister Gyda who was the one person all of them always instantly listened to, even though she never raised her voice. And they all loved their baby brother Ivar.

Looking back, Hvitserk thought that never raising her voice had worked wonders for Gyda and had been her superpower in the often so loud household. Wherever she went, Gyda exuded an atmosphere of calm and friendliness.

Hvitserk missed his half-sister, while, lost in thought, he stroked a strand of damp hair from Ivar's forehead. After some time, he carefully made sure that Ivar was still asleep and then snuck out of the bed and back to his own apartment.

These neighbouring apartments had been a gift from the gods, just when both had needed a wink from fate. After Hvitserk got released from rehab Aslaug didn’t want to have him in their house anymore. She was very outspoken about it and about her reason for it: she feared for Ivar. Those words, yelled in a high-pitched voice, made Ivar doubt his mother’s sanity for the second time in his life. Her angry announcement also led to a fierce fight between Ragnar and Athelstan; Athelstan didn’t want to waste a moment before welcoming Hvitserk in the home he and Ragnar shared. But Ragnar proclaimed that it would do Hvitserk no good if he wasn’t forced to stand on his own feet again.

Being of age and with both his parents not wanting him around, Hvitserk was overjoyed that his little brother was finally sick of Aslaug’s suffocating love and was similarly anxious to get out of the toxic household.

It also helped immensely that Ragnar’s guilty consciousness led him to move mountains and loads of money to grant them their neighbouring apartments over the roofs of Copenhagen.

Aslaug had a fit that someone in a wheelchairwould want to move to a roof top loft, but all three men had done their best to just ignore her. The boys would swear they had later heard their dad’s thoughts on exactly where their mom could shove her concerns regarding the roof top, as they argued on the street.

The modern building had an excellent lift, and the character of the loft gave Ivar all the space he needed. Ragnar made sure that his good friend Floki oversaw any needed adjustments in regards of the widths of the doors or the accessibility of the terrace.

Ivar’s apartment also had adjusted furniture throughout all rooms and Floki took pride in designing the kitchen himself.

Now, back in his own apartment, the cold blanket over Hvitserk’s unused bed made him shiver as he wrapped himself in it. He couldn’t fall asleep again. Instead, he lay there, stared at his ceiling, a wave of emotions suddenly clashing over him. The last three years had been such a roller coaster.

Thora.

His fingers clung to the blanket almost painfully.

Hvitserk pressed his eyes together and forced himself to try some steady breaths, just as he had shown to Ivar only a few hours ago. After a few minutes, he breathed out deeply, opened his eyes and mumbled into the darkness: “You did well. You overcame things, Hvits. You did it and you can still do it.” And suddenly, his anxiety switched to a slightly hysterical laughter. “Oh fuck!” he laughed staring at the ceiling again. “I’m such a pathetic loser, mumbling to myself in the dark…”

But his words didn’t contain any heat and a small smile formed on his lips since he knew he wasn’t a pathetic looser. At least definitely not when it came to other people. Hvitserk knew that he was a good brother. Especially to Ivar. Always had, always would be.

Hvitserk relaxed a bit more in his bed and thought back to their childhood again. He had always understood Ivar’s despair, his illness making him incapable to certain aspects of life. Hvitserk had never looked to the side or pretend not to hear when small sniffles filled his brother’s bedroom. Hvitserk could never stand anyone being in pain.

That’s how he and Ivar had become inseparable, even though Hvitserk had never stopped loving spending time with Ubbe. But the nights filled with hidden sobs belonged to him and his baby brother. When they had gotten a bit older and started school, they started to hide their cuddling from the rest, Hvitserk always sneaking back to his bed before anyone woke up. Just as they had done now. But nevertheless, hiding it sometimes didn’t sit well with Hvitserk since they weren’t doing anything wrong. And he often longed for owning up to it.

Especially when the comforting felt so good.

******

The next time Hvitserk woke was thanks to his vibrating phone. With narrowed eyes he tapped around his bed to find it. The sun was already shining brightly into his room, and he wondered what time it was.

With a groan he opened the screen but then smiled.

Ivar had sent a picture of his famous pancakes and the teasing/taunting message, “Liking them cold now?”

Hvitserk answered with the running man emoji and jumped out of bed to get a quick shower.

About 15 minutes and a stack of freshly made pancakes later, Ivar asked, “Good?” with a raised eyebrow, rather amused about the way Hvitserk stuffed the sweets in.

“Sure,” Hvitserk grinned and held his coffee cup up shaking it in the air in silent request.

“Huh! Don’t you have legs, anymore?” Ivar huffed with mocked indignation, nevertheless taking the cup and limping towards his fancy coffee machine.

Those were the good moments. And Ivar had them, and they both loved them, but there was still the underlying question about last night. While Ivar pushed the buttons on the shiny coffee machine to make his brother an Americano, Hvitserk started to play around on his phone.

And there it was, the explanation for last night:

Special needs Ragnarsson to join university of Copenhagen

There are pictures too. They must have caught Ivar yesterday afternoon; looking very grumpy while he had tried to climb the stairs of the university, struggling with his crutches while carrying the registration paperwork under one arm as well.

“Ivar…” he sighed, a dull plain already clenching around his heart.

He could see how Ivar’s back muscles stiffened before he hissed a frustrated: “Don’t.”

Gosh, how Hvitserk hated the paparazzi for what they were constantly doing to them. If it wasn’t him being caught drunk, Björn with some women or Sigurd with some guy, they could always rip on Ivar.

“You could’ve…” he started but got harshly interrupted by his brother.

“No, I can’t always run whining to Ubbe, okay?” He slammed his coffee angrily on the table with such a force, that little droplets of coffee splashed to his plate. “And I won’t! Besides they just caught me off guard,” Ivar hissed through gritted teeth.

They both sat silently for a while, trying to concentrate on their breakfast, which no longer tasted that good, with all the tension in the air.

Ivar knew his brother was just worried about him, but he didn’t need that, well at least he didn’t want it. He wanted to stand up for himself and make his own decisions. And it was probably this thought that made him admit: “I visited mom, afterward.”

He didn’t even have to look over to Hvitserk to know how immediately tense he became. Biting his lower lip, a frown on his forehead Ivar prepared himself to hear a litany of reasons why that had been a fucking stupid idea.

Just as Hvitserk opened his mouth, Ivar got ahead of him. Looking out of the huge window, concentrating on the clouds to avoid looking at his brother, he admitted in a low voice:

“I just had to, Hvit. I wanted to show her the stuff from university and just share that with her.” And then he turned around facing his brother, suddenly quite furiously: “Just because you all hate her, I don’t, okay!?”

Hvitserk dropped his fork in resignation. Pancakes or not, it was too early to have this discussion again. And while he wondered how they could have arrived at this argument again, his phone beeped.

Ubbe: Is he okay?

Hvitserk huffed, rolled his eyes, and typed the fitting emoji in the box, adding, “what do you think?” Then added another message: “for even more fun, he went to see mother afterwards…”

Ubbe: ugh, one day I’ll get her a restraining order, I swear!

Hvitserk: only if you want Ivar never to speak to you again…

Unnerved from the typing, Ivar felt he’d lash out on his brother any second when he got a message himself.

The sender startled him, though, and a surprised “Huh” escaped his lips. He was supporting himself with one hand on the kitchen island, staring at his mobile in the other with quite some disbelieve.

“What’s it?”

“It’s from Lagertha,” Ivar frowned.

Abandoning his own mobile and instead reaching for the last pancake – because tension or not, Hvitserk was definitely not wasting any food - he wondered what Lagertha was up to.

They all tried to be civil with her, although being honest and more precise, it was only Ivar and he who needed some effort to behave around her. Ubbe had always adored her, although maybe Ubbe had only always adored Björn and dreamt about having the same mother as his big idol.

And do not get him started on Sigurd. That idiot would write an essay about the hardships of this poor, hard fighting women, who lost her husband to some bitch of a woman. Whose then ex-husband never stop hitting on her and dreaming about the three of them living together before he finally gave up on both and moved on. On to Athelstan, the ex-priest he had fallen in love with on one of his many travels.

It was no wonder Sigurd adored Lagertha as she had never - in contrast to both his biological parents – looked down on his musical aspirations as weak, and even supported him to try turn his passion into a proper job. Nonetheless, Hvitserk never understood why his little brother had come out as bisexual to Lagertha first and not to their father, given his current situation. That was one step too many if you asked Hvitserk. He and all his brothers would have been – well were – supportive of Sigurd. The fact he trusted Lagertha more than them, had driven a wedge between Sigurd and him. It had hurt and confused him, and he didn’t want to dislike Sigurd. And sometimes Hvitserk thought it had just been another way for his younger brother to get attention.

For a very short time Sigurd had been the family’s baby and gotten all their mother’s attention. She was so proud of him when he was born with a sign in his eyes. She had been walking around telling everyone about old sagas and that “Sigurd Snake in the Eye” was born for higher things. And then Ivar was born and all of Aslaug’s attention was drawn to him.

As understandable as it was that Ivar needed more attention than other babies, Aslaug just completely forgot about Sigurd. Forgot about all of them, actually, but Hvitserk and Ubbe had already been at an age where not too much attention from their mother was actually welcomed. Whereas Sigurd was just a toddler himself and didn’t understand what he could have done wrong to be totally wiped from his mother’s plate. Still craving for her love and attention, Sigurd identified Ivar as the cause of his misery and had despised him since then.

It was entirely thanks to Gyda that things between the two youngest never escalated. She had always put so much effort in bringing the two youngest together and creating a mutual understanding for each other’s situations. And while their dad was grateful, in awe of his daughter, both of his ex-wives, at some point, grew weary of Gyda’s efforts. Hvitserk never understood what had happened then and neither Lagertha nor his mother ever cared to explain anything to them. One day, Gyda had simply left. It had taken a whole year for her to reach out to them again.

“What does she want?” Hvitserk sighed, not sure if he really cared. Sometimes Hvitserk just wanted his former, very uncomplicated life back. The life they had, when their parents were still together, the life prior to Sigurd getting caught being fucked up the ass by a slimy music producer or Hvitserk lying in his own vomit after a bad trip. No, don’t think back to the drugs, he instantly told himself. He closed his eyes and wished that Ivar either wouldn’t notice his trembling hand or would think that it was Lagertha stressing him out. After all, he had been clean for nearly two years now.

Luckily Ivar didn’t seem to realise his sudden instability or maybe put it down as him still needing more sugar. He didn’t comment on it, at least, but instead explained:

“She said some guy saw one of my photographs at her home and asked if there was more. He might be interested in buying.”

“Oh. Well, that’d be cool, no?” Hvitserk replied with a full mouth.

Ivar huffed, and then looked at his brother. He had a smirk on his lips and didn’t seem to be angry any longer: “Well, definitely cooler than the guy’s name.”

Hvitserk raised an eyebrow questioningly. And when Ivar read, with exaggerated clarity, “Heahmund” they both started to laugh.

@not-another-viking-fanfic-blog @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @pieces-by-me @punkrocknpearls @vikingstrash

[labyrinthof-fan-fiction]

We Were Happy

Sam Wilson X Reader

Summary: Sam’s ex-fiancee is a member of the Falcon/Winter Soldier duo, fighting alongside them. It’s all good, until the events of TFATWS Episode 4. (this summary sucks, but my brain is so wiped from writing this)

A/N: This one is not for the faint of heart. I was listening to Taylor’s “We Were Happy” on my drive home today, and for some reason my brain immediately just went to Sam, I really can’t tell you why. I don’t own TFATWS, its characters, or “We Were Happy”

Warnings: Major Character Death, Blood, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Gore, Death, Violence, Funeral Scene, Swearing.

Word Count: 2,665

Sam was shaking, Karli had threatened Sarah and the boys. He wasn’t thinking straight. “She overstepped.”

“Sam, you can’t take her on alone.” You said, pulling on your combat jacket.

“I agree,” Bucky said, as you both chased him down the stairs and onto the street.

Violence begins after page break.

You knew you were walking into a fight, but you hadn’t expected John Walker and Lamar Hoskins to show up. You should have known they were tailing you. They always were. All hell broke loose, then you heard Lamar’s body hit the column next to you. You glanced down and knew he was gone. John ran and checked his pulse, but you knew he wasn’t going to find anything, then you saw his eyes turn black. You had seen that look before, “John, don’t.” You started, the Flag Smashers in the room shifted uneasily, then they started to run.

John snarled and chased one out the window. For a fleeting moment you glanced back at Sam, he was shaking his head. You closed your eyes and ran headfirst out of the window, your wings caught the breeze and you landed on your feet, chasing after the man clad in red, white, and blue.

He tripped the man he was following and threw him into the fountain, the shield raised above his head. You picked up your speed and slammed into the Flag Smasher, pushing him out of the way and putting yourself directly under the shield. A scream fell from your lips as the first blow landed on your chest. Your head fell to the side and you saw people gathering as John continued to deal blows to your body, cellphones filming.

“John.” You managed to say, but you looked up and saw the unhinged look in his eyes and you knew, this was your last fight. You glanced over and saw Sam run up with Bucky next to him, Bucky grabbed onto Sam’s shoulder. Tears fell from your eyes as you saw the panic rising in Sam’s eyes, you focused on him, just Sam. Maybe just staring into his eyes would be enough to save you.

Sam was frozen in place as he watched John deal the final blow to your chest, horror washed over him. Bucky’s grip on Sam loosened and he ran to your body on the steps. “No, no no,” He chanted as he fell to his knees at your side. He tried to not see the blood that was pooling under you, tried not to think about how bad it truly was.

“Sam.” You murmured weakly, reaching your hand for his. He clasped yours tightly.

“You stay with me, you hear me dammit? You’re not going anywhere.” He said through a clenched jaw, tears were falling down his face. His eyes traveled down to the wound from the shield and he saw the engagement ring hanging from your neck. He pressed his spare hand against the wound, trying to stop the blood.

“Couldn’t get rid of it.” You said before a cough shook your body.

“Baby, please.” He whispered, “Please hold on, we’ll get you to a hospital, they’ll save you.”

Your eyes closed as another cough ripped from your lips. “Sam,” You murmured. “I love you.”

His other hand moved through your hair to cradle your face. “I love you too, baby, so much. Hold on. Please, hold on.” He chanted, but he heard your breath growing weaker. He gently placed his forehead against yours, “Please, God, not this.”

Your eyes met his as you felt the rattle in your chest grow stronger. “Goodbye, Sam.” He watched as a small smile came across your lips and your eyes closed, he felt your hand grow slack in his.

“No, no, no!” He shouted through his tears as he pulled you close to him, resting your head against his chest as your final breath left your body. He could see the cellphones all pointed at him, he couldn’t take it. He cradled your body against his chest and found himself eye to eye with John as he stood.

“Sam….” John started, Sam’s eyes fell on your blood on the shield, he refused to meet the man’s eyes.

Sam gritted his teeth and clenched his jaw, he knew that this was not the time to say what he truly thought of the other man. Not here, not now. He expanded his wings and took off with your body, not saying a word to John.

Sarah helped him with planning the funeral, honestly she did most of the work. Choosing flowers, the casket, making arrangements with the church. He found himself on the dock, standing next to the family boat. He stared out on the water, remembering when you both had been children and played on the docks while your parents worked. He could hear your laughter. He was broken from his stupor by Sarah coming up next to him.

“Are you going to carry her?” She asked gently.

Sam met her eyes, “I…” He had spent the past few days trying not to think about your funeral. “Yes.”

Sarah placed her hand on his back, rubbing a circle, comforting him like she had when they were kids. She looked down and saw the engagement ring he was twirling in his fingers. “She held onto that for so long. She was convinced that you were coming back.”

Sam chuckled, “Then I came back and fucked everything up.”

Sarah sighed, “I don’t think you fucked it all up, you both had the past few weeks together.”

Sam looked over the water, “There’s so much I wish I had said. I wish I had done.” The sun started to sink beneath the horizon. “And now, I’m not sure where I go from here.”

“You don’t have to have a plan right now. No one expects you to have everything together, after what you just went through.”

Sam scoffed and stared out watching the sun fade beneath the tide, wishing that you were next to him. John had murdered you, in broad daylight, with the shield that Steve had chosen him for. And Sam rejected it, gave it to America, and America gave it to the man who ended your life. He knew the reasons he gave it up, at the time, they had been the right reasons. But now, all he wanted was to go back in time and force himself to keep it, let it rust in a corner of a barn for all he cared. If he would have kept his nose out of any of the Avengers business, you would still be here.

Tears were streaming down Sam’s face as he carried your casket to your final resting place. He had remained silent through the entire funeral, Bucky at his side. Bucky had given him space and he was grateful, but now he was grateful for his support. Sam watched as they lowered your casket in the ground, Taps began to call through the cemetery, the shots of the salute felt like they ripped through his heart. He remained silent as they finished, then a man walked up to him with a folded flag.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” He saluted, then placed the flag in Sam’s arms. Sam’s eyes fell on the small triangle that was meant to honor your memory, your service, then a sob broke through his lips. He felt his knees buckle and Bucky grabbed his elbow to hold him steady. The cemetery cleared and he was left with the flag cradled in his arms. Bucky removed his arm from his elbow and Sam’s legs gave out. Sam’s heart felt heavy as he sobbed at the pile of dirt that covered you, Bucky stood vigil with him until the sky turned to night and the stars sparkled against the black. Bucky accompanied him back to the house. Sam paused on the street, remembering the night he had proposed to you, right before you both had been sent to you assignments. The porch lights had illuminated the two of you, he put his hand in his pocket and thumbed at the ring. The two of you had been so happy in that moment, carefree kids, for just one moment.

A week later, Sam was alone in your apartment, he took in the sight of the kitchen, almost expecting you to step into it and chide him for standing there and doing nothing. He moved around the table and found an envelope with his name scrawled in your handwriting. It seemed so out of place in your kitchen, he thumbed at the edge, debating if he wanted to read it. What could you say? Did you know this mission would be your last? He sighed and opened the envelope, seeing multiple pages inside.

Sam,

If you’re reading this, I’ve gone and done something stupid. I don’t know if you’ll be the one to find it or if someone will pass it along to you. Maybe it will end up on a landfill somewhere, unopened and left to rot into the Earth. Either way, I’m going to assume you are reading this.

I’m sure you’re wondering, why a letter? We have technology, there is such thing as video recordings. Well, after the snap, I went to therapy. Yes, I know, hell froze over. But losing you, I dug myself into a hole and Sarah pulled me out, then left me on a therapist’s doorstep.

As a way to cope with loss she recommended that I write letters, to you, about you, put everything in writing. And I did, this won’t be the first one I wrote. I doubt you will find them, maybe you’ll be the one cleaning my apartment and you will find them. When I got the call to join you and Bucky I was surprised. Things between us hadn’t been the same since the blip, you barreled headfirst into work as an Avenger. Did I ever tell you how proud I am of you for becoming an Avenger? Baby, I am so proud of you. God, you’re amazing. I’m babbling, I know, but I’m probably dead, so let me get the last word in.

Remember when we were younger and we’d sit by the dock, watching the sunset over the boats. We hatched that scheme to buy back Dad’s farm, you’d have equal parts in the fishing business with Sarah, and we’d live out the rest of our days there. We were happy, weren’t we? I mean, on some level we had to be, I was going to marry you. You wanted to marry me. Then life got in the way.

I still wear the ring, on a chain around my neck, but it’s still on me. During the blip people told me not to hang onto it, he’s gone, find someone else and move on. But I couldn’t let go of you, not even when a crazy purple alien ripped you from existence. Because loving you was the happiest time of my life, I know you might not believe me, with how we left things that one night.

I don’t know how I’m going to die, I guess no one does, maybe you do, don’t the Avengers have the ability to time travel now? Ideally, I’m 99 and I’m sitting on Dad’s old porch, in the rocking chair next to you, watching that sun set behind the boats. We’d have lived a full life, had some kids, grandkids, kept the Wilson legacy alive. I’d like to think my last breath was taken, holding your hand the minute the sky changed to night. But I know, in our line of work, that’s not what happened. Don’t blame yourself, I expect that I knew what the consequences of my actions would be. I probably bet too much on luck. But that’s life, it’s a give and take, and eventually we all get the take end of the stick. Don’t turn to vengeance, I know you’re an Avenger, but don’t take that so literally. You are one of the best people on this planet, revenge would not be a good look on you, or Redwing.

The last thing I need you to know is that I never stopped loving you, I don’t think I will even in the afterlife, if there is such a thing, I’ll be waiting. I know I said harsh things that night, we both did, but that doesn’t mean I stopped loving you. I assume that I will end up in at least what is heaven, although thinking back to some of the things we did as kids, maybe not. But let’s say that I get to the pearly gates, know that I’ll be watching you, making sure you don’t meet me too early. Maybe I’ll see you in the clouds, but let’s not pull an Icarus, I don’t know if I’ll be able to save your ass. Do you think I could get my own pair of permanent wings?

One last thing, I know I’m longwinded, but c’mon, I’m dead, these are my last words. Remember when the circus came to town and we snuck in? Something I don’t think I ever told you is, that was the first day I realized I loved you. You wrapped your arms around my neck and pulled me in for a kiss. I don’t know what that kiss meant to you, but that kiss, when we were stupid teens, ruined me for anyone else. I wish I could have apologized to you, made amends. We both needed a break, to find ourselves, to remember who we were. The world changed so much after all those people snapping their fingers. Maybe if I was braver I have said these things to you before you read this, if not, I’m sorry. Sam Wilson, I love you and have always loved you. Even though we’ve been on hold, I always knew that we would make our way back.

I don’t want you to think that you have to hold a candle for me until the end of times. Find someone who cares about you, who loves you so much. Maybe move into Dad’s farm, and make a home with them. I probably haven’t told you yet, but I bought that old farm a year ago. It’s not in the best of shape, it needs some love. The deed is enclosed with this letter, along with my will. If you don’t want it, sell it, give it to Sarah and the boys, hell torch the place. But it’s yours, just like my heart.

Love you, forever and always.

Sam’s tears fell onto the pages, he moved them away and wiped his tears away. He’d be lying if he said that he moved on from you. You both had decided when he returned that taking a break would be a good plan, he was going to be focused on missions and you were trying to help others rebuild their lives. Then he asked you to help him with missions, with Bucky. It had almost felt like nothing had changed. It was great, until John got involved, until John killed you. His fingers tightened on the pages, wrinkling the edges. He sat down at your table, reading over the pages, looking at the deed in his hands. He had set the will on the table, keeping his eyes from it. The top corner that he could see had his name scrawled across it.

He glanced around the kitchen, and looked back at the letter, I’m so proud of you. “We were happy, baby. We were so happy.” He folded the letter, deed, and will and put them in the pocket of his jacket. He zipped the jacket and exited the building, Bucky was waiting outside, he raised his eyebrow at Sam. Sam simply tilted his head and the pair fell into step next to each other, walking the streets of your old town, intent on their next mission.

[kyn-lyn-blog]

Race for the Crown

Okay so this is going to be a story about my interpretations of Jude and Cardans kids. This is not really about them but they are obviously in it. I will put the list of their kids here just so everyone can get an idea that this is a long project! FYI the last three children are triplets and with them being so young they won’t be involved like the rest but maybe in the future I might write something (a little blurb on them as they are older!

Jurdan Kids:

Ben / Ezren (horns)/ Liriel (Bee wings/controls bees) / Aimon (tail) / Elluin (snake skin patches/forked toungs) / Cohlan (tails and claws) / Lixiss / Finnea (butterfly wings) / Finneus (moth wings) / Echo / Echibod / Echian 

words: 3025 

The intro basically explains the plot but i will say this: It is about the Greenbrier/Duarte children’s fight to the crown and their struggles, strengths and ambition 

I do not typically post fics or stories but I am hoping to start, All questions, feedback, and statements are welcomed 

There were twelve children, nine chances, eight competitors, three who cared too much, three who weren’t sure, and one who did not want it all. All fighting for the throne and crown. The current King and Queen grew tired of ruling, and many thought choosing an heir would be no problem with all the children they had and yet, though the numbers where high, problems came with every one of them. The only children who were for sure out of the running were the triplets, the youngest who were barley three. Every child had a story and something keeping them from the crown from the oldest to the youngest and none of them seem to have shown what it takes to have the crown. In the end it was decided that all children must be watched closely and deliberately in order to make the best decision. Oldest to youngest every child fought, unknowingly, for the power of the land.

BEN

Ben’s story was the strangest to the people of the land. Some did not even feel he should be considered for the throne due to him not being blood. Ben was abandoned as a child by his father and the queen took him in secretly, having been friends with the child’s father. She took him in at 7 years old and he instantly loved her more than his own family. She showed him love and kindness, while being firm and fair. She did not have a child of her own, so she was often hesitant to officially call him hers, but after the king heard news of the boy, he was elated to help his wife raise the child. The King gave the boy and the Queen the push to officially create and start their family even if the child was not either of their blood. The Boy grew into a man and a charming one at that. With his birth father being a sorcerer, he was able to perform magic the land had never seen. He treated the other siblings as his own even if some did not see him in the same light. He did his responsibilities with ease and poise.

As he grew into a man and a noble, the land became split when rumors of his crowning came to surface. Half the land saw him as the perfect contender for the role of king. He was good to the people but firm in his beliefs of what is best for the land. He dished out judgement in a way that seemed regal and fair, even when he was sentencing someone to death, there was an air of calm finality around him and his subjects. He stood tall, his sandy gold hair standing out against the dark of his siblings, and his face showed no cruelty, but he looked as if he was made to be a king, instead of an abandoned child taken into a new world. The term golden boy seemed coined just for him.

However, there were others, the countering half of the land that fell into the arms of tradition. Him not being related in blood seemed to create a bigger problem than expected. People felt he couldn’t rule a land he wasn’t born in or born to understand. The cursed his name whenever people even mentioned his status to the throne. These objectors weren’t silent either, they loudly jeered and scorned him with distaste. When his name was called at revelry’s and royal events underneath the cheers and praise were the boo’s and hateful jabs. He took them with a smile. He was approachable and while some saw that as a sign of good fortune for the land others saw it as disrespectful and the acts of a common man instead of a king. For yes there was a no, for every good dead there was a twisted scandal behind. Prince Ben could not breath without someone begging for his fortune and attention or trying to trap him into a wrong word or step. When he started to notice the small seeds of him being king start to get planted by the council he started to panic. He knew many would never accept him as king, and if half the land won’t accept him how was he supposed to rule with a knife at his neck at every turn. He decided to take matters into his own hands the day he found out the whispers were growing into assumptions.

Ben knew he would do whatever is best for the people, but he had to keep himself alive and in the land’s good favors in order to do so. He had to step away from the throne for awhile but in a way that wouldn’t make him look like a cowered or as if he was running away. He prepared for the party that was going on that night with shaking hands. He decided to dress in lavish gold and baby blues, With a swirling patterns of the colors on his vest with a white frilly shirt underneath and breeches to match. He wore golden boots that reached just underneath his knees and a gold cape held to his right side with a lion head brooch that had diamond eyes to match the teeth of its roar. He placed the silver ring of a crown on his head indicating his title of prince. The royal family would wear their weapon of choice to these events as an accessory, but since he relied on magic as his weapon he settled on a pair of gold gloves that had diamonds accentuating his fingertips where his nails would be seen. He made sure his hair stood up above his crown, his signature quieff hairstyle on display, the golden strands slicked up and shining. As he looked at his work in the mirror, he couldn’t help but frown. He liked what he saw he just didn’t like how much he looked a king waiting to accept his crown. He had a split second where he considered changing into something less but voted against it. He had already made himself up he wasn’t going back on that now.

The merriment of the party was in full swing as he entered, his name and horns blaring in his ear upon announcement.

“I present to you” The royal guard announced while giving him a wink, she had once set him up with her daughter and still held hope he would find some interest once again, Ben knew he wouldn’t but smiled at her anyway, “Prince Ben, Oldest of the high queen and king, Prince of the court of Mystics , runner up to the throne” Ben cringed deeply at her last statement, those kinds of titles and statement were only spoken by those who have already pledged their loyalty, and he was sure she would be disappointed once he made his announcement and proposal to his mother and father, the king and queen. He heard whispers and saw glares and adoring eyes. He saw the ears of his siblings raise, their noses twitches and their eyes look at him in accusation. They would disregard him soon enough. He kept his head high and smile easy as he sauntered over to the golden dais that held his family. As he walked, he could feel everyone’s gaze it didn’t matter that he came later than the others. The way he was dressed, the way he walked, and his demeanor all suggested he was on time and that everyone else was just early for his arrival. He stepped up to his mother and kissed her cheek lightly. He turned to his father and gave him a fist bump (which Ben had started doing after one of his visits to the mortal world). He took his spot closest to the throne next to his brother Ezren who did very little to hide the distaste from his curled lip.

 “That was quite the introduction” Ben did not even bother to look over to his sister Liriel, she never liked being outdone or outshined and Ben was certain she did not like his name being followed up with ‘runner up’ when it came to the throne. She wanted the choice to be unanimous when it came to who should be crowned and she wanted the unanimous decision to be her. She had always considered Ben beneath her. It did not matter, however. Soon enough she’d be one step closer to the crown. As final announcements and introductions of other courts were finished the king and queen began to greet subjects who felt their problems were big enough to bring to the throne. The princes and princesses began to depart and get lost in the crowd of guests and nobles. Ben could handle his drink, he was, after all, no mere mortal but one with great power and lineage, even if that lineage left him to die. Still some tried to get him eat strange drinks and powders and fruit that should make him loose his mind. Ben never minded, he became used to the folk underestimating him, it was how he preferred it so he would often eat it anyway and just pretend to be mad with happiness and giddy joy. This made his nights more interesting and more of a time to collect secrets rather than a time for parties, however tonight he kept his lips and tongue clean. His siblings all had fun with their groups and newfound strangers. All except Ezren. Always so serious. He kept his eyes on Ben a jealous fire in his eyes as ben kissed hands, twirled maidens and laughed with nobles. Ben had always told Ezren he’d be more favorable for the crown if he spent more of his time with the people rather than watching his siblings every move. But Ezren didn’t trust any of them except Liriel. So, he sat and watched ready to intercept at any time his siblings make a fool of themselves. Ben never truly cared however, he could hold his own and then some.

As the party died down, and that means people were beginning to fall over drunk and delusional, Ben made his way to the dais where his parents sat whispering and laughing to each other. His dad’s tail flicked back and forth for a bit then came to wrap around his mother’s wrist. Ben knew what that meant, when his father’s rail started wrap around his mothers limbs, either he was nervous for her or he was getting ready to bed her and from the look on his face Benn had a good idea it was the latter. He rushed to the top before their thrones and both the king and queen looked up in surprise at his sudden rush towards them.

“Mother, Father” he gave a short bow with each greeting.

“Ben, what is this, is something wrong, shouldn’t you be enjoying the revilers?” That was his father’s code for ‘Unless someone is dying you better make this quick’ and not in a ‘I can’t be bothered way’ but a ‘I’m gonna fuck your mom so make this quick’ sort of way.

“Yes, everything is fine but I wanted to make an announcement, a proposal of sorts, to the two of you and I feel everyone should hear too” His mother side eyed him, unsure if his plans. It was no secret Ben loved Jude the most since he was young. When he was seven and first came into her care, he’d sing her name at night and cry when she had to leave for royal duties and no nanny could console him until her return. His mother knew him better than anyone and he told her everything, everything except his plans for tonight. It made since she was suspicious, since that has always been her nature anyway.

“Does it have to be right now-“Jude elbowed cardan interrupting him.

“Of course you can give your…announcement” His mother trusted him, she just didn’t like not knowing what he was planning. Ben smiled at them and his father gave a slight eyeroll as he kicked his legs up on the side of his throne and waved his hand as a gesture saying ‘get on with it’. Ben took a step down from the dais so that he was in between steps. He turned to the crowd and spread his hands gaining the attention of few but not nearly all.

“High courts, gentry, royals and friends!” he shouted merriment laced in his voice. “I, Prince Ben, Oldest son of the High King and Queen” he looked at Ezren as he spoke those words, smirked then looked back at the crowd “Have an announcement, a proclamation for my parents and the high court,” He turned towards the thrones where the king and queen sat, but his voice resonated as if he was speaking to every single person in the room individually. “Mother, Father, all of Fae knows of the rumors of your choosing for the throne, I am not here to throw my hat in the ring, as the mortals say, but to instead withdraw myself from the line” Gasps fill the room and cries and uproars, he feels someone might have even fainted. “Instead I ask you give me another role, a new role, title, that I have made for myself. I wish to travel the lands of Fae, sea, mortal lands, and the unknown in search of allies, magic, emptied lands, treasures and advances. I wish to not own the crown but help it thrive and advance. I swear my service to it and my loyalty.” By the end of his proposal he is down on one knee head bent to the ground. He raises his eyes and sees his mother is shocked but hiding it with a steady look. His father has a smirk and looks as if he trying to keep from laughing meaning he either sees this as some joke or is nervous about what his son’s statements mean. Ben always had a feeling His mother saw him as one of the main royals reaching for the throne and probably assumed that that was what Ben had wanted. Ben just hoped she wasn’t upset with his decision.  The room was silent awaiting The High King and High Queen’s reaction.

His father broke the silence with a laugh “Blood or not you definitely got the dramatics of this family, here we thought you were about to announce some coup or something, pull a Balekin part two!”

“I didn’t think that” His mother said with a smirk, low enough only Ben and Cardan could hear. Cardan whispered something to his queen as Ben stayed on one knee. He saw from the top of his vision Jude give a curt nod, and His father stood up.

“My son,” he said with a sigh “Your proposal sounds…exactly and perfectly fit for you” Ben stood up as an uproar went up filled with cheers and surprised shouts. He looked over and saw the head of the guard look at him with betrayal on her face. Seems she realized she backed the wrong prince. “However,” The High King continued “I don’t know where all this talk of crowning a new ruler came from, but perhaps…” Cardan turned to look at Jude then back at the crowd “It might be time to consider and keep watch of who that will one day be, and keep in mind Ben, just because you want withdrawal now doesn’t mean you can’t come back to reconsider before it’s too late” Ben could feel the eyes of all his siblings even the ones who care far less about these ordeals. Ben had just moved a piece in an eight-player game of chess, the piece that not only started the game but caught the attention of the other players. It didn’t matter to Ben; he was taking himself out of the game enough to still come back a hero if he really wanted to, and according to his father, still a chance to come back as king if he ever changed his mind. Ben had all the freedom to do what he wanted, and none of the others could do the same without looking like followers to him, and they all knew it. None of them could pull off what he put in motion, now that it was already done. Ben turned to his father.

“Thank you, I will remember your words as I begin and endure my travels, but for now I plan to enjoy my first night with my new title and status and worry about the details tomorrow”. The high king smiled and nodded, then step back to his wife. Ben turned to his mother and her eyes questioned him while her lips pulled into a smirk. She rose from her throne and stood in front of him and gave him a seemingly innocent hug, but Ben knew better when she pulled him down to whisper in his ear.

“For once I don’t know what you’re planning, but remember this, the throne, this new title, your siblings’ ambition, are nothing to play around with, you’ve always been smart Ben don’t let this battle change that.” She pulled away and looked into his eyes, probably hoping to find some genuine emotion there in them.

“Don’t worry about me mother” he kissed her cheek “I know my place” with that he stepped down from the dais into the crowd with his head high and gold cape flowing behind him, yes, no one could deny he looked like a king that night, the same night he seemingly gave up the throne. Ezren watched from afar eyes secretly filled with unnerving satisfaction. Ben ignored him and the questions of the nobles that approached him and grabbed a drink he knew was supposed to make him crazy with faiery lust, he downed it feeling nothing. He was never the trickster type but he did have his secrets, secrets he would take with him on his upcoming travels, secrets that would only be reveled upon his inevitable return.

[sweeethinny]

He and Harry had a fight last week... James said he didn’t like him anymore.’’ Ginny looked at her mother, looking a little sadder now. ‘’Harry cried.’ Would you consider writing their fight and then James Sirius apologizing? I was (re)reading this today and I just love it

thank you anon! you can also read it on AO3, if you want :)

the last part, is the content of the letter that james wanted to send to Harry, i hope you liked it! <3  PART 1, i think? idk, but the fanfic that anon referred to

Ginny didn't quite know what was going on when she got home, exhausted from yet another tiring day at work, with sexist coaches who didn't listen to what she had to say in the interviews, and other journalists who didn't care about the ideas she had proposed.

She did not expect to feel so miserable when she agreed to work on the Prophet.

But either way, she was happy that Harry managed to cut the workload that month, spending more time at home with the kids, especially now that James was six and started going to school, Teddy had just gone for Hogwarts, Albus was at a stage where he just wanted to be with his father, and Lily had her teeth born and was in a bad mood.

They hadn't had much of a problem with James at school so far, he had adapted, made friends, done homeworks, and was well controlled with his own magic, occasionally exploding or making things fly.

Nothing too dangerous and that they couldn't fix.

In the last week James' classes were suspended when 7 of the 12 children caught lice, luckily James was not one of them, so the boy seemed a little anxious about the sudden change in routine.

But today it looked like a war had broken out in the middle of their living room. Lily was taking all the clothes out of the clean laundry basket, Albus was on top of the trunk where they kept some old things, with his knee shredded and looking like he was waiting to make a dressing, while Harry and James argued beside him.

Ginny knew that the combination of her and Harry would make children easy to explode, but she realized that James had an extreme facility in getting Harry off track, much more so than Lily or Albus did. Albus knew how to irritate his brothers, and Lily only irritated them with her loud crying and childish antics like throwing things, but James was at that stage where he challenged his parents to find out how far he could go. Teddy had been there, too, but it was with Ginny that he could do it most easily.

However James seemed to know exactly what to do to have an angry Harry.

'James,' Harry asked, eyes closed as if asking for patience, it probably wasn't the first time they had had that conversation.

'I just wanted to fly!' James shouted angrily, his cheeks red.

'And didn't I tell you that you couldn't do that?' Harry countered, running a hand through his hair. 'How many times have I told you that neither you, or Albus, could fly alone?'

'But Albus was there because he wanted to! I didn't tell him to follow me.' The little one looked as furious as his father, his arms crossed in front of the small body just as Ginny did when she argued with someone. 'Why can Lily fly and I can't ?!'

'I was with her, she was not alone, you know that very well. I said that we could fly later, and that I would go with you- ’

'But you worked all day, and then the night would come and we would not be flying! Again!'

'James... You could have hurt Albus! Or hurt yourself.' Harry pointed out, looking as alarmed as if it had actually happened. As far as Ginny could see from the entrance to the Living Room, only Albus was a little hurt, and he didn't even seem to want to cry or anything.

'Oh, of course, if something happens to the precious Albus, it's the end of the world!' James threw his arms up, as if giving up, and before Harry was able to answer him, he shouted; 'I hate you!' And he ran off, tears streaming down his face as he climbed the stairs as fast as he could, his little legs not helping him to be too fast, but Harry didn't follow him either, which helped James get to the room and slam the door.

Harry sighed, hands on his tired face, and Ginny was still a little paralyzed at the door, thinking about what had happened. 'Mum!' Lily shouted, now sitting in the empty clothes basket, making the other two look at her.

'Hello my loves.' Ginny smiled going over to Albus and kissing him on the cheek, realizing how scared he looked. 'Hi my love, how are you?' She preferred to act as if she had just arrived, looking at his grated knee, still a little dirty with grass.

'Fine, I just fell.' He smiled, the little children's teeth a little dirty from what looked like chocolate.

'It'll be okay,' Ginny promised, casting a simple healing charm and placing him on the floor, before of course, she kissed the small scar that remained. Nothing too serious, but it was a tradition that helped them to be less afraid of when they needed to apply potions or other healing spells that were stronger.

They were a Weasley-Potter, after all, they were always falling.

'Hi my other love,' She smiled at Harry, hugging him, but realizing that he seemed a little reluctant to speak. He just smiled awkwardly, kissing her forehead and letting her go to be hugged by Lily, who had managed to topple the basket of clothes to be able to crawl out and run into her mother's arms. 'And my other love.'

'Hi mommy!' Lily cried awkwardly, hugging Ginny back, and hanging from her neck so she could be picked up.

'And where's my other love?' Harry sighed at her question, waving his wand and causing all the clothes to levitate, to be folded, and to go back into the basket.

'Up there,' Harry murmured. 'Do you take care of them? I'm going to prepare dinner.' Ginny nodded, lowering Lily to the sofa when Albus asked her to play with him and the Lego castle he had won from Percy.

‘Mommy, come and play with us!’ Albus asked, seeming not even to remember the fight between his father and brother anymore, amused by the pieces and teaching Lily how to stack the blocks too - even though she seemed willing to just destroy everything.

‘I’m coming, okay? Let me just go and say hi to James, and I'll be back here, okay?’ She promised, crouching in front of them, drawing all the attention to herself. ‘No mess and fights, Mom will be back.’

'Daddy and James fought,' Al whispered, as if it were a secret.

'Bad James,' Lily added, crossing her arms as she could, to look like her brother.

'They are just stressed, and he’s not bad. Now, I'll be right back.' Ginny left the room and went up to the second floor, still listening to the conversations between Albus and Lily, and the sounds of pots and dishes, much louder than usual, and she imagined that Harry was more angry at what he looked like while fighting with James.

Ginny knocked on the door to their eldest son's room, the photo hanging next to her made her smile, a picture of when they went ice skating, a few days before Teddy received the letter from Hogwarts, he and James were smiling from ear to ear. ear, while she and Harry still needed to hold hands to keep steady and not fall.

She hated it when she or Harry lost patience with their kids, when they got carried away by the tantrum. They should have known that the best thing to do when it happened was to just get away, let the kids scream alone for a few minutes, before they came back calmer and managed to talk to them.

'Hi my love,' Ginny murmured, opening the door and entering James's room, it was colder than usual inside, and maybe he had done accidental magic for this to happen and he could be hidden under the covers. 'It's Mommy.'

'I don't want to say anything.' James' voice was muffled by the pillow and the covers, but she could still tell that he was crying.

Ginny sat on the bed next to him, her hand on what she imagined was his shoulder. 'I heard that you and Daddy had a fight, is it true?'

'He hates me.' Ginny smiled sadly, denying and sighing.

'He doesn't hate you my love, and hating someone is a very strong thing to say, I promise you, he is just tired, and you need to help him a little too.'

'But he wasn't going to fly with me, and I just wanted to fly.' James uncoveredlooking at Ginny with brown eyes wet with tears. 'He only cares about Lily and Albus, he doesn't even love me anymore.'

'James, of course not, your father loves you very much, which is why he was concerned that you might get hurt. You know you can't fly alone, it's very dangerous.' She held out her arms for James to crawl onto her lap as if he were still a baby - for her, he always would be - and put him against her chest, cradling her body a little from side to side to calm his crying. 'Dad was just worried that you would get hurt. Besides, you are the older brother, and Lily is still very small and needs help to do a lot of things, just as Albus still needs more help. You are my big boy already, and you have to help them, and not go flying without authorization.’

'But he yelled at me.' James sobbed, holding Ginny's shirt in his hands, hiding his face like he did when he was a kid.

'Look, what Dad did was not right, but you didn't make it easy either. Both are wrong… Dad is having dinner, go take a shower, okay? I promise that tomorrow we can fly together.' James nodded, still glued to his mother, like a sloth clinging to a tree trunk. 'I love you my baby.'

'Me too,' he murmured, without further tears.

[...]

Dinner had been… tense, to say the least. Proving that he was Harry's son, James spent the whole dinner in silence, sullen, without even looking straight up, just as Harry was, determined to eat the lasagna without saying anything.

If it weren't for Albus chattering, and Lily trying to imitate him, they would have eaten entirely in silence.

After all the children were in their beds, sleeping soundly, and the house was quiet for another reason, Ginny lay on their bed, waiting for Harry to get out of the bath. They hadn't talked much, and he didn't even want to go shower with her, so she just waited, sitting on the bed while pretending to read the last pages of the romance Angelina gave her. Of course, the words didn't make much sense in her head, she couldn't concentrate, but she had to hide her nervousness.

When Harry finally got out of the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist, damp, messy hair, and still that sullen look, Ginny couldn't take it anymore; ‘Can you tell me what happened?’

Harry looked at her quickly over his shoulder, before entering their closet and disappearing, still in silence. Ginny can hear the drawers opening and closing, and then she can see Harry coming back from there wearing old shorts that almost didn't stop at his hip anymore. If he wasn't so sullen, she would try to ease the tension he carried on his broad, bare shoulders.

'He and I had a fight.' That was all he said, throwing himself on the bed next to her and covering himself, looking like he was about to go to sleep.

'It's not me you're mad at, don't be an idiot.' Ginny dropped the book on the nightstand, not turning off the lamp beside her, staring at Harry with determination.

He sighed, sitting up too. 'I was taking care of Lily, now that she is coming out of diapers it looks like she wants to pee every minute, and I asked him to keep Albus playing. They were in the garden, and James had already asked me to fly with him, but I was solving ten problems at the same time and making sure our daughter didn't pee on the couch, so I asked him to hope that later on maybe we could fly… But he is your son, after all, and he managed to break the lock on the shed and get a broom.' Ginny shouldn't laugh, she knew that, but she smiled, a little proudly. 'When I went down with Lily, I could only see Albus flying too, unbalanced, not much more than a meter from the ground, and James going up without control. There was no time and Al fell, but I had to make James levitate because the broom was very uncontrolled and he was unable to get it down.’

‘Harry…’

'It was my fault, I know, I shouldn't... I should have put a different lock on or I don't know, and,' He stopped, hiding his face with his hands again, denying. 'And I lost my temper because I had said that he couldn't fly alone, and Albus was crying on the ground and James looked scared when he realized he was too high... I shouldn't have screamed.'

'You were angry,' Ginny reminded him, realizing how sad Harry looked at this. ‘And worried.’

'But I should have known that when I forbidden him, he would try to do exactly what I said not to.'

'He's a child, Harry, of course he's going to do everything we say he can't.' She said what he usually said to her, when Ginny was worried about Teddy at Hogwarts after he spent two weeks without sending letters, even after she asked him to update them every week.

'He said he hates me, Ginny.' Harry finally looked at her, his eyes watering. Again, her heart broke.

‘Oh, Harry, of course not.’ This time, she didn’t wait for him to come to her embrace, as she did with James, Ginny preferred to hug Harry herself. 'He was just nervous.'

'I did everything wrong,' Harry denied, crying even more, as if he had held his emotions up until now, as if just inside their room was a safe place for him to finally let go. 'He didn't say it like it was nothing, I saw Gin, I saw that he was upset, he meant it.'

'He didn't want to, of course not..Look at me, no, no, Harry, look at me...He doesn't hate you, and you didn't do everything wrong, I probably would have done the same thing, you're just tired.' Ginny stared at him, forcing him to look at her too, her hands holding his face, tears streaming down his cheeks. 'You are the best father they could have, the best I could have chosen to be their father, you will see, tomorrow you will be calmer and everything will be fine.'

'I hate to fight with them.' Harry hid his face on her neck, tears wetting Ginny's skin, his hands tightening on her waist as if to make sure she stayed there, with him. ‘I don’t like them to cry because of me.’

'It's the side that nobody tells you about being parents, love.' She laughed softly, trying to calm the mood. 'But he doesn't hate you, I promise you that... I'm sure you are still his hero, and the person he loves the most in this whole world. You are not a bad father.’

[...]

The next morning, Harry got up first, he heard noises downstairs and knew that probably one of the children was already awake and wanting to make a mess. Passing through the rooms just to check, he saw that Albus was still asleep, and that Lily seemed far from waking up, but James' bed was empty, which wasn't too strange, since the boy seemed to still be keeping up with his early morning routine to go to school, even in that week of recess.

He heard footsteps as he approached the kitchen, an owl hooting loudly at the window, and low murmurs. ‘Stay still.’

'James?' Harry watched as his son tried to tie the letter to the animal's leg, which was trying to get away from him. James was on top of a chair, leaning over the counter, trying to pull Pandora’s closer.

‘Dad!’ Pandora flew away with his cry, without the letter, seeming to frustrate the boy.

'What are you doing? Who do you want to send a letter to?’ Harry was careful to move towards James, but he was happy when his son accepted his arms to come down. He still felt guilty.

'Hm... for you.' James looked at the floor, looking embarrassed.

'Me?' Harry knelt in front of him, staying in his line of sight. ‘Why don’t you just give it to me?’

'I thought it would take you longer to wake up.'

'I heard you coming down the stairs,' Harry said, looking into his son's eyes.

'Are you still mad at me?' James asked quietly, holding the letter tightly in his hand.

‘No, my love… I’m sorry for yesterday, I didn’t want to yell at you, I was nervous and I was worried that you might get hurt.’

'I'm sorry for flying without permission, and I didn't want Albus to have followed me for this either, I didn't see him.' James said. Harry felt so bad all night, unable to sleep in peace, conscience weighed down by having yelled at James, thinking about how sad he looked when he said he hated him.

'It was very risky, you could have been seriously injured.' The two looked at each other, Harry pulled his son close to him. ‘I don’t want you to do it again, okay? You can fly, but only with me or mom, never alone.' He whispered against the boy's hair, hugging him tightly, as if that alone could heal the pain he had felt.

'I didn't mean to say that I hated you, either.' James hugged Harry back, looking sly. ‘I don’t hate you.’

'I love you, Jamie. A lot.' He planted a kiss on his son's head, not caring for the tears that seemed to want to appear in the corner of his eyes.

‘Me too, Dad.’

-----

''Dad,

I'm sorry for yelling at you, it wasn't my intention. I don't hate you, I was just nervous, I'm sorry again.

Love you

James.''

[garlichoisan]

Singing in the shower | liu yangyang

➸ Genre: Fluff

➸ Pairing: Yangyang × f reader

➸ Word count: 7 197

➸ Information:

college!au, childhood friends, friends to lovers, friends!NCT Dream 00 line, bestfriend!Yeji (ITZY), very slight NoMin references (Jeno + Jaemin), mention of Mark Lee, reader is a few months older than YangYang (born in the same year)

➸ Warnings: A lot of fluff as usual.

➸ Plot:

You're forced to learn how to live without your closest friend from childhood who has to go live in Germany with his parents, leaving you heartbroken. You thought YangYang was going to be by your side forever. As years have passed and you've almost started to forget about him, he suddenly appears in your life again, turning it upside down, and this time, nobody's leaving.

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➸ A/N: This oneshot took me over 2 months and a half to write and was written as a part of my dear @renjunniehome's song fic challenge (?)

Not really a challenge, but it's an event where diffent NCT writers write fanfics based on songs so make sure to check it here: PLAYLIST FICS MASTERLIST

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“I don't know, it's just something about ya

Got me feeling like I can't be without ya

Anytime someone mention your name

I be feeling as if I'm around ya”

YangYang and you have always been a package deal; you were so close as children that at one point people couldn’t imagine one of you without the other and honestly, you also couldn’t imagine what your life would be without your best friend. There was something about him that made you feel butterflies in your stomach, even though as a child you could not identify and understand clearly what it was.

Besides that, your parents and YangYang’s were very close so you sometimes had family dinners together; that happened often, since you were neighbors and your houses were literally right next to each other. Your parents loved YangYang like their own son, maybe because he spent so much time in your house, had dinner there, and even stayed the night quite often for your sleepover parties. Of course, his parents were also very happy when you went to his house in order to spend time with him. Everyone in the neighborhood thought you’d end up marrying each other when you grow up, even if your child selves denied it with disgust. However, you couldn’t deny that your face always lit up when your parents told you YangYang and his parents would be coming over for dinner. Just the mention of his name made you start jumping with excitement.

But apparently everything good had to end sooner or later. You could still remember the shock you felt when you learnt YangYang would be leaving his house which was right next to yours in order to go live and study in Germany. He explained with glossy eyes that his parents have found better work opportunities there and that this probably meant you wouldn’t see each other very often. When you first heard this, you burst out crying, hugging him tightly, begging him not to go. Even though he also didn’t want to go, he was just a child so he had to leave with his parents. That left you heartbroken; you tried to text him in the beginning in order to keep in touch but it was getting difficult because of the time difference, as well as the lack of personal contact. Slowly you started to get used to life without him, no matter how much you wanted him back, but you couldn’t really learn to be happy without him.

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“Ain't no words to describe you baby

All I know is that you take me high

Can you tell that you drive me crazy?

'Cause I can't get you out my mind”

As the years were passing and you were growing up, you started to understand what your feelings for your childhood friend meant. Before you heard the word “crush”, you thought you just loved to be next to YangYang because he was funny and was making you laugh. But as a teenager, you realized you still missed him, even though you had no idea what he looked like now, how much he had changed, and most of all, you felt how you haven’t gotten over him at all. People your age started to date, but you weren’t interested in anyone, since subconsciously you kept comparing them to your childhood friend. You never even went to dates, and you realized how childish your behavior was, but honestly, nobody seemed like your type anyways. You barely had any friends, since the overly-romanticized idea of YangYang has turned into a standard for your friendships as well. You felt as if you were going crazy because of him as you only thought of him and how you would feel if you could meet him now.

* * *

A few years have passed and you were now in university, trying to live without the thought of YangYang as you realized you were probably never going to meet him again. Now you had some amazing friends who were bringing colors into your life and sometimes distracted you from thoughts about your childhood friend.

You were currently having lunch with your friends from your class. Suddenly you saw Jaemin, one of your friends, running towards your table and finding a place to sit, as he looked as if he was excited for some reason.

"Guys, big news! Apparently we're gonna have a new guy in our class. I heard he's German. I can't wait to meet him! European peopleare so good-looking!" Jaemin said with a dreamy gaze.

“Why would there be a German in our class?” You asked confusedly.

“I don’t know, that’s what the rumors are.”

As you heard the word ‘German’, you suddenly thought of YangYang again, trying to stop the association in your mind before it was too late. For the rest of lunch time you were a lot more silent than usual, quietly eating your food as Haechan was telling jokes, Renjun was laughing, and Jaemin kept annoying Jeno.

The next day you had an early class and as you heard your alarm ring, you groaned softly in annoyance, turning it off and literally rolling out of bed, as you fell to the floor, hugging your blanket, together with your bunny plushie which was actually a present from YangYang.

“Stop overreacting, you drama queen. Nobody has ever died from early morning classes,” your roommate and best friend, Yeji, said.

Sometimes you wondered how could she be so energetic, enthusiastic and optimistic, even early in the morning.

“Yeah, I might be the first one though,” you cried out, while holding the plushie tightly, refusing to accept the reality.

“Come on, if you get up now, I’ll buy you something delicious after classes,” Yeji promised, taking your hand to help you get to your feet.

When you heard her offer, your eyes lit up.

“Really?” You were still a little skeptical about believing her, even though you wanted to.

“Yes, knowing you, you’re probably just going to ask me to buy you a chocolate. Completely affordable,” Yeji chuckled, knowing she was right.

“Correct. Make it two, though. I feel this is going to be a difficult day.”

You finally took her hand and let her help you get up from the floor. After that you quickly put your plushie back in your bed, laying its head on your pillow, as you took the blankets from the floor and put them over the plushie, wanting it to feel warm. Yeji watched your actions with a wide smile on her face.

“Aww, you’re so cute. Now go get ready, or we’ll gonna be late.”

“Oh, how tragic that would be,” you said sarcastically, before going to the bathroom to wash your face and brush your teeth.

* * *

When you and Yeji entered the lecture hall, you found your classmates being more energetic and chattier than usual. You also noticed your friends, who were talking to a new guy, probably the one Jaemin mentioned the day before, as you recalled.

“Honestly I was a little disappointed to find out you weren’t actually German,” you heard Jaemin say and you giggled quietly.

“If those weird comments don’t scare the new guy off, I’d be really impressed,” Yeji noted, as she found a place near the window and you sat next to her.

“I agree,” you laughed, turning around to look at the new guy once again.

He looked somehow familiar to you, but you couldn’t tell why. When he noticed you looking at him he just stared at you for a couple of seconds while Jaemin and the rest of your friends were probably bothering him. You could swear you’ve seen those shiny dark brown eyes somewhere else before. But as you realized you were still looking at the guy, you quickly averted your eyes, so that he wouldn’t think you were some kind of a creep. You thought that maybe there was not a particular reason for his familiar vibe: maybe he just looked like somebody you’d befriend, that’s why he looked as if you already knew him, or at least that’s what you believed.

“I see the new guy has already caught your eye. The question is, how did he achieve that? You’re not usually interested in others,” Yeji pointed out.

“I-I’m not looking at him,” you denied, shaking your head. “Guys are basically a loss of time, except for my friends. But they’re too dumb for me to date one of them. Besides, only two of them are boyfriend material, they are Jaemin and Jeno, and they’re basically almost dating each other, even though they don’t know it yet,” you explained, taking your textbook out.

As you mentioned Jeno, you saw him coming to you and you looked at him questioningly.

“We promised to show the new guy around after this class, and then we’re going to have lunch with him. You and Yeji can also join us,” Jeno suggested and Yeji nodded.

“We’d love to!” You smiled and Jeno smiled back, returning to his seat, next to Jaemin.

When English class ended, you and Yeji went out of the lecture hall, waiting for your friends and the new guy. They were soon here and you all started walking around the hall, as you heard Haechan talking about the variety of books in the university’s library even though you’ve never seen him actually go there, so you were wondering how he knew this information. Meanwhile you and the new guy continued looking at each other and then averting your gaze without saying anything. You realized he still hasn’t introduced himself to you, but you couldn’t ask him for his name, because you were shy, so you just continued walking in silence, as the ones who were talking were mainly Haechan and Renjun.

When you went to the cafeteria and found a table, you left your things, so that the guys could watch over them, and you went to buy food with Yeji.

“Seriously, what’s going on between you and the new guy? You can’t stop looking at each other. You’ve never looked at a guy like that, so you can’t convince me you don’t like him,” Yeji stated, demanding an answer, as she took a bowl of rice.

“He just looks familiar, I don’t know why though. That’s all.”

“You know that when you meet your soulmate for the first time, you feel as if you already know each other?” Yeji asked, as you paid for your food and started walking back to the table with your best friend walking after you.

“Shut up,” you hit her arm playfully; you really wanted her to stop saying things like that.

When you went back to the table, you noticed only Jaemin and Jeno were there. Jaemin was feeding Jeno, holding a spoon of rice which he put into his mouth.

“Eat a lot, handsome,” Jaemin winked at Jeno who averted his head with discontent. “Do you want some kimchi?” He asked, as Jeno nodded, even though he didn’t want his best friend to feed him.

“Why are you feeding him? Can he not hold the utensils himself?” Yeji asked, as you hit her arm again.

“Be quiet, you’re ruining the romance,” you scolded her, as you continued looking at your two friends, as you sat across from them.

“What romance are you talking about, I just lost a bet,” Jeno groaned in disagreement with your statement.

“Was the bet letting Jaemin show his love for you freely?” You questioned him, as Jeno looked too flustered to answer.

“Something like that,” Jaemin confirmed. “Ah, Jeno, you’re such a messy eater! Here, let me wipe that off,” he said, as he wiped the rice off Jeno’s lips, using a tissue.

“Cute,” you whispered, looking away as you started eating your own lunch.

“Jaemin’s actions are making me want to throw up,” Yeji confessed, taking her fork and starting to eat her food in silence.

“You’re not the only one, I feel the same way,” Jeno agreed quietly, looking at Jaemin as if he was going to kill him every second now.

A few minutes later the new guy approached your table, holding his own tray of food, setting it down and sitting next to you. Your heart skipped a beat just because of his decision to sit next to you. You didn’t know why him being close to you was making you feel this special, so you tried to brush it off, but you couldn’t; so during the rest of the lunch you were actually in a very good mood, even though you and the new guy still haven’t talked to each other directly at all. When Haechan and Renjun joined you, you talked to them a lot, trying not to think about the stranger next to you, since you were too shy to ask for his name, and he apparently didn’t want to say it to you or ask you about yours.

As you were done with lunch, you stood up from the table and took your tray in your hands, looking at the new guy as he was doing the same. When he took his own tray, though, you noticed he dropped something. You quickly bent down to get it and give it back to its owner. But before handing it to him, you took a quick look at it – it was a discount card for the food in the cafeteria. You saw his picture and you read your name, saying it out loud as you realized something.

“Yang… Yang?” You looked up in disbelief.

He looked at you with a smile and he nodded.

“Yes, YangYang is my name, not a nickname as people usually think. Sorry for not introducing myself to you earlier, I was just distracted since you seemed really familiar for some reason,” he said, as you handed him his discount card.

“Um, I… My name is Y/N,” you introduced yourself quietly, as you waited for his reaction.

There were two possible ways this could go: he would either recognize his own childhood best friend, or he would take your hand, as he hears your name for the first time, if he wasn’t your YangYang, but some other guy with the same name. But to you, now it all made sense. The visual resemblance, his voice, his cheerful personality… But you still wanted to be sure it was actually him, before hugging him excitedly.

“You… Bunny?” He called you by your nickname he came up with when you were younger. He thought you looked energetic and playful, just like a bunny.

You nodded, as you couldn’t stop smiling.

“You don’t know how much I missed you!”

Before you could do anything, he put his tray and card down on the table as he hugged you tightly. You were a little taken aback for a couple of seconds, slowly realizing your wish has come true. You and your best friend were finally together.

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“Thinkin' of ya when I'm goin' to bed

When I wake up think of ya again

You are my homie, lover and friend

Exactly why”

As you and Yeji went back to the dorms, you didn’t even have any motivation to study, because you were too busy thinking about your amazing day. You still couldn’t believe this was actually him, your childhood best friend who you were meeting so many years after he left for Germany, after you had lost hope of seeing him ever again. You were hugging your plushie, as you were jumping around the room, repeating that tomorrow you were meeting YangYang after classes in a café, where you could talk to each other and get updates on his life, even though everything seemed as if it was still the same; even YangYang haven’t changed in your opinion, except for becoming more handsome now as an adult.

Yeji was smiling at you, as you told her about your long story with your childhood friend. She was sincerely happy to see you so excited and she wished everything would turn out well for you. You kept thinking about him before going to bed and even after you woke up, starting your day with a smile on your face.

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“You light me up inside

Like the 4th of July

Whenever you’rearound

I always seem to smile”

A few weeks have passed since your reunion with YangYang; now you were used to hanging out together all the time, just like before, realizing that neither of you really changed. You craved each other’s attention and presence just the same way as when you were kids. Today you decided to visit a café with a nice atmosphere, suitable for a cozy afternoon and long conversations. After classes were over, you said goodbye to Yeji, as she wished you to have a good time on your date, but you were quick to correct her this wasn’t a date (even though you secretly wanted it to be) and went out of the classroom together with YangYang.

On the way to the café you couldn’t stop talking to each other. Your topics were never ending and it was always exciting spending time together for both of you. You couldn’t stop smiling as he said funny things to you, or even when he didn’t say something that entertaining; you just loved his company so much, that you enjoyed every second you spent with him. Around twenty minutes later you got to your destination and he opened the door to the café for you, then you found a nice table near the window. You both ordered hot chocolate as you continued with your conversation.

“Do you wanna go watch a movie tomorrow? They’re projecting a Marvel movie,” YangYang asked as he gave you a little additional information.

You smiled, even though you honestly disliked these movies, but you only watched them so that you could spend time with YangYang. You’ve watched every single Marvel movie, since your best friend was obsessed with them for some reason.

“Of course, I’m so excited!”

“Great, I’ll book the movie tickets now,” YangYang said with a wide smile on his face, as he unlocked his phone and typed the website’s name to book the tickets.

“Um, Yangie,” you hesitantly started speaking, not knowing if you should continue your sentence.

“Yeah?” He asked, not looking away from his phone.

“I’m going home this weekend, in my hometown. Do you wanna go with me?” You suggested, even though you felt a little shy to be inviting your childhood friend in your house and have the same sleepovers you used to.

“Really? That would be amazing!” Fortunately, he seemed really happy to hear your idea. “Your parents are also going to be there, right?” After you nodded, he continued speaking. “Can you tell your mom to please prepare my favorite cream cheese muffins for her special guest?” He looked at you with pleading eyes you could never say no to.

“Hey, YangYang! Do you only care about food?” You scolded him, as you playfully hit his arm.

“This is my main priority, yes.” He answered, matching your energy. “But you take the second place, you’re the second most important thing to me other than food.”

He looked at you and for a moment you forgot how to breathe. You were looking at his eyes, getting lost again and again; it felt like you were getting out of the trance he put you on, only to fall deeper the next time you looked at him.

“Are you okay?”

His voice showed concern, but his face had a unreadable look; not worried, but also not calm. It was like he knew exactly how he made you feel.

“Uh, yes, sorry, I just zoned out for a second,” you explained as you avoided his gaze. “I’m gonna call my mom later and ask her to prepare the muffins,” you informed him, as you took a sip from your hot chocolate.

“You know I don’t really care, right? I just want to be with you,” he admitted, as you coughed when you heard that. “Are you alright? First you zoned out, now you can’t drink your hot chocolate… So my theory must be true,” he said with a content tone and you looked at him in surprise.

“What theory?” You asked as you continued coughing until you were okay.

“Never mind. Just be careful next time.”

You nodded as you silently took another sip, trying to avoid his eyes.

Around an hour later it was time for you to leave, so you went back to the dorms. He smiled and waved at you, and after you waved back, you finally entered the room you and Yeji shared. You closed the door as you rested your back on it, breathing loudly. Your heart was beating fast and you wanted to make sure you’ve calmed down before you greet Yeji. Now you were absolutely sure you were in love with your childhood best friend and that fact made you quite nervous. You never felt that way before and you weren’t even sure if he felt the same way about you. But despite your worries, you smiled widely before knowing it. You felt like you couldn’t even control your emotions and it made you very confused. You slowly went to your room, then you left your bag on your chair and you took a step towards your bed and you just laid on it for a minute, staring at the ceiling, trying to stop thinking about YangYang, but it was more difficult than you expected.

“What’s wrong? Didn’t the date with YangYang go well?” She teased you and you turned to look at her, rolling your eyes with annoyance.

“It was nice, except it weren’t a date,” you corrected her, sighing loudly. “But why is my heart being like that?” you whispered, putting your head on your heart as you kept looking at the ceiling with concentration, as if you expected to find all the answers of your questions there.

“Maybe because you wanted it to be a date?”

You decided to ignore her, but then she spoke again.

“Look at me, the ceiling won’t talk to you like I can,” Yeji reminded you as you looked at her discontentedly.

“Yes, but it also won’t make fun of me like you do.”

“Look, I’m sorry. I just find it amazing that you’re finally interested in somebody,” she said, as she smiled excitedly.

“You could have stopped after ‘sorry’, you know?” You shot her another annoyed look and she raised her eyebrows as if to say she didn’t care. “Never mind, I’m going to take a shower.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

“And people ask me how

Well you’re the reason why

I'm dancing in the mirror and singing in the shower”

As you felt the hot water running down your body, you felt a wave of calmness washing over you. Your mind kept going back to thoughts of YangYang and your incredible day with him, as well as the excitement of going home together with him. It was something you wished for so many years, just having him back with you, the two of you together in your room, playing Plants vs. Zombies or Mortal Kombat, some of your favorite PC games back at the time, when you both were around 10 years old.

Without realizing it, you started singing a random song you’ve heard in school today that somehow happened to be a romantic one, matching perfectly with your good mood and your feelings for your childhood friend. Around half an hour later, you got out of the shower and wrapped a towel around your body. Then you took the hairdryer and stood in front of the mirror, drying your hair, but you felt so energetic and happy that you started dancing in front of the mirror. You were holding the hairdryer and you were moving your body randomly, keeping a smile on your face, even though that way drying your hair took much longer time than usual.

When you finally turned the hairdryer off, you noticed Yeji standing in the doorway of your room, looking at you with a wide smile. You rolled your eyes at her for the millionth time today, realizing she may have witnessed at least a part of your dancing in front of the mirror. She giggled, but you decided to act as if nothing out of the ordinary happened, as if you were always that cheerful.

“Why are you laughing?” You asked, as you put the hairdryer back in its place.

“Someone has a crush,” Yeji almost sang that sentence. “I’ve never heard you singing in the shower and seen you dancing in front of the mirror before… Is it really possible that YangYang is the reason behind all that? Could he have changed your usual grumpiness into cheerfulness?”

“What do you mean? I’m the same as usual,” you denied all her claims coolly, sounding credible enough, since you weren’t such an inexperienced liar; you couldn’t say the same for your love life though – you really lacked experience in that part, knowing that calling yourself a “dater” would be factually incorrect.

“Yeah, okay. But if things between you really do work out, I want to be the first one you’re going to share the news with! You’re gonna tell it to Jeno, Jaemin, Renjun and Haechan later,” Yeji stated, as you were looking at her with confusion.

“Calm down, there won’t be any news to tell,” you laughed as you quietly went back to your shared room.

But the part of you that you tried hard to suppress, really hoped you were wrong.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

“All I want, all I need is your lovin'

Baby you make me hot like an oven

Since you came you know what I've discovered

Baby I don't need me another”

The next day was Friday, the day you would come back home together with YangYang, being there with him for the first time in many years. A few days ago you’ve told your mother about reuniting with him and to say she was ecstatic would have been an understatement; she felt as if she was welcoming her second child who has been away for a long time, so she wanted to make sure everything was perfect for him. She even cleaned your room since you weren’t there to do so and its usual state was beyond messy; definitely not the best place to show to such an important and dear guest.

You couldn’t wait to go, but before that, you had classes that seemed endless to you; time seemed to be passing too slowly and for a moment you even thought about suggesting YangYang to skip school today, but your good girl reputation prevented you from doing so.

When the professor said his last words for today, concluding the lecture, you took your backpack. You had put your stuff in it a few minutes ago, while the professor was explaining something about an exam or an “extremely important” group project; you weren’t sure, since you weren’t listening after all. You took out the little mirror you kept in your bag to make sure you looked alright. You tried to comb your hair with your fingers, then you applied a new layer of your favorite pink lipstick; you took so much time with your make up today, even though you usually didn’t wear a lot. When you were ready, you ran to the exit of the auditorium, as YangYang was already waiting in front of it.

“You might need to turn Yeji down,” he said, as you raised your eyebrows questioningly. “The group assignment Mr. Lee mentioned, groups of two are also allowed, so you’re with me.”

So this was what you missed as you were too busy putting your stuff in your backpack in order to be able to leave as early as possible. You smiled at him when you heard his words that made a warm feeling blossom in your body.

“Are we ready to go? All I need is in my backpack, so I don’t need to go back to the dorms, unless you want to.”

“I’m also ready. Let’s go,” he smiled, taking your hand and leading you to the exit of the university.

As you were walking next to him, your hand in his, you felt your heart beating unusually fast; but instead of this making you feel nervous, you felt the same warm feeling spreading through your whole body and this time, you were ready to let go and have fun, without holding back anymore.

“So we have a bus in 15 minutes,” you informed him, as you looked at your phone.

“A bus?” He asked before he stopped walking and you stopped looking at the phone and noticed an expensive black car parked in the university parking. “Why don’t we take a ride in my car?” He leaned on it, tapping the roof softly.

“This car is yours? I can’t believe it, you’ve really grown up, Yangie,” you said with a disbelieving voice in order to tease him, but you still sat next to the driver’s seat in his car, as he has opened the door for you before getting on himself. “Even though I’m a few months older than you, I still don’t have my driver’s license, but I’m working on it,” you said with a discontented tone. You were nervous about driving and when you were stressed, you couldn’t do well so you were trying to get your driver’s license for quite some time now.

“You can do it,” he encouraged you with his usual cheerful tone, holding his fist in the air for a second as a sign of encouragement, as he started the car and left the university parking.

* * *

When you were finally in front of your house, you quickly got off the car as you started jumping around with excitement. He smiled at you as he also got off and when the both of you took your backpacks from the car, you rang the bell of your house. A few seconds later your mom opened the door, welcoming you with warm hugs and her usual good mood, as well as a wide smile.

“Wow, I haven’t been here for such a long time,” YangYang mentioned, as he kept looking around. “Wait, what is this smell? It’s amazing!”

“Oh, it’s the muffins,” she smiled again. “By the way, Yangie, you’ve grown so tall! And my little Y/N is still the same as before, she didn’t really grow up a lot,” your mom teased you,

“Hey, you’re shorter than me, so you aren’t allowed to make fun of me!” You playfully scolded your mom, as you sighed in annoyance.

“But you like girls shorter than you, right, YangYang?” Your mom asked your childhood best friend and you wanted the ground to swallow you up right now since you were so ashamed.

You knew she was only asking this since she shipped you and YangYang romantically ever since you two met. She was truly scared for you not to end up single, while you were living your life, rejecting every guy that tried to flirt with you, especially because they weren’t YangYang. You perfectly understood your own feelings so you knew that you didn’t need and didn’t really want a relationship if it wasn’t with him.

“Actually, yeah, I really like girls like that,” YangYang smiled confidently, looking at you. “They are adorable,” he looked away and only then you could breathe. “And they make me feel tall even though I’m not,” he laughed, as your mother was looking at him with pure adoration in her eyes.

“Ah, you’d be such a perfect son in law! Handsome, good mannered, with a good height and you also know a lot of languages, just like my Y/N! I’m honestly so jealous of your future mother in law,” your mom continued to make you want to disappear and you were on the verge of just taking YangYang’s hand and leading him somewhere far away from that house.

“Believe me, you do not need to worry about that,” YangYang said as he kept smiling at your mom.

Even though you didn’t know what he meant, you really wanted to take him somewhere else, where he wouldn’t be able to talk to your mom.

“Dad is still at work, right? Please ask him to buy iced tea and tell us to come when dinner is ready, see you later,” without waiting for your mom to answer, you took YangYang’s hand and led him upstairs and then into your room.

He was looking around as if he was visiting a foreign place he has never been to before.

“You changed your room color…” He said as he touched the wall. “Baby pink suited you though. Also your curtains are different. I liked the old ones with teddy bears on them, but these are fine too. And the bed… It’s seems suitable for more than one person,” he kept commenting the details about your room, but this time his tone was different, and his look was honestly making you nervous. “Have you invited many guys here, Y/N? In this room, on this bed?”

His question made you choke on air; you were looking at him with shock written all over your face.

“W-why would I…”

You wanted to be honest with him, but then realized that this would probably make you look so boring to him.

“It’s not your business.” You quickly answered, sitting on your chair.

“Ah, my innocent Y/N… I guess I’m the only guy who is not a family member that has been to your room,” he continued teasing you as you glared at him warningly.

“That’s not true! Jaemin, Jeno, Haechan and Renjun have been here too!” You quickly denied his claims.

“Yeah, but I doubt you felt something for any of them.”

You stayed silent for a few seconds before deciding to change the topic.

“Do you wanna play Plants Vs. Zombies?” You suddenly asked.

“Of course! Let’s go!” He answered enthusiastically, seating on the chair next to yours.

It was a whole miracle how you could change the atmosphere and his demeanor just by mentioning a PC game. You started playing and suddenly he was the same old YangYang you knew and loved.

“Plant a sunflower, quickly!” You said, as you were looking at your laptop’s screen.

He did as you said, waiting to get another sun so we could buy another plant.

“Quickly, the zombies are coming!” You were clapping excitedly, looking at your childhood friend play the game you used to play all the time when you were kids.

You were so happy that you got closer to him without realizing.

“You’re making me nervous by staying so close to me,” he confessed, giggling softly.

“A-ah, s-sorry,” you quickly apologized as you moved away from him.

When you decided to take a break from the game, you offered him to watch a movie and he agreed, laying on your bed and you reluctantly laid next to him, trying not to get too close to him. You opened Netflix on your TV and the two of you took some time to choose a movie.

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“No, no all I know (know)

Only you got me feelin' so (so)

And you know that I have to have ya

And I don't plan to let you go”

You haven’t watched the movie even halfway when he pressed the pause button.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he said, sighing deeply as if he had something that caused him a great amount of stress.

“Do what?” You asked him worriedly.

Was he sick? Was he bored? You thought of so many different things that you could have done which could have irritated him.

“Pretend that everything between us is still the same. Pretend I don’t want to kiss you right now.”

Your eyes widened with shock when you heard his confession, but before you could say anything, he continued talking.

“We’re not kids anymore, Y/N. And I think we did change through all these years. It’s our chemistry that’s still the same. Tell me that you’re feeling it too,” he was talking in a husky voice which made you imagine things you thought you shouldn’t.

YangYang looked at your eyes hesitatingly, then at your lips, or at least that’s what you thought you saw him looking at, even though for you, it didn’t make any sense for him to be looking there, even after hearing him say he wanted to kiss you. You felt as if that whole situation was just a dream and nothing that happened was going to affect reality in any way. But as you were busy overanalyzing things as usual, you felt a strange, yet addicting sensation. As your eyes were still open, you looked at YangYang who was kissing you. You couldn’t believe that was happening, but you quickly closed your eyes, enjoying his lips on yours. Your heart was beating fast as you tried to remember this sweet feeling, savouring the taste of his lips. When he moved away, you slowly opened your eyes, looking at his with confusion, yet with trust. You were sure that whatever was going to happen, you were safe and happy with him.

“I- You… Uh, did you like that?”

You nervously nodded, as you were wondering what to say.

“Great, I did too. Does that mean you like me back?” YangYang wanted to check in with you, before officially asking you the last question he wanted to ask ever since he realized who you were back in the canteen that day.

“You’re so special to me, YangYang. I like you a lot,” you confessed, feeling a little shy, but still trying to keep his eyes on him, because you thought he deserved to know exactly how you felt about him without finding out how nervous you actually were. “By the way, that was my first kiss and I’m so happy it was with you,” you looked at him adoringly.

“Really? That’s so cute!” He exclaimed with a sweet smile. “So you’re sure you haven’t kissed anyone from your friends group?”

“Actually I kissed Jaemin and Jeno on the cheek once at a party because of a dare. And on the same night Haechan and I got so drunk that we almost kissed, but our friends stopped us before we ‘unlock a whole another relationship’, as they said.”

YangYang sighed with annoyance before mustering up the courage to ask you the most important question.

“Do you want to be like… Uh, you know?”

You were looking at him with confusion written all over your face.

“You sound just like Mark, he’s a friend of mine who’s one year older than us,” you teased him, since you really found his nervousness to be cute.

“Come on, you know what I’m trying to say,” he tried to avoid saying it out loud, but you weren’t going to let him do that.

“Do I know, Yangie? How can I know if you haven’t said it yet?”

“You went from a shy girl to a smug girl in just a second,” he mumbled with discontent.

“But you’re the same! You were teasing me earlier and now you sound like Mark Lee!” You complained.

“Who is Mark Lee?” YangYang asked even though he didn’t really insist on knowing; he just wanted to postpone asking his main question for as long as possible.

“That Mark guy I told you about! Are you even listening to me?”

“Should I be jealous of him?” He pouted as he was waiting for your answer.

“Maybe you should,” you continued provoking him in order for him to properly ask you what he wanted to.

“Come on! Aren’t your four handsome guy friends enough people to be jealous of? When I see how you’re looking at Yeji, sometimes I’m jealous of her too! I also can’t stand it when Haechan looks at you as if he has so many improper thoughts. Or when Jeno and Jaemin ask you if you have eaten. Or when Renjun is smiling at you and laughing at your jokes! Ah, I hate it so much that I want to punch-“

You interrupted YangYang with a kiss.

“My answer is yes.”

“You’re going to be my girlfriend?” He asked, hoping you would agree.

“No, I’ve never heard you ask that,” you crossed your arms, smiling at him playfully.

“You’re going to be my girlfriend because I said so~,” he almost sang that sentence, as he decided to make sure you were incapable to refuse by suddenly making you fall on your bed as he trapped your body under his.

“No, I’m not going to do it~,” you answered in the same tone, as you tried to flip him over, so that you could be on top of him.

But when he noticed what you were trying to do, he caught your wrist and kissed your lips deeply, making you forget everything else. In that moment you relaxed under his touch feeling safer than ever. You kissed him back with the same lust as his, as your fingers threaded through his fluffy hair. You continued passionately kissing each other for a few minutes, taking very short breaks to breathe, since you both missed each other’s lips too much to stay separated even for a few seconds that felt like an eternity for you.

But when you heard a knock on your door, YangYang quickly got off you and he sat on the bed innocently, as you followed his example. You quickly fixed his hair which was quite messy because you were running your fingers through it all the time.

“Y-you can come in,” you said with a voice that was a little distorted, while you were trying to normalize your heavy breathing.

When you said that, the door opened and your dad came in.

“Hi, Y/N. Here’s the iced tea,” he said, giving you the bottle of iced tea which you contentedly took from his hands and left on the ground. “YangYang, it’s great to see you again,” he smiled and YangYang smiled back. “Dinner is ready, so you can come downstairs,” your dad said and you nodded synchronously. Then he turned around and walked out the door, closing it.

YangYang got up from your bed as he gave you his hand, which you took. He kept holding your hand as you were walking down the stairs.

“I guess your parents are really going to have the best son-in-law,” YangYang said and as soon as you realized he was talking about himself, you hit his arm as you laughed.

You were finally truly happy again; you felt having YangYang by your side meant that nothing was impossible and all your dreams could come true, just like the seemingly unrealistic dream of having him back while you were longing for him all these years. It turns out your long wait was absolutely worth it and now that he was here with you again, you weren’t going to let him go.

[valkblue]

The Foundlings

Word Count: 9k Rating: General Summary: POV young Din — Just after his rescue by the Mandalorians, Din and other children are brought to what will be their new home, and their new life. Warnings: traumatised children processing their trauma, death of parents (mentioned), crying children and a lot of space stuff.

A/N: I had this brewing for quite some time, and finally wrote it full. Translating was the longer part, haha. It always is... 🙃 BUT, at least, it gave me plenty of time to illustrate it a little here and there! (see; "foundlings in the snow" - not all the Foundlings in this story are pictured on this painting) This is written as a 2 short parts story, and the 2 parts are here in full, in one post. Enjoy your reading!

— 1

In a way he couldn't explain, Din was perceiving space all around them, out there, all around the metal walls of that ship that was taking them far above their homeworld, the home they always knew, the parents they would never see again…

Din had never been in space before today, but he was perceiving it in the engines' deep rumble, in the quivering of the hull, in that black curtain which fell on the cockpit's windows. Half of them could be seen from his corner in the passenger hold through the automatic doors left open. He could perceive space in that moving sensation he felt in all his curled up body, and in his silent fear that he could face in the other children's eyes, and in those armored men and women's visors.

Their saviors were Mandalorians. Or at least that's what they called themselves as they had gathered them all in this ship before taking off. They had also been told not to be afraid anymore, that they’d be well taken care of… And, as if to give weight to this statement, the cries of the youngest — barely more than a baby — had stopped in the arms of one of these men in blue armors, with the help of his gentle touch and words, even through the modulator of this helmet he hadn’t taken off.

The Mandalorian who had given the baby to this other one upon entering the ship had said he had been found crying under his mother’s body, that he wasn’t hurt. That she had died protecting him… Din’s heart raced when he wondered whether this little one would remember the face of his mother, would remember her voice? He hanged on to the memories of his parents himself, just as he hugged his knees a bit tighter against his chest.

Now, the man was pacing with the comforted child in his arms, his small head laying on his pauldron painted with a white symbole like three scratches. And Din was watching them both, drawing for himself a strange sense of peace from this silent back and forth, lulled by the steady rumble of the engines and the low voices coming from the cockpit. A relaxed shiver made him take a deep, quivering breath and he blinked a couple times, as if to chase the tingling of sleep away. But Din wasn’t sleepy; he had only kept his eyes wide open for too long, and he was also very thirsty. He didn’t say anything about it, didn’t ask for anything, not even unclenching his teeth for fear that they’d start chattering again.

Truth be told, Din hadn’t said a single word since the last gasp of terror he had muffled in his father’s arms. Another sob, hidden in a shiver, rattled him and he squeezed his eyes shut to push back the tears, at the risk of facing again the explosions and the screams lurking behind his closed eyelids.

In the cockpit, modulated voices and steps on the metal floor pulled him out of his tormented thoughts; one of the Mandalorians was leaving the front of the ship to come by the seats, in front of the ones the two other children and himself had ignored, choosing to huddle themselves on the floor instead. The shy voice of one of the children — the youngest, a girl — broke the so far peaceful silence.

"W-where are we going?"

The Mandalorian’s shape froze against the lights of the ship and Din blinked his dry eyes, wondering if this man was the one who had saved him. He was sure that he had come aboard the ship with them but now, Din couldn’t differentiate him from the others. His reassuring words and the tone of his voice were still echoing in his fearful mind, and yet, it wasn’t this voice that answered:

"We’re taking you somewhere safe."

And this voice was soft, reassuring too. Even through this helmet and the impassive black visor where only some of the surrounding sharp lights were reflected.

"You’re going to be alright there."

Din wanted to believe it. He needed to believe it. Satisfied with the answer or simply out of questions, the little girl didn’t add anything and the silence settled once again at the same time as the Mandalorian on one of the seats. The man exchanged a look and a few low words with the other about the child he was keeping in his arms and Din closed his eyes, taking a slow breath, focused on the voices of their saviors and the deep rumble of the engines around them.

How long would they stay on this ship? he wondered, without any real worry about the answer. Should he find the strength, or the courage, to unclench his teeth, to let the slightest sound out, even to dare and ask for a bit of water?

The answer to his own questions came naturally to him when the mere thought of opening his mouth tightened his throat with the pain of a thousand thorns, whetthing his thirst when he tried to swallow it down.

Opening his eyes again on the dimly lit passenger hold, he found comfort in the silence. In the cockpit, the pilot was talking to the others. Her modulated voice told them that they had left the debris field and the planet’s gravity well, and that they’d soon be able to go…

Weren’t they gone already? Where could they still go? Was there something else beyond space?

Tension came to claim its place back in Din’s tired body who stood ready. He didn’t know what he was ready for, but he was ready — to react, to resist…

"Wait, wait… I’m gonna get ‘em to see this," said one of the men with her in the front.

He stood up and stepped in the frame of the open doors. And it was to Din and the other children that he spoke when he said, on a playful, inviting tone:

"Hey, kids, come see this!"

The three of them looked at each other, unsure. But when the oldest stood up, Din and the little girl followed. The Mandalorian stepped off the cockpit’s entrance to let them get in. Another man, sitting in one of the seats, watched them in silence, arms crossed on the chest of his armor painted with the same three white stripes than on his pauldron, and the pilot was in the central seat, facing a miriade of tiny lights and screens under the window panes. And Din faced space for the first time; black like the darkest night, only dappled with weak bright spots, far away, there was nothing to see so to speak. And yet, all three of them watched in a fascinated, worried silence. The pilot tilted her seat to glance at them through her visor then, she faced space again.

"Ready?!" she asked, on a lively tone which quelled Din’s worries a little.

There were some shy yes from the two others and the pilot replied:

"Watch this, then…"

On her dashboard, she pushed a thick lever which seemed to resist to her pressure and, behind the glass, the blackness of space was streaked with long ribbons of white light under the surprised gasped of the other children, before turning into a dazzling tunnel of shimmering mist.

Eyes wide, Din let himself be lost in this whirl stretching before them, giving in to the feeling of vertigo it caused him, only half-listening to the questions asked to the pilot and her answers; hyperspace jump, lightspeed, sublight… So many words he had already heard without ever giving it too much thought but that, now, were taking him farther and farther from what his life used to be.

Back in the passenger hold, behind the cockpit with the others, Din was feeling a bit calmer. The crushing sorrow was still there, filling his heart and making his breath difficult in his chest, stirred by an unspeakable fear of the unknown, but he had started to relax a little.

He had closed his eyes for a moment, to get them rid of the tinglings of thirst as much as to obey to the tiredness that was making his shoulders slump and his head bob. A moment that had stretched, shapeless and swirling in confused images and thoughts like the stars did on the night of space. Not quite a dream, because he wasn’t quite sleeping.

He kept hearing the calm breathing of the little one in the arms of the Mandalorian who had eventually sat down, the agitated dreams of the two other children next to him, a conversation he didn’t fully understand in the cockpit… And it was because he was hearing all that that he raised his head, on alert again when the talk was about getting out of hyperspace as they were reaching their destination.

A weak quiver and a short pale flash let him understand that they had slowed down, out of this tunnel of light. Din would have wanted to return to the cockpit, to see the planet they were going to live on now getting closer through the windows, but he only stood on his numb legs, a hand firmly clasped on the backrest of a seat, as if to keep himself in place.

"Looks like some of us can’t wait to stretch their legs!" joked the Mandalorian who was holdind the child in his arms. "And you, little one, what d’you think? Took your first steps yet?"

"He better," the other replied with a quiet snort.

Huddled against the armor, the kid didn’t answer, following the pattern of the symbol at the center of the chestplate with his fingers. Beside Din, the other children had followed his example and gotten up too. They seemed as anxious as he was but none of them made a step to go to the cockpit or even to walk away from the seats.

"You should sit and buckle up," the same Mandalorian encouraged them.

And immediately, the three of them chose a seat to which they buckled themselves. In her sudden urgency, the little girl fumbled with her own seat belt so much that she started to sob, yet not giving up on her efforts.

"Alright, alright," the Mandalorian soothed her as he stood up to come help her. "Calm down, let me show you…"

The girl wiped her tears and watched the gloved hands buckle her seatbelt across her chest and around her waist. In a last click, the pilot maneuvered the ship that Din felt sway along a slow, descending curve. Through what little he could see of the cockpit’s window from where he was sitting, he could only see space gliding around them, black and infinite. No planet, star or sun as he imagined them showed up in front of them. And the descent continued until the shapes of a strange blinking structure appeared instead. Maybe they would land aboard a bigger ship, Din thought, worry making him quiver again. Maybe living aboard was as possible as living on a planet's surface, after all!

The pilot flew them through a wide opening without a bump. And there only was a weak tremor when they landed in this hangar.

"Alright everybody," she announced as she stood from her seat to join them in the hold. "We’ve touched down. This is the end of the line!"

The access ramp started to lower down under the cockpit, opening on a huge hangar, dull and lowly lit despite the generous yellow and white lights. When the ramp touched the floor, brown with older stains, the pilot was the first to walk down. At the bottom, she was greeted by a mechanic, the like of which Din had seen countless times, and she asked for a refuel. She then disappeared at the corner of the ship with him. The Mandalorian with the child in his arms went down too, followed by the one who had helped the little girl to buckle up in her seat. Neither Din, nor the two other children made a single step to get out after him.

"Come along," he invited them before turning at the corner of the ship as well.

The little girl followed. Din and the boy exchanged a look, not making a move, except to turn around when one of the Mandalorians who had stayed in the cockpit so far came close to them.

"Go on, kids."

Din’s eyes went wide; it was this voice, the voice of the one who had rescued him! He put each of his hands on their shoulders, encouraging them:

"Don’t be scared. You don’t want to stay in here, right?"

A short second of silence and then he added:

"C’mon."

And with a simple push, he prompted them to get down the ramp. There was a lot of people in this hangar where other ships were docked; some were busy fixing a mechanical arm slumped across a busy workbench, maintaining other of these ships with the help of small droids and coiling long and thick black cables, while others were playing cards in a small corner, better lit than the others and furnished with worn couches, and a small round table.

Curious people were even watching their arrival from the top of a rusty-looking metal walkway. Some were humans like him and the other children, others not… None of them were other Mandalorians, except for the ones who had already gotten out of the ship.

"Don’t go running off now," he told them. "Stay close, alright?"

Din nodded slowly and the Mandalorian tightened his fingers a bit more on his shoulder before raising his head and shouting for the card players:

"Hey, you there, make some room for the kids!"

Some of them grumbled but they squeezed themselves on the couches or pushed some sturdy-looking crates from under the tables, as stools. Without a word, the Mandalorian walked with them on a few steps, then Din froze in place with a gasp; behind the ship, an huge bay was open on the darkness of space. And Din stayed there, facing the stars, a simple circle of blue light between him and them. The weight of the Mandalorian’s hand left his shoulder but Din didn’t pull himself out of his awe. Not before hearing the voice of the little girl again:

"Is this where we'll be living now?"

There was an understandable worry in her voice.

"Why?" asked the Mandalorian she had followed, amused. "You don’t like it? It’s a big station!"

Past his initial daze, Din couldn't care less. He was ready to love this place… Ship or not. He followed the little girl and the Mandalorian toward the table where the other boy was already seated, and had already been given two cards.

"See, now you can either draw another card, or stand," one of the players explained. "You know your numbers?"

" Yes," the boy answered.

"Good, 'cause you’re gonna need ‘em…"

But the rules of this game didn’t get any further as the arrival or another small group of Mandalorians in the same blue armors cut it short. With them were coming two other children; a young boy and an older girl. Maybe around the same age as that boy who was putting his cards down on the tables, or as Din himself — he wasn’t sure.

"You brought others?" the one who had saved him asked in surprise, his arms crossed on his chest. "Kriff, I’m not sure they’ll be able to take them all!"

One of the cardplayers had a lazy snicker then drawled:

"Well, looks like you, mandos, bombed out with these kids!"

As no-one replied, or bothered to, he continued as he gathered his cards in one of his big hands:

"Y’know, if you can’t sell all of ‘em, we could take a few out of your hands. There are crawlspaces where we could have use for ‘em, that’s for—"

"Shut up!" the Mandalorian finally grumbled.

And he stepped away from the table to meet with those who were coming. Shyly, Din and the other boy followed. Neither of them wanted to be sold away. The Mandalorian at the head of the new group then replied, on a lower voice:

"It makes only five of—"

He shot a glance at the one who had taken care of the little one until now and who was coming back in their field of view, helping the child walk on the hangar floor by holding it by his small arms.

"Ok, six of them," the newcomer corrected himself.

"Yeah, but they can’t have too much in one place!"

"What are the orders?" the one at the head of the new group then asked.

And the one who had rescued Din answered:

"Commander said to bring them on the main site. We’ll see what they have to say when we get there. I can’t make the decision to split them myself."

He shot a sweeping look at the hangar through the visor of his helmet.

"Are we waiting for other squads?" he then asked.

"No, not here," the other answered. "We received words they fell back on other locations."

"What about the ship? Is it safe to leave now?"

"Unless you had a tail, the sector’s clear," was the answer to this last question.

"No, we’re clear."

The other nodded his helmet.

"We’ve got a B-7 in bay 3," he told him, looking at the children around them. "We can get the all clear by the time the Foundlings are in there."

Din frowned, trying his best to listen, to understand and register all that was being said about them, and around them. But each new information was making his heart beat faster to the point that he brought his clammy fists to it, clenched on the sleeves of his tunic, as if to contain it in his chest. His savior turned around to beckon the Mandalorian in charge of the little one.

"We’re moving."

"Hear that, little one? Got out orders. Take flight!"

And he hoisted the kid by the waist, making the sound of those jetpacks they were all carrying on their backs through his helmet. The child laughed when he settled him in the crook of his arms to stride towards the group which started to walk without delay.

"So?" shouted one of the cardplayers. "No deal for a kid or two?!"

To what the Mandalorian who had rescued Din answered with a threatening finger pointed at their table. And the children and the Mandalorians left this hangar, followed by the sneering laughs of the players.

Two long and wide hallways later, they had reached another hangar where a bigger ship than the one that had brought them here was waiting for its passengers. The inside was very different from the other ship too; more spacious and somewhat comfortable, they had even been given a cabin where they could sleep during this longer journey. But Din wasn’t sure that he could sleep.

What he had been able to do, however, and to his great relief, was to eat! Settled in the galley, each had been given a tray of mash, with some pieces of tasteless bread… but, most importantly, water! And Din had finally been able to quench this thirst that had begun to be painful.

Once full, tongues started to loosen around the table. Still not Din’s, who only listened to the others, withdrawn. That’s how he learned their names. The children who had joined their group were named Grinn and Kerla and were both coming from the same world, apparently struck by the same war as Din, Aran and Saji’s. And even if they were coming from the same place, from the same colony, Din didn’t know them before now.

None of his few friends, the ones with which he had run in the streets and played ball with were here, on this ship, and he hoped that they were still alive even if they had stayed back there… and that their parents were too.

The name of the little one who was sleeping in the cabin was, of course, unknown. This realization continued to pain Din and kept him deep in thoughts for a while.

His parents and he knew some of the people who had celebrated births in the year and the previous one. Did he know the parents of the kid? Maybe he even knew his name!

Burning tears blurred his sight, his breath short and sobless, and he let go of his thoughts, escaping them by burrying his face in the arc of his arms, tight around his knees, curled up as he was in the booth of the galley.

He listened to the other children talking about their fears, sharing questions and their likely answers, and the renewed sobs of Saji and Grinn tightened his heart.

"Calm now," Kerla murmured tenderly as she pulled them tighter against her sides. "The Mandalorians said we will be treated well where we’re going. And those who saved us were really nice to us. Isn’t that right, Grinn?"

For all answer, Din only heard him sniffle.

"But… I want my mama," Saji sobbed. "And grandma… She yelled at me! And she said she wanted me to hide in the baskets!"

Saji sniffled repeatedly and Kerla muttered a few gentle words, her own voice shaking. Even Aran, sitting next to Din on the couch, sniffled before taking a loud gulp of water. Din would have wanted to cry too, but the tears were stuck in his throat, as if trying to choke him.

Don’t cry, son, stay quiet…

He winced at the sound of his father’s voice in his frayed memory, his heart beating and his nails digging in the skin of his arms, even through his sleeves.

Don’t let them find you. You’ll be safe here if you don’t make a sound…

He still hadn’t made a sound since.

"Hey, kid…"

His savior’s voice overcame the screams and the cries echoing in his head on which a light hand landed, pulling him again from the dark hole in which he was huddling. Din rose his face from his arms, his cheeks wet with tears, and blinked towards him, dazzled by the galley’s lights. With a slight tilt of his helmet, he asked, on this same soft tone:

"You’re alright?"

Din only answered with a nod under the gloved hand, silent. His savior stroked his hair and Din felt himself relax. He and one of the other Mandalorians had joined them, and the other was putting a new, fresh metal bottle on the table. Aran hurried to fill another cup for himself, then for the others too, Din included.

"Beck?" Grinn called to the Mandalorian who had given them the bottle.

"Yes, kid. What is it?"

Grinn hesitated.

"On the station, you said you’re gonna tell us where we are going later."

"I did," Beck admitted.

And a heedful silence followed. Quite frankly, Din wanted to know too.

"You’re gonna live on a new world now," Beck answered. "It’s called Varthen-4. It’s safe, and you’ll have plenty of space to grow big and strong."

"My mama and grandma will be there too?" Saji asked again, barely appeased.

Beck looked embarrassed in the way he bobbed his helmet, neither positive, nor negative.

"Sorry, little one. They won’t."

A sob on her quivering lips, Saji held the weight of his black-strip gaze.

"Why?!"

Beck let out a brief sigh.

"Because they… have been badly hurt."

Silence followed his statement and he added:

"And… they can’t take care of you anymore. So that’s why we took you and… you’ll have a new home there. You’ll be fine."

But, obviously, Saji had no interest in knowing if she would be fine where she was being taken; she wanted her mother and grandmother. Grumpy and dissatisfied by the answer, she sought refuge against Kerla where she weeped and wailed. Beck lowered his head briefly before turning to the other Mandalorian who had taken his hand off Din’s head to cross his arms.

"Why… are you still wearing that?" Aran’s croaky voice rose shyly. "On… on your head?"

"Because we’re Mandalorians," Din's savior replied. "And this… is our way of life."

Aran gritted his teeth and avoided his gaze before asking again:

"Is it because we’re still in danger?"

Grinn gasped, frightened.

"Beck, are we still in danger?!"

He clenched his hands so hard on the cup that his shaking made him spill a bit of water on the table.

"No, kids, you're safe now," Beck reassured them. "As for the rest, you’ll understand soon enough."

Din looked up at his savior who nodded his helmet slowly like an answer to his untold question.

"You should get some rest now," he then added. "There’s still a long journey ahead."

His heart heavy, Din nodded back. Yet, he knew he couldn’t rest, maybe not ever again.

— 2

It was a rather mild late afternoon when those ships had unleashed the violence of those droids on Din's homeworld. The day had been nice, with a bit of tardy summer warm breeze, and the first gray and gold shades of the evening were stretching on what Din could still see of his town through the smoke and beyond the hills where the Mandalorian’s small ships were stationed when they received the order to take them off-world, him and the other children. And Din didn’t know how long exactly they had spent in space, since they took off of their world, on this station, then aboard this ship. It was only ever night in space…

But when the ship entered the sky of this new world, the sun was high and bright, and the ramp had opened on a cold, pale landscape. The ship hadn’t landed in a city or a starport, if there were any here; they were in the middle of what looked like a small clearing of open country cradled by hills at the feet of mountains white with snow. And before today, he had never seen mountains that tall, or snow… There was some on their world, somewhere more to the north. But Din had never seen it with his own eyes. Nor had Saji and Aran, considering their expression of wonder.

Their town was in those warm regions were some short, knobbly trees were growing straight out from rocky soil, the harsh sun making small, tasty fruits with a salty purple flesh swell on their branches. His parents used to fill a platter with those and sprinkle them with spices and aromatic herbs…

Din closed his eyes to shield them from the crude shine of the sun, hugging himself against the cold. And they followed the Mandalorians down the ramp. There, other figures in armor, all different in shapes and colours, were waiting beside another ship barely larger than the one that had brought them to the station. And now, Din was worried they’d be taken somewhere else again… Even more so when one of these still unknown Mandalorians spoke, once they reached the end of the ramp.

"You failed to mention how many of them there were in your transmission."

The voice was a woman’s, calm and with a stern accent. None of the men in blue armor objected. Then, the woman stepped forward to meet them and added:

"We will take them all."

And Din felt his body shiver with relief, not only because of the bitter cold.

"But, understand that we can’t take any more here before older members of the Tribe leave their place to new Foundlings," she went on, with no threat in her tone. "You’ll have to bring any new one to another covert for the time being. For their safety, and that of the coverts.

Then, with a glance at the little one, shaking in the arms of the Mandalorian, she said, with an inviting gesture of her gloved hand:

"Polgar, please."

One of them, in a yellow-looking armor, split from the group to walk towards the ramp. There, the child changed arms without a sound, without a cry, looking confused and cold. Polgar held him in the craddle of his arms and the Mandalorian who had taken care of him since their departure in space stroke one of his little hands with a few words Din couldn’t hear. After what, Polgar walked away with the child to enter the other ship, not waiting any longer.

"This is it, kids," Beck’s modulated voice rose. "You’re gonna go with them now, and they’ll show you your new home."

Grinn let out a weak whimper, clutching at the armored plate painted with white stripes on beck’s thigh.

"You’re gonna stay with us, right?" he inquired, his voice tight and teary eyes raised up to him.

Then, Beck stroke his head with an hesitant hand.

"No, kid… I can’t."

These words made Grinn burst into tears, to which Saji echoed. Beck crouched down in front of him.

"Why can’t you?!"

"'cause, there are other battles to win, many people to save…"

Grinn sobbed and wiped his eyes before curling up against Beck. And he put his own arms around him, patting his back.

"C’mon," he told him. "You’ll be fine here. You will all be fine…"

Din doubted that he’d ever get used to the cold but he was willing to believe Beck.

"So, be strong, ok? One day, you’ll be a fierce warrior too."

And, squeezing the shoulders of Grinn who didn’t protest anymore, Beck stood up to encourage him, and Saji, to take the last steps to leave and go to the other group. The woman in armor extended her open hands to them, and the children joined her after one last look back. And the touch of his savior’s hand on his own shoulder pulled Din from his numbness; everything felt unreal and like it didn’t really concern him, as if he wasn’t really here, removed from his own body, locked in a never ending bad dream. He raised his eyes to the stoic helmet, patiently turned to him. Din realized he didn’t know his name. And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to ask for it, still mute.

"Go now," he encouraged him with a gentle voice. "And be good kids…"

Din nodded slowly and the Mandalorian squeezed his shoulder, pushing him and Aran a little, in one last encouragement. Din made a step, then another, until making a first off the ramp, putting an uncertain foot on the ground and the cold grass of this new world that would now be his.

"Follow me, little ones," they were invited by a new, deep, modulated voice — that of a man in green and copper armor, looking more large and impressive than the others.

And they followed him inside this new ship, not without looking back.

It was much warmer in the hold of this ship now that the access ramp had been closed and, after just long enough for the pilot to return to the cockpit, they were back in the air again.

This time, they didn’t go back in space; the pilot even kept them on such a low altitude that it felt to the children invited in the cockpit to watch their new surroundings like they were brushing the crown of the trees.

The valleys were still green despite the already settled snow on the heights, and a frothy torrent was tumbling down until reaching a lake, much lower, and near which a town and some orchards stood out. They flew over a clearing where several big animals with large antlers, scared off from their hedgehopping, were galloping away to get back to the cover of trees.

Like the first time in space, questions were rushing to whoever could hear them, to whom would or could answer in the cockpit, between this woman in armor and the pilot.

"Look down, kids," the pilot prompted them as he slowly maneuvered the ship on its left wing.

And down below, through the cockpit’s windows, they discovered the strong shapes of a large structure, looking like emerging from the curves of a hill. And if the place was already impressive from above, it only felt even more so as they were getting closer and closer.

The pilot aimed for a large circular, well-like opening in the top of a block, blending in the hill’s greenery, and steered the ship through it, with ease and precision. The inside of the cockpit grew darker as they went down this short shaft, as if swallowed by the ground and the stone.

At the bottom, in what looked like the inside of a cave where other ships like this one were docked, he landed the ship without a bump. A few lights blinked on the dashboard and the pilot pressed a few buttons, flipped a switch, and the whole ship became silent and still.

A sense of curiosity took Din over as he watched the side of the dashboard within his reach; was it as easy as the pilot made it look to maneuver a ship? Were all these buttons doing something? Would he be able to memorize all their uses himself?

Din hovered a fascinated hand over their shapes, and felt the cold metal under his palm, brushing the buttons with his fingertips. He had no intention to press, or push anything, only to discover…

Suddenly very aware of the silence around him, Din froze and didn’t make any more move, except to turn to the pilot, still in his seat, and whose gaze he felt weighting on him through the visor. Din pulled his hand back to him shyly, confused and afraid of being told off. But the pilot didn’t say anything. With a tilt of his helmet, he motioned him to follow the others.

And the others were already back in the hold, and walking down the side ramp, escorted by the Mandalorians. Din followed them in this cave that was extending high above their heads and where they could hear the spluttering of a torrent, or a waterfall, somewhere in these meanderings of stone and smooth material. And even if it was very cold, the place wasn’t damp.

Behind Din, the pilot was walking down the ramp too, which he then sent back up with a pressure on one of his large, green-painted metal bracelets. Din and the other children were taken through this fortress, along immense hallways where the light of day was generously filtering through openings that Din couldn’t make out really well in this mix of rough stone and concrete. Everything was so different from his home that Din felt an indescribable unease grow with each silent step on the smooth floor that led them to an even more majestic hall; concrete passageways spanned high on three levels, overlooking this immense room, itself a crossroad between many hallways and passages as wide as Din's town alleyways between the dark walls. There, on top of these balconies and at the lowest of this hall, many other Mandalorians were watching their arrival. A group of four seemed to be waiting for them. One of them, the collar of his armor lined with black fur under the sharp edges of his dull gray helmet with golden accents, greeted them with a firm but still kind voice:

"Welcome, children."

The woman who had welcomed them when they had left the bigger ship split from their group to join this man’s and he continued, once she was at his side:

"My name is Drutoz and I am the leader of this Tribe."

All listened in silence. Even the little one wasn’t making any noise, wrapped up in a blanket, and in the arms of the Mandalorian who was carrying him — Polgar, Din thought he remembered. And Polgar, the pilot and this other man in copper and green armor stayed by them. And the support of their presence while facing Drutoz and his escort was somehow a comfort.

"We are Mandalorians," he continued, gesturing at himself and all the others in armor. "We are warriors, and we will keep you safe, as our Foundlings."

None of the children dared to speak anymore, listening to this man, subjugated and afraid. Din was too.

"This, is our stronghold and your new home."

With a look around him, Din tried to get familiar with this idea.

"I’m sure many of your questions have been answered already but should you have more, we are listening."

A heavy silence fell. Even their audience of armored men and women was watching without a word, intently.

"At home, I was sleeping in my grandma's bed…"

Saji’s little voice, on the verge of tears, broke the silence.

"You were?" Drutoz asked politely.

Saji nodded before wiping her tears with the back of her sleeve. Then, she asked:

"Are we… gonna have our own bed?"

A rustling of voices, hushed and modulated, rose around them and Drutoz’s stood out:

"Yes, child. All of you will have your own beds. And when you will come of age, you will have your own room."

Din lowered his head at the thought of his room in his parents' home; it wasn’t really big, nor very well furnished but he had promised his mother to clear his things there. And he had preferred to go play outside…

"How old are you, boy?"

Din's eyes shot up. But Drutoz wasn’t talking to him; he was talking to Aran, right beside him. Din could feel him shaking hard, and also heard it in his voice when he answered:

"T-ten… I’m… I’m ten, sir."

Drutoz nodded without a word to turn his visor towards Kerla.

"And you, girl?"

"I’m nine," she replied, fearless and unflinching. "Closer to ten."

To what, Drutoz nodded again before glancing at the so far silent man on his left, then this woman to his right, the one who had welcomed them in the hills.

"The older among you will be placed in the care of people who will start teaching you the ways of our Tribe without delay, and all you’ll need to find your own way among us."

Din felt his own breath quiver in his chest; being barely eight years old, which category did he fall into? Was he one of the oldest, or still too young for any of what was making up the life of these people and this place? The woman on Drutoz’s right made an inviting move of her gloved hand towards Kerla.

"And what is your name?" she asked.

"I’m Kerla."

"Kerla, I am Narees, and I will be taking care of you from now on."

Words to which Kerla only replied with a nod. In Polgar’s arms, the little one started to fuss. One of the Mandalorians of the group, a woman’s figure flattered by her armor, stepped forth to take the little one in her arms. And on Polgar’s invitation, she followed him in one of the large hallways stretching under the balconies.

"Where are they going?" Saji voiced her worries.

"They are going to make sure this little one is in good health," Drutoz explained. "And you, how old are you?"

Saji tightened her grip on Kerla’s arm.

"I was four, and now, I’m five."

"Five," Drutoz repeated, almost playfully, even if all his poise remained stern. "You still have a few years before joining the other children in their training."

"I can tie and buckle my shoes myself…" Saji observed, like a protestation.

Din heard vague modulated chuckles around them and this made him breathe a bit easier. Until Drutoz’s voice made him shake again:

"And you, boy? How old are you?"

This time, he was the one he was talking to. But, once again, Din was unable to make the slightest noise, or even to unclench his jaw.

"I’ll be looking after this one," a man’s voice rose almost right away, behind him.

Din didn’t dare to turn around, not even when Drutoz expressed his surprise :

"You wish to care for another Foundling? It’s unexpected of you after so long but if everyone agrees…"

He let his sentence trail off, in an incentive to speak. No-one objected. Din then dared to look up at the man in armor who was now standing behind him — it was the pilot.

"My name's Korben," he told him. "I’m going to take care of you now."

He gave him a small moment to answer but Din still didn’t say anything, holding this gaze he could only guess behind the green-edged visor of his gray helmet.

"You’re good with that?"

To what Din only nodded as an answer. His determination seemed to please this Mandalorian who scoffed and put a hand on his head to invite him to come along.

"Follow me, I’m going to show you around."

Din's clammy little fists unclenched a little from the hem of his tunic’s sleeves and he walked with a brisk pace to stay by his side.

Laying in the bed he had picked in the dormitory where all the Foundlings were settled, slightly apart from the others and in view of one of those wide windows carved through the rock, Din couldn’t sleep. His body was tired under the warm blankets but his mind was wrestling, denying him the rest and comfort that were offered to him, fueling this fear of the unknown he had managed to ignore during the past few hours, but that had perniciously crept back in as the night fell.

However, Din had focused on the solidity and the indestructible look of what was now his new home to reassure himself a little. The fear had weakened at the thought that nothing could destroy a fortress like this one, that a full army of droids could only be crushed on the walls of that stronghold that never slept and the strength of its Mandalorian warriors.

And now, despite being unable to sleep, Din felt at least calmer, more confident. He listened to the still unknown noises that echoed through the night of this new world, over the dormitory's sleepy sighs; everything was so acutely new, and so peaceful…

During his visit of this place, his caretaker — Korben — had told him a little more about himself; he was, as he had noticed, one of the pilots of the Tribe, and had already taken care of a Foundling before him, and a son at the same time, both now great warriors, gone to help other coverts and, why not, even create their own clans.

Din had guessed this was a friendly incentive to elicite him to talk, to ask questions, while presenting himself but, he still couldn’t say a word. Korben hadn’t pushed him at all, respecting his silence as he made him discover the main parts of this labyrinthine stronghold in which he would have to learn to navigate.

As a landmark, Korben had shown him his own apartments — a simple bedroom with a few commodities — where he could find or wait for him, if he needed him for anything. There was also a place ready for him should he need to keep to himself, or even to sleep. And it had been comforting for Din to feel so welcome, accepted. He would have wanted to say thanks, to express his gratitude, but he still could only nod.

Then, Korben had taken him in what he had understood to be a medical bay. The place was austere, made from this same mix or rough rock and perfect masonry the like of which he had never seen before. There, the one he had recognized as Polgar was busy examining the little one in the company of the woman who had taken him in and another Mandalorian, in a green armor who had introduced herself to take care of him. She said she was called Sok-Ji.

He would have to remember all those names and the differences between those armors they weren’t taking off, in the absence of faces to associate them with. But in the end, it didn’t really bother Din. There was plenty of other details just as useful; the colours of their armors, the symbols painted on them and their voices — even modulated.

She had hovered a scanner over his face, apparently satisfied with the readings before pouring water in a large bowl, and give it to him to drink. And Din had received it with relief, drinking once more, until being out of breath. And she had let him drink to his fill.

Once he finally lowered his almost emptied bowl, the medic had inspected his hair, felt his throat, checked his teeth, and had asked him to take off his tunic and his boots. She hadn’t asked anything from him without giving him the reason why; she had needed to make sure he hadn’t received any injury that wouldn’t have been noticed earlier during their long haul, that he didn’t have any symptoms of illness that would have needed to be treated, nor any marks of past abuse…

The implication that his parents could have been bad parents had pained Din but he hadn’t balked to any of these examinations, even if he had only answered to all the questions with more nods. The medic had, naturally, been concerned.

"I see that you understand what is said to you but, can you talk?"

Then again, he had only nodded.

"So, you just don’t want to," she had understood.

Din had lowered his head, uneasy, even despite the absence of reproach.

"It’s alright," she had then added, with a gentleness that had touched him. "You’ll talk when you’ll need to."

And those simple words had made him feel better already; he wouldn’t be bullied, or forced to do anything. And then, she had declared him in good health, maybe even better health than others, and had only prescribed Korben to give him some more to drink.

Then, he had dressed back up and Korben had taken him to a large dining hall where the other children were already enjoying the contents of steamy bowls. It’s only at this moment that Din had realized how hungry he was.

And Korben had left him there, telling him to eat, and to get his bearings in this new place that for now seemed impossible for him to wander in without getting lost. At the table, the children had been more talkative than him, and the mood of some seemed already made much cheerier by the hot, tasty soup that had been served, as well as the company of others.

Three new faces had added themselves to the ones Din had already met on their way to this new world. Two of them were brothers and had told them their story with a peculiar pride; Atren, the oldest, and Leran had been born here, in Kragsted, had never known their fathers and, one day, their mother never returned… Probably killed, according to them, by the bandits that were still roaming around here before the Mandalorians wiped them out.

They had lived in the streets and pasture shelters for a year or two before the mandos had eventually caught them like wild game… and offered them a new start. Listening to what they had to say about it, the Mandalorians had taken a better care of them than their poor mother during the few years they had spent with her.

The other was Berien, the oldest of them all, and like Din and the ones he had arrived here with, his father — only family he still had left — had died at the beginning of this same war.

Recovered by the Mandalorians, they had then brought him here where he had started a new life and his training that would make a Mandalorian out of him too. Very proud of his eleven years, he couldn’t wait to reach thirteen and pass his trial, to be sworn to the Creed, don a full armor and be fully Mandalorian.

All this had left Din a little befuddled at the moment. What he could see however was that, despite the obvious losses and pains, none of the children he had met around this table had seemed to be unhappy.

All had carried on with their chat together after that, to get to know each other, and some had even asked questions to Din… But then again, he hadn’t been able to talk. And it had seemed to him he wouldn’t do so ever again. So, he had only lowered his eyes to his filled-to-the-rim bowl. The stew that he had been served was mouthwatering; made with generous bits of white fish and vegetables, some meltingly soft and others crunchy, this meal had been as easy to eat as it had been filling.

But, even full and tired as he was, he still couldn’t find sleep, unable to calm the thoughts and memories jostling in his weary head. With a glance around him, he made out the shape of the other children through the darkness of this dormitory he would be sharing with them until he would be of age for his trial, to swear this creed Berien had talked about, and to have his own room, like Korben and the other adults.

He could still go and sleep in this little peaceful and cosy nook Korben had said being available for him, should he need it but, right now, Din wasn’t sure he’d take on the offer… He wouldn’t even have been able to say with certainty what he needed just now! To sleep, obviously. And also, to ease the sorrow raging in his chest and sinking its claws somewhere in his body — and most often in his throat, with each breath.

Din focused on the steady breaths around him, tried to imitate them, to follow them with his… For a second, he closed his eyes, and took a deep breath that escaped him in a sigh, and that had been enough for the terrors to make their way back in his thoughts. He reopened his eyes right away, as if startled awake from a nightmare with a gasp similar to a sob. Closing his mouth, and his teeth gritted, the sobs continued in the dark — but they weren’t his.

To his left, two empty beds away, Grinn was whimpering and sobbing, his face buried in his pillow. Din listened for a moment, careful and hesitant; what could he do or say that would appease this boy? If he couldn’t calm himself down, could he help someone else?

One of Grinn’s sobs turned into a frightened whimper and Berien grumbled in his sleep, in the other row of beds. Then, Din got out of his covers, facing the sudden chillness of the room, his bare feet on the tiles, to bashfully get closer to Grinn’s bed.

The young boy was sleeping, or seemed to be, when Din got close enough to see him clearly, his eyes well adjusted to the darkness of the room. He sat on the cold floor, shivering to feel the heat of his bed escape him but he tried to ignore it when Grinn whimpered again.

Din pulled the thick blankets on the boy’s back and gently squeezed his shoulder. Grinn didn’t wake up at his touch, nor moved, stifling another sob. Din struggled against the pain that was tightening his throat, swallowing hard.

"Sshh…"

The sound coming from his own mouth felt strange, unknown, new.

"It-it’s alright," he heard himself breathe quietly. "You’re safe now."

And those words comforted him as much as Grinn, whose hair he stroke all the way to the back of his neck. He felt him weight in his pillow, heard him letting out a slow sigh that turned into a contented mutter, and Din took a deep breath in his turn. This time, he felt those imaginary claws retracting, freeing his throat, and for the first time since he had left his father’s arms and his mother’s embrace, Din finally felt safe, sitting there on the cold tiles of the vast dormitory.

[imaginationintowords]

Folklore [song series]

this is me trying

Modern Day AU! Steve Rogers x OC!Reader; Bucky Barnes x Natasha Romanoff

Plot: Inspired by Taylor Swift’s new album folklore. The story follows the timeline of Bucky and Elizabeth’s life throughout the years.

word count: 3592

[a/n: I’m so sorry that it’s taken me so long to update this and my other story. i’ve been busy with school and work. thank you for your continued patience and support]

previous part

Series Masterlist

Age: 20 Year: Dec. 2014 Location: Brooklyn, NY

"How have you been James?”

Bucky looks out the window to his right. Hands grasped together in his lap as he sits on the dark green sofa across from the woman he's been seeing for the last 5 months.

He ponders the question, making sure to answer it honestly. He looks back at her giving her his full attention again.

"Good," he answers truthfully, a small smile planted on his face. Life has been good. School is going incredibly well. My job is going better than I could've imagined. Really learning a lot."

"How are things going with Natasha?" The older lady asks.

“Great. Really great," Bucky says with a slightly bigger smile.

"Good. I'm glad to hear that," she smiles back, proud to the see progress James has made since his first visit moths ago.

After the blow up he and Steve had, Bucky fell into a depressive state. He refused to talk to anyone about what had happened. It wasn't until his younger sister Rebecca came to talk to him:

"I get you don't want to talk to any of us about what happened last week," she said as Bucky laid in bed looking out the window, his back facing her, "But you can't just stay in bed, hiding for the world. Starving yourself isn't going to solve anything.

"Sulking is only going to make you worse. It's not healthy, Buck. We're all worried. Ma is incredibly worried. She's barely been eating. I hear her wandering the house at all hours, because she can't sleep."

"You don't want to talk to us, fine. But you need to talk to someone. If not for yourself, but for Ma. Please," she begs, before leaving Bucky alone to ponder what she said.

He knew he wasn't coping the healthy way. He hadn't realized how much he was affecting his family by shutting down. The last thing he wanted to do was worry his mother. So he got himself up, took a shower, ate breakfast with his family. They were surprised to see him come down, but tried not to draw any extra attention to it. Rebecca gave him an understanding nod, which he reciprocated. After breakfast, he began his research. He decided to listen to Rebecca's advice and find someone to talk to someone to help him make sense of what is going on in his mind.

And that's how he ended up in Dr. Abraham's office.

"Have you contacted Steve yet?" She asks.

"No," he answered fiddling with his fingers, "I feel embarrassed about the way I reacted."

"That's normal, James," she assured him, "But in order to repair any damage that's been cost, you need to talk to Steve. To move forward. From what you've told me he's a very understanding person. I'm sure once you've apologized and explain to him the steps you've taken to help your mental health, I'm sure he'd be willing to accept you back into his life."

"I'm not so sure," he looked down at his hands.

"You won't know until you've tried. Listen, I'm not here to tell you what to do or what not to do. I'm just here to help you navigate your thoughts a little better. In a more healthy way. If you're really serious about living a more healthier mental life, I think you should talk to him. You don't want to really throw this lifelong friendship away, do you?"

"No, I don't," he shakes his head.

"Good. Remember to be honest," she tells him, "Vulnerability isn't a bad thing. Your feelings aren't a nuisance. it's how you handle them is what matters. I'm not saying you have to talk to him as soon as you walkout of here. I just want you to start making the notion of doing so. Our time is just about up, how about we do this. Some homework for the week.

"I want you to write a letter to Steve. Bring it in next week, you don't have to read it. But I would like to discuss it. What do you say?"

"Okay, I could do that," he agreed.

Christmas week

Steve and Elizabeth flew back home a few days before Christmas. They put their bags in the trunk of their rental car.

The car ride was silent for awhile, both tired after a long flight, now sitting in traffic on their way back to their parents' place. This would be their first time back to Brooklyn since the whole Bucky situation. The road trip back to California was fun, but there was a looming sadness over Steve. It's not like he regrets standing up to Bucky he doesn't. He just wishes thing would've played out differently. He really wished Bucky would've talked to him before he left back to California.

"How are you feeling about being back?" Elizabeth asks, while they sat in traffic.

"I don't know," Steve sighs, "Feels weird going back home and not talking to Bucky."

"Maybe you should try calling him. It's been a few months. I'm sure he'd be willing to hear you out," she said, rubbing his right arm.

"I don't want to push him," Steve said through gritted teeth, his grip on the steering wheel getting tighter.

Bucky had been a touchy subject the last few months. During the first month Elizabeth would ask Steve if he'd heard from him, the answer always being no, followed by Steve shutting down. After that Elizabeth stopped asking, noticing how much it was affecting Steve, but the constant reminder of it wasn't helping. She knew that if Bucky ever did call, Steve would tell her. The only thing she could do was be patient and be there for Steve whenever he needed her.

The holidays kept everyone busy. On Christmas Eve. Steve spent it with Elizabeth's family at her grandma's house. Elizabeth found herself watching Steve play with her younger cousins, she couldn't help but giggle when they roped him into a tea party. She found herself imagining a future where Steve would do the same with their own children. She quickly shook the daydream away. Reprimanding herself a little for even thinking about kids at their young age.

On Christmas morning Elizabeth and Steve spent it with his parents. It was a nice peaceful day just lounging around in their pajamas. For dinner, Elizabeth's parents went over to have dinner at the Rogers' house. It was a nice little send off dinner for their parents who were leaving for Mexico to spend the New Years for a couples' getaway.

Elizabeth and Steve were heading to the Hamptons to spent NYE with Wanda, Thor, Loki, and Scott. They had planned to have a nice, peaceful trip.

While Steve and Elizabeth were at the Hamptons, Bucky and Natasha were spending their NYE at his family's beach cottage in Port Washington.

They were cuddled on the couch surrounded by take out containers, watching the New Years Eve special waiting for midnight to happen.

Bucky got up about 15 minutes to midnight to grab something from the kitchen. He walked back into the room with a new bottle of champagne and two champagne flutes.

"Got some champagne," he said holding it up for Natasha to see.

"Um," Natasha awkwardly shifted in her seat, "Actually about that."

Bucky looked at Nat confused, putting the bottle and flutes down on the coffee table before sitting back down next to her.

"What's wrong" he asked, grabbing the tv remote to mute the tv, and give Natasha his full undivided attention.

"So there's something I haven't told you," she says looking down at her fidgeting fingers.

"You're worrying me Nat," Bucky said, grabbing her hands to help ease her nerves

She looked up to meet his worry filled eyes.

"I'm pregnant," she announced.

Bucky eyes widen at her announcement, instantly dropping her hands. The look on her face showing she was telling the truth.

"How is that possible?" He asks in disbelief, "We've been so careful. We use double the protection. Condoms and you're on the pill."

"Actually about that," she nervously shifted under his intense gaze, "I haven't been on birth control in a little over two months."

"What?" Bucky yelled, quickly rising from his seat, "What do you mean you haven't been on birth control in a little over two months?"

"I got off of it," she shrugged trying to play it off, "It's my body and I can do what I want with it. And I just wanted to give my body a break, I've been on the pill since I was 15."

"I get it's your body, Natasha, I'm all for you doing whatever you want," he stresses, "but you should've told me. I'm your boyfriend, we have sex frequently. You should've at least had the respect of your sexual partner, letting him know that you were no longer on birth control. So in that case I could've been a tad more careful."

"We were using condoms," she half heartedly defended herself.

"They aren't 100% effective Natasha," he gripped his hair, in complete disbelief over this entire conversation, "You even know that. That also doesn't defend yourself for not telling me. You should've told me."

"I'm sorry. It's not like I was planning for this to happen," she yelled.

Bucky just stared at her like she just grew two heads. How is she not freaking out, he thought. They were clearly way too young for this. Which is why they took precautionary measures.

After a few moments of silence Natasha spoke up, "I'm keeping the baby."

Bucky didn't know what to say. He felt the room closing in on him. He started having a hard time catching his breath.

"James," Natasha quietly said, getting up to check on him. He raised his hand, silently telling her to stay where she's at.

He headed for the back door, the house felt too suffocating for him. He walked through the the small yard to the gate that led to the beach. Stumbling around.

To a stranger they would just think he's drunk. In reality he was just having a panic attack.

It was all too much. His mind was racing.

She's pregnant. With a baby. My baby. I'm going to have a kid. I'm going to be a dad. I'm not ready to be a dad. My dad was shit. God I can't be like my dad. I'm not ready for all of this.

He put his hands on his knees, hunched over trying to catch his breath. But he just couldn't. He did the only thing he could think of. He pulled out his phone and dialed the only person he knew would help.

Steve and Elizabeth were laughing with their friends, waiting for the countdown to begin. Steve felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. He moved his shoulder off of the back of the couch, where Elizabeth was cuddled up against.

He pulled his phone out and his heart dropped at the name that appeared. He quickly got up and walked out of the living room and upstairs to the room where he was staying in for the week.

Wanda raised her eyebrow at Elizabeth, who just shrugged her shoulders, equally as confused.

"Bucky?" Steve answered the phone, closing the door behind him. He could hear Bucky hyperventilating on the other side.

"Steve," he tried to get out.

"Buck, what's wrong?" Steve asked, pressing the phone even closer to his ear the sound of everyone downstairs counting down to midnight.

"Steve, I-," Bucky was struggling to get out.

"Buck, please try to calm down," Steve stressed, "Inhale, hold it for a few seconds and then exhale. You need to calm down. I can't help you, if I can't understand you."

Bucky tried his best to calm himself down, with Steve talking him through it.

"Now, can you explain to me what's wrong?" Steve asked, hearing Bucky's breathing leveling out more.

"I-I'm not re-ready Steve," Bucky stutters, sniffling his nose.

"It's okay take your time, I'm here whenever you're ready."

"No, it's Natasha.”

"What's Natasha? Is she okay?" Steve questioned, getting more concerned.

"Yes, she's fi-ine," he stuttered again, trying to say the words.

"Where are you Buck?" Steve asked, looking around for his shoes and keys.

"I'm at the beach cottage."

"I'm in the Hamptons. Is there any way you can meet me back at my place?"

"Yeah, I think I can," Bucky said a bit more calmer now.

"Okay, I'll see you soon."

When midnight struck Elizabeth went upstairs to check on Steve, making sure everything was okay. She could hear him on the phone talking to Bucky, trying to calm him down. She waited outside of the door to give them some privacy.

Twenty minutes later Wanda went to go check on them, to find Elizabeth sitting on the floor.

"Is everything okay?" She whispered.

"I don't know," she answered, "I'm waiting for Steve. You can head back down, I'll be down shortly."

"Okay. We're here if you guys need anything," Wanda said before walking back down.

After another 25 minutes Elizabeth heard Steve hang up the phone. She softly knocked on the door, and let herself in. She walked in to see Steve frantically going around the room collecting his things.

"Steve is everything okay?"

"It's Buck. He called me while he was having a panic attack. Something about Natasha," he tells her.

"Is she okay?"

"I think so. I was able to calm him down. I need to get back home," he said putting his things in his suitcase.

"Okay. I completely understand. Do you want me to go with you for the drive?" She asked.

"I don't want you to have to cut your time here short," he says, feeling guilty for bringing this on her.

"Steve, something is clearly going on with Bucky. I want you to go to him, but maybe it's best if I drove. I haven't had a drink in hours, and you seem too frantic. Please let me help," she pleaded, placing her hand on his stopping him.

Steve looked up and noticed the worry on Elizabeth's face.

"Okay," he gave in, "We'll need to leave as soon as we can."

Elizabeth nodded, quickly grabbing her weekender bag and start shoving things in. If they forgot anything's he knew Wanda would bring it back.

They said their quick goodbyes and were on the road within 5 minutes, with Elizabeth behind the wheel and Steve fidgeting in the passenger seat.

Bucky took a few minutes to himself on the beach, trying to make sure his anxiety was at rest before he headed back inside. When he entered the house, Natasha shot up from her seat.

"Happy New Years," she awkwardly said, trying to cut the obvious tension.

"Umm," Bucky scratched his head looking everywhere but at Natasha, "We need to leave."

"What?"

"I mean, you can stay if you want and I'll pick you up tomorrow," he rephrased, "But I can't stay here. I need to go. Steve is meeting me at his house."

"Steve?" She was taken back by that mention, not expecting to hear Bucky say his name. He hasn't mentioned Steve in months.

"Yeah, I called him," Bucky says rubbing the back of his neck.

"Well that's good right?"

"Yeah, listen. I really need to go, so are you going to stay or come with me?"

"To see Steve?"

"No. I would drop you off at your place," he tells her, "I'm seeing Steve alone."

"Will she be there?"

Natasha didn't really know exactly why Steve and Bucky weren't talking, at first. Then she heard that Steve and Elizabeth were dating, and it all made sense. The only person that could tear Bucky and Steve apart. She never told Bucky that she knew. Figured it wasn't worth the fight. Especially not now when she was carrying his child.

To an outsider it might seem like she got pregnant on purpose, but that wasn't the case. She knew they were too young for this, at least that's what she thought when she first found out about the pregnancy a week ago. But now that she's sat with it she's taking it as a sign that this is meant to happen. She's just really hoping that Bucky would see it, if not now but eventually.

"Listen, Natasha, I don't have time for this," he looks her in the eyes, "Are you coming or not?"

"I'll get my bag," she remarked with a snark tone, walking passed him to their shared room.

A couple of hours later Bucky was pulling up in front of the Rogers' house. 2:15 am read the clock in his car. He looked to his right, out the passenger side window to see a dark figure sat on the front steps of the house.

Bucky took one last breath before exiting the vehicle.

As soon as he opened the front gate Steve stood up from where he was sat on the stairs.

Once Bucky approached him both young men threw their arms around each other. Gripping each other tightly, fighting back the tears that threatened to fall. They stayed like that for awhile. Relishing in the comfort of being back in each other's arms. Their silent fight no longer important. All they knew in that moment was everything was going to be okay, because no matter what they'll always have each other.

Steve walked into his parents' living room holding two mugs of coffee. As he rounded the couch, he handed one to Bucky.

"Sorry, if I ruined any of your plans," Bucky apologized, "Tell Elizabeth I'm sorry for taking you away."

'Buck, don't worry about it," Steve waved him off, "She completely understands. And truth be told, I wasn't necessarily feeling in the New Year's mood."

"Yeah," Bucky sighs.

"Do you want to talk about what happened tonight?" Bucky nods his head, placing the coffee mug on the coffee table in front of him. He shifted his body to the left to face Steve.

"She's pregnant," he announces.

"What?" Steve asked, not expecting that to be the reason, he quickly placed his mug next to Bucky's.

"Yeah, my reaction exactly," Bucky said.

"What? How?"

"Apparently Natasha hasn't been on the pill in a couple of months," Bucky explains, "And even though we always used condoms, they aren't exactly 100% effective."

"Did you know she wasn't on the pill?"

"Nope," Bucky tells him, "If I knew I wouldn't been a bit more cautious."

"So she told you she was pregnant?" Steve said getting back to it.

"Yeah. She was so nonchalant about it. Like it was no big deal," Bucky stressed,

"How is she just so calm. We're not prepared for this. I'm not ready for this Steve. I can't be a dad. I don't even know how to be a decent human being."

"That's not true Buck," Steve disagreed.

"Come on Steve, we haven't talked in months, and we both know it's not because you didn't try," Bucky says, "I was so caught up in my own jealousy. And selfishness, that I never even considered your feelings or Elizabeth's. And I don't think I can ever make it up to you for treating you like you're nothing to me."

"You were hurt," Steve tried to excuse.

"Doesn't excuse the way I behaved," Bucky says, "I know that now."

"I've been seeing a therapist," Bucky informs him, "I never realized how much my mental health was taking a toll on those around me. So after our fight, I found someone to talk to. To work through the shit that's going on in my mind."

"How's that been going?" Steve asked.

"Good," Bucky gives a half smile, "Really good. She's good. I've realized a lot about myself that I didn't know. Working through all the issues I've had with my father leaving."

"That's good Buck. I'm proud of you, truly," Steve beamed, patting Bucky on the shoulder.

"I really am sorry for the way I behaved," Bucky repeated again.

"Buck, you really don't have to apologize again," Steve told him.

"I need to Steve," he said, "I can't believe I acted that way. I should've been happy for you and Elizabeth. I'm glad you two have each other. Seriously. I couldn't imagine her with anyone better, same goes for you. I won't cause any more issues for you two. It's not worth not having you in my life. You're my brother Steve, and I don't want to miss anything."

"Thanks, Buck. It really means a lot to me to hear that," Steve smiles, "Because I don't want to miss anything in your life also."

"Yeah, especially now," he says, the reality of why they're there dawning back.

"How are you feeling now about the baby?"

"I don't know, man," Bucky shakes his head, "I'm afraid I'm going to screw this up, like everything else."

"But now you're working on that," Steve reminds him, "And you're not going to be doing this alone. You have people who are always going to be there. I may be in California now, but I'm just a phone call away. You're not alone. But you do have to try Buck. That's all that you can ever do. Try your best, no one's asking you to be perfect, but as long as you're trying your best, that's what's important."

Age: 21 Year: 2015

The sounds of a baby crying woke Bucky up from his sleep in the early depths of the morning. He quietly and quickly got out of bed, making his way to the small New York kitchen to make a bottle.

He walked into the small nursery where the two-month-old baby wailed from hunger.

"It's okay," Bucky shushed gently, picking up the small baby, "Daddy's here."

He adjusted the small baby in his arms before placing the bottle in the baby's mouth.

"There you go," he encouraged the small one, as soon as he heard the sounds of the baby drinking.

Bucky sat down on the chair in the corner of the room, opposite of the crib. He just stared as the newborn drank their bottle, while simultaneously falling asleep. Even though he was completely exhausted, he had never felt more happier. More at peace with where his life was at.

As long as he kept trying his best, he knows he can do this for the rest of his life.