#she never fucking helps; she has zero fucking attention to detail

[medicinemane]

I'm kinda fucking furious with my mom

Her stupid slob lazy ass has lost my fucking ballot

I fucking brought it in with the mail, but it was such a fucking busy week with so much shit on my plate (think the fridge may have been dead still at that point, can't remember) but I go to check the mail and it's like ah yeah, there they are

Only just remembered cause had so much stuff going on and... she's just been making a pile of trash in the kitchen instead of going through the mail, and she's going "oh I never saw them"

Fuck you, my fucking mistake for trusting you with anything. I should have known you're such an asshole you can't even open your own mail

Like I'm actually fuming right now

[castingspellsanddaisies]

TAROT READING: Jude Bellingham

(DISCLAIMER: Take everything with a graint of salt) - PS: It's all true but i have to write this disclaimer just in case. Anyway... Enjoy the reading!

How Jude Bellingham behaves in his romantic relationships:

Crossroads + Clouds + Child + Letter + Heart + Cross | back of the deck: Rider

Ace of pentacles + the high priestess reversed + ace of swords + the emperor + 7 of wands reversed + 7 of swords reversed | back of the deck: page of pentacles

In both decks I got this energy of indecisiveness from him. It can be because of his inexperience in relationships, but also because he is indecisive in his life in general, likes to take the place of the child, so he prefers to let his partner take the lead.

I see friends to lovers dynamic.

Jude will be talking, texting, calling his partner all the time, I'm not exagerating. Demanding of his partner`s time and attention. Also, he likes to improve the relationship, so always bringing new things to do, paying attention to the smallest details in his partner, he can be a little too critical for his own good.

He's clingy (touch starved), obessesive, controlling - but he tries to hide this the best he can (but is he good at that though? I'm not sure). On the outside, he really is giving his all to his partner and the relationship, but these controlling and obsessive feelings are more interior. He easily starts to overthink in relationships and gets extressed (why she did'nt replay yet? Where's she? What she must be doing right now? I better call her again just to be sure, why she did'nt laught at what I said this time? Oh no, she doesn`t love me anymore? - and so on, so dramatic lol).

I also feel like he tends to contain himself a lot when he`s single (emotionally and sexually), so he`s starving to meet someone, fall in love and let go of all his restraints. Jude has zero boundaries and zero self control when he`s in love, so God help his partner.

Again I picked up this energy from him wanting to fix his partner through his love. Cute.

How Jude Bellingham treats his partner in his relationships?

Letter + Garden + Sun + Snake + Heart + Ship | back of the deck: bouquet

The magician + king of pentacles reversed + 9 of pentacles reversed + knight of swords + the sun reversed + the star reversed | back of the deck: knight of pentacles

''Speak, woman!'' haha so Jude will talk with his partner about everything, anytime. He can't stop talking and listening to her. Open and sincere communication is very, very important for him.

Jude romances her, like a never ending honeymoon phase. He will love to show her off in public too - as a power couple. And they will fuck - sorry, make love - all the time. He just can't help it. OMG he's so attracted to her it's insane. Also coming up with suprise gifts, surprise voyages... Constantly surprising his partner.

Jude wants to act and be somebody his partner can count on 100%, but this comes from a place of insecurity. It's like he's saying ''please, don't leave me. look! I give you all this money, I give you all my time, my everything, so please don't leave!''. With that being said, he's a provider (emotionally, physically, financially, you name it).

Even with all of that, Jude has mood swings (cancer energyyyy), so sometimes he may retreat or not be so talkative, or seem very pessimistic about things - but it will pass.

Overall, if you're a little bit insane in the head, you can deal with his red flags just fine! lol

Thank you <3

[spop-romanticizes-abuse]

Not really an ask, but I just wanted to thank you and all the other critics that speak about how much of an actual shitshow SPOP was when dealing with C*tra.

For the longest time, I shipped C*tr*dora because I was an impressionable kid who saw them kiss and didn't realize that Canon ships can suck and still be Canon. I didn't Stan C*tra or anything, but I did try defending her one time to my irl friends and my only arguments were that:

A) She's Adora's girlfriend so there has to be good in her (yeah no)

And B) She was "redeemed".

But what actually got me second-guessing C*tra and her fans was when I saw a post about the S4 Glimmadora argument and saw hundreds of comments going; "Glimmer is so selfish!" "Glimmer is a horrible person!" "This is why C*tra is better than Glimmer."

And I was and still am the biggest Glimmer fan, and it made me upset. I mean, Glimmer literally lost her mom and was given basically no time to grieve. It didn't excuse her actions, but everyone kept talking about her like she was a villain trying to destroy the world. And then I thought;

'Didn't C*tra actually destroy the world?' And that got me in this deep rabbit hole of realizing C*tra and C*tr*dora is abusive in so many ways and telling myself I was crazy because so many people were defending her. But then I saw one of your posts, scrolled through your blog and realized; 'Oh, I'm not crazy. C*tra is a horrible person and her stans are just delusional.' It even made me realize how fucked up the show was in so many other aspects; The incest, the leash, the fact that the only enby character was a lizard, and so much more.

So thank you and all the other critics out there that might help give people validation or help people open their eyes.

Thank you. 💙

i'm glad you found my blog and other critic blogs helpful! i know that anti blogs generally have a reputation for nitpicking on unnecessary details and ruining the fun, but that was never what i wanted to do with mine. i didn't expect all of c//a stans to immediately understand my point and stop shipping c//a (most of them don't even pay attention to what we're saying, let alone try to understand) but getting asks like yours really renews my faith in humanity.

i try not to judge what other people ship or to project my moral compass too much into fiction but the problem with c//a isn't that it's toxic, it's the fact that it's heavily romanticized. if they merely wanted to explore an abusive relationship in fiction, that's not a problem. it's quite healthy, actually. but the fact that they imply that this is a healthy relationship and a lot of the fans defend this ship to hell and back is really concerning.

and yes, like you said, it's really hypocritical of fans to villanize glimmer so much for two mistakes that the narrative held her accountable for, while coddling catra who had to face exactly zero consequences for her actions.

i completely understand how you felt, it can often be daunting to be the only one to actually see things as they are, instead of blindly believing what the writers say because the rest of the fandom does. i didn't ship c//a at all but i felt the same way you did, seeing everyone praise the ship and wondering if i'm just being overdramatic.

it's only after i found an anti c//a account on instagram (@anticatradora ; they go into detail with a lot of the scenes in the show, if you want to check out their account!) that i realized that i was right, and this is actually a really weird and problematic ship that people are worshipping just because they're starved of queer representation. i understand wanting to see people like you represented in media, but there are a lot of characters and ships who are much better written and better developed than c//a.

anyway all of this to say, i'm proud of you for realizing the nuance of this situation in this hivemind of a fandom. it's always better to be open to criticism than to blindly defend a show just because you like it. thank you for this ask, it made my day! 💙

[the1trueanon]

I FINALLY GOT THESE DONE HERE WE GO:

ACTOR AU SAGE!!!

Fun fact! Actor AU is currently the only WH AU to have a version of Sage instead of Rosemary! :D

Her intro stuff is really long, so I'll put it under the cut (AAAA IM SO EXCITED TO SHARE HER)!!

So, for the Actor AU, Sage actually isn't an actor at all! She's a singer and songwriter who has pretty recently (like, within the past year or two before meeting the WH cast, maybe?) become very popular. Sage's personality and music draw a lot of inspiration from AURORA and MALINDA -- songs that tend to have a lot of deeper meaning behind them. She's eccentric and honestly a bit weird, but she's most known for being open and honest about herself and her music, and for being very caring and sweet. She's able to immediately connect to people and help them see different points of view, which is part of why she's gotten so popular with both puppet and human audiences.

Wally, of course, doesn't really trust it, considering how he thinks and what he believes. He assumes she's probably just another attention-hungry diva, thinking they're the shit, using the whole "lets all be best buds!" schtick to sell out. So he doesn't really pay attention to her or what she does too much, besides taking note of her rising popularity.

That is, of course, until he meets her.

Due to Sage's rising popularity, the show executives decide to have her come on the show as a sort of guest star. Wally doesn't really like this, but they're able to negotiate him to at least try it out for an episode and they'll decide what to do after that. Wally reluctantly agrees, but he's not too optimistic about it. He's really just expecting another one of those "rising star" types, y'know? (Which, fair enough, when you consider what all he's probably had to deal with in his time, plus the fact that all he's probably ever seen or heard of her is in interviews, and he puts on an act well enough for his, so.)

I have a whole actual comic planned detailing this that I'll hopefully finish and get out soon (sitting and writing comics is hard when you have near-zero focus QwQ) but essentially he's outside, before filming for the first day of this, just to get air before having to go back in and start directing things and getting ready and she approaches him and just starts talking with him. And he has no idea who the fuck this is??? (Honest to god, he'll never admit it now but he thought she was an intern or something at first XD) But slowly he goes from just answering her shortly to actually participating in the conversation?? And not just a "how's the weather" sort of thing, but like. Actual deep conversation, about what he's doing out there and talking through a little bit of the stress and stuff. And eventually he kinda like, comes to and realizes he's been talking way too much about way too deep stuff and he's like "hold up who tf are you again?" Which is about the same time her manager (who has been named Savannah and she's also a sweetheart) comes out looking for her and before Sage heads in she fully introduces herself to him, and he's just. Stunned. Absolutely blown away.

Here he was, expecting some diva he'd have to give the shake down to, but instead he's met with just. A girl. An honest, strange, caring girl.

This continues throughout that week of filming, Sage subverting every expectation Wally previously had of her. The whole time he's just more and more startled by Sage and who she is. Her whole team is super sweet and she obviously has very deep trust in them, and jokes with them like friends. She treats his staff with utmost respect (which, admittedly, makes him act on his best behavior every time she's around. He doesn't wanna look bad in comparison XD). She seems to genuinely enjoy her time there and what she's doing. Even more than that, Sage honestly has a very poor filter, so she talks a lot about everything lol, but it can be good! Because this is how Wally learns about her drive to create and how much she genuinely wants to bring people together. He finds out that really, the two of them have very similar visions, just for different audiences. Later, he and the executives and director and stuff are all discussing if they wanna keep doing stuff with her and her team and he's just immediately like "Yes. Absolutely. She has a similar vision to me. We either keep doing stuff with her or I'm personally helping fund her, capiche?" and they're all like "👀Got it" XD

And then, of course, there's her music. Which, after that first day of filming, he searches up as much of as he can and listens to it. And is again absolutely blown away lmao (there's another little comic idea I have for this too hehehe but its much shorter than the other one)

And thus begins Wally's journey of self-improvement, led by Sage's example /j XDDDD

ANYWAY HRGHRGHRGHRHGR THATS ALL THE EXPOSITION IMMA GIVE HERE CAUSE THATS A LOT AND THERE'S STILL A TON MORE STORY IN MY BRAIN BUT AUUUGGGHHH I'M SO NORMAL ABOUT THIS AU (also Frills, I have no idea what spell you've put on me with this thing but I have never made such cinematic art before O-O don't stop XD)

As always, Welcome Home belongs to Clown (partycoffin) and Actor/Diva Wally and the Actor AU belong to the wonderful @frillsand!! 💖💖💖

[senjutsunade]

If you hate paperwork so much why did you become hokage?

Oh, fun question! I have a good pile of headcanons on this topic, so I'll answer this ooc;

Tsunade whines about paperwork—a lot. But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t get it done. Most of the manga/anime scenes show her desk cleared, the work handled, and her office tidier than my own (cough). Sure, she whines about it, but that���s just her way of venting.

But why is she good at it? Because she’s a nerd, and people tend to forget that. Nerds have a knack for paperwork, and she’s no exception.

As to if/why Tsunade is a nerd?

She loves research. It’s what made her the legendary medic she is. If you pay close attention to the manga/anime (like I do - little things matter, kay!?!) , she’s often skimming through books or flipping through archives. Her appreciation for the Nara clan’s research on herbs and medicine, especially during her efforts to help Chouji after the Sasuke Retrieval arc, only reinforces this. And then there are all those scenes of her poring over tomes in preparation for Rock Lee’s surgery—proof that her dedication to knowledge runs deep.

One of my headcanons (note to self: actually write this down) is that Tsunade had access to some of Tobirama’s scrolls—the less forbidden ones, anyway—and these piqued her interest in cellular regeneration, which later became the basis for Creation Rebirth.

I also headcanon that after leaving Konoha, she spent years tracking down Uzumaki fuinjutsu scrolls and books. She’s built a decent collection of them in her personal library, and it’s one of the assets that helped her develop Creation Rebirth and the Strength of a Hundred seal.

So…. Why the Complaints?

Just because she loves research and discovering new techniques doesn’t mean she enjoys all paperwork.

Not even nerds would enjoy going through endless D and C rank mission reports when those idiot gennin don't know how to write and their reports always have suspicious stains on them. Those reports are disgusting. She'd go to any length to not touch one.

She hates budgeting with a passion. And the council? Either they don’t understand basic arithmetic or they just enjoy making her life difficult. The financial reports they demand are redundant and tediously detailed, and she’d rather face an army of rogue shinobi than deal with them.

Political Jargon - Despises it. Tsunade is a “hit first, ask questions later” type. She has zero patience for wading through political doublespeak. She’s good at it—she can read between the lines when needed—but that doesn’t mean she likes it.

Also, she's just spoiled. She never wanted responsibility - which is why she never took on a gennin team. She always wanted to do her own thing but now she is responsible for a whole fucking village so of course the princess is going to at last throw some temper tantrums.

[shadowonwater]

Pokemon Scarlet Playthrough part 15: The gang gets together, beginning of the journey into the sparkling land, and Time Machines

Playthrough Masterlist

So it really is just a coincidence pretty much that Arven happened to recruit my other friends. I find it very funny that all Arven needed to do to get Nemona on board was to tell her that there would be strong Pokemon, that was all she needed, ha ha, that's my Nemona!

With Penny he asked Clavell about people who were good with technology. I figure he didn't tell Clavell why he wanted someone who was good with tech though. Arven mentioned that they were doing this to help me, and that's why Penny got on board. Arven mentioning that she's old fashioned with how she feels about debts got me thinking about Team Star's code.

So I do find it funny that I'm the only one here who's friends with everybody. Makes me think of a birthday party. Like you can have a core group of friends but the members of that group will still have friends outside the core friend group. So it can be odd going to a friend's birthday party and like the core friend group is there and makes up most of the people, but then there's a few other people there who are just strangers to everybody else but the birthday kid.

We hear Sada and she's like "oh good you're here [insert my name]. And you brought friends" So she tells us where to go. I feel bad for Arven because it looked like it wanted to say something to his mom. She's also paying more attention to me than she is him. I feel bad for him. So yeah, I'll go in the gate next, see what happens.

So poor Kori is scared because it was already hinted that something traumatic happened to it. And Sada says to ride it down to the ground. And immediately I'm like "all four of us? is there enough room?" Well I guess there was, although Penny had a precarious position.

So we get to the ground and I'm like "Wait, where's Nemona?" But the other character's are focused on Koraidon's fear. Kori's like "I'm out of here" and hides in its Pokeball. And then they're like "Wait where's Nemona?" Well she comes running up and is like "yooooo this place is awesome!" And she's right, it is.

So I noticed that 1) I can't ride Koraidon because its hiding 2) the music is fucking amazing 3) the Pokemon battle music is also amazing. Seriously I'm going ham for this music! It's fantastic! It also has got me thinking about how good the dungeon music was from PMD.

Going on, this place is so sparkly! There are sparkles in the wind, the water is sparkling. Some of the trees have crystals at their base. This place is beautiful! tbh, I was imaging Area Zero to be more like a thick jungle, but this place feels like some kind of fairy land. And I mean that, in that this place is both dangerous and pretty.

So Sada told us to go unlock the locks on her lab. I gotta say, why do people put locks on the outside of places? Locks should go on the inside unless you want to trap someone. It's just bad design. So we gotta go to the research centers to unlock them. I bet there will be boss fights. I'm guessing... Tera raids? Tera raids do take four people and there are four of us.

Also one thing I should bring up... Sada talks like a robot and I'm quite sure I know why, unfortunately. I saw fanart, and it's not like I was looking for Scarlet fanart, mind you, it just showed up in my feed because I like Pokemon. So I kinda know what's up. I don't know specifics at least.

So while walking there occasionally my friends stop to chat. But I need to pay attention or else I'll miss what their saying. The first went fine. But the 2nd time a bunch of wild Pokemon were chasing me and they kept interrupting the conversation by battling me. It's hard to read when you're also trying to dodge wild animals tackling you. I think I missed part of the conversation. :( They were all talking about how they met me though. Of course Penny didn't go into details, lol. Going to the research base next.

So I've reached the first research station but I forgot a few other comments I wanted to make. 1) there are some weird berries here that I've never seen before in Pokemon games, help to make this place feel alien. 2) When I was talking about how sparkling this place is I forgot to mention that it fits with the whole Tera thing. What with the crystal theme.

Anyway a Glimmora blocked out path. I guess it was maybe supposed to be a boss battle but I didn't even get a chance to attack. Nemona's Lycanroc took it out instantly. Is this how Arven felt when I was doing all the kickass-ing when we were fighting the titans? I was kinda hoping for a more epic boss battle with all of us, but hey there's time for that to happen still.

So Glimmora is for sure weird looking but I have one and so does Geeta (which Nemona mentions) I did happen to find it in a ordinary cave but I got the feeling it was a rare spawn. I know that they drop the material for Tera blast. Since Geeta has a Glimmora and gave me Tera blast, and that Glimmet are probably more common in Area Zero... I bet Geeta has been here before.

We unlock our first lock, and poor Arven is completely ignored by his mom again. And there's a gross dusty old bed that can restore my health if I so wish. But most interesting are the notes on the desk. It talks about a [redacted] being that tera energy seems to come from and something about it having a hexagonal pattern. I bet this thing is like Eternatus. Like something that has Ultra Beast/Alien vibes. It's be weird and spooky I hope. And like Eternatus, it's where this special energy comes from. I will continue on now.

Made it to lab two. At the point where Arven was talking about what happened last time he went to Area Zero, right after he mentioned being attacked by a mysterious Pokemon, I ironically was attacked and pulled into a Pokemon battle with Corviknight. So yeah Arven snuck in to try to find his mom but had to retreat because his dog got hurt.

I feel real bad for him. He grew up taking care of himself and learned cooking because no one did it for him. He literally had no one looking after him. Does Pokemon have child protective services? I think Arven really could have used them.

So when we approached the 2nd station we had a run in with a Scream Tail. Afterwards Arven and Penny are like "Was that even a Pokemon?" And me a Nemona are like "well yeah it's a Pokemon, it looks like one and uses moves, doesn't it" what looks like a duck, quack likes a duck. I find the game's insistence of not calling them Pokemon annoying. They are 100% Pokemon, like why is this being called into question?

If I lived in the Pokemon World and saw a Scream Tail with no context, I'd be like like "Oh, it's some weird form of Jigglypuff I haven't seen or heard of before, I wonder where it's from." Like Pokemon forms are a thing. Just because it doesn't look exactly like you thought it would doesn't mean it's not a Pokemon. My gosh!

So Sada is like, "yeah that's a prehistoric Pokemon." and "There's a time machine in my lab." And Penny's like "say sike right now." Anyway from the sounds of it Arven knew she was working on a time machine and was trying to get it working.

Reading the notes around the lab, they just talk a lot about how unstable Tera energy is. But I guess Sada figured it out eventually. In other news... warp pads! Haven't seen these in a while. I can go to the other visited Research Baes or the Gate itself. Oh right and another thing... I wonder how Arven managed to get to the ground from the gate. It's not like he had Koraidon back then.

I'll cut this post off here, but i'm going to keep playing and start working on a new post, see you soon.

[todays-fixation-is-bigbywolf]

Rant below because I'm so sick of "haha Estinien dummy". Nothing I say will change it, the damage was done come Endwalker and is just being driven into the ground like a bad joke.

The continued stupefying of a character who was never once characterized as -stupid- or dense in the beginning. Estinien is sharp as a tack, he -has- to be to hold the position he does and attain wins against creatures well beyond anything that's ever lived in the canon. He was literally the first one to step up when it came to the conflict between himself and Ysayle regarding standing up for the conviction of her side of things, insist on -proving- him wrong because this was war, if she couldn't convince him, how did she hope to convince fuckin' -dragons- to change their ways and heel turn at the last minute. He knew exactly the timing on how to watch over the Scions in-city and recognize we're up to some major shit, and we'll need all the help we can get. His end goal is undeniably selfish, but he's still at heart getting his and still protecting Ishgard as a whole, while effectively getting around the tyrannical Orthodoxy of the time.

Is he a bit of a -prick-? Definitely! Does he push someone's buttons the moment they show a vulnerability? Yeah! His own trainers did that with him, by his own word in 3.3, "teachers to console and admonish me". Let's not forget his own words observing the real ass truth that if every person in Ishgard could know the thoughts of all others, the city would fall within the hour. He survived Ishgard, an -Orthodoxy- with an actual ass -Inquisition- constantly on the hunt for anyone that endangered their political rhetoric, and he knows how to navigate around and evade them. What part of that isn't -reading the room- by having the social intelligence to immediately find the weaknesses in the people around him and know how to push, pull, or get out of the way to get what he wants.

Estinien is an -ass-, yes. Not a -fool- whose incapable of the basics we've literally seen shown in the game come his fleshing out in HW. (Yes, granted, ARR Estinien is single-minded, this is because DRG 30-50 is copy pasted from 1.0 and that era's writing is very weak.)

Take a good look at HW Estinien and -insist- he's incapable, how does anyone do it? When everyone collectively decided "he dummy/ he stoopid", was anybody actually looking at him, did anybody pay any fucking attention?

Stop making fools of perfectly capable characters, who show ON SCREEN with real canon evidence they are better than Fandom, for whatever reason, choses to drag them down to, fuck.

Yoshi P said this because it's the popular fucking opinion, for some reason. The editor has it correct. Estinien doesn't -diminish- or mask himself for others, you get him as he is, unfiltered (unless it's a true and real danger, in which case he generally doesn't speak and he knows when not to do that, see; Surviving Ishgard). He knows who he is, he's proud of it, and there's zero way someone who -survived what he has-, did it, by being clueless and incapable of taking in the fine details around him.

Being a brusque introvert with the Tism does not make you into what Estinien has been made into by EW. I can't believe how many Estinien stans firmly stand on the point he's a fool when there is clear proof to the contrary. There's nothing he's experienced since then that proves he's suddenly lost what -experience- taught him. EW sat here trying to say Estinien gets swindled easy, then drove that into the ground by making it a running gag, as if he didn't make it through -Kugane- on his own -just fine-, like it somehow doesn't have swindlers and cheats and Thavnair does??? He was self sufficient from the moment he left Ishgard in 3.3, but suddenly nah, he's a fool now in EW, because Fandom decided, Haha funnee stinkman doesn't take a bath haha.

I get that we like to project ourselves onto characters as much as we like to take personality traits from them, but what does it say when someone completely -replaces- the actual nature of a character with just themselves. Did you -ever- actually like the -character-...?

It is a failure to misread a character at his beginnings so completely that as writers got shuffled around and new people came on board, they chose to reinforce that belief because it's popular. It felt like only ONE writer was resisting this in EW and more often than not, it was on side, non-voiced dialogue that gets missed or just ignored.

That the writers on hand -now- insist on keeping up this farce is even worse. It's not representative to make Estinien like this and try to use the "relatable" banner as another ND status character we decide on retroactively, by the way. -How- is it not actively demeaning to declare that about a character and then look at what he was at the start and then see that the writers are -going along- with "Ah yes, actually he Can't." when he actively can and does. That's -saying- Neurodivergence -is- an inability to read people (which in some cases yes! However!)- when Masking is literally the very essence of -reading the room- to -survive the room-. Masking makes us so good at taking in the details it becomes difficulty to have an identity -outside- of reading people effectively to survive. We're BRILLIANT- exhausted, but brilliant! We shouldn't let writers spin the narrative like we're not because we willingly decide "Oh yeah, that's me actually." and get a laugh out of not just erasing who a -beloved- character -is-, but in turn use that relatability to declare -boldly- that we also don't know how to do things we do, every day, because NTs expect it of us.

And we pat Yoshi P on the back for "setting that straight", -really-?

The respect is gone, if some people ever had it, and that's tragic for a character who has made it as far as Estinien has and genuinely healed from some of the worst shit, who realistically healed from it -with the assistance of others-, a group that accepts him for who he is completely, which is a good depiction of mending from horrendous trauma. I would think with that representation that all us traumatized people would -appreciate- that and celebrate Estinien without having to demean him and turn him into Post EW Estinien, who is 90% somewhere between turned into a fool torn down and laughed off when he's speaking straight facts or just being sexualized on screen like everyone else now because sex sells. x.x

im glad yoshi-p set the record straight

[tea-and-secrets]

Before anyone says, yes I know how unhealthy and toxic this is. It's not something I'm proud of.

I really can't fucking stand one of my 'friends' and it's only gotten worse since she's been openly depressed. I've been dealing with moderately severe depression for most of my life and now seeing her deal with the same thing has awakened some kind of rage in me because I feel like my pain has been appropriated somehow. Probably because every time I try to talk about my problems with our other friends I by and large get ignored while everyone drops what they're doing to help her. In some ways, I feel like she's an even worse replacement for me (for reasons I don't want to get into because the details are so specific they could be used to identify me and her.) She's older than I am but acts so juvenile and sheltered. She's extremely impressionable and we have to basically babysit her so people don't swoop in to take advantage of her. She'll ask us for advice and then do the exact opposite of what we tell her to and freak out when everything goes to shit.

It at least helps knowing (from a conversation with a friend) that the reason why the rest of my friends are so attentive to her needs is because she needs to have her hand held through everything and to be fair I'm not exactly the most open about my problems either, but the reason for that is I feel like I'll just be ignored.

I don't want anything bad to happen to her, it just pisses me off to no end that we have to babysit and coddle a grown woman or else she'll throw a fit and turn to people who want to do her harm because she can't take being told outright that she's not doing something right or making good decisions. She doesn't have developed critical thinking skills or any skills really for making good judgement calls. I just don't get how some people can't connect the dots by themselves, especially since she has *multiple* therapists.

I know this probably all sounds shitty because she IS hurting and she DOES need help and support. I'm not proud of how I feel and I would never say any of this to her or my friends and I've been talking it out with my own therapist. I have no idea what to do about her since she constantly repeats the same cycles and is resistant to people trying to help while having zero sense of judgement at the same time. It's exhausting. I just needed to vent.

.

[bigskydreaming]

Okay, so you know “Justice League meets Batman’s kids, who they’d previously been unaware existed” AUs?

So picture that.....but this time, instead of them just having no knowledge of any of these other Gotham vigilantes at all....the Batkids all migrate to various cities as they get older and become known as their protectors - Dick in Bludhaven, Tim in San Francisco, Cass in Hong Kong, etc....

Meaning they’re all established figures, the Justice League are aware of them as solo local heroes who stick to their cities and so they just don’t interact with them much if at all, or else some are members of team lineups but are particularly vague about their histories or life outside of the team’s adventures....

So the big reveal isn’t that they become aware of all these other Gotham vigilantes all at once....its that some big conflict or whatever requires a huge team up of all available heroes, and in the aftermath, they figure out that like.....despite being known as solo heroes who work alone or loners outside of their team settings, 80% of these heroes all not only seem to already know each other, they seem to be related.

And so naturally they all turn to Batman, who has profiles on every known hero and they thus figure had researched these individuals too and just never mentioned this little detail, and they’re like, “Did you know about this?”

And then Nightwing turns to him too, arms crossed and is like, “Yeah Dad, did you know about this?”

And the infamous Red Hood is all: “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I have never met any of these people before in my life. Lives? Whatever.”

And then Red Robin moodily grates out “I have no siblings.” Since he’s nursing a grudge since Dick and Jason broke into his apartment the night before and replaced all his custom Red Robin gear with Darkwing Duck merchandise and his vengeance will be swift and also totally disproportionate because things escalate quickly in this family, that’s true in every universe.

Cass meanwhile has deftly skewered Jason’s lie by walking over to him and brazenly patting down the man with many many guns with no fear whatsoever. He squawks and futilely attempts to bat her hands away as she riffles through his many pockets, but he doesn’t seem shocked, just annoyed. Eventually, she pulls away and triumphantly reveals a box of Hello Kitty themed band-aids.

“So these are yours then? Just for you?” Black Bat asks smugly. Red Hood squints at the box.

“What the fuck? How long have those been in my jacket? Why are those in my jacket? Did you freaking plant them in my jacket just on the offchance you could at some point in the distant future use them at my expense?”

Black Bat frowns, puzzled. “Yes?”

“Oh come on, Dead Hood,” Spoiler says with an exaggerated toss of her head meant to convey she’s rolling her eyes beneath her own mask. She skips her way across the room to Black Bat and then drapes herself languidly all over the smaller woman. Who in turn doesn’t so much as twitch beneath the sudden added mass as Spoiler holds out her hand towards the box of band-aids. 

“One please. I have a boo-boo,” she says with easy familiarity straight into the intimidating cowl of Black Bat. Only then does she deign to finish her train of thought with Red Hood.

“I mean seriously, are you saying you don’t have potential blackmail set-ups, pre-rigged releases of incriminating material, and a random assortment of traps, pratfalls and mortifying scenarios in place for the express purpose of being able to humiliate any and all of your siblings at any given moment, without any need for additional prep time?”

“Is this true, Little Wing?” Nightwing whirls on the larger Red Hood with a faux-scandalized gasp. The founder and leader of the Titans, formerly the Teen Titans, renowned for his stratagems and calm competence when directing squads of supers in the heat of battle while he keeps pace with nothing more than naturally acquired acrobatics and a utility belt that apparently uses the same technology as Wonder Woman’s invisible jet....now appears to be....staggering with the back of his hand pressed to his forehead, moaning about how he felt....faint? 

What is happening right now, several dozen superheroes want to know. Is this a drill? Are they supposed to be checking for signs of a mental ambush from undetected psychic saboteurs? Did they all hit their heads at the exact same time and are now experiencing some kind of shared mass concussion?

Look, that wouldn’t be the weirdest thing to ever happen on the Watchtower. 

“Have I failed you so utterly?” The veteran child hero bemoans with a dramatic twirl - that when contrasted with his stern demeanor of a mere ten minutes ago - makes the fears of telepathic infiltration seem less paranoia and more....concerningly probable. “Did you learn nothing from me? Did you learn nothing from B?”

He stops and jabs a finger up at the sky. “Quick, everyone! What is the very first rule of Living While Batty?”

As if by rote, over a half a dozen voices chime in from all over the room, causing various heroes to jump. Spooked by yet more and more vigilantes joining in some kind of mass recitation like they and they alone have some kind of clue what the hell is going on and everyone else just hadn’t been invited to the party. Which is just rude, honestly. Nobody likes feeling like they weren’t invited to the party. Not even superheroes. 

“If you’re not going to bother preparing for every possible contingency and at least six impossible ones, you might as well just stay in bed.”

Even the Red Hood joins in the Illuminati chant or Cub Scout pledge or demonic ritual or whatever the fuck that just was, though his slumped and exasperated posture gives away every hint of sulkiness his headgear otherwise would have kept safely hidden. He’s surprisingly more...expressive, than most who’d only known of him by reputation had expected him to be. The day continues to yield surprises.

“Of fucking course I do,” he growls out, snatching the box from Black Bat. She doesn’t even fight to hold onto it, just lets it go with a knowing smirk. “I wasn’t surprised by the idea of it, I was just surprised she bothered with such a weak effort. Like yeah whatever, actually those could be mine. I use those all the time at home. So what?”

He aggressively yanks one of the band-aids out of the box, fumbles with the peel-off strips with one hand and he roughly rolls up the sleeve of his jacket with the other. Then just slaps it on his forearm and raises said appendage high, showing it off this way and that. “See?”

“Oh yeah, for sure,” Signal drawls from the other side of the room, nodding his head approvingly. “Totally convincing. Nice job walking that one back, you really showed them.”

Red Hood’s head snaps in his direction with ominous intent. “Watch it, Day-Glo.”

Signal just snorts.

“Yeah, like I’m gonna take constructive criticism on my name and costume from a dude who’s spent the last several years calling himself Red HOOD while running around in a freaking HELMET.”

“Its not meant to be literal, you fucking pedant.”

“So wait, its not literally a helmet? Huh, does it at least protect your head literally, or just like...symbolically? Like if Bane were to clock you across the head, would your concussion just be a metaphor? What’s the treatment protocol for a metaphorical concussion? Fluids, bedrest and a philosophical prescription of two chapters of Chicken Soup for the Soul as needed?”

“Laugh it up, KC and the Sunshine Band,” Red Hood bats back. “You just got yourself disinvited from Thursday night’s poker game.”

Signal just grins and folds his arms over his chest cockily. “Please. You’ve been looking for an excuse to ban me for weeks, cuz you know until you can prove I’m using my ghost vision to cheat, you can’t actually bring suit against me for it in Family Court.”

“That, and also Family Court isn’t a real thing, you toddler. Stop validating Wing-a-ding-ding’s obsession with Shitty TV Nostalgia and just call it that thing where Oracle traps us all in a room until we settle our latest fight without anyone getting stabbed.”

“Yeah, but like, say that five times fast,” Spoiler pipes up. “Its just not practical. Family Court’s way easier.”

“Says the one who’s not even in our fucking family.”

“And yet I grace you all with my sublime presence anyway,” she blows a kiss at him, beatifically unbothered. “You’re welcome.”

The Red Hood scoffs and rounds on his heel, zeroing in on Batwoman in the far corner.

“Hey Auntie B, my siblings are all dead to me and I just helped stop an alien invasion so I deserve nice things like a fun Saturday night. Can you get me into Dad’s fundraiser so I can crash it? He won’t put me back on the list until I promise not to bring any C-4 with me and I won’t promise not to bring any C-4 because he should just trust me that I won’t when I say I’m not gonna and he won’t trust me that I won’t until I admit I shouldn’t have brought any to that sting last month where three tiny little yachts blew up through barely any fault of my own, and I’m just not gonna do that ever because I have convictions and I feel I shouldn’t have to be punished for that. Y’know?”

Batwoman blinks at him. “Kid, I’m not gonna lie to you. You’re my nephew and I love you, but I stopped listening three seconds into all that.”

“Ugh, fine. Can you help me crash Dad’s event tonight so I can teach him a lesson about why he should just trust me not to make a scene so I don’t have to always make a scene to make a point.”

“Tempting as you make that sound,” she says wryly, “I have a strict policy for dealing with you lot and your......everything. I only worry about tolerating one of you at a time, and there’s seven of you, and seven days in the week. You each get your own. You know perfectly well its Robin’s day today. You get me on Tuesday, just like always.”

“Auntie B, we’re not like other families, are we?” Red Robin’s delivery is sarcastically childish and his question clearly rhetorical. Most of his attention is fixated on whatever it is he’s doing with his wrist-mounted computer. 

“No sweetie, we’re all severely fucked in the head and a little bit too comfortable with that.”

“Just checking. Oh hey, Hood, I just emailed you a patch for the hole in your firewall I exploited when replacing all my shit using your accounts just now.”

“You did what?”

“Used your accounts to pay to replace all my stuff that you fucked with last night?” Red Robin says slowly. “Did you not realize that I’ve been sticking within ten feet of you for the past five minutes just so I could clone your devices and do all that while BB and Spoiler kept you distracted? I gotta say, bro, I feel like that’s on you then.”

Red Hood swivels his helmeted head in the direction of the aforementioned two. Black Bat waves. Spoiler shoots him an utterly unrepentant thumbs up.

“You’d side with your ex over me? That’s what its come to?”

“My only allegiance is to chaos,” Spoiler says brightly. Black Bat shrugs.

“Plus he bribes better.”

“Hateful,” Red Hood points at Black Bat, moving on to level the same finger at Spoiler, who curtsies in acknowledgment: “Hateful-er.”

Then the finger rounds the bases to aim judgmentally at Red Robin. “Hateful-est. And that was all Nightwing’s idea anyway, not mine.”

“Oh, I assumed as much,” he says casually. “Your idea of a prank tends to have more of a Carrie vibe. Or be a literal literary reenactment.”

“Its called an homage, 4chan.”

“Whatever, plagiarist. And anyway, I couldn’t go after ‘Wing for payback on this one. He used an Immunity card. If you didn’t want me getting back at you, you should have used one too."

Red Hood looms aggressively. Red Robin ignores willfully. Round and round they go. Superheroes who can survive excessive G-Forces are getting dizzy just watching them have a largely motionless stand-off. That shouldn’t be how that works, but whatever. All the most infamously reclusive and isolated heroes in all hero-dom are apparently part of the same one big reclusive and isolated family of fucked up weirdos and they’re all officially bonkers. Nothing makes sense anymore. Reality broke. Try another stall.

“Okay, but see, in order to have an Immunity card, I would have to participate in one of you losers’ stupid Immunity challenges,” the Red Hood drags out with exaggerated patience. “And I’m just not going to do that, on account of those all being fucking stupid. You see the problem there?”

Red Robin just shrugs. “I don’t know what to tell you, bro. You can have principles or you can have an Immunity card. You can’t have both.”

Meanwhile, on another side of....the same room.....look, its like, an octagonal room, probably. It has a lot of sides. Robin fends off questions from an aggrieved looking Superboy.

“You never told me you had a bajillion brothers and sisters!”

“Yes but I never said I didn’t either.”

Superboy rolls his eyes. “Oh yeah, so I should just assume everyone I meet has a bajillion secret brothers and sisters?”

“Well clearly it would have worked out in your favor in this instance if you had, now wouldn’t it?”

“Assuming of course that you can trust what has been said or implied here today and I am actually related to any of those numbskulls. Which I am not actually admitting to,” Robin tacks on hastily.

Superboy eyes him dubiously. “You joined in the same creepy chant all the others did and then got super self-conscious and looked around to see if anyone had noticed. Which uh. I did.”

“First off, your interpretation of body language is abyssmal. I do not get self-conscious,” Robin says with a delivery that probably could have benefited from being a little less self-conscious. “And second....that proves nothing. I guessed what they were going to say.”

“Word for word,” Superboy says super-skeptically.

“I’m very good at guessing things. You know this.”

“Okay. Guess how much I believe you right now then.”

Robin glares and folds his arms grumpily across his chest. 

“And what was that anyway? Was that like....you guys’ family motto or something like that?”

“Oh no,” Spoiler pipes up. “That’s much shorter.”

Superboy balks at that. “Wait, you guys actually have one of those for real?”

“Yup,” Steph says, counting out the words with her fingers. “He who laughs last....probably works for the Joker. So tranq him just to be safe. See? Only sixteen words. The first rule of Living While Batty is way longer, and what we said was just the abridged version. You should hear the original, before Black Bat put her foot down and refused to memorize it unless sizable edits were made.”

Superboy hovers between her and Robin now, both in mid-air and on the verge of taking Spoiler’s words as an invitation to hear just that. A low growl arises from Robin’s direction.

“Must you?” He asks the older vigilante, with a most put upon expression.

She looks at him pityingly. “Do you actually need me to answer that? Like, we’ve met, right? Hi, I’m Spoiler.”

“Wait, so Robin said that I just never specifically asked him if he had a bajillion brothers and sisters, and that’s why he didn’t tell me, so that means he wouldn’t have just lied and there’s not some code of secrecy that flat out forbids telling other people stuff, right?” Superboy realizes excitedly.

“Yes, excellent direction. Go on,” Spoiler says, steepling her fingers. Robin buries his face in the palm of one hand.

“Soooo, what other stuff could you tell me about Robin’s super top secret family that I wouldn’t think to ask about but that he would tell me about if I knew what questions to ask?”

She claps once, lightly but with emphasis. “Well done. You’ve passed the first barrier. Untold secrets await you behind just a few more.”

“I’ll get you for this,” Robin vows calmly. She waves a hand at him.

“Yeah, yeah. Just make sure you do it before January 1st, remember? You’ve promised retribution like ten times already this year and those don’t roll over, y’know. Rules are rules.”

“Enough!” Thunders a voice then, from the front of the room. Well one of the fronts anyway. Like sides, it has a lot of them, but this is the one where Batman’s standing. All eyes snap to him. Which is kinda just what eyes do when Batman says stuff like that. Its like his superpower, except he doesn’t actually have superpowers, which is what makes it scary. But where the snapping of the eyes (directional) is usually followed by Batman saying something else besides just “hey look at me,” here he pauses in the wake of his own call to attention’s waning reverberations. Uncharacteristically silent.

Not that, y’know, he’s normally Mr. Talkity Talk, but usually his silences feel like he has the words to fill them, he’s just withholding them. This though, this feels more like he doesn’t have any words at all. And he’s as confused by it as any of them, and most everyone else is confused by Batman being confused, and its this whole trickle down economy of confusion and its wrecking havoc on the value of the golden silence standard.

Of course, not everyone present is rendered spellbound with confusion.

“C’mon B,” Nightwing cajoles, leaning forward and practically radiating delight. “I think you know what you have to do now. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. Its not likely to come around again.”

Red Hood snickers beneath his helmet and chimes in. “Yeah Pops, go ahead. You do this and you’ll actually have my respect for a whole twenty four hours. No, wait. Sixteen. No! Eight. Yeah, eight. Still a good deal.”

“Carpe diem, B,” Red Robin grins, leaning back as if to enjoy the show.

“Hey! Infringe on my trademark one more time, dude,” Signal throws a faux-glare at the former. Red Robin just quirks an eyebrow.

“And what, you’ll start saying Yum every time you eat a burger? Oh no. I’m hoist by my own petard.”

Signal flips him off with a grin and then redirects his attention back to Batman. “Yeah seriously though B, you kinda gotta do it now. Because if you don’t do it, then you’ll forever be the guy who didn’t do it, and you don’t want to be that guy, do you?”

“Yeah you really don’t want to be that guy,” Spoiler shouts out. “Nobody likes that guy. He’s the worst.”

“Do it, do it,” Black Bat starts chanting beside her, steadily picking up speed and volume. Several others start joining in. Even Robin appears to be slightly anticipatory, albeit trying very hard to hide it.

Batman sighs, and somehow everyone manages to hear it. Stills. Waits for....something? Nobody but them seems to have any clue what, but the air is thick and heavy with portentiousness. Something is about to happen, and all most of the heroes present could say for sure is it was something they never would have in a million years seen coming.

Finally, Batman straightens with the resigned air of a man about to have oh so many regrets. He crosses his arms, shakes his head, and in an absolute deadpan monotone, says:

“You are awful children. You know you’re killing me. You’re killing your father.”

[jcwriting]

Written in the Stars

summary ↬ being soulmates with a werewolf? pretty easy. being jungkook’s soulmate? the easiest thing in the world. there’s only one teensy tiny problem. he doesn’t want to fuck you.

pairing ↬ werewolf!jungkook x reader

genre ↬ soulmate!au, abo verse, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort (this is so fucking dramatic and for what)

word count ↬ 10.4k my hand slipped

warnings ↬ swearing, angst (but with a happy ending bc im a sappy bitch), jk is stupid in love (emphasis on stupid), mentions of violence (very brief and i don’t go into too much detail but just to warn yall), slight nsfw (sex is a big topic for like half of this but not sex is had...i know im shocked too), half of this is background info/setting up the story the other half is finally addressing the summary lolol, jk is kind of an asshole but he has reasons!!!!!

authors note ↬ hello lovelies! here’s a small little thing for you all (laughs in 10k word count). this has been sitting in my drafts for fucking ever and i just needed to get it out there and out of my hands. im thinking about writing a part two where the actual ~*/sex/*~ is had but im still on the fence about that. please let me know what you think! i literally crave your interactions so pls dont be shy,,,,,okay love you bye :)

(ps i was so close to naming this Rewrite the Stars but since this has absolutely nothing to do with The Greatest Showman i didn’t. but i was close,,,,so fucking close)

You always knew Jeon Jungkook was destined for great things.

It was written in the stars, your mother had told you after he had first stepped foot into your family-owned grocery store. Your mother didn’t have any special powers, she just had a thing for astrology. While you normally shrugged off her random proclamations about divine intervention and planetary alignments, you found that Jungkook was something you couldn’t ignore or chalk up as your mother’s latest tea leaf reading.

From the moment you set eyes on him you knew he was different. While your family held zero claim to any sort of mystical or magical inclinations, you were well aware of those who did. It was no secret that non-humans roamed the Earth in plain sight, even though it had taken humans eons to realize this. After years of savage wars and civil unrest, agreements had come into place and governing bodies were adjusted to accept the changes that had finally been made. But, this was all before your time. You were the generation that was born into the period of peace, the first children to not experience bloodshed before they could walk. The world you knew now was almost a complete one-eighty of what it had been.

Where before those who were not of human blood had to do everything they could to blend in, now could be free of the shadows. Your classrooms had both humans and non-humans in their rosters. Some of your teachers were hybrids. Curriculum expanded to teach humans about a world that had once been entirely unknown to them. One of your favorite teachers was a witch who regaled your tenth grade class with stories of goblin wars, wizard duels, and vampire covens. All tales that you had once thought were nothing but fiction were now anything but.

Which is why, the second Jeon Jungkook entered the grocery store that your parents owned and that you had worked at since you were old enough to speak in full sentences, you knew who he was. You didn’t even question it.

He was a werewolf. A powerful one. You could see it in the way he carried himself. The purposeful strides he took down the narrow aisles, the confidence in his broad shoulders. Humans weren’t nearly as sensitive as their hybrid counterparts but you also paid attention in your classes. Or, perhaps you were more aware than other humans. Never in your life did you have the issues other faced when meeting a non-human for the first time. You always knew who they were without them having to tell you. You just knew.

So, when Jeon Jungkook stepped up to your register with a bottle of water and some raw beef, you didn’t flinch. Didn’t bend under his dark gaze or shuffle your feet in an awkward attempt to break the silence. Instead, you flashed him your customer service smile and rang up his items. He didn’t say a word as he paid, barely sparing you a second glance as he strode out of the store.

“He’s going to be a great and powerful man,” your mother said in that feathery light voice of hers. “It was written in the stars.”

You couldn’t help but agree.

Jeon Jungkook came into your store everyday for the next month. He bought the same thing every time. A bottle of water and a package of raw beef. The only time he spared you any words was to say thank you or the occasional hello if the sun was shining. Usually, he was alone. Sometimes, he came with a few members of his pack. You liked those days. He smiled a little brighter and talked a little louder when they were around. Especially around Taehyung.

Then, after a month, he didn’t come in. Not for an entire week. From Monday to Sunday, you hadn’t seen a hide nor hair of him. A part of you was worried, so worried that you almost stopped Taehyung in the middle of the street to ask of Jungkook’s whereabouts before realizing how insane that made you look, the other part was chastising yourself for caring. Jeon Jungkook was a customer. Nothing more, nothing less.

The following Monday had come and you had finally stopped glancing at the sliding doors every five minutes. You no longer expected his commanding presence to rock your little world. Instead, you continued your day as if it had been any other. That was, until, Jeon Jungkook stepped through the entrance looking as if he was walking on air. It didn’t take a genius to figure out why.

“Did you have a good heat?” You asked when he stepped up to your register. Jungkook fumbled the water bottle he had been setting onto the conveyer belt before turning to stare at you.

“What did you just say?”

You didn’t shrink under his intense glare. “I was asking if you enjoyed your heat. Seems like you did.”

“How do you know I was in my rut?”

“Oh, is rut the correct terminology? Sorry, they always interchanged them in class, I was never sure what was appropriate.” You shrugged and rang up his items. “It was kind of obvious, though. You seemed pretty agitated about a week-and-a-half ago, then you disappear for a week, and now you’re back looking happier than ever. If it wasn’t your rut then I want to know where you went on vacation because that’s where I’m heading to next.”

Jungkook laughed. That almost made you jump out of your skin. You had never heard him laugh before. It was throaty, it was deep, and it was wonderful. “I’ll be sure to send you the link to the Airbnb.”

“And how do you plan on doing that?”

He smirked. “I’m here every day, aren’t I?”

You tilted your head as you accepted the cash he handed to you. “Clearly, you’re not that reliable.”

Jungkook laughed again. It was becoming your new favorite sound. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to appear flaky.”

“You’re forgiven,” you decided as you handed him the plastic bag of his purchases. Teasingly, you added, “just make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

He flashed you a smile that showed off his sharpened canines. “Don’t worry, darling. I never make the same mistake twice.”

Jeon Jungkook kept his promise. He showed up everyday, like clockwork. Bought the same thing. Arrived at the same time. The only thing that changed was how he treated you. It wasn’t that he treated you badly before, he had always been polite. But now, he talked to you. He asked you questions and answered yours. More often than not, he laughed.

(It had become your favorite sound.)

For three months, this continued. The two of you had settled into a comfortable routine, something you relied on and expected. Until, he changed that.

Until, Jeon Jungkook asked you out on a date.

“What did you just say?”

“Are you free? Tonight?” You glanced around, almost expecting to see some sort of supermodel posing behind you to explain the absolute absurdity of the situation. “What are you doing?”

“Looking for the hidden cameras. I think I’m getting Punk’d.”

Jungkook sighed and placed both hands on the counter that separated the two of you. “Look at me.” You did. Slowly and warily, but you did. “Does it look like I’m lying to you?”

Narrowing your eyes, you regarded him carefully. He seemed serious. But, then again, do you ever really know someone? “I don’t know. I’ve never actually seen you lie before so I wouldn’t know the difference.”

“Fine. Ask me what color my shirt is.”

“What color is your shirt?”

“White,” he deadpanned. You glanced down at his chest. His shirt was black.

“Jungkook!”

He threw his head back and released a full bellied laugh. Even in your exasperation you couldn’t help but soften a little. “I’m sorry, darling. I couldn’t help myself.” Annoyed, you huffed and spun to face the cash register. Stabbing your finger onto the touchscreen, you ignored Jungkook’s obvious presence on the opposite side of the counter. Until his hand reached around the card reader and grasped a hold of your chin. The warmth of his fingers forced your head to turn to meet his.

“Come to dinner with me.” His voice was nothing but a rumble in his chest, his eyes so black and all-consuming you couldn’t do anything but agree with him. He seemed pleased by your response as his fingers tightened against your skin and a grateful smile flicked past his lips. His gaze darted down to your mouth and your breath froze in your chest.

“Are you going to kiss me?”

Jungkook raised an eyebrow. “Do you want me to?”

“No.” You tried to shake your head but his grip didn’t allow you much movement. He was taken aback by your answer, a small frown tugging at his mouth. You quickly backtracked to fix the situation. “I don’t want our first kiss to be in a grocery store. That’s a new low that I refuse to reach.”

Jungkook chuckled and tapped your chin gently. “Alright, darling. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

Again, he kept his promise to you. He showed up at your parents house exactly at seven, wearing a button-down shirt and slacks. The tulips he had gotten for you was thrust into your hands the moment you opened the door. Flashing him a genuine smile, you hurried into the kitchen to set them in water while your mother grilled him on his birth time. You were quick to drag him away, practically throwing him towards the car as you waved goodbye.

“Sorry,” you sighed as Jungkook opened the passenger door for you. “She has a…thing for astrology. She’s probably creating your star map or whatever right now.”

“It’s okay,” he responded once he got into the drivers seat. “It’s sweet of her to care.”

You snorted. “She’s delusional is what she is.”

“So, you’re saying you don’t believe in astrology?”

“Do you?”

Jungkook shrugged as he pulled out of your dirt driveway. He looked so damn attractive behind the wheel it was honestly unfair. “Not really saying I do or don’t. All I know is that there are a lot of things out there that are out of our control. If believing in the stars and planets helps you gain some of that control back, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that.”

“God, don’t talk like that in front of my mother. She’ll want to start dating you.”

He grinned and placed a hand on your knee. “Tell her I’m already taken.”

You didn’t get a chance to respond to that. Not that he didn’t give you one, it was just that you literally had nothing to say. With just one sentence he opened the floodgates of your brain and the amount of thoughts that were flying through your conscious was painful. Anxiety fluttered in your stomach and you pressed your lips together to keep you from word vomiting onto him. No, it was better to keep your mouth shut and let the moment pass.

By the time you reached the restaurant you were a trembling mess of nerves. Were you guys dating? You thought this was just a ‘testing the waters’ date, not a ‘you’re my girlfriend now’ date. Did you have to make it Facebook official? You hated that shit.

Jungkook didn’t comment on your obvious distress, though. He merely placed a hand on the small of your back, ignoring how you jerked in surprise, and led you into the quiet bistro. Nodding politely to the hostess who was practically panting at the sight of him (you honestly couldn’t blame her) and pulled out your chair for you. When he sat down, he started talking. Idle chat at first. Commenting on one of the dishes, asking about the college classes you were taking at your local university. Before you realized it, wine was in your glass and your shoulders were loose. Previous nerves forgotten, you lost yourself in Jungkook. You drank, you ate, you laughed, and genuinely enjoyed his company. Honestly, it was the best date you’d ever been on.

“I have to be honest with you,” Jungkook spoke after he finished his raw steak. “I have an ulterior motive for asking you here tonight.”

“Oh,” you mumbled around the shrimp you had just tossed in your mouth. “So…this isn’t a date?”

“No, it is,” Jungkook clarified quickly around a dry chuckle. He seemed…nervous. It put you on edge immediately. “This is definitely a date. And, also, more.”

“More? What, is this a proposal too?” You were joking. A 100% joking. But Jungkook was staring at you so seriously it made you panic. “Jungkook, if you get down on one knee here I swear-”

“I’m not proposing,” he assured you. “This is something more than that.”

“More?” You parroted. Jungkook sighed.

“Do you know what a true mate is?”

Right there, in that quaint little bistro, on a date with quite possibly the most untouchable man you’d ever met, he explained how you were irrevocably his. His true mate, his soulmate.

Jungkook explained everything in great detail, which you appreciated, because honestly, you had no words. He explained how when he was born, the witch who cared for him told his father that his future glared brightly ahead of him, but only when he met his other half. True mates were rare. Mating was common, the wolves in his pack could have multiple mates or a lifelong one, but true mates were destiny. Someone or something out there had forged the two of you together. You were essentially each others other half. He was made for you and you were made for him.

“But…aren’t true mates only for wolves? I thought it’s impossible for a human to be a true mate,” you asked in a shaky voice once Jungkook took a breath.

“It was supposed to be impossible. Until, I met you.” Jungkook stared at you with a sort of reverence that made your entire body blush. “I have no idea how you are. I’ve spent hours researching. I’ve consulted with members of my pack and others. No one knows why.”

“Are you sure, though? I mean…what if you’re wrong?”

“I’m not.” Jungkook shook his head. “I visited the witch right after I met you. She took one look at me and told me that I had finally found my true mate. She said she’d never seen a future so bright before.”

You had no words for that. For the first time in your life, you were speechless. Jungkook seemed to understand. He let you sit in silence as he paid for the bill and walked you out to the car. The drive back to your parents house was the same. You couldn’t speak. The shock rendered you stupid.

By the time Jungkook pulled into the driveway you still hadn’t spoken a word to each other. You stepped out of the car before he could open the door for you. Walking up to the porch steps in a trance, you didn’t hear him follow you until he clasped your wrist in his hand. Turning to face him, you were surprised to see his brown eyes so big. They practically sparkled in the moonlight and he looked so soft and sweet you nearly melted into the wood beneath your feet.

“Please,” he whispered. “Can you…just - are you okay? You’ve been so quiet. I’m worried I’ve scared you off or something.”

With that voice, it was impossible to deny him. So, you said the first thing that popped in your head. “Do we have to make it Facebook official?”

Jungkook stared at you before bursting into laughter. “Really? That’s all you have to say?”

You blushed and glanced down. “I’m just worried, that’s all. I can’t remember my Facebook password so even if you wanted to change it I don’t think it’ll work.”

“So that’s why you never accepted my friend request,” Jungkook teased. Before you could squeak out a response, he wrapped his arms around your waist and tugged you forward. You kept your arms crossed across your chest but let yourself fall against him.

“Don’t make fun of me,” you whined as you buried your face into his shoulder. He smelled so good, a mixture of pine and spice. “My brain hasn’t worked since you told me I’m yours, so bear with me.”

Jungkook chuckled and gently swayed you from side to side. “Does that mean you’re okay with this? All of this?”

Sighing, you lifted your head up and stepped away from him. Jungkook was not impressed and pulled you back to him. Your heart swelled in your chest and you wrapped your arms around his neck in consolation. “Honestly? I haven’t really processed anything. You’ve had your whole life to come to terms with this. I just found out thirty minutes ago that I’m someone’s soulmate. It’s a lot to take in.”

Jungkook nodded as he tapped his fingers against your hips. “I know. It’s a lot…I’m a lot. I just want you to know that you don’t have to do this. You don’t have to be with me. I won’t-”

Now it was your turn to burst into laughter. You couldn’t believe those words had left his mouth. It was easily the most absurd thing you’d ever heard. “Jungkook, I want to make something very clear. I have no problem being your true mate. That’s not the issue here. Well, there really isn’t an issue. It’s just…hard to believe, I guess. I have to process that this is my new reality.”

“Really?” Jungkook perked up and looked so fucking cute you couldn’t help but cup his cheeks. His skin was so warm despite the cold autumn air that surrounded you both. “You want to do this? Be with me? Be mine?” All you could do was nod. You were so overwhelmed with emotions. The shock was evident, but a piece of you was so happy. You felt whole.

Jungkook’s face split into a wide smile that caused his nose to scrunch up. He wrapped his arms around your waist and spun you around. Squealing, you slung your legs around his hips and held on. Normally, you’d rather die than show this much affection to someone. But, this was Jungkook. Your soulmate.

“So…what do we do now?” You asked once Jungkook set you down. “Is there, like, a ceremony or something?”

“I have no idea,” he admitted as he stared down at you. He had a hand against your jaw and was rubbing your cheek tenderly. “I really didn’t think I’d get this far.”

You scoffed at his ridiculousness. While recognizing you were Jungkook’s true mate was going to take some time, believing that he thought you’d deny him was utter nonsense. “What if…what if we date, first?” You suggested timidly. “I know that sounds kind of weird considering we’re supposed to be the loves of each others lives. But, I don’t really know you all that well. And, I think this is going to take sometime for me to get used to. Maybe we should date, get to know each other, and just learn how to be with one another.”

“Whatever you want,” Jungkook agreed. “We can do whatever you want. Just as long as I have you, I’m happy.”

Two years passed.

Two blissful, wonderful years. Two years of dating, two years of loving, two years of being Jeon Jungkook’s. It was everything you could’ve asked for and more. You had never felt so loved and cherished in your entire life. He respected you, he took care of you, and most importantly, he was there for you in every sense. Since the moment you met him, you hadn’t been alone. He hadn’t let you. Jungkook knew you better than you knew yourself.

And, it was the same for him. You were there for him when he transitioned into the leader of his pack. You were there when he took over the CEO position from his father and encouraged and supported him every step of the way. You let yourself be loved and in return he let you love him. It was wonderful.

Except, for one tiny thing.

While the emotional aspect of your relationship flourished and bloomed into something beautiful, the physical side remained stagnant. Make out sessions and heavy petting were a norm in your relationship. At first, it didn’t bother you. In fact, you loved that Jungkook was taking things so slow and so seriously. But, eventually, your needs began to grow. You found yourself wanting him in more ways than one, wants that only he could satisfy. Jungkook refused. Every time.

It wasn’t like he refused your every need. No, Jungkook was extremely attentive. When it came to himself, that’s when things got dicy. He had no problem spending hours between your legs, worshipping you until you were crying from the overstimulation. Yet, he wouldn’t let you anywhere near him. Not without lack of trying on your part. The minute your hands went down to his waistband, he pushed you away. Every time you tried to dip your mouth to the obvious bulge in his pants, he lifted you up and kissed you breathless until you forgot your name. It wasn’t until after a year of dating that he finally let you grind on his clothed cock. Even then, he held off until you finished and then walked out with quite possibly the worst case of blue balls. You hated that he did this to himself. The worst part was, you couldn’t understand why.

The one time you had brought it up to him it had resulted in the worst fight the two of you had ever gotten into. It was the only argument that was never really resolved. After the yelling and the tears, all you got out of Jungkook was that mating with a wolf was not pretty. It was extremely dangerous and he refused to put you in that kind of danger. End of discussion. No matter how hard you tried to persuade him or broach the subject, he shut it down. Hard. Eventually, you gave up.

He even spent his ruts away from you. Every three months, he left you for a week. You knew he had a place somewhere up in the mountains and you assumed that’s where he went. You had no idea. There was no point even asking to come along. You loved your boyfriend and didn’t want to purposely give him a heart attack. You hated it when he left. As much as you tried to hide it and convince him that you were just fine, he wasn’t stupid. Being away from him was tough. A piece of you was missing whenever he was gone. And you were only whole again when he returned.

This past week had been one of those weeks. He had left on Sunday for the mountains. He was agitated and clingy, how he normally was pre-rut. Jungkook wouldn’t let you leave his side and you spent most of the weekend on his lap or wrapped in his arms. Not that you minded. When he left your parents house on Sunday night, you’d had to coax him out of the door. Promising him that you’d be okay and that you’d see him next week. It wasn’t until several kisses later did Jungkook finally leave.

While you’d been doing this for two years, it never got easier. More manageable? Sure. But definitely not easier. All you could do was go through the motions. You went to work at the local bakery, came home and helped your mom with dinner, watched TV with your dad before going to bed. Taehyung and Jimin would visit often, threatened by Jungkook to keep you company. While you assured them it wasn’t necessary, you secretly didn’t mind. They made you laugh and made you temporarily forget your boyfriend was miles away from you. Sometimes, if you were lucky, he’d call you to tell you goodnight. But those times were rare. Normally, you didn’t hear from him until Friday or Saturday when he was finally coming out of his rut and returning to the world.

By the time Sunday rolled around, you were a jittery ball of nerves. Not in a bad sense. You were just excited. The anticipation killed you and it took all of your willpower to sit and wait for his text to tell you to come over. Your parents always left you alone on these Sundays, unable to deal with your hyperactiveness and constant fidgeting.

This Sunday was no different. You puttered around your room for the better part of the day. You spent the other part in the kitchen, baking like your life depended on it. Jungkook loved your cookies and you always made sure to come over with at least three batches after his ruts. He always said that was his second favorite part about coming home, after seeing you, of course.

You had just finished packaging the final batch in a glass cookie jar when your phone dinged. You didn’t have to read the message, you knew exactly what it said. Pure joy rushed through your system as you threw on your coat and shouted a hasty goodbye to your parents. Juggling the cookies and car keys, you sprinted to your car. The drive to Jungkook’s was thankfully not long. About ten minutes, as long as you didn’t hit any traffic on the main road. Luck was on your side, though, and you showed up at Jungkook’s house in eight minutes.

Taehyung’s car was in the driveway when you pulled up, which wasn’t odd. Although Jungkook owned the house, the members of his pack were almost always around. While most preferred to travel in their wolf forms, you knew Taehyung and Namjoon preferred cars. Something about being able to listen to their own music without comments from the peanut gallery. You didn’t really understand and didn’t really need to. You had just chalked it up as one of their many quirks.

Carrying the trays of cookies in both hands, you shut your car door with your foot before speed-walking up the stone walkway to Jungkook’s home. The screen door was shut, but the wooden door was swung wide open. You had just reached for the metal handle when you heard it.

A deep, threatening growl ripped through the peaceful quiet and froze you in place. You knew it was Jungkook. While you had only heard it once, you’d never forgotten it. It was when the two of you had attended a party and an alpha from a neighboring pack had cornered you in the hallway. Jungkook had found you cowered against the wall as the other alpha had caged you in. The sound that had left his chest had given you equal parts comfort and fear. Comfort, because he was there and you knew you were safe. Fear, because you could see in the way he bared his teeth and how his muscles vibrated, he had been furious and bloodthirsty.

That’s what you felt now, fear.

Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong.

From your vantage point in front of the screen door, you could see directly into the kitchen. Taehyung was leaning against the granite countertop and Jungkook was seated at the island. The tension was so thick you practically choked on it.

“Enough, Taehyung.”

“No,” Taehyung snapped, seeming just as angry as Jungkook. “I’m not dropping it. Not this time.”

“Yes, you will,” Jungkook snarled. “I’m not having this conversation with you.”

“Too fucking bad.” While Taehyung was also an alpha, he acted so much like a beta you never really noticed. Until now. “I’m not going to sit by and watch you do this to yourself anymore. Not spending your ruts correctly is only causing you more harm than good.”

“I’m doing things the way I want to, and it’s working-”

“The hell it is!” Jungkook growled at the interruption but Taehyung ignored him. “It’s not working, and you know it. Anyone with two fucking eyes knows it. It’s getting so bad that the pack is noticing, too. Even Namjoon has realized something is wrong, and he’s as oblivious as they come.”

“If they have a problem with me they can take it up with me.”

“No, they can’t. Because you won’t listen. Your head is so far up your ass you can’t even hear yourself anymore. What you’re doing right now is not working. Something needs to change.”

“Like what?” Jungkook spat.

“You know what,” Taehyung bit back. Jungkook was practically vibrating from rage. You knew you needed to go get someone, someone from the pack to calm the two of them down. Things were only escalating, but you couldn’t move. Your brain screamed at you to run but your legs were rooted in place. “That’s is what’s so frustrating, Jungkook. This, all of this, could be solved. She’s right there-”

“Don’t.” Jungkook stood up so fast the chair he sat on flew backwards and hit the wall with a resounding crack.

“Why?” Taehyung threw his arms up in the air. “Why not? I don’t get it-”

“Because I don’t want her!” Jungkook yelled, the force of it rang throughout the house. You had no idea who the she was that they were referring to. You assumed it was someone from the pack. It was well-known that wolves with human mates sometimes turned to other she-wolves to help with their ruts. You figured that’s what Jungkook did whenever he went away for a week. It had bothered you at first, but you knew he had his needs and that they were at a biological level. You refused to make him feel guilty or ashamed for taking care of himself.

“You don’t want her?” Taehyung was enraged. You could tell by the way he straightened his spine and unfurled himself to his full height. Jungkook bristled in response and the muscles in his back strained against the thin material of his shirt.

“No, I don’t!” Jungkook exploded. “What don’t you understand about that? I don’t want her around me. I don’t need her, I’m fine on my own. The thought of having her there when…God - it makes me physically ill.”

“She’s your girlfriend. Above all of that, your true mate. You’re seriously going to deny yourself of her, for what? Just because you don’t like having her around?”

Oh.

That’s when it hit you. They weren’t talking about some random she-wolf. They were talking about you. You were the one Jungkook didn’t want. You were the one Jungkook didn’t need. You were the one he didn’t like having around. As the weight of the words sunk into your mind, you felt your chest becoming tighter and tighter.

Then, you’re heart broke right in half. You dropped the container of cookies and didn’t flinch when it shattered against the wooden slats. The sound unstuck your feet from their position on the porch and your fight or flight system took over. Without a second thought, you turned on your heel and ran.

You didn’t know if anyone was behind you, you didn’t turn around to check. Hands fumbled for the car door as you threw yourself into the drivers side. Pain ricocheted throughout your chest cavity and you struggled to breathe. Your brain was blank, the only thing your mind did was move your body to get you somewhere safe. You had to leave and you had to leave now.

Miraculously, your fingers found your keys and inserted them into the ignition on the second try. A flutter of movement occurred to the left of you but your eyes didn’t let you look that way. Instead, they focused on the rearview mirror as you reversed out of the driveway. Your right hand found the gearshift and moved it to drive. Soon, you were tearing down the street as your ears refused to register the agonized howls that echoed behind as you kept staring forward. Adrenaline pumped through your system and your body shivered in response, the splash of hormones had created a blanket of fake calm over you. The emotions, the pain, the thoughts were swirling inside of you, ready to break free and drown you, but your brain wouldn’t allow it.

It wasn’t until you reached the end of your long driveway that you felt the original spike of adrenaline fade away. Your mother was in the front, tending to the flowers, and looked up when she saw your car fly into its usual spot. She stood up and her face twisted into a frown when you got out of your seat.

“Honey, your aura…it’s concerning.” The blanket was yanked away and the pain crashed over you.

You couldn’t say a word, all you could do was collapse in your mother's arms and cry, cry, cry.

It took you two days to calm down. The tears had stopped rolling and your shoulders no longer shook from trying to hold your sobs behind your teeth. Your mother hadn’t left your side, leaving your father to answer the door whenever someone knocked. The only person who did was Taehyung and Jimin. Jungkook never showed up.

Well, that was a lie.

Jungkook did show up every morning and night, without fail. But he never came to your doorstep.  Instead, he was in the woods behind your house, patrolling, not daring to leave the protection of the forest. A part of you wondered if he was respecting your obvious need for space or if your mother had paid a witch to set up boundary lines that didn’t allow him to cross. Either way, you were grateful that you couldn’t see him. There was an incessant tugging in your heart to be near him but you staunchly ignored it, which would’ve been impossible if you saw his achingly beautiful face.

I don’t want her. I don’t need her. Having her there makes me physically ill. Those three sentences played in a constant loop in your head, like a horror movie you couldn’t escape from. You were the protagonist who couldn’t escape the maze, but the villain wasn’t kind enough to kill you off. No matter what you did, your brain wouldn’t stop repeating those three sentences. Your mother burned sage, she pressed crystals into your palms, she muttered ritual after ritual, but nothing worked.

You hated how affected you were. You had always told yourself that you would never be the girl who’d get so wrapped up in someone else they didn’t know who they were anymore. Independence was something you prided yourself on, but you seemed to be at a complete loss now. You couldn’t stop the waves of sadness and self-hatred at your depressed state. It was amazing how empty you felt yet so full of pain at the same time. Your mind and heart couldn’t seem to decide which hurt worse; your heart for having your soulmate so obviously reject you, or your brain for trying to make sense of the situation. When did this happen? How did this happen? How had you been so blind as to not see it?

“I don’t think we’re soulmates,” you rasped to your mom on the third morning. It had been the first words you had spoken to her since you had fell into her arms. She looked up from the bundle of herbs she was smoking.

“Why do you say that?”

You stared at your hands that had curled in on themselves. “I don’t make him happy. I-I never realized how uncomfortable I made him. I wish I had known. How did I miss it?”

Your mother tutted gently and gathered you in her arms. She smelled of lavender and wax. “This is good. I’m glad you’re letting yourself have this moment. Let’s sit in this and allow yourself to be embedded here.” But you didn’t want to have this moment. You didn’t want to have any moment and you’ve felt enough to last a lifetime. Instead, you rolled over, let sleep overtake you and tried to ignore the distant howling that rattled your window pane.

By nightfall of the fourth day, you were forced out of bed. Partly by choice, partly by force. Your parents had dipped out to run to the grocery store, despite your mother’s insistence that she could stay. You and your father managed to convince her to leave and you had gotten up to wave them goodbye. Sure, your heart was broken, but the least you could do was kiss them on the cheek before they left. You had turned around to shuffle into the kitchen to try and shovel something down your dry throat when a loud knock sounded at the front door. Hesitating, you carefully peeked through the kitchen window and saw Jimin on your front doorstep, dressed in all black.

Sighing, you stumbled over and pulled the door open. You figured you couldn’t avoid them for much longer. “Hey, Jimin.”

“Christ, you look like shit.”

You huffed out a laugh as Jimin stared at you in horror, not having the energy to be offended. You also knew, in a weird way, that this was Jimin’s way of caring for you. “Yeah. My mother’s covered all the mirrors in the house.”

Jimin nodded as he glanced at you from head to toe. “I want to ask if you’re okay but…” He gestured to your gaunt frame swaddled in a heavy sweatshirt and sweatpants. For the first time in two years, they were your own clothes, not Jungkook’s.

“I’m fine, Jimin,” you heaved a heavy sigh and leaned against the doorframe. “Do you want to come in? I think my mom boiled some tea not too long ago.”

Jimin shook his head. “Can’t. Jungkook would have a fit if I got that close to you right now. I’m already pushing my luck just by showing up.” He doesn’t care, you thought bitterly, and almost said it out loud but you caught yourself at the last second. Jimin wasn’t stupid, though. He knew what you were thinking. “Hey,” he murmured, eyes going soft, “are you ready to talk about it?”

“No.” You shook your head. A wave of sadness washed over you but the telltale prick of tears didn’t come.

Jimin understood. He tucked his hands into his pockets as he rocked back onto his heels. “Are you going to talk to him?”

Letting out a heavy breath, you crossed your arms over your chest. “I know I have to. I just…I just need time.”

“Take however long you need.”

It was another 48-hours before you finally snapped. While you had spent the majority of the two days that had passed to make yourself resemble a human being, you couldn’t focus. You couldn’t move on. Why?

Because Jungkook wouldn’t leave you alone.

His presence was constant. He circled your house every hour of ever day, the large shadow of him in wolf form darkened the trees behind your house. The howling had stopped but the pacing hadn’t. You hoped he was at least sleeping, but then you got annoyed at yourself for caring. You didn’t know why he was out there, it made no sense. Jungkook’s words were so different from his actions it made your head spin.

But, you needed to move on with your life. You had to. The only way it was going to happen was if Jungkook did too. It hurt. God, did it hurt. Yet, as sad and utterly pathetic as it sounded, you were used to the pain at this point, had resigned yourself to it. A part of you worried you wouldn’t know what to do without it.

Shaking off that depressing thought, you tugged on your rain boots and stepped outside for the first time in a week. The air was heavy with the promise of rain, the clouds low and gray. You tugged the hood up on your sweater to prevent your hair from completely frizzing out before you walked to down the back deck steps.

The backyard of your parents house was expansive. The home you had grown up in sat on top of a sloping hill that your mother had turned into her personal greenhouse. You stepped past rows of raised garden beds and pruned plants until you reached the line where the neatly mowed grass met the twisted ferns of the forest floor. As you had suspected, the ground was scorched with the evidence of past rituals. While your mother hadn’t out right admitted, you had figured someone had come and created a boundary line. It was obviously specific to Jungkook since Jimin and Taehyung were still able to visit. While your mother’s methods were extreme, you understood. As difficult as it was to move on with your life with Jungkook sequestered to the forest, you couldn’t imagine what it would’ve been like if he was within a few feet of you.

With a deep inhale, you sat down on the damp grass and waited. After a few minutes, you could hear the faint sounds of paws hitting the wet earth. The galloping got louder and louder until there was a momentary stretch of silence before it changed to footsteps.

When Jungkook emerged from the trees, you weren’t prepared. Although you knew you wouldn’t be, you still weren’t expecting it to hurt this bad. Your chest squeezed painfully at the first look of his broad form. Technically, it had been two weeks since you two had truly seen each other, the longest you’d ever gone. What hurt the most was how badly you longed for him. You wanted nothing more than to run straight into his arms, bury your face into his chest, and forget everything. Just forgive and give your heart what it wanted. But you remained firmly in place.

Jungkook looked as if he had seen a ghost. Which, to be fair, was probably true since you hadn’t seen the sun in seven days. His normally golden skin was pale and even from where you sat you could see the dark circles bruising under his eyes. Clearly, he hadn’t been sleeping. You hated that you noticed. You hated that you cared. He was dressed in all black and his chest strained against the material of his sweater. His hands were balled into tight fists at his side and the sight reminded you of why you were here.

“Hi.” Probably wasn’t the best start but it was the best you could do. Jungkook didn’t respond so you soldiered on. “I-I know you don’t want to be here, so I’ll make this quick. I just…wanted to apologize. I had no idea I made you so uncomfortable. I’m not sure how long you’ve felt this way about me, not that it really matters, but I wish you had told me sooner. Maybe things would’ve been easier for you, who knows.” You released a heavy sigh and tried to shove down the stone in your throat as you forced the next words out of your mouth. “But, all of that doesn’t matter anymore. I think I understand what you need, now. I know you loved me at one point, but I’m obviously not what you need anymore. And…t-that’s okay - I swear it is. All I want is for you to be happy, Jungkook. And I think, in order for that to happen, I need to move on. We both need to move on-”

“Stop it,” Jungkook broke in with a harsh voice that cut your sentence in half. “Stop talking.”

It felt like he had slapped you in the face. A wave of humiliation washed over you and you visibly flinched. Staggering to your feet, you locked your gaze onto your boots in an attempt to hide the tears that dripped down your nose. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, not expecting it to change anything. You began to turn away but Jungkook stopped you in your tracks, again.

“Wait, no - stop. Stop. Please…don’t go,” he pleaded. When you turned around, his eyes were frantic. Jungkook’s hand was raised from his side as if he thought about reaching out to you but something stopped him. His words were at war with one another and you were caught in the middle, at a loss for what he was trying so desperately to convey to you.

��Jungkook, I’m so confused.”

“I know. I’m sorry. God, I’m sorry.” Jungkook tucked his head into his hands before dropping down into a squat. “This is all wrong. This is all so wrong.”

You knew you should walk away. You had said your piece, it was time to move on, just as you had said. Yet, you couldn’t. It was as if your heart was tethered to him and your body couldn’t handle the pain of walking away. “Listen-”

“I don’t know what to do.” He cut you off but the bubbles of anger that had risen from being interrupted popped once you saw how lost he looked. His tattooed fingers threaded through his hair, allowing you to see the pure anguish that twisted his features. “Whenever I feel like this, I come to you. Because you always know what to do. Any situation, no matter what, you can handle it. It’s something I’ve always admired about you.”

The way he spoke to you now, so reverently and so full of awe, made your head spin. Nothing made sense.  It was such a blatant contrast to the brutality that he had spat out a week ago. As much as you wanted to believe what he said now, those stupid words could not get out of your head. It was a constant reminder that never shut up.

“I don’t know what to do either,” you admitted in a quiet voice.

“Tell me,” Jungkook begged, as if he couldn’t and refused to comprehend what you had just told him. “Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it. Whatever you want from me, I’ll give you.”

You were shaking your head before he could finish. “There’s nothing you can do, Jungkook. Nothing.”

“Don’t say that.” He stared at you, horrified. “Don’t say that to me. Please, there has to be something.”

“What could there be?” You cried. Tears streamed down your cheeks now. “You said it yourself, being near me makes you sick. Why would I stay? Why would you want me to? I refuse to make you uncomfortable anymore - so that’s that.”

“It isn’t,” Jungkook argued back. “It can’t be. I-I can’t lose you, I can’t. I need to make this right, please just let me. Please.”

But, you were tired. You were so fucking tired. You were exhausted of the emotional rollercoaster that you were on that you just wanted to crawl away and hide. All the fight seeped out of you as your shoulders slumped forward. Jungkook saw this and the blood drained from his face. You were giving up, he could see it, and it scared the shit out of him.

“Jungkook, I need to go, okay? I-I can’t do this.”

“No!” Jungkook shouted and shot up to his feet. The pure panic that choked his voice brought on a fresh set of tears that you struggled to hold back. “Just let me explain, okay? I swear to God, after you hear what I have to say, if you still want me to, I’ll let you go. I won’t fight you on it. But, please let me tell you the truth. Give me a chance to make this right. You deserve that.”

You hesitated for a moment. Deep down, you knew you should let him talk. Not because you necessarily thought he deserved to, but because he was right. You did deserve the truth, no matter how much it broke your heart. With a heavy sigh and a quick swipe of your cheeks, you nodded. Once Jungkook was sure you weren’t going to leave, he began pacing. Looking every bit like the wild animal you knew him to be but never got to see.

“Mating with a werewolf is…brutal. It’s intense, it’s painful and it isn’t pretty. It’s essentially a breeding session where I use you as a vessel to fulfill my innate biological needs. It’s not romantic, it’s not gentle. Even for she-wolves it can be too much. The thought of subjecting you to something like that - that type of pain…I couldn’t fathom it. I don’t think you understand just how precious you are to me. The image of you being battered and bruised because of me, something I did…it tormented me, day and night.” He paused for a moment, the pained look in his eyes made you shiver. You hated that he had gone through all of this turmoil on his own, and you especially hated how you never made more of an effort to try and relieve him of it.

“I couldn’t do it. That’s partially the reason I waited so long to tell you that you were my true mate. I knew ruts were something I would never expose you to even though it’s such a huge part of my life, a wolf’s life.” Jungkook looked you straight in the eye, the intensity of his dark gaze took your breath away. “I know the practices other wolves partake in when their own heats or ruts arrive. I know you know them too. But, I need you to understand something. The moment you allowed me to be yours and vice versa, I haven’t had anyone else since. I swear on my life, I’ve spent every single one of my ruts alone. I wouldn’t and I won’t do that to you.”

“Isn’t that painful, though?” Your voice cracked but neither one of you acknowledged it. While your knowledge on ruts were expansive, having done plenty of research since being with Jungkook, you had obviously never experienced one.

“It’s manageable. It’s way more painful for a she-wolf to go through her heat alone than it is for a male.” Jungkook clenched and unclenched his fists as he resumed his pacing. “The worst part is being away from you. I’ve been going through ruts since puberty, I can handle them. But not being able to be with you for a whole week…I hated it. Still do. I dread that three month mark. And as time went on, I became more and more miserable. Being apart from you was almost unbearable but the other option…I never even allowed myself to consider it.

“It came to the point where the pack was noticing. I wasn’t getting the proper pheromonal release from my ruts and it was beginning to affect those around me. Taehyung has been on my ass for months now to get over myself and take you with me during my next rut. Each time I’d give him some excuse, but it was getting harder and harder to justify what I was doing. At first, I was convinced it was because I was protecting you. But you’ve been so understanding and so patient with me and my life, those excuses were becoming useless. Eventually, I think it was because I was protecting myself. I was - am - so scared. I’m terrified that I could hurt you when I’m like that. That I wouldn’t be able to notice or worse, ignored, if something happened to you. Living with that type of fear became debilitating. So, I just kept my mouth shut and kept you away from that part of me.”

Jungkook shook his head and chuckled humorlessly. “Now I know that was the worst possible thing I could do. That I was just hurting you more. What you walked into last Sunday was a culmination of my frustrations that I was refusing to deal with. While it’s not a valid reason, I’m well aware of that, I need you to know that what you heard was not the truth. It couldn’t be further from it. Because the truth is that I’m hopelessly in love with you and the thought of being without you hurts worse than I ever thought was possible.”

It wasn’t the first nor would it be the last time that Jungkook left you speechless. It took you a full minute to process what he had said. Jungkook granted you the silence although he became increasingly more agitated as time passed. His boots scuffed the dead leaves that littered the ground and his pacing led him closer to the ashes that lay before your feet. Then, he’d suddenly stalk off with a growl as he was forced to keep away.

“I-” you cleared your throat around the lump that had found a home there. “I had no idea. This whole time…I thought it was because you didn’t want me.”

“God, no.” Jungkook swore heavily as his muscles bunched and coiled beneath his clothes. “The - the fact that…you - fuck. I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. That’s not it, that’s not it at all. You’re my dream girl, you’re the love of my life, and I want you every second of every day.”

Maybe it’s because you were emotionally drained and had no mental strength left. Maybe, you needed to hear those words from Jungkook more than you realized. Whatever the reason was, it wasn’t worth trying to figure out an explanation as you sunk to the ground and burst into tears.

Jungkook lost it across from you. Broken whines stained the air as he carded through his hair anxiously. He kept trying to get to you, to try to soothe you. But the boundary was unfortunately doing its job and each attempt was met with failure. Curses were spat out until eventually, he got as close as the boundary would let him and fell to his knees. He began spewing whatever came to mind first, unsure of what to do. All he knew was that you were crying because of him and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. He thought hearing you cry from your bedroom window was torture, but nothing could compare to hearing you break down in front of him. Nothing. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. I’m sorry…please, I’m so sorry. I - don’t cry, darling. Please don’t. I’m so sorry I hurt you, I didn’t mean to, I swear.”

It wasn’t tears of heartbreak that leaked from your eyes. Instead, it was tears of relief. While your heart had wholly accepted his words as the truth, the logical part of you reminded yourself that the two of you had way more talking to do. This was far from over, but the relief of knowing that he loved you and he was yours…it was indescribable.

You finally lifted your head up and were shocked to find Jungkook’s cheeks glistening with moisture. Your only thought was to comfort him as you scrambled forward to do just that. Instead of feeling his smooth skin against the palm of your hand, you were blocked by what felt like a wall although nothing stood in your way. Frowning, you realized with a start that the boundary worked both ways. Jungkook let out a frustrated growl as he glared at the ashes that was stopping both of you from getting what you wanted. It was silent for a few moments until an idea popped into your head.

“Wait here,” you announced before jumping up and taking off for the house. Ignoring Jungkook’s distressed cry, you ran inside. You yanked your car keys off from their designated hook and quickly typed out a text to your parents to let them know where you were going before spinning around and sprinting back outside. Jungkook was where you left him, although he stumbled to his feet when he saw you reappear.

“I’m going to your house,” you announced, breathless. “No witch is stupid enough to go that far into werewolf territory. If you want to talk to me there, then follow me.”

Jungkook stared at you for a heartbeat until the words you spoke clicked. “Y-yeah. Yes. Okay. I’ll be there.”

With a curt nod, you ran to your car. For the first time in a week, a faint sprout of hope bloomed in your chest.

It was the longest and shortest ten minutes of your life. The drive to Jungkook’s seemed to last a lifetime but also was over within a blink of an eye. The tears had stopped flowing by the time you pulled your car into his driveway, but you felt the telltale prick in your eyes when you saw him burst from the trees. Your heart ached as his long legs ate up the distance between you two as you wrestled with your seatbelt and threw the car into park. By the time you freed yourself, he was at the hood of your car.

The two of you stared at each other for a few breathless moments. You weren’t sure who moved first, but it didn’t matter as you crashed into each other’s arms. The moment his searing warmth enveloped you, you dissolved into another puddle of sobs. The feeling of his thick arms banded across your back, his torso molded to yours, and his hair tickling your ear, felt so right. Another wave of crippling relief washed over you and you practically melted against Jungkook. But he held you up, just like he always had.

He leaned against the front bumper while his hands were everywhere. Cradling your head into his neck, smoothing over your hips, or running circles over your shoulders. He was crying, you could feel the tears dampening your hair. But you were soaking his shirt so no one was in any position to complain.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“Don’t,” Jungkook hissed fiercely as he squeezed you tighter. “Don’t apologize. This isn’t your fault, not in the slightest.”

“Kook,” you sighed and pulled your head back to get a good look at him. “It takes two to tango.”

“Not this time,” he argued. “You’ve put up with so much. You’re everything I could’ve asked for and more. It was my own fears that got in the way and created this mess. And I’m so sorry for that, darling. I’m so fucking sorry.”

You shushed him gently, running your thumbs over his cheeks to swipe at the dried tears. “I know you’re sorry. I believe you.”

Jungkook dipped his head further into your touch with a pleased rumble vibrating through his chest. He kissed your palm gently, sniffing at your wrist. It made you giggle. “Missed that,” Jungkook mumbled as he stared at you with stars in his eyes. “Missed you. Missed you so much.”

A fresh wave of tears cascaded down your cheeks. You were positive that you looked like a mess, hair in a knotted bun, face red and puffy and you kept sniffling every two seconds. But Jungkook looked at you as if you held the world in your hands. “Missed you too,” you murmured in return. “Please, next time, just talk to me. I may not have the answers you’re looking for all the time, but I’ll always be here to listen.”

“I know,” Jungkook whispered. “There won’t be a next time, promise. If I happen to be stupid enough to put us in this position again, I give you full permission to punch me in the face.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” You lifted yourself onto your toes to brush your lips against his, dropping back down to your feet when his head chased after yours. “Or maybe I just won’t kiss you for a week.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened comically and he actually looked terrified. “I’d rather you just punched me in the face.” You tilted your head back and laughed. Jungkook tugged you closer and nosed your throat before peppering gentle kisses along the exposed skin. Sighing happily, you tilted your head to allow him better access and rested your cheek on his shoulder.

“I love you,” you said quietly. Jungkook froze for a split second before he sank against you. Squeaking in shock, you scrambled to brace yourself against the sudden weight pressing you towards the house.

“Say it again,” Jungkook pleaded. You couldn’t deny him. Dusting feather light kisses to the shell of his ear, you repeated those three words again, and again, and again. Each time you did, Jungkook held you a little tighter and cried a little harder.

Eventually, you’re murmured promises became softer and softer until the two of you just enjoyed each others presence. “C’mon,” you finally whispered as you started to lift yourself off of him. Jungkook growled and refused to let you move an inch farther. “Kook, come on. Let’s go inside. Your ass must be numb by now.”

“Don’t care,” he grumbled but he at least shuffled forward a bit more so that your combined weight wasn’t squashing his ass against your car.

“You might say that now, but you won’t be saying that later.”

Jungkook grunted at your logic but he at least raised his head and looked at you with the sweetest eyes. “Please tell me you’re staying.”

Giggling, you asked, “do you want me to?”

“Obviously,” he scoffed. “I want you here forever.” Jungkook tilted his head thoughtfully. “Actually, you should just move in with me.”

Christ, this boy was going to give you whiplash. You couldn’t help but laugh. “Jungkook, we just made up. The whole reason we were in this mess is because of poor communication. Don’t you think we should work on that first before anything else?”

“But…we could work on communication all the time if we’re together 24/7.” Despite his pout, you knew he wasn’t totally serious. Although you were sure it was going to come up again.

“Alright, you maniac,” you said fondly. “Take me to bed.” Jungkook’s chest rumbled happily as he lifted you up and wrapped your legs around his trim waist.

It wasn’t a long walk to his bedroom, but the exhaustion of the past week caught up to you and the gentle rocking of his steps lulled you into a serene state. Not quite asleep, but not quite awake either. You were aware when Jungkook placed you on his bed, practically engulfed in his scent. The last thing you remember before falling asleep was the words Jungkook pressed into your hair has he slid in behind you.

“Love you forever, my darling girl.”

©jcwritings Do not repost, translate, or use my stories without my permission.

LINKS:

masterlist

ao3

TAGLIST:

yzkyzkuniverse

[use-your-telescope]

^^ me rn ^^

- I feel like you do such an amazing job with creating a ~vibe~ in your scenes through detailed descriptions that this is like, unreal, as far as compliments go 😭💕😭💕

- AND you picked up on the disparity between Theo’s public presentation and her personal life!! To reference Shrek, our girl is like an onion - she has layers!! 💀💀

- Once again, you speak for all of us - if I was in that situation I would have had absolutely zero chill. Meanwhile Theo’s like, “meh, it’s a little weird but whatever…”

I could never. 😂 she’s way cooler than I will ever be.

- Personally, I can’t imagine tolerating anyone who doesn’t do banter, so there’s a lot of it in this fic; I also think it helps offset the heavy moments (which will come in due time) and it sets a foundation for why someone should root for a couple. If they can’t laugh at each other, how are they expected to handle the tough stuff???

- I fucking LOVE The Blind Assassin. Embrace that complex, because our god would absolutely appreciate complicated and nuanced storytelling, attention to detail, and re-readability.

- you are a gem and I cannot wait to devour your reaction to the next chapter!! Thank you for reading and sharing your thoughts 💕💕

When Everything's Made to be Broken - Chapter 10: What Keeps You Up at Night

Summary: When Loki’s nightmares keep him awake, he discovers he might not be the only insomniac around.

Author's Notes: This chapter has a song-within-a-song/bonus song/song-ception (get it, like Inception, but with songs? Okay, I’ll see myself out). My parents listened to the vinyl record of James Taylor Live ALL THE TIME when I was a little kid (and that was when records were the norm - cassettes were considered “the hip new thing” lmao) and I fell in love with the live version of Sweet Baby James. The original recording just feels so stiff and rigid in comparison. Anyways, even if you don’t normally listen to the accompanying songs, I’d really recommend it for this chapter - Ghosts is actually a really soft, dreamy track, and Sweet Baby James is a delightful lullaby. 

If you enjoy, please reblog!! I'm a lil' blog and reblogs really help me out <3

Content Warnings: None? 

Word Count: 4,890

Read on AO3 | When Everything's Made to be Broken Masterlist

Song: Ghosts - Lydia

Bonus Track: Sweet Baby James (Live) - James Taylor

I saw Jesus on your back, he's starting to scream He's screaming no, oh, oh no, you've got to believe me So I whispered softly I got this girl here by my side, what else do I need? You got your wars up in their minds so they can hardly see But I'll be singing for free…

Nightmares plagued the Avengers.

Between the nature of their work and the baggage they brought to their roles, it was practically a prerequisite to suffer from nightmares. 

And yet, for all the brains and knowledge among them, no one had devised a method to get rid of the damned things.

Loki tossed and turned in bed. The mad titan haunting his sleep wasn’t new, but for some reason it left his mind racing in a way he wasn’t used to. He was restless - stretching his legs out and contracting into a ball and twisting every which way in hopes of finding a tolerable position for sleeping. And yet, he could not find anything remotely comfortable. 

Eventually, insomnia claimed its victory, and Loki accepted defeat. Uninterested in dwelling on his night terrors, Loki climbed out of bed; if nothing else, perhaps a change of scenery might calm his racing mind. Regardless, it was preferable to remaining in his quarters like a caged beast.

Loki stalked down the hall with a book in hand; in the dark, only the rustle of fabric as Loki’s clothes brushed together with each step filled the air. It wasn’t until he rounded the corner that he detected any sign of life - delicate, soft chords from a piano, coming from another room. Before he realized it, Loki followed the sound, each chord growing louder as he approached a door. When he was only a few steps from the door, he heard a lilting, floating voice dance above the music, though the melody sung was unfamiliar. 

Despite the dark, Loki recognized his location - it was the entrance to Theo’s quarters. He stopped in front of the door to listen. Was it truly Theo performing, or was the music just recorded? The pitches and rhythms were far more precise than one typically heard with live music, and even without understanding the words, emotion poured out from each note. It seemed too perfect to be live, but something about the way the sounds echoed from beneath the door maintained a special sort of quality that could not be captured with Midgardian recording technology. Was this a recording, or was this what she sounded like when she performed?

For a moment, Loki debated whether or not to investigate. Would it be appropriate to knock on the door and satisfy his curiosity, or should he continue on his way, perhaps asking about what he heard at a later time? 

However, barely a moment passed before he went from pondering the appropriateness of knocking to debating if he was even capable of social interaction. There had been too many nightmares and sleepless nights as of late, and he knew too well that the approaching anniversary of the Battle of New York likely was at the source. When exhaustion wore him down, he had a tendency to be rather irascible; pressing that upon someone else would be cruel.

Immersed in the jumbled mass of thoughts, Loki was so distracted that he did not notice the sudden absence of piano, or the footsteps approaching. 

At the sudden movement of the door swinging open, Loki startled. Across its threshold, Theo offered an inquisitive look.

“I thought I sensed your magic.” Theo offered a quick, sheepish smile before glancing down the darkened halls. “Did I wake you? I’m sorry - I can be quieter.” 

“No… I couldn’t sleep,” Loki admitted, keeping his voice low. “I heard something coming from your quarters while on my way to the sitting room to read. I was debating whether to investigate the source.”

“Ah,” Theo nodded, then pursed her lips. “Do you want to come in? It looks like you were going to go read on your own, but, uh, sometimes company can be nice when you can’t sleep.” She stepped a bit further into the hall, still watching Loki. 

Loki paused for a moment, unsure of whether to accept her offer. If she was inviting him to join, she likely had no intention of seeking out sleep herself. He might be expected to carry on a conversation. With how tired he was and the tempest in his mind, the risk of his shortened temper rearing its ugly head was high enough that he wondered if entering would put the tentative friendship they struck up at risk. 

“We don’t have to talk - you can read your book and I’ll go back to playing piano–” Theo stammered, her eyes widening as she spoke. “– Or you don’t have to come in. Sometimes people like to be alone. No pressure.”

Ultimately, the friendly, nervous look she held was enough to draw him in. 

Attempting to give the impression that he was not taken aback by her offer, he simply shrugged and nodded, then allowed Theo to lead him into her quarters. 

Each team member’s quarters provided a unique snapshot into who they were, and Theo’s quarters were no exception. Stepping inside, Loki took the opportunity to soak in every detail. What he found was a far cry from what he expected – in fact, it seemed to be a sharp departure from how she presented herself around other people whatsoever. 

Soft, golden light bathed the room, creating a relaxing ambiance. Notes of vanilla and something spiced filled the air, likely from the assortment of candles strewn about the room. 

In one corner of the sitting room stood an upright piano, with sheet music scattered across the top and stacked next to the piano bench. Perched atop the piano was a turquoise vase full of sunflowers - the combination seemed familiar to Loki, although he couldn’t quite place it.  Next to her window, a drawing table sat covered in sketch pads, paint tubes, paint supplies, and pencils, while an easel sat to the left with what appeared to be a first layer of paint. 

Along one wall, a trio of guitars hung; below the guitar trio, there were shelves with assorted cases, stands with instruments, and assorted microphones, as well as crates of records and a record player. Her shelves were jammed full of books that had post-it notes marking pages. Loki couldn’t help but smile at the sight of a book open on the coffee table, pages filled with notes scrawled in the margins. 

Unlike her wardrobe, her space burst at the seams with rich, vivid color - a deep teal sofa sat in the center of the room atop a burgundy Turkish rug, while bright paintings adorning the saffron yellow walls. Throughout the room, wildflowers in vases decorated various surfaces, while lush plants hung from the ceiling by elaborately knotted macrame hangers. Draped across the sofa was a thick, plush, forest green blanket, while a rust orange throw pillow sat in the corner; based on their position, it looked like Theo spent most of her time sleeping on the sofa.

Loki picked up the pillow and raised an eyebrow at Theo.

“What? It’s a comfy couch for naps.” She shrugged before turning away from and sitting down at the piano bench. Loki set the pillow aside before taking a seat of his own, stretching his legs out and opening his book.

“Your quarters are very… vibrant.” Loki observed. 

“You sound surprised.” Theo chuckled, turning to give him a bright smile - something he hadn’t seen much of. Many clever, wry, and playful smiles - but not one that was bright.

“I simply wasn’t expecting quite so much color.” He shrugged, allowing his eyes another tour of the space. 

“I think I have enough color in here to make up for the rest of the tower’s lack of color.” Theo laughed, spinning around on the piano bench to face him. “I wanted a place that would make me feel happy. So when I was told I could design my own suite, I tried to think of things that would lift my spirits - and well, it’s hard to be sad when you’re surrounded by rich colors and things that feel cozy.”

“How did you decide what elements to include?”

“I tried to think of good memories.” She gave a shy smile, pointing to the plants. “My roommate in college was a huge plant person - had dozens of plants in our cramped dorm room. I loved my high school art classes, which introduced me to my favorite painter, so I tried to pick colors that he would use in his paintings.”

“And who is your favorite painter?”

“Van Gogh.” Theo smiled, pointing at a book on the coffee table. “Post-impressionist. He’s amazing.”

Loki nodded, continuing to absorb the room around him. 

“I see…” Loki trailed off. “Well, it certainly is a cozy space.”

Theo beamed. “It’s my little oasis.”

After a beat, Theo spun back to the piano, leaving Loki to read. Even without discussion, the discord that plagued Loki was long forgotten, instead replaced with a sense of peace that felt almost foreign. Frankly, there weren’t many places that Loki could think of that felt quite so comfortable.

Eventually, his attention fell to a pair of curtains. While each Avenger’s quarters was unique, they all shared a similar layout, which meant Loki knew where all the doors and windows were located; there should not have been any doors or windows where the curtains fell.

“What is behind those curtains?”

Theo stopped playing for a moment and glanced over her shoulder.

“The secrets of the universe.” She shrugged casually, her nonchalant tone a pleasant change from her usual wariness. “Jokes aside, it’s a portal to my grandma’s farm. She lives far enough away that even taking an airplane to visit her would take a full day, and she needs a lot of help keeping up the place. Keeping a portal like this makes it easy to go back and forth between places quickly, especially if there’s an emergency.”

Once she resumed playing, it wasn’t long before Loki’s eyes began to droop. Meanwhile, Theo’s fingers danced across the keys; after a little while, Loki caught her singing softly.

“Now the first of December was covered with snow / yes and so was the turnpike between Stockbridge and Boston / now the Berkshires seemed dreamlike on account of bad frosting / with ten miles behind me, and ten thousand more to go, you know…”

She played with such tenderness, each note tumbling from the piano with delicacy as her voice floated through the air. Listening to her play felt like he was being let in on some kind secret – he didn’t even need to listen to the words to get a sense of what the songs were meant to be about.

“There’s a song that they sing when they take to the highway / a song that they sing when they take to the sea / a song that they sing of their home in the sky / maybe you can believe it, if it helps you to sleep / but singing seems to work fine for me…”

Despite his best attempts to stay awake, he began to slide down to lay on the couch as he read. It wasn’t long before Loki’s eyes fluttered close, resting his book on his chest. He told himself that he was just taking a moment to soak in the music. After all, Theo was incredibly talented, and the music was far more effective at soothing his weary mind than reading.

“So goodnight all you moonlight ladies / and rockabye sweet baby James / deep greens and blues for the colors I choose / won’t you let me go down in my dreams / and rockabye sweet baby James…”

He may not have been ready to sleep, but for once sleep won him over. 

I just followed the birds right to the coast Hoping she would follow my footsteps like some kind of ghost Whispering close We're not here for long, let's live for this week ‘Cause I'm so goddamn sick of losing my sleep Yeah, she'll be my defeat

There was an Asgardian prince out cold on Theo’s couch.

The realization seemed almost absurd - Theo nearly laughed aloud when she considered the situation in that way. Most of her life seemed absurd, to be fair, but this was one of the absurd moments that seemed almost funny. 

In a less absurd sense, her friend crashed on her couch. 

It was nowhere near a surprise to find Loki lurking about the halls late at night - given the number of times they hung out after Theo finished work, Theo kind of assumed Loki was a night owl. But something about the bags that hung beneath his eyes and the hint of tension wound up in his shoulders gave Theo the sense that Loki’s nocturnal tendencies weren’t exactly his preference. 

That was to say, Theo suspected that Loki had nightmares.

Nightmares were a phenomenon Theo intimately understood. Beyond experiencing more than her fair share of them, she learned about the neurological and psychological processes behind them as a student. Sometimes it was comforting to think about nightmares in a clinical sense - having an explanation that removed the emotion from the experience made it easier for Theo to distance herself from what waking up in a complete disarray actually felt like.

Silently rising to her feet, Theo carefully retrieved the book from Loki’s chest, jotting a quick note on a piece of paper before using the note to mark the page. With the book deposited safely on her coffee table, she covered Loki with the blanket that sage left draped on the couch. Loki didn’t look like he was going anywhere, so it seemed like the polite thing to do. She stole a glance at his face, but found her gaze lingering. Inky black curls spread on the velvet pillow, porcelain skin that held no tension, the perfect pout of slightly open lips - it was something out of a renaissance painting. 

If it hadn’t been weird, she’d have taken a picture so she could try and paint it later, but he was, at best, a friend - the request would have certainly creeped him out.

A quiet snore interrupted the thought.

Yes, the prince was definitely out cold.

With a quiet sigh, Theo returned to her seat and resumed playing. She let her fingers dance along the keys, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath as she tried to steady herself.

She wasn’t sure where the impulse came from to invite him in, but once the offer tumbled from her mouth she knew there was no turning back. Really, she was lucky he fell asleep so fast, because she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to have a conversation.  A gnawing, frenetic energy had been collecting in her chest ever since she moved into the tower, and trying to explain it would have been a nightmare in itself. 

After three nights of waking up in a cold sweat, heart pounding in her chest and gasping for air, Theo’s solution was simply to avoid sleep.

Was it healthy? Absolutely not. Would it come back to bite her in the ass later on? Of course it would. But for the time being, it was better than the alternative.

She had, at one point, debated using the portal to go home - sit out on the dock, stare at the Michigan skies. But that carried the risk of running into Max or Mémère, and they would immediately know what she was trying to do. Max would remind her that she was a doctor and she knew better, that she had to take care of herself and practice what she preached, all in a tone that danced between exasperated and condescending. Mémère would take a different approach - she would try to inquire about what the nightmares were about, try to make sense of them. The woman was a seer, so it was inevitable that she’d try to divine something from the nightmares.

Theo regularly tried to remind Mémère that seeing and divination were not powers she inherited, but oftentimes Mémère would offer a coy smirk and say something that would make Theo try to divert the conversation. 

She certainly had a knack for making Theo squirm.

The first hints of sherbet in the sky came far too quickly for Theo’s liking. It wouldn’t be long before the rest of the world came to life, and she’d have to tamp down her anxieties for a bit longer.

In the meantime, maybe she’d finally make use of her balcony for her morning coffee, and for once try to actually enjoy the sun coming up.

Either way, she needed to figure out what to do so things wouldn’t be awkward in the morning.

‘Cause when I'm dead and I'm gone, Just burn me up to the sun I've got a couple more years here, I want nothing but you, dear When I stare at the ceiling at 5 o'clock in the morning I got one thing that's on my mind - got so much to do before we die  Yeah if I survive So live it up, kid, live it real good, As you should We both know, could be gone tomorrow So tell me what keeps you up at night,  Keeps you from closing your eyes Keeps you alive

Rich, golden light that bathed the room greeted Loki when he awoke. The first thought that came to mind was that he was not in his quarters; after a moment, the events of the previous night returned to his memory - Theo inviting him in, listening to her play the piano as he read… and then nothing. He must have dozed off while reading.

Despite how the first half of the evening played out, Loki awoke feeling as though he’d slept peacefully through the night, with no nightmares, no tossing and turning - nothing. Just peaceful sleep. Frankly, he couldn’t remember the last time he slept so well.  

Loki glanced down to find the plush blanket that originally sat on the back of the sofa now covered him, and it appeared to have been tucked in, as if Theo covered him before she went to bed.

The concept brought an odd warmth to Loki’s chest.

Without any distraction, Loki used the opportunity to reexamine his surroundings. In the light of day, Theo’s quarters burst with even more life; it was as if the sun magnified new details in the elements which Theo pointed out to him the night before. The half-finished paintings in the corner shared stylistic elements with her favorite artist. Between the scattering of music, note-filled novels, the mismatched assortment of plants, and surfaces cluttered with odds and ends, there lived a certain sense of homeliness that seemed intentional in how it countered the often sterile, cold nature of the hospitals in which Theo worked and of Avengers Tower.

On the coffee table, Loki spotted the book he fell asleep reading, appearing perfectly at home amidst the assortment of items covering the table. Amidst the pages, he found a note jotted on a piece of paper and stuck between the pages as a bookmark: 

“See? Comfy couch. :)”

Beside the book, he noticed another note.

“I’m on the balcony with two cups of coffee. One’s for you if you want it.” 

Loki took the second note as an invitation. Once he folded the blanket and draped it neatly over the back of the couch, he made his way over to the balcony door and slid the glass to the side. 

A plethora of plants, as well as a bistro table and two chairs, adorned the balcony; the contrast of the greenery to the concrete of the city felt lush, a true oasis amidst the urban environment.

Sure enough, Theo sat there, two mugs of steaming coffee on the bistro table. She hunched over the table writing in some kind of book, oblivious to Loki’s arrival.

He cleared his throat. “Good morning.”

Theo’s head shot up to find Loki standing there, watching her work.

“Oh! Good morning…” She smiled at him. “Sleep well?”

Loki nodded, stepping out into the morning sun. “Well enough.”

“You were out like a light,” Theo chuckled, a grin curling over her lips as her eyes sparkled. “Even snored a little-”

“Lies and slander.” Loki cut her off, trying to avoid the hint of a smile that was twitching at his lips.

“You did!” Theo exclaimed, now outright laughing. “You even had a little drool right there.” She pointed to the corner of her lip, winking at Loki.

Loki rolled his eyes. “I think I’d take my coffee to go, if you please.”

“Drama queen.” Theo pushed a mug towards him. “Grab a seat – it’s nice out here right now.”

Loki accepted the invite, sitting down and taking the mug from the table. Theo went back to writing in her book, occasionally pausing as she scrunched her face up in thought. Loki observed as she worked. On the page sat a grid, some parts filled in with numbers, while others were blank. Theo was filling in other numbers in some kind of a pattern – it must have been some kind of puzzle. 

“Have you ever done a sudoku?” Theo didn’t even look up from what she was doing as she asked the question.

“I’m not familiar.” Loki hesitated, wondering if she might tease him for the lack of familiarity with this ‘sudoku.’

“It’s a number puzzle,” she explained, flipping to a new page and showing him a blank puzzle. “The goal is to have the numbers one through nine in each row, column, and square without having any duplicates.”

Loki hummed, studying the grid before him.  “So that would be a four,” he pointed to one of the spaces; Theo filled the space in. It didn’t take long for him to have the majority of the puzzle solved - he would point to the square, tell Theo the answer, and she’d fill it in.

“You learn quickly.” Theo observed, leaning back in her seat as she wrote in the final number.

“In certain instances, I suppose I learn quickly,” Loki corrected her, “There are other puzzles that I’m still learning to solve.” 

Theo certainly was a puzzle - one that Loki found himself trying to solve. Perhaps that was what drew him to her: every time he thought he figured out something about her, she’d show him something new and a layer of complexity would be added to the mix.

Theo gave him a hesitant smile, glancing back down at her puzzle book.

“You’re reading the Blind Assassin - what do you think?” Theo spoke up, apparently familiar with the novel that Loki fell asleep reading.

“So far, it’s intriguing.” Loki took a sip of coffee, allowing his attention to move to the skyline. “Have you read it before?”

“I have - once you get through it the first time, read it again - it’s amazing how much more you pick up.” She glanced up from her puzzle, setting down the pencil as she picked up her own coffee and took a drink. “Atwood is brilliant like that - spins so many subtle clues into the story and so many layers. Everyone talks about the Handmaid’s Tale, which is good, don’t get me wrong - but I’ve always enjoyed The Blind Assassin more myself.”

This tidbit of information was certainly enticing - both regarding the story, but also regarding Theo’s taste in literature.

“I look forward to finishing,” Loki glanced over at her, smiling as he dipped his chin in a nod. “I’ll certainly let you know my thoughts.”

“What’s next on your reading list?”

“I’m not certain…” Loki shrugged, stretching out a bit in the chair. “Do you have any recommendations?”

“I might, but given you’ve been around for a millennia I suspect you’ve already read everything I’ve read and then some…” Theo pointed out, which brought a wider smile to Loki’s face. “Maybe you can make some recommendations. I’m guessing you have a variety of favorites that I’ve probably never even heard of.”

“Perhaps I will make you a list.” Loki said, giving Theo a quick wink. 

After a bit more back-and-forth on literature, the conversation reached a lull. The bustle of the city echoed from below, creating a quiet wash of sound between the pair. They’d reached a point where they were comfortable with silence between them, and that morning was no different. Still, there was something about the quiet of the early morning, the personal nature of the space they occupied, that felt different in a way Loki couldn’t quite put his finger on. 

Even if he couldn’t explain it, he found he didn’t mind. It felt… Natural. Easy. Comfortable.

Loki caught himself studying Theo. She focused on some spot in the distance, staring off as though deep in thought. Even though she offered a warm, bright smile to him the night before and some light, playful banter when he first stepped outside, as she sat in the morning sun there was something heavier in her demeanor. There was a certain slump in her shoulders, and the bags beneath her eyes were obvious.

She hadn’t been sleeping either. What was it that kept her awake at odd hours? Was she like Loki, suffering from nightmares? Or simply unable to fall asleep?

It wasn’t the sort of question he could outright ask - she would undoubtedly shut down.

“You are quite the musician,” Loki remarked, hoping to direct the conversation in a manner where he might glean something notable regarding her nocturnal schedule. “Do you always rehearse at such late hours?”

“I’m not that good, but thanks.” Theo blushed, but kept her eyes on the horizon. “I don’t always wait until it’s that late, but things have been busy lately and it helps me unwind… I figured it was my best chance at avoiding interruptions.”

He interrupted her.

“I apologize, I did not mean to–”

“Oh no, I invited you in.” Quick to dismiss him, Theo flashed a nervous smile. “You didn’t interrupt anything.”

At surface level, it did not seem to be a lie - and yet, Loki couldn’t help but sense there was more to it than simply not wanting others to notice.

“You play quite a collection of instruments,” Loki remarked, hoping the continued conversation might distance them from the uneasiness. “Most Midgardians only play one instrument, if any. Why is that?”

One corner of Theo’s lips quirked up in a smile. “Came from a musical family.”

“You have quite a bit of musical talent,” he observed, “Am I remembering correctly that you’ve been nominated for awards for your performances?”

Theo’s expression shifted to something more pensive. She leaned forward in her seat, resting her elbows on her knees as both hands wrapped around her coffee mug.

“I was a backing musician on a pop record.” She let out a dismissive chuckle, then brushed her hair back over her shoulder. “It wasn’t my talent that got the grammy nomination. I needed some cash when I was in my residency and a friend connected me.” 

She wasn’t telling the full story, but he refrained from pushing the subject; perhaps at a later date, he could revisit the matter.

“Do you play any instruments?” Theo turned the questions back to Loki, a curious glint flashing in her eyes. 

“I play the violin and piano, among other instruments,” Loki answered, “All nobility of Asgard were expected to study music in some capacity. Thor was an atrocious musician, but I rather enjoyed myself, so I studied a few instruments and vocal performance.”

“Maybe sometime I can hear you?” Theo suggested, taking a sip of her coffee. “You’ve now heard me twice - first at my band’s show, and last night. Turnabout’s fair play.”

“Perhaps.” Loki conceded. It had been a considerable time since he’d entertained an audience, and starting with someone with Theo’s talent seemed like a risky proposition. “I would like to hear you play again sometime, ideally on your own.” He gave her an earnest glance. “Perhaps not in the middle of the night though…I do apologize for falling asleep on you, by the way.”

“It’s fine - we both know sleep is important, and you looked pretty tired. Besides, I may have switched to playing songs that were good for falling asleep… So if anything, that’s on me.” Theo dismissed his comment with a smile and a wink. “And who knows? Maybe the fact you were half-asleep helped me sound better.”

“No,” Loki countered, leaning forward to rest one hand on her knee before he could stop himself. “I’m quite certain you sound wonderful regardless of when you play. Besides, you deserve to have an audience who’s awake for the full performance.”

Theo stilled, tugging her lower lip between her teeth as she mulled over Loki’s request.

“Maybe if there’s another day where the rest of the team is out… maybe then.” On the surface it didn’t seem like much, but Loki knew it was as generous as it was important.

Loki beamed.

“I look forward to it.”

Love, happy, my love Got this all in my blood Need her close enough like ohh— Love, happy, my love They said it came from above Ha, yeah that's where it's from

[shorkbrian]

💖💘my heart’s dizzy and I my dose of serotonin whenever I read your prose🤟🏽😩 was wondering if you could do reader with an erratic future-vision!quirk so when they first meet yandere!Hawks they’re suddenly plagued by erotic, sensual, 365days-level of disturbing visions of them, so reader actively avoids them (it’s like those Tik Tok future-seeing videos playing to “Play Date”)

Prelude - Hawks isn’t a famous pro-hero in this, but he still has his quirk. It’s not really mentioned a bunch tho lol.  This is rlly long, but I decided not to put it into two parts because the smut is so slight lol. Hope this meets your expectations anon, thank you for reading!

Pairing -  Keigo Takami X Reader

Warnings - NSFW mentions, dubcon, noncon. No out-and-out explicit smut, just a really long story. Hawks is manipulative and gets what he wants

Music - https://open.spotify.com/track/5ukAQcKEIJuzIbP55xp07x?si=iz6I-RoDSdCNYhT2Du8etg

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He was a friend of a friend, someone you had only met once or twice.

Your friend kept bringing him to hangouts, he kept showing up on her instagram feed,  getting mentioned in her twitterbio, and eventually it came out that they had started dating. It didn’t catch anyone by surprise.

What did catch you by surprise, was how infatuated with him your friend was.

“He’s just sooooo hot, isn’t he?” She squealed, shoving her phone in your face to show off a shirtless pic he had just sent her.

You nodded in agreement, quickly appraising the pic before turning your head. Yeah, her boyfriend was attractive, but you weren’t one to ruin relationships. Plus, you and Keigo had never really talked past the brief “Hey” and “Wassup?” said in greeting when introduced the first time.

“Can he come to the mall with us on Friday? I promise there will be no third wheeling.” Your friend begged, clasping her hands together. You thought about it for a second - this had been a fun shopping trip the two of you had planned a few weeks ago, meant as a girls date on a day the mall wouldn’t be crowded. But would it really hurt anything if her boyfriend came along? Probably not.

“Yeah, I don’t mind.” You shrugged, watching your friends face erupt into a wide grin. “But don’t ditch me to go makeout in a bathroom or something, got it?”

“Sir yes sir!” Your friend faux saluted, before patting you on the shoulder. “Thanks girlie!”

You jerked back, head suddenly swarming with visions, your quirk activating. Your quirk was helpful in some ways, but you mainly tried not to use it - headaches resulted, and you hated getting glimpses of the future. Sometimes they’d be good, but they were often bad - you had gotten a screenshot glimpse of your brothers death, his face marred and bleeding out onto the pavement.

It still made you sick to think about it.

Touch wasn’t something you could always avoid, but you tried, seeing as how it activated your quirk, giving you visions of your future with whomever you touched, or whoever touched you.

You saw your friends face, eyes puffy with tears, shouting something. Then another scene flashed, your friend on TV, talking to a reporter.

Thankfully, the visions ended, this episode relatively quick due to how short of a time she touched you.

“Oh shit, I forgot, I’m so sorry.” She rushed to apologize, holding her hands up and backing away from you.

“It’s-it’s fine.” You wheezed, waving your hand in the air to signal that it wasn’t a big deal. The vision just probably meant the two of you would get into a fight soon, which wasn’t uncommon.  It was fine, you were fine.

——

The mall wasn’t too crowded, which made the day pleasant. Your friend was talking to her boyfriend, hand tangled with his as the three of you walked in.

“So (Y/N), what do you think about that new Victoria’s Secret launch?” Your friend bumped you with her hip, drawing your attention as she pulled you into the conversation between her and her boyfriend.

“Oh, um… what?” To be fair, you had zoned out when the couple started being gross and mushy, which was like, the second your friend met Keigo at the door.

The blonde man laughed. “Victoria’s Secret just launched a new line of lingerie, have any thoughts about it?”

Turning red, you smiled sheepishly. “Ah, well…. From what I’ve seen of their stuff it’s… nice? So I’m sure it’s good.”

Your friend mock-gasped, almost slapping you on the arm before quickly remembering your quirk, drawing her hand back. You gave a quick nod of thanks.

“(Y/N)! Don’t tell me you didn’t even know about it?! I practically live, eat, and sleep Victoria’s Secret, it’s impossible to miss their product drops when you’re one of my friends.”

Unsure how to respond, you floundered, opening and closing your mouth like a lost fish.

“Babe, leave her be, she’s probably just shy.” Keigo stepped in, giving his girlfriend a chuckle as he steered you both towards a shop.

“Fineeee.” Your friend whined, turning to focus on the task ahead. “They have a VS shop here though, you’re not getting out of here without going in with me!”

----

The VS store was huge, smelling sweetly of flowers, bright colors assaulting your vision, soft pop music filling your ears.

It was hard not to cringe at all the fancy lingerie, you were honestly a bit embarrassed to be strolling through the store with your friend, let alone her boyfriend by her side.

“Does-does Keigo mind?” You quietly asked your friend, out of earshot of her boyfriend, who was looking at perfumes, last time you checked.

“Not at all birdie, I’m used to clothes, any form, any shape.”

You whirled around, squeaking in surprise at Keigo, who had apparently finished with browsing the perfume. He was flashing you a 1000 watt grin, continuing with what he was saying. “I’m a model, practically every girl I’ve ever met I’ve seen in less than full underwear, it’s no big deal.”

“Oh…. Cool.” You offered, cheeks turning red again. You felt like such a blushing schoolgirl, turning red when faced with looking at bras and panties, flushing when a man got too close.

It was the nature of the store, you told yourself, that was making you so embarrassed.

“Oo! What do you think of this one?” Your friend was holding up a babydoll, pink, with light fabric and zero coverage.

Keigo wolf whistled. “Man, that’d be a good look for you. Lets buy it.” The couple moved on, pointing at different clothes, your friend occasionally picking one from the rack to hold up against her body, looking for Keigo’s opinion.

They were cute together, laughing over the cheesy names on the tags of the lingerie, holding hands as the browsed, your friend occasionally stopping to plant a kiss on her boyfriend’s cheek.

“I think that’s everything that I like…. (Y/N), your turn!” Pulled out of your casual observance, you back pedaled. “Me? No, I’m not really the type to wear this kind of stuff - I don’t even think most of it would fit, I have weird proportions.“

“Nonsense!” Keigo looked around for a moment, going to the nearest rack to quickly sift through bras, before pulling one out. “This one would make all the boys drool over you honey.”

He held it out towards you, shaking it slightly when you hesitated to take it. Was your friend okay with him talking to you like that, pushing underwear at you to buy? A quick glance sideways showed she was more than okay with it, clasping her hands excitedly as she watched you.

The bra was sheer, soft lavender fabric forming the cups, an intricate embroidered detail of flowers dotted haphazardly over the bra. It was pretty, but you weren’t exactly partial to it. When would you wear it? Who would you wear it for? You weren’t sure it was your style. Plus, it probably wasn’t even your size.

“My arm’s gettin’ real tired.” Keigo joked, before you finally took the garment from him. Checking the size, you paused for a second, blinking towards the man.

“How did you-?”

“You spend enough time in the fashion industry, you learn to tell a girl’s size just by looking at her.”  He seemed to puff up, as if he was proud of his bra-sizing skills.

“Let me help her pick out some things too!” Your friend cried, rushing past you to head over to the next rack, ushering you to follow with a wave of her hand.

You ended up with an armful of lingerie - bras, panties,  an odd bustier or two, and some other flowy items, like a sheer robe and a lacy chemise. The choices weren’t exactly made by you, more so made by a combination of your friend and Keigo together. They had alternated holding up items towards your body, comparing color and garment cuts, lost in their own mushy-gushy world, and it was almost like you didn’t exist for a few moments, nothing more than a barbie doll to dress up.

But now the three of you stood in line to checkout, and you felt included again, your friend cracking jokes that were making you snort, Keigo watching the two of you interact.

Until your friend accidentally brushed against your arm as she shifted forward in line.

Again, you saw her tearful face, heard her sobbing, before the other scene flashed, of her on TV, talking to the reporter. She still looked upset, eyes rimmed red, nose running, hair a mess.

With a gasp, your vision returned to the present, and you were wobbling on your feet, almost falling.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry (Y/N), I’m so so sorry. Here, let me take that, go sit down by the entrance.” She fussed over you, face concerned as she carefully took the stack of clothes from your arms, making sure to not make contact.

“Oh fuck, is she alright?” You heard Keigo ask, your friend stepping in front of you as he moved forward to check on you.

“Yeah, she’s just feeling a little dizzy. Can you make sure she doesn’t fall and crack her head open? Just wait by the entrance please.”

“Okay. Oh, here-“ You were a bit dazed, but you saw Keigo fish his wallet out of his pocket, thrusting the entire thing into his girlfriends hands before patting her on the shoulder “Whichever card is fine.”

And then you were stumbling towards the entrance, towards the bench right outside.

You hated seeing the future. Why was your friend crying? What had happened to elicit such a reaction? The unknowns killed you, kept you up at night as you tried to puzzle out the events that could lead up to the scenes from your visions.

Not looking where you were going, you tripped on air, unable to catch yourself as you plummeted towards the ground.

But then you were seeing Keigo.

He was above you, face flushed and sweaty, hair tousled, his chest bare. The room was dark, barely lit, and he was so close. The man leaned down to kiss you, then the scene changed.

You were bent over a table, only able to see the solid wood your face was smushed against. There was a heat in your belly, a tingling between your thighs, and pressure. Someone was talking - Keigo, muttering behind you angrily. You head was pulled up, a hand fisted in your hair, and then one of your knees was pushed up onto the table, and the pressure inside exploded into pure pleasure.

You felt yourself screaming, bucking your hips as you suffered through whatever the feeling was.

The scene changed again.

Hands tied above your head, you were pressed against a wall, sitting on some kind of…. Saddle? Your legs couldn’t touch the ground, and you squirmed, before gasping loudly.

There was a nub in the seat, ribbed and textured, slick with some kind of liquid… From you? Then you saw Keigo, standing in front of you, smirking at you with hardened eyes.

He had something in his hand, arms crossed over his chest while he fiddled with the object, muscles flexing. He was shirtless again, and-and his cock was hanging out of his sweatpants, pressed against his belly, smearing precum over his skin.

You tried to say something, anything - the visions never lasted this long, it was too intense, there was so much sensation. But your mouth wouldn’t move, choked up.

Keigo’s hand was on his length, rubbing slowly, saying something that didn’t reach your ears.

The scene changed.

Something was shoved down your throat, warm and twitching. You were sobbing, choking, clawing at whatever was in front of you. A dark laugh filled your ears, and you opened your eyes, met with the clenching abs of a strong stomach.

Keigo was brushing your tears, no, smudging them over your face. Were you wearing makeup? His cock was sitting in your throat, his hips moving in tiny jerks, stabbing your esophagus, making you gag.

Then you were back in the present.

A hand was holding your arm, keeping you from falling and making contact with the hard floor.

“-N)? (Y/N)? Are you okay? Talk to me birdie”

You made a panicked noise, pulling yourself out of Keigo’s grip so fast that you fell flat on the floor, scrambling backwards away from the man.

He almost looked scared, confused as he followed after you, holding out his hands. “(Y/N), you gotta calm down, you’re gonna make yourself sick.”

The man reached for your arm again and you pressed yourself against the floor, screeching out a loud “No!!” before he could touch you. Keigo paused, looking at his hand, then at you. “Hey, hey, I’m not gonna touch you. It’s okay little birdie, you’re alright.” He cooed, sinking to his knees in front of you.

You were hyperventilating, wide eyes trained on Keigo. Your thoughts were swirling in your head, you couldn’t focus, the sensations of the future still echoing through your body.

Keigo crouched there while you steadied your breathing, talking to you the entire time, trying to help you relax and calm down. You weren’t sure what he was saying, something about the weather? Or a dog? But you could feel your breathing evening out, head clearing.

“Hey, she fall?” You friend was carrying two bags, crouching down beside Keigo, cocking her head at you.

Her boyfriend nodded, turning to her and taking one of the bags. “I caught her, but then she freaked out and fell for real.”

Your friend nodded. “I should’ve told you earlier, she has a touch-based quirk. Every time someone touches her, she sees snippets of her future with that person.”

Keigo cocked his own head, gazing at you curiously. “I guess her future with me isn’t too positive then?”

Your friend shrugged. “Eh, she just hates seeing parts of the future. She doesn’t want to know what’s going to happen, makes her worry or something like that. Don’t take it too personally, she’s like that with everyone.”

“It-it-“ you rasped out, causing both sets of eyes to swivel towards you. “-I hate it... because-‘cause I can’t ever cha-change it.” You shivered.

Keigo nodded in understanding, before rising to his feet. “Think you can walk to my car? I’ll drive you two home, I think you’d benefit from some rest.”

He dropped you off at your apartment, and you wearily waved at the couple as they drove off, before heading inside.

----

A week passed, then two.

The visions you had concerning Keigo were plaguing your mind, filling your body with anxiety. There had been a distinctive feel of fear during each one, and despite all the other various sensations felt, the most overwhelming had been distress.

Whatever was going to happen, you weren’t going to like it.

You were holing up in your apartment, ignoring your roommates when they knocked on your door, only leaving your room to eat or grab water. You couldn’t sleep, too scared you’d have dreams, or more accurately, nightmares of what you had seen.

Curse your quirk.

Trying to pass time, desperate to keep your mind off of the future, you threw yourself into any activity you could find.

First you tried coloring - it was supposed to be relaxing, but it gave you too much time to think.

Then you tried gaming, spending hours in front of your computer mashing the keys. That worked for a bit, but your eyes and head soon protested.

You listened to music at full volume, tried several workout videos, even resorted to cleaning your space with fervent energy.

None of it took your mind off the inevitable.

“(Y/N), someone’s at the door asking for you.” You jerked awake, slumped over uncomfortably on the floor, the half finished card tower in front of you promptly knocked over at your erratic movements.

“(Y/N)?” Your roommate called again.

“Yeah! Coming, sorry.” You mumbled, scrubbing sleep from your eyes. You guess your body would give out sometime and force you to fall asleep, but as you moved to stand, you sorely wished your body had chosen a more comfortable place to pass out.

Opening the front door, you immediately took a cautious step back, sleepy demeanor vanishing.

Keigo smiled at you, one hand in the pocket of his jeans, the other holding a bouquet of flowers.

Flowers?

“Hey birdie, mind if I come in?”

You stared at him for a second, immediately on guard. Why did he have flowers? Why did he want to come in? Wasn’t he dating your friend? She didn’t live here, what was he doing here?

The man cleared his throat, raising an eyebrow at you. You moved to the side, holding open the door for Keigo to come inside.

Your roommates were home. If anything happened, they would be within earshot.

Keigo shot you a smile and a thanks, before immediately moving into the small living room, taking a seat on the couch. When he saw you still hovering by the open door, he patted the cushion beside him.

“Come sit, I promise I don’t bite.” He thought for a moment, before grinning. “Well, not unless you want me to.”

Hesitantly, you shut the front door, going to sit in a ratty armchair further away from the winged man. If this bothered him, the man didn’t let it show other than a short pause before he spoke.

“So, I know it probably seems like, super weird for me to show up at your apartment, but hear me out.”

Flowers were shoved in your lap, Keigo taking great care to avoid touching you.  “I felt bad about the other day, and my girl and I decided that we should get you some flowers. She picked ‘em out, it even says so on the note.”  The man laughed, running a hand through his hair.

“She’s so uptight about this kinda stuff. Anyways, just wanted to say that I’m sorry for grabbing you like that. If I had known, I would’ve let you fall flat on your ass. But I know now, so I’ll be better, cool with you?”

Finishing his little speech, Keigo held out his hands, wings stretching behind him to mimic the gesture.

Looking at the flowers in your lap, you felt your hands shaking. Picking up the little note attached to the bouquet, you found that your friend had indeed picked out the flowers, which made sense. They were your favorites, and in a nice color too.  Keigo had left a messy, scrawled “Sorry!” in one corner, before signing by his girlfriends name.

“Um, thank you Keigo, you didn’t have to apologize.” You murmured, rubbing one of the flower petals between your fingers. You were so glad your quirk extended solely to humans - if you were shown glimpses of the future of everything you touched, you would most likely go mad.

“Nah, I wanted to. Also wanted to swing by, check how you’re doing. You been taking care of yourself?” He relaxed on the couch, legs spread, arms resting behind his head. This wasn’t his home, yet you totally could believe that it was by the ease with which he owned the space with his presence.

“Oh, well… I’m still here, so…” You shrugged.

Keigo frowned. “That’s not a fun answer. How much sleep you been gettin’ each night? Eight hours?”

You shook your head, huffing out a breath in place of a laugh.

Keigo clicked his tongue. “No sleep? That’s bad for you y’know. Have you at least been drinking water? Eatin’?”

You nodded quickly, looking up to meet the man’s gaze. “I’m not a kid. I appreciate your concern, but it’s not necessary.”

At this point, you think the best thing for your health would be for the man to leave.

The blonde man stared at you for a moment, before sighing. “Alright, I get it. But I don’t want to hear that you’ve passed out or something, got it? Your friend would kill me.”

He rose to his feet, and so did you, walking him to the door. “Thanks Keigo, and thank you again for the flowers. That was very sweet of you both.”

Keigo beamed, giving a two fingered salute. “You deserve it birdie. Well, have a good rest of your day, yeah? Eat something.”

You smiled, at Keigo as he turned away, beginning to whistle as he strolled down the hall.

Once the door was shut, you found a vase for the flowers, filling it with water and setting it on the table. Your roommates would think it was pretty, and it was, a nice little centerpiece.

That really was nice of your friend and Keigo to offer you flowers.

——

“Welcome to Gold Nile Jewelers, how can I-“ You blinked at the man entering the shop. “-Keigo.”

“Birdie? You work here?” He looked just as confused as you felt, cocking his head to the side as he approached the counter.

You looked around the small display room, nodding your head. “Yep… You looking for anything specific today?”

“Ah, right!” He clasped his hands together, bending over to lean on the display counter as he looked up at you. “So professional (Y/N), it’s just me.” The man chuckled.

“Actually, I thought I’d get my girl a cute little bracelet or something like that, you think she’d like that?”

Knowing your friend, she’d be ecstactic. “Oh, absolutely. Any particular occasion, or just an “I love you gift”?” You asked, already running through the list of bracelets in stock.

“It’s our two month anniversary in another week, thought I’d get her a little sumn’ sumn’, y’know?”

Gold Nile Jewelers was an expensive store. You patted yourself on the back for not dropping your jaw when he said “two month anniversary”. People came here for wedding rings and special occasion jewelry, not monthly anniversaries like some high schoolers.

Well, unless they were rich.

You showed Keigo the selection of bracelets currently available, the man listening quietly to your product descriptions and recommendations, asking questions about the fit and feel, and if you think your friend would like a particular one.

“Honestly Keigo, I could choose one I think she’d like, but it’d be more special if you chose for her.” You finally told him.  He wasn’t annoying you, but you felt frustrated with his apparent lack of knowledge about his girlfriend. How did he not know what her favorite color was? “I’d suggest coming back in a few days. Go home, see what kind of jewelry she wears, pay attention to the colors she gravitates towards, if she’s allergic to any metals.”

Keigo tapped his chin. “Hmm, you have a good point. I guess I should pay more attention to those kinds of things.”

You nodded as you began to pack the expensive bracelets back into their display cases. “Gifts for a significant other can be hard. Honestly, it means a lot if they pick it out themselves and surprise you with it. Makes it special.”

“Oh, you have a partner?” Keigo asked, bright eyes watching your hands work.

A frown almost crossed your features, but you stopped it before it could show. “Ah, sorry, that’s not really a work-appropriate question.”

“Awh, c’mon! It’s just me, we’re friends, can’t you tell me?” Keigo pouted, batting his eyelashes at you in an exaggerated, dramatic fashion. The display made you laugh, so you indulged him. After all, he was a friend. No harm in telling him something he was bond to know sooner or later.

“I’m actually single right now. But as a jeweler sale associate, I know how much it means to a person when their partner picks out a gift for them, especially if it’s a surprise.”

Keigo nodded his head solemnly.  “That makes sense. I better follow your advice then eh? Find out what she likes-“ he mused “-I can do that.”

“Good luck Keigo!” You called after him as he strolled through the door, waving when he smiled at you, giving that same, goofy two fingered salute that he always did when saying goodbye.

The man unnerved you, the visions you had experienced concerning him making you worry. But as long as he was dating your friend, you felt that you’d be fine.

-----

Keigo showed up again two days later.

“Back so soon?”

“You know me-“ He shook out his umbrella, placing it in the drip-bin by the door, wiping his shoes on the mat. “I always try to be speedy with my work.”

It was grey outside, drizzling slightly. You loved these kinds of days, where you could sit near a window and watch it rain while sipping tea. It was so peaceful and calm, and always soothed your stress.

“Find out anything useful?” Whatever he could tell you would make it easier to refine the jewelry selection for his particular needs.

“So, she doesn’t have any bracelets, and I asked her about why and she said they annoy her. She likes necklaces.” He clarified,. You could tell by the way he puffed up that he felt proud of his detective skills. “I even made a note of the lengths - she likes ones that dip low, which-“ He wolf whistled, and your stomach turned. But it was fine, just awkward.

“Alright, I think we have quite a few like that. Let me collect them for you and lay them out.”

Keigo strolled around the display room while you bustled about, looking in each case at the shiny metals and stones  

You laid out the necklaces, calling Keigo over. The man smiled brightly at you as you showed him the selection, noticing he was gravitating towards the more simply, elegant choices.

“I’m sure she would be thrilled with any of these.” You offered, Keigo silent as he tried to decide between two necklaces.

Still, the man shook his head, quirking his lips. “I just…. I need to see them on, y’know?” Then he brightened, as if he had just thought of something. “Hey, can you try them on? Model one for me? Just to see what it’d look like.”

You laughed nervously. “Sorry Keigo, but I’m not allowed to do that, it’s against company policy. Only customers get to try on the jewelry, and that’s if they’re supervised.”

“Awh, c’mon! No one else is here, and I won’t tell.” The man leaned forward, shooting you a quick wink before he snatched up one of the necklaces, holding it out towards you. “Please? I just need to see it. I promise I’ll buy it.”

He was so insistent, and no matter how loud the alarm bells were wringing in your head, you felt cowed by his confidence.

“Um, still… I don’t think it’s allowed-“

“Fuck what’s allowed-“ He cut you off, snorting. “-I want to see what it looks like. It’s just me (Y/N), I’m not gonna snitch.”

A heavy sigh, and you finally agreed, taking the necklace from his nimble fingers.  You slung it around your neck, not fastening the back as you held it in place. Hopefully that would be enough to sate Keigo’s curiosity.

His eyes immediately followed the curve of the necklace, how it dipped low towards your cleavage (curse you for wearing a lower-cut shirt today). You tried to ignore the leering.

“Here, let me help you fasten it, doesn’t look right otherwise.”

Before you could protest, he was sliding behind you, deft hands reaching for the necklace your had in your grasp.

“Keigo no-!”

But it was too late.

You were pressed up against a wall, face-first, your hands gathered into the small of your back and held there with a vice-like grip. There was pressure between your legs, something hammering into you, in and out, in and out, in and out.

Keigo was talking to you, you could tell it was the man by his voice. What was he saying? You were too overwhelmed with the sensation between your legs to focus on the words falling from his lips.

Sweat dripped from your temples, Keigo’s chest pressed up against your back was slick with perspiration, his nipples hard and pressing into your skin. It was an uncomfortable situation-

And then it changed.

You were tied up now, tight enough that you couldn’t move no matter how you thrashed. Knees bound in such a way so your ass was up in the air, arms stretched out in front of you, anchored to the headboard of the bed.

Keigo was behind you again - nothing to indicate that the tongue running through your core was his, but somehow, you knew.

You were begging and pleading, withing in your restraints against his tongue, but he wouldn’t let up, he wouldn’t let you crest the mountain that had built up inside. He kept chuckling, the vibrations running through you and making you buck your hips. You felt disgusting.

Then the bed was gone, and Keigo was in front of you. He was sitting in an office chair, your legs straddling his lap. Hands on your hips were dragging you back and forth, grinding you on the hard member protruding from Keigo’s lap. He was flushed, letting out little moans as he kept eye contact with you, smiling and praising you.

Then you were back.

Gasping, you shot away from Keigo, the expensive necklace clattering to the ground as it fell from your hands.

The man froze, confusion etched across his features as he watched you bend over, trying to catch your breath, to calm down, to ignore the lingering sensations from the futuristic visions.

“(Y/N)…”

“I think-I think you should leave.” You heaved, tears building. That had been awful, everything had felt good but you hadn’t. You felt uncomfortable and disrespected and stupid. That couldn’t be your future with Keigo, you wouldn’t be able to handle that. He was your friend’s boyfriend, for goodness sake!

Keigo opened his mouth to say something, but you snapped at him “Leave.”, making the man click his jaw shut.

He walked out the door, shooting you concerned glances the entire way.

You felt better as soon as he was gone, the door clicking shut after him. Thankfully, you were the only employee out front at the moment, and no other customers were present, so no one but you and Keigo had experienced your outburst.

Bending down to pick up the necklace, you inspected it carefully, horrified that you had dropped such an expensive item. It was alright though, so you brought it back to the others, shakily beginning to gather them up to put away.

You didn’t want to see Keigo again.

——-

“I just don’t understand!”

Your friend sobbed, surrounded by tissues on your bed, eyes red and blotchy.  You wished you could rub her back, our give her a hug, but you knew what would happen. So you stayed on the floor, passing up tissues and offering wordless sympathy.

“Why would he break up with me? Why?”

You shrugged, looking for words. “I don’t know… I’m sorry that this happened, but if he can’t see how awesome you are, then he’s an idiot.”

She sniffed, blowing her nose. You could tell she wasn’t convinced, but she didn’t say anything further, instead choosing to wipe her eyes.

She had called an hour or so ago, tearful, asking if she could come over. Refused to tell you what was wrong, but the second you let her in, she had burst into tears, explaining everything.

Keigo had broken up with her via text, that asshole.

“I just…. I thought we were good. Did I do something wrong? I just don’t get it.”

“Neither do I. You said he just texted you out of the blue?”

She nodded her head, going to blow her nose again. “We were supposed to go out for dinner tomorrow, it’s our two month anniversary.”

You cringed. Did your encounter with Keigo in the jewelry store have something to do with this? Had you driven your friend’s boyfriend away? Had you weirded him out? Oh god, what if this was all your fault?

Your friend broke down into a sob again, slumping onto your bed. You passed her another tissue. “It’ll be okay. I think he’s a stupid fucker that just wanted to play with your heart.  He isn’t worth shit. You deserve so much better than him.”

She nodded, blotchy eyes seeking out your own. In the back of your mind, you cringed, seeing the exact same scene from your vision. Well, at least the two of you hadn’t gotten in a fight.

——-

A few weeks later, Keigo was at your door.

“You need to leave. Now.”

“Aw, c’mon (Y/N), at least hear me out?”

You huffed, crossing your arms. Maybe he had a dumb explanation for why he had dumped your friend. You were wary of him accidentally touching you again though. “Fine, but make it quick.”

“No promises.” He grinned, breezing past you and into your apartment. He beelined for the chair you had sat in last time he was here, leaving you to take a seat on the couch.

“Alright-“ He settled in, fixing you with a gleeful eye. “How do you feel about your quirk?”

Caught off guard, you blinked. Wasn’t he going to explain why he had broken your friend’s heart? “Um, what?”

“Your quirk, y’know, the one that makes you see the future?” He leaned forward, rubbing his hands together with a smile. He seemed far too pleased, and it made you nervous.

“I hate it. If I could get rid of it, I would.” You stated, ready to move onto a different topic. But just as you were about to ask him about your friend, he rose to his feet, fishing in his pockets.

He drew out a bracelet, black and red, thin. “Well then, lookie what I have.” The man walked over, sitting down quickly on the couch next to you, causing you to immediately scoot to the end. You didn’t want him touching you.

“Oh, sorry.” He apologized upon noticing your unease. Instead of scooting closer, he simply tossed the bracelet onto your lap, leaning back as he watched you look at it curiously. “Put it on, see how it fits.”

“I don’t need jewelry Keigo, and I think we should be spending our time discussing why you bro-“

“Just put it on (Y/N), please? I promise you won’t regret it.”

Huffing, you did as he asked, clasping the bracelet around your wrist. It fit snug, almost too tight, but it hugged your wrist comfortingly. It was pretty, but you didn’t see what this had to do with your quirk, or with your friend, or anything that held any relevancy.

Bracelet now on, you fixed Keigo with a blank stare. “Happy?”

“I don’t know.” Keigo grinned. “Are you?” And then he was hugging you, arms wrapped around your shoulders, face buried in your neck.

You shrieked, already panicking as you tried to ready yourself for the onslaught of  visions that accompanied physical touch.

They never came.

Choking back a surprised gasp, you drew back from his hug to find Keigo’s eyes, the man smiling down at you as he watched your reaction.

“Kei-Keigo…” You stuttered, shocked, surprised, euphoric, confused - so many emotions, all at once. You couldn’t even think to brush off the hands still around your shoulders, thumbs brushing at the tops of your exposed collarbones by the neck of your shirt.

You weren’t able to think rationally, couldn’t focus on anything but the awe you felt at being touched without being slammed with visions of the future.

You forgot about the terrifying visions you had gotten when Keigo touched you.

You forgot about how he had hurt your friend, broke her heart with no explanation.

You forgot about his hands refusing to leave your body.

“Keigo, this is…. Amazing” You breathed, wide eyes snapping up, catching his smiling face, eyes crinkly and twinkly.

“I had my team modify some quirk-cancelling cuffs! You seemed so upset whenever someone touched you, I couldn’t leave you with such a burden.”

Nodding, you returned your gaze to the bracelet, turning your wrist this way and that to look at the bracelet from different angles.

“I mean, I know how much I like being touched, and touching. I think I’d totally die if I couldn’t.” Keigo chuckled, but you weren’t listening.

The rest of his time sitting next to you on the couch was spent explaining the colors he had spent so long picking (“They’re my personal favorite, aren’t they nice?”) and why he had decided on a bracelet (“It could’ve been a necklace, but I think it looks better in it’s original cuff design, looks cooler that way.”).

By the time he had to leave, you were completely sidetracked, so distracted with your shiny new jewelry that you didn’t even remember to ask what his deal was with being a jerk to your friend, his now ex-girlfriend.

-----

“-and then he gave me the bracelet. I wasn’t thinking much after that, I just… I can hug you, isn’t that incredible?”

You gave your friend another squeeze, feeling a smile dance across your face. But then you sobered, pulling back from her with your hands on her shoulders, quickly becoming serious.

“But he’s really starting to kind of weird me out. Why won’t he explain why he broke up with you? He’s being a little bitch. I tried asking him a couple times, but he kept cutting me off, and I feel like the bracelet was a distraction to stop me from busting his chops about his behavior towards you.”

Your friend looked sad for a second, before shrugging. “I dunno, he just said things weren’t working out, and that while he liked me, he’s not ready for a relationship right now ‘cause of where he’s at in his life.”

“Psh-“ You scoffed, going in for another comforting squeeze for your friend. “-that’s code for “I’m a fuckboy and want to sleep around”.”

“I know….. But it still hurts.” You friend sighed, wrapping her arms around your neck. “But at least he gave you that quirk thing. I’ve never seen you so happy.”

“I just wish he was a mildly decent person.” You grumbled, detaching from the hug to sit back, glaring at the ceiling. “He gives me the fucking creeps.”

“How so?” You friend locked her head to the side, throwing her arm over the back of the couch. You had called her over the second Keigo had left, finally gathering your wits about you.

“I dunno…” You shrugged, not quite ready to tell her about the disturbing visions containing him. Did that have something to do with their breakup? Was it your fault? What was going to happen with Keigo? It honestly scared you, the residual feelings and sensations you could remember from the visions.

Your friend nodded understandingly. “Some people just give off those vibes. Well, at least we don’t ever have to see him again. Good riddance I say.”

You agreed.

——-

Knocking on the door, you shuffled your feet as you took in the house.

It was one of those rich places - nice neighborhood, fancy street filled with lavish houses, expensive cars. You felt slightly out of place, shifting from foot to foot in your clearance-rack clothes.

The door swung open, revealing a sleepy Keigo, shirtless, clad in nothing but sweatpants.

“Oh, um-“ You quickly turned, averting your eyes, trying to give the man privacy in case he hadn’t realized he was shirtless. It looked like he had just woken up from a nap, eyes blinking owlishly, hair mussed.

“Hey (Y/N), come on in.”

Still keeping your eyes turned away, you stepped inside the opulent house, trying not to gape too much at the decor inside. You didn’t want to look like a complete peasant in front of Keigo, but he’d already been to your house, so you could imagine that he knew of your poor-ness.

“Something wrong? You can look at me y’know, I’m not gonna turn you to stone or something.” Keigo joked, voice entirely too close for comfort.

Head whipping around, you found that he was too close, practically almost touching you as he stood beside you, head cocked as he watched you.

“No… nothings wrong, you’re just…” You gestured to his torso, and Keigo looked down in confusion, before looking back at you, a grin on his face.

“Ah, just woke up.” He shrugged, before reaching out to touch your arm. “Bracelet still keeping that quirk at bay?”

You nodding, following the blonde as he turned and walked further into his house, towards the kitchen.

“Glad to hear! I just wanted to look at it a bit, make sure nothing’s worn or torn, y’know? Hate for you to have to deal with the no-touching thing again.” He said over his shoulder, gesturing for you to sit down at the island, on one of the barstools.

You did so, watching the man open his fridge, take out a carton of milk, uncap it. “Is it too tight?”

“Nope.”

He drank right out of the bottle, and you watched some dribble out of the corner of his mouth, down his chin. The man finished gulping down the milk, taking the bottle away from his lips to swipe at the white trail of liquid rolling down his chin.

Eyes dark, he made contact with your own eyes as he cleaned his chin with a finger, stuffing it in his mouth to suck it clean.

That was gross.

The next second, he was back to normal, cheerfully putting the milk back into the fridge. “Good, good. Now, mind if I take a look at it? You should keep it on though.”

You nodded, and Keigo straightened, walking around the island to sit next to you, shuffling his stool closer.

He grabbed your wrist, laying it out on the island, before beginning to poke at the bracelet, running his fingers over it, fiddling with it, squeezing the tendons in your hand, smoothing his hand up your arm.

It felt a bit intrusive.

“So the visions are all blocked?”

“Yep.”

“And you can touch and be touched?”

“Yeah.”

“How’s your appetite? Sometimes complete quirk suppression can make you lose your appetite.”

“It’s been normal, I guess I’m a little hungrier than normal, but I’ve been getting out more too, not as afraid of crowds.”

“Nice! And how about your libido?”

You spluttered, choking on your own spit, snatching your hand away from Keigo’s wandering touches.

“Excuse me? That’s a bit personal, thanks.”

Keigo shrugged, bright eyes hooded and lazy. “It’s just a question.”

“Are you done making sure it’s all good? No broken parts?” You changed the subject, narrowing your eyes. You can’t believe your friend had ever dated him, that you had ever thought he was anything but a playboy.

You wouldn’t even be here, in his house, but he had come into the jewelers a while back (both you and your friend had blocked his number), spouting something about your bracelet needing constant checks and maintenance in order to keep suppressing your quirk. (“Wouldn’t want it to stop working, right? Just stop by sometimes, here’s my address.”).

So here you were.

Keigo leaned back a little, raising an eyebrow at your irritated tone of voice. “Woah there, don’t get snippy. I’m doing you a favor, right? I’m not trying to hurt you or something.”

Technically, you guess he was right. But he had played your friend, had fucked with her feelings. He was a fuckboy, liked messing with each and every girl he could find, and you didn’t care to be one of them.

“And I appreciate that Keigo. But I like to keep my private life private.”

Keigo was silent, simply holding out a hand for you to place your arm in, so he could fiddle more with the bracelet.

Several moments of awkward silence passed before he spoke again. “You’re being awfully ungrateful. It makes me think you don’t even want this little gift. If I were you, I’d be doing everything I could to show the person kind enough to do such a thing for me how thankful I was.”

Lost for words, you stared at the man. Was he expecting some sort of award? Some sort of prize? It’s not like you had anything to give him.

“I don’t have anything to give you in thanks. Just my words, which I’ve said plenty of. I didn’t ask you to make this for me.” You pointed out.

“Sure, but you use it, don’t you? You wouldn’t like it if I took it away, right? Think about how miserable your life was before I gave you this.”

Your life had been miserable. Afraid to go out in crowds, afraid to leave the house, Nervous about grocery shopping, about paying and having the cashier touch your hand as they handed over the change.

Scared of public transportation, of coffeeshops and bookstores, of public parks, even your own home. What if one of your roommates forgot and touched you? Or accidentally bumped into you?

Plus, you could hug now, and shake hands, and slap your friends back when she told a horrible joke, or tap her when you wanted her attention.

You didn’t want to go back to before. “I’m sorry Keigo… I really do think it’s lovely, and I can never thank you enough for doing this for me.”

Keigo let go of your arm, and it swung back to your side. You could feel the man looking at you.

“You know what would let me know that you mean it?”

God, it better not be something sexual.

“You could buy me coffee. Or maybe a cookie from that bakery on 1st Avenue, you know the one? With the little bunny pastries?”

That surprised you.

“You go there? That’s my favorite place.” You mused, looking at Keigo in surprise. He didn’t seem the kind of guy who’d like a place like that. But appearances could be deceiving.

“Of course! I really like their stuff.”

“Alright,” You conceded, rising to your feet. “I’ll get you some stuff from there. Want it today?”

Keigo rose to his feet as well, crossing his arms over his bare chest. “Yeah! Let me get dressed real quick, and then I’ll go with you. Don’t go anywhere birdie.” He shot you a wink, before sauntering past you, out of the kitchen.  You raised a brow, surprised. He meant to go with you?

“Make yourself at home while you wait, don’t be afraid to kick up your feet!”  

——-

The bakery smelled as lovely as usual.

A warm atmosphere, good food, friendly employees. It was your favorite place for a reason.

“Alright, what do you want?” You asked Keigo, the two of you staring up at the menu.

“Hmm, I don’t know. What are you going to get?”

“Probably a muffin, those are my favorite.”

“What!?! That’s my favorite too! How crazy.” Keigo smiled at you, dimples showing. You got the feeling that he was brown-nosing you, but you kept the thought to yourself, striding up to the counter to order.

Muffins purchased, you approached Keigo, who was lounging by one of the display cases, admiring the delicate, mouthwatering masterpieces held within.

“All good to go?” His smile was so charming, so friendly, you almost caught yourself wanting to see it more. Huffing in irritation at yourself, you pushed past him, shoving the bag with his muffin into his chest.

“Here’s your stuff. I’m going home now, see you around.”

“Wait!” Keigo turned, jogging a little to catch up as you exited the bakery. “We gotta eat these before they get cold - hey, birdie, are you listening to me?“

You weren’t, stoically keeping your head turned forward, walking with determination. There was only so much of Keigo that you could tolerate, and you had reached your limit. He was starting to really annoy you, didn’t he get that you wanted to go home? You’ll just eat your muffin on the subway, it’s not that hard.

“(Y/N)-“ His sudden growl was punctuated by an arm on your shoulder, spinning you around and pulling you towards the man.

“Hey-!” The sudden collision of your face with his chest knocked your breath away, almost causing you to drop your own muffin in the process.

When you managed to gather yourself, you shot a glare up at Keigo’s face, only to find the blonde smirking down at you, a fierce glint in his eyes.

“I expect you to listen when I’m talking, got it? I don’t like being ignored.”

That’s evident.

You tried to back away, but he still had a hand on your shoulder, squeezing you tight to him. “Keigo! Let me go, you stupid idiot-“

“Stop it, I’m not doing anything to you, ya big baby.” He cooed down at you, before taking his hand away, letting you stumble backwards.

He was just messing with you, teasing you. It was obvious, yet still you allowed him to be around you.

“Alright, I’m sorry, I know all the touching’s gotta be new still. Wanna go eat these in the park? I’ll buy you some ice cream if you want.”

“I don’t want ice cream, I want to go home.”

Keigo frowned, walking after you when you turned on your heel, heading for the subway. “Why do you dislike me so much? I’ve done so much to help you, and yet you spit in my face. Your parents ever teach you how to be grateful? Or even respectful?”

You gasped at his accusation, stopping in your tracks to whirl around, only to find the man far closer than what you had expected. Still, you tried to hide your surprise at his proximity, jabbing a finger in his direction.

“You are a playboy, you broke my friend’s heart, and you want to sleep with every single person you come across just to mess with their feelings. I don’t want to be around you. I won’t get dragged into that.”

The man watched you, face solemn and contemplative. “Is that really how you see me?”

“Why would I say any of that unless it was true?”

He ran a hand through his hair, looking up and around, as if gathering his bearings, before back down at you.

“Have you ever considered that I’m the one getting my heart broken?”

“Yeah right-“ You scoffed, only for Keigo to cut you off.

“People want to sleep with me because they think it’ll get them something that they want. Fifteen second fame, a piece in a tabloid about my “new lover”…. Think it’ll help them further their career, or that I’ll give them money. I can’t find anyone real.

“And my friend wasn’t real enough for you?” You spat, not believing him for a second.

“Nope.  You think she liked me for who I am?”

“Uh, yeah? She gushed to me all the damn time about how good you were, how she felt about you. That girl held nothing but love and affection for you.”

The man snorted, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, sure, love for my wallet.”

“She’s not like that.” You argued, brows furrowing.

“Really? Cause she was sucking me dry, and not even in a sexy way.”

You crinkled your nose at what he was implying. Your friend wasn’t like that, she truly had felt for Keigo, had liked him as her boyfriend. She wasn’t just a leech.

“I’m done talking about my failed love life.” Keigo said lowly, nudging your shoulder. “I just thought two friends could hangout, but it seems like you think all I do is try and fuck people.”

“No, Kiego…. That’s not what I meant.” Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t, but right now…. You almost felt a twinge of sympathy for him.

Some of what he was saying made sense, how people would try and use him for various reasons. But that still didn’t explain his sudden and harsh breakup with your friend. And over text no less, a complete douche move!

But you felt bad about his words, about how he seemed to actually want to hangout, and yet you were accusing him of trying to sleep with you. But what about those visions you had had? Was that even how they went? Or were you remembering falsely based on your bias towards the man?

And what about his suggestive touches, his leering gaze? Was that maybe just how he always was, and it wasn’t exclusive to you? Were you inflating your place in his life, thinking that he wanted you?

It was confusing, and you didn’t want to think about it, try and untangle the lies from the truth. Right now, you just wanted to eat your muffin.

“If you really didn’t mean it, then can we go eat these in the park? I just want to chill with someone that isn’t trying to gain something from me. I want to spend time with someone that’s real.”

With a half-irritated sigh, you nodded, hoping you wouldn’t regret hanging out with the obnoxious man.

-----

He kept calling you, texting you. You’d had to unblock his number at some point, in order for him to text you about the bracelet and when he needed to look at it.

“Come overrrrr, I’m bored!”

“Birdie, are you hungry? The delivery place gave me extra Torikatsu and I don’t want it to go bad. Can I come drop it off?”

He’d swing by the jewelers, leaning over the counter to talk to you about a recent shoot he’d booked, or something he saw recently.

Keigo seemed to slowly insert himself into every facet of your live, against your will, ignoring every subtle, irritated attempt of yours to turn him away. Every single time you saw him, your mind would inevitably think of the visions, but you felt like you couldn’t trust yourself with those anymore.

The man assured you at every step, he had no romantic feelings for you, he just wanted a friend, someone to put him in his place, be honest with him.

You definitely were honest.

Snapping at him when he showed up at your apartment uninvited, coming up behind you on the street and grabbing your sides, laughing when you shrieked and tried to hit your attacker, only to realize it was Keigo.

Tearing into him when he tried to talk badly about your friend - she had been having less and less contact with you, and you couldn’t figure out why. Now your relationship with her was reduced to curt text messages. Maybe she was just going through a hard time, and wanted alone time? Still, you let her know you were there for her, whenever she needed.

You were honest when Keigo asked your opinion on food, TV shows, clothes, movies. It was almost satisfying saying something sucked, just to see Keigo’s face fall slightly, before he shook his head, whining.

“Then help me pick something out! I can’t do it without you-“

He totally could, he was just being a baby.

The more he inserted himself into your life, the more you realized that he was akin to a petulant child, just with muscles and a penchant for inappropriate touching.

Whenever he saw you, he’d try to draw you into a hug, letting his hands drop far down your back, way too low for you to feel comfortable. You’d slap them away, and Keigo would laugh, before ruffling your hair.

He’d have you come over so he could check your quirk suppressor, except he was in the middle of a show, and it was getting to the best part. (“Sit down, shhh, it’s just getting good!”) You’d have to sit through the entire thing, enduring Kiego’s hand lazily drawing shapes over your pants on your thigh, simply putting it back whenever you shoved it off.

He was insufferable, irritating to no end, but you could tell he was a lonely man, bitter about his love life and with his friendships.

So you tolerated his presence.

After all, he wasn’t trying to hurt you. That’s something he reiterated every single time you shied away from his touch. He made you feel like a fool for thinking the man was hitting on you, when he made it so clear that he wasn’t, only interested in friendship.

Until you fell asleep at his house.

Another one of those days were he needed to look at your quirk suppressor (which you were 99% sure was fine, it seemed like he just enjoyed seeing it on your wrist). He had been rummaging around in his room before he had to run and open the front door for you, talking as he walked back to return to his previous task.

Apparently he was trying to find a good shirt, seeing as how he had pants on, but his chest was bare. Keigo instructed you to sit on the bed for a second while he retreated into his massive closet, trying to find a good shirt  to go with the rest of his outfit.

His bedroom was pretty large, a full California King taking up the majority of the space, neatly made. The sheets and blankets felt soft beneath your fingers as you sat on it’s edge, prepared to wait for Keigo for a bit.

The man always took his fashion very seriously - one time he’d even spent two hours trying on clothes until he’d decided on an appropriate outfit to go to the park.

So you followed your tired eyes, exhausted from work and dealing with Keigo, worrying about your friend, daily life stressors and the like.  Keigo wouldn’t mind if you laid back, right? Your feet wouldn’t be on the bed, so it’d be fine.

And it was fine, pleasant, the room the perfect temperature.

You were roughly jerked out of sleep by pressure. Pressure on your hips, pressure on your lips.

Eyes jolting open, you tried to inhale, only to find yourself unsuccessful.

Keigo was on top of you.

Panicking, your hands came to push at him, a muffled sound of protest being squeaked out from where his lips pressed against yours.

Noticing you were awake, Keigo pulled back, smiling the whole while.

“I’m not willing to wait anymore, I just gotta have you.”

His eyes were glinting, hair tousled, still shirtless. You felt goosebumps arise as you remembered the vision you had so long ago, of this exact moment.

“Wai-mmph!” His lips were on yours again, passionate and warm, moving eagerly. A wet tongue pressed at the seam of your mouth, surprising you and making you blanch, which allowed the man access.

Kiego’s tongue explored the inside of your mouth, playfully tapping your own wet muscle, encouraging you to lift it and wrestle with him.

This was too weird, this wasn’t happening, you couldn’t do this-

Biting down hard, you snapped your teeth shut on his tongue, and Keigo yelped, drawing back immediately.

“Ouch, what the fuck!?! Chill out (Y/N), geez.” His hand was dabbing at his mouth, wincing when it came in contact with his bleeding tongue. You had bitten him deep, but you weren’t focused on that right now.

“What are-what are you doing?” Your voice was breathless, disoriented. The room felt…. Dark, and suffocating, as if it was closing in on the two of you, trapping you.

Keigo looked down at you, and it was only then that you realized you had been moved to lie on the bed fully, shoes off, legs splayed. The man rested on his stomach between them, his weight pressed against your body, keeping you still.

“I told you, I can’t wait anymore. I’ve been as nice as I can, but it’s time you started paying me back for everything I’ve done for you.”

What? Paying him back-was he talking about the quirk suppressor he had gifted you? Had he been lying about his true intentions this whole time?

“That’s not right, it was a gift, you-you don’t have to pay back a gift.” You spluttered, feeling as if your chest was collapsing.

Keigo shook his head, swooping down to leave a bloody kiss on your forehead, which you cringed at, before pulling back to speak.

“Nah, it wasn’t a gift. You know how expensive it was? You were always gonna have to compensate me. Now shush, I wanna feel you-“

One of his hands grabbed your jaw, keeping your face turned towards his, pressing down until tears formed in your eyes. His lips were bloody from the bite on his tongue, tasting unmistakably like iron.

You didn’t want this.

Trying to bite him again left you with a slap to your thigh, making you cry out. Keigo huffed out a laugh against your mouth.

He detached from your lips, just to start nibbling at your jawline, elating streaks of red where his lips touched.

“God, you are so sexy. I was trying to chill, but then I came out and you were sleepin’ all cute, and I couldn’t fucking stop myself from touching.”

“Stop doing this, I can pay you with something different. I don’t wanna do this Keigo.” You whispered, on the verge of crying.

“No, I get to decide what you’ll be doing for me, it’s my bracelet-“

“It’s not, you gave it to me, please stop-“

“Shut up.” He growled sinking his teeth into the side of your neck, nipping at the skin hard enough to have you screaming. “You’re so ungrateful, where’s my thanks? I’ve done so much for you.”

“Thank you, thank you Keigo, I appreciate it all-“ You hurried out, hoping it was what he wanted to hear “But I can’t do this, please don’t make me. I wanna go home.”

“There we go, I like the sound of you thanking me. You’re going to thank me for each and every time you cum tonight, got it?”

“No, no, we can’t do this, I can’t! Get off of me, please-“

“You’ll do it, or else I’ll whip you until your flesh hangs off of you in strings.” He hissed, squeezing your jaw cruelly.

The tears in your eyes overflowed as you fell silent.

“Aw, birdie, don’t cry. I’m not gonna hurt you, I never have, right?” He waited for a second, watching your face before he pressed harder, eyes hardening “Right?“

You nodded jerkily, and Keigo came to kiss your tears away, savoring their salty taste as they rolled down your cheeks.

“Keigo, this isn’t right though, please get off me. I don’t want this-“

“You want me to take this away?” A hand caught your shaking wrist, the one that had the quirk suppressor fastened snugly around it, wrenching it up so both of you could see it. “Huh? Put you back where you were in your miserable little life? Running away from everyone, holing up in your apartment, not willing to touch or be touched…”

The very thought made your insides churn, and a fresh round of tears rolled down your face as you shook your head no, lips wobbling as you whined. You felt so pathetic, so small and dumb underneath Keigo.

“That’s what I thought. You’re going to relax now, right? No more begging unless it’s for more.”

He didn’t wait for an answer, beginning to shuffle around until he could slide his hands under your shirt, pressing against your tummy as you flinched away.

“Don’t worry birdie, you’re gonna like every single thing we’re gonna do. You’ve had sex now, yeah? Since I gave you the bracelet?”

You shook your head “no”, it’s not like you were eager for sex before you got it, and all the touching-without-terrifying-visions thing was still new to you, the dating world was being eased into. Somehow though, every single date seemed to be crashed by the man on top of you.

Keigo lit up like a Christmas tree, licking his lips gleefully. “Okay, okay, I can-whew, that’s hot-I can be gentle.” It sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than he was trying to convince you, his hands skirting up your ribs, shucking up your shirt as the traveled higher and higher.

“Keigo please-“

“Don’t you dare say stop, I’m not gonna. You’re the first person that doesn’t want anything from me, you’re real, and I’m not stopping.”

His admission made you cringe, recoiling from his touch. He followed you, palms finally smoothing over your breasts, over your bra.

“You’re going to do what I say, or else this-“ Your wrist was wrenched into view, red-and-black bracelet glittering. “-gets removed. And I’ll still do whatever the fuck I want, but you’ll be off in your mind having visions of who-knows-what while I have my way. Got it?”

Your blood chilled, body suddenly feeling ice cold. His tone was dead serious, spitting out the words with a sense of finality.

“So, just lay there and take it birdie, I’ll be good to you.”

[avintagekiss24]

WE LOVED WITH A LOVE THAT WAS MORE THAN LOVE || STEVE ROGERS

pairing: Steve Rogers x black!reader ; minor pairings: peter parker x michelle “mj” jones, andy barber x black!reader, sam wilson x black!reader, ransom drysdale x black!reader, bucky barnes x black!reader || word count: 19,080 || warnings: smut, sex, gang bang/multiple sex partners m/m/m/m/m/f, vaginal fingering, oral sex (male and female receiving), biting, marking, anal sex, hand job, nipple play, cult-like gathering, mentions of voodoo, voodoo lore, cult rituals

authors note: it’s here! took me forever. i wanted to post this much earlier, but the election week threw me off my schedule so this got pushed because i had another deadline to meet for another challenge. this is for @darkficsyouneveraskedfor​​ once upon a midnight dreary challenge! i chose “believe nothing you hear, and only one half that you see”, an invitation to a stranger’s party, and a cultish gathering for my prompts. again, i got a little help from my girl @tropicalcap​​ in helping me piece together a few plot points.

just a quick note :: steve never goes into the ice and the government doesn’t give him the serum... his transformation is achieved in a different manner. therefore, bucky’s transformation is also a little different than canon.

manip of peter & mj by sidewalk manips (i think they’re on instagram... not sure, i found it on google) // divider by @whimsicalrogers​

MONDAY

The ornate envelope in your hand is heavy. It’s decorated with thin, gold leaf, hand drawn designs, almost resembling the intricate henna leaves. Your name is scrolled across the front in big, black Old English calligraphy— hand written as well; you can just tell. You flip it over in your hand, the weight of it making a soft thud when it rests against the heel of your palm. A red wax seal is pressed against the flap and the back of the envelope, two initials carved deep— S.G.R.

Flipping the envelope back over in your hand, you press your lips together in a hard line. Junk mail is getting really fancy now-a-days. You blink at the front, reading and then rereading your name. A tinge of something— you’re not sure what, pulls at your stomach, making it constrict as your breath deepens harder than before. You even stop walking. You just stare at the envelope, drawing your bottom lip in between your teeth as you blink down at it.

It’s just unsettling. The weight of it, the attention to the little details of the writing and the designs. It’s anything but junk mail, but the tiny shards of anxiety that are prickling up against your skin don’t want you to think too much into it.

You shove it to the back of the pile of mail in your hand and continue flipping through it as you walk down the hallway towards your apartment, your purse bouncing against your hip as you move. Once inside, you throw the mail down first, then your keys, before you turn on your heel and move towards your bedroom, already tugging out of your blouse.

-

The TV is nothing more than background noise at this point. You’re curled up on your couch, a bowl of popcorn in your lap and a glass of red wine in your left hand as your eyes flit across the screen of your iPad. You scroll slowly with your right index finger, gobbling up a Stucky fic on ao3. Your eyes widen at the written words before you, your mouth dropping open as your heart starts to beat just a little harder— you’d die if anyone at work ever found out that you spend your free time reading about Bucky Barnes getting his back blown out by Captain America— but nobody told them to be so attractive. It’s their fault, really.

There’s a heavy knock at the door, but you don’t budge. You just push back against the pillows and keep your eyes on the illuminated screen as the door opens, “Take your shoes off.” A heavy sigh greets your ears seconds later, drawing a smile onto your lips as you throw your eyes quickly towards your little sister, “House rule.”

She rolls her eyes hard and toes at her sneakers— making sure to kick them up against the wall so the thuds rumble through the apartment— you know, for added drama. She pulls her bag over her head and drops it to the floor before padding across the carpet and plopping down next to you.

“You readin’ the one I sent you?” she asks, grabbing the popcorn out of your lap, “Can we order a pizza?”

“Yes and yes.” You answer absentmindedly as your eyes nearly pop out of your skull at the smut on your screen, “MJ!”

She laughs, scrunching up her nose as she pops some popcorn into her mouth and nods slowly as she focuses on the tv, “I told you it was nasty.”

“You didn’t say it was this nasty, good God.”

The younger woman scoffs as she throws her loose, wavy hair over her shoulder, “But you steady readin’ it though.”

You cut your eyes towards her, “I didn’t say that I don’t like nasty, just that it’s nasty. I think I have a coupon up on the counter for Tony’s if you wanna order now.” MJ is up on her feet as soon as the words leave your mouth, “Get some bread sticks too.”

The rummaging MJ does in the kitchen blurs with the screams from the television as you start to read again, losing yourself quickly back in the BDSM world the author has so vividly painted. You leave a kudos and a quick comment before tossing your iPad to the side and lift your eyes to your sister again, blinking as you find her leaning up against the counter, the weird envelope in her hand.

“The fuck is this?” she asks, her lip snarled, eyes squinted as she turns it over in her hand, “Why’s it so heavy?”

“I don’t know,” you laugh a little, “I got it in the mail today. It gives me the creeps.”

MJ moves around the coffee table and falls next to you again, tossing the coupon at you before sliding her finger underneath the flap. You grab her wrist before she goes to open it, tutting softly, “Don’t. Just leave it.”

“Why?”

“Because! I’m gonna throw it out.”

“Are you kidding me? I’m opening it.”

“Come on MJ—”

She slides her finger underneath the flap before you can stop her again, breaking the wax seal in two. You huff as she pulls out the 5x7 piece of heavy cardstock, then tips the envelope to lodge whatever was weighing it down free. A brooch falls into her palm, both of you leaning up to inspect the intricate piece of jewelry. It’s floral in design— pearls, or what look like pearls, placed strategically between the little, diamond encrusted, platinum leaves. Three pearls are bunched in the middle—  the center of the flower, with three larger diamonds outlining them.

“Holy shit, is this real?” MJ asks, lifting it up and turning it over, “Holy fuckin’ shit.”

You shake your head, “It can’t be. There’s no way.”

“It looks real.”

“No,” you scoff, waving her off, “It’s costume.”

She shoves it into your palm, “Feel that thing! It’s heavy as fuck, that ain’t costume jewelry.”

You furrow your brow as you let it sit in your palm, feeling it. It looks old— really old, like something that would have been worn back in the 1800s. You flip it over, bringing it up to your face as you spot another set of the S.G.R. initials engraved in the back of one of the small leaves.

“Fuck.”

The word slips out of your mouth effortlessly as you eye the jewelry and lick your bottom lip. You glance over at MJ who stares back at you with wide, hazel eyes, her lips parted, “See? That shit is real.”

You point at the card in her hand, swallowing quickly before you clear your throat, “What does that say?”

She takes a breath as you push your side into hers, your eyes scanning the writing, “We request the honor of your presence this Friday, October 31st, 2020 at 1543 Asher Ln. 8pm. No extra guests. S.G.R.” she slides her eyes towards you, “You know somebody with those initials?”

You blink, racking your brain, “No. I don’t— I don’t think so, at least.”

“Well, he or she obviously knows you.”

You grab the invitation from her, reading it again before you turn it over, hoping to find something else scribbled on the back. You drop your hand to your lap when you don’t and zero your gaze in on the television as it starts to tunnel.

“Bro,” MJ laughs quickly, “This is some freaky deaky shit.”

You eye the white invitation once more, reading it over again and again— as if you’re missing something, “What, um,” you start absentmindedly, “What do you mean?”

“This is some Eyes Wide Shut shit, sis!”

You scoff again, rolling your eyes as your shoulders slump, “Stop it MJ.”

“Girl,” she laughs harder, clapping her hands and letting her head fall back against the couch, “You gonna go?”

“No!” you squeal at her audacity, tossing the invitation and brooch on the coffee table, “It’s obviously some kind of joke or something.”

“That is no joke! The brooch has got to be at least ten g’s, easy.”

“It’s not real. That shit’s not worth ten dollars.”

“Keep tellin’ yourself that, prude.”

You feel anger flushing through your veins, your face heating up as you stand quickly and walk into the kitchen, “I’m not a prude, Mary Jane.”

“Oooh, my full name,” she mocks, “What are you gettin’ mad for?”

“I’m not mad, I told you that thing gave me the creeps. Everything is a joke to you.”

“I’m not jokin’! Somebody obviously went through a lot of trouble to send you that, I’m just callin’ it as I see it.”

You down the rest of the wine in your glass and quickly pour another, bringing it to your lips as you rub the back of your neck with your free hand, “It’s some kind of prank.” you exhale, taking another sip, “I’m throwing it away.”

MJ rolls her eyes again, grabbing your iPad before she props her feet up on the small, square table in front of her, “Sure, sure. Yeah, somebody sends a diamond encrusted brooch and a handwritten invitation just for funsies. Got’cha.”

You close your eyes and take another gulp of wine, using it to stop yourself from saying something that will more than likely dissolve your evening into a fight. You swallow slowly, pushing the smooth alcohol down your throat and letting it settle and warm in your belly.

“1543 Asher Ln. is a real house, just so you know. Pops right up on Zillow.”

You sigh loudly.

“And,” she starts, dragging out the end of the word, “It’s only fifteen minutes from here.”

“Are you gonna order the pizza or what?”

“You should go, I’m just sayin’.”

“I’m not gonna,” you stop yourself as you glare over at her, her eyes and posture taking that MJ tone as your voice gets sharp, “I’m not going to a strangers house. Okay? Drop it.”

“There’s no reason not to go.” You stare at her for a few seconds. You squint your eyes and let your mouth fall open as you scrunch your face, honestly in disbelief, “What?” she shrugs, “I literally met Peter last year at a party of someone who, to this day, I still don’t know. I can’t even remember how I ended up there.”

“MJ—”

“Don’t MJ me. It could be fun!” She smiles big as you sit next to her again, “You need to live a little. Get some dick, man.” You cut your eyes back over at her and lift your middle finger, “I mean it!” she laughs again, “There is nothing more fun than a Halloween party.”

You lean forward, reaching for the brooch. You roll it around in your palm, keeping your eyes on it as MJ babbles on. You eye the invitation as it lays on the table. The anxiety is back— constricting your stomach, making you itchy and jumbling your thoughts. It’s like it’s screaming at you— like something or someone is trying to get your attention.

You reach forward and slide the invitation to the edge of the table with your fingertips. You grab it swiftly and stand again, feeling MJ’s eyes on your back as you move into the kitchen. Shoving the invitation, the envelope, and the brooch in a drawer, you push the notion right out of your mind.

You’ve never entertained MJ’s crap before and you aren’t going to start now. Out of sight, out of mind.

TUESDAY

There’s a flower arrangement sitting on your desk the next morning. It’s lively— all of the flowers a different shade of pink. The stocks are a blush-pink, the roses spanning the pink spectrum. The spray roses are more purple than anything, but they bring the whole thing together.

There’s a small card leaning up against the glass vase, your name scribbled across the front. You pluck it up quickly and flip it over.

Hope to see you Friday— J.B.B.

Your purse falls off your shoulder and down your arm as your eyes go wide. You turn quickly, scanning the bullpen as people move about but you’re not exactly sure what or who you’re looking for. You drop your purse into the chair front of your desk and walk out to your assistant.

“Did you sign for these?” you ask, your voice slightly raised and agitated.

Nakia glances up at you slowly over the rims of her glasses, clearly picking up on your demeanor, “Uh, yeah? ‘Bout half an hour ago… everything okay?”

“What flower shop are they from?”

She shrugs, widening her eyes, “I don’t know, it came by delivery service.”

You tug at your suit jacket around your hip and let out a huff, “Don’t accept anymore, okay?”

You turn on your heel before she can answer and stomp back into your office, closing the door behind you. Heat ripples through you as you grab the handset of your phone and bring it to your ear, angrily dialing your sister’s number. You lean against your desk, arms crossed over your chest as it rings, eyes shifting around the room.

“Yo.”

“There are flowers sitting on my desk.”

You’re met with silence for a few seconds, “... okay?”

“There from someone else that I don’t know,” you huff, “The initials are J.B.B. this time.”

“Oh shit, I forgot about that. Okay, so two dudes wanna rail you at this party. That’s my kind of Friday night, sis.”

“Will you cut it out!” you hiss angrily, turning to face the windows behind you, “This is freaking me out!”

“Oh my god,” you hear her moving around, like sheets and pillows being rumpled until a muffled, groggy moan sounds, “Peter… wake up… wake the fuck up… what did you say about that weird party thing?”

You roll your eyes and tap your foot nervously as the two go back and forth. There’s shuffling again on her end, and then a heavy sigh, “I think it’s a masquerade party.”  Peter Parker finally says, his words slurred with sleep, “That’s where—”

“I know what a masquerade party is Peter, thank you.”

“Oh yeah, okay, sorry, so,” he starts, shuffling around again, “I heard for the past couple of years that somebody has been throwing a secret masquerade party at different places around town.”

“How did you hear that?”

“So, there’s this girl I had a class with last year, her name was uh, Liz. She said her older sister was invited to it. And then, there was this other girl, Shuri, she also said that her sister got invited one year too. I didn’t get the full scoop from Shuri though cuz she ended up transferring to Columbia, which, okay, yeah it’s a great school and all, but—”

“Peter,” you say, closing your eyes, “Focus please.”

“Right, sorry. So, yeah, it could be that party. Liz said her sister got the same brooch.”

The hair on the back of your neck stands up. You clear your throat as you shift, cutting your eyes back to the vase of roses sitting in the corner of your glass desk, “Did she go?” you ask trepidatiously, rubbing the back of your neck with your hand.

“Uh, yeah. She said it was pretty chill.”

“Pretty chill? The fuck does that mean?”

“Sorry, um, she said her sister said it was fun. Plenty of alcohol, plenty of food. But, because of the whole masquerade thing, she never found out who invited her.”

Put it on speaker, your sister's voice rings, then a sharp, sudden sound of skin on skin followed by a squeal from Peter, “Ow! Okay!”

“So,” you start, your fingers picking at the spiral telephone cord, “They didn’t say anything weird happened or anything? They’re both okay?”

“Liz said that her sister said she talked to some blonde guy for a while. He was asking her a bunch of like, weird, artsy questions but she thought it was all a part of the allure of the party so she just went with it. Other than that,” Peter trails off, and you can practically see him shrugging as if he’s right in front of you, “She said it was fun.”

“See? Everything is on the up and up.” MJ adds, “You should go.”

You don’t answer right away. You slide the small card towards the edge of your desk, picking it up again.

Hope to see you Friday— J.B.B.

“Peter, thank you, sorry for waking you up.” You say a few moments later, clearing your throat, “I’ll call you later MJ, okay?”

“Okie,” she purrs into the phone, “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Your answer is distracted— quiet and airy as you set the handset back into the base. You stare back at the flowers, chewing on the inside of your cheek as something starts to gnaw at you. Something deep. You set the small card back up against the vase and shake your mouse to wake up your computer, forcing yourself into your emails, the small sentiment running circles in your mind.

Hope to see you Friday— J.B.B.

WEDNESDAY

You’re barely home from work when there’s a knock at your door— in fact, you only have one shoe off when the thud sounds through your apartment. You sigh, slipping your pump back onto your foot before you stand from the bed and move to the door. Peering out of the peephole, you spot a FedEx driver, his hands full of packages.

“Hi,” you greet as you open the door, “Goodness, these are all for me?”

“As soon as you sign for them they are.” He laughs, handing you the small pen and handheld scanner.

You sign quickly as he places the boxes just inside your door, and wiggle your fingers as he makes his leave, hustling back down to his truck. You keep your eyes on the boxes as you close and lock the door— you didn’t order anything. You haven’t ordered anything in at least a week and when you do, it’s always from Amazon. All of these boxes are unmarked, except for the shipping label, that has no return address.

An envelope is taped to the side of the largest box and based on how your week has been going, you already half know what to expect. You rip it away from the box and slide your finger underneath the flap, pulling out another handwritten, five-by-seven card.

Hope it fits… A.S.B.

You shove the card back into the envelope and toss it aside before grabbing the large box, sitting it on the bar. With the help of your house key, you rip into the box, popping open the flaps once the tape is broken down the middle. You gasp as you pull out a black and gold ball gown, your mouth dropping open as your eyes go wide.

The corset top is strapless and intricately hand woven with small, black beads in a leafy design. A layer of gold tulle spills down an even longer layer of black tulle, all the way to the floor. The dress is thick— heavy, as you hold it up in your hands. You search for a tag, sewn in initials, something to try and place where this could have possibly come from, but find nothing, as if it’s one of a kind. You splay it out over the couch and move to the second box— your interest now suddenly piqued.

You pop open the second box to find a slightly smaller box inside. Tucking your fingers underneath the rim, you pull the top away and gasp again— this time bigger— and take a physical step back. You blink stupidly and you fumble around in your pants pocket, trying to find your phone. You slam your finger down on MJ’s name and bring it to your ear, lifting a gold Giuseppe heel up in the air.

“You need to get your ass over here, now.”

-

There’s total silence in the apartment as you, MJ, and Peter stare at the Giuseppe heels and a handful of jewelry. The most jaw-dropping being a thin rose gold chain adorned with ninety one (Peter counted), different shaped diamonds arranged to resemble the leaves of a vine. At the center, they all meet at a large— museum caliber— yellow diamond.

“So let me get this straight,” MJ starts, placing her hands on her hips, “Those are Giuseppe heels, and not just any Giuseppe heel, the Cruel Crystal Giuseppe heel, that they don’t even make anymore,” she emphasizes with her hands, “A necklace with a diamond that bigger than my goddamn fist, and a, hang on a second,” she closes her eyes, holding up her hands to add to the drama of it all, “A hand stitched ball gown?”

“Don’t forget the mask,” Peter breathes heavily, “That’s, I’m pretty sure that’s made outta pure crystal, so,”

You play with your bottom lip nervously, your left arm thrown over your stomach as you slowly turn your head towards your sister and her boyfriend, “Did your friend's sister get all of this shit too?”

The young, brown haired man scratches his head as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other before shrugging and expelling a breath out of his mouth, “I mean, I…” he shrugs again, completely at a loss, “I don’t know.”

“Maybe we can google the initials or something. Where’s your iPad?” MJ asks, turning on her heel and rushing into your bedroom.

“I tried that already,” you call, grabbing the shoes from the counter and slipping your feet into it, “Oh my god, they fit.” You whisper more to yourself than to anyone else in the room.

MJ rolls her eyes, “Well, what came up?”

“Steven Grant Rogers and James Buchanan Barnes,” you answer as you twirl around in a circle, completely enamored with your shoes, “So, nothing.”

Peter gasps and places his hands on his chest as his face fills with a quick fear, “Fuuuckkk, what if it’s them?”

You and MJ both scoff, “Don’t be stupid, Parker.” MJ says.

“It could be! You don’t know!”

“Ok, yes, Captain America and the Winter Soldier are behind this. Sure,” she cuts her eyes towards you, “He has such a crush on them. Did you try the third set of initials?”

You nod as you stare down at your feet, turning your right foot slightly, watching as the gold glints underneath the light, “Yeah, no luck there either. Just random ass dudes— look at how good these look on my feet, sissy.”

She waves you off as she sits on the coffee table, her face being lit up by the light of your iPad, “Okay, A.S.B., Andrew Stephen Barber, assistant district attorney— could be him… he’s cute at least.” she shrugs.

“I doubt it,” you let out a breath, “I should try on the dress, huh? I mean, you know, just to see.” MJ throws you a look while Peter glances between the two of you nervously, “What? I’m still not going, I just want to see how it looks.”

“Uh huh,” MJ squints her eyes, following you as you walk back into your bedroom, already pulling down the zipper on the back of your shirt, “Sure.”

THURSDAY

MJ💕 12:37pm

Lunch? I’m right around the corner from your building

You hear your phone chime, but you don’t tear your eyes away from your screen immediately. Voices come from the speaker on your phone as you type fervorously. You’re only really half listening— this meeting has nothing to do with you, but, you’re the account manager, so you have to at least try and seem interested while you work on another contract with a much more lucrative, expensive company.

The iPhone rattles again against your glass desk and you snap it up this time, your eyes scanning the message. Right on cue, your stomach rumbles.

You 12:40pm

Sure, sure. Chinese?

MJ💕 12:41pm

Yum.

A small smile tugs at the corners of your mouth as you open your SPARK messenger and tap on Nakia’s name. She knows you and MJ’s order like that back of her hand, and messages you back minutes later to confirm the food will be on it’s way within the hour. You return your attention to the large computer screen before you, pushing your glasses up your nose as you shift your vision to the second monitor slightly to your left.

There’s a small tap a few minutes later, followed by Nakia’s beautiful face peeking in as she mouth’s MJ before opening the door wider to let your lanky sister breeze into the room. You hold your fingers up to your lips as the chorus of voices still speak from your speaker, but keep your eyes on her as she pulls her bag over her shoulder and head and plops down in one of the plush seats in front of your desk.

She makes herself busy on her phone, no doubt texting Peter as you return to your emails and contract, losing twenty or thirty more minutes.

“Okay guys, I’ll talk to you next week right?” You ask, your fingers hovering over the speaker button, “Okay… alrightly, buh-bye.” you slam your finger down on the small, round button and widen your eyes as you let out an audible breath, “Sorry, sissy.”

MJ holds up her hand, her face still buried in her phone, “You’re an important lady, I get it.”

“I thought you had class today?”

“That’s the good thing about having a pregnant Professor,” she smiles, wiggling her eyebrows, “Morning sickness apparently lasts throughout the day.”

Another tap comes at the door before Nakia emerges again, this time her hands full of food, “Here we are ladies,” she smiles as she sits the bags on your desk, “This also just arrived for you too.”

Your face twists in confusion as she hands you something wrapped in plain brown paper. There’s a black ribbing wrapped around it, tied in a neat little bow in the center of the package. It’s light whatever it is. Your eyes drift slowly over to MJ, who sits up in her seat, peering at the package in your hands before she blinks up at you— a knowing look on her face.

“Thanks Nakia,” you smile, trying not to draw her attention to all of the air being sucked out of the room.

MJ’s phone rings just as Nakia exits the room. You hear her mumble a greeting, but your attention is quickly sucked back to your hands. Curiosity gets the best of you. You pull at the ribbon and toss it aside before curling your fingers around the edges to find where it’s taped together.

Just as your fingers find where the edges meet, Peter Parker’s voice fills the room, “Am I on speaker?”

“Yes!” MJ hisses, “Talk.”

“Ok, so, I was talking to Liz about the weirdo party her sister went to last year. She got the same packages throughout the week! Monday, she got the invite, Tuesday she got flowers, Wednesday she got a dress, shoes, and a masquerade mask, and Thursday she got—“

“A book of poems,” you breathe, the sound low and airy, “By Edgar Allan Poe.”

“Exa-Exactly.” Peter stutters.

It’s delicate, this book— the pages. You thumb through them gently, smelling the authenticity of it— the rarity. It’s been kept in pristine condition but it still looks old, the pages a dull brown; crisp and brittle to the touch. Your heart thumps against your chest as the hair on the back of your neck stands on end. Your throat constricts as you swallow hard, nerves filling your body.

“Which one is it?” Peter asks softly, the weight of this affecting him through the phone.

“Tamerlane and other poems.” You recite as you close the small book and run your fingers over the front cover.

MJ scrambles to her feet and scurries around you, her eyes plastered on your computer monitor as she starts to type.

Peter clears his throat, “Liz’s sister got a copy of Al Aaraaf. It was like, a first edition or something.”

“Fuck,” the obscenity falls from MJ’s lips with ease, but with a gentle discomfort, “This says there’s less than twelve copies of this in existence— twelve. I mean, how do you even get your hands on something like this?”

You can’t even speak. You just sit there, feeling the small book in your hands, staring blankly at the cover. Peter and MJ start to bicker back and forth as they try to make heads and tails of all of this. You aren’t taken by the book exactly, yeah, you're holding one of maybe twelve copies left in the entire world, but there’s something else gnawing at you in the pit of your stomach— something that’s been just at the tip of your subconscious all week long.

It’s like—

“Was Liz’s sister into Edgar Allan Poe?” You ask suddenly.

“Not at all,” Peter answers quickly, “She thought it was weird.”

“And the dress and the shoes? Did they um,” you blink up at MJ but avert your eyes just as quickly, “They didn’t fit, did they?”

There’s silence from Peter. You can almost see him, standing there in the middle of the college campus with a dumbfounded look on his face— his fingers threading through his hair, his mouth hanging open, eyes wide, “No,” he answers after a slow minute or two, “They were too small.” He goes quiet again before he says, “How did you know that?”

The feeling that’s been gnawing at you all week. You’ve felt like someone’s been looking for you. There’s been this… pull— somewhere deep inside of you— like someone is calling for you.

What scares you is that you want to answer.

“Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting,” MJ recites slowly.

“Dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before,” you finish for her, “I used to read that to you when you were a kid.”

“He’s your favorite.”

“My absolute favorite,” you laugh nervously, “I wrote my thesis on Al Aaraaf when I was in school.” You fall back into your chair, “That dress fit me like a glove, MJ—  the shoes too.”

She shakes her head quickly, her eyes closed as she slowly comes to the realization that you are. She runs her thin fingers through her wavy hair before she rests her hands on her shoulders, squeezing to comfort herself, “Do you think it’s—”

You shrug, “It could be.”

MJ drops her eyes from yours.

“What’s happening?” Peter’s voice sounds again, “What— what do you mean? Who do you think it is?”

“I’m adopted,” you say slowly, a soft smile on your face as you keep your eyes on MJ, “I was two, maybe three when they took me from my mom. I was placed with our parents, MJ’s biological parents, really quickly— I don’t remember a whole lot, but I remember someone reading Edgar Allan Poe to me, specifically Tamerlane.”

“Fuck,” Peter breathes, “You think it’s her? Your mom?”

You glance towards the floor, a small card catching your eye. You pick it up gingerly and turn it over, your eyes scanning over the handwritten note.

For passionate love is still divine

I lov’d her as an angel might

With ray of the all living light

Which blazes upon Edis’ shrine

See you tomorrow, love — H.R.D.

You drag your eyes back up to MJ’s as you pull your bottom lip between your teeth, “It’s definitely someone that knows her.”

FRIDAY

You don’t go into work.

Peter and MJ have been at your apartment all day, helping you piece this crazy story all together. Liz’s sister, Shuri’s sister— they were all you. Same age, all of you born within days of each other. All born at the same hospital. All adopted around the same age.

Someone is looking for you; and has been for years.

You and MJ are now on opposite sides about this party than you were at the beginning of the week. You want to go. You need to; especially if it’ll lead you to your mother. MJ voiced her newfound concerns, to the point where she shed a few tears— but, being the big sister you are, you brushed them away and explained it as best you could. You just need to know if she’s out there—  what these people, S.R.G., J.B.B., A.S.B., H.R.D. know about her.

So, she helps you get ready. She curls your hair and pins it up. She paints your nails and helps you into the dress before she leans against the door jam of the bathroom, watching you do your makeup— just like she used to when you were a teenager. Peter knocks on the bedroom door before he barely opens it and shoves his arm inside, an envelope hanging off his finger tips.

“Hey guys,” he says softly, “This just came.”

“You want me to read it?” MJ asks, tapping it against her fingers. When you nod, she tears the flap and slides out the card, “A chariot will await you at 7:30 sharp… but please take your time. S.T.W.”

“What time is it?”

She glances at her phone, “7:25.”

You let out a shaky breath. You lean into the mirror and dab at your lips, removing any excess lipstick before you push back again and drag your eyes down your reflection.

“You know,” you start, keeping your eyes on your painted nails, “I don’t remember my mom at all. Not her face, not her voice, but I remember a man— my dad, I guess.” You blink back towards your reflection, squinting your eyes as the gears turn in your head, “I just remember blonde hair and a deep voice reading those poems to me. I remember feeling safe when he held me.”

MJ drops her eyes and nods slowly as she rakes her fingernails up and down her forearm, “I get why you wanna go. I do.”

“I just need to make these fragments make sense, you know? I remember these other guys too— which,” you shrug, “Would make sense since mom said that my real mom lived in a commune, but,” your words drift off.

“Remember when you thought Steve Rogers was your dad?”

You laugh wholeheartedly, “I do! I just always felt like I knew him, I don’t know why.”

You still do— feel like you know him.

“So, yeah. I get it, I really do. It’s gotta be hard not knowing where you come from— thinking that every stranger you meet, or every person you see could possibly be someone you used to know.” MJ sighs as she meets your gaze through the mirror, “You look great. You always look great.”

“Thanks, sissy.” You bunch your dress in your hand and lift it gently as you step towards her, “I’ll be fine.”

She nods quickly, pursing her lips as she cuts her eyes away from yours, “I know that.”

You smile and tilt your head towards her gaze to grab her attention again, “I’m your big sister, you know. I can handle myself.”

“I know you can, I just—” she shrugs, “I don’t want you to forget me.”

“MJ,” you start, grabbing her elbow when her chin quivers, “This has nothing to do with you or mom or dad. I love you guys, you’re my family, that will never change. I promise you, okay?” you pull her into a tight hug, rubbing her back, “You will always be my sister— no one will ever take that away from us.”

“Guys,” Peter calls, “A red Audi just pulled up out front, like, an expensive one.”

“Your chariot awaits.” MJ laughs as she pulls away from you, wiping the wetness on her cheeks away.

You thread your fingers with hers and walk out into the living room where Peter smiles softly. You hug him too— he’s the best thing that could have ever happened to your sister.

“You guys are staying here for the night, right?” you ask, grabbing your clutch.

“We’re not leaving until you come back.” MJ answers.

“Okay. I’ll um, I’ll stay in touch throughout the night, okay?”

MJ nods, “We’ll stay by our phones.”

You head for the front door, opening it quickly before you step out into the hallway, “Don’t have sex in my bed,” you say suddenly, whipping back around to face the couple, “Please.”

“Oh my god,” Peter scoffs, rolling his eyes as a red tint flushes through his face, “We won’t.”

“Yeah, we’ll have sex on the couch.” Your shoulders slump as you squint at MJ, her laughter rolling off her tongue, “Just joking. Have fun, please text us.”

“I will. I love you.”

“I love you too. Be careful.”

You have to turn away from them abruptly or you’d never leave. Grasping your phone and the small clutch you borrowed from MJ, and your crystal mask in your hands, you head for the elevator. It’s a slow ride down to the main floor— silent too. Nothing but the sound of your racing thoughts bouncing back and forth in your mind. The metal box slows to a stop, a soft ding fills the air, and then the world slides back into view— a sleek, red Audi visible through the glass front doors.

A man steps out of the driver seat as you walk towards the door and push through, tightening your grip on your dress. He moves around the car, stopping just at the back door. You notice his eyes dip to your chest and you can’t help but follow his gaze. The flower shaped brooch catches the artificial light of the street lights and each little diamond starts to glint and gleam, even the pearls taking on a new shine.

The driver smiles softly, “The invitation you received was handwritten in an Old English font. The initials at the bottom?”

A test.

“Oh, um, S.G.R.”

“Those flowers you received on Tuesday were beautiful—  white carnations, right?”

You shake your head, “Pink roses.”

“I read a poem the other day, I can’t remember what it was called though. It went something like ‘know thou the secret of a spirit bow’d from its wild pride into shame’…”

“O! Yearning heart! I did inherit thy withering portion with the fame, the searing glory which hath shone amid the Jewels of my throne, Halo of Hell! And with a pain not hell shall make me fear again— o craving heart, for the lost flowers and sunshine of my summer hours,” you smile gently, “Tamerlane— the name of the poem.”

He opens the door and holds out his white, gloved hand to you.

-

1543 Asher Lane is lit up like Rockefeller Center during Christmas. Your mouth drops open as you pull up out front, every window glowing with a warm light. The front doors are thrown open with seemingly hundreds of people moving about inside. The driver opens your door and holds out his hand for you, prompting you to slide your palm into his. He keeps a firm grip on your fingers as you step out, and then helps you up the long front steps.

He only releases your hand when you reach the front door, bowing gently before he skips back down the stairs and towards the car. Your heart drums in your ears as you place your crystal, half face mask on your face and adjust it gently before you drop your hand to the necklace nestled in your cleavage. You play with the large yellow diamond as you step inside, your eyes going wide as the lively noise of a full blown party suddenly fills your ears.

An orchestra plays in the middle of the large, open foyer, the sounds bouncing off the walls and rising up into the tall ceiling. Twenty or thirty couples dance to the upbeat tune and you’d swear you’d just stepped into the 1800s. All the men that move about are dressed in black tuxedos, the only distinction between them all being their different masks. The women twirl in their Venetian ball gowns, their jewelry and intricate, flamboyant masks glinting underneath the light.

There’s double staircases winding up walls, leading up to the second floor, more people laughing and talking intimately on them. Waiters in white suits, black ties and white gloves move seamlessly about, slipping in between the bodies with plates of champagne and finger foods— each one bending forward politely and placing their free hand behind their back as party goers pluck the goodies off their silver serving plates.  

The floors are made of marble. A large, ornate chandelier hangs from the high ceiling, spilling a warm, almost golden light over everything and everyone.

“Champagne, ma’am?”

You snap your head towards the voice as it breaks you from your trance, “Thank you,” you smile as you take the thin champagne flute from his tray.

Just as quickly as he arrived, the waiter is gone again, leaving you to admire the scene before you. You take a sip of the bubbly liquid and pull out your phone, taking a quick picture and sending it to MJ with a short message. You’ve barely tucked it away when another voice sounds at your side.

“Would you care to dance?”

You turn towards the calm, deep voice, your lips parting as your eyes bounce between two crystal blue eyes. Blonde hair is swept back neatly, a strong, smooth chin and jawline visible underneath his silver, laser cut Venetian mask. He’s tall— towering almost, his chest and shoulders wide and broad. You’re taken by him almost immediately. You nod quickly, blinking a few times as he takes your champagne flute from you and hands it to a nearby server before he takes your hand and leads you into the middle of the floor.

You gasp as he sweeps you up in his arms, resting his large hand on the small of your back and pulls you into his hard body. You can’t help but stare up at him as he starts to twirl you around the floor, taking complete control of your steps. A laugh bubbles up from your chest as he spins you away from him, extending his long arm until just your fingertips are touching, and then pulls you back into his chest.

He’s a confident man— you can tell by the way he spins you around the dance floor. Even as the tempo of the music changes, from upbeat and fun, to slow and somewhat sad, he stays right in rhythm. You’ve always been a sucker for a man that can dance.

A slow smile creeps onto your face as your eyes bounce back and forth between his while the orchestra plays, “What is this song?” you ask suddenly, breaking the ice between the two of you.

“Sicilienne in E flat major, do you like it?”

“It’s beautiful.” You laugh a little, turning your head to watch the young cellist, “He’s so young, is he local?”

“He isn’t, no. That’s Sheku Kanneh-Mason of Britain, you may—”

You snap your head back towards him, “He played at the Royal Wedding! Oh my god!”

He chuckles as he gently tightens his hold around your waist, “The very one.”

You turn your head to watch the young man as he plays, completely in awe of his raw talent and bask in it, knowing you’ll never be in such company again, “My God, this is incredible. I have no idea what I’m doing here.” You laugh.

“Well, you were invited, yes?”

“Yeah but I—” you stop yourself, shaking your head gently before you smile again, “I had a crazy thought about this party. I thought someone from my past was trying to reach out to me.” He tilts his head a little, his eyes scanning your face. You laugh again, “Don’t mind me, I’m just imagining things apparently.”

“Someone from your past?” He nudges gently.

You’re not sure if it's the champagne you’ve been sipping all evening, or just because for some reason you feel like you’ve known this man your whole life, but you start to spill your guts, “I thought, God, this is going to sound stupid. I thought my mom, or someone who knew my mom was trying to reach out to me through this party, which sounds insane now that I think about it. I was adopted, so,” you shrug, “I dunno, I was kinda hoping that she’d be here or that someone could get me in touch with her. Sounds crazy, right?”

He spins you again, this time slow, his eyes dragging down your body. He pulls you back into him and you rest your hand on his chest as you watch the orchestra, a soft smile on your face, “You are young yet, my friend, but the time will arrive when you will learn to judge for yourself of what is going on in the world, without trusting to the gossip of others,” you recite, “Believe nothing you hear and only one half that you see.”

His steps hitch ever so lightly.

You turn back to face him, blinking up at him as another smile spreads on your lips, “I didn’t catch your name?”

He blinks at you, something new in his eyes— something like relief? You can’t tell. His lips part and he takes a breath, trying but failing to get his mouth to move, “I’m sorry,” he finally says, laughing gently as he shakes his head, “Um, I’m Steven— Steve. Um, Edgar Allan Poe?”

“Yeah, sorry,” you laugh, “He’s one of my favorite poets. That last line just kind of describes my thoughts over the past few days is all.”

“It’s strange for a young girl like yourself to be an Edgar Allan Poe aficionado.”

You shrug again, nodding, “I know. I just, I’ve always had an affinity for him, it’s one of the few memories of my father that I have. He used to read Poe’s poems to me as a child.”

He stops dancing abruptly, “May you excuse me? I’m sorry, I have to um, I have to go see someone very quickly. I’ll be right back.”

Before you can even answer, he brushes past you, dipping in and out of the people still filling the dance floor. You blink in confusion, watching as he jogs up the stairs and stops at the very top step, leaning into a dark haired man. They both turn in your direction after a few minutes, catching your eye before they turn back to one another, the dark haired man grabbing Steven’s arm in… surprise, maybe?

They break apart seconds later, Steven jogging back down the stairs, the dark haired man walking briskly along the long catwalk, stopping only to tap three other men on the back before they too follow quickly behind him and disappear. You grab another champagne glass from a waiter and take a gulp as heat flushes through you— nerves suddenly racking your body.

You keep your eyes on Steve as he pushes through the people again, making a line straight towards you. Tilting your head back, you finish off the rest of your glass as he approaches you again, “I’m sorry,” he smiles, “That was rude of me.”

“Oh, it’s, it’s no problem,” you laugh nervously, clearing your throat as you glance around the crowded room.

He holds out his hand to you, “Would you come with me? Please?”

You shake your head as fear strikes you, “Oh, you know, I actually have to get going, I—”

“I know your mother,” your eyes widen at his words, stopping you dead in your tracks, “And your father. Please, come with me.”

You aren’t crazy.

Someone is really trying to contact you.

You grab his hand and let him pull you through the crowd and towards the stairs. He steps aside and lets you lead, placing his hands on your waist as the two of you move up the long staircase. Once you reach the top, he grabs your hand again and pulls you along the catwalk until you disappear down the hallway. You pass by a series of doors before you stop at the last one, Steve stopping to knock.

The door pops open seconds later and Steve steps aside again, dropping your hand to hold his out towards the door. You remove your mask and sweep your hair out of your face as your mouth falls open, your eyes wide as you stare at Steve.

“It’s okay,” he reassures, his voice soft and calm.

You take a step, and then another, your heart beating hard and fast, goosebumps popping up on your skin. You step into the room but stop dead in your tracks as the air is sucked right out of your body. Four men sit at a long, antique, baroque style table. Their hands are placed flat on the dark marble top, heads bowed. The room is dark except for the flickering candles that sit in their ornate holders in the middle of the table, the light accentuating the mens’ black and gold scaramouche masks.

Fear rolls through you in waves, your breaths shaky and heavy as it falls from your lips. The door clicks behind you and you feel a hand on the small of your back again, another one on your elbow, “It’s alright darling,” he whispers in your ear, “I’ll help you to your seat, okay?”

“Steve,” your voice trembling, “I don’t, I don’t understand, I—”

“It’s alright, I promise you. We are not going to hurt you. That goes against everything we stand for. Come.”

You blink wildly at the men at the table as Steve pushes you past them slowly. They don’t flinch— no one makes a move to glance up at you or even breathe harder than what they already are. You were so busy staring at the men occupying four of the five chairs at the table, that you didn’t even notice the hand carved chair sitting against the wall at the back of the room.

The frame is golden, the upholstery teal in color and covered with floral embroidery, the back designed with a diamond tuft. It sits up a little higher than the table— propped up on a small, hand built stage with three steps leading up to it. Steve helps you up the small steps, keeping your hand in his until you’re seated.

As soon as you're settled, the four seated men pull a candle from the center of the table and place it right in front of them. The golden flames dance at the tips of the long, white candles, casting shadows over the dark walls.

“You may begin.”

You snap your head towards Steve as he speaks, your mouth hanging open, your eyes wide, breath shaky. The dark haired man that Steve first spoke to stands, his chair scuffing against the floor as he pushes away from the table. He grasps the candle holder in both hands as he approaches you slowly, his eyes cast down towards the floor.

Your breath quickens as he nears you. You squeeze Steve’s hand as you push back into the chair, starting to draw your feet up as he kneels before you, “Wait, wait, wait, wait! What are you—”

“It’s okay, darling.” Steve purrs, his thumb sweeping over the back of your hands, “It’s okay. He’s not going to hurt you. Just relax.”

A hot tear streaks down your cheek as your whimper, your chin trembling as you push a hard, focused breath out of your mouth. The man in front of you mumbles something— in French you think, but you aren’t sure— before he reaches into his pocket. Your breath hitches in your throat as he starts to sprinkle rose petals at your feet, chanting as he does.

You feel his fingers brush over your exposed toes before he lifts your right foot and slips off your gold shoe— tracing a cross with the tip of his finger on the top of your foot. He repeats his actions to the left and stands, keeping his head down as he makes a cross over his face and chest and then turns and returns to his seat.

The next man stands, a thick beard covering his chin, his candle in hand as he approaches you, never making eye contact. Instead of rose petals, he lays money at your feet— a single dollar bill— before he traces the cross into your skin while he speaks in French.

The third man is clean shaven, like Steve, but his hair dark— some falling over his mask and onto his forehead. He leaves a handful of herbs and one white egg at your feet before sweeping his fingertips over your toes and branding each foot with an imaginary cross.

The fourth man that kneels before you repeats everything to a T. He’s tall, his skin a deep, smooth walnut brown. He leaves behind a handful of wheat grain and what looks like raw sugarcane before he blesses your feet and rises again. He taps his forehead and chest before each shoulder and moves away, retaking his seat at the table.

Tears still trickle down your cheeks as you blink furiously— your stomach churning, your palms clammy. You snap your eyes towards Steve as he finally releases your hand and grabs a bowl from the small table tucked into the corner of the room. He steps in front of you and kneels, setting the hand painted bowl at your feet. He lifts your feet gently, placing them in the bowl with care, massaging your ankles and lower calves to calm you.

It works— your voice trembles as you push out a gentle hum, focusing on his hands on your skin. He starts to speak in French, his voice low and calm, much like most of the evening. He pulls a small flask out of his jacket pocket and pops the lid before he pours the unusually cool liquid over your feet. You flinch instinctively but focus again on his soft hands, kneading your feet as he washes them.

Steve pulls the white silk pocket square from his suit jacket and dabs at your feet, wiping away the moisture. He traces a cross on the tops of your feet before standing again and cups your face with his hands. You’re drawn into him— resting your forehead to his as he continues to chant, his lips so close they brush against yours as he speaks.

“Bless this missing child,” he whispers, the only part of his chant in english, “She is home at last.”

As soon as the words leave his lips, every burning candle is suddenly extinguished by some force now filling the room. You blink in the darkness, your breath quickening as you grab Steve’s forearms.

“Shhh, shhh, shhhh,” he coos, stroking your bottom lip with his thumbs, “It’s alright. I’ve got you.”

The room is full— so full of energy; power. It whips around you, electrifying your skin and blood, rattling your bones. It’s foreign— anomalous— but yet feels so comforting and warm. Like love. Like you're surrounded by family. You loosen your grip on Steve’s forearms as the fear drains from your body, a voice— a soft whisper in your ears. A voice you’ve never heard before but have somehow heard your whole life. It’s a language you don’t understand, but yet you know exactly what it’s saying.

Your eyes pop open suddenly and the room is washed in a warm light as the candles are suddenly lit again. Steve smiles at you softly as your eyes, now full of wonder and a new sacred knowledge, bounce back and forth between his deep blues. There’s a new electricity between the two of you, something unspoken, but written in the stars all the same.

The blood in your veins rushes hard, the sound of your thumping heart beating in your ears as goosebumps pop up over your skin again. Your stomach tightens as the molten of your ardor starts to pool and spread through your body, blazing a quick path. Steve’s thumbs still sweep over your lips, underneath your eyes, over your nose as you hold loosely onto his wrists. You grab your bottom lip between your teeth and let your eyes fall to his mouth before you inhale sharply— soft and pink, his lips.

His large palms spread warmth through your face, his thumbs still circling— still pushing along your smooth skin. Blue eyes dart around your face, continually meeting your deep brown eyes before dipping to your expectant lips. He pushes closer— so close that his pillowy lips rest against yours, but he doesn’t rush it— doesn’t press any harder.

He leaves it all up to you.

The energy is back in the room, swirling, filling you up with the power and presence with each breath you take. You press your lips to his as the sweet sirens start to whisper to you again. A moan slips from your mouth and into Steve’s, where he gobbles it up, exchanging a deep, pleased groan of his own.  

His lips start to travel, moving down to your chin and jaw. He nuzzles into the soft, warm crook of your neck where he sucks lightly— his velvet tongue sneaking out and slipping along your skin. You push your chest into his as your back straightens, a gasp filling your lungs with the sweet air that surrounds you.

The emotion takes over in the heat of the moment— the fire of his lips and hands setting you a flame. Your leg hooks around his waist as you curl your fingers over his broad shoulders, digging your black painted nails into his shoulder blades. His teeth nip at your taut flesh and you lurch forward, your head tilting towards the ceiling as a choked moan strains in your throat.

You feel his deft fingertips on your naked calf, slipping along the length— over and around your knee, up your thigh— where he kneads and gropes, pulling heavier, louder sounds from you as his lips caress your flesh. A shiver rolls down your spine when his thick digits brush over your sticky panties. He doesn’t shy away, he sweeps the pads of his fingers over you again and again, finding a sweet little rhythm as he applies a gentle pressure.

Hips roll. Chests swell. Grips tighten as your head rolls back. Your mouth falls open as you drag in a breath, pushing it out with a husky groan. Your teeth grab your bottom lip again as you slide your hand around his wide back, hooking your arm around his neck. Humming, you open your eyes, blinking slowly back at four sets of hungry eyes trained on you and Steve. You inhale again, letting your lips part as you link eyes with each man at the table.

The men sit stark still— not moving a muscle as the flame from the candles light your bodies. Shadows dance across their masked faces as they watch in silence, but you can feel each and every one of them. Each energy is slightly different but acutely masculine, acutely tuned into you.

You don’t mind them watching. The scene salacious— vulgar.

Wrapped up in two large, muscly arms, you’re hoisted from the chair as Steve grabs your lips again with his own. He walks you to the table and sits you on the edge, right between two of the four men occupying it. The marble top is cool to the touch as he helps you up onto your feet, holding the tips of your fingers with his hand. He leads you into the center of the table, five heads all tilted up towards you as you stand there, the bottom of your dress dragging behind you as you move.

You feel like a princess with all of their eyes on you, hanging on to your every move, drinking in every inch of you. You twirl— a giggle falling from your lips before you sink down to your knees, peeking over your shoulder at the only brown eyed man in the room. You place your thin fingers over your lips, playing with them gently as you bat your eyes at him and sweep your hair over your shoulder— exposing the zipper of your dress.

He obliges without hesitation. Standing to his feet, he reaches for you— a warm hand on your bare shoulder, another grasping the zipper. You nuzzle your chin and cheek against his long fingers before brushing your lips over them quickly. His warm brown skin melts into yours as he pulls on your zipper, exposing more and more of your naked back as he goes.

The soft smile on your face grows wider as he centers his large palm in the middle of your back. Warm skin to warm skin. His eyes are ablaze— dark, blown pupils against a lighter brown iris— set dead on you as his lips part, showing off a distinctive gap in his teeth as his fingers whisk across your back and shoulder.

You turn to face him, still kneeling in the center of the table, and reach for his mask— pulling gently on the black tie until the bow falls away. He lets you remove it from him, a soft smile playing on his lips as you reveal the handsome face underneath.

“Samuel Thomas Wilson,” Steve offers softly.

Samuel tips his head towards you as you run the tips of your fingers along his softly bearded jaw, “S.T.W.” you say easy, recalling the last of your calling cards, “Hi Sam.”

You lean forward and place your lips on his— one gentle, chaste kiss before you break away from him with a soft smack.

You follow Steve with your eyes as he moves to the man seated next to Sam. Steve places his hand on his shoulder, “Andrew Stephen Barber.”

You bat your eyes at Andrew as he stands and takes your hand, bringing the backs of your fingers to his lips, “Andy.” He supplies as he removes his mask and sits it gently on the table.

“A.S.B., thank you for the dress.”

His presence is calm— gentle, matching the softness of his beard and dark hair. You press your free hand into the halter top of your dress to keep it from falling, but all the modesty you once had is evaporating quickly. You feel like you’ve known them all forever.

The next pair of blue eyes bring a forceful energy, one of entitlement and defiance. Before Steve can get his name out, he’s standing, his mask in his hand revealing his boyish, clean face, “Hugh Ransom Drysdale.” He winks at you suggestively, “Ransom.”

He wraps his long arm around your waist and pulls you close, crashing his lips to yours in a fury. You giggle against him before accepting his velvety tongue into your mouth, letting it sweep along your bottom lip and then slide along yours. Steve taps his shoulder and after a beat… or two, Ransom releases you from his grip, a smirk on his face, a twinkle in his eye.

You turn to the fourth man— the dark haired man that Steve initially spoke to on the stairs. He’s standing, with Steve behind him, the tips of his fingers resting on the edge of the long table. He’s the only one wearing gloves. His breathing is controlled, his eyes set on you as you inch towards him, sitting up on your knees in front of him.

You walk your fingers up his chest seductively, your teeth digging into your bottom lip as you smile at him, “You must be J.B.B.”

He tilts his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, “I could be S.G.R.”

“While the guy named Steven stands behind you?” you squint playfully, reaching for his mask.

He grabs your wrist with his left hand, making you gasp. It’s a firm grip, but it excites something deep in you. You drop your hands into your lap, flattening them on your thighs as you take a deep breath and push it out of your nose. He glances over his shoulder at Steve, who nods just once before he turns back to face you and starts to pull at the fingers of his gloves. He removes the right hand first, tucking the black glove into his pocket before he starts on the left, pulling slowly— finger by finger.

Your mouth drops open as he pulls the nylon material away, your eyes going wide as he stretches out his digits, the candle light glinting off of the dark metal. The breath in your throat hitches as you watch him reach for his mask and untie it, pulling it away from his face to reveal a familiar one.

J.B.B.

James Buchanan Barnes.

So that means—

You blink towards Steve, whose mask is now off and sitting on the table. He rests his hand on Bucky’s shoulder as he exhales deeply, “James Buchanan Barnes,” he then points at himself, “Steven Grant Rogers.”

You blink rapidly— completely dumbfounded as the two super soldiers stand before you. Bucky takes your hand, brushing his lips over your fingers before he pops them into his mouth, sucking gently on your digits as he flicks his eyes back up to yours. Your stomach tightens. A hum accompanies the breath that vibrates through your chest as he drags his left hand up and down your arm.

Steve cups your cheek and turns your head towards him before he traces your jaw and chin with his index finger, “We’re gonna take care of you baby girl,” he whispers as he places his fingertips on your forehead and brushes them down your face, “We’ve searched for you for so long.”

You believe him— you don’t know what he’s talking about, but you believe every word.

You push in and kiss Bucky, wrapping your hand around the back of his neck and squeeze gently before you turn towards Steve, pulling him into another deep kiss, “Get this dress off of me.” You whisper.

Hands— so many hands, each pair distinctively different, are on your body within seconds, tugging and pulling at the heavy dress until you’re free of it. The only piece of clothing left on you is your thin thong as you lay back on the table, your hands over your bare breasts, covering them. You gaze up at the five men peering at you, their eyes wide and hungry.

Steve slips his hand down your sternum, the pads of his fingers sliding down your stomach to your hips, where he traces the thin band of your underwear— his touch making you raise your hips from the table. Sam drags his thumb along your chin and bottom lip before he pushes the tip just inside your all too eager mouth. You suck gently, running your tongue the length of his digit as Ransom pries your hands away from your breasts.

You moan softly, arching your back into Ransom’s hands as he starts to tweak your taut nipples, rolling them both between his fingers before he leans down and sucks your right breast into his mouth. Hands grab your thighs, kneading your flesh and pull them apart as Andy licks into your mouth, his tongue massaging the roof as he holds your chin.

The energy is back in the room— the power swirling as the men start to devour you. There’s tongues over your toes, hands on your tight nipples and abundant breasts, lips on your shoulders and neck. Fingernails scrape against your skin as they slink underneath the band of your panties, pulling them down your thighs and calves before they slide over your ankle and are discarded to the floor.

You feel the warm metal and flesh hand of Bucky around your ankles, drawing your legs up so they’re bent at the knee. He crawls onto the table, his heavy blue eyes drinking you in as he lets his metal fingers dance up and down the inside of your thigh. You start to shiver at his touch— your back arching away from the table as you gasp and hiss from the hands and mouths and tongues all over you.

Bucky sinks down— low, onto his belly— his eyes still trained on yours as he wraps his arms around your thighs. He starts to blow warm air against your sticky, hot sex, his eyes finally dipping away from yours and to your lower half as your hips jerk and whine. His metal fingers push through your folds gently, rubbing the sensitive nub at the center of you, then teasing your slit and opening.

Steve presses his balmy lips right in the valley of your breasts and peppers kisses along your jiggling flesh. The tip of his tongue circles your nipples before his teeth nip and bite. You gasp loud as a metal finger, and then a second push into your cunt— a thumb pressing against your clit. Your hips jut upward as you mewl, the sound quickly being covered up by Sam’s mouth as he kisses you hard.

Bucky blinks up at you as he withdrawals his fingers and waits— waits for you to make eye contact with him before he sucks them into his mouth, wiping them clean of your slick. He moans— heavy and hard as he closes his eyes, savoring your taste.

Your hips start to roll into his hand as he dips his fingers back into you, his breath washing over your quivering thighs. Ransom tickles your right knee, then skips his hand down the inside of your thigh, where he cups your sex around Bucky’s pushing fingers. Ransom starts to rub your clit, pressing firm circles into your wet flesh as Bucky curls his fingers to massage your muscles.

Andy sinks his teeth into your side before his tongue glances out over your stomach, circling your belly button before he sucks on your skin. He presses his hand into your lower stomach to add some pressure— Sam and Steve each taking a breast into their wet mouths, their tongues swishing and swirling.

You dig a hand into Steve’s hair and cup Sam’s head as they tease your nipples, a sharp yelp bursting through your lips as Sam bites down gently. Ransom spreads your folds with his index and middle fingers and suddenly, there’s a tongue— a warm, velvety tongue flattening against your clit. You push your head up to watch as Bucky sucks on your nub, his eyes searing into yours as he releases you with a smack, and then dives back in, the tip of his tongue flirting with your opening, his fingers still pumping.

Your head and hips roll as unrestrained groans rumble through your chest and fill the room, mingling with the deep moans and growls of the five men pleasing you. The sound of a zipper bounces off the walls— your hand then grabbed and pulled to your left. You gasp at the heavy warmth that fills your palm as your fingers wrap around Sam’s length. You roll your head towards him, biting your bottom lip as you watch your hand slide up and down his impressive girth.

You grab Steve’s hip with your free hand, digging your fingers into him as you lean up, beckoning him to come closer. You kiss him hard once he’s within distance, smacking your lips against his before you sound into his mouth as Ransom slaps your pussy, the gold band around his ring finger adding a heaviness to the strikes.

Bucky kisses up your thigh, sinking his teeth into your flesh every now and again until he reaches your ankle and foot. He thumbs at your black painted nails before he pulls your toes into his mouth as he massages your calf, “These are cute, these toes.” He murmurs, a light chuckle vibrating through him.

A chorus of zips start to sound, one right after the other. Their jackets soon hit the floor, the crisp, white sleeves of their button downs are rolled up their forearms before they all descend on you again. You’re lifted from the table into Andy’s arms as Sam slides into the space you once occupied on the table, his pants riding low on his hips. Andy kisses you deeply before placing you back on your feet on the top of the table, keeping a hold of your hand as you traipse along Sam’s side.

You throw your leg over Sam’s body and sit slowly, wiggling your hips as you position yourself on his lower stomach. You reach back, dragging your fingers through the curly patch of hair covering his lower half, tickling his skin. You slip your fingers into his unzipped pants and pull him free, stroking and squeezing him slowly before you swipe your fingers over his wet tip.

Two strong hands grip your waist— Ransom— as you slip your hand down to Sam’s base and lift upward, guiding him towards your entrance. Ransom holds you steady as you sit down on Sam, your cunt swallowing every delicious inch of Sam’s cock until he’s completely disappeared. You lean forward, splaying your fingers out on his wide, thick chest as he grabs hold of your thighs. You pull up, hissing as his cock slides out of the tight grasp of your pussy and then sit back down, moaning as he fills you again.

Ransom slips his hand up your spine and wraps his fingers over your shoulder as you start a slow rhythm, up and down, up and down, up and down. Your hips roll as Sam starts to buck his hips up into you, each stroke a little harder, a little sharper than the one before it. There’s a chest to your back and then teeth nibbling at your earlobe as you lean back into the body and rest your head on a shoulder. Ransom’s mouth then covers yours as he wraps his arm around your waist, holding you tight as you ride Sam, your nails digging into his rich brown skin.

You gasp as a tongue teases your thick nipple, and then a hand closes over your left breast, squeezing and kneading gently. You slide your hand into Ransom’s hair as you watch Steve flick the tip of his tongue against your nipple before he sucks your breast into his mouth, moaning as his tongue swirls.

Andy slips his hand down your stomach and starts to work your clit, grabbing your chin with his free hand and tilting your head towards his. His head is tilted upwards, his eyes hooded as he peers down at you through his long, thick eye lashes. You whine as Sam’s pace quickens, fucking up into you hard as he grips your hips so tight you’re sure he’ll leave marks behind. Andy snarls his lip as he watches you struggle to keep your eyes open, as your hips falter, as you get louder and less restrained. He licks into your mouth before he lays a filthy kiss on you— demanding and sloppy.

Ransom squeezes your shoulder before he pushes you forward with his other hand, nearly crushing you against Sam’s chest. You shiver when you feel his cock slide through your ass cheeks, leaving a wetness behind. He pulls back and the backs of his fingers glance over your ass, deep hisses and a grunt coming from him as he strokes his cock— a drop of his cum dribbling onto your skin.

He suddenly pushes his fingers into your mouth— index, middle, and ring— wetting them with your saliva before he drags them back through your ass, the tips circling your hole. There’s a tangy taste left in your mouth, some of you, some of him, as he slaps his dick against your ass and then spreads you apart. Sam slows beneath you and then stops as he drags his large hands up and down your forearms, grabbing your hand and sucking your fingers into his warm mouth.

You slam your eyes closed, tensing as Ransom starts to push the head of his cock against your asshole. He places his hand against the center of your back, Bucky cups your face in his palms, sweeping his thumbs over your cheeks as he pecks your lips with his, singing gentle praise to help relax you.

“You can do it baby,” Bucky whispers, rubbing his nose against yours, smiling softly, “You can take him baby, I know you can. Can’t she Steve?”

Steve sinks his teeth into your shoulder, humming as he drags his red, swollen lips down your arm, “This pretty girl sure can,” he reassures, his voice smooth and low, “And it’s gonna feel so good, baby. You’re gonna feel so full, so stretched.”

You whimper loudly. You grab Bucky’s shoulder as Ransom’s dick finally breaks through your threshold. Ransom lets out a breath, the warm splashing over your back as he stills, a shuddering groan vibrating through his chest. Ransom squeezes your shoulder again, leaning forward to place sloppy kisses on your back, “More?”

Steve kisses your temple before he nuzzles into the side of your face, “You can do it sweet girl. You can take him all.”

Bucky kisses your lips again. Sam nibbles on the tips of your fingers as he nudges his hips into yours, burying deeper into you. You nod quickly— you do want more. More, more, more.

Ransom starts to push again, spreading your tight muscles as he forges, filling you right up. He doesn’t stop until he bottoms out— his stomach now pressing into your ass as he wraps his hand around the back of your neck.

“Such a good girl,” Bucky purrs as he reaches between you and Sam’s bodies, starting to play with your nub, “Such a sweet, pretty girl.”

Sam is the first to move, pressing up into you before he withdrawals slowly. Ransom counters his actions, pulling out when Sam pushes in, delving in when Sam drags out. It’s hypnotizing— the rhythm, the push and pull. Your mouth goes slack as Steve rolls your nipples in his hands, his tongue and teeth nipping and licking at your damp skin. You roll your hips, pushing back into Ransom as Sam fucks up into you as electricity flows through your veins.

“That’s it baby girl,” Bucky praises through impassioned kisses, his tongue slipping along your lips and the roof of your mouth, “Stuffed full, aren’t you sweetie?”

Your stomach tightens at the words, your heart beat pounding against your chest and in your ears as a tingle rushing up your spine. There’s a pull deep in your belly, a molten heat and the raw emotions spreading through you as your body tightens hard.  Your hips jerk as a sudden current strikes you— your cunt closing around Sam. He shudders and you feel it, feel it rumble through his chest as his own hips get desperate.

Ransom fucks your ass with fluid motions, his enormous hands and long fingers digging into the supple flesh of your waist. He grunts, hard and grainy as the warmth of your insides caress his cock. Ransom gets loud, Sam gets loud, you get whimpery— needy, almost to the point of tears as the waves roll harder and faster through you. Each stroke, each thrust, each plow of their hips driving you closer and closer to your demise.

A moan chokes in your throat as your orgasm blooms across your skin, but soon the sounds are pouring out of you. Loud, desperate, relieved as the waves finally crash. Bucky bites his bottom lip hard as his fingers slap against your jumping clit. Steve pinches your nipples as he rests his forehead against the side of your face, his hot breath sticking to your skin.

Sam drives his hips into yours once more and digs his thumbs into the creases of your thighs as his cock starts to spit, over and over again, spilling into you. Ransom fucks through it all, keeping a firm grip on your shoulder until he too comes undone in your ass. He pushes deep, deep, deep inside as he spurts, watching as your hole spasms around him.

Ransom pulls out of you as soon as he’s milked and you feel his cum bubble out of you, slipping down the inside of your thigh. You’re lifted off of Sam— brought to the edge of the table, on your hands and knees, your feet hanging over the end. A massive hand presses between your shoulder blades, forcing your chest and head down onto the cool surface as you try and catch your breath. You jump when a pair of warm lips connect where your ass ends and your thigh begins, a soft beard brushing against your skin.

Andy drags his finger up the inside of your thigh, collecting the cum that’s spilled from you and pushes two fingers into your hot cunt— your muscles still quaking, still constricting. He fingers you slowly, skimming his fingertips up and down your thigh as he pushes his digits, cramming Sam and Ransom’s cum deep.

You hum with each stroke, lunging forward softly, your nipples grazing over the marble table top as you move. You blink slowly as you lift your head, watching as Bucky climbs onto the table, spreading his legs as they slide around you. He slides his flesh hand into his pants and starts to stroke his cock— long, languid pulls as his metal fingers pull on his tight balls. You wrap your hands around his thighs, the excitement bubbling up in your chest once more as you watch him.

Andy replaces his fingers with his dick in one fell swoop. You mewl, your tits bouncing as he starts a brisk pace. The sound of his skin slapping against yours bouncing off the walls as Ransom, Sam, and Steve watch on, chests rising and falling hard as they tug their hands up and down their cocks at the sight.

You rock forward, your face inches from Bucky’s cock as he jerks himself, peering down his long body at you. Keeping your eyes on his, you push your tongue out from behind your teeth and lick at his shaft quickly before puckering your lips to kiss the thick vein running the length of him. You push your hands over his hips and up over his abs as your mouth slides over his wet, red mushroom tip.

Bucky moans deep, his back arching from the table as he pushes his hips up into your mouth, sending his cock right to the back of your throat. You pull upward as his hips sink back to the table, releasing him with a pop and smiling as his cock sways back and forth. You wrap your fingers around the base of his dick, wiggling him a little before you lower your mouth over his tip, sucking lightly as you swirl your tongue over his slit.

Your plump lips go slack around Bucky as Andy presses into a spot— sending a jolt right to your heart. Andy lets his hands roam along your back and sides as he fucks you, gripping and squeezing, groping and kneading your thick, soft flesh. He’ll push deep, and then just stay there for a few seconds, savoring the warmth, the tightness of your slick muscles before he wiggles his hips and withdrawals from you, just to plunge back in.

You release Bucky quickly to swallow the piquant spunk left on your tongue before you cram him back into your mouth. You suck on his cock head as you pump him up and down, twisting and turning your hand as you go. A muffled moan seeps from your mouth, vibrating around Bucky��s cock as you slam your eyes closed, feeling Andy’s strokes in your stomach.

The tingles are back— the pull in your belly. Your pussy tightens as the electricity within you starts to bounce around, synapses firing. Andy feels it, Bucky too, their hips pushing harder and faster. Your nails scratch at Bucky’s skin, squeezing uncontrollably as your heart beats in your ears, heat flushing your face.

Andy fucks into you good, hard and deep, sending you right over the edge once more. Your release spreads through you, warming every inch of flesh, every pore, every follicle. Andy thumbs your clit as he continues to pump his hips, fucking your right through your orgasm until your contracting muscles and slick coax his climax. Bucky erupts at nearly the same time— long, hot ribbons of his cum shooting from him, splattering on his stomach and dribbling down his cock.

There’s movement out of the corner of your eye, Steve standing from one of the chairs to grab your chin, pushing your head and face up towards him. He kisses you hard— sloppy, sucking on your bottom lip before he tongues the roof of your mouth. He pulls away, cupping your face in his hands gently as he rubs his thumbs along your cheeks, a soft smile on his lips, eyes full of affection.

“Such a good girl.” he whispers.

He pulls you into another kiss, but this time it’s softer— sweeter. Slower.

Andy pulls out of you, his hands still sweeping over your back and ass and thighs. He presses another kiss right into the creases of each cheek before he falls into a chair next to Sam. Bucky slides off of the table and sits next to Ransom, resting his head on the back of the chair and lets his mouth go slack as he lets out a breath.

Steve crawls onto the table as the four other men drag their chairs to the edges of the table, sitting up straighter once they get situated. Steve grabs your lips with his, a soft hum wavering in his throat. He separates from you but doesn’t go far— resting his forehead on yours as he nuzzles into you, rubbing the tip of his nose along the bridge of yours. He starts to guide you back, his hand behind your head, as he lays you down flat on the table, your knees drawn up, your feet flat against the cool surface.

You sweep your hands up and down your thighs in anticipation as you watch him unbutton his shirt slowly, his blue eyes wandering the length of your body as his fingers move. You push up onto your elbows, tilting your head as you blink at him when he pulls the material away from his buff torso.

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you dip your eyes to his broad chest, his skin tanned and tight. There are faint scars littered along his skin— a few tiger stripes on his biceps and sides. His stomach is firm and flat, six perfect abs carved out, and the cutest belly button you think you’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing. You sit up, placing your hand in the middle of his chest, right in the middle of those hard pecs and watch your hand move with each breath he takes. Your fingers fall, down his sternum, over those abs, and slightly into the dark blonde patch of hair that peeks out of his open pants.

You draw your bottom lip into your mouth and send your eyes up to his as your hand digs deeper— your dainty fingers wrapping around his hard, hot cock. His chest tightens at your touch. You inch your body closer to his, throwing your legs open and around either side of his body as you start to pump him slowly. You draw your hand up his shaft, sweeping your palm over his sensitive, weeping tip before you push back down, squeezing him gently— feeling him.

His breathing gets deeper, his chest and stomach constricting, his lips parting and quivering ever so lightly as you massage him. All five pairs of eyes are on you— unwavering, barely blinking as they consume you and only you. The power swells in your chest. You feel like a goddamn queen. Captivating. Strong.

You pull him free of his dark slacks and have to take a breath at the sight of him. He’s gorgeous. Thick and long, his tip shiny and wet and red— eager— his dick jumping every now and again as cum dribbles out of his slit. You sweep the pads of your fingers over the tip again, collecting the warm, cloudy spunk and push it down his shaft, along the thick vein that runs down him, wetting every inch of him.

He pulls you into his lap in one swift move, like you’re absolutely weightless. His cock settles against your pussy and clit, resting against your stomach as he wraps his arm around your back and waist. You instantly start to roll your hips, sliding your skin along his dick— coping a feel— letting it radiate through you.

The current in the room picks up. The flames of the candles start to flicker as if there’s a strong breeze that threatens to extinguish them. You push up with the help of Steve’s strength, your mouth hanging open as you guide him towards your entrance. You push his flesh through your folds, teasing yourself a little before you align him with you, starting to sink your hips down.

You dig your fingertips into his shoulders, let your head fall back as he opens you up inch by inch. A growl scratches at the back of your throat when you feel his hot lips on your neck, peppering kisses, tongue lapping, teeth nipping as you take him. The candles flicker hard as Steve bottoms out in you— hip to hip; flesh to flesh.

Throwing an arm around his neck, you really start to move, pulling up on that towering dick before sinking back down on it. Your tits bounce as your hips roll, a delicious burn starting to spread through your thighs. Steve’s hips fuck into yours, meeting you halfway as you crash down. There’s hands on you again— on your shoulders and arms, on your thighs, wrapping around your ankles— Andy, Ransom, Sam, and Bucky— grabbing, kneading, gripping, groping.

The electricity in the room bounces off the walls, energizing you, drawing you into Steve more and more with each passing second. The wind even kicks up outside, slamming against the sprawling house, shaking the lush trees. The warm moonlight cascades into the room and over your bodies as you fuck Steve unmercifully on top of the old table. You gasp and moan and pant— the sounds bitten off, choked, and heavy as your pussy constricts around him.

He appeases each whim of your hips, driving into you deep and hard, taking control when your hips jerk and shudder. He encourages you— they all do— sweet, tiny whispers, filthy, low declamations. Their voices rattle your brain and your bones as the candle light trembles again.

You’re slamming into each other, Steve bottoming out with each thrust. Your stomach is tight, your body warm and prickly, your clit stinging as another orgasm looms in the distance. Steve’s hips are rolling and pushing, his fingernails scratching your skin as he rakes them down your naked back. There’s teeth on your shoulders and neck, lips over your nipples, fingers prodding against your clit until you come undone, shouting and pleading to every God you know.

A sudden burst of warmth explodes inside of you— Steve’s strangled groans growing loud as he comes. Your face breaks with passion, tears threatening to spill as ungodly, high-pitched sounds spill from your lips. You’re all shrouded in darkness. The candle light whipped away, suddenly extinguished by the invisible forces in the room.

The candles relight again out of nowhere as you collapse against Steve as your body finally gives out after the thorough fuck session. You’re heavy and limp, air rushing out of your mouth, sticking to his damp, humid skin. You can’t even keep your eyes open. You hum intermittently as their hands brush over your skin before they pull you away from him, laying you back down on the table.

Their voices ring out, all in sink, chanting again in French. Sam sprinkles your body with the flask, from your head to your toes— Steve traces a cross on your chest. They all flatten your hands on you as their chorus finishes, and you hear the soft voices again. They’re warm and happy, the feminine voices, as the love— the familial undercurrent— fills the room again.

You’re lifted into arms, pressed against a chest before one of their discarded jackets is thrown over your shoulders. Your head is foggy, thoughts slow as someone carries you out of the room. You feel their protection, the fierce safeguard of you as suddenly you’re the center of attention. It feels as if hundreds of eyes are on you— because there are as they walk you right through the center of the party.

“Our missing child is home.” Steve announces, smiling softly down on you, sweeping his large hand over your forehead, “The family is complete once more.”

An exuberant applause erupts.

You’re moving again, slowly the eyes on you disappearing as the fivesome moves you through the house. A door clicks, the sound of the bottom of it sweeping across the carpet filling your ears. A warmth surrounds you as you’re laid down onto a bed, a large, full comforter covering your naked body. You squirm, your head rolling against the pillow as you murmur and whimper.

“Shh shh shh, little one,” Sam purrs, stroking your face with his thick fingers, “You’re safe.”

“We’re all here sweet girl. Just rest.” Andy says calmly, brushing his lips over the backs of your fingers.

Naked bodies surround you— cram you right in the middle of them. Arms and legs are thrown over you, fingers thread with yours, lips and beards glance over your skin as they whisper and blether. You roll into a body, you’re not even sure who’s, and you hold onto them tight, letting the sleep seep in, letting it pull you away into the deep.

SATURDAY

There’s an intrusive light burning into your face. You shift, rolling your head away from it before rolling your entire body over onto your side. You stretch your arms out and sigh slowly, wanting nothing more than to melt back into the soft, deep slumber that had been disturbed— but your brain has other plans. It slowly starts to awaken, the fog lifting, memories and visions of the night before playing before your eyes. Hands on your skin, lips locked on yours, eyes following your every move.

You spring upwards.

Your eyes pop open as you inhale sharply. You snap your head to the right and then the left before you scan the room, finding it completely empty. You turn back towards the windows, squinting and blinking as the sun belts into the room, the light spilling over the floor and bed. Voices float towards you— warm, male laughter— before it dies away again and all you hear are the random chirps of birds and the soft swish of the breeze against the trees and house.

That’s when the soreness seeps in. You roll your shoulders as you recognize the subtle pain, roll your neck before stretching your arms above your head. There’s laughter again, the clatter of pans and dishes and you blink at the closed bedroom door. Questions start to populate and swarm, pushing away the rest of the sleepy fog in your mind.

You throw your legs over the side of the bed and stand, but throw your hands back on the mattress as you stumble, having to steady yourself. Your legs are jelly. A hum vibrates in your chest and throat as you take a step after a few sobering seconds. The muscles of your sex scream at you— achy and tight— used. It’s sharp but also dull, nagging and deep— the soreness. It feels good. Feels right.

Spotting an egg shaped floor length mirror leaning up against the far wall, you pad towards it, squinting and hissing as pangs of the delicious pain prickle along your skin and muscles. You peer at your body, twisting and turning. You’re marked beyond belief— suck marks on your neck and shoulders, red raised welts on your sides and thighs, deep bruises and teeth marks scattered along your body like a map.

A smile tugs at the corners of your mouth.

You spot a small bench in front of the bed, a pink satin tank top and matching shorts tossed over it. You slip the tank top over your arms to cover your bare torso and pull the shorts up your legs, your ample behind poking out of the bottom of them. You start for the door and move into a long hallway, following the laughter and voices emanating from deep in the house.

This is a really big house. It takes a while, well, you’re nosey so you peek into each room you pass and stop to eye the paintings on the wall, but you finally find the source of all the noise. You turn into the vast kitchen, finding five men placed throughout it. Sam is over the stove, cracking eggs and flipping potatoes and fresh vegetables. Andy sits at the bar, his nose buried in the Saturday paper as he sips on a black coffee. Bucky and Steve sit at the table, talking hushly over some old papers, and Ransom leans against the fridge, thumbing through his phone.

Bucky’s the first to notice you. He greets you with a wide, bright smile, his eyes crinkling at the sides, his nose scrunching, “Good morning beautiful.”

The rest of the men all blink at you and a warmth flushes through your face as you play with your fingers. Before you can respond, Ransom sweeps you off your feet and into his arms, kissing you hard and deep before he sits you back down and swats your behind, “Mornin’ doll.”

“Don’t be so rough with her,” Andy chides the slightly younger man. He grabs your wrist, bringing the back of your hand to his lips, “Sleep well, baby?”

“I did, thank you.” You smile, nervous but flattered by the attention.

“Hope you’re hungry sweetie,” Sam says, leaning into you to peck your lips as you move towards him.

“I’m starving.”

“I bet. You slept hard last night.” He winks, nudging you with his shoulder, “Ransom, plates.”

“I’m not the help, Wilson.”

“Well you are to-fuckin-day. Get the plates, trust fund baby.”

You laugh as you move towards the table, getting swept up into another breathless kiss by Bucky before Steve pulls you into his lap, brushing his nose over the back of your shoulder. Ransom and Sam hand out the plates one by one, taking drink orders and handing them out before they take their seats at the long table. You stay in Steve’s lap as you eat, listening as they all chat and cut up a little, teasing the youngest of them, Ransom, and listening intently as Andy talks about his latest case.

“I bet baby girl over here has some questions, hmm?” Bucky says after a while, cutting into his sausage and popping a small piece into his mouth.

You nod as you chew and swallow, before your eyes go wide, “Oh shit! My sister MJ! I bet she’s—”

Ransom slides your phone towards you, “I texted her for you last night and again this morning. Convinced her not to call the cops— she’s a feisty one.”

“Oh God, thank you.” You sigh, glancing over the texts.

“You can call her if you’d like. We can step out.” Steve offers, peering at you over your shoulder.

“No, no. She seems to be pacified for the moment. I’ll call her in a little while. So,” you lead in, “How, um, what is all of this? How do you guys know me, or my mom, to be more specific?”

Steve wraps his arm around your waist, holding you to him before he takes a breath, “This is going to sound really strange and it’s a really long story.”

“I got time,” you laugh, “It’s the only reason I came last night. Didn’t expect to get fucked by five dudes, but, you know,” you giggle, “Shit happens.”

“Steve and I,” Bucky starts, “We knew your great-grandmother, Marie-Angelie Paris Laveau of New Orleans. Steve was… sickly.” You nod quickly, having read everything there is to know about the great Steve Rogers, “I had heard that there was this new religion, down south. A woman that claimed to be a healer and Steve was my best friend, so, we decided to check it out in the early forties— wanted to see if she could help him.”

“When we finally got to Louisiana and tracked Marie-Angelie down, it was nothing that Bucky and I had ever seen before.” Steve chuckles, “Your great-grandmother was a beautiful woman, had thousands of followers, just like her mother, and her mother before her.”

“Followers?” You ask, furrowing your brow.

Bucky shifts his eyes to Steve before they land back on you, “You’re a direct descendant of Marie Laveau, the voodoo queen of the French quarter.”

Your eyes widen at the words.

“The elder Marie was a very powerful woman, passed down her knowledge and her gift to her daughters who kept her spirit and her craft alive. Marie-Angelie took one look at Steve and knew she could help. So,” Bucky takes a breath, holding it in his chest for a second before he pushes it out, “We made our offerings, appeased the spirits and we had Steve stay with her for the night.”

“She prayed over me all night. Chanted, offered the spirits many gifts, had me drink this potion that she’d made,” Steve says slowly, “I’m not too sure what happened. I just remember waking up and looking like this. It came with conditions of course, one of which she told us about, the other she didn’t.”

“What were they?” you breathe, engrossed in the story.

“The condition we knew about was that Bucky and I had to join the society.” You raise your eyebrows, prompting Steve to smile, “The elder Marie, your great-great-great-great grandmother entered into a pact with Sam’s great-great-great-great grandfather.”

“He was a farmer,” Sam says after he takes a sip of his coffee, taking over the story, “My great-great-great-great granddaddy went to Marie for a little advice and to have her pray for his crops. He was flat broke, about to lose the farm, Louisiana was going through a terrible drought— he offered Marie the last dollar he had in his pocket. His crop came in more bountiful than ever, in fact, it was the only farm that yielded that season. Made him a millionaire overnight. So, in exchange for her prayers, he offered her and her offspring protection. As long as there's a Laveau bloodline, the Wilson’s will watch over them.”

Silence falls over the room as you blink back at Sam, unable to speak. Bucky leans forward, placing his flesh hand over yours and rubs gently as concern fills his blue eyes, “You okay, honey?”

You nod, closing your eyes as you swallow, “Yeah, I, um, so… okay, so Sam, Steve and you are bound to protect me? Because of this society that was formed?”

“Us too,” Andy adds, “My great-great-great-great grandfather, Reginald Barber was a politician, went to Marie for some help around the same time as Sam’s granddad did, and when she fulfilled his request, he also joined.”

“My grandad is a writer, he too ended up joining the society in the early sixties with your grandmother when his first novel blew up.” Ransom says, “Harland Thrombey.”

“Harland Thrombey, the mystery writer, right? I thought he had a daughter?”

“That’s my mom. When I was born, I took her place in the order.”

You lift your eyebrows, nodding your head, “Wow.” you laugh a little, “So, what exactly do you guys do for me?”

“We just keep you safe. Watch over you, try to fulfill all of your… needs.” Sam answers with a smirk on his face and a glint in his eye, “Keep the bloodline going, if need be.”

You squint suddenly as the wheels and gears in your brain turn, “Wait so, this is passed down? From generation to generation?”

“Yes.” Andy answers simply.

“So, that means that all of your fathers, had sex with my mother? Am I.. oh my god,” your hands fly to your face, “Am I related to you one you?”

“No, oh my god!” Ransom recoils, his face screwed up in disgust, “The fuck do you think we are, weirdos? No.”

Steve laughs, rubbing your stomach with his large hand, “Your father is James Rhodes. He’s part of the congregation, the followers of your grandmothers. He was chosen for your mother, just like your partner will be chosen for you.”

You blink, your mind empty, “Chosen?”

“It will be someone either in the society— one of us— or someone in the congregation.” Steve nods, “Either way, your partner will be someone who will understand our debt to you and your family. If your partner is indeed someone in the society, that person is then removed, so there’s no impropriety, and someone in the congregation will take his place to keep the society full. Once you’re paired with whoever, we all then have a duty to reproduce so our children can take care of yours— again, with women in the congregation who understand our duty, and so on and so forth.”

You fall back against Steve’s chest, slumping a little at all of the information, “It’s a lot,” Sam reassures, “I know, I’m sorry.”

Insane is what it is, you think, rubbing your forehead with your manicured fingers. Somehow though, it all just kind of makes sense, “You said there was another condition? After you and Bucky went to Louisiana? What was it?”

“Me.” Bucky smiles, leaning back into his seat as his eyes fall into his lap.

You glance back at Steve, “I don’t understand.”

“In order for me to achieve this,” Steve motions towards his body, “Something had to be sacrificed, “The spirits chose Bucky. Some years later, after we joined the army—”

You gasp, covering your mouth again, “When he fell from the train.” You finish for him.

Steve just nods, “I put two and two together after a while. I went back to Marie and told her I was done— I wanted out and I didn’t care what happened to me for it. So I ended up just kind of floating through life. Threw myself into my work and saving the world. I didn’t know at the time that some of my blood had gotten into the hands of the Germans during the war. They studied it— noticed that my enzymes were nearly indestructible. They created the super soldier serum to replicate my strength and healing abilities.”

“Hydra, is what they were called. They found me and started experimenting.” A sad smile covers Bucky’s face. You lean forward, cupping his cheek in your hand and rub your thumb just under his eye. His smile turns upward as he nuzzles into your warm palm, “I’m alright.”

“I got wind of Bucky in the eighties, he had assassinated this researcher, they actually got a picture of him. I had to bring him home,” Steve shrugs, “But he was tricky— elusive. I tracked him for a few years but I couldn’t ever get close, and I knew I only had one option at that point.” Steve rests his lips against your shoulder, brushing them back and forth slowly against your warm skin, “I tracked down your grandmother and your mom for help.”

You feel him smile against you and you turn, throwing your arms around his neck as he continues his story, “You were barely walking when I met you the first time. You were so cute, so little. Even though I was still pissed, you stole my heart as soon as I saw you. You were the only innocence in this craziness.”

A tear slips down your cheek. He wipes it away with his fingers, smiling softly at you as you’re overcome with emotion, “Did you used to read to me?” you ask with a shaky voice, the early, fragmented memories you have of a blonde, blue eyed man suddenly making sense.

“Tamerlane by Edgar Allan Poe was your favorite.” he smiles, “That’s how I knew it was you last night. Poe was your favorite, even back then.”

You hug him tightly and feel hands on your back and shoulders, a pair of lips on the top of your head and the side of your face as Andy, Bucky, Ransom, and Sam crowd around you, “We brought you home now.” Sam voices gently, “We’ll take care of you baby. From now until the end of days.”

You let them soothe you. Let them stroke your hair and whisper their sweet nothings. Let them kiss your skin and wipe away the tears as the sun cutting into the room through the windows washes you in warmth. You lean back after what seems like forever, sniffling gently as Steve brushes those fingers underneath your eyes, “I want to meet my mom.”

“Of course. We’ll take you to her whenever you’re ready. She was supposed to be here but, she couldn’t deal with the heartbreak again if it wasn’t you. She’s been looking for you for so long— they both have.”

You exhale deeply, closing your eyes as you rest your head against Steve’s chest, nuzzling into him, “Why was I taken?”

“Somebody sent a tip to the police that your mother was living in a commune—” you feel him tense, his tone going harsh, “Just a nosey ass woman who didn’t have anything better to do with her time. Made up some shit about drug trafficking coming out of the house. It was raided while I was in Europe— they took you, put you up for adoption. I should have been there. I should have protected you.”

“You're protecting me now. That’s all that matters.” You whisper, “But,” your voice drops away as you open your eyes, blinking slowly.

Ransom’s massive hand runs up and down your back, “What is it, honey?”

“My sister. My mom and my dad— the people that raised me. I love them.”

“We are not going to take you away from them,” Bucky answers quickly, “They’re a part of you. We understand that.”

“Can’t wait to meet that sister of yours,” Ransom adds, “She seems fun.”

You laugh through the fresh wave of tears that have wetted your face, “She is fun. She has a boyfriend named Peter, he loves you two,” you smile, gesturing towards Steve and Bucky, “He’s gonna shit his pants.”

You close your eyes again, your head starting to pound from all of the information that’s been placed at your feet. Your stomach churns and you shiver, causing Steve to tighten his grip, “Let’s lay you down, huh? That was a lot to take in.”

They all follow you and Steve back into the bedroom where you first woke up that morning. You’re stripped naked again, crowded in the middle of their hulky bodies. They let you cry. They let you talk aimlessly. They let you get angry, and then sad, and then content as you work through your sordid history. One by one, their lips are on yours again. Hands dig into your sides and grip your thighs. Languid thrusts, hot breaths, short whimpers, and long cries fill the room as they make love to you over and over.

Your bones are liquid. Your body, your cunt stretched and used— so sore you’re not even sure your limbs are connected anymore. You come, time and time again, from their mouths, their fingers, their wet, hard cocks. You take it all— two of them stuffing you full while a third occupies your mouth, the other two not-so-patiently waiting for their turn at you.

Sleep tugs at you from every angle after a while and you fade in and out as the day drags on. Women come to you in your dreams— the women of your family. They whisper to you, the great secrets of your long lineage. They smile and lay their hands on you, filling you with their spirits, their love.

You’re suddenly at a large body of water—  Bayou St. John. A woman perches by the bank, her hand swishing back and forth in the cool water. You traipse towards her through the tall grass, your feet sinking into the wet ground. You kneel next to her as she sings a native song. She’s wrapped in a red, white, and blue shawl, her eyes sparkling as she turns towards you. She cups your face, running her hand down your cheek and jaw before she reaches into the water and pulls out a large, multicolored fish.

You spring forward, gasping hard and deep as you wake from the vivid dream. You cover your face with your hands as a chill runs down your spine, your forehead covered in a cold sweat. Without thinking, you splay your hand over your stomach as your heart stills. There’s movement behind you— Steve slinks his hand around your middle, settling his hand over your much smaller one.

You peek over your shoulder and he’s staring at you, his lips parted slightly, his blue eyes wide and full of knowing. His words from earlier coming back to you. Your partner will be chosen for you. It will be someone either in the society— one of us— or someone in the congregation. You lay back down, curling into him, tracing his nose and jaw, his chin and eyes with your fingers as he blinks back at you.

“Did you see her too?” You breathe. Great-great-great-great grandmother Marie Laveau.

He nods, “I’ll take care of you,” he whispers as Sam, Andy, Ransom, and Bucky all sprawl out around the two of you, “I promise.”

You nod, smiling slowly, “I know.”

You mean it. You know he will— that they all will.

[writefightandflightclub]

Somebody to love (PART 1/2): Richard Alonso Munoz x fem!reader

Summary: Whilst your neighbour, Richard, is in love with love, you are a little more commitment averse. When he performs a small act of kindness though, your feelings start to unravel, and you wonder if you may have found somebody to love - right next-door all along.

Richard is a sweet, gentle man, and so I hoped to create a sweet, gentle story. I hope you enjoy spending some time in it!

I HAVE POSTED THIS IN TWO PARTS, ONLY BECAUSE OF LENGTH. WHILST YOU COULD PROBABLY(?) READ EITHER PART AS A STANDLONE THEY ARE MEANT TO WORK TOGETHER.

Genre / tropes: pining, friends to lovers (sort of - neighbours to lovers), getting together, domesticity, fluff, smut, nothing bad happens, ends happily, quite a slow burn for a one-shot, I guess?

Author’s note: This is part of my friends to lovers event, prompt requested by @foxilayde who I adore and you should too. Prompt was: he does something utterly mundane which shows how well he knows you, and your feelings hit you. I took some liberties with the prompt, and there is zero pressure to read this - IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A BLURB! :P More of these requests in pinned post!

Warnings/ Ratings:

PART ONE (Mature, 18+ ONLY): swearing; sexual themes (erotic poetry, thirsty internal monologue, sexual tension); food themes inc. mentions/consumption; family mentions - reader has nieces but they need not be biological; brief mentions of the prison system - Richard is a Corrections Officer; exceedingly brief mention of the Holocaust in context of a non-fiction book Richard is reading (I believe this is a canon read but may be wrong); loneliness (theme, not too angsty); self-esteem issues if you squint.

PART TWO: (Explicit, 18+ ONLY): swearing; explicit sex, including - oral m + f receiving; unprotected vaginal sex; creampie; f squirting (first time doing so); well-endowed man, ahem.

Word count: 10k for part 1, 9k for part 2.

You had been thinking about the small gesture all day. You had been distracted all the way through your shift, and then all through dinner with a friend.

Richard -your neighbour to the right- had turned-up at your door that morning, before setting off on his way to work. His visit had been unexpected, and you had opened the door in a fluster, seeing him greet you with a characteristically soft smile - just visible from beneath the thick brush of his bold, impressive moustache.

He had held them out to you - in between his index and middle finger. A small book of postage stamps.

You had simply looked at him in confusion for a moment.

“For your letters,” he had stated, in his soft-spoken voice. “You said last night you didn’t have any stamps, and I found these in my drawer, so...”

It was true. You had said that. Had forgotten you’d said it. Had barely registered running into him, since it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary.

Your routine overlapped minimally with Richard’s -though more so since his new role in the letter room had him working days exclusively- but sometimes, you would meet serendipitously, as neighbours tend to do. Last night, in the liminal space between your work day ending and your home life beginning, you had stopped to chat with him, and -you remembered now- had made some offhand comment about needing some stamps.

The topic of letters had come up; naturally, given his new position. It caused you to mention having written some letters to your nieces -packaged up with little illustrated portraits you’d gotten commissioned for their new bedrooms. Letters which you hadn’t gotten around to posting.

And so, here Richard was. On your doorstep. With stamps.

It was a little thing. So little, it didn’t even register at the time. In fact, you had bundled him off your porch with a quick, cursory “Thanks, Richard!”, prioritising finishing your morning scramble and making it out of the door on time.

It didn’t register in the moment, no; but you were noticing it now, alright.

“-so, this morning,” you explain to your friend opposite you in the pizza parlour, as she absent-mindedly dips her crusts in some hot sauce, “there he is on my doorstep, and he’d brought me some stamps.”

Your friend, Jaz, dips her chin and slowly raises her perfectly shaped eyebrows, her glossed lips curling in an amused, incredulous smile. “So, let me get this straight. He brought you some... stamps, which he already had, from his house next door,” she recaps, her smile inching wider by the second, “and now you want to fuck him?!”. Her eyebrows knit together in faux concern and she clamps a hand over yours where it rests on the table. “Sweetie, we need to talk. How low is your bar these days? Exactly how dick-starved are you?”

Ordinarily you’d be more than game for the light fun she pokes at you. Would even have a smart riposte ready. This time, though, you simply huff, your jaw twitching in minor irritation at how flippant she is being. So, shaking your head gently, you pull your hand away from hers, folding your jacket around yourself, suddenly feeling exceedingly self-conscious.

“Never mind. I’m obviously not telling it right. And, wait - hold up- who in the hell said I wanted to...” you look around the parlour, voice dropping to an indignant whisper as if anyone around you would hear or care about your hypothetical sexploits “...fuck him?” Your tone is defensive, and you shift to take a masking nibble on your straw, slurping the dregs of your soda and bouncing your leg nervously under the table.

Your friend merely raises an eyebrow, with a healthy -and not entirely unfounded- scepticism, and so, you try to rein your protestations in, lest you get slammed with a “methinks you doth protest too much”.

“Okay, okay,” Jaz concedes, holding up her hands and leaning back in her chair. “All I’m saying is, it seems like you have a hard-on for him all of a sudden. You’ve lived by him for years and you’ve never noticed the guy! It’s just stamps, baby cakes. It’s just your paunchy, kindly neighbour, who gets milkshake stuck in his moustache.”

At least he’s not afraid to make a mess of himself when he’s slurping, you think idly, your eyebrow ticking up - the thought leading you in a very particular direction and sending a sudden scorching heat to your cheeks. Also - paunchy? I like a beautiful soft tummy to rest my head on, thank you very much.

Yeesh. You are not okay. Still, before you go full feral, you shrug your shoulders in partial concession, widening your eyes in innocence. “Uh huh. Sure. Yeah.” 

“Seriously?” Jaz continues, shaking her head in good-natured disbelief - blatantly seeing right through you. “Are stamps your love language now, or what the fuck?”

She’s not wrong. It is very… sudden. You’ve never felt that way about Richard before. But is it so preposterous to think you might begin to?

“Jeez! Who said anything about love?!” You swirl your straw in your cup, concentrating on puncturing the remaining bubbles and ignoring your friend’s peals of bemused laughter. “Look, okay? I guess you’re right, Jaz. Maybe I’m just dick-starved,” you suggest, a smile finally claiming your lips. “It has been… a little while. And the last encounter was not very... inspiring.” You wiggle your eyebrows at her and your shared laughter mingles in the space between you. Still, you’re more than a little keen to deflect, and you bounce your foot more furiously under the table in your haste to change the subject. “I just thought it was sweet of him, that’s all, but… forget it, okay? Tell me everything about your hot date with Jackson.”

As soon as the invitation is given, Jaz jumps on it. And, as you listen to her spill the tea on her latest hook-ups with her fancy man, you try really hard to focus - but you can’t help that your thoughts keep wandering time and again to a certain man. A man with the kindest, most soulful cola-coloured eyes. Your neighbour to the right.  

You’re unsure why, but you feel a little bent out of shape - a little annoyed, even- that Jaz was so quick to dismiss Richard. Particularly that she had seemed to miss the whole meaning behind his small gesture. He was listening to you. He was thinking about you. And, as you dwell further on it, you realise that maybe -just maybe- you want the kind of guy who brings you stamps, goddammit.

Shit - maybe Jaz wasn’t too far off when she said stamps were your love language after all.

And, true, maybe you hadn’t paid the faintest bit of romantic attention to Richard -for the most part- in the years you’d lived side-by-side with him... but maybe it was time to start. Maybe, in fact, it was well overdue.

***

Granted, it hadn’t struck you right away how sweet Richard’s gesture was, but as soon as it had, you started to notice everything. To remember everything.

You remembered how he pushed a flyer through your door one evening, just in case you might be interested in the latest art exhibit going on at the local rec centre. You recalled how he had duct-taped the handle of your garbage can back together after it spectacularly broke one morning, causing your trash to spill over the sidewalk. It hadn’t seemed like a huge thing at the time, but now, as you imagine him painstakingly unfurling the roll and passing it around and around the broken piece, entirely on his own steam, it takes on a new meaning.

You have begun to notice - really notice- how he always smiles and stops to chat to you, his face lighting up as if he is genuinely pleased to see you. You have begun to notice everything he has done for you, over the years, a deluge of kindness flooding your heart. Details -little things- which seemed insignificant at the time, but which weigh heavier than gold now that you reflect on them.

And, most of all, you have noticed him.

Richard.

You have noticed his positivity. That bounce he gets in his step when he’s enthusiastic about something (which is always). The way his expressive, long-lashed eyes reveal everything he’s feeling whenever he talks or listens - his emotions and his compassionate heart pinned firmly on his sleeve, as prominent as his Corrections Officer badge. You notice how handsome he is; a fact which has inexplicably passed you by for the longest time. Perhaps, because of how understated he is? Not cocky and assured and alpha like the guys you’re usually drawn to.

Tonight, though, most of all, you are noticing that he’s not home, as you sit on your front porch steps, entirely locked out of your own house. You know for a fact that a couple of neighbours have spotted you there - you’ve observed pairs of curtains twitching- and yet no-one has come to your aid so far, mean bastards. You know, in contrast, that Richard would help anyone who needed it, without hesitation. And, it’s fair to say that sitting here, waiting for him to return and help you out, is certainly providing you plenty of opportunity to dwell on thoughts of him. In fact, you can’t wait for him to get home; not only because you wish for relief from the elements, no. But because the thought of seeing him actually excites you. You are looking forward to it.

Finally, thankfully, after the evening chill has long begun to bite at your extremities, you see Richard approaching. He whistles a jaunty tune as he comes up his drive, happy as usual. From his silhouette, you note that he’s dressed in a short-sleeved shirt and his usual ill-fitting jeans, his keys already jangling in his hand, and he stops abruptly when he sees you sat out front as though his feet are glued to the floor.

You can just about make out the smile which tugs at his lips, moments before his words do. He always seems happy to see you, and, on this occasion, you echo that feeling too, more so than ever. “Locked out?” he calls, and at the sound of his voice you stand, hopefully, clasping your purse on your shoulder, your own feet glued to the floor too.

“Yeah,” you call, throwing your voice over to him. “Waiting for the locksmith.”

You grip the strap of your purse a little tighter, as Richard takes a few steps closer, a polite but cautious smile lighting his face. “Want to wait inside?”

“Hell yes,” you gush with a relieved exhale of breath, gratefully trotting around to meet him on his porch where the security light bathes him in a halo of orange. “You’re a babe. Thank you, Richard.” You allow your eyes to gently rove over him as you approach. He’s wearing a turquoise bowling shirt, you realise. A bowling shirt with “Alonso Muñoz” stitched in an adorable flourish of red embroidery above the left shirt pocket. What’s more, he looks cute as all hell in it too. You seem to recall he’s in a casual league with some buddies.

“It’s no trouble,” he says with a warm, disarming smile, deep, pleasing creases radiating from around his eyes – and, even though you aren’t usually one to be lost for words, it is all you can do to smile back at him vacantly, clutching your purse strap tight enough that your knuckles strain.

Richard pauses too, seemingly taking a moment to remember the keys bunched and readied in his hand - as though your presence has pushed all other thoughts out of his head. “You must be cold. Let’s get you warmed up,” he says finally, snapping himself out of his stupor.

Yes please.

And so, with a bashful flutter of his long lashes as you shuffle even closer to him, Richard opens the door and guides you inside, hover-handing his palm at the small of your back.

He smiles widely as he is welcomed by his little fur ball, Lady, the white dog yipping and wagging and jumping up at his shins. Richard stoops to bundle her into his arms, the animal rasping its tongue over his shapely jaw, which he raises as he squirms away from the wet, eager kisses.

“Aw, you’re so precious, Lady,” you baby-talk, reaching out to apply fond scritches to the mop of her head. “I forget how cute you are, little bean!”

Richard chuckles with mirth, seemingly warmed by your sweet interaction with his pupper, and only when Lady gets restless in his arms does he set about plopping her down and refilling her food bowl.

“Please, make yourself at home,” Richard offers, before he briefly excuses himself, dipping away into another room and signalling he’ll be right back.

With Richard gone and Lady chowing down on her dried food, you take the opportunity to glance around the place, surprised by how at home you do feel, already, even though you’ve never set foot in here before. You’ve been in his yard before; for example, when he’s hosted block barbeques, or, when the summer sun has withered from your yard, you’ve sometimes shimmied your deck chair to be side by side with his as you languished together in the remaining patch of sun. But you’ve never been inside his home. Now that you are, you drink in the details of him, eager for any new information you can glean, and scanning over the books and paintings and photographs with particular interest. You smile as your eyes fall upon Lady’s bed, filled with a procession of carefully arranged stuffed animals and chew toys.  You are warmed by the painting of a beachy, mountain-edged, palm-fronded sunset, propped against the ‘sill.

You note that his place is homely and well-tended, and you also can’t help but notice that the place signals a rather solitary existence. One plate and one fork drying on the dish rack. A perfectly placed easy chair -for one- in front of the TV, the small couch to its side covered with stacks of books and papers, as if it has been a while since he entertained a guest. In fact, you would take a seat -make yourself at home- but you don’t want to intrude on His Seat, and nor do you wish to disturb his personal papers to clear the couch.

As you ponder this, Richard re-enters, extending a soft, flannel shirt towards you. “Here. In case you’re cold.”

You smile your thanks to him (grinning like a dumbass, actually) and you gratefully slip the garment over your shoulders, feeling instantly warmed. As you wrap it around yourself, you get a waft of fresh-scented detergent. You would never have guessed that you’d be able to recognise any particular Richard-y scent, but as the shirt’s pleasant odour engulfs you, you realise it is infinitely familiar. That it is wildly comforting.

You watch, a brief moment of awkwardness as Richard self-consciously combs his fingers through his thick moustache; sweeps a hand over his already immaculate, plastered-down curls. He looks so... neat. Controlled. Restrained. It crosses your mind that you’d like to mess him up a bit, see him come undone - of course, if he wanted.

Then, noticing your seating predicament, Richard surges over to gather up the strewn piles of mess, shifting them on to the coffee table instead. “Here, take a seat,” he indicates. “Sorry for the mess- I emptied the bureau looking for the stamps. Please. Every time I think to put it back I get distracted.”

His comment is nonchalant, but for the second time since he arrived home, you are at a loss for words, and you can only stare at him as you sink your ass down, gratefully, on to the now emptied couch. He’d gone to that effort for you? And now he’s apologising right to your face for the mess of it?

“That was kind of you, Richard,” you state, finding words again, and he shuffles nervously from shoe to shoe in response. You note that his brown skin grows increasingly flushed, with a deepening undertone of crimson as his eyes skim cautiously over you. “And thank you for letting me hang here. Promise I’ll be out of your hair soon. The locksmith should only be...” You suck in air through your teeth as you un-pocket your cell and glance at the time. “Yikes. Another hour. I’m so sorry to get in the way.”

His moustache twitches with a shy smile, his hand rubbing the back of his neck as he looks at you from beneath his lashes, his eyes all big and pretty. He certainly doesn’t look put-out, at least. “Not at all - it’s… really nice to have you here,” Richard insists, polite and sincere as ever. You are the one to feel bashful now, and you tug his shirt more firmly around your shoulders for comfort, the act serving to further fluster you and entrance him, it seems. He seems frozen to the spot again, and meanwhile, you’re now feeling overly warmed.

He looks a little lost, for a moment, as though it’s been so long since he had a visitor that he doesn’t quite know what to do with you. In the next second though, his practiced hospitality kicks in, his warm and affable nature shining through as he determines a course of action. “Have you eaten? I could fix you some dinner.”

You are hungry, you think, your tongue darting out along your bottom lip at the thought of food. Well, if he’s going to feed you, you’re not letting him do all the work -you decide- so you tentatively rise from your seat, clapping your palms together, signifying action. “Only if I can help you?”

“O- okay. Yeah. Thank you,” he nods; then, he comes to stand with his hands on his hips, thumbs to the front, causing his soft, rounded belly to protrude exaggeratedly from under his shirt. You’re not sure why that sends a very subtle flare of heat down between your legs, but it does all the same.

Meanwhile, oblivious to your thirsty inner monologue, Richard looks at you reservedly, until you smile and cross together to the humble kitchen, where, with another bashful flutter of his lashes he begins grabbing out utensils and ingredients. All the while, he moves seamlessly around you, so careful never to touch or to invade your personal space. The pronounced and careful lack of contact makes you realise, however -as he skims his body so close yet so far from yours in the compact space- that maybe you desperately want him to touch you. That you wouldn’t mind if his hand brushed your back, or lower. That maybe having him envelop his arms around you would feel as warm and comforting as his shirt – or even more so. That even, perhaps, if he pressed you from behind into the counter, his soft stomach leading, followed by his wide hips pinning you in place, his moustache grazing up the column of your neck, that you wouldn’t mind at all. In fact, the thought of his touch, and even the mere potential of it, fills you with an excited buzz deep in your belly. A thrill that you haven’t felt for a long time – at least, not quite like this.

Right now, though, you set these thoughts aside to focus on the task at hand. You move around each other a little awkwardly, but thankfully, the conversation flows far more easily than your bodies. Richard’s shy and gentle, but he’s friendly. Inquisitive and interesting, and he keeps you chatting. And, so, you converse and cook together, until the resulting, homely odours waft into your nose, keeping your mind firmly on your much more literal hunger; at least, for the most part.

When the steaming food is plated up, Richard invites you to take a seat on the couch and you oblige, watching him fondly and with interest as he produces various condiments, a bottle of Mr. Chimi’s Churri sauce taking pride of place on the surface in front of you. You add a healthy dollop.

“Mmm, this is so good, thank you,” you say approvingly when he invites you to dig in, eagerly wolfing down forkfuls.

As soon as Richard has plonked himself down in his chair and balanced his own plate on his lap, he flicks on the TV – likely, more out of habit than anything. A vibrant telenovela sparks to life in the background, a particularly melodramatic scene in full swing. You smile to yourself. You recognise the show - you’ve heard him talk about it too. Even get the impression he watches religiously.

Richard’s eyes fix on the screen for a moment, and he is visibly suckered-in by the unfolding plot, his food disappearing at an impressive rate as he scoops it up to his mouth while he watches. Still, he doesn’t forget you’re there. Quite the contrary.

“It’s so sad,” he explains for your benefit, between his mouthfuls of dinner, his eyes overflowing with warmth as he turns to you. “Carlos and Adela are so in love, but they can’t be together. She’s engaged to Luis. She has to stay with him to save the family home because she already signed some papers.”

You smile, Richard’s heartfelt summary filling you with warmth. He cares about people. It’s what he does. Apparently, he’s even invested in the fictional ones. You try hard to supress your good-natured amusement at quite how invested he is; however, when his gaze meets yours once again, flicking back and forth between you and the screen, he must catch a hint of it in your expression. “Sorry,” he flusters. “I can turn this off, if you like?” he offers gently, eyes apologetic.

“Are you kidding?” you respond, with a warm smile. You’re no stranger to becoming over-invested in fiction, you suppose, and besides - you like the prospect of sharing this with him. “Catch me up some more,” you encourage. “So, we’re rooting for Carlos?”

Richard smiles gratefully, nodding vigorously in response. You like seeing him like this. In his own element, his own environment, doing things he typically enjoys. It’s nice to see him living his best life, thriving on the drama of the trope-laden plot. “I hope Carlos crashes the wedding. Luis doesn’t deserve her.”

“Yikes. You’re brutal, Alonso Muñoz,” you tease, a musical laugh lilting out of you.

You chat back and forth, an amused smile twitching at the corner of your mouth for the duration, and although Richard seems somewhat entranced by the developing storyline, he seems even more invested in you. He makes sure to listen to you, even when you’re sure you must be talking over an important detail. He ensures he fills you in on any prior plot point you may need for context.

And, while his eyes do intermittently flick back toward the screen, your eyes, however, remain firmly fixed on him. On the singular swoop of his meticulously parted, grizzled curls. On his long lashes blinking, his deep eyes shining beneath them, glinting in tandem with the light from the screen. His warm, brown skin and the lines etched in it when he smiles cast with a bluish hue, flickering light and shadow ghosting over the contours of his strong nose and chin and his heavy brow. The soft, inviting rolls of his stomach as he relaxes into his chair, and the way his belly shakes when he laughs. Of course, his glorious moustache, positively flourishing on his upper lip. Last but not least, what most gets you though, are his eyes. Eyes as kind and expressive and open as this sweet man’s heart is.

You laugh alongside him, hoping he is enjoying the company as much as you are. You could get used to this, you think; used to him. Indeed, you have no idea how you have managed to overlook this man, beautiful inside and out, until now. You resolve though, that you won’t make that same mistake again.

Eventually, the credits roll, and you thank Richard once more for the food. He carries your plate over to the sink, insisting -when you offer- that the dishes can languish there for one night. And so, instead of rising, you pat the couch cushion beside you invitingly. His throat bobs around a hard swallow as he stands before you, his feet momentarily glued to the floor; yet again. When Richard finally musters movement and takes a seat next to you, he places himself as far away from you as he possibly can on the small two-seater; out of respect rather than repulsion, you are more than sure. However, the compact space affords him little chance to keep his distance, and his clothed thigh presses warm against your own. He doesn’t make any attempt to move away though, and, equally, nor do you.

“Thank you, Richard,” you say, your voice softer and far more breathy than you intended, now that he is so close to you.

He clears his throat self-consciously, before his eyes crease with a sincere smile. “It’s no trouble. Anytime.” He sounds like he means it too.

You lean back, settling yourself deeper into the worn and slightly lumpy couch cushions. His posture, meanwhile, is still alarmingly stiff beside you, his torso upright and his hands folded formally in his lap. If you had to hazard a guess, you’d say that, perhaps, you made him nervous.

“Richard, I don’t bite,” you soothe. “Sit back. Relax. It’s your home.”

He nods in concession, exhaling his tensely held breath. “Yes, Ma’am,” he sounds obediently. You don’t think you’ve ever had anyone call you Ma’am before; but you note that you don’t entirely mind it, out of Richard’s mouth. You maybe even… like it?

Anyway, outside of your increasingly feral internal monologue, Richard reaches over to flick on the soft, ambient lamp to his side -the room having grown thick with shadows- and then he is sinking back, resting his head against the couch cushions alongside you.

You turn your head and tilt your torso a little towards him. When Richard does the same, it evokes a sense of intimacy that you weren’t all the way prepared for; the rest of the room seems to disappear as you are both held in a close circle of oranged light, the TV nothing but a lulling, background hum now. “I mean it... I... I wanted to thank you properly. For the stamps.”

“It’s no trouble,” he repeats, his voice deep and resonant and close now, catching you off-guard. No trouble? Sure. Despite the fact he’d clearly emptied-out everything in his living room to find them. “Did you send your letters?” he enquires softly, his eyebrows jumping up a little.

You can’t supress the bittersweet smile which inches over your face as you respond. “I did, and I got the cutest video call from my nieces when their mail arrived.” That wouldn’t have happened. Not without him being so thoughtful. You’d have put it off and put it off. The letters would still be sat on your dresser.  

Richard’s eyes light, and he looks genuinely pleased for you, his face glowing. “I’m glad.” He smiles, revealing a flash of his cute, ever so slightly imperfect (and therefore entirely perfect) teeth. Finally beginning to relax again, his hands rest flat astride his sturdy thighs and his head lolls towards you. With his next words, his voice becomes even softer. “I can tell you miss them since they moved away. Portland, right? I, uh. I really hoped you would send those letters. I know how much they can mean to people.”

“Portland. Yeah. Wow, you remember that?” You have to admit that you are a little shocked. Richard listened to you. Really listened to you. And, not only that, but he clearly read between the lines, connecting the dots between each one of your ad hoc interactions in a way which you -apparently- had failed to do thus far.

Jaz would scoff at you right now, you know it, if she could see you becoming all shy and flustered for him.

And now you want to fuck him?

But it wasn’t only that he brought you the stamps, okay? It was why he did it. He did it, because he knew what it might mean for you. Because, evidently, not only did he notice that you were sad -about something you barely let yourself acknowledge, by the way- but he also cared enough to try to make you happy instead.

The realisation that he cares is an emotional thing, causing a slight lump to rise in your throat. It should probably make you happy, but in fact, it saddens you. It saddens you because -you realise now- you have taken for granted all this time how easy Richard is to talk to. Have taken for granted the way he has been privy to so many candid details about your life.

Richard has often been the first person you’ve spoken to when you arrived home -sometimes the only person- and you have never hesitated to share your good news and triumphs with him. Nor have you hesitated to vent, sharing the more difficult details of your bad days. You’ve taken for granted just how much of yourself you’ve cumulatively shared with him; in a way you don’t often share with anyone else. Richard has been an important part of your life all these years, without you truly realising it. Perhaps because your interactions with him have tended to exist in such a liminal, peculiar space in your day. Perhaps because you were too close to see the big picture, instead of this collection of valuable, little things.

You hug your arms around yourself. You can merely repeat it again. “Thank you. For real.”

“It’s just a little thing,” he dismisses, modestly, and you are very suddenly tired of him dismissing himself. You want him to know how appreciated he is. Embodying this, your hand darts out to grip his where it rests on his thigh, and Richard looks down at this small spectacle in mild shock; and yet, he doesn’t pull away from your touch.

“It’s not. It’s a lot of things, Richard. I want you to know I appreciate everything you do. It has... It has been a long time since anyone was so sweet to me.”

Feeling self-conscious suddenly, following your outburst of affection, you inch your hand away from his; retreating, and reining yourself back in. For a moment, Richard’s fingers twitch up from his pant leg as though they might chase yours; but then, his hand stills, settled on his thigh just as before.

Then, a crease appears at his brow. “None of your Adonises are sweet to you?”

Your nose crinkles in confusion. “My... Adonises?”

“The... your... gentlemen visitors.”

Your brow creases, as you try to detect whether there is any judgement or malice in his observation, but, knowing him, you are not inclined to think there is. Still, you feel there is more to uncover. He’s noticed your dates coming and going then? He thinks they’re… Adonises? He’s surprised they aren’t sweet to you?

Still, as soon as the words are out of his mouth, perhaps realising how they might be misinterpreted, that crimson undertone to his skin flares again, this time reaching all the way to the tips of his ears. He looks like he wants the couch to swallow him up, and you can’t help but feel for him. “I just meant...”

“-It’s okay,” you say, swooping in to rescue him before he can start helplessly blabbering. He keenly takes the invitation to stop, his mouth suddenly clamping shut, ready to listen. And you? You are ready to talk. The words seem to come so easily around him. “I guess... you’re right. I’ve been on some dates but they...” you sigh, furrowing your brow as you try to find the words. “That’s all fine. Most of the time it’s really fun. Or it was. But... lately...”

“Lately?” Richard encourages, when you don’t go on, his voice barely above a whisper as he hangs on your every word.

“Lately, I think… That maybe it would be nice to have somebody who doesn’t just come and go. To have… somebody to love, I guess?”

“Somebody to love,” Richard ponders, his expression becoming wistful. His head begins moving up and down ever so slowly, gradually building to a more adamant nod. He smiles, but his eyes don’t crease at the corners this time. “That really does sound nice.”

It shocks you, but seeing him even a little sad, like that, has your hands fisting in the material of your skirt, as you resist the urge to reach out for him and offer comfort. You want to cup his face in your hand and kiss him senseless, until his eyes glow once more, imbued with his characteristic positivity. You want to care for him and protect him and make him laugh and spend time with him and…

Fuck.

You want to love him, you realise, and the thought scares you down to your bones. It scares you enough that you sit forwards, breaking this most peculiar tension. Changing the topic. And, abrupt as it may be, at least it works.

“What are you reading?” you ask, shrugging his shirt from your shoulders as a hot, cloying flush creeps along your skin and up your neck, prickly enough that it feels like fingertips. As you imagine Richard’s fingers dancing the same path over your bare shoulder blade, slipping beneath the spaghetti strap of your top, peeling it down, you hurriedly pick up the first book you can put your hands on, turning it in your palms without taking in a word written on it.

Poor Richard. You must be giving the sweet man whiplash.

Still, he leans forward in his seat too, sombrely taking the book from your hands and gazing down at the cover.

“Ah. It’s a bleak topic,” he warns. A deep crease appears in his brow. “It’s Night, by Elie Wiesel – a survivor’s account of his experiences during the Holocaust.”

Your expression turns grave and pinched and you nod, listening carefully as Richard recounts some of the key details. Then, together, you continue to pore through the pile, tackling each book in turn. You listen intently to Richard recount the various synopses, passionate and precise and sensitive in his summaries. It seems he reads a lot of non-fiction. Heavy reading, with many titles about the prison system, and atrocities - often both. But, you understand why it’s important to him. You are grateful to understand how his empathetic nature begets yet more empathy, as he seeks to expand his knowledge of experiences and histories different to his own. 

At first sight, you think it’s seemingly at odds that such a positive man seeks out such dark accounts, but it makes sense to you, in a strange way. After all, he wants to understand how things can be better. He believes they can be. You don’t know anything more Richard-y than that.

Reaching for the next title, you find it is a little different to the rest. You are reluctant to segue too abruptly from such heavy topics, keen to give them the merit they deserve, but at the same time you are grateful for a little lightness as you pick-up what appears to be a slightly trashy romance novel. You smile fondly, connecting the dots between this and the telenovela plotlines that seem to grab his attention; the way he seems so in love with love. Again, you consider how the two sides of him -the more serious and seemingly more trivial - may seem at odds, but that actually, they each reveal what is at the core of him. He is interested in people. He’s invested.

“And this book?” you ask tentatively, not even trying to stifle your smile as your eyes wander over the cover, two half-dressed people locked in an erotic, sordid embrace. You are especially keen to hear what he has to say about this one too.

“Well… Like you said. Somebody to love - right? Don’t we all need those kinds of stories?”

Your eyes glow with admiration. Whilst he’s not cocky or overly assured, no, you are coming to admire Richard’s quiet confidence in who he is and what he cares about. His integrity and his lack of embarrassment in the things he chooses to value. His delight and lack of shame in the things that he enjoys. He’s not afraid to be who he is. You think that’s wonderful.

Next, your eyes flick back to the final book on the pile, partly for completeness but also out of curiosity. You feel with each title you pick-up, you are learning something about him; and, frankly, you want to know everything there is to find out. You look at it with a start however, when you realise what the final book in the pile is.

It’s your book. It’s the anthology of poetry you’d self-published around a year ago, and sold at your local readings. You reach for it instantly, almost cradling it in your hands like a precious object. Not because it’s yours - not exactly- but because it’s his. His copy looks eminently different to the spares you still have boxed-up in your house, all fresh and crisp, spines unbroken. This one looks a little worn around the edges - well-thumbed, spine broken-in. Some of the pages are dog-eared, and various makeshift bookmarks are sticking out of it. You’ve never seen one of your publications looking so… beautiful. So treasured.

“You actually read this?” you ask, a little overwhelmed, your heart hammering, and tears spiking in your eyes.

“I read it often. I told you, I really like it!”

You stroke the cover with your palm. “Honestly? I thought you were just being polite.”

When you’d mentioned to him for the first time that you wrote poetry -specifically erotic poetry- and had invited him to the reading, Richard had looked, at first, as though he was ready to die of embarrassment. Regardless, he’d still come along - your only neighbour to have done so. You vaguely remember having spoken to him the day afterward about it, but when you think of the show itself, you can’t picture him there. Now, you desperately wrack your memory of the event, searching for him. Wishing you could recall him showing-up for you in such an important way. 

It had been such a blur, though. You’d had a lot of friends there. You’d had a date there, who, at the time, you’d thought was the be all and end all. Now, however, you curse yourself for overlooking Richard. You wish you could go back and root through the crowd for him. You wish you could bring him into the spotlight. Bring him into your arms. And yet, while you ponder all of this, Richard reaches for the book and gently lifts it from your hands, with a gentle hum. It practically falls open on one particular page.

“This one is my favourite,” he admits bashfully. “Salted Peach. I must have it almost memorised by now.” You turn to him, studying his face. His expressive eyes are full of a heat gentler and more nuanced than your words could ever hope to be, you think, as he pores over the page. Over your words.

“No way. Prove it, Alonso Muñoz,” you challenge, exhaling a laugh that is surprised and disbelieving and utterly delighted all at once.

You don’t expect him to take you up on it, but the man sets his face, both more determined and more playful than you think you have seen him so far, as he hands the book back to you. “Okay,” he smiles, softly. “I’ll give it a go.”

You hold your breath as his eyes flutter closed -so that you know he has zero chance of cheating- his long lashes fanning-out beautifully over his cheek. You take the chance to look over his handsome features, while he can’t interrupt your surreptitious study.

Then, he begins. His voice is hushed and unsure, yet the richness of it washes over you, right from the first line.

“Like salt kept on the lips,

To resist is to rust,” he begins, and your breath catches in your chest.

“Let me be an oiled thing under you, all fluid and opening smoothly

With keen, slick hinges.”

First, you are struck that he really does know it. That he really does remember it, almost word perfect. You exhale a breath in disbelief, your chest filling with butterflies.

“A ruined peach

Spilling nectar over your thumb,” he continues, and desire knots deep in your belly.

It’s not that the words are explicit – they aren’t. But something about the way he recites them -recounts your desire- makes them feel positively sinful, his voice quietly confident and subtly erotic as he recites your words. You don’t only hear the words, but you feel them, almost as if his thumb really has punctured you.

You are becoming slick already, feeling like a ruined, grateful fruit. You want to be his fruit, you think. His salted peach.

“You can be my stiffness

My joints

My... (my stone heart? Is that right?)” he interjects.

“It’s perfect,” you encourage, your voice trembling slightly, even as his grows ever more robust, and, as you bolster him, he sits a little taller in his seat, his posture proud and the new confidence reflected in his voice as he proceeds. As he grows, stiffer, taller, you become liquid, and you writhe your heat subtly against your seat. You press your thighs closer together.

Enraptured, you watch his lips and tongue move seamlessly around the words. The micro-expressions on his face, revealing how tenderly he wishes to portray them, every word imbued with care. With expression, and feeling.  

“(Got it...) My stone heart

And I, boneless;

Bodiless flesh.”

As he continues, you close your eyes too. You stop checking the words against the book and you let yourself feel them. You let them wash over you. You let his voice wash over you; to sink and curl into the pit of you. You squirm in place, and yet this shifting makes you all too aware of your stillness – this fixed position and distance from him, when surely you should be moving and surging and undulating on him? Surely you should be leaning in and hearing the deep yet gentle timbre of his words waft into the shell of your ear, or fanning over your skin?

Surely, he should be touching you?

Your heart is racing.

“Salt me, then.

Lick your lips and taste me; sweetly.”

You want to taste him. Be tasted.

“Only on your tongue, do I exist.

Only in your hand, do I perish.”

You want to exist and perish on his hand.  

“Do not keep me on your lips.

Oil me with your writhing”

You want to be swallowed by him. Oiled by him. Made slick.

“Or else I rust.”

You are rapt. His words -no, your words, spoken by him- melting you.

His voice. So rich, and so sensual, and you could swear, as you listen to him, that your words have never sounded so erotic. That you have never felt them as deeply as you do now, hearing them fall from his tongue and his lips. Hearing them flow from his heart, as he recites them in a way you’ve never heard them; an interpretation entirely unique to him.

In fact, listening to him, like this, lights a flame in the pit of you, a heat suffusing through you, warming everywhere. He warms you, even from this distance, and you can feel how much heat he has to give. And, on boy. You want to lap it up. Every. Last. Drop.

“I... I forgot the next part,” he adds, shyly, his confidence wavering, and you open your eyes, beginning to recite the rest for him.

“Oh, love,

I long to be a fluid thing;

Under you.”

It sounds… true. It feels right. It feels so right to say those words to him. So right that it knocks the air from out of you.

At the sound of your voice, you watch a soft, unfiltered smile appear on Richard’s face, his still-closed eyes creasing deliciously at the corners, his moustache animating with it.

“And yet you resist me; rust me,” you continue, voice full of fissures, and Richard’s eyes slowly peel open, pooling with heat. This time, unlike the other times his eyes have met yours, he holds your gaze - doesn’t drop his eyes from yours in a flurry of bashfulness and fluttered lashes. He holds your gaze and he holds you, in this moment. In this little circle of intimacy, his eyes glowing, all for you. Pooling with that heat, so nuanced and gentle, but every bit as hot as anything you’ve ever touched.

Your voice and your smile and your heart crack wide open as you continue.

“You are salt kept on my lips;”

You complete the last lines at the same time, eyes locked. 

“Always tempting.

I seize up.”

Of all the swimming emotions rising at that moment, gratitude balls in your heart most intensely, and yet again, it is all you can do to thrust it towards him, your humble offering.

“Thank you,” you say, for the nth time that evening, a smile of the purest joy still splitting your face. “That was really beautiful.”  

It’s hard to comprehend how moved you are by what just happened. You are shocked. Flattered. That someone appreciates your words, that they resonate at all, makes you feel so seen. That the person is Richard is more of a treasure than you can fathom, and it causes a flood of raw, reckless emotion, joyful tears brimming in your eyes.

In return, Richard’s eyes shine as he regards you, with an admiration so deep and yet prominent that you almost shrink back from it. “They’re your words,” he impresses, aiming, as ever, to shrink himself instead.

You shake your head. You won’t have that. “No, Richard - it’s the way you recited them. I swear you should do my next reading for me. You’re so…” You search desperately for the right words, and you can’t find ones any more fitting. “…So fucking beautiful.”

And you call yourself a poet?

Your eyes well up.

You feel entirely caught off guard and just a little silly that you are getting yourself upset in front of him, and yet Richard’s eyes narrow kindly as you try to scrub a stray tear away from your cheek. “Are you alright?” he asks, his voice soothing, and in the next breath he reaches out to touch you, his hand settling over the top of yours. The gesture is a little awkward, unsure, but only until his hand is in place. After that it simply feels... right. Perfect, in fact.

He strokes you, his thumb ghosting slowly, minutely over your pulse point, sending a delicious shiver along your spine. His eyes search yours, and you become thoroughly lost in the intensity of them. Lost in a way that you don’t ever wish to find yourself again. Lost in a way that turns everything on its head - has you finally feeling found.

“I loved hearing you read. It was so wonderful. You should definitely do another event,” Richard gushes. “I’m sure I could listen to you read from this all night.” With that, and the scenario it conjures, perhaps, he looks down at his hand on yours. Maybe growing self-conscious, or worried that he is overstepping; that he has lingered there too long. Suddenly, though, you don’t think any length of time could be too long for him to be touching you.

When your gaze drops to his lips, however, his moustache bristles, and he quickly snatches his hand back to his lap. “Have you written anything lately?” he asks hurriedly, scooping up the book again, his topic change giving off the same energy as yours did previously.

You wonder if he is imagining your fingers trailing over his bare flesh now too. You hope so. Oh how you hope.

At his question, though, you exhale a small laugh, pumping your eyebrows once as your face splits in a smile. You shake your head gently. “I haven’t been... it’s a while since I was, let’s say, properly inspired by an encounter,” you explain, looking down at your hands in your lap, missing his contact already. “I’m just... Hmmph. I don’t know. It’s just... missing something. Guess they don’t make Adonises like they used to,” you add flippantly, poking light fun, partly at yourself.

Contrary to your flippancy, Richard becomes more serious. A gulp trails down his throat, and he seems suddenly frozen in place; seized up. As if he needs you to oil him so that he doesn’t rust. “W-What are you missing?” he asks, his voice lower than you’ve heard it, slightly more grit to it. His chest visibly rising, breaths slightly quickened; just like yours.

You look into his deep, cola-coloured eyes.

You?

What are you missing? You’re not sure, but somehow you feel that whatever it is, Richard could give it to you in moments.

Still, you don’t answer. You can’t. Instead, you ask him a question in return. You ask him a question feeling that, somehow, in a roundabout way, both of your questions may arrive at precisely the same answer.

“Why that poem?” you question, softly, lifting your eyes to him. “Why is that one your favourite?”

“I... I think...” he swallows again, then he whets his plush lips with a flick of his pink tongue. “It’s about longing, isn’t it? About being... lonely? About... wanting... someone in particular.” He fixes his expressive eyes on a point on the table, unable to look at you, it seems, in that moment. Still, his words are telling enough alone, you think, even without you seeing that same sentiment mirrored in his eyes too.

Now, you have another question. “Do you ever... get lonely? Are you? Lonely?”

It’s not even an assumption about him, you vaguely realise. It’s a projection. A projection of how you feel, and how you never realised you felt. It’s a desperate plea for affinity. For that longing to be understood, finally.

You are the one who is rusted. Seized up.

However, as soon as the question is out of your mouth you wish you could retract it. Loneliness is a solitary thing, after all, and you have no business, you suppose, wading into anyone else’s.

“I’m so sorry, please don’t answer that,” you mutter quickly, your fingers darting out to ghost along his forearm in apology, your naturally tactile nature coming through.

He drops his gaze towards your fingers there, watching them skimming his warm skin and the soft, dark hairs on his arms. He doesn’t inch away. Instead, he lifts his eyes to you, and you know the answer before he says it aloud. You know the answer as his emotions are written clearly in his eyes. Worn on his sleeve, like his badge.

The weight of his loneliness crushes you as if it was your own.

“Me too,” you admit, nodding softly, and his mouth curls briefly into a small, sad smile as your fingers continue their slow inch across his skin.

He sits in that sadness for a moment, and then, tentatively, as a thought flashes across his eyes, he brightens, just a little – looking mildly more hopeful. “Well,” he suggests, bravely. “Maybe we can… keep each other company?”

That really does sound nice.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Richard reaches out to fumble away the single tear ever so suddenly coursing down your face, swiping a line on your cheek with the pad of his thumb, and you don’t think you’ve ever felt anything so tender as his touch in that moment. It is yet another little thing; like the graze of a match head along its box. A little act, charged, with all this dangerous potential for a much larger, blazing thing to ignite.

You nod, the corners of your mouth trembling. “I would like that.” You would like that a lot.

Richard searches your eyes, and, ever so slowly - always slowly- as if you don’t wish to scare him away, you dare to hook your arm into his at the elbow, and you lower your head until it is resting on top of his shoulder.

“Is – Is this okay, Richard?” you ask in a small voice, pleading inwardly with the universe that he will say yes. That it is.

“This is... perfect,” he responds, even as he remains stiff against you, and, given his affirmation, you curl and scooch your body, shuffling a little closer to him. Bolstered too, with seeming new-found confidence, Richard raises him arm over you, and he nestles you safely against him where you can better feel his warmth. Where, with your knees drawing up on to his lap and your ear coming to rest on his chest, you can feel and hear the quickened thud of his racing heart as he holds you. His beautiful, kind, open heart.

Your mouth extends in a watery smile as you are held by him. He’s right. It’s a little thing, but it is perfect, isn’t it?

Still, again, although you should feel light, you feel heavy. With emotion. With longing. And so, you reach for another topic change. You reach for lightness. “Has anyone ever told you that you have an incredibly impressive moustache?” you enquire into his shirt, another solitary tear slipping over the bridge of your nose and wetting the flourish of red stitching.

Giving yourself whiplash now, you smile, as Richard’s chest shakes beneath you with gentle, easy laughter.

“Well, not everybody is a fan.”

“Who would actually dare?” you exclaim, as if thoroughly scandalised. “Fuck them, Richard. I like it. I like it a lot.”

His fingers trace shapes on your back. “Thank you.”

You are pleased to feel him gradually relax against you, his form melding with yours, his body becoming less stiff. Less rusted; more of a fluid thing.

“Do you… do you have a little moustache comb?”

Another chuckle. “I do,” he confirms, and you don’t know why on earth that detail settles it, but you think that he must certainly be the most perfect man on earth.

You go silent for a moment, but Richard prompts you gently - “No more questions for me?”- as if he was enjoying your mood-lightening segue. You are more than happy to oblige the sweet man by continuing, and you chew on your lip as you come up with something.

“Are you on Tinder?” A cheeky smile claims your mouth again - you’d kill to see his profile.

You’d think about the fact he’d probably never send unsolicited dick pics, but… then you’d be thinking about dick pics, and that’s one dangerous road towards Feral Town.

While you ponder this, Richard laughs again, but it’s a little self-deprecating this time. “No... I... I was for a while, but I...”

“What?”

He inhales and sighs his whole breath out again - a sad sound. His tone when he speaks is equally morose. “I’m… not sure people are looking for someone like me.”

At that, you abruptly sit up, narrowing your eyes and fixing a determined, earnest stare on him. You reach up, gingerly, moved to cup his cheek with your palm, his groomed sideburn and the plume of his moustache pleasantly rough under your fingers. You make sure he is looking you in the eyes. “Richard,” you contest, with every scrap of sincerity you can muster; and then some. “I think everybody must be looking for somebody like you.” 

His eyes are pierced by a peculiar emotion you haven’t seen there yet. At first it looks like pain, but then it levels off until his eyes are shining, with something resembling pride or gratitude. When a smile finally twitches his moustache, your gaze drops to his lips again, and you are no longer surprised by how easy it is to think about kissing him, desire unfurling in your belly at an alarming rate. A palpable, mutual longing eddies in the space between you.

You surprise yourself though, by dipping to press a sweet, chaste kiss into his cheek, rather than sinking towards his lips as you so wish to do. When you perform this gesture, his eyes flutter closed, and he lets out a soft, involuntary hum, the sound gathering in your very bones and setting up camp there. As you dip back from him, the edge of his moustache grazes your cheek, and you have to admit it’s sort of electrifying. You imagine how it would tickle if you were kissed by him. How it would tickle wherever you were kissed.

The lines of poetry, so to speak, are writing themselves in your mind, already. You haven’t felt this inspired in a long time, and yet, on this occasion, you want to wait. You don’t want to rush it - even though you’ve never felt the need to quell your desires on many occasions before. Life is short, after all – too short to waste. However, something tells you that Richard is the type of man you should savour. Something tells you, that you may have found somebody to love, and, you may not love often; but when you do, you love slow.

So, you pull away from Richard, and you note that his eyes have fluttered closed. When he opens them again, you know that this kiss on the cheek was the right thing to do. You see subtle tears shining in his eyes. Again, he looks pained -with first appearances- but these tears, on second examination you think, are joyful. His heart joyful yet heavy, exactly like yours. After all, when you are overwhelmed with joy all at once, with a flood of little, happy things, it can weigh you down, at first, if the measure of joy is not one which you are quite accustomed to. If you are not practised at carrying it.

At that point, contemplating joy, you are ripped cruelly from the moment, as, with the worst and best possible timing, your phone buzzes to life, vibrating against your hip until you reach to fish out the insistent device.

“The locksmith is here, Richard. I have to go.”

“Y- yeah. Okay,” he nods, despite the fact everything about him is conveying the opposite sentiment.

I don’t want to go.

“Thank you so much.” 

He nods again, and, wanting to leave him with a parting thought (or, not wanting to leave him at all, but needs must), you have the bright idea to pick up your book from the table, thumbing through it quickly to find the page you want. A poem called The Flood.

“Recommended bedtime reading,” you wink, thrusting the book towards his chest and standing, grabbing your purse and making your way towards the door. “I can give you back your shirt tomorrow, right?” you say cheekily. “Maybe after dinner?” 

Richard stands too, following you towards the door like he’s magnetised to you, Lady trotting along too, inquisitively, her little black nose snuffling at the air.

“A-after dinner?” he enquires, confused, as you sweep out in a little bit of a whirlwind.

“Yeah, Richard,” you smile coyly from beneath your lashes, injecting some flirtation into your tone. “I owe you dinner. To make it up to you.”

“You don’t need to make it up to...”

You arch an eyebrow at him, looking at him pointedly and smoothing your hand over his upper arm until he gets the gist. When your meaning dawns on him, he gets that adorable, excited little spring in his step. You revel in his bright toothy smile, striking and pearly from beneath the thick brush of his moustache. “I know a nice little pasta place. And there’s a great documentary playing at the Coolidge if you want to catch it?”

“Sure,” you agree, dipping forward to plant another lingering kiss on his cheek in the doorway, relishing the feel of that moustache all over again. “It’s a date.” 

Evidently flustered, and in no bad way, Richard fumbles for words and finds none, omitting a mere collection of stunted syllables and unfinished sounds in response.

You wink at him, and before swooping off, you add one final thing. “Feel free to consider the bedtime reading a preview, okay? If you’d like.”

The corner of his mouth ticks up in disbelief. You get the feeling he already knows exactly what that particular poem is about. “Yes, ma’am.” he nods, looking sweetly and longingly and adoringly after you as you sashay away.

“Goodnight, neighbour to the right.”

“Goodnight, neighbour to the left.”

You allow yourself one last long look at him before you retreat, an unstoppable smile splitting your face, and, seeing him stood in the doorway, smiling after you, only cements everything you have come to learn this evening.

From now on, neither of you will be lonely anymore. There will be no more longing. Instead, there will be a flood, you think.

THE END

PART TWO IS HERE

[mskimkaty]

I AM THAT GIRL

angst, slight fluff, smut

WARNINGS: MENTIONS OF DEPRESSION, MENTAL ILLNESS, SUICIDE, SELFHARM, DRAMA, SMUT, VANILA SMUT, SWEARING, KIM JENNIE IS A BITCH HERE AND SO OTHER MENTION REAL LIFE PEOPLE BUT ITS PURELY FICTIONAL.

synopsis:Johnny Suh, the most popular boy in college, tried to take his life? what could possibly go wrong with his wealthy background, popularity, and basically having everything in the palm of his hands?

expected word count: 12,692

release date: 01/18/21 (somehow, got deleted. so Im reposting)

details: college!au, strangers to friends to lovers!au.

JohnnySuh x reader.

Johnny Suh walked the hallways in his college ground and not one passerby gives him the freedom to do his business. Students give him a look of pity, as acquaintances try to give him fake words of comfort that disgustingly crawls at the back of his skin.

They were just into the gossip, but they never really care. It was obvious from how they whisper behind his back for looking out of place and out of character, he could see their mocking gazes every time he walks past them.

he pulled his hood up and covered his old blonde hair now dyed into jet black, the usual smile plastered on his lips was now in a tight line and was placed the usually friendly demeanor with a scowl on his face.

people are staring, not in a good way, but because he looks ridiculous in their minds.

"Youngho, if you need anything, I'd gladly do it for you." Johnny heard his Korean name roll of someone's lips and now he feels disgusted with himself for the 9th time that day, he was back to zero and the acid rushes past his throat and he might vomit with the anxiety building up in the pit of his stomach upon hearing his birth name. He halts his movements and turns around to face Kim Jennie.

How does she have the nerve to say that when she cheated on him with Jongin? He treated him like a brother. Her hands travel on his biceps, the usual warmth he felt in the past now buried at the back of his memories, and now, he's just disgusted with her. He ignored her and continued walking past her, Jennie's peers were instantly beside her to console her with words of comfort because her ex-lover practically brushes her off like she was nothing.

You didn't expect a drama unfolding in front of you while standing in your locker area, Christmas break was finally over, and now students are back putting their noses in other people's business. Especially, Johnny Suh's business.

You shrugged your shoulders and walks back to your class, this is definitely a way to start your first day at this University.

Johnny sat at the far back of the room, sporting unusual dark clothing rather than the usual light colors of his wardrobe, the professor walks in, shaking his head upon seeing him at the back completely not understanding how Johnny's mind works.

Johnny knows, just by the look his professor is giving at him, he knew and have seen that twice already — he couldn't control the urge to stand up harshly making the chair he was using falls down to the ground as he walks to the door not bothering to look back, stunning everybody in the room.

When Johnny came back to school after his attempt, he felt more pulled down in the darkest pit inside him, he was unhappy more than he did when he was attempting. The funny part? when people knew about his attempt, people started flocking around him as they cared, but it was obvious. They just wanted to be with him because of his surname and money.

Even Jennie did not differ from the other students trying to impress him. The sad part about it is that he genuinely liked her, but she was just up for it because of the money and fame, and maybe the good fuck. His friends were no different, people might think that he's happy being the captain of the football team, but his life was toxic with every moment. He was in more pain than ever, his friends who were his teammates low-key discarded him thinking he's a freak saying he needed to seek attention.

Johnny knew that they weren't practically saying that to his face, but they were showing it.

They weren't wrong, he knew that, but it was different. They were all trying to impress him, worshiping the ground he walks on and now he's on the rocky side of the road, they drop him? because their parents told them to?

Johnny empties his locker, blindly shoving everything in his duffle bag when his best friend, Kim Jongin, walks inside. He hardly shoved everything inside his bag and harshly closed his locker's door, scowling at the older boy.

"Look, I'm sorry, okay?" he heard him. "This isn't you at all, why are you suddenly changing? Johnny, I already said I'm sorry." that's the ugly fact. People around him are blind enough not to notice the slight changes in him and the little signs that he wasn't mentally stable.

"This isn't an apology. You're asking me to suck it up. It's Different."

Lunch came and Johnny has nowhere to go, not with all the pity looks the student body is giving him, he had a take-out for his meal and had his lunch alone in an empty room. deciding he has no appetite to eat something, he walked out of the building and drove out to Nakamoto Yuta's basement. He's supposed to be dead two weeks before this day, but here he was, seeking for Yuta's dirty business.

"Johnny Suh." Nakamoto Yuta was known for his dirty business around campus, selling overpriced illegal transactions under the table, tattoos, and piercing. "Stop talking like I'm some god. No god would try to kill himself."

"figures."

"I don't understand, how are you still in the university and not behind bars?" Johnny asks after taking a long drag on his blunt.

"This is the only way to have food on the table, and I need to graduate. I rather do these than sell my body."

Sadly enough when Johnny checked his phone, no calls or messages from his parents. As cliche as it sounds, he wants his father to check on him but after seeing him in his room bathed in his blood on the ground, his father drifted more away from him.

When he got home that night, his family was having dinner without him, his younger sister, Yerim, ran up to him and hugged him. "Oppa, where have you been? I've been calling you." his sister was the only purest being for him, and he distances himself around her, he doesn't want him to expose her to things that only he knew.

"Yerim, go to your room." the impersonal voice of their father surrounds the dining area and Yerim flinch. looking up to his eyes before walking away.

Kim Ji hoon walks up to him and looks at him with disdain. "Stop being a disgrace, If you can't act like your invisible. I don't need a disgrace in this house." It wasn't new to Johnny anymore.

His father may not be vocal about it in the past but he knew that his father doesn't want him to breathe the same air he does, if God may allow it, he knows that his father wanted him dead, he wanted his father to acknowledged him, and he did everything, that was when Johnny was kissing up to his reputation of being the good son, ace-ing all his grades, being the captain of the football team, doing unnecessary extracurricular activities for extra points, being the good boyfriend, good friend, good son, and a good brother, but it was all too much for him, he felt that he was borrowing someone's life to the point that he doesn't recognize him anymore.

His father hated him so much that he didn't even give him his last name, and the ugly part about it is that Johnny understood his father because he was the reason his mother died. "You can't even do one thing properly, and now everyone living in this town knows about you killing yourself."

"Are you saying that I didn't properly kill myself?" he wanted to vomit. He chuckled as he ran his hands down his locks. "Go fuck yourself," he murmured and walk down to the guest room where he was temporarily sleeping, his step-mother hasn't asked the helpers to clean his room's carpet that is still bathed in his blood, he looked at his wrist that is covered in a bandage, the ugly reminder that he was unhappy and that there is no saving from this anymore. Finding the reason to wake up was hard enough and going to school was another thing, but he did anyway.

People still gossip behind his back, ugly as it sounds, people are disgustingly twisted. He smirked upon hearing he still looked hot as fuck with black hair, one student saying she would gladly do him, blonde or black.

"Jennie must have cheated knowing that he's a freak."

"hey, he might hear you, lower your voice."

"He needs to seek professional help."

"I don't understand him at all. His popular, his ex-girlfriend was fucking hot, he's rich, has great looks, and has a hella hot of a sister." something snapped inside him when he heard some asshole talked disgustingly about his sister.

Before he could even think properly, Johnny repulsively pushed the guy up to the wall. "The hell!" the stranger shouted as the other students stop to stare.

"Did you fucking talked about my sister like that?"

People are staring not because of an aggressive man pushing a full-grown body against the wall like it's nothing. it's not uncommon to see a fistfight for the entire student body to see, people are staring because, Johnny Suh, for once stunned everybody with his demeanor that is completely out of his character. Yes, he is a big guy, but he was kind, sweet, and friendly, so Johnny using force for the first time against someone was a sight to see, added to the fact that this is the first time people heard him cursing, and If eyes could kill already, the guy who talked shit about his sister is practically dead right now, he would brush it off in the past, blindly ignoring gossip about him but this is the first time that someone disrespects his sister right in front of his face and definitely, it is the first time that he gave less fuck about his reputation.

Johnny stared at the man that lacks the urge to answer him, him sending shivers down the stranger's spine. He manhandled the guy and throw him down the floor. "You had the nerve to run that filthy mouth against my sister but doesn't have the balls to answer when I'm confronting you?" he smirked and walked away.

Johnny spent the whole week going to the university but doesn't bother attending his classes, he doesn't want to be left alone at home but doesn't want to go to his classes. He just lost every motivation to do something productive.

Johnny walked his usual path these past few days, going to an empty room on the 4th floor of the Marketing's building to kill time, he gently pushed open the door and saw you changing your clothes. You were almost done, putting your white dress shirt over your shoulder without noticing that you're giving a stranger a free show.

Johnny freezes up, staring and lingering more than usual. He was mesmerized by how your skin glistens under the light slipping through the windows, but what made him stop on his track is the lack of hair you have in your body. It's just smooth skin all over your body.

When you felt someone behind you, you turn your body around to look at the intruder, you saw someone and instantly locked eyes with him. At first, you were scared of seeing Suh Johnny behind you, Johnny got a full view of your unbuttoned shirt and your chest clad in your undergarments. it's not like you saw a ghost, he didn't die per se, but then it has drawn to you, that Johnny, in the flesh, saw you changing clothes. Your reflex acts up and you turn yourself away from him, pulling your clothes to hug yourself, you fix your buttons as you run out to get out of the embarrassment.

The next day, you went to your usual spot in the library to eat your lunch when you saw somebody sitting on your chair. You shrug your shoulders and sit across the stranger who had his head tucked in his arms on the table. You were excited to eat your favorite sandwich because your mother specially made it for you, it was a rare moment given your mother raised you and your sibling alone, having to work two jobs at a time just to put food on the table and to send you to a good school. You appreciate her and love her with all your heart, she was the only one you had next to your older brother, you were good at being invisible, it was your last semester at the university. Trying to finish one subject and your practicum silently like you didn't exist at all. You laughed at the fact that you had no one in this damn hell, but you didn't care.

You started eating your sandwich in silence while opening a good book to read, you were happy in your bubble. Johnny must have heard you as you flip pages after pages. His stomach growling after registering the wonderful smell coming from his surroundings. When he lifts his head, his eyes flicked to your form, silently eating while reading a book, you were so happy in your little bubble, giggling while reading. He straightens his back and you notice the guy across you, putting a face in the stranger who sleeps across you.

A blush crept up on your face when you realize it was Johnny again, you remembered the recent events that happened between the both of you, and your embarrassed ass started coughing hard, you hold your neck rather than reaching for the bottled water in front of you as you choke none stop in front of him. He was left dumbfounded for a couple of seconds but reach for the bottle and unclasp it before handing it to you, you chugged half the contents down your throat and he watched you with fascination.

"Thank you." You said in a small voice.

You put the bottle back in its place as silence hangs in the air, it wasn't a bad kind of silence, but it was awkward. You offer him the other half of your sandwich as you watch him look at you questioningly. "Your hungry." It wasn't a question. You knew he was hungry given you kept hearing his stomach growling a while ago. "You know a little food won't hurt you right?"

Johnny laughs at your ironic statement but accepts your offer anyway, "Don't get your hopes up, I'm not up for a casual relationship." he says as you thought that he wouldn't accept your offer, given that he's rich and can buy a much better lunch than what you're currently having, but then again, you shouldn't judge a book by its cover.

"I was just offering you food."

"Thanks." When he finished your sandwich rather quickly, he went back to sleeping in front of you. He liked hearing the sound of you flipping pages after pages as you read your book silently in front of him and the occasional giggle you let out when read something funny. When he woke up to go home, you were gone, but you left your coat as you hung it around his shoulders to keep him warm.

When he came back the day after, in the library, you didn't come back.

The next morning, Johnny awoke earlier than usual, heading to his car without giving a glance at his family, Yerim saw him and was rather puzzled at the baby pink coat he was holding delicately in his arms. He drove fast to get to the university, walking inside the library to wait for you if ever you were going to be there again.

Lunch came, and your guess was right, you see the same blacked haired boy taking a nap in your usual spot with your coat right beside him. You sat across him again and started minding your business, but this time, you had another bag of sandwiches repaired for him. You weren't ignorant about Johnny's attempt, but you choose to respect his space, you knew that he wasn't mentally stable yet. He might look fine outside and you might not know what goes inside his head, but you knew that he isn't fine. No one's mentally stable, everybody has their hardships in their private lives going on right now, but the important thing is that people shouldn't use it against someone, and as long as they don't step on other people to feel better for themselves then it's good.

You might not understand what he's going through right now, you weren't friends, to begin with, but you feel for him. Sincerely.

Johnny felt peaceful for once after many years, it was an odd feeling, but it wasn't bad. You were browsing your phone, checking your emails and your mother's, clearing and archiving unimportant ones. You look at the time and it was already half past lunchtime. Wednesday is a pain in the ass for you, you have to wait for 5 hours until your next class in the afternoon. You didn't notice Johnny waking from his nap, seeing as you still haven't touched the sandwich bags in front of you, he's guessing you still haven't eaten.

"I'm Johnny."

You look at the man in front of you, his usual strawberry locks are now turned into black, sporting a gray hoodie over his black shirt and matching gray track pants. You study his expression, his not extending his hands for a handshake nor his face valid of any emotion, yet you smile and said "What happened to not being in a casual relationship?"

Johnny was taken back, you give him the sweetest smile you could offer and handed him the extra sandwich you had, "You know, some people would reply with their names." he said as he accepts the food that you offered, you look at him as if contemplating before speaking.

"Y/n"

"I'm not sure, but what department are you from?" he asked after taking a bite of his food. "This is good, by the way. Who made this?"

"What question do you want me to answer first?" you asked laughing. "My mom made it, and I'm from the same department as you, Though, I just transferred to this school after the Holidays,

If he was shocked he didn't show it, Johnny nods his head as if acknowledging you, "I just want time to pass by quickly and silently, that's why no one knows I exist here. I'm just trying to live another day until I graduate." You said making Johnny fall silent.

"Good for you," he replied after a good minute with the both of you munching on your foods. "Was it hard?" he asked.

"What is?"

"You don't seem to have anyone, do you even have friends?" you laughed at his statement because it was the truth. "Yeah, something like that. It wasn't that bad I might have no friends because I choose not to have any relationships with anybody in here."

"That sucks, I'm not going to ask the reason why you transferred in the middle of the semester because that's your business, not mine," he says, you study his face and you weren't sure whether to run your mouth over his business or not, deciding against it you stood up and take your things with you. "Let me show you something."

Walking down the stairs while both of you kept a little distance, you lead him to the visual room, pulling the keys in your backpack and unlocking it. "Why do you have a key to the AVR?" he asks bewildered.

"Perks of being the teacher's pet," you replied as you pulled him inside, turning the computer and projector on, you played a video about constellations and aimed the projector above.

Stars hover above the two of you and you urge him to lay down beside you, looking up and taking a moment of peace to embrace both of you.

"When things get hard and I tend to be alone; let's be honest, no one wants to feel lonely, especially at the hardest times of our lives. But then, you can't force someone to be there with you physically and emotionally and it sucks to have yourself suck it up for being alone. So, I do this, I take my time staring at these constellations. You see, they're really beautiful to me. I find them fascinating, they have this beautiful meaning behind them, it was always fun finding their patterns, connecting them until they're complete, you just have to look closely, in that way, you'll appreciate them more." you smile while pointing above you, he might not look at you but your presence beside him does him wonders, it was so powerful that even if he closes his eyes, he still feels you beside him. The warmth he was feeling coming from you, your steady breathing, and your sweet scent.

You spent your Mondays and Wednesdays with Johnny, eating lunch together, or spending time as you watch different constellations every week.

Friday morning, you made a quick detour to your department before clocking in for your practicum, before leaving the premises a professor asked you for a favor and you agreed to make a copy of the files she was asking for. When you came back from the printing room, you saw a commotion ahead. It wasn't you to pry on other people's business, but your legs must have their mind when you saw a familiar tall build that is clad in a black hoodie.

Johnny Suh stands in the middle with Kim Jongin and Kim Jennie on the other side. He was hyperventilating.

"Just leave, please." Kim Jongin shouted at him, you can see the obvious horror written on everyone's faces. Kim Jennie was stuck beside Jongin as she shed tears silently, disbelief written in Johnny's face.

"Do you know what went wrong? it's because you were never enough." Jennie drops the bomb for everyone to hear, Johnny was livid. If he could crush everything that he could see he would take the chance and do it. If he could take his life again, he wouldn't give a single fuck and he'll gladly do it.

"I can't believe you both. I wasn't the one who cheated with my best friend, why the fuck do you act like it's my fault?" you heard Johnny said and for the first time your heart broke for him.

You found him in your usual spot in the library, his head hanging low and his body shaking as he tries to catch his breath. You drop your coat over his head and give him the bottle of water you were holding, instead of sitting across him, you sat next to him without overstepping and respecting his space to cool down.

When he started to calm down, he handed your coat back to you, stood up, and left the library. Saying you were dumbfounded was an understatement but you choose to understand him.

Days passed by and Johnny was still a no show. When a week has already passed without seeing Johnny, you started to get worried. You wished you asked for his number, but then again, you weren't even that close, to begin with. You decide to spend your long-vacant in the visual room, playing random constellations as you think about a certain boy.

When that certain boy suddenly appeared right in front of you. "I'm sorry." He had his hands inside his grey sweatpants.

"What matters is that you came."

Johnny joined you on the floor, staring up at the ceiling, after a moment of silence, he spoke up. "Why did you help me? why do you even care about me at all? I'm a mess."

"Aren't we friends?" You asked even though it was clear that he turned your offer of friendship down a while ago.

"What you said about the constellations earlier made me realize how I took myself for granted and at the same time how ungrateful I am."

You look at him and give him the chance to speak up. "I didn't have the will to live, do you know that you are annoyingly optimistic about everything?" He jokingly asked, and you laughed with him.

"Is that a compliment or what?"

"I still don't have a reason to be here." He suddenly says. Johnny looks at your face as if reading you, he was prepared to see you pitying him but there was none.

"You don't have to look for it. You have yourself because, at the end of the day, you only got your own back," you turn to him as you give him a look. Johnny envied you, it was obvious, and you can read him like an open book. "Don't, don't look at me like that, Johnny Suh." the way his name rolled down your tongue felt flawless, as if you were born to say his name out loud.

"We all have our shortcomings, I'm not perfect nor are people around me, no one is, and we have to accept that fact, give less care about people who can't accept that."

"It's not as easy as it seems," Johnny says, your hand brushing back the stray hair that falls on his forehead as if your hand has a mind of its own. "Sorry-"

"It's fine. I like it." Both of you turn towards the ceiling as you continue to watch the stars, keeping the comfortable silence and just hang around each other.

For weeks, spending time in the library and the visual room to watch the stars has been your thing with Johnny Suh, you couldn't even imagine being friends with the likes of him, you view him as a constellation star, he's mysterious behind his disguise as he tends to fool everyone with, he was hard to reach and was always up above you, he brightens the surroundings like how the stars brighten the night sky, for you, he was more than the famous campus boy that everybody likes, even if he can't realize that.

Weeks passed by and you look forward to your Mondays and Wednesdays than the fact that you are graduating.

You were busy transferring your books to your backpack as you stand in front of your locker when Johnny came to you. "I didn't know we have the same classes."

You were stunned when you saw him talking to you in the open, students started looking in your way as if seeing a history. The most known guy in the University is with a nobody, but you shrugged it anyway as you closed your locker's door. You bite back at your tongue with all the attention you were getting, anxiety creeping out to you but you choose to ignore it.

"You weren't even attending your classes," you told him as you fix your backpack, the both of you started walking, keeping the same slow pace and taking your time.

"Well, I now have a reason, at least," he says as he grabs the strap of your bag and slings it in his shoulder. You ignore the bubbly feeling inside you and continued walking. Smiling at yourself as you forget about the stares around you.

"You're so cheesy, Suh Johnny." You giggled at him and for the first time, you saw a genuine smile creeping on his face.

When Lunch came, both of you sat outside to enjoy the sunny weather. "I'm going to start my Practicum next week," Johnny told you suddenly, and you stood up so fast to walk around the table to hug him.

"I'm so glad!" the sincere happiness is written on your face that even Johnny laughs with you.

"Thanks to you, I feel like, there's more to it than ending my life at the age of 21," he says and you shake your head at him.

"No, I didn't do anything. It's mostly you. I'm just here beside you to guide you, but it's your own will."

"I'll be honest with you, hurting myself still runs on my head but the difference this time is, I'm scared to do it." you didn't know what to reply to that so you just extend your hands towards his and hold it firmly in your grasp.

The rest of your day went ahead without you noticing, time flies by rather quickly when you are with Johnny. You stood waiting for your bus to arrive when a black Audi stops in front of you. Its windows rolling down and you see Johnny peeking through the window to smile at you.

"You want to wait for your bus or be logical and save time?" you laugh at his way of asking you for a ride but walk towards the passenger to join him in his car otherwise. The car ride was rather chaotic, you were debating about what to put first, milk or cereal, and you felt the horrors when Johnny says he puts milk in first. He was laughing like a child at how horrified you look.

"Anything's fine with me. I put whatever in first," he says after a long minute of arguing.

"I'm telling you, not to live like that!" you argue back. "Cereal comes first and then milk goes in, just imagine, do you pour the soap first before the water? it's water before the soap!" you explained and he laughs at how rilled up you get.

The argument was cut off when you arrived at your house. Johnny parked his car in front of your house and for some reason, your mother came in wearing an apron over her clothes. She raises an eyebrow at the unknown car blocking her driveway and you look at Johnny who looks back at you.

"Your mother is intimidating." He says.

"Want to come over for dinner?" you ask, and It took him a second before responding, " You think that's a good idea?"

"Come on, Mr. Suh, grow some balls, it's just my mom." Johnny looks offended at your statement.

"I have balls that girls flock around with," he retorted. You sigh and open the passenger seat greeting your mom with a smile as you ran to hug her.

"Can my friend stay for dinner?" you asked after hugging her. Johnny is behind you as he introduced himself as your friend and your mother shocked him by giving him a warm hug.

"There's still room for another boy in my house, I believe, it's no problem." Your mother stated as Johnny gives you a confused glance. Your mother invited him in and you welcomed him.

Inside, your older brother, Taeil is strumming his guitar with three other guys in the living room. "Oh, This is my Brother, Taeil." you casually said at him as you hung both of your jackets.

"You didn't tell me you have a brother." He whispered at you, standing awkwardly beside you. Taeil waved at him and you push him to sit beside Jaehyun.

"This is Jaehyun, Doyoung, and Ten. They're all bandmates during high school so they're always here for my brother," you explained. "And your mother's cooking." Ten added.

"Well, now you know," You said as you turn to him. "Let me just go to my room and freshen up real quick, just make yourself feel at home," you say as you back up on your track. "Cool."

Johnny didn't feel out of place for some reason, he was really happy that he got to meet your brother and his bandmates, they were cool to be around. They entertained him and ask what were his hobbies are and for the first time, he took his time to think about what he likes to do. He likes to draw.

When dinner was served, all the boys helped your mother to set up the table, Johnny was persistent in helping even after telling him to sit and wait because he was a guest. You let him help otherwise.

Dinner was well spent, he enjoyed talking with everyone and your mother even asks him to visit anytime he wants. Taeil takes a liking to him, asking him to hang out whenever he's free. Johnny presented to do the dishes and you helped him when he was done his shirt was a total mess because of the water splashing through the faucet, a good thing is that your brother has some clothes that are way oversized for him, and he lets Johnny use them.

You handed him the shirt, accidentally seeing a huge bruise on his chest and stomach, before you knew it, you stop him as he was about to put his shirt on. "What happened?"

His bruises must have slipped his mind and he mentally cursed himself at it. You were horrified. "Johnny, are you getting beat up?"

"I don't want to talk about this," he pulled his shirt down "Y/n, It's getting late. I should head home now. Thank you for dinner, I enjoyed it." and before you know it, Suh Johnny was gone.

Weeks passed by and Johnny was a complete no show. Faint rays of the sun trickled down through your curtains and fell on your room's marbled floor, you look up at your window and were blinded by the light, sitting up, you let your feet hovered on your marbled floors and mentally prepare yourself for the day.

In the office, your instructor asked you to copy some files and you gladly agreed to do it as you don't have much going on for the time being. You thought that it was hard doing your practicum, but all you did at the office was run errands evolving the x-ray machine. Your mind drifted back to Johnny, you'll have to talk to him. Being worried about him is already killing you and the last time you saw him was three weeks ago.

Wednesday came and you sat at your usual spot in the library, studying for the upcoming exams as you patiently wait for the tall black-haired guy. You forced yourself to do some actual studying but for some reason, all you can think about was Suh Johnny who didn't even show up.

The week passed by in a blur and on Thursday you went to your University to take the exam, you were scheduled for the second batch, and instead of your usual schedule of Wednesday, your professor divided your class into two batches.

You weren't even aware that your exams already finished as you were walking to your locker to put away some books.

You understood that Johnny had issues and you hated that you can't do anything to help him. You would do anything for him if that means for the comfort inside him and his peace of mind. You might not know the reason for his depression but everyone has a reason and you know that everybody around you has some issues going on in their private lives. You look around, seeing other students do their thing, minding their own business, some are even bored and waiting for their exams, You saw Jennie and Jongin together looking at you with disgusted faces that you shrugged off.

Johnny saw you as you mindlessly walk your way to the visual room, and he followed behind you silently, as he looks over his ex-girlfriend and ex-best friend. He realized he never really had a connection with Jennie before, they were both just into the sex, and then it gets awkward when they started to talk.

You were already done setting the projector up, walking in the center to lay down when you heard someone entered, and when you saw Johnny at the entrance of the room, his hands on his sweatpants pocket as he gives you a look, you stood up and ran to give him a big hug. You shed tears for him, as you give him a tight hug.

"Why are you crying?" he asked.

"Aren't we friends?" You asked him as you hold him in your arms. "Friends share their pains. So, I'll be here. I just want you to know that I'll be here when you needed someone to be there with you." Johnny fought his tears but who was he kidding? He yearns for someone's affection and not because of who he was but because it was him. And this time, he finally had someone to share his pains with. People already viewed him as someone going on a phase, probably someone rebelling against his parents but Johnny was more than that. He didn't care about it, though. He learned to give less fuck about insignificant people around him.

"My father used to beat me up, Football was just an excuse to cover up these bruises." He admitted. He was disgusted and embarrassed about it. But it was you, and he knows that you're not one to judge someone based off on their appearances.

You shed more tears for him. "Johnny, You don't deserve that, no one deserves that," you say caressing his cheeks. You hated the cheesy statement but you ignore it anyway, what you were feeling at the moment isn't important. Johnny was opening up to you.

The two of you manage to have time off from the university and Practicum. (Johnny started his practicum last, last week, that's why he was MIA most of the time, that time.) Johnny was hanging out at your house, the problem was, your mother and brother are both at work, so you take it to yourself that being alone with him, at your house, is inappropriate. You drag him outside, leading the way to one of your favorite diners.

"I am telling you, you're going to regret that," you said.

"What's wrong with what I ordered?" Johnny did this little thing in his nose, and you take a moment to look at him as you smile at him. You ignore the stares around you, feeling like a sore thumb sticking and obviously, out of place. Johnny scowl at the man who was drunk out of his wits, shamelessly checking you out. This wasn't the first time, this always happened, but not to you though. You told him to ignore it, that man was probably in here to order a cup of coffee.

"Their chicken and waffles here are the best! I'm telling you, I'm not going to share with you."

One pout of his lips towards you and you were switching your plates towards Johnny. You told him, only because this was the first time that he got to try out your favorite dish, and there won't be a second chance in the future. Johnny was kind enough to share a piece of waffle with you. But not the chicken, though. He fell head over heels for it.

Bit by bit, Johnny's walls crumbled down around you, and before you knew it, both of you are inseparable. Johnny dating you spread like wildfire around campus, but there wasn't any truth behind that gossip, you were just a friend. Simple as that.

He was hanging more lately with your brother than you expected. Both of them have the same interest, so it wasn't a surprise when Johnny befriended most of your brother's friends.

Johnny was going on about how Jaehyun's a chill guy, Mark, and Donghyuck introducing him to play games, even Yuta, the University's drug dealer, as they brand him, was included in Taeil's group of friends.

"You didn't tell me that you knew Nakamoto Yuta," Johnny whispered behind you.

"Yeah, For some reason, I didn't want to get involved with most of them. Some girls are crazy about them and I just want peacefulness as I end my college years." You answered. Yuta was from the same department, Jaehyun was from the same university but was taking a different course, as well as Doyounga and Taeyong. Mark and Haechan still need a year before attending college. Ten was studying arts and your brother was a college dropout.

You were having pizza night at your house, your mother was kind enough to accommodate a bunch of men in her tiny house, seemingly impossible to fit 13 men inside, but it did. Instead of the usual party that frat houses and rich kids throw around, Taeil and the others like to keep it to themselves. Sharing one shot glass and downing a cheap rum as everybody waits for their turn. Most of them didn't think that Johnny would be fine with this kind of setup. Besides, he was branded as the campus king and a rich heir at that. He could spend Friday nights at some high-end bar and drink expensive alcohol. But no, instead, here he was, sitting on the cheap carpet your mother owns with a bunch of drunk men but you were glad that your brother is such a nice guy and so are his peers.

Johnny was glad, that he found true people, who accepts him for who he is and not because of who he was.

Doyoung placed you on the empty sofa, you have a low tolerance for alcohol, and you can't keep up with them anymore. The cheapest drink Taeyong bought isn't of cheap quality, you knew better than to judge a bottle chosen by him. You watch them with heavy eyelids, smiling at yourself, Mark and Donghyuck made fun of you by putting thick blankets around you and this was the first time Johnny saw you annoyed by the younger boys.

When Morning came, you were already on your bed as your head pounds. When you came downstairs to leave for school you look around and saw that last night's trace was gone as if 13 grown men didn't make a mess out of your mother's living room.

You wished you had gotten a coffee first when you entered your room way too early and saw that most of the students are yet to arrive, even water would be good, anything liquid down your throat would be good.

You saw Jaehyun and Johnny bidding farewells at the front of the room, students who were present to see the two interacting were shocked, for them, It was rare to see Johnny without his usual crew. But, who are they to decide that for Johnny? It was a rare sight to see, A popular music major and the famous ex-football captain, together?

When Johnny approached his spot beside you, he gives you the cold Iced latte he was holding fresh from Starbucks, completely ignoring unwanted stares behind his back.

"Good Morning," there was a warm aura surrounding him as he settled down beside you, and you look at him in awe. "What?" he asks.

You watched him for a moment, smiling at him as he looks at you questionably. "You're happy," you stated making Johnny pause for a second to think, he was sporting a baby pink hoodie and grey Nike pants, holding his Earpods and Macbook at the other hand. "I think I might be getting there."

Your heart swells up for him and as you fought back the tears that wanted to fall. Johnny reached out to you, wiping the strands of hair that keep falling on your face. "Sorry," you said. People might think that yesterday, Johnny was trying to end his life, and then suddenly, he was okay, because he never was, and you continuously walk on a thin thread around him, Johnny is like a ticking bomb and porcelain that needs to be handled with the utmost care. Five months ago, Johnny doesn't have the motivation to continue living his life, but here he was thriving to know what tomorrow can offer him.

For Johnny, meeting you was his saving grace, problems might fill up in his life, there is this constant reminder that society will always judge him the minute he does something wrong, there is his father, his stepmother who doesn't really pay attention to him, his old life and old self constantly reminding him the pain of the past.

"What happened to your eyes?" there were dark circles under his eyes and for a moment you thought that he has a lot in his mind to think about for the lack of sleep.

"I stayed up till dawn playing overwatch with Donghyuck and Mark last night." He says smiling.

"I'm glad your settling with the boys all right." Johnny watched you, how your long hair flow past your shoulders through your back, he loves the little freckles dancing all over your cheeks naturally and how a touch of pink creeps in your cheeks naturally because of the humid air.

You were really glad. "Do you want to go with me and Ten?" He asks you when your classes ended for the morning, both of you walked to the library to hide from prying and malicious eyes. "He wants to hang out in the nearest coffee shop." he continued and you agreed to go with him, making a turn for the exit.

Johnny ordered an Americano for him and a latte for you, eating the packed lunch your mother made for you and Johnny as you wait for Ten.

Ten arrived with Jaehyun in tow, placing their bags down Jaehyun took the seat beside you while Ten walked to the counter to order their drinks. Johnny looked at you and Jaehyun but ignore the malice running in his head.

"Kim Yerim!" the three of you looked at the entrance to see Johnny's sister entering the cafe, Yerim waved at someone across their table and saw his sister's friend Park Sooyoung waving frantically. Johnny turned to look at you and Jaehyun ignoring his sister who started walking inside, "What happened to you?" he asks Jaehyun,

"Why?"

"You're turning really red." Johnny pointed out and you snickered at Jaehyun who turns to look at Johnny's sister absentmindedly. "Man, That's my sister!" Johnny whispered-shout at him as he fought the urge to laugh at Jaehyun. Someone definitely has a crush on his little sister.

You and Johnny eyed each other, laughing as you both understood telepathically. "What's so funny?" Ten asks when he arrived and the both of you laughed loudly this time.

"Hyung!" Jaehyun shouted at him his ears turning red.

When Johnny got home, he locked himself up in his room that his step-mother finally asked to clean. He was busy waiting for Donghyuck and Mark to play when he heard a knock on his door.

"Can I come in?" His step-mother asked. Yerim's mother is a great person, but that doesn't really mean that she's a good mother to both him and Yerim, he can't really judge her though, she's still young and living her dreams but then his father got her pregnant with Yerim and then here she is stuck at this hell of a household, all three of them under the strings of his father.

"Yes." He says.

Kim Ah-Jong walked inside, placing a warm cup of milk beside him for the first time, "Johnny," She started as he settled at the edge of Johnny's bed facing him. Johnny turns his chair to face her too, holding the warm mug in his hand to seek comfort in this awkward setting.

"I don't know how to start, but I just wanted to say that I'm really sorry," she paused for a second, ignoring the lump in her throat, "I hope you forgive me for replacing your mother's position, and that I'm really grateful because you love your sister more than anything even though you didn't have the same mother."

"It's the least that I could do." He says.

"Yes, I know, and I'm sorry if I failed you as a mother, I was busy finding myself to the point you and Yerim grow up without the right amount of affection from us. We're such horrible parents and I wanted to say sorry on behalf of your father. You don't deserve this, no one else did."

That night, Johnny slept soundly in his own home for the first time in a while.

Yerim was shocked to see her mom attending to his brother, it's as if she suddenly had a change of heart and finally started to be a mother to his brother. Her father was another problem, he still hasn't moved on from his son's attempt. Spitting atrocious words early in the morning making Johnny regret even joining the breakfast.

Kim Ah-jong had enough of his husband's wrath, it was still morning and his husband is starting to get on her nerves. She stabs her bread knife on their table as she turns her head towards him, "Is still early in the morning for the love of God, Kim Ji Hoon. Must you really ruin our morning?" she says.

Both Yerim and Johnny were stunned at her, their father shutting up in instant at the fear her wife would stab her.

Johnny and Yerim drive to the University that day together, "Oh, do you mind if we stop by at my friend's house? I promise to pick him up." Johnny asks and Yerim nodded.

Johnny smirked, he was excited to see Jaehyun's reaction.

Johnny pulled up in front of Jaehyun's apartment, sending him a message the was up in front of his building, after a minute, Jaehyun emerges from the entrance of the building running to get to his car with a tumbler in his other hand.

Johnny pulled the window down and Jaehyun saw Yerim first, he stopped midway, flustered that a girl was with his young, and It was no other than his sister. he played it cool and sat at the back.

"Oh, Yerim-ah, this is Jaehyun. He's my friend."

Jaehyun didn't expect her to turn around and bow her head down. "Thank you so much for taking good care of my brother."

Johnny became flustered with Yerim but laughed it off instead. Jaehyun bowed his head towards her saying it was nothing. Yerim was unaware of the looks she was getting from the older boy sitting at the back seat of his brother's car as Johnny keeps throwing playful glances at the back while he drove them to the school.

Graduation was already nearing, both you and Johnny were already finished with your practicum, Johnny was moving boxes towards his car, for some reason, his father allowed him to have his own flat, his step-mother saying that it would be the best for him and his mental health to have some space between them and that they should give him some time and space. His father was adamant at first but has nothing to do in the end.

"Just let him do what he wants, He's already graduating, with honors! He already did everything you wanted it's the least you could do for him." he heard his step-mother argue a while ago with his father. Johnny still had to go home every Sunday at the main house, though.

You and Taeil volunteered to help him with his moving and he was glad, to say the least. Yerim contacted you to do his groceries for him and the two of you left the older boys as you went to the market with Yerim.

Yerim was a cool young woman, she was matured for her own age, you learned that she was very frank at what she wants and that she loves her brother so much.

"I'm really glad my brother meet you," she says as she links her right arms with you, you were both walking to the parking lot, and you smiled at her blushing.

"Honestly, I never really liked his old friends. Jongin? Nope. Chanyeol? He's an asshole. Everyone in that damn team is an ass except for Sehun," she says as both of you entered the market, pulling a big cart in the process, and continued walking ahead. "You and your brother are surrounded by good people. Do you know that? And I'm kind of jealous of you, not that I don't have good friends, I do."

"Well, consider me someone you can be with so those good people will surround you too," you said smiling, Yerim giggled at you.

It took Johnny a week before really settling down in his apartment, he invited the guys over to have a small welcoming party, drinking and playing till the sun rises.

Johnny was busy typing at his laptop as you were both doing your last requirement for college, papers, and documents were all scattered around his living room when he turns his head to look at you. "Are you comfortable with those jeans?" He asks.

You look at your pants, it is uncomfortable.

"I don't have extra clothes," Johnny poked at his cheeks with his tongue, he stood up and went inside his room, when he came back he was holding clean boxer shorts. "You can use this if you want," he says as he extends his arms to you. You gladly took it and went to his bathroom to change.

Johnny thinks this was more dangerous than when he had blood oozing out of his wrist, you had your toned legs on display for him, and only him. It wasn't helping at all. Without knowing, he stared at your legs for a good minute, the urge of having his hands run along the lines of your thighs was becoming unbearable. He was amazed by the lack of hair you had around your arms and legs, was it liked that too with the parts your clothes have covered? He can't help the wild imaginations running around his head with the things he wants to do to you.

Johnny focused his attention back on the screen of his laptop. What the fuck is he even thinking? It's you, his fucking angel. How dare he have dirty thoughts about you. He mentally slaps himself and went back to typing.

You noticed Johnny having a mental crisis because of you and you silently laugh at him, extending your legs further to have your skin touch his thighs.

after hours of being productive with your work, You and Johnny decided to call it a night.

After a week of preparations for the upcoming finals, you and Johnny decided to meet up, the waiter placed both of your orders in front of you and Johnny, who give the waiter a small smile while uttering a quick "Thank you." You eyed Jhonny's food who looks somewhat more delicious than your Pesto Pasta. You don't even know why you ordered it, you never even tasted it before, you just want to— maybe, impress the guy in front of your table who were giving you obvious looks about the taste pallet you had which is definitely of a 13 Years old.

Johnny gives you a look while shaking his head, knowing all too well that you wanted a bite of it. Looking at you who's eyeing his barbeque bacon burger with fries on the side— It's usually what the two of you order and he was shocked that you ordered something out of the ordinary. He knew that you weren't the type of girl to go out of your comfort zone. You like what you usually eat, what you usually drink, and what type of clothing you usually wear. You are a very simple, young woman. You don't usually try things out of the blue, especially, when the two of you are both hungry.

Instantly, Johnny switched both plates. Giving you his food whilst saying a silent goodbye to the famous BBQ burger that he craves so much after winning a football game, which, he deserves. "What are you doing?" you asked shocked. You already saw him digging in and wincing at the taste. "Why the fuck would you even order this thing?" he asked.

You looked at the guy at the other table. You both were giving silent glances, he's good-looking and obviously from another school but you don't do other schools, that is the thing, you'd rather date someone from the same school, same department or same village. You don't like the hassle. People can go ahead and say your such a basic bitch, which in fact, you are. You finally give your full attention to Johnny who looks at his back to find some guy obviously ogling your face. That was the scariest thing in the world for him, guys ogling your face rather than your body, honestly, it was obvious from guys falling for your body— they just want to get in your pants, but guys who fall for your beauty is different.

You start digging in with your food. "This is the reason why I love you so much." You stated giving your burger a bite.

"Why would you even want to eat this." He says. You give him a chuckle as you extend your right arm towards him, offering him a bite of your burger, which he gladly took. "I'm sorry, I'm such a pain in the ass." You said.

"I kidnapped you in your after party and I'm so sorry, I didn't know Jennie's going to be there, and now you're eating something you don't even like. Man, you don't deserve this." You continued. Sincerely saying sorry towards him— picking a fry and dipping it on the ketchup provided at the side of your plate.

For some reason, Things work out for him and the team, It was going to be his last year playing, and the higher-ups decided for him to lead the team again, making Jongin lose face around the campus. It wasn't like before, It was expected, Johnny was just professional around them, leading them at the court and out of sight, after.

"What? No way. This is what I deserve. A peaceful dinner and finally having time with you." He says after biting at the toasted bread the pasta has. It was true though, Johnny was talking with Jennie again, well, but not exactly dating her, as students would say around campus. They dated, but that was that, he can't even imagine being good friends with someone who cheated on him, he was just being civil with her, ending things with a good note and leaving the better past behind him, and you haven't really had the chance to hang out together since their coach intensified their training hours and days, and right after that Johnny would hang out with your brother and the other guys.

"What did my brother say, though? with you being with me tonight? You guys are basically dating each other by now," you joked.

"Yeah, he's cool with it. Don't worry, I told him about our meeting before you actually kidnapped me." He gives you a smirk and you give him a confused look. "I was actually going to ask you for a dinner with me after the game." You rolled your eyes at him.

"Wow." You commented. You were practically like a twin at this rate. "Can I ask you something, though?" Johnny didn't know whether to ask because he was curious or just wait for you to open up to him, for some reason, Johnny felt naked around you. You knew everything about him, you have him wrapped around your pretty little fingers "What if I don't want to?" You countered and he scoffed.

"What was the reason you transferred? you only had a year to finish before graduating," Your face fell and he instantly saw how your face contorted into a frown. "Why are you making that face?" he asked.

"I had a bad break up to the point that I was destroying myself." You finally said like it was nothing. Johnny stopped everything that he's doing, giving you a look as if asking why. He felt like an idiot. How can he? at your worst time? "I'm such a horrible friend." He says.

"It's not your fault, and I'm even sorry that I didn't tell you sooner." You said quietly. Suddenly your favorite dish from the dinner doesn't look appealing anymore. "And I wanted time for myself, you know, he cheated on me."

the clicking of utensils can be heard throughout the diner when he dropped them to the table. He was fuming mad.

"It wasn't anyone's fault, though. if anything. It was mine. I lost interest in our relationship, didn't have time for him, and just lost everything along the way." You said while moving your plate towards him which he gladly took, abandoning the pasta you ordered and eating the half of the burger you had. But the real reason was, you can't stop comparing your ex-boyfriend to him.

"Still isn't a reason to cheat on you." He says after taking a bite. You move your lemonade in front of you and lazily sip on it. He drops the topic knowing all too well that you don't want to talk about it. Still, he felt guilty for some reason, What could go wrong?

Right, Johnny Suh is starting to have feelings for you, and definitely not in a platonic way.

And you don't have any idea about it.

He opened your bag that was beside him and fetch the wet wipes that were inside. He opened it and out of habit cleaned your fingers with it. And you let him, smiling. "I wished I meet you sooner," He looked at you and smiled. "I'm really sorry I haven't been with you for the last 21 years." you joked as you let him dry your fingers with a dry napkin that the diner provides.

You were about to head out— fetching the car keys that you placed on the bowl beside the main door when you hear a familiar honk outside your house. Your hands slip past your keys and you walk the small distance to your door, opening it the cold air of December heats your face and Johnny greeted you with his usual beam on his face, his left hand stretched up outside his window, giving you a wave.

You smiled to yourself, biding your mom a quick goodbye and you were off to school with your best friend.

"Good Morning." He greeted you when you opened the door of his black Audi.

"Good Morning, indeed." You said facing him after securing yourself with the seat belt. There was a tint of pink in Johnny's checks that you choose to ignore.

Pulling up at the parking lot in front of the university's main building where a lot of students lingered chatting with their circle of friends— Johnny smoothly maneuvered and parked at his usual spot.

You both get out of his car and started to walk to the building.

"See you at lunch?" he asked when you neared your classroom— you were slightly shocked. "Won't you be eating with Yerim today?" you asked as you stopped in your tracks facing him. "Doesn't have to." He simply replied and you nod your head. "She'll be mad, John." You said as a matter of fact— facing him while slowly backing away as he marly give you a shrug. "She doesn't have the right, though." you rolled your eyes at him "Just ask her to eat with us!"

Graduation was nearing and you've been offered a job at one of the top companies in the city, you didn't have the reason to turn them down so you accept and were set to sign the contract right after having your diploma.

This calls for a celebration, though.

When Johnny heard that he was the first one to know about something significant in his life, he was delighted.

You found yourself getting tipsy with the cheap booze in front of you and Johnny. You were laughing at something he said about his sister, holding the cheap beer in your hand as you chug the contents down your through. "Okay, That's enough," Johnny said whilst grabbing the cans of beer and putting them back at his refrigerator. You pout back at him but don't argue, you still have to attend your classes tomorrow morning and you don't want to miss anything for the last weeks you have for being a college student.

Johnny tucked you in his bed and you bid the sweetest goodnight on him, he leaves a sweet kiss on your forehead before heading for the couch in the living room to sleep on, since he had no energy to actually drive you home.

You woke up that night, feeling rather hot, unconsciously stripping out of your pants and bra out of habit, you walked to the kitchen for some water.

Walking with blurred vision, you find your way into the kitchen. The lights were dim as you passed by the living room completely ignoring the fact that Johnny could definitely walk on you wearing only your white tee and undies.

You helped yourself around the kitchen, rummaging in the refrigerator for a jar of water, your hands felt the cold lid of the jar, popping it open and chugging the contents down. You giggled after realizing that you should probably use glass and act like a lady for once since you're not in your own place.

You hissed as you struggle, reaching for a glass in the cupboard. "Just why is it placed so fucking high?" you asked yourself. A hand reached for the glass and you turned around, shocked and ready to pounce the person behind you.

you came face to face with Johnny. His face, only inches away from you. His hands find their way to your waist as he looked at you and the glass in his hands, he purred his self some water in the glass and chugged the whole content down.

"I got thirsty," he said. You moved beside so you don't disturb him, stepping at least five steps away.

He looked you up and down, the smell of booze around, is strong, it almost made you gag. Feeling the cold air between your legs, you looked at yourself. "Fuck." realizing that you were only wearing your white t-shirt; that you probably owned since 7th grade— Your breast was obvious that even your nipples were prominent, your shirt just hanging before your hip bone and then your undies.

You mentally slap yourself. He put the glass down and you put your hair in front to at least cover your hardening nipples away from him. Chills run down your spine as he took another step forward, clearing the distance between you.

"Hey-" he cut you off.

"Johnny," he says.

"What?" you asked, barely whispering. Your eyes moved down on their own, from his eyes down to his upper body, he was shirtless, giving you free access to his perfectly sculpted body, his pelvis, so sharp even a God couldn't compare. Again, you felt the burning sensation coming back in your throat. You touched your neck instantly as you tried to swallow.

"My name, say it," he whispered, you looked up only to be met by his eyes, dark with unknown lust as if burning you within. He keeps staring at you, keeping you captive with his eyes that you somehow felt naked.

"Johnny," you whispered trying not to sound like your practically moaning his name. He took a step forward, leaving no space between you and him. "Again." He commands you. You sucked a deep breath as you avoid eye contact.

"Johnny."

He used his index finger to lift your head as his thumb drew circles just below your chin to the base of your neck. blood rushed to your face as you suddenly felt hot on your cheeks as he put his hands on your waist again. He tilts his head, the smell of alcohol mixed with his aftershave and mint filled your senses, suddenly it wasn't too dark anymore.

He brushes his lower lip against yours that you barely felt it. He licked his lower lip as you bite yours. He stares intently at you. "You know, I would appreciate it if you don't walk around the house in these." his hands hot on your skin.

all rationality seems to fly out of the window, both of you staring at each other gazes, Johnny pulling you in for a much deeper kiss. "Didn't know you were this naughty with alcohol in your system," he murmured, Johnny's soft languid kisses were driving you wild, he moves at the base of your neck and sucked at the soft skin before pressing light kisses.

"Do you have any idea how much I want you?" he says softly, your breath hitches without knowing and you deliciously clenched around nothing upon hearing his statement, you were hypnotized by his eyes. Leaning down, he kisses you again.

You put your hands around his chest to push him slightly, gazing up toward him, "I want this," you whispered. "No. Not in the morning when you're sober enough to regret this," Johnny says, you ignore him and pulled him down to kiss him again, and Johnny lost all his logic with how delicious you tasted, you guide his hands on the hem of your shirt and slowly he peels it off for you and lets it fall down the floor.

Johnny put his arms around you and hauls you against his body, squeezing you tightly, his hands traveled down your waist and down to your behind, he holds you against his hips, and you feel his erection, which he gladly pushes into you, easily lifting you from the floor after, you moan once more in his mouth, He eases you towards the bed and you feel your back against the soft cushion once more.

Tentatively, you move your hands up to his face and his hair, tugging at it lightly as if implying for him to take you fully. But Johnny has other plans in his mind. He grabs your hips with both his hands and runs his tongue around your navel, gently nipping his way to your hipbone and across your belly to the other.  "Ah," You groan.

Seeing him on top of you, between your legs as you feel his hot breath against your skin, Is unexpected, but you wanted this as much as he wants it. Your hand on his hair, pulling gently as you try to quiet your loud breathing. He gazes up at you through impossibly long-lashed, and chocolate-colored eyes. His hand reaches the hem of your black underwear, leisurely pulling it down without taking his eyes off you, he stops and licks his lips, never breaking eye contact. Johnny leans forward, running his nose up the apex between your thighs, and you feel him.

"You smell so fucking good," he murmurs and closes his eyes. a look of pure pleasure on his face and you practically convulse.

You raise yourself on your elbows to see what he's doing, you were panting, you wanted him right there. shit

Moaning, you felt him run his tongue on the sleek of your heat, "Keep still," he murmurs and then leans down again to kiss down your clit. "How can I not move? you're making me feel this good." you felt him smirk against your skin. "Then, we'll have to work on keeping you still." there was a dangerous tone laced in his voice and you find it impossibly hot and twisted. You're flushed, skin burning, too hot, too cold, and you're craving more as you clawed at the sheets beneath you.

Johnny moves forward and you protested but the pleasure came back once more when he blows very gently on one of yours mound, his hands moving to the other breast, and his thumb slowly rolls the end of your nipple, elongating it. You moan, feeling the sweet sensation all the way to your groin.

"Johnny," you were wet, "Please," you beg silently as your fingers clasp the sheet tighter. His lips close around your nipple and he tugs, making you convulse. He doesn't stop.

Johnny moves his fingers around your clit, drawing circles as he laps on your mound,  you let yourself go from his touch. His thumb and finger continue doing you deliciously and you fall apart on his hands.

"Oh," you won't lie, that felt extraordinary, and now, you know the fuss around him is about. He gazes down at you, a satisfied smirk on his face and you're still in owe from your high.

Johnny was amazed at how responsive you are, he laced his fingers around you, drawing slow and lazy circles around your clit again, bringing another set of heat in your core. He closes his eyes briefly, his breathing hitches. You're deliciously wet and Johnny doesn't want to fuck you with a condom on, and neither did you.

He reaches over the bedside table, anyway, grabbing a foil packet, and then moving out of the bed to discard the rest of his clothes. You saw him, and your mouth watered at how long and thick he is. He kneels on the bed and pulls the condom onto his length. "I really don't want to use one."

"Is that going to fit in?"

"Don't worry," He breathes,  "You're wet enough, Angel. I know you can make me well," He murmurs as he positions the head of his erection at the entrance of your sex and pushing hard.

"Aargh!" You cry as you felt him sliding in, there was a weird sensation pinching deep inside you as he rips through you without warning. Johnny stills, his eyes bright with ecstatic triumph. His mouth opened slightly, his breathing harsh. He groans wanting to move.

"Fuck, baby, so tight."

"Johnny, Wait."

He stills for a moment, "Why?" You held onto his forearms, fucking him with a condom doesn't feel right, you wanted every little part of him, you wanted to feel him. Raw. "I- Can we remove the condom?" Johnny asks as if reading your mind.

You nod at him, You felt him slide out of you, removing the condom and throwing it at the trash bin beside his bed. Johnny positions his self once more, easing on to you, groaning. He loved every bit of it, this was the first time that you had sex without using protection, and the same thing goes for Johnny. Moving your hips up to him, as a sign that you wanted him to move already. He groans. You felt so full, as he let you acclimatize at the overwhelming feeling of him inside you. Naked, and Raw.

He eases back with exquisite slowness. Closing his eyes, Johnny controlled himself not on to fuck you hard, He thrust into you again, and you cry out in pleasure. He shifts into his elbow, and you feel his weight on you, holding you down. He moves painfully slow at first, easing himself in and out of you. You grew impatient and you can't help but move your hips up tentatively to meet his. He speeds up. Pounding on you, picking up speed by the second, merciless and in a relentless rhythm.

you can't help yourself to meet his thrust, making Johnny lose his mind because of you. Your body quivers. a sheen of sweat gathers over you. Your thoughts are scattered. There's only the feeling of him, of you, and him, and you stiffen.

"Come for me, baby," he whispers breathlessly, and you unravel at his words, exploding around him as you climax and shard into pieces with every being you had underneath him. And as he comes inside you, calling your name, thrusting hard, the stalling as he empties himself into you.

Johnny's breathing was ragged as you try to slow your breathing, your heart thumping hard and your thoughts in a disarray, you opened your eyes. His eyes flickered open and gaze down at you, dark but soft. He's still inside you, leaning down, he gently presses a kiss against your forehead then slowly pulls out of you.

Johnny cleaned you up and spoon you to sleep, he hoped that in the morning you won't regret what happened. Because he loved every moment of it.

--

Part 2? I didn't put the taglist because this is already reposted. so, yeah, hope u guys enjoyed! let me know what you think, I feel like i sucked making this.

[zoe-oneesama]

Okay, semi-serious question! What would each member of Miss Bustier's class in the Scarlet!AU, including Lila, dress up as for Halloween?

Well I think my ideas would probably apply to canon. And obviously I know France doesn’t really do Halloween (at least not how America does), so we’re gonna just retcon reality and pretend Halloween is a common thing to these kids, so basically:

Marinette: A character costume. From a cartoon or movie or game, whatever it is she’s handmaking and handstyling all of it and is scouring the internet to make sure every detail is 100% canon accurate. Every year she tries to outdo herself by getting more and more intricate characters. Year 1 - Princess Peach Paper Mario version. Year 5 - Princess Peach Smash Bros verison.

Adrien: It’s the first year he gets to participate and it’s not some bougie adult wine drinking party, so he either goes for a visual pun (sticking a bunch of beige paint swatches to himself to be 50 Shades of Grey) or goes super basic royalty free costume, like A Vampire or A Devil. If he has a partner he’d totally go couples costumes, but who decides the costumes depends on the partner. (Marinette would totally bow to his whims but Kagami would reel him in)

Alya: She’s been in different store bought Majestia costumes since she was old enough to call the shots. Only this year is she going for Hometown Heroes, but she’s completely caught between who to choose - Ladybug because obviously, or Carapace because her boyfriend, or Rena Rouge because it’s hilarious?! So many options!!!

Nino: He’s never gotten super into it but keeps it alive for Chris. Typically he’ll pull together a “closet costume”, like pulling out the plaid button up and sticking some straw out of the pockets to be a scarecrow. Going to parties with Alya makes him want to try a little harder this year so he’ll probably actually buy a full costume this year to go with whatever she decides to be (”Wait, you’re gonna dress as me this year?!”)

Canon Chloe: She’s worn her Ladybug costume a few too many times in public, so she’ll probably go for Queen Bee but with a twist - like a full ballgown princess but Queen Bee themed. It’s super expensive decorated with real rhinestones, as are all the costumes she’s had in the past because she’s in a personal competition with Marinette. It kills her that Marinette always gets way more compliments on her costumes. 

SL Chloe: Same as above but Scarlet Lady themed. She’s at least smart enough to forgo the mask and demands pockets to shove Tikki into.

Canon Sabrina: In order to match Chloe but not outshine her, Sabrina is ordered to be a bee (to be Queen Bee’s “Pollen”, though Sabrina doesn’t know what that means). She’s an adorabee and her outfit is also pretty expensive because it was commissioned by Chloe, but that also means Sabrina got zero input on it. 

SL Sabrina: It’s the first time Sabrina hasn’t relied on Chloe to “make” her costume (or rather DECIDE her costume) and all the independence has Sabrina scrambling a bit. In the end, by borrowing some of her dad’s old things, she dresses as a Cutie Cop complete with a too big hat and handcuffs she has to SWEAR not to use.

Max: With some carefully painted cardboard and foam, he’s one of the bots from UMS III. Despite the crudeness of the costume, it is also meticulously model accurate, and also very difficult to move in.

Kim: 100% one of those inflatable T Rex costumes.

Alix: She’d probably wear her regular clothes but invest in a high quality wolf mask and hands and sneak up on people all night.

Nathaniel: He’d have to prepare months in advance but he’d show up as Super Nathan. He skips on the face paint but considering it’s his OC and he still draws it in his comic, I think he’s not emotionally tainted by being an akuma and it’s own little “Fuck You” to Hawkmoth. Plus it makes Chloe stay 10000 miles away from him. 

Mylene: Mylene walks into a costume shop with no plan, wanting to be taken in by how a costume looks and feels on her. Because of that she has an eclectic background and no one ever knows what she’s going to come as. Last year she was a racoon because the costume dress had ears on the hoodie, but maybe this year she comes as a Mad Hatter because the costume came with a lot of pieces. Who knows?!

Ivan: He knows he’s going to avoid anything with a mask if he wants his girlfriend to come near him. That does knock off a lot of his favorite horror characters, so he goes an Adrien route and shows up as A Ninja. Yep. Definitely not a video game character, noooo, this is TOTALLY just A Ninja. Uhuh.

Rose: Unicorn Princess. With wings. And a tiara. And A wand. And a tail. And rainbow chalk in her hair. And stickers. 

Juleka: She’s a witch, but not a store bought cute short skirt one. Like a voodoo hag that dragged herself out of the swamp to curse mankind. She’s basically one every year so she just adds onto her costume and every year her witch costume just increases in collectables. Vials around her waist and a fake crow on her hat, a spell book appeared one year, and spider webs draped over her shoulders. Uh, are you sure that’s just a costume Juleka?

Canon Lila: She doesn’t care much about the actual costume but takes a lot of care making sure it’s juuuuuust towing the line between cute and sexy. It needs to be attention getting but not bad attention. She goes for slightly childish characters, like Little Red Riding Hood, so she can get away with saying she thought it was “just adorable!” when she knows it’s showing her off. If I wanted her to be even cheekier, I’d have her find a “Sexy” Rena Rouge costume that’s pretty much Rena Rouge but in a skirt, and watch Alya convulse.

SL Lila: Drop the act and just admit she likes feeling sexy. Her friends help her find costumes that are age appropriate but scratch that itch and Lila puts more thought into the actual character. She gets a new appreciation for merging horror with pretty stuff - like a Zombie Cheerleader or Elsa but with ice coming out of her skin. It also lets her stretch her makeup skills.