#this actually works out because my wife is finally Returning From The War today so it's like birthday part two

[blood-mocha-latte]

Happy belated birthday Rie!! 💛🎇🎀

thank you lenora!!!! a photo of bean for you x

[medeafive]

For @wntrsnat's prompt "You've broken my heart one too many times". Cold war national security AU (like, actually an AU without any of the superhero stuff).

Also on AO3 (with a much longer second chapter)

He probably always knew. From the moment in the fancy Seattle hotel bar where she asked him to help her pick a drink. She played innocence so well and she was so beautiful in that black dress and he was so lonely that he took the napkin with her number. He didn't call but then she showed up at his bus stop miraculously, announcing she had found a job in New York and would be around more often. It was so obvious.

He toyed with her for a bit, meeting for a walk but canceling hours before the next time, then after the next fight with Debbie calling her late at night and then not again for weeks. She didn't seem to mind. It was so easy. No arguing, no reproachments, no crying. Too easy.

At some point, it stopped being a game to him. From the rubbles of his marriage, he flees into her arms and she welcomes him. He stays overnight, not even touching her but knowing he's dealing the final blow to his relationship with Debbie. He sleeps awfully well that night. Sure enough, Debbie throws him out and he stays with Steve and Peggy for a bit until that becomes inappropriate. The first call he makes from his empty new apartment is to her.

The sex is almost besides the point. She is alluring, engaging. Just sitting across from her makes him feel alive. Like he didn't fuck up his whole life. When he's with her, it's okay. When she looks at him with her deep blue eyes, he's okay.

She toys with him, too. Doesn't call for three weeks. Stands him up. Moves out of her apartment without telling him. It breaks his heart every time but he always forgives her the second she returns. No arguing, no reproaching, no crying. He's too easy.

Yeah, he probably always knew. But when he finds out everything he has been working on in the past year has been completely thwarted, he finally has to face up to it. Payday. Inevitable.

He still goes, without thinking. It's the only thing he can do. She looks great in her high-waisted jeans and the wool sweater. Debbie had the same one, actually. He's not in the mood for lengthy conversations and she accepts that as is, as always.

He still doesn't want to cut the cord, doesn't want to break it when she's lighting her cigarette in bed, naked. He'll never be happy again without her. But it can't go on like this or his whole career, his whole life will be wrecked even more than it already has been. And in the end, he always knew what this was. So he gets up and gets dressed. She chuckles. "In a hurry today?"

Absolutely no hurry. He feels the sweet tug of nostalgia, back to the warm bed, to her warm naked body - No. No more. "We will not be meeting again."

"What?" she asks with amusement, her fingers angled away from the cigarette with such noblesse he suddenly wonders where she really comes from. "Did your wife call?"

"I'm not asking you why," he states, fastening his tie, ignoring her. "You do your job, I do mine. But I have to say, you're magnificent at -"

"James," she interrupts, and he always liked how that sounded out of her mouth. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"I don't want an explanation," he returns. "I don't want an apology. I don't care. But this has to end."

She blows out smoke with frustration. "You're not making any sense, darling."

"Leave the country," he says.

She looks at him slightly unnerved. She's really excellent at this, a blank canvas he could project all his insecurities on, paint it into his salvation. No such thing, of course. Even if it felt differently for a while. That's why he couldn't possibly turn her, because in the end, he never knew whether anything about her was real. There's no angle, no leverage point, no crowbar even. "I don't blame you," he says. "But you have to go."

She shifts to standing up and God, she's just so beautiful, every movement such a piece of art - Maybe that's the only thing he really knows about her. "James -"

"You've broken my heart one too many times," he interrupts. "It's too late. Maybe it was always too late."

She doesn't say anything. She always had that enigmatic quality, like staring at the sphinx. Even now, if she's panicking, it doesn't show. If she's mad, it doesn't show. Her eyes are one-way mirrors and he never saw anything he didn't project himself in there. She's everything, in the end. Everything and nothing. She was everything to him and now he has to turn her into nothing.

A movement goes through her jaw. "You should leave."

He never should have come. "I will give you a headstart. That's all I can do for you."

Still no reaction. She must have nerves of steel. A petty part of him wonders whether she's glad it's over. He'll never know. It doesn't matter. The only thing that matters is that he ends it now. "Goodbye, James," she says slowly.

No arguing, no reproaching, no crying. Over what, after all? All this was nothing. He always knew it was nothing. A nice mirage. "Farewell."

He can't bring himself to say her name. It's not her real name anyway, just another twinkle of hot air. The sphinx watches him motionlessly, emotionlessly. There must be something behind there, behind the façade. He'll never find out. "Three hours."

The façade breaks, just a tiny hole, barely enough to peek through. She nods. He feels that nod is the only honest part of her he ever saw. An acknowledgement of the huge concession he's making. Because he'll never be anywhere near as excellent as she is. "Farewell," she says. "James."

He bathes in her saying his name one last time, one last goodbye. All he'll ever get. Then he turns, opens the door. Stops and takes a deep breath but doesn't look back. Nothing to look back on. It always was nothing, after all. He leaves, like he always should have.

By the time the FBI raids her apartment, there is not a trace of her to be found.

And if you want them to meet again 20 years later... click here!

[paradoxicwashere]

Mr Freeze: The Man Who Lost Everything

Buckle Up everyone because I'm obsessed with the Snowman and am about to make it everyone's problem. Here's my pitch for reinventing Mr Freeze with his own mini-series.

Alright, first hurdle to jump is that I *hate* the New 52 retcon that Nora was never his wife. It's dumb and it ruins everything that makes Freeze great. I don't know exactly what Rebirth did but I'm sure it, or one of the other yearly universe ruining events was catastrophic enough to undo that stupid, stupid retcon.

So here we go! Long start up with the actual pitch a little ways down.

Mr Freeze was reinvented by Batman: The Animated Series with a new tragic origin that made the character everything he's become today. But the one problem with the character is his story is quite literally, frozen. Every appearance he is trying to cure his beloved Nora and every time he fails. Something has to change, and Nora finally being cured / awoken has already been explored beautifully in both the Adventures Continues & The Arkham Games. So we have to go in the other direction:

Out in the arctic, Victor works against the clock - freezing Nora slowed down her condition, it didn't stop it. He has one last chance, he races to finish the formula that will save Nora. He has but moments to save her.

He fails.

The Serum wasn't ready in time. He missed it, he didn't even get to say goodbye. Nora Fries has passed on, and Victor failed. He's broken, of course. He was so desperate to save her he didn't even see her go.

And then Batman arrives. The Dark Knight, perusing the hijacked Research Vessel. He finds it in the middle of a blizzard. Victor, kneeling in the center of it. His rage fueling the storm. But Batman dosen't stop him, he dosen't throw a batarang, he dosen't even raise his voice.

He offers Victor his hand. He knows what it's like to lose your entire world and dosen't want Victor to suffer alone. He couldn't ever get through to Victor when he was blinded by desperation, but now - maybe grief can bring clarity.

Later, back in Gotham - Police get a report that the villainous Mr Freeze has been spotted walking into a store on 34th and 12th. They arrive only to see a slightly surprised Florist with a $20 note on her counter. Elsewhere, Victor apologizes for being late as he lays flowers down on Nora's grave.

Victor has new purpose. He couldn't save Nora, but she isn't the only one to suffer her disease. He will finish the cure, and in his mission he will come to blows with the Company that ruined his life in the first place: GothCorp.

My Comic follows Mr Freeze re-imagined as an Anti-Hero hellbent on war with GothCorp, the corporation that turned Freeze into the cold-hearted Doctor in the first place and stole key parts of his research, research that he wants back. With a few new allies Freeze will do whatever it takes to complete his research, spending the rest of his days doing everything he can to leave a good Legacy on the world

For Nora.

TLDR: When he fails to save Nora, Mr Freeze is given a chance by Batman to honour her legacy. He turns his life around and is reborn an anti-hero with his sights set on reclaiming his stolen research from GothCorp so that he can finish his cure for the disease that plauged Nora.

And now some additional ideas:

Victor enlists the help of a desperate Gotham University student to drive his mobile laboratory and do some of the less dangerous work that he cannot do due to his inability to blend in. In trade he compensates them and helps with their degree.

Victor and Red Hood get along splendidly - and they both operate under Batman's rules that they're allowed to operate in Gotham as long as they do not kill.

The other villains didn't respect Victor as a threat until he reminds them how dangerous he can really be. He makes sure they know to stay out of his way upon his return.

GothCorp want to use Victor's cryo-tech to permentantly suspend patients of 'incurable' diseases as a way to wring money out of the families of the patients. The joys of American Healthcare.

[shera-dnd]

Keeping those Suletta Sundays going with part 2!

This time we follow Suletta as she wakes up to find her wife going through A LOT of emotions

Even more crying ensues

Enjoy the reading!

Suletta Mercury woke up bright and early in the morning, like she usually did, and stretched herself in her bed. 

Her mother had always stressed the importance of starting every day on the right foot, so you can make sure the rest of it will go just as great. 

Sure, she wasn’t the best at following her own advice, but Suletta really took the sentiment to heart. 

So it was with a song in her lips that she jumped out of bed and went about her day. 

It had been very sweet of Miss Miorine to offer her a room of her own in their new home. Honestly, it was such a kindness to go out of her way to make sure Suletta was comfortable. Even if Suletta was in no way opposed to sharing a room - or a bed - with her wife.

But she would respect Miorine’s wishes. Their marriage had been one of convenience of course, and Suletta didn’t want to make things weird for her. She was just glad she managed to help out someone she cared so much about.

Actually, she could do even more to show her appreciation for Miss Miorine. Today she’d make a special breakfast for her.

With her morning routine done, she made her way into the kitchen with a skip in her step, repeating the word “ pancake ” to the beat of a song that didn’t really exist.

And as she went about making the best pancakes in Earth’s orbit, she heard the sound of Miorine’s bedroom door creaking open.

Suletta turned with a beaming smile and greeted her, “good morning, Miss Mio–”

All of her morning cheer shattered in a single brutal blow. 

Miorine stood in the doorway, still wrapped in her nightgown. Her face puffy and her eyes reddened, fresh tear stains still on her cheeks.

Her wife had been crying.

In an instant the pancakes were forgotten, and Suletta had jumped in front of Miorine, taking her hands.

“M-M-M-Miorine!” she stuttered out, “is everything okay? Did something happen? Was it a nightmare? Did someone hurt you?”

And her wife… looked away. A slow, tired movement that gave Suletta all the answers she needed. 

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“R-Right,” she answered, letting go of her wife’s hands. It was wrong of her to pry, “do you… want to have breakfast together today?”

There was no answer, no words from her Miorine yet, but after a moment she dragged her feet to the table, and slumped onto one of the chairs. 

Suletta hesitated to step away from her wife. Her overwhelming worry warring with her intense respect for Miorine’s boundaries. 

Eventually she relented and returned to her cooking.

One pancake ended up burned.

The entire time Miorine was silent. Even as food was laid before her she did little more than play with the fork, looking at her pancakes with distant disinterest. But as soon as Suletta took the burned pancake for herself, Miorine finally spoke for the first time that morning.

“Why do you care so much?” her voice was heavy and strained, probably tired from all the crying.

“M-Miorine? What do you mean?” Suletta asked, surprised to even hear her talk.

“You already did your part. You beat all those people, you kept me safe,” Miorine listed off, “why do you still do so much for me?”

Suletta turned her head in a way Chu Chu had once compared to a confused puppy. 

“Because you’re my wife,” she answered.

That didn’t get the reaction she wanted.

“You only married me because I made you promise,” Miorine accused, “you already did everything you were told to do, you don’t have to pretend anymore.”

“P-P-P-P-Pretend?” Suletta stammered out.

“I gave you your own room, I make no demands of you, I allow you your freedom,” she argued, “and yet you insist on acting like this marriage is anything more than a sham.”

Oh . 

So that was it. Miorine just never wanted to marry her after all.

Suletta knew it. They married so Miorine could escape her father’s grasp, but having it said directly to her face still hurt.

“Because I still care about you, Mio-Mi… Miss Miorine,” Suletta tried. 

A feeble attempt at showing that she still loved her.

This only seemed to make Miorine more frustrated. Her brow furrowed, her fist clenched around her fork.

“I’ve been cheating on you,” Miorine declared, her tone almost an insult, “I’ve been sleeping with Chu Chu for weeks now.”

“Did she hurt you?” the question left Suletta’s mouth before she could even think about it.

Miorine, for her part, looked baffled, “what kind of question is that!?”

“I-I-I-I don’t know,” Suletta shrunk, not realizing she had nearly gotten up from her chair, “you just look like you’ve been crying, and you haven’t told me why, so I thought maybe…”

Miorine slammed her hands down on the table with a loud thump, standing up to stare down at Suletta.

“I just told you I’ve been letting one of your best friends fuck me behind your back, and the first thing you do is worry about me!?” she shouted.

Suletta shrunk again, as small as she could make herself, and her voice went quieter in kind.

“I just… I thought we were in an open relationship…” Suletta admitted, more than a little embarrassed, “wasn’t that why we had that talk during our honeymoon? So you could be with other people?”

Miorine’s jaw fell in disbelief.

“That was for your sake,” she gawked, then groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose, “this is not how any of this was meant to go.”

“T-Then how was this supposed to go?” Suletta asked, still confused and worried, but content to play along with whatever Miorine needed right now.

“You were meant to divorce me!” Miorine declared, “that was the plan! You find out I’m cheating on you, you divorce me, I take the blame, and you’re free to live your life!”

Suletta only looked more saddened to hear that. 

“But why would you want any of that?”

“It was for you!” Miorine screamed, tears returning to her eyes, “you fought so many people, sacrificed so much, and I still force you everyday to throw away more and more of your life for me! You did so much for me, the least you deserve is to be with someone you actually love!”

Then it all made sense. The one thing Suletta spent years keeping in check, the emotion she had never dared to voice, in fear of forcing it upon Miorine. The drive that got her through the hell they had gone through together.

“You mean…” she began, tentatively, rising to her feet so she’d be closer to eye level with her wife, “you think I don’t love you?”

That question hit her like cold water. Miorine’s anger snuffed out and disarmed in a moment, leaving behind only the tears that still rolled down her cheeks.

Suletta had always been bad at reading people. She was raised by a woman who kept most of her face covered, her sister was a giant robot, and there were no kids her age growing up on Mercury. 

So even now, when she looked at Miorine’s face, she struggled to put together what must be going through her head.

Maybe it should serve as some consolation, that Miorine too didn’t seem too sure of her own emotions.

Of less consolation was the realization that Miorine was shaking with her tears.

Without a care given to the fight they were having, and not a thought spared to if this was appropriate or not, she walked over to Miorine’s side of the table and pulled her into a hug.

“What reason…” Miorine began, her voice barely a whisper, “what reason have I ever given you to love me?”

“Miorine,” Suletta called, pulling back a little to look into her eyes, “I never needed a reason. You’re my Mio-Mio, that’s all I ever needed.”

“Your Mio-Mio,” she echoed, then shook her head, tears falling from her face and onto Suletta’s shirt, “you idiot. You absolute idiot!”

Miorine’s hands shot for the back of Suletta’s shirt, clenching into a tight grip as she pulled herself close to her wife, still tearing face pressed against her chest.

“I’m such a fucking idiot,” she cried, face buried onto Suletta’s shirt, “I should have told you. I should just have looked you in the eye and told you!”

Wait. 

Could she really mean that? 

Did they really spend years avoiding this when the answer was right in front of them.

“Miorine?”

“I love you, you dunce!” she finally, finally, after all those years, admitted, both to Suletta and to herself, "I always have, from the moment you saved me."

Suletta was also terrible with words, but this moment didn’t call for words. It called for actions.

Their lips met for the first time since their wedding, but comparing that kiss to the one they found themselves in now, would be like comparing a cheap mobile suit to a gundam. The same only in name, but existing as impossibly separate things. 

The first was a kiss given by obligation, done only to officialize the ceremony.

This…

This was a real kiss. A proper expression of their love for each other. So it was fitting that it was clumsy and awkward, but still, somehow, the most incredible thing either of them ever felt together.

Suletta couldn’t contain her beaming smile as she parted away from the kiss, looked her wife in the eye, and could, at long last, say the words.

“I love you.”

[awakeshedreams]

sugar and spice ( 1 )

pairing : resident bad boy!jjk x model student!reader

setting : highschool!au x stepbrother!au

summary :

a messy highschool!au x stepbrother!au where model student reader who has quite a few dirty little secrets sees her world take an unexpected turn when her mother comes home one day with an engagement announcement, to the father of none other than the school's resident bad boy.... Jeon Jungkook.

genre : smut, for laughs, kinda pornish, slow burn with collosaly overwhelming sexual tension

rating: soft m ( for now ) due to adult content

warnings : unconventional relationship of sexual nature, tropes and clichès, teenagers partaking in porn-esque activities, made up things with made up people happening in a made up world, don't like don't read XD

wordcount : 2.3K

a/n : i've been fighting in a long standing war and I have lost. the man known as jeon jungkook had his foot on my neck for years and today, I have finally submitted to my fate and surrendered to his reign.

yes. after a hundred years, i'm writing again. specifically, writing for bts. particularly, writing for jungkook. its been a long time coming.

life just took over and I transitioned into an adult and kind of grew out of the state of mind I was in before. but. sigh. jeon jungkook has been tormenting me the whole time. it was only a matter of time before i relapsed honestly.

so here I am again. in mind, body and spirit, a different person from who I was before but still the same in the sense that with the way bts have my whole heart, jk will always be the demon in the corner of my room that I invite to bed for a cuddle even though it's (probably really) not good for me.

do not misconstrue. I love him more than I can say. but. sigh. he has me in a chokehold, loves. please try to understand where I'm coming from.

anyways, enough with this ranting. you all came here for the nitty gritty so let me not hold you hostage with my dilemma rambling any longer. here's to the first bts fic i've posted in literal years. introducing- sugar and spice.

1 2

Unless they told someone, no one would have been able to guess it.

At school they were complete strangers.

She was the nice head girl with a clean record, all smiles and straight A’s. He was the mysterious bad boy with a track record, all tatted up with bruised knuckles.

She wore plaid skirts with neat pleads in them and pastel sweaters with bows at the collar. He wore jeans with rips in them and leather jackets with studs.

They couldn't have been any more different.

As far as anyone was concerned, they existed on two extreme ends of a vast spectrum.

What they didn't know was that they shared a dirty little secret.

.

You were a girl with many dirty secrets.

For instance, you used to sell nudes online. It was a side hustle you did.

Not because you needed money.

Your mom was a renowned doctor so there was more than enough of that in your life.

Not because you needed validation from people online either.

Even without the constant compliments and the praises you knew you were visually blessed with a pretty face and a nice body too.

All things considered, you simply thought you had a nice pair of tits and you took pictures of them sometimes.

Posting the shots you snapped online came much later when you heard about this website where people were getting paid crazy money for posting racy things.

‘It’s just so degrading…’ It was one of your friends, June, who sneered, pretty nose scrunched up. She fixed her long ponytail and rolled her brown eyes while looking in the mirror at her locker. ‘Who would do such a thing, am I right?’

She said this, but June was the girl who has slept with more boys than she could count on her two hands. And those were the ones she told you about.

Like every other time, you said nothing. Even when it carried on to lunch with the rest.

‘Pretty desperate if you ask me.’ Mei the stellar track runner shrugged casually as she stretched her limbs like routine.

‘Where are their parents?’ Nina the library nerd shook her head in disapproval as she fixed her glasses so it sat right on the bridge of her nose.

‘Um… I don’t think it’s … appropriate… to talk about ….’ Kiko the one who always carried a cross and bible around mumbled into her sleeve.

All your friends spoke of it in derision and repulsion of course. This was a school for proper children so they were proper girls. At least they were supposed to be.

Regardless the conversation sparked a curiosity in you.

So you made an account and uploaded your first picture. Nothing bizarre. Just your tits in a pretty lace bra.

You made sure to keep your face out of the frame because that was the smart thing to do and you were nothing if not the smartest student in school.

In all honesty, you weren’t expecting anything out of it. In fact, in between work with student council and tutoring your juniors with finals right around the corner, you even forgot about it for an entire month.

It was by a complete whim that you decided to open the app while you’d been unwinding at your desk following a tedious day at school.

To say you were amused by the response you found waiting for you would have be a grave understatement.

You were staring at the four figure digit that now sat in your bank account.

Reading through the comment section was even more interesting.

There were all sorts of people there who had all sorts of things to say. Ranging from honestly sweet to downright dirty.

You had never been brought to tears laughing in her life before until then.

It was just so funny to see people misbehave and lose their minds over a pair of tits.

From then on it just sort of became a thing.

.

But that wasn't the worse of your secrets.

You were making a name for yourself on the crude web months later.

The next step was naturally to move from making taking pictures to making videos. Since you was already in too deep you didn’t see why not.

So you upgraded and opened another account. An amateur one where your touched yourself for an audience.

You were no prude.

You might have never been touched by a boy before but you had touched yourself plenty times. Stress and frustration came hand in hand with being head girl. Since you couldn’t quite vent it out at the annoying troublemakers at school, this was your second best option.

Third was watching porn, but that was mostly when you were extremely bored.

But that wasn’t where that little endeavor ended.

Later on it became a lot more risqué.

.

It all started when your mom hit you with a marriage announcement.

She met a guy on her business trip who she really liked and she was convinced he was the one.

Your mom had a tragic history of being a bad judge of character.

You’ve had this conversation at least five times since you became old enough to understand that boys and girls who were just friends didn’t kiss and sleep with each other.

Most times, it felt like she was doing it because she thought you needed a dad around.

You might have once, when you were younger and your mom was too busy with work to be there. But she worked from home these days and you were soo busy with school to worry about things like that.

This time it was like she was doing it for her. You were glad.

Your mom looked genuinely happy when she spoke about this guy.

Who were you to get in the way?

.

She spent almost the whole weekend in the kitchen. It was the longest you’ve seen her in there in your entire life.

She was excited for the dinner on Sunday.

Mr Jeon was the name of the chosen man.

He was coming over with his kid. A son, his only family. His wife passed away years ago.

You wore the dress your mom picked out for you, something cream in color and off the shoulders that brushed your knees. She looked pretty in her champagne dress. It was different from the office slacks and loose blouses you were used to seeing her in.

You stood by her at the door while the guests came through.

Lifting your head from a polite bow, you found herself staring straight into an achingly familiar pair of glinting dark eyes and went completely still.

‘Sweetie,' Your mother said sounding delighted, a soft hand on your stiff shoulder. 'This is Mr Jeon and his son Jungkook.’

Ah. Fuck.

‘Jeon dear, this is my daughter. Isn’t she lovely?’

.

Dinner was a mild affair, with small talk and the occasional clinking of cutlery on fine china.

From the outside looking in, you probably looked the picture perfect family already.

Only if no-one looked close enough.

Arms crossed, tongue in cheek. Your discomfort could be detected from miles away.

The two adults were oblivious.

The dark eyed boy with the slightest wave to his nape touching, brow grazing, ear covering onyx hair sat across you though; he took note of this with a passing glance and wordlessly returned to his food.

Jeon Jungkook had a countenance that betrayed his reputation.

Even though you’ve never talked, you knew plenty about him and you were sure he knew a lot about you too.

You went to the same school.

Dressed as he was in a crisp white dress shirt buttoned at the wrist and dark tailored pants with a fine belt on, it might have been hard to tell what kind of person he really was.

You lifted her gaze from your plate to look study him wordlessly, idly twisting the noodles with your fork.

People either called him the black sheep or the dark cloud but for you, Jeon Jungkook was the school’s resident lone wolf.

He smoked in the secluded areas on campus, sometimes playing his guitar. Beat up people who got on his nerves, sometimes using his guitar. Slept in class the rare times he was there, many times on his guitar.

Being his senior, you had never seen any of any of that for yourself. But you received plenty reports weekly to come to a sound conclusion.

There was no way people hated him enough to join hands in solidarity and make this all up.

It was quite the contrary actually. He had an alarming number of fans.

On the surface level you couldn’t see why. Most times you saw him, he looked bored out his mind and honestly, intimidating.

Maybe it was the tattoos. Or the ripped skinny jeans. Or the leather jackets with studs.

Maybe it was the domineering height and fit frame and structured face.

Maybe it was the intense dark eyes or the silky ruffled hair.

Even then, you failed to see the irresistible appeal in him. All those things that made him up only added to his unapproachable aura.

Bottom line was, he was bad news.

.

You didn’t want to be a spoil sport.

But how much of a thug your mom’s boyfriend’s son was shouldn’t be something that would make her like him less.

They were both their own people. Right ?

It was just that you just didn’t want her to be shocked and devastated if something happened later. When it happened.

Yet it seemed the serious conversation would have to wait.

After dinner your mom suggested you head to the living room to chat over wine and cheese.

You stayed back to do take out the dishes.

Earlier, your mom had stood to do it instead at first.

‘Don’t bother with that, dear.’ She reached for the plates in your hands. ‘Let me do it.’

‘It’s okay, mom.’ You smiled a little. ‘This is your night. I’ll meet you in the living room.’

'Sweetie...' Your mom looked close to tears. ‘But there’s so much of it…’

‘Jungkook,’ his father's voice had cut through the moment. He was a serious man in a crisp suit with a stoic countenance. His voice was just naturally authoritarian without him trying ‘Give her a hand.’

Jungkook stood, almost robotically.

‘It’s fine.’ You said. Politely. Nicely. Tightly. ‘I can handle this much.’

You left without another word.

That had been moments ago and now you were done with cleaning.

You stood at living room entrance for a while, taking in the scene.

The two adults were exchanging moon eyes and whispering in each other’s ears at the love seat.

Jungkook was sitting on a solo seat, but he was on his phone, completely unbothered by what was happening.

Your mom seemed to think it was the perfect time to pull out the photo album right then and there upon seeing you.

It was embarrassing but at least you knew you didn’t have to worry about the pictures spreading at school.

Jungkook was looking, picking up a picture occasionally to rove over, but he wasn’t the type to do that.

He also wasn’t the type to stare but you felt his glance shifting to you and lingering multiple times.

Once, you caught his eyes and he just stared at you across the coffee table wordlessly with a curious tilt to his head, idly flipping a picture of you dressed as a knight in glitter shining armor for Halloween at eight in his hands.

Honestly, it was starting to get annoying.

But you endured. For your mom’s sake.

.

Your alarm went off at exactly ten.

As subtly as you could, you excused yourself with an apology to the guests, saying you weren't really feeling well.

In hindsight you probably should have used a better excuse.

Your mom was notorious when it came to worrying, especially when it comes to your health.

Also, you probably should’ve locked the door before undressing just for good measure since people were over.

But in the moment, you were too busy setting your camera up where you were kneeling on the floor at the foot of the bed to be concerned about that.

That day you were testing out a new toy.

.

Distractedly, you took note of a couple of people asking you if that was your boyfriend’s shirt you had lifted over your tits.

You ignored them.

Couldn’t a girl own an oversized tee without getting any flack?

Trivial comments like that aside, a good majority of the audience are fawning over how wet you were and how perfect you bouncing tits look being played with.

Your head fell back and your eyes fluttered shut.

You were sitting there, knees raised to your chest and legs splayed, your gushing pussy in full display where the toy was stuffed deep into her tightness, vibrating pleasantly.

‘I’m close…’ you mumbled throatily, squeezing your tits and pinching your stiff nipples in between your moving fingers. You moved your hips move faster, feeling the toy buzz against fluttering walls. You took a hand off one of your tits to rub at your engorged clit. ‘Fuckfuckfuck…’

Deep in your high, you didn’t hear the door open and close with a foreboding click.

You only heard your name being called by a deep, smooth voice through the heady haze.

Instantly you stilled.

When you snapped your head to look over her shoulder Jungkook was there, hands in his pockets, leaning against your doorframe with his sleeves drawn up to his elbows, muscle roped, inked skin on full display.

When he tilted his head to the side a little, appraisively, you dared to say as a quaking chill ran down your spine and your entire body felt like it was about to burst into flames, a bit of his hair fell over his face.

His eyes were like two black in the dark as he took you in, dragging his gaze up and down your exposed body languidly.

In the back of your mind, you wished the ground would part and swallow you whole.

‘Your mom,' he starts, capturing your attention wholly, dark gaze finally flickering to your face, his voice suddenly lower, hoarser. ‘She sent me over to check on you.’

It took you a moment to realize where you were, who you were, who he was.

It was like a bucket of cold water had been dropped over your head.

Jeon Jungkook, the school's resident trouble maker, soon to be your step brother, just walked in on you fingering yourself in in front of a recording camera.

Well. Yeah.

You gulped.

You were royally fucked.

depending on the response I get I might ( most probably will ) delete this. not because I'm ashamed of my work. because I'm embarrassed of myself. I really swore to never write again and here I am. sigh. yes, I have seen my previous works and noticed just how terrible they were and this is a big reason why. so sorry for putting you through that. a million apologies.

also, that's right. I have adopted a new style which might not be to everyone's liking. another reason why.

anyways, if you liked this filth ( i know it seems mild but I can tell you it's very likely gonna get worse ) please idk uh... fuck this isn't ao3. hm.

like and drop by in the ask box if you liked it and want to see more. it makes me happy. its like serotonin fuel to me.

have a nice day. see you next time ( maybe ). stay fresh. yeah. 💜💜.

[mikeyinnit]

lovebug

Pairing: Wilbur x GN!Reader

Summary: Wilbur was done with love after he lost Sally, but when Fundy introduces him to one of Niki’s friends, things start to change.

Word Count: 2k words

Notes: Songfic!! I said they would be rare and it’s the second fic I post lmao. Inspired by Lovebug by the Jonas Brothers, totally willing to do a part 2 for this one because I have other ideas with other lyrics and stuff

Tagging: N/A

After Sally, Wilbur wasn’t really looking for anyone else to love, in fact, he had given up on love entirely. He had to focus on his son and the nation he was building from the ground up.  

Then you came into the picture.

You were a friend of Niki’s, that’s how he met you. Fundy was visiting the bakery and when Wilbur came to get him, he saw you helping the young fox hybrid make cookies. It was such a sweet sight that he took a moment to just enjoy seeing his son have a great time. When he did enter, Fundy introduced the two.

“This is Y/N! They’re one of Niki’s friends. Y/N, this is my dad. He’s single.”

Of course his son would throw him under the bus like that. But you just laughed, and god did you have a beautiful laugh, and held out your hand. A gesture that Wilbur returned with one of his charming grins.

“Fundy’s talked about you all day, I feel like I know you already…” you had trailed off, obviously Fundy only referred to him as my dad, prompting him to give his name.  

“Wilbur Soot.”

“Wilbur. It’s great to meet you.”

You gave him your phone number, clearly you were as taken with Fundy as the boy was to you, for him or his son to use anytime. Then you said your goodbyes for the night as you sent them on their way with the cookies you and Fundy baked along with some extra baked goods.

Called you for the first time yesterday

Wilbur hadn’t used your number for a good couple of days. He had been busy with L’Manberg and honestly had barely had time to see his son, let alone the enchanting stranger.  

Today was a day that he could actually spend quality time with Fundy, and obviously all of that time at the bakery while he was working just made the young boy want to bake cookies with his dad. Unfortunately, Fundy was very specific with what cookies he wanted to make. The ones he baked with you.

“These don’t taste like the ones Y/N made.” Was said numerous times throughout the night no matter how Wilbur changed the recipe so eventually, he just gave up and called you to figure it out.  

“Hello?”

Your voice rang out through the telephone and it instantly felt like all of the stress of this baking night was leaving his body.

“Y/N, it’s Wilbur. We met at Niki’s the other day?”

“Wilbur! Of course. How are you? How’s Fundy?”

Another grin was brought to his face at you almost immediately asking about Fundy, though he didn’t have the chance to respond as the aforementioned hybrid returned from getting more ingredients for the cookies and practically begged his father to put you on speaker so he could talk to you as well.

“Y/N!!”

It was almost like he could hear the smile on your face as you spoke to Fundy. “Fundy! What are you up to?”

“We’re trying to bake cookies but dad can’t make them like you.”

Wilbur heard that laugh again, that beautiful laugh that he first heard at the bakery.  

“That’s because your dad probably doesn’t know the secret ingredient that we used to bake those cookies. How about you give the phone back to him so I can let him know and then I’m sure you two will bake the best cookies ever.”

Then the phone was back in his hand and he spoke, “Secret ingredient?”

You grinned as you answered, “I just told him to tell the dough nice things in his life. Some people say speaking love into the dough helps, I don’t know if it’s true or not but he had fun with it.”

It sounded ridiculous, but Wilbur decided to try it.

“Thanks, Y/N. I’ll let you know how it goes.”  

This time, Fundy thought the cookies were perfect.  

I finally found the missing part of me

You became a big part of his routine after that night. He would see you at the bakery every time he came to get his son, he called you even when he was at work, you quickly became an important part of his life. Fundy loved you, days together often involved him telling Wilbur all about whatever the two of you got up to.  

Wilbur wasn’t a stranger to love, he loved Sally, he loved his country, he loved his son. But it felt very different with you. He couldn’t even say it was love yet, you just felt like you fit with him and Fundy. You were kind, and obviously cared about his son, you were funny, the texts and calls he exchanged with you never failed to put a smile on his face. And you cared about his son a lot, which was certainly not a negative. For the two of them, it felt like you were the perfect fit to the puzzle they didn’t realize was missing a piece.

I felt so close but you were far away

Getting used to having you in his routine meant it really sucked when you traveled to a village far away. Fundy missed you and honestly, Wilbur did too. You promised the young boy that you wouldn’t be gone for long, and told him that he was welcome to call you at anytime. Which Fundy took full advantage of. Every night before the young fox hybrid went to bed, he called you on Wilbur’s phone and the two of them heard about your day and they shared details of their own. On certain nights, you even joined Wilbur in singing a lullaby for him.  

People say that absence makes the heart grow fonder and that absolutely seemed true with your trip. Both of the boys missed you and wondered when you would be back, but luckily, you came back within a month. And you came back with plenty of gifts for Fundy, which made the boy ridiculously happy. You even got a gift for Wilbur, which was certainly a pleasant surprise since really, you being back was enough of a gift for him.  

That night, he invited you over for dinner. He said it was to celebrate your return, which is true, but he also just wanted to spend time with you now that you were back. You agreed, and the three of you even tried baking dessert, which resulted in a small flour fight initiated by you.  

Wilbur usually liked everything in order and in his control, something like throwing flour around and making a complete mess of his kitchen is something that Tommy would enjoy, but somehow it felt okay with you and his son.  

I never thought that I’d catch this lovebug again

After that night, Wilbur came to realize that he did like you, if not love you. You were a nice balance to his control and an escape from the stress of his job as president.  

At first, it felt like a betrayal to Sally. He decided he was going to focus on his son and his nation, not love. He decided that long before you came into the picture and he was a man of his word. Even if that word was only said to himself.

He knew he couldn’t just outright ignore you. Not only would that be unfair to you, it wouldn’t be fair to Fundy.  So he had to deal with it another way, throwing himself further into his work. It meant less time with his son but it was very productive for L’Manberg. Plus it meant Fundy got to see you and Niki more so Wilbur is certain that the young fox would understand and perhaps enjoy this more than spending time with him.  

There was a knock at his door but Wilbur didn’t even look up as he called out, “Come on in.” Obviously it wasn’t Tommy since the boy never knocked but it could have been Tubbo or Jack Manifold or even someone from outside of L’Manberg.  

“You would think that in a time of peace, the president would have more free time.”

He knew that voice. He could never forget the face that went along with it. Your smile and eyes never left his mind even with him trying his hardest to shut out the rest of the world.  

“Y/N, I wasn’t expecting to see you. What brings you by?”

“I haven’t seen you in a while, Fundy told me you’ve been sleeping here lately so I thought I would check on you.”  

And there was that kindness again. The kindness that made him fall in love with you in the first place.  

“I’m okay, Y/N. Just busy.”  

“Too busy to stop by the bakery to see your friends? Or to even come home and see your son at night?”

There was an edge to your voice and Wilbur wasn’t sure how he felt about it, obviously he thought that Fundy would prefer spending time with you and Niki over himself but it seemed like you disagreed.

You strongly disagreed.  

“I’ve just been busy. Running a country is a lot of work, Fundy will understand. He gets to see you and Niki more anyways, he’s happier that way.” He shifted his eyes back to the papers in front of him, letters he had been drafting for the past two hours and couldn’t get anywhere with.  

“Fundy is a child, Wilbur. Niki and I are happy to see him at the bakery but we aren’t replacements for his dad. His dad who suddenly became “too busy” almost overnight. What happened?”  

It truly was sweet the way you cared about his son that much. Enough to come to his office when you could be sleeping. This could have been a good moment for him to say what was on his mind, that he thinks he was falling in love with you and didn’t want to betray his dead wife. But he lied.

“Tommy has been getting into trouble with Dream recently, I want to make sure we don’t fight in another war so soon. Or ever again.” It was a solid lie, Tommy had a reputation for being a troublemaker and he could use that to his advantage. You seemed like you were about to speak, probably about Fundy, so he spoke first, “I promise that I will talk to Fundy and see him more as soon as I get this figured out. Thank you, Y/N, it’s really nice Thank you, Y/N, it’s really nice to know that someone else cares about Fundy this much, he needs that.”

“It’s not just him that I care about, Wilbur. I wish you would see Fundy more sooner but I was also worried about you, I know you care about him so something had to be going on for you to miss seeing him this often.”

Well that certainly didn’t help with him trying to ignore these feelings.

“Then I thank you again. I really appreciate it. Goodnight, Y/N. Get some sleep.”

“Goodnight, Wilbur.”

I kissed them for the first time yesterday

Wilbur kept the promise he made to you. Considering the reason he gave you for being busy was a lie, it wasn’t hard to get back to seeing his son and by extension, you.  

If you asked him, he would say he’s handling his feelings for you rather well now. He hasn’t done anything about it but he isn’t shutting out the world so, progress.

It was another dinner night with you and Fundy, you had brought desert with you this time so they didn’t have another flour fight but it was still lovely. After he sent Fundy to bed, you stuck around.  

The two of you had been sitting on the couch together for a whole, just talking about anything, and maybe it was just because it was late and you looked so beautiful but something came over Wilbur and he asked, “Would you mind if I tried something?”

You nodded, curious about what he was going to try, but you didn’t stay curious for long as Wilbur gently cupped your face with one hand and leaned in to kiss you.

A kiss that you returned.  

I never thought that I’d get hit by this lovebug again

[therealvinelle]

I've always wondered this, but what do you think the Cullen's political viewpoints would be, given their individual backgrounds? if vampires don't change after they turn, then surely they would all be extremely racist (especially Jasper). would this not come up at some point? they aren't like the Volturi because the Volturi are too old to care, but the Cullens are young enough that they have been brought up with opinions on stuff like sexism, racism, homophobia and the like.

Oh fuck.

You get an early answer because otherwise I'll just chicken out and delete this one, pretend I never saw it.

UMMM.

Since I'm guessing you meant American political viewpoints, we need a disclaimer. I am not American, and not too knowledgeable about your politics. Not just in the sense that I don't follow the day-to-day drama, but as I am not an American citizen there are several things I don't know, can't know because I've never lived in your country and therefore can't know what the effects of living in a country ruled by American policies is like. What I do know is based off of the news in the foreign section, social media (by which I mean tumblr posts), and Trevor Noah's Daily Show.

I am an outsider looking in.

Which is really rather appropriate, since the Cullens are too.

The Cullens go to high school and college, Carlisle works, they pay taxes, they own real estate, and submerge themselves in American culture. Esme, Edward, Rosalie, Emmett, and Bella are young enough that this is in many ways their world, and apart from timeouts they've more or less spent their entire lives, human and vampire, integrated into American society.

Not fully integrated, mind you, they do what they need to to fit in and get to school or, in Carlisle’s case, to work. They go no further. No extra-curriculars for the kids, no book clubs for Esme, no game nights for Carlisle. They walk parallel to humans, not among us.

In addition to this they're obscenely rich, which puts them another thousand miles from the experiences of your average American. They won't deal with the health system, which means healthcare is a non-issue, they're not going to need welfare or other social programs, unemployment is another non-issue. Name your issue, and the Cullens don't have personal stake in it. Even the climate crisis won't be a problem for them the way it will for us.

What I'm trying to say is, American political issues are a concept to them, not a lived reality. Just like they are for me. So hey, you made a great choice of blog to ask.

I'll also add here that you say the Volturi are too old to care, and I agree- from an ancient's point of view, racism is a matter of "which ethnicity are we hating today?", and it all looks rather arbitrary after a while. Same with every other issue - after a while it all just blends together into "what are the humans fighting over today? Which Christian denomination is the correct one? Huh. Good for them, I guess."

I can't put it any better than this post did, really. The Volturi are real people, humans are nerds and tumblr having Loki discourse. Aro thinks it's delightful and knows entirely too much about Watergate (and let's be real, Loki discourse as well), but the point I wanted to get at is that politics really don't matter to vampires.

And I don't think they matter to the Cullens either.

So, moving on to the next point while regretting I didn't put headlines in this post, I'll just state that I don't think vampires' minds are frozen. Their brains are unable to develop further, and they can never forget anything, but... well, this isn't the post for that, but in order for this to be true of vampires they would barely be sentient. They would not be able to process new impressions, to learn new things, nor to have an independent thought process. Yes, we see vampires in-universe (namely, Edward, who romanticizes himself and vampires) believe they're frozen and can never change, but there is no indication that this is a widespread belief, or even true. Quite the contrary - Carlisle went from a preacher's son who wanted to burn all the demons to living in Demon Capital for decades and then becoming a doctor and making a whole family of demons. Clearly, the guy has had a change in attitude over the years. Jasper, in his years as a newborn army general, slowly grew disenchanted with his life and developed depression. James initially meant to kill Victoria and hunted her across the earth, then became fascinated and changed his mind about it.

Had these people been incapable of change, Carlisle would still be hating demons, Jasper would be in Maria's army, and James would still be hunting Victoria.

It goes to follow, then, that they are able to adapt to new things.

The question is, would they?

Here I finally answer your question.

So, we have these people who don't really have any kind of stake in politics, who keep up to date all the same (or are forcibly kept up to date because high school) and are generally opinionated people.

Where do they then fall, politically?

(And this is where you might want to stop reading, anon, because I'm about to eviscerate these people.)

Alice votes for whoever's gonna win. She also makes a fortune off of betting each election. Trump's 1 to 10 victory in 2016 was a great day to be Alice. MAGA!

The actual policies involved are completely irrelevant, she does this because it's fun. Election means she gets to throw parties. Color coded parties for the Republican and Democratic primaries, and US-themed parties for Election Night! (Foreigner moment right here: I at first wrote "Election wake" before realizing that's not what y'all murricans call it.)

Alice loves politics. Doesn't know the issues, but she sure loves politics.

Bella votes Democrat. She actually knows about the issues, and cares about them. This girl is a Democrat through and through.

Carlisle doesn't vote. I can't imagine it feels right. Outside of faked papers he's not a US citizen, this is meddling in human affairs that he knows don't concern him.

More, this guy has never lived in a democracy.

In life, Carlisle lived under an absolute monarchy that, upon civil war, became an absolute theocracy. From there he learned that vampires live under a total dictatorship.

For the first 150 years of his life, democracy was that funky thing the Athenians did in history books thousands of years ago, no more relevant to him than the Ancient Egyptian monarchy is to me. Then the Americans, and later other European countries started doing this.

Good for them.

There's this mistake often made by those who view history from a... for lack of a better term, a solipsistic standpoint. A belief that the present day is the culmination of all of history. “My society is the best society, the most reasonable society; all the others had it backwards. Thank god we’re living in this enlightened age!”

The faith in our current system of government is one such belief. We (pardon me if this doesn’t apply to everybody reading this post) have grown up in democracies, being told this is the ultimate form of rule, and perhaps that is true - but remember the kings who have told their subjects they had were divine and the best possible ruler based on that. Remember also that most modern democracies haven’t actually been democracies for very long at all, America is the longest standing at some 230 years (not long at all in the grand scope of things) and they have a fracturing two-party system to show for it.

Every society, ever, has been told they’re the greatest, and their system of government the most just. Democracy is only the latest hit.

This is relevant to Carlisle because he’s immortal and decidedly not modern. Democracy has not been installed in him the way it was the rest of the Cullens, Jasper included. To him- well, it’s just not his world. He has no stakes in our human politics, and as he is older than every current democracy and has seen quite a few of them fall, he’s not going to internalize the democratic form of rule the way a modern human has.

I think the concept of voting is foreign to him.

It requires a level of participation in human society that he’s simply not at. He does the bare minimum to appear human so he do the work he loves, but nothing more, and I find that telling.

As it is I think he'd be iffy about his family doing it. He won’t stop them, but in voting they’re... well it’s kind of cheating. They’re not really citizens, none of this will affect them, and by voting they’re drowning out the votes of real human voters. He does not approve.

Edward votes Democrat. He's... well he’s the kind of guy who will oil a girl’s bedroom window so he can more easily watch her sleep without being discovered, justifying it to himself as being okay because if she were to tell him to get lost he’d stop immediately. Same guy is so sure that he’d leave and never return again if she wanted him to, except this is the man who returned to Forks to hang around his singer, knowing there was a significant chance he might kill her. To say nothing of his Madonna/Whore complex, or of the fact that he tried to pimp out his wife twice, and was willing to forcibly abort her child.

This guy is very much in love with chivalry, with being an enlightened and feminist man who supports and respects women, while not understanding the entire point of feminism, which is female liberation.

He votes Democrat because he’s such an enlightened feminist who cares about women’s rights.

Emmett doesn’t care to vote, but if he has to he votes Republican. The guy is from the 1930′s, and has major would-be-the-uncle-who-cracks-racist-jokes-if-he-was-older vibes.

Esme doesn’t vote, that would require getting out of the house.

More, I just... can’t see it. I can’t see her being one to read up on politics and The Issues, period, but if she has to then I doubt she’d be able to decide.

Jasper doesn’t vote. Alice can have her fun, he does not care.

There’s also the whole can of worms regarding the last time he went to bat for American politics.

I imagine he stays out of this.

Renesmée doesn't vote. She has no stock in the human affairs. Who would she vote for, on what grounds? When Bella tries to pull her to the urns, she points out that she's three years old.

Rosalie, guys, I’m sorry, but that girl is definitely gonna vote Republican. Perhaps not right now as it’s become the Trump party of insanity, but the Mitt Romney type of Republicans? Oh yes.

And for the record, yes I imagine she does vote. To step back from politics would be another way she was relinquishing her humanity, and that’s not allowed to happen. So, yes, she goes to the urns, less for the sake of the politics involved and more because like this, she’s still a part of society in some way.

Now, onto why I think she’s Republican, I think it’s both fiscal and social.

This girl was the daughter of a banker who somehow profited off of the Depression, and who then became part of a family with no material needs that would soon become billionaires thanks to Alice. Poverty to Rosalie is a non-issue, as it is I imagine she views it as a much lesser issue than what she’s had to deal with. The humans can pull themselves up by their bootstraps, Rosalie’s infertility is forever.

Rosalie’s empathy is strongest when she’s able to project onto others, and she won’t be able to project onto the less fortunate at all.

Then there’s the fact that the Republican party is all about traditional family values, and pro-life.

Rosalie, a woman from the 1930′s who idolizes her human life and who‘d love nothing more than to get to live out this fantasy, is down for that. And as of Breaking Dawn she’s vocally pro-life, so there’s that.

This all being said I don’t think Rosalie cares to sit down and fully understand these politics she’s voting for, the possible impact they’ll have- that’s not important. What’s important is what voting does for her.

TL;DR: I bet anon regrets asking.

[findingjoynweirdstuff]

Dream SMP Recap (March 31/2021) - George Lore

George sleeps.

---

VOD LINKS:

Foolish

Quackity

George

Ranboo

Captain Puffy

---

TW: Derealization

---

- George talks to his conscience, as voiced by Quackity.

Georgre Lore Part 2

- George has been thinking about the past. He’s had things happening that no one knows about, and he wants to talk about it.

- Quackity turns back into George’s conscience. George introduces his conscience to Lore Man (voiced by Wilbur). Lore Man tells George’s conscience that George beat him on the field of battle. He cannot sheathe his sword until George has been defeated.

- Lore Man asks if George ended up winning the vice presidency. George tells the conscience that he was supposed to be running for president.

- He was taking a stroll when Lore Man jumped out at George, but George was prepared and beat him fair and square. George, though he won, was terribly wounded, and he had to rest. The sword has an enchantment on it to make people sleep.

- George experienced an unexplainable lapse of time. He woke up and everything was gone, everyone was mad at him. There was a scar on his arm, dried blood, and he was confused. 

- George harvests the day’s harvest.

- George asks why he’s doing all this work, putting in his blood, sweat and tears for people who care not. He goes to explore a nearby ravine.

Georgre Lore Part 3 George’s SEcret marrieg 

how did he become divorce

It’s Possibleer

- They visit Fundy’s Pet War arena: the ancient battle ground, Lore Man’s “scuffle pad.” Ranboo arrives and asks if there is a scuffle going on here.

- Lore Man gives George a scuffle rock and tells him to meet in the middle of the scuffle pad. They will do ten paces. 

- They take ten paces and scuffle. George begs Lore Man to spare him. Lore Man says farewell and leaves with George’s lore and also his dignity.

Georgre Lore Part 4

why georg not h ave lore

THe trip to Lmanb

- George visits the crater that is L’manburg. He could have had an excellent presidency. George’s conscience tells him to think about all the terrible memories this place holds. He leads George to the bomb room and tells George to think of a life where he owned L’manburg.

- They visit the shrine where Friend is. The thunder booms, and a voice from the sky calls out to George: Mexican Dream himself. He has a story to tell. If George had become vice president, Mexican Dream would never have existed. He owes George his existence, and wants to repay him.

- MD tells George that the issue is, he wants to repay George but he’s dead. He tells George that this is all a figment of his imagination. He’s dreaming, getting information through his sleep. MD is reaching out to George through his conscience.

- Lore Man comes back to ask when MD is giving George sloppy.

Lore Man: “What’s left of you, Georgenotfound? You are a husk of what you were.”

Georgre Lore Part 5

geirge visits his Old home

- George visits his house (now a catmaid cafe). He goes inside and finds Badboyhalo crouching in a hole in the floor

- Lore Man breaks through the window and tells George that he should be happy he isn’t asleep, because every sleep brings him closer to his demise, and he will make sure George sleeps through everything ever again. George asks if Lore Man gave him a sleeping curse. 

- Lore Man tells George to make the most of his cat house, because soon he will be sleeping in it forever. Outside, George finds a massive bed by his home. His conscience tells him that he must go to sleep within his dream.

- Lore Man tells him he has a revelation to reveal to George before he goes to sleep...he knows who George’s parents are, canonically, and also his surname:

Lore.

George Lore.

Georgre Lore Part 5 6

GEORGE SEES A NEW GUY

- George’s conscience tells him that though this is not real, it is a manifestation of something George feels guilty about.

- George sees a little kid crying at the edge of the lake. It’s Quackity. He’s crying because today, he lost the elections because George slept in.

- A new character appears. It is Lore Woman! She presents a cornflower to George. Lore Man hands Lore Woman a scuffle rock. Ranboo takes off his crown and becomes the Scuffle Man: overseer of the scuffle.

- Quackity shouts that he will fight alongside George. Even though George has disappointed him, he will fight with George to defeat the Lores. 

GEORGERO LORE Part 8

THE FORMER CANDIDATES FIGHT TOGETHER AGAINST LOREMAN AND LOREWOMAN

- The two pairs stand at the scuffle grounds. George speaks to Badboyhalo, the floor goblin, for words of wisdom.

- Lore Man and Lore Woman are standing on bales of hay. Lore Man asks George to remember the wheat he harvested as a young boy.

- Lore Man tells Scuffle Man to begin. Quackity asks George if he has any last words. George places down the cornflower on the battlefield. It is time.

Scuffle Man: “Ten paces SCUFFLE!”

- The scuffle begins. Quackity’s legs are broken. They continue fighting. The Scuffle Man stops the scuffle. Something has gone wrong: Lore Woman has been shot in the head! She rebrands to Lore Lady.

- Quackity tells them that it must end with George and Lore Man in one final scuffle. Lore Man says he wants to use the weapon meant for George: the enchanted sleep sword. George responds that he shall plunge the scuffle rock into Lore Man’s chest.

- Lore Man tells George that they have known each other for many, many years. But he deserves to know the truth: he deserves to know his father.

Lore Man: “I am your father, Georgenotfound.”

- Lore Man and Lore Lady intended to create George to be the king of lore. But here he is, having slept through everything. Lore Man tells George that he wants George to make his first bit of lore. He says to take his sword -- named “Lore” -- and that he has only one canon life left.

- Lore Lady protests, but Lore Man insists that George must make his lore. George must make a widow of Lore Lady.

- Lore Man bows his head. He tells the floor goblin to take good care of his wife, and says to Lore Lady that he wishes for her to marry this man. George tells Lore Man to place his head upon the hay.

Lore Man: “Make me proud, son.”

George: “Farewell, Lore Man.”

- George decapitates his father.

GEORGE LORE.

LAST PART

WAKING UP.

- His conscience wakes George from a bed at Spawn. George discovers he has the Lore sword. George marches down the path into the distance.

- George’s stream starts off with a distorted version of C148′s Minecraft.

- George has no items. He speaks to Niki and Bad. Bad is confused when George mentions the floor goblin. Was it all just a dream?

- George turns around to see Mexican Dream. Mexican Dream tells George the story of how he visited Tommy and Dream killed him. He came back to see Mexican L’manburg. He found a way to come down here.

- George and MD reach the place where Mexican L’manburg used to be. They’re confused. Where is it? 

- Mexican Dream shouts at George -- where is Mexican L’manburg? George insists he thought it was there. Bad says George destroyed it while sleep-mining, or at least someone who looked like George.

- George asks, what if it was Bad? Niki vouches for Bad, she doesn’t think it was him. Mexican Dream is heartbroken. He doesn’t have much time down here. The timer already went off. He doesn’t know how long he has left.

- Bad says the person looked like Quackity, but with different clothes. Mexican Dream doesn’t know who Quackity is. George does, but he doesn’t know where Quackity  lives.

- Mexican Dream sees L’manhole. He’s shocked, but MD doesn’t care. He made Mexican L’manburg because he hated L’manburg. He was going to do it eventually himself anyways.

- They go to Quackity’s old house underneath Karl’s. MD tells them to leave the room while he inspects.

- George wonders why he smells smoke. They run back in to see MD lighting Quackity’s room ablaze. MD tells George to find out where Quackity is, or else. He then disappears.

- Badboyhalo says this might be a good thing, actually. Quackity has been rebelling against the Egg for so long, he had this coming. Niki is upset. She vouched for Bad, and now he’s happy that Quackity’s house is gone?

- They ask if Bad was trying to frame Quackity. Bad says that he can tell Quackity that this is what happens when you double-cross the Egg. 

George: “The Egg has actually messed you up. Can you even hear what you’re saying?!”

- Bad says they’re both coming with him. They’ll take a little trip to see the Egg. George asks why he’s acting like this. Niki whispers to George that maybe this is good, maybe they can find out what’s going on.

- Bad tells George that, anything he could possibly want, the Egg can give it to him. If Quackity asks what happened to his house, they have to lie to him and say that the Egg did it.

- DreamXD joins the game and greets them. They explain what’s going on.

- DreamXD tells George that he heard that yesterday, George made a deal with the devil and lost, so he kills Badboyhalo. The world is at balance now.

- He tells George that the stuff is his now, but George hesitates, wondering if it’s infected. Bad grabs the stuff back before George can take it.

- DreamXD returns to George, telling him that he gave him a chance at full Netherite. George asks for another chance, but DreamXD refuses. When George insists, DreamXD’s voice distorts.

George: “What happened to your voice?”

DreamXD: “You try and abuse my kindness -- I save you?! I save you, I give you full Netherite, you throw it away then you ask me for MORE!”

George: “I thought it was -- I thought it was fine?”

DreamXD: “Oh, it’s so fine, it’s fine -- everything’s fine! It’s all just a game to you, George!”

George: “I don’t know if I like this, DreamXD.”

DreamXD: (normal) “Oh, ok.”

- Niki asks if he’s sure he’s awake right now. George gets annoyed at Enderman sounds everywhere. He asks why DreamXD is acting like this.

- DreamXD says he doesn’t come here very often. George points out that he comes here a lot when George is here. DreamXD explains that George invited him. DreamXD doesn’t want to scare George. It just comes out sometimes.

Dream: “George, it’s me, Dream!”

George: “Dream? ...Dream?”

DreamXD: “Hm...he’s gone.”

- George says he would rather be with Bad and the Egg at this point. DreamXD starts to chase him.

George: “Dream?”

DreamXD: “Who’s Dream?”

- DreamXD laughs and says he’s not going to hurt George.

- George asks what DreamXD wants. DreamXD says he simply wants George’s acceptance. He wants to be George’s friend. 

George: “I can’t even hit you. What’s wrong with you? And now you’re flying.”

DreamXD: “I’m god.”

- George tells DreamXD to prove it by giving him the best armor in the world.

DreamXD: “You really try and abuse me again.”

George: “No, we’re friends, we’re friends! This is what friends do, they give each other gifts.”

DreamXD: “All friends beg each other for stuff?! Apologize!”

- George apologizes. DreamXD forgives him. 

DreamXD: “I mean, at least you don’t try and like, hunt me or something.”

...

George: “Dream. How do we just go back to normal?”

DreamXD: “What do you mean?”

George: “How do we fix this? You’re being --”

DreamXD: “I’m not Dream...I’m not Dream. Sort of. I’m a part of him.”

George: “You look like Dream.”

- DreamXD gives George some diamonds. George asks what to make.

DreamXD: “Whatever your heart desires.”

- George gets a holy spoon. They see Badboyhalo approach. DreamXD shouts at him and scares Bad off.

- They do it again, George aiming to troll Bad. But DreamXD gets a bit morbid. George says he doesn’t think DreamXD should have done that, but DreamXD thought it was a fun prank.

- They go over to Karl’s Harry Potter home and descend into the wedding chapel. DreamXD doesn’t understand what he’s doing wrong.

- George gets frustrated by the Endermen sounds again. DreamXD wants to learn. He doesn’t know when things are too far because he isn’t like George.

- George then teaches DreamXD to apologize to Bad, then suggests they prank Niki. Instead, DreamXD scares her away too.

- They pull a harmless prank on Niki in Church Prime, but Niki didn’t find it very funny.  DreamXD asks if Niki would like to see a magic trick. He makes her “disappear” by killing her. DreamXD brings her back. He says he sent her to Hell and brought her back into the church. 

- Niki tells George good luck with him and then runs away. George says he’s done. 

DreamXD: “Why are you giving up on me?”

George: “You’re scaring me.”

DreamXD: “I don’t wanna--”

George: “I just want to go back and eat my food like I used to, you know, back to the old times, farming my food, all in peace, where I don’t have to worry about you killing people, being weird...”

DreamXD: “But you’re giving up on me!”

George: “It just doesn’t look like you’re making an effort. I don’t know. I’m sorry, but...it looks bad on me, you know?”

DreamXD: “Well...well I’m sorry...”

- DreamXD says George can teach him. He makes a pun about axes. He’s learning!

- DreamXD asks for forgiveness. George asks what’s in it for him.

DreamXD: “I can give you your heart’s desires.”

- He doesn’t know what’s in it for George, but asks for George to just forgive him. George says that he’ll forgive DreamXD and give him a chance only if he gives George Netherite armor and tools.

DreamXD: “We can be powerful together! You can teach me, and I can teach you! I can teach you so many things!”

- George says he’ll be his friend if DreamXD gives the things to him. DreamXD insists on forever. George has to promise.

George agrees. Forever. DreamXD says if he’s lying, he will tear George limb from limb. They will be the best of friends!

- DreamXD gives George the Netherite. DreamXD puts on his Ender Dragon head. They will remember this moment. They take a celebratory picture.

- George posts it on Twitter. (DreamXD doesn’t like Twitter because they cancel him for murder)

- DreamXD says he will see George another time and disappears.

- George goes off on his own, wondering why he keeps hearing Endermen where there aren’t any.

- A sentient anthropmorphic cow version of Quackity visits George in the spider spawner and shows him a dog in the floor named Pluto, then starts talking to George about Yeezys

- George notices the cow is holding a...scuffle rock? Cow Quackity says goodbye and George wakes up in his bed at Spawn again.

He has everything DreamXD gave him.

[btswrckd]

War of Hearts II

Mafia Boss!Taehyung x Fem!Reader

Summary: Being in an arranged marriage with Kim Taehyung does not mean you have to be civil. Or make his life easy.

Warnings: mentions of violence, mentions o weapons, mentions of blood, slight angst, next chapter will be smut

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

Taehyung isn’t sure how you can sleep through the night after the little stunt you’d pulled, but he finds himself tossing and turning through most of it. When he does finally manage to fall asleep at the fun hour of 3 o’clock in the damn morning, he’s woken an hour later by the dipping of the bed from your side. “Going somewhere, princess?”

“I have to pee,” you snap, “or will you be holding my hand to the bathroom as well?”

“Is that an invitation?” He grins, tucking one arm behind his head. Huh. Maybe you aren’t as well rested as he thinks. Maybe you’d spent the night just as frustrated. At least he isn’t alone in that.

“Shut up, Tae.” You stomp across the room and slam the bathroom door behind you. You can hear him laughing from the other side and silently contemplate shoving him off the bed when you return. You hadn’t slept, body anticipating his touch every time he moved but it never came and then you’d deflate in disappointment. You don’t know what time he plans on starting his day and hope it’s soon because you need space. You need room to think back on last night and figure out where the hell your sudden boldness came from. Where had you gotten the idea to touch him from? You were pretty bitter about the incident in the living room, sure, but to play a dangerous game like that? 6 months ago, you wouldn’t even dream of it. Now you’re panicking in the privacy of your personal bathroom because what, you actually want to sleep with your husband? You’re fairly sure you won’t be the first woman having sex with her own husband, but still, it was Taehyung. Tae. The chubby cheeked little kid who’d been your partner in crime at boring dinner parties that both yours and his parents attended. What kind of audacity did he have becoming so fucking attractive? Who allowed this?

“Are you going to actually use the restroom?” Taehyung’s voice startles you as he leans against the doorway. “Or can I brush my teeth?”

You didn’t hear him open the door. You hadn’t even locked it like you usually do. You’d forgotten and that irritates you. It means you’re letting your guard down when you can’t afford to. Not today of all days. You look at him, see the hunger swirling in his eyes, and your stomach drops because it’s been a very long time since any man has looked at you like that. “What time is it?”

“4:30,” he responds with a sigh, rolling his neck to release the tension that built overnight. “Why are you up so early, princess?”

“Why are you?” you fire back quickly and see him grin. He’s always known that you have a habit of deflecting when you can’t answer a question or explain yourself. His eyes drift down to the purple bruises around your neck, a lasting result from his mouth yesterday, and he smirks. You step back when he pushes off the door jamb and stalks forward, lightly gripping your chin.

“I wasn’t able to sleep,” he answers your question, “because my wife likes to play games and leave me with the worst case of blue balls I’ve ever had.” He watches your breath hitch and his smirk grows wider. “Then she runs into the bathroom and forgets to lock the door after winning said game from last night. As if I won’t come in, bend her over the sink, and play my own little game.”

“Just brush your teeth, Taehyung!” you squeak, shoving at his chest and rushing out of the bathroom before your mouth has a chance to ignore your brain, and most likely ask what kind of game he’s talking about. You throw yourself on the bed and burrow beneath the blankets in hopes of disappearing.

Taehyung doesn’t actually brush his teeth. He didn’t really need to. It was the only excuse he had for checking up on you after 30 minutes of silence. He does, however, splash cold water on his face to cool the heat spreading through his body. Last night is still very fresh in his mind and just being near you sets him off. He makes his way back to bed, falling onto the mattress and praying he’ll get a few more hours of sleep.

You peek out from underneath the blankets when he sighs, burying his face into a pillow. His nose scrunches up in discomfort. You know that it’s because he can’t fall asleep, can’t stop thinking about last night, despite having to be up soon to do...whatever the hell he does. Truthfully, you won’t be falling asleep either, even though you really need to if you’re going to pull off what you have planned for the day. Scooting closer, you see his eyes drift open in silent question, but you dip beneath the weight of his arm and tuck your head to his chest. His breathing stops for a moment before his hold tightens and he shifts onto his side, nuzzling his face into your hair. It’s this way, snuggled up to Taehyung, that you finally fall asleep to the sound of his steady heartbeat.

The shrill ringing of the alarm clock has you jumping in Taehyung’s embrace. You swear you had just shut your eyes before the screeching woke you, but looking at the time, you see that it had actually been 4 hours later. Taehyung blindly reaches for the clock, pressing random buttons until it finally quiets down and wrapping his arm around your waist once more. The shuffling of feet outside the bedroom door alerts him to Jungkook’s presence and the hushed tones of someone asking how he’s still alive alerts him to Jimin’s company as well. Right. He’d forgotten that they’d be taking you on another book haul after he’d ruined the one from yesterday.

At first, he had shut down the idea entirely when Seokjin texted him after his shower. Seokjin insisted that you be out of the house by the afternoon and Taehyung insisted on tearing his head off if he kept on with that nonsense. But Seokjin had just gotten a call from Namjoon and Hoseok that they were on their way back, and that they’d contacted Cecil for a meeting. To which Taehyung responded by reiterating that you needed to stay in the house until it was dealt with. He doesn’t remember how Seokjin had convinced him to let you go, but he had, and now he’s supposed to wake you up to get ready when he doesn’t want to.

“Princess,” his voice is groggy and barely audible, but you stir nonetheless. “Jungkookie and Jimin are going to take you somewhere today.”

“Where?” you mumble into his chest, brushing the tip of your nose beneath his chin.

“It’s a surprise.”

“I don’t like surprises.” You shift against him, tossing one leg over his hip.

“This one you will.” He smiles against your hair and presses a kiss to the top of your head. “It’s not like you to deny going out.”

“When I have more energy to burn, I like going out.” You don’t know why, but you’re working your mouth against the skin of his neck, teeth playfully nipping at him. “Not when I’m running on 4 hours of sleep.”

“Even if it means getting to pick out a new book?” He teases, and you’re up in a flash, stumbling to the bathroom to get ready. Your love for books and knowledge rivals Namjoon’s and between the two of you, Taehyung isn’t sure how there’s not a daily debate on whatever topic either of you bring up. Yesterday, when you’d rifled through half the shelves at the store, you resembled a kid in a candy store.

“Boss.” Jimin knocks on the door as Taehyung gets out of bed to answer it. He grins at Taehyung when he sees the look on his face. “Morning, boss. How’d you sleep?”

“Don’t let her out of your sight,” Taehyung snaps at him in return, yet Jimin merely laughs. “I don’t care if she brings home the whole fucking store, as long as she makes it home, am I understood?”

“Yes, sir.” Jimin nods, side eyeing one upset looking Jeon Jungkook and gesturing to him. “If it makes you feel any better, Taehyung, you’re not the only one who thinks she should stay in.”

“Are you saying she should be out and about with everything that’s going on?”

“I’m saying that despite whatever progress you’ve made as a couple,” Jimin clarifies, “if she continues to feel suffocated, she’ll lose her mind. You’ve seen it happen.”

Taehyung opens his mouth to argue with him when you duck beneath his arm, fresh faced and dressed in a simple pair of jeans and a t-shirt, a jacket hanging over your arm, and the backpack you’re sure to fill with books. You step up next to Jungkook, nudging his side with your elbow and not so subtly tilting your head Taehyung’s way.

Jungkook looks like he’d rather vomit than say whatever is lingering on his tongue, but you pin him with a look that says he’d better spit it out. “Yesterday,” he clears his throat and looks to his feet as he addresses Taehyung, “I was out of line, boss.”

Jimin reels back in shock, Taehyung following his lead. Jungkook is still young and while he makes for a great marksman and an even better fighter, his mindset can be hard to crack through. Though he’d never been defiant against Taehyung, he could still be stubborn in his ways and would sooner chew off his own arm than admit he was wrong. So, this is what you were up to last night. Taehyung had known you’d been texting Jungkook, he just didn’t know what about and had honestly forgotten all about it until now.

You give Jungkook another hard nudge and when he shakes his head, you stomp on the top of his foot. Both Jimin and Taehyung raise their brows at the way you dig your heel in until Jungkook finally caves and lifts his foot to get you off.

“Arlight!” Jungkook hisses in pain and resists the urge to kick off his shoe to see if you’d broken any bones. “I shouldn’t have overstepped and it won’t happen again.”

“Let’s go,” you announce with satisfaction and shoulder past Jungkook, who limps after your retreating figure.

Jimin waits until you’re both out of sight to throw his head back and roar with laughter, nearly toppling over as he wheezes. “Sh-She really made him apologize. She got the most stubborn person on the planet to say he’s sorry. Oh, my God, I really think she’s my new favorite person.”

“She most likely did it for his benefit more than mine.” Taehyung is still unable to fully process what just happened. “Losing Jungkookie as her bodyguard would devastate her.”

“Even so,” Jimin gasps as he tries to catch his breath, “she still got him to admit he was wrong. That was gold. I should have recorded it.”

“Yoongi probably already did.”

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

Namjoon and Hoseok arrive back at the house not long after you leave, refusing to believe Yoongi’s tale of Jungkook’s apology.

“No way.” Hoseok shakes his head. “Jungkook would rather shoot himself in the foot than admit he was wrong.”

“Hobi’s right,” Namjoon agrees with a nod. He’s sitting in the chair next to Yoongi’s in the security room while Taehyung and Seokjin prepare for Cecil’s visit. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Then I suppose it’s a good thing I got it on camera.” Yoongi snickers, pulling up the feed from this morning and pressing play.

Namjoon and Hoseok simultaneously wince when you shove your foot into Jungkook’s and put a good amount of pressure on it for some time. They listen to Jungkook apologize without really using the words ‘I’m sorry’, but it seems to be good enough for you. It’s when he limps after you that Namjoon and Hoseok share an amused look before bursting into laughter.

“Jimin is so lucky he was there.” Hoseok wipes at an invisible tear as Seokjin steps into the room with a questioning look.

“Do you 3 mind getting your asses in gear and getting the hell out here?” Seokjin scolds them. “Cecil just pulled through the gate.”

Namjoon, Hoseok, and Yoongi right themselves before following Seokjin to the living room where Taehyung is already waiting. They move to stand behind him just as Cecil strolls in through the foyer. All but Taehyung sneer at him and the two men at his side.

Cecil is an old, sweaty, greasy excuse of a man that couldn’t be more than 5’5. He’s balding, though he attempts to cover it up with a toupee, his stomach hangs over the waistline of his pants, and he smiles with crooked and yellow teeth. Even his appearance could be looked past if he wasn’t such a piece of shit person. Before Mr. Kim had gotten involved, Cecil had dabbled in human trafficking, mostly targeting women and girls 13 and older. When Mr. Kim had begun building his empire, Cecil was desperate to work underneath him, but Mr. Kim had demolished the trafficking ring Cecil had run in response. Cecil had exploded and accused Mr. Kim of being a hypocrite when Mr. Kim himself had dealt in drugs and assassinations. Mr. Kim admitted to being an awful person, but neither he nor anyone wishing to work with him would ever deal in people. Needless to say, Cecil had never gained Mr. Kim’s trust and very few people chose to work with Cecil anymore. Everything about this poor excuse of a man is nauseating.

“Kim,” Cecil greets with a sneer of his own, “you’re very much like your father, aren’t you? Sticking your nose in my business where it doesn’t belong.”

“Your business with the Seong family is my business, Cecil.” Taehyung peers at the two men flanking either side of Cecil. “What do you want from them?”

“Who says I want anything?” Cecil taunts. “I saw a pretty face and wanted it for my collection. I wasn’t aware she was a Seong girl.”

“And my wife,” Taehyung informs through clenched teeth. “You were aware that this is my home, and that she lives here, so why the fuck are you really circling around here, you greasy son of a bitch?”

“I knew this was your home when my boys scoped it out.” Cecil nods, observing the living room carefully. “I just thought the Seong brothers put her under your protection. I had no idea she was your new whore.”

Fire flashes in Taehyung’s eyes, nostrils flaring, as he steps in Cecil’s direction. “My original plan was to find out what you wanted and be done with you. Now the only way you’ll be leaving here is in pieces.”

Namjoon and Hoseok advance on the two men Cecil has with them. The men fight, but they’re no match for Namjoon and Hoseok, going down quite easily. Seokjin and Yoongi draw their guns quickly, both cocking back the firing pin as Cecil panics.

“I’m not the one that’s after her!” Cecil admits, hands raised in surrender. “I don’t know who is!”

“Don’t fuck with me, Cecil.” Taehyung raises a hand to stop Seokjin and Yoongi from pulling the trigger.

“I’m not!” Cecil insists. “It’s like this, okay? I’m sitting in my office one day, giving over some books for a new product I want to move when I get a call from a number that’s untraceable. They tell me to look into the Seong family, that there’s only one living girl left, and they want to get their hands on her. They tell me I’m the only one who can get it done, and they wired $1 million into my account as payment, but by the time I got to the Seong brothers, the girl was gone. She’d been moved and I told them that the next time they called. They were the ones who told me where to find her, they were the ones who set up the plan to trick your cameras, I just had the perfect lackey, that’s all.”

“What else do they want from her?” Yoongi is the one to ask, hand shaking with rage at the thought of someone getting to you.

“They didn’t say. Just that they wanted her.”

“Boss.” Namjoon looks panicked, and Taehyung is about to ask why when the sound of the front door opening hits his ears.

“Fuck,” Taehyung hisses, swiftly barreling into the foyer. He relaxes when he finds that his father is the one coming through the door. “Dad, you should have called.”

“I did.” Mr. Kim pats his son’s shoulder. “Y/N said she was out and that you’d be busy at home.”

“Why did you call Y/N?”

“Because she’s my daughter-in-law,” Mr. Kim states as if that should have been enough of an explanation, “whom I happen to adore very much, so if you’re done lecturing me, then shall we proceed?”

Taehyung guides his father back to Cecil and his unconscious men, nodding his head at Namjoon when he’s met with a questioning raise of Namjoon’s eyebrow.

“Mr. Kim.” Hoseok beams at Taehyung’s father as he looms over one of two beaten men.

“Always a pleasure, Hoseok.” Mr. Kim returns his smile fondly before turning his attention to Cecil. “I’m not at all surprised that you’re behind this, Cecil. I am, however, surprised that you were stupid enough to believe you could get away with it.”

“My men are expecting me back soon,” Cecil informs the room and is less than enthused to find that Mr. Kim’s smile has not faltered. “If I’m not back, they have orders to swarm this place and swoop down on your girl, Kim.”

“Of course.” Mr. Kim nods at his declaration in the same way a mother would do to a child that’s spouting a lie. “I believe you, Cecil, I truly do. Unfortunately for you, there are no men left to wait for you.”

“What have you done?”

“It’s been brought to my attention that perhaps I’ve been too lenient with you and that I’ve killed men for far less than you’ve done. I plan on fixing that, starting with the complete eradication of your entire syndicate. Well, what’s left of it, anyways.”

“This is your son’s mess,” Cecil bellows, feeling his knees shake at the new information being given to him. If what Mr. Kim said rings true, then he won’t be able to rebuild. He’d already been hanging by a thread as is. “But here you are to clean it up for him while he runs around playing ‘boss’. Pathetic.”

“This isn’t a mess,” Mr. Kim corrects him with a dangerously straight face. “Nor is it something for my son to handle on his own when it affects the entire family. This is us coming to a solution for a problem that will soon cease to exist.”

Hoseok and Namjoon rush to Cecil with a wave of Mr. Kim’s hand, gripping him by the shoulders and dragging him back through the front door to Mr. Kim’s waiting car. They wrestle him into the back seat where two of Mr. Kim’s men sit patiently.

“You’re sure all of his men are dead?” Taehyung asks his father.

“Every single one,” he assures. “We’ll handle Cecil from here. It’ll get bloody and your mother’s used to seeing it on my hands. Y/N hasn’t had to clean you up after a job yet, I’d like to help you keep it that way.”

“Cleaning him up isn’t exactly what she’d do,” Hoseok jokes upon his return to the living room. “More like make him sleep on the couch.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes while his father and Hoseok share a laugh. He doesn’t argue against Hoseok’s joke because it’s true. Though it would be more from being pissed off that he’d get into a fight in the first place than it would out of concern for staining an expensive set of sheets. When his phone rings, he barely hears it over the ruckus that is his father and idiot friend, but he fishes it from his pocket when he finally does hear it. “Jungkook.”

“She’s gone,” Jungkook is panting from having run around the entire bookstore and then around the entire neighborhood.

“What the fuck do you mean gone?!” Taehyung’s voice booms so loud that Seokjin and Yoongi drop the two men they’d been working on disposing of. “Where?! How?!”

“She went to the restroom, but never came out.” Jungkook can feel his chest tightening with each passing minute. He needs to find you. Not just for the sake of his own life. For the desperate need to make sure you’re still alive yourself. “We took all the precautions. No one was in there when she went in. We kept watch, boss, I swear on my life. She just never came out.”

Yoongi doesn’t need to be told to hop onto his tablet and tap into your phone. His fingers are already racing across the screen when Taehyung turns to him. Mr. Kim is rushing out with his own phone to his ear, barking orders to search the entire city, shut it completely down if need be. Namjoon, Hoseok, and Seokjin feel helpless when all they can do is wait for Taehyung’s command. They could attempt to hack your phone, but that’s what Yoongi’s for, and if he can’t find you then they for damn sure won’t be able to.

Taehyung is running through every possibility in his head and finds nothing to clue him in as to where you could be. Yoongi’s frantic ‘I found her!’ has everyone gathering around him, Taehyung’s nostrils flaring at the location on the screen. He still has Jungkook on the phone, informing him that, “We know where she is, Jungkook, calm yourself now. Get Jimin and meet me back at the house as fast as you can. We’re going to pick her up.”

“You want us to ride with you?” Namjoon asks, the concern in his eyes quickly morphing into anger. If anything had happened to you…

“No,” Taehyung sighs as he hangs up the phone. “I want Yoongi and Hoseok to go talk to the Ahn brothers. They have eyes and ears everywhere. I’m sure they can give us some answers.”

“I’d rather go with you,” Hoseok chimes in. “Y/N has a tendency to listen more when I’m there.”

“Everyone has a tendency to listen more when you’re around, Hoseok,” Seokjin points out.

“Which is exactly why you’re going with Yoongi to the Ahn brothers.” Taehyung begins dialing his father’s number into his phone, hoping to stop him before his men turn over the entire city.

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

It’s the second month of your marriage when you finally get your phone and laptop back. You comb through both of them to make sure they still work the way they’re supposed to. Yoongi had promised that he didn’t delete or alter anything and you’d snorted in denial. Taehyung had taken them for a reason and if Yoongi was the one returning them, then they’d both definitely been tampered with. You were holed up in your room for hours, answering emails and text messages, scrolling through Instagram and Facebook to catch up on your friends’ lives, editing pictures that you’d promised Soyoung weeks ago, and called the HR department of your job to confirm if you even still had one. They had seemed confused by your questions and had let you ramble on like an idiot before informing you that the leave of absence paperwork you’d submitted had been approved, and they were looking forward to whenever you were ready to return. It was after the phone call that you realized Taehyung had been the one to submit LOA papers on your behalf. That sneaky little son of a---.

“Y/N?” The tapping of Jungkook’s fingers on your door startles you. “Dinner’s ready. You haven’t eaten all day. If anything’s gone wrong with your phone or laptop, Yoongi will fix it. So, please come out and eat something.”

Your heart melts at his tone, looking to the bedside alarm clock to find that it was nearing 9 o’clock in the evening. Resisting the urge to face palm, you scramble out of bed and race for the door, throwing it open. “I’m sorry, Jungkook, I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“Is everything okay?” He steps back to give you space to move, shutting the door behind you and following along to the dining room. “Is there a problem with your stuff?”

“No, no,” you sigh, shaking your head and running a hand through your already messy hair. “I just lost track of time catching up on some things. I didn’t realize how late it was.”

“Didn’t you get hungry at all?”

“Not when I get busy doing things,” you explain and laugh at the expression on his face, a memory coming to mind. “Namjoon gave me that same look the other day when I was reading a book I borrowed from him. I guess I hadn’t been out of my room all day and missed lunch and dinner, so he came looking for me. I told him that when I was a kid, my mom used to lose her head when she couldn’t find me. At the time, I didn’t fully understand how dangerous it was to wander off by myself. Anyways, her and my dad would tear the house apart looking for me. Turns out, I’d ended up being curled underneath my bed with a book in my hands. The second I learned how to read, I never stopped. It drove my parents nuts because I would become so engrossed in a book that I wouldn’t pay attention to the world around me. They complained that I needed real friends, not imaginary ones, and set up playdates with their friends’ kids. I didn’t have the heart to tell them that I actually had made friends, through the equal admiration and love for a specific book.”

“You must miss them,” he notes and winces at the sheer stupidity of it. Of course you miss them. “I’m sorry. That was a dumb thing to say.”

“No,” you smile at him. “I miss them very much. I was 14 when they died, so they didn’t get to see me grow into adulthood. Some days it’s a little harder than others.”

“I’m sure they would have been very proud.”

“Not if they knew what a huge nerd I stayed,” you joke and earn yourself one of his rare bunny smiles, teeth, dimples, and all. “They never met any of the friends I still have now. Soyoung, Yunhee, and Bora are the same girls who’ve stuck by me for so long. Soyoung was actually the girl I met who loved the same book she’d caught me reading like a loner during recess one day.” You laugh fondly as you recall the start of your friendships. “Or attempting to read, I should say. A few annoying boys from our class had taken the book from my hands and played a little game of keep away. Soyoung saw them, came over, knocked the biggest one to the ground, and challenged the rest of them to a fight. They ran away and Soyoung spent the rest of the time sitting with me to make sure they didn’t come back.”

Jungkook isn’t sure what he’s done to deserve the retelling of a happy memory, but he doesn’t stop you from talking, even when he finally steps into the dining room where Taehyung is already waiting. When he sees Taehyung, he attempts to interrupt your story, though he doesn’t as Taehyung shakes his head with a slight smile on his lips.

“That was the first time I knew what protection was,” you continue while staring off into space, not yet noticing Taehyung standing from the table. “Sure, my parents had their own version of it, but having their security guards around wasn’t the same as having someone around that actually listened to you.”

“Princess.” Taehyung almost laughs at how high you jump in place. “Are you ready to eat something?”

With your trip down memory lane on hold, you walk past him to sit at the table. You think maybe you shared a little too much with Jungkook. For two solid months, you’d managed to hold off giving up your friends’ names, even when Taehyung had offered to have them brought over to stave off your boredom. Nothing had ever sounded so tempting and had you said yes, it would have undoubtedly been an amazing day. Still, you can’t risk their lives for your own selfishness. You look down to the plate filled with carbonara, your favorite, and bite back a smile because you know it was Taehyung’s idea to have it served. You’re not willing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you smile when he had held your phone and laptop hostage for two months.

Taehyung sits beside you as Jungkook stands just a few feet away and Jimin comes in to stand at the other exit. He sees your eyes squint with suspicion and almost tells you that he’s expecting a guest. Instead he taps gently on the table to get your attention. “Is there a specific reason you didn’t eat anything today? Or so much as leave your room?”

You give him a sideways glance, jamming the fork left for you in the pasta. “You had my phone and laptop for the last two months, Taehyung, things piled up.”

“And catching up was more important than eating or seeing the sun?”

“I wasn’t hungry and I prefer the moon to the sun anyways, so yes, catching up was more important.” Only half of that is true and just barely. It’s not that you weren’t hungry at all, it’s that you didn’t notice you were hungry until Jungkook had come to fetch you.

Taehyung rests his elbows on the table, rubbing at his temples and hearing Jimin snicker in the corner of the room. “Princess---.”

Suddenly you lean in close, propping your chin in the palm of your hand and hoping neither Jimin nor Jungkook can hear the next words about to come out of your mouth. Your gaze drops to Taehyung’s lips and then flickers back to the intensity of his eyes, the corners of your mouth tilting up. “Will you fuck me, Tae?”

Taahyung chokes on his own spit as you sit back, satisfied at having rattled him. He’s 100% sure you’re not serious and it’s payback for what he pulled the day he took your computer and phone. Lifting a hand to his mouth, he clears his throat and peers at Jungkook, then Jimin, who hadn’t heard what you said but laughed at Taehyung’s expense all the same. When his eyes land back on you, they’re met with a cat-like grin on your lips, your teeth biting down on the steel fork as you shove pasta into your mouth.

“Cute,” he comments dryly. He’s not completely unamused but he won’t be cracking a smile soon either. You had called him ‘Tae’, a nickname reserved solely for you to use when you’d gifted it to him as children. As a kid, it melted his heart when you would call out his nickname and he would do anything you asked. Now, it brings on an entirely different reaction and he’s adjusting the way he sits, and he knows you know why he’s squirming in his seat.

“Something wrong, Taehyung?” You pretend to be worried, hearing Jimin take a step in the direction of the table in case something was wrong with Taehyung. “You look uncomfortable.”

“I know you’re fucking with me,” he rasps through grit teeth and Jimin freezes in place. “But on the off chance that you’re not, the answer is ‘yes’, princess, I will fuck you tonight. I’m so glad you asked.”

Jungkook lets out an awkward cough as a deep blush creeps up your neck. He looks over at Jimin, the older man nearly doubled over in glee with a hand covering his mouth. He thinks he should step in and give you an excuse to flee, but truthfully, you really should have known better.

“You get on my fucking nerves, Kim Taehyung,” you hiss and hear Jungkook hiccup at the bold way you speak to Taehyung. With a quick glance, you can see his eyes go wide and jaw drop before he looks at Taehyung in a panic.

“Relax, Jungkookie,” Taehyung chuckles darkly, completely abandoning his food in favor of reaching out to grip the back of your neck to pull you close. “I’ve killed for less, you know.”

“Then by all means,” you challenge, have no qualms about matching his glare, “kill me, Taehyung.”

“How charming,” someone quips from the dining room entrance and you snap your head up to look for the unfamiliar voice.

“Hoseok,” Taehyung leans back in his chair and lets you stew in panic for a minute. “You finished your assignment early. You’re not due back for another few weeks.”

“I got impatient.” Hoseok shrugs in response, eyes darting to you. “Ah, so you’re Y/N. I have to say, you’re much prettier than Taehyung gives you credit for.”

“Is that so?” You manage to relax at the familiarity between your husband and this new stranger.

“He really doesn’t do you justice,” Hoseok teases, watching Taehyung tense. “Relax, boss, I’m not going to steal your wife. Though if she happens to fall for my charm then it’s really not my fault.”

Taehyung hears you bite down on a laugh and rolls his tongue against his cheek in irritation. With your attention still on Hoseok, he takes the opportunity to invade your space by leaning in close.“Finish your food, princess, and then go to bed.”

“I’m not a kid, you know.” You turn to him, breath hitching at his proximity. Moments ago, you’d been too pissed to care how close he was, not to mention how mad he was himself. But his face had softened in the last few minutes, now looking at you as he always did.

“I’ll make you a deal,” Taehyung offers, hand coming up to twist your hair in his fingers. “You finish your dinner and I’ll give you anything you want. Sound fair?”

“I want to go back to work.”

Taehyung sighs and leans back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Anything but that, Y/N.”

“That counts as anything, Taehyung,” you argue through clenched teeth. “You don’t get to change the rules because you don’t like what I’ve asked for.”

“It’s not safe for you to go back to work right now.”

“Then I’ll take Jungkook with me.” You’re not opposed to begging, not if it gets you back to work. “My cousins used to have men watch over me at my job all the time. As paranoid as Joongki is, he still let me go to work, that’s a testament to how uneventful that place is.”

“The answer is ‘no’.” Taehyung’s voice is firm as he sets his jaw. There are many things he’d be willing to bend on. You leaving the house is not one of them. “Don’t pout at me like a child or like I’ve kicked your puppy. You asked, I answered, and now you deal with that, am I clear?”

“Are you, really?” You push away from the table with so much force that the chair nearly falls backwards in the process. “Or are you going to change your mind when it suits you?”

Jungkook moves behind you quickly should Taehyung decide he’s had enough of your attitude and goes back on his promise to never harm you. He isn’t allowed to stop whatever Taehyung may do, but he is allowed to stop it from going too far.

“Sometimes I think you forget how hard I can push back.” You glare down at your husband. “And how painful that can get for whoever I feel like putting in their place.”

Hoseok lets out a whistle of appreciation after you storm out of the dining room with Jungkook hot on your heels. He looks at Taehyung, chuckles at his tired state, and sits at the table while Jimin decides to join them. “She’s a handful, Taehyung. Are you sure that’s what you want?”

“She’s not a handful,” Taehyung counters lamely because what Hoseok just saw definitely seemed like a handful. “Y/N’s lived like this her entire life and, unlike most of us, doesn’t embrace it.”

“Certainly sounds like she does.” Hoseok plucks the glass of water from where you previously sat and takes a sip. “Or does she only talk like that when she’s throwing a fit?”

“Believe me when I say if she plans on putting someone in their place,” Jimin finally speaks up, “she’s going to do it brutally. You’ll feel pretty stupid afterwards, too, so you should do what you can to avoid arguing with her, Hobi.”

Hoseok snorts. He won’t be intimidated by some girl who thinks she can handle the cruelties of this life just because she’s grown up around it. So has he, but he’s never been arrogant enough to throw out an attitude like that, especially not to a fucking boss of all people. Maybe if Taehyung wasn’t so whipped, he’d teach you what respect is.

“I’m serious, Hoseok.” Jimin is no longer smiling when Hoseok turns back to him. He recognizes the look in Hoseok’s eyes and doesn’t like it. If Taehyung, the one who actually gets a say in how you’re treated, says to never lay a hand on you no matter the circumstance, then all of the boys are to keep their damn hands off. His friend is far from abusive, Hoseok simply respects the chain of command with more passion than anybody. If something threatens that, then he’ll do what’s necessary to protect it. “If you can’t handle Y/N’s attitude, then you stay the hell away from her.”

Hoseok watches Jimin march out of the dining room, rolling his tongue against the inside of his cheek before facing Taehyung. “First Jungkookie looks ready to throw himself between you and her in the middle of a fight, and now Jimin thinks he can just go around threatening anybody. That girl’s power trip must be contagious.”

“We’ve been friends for a long time, Hoseok.” Taehyung curls his hand into a fist on the table and notices Hoseok’s eyes dart to the action. “But if you can’t respect Y/N, then I’ll toss you right back where I found you, rotting in the gutter.”

Hoseok looks down at the table and smiles, not at all bothered by Taehyung’s threat. “She reminds me of your mom. Y/N’s so much like her that I flashed back to the Christmas of our senior year in high school. Remember that?” He doesn’t wait for Taehyung to answer before he continues. “Your father had promised that year’s Christmas to be a work free one, but when she’d caught him on the phone, dealing with another shipment, she lost her mind. She screamed at him, hit him, threatened to disappear from his life if he didn’t get his shit together.”

Taehyung laughs at the memory. “Everyone had been home that Christmas. My grandparents, my aunts, and uncles. They all watched my big bad father get chewed out by a woman who could barely reach his shoulders. They likened it to a pitbull being afraid of a chihuahua. I think that’s why my mother loves Y/N so much, because she doesn’t take anyone’s shit.”

“So she has momma Kim’s seal of approval, huh?”

“The only girl who ever has.”

“You did bring some pretty mean trainwrecks through her house.” Hoseok teases him, though his smile drops as he becomes serious once again. “I know Jimin thinks I’ll hurt Y/N if I think she’s overstepped, but I won’t. If anything, I look forward to watching you cowering under the hateful gaze of your wife. It’ll be the most entertaining thing that’s happened in a long time.”

“All of the boys are excited to watch that happen.” Taehyung shakes his head.

“Are you going to let her go back to work?” Hoseok tilts his head in question. “It won’t be too bad if Jungkook’s with her. Maybe she’ll even let Jimin tag along.”

“I can’t take that chance right now. Joongki might have let her work, but there weren’t any threats against them at the time. Now someone’s after the Seong brothers and if they can use Y/N to do it, they will.”

“This is the Y/N you’ve been obsessed with since you were a kid, isn’t it?”

“I wasn’t obsessed,” Taehyung insists. “At least not in a creepy way.”

“She’s married to you,” Hoseok points out. “The girl you’ve been hopelessly pining after since you were a teenager is now your wife. Tell me that doesn’t sound like a creepy stalker.”

“Shut up, Hobi.”

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

Standing across from Taehyung in the break room of your workplace, you grip the strap of your backpack tight and clench your teeth. You should have known better. Honestly, you almost didn’t run off because you knew he’d come chasing you down eventually. Even more honestly, if you didn’t actually want him to know where you were then leaving your phone somewhere miles off would have been the best idea. You’re aware of the ‘discreet’ tracking app that Yoongi had installed on the phone, hiding it amongst the music files as if you hadn’t memorized each and every one.

Coworkers gather around to watch the spectacle Taehyung has created. Some have the decency to pretend they’re not being nosy while others whisper to each other about the handsome stranger you’re facing off with. Most women are trying their hardest to catch his eye, but his focus is solely on you. It drives the women nuts and you almost smile at the thought until Jimin and Jungkook flank Taehyung on either side.

You almost flinch at the look of betrayal on Jungkook’s face. He was in charge of you, of your whereabouts and needs, and you ran from him. You’d snuck off from right under his nose and sent him into a panic, leaving him with no other option than to dial Taehyung. His anxiety subsided when Taehyung calmly explained that he was sure of where’d you be, thus leading them to this moment. You want to explain, to tell him that deceiving him was one of the hardest decisions you’ve made in a long time. There’s relief in his eyes, obviously, but there’s also anger and pain. “Jungkookie, I---.”

“Y/N?” Your friend and ex-boyfriend, Seojun, questions as he enters the break room. He scans over Taehyung, Jungkook, and Jimin, sensing the anger rolling off of you in waves. He steps in your direction to make sure you’re alright. Being broken up doesn’t mean he can’t still care about you. When your eyes cut to him, he catches you wince before the deep bass of Taehyung’s voice recaptures your attention.

“Princess,” Taehyung grits out in irritation when your attention shifts elsewhere. A smirk lights up his features when your eyes dart between him and the man who’d just called your name, panic crossing your features. You don’t want him to know who this is and that’s something he can use to his advantage. “You could have easily avoided my being here if you hadn’t snuck away from Jungkook. You really hurt his feelings, sweetheart. Look at him, he’s heartbroken.”

“Shattered into a million pieces, boss,” Jungkook deadpans, earning himself a spiteful glare. Tilting his chin and raising a brow, he silently questions why you’re the one who’s angry when he’d been running around like a chicken with his head cut off for the past two hours.

“Something of his will be broken soon, but I can assure you it won’t be his heart,” you snap, making Taehyung grin his rare boxy smile that you’d possibly return on any other day. Now though, now you want to slap the smile off his annoyingly handsome face. You see Jimin take a cautious step away from Jungkook in hopes of protecting himself and admittedly, it almost makes you giggle. Jimin always knows how to make you laugh even on the darkest of days, yet as he stands at Taehyung’s side, you know who he’ll always remain loyal to.

Taehyung’s heavy sigh slices the tense air and he’s in front of you in a matter of seconds, tucking a stray hair behind your ear. He can see the internal struggle you have to not recoil at his touch or slap his hand away. Maintaining a public image is something drilled into someone as soon as they step into the mafia life, but he figured you’d be angry enough to not care in front of your coworkers, and expecting you to blow up at him. When you don’t, he suspects it has something to do with the women who haven’t stopped ogling him since he first walked in. “Interesting,” he voices aloud and you jump at the way his fingers slide along the length of your jaw before he tucks his thumb, tilting your chin upward.

Your breath catches in your throat as he steps closer, bridging the gap between you two. It takes everything in you to not bite the thumb currently skimming across your bottom lip. The last time you’d done that, Taehyung had taken it upon himself to return the favor by biting down on the pulse point of your neck. You don’t need a repeat of that incident in front of your coworkers. A sigh escapes you when he wraps his free arm around your waist and nuzzles his face in your hair.

“You don’t want me,” Taehyung whispers in your ear, playfully nipping at it, “but you don’t want them to have me either, do you, princess?”

You grit your teeth, dropping your forehead to his chest, and using your hair as a curtain to hide your mouth. “I don’t care if they want you, Kim Taehyung. You could take any of them home right now if you wanted to and I wouldn’t give a damn.”

“Don’t tempt me, Y/N,” he growls low and it���s then that you realize how angry he truly is. Taehyung doesn’t use your real name with the exception of introductions during a dinner party, charity event, and when you get too stubborn in your ways. “If you want me to take a girl home and fuck her brains out while you sit and stew in your own denial, then I will.”

You stiffen in his arms, the mere thought making you nauseous. You know damn well how eager any one of these girls would be to jump in bed with him. Suddenly, a certain presence looms over the room, something dark makes the place feel smaller than it already is. “Seojun,” you breathe with realization. It’s him, his stare nearly burning a hole into the side of your face as his jealousy blankets the room.

Taehyung grits his teeth, hand sliding up to tighten at the nape of your neck and knotting the hair there. His fingers twitch against your scalp as he’s about to move away to face whoever the hell Seojun is. His grip loosens and fear strikes the air before you’re looping your arms through his to lock together at his back. The embrace is seemingly romantic to everyone else, but he knows that it’s to keep him in place.

He sighs once more and skims his fingers down to massage the tension in your neck, lips brushing against your cheek as he pretends to ignore what you’ve just said. “Can I kiss you, princess? And then every girl in here will know who I belong to. Sound good to you, baby?”

You’re on the tips of your toes, gripping the back of his neck, and tugging him down into a kiss as soon as he finishes the question. The hand in your hair tugs on it gently, silently asking for you to open up to him, but you’re already pulling away before it goes too far. Public affection is never something you could bring yourself to like but Taehyung makes it a little more tolerable. Even so, this was still your place of work and it requires a level of professionalism that you’re one more kiss away from throwing out the window.

Taehyung grins against your mouth as your chest heaves and he straightens up to take the backpack hanging from your shoulder. He tosses the bag to Jimin, who immediately digs through it in search of your work vest. With Cecil’s men dead and Jungkook on a new level of awareness after your disappearing act, enough of the threats to the Seong family have been eliminated for you to work peacefully. You’re not entirely out of the woods just yet, there’s still the matter of finding who paid Cecil, but he’s already spoken with your boss about Jungkook hanging around and keeping an eye on you. He’ll send Jimin down to help after the house has been cleaned up.

Jimin produces your vest and tosses it to Taehyung after swiping the name badge clipped on the fabric. He hands Jungkook the backpack to rifle through the contents, catching a quick peek of your puzzle book. Such a nerd, he thinks as a fond smile spreads across his face.

“I could murder her,” Jungkook mumbles from beside Jimin. “Scaring the shit out of us like that. Almost getting us killed because Taehyung was so pissed.”

“You have to admit that her determination is admirable,” Jimin jokes, nudging Jungkook with his elbow. “Come on, Jungkookie, don’t stay upset with her for too long. You saw the look on her face when we came in. She didn’t like sneaking away from us, but did we give her any other choice? No. So stop pouting and hold down the fort until I get back.”

Jungkook snorts in response. He’s still pissed off at himself for letting you slip through his fingers like that. Jimin only chuckles under his breath and Jungkook is left rolling his eyes. He catches the sight of Seojun in the process, the man’s mouth parted with confusion and brows pinched together in anger. Jungkook looks Seojun over and notes the way his eyes never leave you and Taehyung. Elbowing Jimin to get his attention, he gestures to Seojun, and Jimin clocks the way Seojun’s fists curl at his sides.

Taehyung is too busy swinging the vest around your shoulders to pay any more attention to Seojun. Pulling the zipper up to secure your vest, he tugs you a step closer and fiddles with the pull tab while pressing his forehead to yours. “You can stay, sweetheart.”

“I can?” You break out into a smile before you can stop yourself, pulling back to see his face. If he’s pulling a cruel joke, you’ll kill him. You will 1,000% murder your husband on the spot. But no, he’s not teasing you. “Seriously?”

“Under the condition that Jungkookie stays with you,” Taehyung clarifies, setting his jaw. When you bite your bottom lip in attempt to stop your smile, he tests your giddiness by leaning in for another quick kiss that you happily return. “Jimin will be back in about an hour to help him keep watch. So don’t try to run away from either of them.”

“I promise!” You throw your arms around his shoulders and squeeze him close. To a normal couple, being told that one actually has permission to do their job would be cause for concern. So it was understandably confusing for your coworkers when you practically vibrated with excitement at being allowed to work, of all things.

Taehyung presses another kiss to your lips, holding it just a bit longer than the previous two and smiles as you laugh against him. He’s surprised to find that he can easily slip his tongue past your parted lips, and that you eagerly accept him. When he finally pulls away, you’re looking at him like he just gave you the world, and it dawns on him that this, this is all you asked for. The freedom to make your own choices and keep at least a little bit of your previous life didn’t seem like an option with your cousins and now he was doing the same thing they had. He’s keeping you from enjoying the little things like the job you didn’t necessarily have to keep anymore.

“Thank you, thank you! I’ll see you at home, bye!” You rush past your husband, quickly snatching the name badge Jimin was holding out, and dancing in place as you swipe it through the time clock. Jungkook is basically sprinting after you in an effort to keep up with your newfound energy.

Jimin steps up beside his friend as Taehyung tries to compose himself by shoving one hand in his pocket and clearing his throat. He rolls his eyes as Taehyung uses his thumb to swipe away the chapstick you’d left behind on his lips. “You look like a kid in a candy store, you weirdo.”

“She called it home.”

“Yeah, for now,” Jimin snorts and it’s Taehyung’s turn to roll his eyes. “I give it two days before you fuck up something else.”

“Thanks for the support, asshole.”

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

You don’t explore much of the house until about the 4th month into the marriage. You've seen most of the first floor and so far, Namjoon’s miniature library is your favorite place. The second floor consists of the guys’ rooms and you find it odd that Taehyung would have them sleep an entire floor away from you. They’re meant to protect you should anything go wrong, so why?

“Find what you’re looking for, Mrs. Kim?”

You jump and whirl around to face Hoseok, your heart nearly beating out of your chest. “Jesus, Hobi. You scared the hell out of me.”

“Sorry,” he laughs, though he doesn’t seem very apologetic at all. He’s drenched in sweat, hair is matted to his forehead, and he’s unraveling tape from his knuckles.

“You were boxing,” you point out with admiration. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

“No, I was done anyways.” He waves his hand dismissively, but notes the way your lips part in curiosity. “Do you want to try?”

“I didn’t know Taehyung had a gym in the house.” You immediately change the subject. Yes, you want to box. Not exactly ‘try’ because you have enough training to defend yourself. This newfound knowledge of a home gym has you excited. The idea of being able to let out your frustrations on a punching bag is thrilling.

“Jungkook requested it before the house was built.”

“Kook did?” You reel back in surprise. If Jungkook was around before this house was built then… “How old is this place?”

“A few years, I believe.” Hoseok finishes unwrapping his hands and crumples up the used tape. “Taehyung had it built for you when he found out your cousin wanted to merge the families.”

“Right.” You clench your jaw. You often forget how long this plan was in the making before judgement day. Or your ‘wedding’, as some would call it. Still, that Taehyung would go through such effort to build a home just for you, almost brings a smile to your face. Shaking the thought from your head, you take the tape from Hoseok’s hands to keep your own occupied. The itch to pick at your cuticles is clawing its way to the surface and you need to stop it before it takes over. “It’s flattering, I know that, but it’s also a reminder of the life I didn’t intend on having.”

“A safe one?” Hoseok quirks one of his brows, watching you fiddle with the used tape and catching the tiny scabs on your cuticles.

“A different one,” you say as the ball of tape is tossed back and forth between your hands. “One where I didn’t feel like a prisoner.”

“What happened?” He quickly snatches one of your hands and the tape falls to the floor. There’s a hint of dried blood on the cuticles of your nails and the skin around the pads of your fingers look to be gnawed on. “How long have you been doing this?”

You try to pull your hand back but it’s useless when it comes to escaping Hoseok. You learned this after spending a month with him as your bodyguard instead of Jungkook, when Taehyung had insisted you build a friendship with Hoseok before the rest of the guys. You had asked why and it had become clear after Hoseok was the one to track you down in a matter of minutes during your first attempt to run away.

“Hobi,” you grunt, twisting your wrist out and away from his hold with ease, instead wrapping your own fingers around his wrist to shove him away and he stumbles back. You laugh at the shock on his face. “Sometimes when I get too nervous or antsy, I chew on my fingers. It’s not very ladylike, is it? I didn’t do it for awhile after my teen years, but recently---.”

“How did you do that?” He interrupts your explanation. “Get out of my grip like that?”

Of course, he knows how you did it. His question is more about who trained you to do it, who taught you to defend yourself, and who taught you to fight. It’s the first time he’s seeing anything like it from you and he’s sure that Taehyung and Jungkook, or any of the guys for that matter, have no clue you can do it either.

You shoot him a teasing smile and pick the tape up from the floor. “My grandfather always wanted to make sure I could do at least the bare minimum if I was attacked. So, he had some of his men teach me to fight alongside Joongki and Jeonghan. I’m sure I’m nowhere near any of your guys’ levels, but I like to think I could hold my own against you if need be.”

“You’re really something else, aren’t you?” Hoseok questions with awe. He doesn’t mean it in an offensive way and he’s glad you realize that as your shoulders tremble with more laughter. “Taehyung always said you were amazing, but I thought it was because he’s so in love with you. Not because you’re a genuinely amazing person.”

You pale at the words ‘in love’ because although you’ve always known about Taehyung’s affections, you’ve never known how deep they truly run. Up to this point, you thought his feelings were more infatuation and lust than anything else.

“Enjoying your little tour, princess?” Taehyung comes from around the corner, leaning against the wall.

“You’re back.” You resist the urge to go to him. The space he’d given you when you first moved in was welcomed, and then you’d gone and given him a reason to revoke that privilege by trying to run away. After spending time together now that he’d been sleeping in the same room, that you had come to learn was actually the master bedroom and he’d been gentleman enough to leave it to only you, you found that you would actually miss him when he was out. There are nights when you sidle up to him as soon as he steps in the door, and you know he’s aware of how dependent you’ve become on his presence because Jimin did you the not so kind favor of pointing it out.

“I’m home,” Taehyung confirms, the ends of his lips almost tugging up into a smile. The way you basically wait for him to come home every day tugs at his heart. He didn’t think it would only take a few months for you to warm up to him, slowly, but definitely surely. He’d calculated that it would take you at least a year to want to be around him. Maybe two, maybe even ten given how stubborn you are. “Finally found your way upstairs, huh?”

“I was bored.”

“I know.” He pushes off the wall and comes to take the tape from your hands. He finally looks at Hoseok and nods. “Did Hoseok teach you anything?”

“Apparently there’s no need,” Hoseok explains while crossing his arms. “Did you know that she can fight? Not that sissy slap fight that some people do. I mean, real fighting, Taehyung.”

“You’re exaggerating, Hobi.” You roll your eyes and try to snatch the tape back from Taehyung, but he’s quick to pull it out of your reach. “You make it sound like we just went a full round of sparring. I was just able to get out of your hold, that’s all.”

“That’s the most important part,” Hoseok says as you and Taehyung begin a playful game of keep away. He’s sure you don’t notice the grin on your own face when you jump for the piece of trash in Taehyung’s hand. “Even if you can’t actually fight, being able to get away and run as fast as you can is the deciding factor in whether you live or die.”

You’re not listening anymore. It’s not to be rude or simply because you’ve heard it already. It’s because you’re trying to pry the tape away from your husband and you don’t even know why. Perhaps because you had it first? It’s childish thinking, you know it, but it’s what makes this part so fun. You make one final lunge for the used tape and Taehyung grabs your wrist, not prepared for you to counter it so quickly. Clamping down on his wrist with your free hand, you pry it away from your own and duck. You twist around, never letting up on his wrist, and pin his arm gently behind his back. A triumphant grin breaks out on your lips, but it’s short lived.

Taehyung spins around on his heel and is able to quickly back you against the wall. His fingers are already curling around your forearm to press against the plaster. He feels the push of your other hand to his chest and he’s shoved away with more force than expected. His chest rises and falls rapidly, winded from the surprising amount of energy this small little tussle took from him. You don’t rush to him like he thinks you will, instead clutching something in your hand that you open to reveal the balled up tape.

“Whoa,” Hoseok whispers, having been present the entire time rather than giving the two of you privacy like the other guys usually do. He was simply too curious to see how this would pan out. He’s going to say something, not entirely sure what words to use, when he looks back at Taehyung to find an all too familiar look on his face.

Taehyung’s pupils are blown wide as he drinks you in. From the cat-like curve of your lips, to the useless tape balled up in your palm, and down to the heaving of your chest. He’s always been an adrenaline junkie, he knows that, but never had a scuffle turned him on. The fact that you’re his wife and not some bulky, sweat drenched man definitely contributes.

“Well,” Hoseok chimes in uncomfortably, “I’m going to go anywhere that’s not here. You guys have fun.”

You don’t even realize Hoseok is still there until he breezes past you to make himself scarce, watching him disappear from the hallway. When you look back at Taehyung, he’s already in front of you and running the back of his knuckles across your cheek. The affectionate touch makes you blush, heat spreading across your entire body as he leans in so close that his nose bumps yours.

“Will you welcome me home, princess?” he rasps against your lips and it snaps you out of your own thoughts.

“Your home, Tae,” you whisper back and bump his nose gently, “not mine.”

“You are my home, Y/N.” His lips brush yours with every whisper before he fully presses against your mouth. A tiny kiss that somehow leaves you wanting much, much more. But then he’s pulling away and kissing your cheek next. “I know you hate being here, and the idea makes you want to puke, but this is your home. Always.”

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

Later, when you basically skip into the living room with a very tired looking Jungkook and Jimin, Taehyung is surprised when you plop next to him on the couch. You’re equally as exhausted as the guys, but it’s a good kind of tired, like you’ve accomplished something.

“What did you do to Jungkookie, princess?” Taehyung plays with the locks of your hair. He looks to his youngest member and almost laughs at the way Jungkook’s shoulders are slumped forward, his hair is matted with sweat, and like he’s on the verge of passing out.

Jimin is standing next to him looking pristine as ever, a smirk lifting the corner of his mouth at Jungkook’s state.

“I didn’t do anything to him.” You roll your eyes and laugh. “He was just having a hard time keeping up, that’s all.”

“Retail workers are animals!” Jungkook bellows, throwing his arms out in frustration. “And the customers who shop there are even worse! Who raised these people, savages?!”

“Kook, you’re in a gang!” You look at him like he’s grown two heads.

“Yeah well, nobody I’ve ever pointed a gun at has yelled at me for giving them the wrong color sweater, alright?” Jungkook runs his hand down his face before rubbing his tired eyes. “I need a nap.”

Taehyung chuckles as Jungkook stalks upstairs to his bedroom. His shift is over now that you’re home anyways, so the least Taehyung can do is let the poor kid sleep.

Jimin bids the two of you goodnight, making his way to the staircase and quickly following after Jungkook.

“I think Kook’s traumatized.” You turn your head to Taehyung just as he leans in and brushes his nose against yours.

“We should probably get him an emotional support animal,” he jokes, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Did you have a good day, sweetheart?”

You tilt your chin up as his mouth travels lower, leaving open mouthed kisses down the column of your throat. Nodding in response to his question, you ask, “did you?”

“It’s boring in the house without someone to argue with,” his tongue snakes out lick at your skin before he’s pulling on it with his teeth.

“I’m sure Yoongi could have kept you entertained if you pushed his buttons enough.”

Taehyung knows that his being able to touch you within reason is basically a reward for granting you basic human rights. He didn’t like to think of it as keeping you a prisoner in your own home, but he knows there’s no other way to describe being locked inside almost 24 hours a day. He wanted to think you were finally understanding the rules and would stop fighting him. That wasn’t the case, he sees that now, because he practically falls to his knees every time you allow him to touch or kiss you. Little by little, you’re breaking his resolve with how defiant you can be, and then turning him to mush when he apologizes for making you feel a certain way. You’re practically training him like one would a new puppy.

“Tae,” your moan breaks his train of thought, and he pulls away to find that at some point he’d leaned you flat on your back. His hand had dipped into the waistband of your jeans and he was quick to pull back in case you were uncomfortable. You giggle and sit up to cup his jaw, giving him one more kiss before retreating to the bedroom.

“She’s happy,” Yoongi observes as he steps into the living room. “What did you do to deserve that?”

“Why doesn’t anybody in this house ever take my side?” Taehyung readjusts the way he sits on the couch. He beckons Yoongi closer and takes the tablet from his outstretched hand.

“Because it’s easier to take Y/N’s side.” Yoongi smirks. “It’s certainly more entertaining.”

“This Seojun guy,” Taehyung swipes through photos of your ex, most of which consisted of you by Seojun’s side or tucked underneath his arm. “Who is he?”

“A nobody, really.” Yoongi throws himself on the couch next to Taehyung. “Just some guy who was lucky enough to be hired fresh out of high school. He’s been with the company for 7 years now. He and Y/N dated for about a year before breaking up. Jimin asked around and found out that Seojun didn’t like how secretive Y/N was when it came to her family. So he broke up with her.”

“She didn’t look too happy when I showed up today.” Taehyung grips the tablet tighter when a picture pops up of you and Seojun from his instagram. You’re in a bed with Seojun’s arms wrapped tight around your waist and his face tucked in the crook of your neck.

“She never looks happy to see you,” Yoongi counters and earns himself a sneer.

“I’m saying she didn’t want me to know who this guy was, smartass.” Taehyung tosses the tablet back to Yoongi. He runs a hand through his hair and moves for the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water. “Did you get anywhere with the Ahn brothers?”

Yoongi pulls up more images on his tablet and hands it to Taehyung. “The Choi family isn’t happy with Joongki and Jeonghan. It seems your family wasn’t the only one hoping to merge with the Seong’s.”

Taehyung stiffens as he swipes through photo after photo of you with Joongki’s men, but there was someone else trailing you. They weren’t close enough for you to think anything of it, and maybe your cousins hadn’t pieced it together yet either, but Taehyung knows this man, and he clenches his jaw. “Meaning?”

“Mr. Choi had been trying for months to convince Joongki to hand off Y/N to his oldest son, Hyunwoo, and he almost did before your father stepped in and told him the truth about the Choi family.” Yoongi leans against the kitchen counter and drops his voice to a whisper as the opening of a door echoes down the hallway. “Joongki didn’t want to scare Y/N or his brother, so he didn’t tell them why he was so quick to go to your father. Neither of the Seong brothers are the actual target. Y/N is.”

“What about me?” you pipe up, stepping into the kitchen while running a towel through your damp hair. You grab the glass full of water and take a few sips, eyeing Yoongi and Taehyung suspiciously. “What are you two up to?”

“Taehyung was curious about your friend Seojun,” Yoongi is quick to throw his boss underneath the bus, crossing his arms and tsking at Taehyung. “Jealousy is not a good color on you.”

“Sometimes I think you really forget what I’m capable of, Min Yoongi.” Taehyung pushes Yoongi out of the kitchen with a hiss. “Don’t think I won’t get you back for this, you son of a bitch.”

You hoist yourself onto the counter, running your hand through the tangled mess of clean hair. It should probably piss you off that Taehyung had Yoongi dig up information on Seojun, but your ex isn’t exactly your favorite person. After he’d broken up with you, he had made it pretty clear that unless you fessed up about your family, he wouldn’t be coming back any time soon. Six months after that, he’d heard about your marriage but was yet to know who your husband was. Protecting him from Taehyung earlier was more out of instinct than anything else. Taehyung just doesn’t have to know that part.

“You don’t like Seojun.” You swing your legs back and forth gently as Taehyung makes his way back into the kitchen.

“I don’t like any man that’s touched you before me.” He takes the cup back and downs the rest of the water. “I imagine you wouldn’t like meeting the women I’ve been with either.”

“Your one night stands aren’t comparable to the relationships I’ve had.” You glare at him with the hope that the side of his face will catch on fire. “Your women were just placeholders in your bed. They were there to warm it, not to become a permanent fixture in your life.”

“And you were planning on being a permanent fixture in Seojun’s life?” Taehyung turns to meet your glare with a sneer of his own. “Were you going to marry that pathetic little nobody, share a mediocre life, and live in comfort rather than luxury?”

“Your definition of luxury is burying someone in the most expensive gifts and then leaving them to their own vices.” You jump off the counter with a huff, snatching the towel you’d set down. “Maybe the women you’ve slept with could live with that, but I can’t. Seojun may not have millions of dollars to throw at anyone he wants, but he makes due with what he does have. And unlike you, his father wouldn’t have to step in to get me to marry him.”

Taehyung braces his hands against the counter as you saunter off, his shoulders tense and chest heaving with anger. He hears the slamming of the bedroom door and he bangs his fist against the counter before he’s storming down the hall after you. When he reaches the door, he’s even more pissed to find that you’ve locked it, and he’s seconds away from tearing it off its hinges when a piercing whistle catches his attention.

Jimin is standing at the end of the hallway, leaning against the wall and swinging a key ring around his finger. “Man, I really should have bet a few hours before you fucked things up instead of betting two days. I can’t wait to see how your wife reacts to you lying about having only one key to the master bedroom.”

Taehyung snatches the key from Jimin and growls out, “if you don’t want to be the next person I murder, then I suggest you walk away, Park.”

Jimin only shakes his head with a laugh, raising his hands in surrender and doing as he’s been told. It wasn’t the first time Taehyung threatened him and it certainly won’t be the last. He makes it back to his room in one piece where he finds the rest of the guys waiting. He grins as he looks around and says, “I think Y/N is my new hero. Nobody’s been able to piss off Taehyung like that in a long time.”

“She’s ballsy, I’ll give her that.” Yoongi looks up from the laptop he’d been typing away on.

“She’d make one hell of a leader,” Seokjin chimes in and Yoongi chuckles low in his throat.

“You’re lucky if Taehyung doesn’t have you tossed in a river with weights tied around your ankles for starting that fight,” Namjoon scolds Yoongi and gestures them closer to see what he’d been working on. “The Choi family is gaining quite the reputation for all the shit Hyunwoo keeps pulling. We’re talking gambling debts, jail time for street brawls, even a few women accusing him of sexual assault. I mean, this guy is close to costing Mr. Choi his whole empire. Nobody wants to work with them, even their supply is suffering. They’ll be left with nothing soon.”

“Choi wants to use Seong’s climbing reputation to save his own ass.” Jimin skims his eyes down the screen of Hyunwoo’s rap sheet.

“It goes a little deeper than that,” Namjoon frowns as Yoongi pulls up a different tab. “Hyunwoo went to high school with Y/N, had the biggest crush on her, but she always rejected him. I talked to her friends and they said that Hyunwoo couldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. Whenever Y/N snubbed him, he’d corner one of them and threaten their lives if they didn’t try to talk Y/N into dating him. He was obsessed with her, still is. So I’m guessing he promised Choi that he’d clean up his act if he got Y/N.”

“Choi must have pursued Joongki for a long time.” Jungkook stretches his arms above his head until his back finally pops. He rolls his shoulders next as if preparing himself for a fight. If they go to Taehyung right now then they’d certainly be gearing up for one.

“He was close, too.” Yoongi curls his hands into fists at the thought of where you’d be now if Mr. Kim hadn’t stepped in. “Joongki almost agreed to the marriage because he was under the impression that Choi still had a good following.”

“So what happened?”

“Mr. Kim happened,” Yoongi explains, letting out a slow breath. “Nobody’s loyal to Choi anymore. Some of his men branched off and told other bosses what the plan was for the Seong family. Luckily, one of them came to Mr. Kim and he was able to get to Joongki before anything became final.”

“Does Y/N know any of this?” Jungkook questions while looking back and forth between Yoongi and Namjoon. When both men shake their heads, he scoffs. “Don’t you think she should? She’d probably be more inclined to fucking listen to us if she knew what was really happening.”

“Or she’d run away and disappear off the map.” Seokjin offers an alternative. He knows you well enough by now and if you knew how much danger you were truly in, then there’s no doubt in his mind that you’d leave. “We can’t take that chance, Kook. She’s our family now and we take care of family. So we’ll deal with Choi soon and be done with it.”

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

“I’m not really sure what you think you’re doing,” you interrupt whatever Hyunwoo is doing at your locker and he whirls around to find you a few feet away, “but it’s not going to happen, Choi. Move on.”

He steps away from your locker, giving you space to open it and shove your books inside. He gives you a greasy smile and leans against the locker next to yours. “You always say ‘never’ Y/N, but I’m pretty sure I can change your mind if you let me.”

“The only way I’m going to give you a chance is if you let me push you off a cliff.” You slam the locker closed just as your friends approach. “What’s your deal, Hyunwoo? Why don’t you get it by now? I don’t want anything to do with you.”

“Most girls would kill to be by my side,” Hyunwoo slaps an open palm on the lockers, rattling them enough to make your friends jump, but you stand strong.

“Then you don’t really need me, do you?” You turn to walk away with your friends only to have him clap his hand on your shoulder, and you’re shoved against the lockers. You wince at the impact, the combination locks dig into your spine, and Bona runs off to find help.

“I don’t need your permission to have you, you know?” Hyunwoo hisses in your face, his forearm rests gently on your collar bone, not heavy enough to cut off your air supply, yet. “My father will give me anything I ask for and if that’s you, then you don’t get a choice anymore. I suggest you come willingly while I’m still asking nicely.”

“There’s not a fucking thing nice about you, Hyunwoo,” you sneer and stomp on his foot, digging your heel into the top of it. It’s enough for him to release his grip as he jumps back in pain, and you’re already cocking your arm back to land a solid punch across his jaw when Bona comes rushing back with Jeonghan in tow.

Jeonghan moves for Hyunwoo but you step in front of your cousin before he does anything to get himself in trouble. He stiffens as Hyunwoo straightens up and uses the back of his hand to wipe away the blood dripping from his mouth. Gripping your arm, he gets ready to pull you behind him if Hyunwoo gets any closer.

You shrug Jeonghan off and take a step toward Hyunwoo. “Your daddy may baby the shit out of you, but make no mistake, Hyunwoo, you’re a trash human being. If you keep this up, you’ll run your father’s reputation into the ground and then where will you be? Certainly daddy won’t keep you around if you’re useless.”

Hyunwoo is seething, and if steam could come out of his ears, you’re pretty sure it would. He lifts his hands to grab you once more, but a teacher’s voice stops him. His eyeline is blocked by Mr. Lee, a math teacher that won’t have a job tomorrow if Hyunwoo can help it.

Mr. Lee directs both you and Hyunwoo to the principal’s office, stopping every so often to ask why Jeonghan is following behind him. He gets a mere shrug in response and he sighs, letting your cousin do as he pleases. He sits you in a chair far away from Hyunwoo before entering the principal’s office and explaining the situation.

Jeonghan stays plastered to your side, concern written all over his face as you goad Hyunwoo from across the room. You certainly had grandmother’s temper and, not for the first time that day, Jeonghan wishes you were a little less fierce. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Hyunwoo sneer at you, bloody gums and all. You tilt your head mockingly in response, leaving Jeonghan to nearly facepalm. The only thing that stops him from slapping his own forehead is the rapid footsteps of Joongki, grandfather, and one of grandfather’s men.

Mr. Choi and his right hand man come barreling in next. They blink in surprise at Hyunwoo’s busted lip and your completely unruffled response to him. Mr. Choi is about to ask what exactly is going on when the principal steps out and calls everyone into his office.

“Mr. Choi, Mr. Seong, thank you for coming down.” Principal Chang settles in the chair behind his desk, swiping the glasses from his face to rub at his temples. “Seong Y/N, I wish I could say it’s a surprise to have you here, but it’s really not, is it?”

“Y/N,” your grandfather sighs tiredly in the cramped space, “what have you done now?”

“Nothing that wasn’t prompted,” you defend yourself wholeheartedly.

“You assaulted Hyunwoo, did you not?” Principal Chang looks at the bruise forming on Hyunwoo’s jawline. He wouldn’t voice out loud how impressed he was given that Hyunwoo is twice your size. Unfortunately, his actions speak for him as he nods his admiration for you.

“I didn’t assault Hyunwoo, I defended myself when he nearly choked me to death.”

At this, Joongki snaps his head up to look at the boy in the other chair, rage building underneath the surface. “He did what?”

Mr. Choi lays one hand on Hyunwoo’s shoulder and uses his other to grip his son’s chin. “Look at this. My son is the one bloodied and bruised, and you mean to tell me that you’re the victim in this?”

“Your son doesn’t understand the kindergarten concept of keeping his hands to himself.” You grip the sides of your chair and lean forward to taunt Hyunwoo. “I was simply reminding him of what happens when he doesn’t respect someone else’s boundaries.”

Your grandfather grips your shoulder and hauls you back into the seat. “Stop it.”

“Maybe if you weren’t such an uptight bitch, then I wouldn’t bother you.” Hyunwoo fires back and tries to get in your face as you did him.

Daeseong, your grandfather’s most trusted man, steps in front of you and effectively cuts off any access Hyunwoo might have had. He stares down at the kid with a quirked brow until Hyunwoo seemingly shrinks in his seat. “You’ll refrain from using such language when it comes to Ms. Seong.”

Mr. Choi sputters at the blatant way his son is being intimidated and looks to Principal Chang for some kind of interference. “This girl damages my son’s face and her bodyguard has the audacity to try and scare him. Yet you want me to believe she’s done nothing wrong?”

“Believe what you will, Mr. Choi,” your grandfather’s voice holds the kind of authority that grown men usually cower at, “but given how your son just spoke to my granddaughter, I think it’s quite clear who the antagonist here is. Admittedly, it’s my fault she’s so headstrong. You see, Mr. Choi, my family doesn’t believe in ‘when you’re dead, lie down’, so my granddaughter obviously found it necessary to correct your son’s behavior.”

“You’re aware of who I am, Seong,” Mr. Choi seethes, attempting to be just as vicious. “I suggest you get that delinquent under control before I have to.”

“You’re also aware of who I am, Choi, so I suggest you watch your tone and be careful of who you threaten. Whatever happened here today is just a glimpse of what my granddaughter can do, and unless you want to find out what more there is, then you’ll get your poor excuse for a son under control before I have to.”

Your grandfather is bluffing and it really takes every muscle in your body to keep from reacting. The strength behind your punch is literally all you have, though after today, you’re sure you’re about to get some new self defense lessons. You’d throw your head back and groan if it didn’t give away his obvious lie. Thankfully, Principal Chang’s dismissal of everyone from his office so he can ‘think on your punishment’ saves you from embarrassing your grandfather any further.

Mr. Choi stops you from getting too far by gripping your arm, quickly letting it go as Daeseong latches onto his wrist in return. “You must think you’re so precious, don’t you, little girl?”

“No.” You don’t flinch away from him and you can tell he hates it. “I just know what it means to be a decent person. You’ve taught your son that the world would fall to his feet if he so much as commands it, but he is neither king nor god, Mr. Choi. Hyunwoo doesn’t get to demand the world only to throw a fit when he ultimately breaks it, and then you come in to clean up his mess. The longer you let him believe he’s untouchable, the more likely he is to fall harder than anyone else.”

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

Taehyung watches you stomp around the room, pacing back and forth while tugging at your hair because he’d lied about there being one and only one goddamn key to the master bedroom. Tomorrow he plans to do away with the door completely if you so much as think about locking the fucking thing again. He’s sitting on the bed, dressed in sweats and a plain t-shirt, waiting for your tantrum to be over. “Are you done, princess?”

“No, I’m not fucking done!” you screech, picking up the nearest object and hurling it his way. Another frustrated scream bubbles from your throat as he easily catches the bottle of perfume headed towards his skull. “You asshole! You said there was one, one fucking key to this room, Taehyung, and you lied to me!”

“This isn’t about the key, Y/N, you and I both know that.”

“It’s certainly not about the array of women you’ve paraded through here!” You pick up a bottle of lotion, your favorite to be exact, and launch it at him. When he skillfully dodges it, you begin picking up anything and everything that isn’t nailed down and try your damndest to cause him some kind of damage.

“I’m not bitching about Seojun, am I?!” Taehyung counters and peers around for any more loose objects. “I’m not throwing the disaster of that relationship in your face!”

“It wasn’t a disaster!” Your chest is heaving from exertion and you’re sure that if your pulse raced any faster, you’d have a heart attack. “Seojun was the best thing that happened to me and my cousins ruined that! This life ruined it! And yes, Taehyung, if Joongki hadn’t pimped me out to you then I would have absolutely married Seojun. We’d get married, leave this godforsaken city, have some kids, and live happily ever after.”

Taehyung knows you’re trying to get under skin, knows you’re trying to work him up so you’d have an excuse for your cousins to pull you from his home. Truthfully, your words do hurt, they pierce his heart and piss him off at the same time. Joongki didn’t pimp you out to the Kim family, and he for damn sure wouldn’t have let you marry Seojun and take off. The idea of you having kids with your ex-boyfriend makes Taehyung’s blood boil. The mere idea of Seojun putting his hands anywhere on your person is enough to have your husband close to pulling out his phone and calling for a hit on the poor guy.

You can see the gears shifting in Taehyung’s head, the cold calculation of whatever he’s about to do, and you know that if you didn’t diffuse the situation soon, you’d cost Seojun his life. “Stop it, Taehyung. You don’t get to be an asshole about Seojun and then get mad at me for calling you out on it. You for damn sure don’t get to be pissed that I wanted some space after you were the one who lost your shit over nothing.”

“It wasn’t nothing,” he growls low in his chest and shuffles up the bed to get comfortable. “It was that you felt like you had to protect him in the first place. You really think I’m some kind of monster that would have him killed because he dated you? Far from it, princess. I’m glad you were happy, but he’s not part of your life anymore. You’re my wife, mine, so you’ll forgive me if I get a little testy when you brag about some other man giving you a better life than I can. Especially when you haven’t even given me the fucking chance.”

“Hauling me into this house and then locking me in is not a better life, Taehyung. It’s barely even a life at all. You can say it’s for my own safety, I’ve heard it a thousand times before, but I know that it’s more about your pride than anything else. That the great Kim Taehyung has what someone else wants and no one can get to it.”

“You think if this was about my pride that I’d keep you locked away? There is nothing more that I want than to show you off to the world, Y/N. To show whoever wants you that you’re protected and safe from them, not because they can’t have you. My pride stems from the fact that I have one of the strongest women by my side who isn’t afraid to put me in my place. Not everyone finds that in this life, so yes, I’m proud to have you and no, I will not apologize for whatever kind of blow your ego takes because you can’t stand to be wrong.”

You walk up to the bed, and for a second Taehyung heaves a sigh of relief that the fight is finally over, but you simply strip the mattress of its sheets and turn to leave the room.

He’s on his feet, striding across the room and boxing you in against the door before you can yank it open. “And just where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

Whirling around to face him, you hiss, “I’d sooner sleep under a bridge than in the same bed as you right now, Kim Taehyung.”

“That can be arranged if you want it, princess.” Taehyung is done. He’s jealous, he’s pissed, and he’s exhausted, so if you want to throw out empty threats then he’ll match you vicious word for vicious word.

“Then do it,” you challenge quickly. If he wants to toss you out because you fought him so hard then that’s all the opportunity you need to disappear.

His hand comes up to slap the door, landing dangerously close to your cheek, but you aren’t afraid of him or his outburst. He curls his lip up in a sneer before he bites down on his bottom lip and takes in a deep breath to compose himself. “We can fight, we can yell and scream at each other all you want, but at the end of the day this is the bed we’ll be sleeping in. You and I, because it’s ours and I’ll be damned if you curl up elsewhere, understand?”

You swallow the lump in your throat when he presses his forehead to yours because damn it, you’re supposed to be mad at him, not craving his stupid touch. You understand perfectly well, but he doesn’t need to know that, nor does he deserve a verbal response. Shouldering past him, you spin around and hold your hand out. “I want the key. Both of them.”

“There’s two for a reason, sweetheart.” Taehyung explains, turning to lean his back against the door and crossing his arms. “If you lock yourself in here and something happens, either me or one of the guys needs to be able to get in here. In fact, for that reason, I think I’ll be giving one of the keys to the boys and keeping the original copy for myself.”

Your fingers curl against your palm and you clench your teeth. “If I could, I’d drown you, Kim.”

“I know that you’re perfectly capable of it,” he smirks and crosses the room to the bed, “yet I’m not afraid to sleep in the bed as you.”

You try to crawl onto the bed next to him, but unlike most nights, he’s chosen to occupy your usual side of the bed. You huff and try to shove him over. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Sleeping.” He pretends to yawn and bury himself into the mattress.

“I sleep on this side, Taehyung, you know that.”

“Not tonight, princess.” He smirks and closes his eyes, knowing how much you hated sleeping with your back against the wall. The bed was pressed into a corner of the very large room simply because after he moved into the room, he’d keep you pinned between him and the wall so you couldn’t run off in the middle of the night. After a few weeks, you’d complained about feeling claustrophobic and he’d relented, granting you the open side of the bed.

“I won’t do this crap again, Taehyung,” you warn with your hands on your hips after giving up on trying to move him. “Move over.”

Taehyung doesn’t say anything, instead tucking his arms behind his head and crossing his legs at the ankles to make himself comfortable. The bed dips unexpectedly and his eyes shoot open to find you swinging one leg over his frame as you settle yourself in his lap. He wastes no time in gripping your hips to keep you from falling if you lose your balance. “What are you doing?”

“You didn’t move.” You shrug your shoulders, sitting your full weight on his crotch and bunching your hair up to pull into a bun. “The only way for me to get to that side is to climb over you.”

He isn’t paying attention anymore, his hands grip you with a bruising force as your chest juts out with the way you pull your hair up. Your hips circle ever so slightly and he hisses through clenched teeth. This is payback, he realizes, and doesn’t have time to react before you’re rolling off and throwing the blankets over your body.

You hear him grumble something under his breath, but can’t tell what exactly it is. He’s angry, but it doesn’t stop him from turning on his side and snaking his arms around your waist. You nearly lose your breath when he harshly tugs your back to his chest so you push back against him in retaliation.

“You’re being a child,” he growls into your ear, “and if you plan on pushing against me all night, then you should also plan on not sleeping.”

You turn in his hold, coming face to face and bumping your nose against his. “You’re the one being a child, Taehyung. Not that you need to know, or even deserve it, but Seojun isn’t someone to be concerned about. I may not like that we’re married, but I’m not going to go out and violate the sanctity of our marriage either.”

You duck your head and nuzzle it beneath his chin before he can see the blush forming on your cheeks as you whisper, “I’m yours, Tae, no one else’s.”

He freezes and knows that if you hadn’t been embarrassed about admitting as much, then he would kiss you until you both struggled for breath. Your lashes flutter against his neck and he pulls you closer, burying his face in your hair and placing a kiss to your head.

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

Cult Girl: Doctorate (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 8

Cult girl and Hannibal go through an exhaustive list of potential adoptive couples. 

@wisesandwichshark

Trigger warning: sexual harassment, christianity, discussion of pregnancy and family planning, adoption, murder and cannibalism 

Step two: find an adoptive family.

Some would say your list of expectations for potential adoptive parents was too extensive. Impossible for any human to reach. But it was really just the bare minimum.

Regardless of if they were two men, two women, one of each, or a few people, the parents had to be trustworthy. It wasn't easy to earn Hannibal's trust, but he could recognize those who had the capacity to right away. It was a little instinct you had dubbed 'friend or food'.

On paper, the apostolic pastor and his wife of 19 years seemed like the perfect candidates. The adoption agency tried to push them on you, as they had a great track record with adopting from them prior. Three boys, all of which were honors students.

Hannibal insisted on a formal introduction, during which you could conduct a proper, though surreptitious, interview. It was an invitation to dinner.

He invited the couple into his office, where a pot of tea and an interrogation was waiting for them. Then there was you. Barely-pregnant little [F/N], feeling entirely safe so long as your fiancé was beside you.

"You're doing the right thing, y'know." The woman, who introduced herself as Mrs. Landon, said upon meeting you.

"How do you mean?" You asked, already knowing the answer.

"All god's life is precious." She said, placing a hand on your not-even-remotely-showing-yet stomach. "You're walking in obedience to the lord by giving this child a shot at life."

Strike one: bringing up religion unprompted. Strike two: touching me without asking first.

You wanted to swat her hand away, but remembered that patience was a virtue. She and her husband took a seat across from you.

"Y'know," The man began, his mannerisms eerily similar to those of his wife. "I don't usually begin with the god talk, but I think a higher power had to have been involved in the conception of this- well, our child. I'd like to think the good lord brought us together today."

Strike three: already believes he is entitled to my child. You're outta here.

"Don't flatter the adoption agency like that, Jacob." Hannibal chuckled, placing his teacup on the side table.

"I'm serious, Dr. Lecter." Jacob interjected. "Faith and I really do believe that god put us on this earth to prepare his smallest soldiers for the spiritual war."

You shot Hannibal a side glance that said 'can we please just eat them now?'.

The answer was no. Hannibal liked to play with his food.

"And your adult children have all moved out?" He asked.

"That's right." Jacob nodded. "We have plenty of room in our five-bedroom house for the new little slugger to run around in."

"And if it's a girl!" The wife interrupted. "We have enough closet space for all the denim maxi-skirts money could buy."

Strike four: arbitrarily genders the behavior of a nine-week-old embryo.

The man then returned the teacup to the table, not bothering to use the saucer and instead leaving a nasty ring of condensation on the polished mahogany.

"Okay." Hannibal huffed, resignedly rising from his seat. He pulled two hypodermic needles from his back pocket and carefully, subtly stuck them onto the couples' necks. They couldn't even scream.

The tacos al pastor that followed (after a few days of marinating, of course) were exquisite.

The next week brought a new couple to your doorstep. Frank and Angela, they were named. Their claim to fame was that their oldest son played football for one of those big southern party schools. Either Auburn or Alabama. There was hardly a difference.

You sat for what felt like hours listening to the man speak in unintelligible football babble, waiting for him to take a breath. Surprisingly, it was the mom who got him to finally shut up.

"Frank, please." She said with more frustration than this one situation even remotely warranted. Either she had enough intuition to know she was being tested, or she’d spent the last decade putting up with this. Possibly both. "You're boring our hosts to death."

"What? No way! She loves it!" Frank replied, then turned to you. Not to Hannibal, just you. “Aren’t you having a great time, sweetheart?” 

Strike one: takes advantage of the female socialization to be passive and polite, allowing himself to take up the most space.

You shook your head. “I hate football.” 

His wife looked quite pleased with herself. 

“Angie, I just wanted her to know what good breeding her son is going to have.” He said, without a lick of irony or self-awareness. He eyed you up and down and licked his lips. “And it is mutual, I see.” 

The room went quiet as everyone tried to determine whether he was serious or if it was just a fucked-up joke. The longer the silence lingered, the more you realized he wasn’t kidding. Angela looked like she wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

“I don’t know what the agency told you, Mr. Wyatt,” Hannibal said, trying not to grit his teeth. “She isn’t a surrogate. She’s already pregnant.” 

Frank’s jaw hung dumbly open. “I thought you were looking for a sperm donor? I just-” 

“No.” You cut him off, raising your hand and covering your face. “I don’t want to know what you thought.” 

“Well, I would!” Angela interjected, righteous fury eclipsing what should have been crippling embarrassment. “What exactly did you think this was, Francis?” 

“The file said that he was over fifty, so I just assumed--” Frank rationalized, his voice far too loud for the room. “Y’know? That she wanted a baby that wouldn’t come out all funny-looking?” 

“You’re disgusting.” You blurted out. 

“Francis Howard Wyatt,” Angela scolded as if she were talking to her son. “You are forty-eight and the only increasing part of your body is your blood pressure. Why on Earth would any woman choose you over her smart, handsome doctor fiancé?”

This made Hannibal sit up a little straighter. He wanted Francis on the butcher’s block yesterday, but he momentarily considered letting Angela live. 

“They’re not married?” Frank whispered, or whatever the loud-aggressive-toxic-masculinity version of whispering was. He paused, as the dead hamster on the wheel powering his brain crept back to life. “That actually makes sense.” 

Angela loudly smacked her hand against her face. “Dr. Lecter, Ms. [L/N], I am so sorry.” 

“It’s quite alright, Mrs. Wyatt.” Hannibal stood up, readying the next batch of needles. “It just makes what I’m about to do easier.” 

It took quite a bit of restraint to not make their deaths hurt, but he made up for it when it came time to carve. He had fun running his fittingly small penis through a meat grinder. Not with any intent to cook it, though. Just because. 

Hannibal wanted to make Francis Wyatt into the least dignified meal imaginable. You quickly recalled going to a friend’s barbeque in Georgia and encountering a horrendously Southern delicacy known as Frito Pie. You proposed the idea to Hannibal, who, after reviling in abject horror at the notion of eating something out of a bag, agreed that it was the most fitting end. He could spare a few pounds of flesh to grind up and make into chili. 

The third week brought yet another couple. They seemed smart enough to realize your invitation wasn't the friendly olive branch the others had interpreted it as. Their healthy skepticism was refreshing, to say the least. Then, you met them: Max and Archie.

"You'll have to forgive my partner's paranoia." Max said upon entering the house. He tugged playfully at Archie's hand. "We watched Get Out recently, so an invitation to the suburbs sounded some alarms in his sleep-deprived brain."

"I love that movie." You chimed in. "It reminds me of my family."

"Oh no." Archie's eyes widened in only half-pretend fear. He shot an I-told-you-so look in his partner's direction. 

"But my favorite horror flick has to be Midsommar." You added. "My friends and I saw a midnight screening and we didn't sleep at all that night."

"But have you seen Hereditary?" Archie posited.

"Of course." You shrugged. "Aster is totally genius."

You made more than just polite conversation with the couple. Max, despite his young age, was a skilled data analyst and day trader. He attributed his success to the hard work of his immigrant parents. Archie was an environmental lawyer and land activist. He was also a bit of a thrill junkie, indulging in everything from scary movies to bungee jumping.

It didn't take long to realize that you wouldn't be eating them. They were far too pleasant of company to eat.

"So when is this baby planning to make its entrance?" Archie asked, gesturing to you. "You don’t look all that pregnant to me."

You put your hand over your slightly-protruding stomach. "Late August, I believe. If everything goes according to plan."

"You're not far along at all, aren’t you?" Max observed. "That gives us plenty of time to prove ourselves to you."

"Believe me." You put up your hand. "You're doing a great job so far."

“If you like horror stories, we might have to indulge you in the last two encounters we had.” Hannibal commented, leaning back comfortably in his chair. That was a good sign. “No blood was spilled, thank god. Would have ruined my carpets. But believe me when I tell you it came very close.” 

The couple laughed along. Archie leaned in like he was about to tell a life-shattering secret. “You wouldn’t believe the hoops we had to jump through to even have the chance to adopt. And I don’t want to say that it’s because we’re an interracial gay couple, but...” 

“Agencies aren’t exactly colorblind.” You finished, via his prompting. 

“She gets it.” Archie pointed to you. “See, Maxie? She agrees with me.” 

Max pushed his glasses up his nose. “I never said I disagreed.” 

You spent the rest of the afternoon waiting for the conversation to take a sharp left turn off a cliff, but it didn’t happen. They were wonderful company; polite, intelligent and articulate. Exactly the kind of people you’d want to see taking care of your child. 

You’d have to look for you next meal elsewhere. 

[technowoah]

THESEUS - a dsmp story ( DreamSMP x Queen!Reader)

CHAPTER FOUR : LOOK ‘EM IN THE EYE AIM NO HIGHER, SUMMON ALL THE COURAGE YOU REQUIRE THEN COUNT!

Chapter Summary: Wilbur makes a proposition, Tommy finally gets his fight, warning shots are fired and the bomb that was planted finally went off.

pairing: c!wilbur x queen!reader

an// tbh im not that happy with this one, I hope yall like it! but hopefully Ill like chapter 6 lol

⚠︎ swearing, dsmp spoliers(?), angst, fighting, minor blood mention, not proofread. Y/N/N = your nickname

word count: 5.1k

THESEUS MASTERLIST 

"Are you sure you want to do this because Tommy is a good fighter!"

"He's also good at being annoying, so you'll die either way."

"SHUT UP YOU TWO!" 

Currently Tommy and You were by a small lake in L'Manburg facing each other with swords and guns. Fundy and Tubbo were belittling Tommy on the sidelines. Tubbo was trying to convince the both of them not to do this so they wouldn't get hurt badly before the actual war begins. Wilbur was standing in between the two and Eret nervously standing off to the side with Tubbo and Fundy.

When You arrived you explained to the three people who were there, Tubbo, Fundy, and Wilbur, that Tommy and you were going to fight that day. Tubbo and Fundy were not for that idea at all, but Wilbur approved it. After a while of thinking and conversation of course he agreed. 

Eret and Tommy arrived at L'Manburg as well and apparently Tommy already told Eret that he was fighting his wife.

"You know what Eret? I'm gonna fight your wife today! Yeah it'll be a good fight, don't worry I wont hurt her that badly."

Of course Eret did not want this duel to happen and tried to convince Wilbur to not let the two do this to one another. He was concerned about the task and hand yes, but You getting hurt or even worse, killed was not a thing he wanted not needed. Tommy was a loose cannon, he worked on impulse. You were basically fighting a bull while wearing all red.

Wilbur had pulled You aside for the second time this week and started to have a conversation with you again. It was a needed conversation so when Wilbur grabbed her arm.and pulled her away you didn't hesitate this time. As the two talked in the distance you heard Fundy yelling at Tommy about the dangers of fighting You at a time like this. Your mind was all over the place at this point.

"You know how this works?" Wilbur looked at You and Tommy.

"Yes!"

"Yes I do"

You knew what was going to happen. They both had 6 bullets in their gun, if they use all of their bullets they can use their swords instead. You were in your head at this moment. Wilbur was explaining how this duel would work to Tubbo, while You contemplated whether to waste youshot by shooting in the sky or aiming at Tommy's foot. you didn't want to hurt him at all, they had a war coming soon so hurting Tommy would not help L'Manburg. Then again, when was helping L'Manburg a part of your mission?

You snapped out of your mind and saw Tommy glaring daggers at her. He looked harmless.

"I am going to beat you." Tommy said in a voice that can be only compared to a robot.

"You wish!" You scoffed and smiled, smiled which made Tommy scoff and look away.

Wilbur spoke over the two, "ALRIGHT! You two will be back to back facing away from each other, then take ten paces. When I say "fire" you two will fire and shoot and fight until one is damaged and cannot battle anymore or until I call a draw. Understand?"

"Yes Wilbur!" Tommy exclaimed.

"Of course." You calmly said.

"Alright" Wilbur agreed and motioned for the two to turn away from each other. 

They had both touched backs and You had taken a huge deep breath. 

The dilemma in your head was still spinning. Whether to shoot him or to shoot into the air. you would be a coward wouldn't you?

"You scared?" Tommy taunted you.

"No. Just getting ready to beat your ass."

"HA! That's not gonna happen. You're all talk." 

"We'll see about that." Wilbur spoke, inserting himself into their conversation.

Wilbur had stepped back towards the group of men who sat and were watching the whole duel. There was tension in the air, they all could feel it. They all thought this was a bad idea, You thought this was a bad idea. What if this tore the whole plan apart will they ever get to-

"READY? ONE!"

They both took a step.

Aim to the sky or aim towards Tommy?

"TWO!"

Where would you aim?

"THREE!"

What would happen if Tommy ended up dead?

"FOUR!"

Would Dream be happy?

"FIVE!"

If you aim towards the sky. Tommy might shoot. you would be an open target.

"SIX!"

It would be over right? If you aim at the sky?

"SEVEN!"

Tommy.

"EIGHT!"

Up in the air.

"NINE!"

How can this end?

The sky? Tommy? Where does the bullet go?

Where do you go?

"NUMBER TEN PACES, FIRE!"

*bang!*

Tommy's eyes widened and You stood my ground.

"She shot her pistol towards the sky?!" Tubbo shouted.

Wilbur stood there with a smirk and Eret let out a sigh of relief and immediately relaxed. Tommy didn't shoot his gun at all; he looked like a deer caught in the headlights. This was the right way.

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

"I want you to shoot into the sky." Wilbur had taken you to an uninhabited part of the wall to talk.

"Why?"

Wilbur had sighed and looked over to where Tommy was gloating to Eret about dueling his wife.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, "Tommy is rather impulsive. He does things without thinking or with any concern for consequence. He says things without thinking too, as you've seen firsthand."

You nodded and laughed before Wilbur kept talking.

"I want him to hesitate. I want him to think for once. I know he wants to fight right now, he's riled up because of the battle. I expect him to shoot, but I hope that he won't. He won't." Wilbur seemed to be convincing himself this was a good idea.

"That's reassuring." You replied sarcastically.  

Wilbur rolled his eyes, "I believe he won't kill you nor harm you. At least that's the plan. I care for him. He's a good fighter and he should be able to see his opponent before going all ape shit." 

"I get it. I want to do this, but you said he works on impulse. What if he shoots?" You continued to worry.

"I'm here. And uh- Fundy is great at healing. We have healing potions in the van as well. You will not die on my watch. We need you for the war."

You nodded and continued to stare into Wilbur's brown eyes waiting for another comment from his mouth.

"Do this for me please? For us?"

You opened your mouth to speak, but Wilbur sighed before continuing his statement, 

"You don't have to do this. I should've said that first. I understand that death is scary, believe me I don't want to die either. So I can figure out another way to get to Tommy if you are uncomfortable with this."

This time it wasn't a forced situation. He was literally giving you a huge way out, an open path, but you already agreed to fight before. It wasn't like you were put into this without paths to take. you had options. Now that potions were involved and there are spectators that can act as doctors eased your nerves just slightly. you can do this.

"Or were you planning on shooting Tommy anyways?" 

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

You looked towards Wilbur and smiled warmly at him and he returned your same smile.

"WHAT THE FUCK?! YOU MADE ME LOOK LIKE THE BAD GUY! YOU-"

 "I didn't even call it a draw yet Tommy. You can still fight-" 

"It's clear that my opponent doesn't want this. If I did, I would be more of a bad guy than I already am now." Tommy dropped his gun to the green grass underneath his feet. 

You followed suit, dropping your gun onto the grass below you. You walked towards Tommy trying to find the right words at this moment. He had his head hung low looking at the gun that laid in the lush grass in front of him. You had walked towards him and put a hand on his shoulder and he began to tense up at the friendly gesture.

"Tommy, you're not a bad guy. You did the right thing at that moment. You're neutral really, if you would've shot me then yeah you would be considered "the bad guy". But in reality, there is no such thing as good or bad, there are just people with different morals." You whispered that last part and Tommy seemed to reluctantly understand, still sticking to his main idea of him being a bad guy. 

He was really stubborn, which made it harder for you to make him feel better.

"This is what I wanted Tommy! I wanted you to hesitate before you shot her." Wilbur tried to pick his spirits up by revealing his plan.

"THEN WHAT IF I SHOT HER?!" 

"you would've been fine. Plus you weren't going to brutally damage or kill Y/N right?"

Tommy stuttered a little bit before speaking, explaining himself.

"No I wasn't! My goal was at least to scare her, or graze you with my bullet." Tommy rushed.

"What if you slipped up and hit Y/N instead?" Tubbo came into the conversation leading Fundy and Eret with him.

"Then I would feel incredibly horrible that I hurt an ally." Tommy said while hanging his head. "I understand, Wilbur, I understand what today's duel was for." Tommy continued.

"To be honest, this was a last minute decision! I talked to Y/N before and we both decided it was a good idea for you. Especially when a war is coming up."

"Mhm. I am okay now. I've learned, and I just hope that I can transfer this into the war." Tommy seemed relieved, but also not wanting to learn his lesson. It was bad to assume, but it sounded like he wanted to get this lecture over with.

Wilbur humed while turning away satisfied with what happened today. He walked towards the HTO van with Fundy following suit leaving Tommy and you standing next to each other still recovering from what just happened. Eret and Tubbo were standing a few feet away from them making small glances to the two making sure they are okay.

"I still hate you." Tommy grumbled.

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

The five citizens were sitting in the meeting room making potions with the brewing machines or doing their own thing at the moment. Wilbur didn't have anything planned for today except for making many potions for battle. You were helping with potions as well. you were more skilled at potion making than battle. you can hold yourself down and maybe kill someone, but you don't recommend for herself to do that.

"Wow Y/N/N you're making potions so much faster than I am. Teach me your secrets!" Tubbo exclaimed.

"What did you call me?" You asked The boy softly.

"What do you mean? I called you Y/N/N." Tubbo said, confused.

Has Dream ever called you Y/N/N before because it seems like you've never been called that before. Tubbo was still looking quizzically at you waiting for an answer.

"I don't think I've been called Y/N/N before." You answered.

"Y/N might be uncomfortable with that." Wilbur joined into their conversation.

"Oh! I'm sorry! If that made you-"

"I'm okay! You can call me Y/N/N'' You said while waving your hands to dismiss the situation.

"Good! I thought I was being a creep or something." Tubbo laughed.

"Y/N/N HELP ME OUT WITH THESE POTIONS WILL YA?" Tommy shouted from across the room.

"Okay you don't get to call me Y/N/N." 

Tommy huffed, "If my best friend can call you Y/N/N I will too!"

"Okay children settle down." Eret said while looking up from the book he was writing.

There was another pause until Fundy had spoken.

"Today seemed like a good day huh? Even though it isn't over so far, so good eh?" Fundy tried making conversation after writing whatever enchantments in his book.

"Yes it was so far! Very surprising today." Tubbo agreed with Fundy.

"Tommy and You gave me a heart attack today. I wouldn't consider this a good day so far." Eret exhaled jokingly. He seemed in good spirits today.

"I'm sorry I gave my husband a heart attack." You taunted.

"But seriously that scared me. Thank goodness nothing happened to the both of you. I wouldn't know what I would do." Eret continued.

"You would live." You said bluntly, staring at him. 

Eret nodded at you, sending a small smile your way.

"You would've been a good fighter. Have you fought before?" Fundy inquired.

"I have fought before! I've been trained as well, I'm more into the sneaky side of things, and making potions like I am now." You cheerfully explained.

"Sneaky things?" Wilbur asked.

Your eyes widened slightly before maintaining your composure. you forgot that Wilbur was still on youtail. He thinks that You is still suspicious, so of course when you said that he would jump on the opportunity to interrogate her.

"You could be a spy for us! Maybe spy on Dream and George!" Tubbo exclaimed.

Oh the irony.

Wilbur hummed, "Maybe, that would be interesting. We could get information and they wouldn't turn her down."

"It would be too late anyways if they've seen you here so it would be a major red flag if you showed up there trying to join their team." Eret spoke up, still concentrating on writing enchantments with Fundy.

Thank God that Eret was here, You would be stumbling for the right words and then eventually blowing their cover. you had this happen too many times. They are almost to the end you have to pull back.

"True. You're right!" Wilbur agreed. "Plus we've been more productive since you two came back."

Eret and you both nodded in agreement and went back to doing their tasks.

Tubbo and You were standing together on one side of the room making potions and talking to one another until Tubbo made a quiet gasp. 

You looked at him and followed his line of gaze until you saw them again. It was Sapnap and Dream on the top of the new, enlarged L'Manburg walls. Dream pulled back his hand and whipped something toward the van. It looked metal and shiny as it bounced harshly in the grass. 

Sapnap then pulled out a bow and arrow and Dream had set it on fire. Sapnap launched the arrow into the walls and it landed by the machine that Dream had thrown. The grass around the arrow caught on fire as well, not making a huge fire but enough to scare the two.

"WILBUR! You have a gift!" Tubbo said as he rushed out of the van and You watched carefully through the window so the two wouldn't do anything to the boy.

"Where did he go?!" Wilbur yelled.

"He went outside to grab the metal thing Dream and Sapnap threw." You said keeping an eye on Tubbo as he came back into the van.

Wilbur rushed towards the window where Aryia was stationed and looked towards the top of the wall where Dream and Sapnap were. Dream took one last final glance at the two in the window then turned away to jump down the wall with Sapnap following suit.

"Guys you might want to take a look at this." Tubbo said while placing the metal thing, which was an old answering machine, on the table.

Wilbur sighed, clearly exhausted with everything that had been going on. He sat down on the edge of the table. Tubbo pressed play on the machine and the recording started.

"Tommy, and Wilbur, and the rest of L'Man-child-burg. We are at war. There is no mercy. We have burned down Tubbo's house, we have planted TNT cannons around your land, we have cobblestone walled the outside, we have shot one warning shot inside your walls. WE HAVE NO MERCY, NO MERCY FOR YOU! We will burn down your houses! We will kill everything inside your walls and we will take back the land that is rightfully ours. If you do not surrender I WANT TO SEE WHITE FLAGS! WHITE FLAGS OUTSIDE YOUR BASE BY TOMORROW AT DAWN, OR YOU ARE DEAD!"

*beep~* 

There was a long beep until Tubbo shut off the recorded message. Everyone was silent looking at each other for the next move. Everyone either had a face of anger or one of concern. Eventually everyone turned to Wilbur who had his head down, his hair slightly covering his eyes in a thinking pose. We were waiting for a response from the leader, but it didn't seem like anyone had a response to this situation.

"Hey lets just-"

"Grab me a book and a pen" Wilbur spoke.

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

It's been about an hour since we last received the message. The sun has gone down and they are all still sitting around the meeting table. 

"What do we get? What's the report?" Wilbur asked.

Tommy started, "Okay so here's the situation, the ‘Dream boys' they're on the roof, they've already killed me and Tubbo once, they feel like they got their power. Their egos are up-" 

"They've taken it all." Tubbo added.

"I don't know man, what do you think we've got to do now? Ultimately you're the leader here." Tommy asked the older man.

Wilbur paused before speaking, "I think, the element of surprise is needed. We can't go in just guns blazing."

"My son, how are you doing?" Wilbur asked Fundy.

Fundy stuttered before speaking, "I could've been better."

Wilbur smiled then opened the book he had been writing in for the past hour.

"Before we go into battle though-

"WORDS OVER WEAPONS MY FRIEND!" Tommy interrupted Wilbur

"My gents and m'lady, may I read you the Declaration of Independence?" 

Wilbur had started to read through the Declaration complementing the writers who wrote lines in the book. He began reading the main parts of the book.

"When in the course of human events it becomes necessary for-"

"Wilbur" Tommy interrupted Wilbur again

"Yes what, what?" Wilbur asked annoyed

"They're surrounding us, Wilbur." 

Tommy stood up looking out of the window at the many fiery arrows making their way towards the van and making the grass around the van catch on small fires.

From inside the van it looked like rain from hell. All the fears you once had came flooding back into your mind. you put herself right in front of the greatest fighters, and assassins in the kingdom and you might not make it out alive. 

Wilbur started to head out of the door trying to face his opponents. They all were putting themselves out there exiting the van as fast as they could like a huge target. Speaking of target, an arrow shot by Sapnap landed too close for comfort next  to Wilbur. He seemed un phased at this.  

"They're not the best shot." Wilbur turned his back on the archers and stood in the doorway to the group inside.

Wilbur began to yell at the archers, "Gentlemen how are you!?" 

"Good!" Dream replied bluntly.

Surprisingly they could hear both of each other. 

"Do you like the view of our nation!?" Wilbur asked as he smirked.

"Oh God!" Tubbo exclaimed, worried because of the taunting Wilbur was doing.

"We might be a little out gunned here gentlemen." Eret said softly to the others while placing a hand on your shoulder in a comforting way.

"I thought this was a trailer park!" Dream shouted back. 

"Very funny, listen. It seems like you've gained the upper hand in people! We will meet you in the field, but on our own terms!" Wilbur concluded.

"YEAH!" Tommy shouted at the archers hyping Wilbur up.

The rest laughed at Tommy's antics trying to keep it together.

"Please stop making things worse!" Tubbo laughed.

Another arrow was shot at Wilbur's feet. He was clearly stunned by this, turning to the rest of the L'Manburgians he spoke to them.

"We armor up gents." Wilbur said, walking away.

Just as he walked away Tommy followed Wilbur outside of the van and then an arrow was shot into Tommy's bicep by George. Tommy yelled in anger and in pain, and the rest followed suit yelling in shock. Tommy clutched the arm that the arrow had found its way into, he tried to keep it together as he fell to his knees. You rushed to Tommy's side trying to take the arrow out carefully and heal him. He kept on shielding his arm away from you and kept babbling incoherent nonsense about “leaving him alone” too.

"It's okay! I'm fine! I'm fine! Don't worry!" Tommy kept shouting.

"You're not fine Tommy, let me help!" You yelled and he finally succumbed to you.

You slowly pulled out the arrow and used bandages that Eret had rushed to give you to wrap around his arm carefully. Throughout this whole process Tommy had a face of discomfort and pain until you had successfully bandaged his upper arm so no blood would seep through. Later on you would have to tend to his wounds more delicately.

"Just stay inside!" Fundy yelled in a hurried tone and was angry at the fact someone had already gotten hurt.

This would've been the outcome of the duel if you hadn't followed Wilbur's orders. Either way he would've been injured. Of course they would go for Tommy. Wilbur's right hand man. It was bound to happen. 

You and the rest of the men were clad in netherite or diamond armor and they surrounded Wilbur waiting for another order.

"Tommy I'm putting you in charge of this army." Wilbur said.

Your eyes widened. Didn't Wilbur just say he acted on impulse. This was a bad idea. you were going to die at the hands of the people who gave this opportunity to you.

Wilbur continued, "No matter what happens during this war, no matter who wins and who loses. Just remember that we're on the right side of history."

You have heard that before. What side of history was you on? They have rubbed off on you of course, but with different morals coming from both sides, whose morals do you fit with? If you die, will you be painted in the wrong manner? Are you on the right side as you stand with Eret and Fundy in L'Manburg? Is there even a right side?

"Up the walls we go!" Tommy exclaimed as the group climbed the ladder over the walls.

Your heart was pounding as Tommy led the way towards their next destination. This was going to be very interesting.

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

Tommy led us to the destination where the other warriors were on top of a small tower looking down on the L'Manburgians.

"God- whatever we do, don't go up the tower." Tubbo exhaled. 

"We have to get them down to our level. We have to get them to come down on their own accord." Wilbur commanded.

"Those bastards." Tommy said as an arrow made of fire was shot precisely onto the ground.

The floor began to rumble as the ground cracked and smoke began to rise beneath you revealing the red, fiery TNT that blew up from beneath them breaking the very ground and dirt they stood on making everyone lose their balance. Everyone started screaming, scrambling to get away from the constant chain of TNT slipping and falling on the debris, and the crevices that formed. You had started to run faster,and faster, sometimes you fell to your knees because of the ground shaking and breaking underneath you. You couldn’t look back but you heard screaming and you could only hope and pray no one fell into the big canyon the TNT made behind you. Your mind was not catching up your feet as you blindly followed Tommy into his own home, cutting around the whole kingdom. The rest followed close behind making their way into the house. 

Their clothes were tattered and dirty, singes from the fire were on their war uniforms and armor. As they scrambled for safety the arrows kept coming, hitting the house and the ground outside of it. You felt like this was it for you, your first friends, your enemies shooting arrows of fire at you through your so-called enemies house. You had to stay alive though, keep up the act, but right now you didn't really have to keep an act up because you were actually scared for your life.

The grass in front of Tommy's house was burning while the men gave Tommy all of their arrows. Wilbur commanded them to hail them with arrows. Arrows began burning through the walls breaking into their safe haven. To escape this situation Wibur had told all of them to scatter and make it harder for the archers to shoot them. They all did just that, playing on the defensive dodging the arrows that were hurled towards their way. 

Eventually the archers jumped off of the tower retreating towards a nearby river. The L'Manburgians currently had the high ground and You started shooting with arrows purposefully missing so you wouldn't hurt them.

"They are heading to Ponk's tower!" Tommy shouted.

You looked up to one of the highest towers in the kingdom. Damn.

"In that case we need to start heading towards Ponk's tower!" Tubbo yelled, ceasing his arrows trying to get the rest of them to follow his lead.

The men followed Tommy through his shortcuts to get to the base of Ponk's tower faster. Fundy went forward shooting at the others at the base of the tower. You, Eret, Tommy and Tubbo followed Fundy and started shooting and dodging as well. 

For now they have retreated towards the walls of L'Manburg hiding slightly below the top. Wilbur was there at first then the rest of the groups followed. The arrows couldn't reach them and the boys cheerfully pointed that fact out. Soon they had started slowly retreating as the sun went down in the distance. You sighed and cheered with the rest of the men that they finally stopped fire. Your heart still beating fast you looked behind you towards Eret sending each other a knowing glance.

The rest were cheering and complimenting each other until Eret spoke up.

"Gentlemen, I think we need to go back to our home." Eret said.

"I think you're right, Eret." Tommy agreed happily.

They made their way back to L'Manburg into the night with Tommy leading them for the last time tonight. Tommy and Wilbur were playfully bickering through the whole walk back to L'Manburg. It was a fun time filled with laughter and it was much needed after that whole war. Even though they all were beaten and tattered with burn marks and scratches, they kept smiling. It's crazy to think about.

The fun ended for you as they reached their destination. The extended walls of L'Manburg were in their sights and your heart rate picked up even more than it had before. This is the end. 

"Gentlemen in L'Manburg I have a secret weapon." Eret says, sparking a new conversation.

"What is it?" You asked playing dumb. 

"What is it?" Wilbur asked asked as well

"A secret weapon!?" Tubbo exclaimed.

"I feel like Eret is just going to pull out a giant missile." Fundy joked around and your breath hitched. If only they knew.

"But seriously, what do you mean you got a secret weapon?" Tommy spoke fast.

"I've been grinding for equipment, I've been grinding materials." Eret said not to give it away.

"Show us please!" Tommy exclaimed as they all entered L'Manburg once more today.

You joined in as well, "I haven't seen any of this show us Eret!"

You hated lying to them.

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

"This is the final control room for you too!" Dream yelled with excitement showing the beautiful dark room. 

The chests were empty, there was a button on top of a podium, and there was a secret room where Dream and the rest would be hiding after the war. The plan was simple enough on paper. The two countries would fight until sun down and then Eret would lead the L'Manburgians to the final control room where he would press the button and then The citizens of L'Manburg would be killed and a life would be taken from them.

Dream has taught You about the life limit. Everyone in the kingdom had three lives and if all three lives were taken, there is no coming back. you felt weary taking away someone's life.

"This is where the battle will end." Dream said calmly

Currently it was just Eret and You with Dream. Dream kept explaining the mechanics of the room while they both listened. You kept slipping in and out of your mind at the moment.

This would be the end, he said. It will all come to an end and you will finally find your place in the huge kingdom. you can finally have closure. It will all come to an end.

"You two are on the right side of history, don't worry. Cause if you do this you'll be doing the kingdom a huge favor."

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

"This way." Eret led the group into the final control room.

The men were astonished about the huge tunnel entrance to the room. They continue to rush down the tunnel to catch up to Eret.

"I'm excited to show you!" Eret cheerfully said as he walked. "They will never suspect a thing!" 

They all ended up in the final control room. You made sure to stand next to Eret making sure that they stayed together. you knew where to leave and when the button was pressed but you had a few minutes to play it off.

"WHAT?"  

"This is so cool!"

"What is this place?!"

"There's nothing in the chests." Wilbur said bluntly, as he turned to us still crouching because he opened the chests.

"Eret?" Tubbo asked.

Eret pressed the button and then the wall behind Wilbur opened and revealed Dream, Sapnap, George and Punz. The men started to scream in shock. They were getting attacked. Blood was being spilled and fire was burning down the whole final control room. Eret grabbed your hand pulling you to a secret wall, opening it to reveal stairs that led out of the final control room trying to protect you from getting hurt.

The L'Manburgians fought anyone they saw, but the others knew who specifically to kill. As the L'Manburgians fought for their lives you heard Wilbur yell out over all of the chaos.

"A TRAITOR! GET OUT GET OUT!"

Were you a traitor? Yes you were. They died. The fire around their bodies began to calm as their murders stood over their bodies breathing heavily. There was an orange and purple tint to the room. It looked unreal. This was it. Their bodies began to glow a light blue color and disintegrate showing that one of their lives was taken that day. This was the closure you wanted, but why did it feel like an unfinished symphony? Like it reached the climax of the song then ended.

It's over

Eret saluted to their disintegrating bodies and you followed suit.

"Down with the revolution boys! It was never meant to be."

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

Wilbur's POV

"Eret how could you?" We sat on the burnt grass of L'Manburg waiting for one another to show up from being killed. 

This was what I suspected from the beginning. Sadly this is what I suspected from the beginning.

"Hey where's Y/N?!" Tubbo whipped his head frantically looking for her.

"They were a traitor as well." Fundy said sadly.

Tommy and Eret were facing each other. Tommy in L'Manburg's walls and Eret standing a few feet outside of them. It was a beautiful picture at this moment, very symbolic. 

Tubbo was talking to Eret in a distraught voice before Tommy had interrupted him. "Eret listen to me! And I mean this in the nicest way possible. You fucked up." Tommy said harshly to Eret.

Eret only smirked at this like the madman he is and spoke around him, "farewell gentlemen." And he left us in our ruins.

I had such high hopes for the two of them. Especially Y/N. I knew they were trying to find their home, their place in this huge world. Maybe they'll find it with Dream. That's not what I would've wanted, but they might want to stay there. they'll be back, they'll find their home soon.

"We'll meet again. I know you."

taglist: @hi-imuwu​

[flameohotwife]

Okay, #41 for the fluff prompt!! (I feel so powerful, hahaha!)

41. "Darling, I love you and all but please step out of the kitchen."

This turned... long! And sad-ish in parts, so I'm sorry! Maybe more hurt/comfort? But there is still fluff. I hope you enjoy!

Rated T. 2.2k words.

“Aang? Have you seen the dumpling pan?” Katara was crouched down, head and shoulders deep in the cupboard, looking for the right pan to crisp the dumplings she was planning on making for dinner. Her husband was flitting about, albeit slower than he once could, on the other side of the kitchen with what she assumed were fruit pie ingredients for dessert. The original Team Avatar were travelling to Air Temple Island from all over the world in a few hours to celebrate the 50th anniversary of the war ending, and their 50th anniversary together. They always tried to get together the week they’d met in Ba Sing Se at the Jasmine Dragon to remember what they’d lost, and to see how far they’d come. Though Aang and Katara hadn’t gotten married until several years after the war, they always counted that day on the balcony as their anniversary, as the only thing that had truly changed with their marriage was the world’s recognition of their relationship and its permanence. They were devoted and dedicated from the very beginning. Perhaps even before that.

“Oh, I’ve got it over here, Sweetie,” Aang called back to her. She jumped up, almost bashing her head on the top of the cupboard before wriggling properly out to stand and face him. Even in his old age he still maintained a certain twinkle in his eye when he was up to something, and Katara’s hands flew to her hips when she saw it.

“What are you doing with my dumpling pan?” she asked, warily.

“I thought I’d cook tonight,” Aang replied, though his hand rubbed the tattoo on the back of his neck tellingly. “I wanted to add some Air Nomad dishes to the menu. Sokka will be bringing some Water Tribe food already, Toph and Suki will have Earth Kingdom, and Zuko and Mai will bring Fire Nation… I just thought I’d add something of my own in.”

Katara’s throat caught for a moment, as it always did when she remembered. His loss always felt bigger on anniversaries, though his grief was an ever-present emotion. It rose and fell like the tides, but was always there, under the surface. Most people saw his smiling face and kind, loving spirit and forgot that there were only two airbenders in the world and why. That Aang had actually known and loved so many of the ones Sozin had murdered. He masked his pain well, but took that mask off around Katara from time to time, when he needed to.

“Sweetie,” she began, stepping forward to grasp his wrinkled hands. “Oh Aang, I was going to make Air Nomad food, too. I would never leave you out like that.” Her tone wasn’t defensive, only calm and reassuring, as she rubbed gentle circles on the blue arrows that adorned the backs of his hands with her thumbs. She wanted to remind him with her touch that his grief didn’t have to be his alone to bear. That she would remember his people with him. Just as she had taught their children old Air Nomad fairytales when they were small, and celebrated their holidays with him, and learned to cook their food. Katara was Water Tribe through and through, but her soul was bound to an Air Nomad. Moreover, she was bound to Aang, and she always felt his loss. Even when he hid it well.

Aang melted into her, then. A hug that was so deeply meaningful it was reminiscent of the one they’d shared on Iroh’s balcony, but with all the weight of his pain crushing down on them along with that promise of love and acceptance. It was as though through this hug she was able to share that weight with him, so she held him tighter. Half a century after learning about the deaths of his people, sometimes the wound still felt fresh, and Katara was always the healing balm to whatever ailed him, even when she knew she could never heal it completely.

Katara stroked his back lovingly with one arm as he clung to her. She waited for his breathing to even out, for his muscles to relax. Waited for a sign that she had taken enough of his grief that he could function again. Finally, he moved his head to kiss her sweetly. It was wet, and salty, but his movements were lighter again. She moved her hands to his face, wiping his tears as she pulled him closer, and he deepened the kiss, wrapping his arms fully around her waist and pressing against her.

“Thank you,” he whispered. He knew his grief was never hers to bear, and yet she did so willingly and with so much love. He could never thank her enough for the way she cared for him when he hit his lowest points. He wasn’t sure he could have made it without her. Sometimes the weight on his shoulders was so heavy he felt like he would sink without her unending love and support buoying him up, keeping him afloat.

“You’re not alone, Sweetie. Never.” Katara continued to caress his face as she looked into his sparkling, sad eyes.”Do you want me to help? I can make the dumplings and the butter tea. I never quite mastered the tofu but I could try if you want…”

Aang silenced her with another kiss. “You’re wonderful,” he said, pressing his lips to hers again. “The best wife, partner, and friend in existence.” Yet another kiss. “I think I’ve got it from here. Why don’t you take a break before everyone gets here?”

Katara laughed, not quite knowing what to do with herself. She reluctantly removed her hands from her husband and settled on making herself some tea and sitting at the kitchen table to observe him. Even though he was aging, Katara still enjoyed watching him when she had a moment, whether it was bending practice, or working hard on something, or even something as simple as cooking. She still appreciated the lithe way his body moved, the smooth, airy motions he made, the way his tongue stuck out when he was concentrating…

She sat back in her chair, grinning over her teacup as she watched him chop vegetables and boil water and roll dough. Sometimes observing him do the most trivial things—like cooking dinner for friends, or braiding their daughter’s hair when she was small, or working in the garden—reminded her how lucky she was to have him in her life. He was the Avatar after all. He could have maids and cooks and servants and never lift a domestic finger in his life, but that was never in Aang’s nature. And he could have chosen anyone as his companion, but he had always and only ever chosen her. Over and over. It was somehow both humbling and assuring all at once.

After some time, she rose from her seat, walking behind him to wrap her arms around him, reveling in his warmth. She couldn’t see the smile on Aang’s face, but she knew it was there when he pressed one arm over her interlocking ones, squeezing lightly with his hand.

She leaned up to press a light kiss to the back of his neck.

“You’re awfully distracting, you know,” Aang chided. He turned in her arms to peck her on the nose. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. It’s been a while since I’ve gotten to watch you cook. I forgot how much I enjoy it.” She gave him a very pointed look and he laughed heartily.

“Well, by all means, enjoy the show,” he said, wiggling his hips for her benefit as he extricated himself from her grip to keep working. Katara giggled. She was about to return to her seat when she noticed the clutter Aang was leaving in the kitchen as he worked, and decided to help him by tackling some of that so he could focus on the food.

When Katara cooked, she was very methodical. Every ingredient, pot, pan, and chopstick had its place, and was immediately returned to that place when she had finished with it. She knew if she didn’t keep up with the mess as she worked, it would pile up to the point that she would feel overwhelmed at the end, so she tidied continually. Aang, on the other hand, was much more impulsive in his cooking. He would think of an ingredient to add mid-stir, and leave the remnants on the counter, never quite sure if he might want to add more later. He would wait to clean up all the messes at once.

There was a time in their marriage where this had driven Katara crazy. The kids were still very young at the time, and the extra mess on top of the cacophony of kid-sounds and clutter and Momo swooping around the house would become too much, so she would constantly buzz around him, taking things and washing and putting them away before he was even finished with them. He would turn around for more of an ingredient and find it wrapped up in the icebox. More than once, he had had to take Katara by the shoulders, kiss her gently, and exclaim, “Darling, I love you and all, but please step out of the kitchen.”

Now, much like in other parts of their relationship, she had learned which parts of the mess to let be, and which ones she could handle that would actually help him. She sat up with him at night while he transcribed ancient Air Nomad texts and histories; her presence a comfort as he worked through it all and felt the loss more keenly. Tenzin joined him now, of course, when he was home, but Aang still felt more able to work through his grief when she stayed too. When they were younger, she had sewn Air Nomad clothes for Aang and for the acolytes, and eventually taught the acolytes to make them herself not because Aang couldn’t sew or teach them, but because it was one of the things that they both could do. Something that she could take off of his already over-heaped plate.

They balanced each other. He was her rock on full-moon nights or when she missed her parents or when her emotional storm was raging. He was her center of calm when she was worried about the kids or about the world. But today, Aang needed her. So she washed the used dishes for him to use again if needed, and cleared the wrappings for him, being sure to leave the ingredients on the counter. She made sure to give him gentle touches as they worked; a hand to the small of his back as she passed him, a bump of the hip as they worked side by side. Loving smiles and stolen kisses as the afternoon sun fell lower in the sky.

Eventually their friends would arrive and they would be able to laugh and joke and remember together. There would be group hugs and arm-punches and happy sounds and smells would fill their home as they reminisced. Through all of it, Aang would sneak looks across the table at Katara, with a special smile reserved for her. Fifty years! They’d made it fifty years together, in no small part because of everything they had learned through their struggles as they grew together. Because of the weights and grief they shared with one another instead of bearing them alone.

“I may be old, Twinkletoes, but I can still feel your heartbeat when you look at Sugarqueen like that,” Toph jabbed as Aang snuck another glance at his wife. “How can you two be together for fifty years and still act as disgusting as when we were teenagers? I’m not going to have to pull you out of a linen closet at the official event tomorrow, am I? Because we are all too old for that.”

Knowing that she still sent his heart a-flutter the way he did to her warmed Katara’s old bones from head to toe, and she sent a look of her own towards her husband. Aang’s face reddened.

“Oh, no,” groaned Sokka. “Oogies! I’m out.” He rose from the table, pulling Suki along with him. “Dinner was great guys, and I’d like to keep it in my stomach, thanks. So, we’ll see you all in the morning when the kids get here?”

“Sounds good,” replied Zuko as he and Mai rose to join them. “We should probably turn in anyway. It’s getting late.” Aang and Katara stood as well to accompany their guests to the door before everyone went their separate ways.

“Thanks for a wonderful evening as always, guys,” Suki added as she hugged them both goodbye. “Try not to wear yourselves out too much tonight, hmm? It’s not as easy to recover as it used to be and we have a busy day tomorrow.”

Katara feigned shock at her sister-in-law’s tease but Aang only blushed further as Sokka faked retching and promptly exited with their friends. Aang was always so open about his emotions and intentions when it came to Katara, whether or not he intended to be. She simply smirked back up at him and took him by the hand, waving to everyone one last time before pulling him back to their bedroom. And, maybe they were a little extra tired the next day, but it was worth it. Loving each other through the many ups and downs of a lifetime together would always be worth it. Even when Toph berated them for it outside a linen closet door.

[anika-ann]

Conundrum (A.B.)

Type: One-shot, challenge fic

Pairing: Andy Barber x fem!reader    Word Count: 7700 (:

Summary: conundrum - a confusing and difficult problem or question

Andy Barber is a difficult man whom you have yet to understand. He certainly doesn’t make it any easier; and right before Christmas, he manages to surprise you again.

Prompt: You have to look for a gift impromptu

Warnings: a smidge of angst, a drop of awkward humour, mention of death (mild AU - both Laurie and Jacob!), alcohol consumption, feels, explicit language, reader gets called a dumbass... that’s it I hope, lemme know

A/N:  This is my submission for the Happy Hoelidays challenge. There’s no hoeing tho, shame on me. Also, if you want some music to go with this, know that I listened to ‘God I Hope This Year Is Better Than the Last’ by SYML an obscene amount of times.

Andy Barber was an enigma.

Reporters liked to think he wasn’t; almost a year ago, they tore down all the walls he had built up to protect the privacy of his family and they shed light into startingly intimate details of his life – and where they couldn’t shed light, they used their imagination and sold it with a claim of having a reliable source. Naturally, it worked; there were always people willing to believe it just so they obtained more of juicy gossip material.

There were wanabe psychologists who would address his trauma and tried to analyse his personality, the consequences he would suffer in the aftermath of the tragedy, who attempted to strip down his soul just to get a few more reads and generally talked about him as if they were best friends, as if they knew him.

It was all a load of bullshit.

The truth, you thought, was that no one knew him. If you were being honest, you weren’t sure if even his wife ever had, truly – but that was you under the influence of the little information you bothered to gather from the influx of crap that the media provided the public with.

What you believed was that the reporters and all the self-proclaimed experts on him knew nada.

Andrew Barber was and always would remain an enigma; to the public, to the little what remained of his family after the death of his wife and son, to his co-workers – the category which included you. If you could even call yourself a co-worker; you were simply a secretary. Granted, one whose previous employer let her peek over their shoulder quite a bit so you learned a thing or two about law, but Andy Barber was the lawyer. The former DA from Boston, who moved over to rule the DA office of Portland, your home.

Even after having been working with him for nine full months, Andy’s thoughts and feelings didn’t get any easier for you to read or predict. When he wanted to let you know he was disappointed, he did. When he was truly angry with someone, well, he wouldn’t let it go unnoticed either.

Other than that, however, you would have had better luck trying to decode the actual enigma-encrypted messages sent during World War II.

Small talk didn’t last longer than three sentences from you each. Work-related affaires were discussed in his office with politeness and with calm, rather dispassionate mannerism. If you caught a hint of a smile when an important case that helped people went his way (or the office’s way really), you considered it a miracle that sent your heart reeling.

He would sometimes smile only for you if you brought him a coffee without him asking first, simply because he looked like he needed one; at those times, he would thank you softly and let slip in your first name instead of referring to you with your last. Those were your favourite moments.

Well, almost.

You found him with a tumbler and an expensive whiskey on occasion when you were leaving the office late; you never commented on it, but there were four times he actually silently invited you to have a glass with him. You refused the first time and accepted the other three.

Those nights, you got a glimpse of the mystery of a man hidden behind surprisingly soft mannerism, one which was in such a sharp contrast to his shark-like demeanour he displayed in front of the judge and the jury. His scars ran deep, his hopes had been shattered, his life in the past year as bitter as the overpriced liquor. Your heart cracked for him to the point of nearly breaking altogether.

And yet, it was beating for him too; behind all that hurt, you couldn’t but notice certain gentleness. Yes, he could be scary, downright terrifying and when his temper got the best of him, the true rage on display, he was a force to be reckoned with. But oh, that gentleness. The kind shattered soul he hid so well every morning, more so on the days right after your little heart-to-hearts. Trying to build a working relationship with him – a friendship of a sort, anything you wanted to call it – was a game of push and pull and more of a string of guesses than an effort that would bore fruit.

You might have already given up on that and instead, with the ferocity you hadn’t known you possessed, you kept punching the crush you had on him; that silly thing that would always call louder and louder after he revealed a piece of him on one of the precious nights, only to shut you out completely the next morning.

Andy Barber had never even remotely showed a romantic interest in you and by God, did you not blame him for not being interested in anyone at all as far you knew. While you considered yourself a fairly capable worker and half-decent person, you were aware you could never measure up to him. Just another reason to push down the feelings you had for him, ones that seemed to bloom with more intensity whenever he raised the corners of his damn lips, when he asked a question about you during those stupid nights as if he cared— nonsense. You had to get rid of those. He didn’t even like you, barely acknowledged you in the end. Or did he? You honestly didn’t know.

Bottom line was that if you couldn’t get close enough, then the reporters knew jack shit, no matter how much reading on him they had done or how many books on psychology, criminology and law and shit they went through. Many people knew Andrew Barber’s name, but no one could hope to know him.

And yet, those assholes still called and asked about him.

It was the fourth one that day; December 23rd, over a year from the accusation of Jacob Barber, and those fucking vultures still called Andy Barber’s office. They weren’t even good newspapers and news sites anymore; obviously, because every rational decent person would have let the poor man rest. But nope. Not them.

“Portland’s DA office, secretary of Mr. Barber speaking. How may I help you?”

“Oh, wonderful! Is there any chance I could talk to Mr. Barber personally?” the chipper of a man asked on the other end of the line and just by not giving his name, he raised suspicion; was it forgetfulness caused by his distress or intention?

Fortunately for him and unfortunately for you, you had to be polite. Hot-shot lawyers and other important people rarely returned the courtesy, but that was the world you lived in.

“There might be, Mr-?”

“Oh, Connor. Peter Connor.”

“Well, Mr. Connor, what is your legal issue?” you asked patiently, writing down his name automatically.

“Well, you see, I would rather talk with Mr. Barber about—my delicate situation, in private.”

Your eyes narrowed as you stopped scribbling and spared a brief glance towards the door to Andy’s office. It was opened ajar in what could be an invitation, but all blinds on both the door and the windows were down in typical fashion.

Talk in private?

Yeah, not gonna happen. You knew a few tricks that these assholes calling the office tended to pull and whoever this man was, you were growing more suspicious by the minute that he was not seeking legal advice.

You went back to your notes and wrote down the word liar right next to his name and a question mark. Was he a liar? One way to find out you guessed; you caught your phone between your ear and your shoulder, opening a new tab in your browser to google the name along with a wild guess of him being a reporter.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Connor, I’m afraid I will need more information before I put you through. And I will probably need to make you an appointment, my boss is a very busy man-“

“Oh, is he? Lots of cases in Andrew Barber’s new district, huh?”

The blood in your veins was set aflame even before the search was done, because in an instant, you knew for sure.

And then you had it confirmed by the results.

This jerk had even given you his real name, utterly shameless. Sure, he could have only had the same name as the journalist you found, but what were the chances? Two days after you told his colleague – who had made it through your vetting, got an appointment and even got past the reception desk before you spotted him for what he was – to get lost and not try again?

Your pulse skyrocketed along with your blood pressure. Technically, you didn’t owe Andrew Barber anything, but he was respectful enough, didn’t make much trouble and for most time, was an okay boss to you.

You owed him this much: he was a decent guy. Why couldn’t other people show a shed of basic human decency too and leave him the fuck alone?

“That depends, Mr. Connor,” you purred, barely holding the outrage locked inside. You felt both energized by your anger and achingly tired and done with humanity. You rested your elbows on the desk and leaned onto it with a sigh, massaging the bridge of your nose, eyes closed. “Is he going to have to sue your rag of a newspaper or will you and your colleagues finally get the memo and leave. His. Personal. Life. Alone?!”

You most definitely strained the last words through your teeth, but you didn’t care anymore if you were being rude. He was the fourth reporter today ready to ask about Andy’s personal matters. The FOURTH!! He was lucky you didn’t tell him to go fuck himself… explicitly.

“Are you threatening me?” the man demanded, his voice insulted, losing all traced of pretence.

As if you ever. You knew better than that, working with lawyers.

“Nice try, Mr. Connor.  I will thank you to never call this office again unless you have legal issues or a relevant question which you should direct to our PR department anyway. And if you could extend this to all editorial staff, please, preferably to all editorial staff in the United States, that would be splendid. Have a good day. Happy Holidays.”

You slammed the phone down, missing the slot for it, not caring. You were sure he would hang up on his own.

“Asshole,” you muttered under your breath and hid your face in your palms, grunting, fingertips sinking into your hair.

“I hope you don’t mean me,” sounded from the doorway and you yelped, honest to god yelped and straightened in your seat, head snapping up-

-only to meet your boss’ curious gaze. Hurt and anger casted shadows over his beautiful cerulean irises, but there was no mistaking the melancholy and resignation on his face either.

“Of course not!” you blurted out quickly, panic rising in your chest.

How much had he heard? Was he going to fire you for being unprofessional? Did he figure out what was this about— of course he did, there was little room left for doubt. Your choice of words was pretty straightforward.

Andy bounced off of the doorframe he was leaning onto, not easing his stance – his arms remained crossed over his chest and had you not been so alarmed, you would have indulged in the sight of his biceps nearly cutting through the seams of his shirt.

“Why do I get the impression that whoever you were talking to was not the first person to call the office to feed on ‘the misery man’ that Andrew Barber is?” he more stated than asked, his tone unmistakably bitter.

You gulped as he approached your desk, nails digging into your palms. You had no idea what to say. Once again, you couldn’t quite read Andy; you had no idea where this was heading and how you should answer without setting him off, making him sadder or even more bitter. And without getting fired, obviously.

“I—uhm, well, I suppose you heard me, so you know he wasn’t the first—Mr. Barber. I apologize-“ His eyebrows rose a fraction and you didn’t dare to analyse why. “-if I was too loud. But--- humanity sucks.”

The moment the last two words left your mouth, you instantly regretted them, snapping your eyelids close and squeezing. You were sure you were about to have bloody crescents in your palms from your nails at this point.

Did you really just say that? To your boss, no less?

Way to go, me.

“Not wrong there. Why don’t you take your lunch break now?” he offered casually.

You nodded as you felt the tell-tale burn of tears forming in your eyes; fuck, this was humiliating. Why had he had to walk in exactly in that moment? And now using that tone?

He didn’t say anything else and you didn’t dare to look at him. Only when you heard him walk back to his office and close the door behind him, you opened your eyes and released the breath you were holding, your heart hammering in your chest.

Gulping and swallowing your tears before they could escape, you grabbed your purse and your coat, rushing out to the cold air of Portland winter.

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Andy didn’t bring up the incident again when you came back. You had a short list of assignments for the upcoming days off which you went over with him before parting ways for the holidays. You mentioned you would probably drop in tomorrow despite not necessarily having to, but wished him Happy Holidays in case you’d miss him during your brief visit.

The corners of his lips twitched at that, but he wished you the same. You supposed his holidays weren’t about to be happy – more like the opposite. Last year, he celebrated with his family, even if it might have been already falling apart. This year however…

Your heart cracked another fraction for the man and you wondered if you should leave some cookies for him in the office tomorrow at least. Then you realized he would probably hate it, either being bitter about feeling like a charity case or hating the reminder of what he had lost, what wasn’t waiting for him at home anymore. Not to mention that maybe even the poinsettia, which you had placed on his office window two days ago and neither of you commented on, was already too much.

The only cookies you baked that night were the ones you knew should stay in a box with apples for over a day, the cookies you were supposed to bring to your sister’s house for Christmas, because your nephew Harry loved them.

With cheesy Christmas songs in the background and a bottle of wine for the party of one, you kneaded the double batch of dough and couldn’t but spare your achingly handsome and likely lonely boss a thought and maybe… maybe a tear or two.

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The office was empty when you arrived on 24th at around half past four; everyone left as soon as possible, which was to be expected. Admittedly, despite not knowing what you would talk about with Andy, you found your heart sinking when you didn’t see light peeking through the blinds of your and his offices. You had expected him to be working to avoid being at home; but then again, you knew next to nothing about him. Maybe he was with a girlfriend. With a boyfriend. With former colleagues. With his deceased wife’s family. It was only assumption of yours that he might be lonely on Christmas.

You shook your head at your train of thought as you unlocked your office, mentally going over which files you needed to bring home, trying to eliminate the amount as not to endanger confidential information by taking them away from the safety of the bureau.

You froze in your tracks when you found a rather large piece of paper folded into a roof on your desk. A note, you realized, frowning and slowly walking to the suspicious object.

There were very few people who could enter your space, namely three: the janitor, you and Andy. The first option was unlikely, the second impossible, the third confusing. You didn’t understand why he wouldn’t just shoot you a text if he needed anything.

You halted in your steps, the air knocked out of your lungs when you noticed that the note was not the only new item on your desk.

There was a box.

A box roughly size of your extended palm. And if you weren’t mistaken… it looked like a jewellery gift box.

“What the hell?” you asked yourself breathlessly, your curiosity getting the best of you; more so as you recognized what was most definitely Andy’s handwriting on the paper.

Andrew Barber, your boss, with whom you weren’t sure what your relationship was – if there was any at all – might have got you jewellery.

Say that again?

A tiny voice in your head told you he might have just used the box for something else entirely, but that didn’t seem to be his style.

So you picked up the gift carefully, almost reverently removing the lid, your heart pounding in your chest, stomach twisting with pleasant anticipation; with the familiar rush that kids feel when opening a present with high hopes of what could await them inside.

Your lips parted in pure shock, you mind turning blank.

There were no words in English language to express how… how absolutely magnificent the bracelet inside was.

Five thin circles with symbols made of slender lines inside, looking like charms, but withing the body of the bracelet, one clasped to the next one with delicate ellipses. The metal reflected the fluorescent lights of the office, glimmering softly, appearing almost fluid, a thin stream of water trapped in a box.

You actually had to blink and it took all your willpower not to pinch yourself, because—how-

How had he known? Where had he got it? Holy mother of Jesus, how much had he spent on it?

And why get you a gift in the first place? You were… acquaintances at best. Yes, there were almost friendly moments, and then there were those nights, but this was---this- you couldn’t even---- think, apparently.

Keeping an eye on the opened box, you gently placed it back on the desk, afraid to even touch the metal itself. You blindly reached into your purse in search for your phone to dial the only number that made sense for you to dial at that moment.

It sure as hell wasn’t Andy’s.

Nothing but a dialling tone sounded for half a minute, the time seemingly endless. You fell heavily into your chair, still staring at the absolutely gorgeous and thoughtful gift.

How did he know?!

You fought the urge to roll your eyes as your sister still didn’t answer the phone and your hand automatically reached for your necklace to toy with.

And that was when it hit you.

Your necklace; one you got from your sister during the period of your biggest obsession with the Divergence series. Two arrows in a circle pointing different directions, the symbol for a ‘divergent’ person. Your eyes wandered over the five circles of the bracelet – scales, an eye, hands connected, a flame, a tree –, an incredulous chuckle escaping you.

But--- you didn’t think he would notice. You didn’t even wear it all the time, rather often, yes, and yeah, perhaps you did have a bit of a bad habit of fumbling with it when nervous-

“Hey sis! What’s up?” Amber’s voice sounded cheerily from the microphone. You jumped in your seat, startled by her as she interrupted your musing. “Please tell me you’re still coming, because Harry wouldn’t shut up about his favourite chocolate chip.”

You cleared your throat, barely able to comprehend what she was talking about, too caught up in your head.

“I—hi. Uhm- I need help actually,” you finally stuttered and you could practically feel her frown even over the phone.

“Oh? Is everything okay? You sound… a little strange.”

“That’s-“ not wrong. You scanned the office and listened in for the tinniest noise, making sure you were still alone. “I’m at the office and I--eh, I found a gift for me.”

“Awww, a secret admirer? Nice!” Amber chuckled, then abruptly stopped. “…unless it’s a stalker. You don’t think you have a stalker, right? Is that why you called me, so I could tell George? He’s not on duty-“

This time you did roll your eyes at the mention of her husband who happened to be a police officer.

“No, Amber, I have no stalker as far as I know. I’m pretty sure I can recognize my boss’ handwriting at this point.”

Nothing but silence could be heard from the other end for a good minute. You bit your lip in anticipation of… something.

And then: “You’re shitting me.”

“Not really-“

“Holy mother of-!” your sister squealed loudly and you winced, instinctively withdrawing from the phone. “Your boss got you a Christmas present?! --Wait. Is it a Walmart card? Because if it is, then this call is pointless, because that’s boring as-“

“No, Amber, he—he gave me a bracelet,” you admitted softly, your gaze once again wandering over the said object. Beautiful. Fragile. Yours, apparently. What?

When Amber only responded with silence again, words suddenly spilled from your lips, all the mixed feelings you had about receiving the bracelet released, relief singing in your veins as you vented.

“And-and it’s actually really beautiful and--- it’s thoughtful, because it has all the fractions from Divergence on it? But not like something you buy for ten dollars, only paying for the copyright or whatever and the quality is shitty, no, I mean--- it looks pretty, eh, delicate.”

It did, awfully so, which was why you still couldn’t make yourself to touch it even if you really, really liked it and wanted to do nothing but to wear it for the rest of your damn life.

“And expensive. I-- I think it might be real silver and…” you wavered, almost scared to share your last observation out loud for it seemed impossible for it to be true. “Amber, you know I looked through a lot of Divergence-related goods so I would know. It- it doesn’t look familiar at all, it’s--- I think it might be custom-made.”

You choked on the last word, tasting so strange on your tongue as you couldn’t quite believe that you were saying it. You felt--- incredulous to put it simply… and touched and- absolutely bewildered.

Silence stretched in the follow-up to your rambling and you felt your brows drawing together.

“…Amber? You there?”

“Oh yeah, I’m here,” she assured you swiftly, mischief curling around the tone of her voice like a smirk on her lips you couldn’t see. “Just wondering how could you not tell me you started sleeping with him-“

“What?! No!” you protested instantly, straightening in the chair. “I’m not—I’m not his sugar baby or whatever! This is not a ‘thank you for letting me fuck you raw’ gift-“

“Not that you would complain from what I heard and saw-“ she hummed playfully.

She was right. But shush!

“Screw you!”

“George does, that’s why we have Harry in the first place,” she sassed you. “But… sis? What kind of a gift it is then?”

And wasn’t that the question.

“I… I don’t know.”

“Well, you should, because from what you told me, you guys aren’t even friends. Nota bene, this isn’t exactly a gift you give to a friend,” she pointed out, addressing one of the million issues concerning the damn (gorgeous) bracelet.

“I-- I guess?” You were sure, in fact. This was something to give to a… well, to a lover, to a partner. “But- Amber, he doesn’t--- that’s not-“

“What did the note say?”

“Huh?”

“You said you recognized his handwriting,” she reminded you slowly as if speaking to a five-year-old. “What does the note say?”

You glanced at the note again noncommittally, remembering exactly what it said. Pretty much nothing. Definitely nothing to go on.

“Uhm… Thank you. Happy Holidays.”

There was a beat of silence, again. “That’s it?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Eloquent.” You rolled your eyes at her sarcastic tone. She should see him at court. True though, on personal level, he wasn’t exactly chatty. Unless he opened up a bit over a glass of whiskey--- anyway, she had a point, obviously. “What are you gonna do?”

That snapped you from your musing like a shot of life into your bloodstream.

“That’s why I’m calling! I should-- I should get him something too, right?” Right?! Absolutely. “Oh god, I hate last-minute shopping. And I don’t even have a fucking clue what to buy! Well, a good whiskey is always a safe bet I guess, but supporting his drinking habits doesn’t sound like a good idea. Plus, it’s kinda… impersonal with comparison to what he gave me.”

Though if there was one thing you learned about Andy Barber, it was that he could appreciate the high-quality liquor, so perhaps it wouldn’t have been as impersonal as one might think.

“Well, I don’t know him so I can’t really help, but what you got from him should definitely give you a clue.”

“A clue?” you parroted, confused.

“I don’t mean like a clue for what you should buy him. But… look, even if you didn’t suspect that it’s custom-made, which whoa, he has to pay a lot of attention to buy you something like this. Much more attention than you thought.”

“…okay?”

“He likes you, you dumbass! It doesn’t matter what you get him, he’ll be happy you got him anything in the first place!”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” you deadpanned, unsure which statement you were referring to. That he liked you or that you shouldn’t take care to choose something that would really bring him at least a little joy.

You tried your best to ignore how your heart skipped the beat at the former.

“Whatever. Harry’s throwing a hungry eye on me, I gotta go fix him a snack unless I want him to eat all the candy again. Good luck!”

“Amber!“ you called out in honest despair, panic rising in your chest, only to get no answer.

You pulled the phone from your ear to look at the screen, already knowing what awaited you.

Disconnected.

Fuck.

It seemed you were on your own. Wasn’t that wonderful?

You shot your sister a simple ‘I hate you’ text, the gears in your head already turning frantically in order to figure out what you could get Andy.  

Amber replied with a set of laughing emojis within seconds. Bitch, leaving you alone to deal with a situation like this! What a sister she was.

You sighed, admiring the delicate lines of the bracelet again, torn between indulgence and guilt. There was no questioning whether you should buy Andy something too.

Say yay for the last-minute shopping for a man out of your league and whom you had no idea what you should get.

You were utterly at loss, growing anxious not only about the difficult choice of a gift, but also about possible delivery, wondering what should you even tell him and when.

Maybe though…. just maybe, you were getting kinda excited about what you were about to do too.

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Three hours.

You spent almost three hours at the mall where you could barely breathe because of the crazy crowds and yet you were none the wiser; your excitement left you quickly, once again replaced by despair. It took you three hours and passing the lingerie shop four times, a shop with pieces on display that barely covered anything, intended for either bedroom games or a swimming pool, before it finally hit you.

You cursed under your breath, calling yourself an idiot in murmur loud enough to have few people around you look at you in surprise.

“Dumbass, I’m such a dumbass,” you continued your monologue as you fished out your phone, quickly scrolling through your contacts.

To say that the person on the other end was shocked to hear from you at this time of month and hour was an understatement.

“Yeah, I’m sorry, Lee. I have… eh, a favour to ask…”

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You were being ridiculous.

Absolutely and utterly ridiculous as you stood on a modest porch in front of a small family house, the roof hiding you from the intrusive drizzle but not keeping you quite safe from the wind as you clutched your handbag to your side as if it was your lifeline, cursing yourself for not wearing a scarf in December.

Your nose was practically freezing, your cheeks burned from the wind and your hands were cold too, because you were stupidly underdressed; as if you haven’t lived in Portland your whole life.

But that wasn’t the main issue; an Uber dropped you off about five minutes ago and still, here you were, standing outside and trying to convince yourself to ring the bell.

The plan had been to finish packing a bag and leave around 10 p.m. to your sister’s house, where you would spend the night so you could be with her family on Christmas Day from the very beginning. But then Andrew fucking Barber, your fabulous boss, left a gift in your office, a breath-taking bracelet now sitting low on your right wrist, and it all went to hell.

Maybe you could still make it to your sister’s house – it was shortly after nine, your bag waiting on your bed, so maybe you should just call another Uber and be on your way. Maybe you could leave the silly envelope in the post-box just so you wouldn’t have to deal with Andy’s reaction; after all, he had chosen the same approach; cookies be damned, there would be more left for Harry then-

But you really, really wanted to thank him. And you might be shitting your pants, but the prospect of seeing him in a domestic environment, possibly more relaxed, perhaps nearing the man you had had the honour to see on those nights… you couldn’t make yourself to pass on that opportunity.

At the same time, you kept reminding yourself that Andy did not expect to see you tonight, he might not even be home – you were pretty sure a dim light was coming from the living room, the TV on probably, but yeah, you could keep lying to yourself – and that he might be grieving and genuinely might hate you for invading his privacy since you had to search his home address in the official documents.

Yeah, you definitely should just spin on your heels and-

“Oh for God’s sake,” you muttered under your breath and pressed the doorbell, your heart suddenly hammering in your ribcage as you realized there were no takebacks now. “Shit.”

Maybe you should just run. What if he had fallen asleep already and you just woke him up?! Oh, he was so going to be pissed and he might even show that emotion, screaming you down like he did one with that intern-

A scruffle on the other side of the door snapped you from your hopeless expectations and you sucked in a horrified breath.

And then the door slid open before you could react and you were certain you looked like a deer caught in the headlights, a semi-frozen deer to make the situation worse and--- there he was.

You quickly dropped your gaze, only then realizing how rude that was and that you should meet his eye no matter how much you did and did not want to do so at the same time. As you gaze travelled up, you found that a domestic Andy was everything you imagined he would be; black socks, loose dark grey sweats, pale t-shirt slightly wrinkled. One of his arms hung loosely by his side, the other still at the door-knob as you continued your inspection, gaze caressing the line of his bare forearm, reaching the sleeves that were hugging his biceps precisely. Broad shoulders, perfectly trimmed beard framing plush lips with the slightest hint of a curious smile.

You smiled awkwardly as your eyes met his watching you with interest, dimmed with a hint of a doze-off you must have woken him up from. You tried not to dwell on the inconspicuous redness surrounding his irises.

“I’m sorry if I woke you up!” you blurted out quickly, rewarded with a light shake of his head and a stifled yawn; subtle.

“You didn’t. Hi,” he greeted you, only to make you realize that 1. you forgot to say hi and 2. his post-nap voice was a thing from wet dreams-- which was definitely not relevant at that moment.

“Hi,” you offered unsurely, eyes roaming his face, searching for any trace of anger. All you found was bewilderment; if pleasant or not, you couldn’t tell.

“I’m sorry for barging in. I just… uhm- I wanted to thank you and-“

The hint of a smile on his lips grew a fraction, expression softening at your admission and before you could find your footing, he opened the door further, subtly extending his hand to usher you in.

Your heart skipped a beat, the strangest feeling tickling your gut, teeth sinking into your lower lip, the grip on your handbag growing stronger. Yet you accepted, taking two reluctant steps inside. The door clicked shut behind you, sealing whatever fate awaited you.

Attempting not to look too nosy, you turned back to Andy rather than scanning the hall.

Words got stuck in your throat. As tired as he looked, worn to a bone by everything but physical exercise, you couldn’t but marvel at what a handsome man he was, even without his smart suits and ties and neatly styled fluffy hair; it was still very fluffy, just more of a mess than a fashion statement.

God, wasn’t he beautiful.

He kept looking at you too in mute anticipation of something, appearing mildly lost just as you were, giving the impression of a man who couldn’t tell what to expect.

Your gaze locked with his, unyielding, a gorgeous trap and you knew you had to say or do something before your heart gave out entirely.

Your mouth opened, no words coming out and you cursed yourself, simply opening the bag and pulling out a Tupperware box with half the cookies you baked last night, practically shoving it to Andy’s capable hands.

He accepted the item with eyebrows shooting up once before settling back, eyes misting for a moment. His fingertips brushed yours as he took a firm hold of the box, the not-quite-there smile of his remaining on his lips.

He seemed perplexed.

You felt like an idiot.

“This feels so silly now,” you admitted with a sigh, realizing the absurdity of the situation only accented by the fact that you stood there in the hall of his home in your coat and high-boots, ridiculously overdressed in comparison to him.

“It’s not,” he whispered finally, forcing the corners of his mouth to rise higher. “Thank you. Didn’t know you baked. Should have figured.”

You shrugged. “Never came up.”

Something shifted in his expression as did in the air; you knew he sensed it too. The unspoken hung between you, that you meant not in your daily routine at the office, but on your private nights, so rare and precious, so desperately pretended to be non-existent the next morning.

Your gaze lowered as the silence fell on your pair again and you awkwardly shifted your weight from one leg to the other. His Adam’s apple bobbed.

“So, uh-“

“Thank you for the bracelet. Really. It was-” you licked your lips, meeting his eyes again, so deep, so blue and somehow soft and you forgot what you were about to say. “Eh- I wasn’t expecting it. I-- I didn’t think you’d… notice. And--- care.”

His brows furrowed for a bit and he placed the box on the shoe rack next to him; an action he soon regretted you guessed, because his fingers went for his wrist as if he wanted to readjust his cufflinks, a nervous habit of his, only to meet bare skin. Good to know you weren’t the only one iffy in this conversation.

“But you liked it?” he asked almost shyly and the corners of your lips rose on instinct as did you right hand, the sleeve of your coat sliding down a fraction, enough to reveal the new accessory.  “Looks pretty on you.”

Your breath hitched as his fingers gently slid over one of the symbols, brushing over the sensitive skin of your wrist. His gaze returned to yours, a flicker of something heated in his eyes, calling butterflies to your stomach.

Lord have mercy.

“Thanks- uhm--- thank you. Here, I got you something too.” You quickly reached into the handbag again to hide how flustered you felt – for a different reason than awkwardness.

He had touched your wrist and you turned into a blushing mess. Fabulous. And to make the matter more humiliating, now a twinkle of amusement played in his irises.

“You gave me a plant. And cookies.”

“Yeah. Kinda? But that was more of a… gesture?” you offered reluctantly as you handed him the envelope. “I uh—this is probably stupid, but, uhm--- here.”

“Stop putting yourself down,” he muttered darkly, causing your cheeks to burn hotter. “Thank you. You didn’t have to get me anything.” Pulling out the firm colourful paper, he blinked a few times, seemingly surprised. Ha, you bet he expected a Walmart card! Instead, there was a voucher for five entrances to the swimming pool where your friend Lee worked at. “Oh. Thank you. That’s really nice of you.”

A stone the size of Texas fell from your stomach and you couldn’t help the sigh of relief. Andy seemed genuinely pleased by your choice of gift and you felt your whole body relax.

“It’s just… eh, just for half an hour each and you can pick them on a horizon of three months. I’m not sure how often you like going, so… uhm, my friend works at the place, so you just give her a call and it shouldn’t be a problem to book it for mornings right before the opening hours,” you explained lamely, earning a puzzled look.

“How did you know I liked going when no one’s there?”

That caused one corner of your lips twitch in slight amusement and your eyebrow arch, even if his reasons weren’t exactly funny; his cheeks flushed a hint of red, a sight to behold for more than one reason. It was nice to have the roles reserved, you making him feel flustered for once.

Really? The rather quiet lone-wolf Andy Barber, followed by reporters still, just asked you this? Cute.

“…that’s fair,” he said and for a brief second, you were afraid you had shared your thoughts out loud. But he didn’t look offended, so probably not. The self-awareness then. “Thank you.”

“No problem. I’m-eh, glad you like it.”

You stood there again, both smiling – a little reluctantly, a little soft – and once again you had no idea how to proceed.

What you did know was that you enjoyed talking to him, even if it was awkward like this. You enjoyed seeing him in his natural habitat, in his home, relatively relaxed. You thrived seeing more of this Andy Barber, just a handsome guy, not Andrew Barber, the hot-shot lawyer.

He was the first to break the silence, hesitantly gesturing further into the house.

“Would you—would you like to-“

YES! was what you brain screamed.

“Oh, I don’t want to be a bother…” was what you told him, mentally cuffing yourself on the head.

“You’re not,” Andy opposed lowly. The whisper of your name that followed made you shiver.

His gazed trailed all over your face, so intense you would swear he saw right into your soul and further. You felt naked, but for some reason not too vulnerable – Andy seemed to like what he saw, expression genuinely inviting and yet. Yet there was a subtle promise of this not being a friendly invite which was as exciting as unsettling. The air appeared the crackle and you found yourself yearning to taste the electricity on your tongue.

“May I?”

He beckoned to your coat, suddenly free hands already rising and all you could do was to nod, automatically placing your handbag on the floor and unbuttoning the garment. Once if fell open, revealing simple black jeggings and a light pink sweater, Andy sidestepped you, fingers sliding under the hem, cautiously skimming over the bare skin above your collarbones, leaving a burning sensation in their wake.

The warmth of his fingertips seeped into your flesh and yet you shuddered, goosebumps rising on your skin.

You watched Andy put your coat away with care, turning back to you torturously slowly. He filled all of your personal space, so close and too far. You weren’t sure when exactly the air turned so heavy in your lungs, but as your gaze travelled to his lips, not missing how his sought yours in return, you felt all the oxygen leave the room.

“Andy,” the word rolled off your tongue, nothing but a soundless breath of his name.

His gaze flickered from your eyes to your lips again and back before he spoke, voice barely above a whisper, hoarse.  

“Am I imagining it?”

He didn’t have to say what and still you knew with absolute certainty that he was addressing the unbearable and delicious tension, the one that had been building and coming to life during those three nights you had spent talking in his office late--- and now it was back with smouldering intensity.

“You’re not.”

You shivered and gulped when he cautiously took a single little step further into your space, your gaze falling to his chest, lowering in sudden surge of the deep-rotted insecurity, whispering about your and his world being thousands of miles apart. And yet, your heart raced in anticipation, your hopes dizzyingly high that you might touch heaven, even if for a few moments.  

When his fingertips grasped your jaw, tough light and oh so careful, your eyelids fluttered close, already indulging in the sensation. God, his touch was so soft despite the roughness of his fingertips…

As if he wished to torture you or to indulge that sweet little moment before lips met lips, he stopped an inch from his destination, his breaths as wavering as yours, the words whispered straight into your mouth just a little broken.

“I’m fucked up.”

Your brain basked in blissful fog, but this got across, causing you to tense briefly.

You couldn’t deny what he was saying, you both knew he spoke the ultimate truth – well, you guessed. What had happened to him, having his life dismantled and then losing his family, that sort of thing was bound to leave a scar. Confirming it bluntly though, that felt unforgiving, only adding insult to injury.

“We all are,” you whispered instead, not only because you wouldn’t say ‘fucked up’, the words too harsh.

And it wasn’t trivializing the tragic turn his life had taken. It wasn’t downplaying the depth of his wounds. It wasn’t necessarily implying that you had been through something equally horrible either. Most importantly, it wasn’t you mocking him.

And somehow, he understood that; even if he could have interpreted it in every wrong way imaginable and shove you away, insulted, disgusted.

But no, in that fleeting moment that meant everything, Andy understood that this was your acceptance; this was you telling him that you were willing to try; take whatever he offered and give anything you could in return.

Finally, his lips brushed over yours, slightly chapped and oh so warm and delicious, withdrawing too soon, leaving you to savour the taste as your ran your tongue over your own lips. You inhaled shakily, overwhelmed by everything that was him, powerful, electrifying and then your hand was somehow on his chest, your palm laid over his racing heart, your fingers twitching as his ribcage expanded with a sharp inhale.

Blindly, your mouth searched his again, his whiskers tickling softly and scratching at once, a pleasant sensation on your sensitive skin as he grew bolder, and truly attached your lips in a kiss that made you feel lightheaded with the emotion poured into it. Your hand curled around his nape, an instinct to pull him closer, fingers toying with the short soft hair there, drawing a hum from within the expanse of his chest.

You granted him access to your mouth when he wordlessly asked, but it was him who retreated shortly after that, his heart now appearing as if in pain with its furious beats under your palm. His breaths started coming out short and it dawned to you what was wrong. How fast this could have felt to him, even if he was the one to start it.

‘I’m fucked up,’ he had said. Too caught in the moment, you hadn’t fully realized the extent of his words perhaps.

But you did now – at least a little better than before.

So when he rested his forehead against yours and a breathless ‘sorry’ slipped from his lips, you shook your head lightly and planted a kiss on his cheek, hand still on the back of his head, fingers running over his scalp in a hopefully soothing motion.

“I’ve got you, Andy. You lead.”

You had no strength to keep him close when he pulled his face away, your eyes snapping open in fright that you had said something terribly wrong.

But Andy’s cerulean eyes were big and glassy, grateful and softly speaking about him being… moved by your proposition. Your heart felt like it just grew twice its size, too big to fit into your chest at what a breath-taking picture he was.

The next thing you knew, he dropped a chaste kiss to your forehead and pulled you into his arms, an almost protective embrace, kissing the top of your head for a good measure and you melted against his large frame, smiling into t-shirt.

“Thank you,” he murmured breathlessly into your hair and your smile widened, remembering the note he had left with the exquisite gift that had started everything that led you right here into this moment.

“Happy Holidays.”

Thank you for reading! I’ve been sitting on this since the beginning of damn November. I hope you enjoyed.

It was my first (and maybe last) time writing Andy, so I hope it was alright. Feedback always appreciated.

P.S. – sorry if the nosy reporters thing offended you.

P.P.S. - …I know, the prompt was veeery loosely filled. Shush.

Pretty divider by whismicalrogers.

[hermannsthumb]

As per our convo, Newt getting set up with Hermann via Hermann’s father’s binder full of pre-approved suitors for his son...

(from @k-sci-janitor 👀) easily one of our funniest concepts yet. I was going to end on newt coming over for dinner scenario but I like the ominous open ending. I'm not actually sure when kaiju attacks fall in the PR timeline so excuse my handwaveyness, LOL

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

Hermann’s relationship with his father is what one would call strenuous at best, but—Hermann must admit, to the man’s credit, and in spite of his many flaws—he took the news of Hermann’s sexual orientation as unflinchingly as if Hermann had told him the day’s weather. It was a bit annoying, in fact. Hermann had agonized over the proper way to breach the subject for months, certain it spoke to some sort of personal ruin (whether ostracization from the Gottliebs or being forbade following through on any attraction he may feel whilst still living under the family roof, he wasn't sure), before finally simply announcing it one day at the breakfast table on a whim.

It had been a long-standing tradition that Hermann’s parents compile a binder—effectively of dossiers—on all the most eligible bachelors (for their daughter) and bachelorettes (for their sons) to aid in the choice of the latest Gottlieb mate. It was easiest this way, or so Hermann and his siblings were told. Parental approval was already secured. The histories of each were already secured, which bypassed any nasty shocks that might emerge in the courtship stage. Most of them were children of his father's colleagues or bright minds in their own rights: surgeons, and dentists, and mathematicians. Poets were strictly forbidden.

The occasion of Hermann’s breakfast table announcement had also been the day Hermann’s father presented him with his very first binder of prospective mates—a few days after his eighteenth birthday, and shortly before he was to go off to begin work on his PhD. His father had slid him a hand-written binder of names, no more than a dozen, and all with accompanying photographs. “All are accomplished young women,” he assured Hermann. “We can arrange any meetings of your choice over your winter holidays.”

Hermann glared down at the row of frozen smiles. He stabbed his fork into his cooked tomato wedge. “I don’t want to marry any of these women,” he said, and turned his glare on his father. He still had a rebellious streak in him at that point, something nurtured by a charismatic young man he used to trail after in boarding school, who pierced Hermann’s ear with a sewing needle in the boys’ toilets and listened to songs about setting things on fire. In late this streak had manifested itself in Hermann in nicking packets of cigarettes from his father’s study, one of which was in his pocket now. The weight of it made Hermann feel bolder. “I don’t want to marry any woman,” he continued. “I like men.”

The binder was drawn away in silence, and Hermann was free to eat his toast and tomatoes. The next morning a binder of young men was in its place.

(In a way the acceptance infuriated Hermann. It meant he could not blame his father’s obvious dislike for him on an unfounded, homophobic prejudice; rather, it was a result of Hermann’s own personal failings.)

The binder was placed at Hermann’s breakfast plate every day until he left for his studies. It was placed at his plate when he returned from them five years later. Not even the emergence of the kaiju from the bottom of the ocean shortly after Hermann turned twenty-four dampened his father’s hopes, nor turning all their scientific efforts towards the new jaeger program: some names were removed from the binder (the reasoning Hermann shudders to think at), more still were added, though Hermann is expected only to consider it once a week now on account of his busy schedule. This was one of such days.

“Your brother is very happy with his wife,” Hermann’s father reminds him. “She was one of my first suggestions for him, in fact.”

Hermann is not fond of his sister-in-law. Too rude—too cold. Though perhaps that makes her perfect for Hermann’s brother. “Haven’t we got bigger things to worry about these days than whether or not I’m going to marry?” Hermann says. He adds milk to his tea. “I’m sure they’re all, er, marvelous selections, only—”

“Your sister, too, with her husband,” father says.

Hermann sighs. He hasn’t got much of the rebellious streak he used to in him anymore—too stressed. Not fancying a fight before they’ve even begun today’s coding work, he picks up the binder and begins flipping through it. Sons of engineers working on the jaeger program with them, prominent young chemists, many of whom Hermann has been presented with since he was eighteen. Plenty of them are even handsome. Half of Hermann wonders if he should just pick the least-unappealing one of the bunch and be done with it already. He turns the page over and freezes. “Oh,” he says. “This one is—new.”

“Hm?” father says.

Hermann holds up the binder, tapping at a new entry. “Newton Geiszler.”

“Dr. Geiszler,” father says, nodding. “A child prodigy from Berlin—he’s made tremendous strides in kaiju science in such little time. And,” he adds, “three PhDs. Two of them before he even turned twenty.” The unspoken implication was that Dr. Geiszler far surpassed Hermann in intelligence and Hermann should feel ashamed for not skipping as many grades as Dr. Geiszler.

Hermann feels he ought to resent Dr. Geiszler for it, but he's finding it difficult to summon up any animosity towards him. It's likely because Hermann finds Dr. Geiszler to be strikingly handsome in his photograph: cheeks which haven’t quite lost their baby fat (giving him the appearance of being a scruffy hamster), large, thick glasses, tousled hair, an easy grin. Three PhDs, and German at that. And a child prodigy? “I’m surprised you haven’t mentioned him to me before,” Hermann says. He seems precisely the sort father would. Geiszler’s photograph is black-and-white and a bit grainy, but Hermann swears he could make out the lightest bit of freckles across his cheeks.

“I’d not heard of him until he published an article last week on kaiju biology,” father says. “Besides—he’s moved to America.”

Geiszler has three piercings up the side of his left ear. “I am going to write to him,” Hermann declares.

Father nods, and picks up his newspaper, clearly already disinterested. They speak no more of it that day.

It is not hard to find Dr. Geiszler online (his name is not the most common, and his field of study certainly isn’t), nor is it hard to match his photograph to his faculty page on MIT’s website. From there, Hermann retrieves Dr. Geiszler’s email address. He takes the evening to read over Geiszler’s publications spanning back to 2003 before he gathers up the courage to type out an actual email.

Dear Dr. Geiszler,

You do not know me, but I have recently been made acquaintance with your work and find it—Hermann pauses—scintillating. My father and I are—Hermann backspaces this—I am currently working on the development of the jaeger program…

There’s a response waiting for him the next morning. It’s as enthusiastic as it is brief. Dr. Gottlieb- That’s so awesome!! Believe it or not I’ve been following your work too. I have a million questions for you about the jaegers. If it’s classified info I promise I won’t tell. -Newt

It makes Hermann smile like nothing ever has before.

Hermann’s correspondence with Dr. Geiszler does not transgress beyond the professional until the following January. By that time, Hermann and his father have successfully completed the coding for their first jaeger prototype, and Hermann has been offered his fair share of tenured university positions to pick from as he likes. He finds himself oddly disappointed that none of them are in America with Dr. Geiezler. This, which leads to the realization that he’s grown rather fond of Dr. Geiszler, is perhaps what drives Hermann to uncharacteristic sentimental extremes on January 19th: he orders Dr. Geiszler a birthday present. The first email Dr. Geiszler sends him after that addresses him as Hermann. The first email Hermann sends Dr. Geiszler after that addresses him as Newton. Things move rapidly after that.

“Are you still writing to that young biologist?” Hermann’s father asks him in March. Hermann has spent the last two months devouring every bit of information Newton has seen fit to divulge about his personal life: his dexterity with no less than three different instruments, his favorite loud monster movies, how he’d love to get a kaiju tattooed on him one day. Hermann suspects he might be falling in love with Newton. In hardly five months! These are war times, Hermann supposes, so it would make sense. People are meant to do such extreme things.

“I am,” Hermann says.

“I’ve asked around about him,” Hermann’s father says. His expression is stern—unimpressed. “About his character. I’m not sure it’s wise to continue your correspondence.”

The reasons are this. Dr. Geiszler’s methods are unorthodox. Dr. Geiszler is loud and uncouth, and has little respect for his intellectual superiors. Dr. Geiszler was thrown out of a convention once for storming up on stage and stealing a microphone from an engineer to shout about the destruction coral reefs. Dr. Geiszler was in a distasteful band for several years. Dr. Geiszler was once arrested for egging a politician’s house. Dr. Geiszler has gone on record as describing the kaiju as “kinda cool”. Almost none of this is news to Hermann; in fact, that which is only causes Hermann’s affection for Newton to grow. “I will consider your advice,” Hermann says, knowing he won’t. Besides, it's not as if his father really has Hermann's interests at heart—Hermann knows he merely wishes to preempt any scandal Newton Geiszler could possibly bring upon the Gottlieb name.

In April Newton goes on television and declares that he’s sure the kaiju are extraterrestrial in origin, on account of their great size and his brief examination of a sample from the second kaiju to make landfall. He’s laughed off by his older peers before he can get another word out. The email he writes to Hermann afterwards is furious, capslock-heavy, and expresses that Hermann is the only one who takes him seriously in the whole world. It leaves Hermann certain that he is in love with Newton.

“Dr. Geiszler was interviewed on some American television program,” Hermann’s father says a few days later.

“I know,” Hermann says, proudly. Newton was on television. “I watched it.”

“He made some extraordinary claims,” Hermann’s father says.

But Hermann is thinking only of the outfit Newton wore (skinny jeans and an oversized leather jacket, so out of place compared to the suited other scientists sitting around him), the shade of his eyes (hazel), his short stature (hardly taller than Hermann), and the cadence of his voice (high, but not unappealing). He’d been so confident, and carried himself with a self-assurance that was foreign to Hermann. It was marvelously attractive. “I’m sure they're correct,” Hermann says. "Every single one. Newton is a terribly brilliant scientist." All bold claims are met with derision at first, are they not?

Newton’s theory is proven correct after the next kaiju attack, when experts other than him get their hands on kaiju samples and validate his claims. The general consensus after that is that the kaiju are not of this world. And Newton was the first to propose the theory! Hermann sends Newton an email full of congratulations, and Newton responds with a heart emoticon in his sign-off. Newton isn't just a brilliant scientist. “Newton is a genius,” Hermann tells his father, dreamily.

The binder reappears on Hermann’s work desk a few months later, Newton’s page torn conspicuously from it. Hermann tips the whole thing straight into his trash can. He has more important things to worry about—arranging a meeting with Newton, perhaps. Hermann ought to have him over for dinner.

[holykillercake]

Hazy Justice - 03

01 02 03

🇨‌🇴‌🇵‌!🇸‌🇲‌🇴‌🇰‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇽‌ 🇲‌🇮‌🇱‌🇮‌🇹‌🇦‌🇷‌🇾‌🇩‌🇴‌🇨‌🇹‌🇴‌🇷‌!🇷‌🇪‌🇦‌🇩‌🇪‌🇷‌

word count: 2.5k

summary: After eight years serving your country in a war, you returned to your hometown as the new head of Trauma Surgery in one of the best hospitals in the country. You were expecting a calmer life now, but suddenly you see yourself choosing between your brain and your heart, light and dark, justice and evil.

highlight: ¨You looked like millions of dollars, and you felt like millions of dollars.¨

warning:  Use sunglasses. Too bright.

notes: .Dear comrades, it has been a while but it's finally here! With new characters and lots and lots of threads.

🇱‌🇪‌🇦‌🇻‌🇪‌ 🇨‌🇴‌🇲‌🇲‌🇪‌🇳‌🇹‌🇸‌, 🇭‌🇪‌🇦‌🇷‌🇹‌🇸‌, 🇦‌🇳‌🇩‌ 🇱‌🇴‌🇻‌🇪‌!

¨Hello...¨ you were instantly greeted by the tingling doorbells that let the owner know whenever a client entered the establishment. 

Your eyes traveled to the half-moon bar where the slim and tall woman leaned casually, cigarette adorning her elegant fingers. Her eyebrows raised as she took in your figure, double-checking if you were not someone else.

¨Oh! Y/N-chan, is that you?¨

¨Shakky!¨ she made her way out of the bar to hug you ¨It´s so good to see you! You haven´t changed at all!¨

Her kind chuckle made you feel like a kid again, and you couldn´t stop yourself from tearing with the nostalgic feeling.

 ¨Thanks, Baby. Now you,¨ she put her hands on your shoulders and opened a distance, eyes examining you like a mother hawk ¨you look tired. Eight years in war made you no good.¨

You nodded and laughed ¨I guess we can put it that way.¨

¨Come, treat is on the house.¨ 

Clapping your hands, you followed the lady towards the bar. ¨So, where´s Rayleigh-san?¨ 

¨He just left, but it shouldn´t take long. He´ll be happy to see you, Y/N-chan.¨

The circumstances that connect you to Shakky and Rayleigh go way back to decades ago when your parents were still alive. By that time, all you knew was that they were friends, people you could trust. You were not allowed to ask more questions about their jobs, and you couldn´t find a suitable answer with the information you had. 

They were always on the road, visiting only once in a while. They would bring incredible gifts from various countries and discuss ¨adult matters¨ with your parents while Crocodile helped you with homework. 

Whenever you brought up your curiosities to your brother, he would say that they talked about the war, and you were too young to hear such things. Crocodile was also not allowed in the room, but he´d always peer into the conversation through the ventilation ducts. 

If he´s saying, it must be true.  

Since your dad was a Lieutenant Colonel, there was always the possibility of his unit being requested to offer back up or engage actively. You never minded it, though. He had already been sent to a lot of dangerous missions, and he came back every single time. He was strong and invincible. He would always return to his family. 

Well, that was true until the day you found your mother in the kitchen, breaking in tears, holding a smudged letter in her hands, together with your father´s dog tag. 

You stared at her and your brother, blinking in the hope of seeing what was wrong. The woman at the kitchen table did not look like your mother. She had no sparkle in her eyes or pride in her chest.

On the contrary, thick and dark tears fell from her eyes, blurred from the makeup that always accentuated her piercing gaze. Her lips were not curved in the tender smile she used to carry. Instead, she bit her lower lip so hard that you could almost see blood staining her pink lipstick.

¨Dad´s not coming home.¨ was all Crocodile said.

That was not the time when things got completely off track, but it was a significant change in your family's life. The government offered a military pension and a country flag for the services provided by your father. However, you had to be transferred to the Commercial District, where your mother worked as an archivist at the Ohara Institute of Historical Research. 

¨Y/N?¨ you heard a male voice call, making you turn. 

Your eyes shifted between the two male figures standing at the door. ¨Rayleigh-san!¨ you shouted like a kid seeing Santa Claus at the shopping mall ¨Smoker!?¨ this one came out more like a question. 

¨You have grown, little one!¨ he patted your head like old times. ¨Maybe my white hair makes sense. I´ve aged!¨ he laughed cheerfully, and Smoker tilted his head. 

¨Finer than wine!¨ you giggled, then turned to the other white-haired man, cheeks blushing ¨This is, uhm... I swear I´m not following you.¨ 

¨Oh, you two know each other?¨ Shakky asked, adding two more old-fashioned glasses on the counter. 

¨We´re neighbors!¨ 

¨That´s great! Come, we have a lot to talk! Today is on the house!¨ Rayleigh shouted similar words as his wife. You wondered if that was the synchronization of personalities or if the alcohol he had prior was impairing his judgment. 

Shakky decided to close for the day, wanting to spend as much time as possible in your company. The clock seemed to have stopped while you were drinking, eating snacks, and catching up on years of conversation. 

It was funny how sometimes it felt like a ping pong game between you and Rayleigh. Every so often, the conversation would turn into matches of him serving shots of military-wise improper questions and you backhanding with ¨That´s classified information, Rayleigh-san.¨.

Did he have a poor memory or all those years of scotch and cigars in your father´s office taught him nothing? Either way, you were having too good of a time at that table to worry about his faulty memory. 

¨Are you sure you´re neighbors?¨ Shakky asked with a playful grin ¨You seem to know nothing about each other.¨

¨I would say that´s a pretty sharp point.¨ you answered in the same lighted tone. 

¨Tight schedules, I´d say.¨ Smoker added, shifting on the couch.

¨But it looks like you´re free today. How about dinner? Four of us, our house, like old times Y/N.¨ Rayleigh seemed too keen on this, and you wondered if he was trying to set you up on a date. 

¨Well, as much as I would love that, I´ve got plans for tonight.¨ 

¨Let me guess,¨ Rayleigh created a tension ¨classified information?¨ 

You laughed loudly at his stupid joke. It was a predictable Ray-san ice breaker, but you couldn't help yourself. This man was a blissful delight. 

¨Much to your content, tonight´s plan I´ll be able to spill.¨ you teased him ¨I´m having dinner with Crocodile tonight!¨ 

What happened after you pronounced those words would have gone unnoticed by someone inattentive. It felt like a slight change in the air, like those quiet moments before a bomb exploded, when the clock stopped ticking. 

You didn´t have the chance to question before Shakky took the wheel. 

¨That´s great, Y/N!¨ her elegant hands embraced yours, affectionate and caring ¨Did you see how much he´s changed?¨ 

¨Uhm, actually,¨ you blinked, focusing back on the conversation ¨it´s the first I meet him in... eight years.¨ 

The tightness you felt in your chest almost made you tear, and the woman saw it. Her eyes carried a hint of compassion... or pity. 

¨You miss him a great deal, right, Baby?¨ 

¨Yeah...¨ you shrugged ¨he was out of town when I arrived, so I only got the chance now. But how´s he doing? Did he change a lot?¨

¨Oh, baby, it´s been a while since we met. He´s a busy man, you know.¨ 

Your brows raised, then furrowed, and you had a perplexed smile hanging on your lips. You would not have believed those words if they hadn´t come directly from them. 

¨Oh, wha- well, I´ll¨ a nervous laugh left your mouth ¨I´ll drag him by the hair, then! Busy man, bullshit! He used to bug mom and dad all the time, asking why you guys couldn´t live with us!¨

¨Don´t stress yourself over that, Y/N.¨ Rayleigh said with his gentle smile.  ¨He runs a lot of businesses, I´m sure he would drop by more if he could.¨ 

Shakky nodded¨And, it´s your first time in the Light District, right? Was that the only district you haven´t lived in yet?¨

¨That and the Noble District, obviously.¨ you rolled your eyes.

¨You lived in all other districts?¨ Smoker asked after a silent moment in the conversation.

¨Yeah, long story and not that interesting. You´d be bored, trust me.¨ 

¨It´s rather difficult to find someone who lived in more than two districts, so I´d like to hear that.¨ 

¨Alright, but don´t say I didn´t warn you.¨ 

You peeked at your wristwatch, running some basic math in your head and deciding that it was time to go if you didn´t want to be late for dinner. Your lips twisted in a pout, and your expression dropped a little for having to leave this fantastic moment.  

Surprisingly enough, leaving them was not as difficult as you imagined. Maybe because they reminded you that you could visit them anytime now, or because you did not want to act like a crybaby on Smoker´s car. 

He said it was also about time for him to leave and offered you a ride back home. You would not have to take the subway and would get the chance to know him better.

 A win-win situation. 

The first minutes were a bit silent, but after you asked him if he should be driving since he had quite a lot to drink, he responded with an awkward stuttering that was rather charming. The conversation that followed was smooth as you realized he was way easier to talk to than you imagined. 

Smoker was respectful, always making sure that it was ok for you to talk about your past while sharing some things about his life as well. Inside of that car, he almost seemed like a different person. His brows were not furrowed ad his voice sounded relaxed. 

The ride ended too fast for your liking, and you saw yourself waving goodbye when deep down you wanted to ask him to stay for a coffee. Unfortunately, you couldn´t, maybe some other day. Now you had to make yourself presentable to meet your other half, your brother. 

                                                            ...

The Light District was nothing like you had seen before. The entrance was marked by a gigantic golden arch, which carried an equally shining bell.

Tall palm trees swayed in the cool breeze, tinged with orange by the sunset. Luxurious establishments, whose signs began to be lit, occupied both sides of the clear sidewalk. 

From a distance, you could see the tip of the Ferris wheel of the Sora park. It did not spin due to the recess, but the lights remained on. The roller coaster that had been the cause of the accident was surrounded by tall metal poles, being repaired for the reopening of the place.

The driver Crocodile sent to pick you up lowered the window so you could enjoy the view to the fullest. Your hair started to fly in the wind, and a delicious smell of butter invaded your nose. The restaurants had already begun to heat up the pots to receive their customers.

The Light District was projected to offer convenience to the ones who were willing to pay the price. Therefore, all that was best was located in Eldorado Avenue, the main passage that extended for kilometers like a luxurious and soft red carpet. 

¨We are approaching the hotel, miss Y/N. Sir Crocodile awaits for you.¨

¨Uh...¨ you murmured, amazed by the view. 

You squinted when something reflected in your eyes, catching your attention, and a gasp got stuck in your throat when you spotted the famous Hotel Verde.

 Well, it was impossible not to notice it. 

First of all, it did not look like a hotel. It resembled more a small town. Even taller palm trees guided the way towards the entrance, both sides occupied by ponds and tropical plants. The building stood tall like a lighthouse and at the top rested an enormous golden statue of the reptile that represented its owner.  

You did not wait for Daz, the man your brother chose to escort you, to get out when the car stopped. You put yourself out as soon as the limo parked in front of the main stairway. After so many years without putting on a heel, maybe you would accept a hand to go up the stairs.

Your hands smoothed the dark green silk dress that dragged on a short tail, courtesy of Crocodile, along with shoes and jewelry. You looked like millions of dollars, and you felt like millions of dollars.

When the valet took the car somewhere else, Daz put himself beside you, offering you his arm. Your heart pounded like the Ox Bell at every step, and you breathed through your mouth, trying to keep your cool. 

You saw various types of people coming in and out of the hotel, all of them embellished with jewels and shiny tackles like Christmas trees. Each and every one exalted wealth and power, with their nonchalant glares and pointed noses. Your gut twisted, remembering Shakky and Rayleigh´s words, wishing Crocodile hadn´t turned into someone like them. 

The long stairway was divided in the middle by a golden rail, separating who went up from who went down. That might have been the reason why the man coming down your way caught your attention. Or perhaps it was the weight of his gaze, hidden by the reddish specs. His blonde hair and skin seemed like gold, the pink suit looked orange-ish due to the sunset, and his wide grin made you quiver. 

He walked with two men by his side, freeing the way for him. At some point, no one dared to come close to the stairs. It was only the five of you. 

¨Daz!¨ the man, who seemed more familiar now, exclaimed ¨I wonder who´s the person that would make you leave your boss´back.¨

He approached you, hungry gaze brimming on his tongue. He was tall and seemed even more as he closed the distance. 

¨Not even the luxury dolls get to be escorted.¨ he gently took your hand and kissed your knuckles with delicacy. 

You weren´t convinced by his gesture. If anything, you felt bothered to see him disrespecting the house´s rules, as if that disrespected you directly. ¨Tell me, dear, what is your name?¨

¨If you wish to know something from someone, it is more appropriate to introduce yourself first.¨ your voice came out indifferent and a vein popped on his forehead before breaking into laughter.

¨Fufufu I can´t say you are wrong!¨ he leaned back, large hand on his stomach. ¨I´m Donquixote Doflamingo. It surprised me that you couldn't put that together. Now tell me, doll, what do they call you?¨

You sighed and looked around, spotting a figure at the top of the stairs that lifted your mood and gave you all the strength and confidence you needed to end the conversation. A smile grew on your lips as you turned to Doflamingo, eyeing him with nothing but the will to leave. 

¨They call me Lieutenant-Colonel Y/N L/N, Division Surgeon of the Army. Or just LT Colonel L/N if you prefer.¨ you offered him a respectful nod before turning your attention to the man who waited for you with a smile on his face. ¨Now, if you excuse me, Mr. Donquixote.¨

[arcturusreads]

A prompt for you darling!!

Meredith and Hayes make their public debut as a couple and everyone at the hospital is shocked. Even their bosses and friends.

Of Telling The Truth - Merhayes

Ooft I struggled a bit with this one just because I feel like everyone in the hospital knows something is going to happen between them or at least their friends do but I hope you like this x

“Are you sure it was a good idea not to let your sisters know beforehand?” Cormac briefly looked over at his girlfriend, one hand on the steering wheel of his car and the other on her knee.

Meredith stopped chewing her lip to reply. “If we had told them then the entire hospital would have known within two minutes. Trust me, it’s better this way.”

Cormac hummed in agreement, trusting in Meredith’s judgement. “Alright, but if they come at me then I’m blaming you.”

Meredith laughed, “You aren’t telling me that you’re scared of Amelia and Maggie?”

“I’ve seen Shepard on a warpath with her residents when they mess up,” he shivered. “And Pierce…”

“Maggie wouldn’t say boo to a goose,” Meredith quickly argued but she had to agree that Amelia could be a little scary at times.

Cormac shook his head, “That’s what you think but I can bet ya that she’s like a honey badger. They look all cute and cuddly but the minute they’re aggravated, they go berserk.”

“Alright, babe,” Meredith placed her hand on top of his, still laughing. “I promise that I’ll protect you from my sisters if they decide to attack.”

The pair had been dating in secret for the past month and a half. Cormac being a more private person and not used to having his entire personal life known by the hospital staff hadn’t wanted to let everyone know from the get-go. There was also the fact that he needed time to process this relationship without the prying eyes of other people. Meredith was the first person that he had been with since Abigail and she’d been patient with him every step of the way. Never trying to push him and letting him take things at his own pace.

Cormac’s sons had known from the start that he was dating. It hadn’t been something that he wanted to hide from them, with the boys being old enough to understand what was going on. Meredith on the other, with kids much younger, had waited a little while to make sure she knew where this was going. She’d sat the kids down the previous night and told them that she was dating someone and whilst she’d been bombarded by a million and one questions about it, they didn’t seem upset or angry with the news.

After dropping the three of them off at school this morning and coming back home to grab her bag and some charts, Cormac had picked her up. The two of them had decided that it was time to tell their friends about their relationship. With Meredith’s kids now knowing, it wouldn’t be long before one of them let it slip to Maggie or Amelia when they came to visit.

“Are you sure you want to tell everyone today? If you need more time, we can always wait.” Meredith checked in with Cormac for the second time since he had picked her up.

“I promise you, Mer, I’m ready to tell them. I want to tell them. It’s been driving me insane having to ignore you at work.”

“As long as you know that you’re the reason we had to ignore each other!

Meredith had ended up realising what a huge flirt Cormac actually was after they started dating. The day after their first date he had walked into the attendings’ lounge whilst she was making coffee, wrapping his arms around her waist. They’d quickly jumped apart when they heard Owen’s voice approaching. After a few other close calls, Meredith realised that if they were going to keep this quiet, they were going to have to keep some distance between them whilst they were at work. It had ended up with them barely saying a word to each other, no longer popping into each other’s offices for drinks and trying to act indifferent when they did have to be around each other.

When the car had finally parked up, the two of them got out and Cormac walked over to Meredith’s side, lacing their fingers and giving her hand a squeeze.

“Alright, let’s do this.” Meredith stared up at the hospital, squaring her shoulders and straightening her back.

“You sound like we’re about to go to war, Meredith,” he shook his head, smiling, amused at her actions. “I thought you were the one saying that it would be fine.”

“I said my sisters would be fine… Bailey might be another story…”

Cormac winced; she had a point there. He hadn’t really been at the receiving line of Bailey’s wrath, but he had seen it and heard about it enough to be afraid. It wasn’t something that he was aiming for, and he held onto the hope that she would just be happy for them and that would be that.

The pair looked at each other and Cormac gave Meredith that immediately put her at ease. “Let’s go,” he whispered, placing a brief kiss on her lips.

Strangely they had managed to get all the way up to the attendings’ lounge with no one having seen them, and if they had no one questioned them holding hands.

“Hey, Mer.” Sat at the table, Maggie briefly looked up from her phone when she heard someone enter and quickly did a double-take. “Hayes…” she trailed off as she looked from their faces to the joined hands.

Confusion was evident on Maggie’s face, and she kept looking up and down from their hands to their faces. Realising that Maggie wasn’t saying anything anytime soon, Cormac let go of Meredith’s hand towards the coffee machine.

“Coffee for you both?” He asked grabbing some mugs.

“Please,” Meredith took a seat at the table with Maggie who was still looking between the two surgeons.

“Uh, yeah, coffee would be good.” Finally snapping out of her daze, Maggie was able to form a sentence. “Are you two…?” she asked trailing off pointing a finger between the two of them.

“Are we what?”

Meredith asked innocently.

“There was hand holding!”

“You’re a married woman, Maggie,” Amelia interjected as she breezed into the room. “Adults holding hands shouldn’t be too much of a shock to you.” She took the seat on the other side of Maggie, sitting opposite Meredith.

“You’re hilarious, Amelia,” Maggie deadpanned. “Did you know that there was something going on between these two?”

Cormac placed a mug of coffee in front of Maggie and Meredith before standing behind his girlfriend’s chair, one hand resting on the back of the hair whilst he took a sip of his coffee. His face gave nothing away but the proximity to Meredith was enough to confirm Maggie’s suspicions.

“Wait, the two of you are together?” Amelia stared at them wide-eyed.

Meredith took a long sip of her coffee before nodding, “Yup, seems like it.”

“But…”

“We thought you guys hated each other,” Amelia finished off Maggie’s sentence.

“What? Why?” It was Meredith’s turn to be confused now.

“You just stopped talking about him and you guys seem to dodge each other whenever you’re in a room together.”

Maggie nodded along in agreement. Both her and Amelia had been convinced that Meredith and Cormac must have had an argument or some kind of falling out because Meredith had suddenly dropped him out of every conversation. They hadn’t asked about it though, as much as Amelia had wanted to. Maggie had stopped her knowing that Meredith wouldn’t be likely to say anything even if they had asked her about it.

“So, you just thought we hated each other?”

Meredith felt Cormac press a kiss to her temple, “I’m just going to get changed, you ladies have fun with this.”

She shot him a glare in an attempt to make him stay but Cormac just gave her a cheeky grin, placed his cup on the table and walked away.

“I don’t understand!”

Maggie cried out after watching the small exchange.

Meredith couldn’t help but laugh at her sister’s reaction. “We’ve been dating for the past month and a half and the only reason we’ve been dodging each other in work is that we didn’t want anyone to know.”

Maggie nodded slowly looking slightly crestfallen. “You didn’t even want to tell us?” There was hurt in her voice that made Meredith's chest ache a little.

“It’s not that I didn’t want to tell you,” Meredith sighed, this was not the reaction that she had been expecting from Maggie. “It was just new and…” she trailed off, not wanting to air Cormac’s life out to everyone.

“And Meredith’s the first person I’ve been with since my wife so I just wanted to keep things quiet for a while whilst I got used to it all.” Cormac had walked in, pulling his lab coat on and saving Meredith from coming up with an excuse.

Maggie stood up suddenly, her chair screeching against the floor, “Get up,” she looked down at Meredith.

“Maggie, I’m really sorry that we didn’t say anything sooner but-“

“Get up.”

Looking at Cormac, Meredith slowly stood from her chair. Maybe he had a point about Maggie being like a honey badger. When she’d stood fully Maggie wrapped her arms around Meredith with a vice grip.

“You’re happy?” She asked still not letting go.

Relieved that her sister wasn’t angry with her, Meredith returned the hug, “I really am,” she whispered. “But you are cutting off my oxygen supply here.”

“Oh, sorry!” Maggie quickly let go.

Amelia walked towards them looking slightly awkward, “Look, I know we don’t usually do the whole hugging thing…”

Meredith laughed, pulling her other sister into a short hug which Amelia returned. “You deserve to be happy, Mer. I have to go clip an aneurysm but I’m coming to your tonight and you are telling me everything!” She ran out of the door before Meredith had the chance to object.

“I’m joining in on that!” Maggie squeezed her sister’s shoulder and grinned up at Cormac before leaving.

***

“Meredith Grey!” Bailey was storming down the corridor the moment she caught sight of her Chief of General Surgery.

Meredith quickly turned on her heel, attempting to get away from Miranda. Praying that a resident would call her, or she would get a page.

“Don’t you dare walk away from me, Grey. Schmitt! Schmitt, stop her from going anywhere!”

Panicking, Levi quickly stood in the way of Meredith’s path, arms outstretched. Every time Meredith tried to step around him, he moved quickly to stop her from getting away. As much as he respected Meredith, he was terrified of Bailey and the latter had the power to fire him.

Having finally caught up Miranda let Levi go and turned to face Meredith. “Do you want to tell me why I had to hear about your little tryst with my Chief of Paediatric Surgery from Richard?”

“Uhh…” Meredith had been planning on telling Bailey after Amelia and Maggie had left but her pager had gone off and she hadn’t had the chance. She’d naively hoped that no one would have found out before she and Cormac had the chance to tell Bailey and go to HR but she should have known better.

“Uhhh if all a rumour? Or uhh, I’m sorry Chief Bailey that I didn’t come to tell you and HR?”

“Definitely the latter. I was meant to come and tell you this morning, but you saw came into the ER!”

“Mhm,” Miranda pursed her lips looking unimpressed. “I’m surprised, Grey.”

“About?” Meredith asked.

“I didn’t think Hayes was your type.”

Meredith raised her brows, partially because she hadn’t expected Bailey to care this much.

“You guys were at loggerheads when he first started here. I’m pretty sure I remember you coming into my office and telling me he had too much of an ego to have a job here and that I needed to fire him?”

“I mean… I still think he has an ego,” Meredith was pretty sure that wasn’t a surgeon in existence who didn’t have a least a little bit of an ego.

“But you’re dating him?”

“I am. And I’m going to see HR in my lunch break about it.” Meredith quickly added on, making sure that Bailey knew that she was going to be doing things by the book. In this case at least.

Miranda nodded, “He treats you right?”

Slightly taken aback at Miranda’s concern, Meredith still couldn’t help but smile. “Better than I deserve.”

“He does anything wrong you let me know okay?” and with that, Miranda turned around and walked off before their chat turned more sentimental than she could handle.

***

“Were you ever going to tell me that you finally asked Meredith out?”

Jo seemed to appear out of nowhere as Cormac did his rounds in the NICU.

Not batting an eyelid at her sudden appearance, Cormac carried on looking through a chart. “I’m sorry?”

“Oh, don’t go playing dumb with me. The entire hospital knows that you and Meredith Grey are a thing. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me! I can’t believe she didn’t tell me!”

Cormac finally looked up at her, “My sincerest apologies Wilson but you seem to know now, so what’s the issue?

“The issue is that I just created a Tinder account for her, and I have four guys ready to go on a date with her!”

Throwing her hands up in the air, Jo stormed off and Cormac couldn’t help but look bewildered. He was definitely glad they had told everyone now.