#this was the last time they talked before he got into second coma

[dramaaddict]

Oh No! Here Comes Trouble S1E12

[annabelle--cane]

this is a difficult thing to have conversations about because it provokes really strong reactions in people for completely valid and understandable reasons, so please feel free to hit da bricks on this post whenever you want, but I do want to try and analyse the jonmartin slaps. we get three across 160, 169, and 172, and a line addressing it in 173, and then it never happens or comes up again. none of them come out of nowhere, and they mostly fly under the radar until 173 because they all broadly fit the "slapping someone out of a trance in an emergency" trope, but each of them slowly decreases in urgency.

the first time, the apocalypse starts up and martin comes back to find a passed out jon, can't wake him by making noise, and strikes him in a panic. this makes sense, this is a man who has entered a supernatural coma before and martin had no idea what was going on, so of course he'd jump to something desperate.

the second time, they're in a burning building, jude arrives while jon is still mid-statement, and when making noise doesn't work martin slaps him out of it. this makes sense, they were there for jude and if jon didn't come back to himself then she likely would have hurt them, though martin knew that her powers against them were limited.

the third time, jon is getting pulled into into a repeating statement instead of coming out on his own like usual, so martin speaks once or twice to try and get his attention, and then slaps him out of it. this... again, it makes sense, jon was getting trapped, but there was no immediate peril like before, martin just got freaked out and wanted to leave quickly. he seems to get that it was harsh because he apologizes for it, but they don't linger at all, martin just starts in on them having to leave immediately.

the last time it's mentioned is when they're on night street, during what is one of their most intense arguments. jon tries to talk about the suffering of the children there for longer than he needs to in order to make a point, martin cuts him off, and he pointedly says, "thank you for not hitting me this time." it never happens or is brought up again.

to our knowledge, jon doesn't say anything about the slapping until 173. he's not a guy who's known for speaking up when things upset him, he was amiably working with daisy within about a week of her trying to kill him, so it makes sense that he would just sit with this comparatively more minor thing. however, I do think it's relevant to note that, at this point in their relationship, martin will sometimes voice his feelings and boundaries (not listening to statements, not consenting to mind reading, worrying when jon expresses discomfort with his body), while jon doesn't. from the couple of times he does talk about his feelings this season, I think that tendency comes a few places: he has a hard time being aware of his emotions at all, he doesn't know how to evaluate his emotions' importance in comparison to others', he assumes his emotions are obvious and thus people already act with full knowledge of them, and the topic is just hard to make himself talk about. from what he says in 173, I think the slaps bothered him the entire time, but he made himself be fine with it until he was upset with martin for unrelated reasons and finally let it out.

as for martin's side, I do not think the slaps came from any kind of suppressed desire to hurt or wield power over jon. we've seen him when he's angry at jon, this isn't how he acts, he gets shouty and indignant but never violent. I'd even go as far as to say he doesn't do it in 173 because he's genuinely upset at jon and the situation they're in, and it would never occur to him to deliberately inflict pain on someone he cares about to assert control over them. the connecting line between all of them is fear from something that he wants jon to help him handle. the apocalypse starts, he is stuck inside one of his worst nightmares, and he's paranoid that the web took control of him. he's someone who is "always following, never leading" (170), and he gets tunnel vision when something scares him and his "leader" isn't there.

jon did need to be pulled out of all three of those situations, and words proved insufficient, and maybe a quick jolt of pain was the only thing that could have worked, but martin doesn't seem to consider what that would feel like from jon's pov. in my experience of relationships, if there's ever an unavoidable emergency where you do actually need to cross a line that you never would otherwise, you talk about it afterwards. you do a debrief where you say "I'm really sorry about that, I didn't see another way, I'll try and be better prepared next time." they do this for problems they have later on (177, 198), but martin doesn't do that here. jon's point-of-view just doesn't seem to occur to him. when jon expresses discomfort, he drops the tactic without a word; later, when he needs to anchor jon in the panopticon, he talks him through it before it can get too far. so, it's not about a lack of care for jon's feelings.

I think it comes down to a few things: a) his occasional tendency to treat people as a means to an ends and not think about their perspective. he's so glued to putting others first most of the time that when he stops, he can't find a middle ground and forgets that other people can have feelings about his actions. b) his problems with conceiving of himself as a person of any importance who is capable of doing anything, especially of doing harm. as a concept, "hurting jon" is the thing he would least like to do in the whole world, it is his nightmare scenario and literally the culminating moment of his tragedy. he finds it almost unthinkable, so the idea that he does it casually when he's scared doesn't cross his mind. one of his central worries at this point is that jon is now so powerful that he no longer needs martin, how could he hurt someone like that? he's not anywhere near a comparable level of importance, it's not like he has his own domain that he's not aware of because jon told him about it and he immediately rejected the information. he's powerless and could never bring himself to hurt the man he loves.

I just. think it's an interesting microcosm of some of the lows of their relationship. once the problem is discovered martin instantly takes the note and doesn't put it on jon to explain himself further or assuage his guilt, they are willing and able to adapt, but it still comes from some of their bedrock flaws. martin doesn't understand that he can hurt people, and jon has such an inflated understanding of his capacity to hurt people that it sabotages his self-worth and his ability to respond to pain and displeasure.

[midnightloversmusic]

You’re so golden!

When you and Harry are forced to endure a heat wave outdoors shenanigans inevitably occur…

Warnings: SMUT, oral fem!receiving, dirty talk

masterlist

The last time you checked your phone was this morning when you were rudely awakened by the suffocatingly humid air and the pull of sticky sweaty skin while turning away from Harry who was practically in a heat induced coma. It's almost July and it is hot, unusually so. Not to mention that your AC broke in the middle of the night leaving you no escape from the heatwave that just hit your once comfortably warm town. This left you and harry no choice but to pile into an ice cold shower this morning trying desperately to cool off, but failed miserably when he got distracted looking at your tits. 

Now you are in your pool trying to cool off as Harry stares helplessly at his phone that won’t turn on because it overheated. He sighs and you snicker silently to yourself. You had given up trying to go online hours ago. Harry lays his head back and you take a second to admire the expanse of his torso through your sunglasses. Sweat trickles down his butterfly tattoo down into the ridges of his abs. It's practically an obscene sight. He should look innocent, he's lounging on a lawn chair with his pretty mouth set into a pout and his hair fluffier than normal because of the humid air. You think the heat must be messing with your head because the sight makes you want to pounce. He seems to finally notice your staring and looks up from his slouched position to point his pout at you and say

“Why are you staring, love?”

“I’m not staring, I was looking behind you, there was a bird.”

“Mhm”

He says with a knowing smirk. You can’t keep your smile hidden and end up erupting into a soft burst of giggles. Apparently the heat is not only making your limbs move a bit slower it's making your mind slack too, or maybe that's just your boyfriend in tiny blue swim shorts doing.

You  decide you have had enough of the water and use your arms to push your body out of the pool. Making your way over to Harry soaking wet. He motions for you to come and lay down with him and you see him eying the rivulets descending down your chest. His eyes are no longer playful but instead hungry. Maybe the heat is messing with his head too. 

You lay your languid limbs in a heap next to his own and he lets out a hiss as the cold water from your body hits him in a rush.

“Fuck thats freezing, feels good though. I thought I was going to pass out for a bit over here, Its so hot I can literally see the air, or the heat, or atmosphere, whatever the fuck you wanna call it. I see stuff” 

He trails off and you giggle into his chest. You reach over him to grab at the bowl of strawberries he had brought out a little earlier. You grab one by the stem, sit up slightly and wrap your lips around the end. It's a little warm after sitting in the sun for a bit, but it still has the chill from the fridge and the sweetness of a perfectly ripe strawberry. You close your eyes and tip your chin back letting out a satisfactory hum at the flavor. A bit of juice falls from your lips and drips to your chin and ascends down your neck.

Before you get a chance to wipe it off Harry does it for you, with his tongue. You moan at the unexpected wetness on your neck and reach your hand that's not holding the strawberry to tangle itself in his messy curls to keep him firmly at your neck. He doesn’t seem to mind, he just hums and starts sucking and nipping bruises onto your skin. You curse under your breath as he inches towards a spot that is just right and you can feel wetness growing under your bathing suit bottoms. To send the messenger across you pull Harry from the chair you two were laying on down to the towel on the ground you had set up earlier. His new spot on top of you gives you the perfect advantage of lifting your hips up to brush his creating the most heavenly friction. 

Harry lets out a gasp and pushes your hips back to the ground with his own.

“Please” you say without really knowing what you were asking for

“Please what, love? What d’you want, hm?”

“Want you” you whine, having no patience for his teasing.

The sun was burning down on both of you, already drying you off. The heat made it hard to breathe, but Harry slowly kissing down your chest and moving one strap of your bathing suit down your shoulder was more than enough to stop the air from entering your lungs completely. Through your spell of dizziness you hear harry say

“Breath, lovie”

And you would do whatever this man tells you to. You’d bring him the damn moon if he told you to go get it. You suck in a sharp breath just as harry takes your nipple into his mouth and sucks hard. You make a noise somewhere between a whine and a moan as he continues sucking and moving your bathing suit down so that both your tits are out on display for him. He alternates between sucking and nipping both of them until you impatiently grab his head and start pushing him downwards

“You're quite bossy today, doll”

“‘M only bossy because you're teasing me” 

You say in a pathetic whimper. Harry seems to take pity on you though because he starts sloppily kissing down your body. His hand comes up to yours and you don’t realize what he's doing until he takes your forgotten strawberry out of your hand, smirks and pushes it down your stomach. He licks up each path he draws with the strawberry. He’s lost in his own world. Drawing H’s on your tummy with strawberry juice just to trace them with his tongue.

“Tastes so good love, but never as good as you. God, I can’t wait to get your sweet juices on my tongue.”

You let out a loud moan at his explicit choice of words and your back arches as he gets closer to your covered pussy. He drops the strawberry on the grass beside you and licks over your bathing suit bottoms causing your back to arch and your stomach to flip. He wasted no time pulling your bottoms to the side and diving in. The feeling was indescribable. His tongue explored every inch of you. You could feel it slide in and out of you and swirl around in a way that left you a puddle with only thoughts of harry harry harry harry. 

He works his way back up to your clit and sucks, his cheeks hollowing as he looks up at you. He takes your hands and buries them in his hair.

“So pretty baby, you look so pretty” 

You let out in a breathless sort of way. Harry’s eyes soften and almost droop like he's drunk off your pussy. He places his hands on your hips to keep them in place as he focuses back on getting you off. He’s moving in all the ways he knows will drive you crazy. You let out little gasps and moans of pleasure at every sweep of his tongue. Unable to hold back your noises anymore. Harry lets out appreciative moans at the sound. You feel the bright hot pleasure of your orgasm building and you can't stop your legs from trembling. Your mind blanks out and you're all consumed by the tingling pleasure between your legs. Squeezing your legs shut around Harry's head as he continues to eat you out while you ride out your orgasm. Once your orgasm is done and Harry's tongue moving on your cunt has become too much to handle you pull him off by his hair as he whines. He lays his head on your stomach and looks completely fucked out as if he was the one who had a mind-blowing orgasm and not you. Your legs are still twitching and the only sound around you is the light breeze and the heavy panting from both you and Harry trying to catch your breath.

“I felt like I couldn't breathe before and now that you have successfully devoured me i’d say i'm going to pass out in the next three minutes give or take” 

You say through a giggle that steals the last of the air from your lungs. You take a greedy breath to make up for all the ones you’ve lost in your recent activities. 

“It was so worth it, we’ll pass out together, love”

You push him off you in an attempt to escape the heat burning from the sky and both of your bodies. You stand up to jump, more like flop into the pool. The cold water immediately cools you down and clears your mind from your post-orgasm fog. You swim to the top of the water to catch a breath but in the process you get hit by the splash of Harry jumping into the pool with you.

Yeah heat waves suck, but you and Harry can make it work. 

[theotherbuckley]

right here - read on ao3

In an instant his veins turn to ice, his body stills, his legs shake as they try to hold him up. The voice on the other end of the line keeps speaking, but he can’t hear her. Can only hear the last four words repeating around and around in his mind.

There was an accident.

There was an accident.

There was an accident.

There was an accident.

Tommy.

He’s moving before he can register it, half way out the door, holding his wallet and keys even though he doesn’t remember picking them up. He doesn’t remember hanging up the phone but the woman is no longer on the line. He knows which hospital to go to, even though he doesn’t remember her saying it.

His mind feels like tunnel vision; hazy and dark around the edges, focused on one thing only. Tommy, Tommy, Tommy.

He shouldn’t be driving.

He drives anyway.

He arrives 25 minutes later, wishing he was faster, but he can’t even remember the journey anyway.

The hospital lights are too bright and sterile as he walks in. They make him want to itch under his skin. There’s a buzz in the air, beeping of various machines. He can’t hear it over the thud of his heart beat in his ear. He doesn't remember if he locked his car. He has insurance, it doesn't matter. 

Lub dub.

Why is he thinking about his car?

There’s someone talking to him. He’s at the front desk. They’re asking his name.

Lub dub.

“I— Evan, um, Evan Buckley. You— someone called me? For Tommy. Thomas Kinard.”

Thomas is his father’s name. He doesn’t like Thomas.

Lub dub.

“One moment,” she says, turning to the computer screen.

“Mr Kinard has just come out of surgery. He’s in room 135 in the east wing. The doctor’s there can fill you in.”

Surgery.

Lub dub.

Surgery.

Lub dub.

Surgery.

Lub dub.

He barely remembers to say thank you, before he’s running through the halls. He wishes he didn't know exactly which way to go. 

Tommy looks small under the burning white lights, drowned in an oversized hospital gown.

Lub dub.

Tommy never looks small. Tommy makes Buck look small. Right now he feels like a giant in all the worst ways.

Lub dub.

He can feel every inch of his skin. It feels like there’s both ice and fire running through his vein. Burning cold through him. He can feel each hair standing on end, feel each beat of his heart pulse through his body like a tremor. He feels clumsy, like his limbs aren't his own, his mind feels too small for this body. He feels too big as he looks at his boyfriend from behind a glass window.

Lub dub.

Christopher's iPad is in the backseat of the Jeep. He forgot to take it home. He hopes nobody steals it.

Hopefully he remembered to lock the door.

Why does it matter right now?

“He’s in a medically induced coma, for now.” There’s a doctor standing by his side. He doesn’t know when she got there. He doesn’t know how long he’s been staring.

A coma. The words echo in his mind.

A coma.

Lub dub.

This hurts far worse than being struck by lightning ever could.

It always hurts so much more when it’s not him, when it’s someone he loves instead.

He’d take being struck by lightning a thousand times over this.

Lub dub.

Thinking about his car feels easier than looking at Tommy. He must have locked the door, it's like second nature. Eddie always gives him this look when Buck double checks the door. There's no way he forgot this time. 

“We hope to get him out of it after a day or two, just enough time for his body to heal a little from his injuries.”

What injuries? His brain is screaming. His heart aches in his chest. Lub dub. Lub dub. Lub dub. It feels like it’s trying to escape, trying to break through this glass barrier and get to where it belongs; with Tommy.

Lub dub. Lubdub. Lubdublubdublubdub—

“What—what happened?” He croaks out over the ringing in his ears.

“It was a fucking bird of all things,” a voice behind him says. This one he recognises.

“Lucy?” He turns to her, forcing his eyes to move away from where his boyfriend lays. It physically pains him to do so. Feels like he’s ripping a part of himself off as he turns away.

“He didn’t see it coming. Just flew straight through his window, wasn’t much he could do after that.”

“He’s lucky,” the doctor speaks this time. Buck doesn’t think this is lucky. Luck is winning the lottery, luck is finding the man of your dreams on a random day in the middle of a hurricane. Luck is not crashing a helicopter from a bird strike.

“A fall from that height, with only the injuries he sustained. He was talking when he got here. The only surgery he needed was a minor bone realignment of his leg which took most of the impact. He’s lucky it wasn’t much worse.”

Buck hears the words she doesn’t say.

He’s lucky to be alive.

Lub dub. Lub dub. Lub dub.

His hands are shaking.

"I don't remember if I locked my car." He's not sure why he says it, but the words come out anyway. 

"You don't—Buckley," Lucy sighs. "Give me your keys." He obliges. His brain feels kind of foggy. He returns his attention to his boyfriend. The man who needs him right now but Buck's too busy thinking about his damn car. 

“Can I—Can I sit with him?” His voice comes out as not much more than a whisper.

“Of course.” The doctor nods, gesturing him towards the door.

Each step he takes feels unsteady but he moves anyway. His heart beat feels louder in his ears, like it knows it’s getting closer to the man he loves.

Lub dub.

He hesitates in the doorway, for reasons he can’t understand himself.

His heart skips a beat.

He walks through anyway. Takes a seat right by Tommy’s side. He lifts his shaking hand, pauses and looks towards the doctor who nods an okay.

He takes Tommy’s hand in his own. His hands are still shaking and he squeezes Tommy tighter to try and get them to stop. There’s bruising along his arms. Purple blotches scattered up their lengths. But the doctor’s right; all things considered he looks better than he could be.

There’s a cast on his leg. He remembers the firetruck crushing his bones and his own leg winces in sympathy.

Buck takes a deep breath. His heart slows slightly, matching that of his boyfriend’s.

A single tear escapes through his eyelid and Buck lets out a sob that he didn’t even realise he was holding back.

All at once, everything catches up to him. He collapses his head onto Tommy’s bed, never letting go of his hand. He cries, the sound muffled by the mattress. His body shakes with each hiccuping sob, but he feels better than before.

Because Tommy’s still here.

Right here.

His hand is limp beneath Buck’s own, but it’s warm. Warm is good. Warm means life.

The rest doesn’t matter right now. Tommy’s alive, he’s going to stay alive. And Buck will stay right here until he wakes up.

He presses a soft kiss to Tommy’s red knuckles. Wiping his eyes with the hand not joined to Tommy’s.

“I love you,” he whispers. He swears the heart rate on the monitor jumps slightly, like Tommy heard him. It doesn’t matter even if he didn’t. Buck will just tell him again, and again when he wakes up. read on ao3

[crying-fantasies]

In health and sickness

Masterlist

Many words could describe him at the moment.

Overprotective, over doting conjunx, overwhelming, overbearing and many others that could be an excellent reflection of his actions and reactions, it's the second one that catches him off guard because he isn't sure if it was due to embarrassment or that it felt like a joke at his expense.

There are little options when his system charge way before the programmed hour, not knowing what is going on before his sensors show him in deep red alarms a focus of temperature in the room and the low registration of CO2 in the room, there is a way too short time for decision making as he finds you looking at the ceiling without blinking, chest hardly moving before a horrendous sound erupts, like an engine got stuck somewhere or a spark giving up, almost like a dying cybertronian or an idiot that consumed some corrosive substance.

He has heard both frequently in the battlefield, that's his excuse to call, and appear, at ungodly hours to the nearest clinic going full police car, poor the souls of any mech on his way while you were hardly battling off the mucus on your throat and the pain of your insides twisting, churning, trying to get whatever kept oxygen out of your lungs.

Nothing too hard, just the main problem being what humans call a virus, Prowl has to download once again the basics of your species and the recently updated papers about the whole deal, how did it came to Iacon when he was so sure the outbreak was limited to Stanix? How is it possible that there is no cure for this humorless pest, almost strangling the medic with his bare servos when the indications of "just let them rest well, a lot of fluids and a healthy diet" were all he could give you apart from medicine to only temporarily placate any symptoms.

Prowl knew that humans had a terrible automatic cleansing and protective program, but it still was ridiculous how it only took a little microscopic individual to have you in the verge of dehydration and suffocation, assaulting as an opportunist in your weakest state of mind to have him saying the same as always: you don't have to work, he'll take care of everything, you don't have to stress yourself because here you're safe, but his words aren't that believable as this is the result of the heat generators in the city falling once again because he can't still keep the energy flow uninterrupted, your little body caught in a decreasing temperature in mere minutes before someone else gave you a heated metal blanket to stop a freezing coma or something worse.

There is nothing left to do, only make it bearable for you, as long as it can last because even the most advanced remedies are lacking and he can't have something better in at least a few more years when he needs them by yesterday when it all began.

"It's okay", you try to calm him, knowing well how under his stoic faceplate he is freaking out, you just have to see how far Prowl is going, this is his second day working from home, his scowl is present as always but the way his door wings move at any sound from the street show just right how in the edge he is.

Somehow, your words seem to make it worse, his angry expression almost scares you, "don't talk back now", is his only response, putting a little cube with warm lemonade next to your side of the berth, internally, you cringe, thinking of the warm but also stinging fluid going down your sore throat, thinking how expensive a single lemon is in Cybertron.

But, above all else, seeing him so on edge puts you in the same circumstances, trying to talk him down from submitting a complain to Stanix's medical officers regarding the virus now in Iacon, he is so engrossed in it, not even putting his datapad down when there is an obvious notification of intruders on your door, Prowl only gives it attention when Bonecrusher ends up decimating the door of the living quarters by brutal force, falling with it and still punching the poor thing, growling and roaring like a wild animal, soon after the rest of the constructicons follow, but they look in a way you've never seen before from them.

Wild gazes, bared dentae, vents puffing out hot air, their armor moves and stands threateningly, they look murderous enough for Prowl to hold you in his servos, almost preparing himself to be attacked before Long Haul claims, "Where is it?! Where is the slag fragger, son of a glitch-?!"

Turns out, Prowl's anger and worry could be felt by them.

Turns out, also, that they don't have his filter of supposed control.

"What? What is this?"

Turns out, easily freaked decepticons, who have very little real interaction with humans, shouldn't enter the medical area of a corny website probably made by a doctor wannabe.

And it shows, in how Hook push them all out of his way when you cough once again, too hard this time, the paper on your hand now with a tingle of blood in between, before any word of assurance can be said from your part Prowl is the first to hold you near, Hook is fast to ask what is going in and someone is already crying out loud for a medic.

So much for a peaceful Saturday morning.

"This will do, this has to do the work", Mixmaster usual anxious movements seem to reach another point, normally steady servos seem to shake ominously when mixing something that smells like bleach, "concentrated citric acid, this'll kill it, show that thing not to mess with us", a drop of the thing reaches the table, an acid like reaction eating away the metal, Long Haul and Scavenger look with dread as the thing keeps eating part of the floor, smoke frizzing out of it, visors wide with obvious panic, the bigger 'con putting a protective servo over you, using his own frame and stopping his partner to get near in his hysteria while the smallest started to cry yet again while clutching your hand between massive digits, said cries only decreasing when you started to promise you were going to be okay, hard to believe when another coughing session appeared again, "it'll work, I swear, only a few sips of it and those parasites will be gone forever!"

Hook shouted too, "it's vitamin C! Vitamin C!", he holds down Mixmaster, who at the end just let's go of the cube with a strangled growl.

Prowl would never admit it but he could act normal if Long Haul was watching over you.

"We should punch them in the faceplates", Bonecrusher keeps going, going from one side of the place to the other, barely kept anger on him.

You try, you really do, to push yourself out of the different blankets above of you, but they have made the sentence of "keep warm to improve the process" a lot more unnecessary, as you're sure at least one of those is your weighted blanket, "I'll be fine" you promise once again, mucus on the nose, throat incredibly raw, pretty sure they can read the increasing fever in their sensors, Scavenger is the one closest to you, and is also the one hearing every word of yours and give it real credit, "this takes a week as much, just let it-"

Another fit of coughing erupted, and this time followed by sneezing, more blood coming and showing like an alarm on the white tissue, and someone shouting "MEDIC!" as if you have just been injured on the battlefield.

You're ready to die from mortification, preparing your lengthy apology to whoever has the disgrace to treat you as Prowl drives back to the hospital with 5 constructicons after him.

.

For my Prowl lovers fellows (sorry for the constructiprowl content but boy I love all of them together) @dundeey, @lovenotcomputed and @ikkosu.

[alltheirdamn]

Killing Me Softly | (Joel x teacher!f!reader)

Chap. 6 Buried Truths

Summary: When the past can only be contained for so long, Joel is there to pick up the pieces. Rating: 18+ MDNI Explicit Word Count: 8.4k Warnings: Pre-outbreak AU, language, mentions of a hospital setting, mentions of injury, mentions of past trauma, a FUCK ton of angst, little sprinkle of smut, another cliffhanger (don't worry, i won't make you wait long) A/N: This is the part where you all collectively say OH...

Masterlist | Ko-Fi

Joel’s hand remained wrapped around yours as you stared blankly out the plane window. Everything had been a blur the last twenty-four hours. After you got off the call with Beth, you ran through calling the school to find a substitute, packed what you could into a small carry-on bag, and went online to book the first ticket out to Boston. You tried to talk Joel into staying back in Austin; he had work and Sarah to care for, but he was adamant about coming. He made a quick call to Tommy to make a plan for Sarah and contacted his work to find coverage for the rest of the week. He was only apart from you when he rushed home to pack his travel bag. Then you were both off to the airport: you bleary-eyed and Joel more stoic than you could ever recall seeing. He hadn’t said much between security and the flight gate, but you were too exhausted to try and force conversation. 

“Hey,” Joel said, nudging you. “How you feelin’, baby?”

You glanced at him and shrugged, the tears from earlier still drying on your cheeks.

“I’m okay, I guess.”

His fingers squeezed around yours before he brought your hand to his mouth to kiss it softly.

“He’s gonna be alright,” he assured. “Beth said he’s recovering now, right? It’s just gonna take some time.”

While you and Joel were waiting at the gate, you called Beth again to find out what happened with your dad. She explained he had been up on the ladder fixing the roofing above the patio when his foot caught in one of the steps, ultimately forcing him to fall ten feet to the ground. He had a broken hip, a fracture in his lower spine, and a severe concussion—leaving him in a temporary medically induced coma. Beth had said he was lucky to be alive, but the anxiety still bubbled inside you in fear of what he would endure through his recovery. The thought of his injury only elevated the already strong emotions connecting you to the past, making it nearly impossible to cope with your dad’s accident while you simultaneously still struggled with your own.

The plane made a rocky touch-down in Boston well after midnight, the autumn rain causing the plane to slide against the tarmac before coming to a jarring stop. You and Joel rushed around the other passengers, filing out of the plane and sprinting through the airport to find Beth. You singled her out of the crowd, her face rosy and hair piled onto her head in a messy bun. The second she had your arms around you, you crumpled to the ground as the sobs broke out of your chest. 

“It’s okay, sis,” she said, her voice breaking. “He’s stable. It’s gonna be okay.”

“What if—what if he’s not?” You sobbed. 

You clutched onto her sweater, your head buried into her shoulders. She hushed you, her hand rubbing into your back.

“The doctors said he’ll make a full recovery. We just need to wait,” she said. 

“Is there any…” Your voice broke once more.

“No,” she whispered. “There’s no serious damage to his brain.”

You choked on your breath, relief swimming through your veins. This wouldn’t be like your accident; he would be okay. 

“C’mon,” she urged, pulling you to your feet. 

You wiped your nose across your sleeve, sheepishly turning to Joel. Gesturing from him to Beth, you gave a weak smile.

“Joel, this is Beth. Beth, this is Joel.”

Joel and Beth stood motionless, staring awkwardly at each other. You glanced between them, your eyebrows furrowing. Why weren’t they saying anything? 

Finally, Joel cleared his throat and extended his hand to Beth. 

“Nice to meet you, Beth. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Beth took his hand cautiously, giving him a friendly smile.

“Same here.”

You’d revisit this awkward interaction later, but you needed to go home. 

“Is mom home?” You asked Beth. 

You reached for your bag, but Joel gently nudged your hand away. He took it into his hand and walked to the parking garage behind you and your sister.

“Her and Stella are at the hospital,” she explained.

You stopped in your tracks, sending Joel staggering into your back with a soft oof.

“Sorry,” you muttered to Joel. You turned back to Beth. “Take me home.”

“No,” she said sternly. “They want you there. You need to be there.”

“Beth,” you started.

She lifted a hand to silence you, glancing over your shoulder at Joel.

“Can you jump in the car real quick? I need to talk to my sister alone.”

Beth tossed her keys to Joel, waiting until the back door shut before she glared at you. 

“Does he know?” She questioned.

“Of course, he doesn’t know,” you argued. 

She scoffed, folding her arms.

“Considering everything going on, you didn’t think to mention it to him?”

“Sorry, I’ve been a little busy getting my ass out here as fast as possible. It didn’t register in my mind to share the sad details of my accident with him.”

“You need to tell him, sis.”

“This isn’t the fucking time to do it!” You snapped. 

Beth rolled her eyes, her lips pursed for another attack.

“It’s going to come out sooner or later. You know that, right? He’s not going to run away if you tell him.”

“Bennett did, so why is he any different?”

“Stop comparing him to Bennett!” She yelled. “He’s nothing like him, and if you seriously think that, then you’re a fucking idiot.”

“Don’t say that,” you mumbled.

“What? The truth? Because the truth is that you are a fucking idiot. And on top of that, you’re a coward.”

“Fuck you,” you spat. 

Beth laughed. She actually laughed. Rounding the car, she left you standing teary-eyed and frustrated. 

“Get in the fucking car,” she shouted. “We’re wasting time.”

You hauled yourself into the front seat, keeping your eyes out of the window and avoiding the heavy truth sitting between you, Beth, and Joel. If any one of them told him about your past, you’d kill them. It was yours to share whenever you were ready. 

Beth drove like a bat out of hell to Mass General. No one said anything the entire drive, and you were grateful for it. After the blowup between you and Beth, you had no more energy left to fight. You just hoped you’d be able to reel in the anger with Joel; he didn’t deserve it. 

Mass General loomed above the rain clouds settling over the city. Joel and Beth had already exited the car while you sat inside its warmth, your eyes stuck on the Emergency sign at the front of the hospital. Joel tapped on the window, stirring you from the numbing sensation rolling through your body. You didn’t even flinch at the sound of his knuckles on the glass. Joel cracked the door open, pulling it wide enough to fit his broad frame between the metal and your shaking body.

“C’mon baby,” he urged, offering his hand. “I know y’can do this. I’m right here with you, okay?”

“I can’t,” you whined. 

Joel crouched slightly, leveling you with soft brown eyes, a curl drifting over his forehead. You wished you were both in bed, curled under the covers and far away from Boston. You wanted his soft hair between your fingers and his stubble ticking your skin. But no, you were here in Boston, with a rain cloud hanging in the sky and your father unconscious in a hospital bed. 

“Look at me,” Joel breathed.

You wanted to look anywhere but at him. If he looked at you any longer, you’d shatter completely. He cautioned your name, coaxing you from your hesitation. His strong hands cupped your cheeks, holding you firm as he kept your focus on his eyes.

“I’m right here,” he repeated. “Ain’t gonna leave your side no matter what. Y’understand? Whatever happens, I’m right here.”

You chewed on your lip to keep the sobs from escaping. It was surprising you had anything left to cry; all you did was cry… and cry… and cry. 

“I can’t go in there, Joel. You don’t—you don’t understand.”

“Help me understand,” he pleaded.

“Go without me. I’ll wait outside, okay?”

“Baby,” he groaned. “Beth will have my ass if I don’t get you inside.”

You scoffed, ripping his hands from your face. 

“You speak a few words to her and suddenly know how she’s gonna react?” You glared. “You both acted so fucking weird in the airport and now you’re taking her side?”

Joel straightened to his full height, the shadow of his body blanketing you. You were pushing him away; you knew it, and so did he. You just needed to nudge him a bit more, and he’d run. You’d be alone again and spare yourself the humiliation and heartbreak.

“I ain’t takin’ sides,” he argued. “I’m bein’ realistic. I saw the way she went at you back there. I’m not ‘bout to get the same treatment for leavin’ you behind.”

“Just go!” You yelled. You shoved at his chest, forcing him back into the door. 

He didn’t respond in anger like you expected. He did the opposite, pulling you towards him and into a desperate kiss. You tried to push him off—tried to fight it— but he only held you tighter.

“Keep fightin’ me, baby,” he said against your mouth. “I’m only gonna fight back.”

“I hate you,” you cried. “I hate you.”

But you didn’t stop kissing him. You gripped the wild curls at the base of his neck, pinning him to your lips as you sobbed through every slant of his mouth. 

“Why won’t you leave?” You cried, the words muffled as his tongue searched for yours. “Why, Joel?”

“I ain’t leavin’ you again, baby,” he murmured. “I can’t.”

Joel pulled away from your swollen lips, tears pooling in his eyes. You instantly felt remorse for treating him so badly. You wouldn’t do to him what Bennett did to you. 

“Remember when I said this was real?” he asked. “Do you still believe that?”

You nodded, squeezing your eyes shut as more tears ran down your cheeks.

“Yes,” you whimpered.

“Then trust me when I say I’m never leavin’. Not now. Not ever.”

You inhaled a sharp breath and buried your head in your hands. 

“Just give me a minute, okay?” You exhaled. “Catch up with Beth, and I’ll be right behind you.”

“I’ll make you a deal,” he said, echoing the words you spoke only a few weeks ago. 

“You and your deals,” you grumbled, peeking out your fingers.

That garnered a slight grin from Joel, his lips curling upward.

“Take your breather, and I’ll wait by the back of the car. If y’wanna go in, we can go in together.”

You remained silent, hiccuping over another sob. Joel raised his brow, waiting for a response. Avoiding his eyes, you nodded, the Emergency sign taunting you from a distance. Joel leaned down to press a soft kiss on your forehead and abandoned you to retreat toward the back of the car. 

You steadied your breathing, focusing on the slow inhale and exhale of the air within your lungs. It wasn’t you in that hospital bed; it was your dad. He didn’t sustain the same damage you had, and that’s all that mattered. Whatever the outcome, he was better off than you had ever been, and you needed to be grateful for it. 

You let your legs move on their own accord as you took your spot beside Joel, his hand instantly grasping around yours. His touch grounded you in the moment, keeping you centered as your mind swam upstream through the rocky waves of the past. You had to stay strong. You had to prove you could do this.

The second your feet crossed through the sliding doors, all that strength collapsed. Joel hooked a strong arm around your back, bracing you to his side as he guided you into the waiting room. Your mom and Beth sat side by side in the worn-down seats, their faces grim and tired. 

“Hey,” you said wearily. 

Your mom's eyes snapped up, and she broke down at seeing you. She ran up to yank you from Joel’s grasp, smothering you into a tight hug. 

“Oh, honey,” she cried. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“How’s dad?” You asked, speaking into her hair that wrapped around your face.

“Doctors haven’t given much of an update, but he’s alright. They’re taking him in for surgery in a few hours to help reset his hip.”

“And his head?” You faltered.

“There’s no serious damage,” she whispered.

You peered over her shoulder to where Beth sat, eyes meeting in a quiet understanding. There was still a tension running thick between you both, but those words from your mom were enough to soothe the surmounting anxiety inside you.

“Mom,” you sighed, tearing away from her embrace. “This is Joel.”

You motioned to Joel behind you, an eerie repeat of what had happened between him and Beth. Your mom stood frozen, her eyes widening as she stared at him. Joel cracked a welcoming smile, extending his hand out to her. No one moved, and his hand remained wavering in the stagnant air. 

“Mom?” You pressed.

She shook her head and opened her arms to Joel, inviting him in for a hug. It was strange but not entirely unexpected, considering the circumstances. 

“Hi, honey,” she said as she rocked Joel back and forth in the embrace. 

“Hi, Mrs. Smith,” Joel replied. You caught on to the way his biceps flexed around her, squeezing her just as tightly as he would with you. He was comforting her, and something softened inside you. 

Beth cleared her throat behind you, snapping you out of your thoughts. Your mom released Joel and turned towards Beth.

“She should go up and see him,” Beth told your mom.

“She is right here,” you snapped.

“Oh, now she wants to listen to me,” Beth snorted.

“Both of you!” Your mom shouted. “Enough!”

You shrunk away, folding yourself into Joel’s warm frame. The press of his body against yours quelled the anger rising back up, and you kept focus on his hands rubbing over your arms to keep from lashing out. Beth was pushing, and you knew exactly why.

“Listen, Beth, stay here and chill out,” your mom started. She glanced back at you and Joel before continuing. “Let’s go upstairs, and I’ll take you to see him.”

You followed your mom up to the ICU, your eyes shifting from one room to another. The repetition of machines beeping and murmurs of nurses through the hall slammed into your head like a hammer, and you found yourself clinging to Joel, twisting his cotton shirt until it stretched between your fingers. 

“It’s okay, baby,” Joel crooned. “I got you. Ain’t lettin’ you go.”

Mom guided you to the room where Stella was perched on a chair beside the bed. You averted your eyes from your dad, refusing to look. Stella turned to see you walk in and immediately sprinted into your arms, sobbing into your chest.

“I know. I know,” you cried.

“I was so scared it was going to happen again, sis,” she muttered. 

“They said he was okay, right? It’s not going to happen to him,” you assured. 

“But what if it does? What if he wakes up and doesn’t remember—.”

“Don’t,” you interjected. “Don’t say it.”

She peeled herself from you and wiped away her tears. Joel stepped forward, his hand pressed to your lower back, as he made his way to introduce himself.

“I’m Joel,” he smiled, extending his hand.

Stella flung herself at him, wrapping her arms around him and nuzzling into his chest. Your mom watched them with a knowing look, something you couldn’t discern. 

“I’ve heard so much about you,” she sighed. 

Weird. You only really talked to Beth about Joel and didn’t expect her to share it with anyone except your mom. 

Joel rubbed her shoulders gently, then pulled away. 

“Likewise, Stell.”

Stell. You didn’t recall calling her that in front of Joel; that nickname was reserved for you and only you. Your head was pounding, and the nagging feeling that you were losing grip on reality was slowly settling in. You worked so hard to remember everything; it wouldn’t happen again. Not now. 

“You okay, sweetie?” Your mom cautioned, stepping beside you.

Her voice roused you from your confusion, and you made the mistake of looking at your dad for the first time. He looked so much smaller, lying in the hospital bed: a breathing tube situated under his nose and IVs running through the bend of his arm. Oh God, and his face. Both of his eyes were rimmed in dark bruises, and a thick layer of bandages was wrapped over his forehead. Was that how you looked all those years ago? Your stomach churned with nausea the longer you looked at him. The whirring of the machines in the room dizzied you, and you felt your body swaying in place. Joel quickly steadied you, his arms coming around your front to lock you into a tight hold. 

“You’re okay, baby,” he murmured into your ear. 

“Do you want to be alone with him, sweetie?” Your mom asked.

“Please,” you said, nodding. 

Joel kissed the crown of your head before following your mom and Stella out into the hall. You glanced over your shoulder to see them all huddled together, the cracked blinds inside the room obstructing your view of what they were saying. You’d ask Joel about it later.

Turning back to your dad, you let the real tears fall. The ugly, gut-wrenching ones you had held back for so long. Tears that weren’t just for him, but for you as well. No one in your family knew the fear and pain that came with a head injury. No one could understand you—not even Bennett, despite everything he tried to say and do. You were alone in its entirety, but you’d be damned if your dad dealt with the same. 

Cradling his hand in yours, you drew circles over his calloused skin with your thumb. You didn’t have words to express your pain, so you sat in silence. The constant repetition of machinery beeping throbbed through the recesses of your brain, a migraine looming on the horizon. You’d suffer with it later, but it would be worth it just to stay in this moment a few seconds longer.

“I love you, dad,” you whispered. 

You didn’t know if he could hear you, but you hoped he did. 

You remained silent for a few more minutes and glanced at the clock above the bed. 3: 13 AM. You hadn’t realized how much of the day had drained away, and the fatigue in your body was settling in rapidly. You wanted to lie down and wake up when everything was better, but it all came with time. And you hated that. You hated time and things it had stolen from you.

A light rap on the door startled you from your silent cocoon, and you turned to see Joel peeking in through the window. You motioned him to come in, and he bent beside the bed, his hand resting on your thigh.

“How ya’ doin’, baby?” He asked softly.

“I’m tired,” you lamented.

He smoothed his hand over your legs, the warmth of his touch radiating through your body. You leaned into his touch, letting your head rest on his.

“I’m gonna ask Beth if we can take the car and go home,” you said. “I can’t be here anymore, and I need sleep.”

“We can do that. Your mom said they’re gonna take him for surgery in a few, anyway. No point stickin’ around if we’d just be waitin’.”

“When he’s out of surgery, they can call me, and we can come back.”

“Sounds like a plan, baby. Let’s get you home.”

Joel offered to drive Beth’s car back to the house. You sat beside him, your head propped in your hand, watching as he drove through the city streets. Even cast in the late night sky, he was so handsome. The rich tan color of his skin seemed to be illuminated by the moonlight glinting through the windshield, his brown eyes softer than you’d ever seen. There wasn’t a trace of a smile on his lips, but he still looked so kind and so loving. Joel glanced over at you as the car slowed in front of the red light. 

“What’s that look for?” He asked, his eyebrows furrowed.

“I’m just really thankful you’re here,” you exhaled. “I’m sorry you had to see me so angry earlier. It wasn’t fair of me to take it out on you.”

Joel leaned over the dash to pull you in for a soft, fleeting kiss.

“There’s a lot happenin’ right now, baby. Be angry all y’want. I can take it,” he said.

You chewed on your lip and nodded, turning your attention back to the street as the light turned green. Joel drove in silence the rest of the way to your parent's house, guiding him quietly with directions every few turns. Even though it had only been a few weeks since you were last home, the streets were scattered with yellow and orange leaves, autumn settling over the neighborhood. The car's tires flattened over them as Joel slowed to the front of the house and killed the engine. 

“This where y’grew up?” Joel asked, tilting his head toward the house.

You nodded, but your eyes were glued to the porch. The ladder was still lying on the ground; the metal pressed into the cold grass of the front lawn. Joel must’ve picked up on your fixation and sighed. 

“I’ll go pick it up, baby. Why don’t you grab your bag and head in, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.” But your eyes didn’t stray from the ladder.

You watched Joel reach the ladder, his body a beacon under the moonlight. His tall figure moved against the cover of the night sky, working quickly to move it off to the side of the house. You took an extra moment to collect yourself before gathering your bags and meeting him on the porch. Joel took them immediately from your hands as you guided him into the house. You’d give him a tour of it tomorrow; you just wanted to curl under the covers of your bed and waste away. 

When you opened the door to your bedroom, Joel gave a low whistle, glancing around at the artifacts of your childhood. Miscellaneous pictures of you and your sisters hung on the walls, along with a collection of CDs stacked on the floor in one corner and a reading nook built into the windowsill. The dated white armoire was nestled against the wall beside your vanity, and the large queen bed sat untouched and nicely made with its white comforter and grey pillows. 

“Nice lil’ room y’got here, baby,” Joel chuckled.

“Yeah, it’s alright,” you shrugged.

You dumped your bag on the ground, collapsing backward until your back hit the bed with a soft thud. Joel followed your lead, and you both lay there silently, staring at the ceiling fan as it spun in circles. It was tempting just to succumb to sleep right in that moment, but you knew you needed a shower to wash off the lingering stress of the day. 

“Come shower with me?” You asked, glancing over at Joel.

“Of course.”

The heat of the shower pelted your skin as Joel rubbed a loufa into your back muscles, working out the knots that had materialized through the long day. You basked in the warmth of his body pressed into yours, your head falling back against his muscular chest and eyes drifting shut. His tender touch helped alleviate the pressure building in your head, and you prayed that the migraine would subside soon enough. 

“Doin’ okay, baby?” He asked, his mouth pressing into the side of your neck.

You hummed at his lips on your skin, bringing your arm up to wrap around the back of his neck. His fingers drifted over the curves of your body, squeezing your hips softly before trailing between your legs.

“Can I?” 

“Mhmm,” you sighed, shifting your body slightly so that he could explore further.

His hand dipped between your legs, your arousal already pooling at your entrance. He was slow with his touch, each graze of his fingers over your sensitive bud eliciting a soft moan from your lips. Joel’s mouth roamed over the expanse of your neck as he continued to draw circles over your throbbing clit. Your fingers tugged at his wet curls, urging him closer. The blood coursing through your veins thrummed with pleasure as he teased the build-up of your release. 

“You’re beautiful, baby. Y’know that?” He whispered in your ear.

Maybe it was the gentle touch of his fingers or his words swimming through your mind, but your climax shattered you into pieces in record time. Your thighs clenched tight around his hand as you let out a soft cry. 

“That’s it,” he crooned. “Let go, baby.”

You slumped against his body, your heart settling back into a normal rhythm. Joel held you close, wrapping his arms around your front and swaying you under the spray of the water. Your eyes grew heavy the longer you remained in his embrace, so you decided to cut the water and drag him out and into bed. 

Under the security of your comforter, you clung to Joel and buried your head into the crook of his arm. He traced circles over your bare arm, letting you lay quietly against him. The familiar pressure of a migraine began forming in your mind, the pounding ache settling behind your eyes. You squeezed your eyes tighter, curling yourself up into his body in hopes it would fade away as you slept. 

“What’s wrong?” Joel asked, noticing the tension paralyzing your muscles.

“Migraine,” you choked out. 

“What do y’need? I can go get it.”

“No, I’m fine,” you lied. “Just stay here. Please.”

“These happen often?”

“Not in a while.” You couldn’t find the strength to form complete sentences, so the words came out choppy and pained.

“Will sleep help?” 

“I hope,” you muttered, tears slipping down your cheeks.

Joel’s arms tightened around your body, anchoring you to his side as he hummed softly into your hair. Pain pulsated through your head as you forced yourself to fall asleep, your limbs shaking as they wrapped around his torso. 

All you wanted was for the pain to go away. 

A few hours later, the morning light dancing through the window stirred you awake. The residual aching pain in your head still lingered, but it was far more manageable than it had been before you fell asleep. Joel snored softly beside you, and you took the chance to watch him as he slept peacefully beside you. The creases in his skin were softened in his slumber, his face relaxed and calm. His lips were parted slightly, the bottom one plush and pouty and tempting to kiss. You nestled into his body, your mouth roaming over his scruffy jaw and eventually reaching his lips. The strange urge to say I love you nearly tumbled out of your mouth as you kissed him, but you swallowed it and saved it away. It was the first time you thought those three little words in the space with someone other than Bennett. Knowing Joel was digging closer to your heart, breaking down every barrier and wall, it was still frightening. But if this sudden trip had taught you anything, he was right; this was real. You weren’t ready to confess those words, but in time you would. 

Just not now. 

Joel roused himself from sleep, groaning softly as he pulled you in for a gentle kiss. 

“Mornin’, baby. How’s your head feelin’?”

“Better,” you sighed. 

“Ready to go back to the hospital?”

You groaned, shoving your head under the comforter. 

“I hate it there.”

He squeezed your side, urging you back up to the surface. Your eyes connected with his, the morning light coloring his eyes a rich shade of amber. Flecks of gold scattered through his irises, blending into the rich chocolate brown you were drawn to. 

“Why do y’hate it so much?” He wondered.

“I—I just don’t have good memories of it.”

“Y’wanna talk to me ‘bout it?”

You rolled onto your back, closing your eyes as the memories waded through the headache still swimming in your head. 

“Bennett, there’s a chance this could actually work,” you begged. 

“I’m not risking it. What if it doesn’t work and things get worse?” He argued. “Isn’t it easier to just move forward?”

You rubbed circles into your temples, trying to soften the onset migraine surging to the surface. All this arguing was making you nauseous and tired. Why wouldn’t Bennett be on your side about this? Why wasn’t he agreeing with you?

“I want to remember,” you lamented. “I want those two years back.”

“The doctors said it’ll take time. Why isn’t that enough?” Bennett sighed, crouching down to meet you at eye level. 

“You don’t understand, Bennett.”

“I’m trying,” he snapped. 

It was the first time you’d experienced his anger in such a way. He wasn’t taking your side, and he wasn’t even listening to your requests. You could only nod and cave to his arguments; he was the one holding the power now. You had to trust him. 

Situating yourself against the headboard, you inhaled sharply and glanced at Joel. 

“I might as well tell you since everyone is on my case about it,” you groaned. 

“Only if you wanna, baby. I ain’t gonna force you,” Joel sighed, looking up at you.

Giving yourself a moment to gather your thoughts, you dove into the story.

“I was in an accident when I was twenty-two, or I guess twenty-four. The last thing I remember was being twenty-two and just moving to Austin with Bennett. We had just moved into our apartment, and I was about to start substitute teaching while finishing my Master's degree. Everything was great. Then, I got in an accident on the way home from school, and the next thing I remember was waking up in the hospital. 

“I guess in the crash, my head hit the dashboard hard enough to cause serious damage to my brain. They—the doctors, told me I had sustained enough trauma to cause retrograde amnesia. I woke up thinking I was still twenty-two, Joel. I lost two years of my life. I couldn’t remember a single thing.”

“Oh, baby. I’m so fuckin’ sorry,” he whispered, propping himself on his elbows. 

“Bennett tried to fill me in on pieces of it, but trying to remember did more damage than anything,” you continued. “I had migraines all the time. I could barely function for the first couple of months, and that’s when my parents talked me into coming back here. To Mass General. They ran so many tests on me and tried to find solutions, but there was no hope. Bennett was adamant about not causing any more damage to my brain, so I just gave up,” you explained. 

“You gave up tryin’ to remember?” He asked, pulling himself up to sit beside you. There was a deep furrow between his brows and a noticeable shift in his body language. Everything was tense, from his jaw to how his fists clenched together. 

“Yeah. I trusted Bennett with the memories I no longer had and knew he would take care of me. Or at least, I hoped he would. The doctors suggested I stay in Boston to go through psychotherapy to help try and piece together those memories, but Bennett was against it. It caused a huge riff in my family since they wanted me to stay and get help.”

“He kept you from rememberin’ things,” Joel frowned.

You nodded, digging your knuckles into your eyes to try and push away the pressure building behind them again. 

“We were here for almost two months, just constantly going in and out of the hospital. I’d have these debilitating migraines that would lead to fainting spells, so I was always back at the emergency room for more testing. The outcome was always the same, though. I felt so defeated every time like it was my fault,” you confessed. 

Joel laid a hand on your thigh, smoothing over your skin as you tried to drag in a lungful of air. 

“It ain’t your fault though, baby,” he assured.

“I should have advocated for myself more. I just did whatever Bennett said because he knew things I couldn’t remember. He even proposed here. He made this big, long speech about how he never wanted to face the fear of losing me again, and I went with it because I loved him. I loved him enough to do whatever he said because I owed it to him.”

“You were tryna heal from everythin’,” he offered, trying to make sense of it all. “It’s not your fault for what happened after.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes.

“But it is,” you argued. “It’s my fault Bennett left. If I thought our fights before the crash were bad… It only got worse. We moved out of our apartment and got this big house. We decided to speed through our engagement for the sake of my fucking memory. All the while, Bennett just started to get angrier and angrier. I was trying so hard to remember things, and he just started to remember less. He was always fighting with me over every little thing. He barely touched me or looked at me. For fuck sake, he wouldn’t even sleep in the same bed as me! It’s like he didn’t want me to have those memories back, and I just—I don’t understand why.”

Joel pulled your head into his hands, his eyes darkening as he stared at you. His thumbs rubbed over your cheekbones in an attempt to calm your rambling. You wanted to flinch away from his touch, but he only held you tighter.

“None of this is your fault,” he emphasized. 

“It is, though,” you sniffled. The tears were ready to slip at any moment. “He wanted the girl I was before the crash, and I was so hell-bent on trying to fix my memory that I stopped being that version of myself. I couldn’t be what he wanted, so he left. I wasn’t enough, Joel. I couldn’t fight for him to stay because he didn’t want me. I—I’m so fucked up, Joel.”

Joel’s nostrils flared, a wash of anger clouding his eyes. But you knew it wasn’t anger toward you. It was toward Bennett.

“Hey, don’t talk like that,” he snapped. “You’re not fucked up. Bennett was an asshole, and I swear I’d kill him if I could.”

“That’s not funny,” you deadpanned. 

“It wasn’t meant to be funny, baby. I’m serious. Ain’t no way y’went through hell and back for him to do that to you. Y’didn’t get the time to heal because you were so focused on tryin’ to make him happy, and he didn’t deserve you. You know that, right? None of this is your fault.”

You shrugged off his hands and scooted out of the warmth of the bed. Digging through your bag, you pulled out a change of clothes, carelessly throwing an outfit together while Joel sat motionless on the bed. 

“Baby,” Joel pleaded. “Stop for a minute, ‘kay? Are you listenin’ to me?”

He threw back the covers and strode to where you stood, your arms halfway into a sweater. He helped tug it the rest of the way, settling it over your body before reeling you in for a long kiss. It was his weapon for shutting you up, and he was really fucking good at using it. You dragged yourself away from his mouth, staggering back until there was enough distance between you and him. 

“I should have fucking listened to everyone,” you heaved. “I should have fucking stayed in Boston, but I wanted to prove I could do it. I wanted to prove I could continue living with this fucked up part of myself.”

Joel cautioned your name, and you took another step back.

“Look at me, Joel!” You laughed. “I’m fucked up! I still can’t remember a damn fucking thing, and being here is only a brutal reminder of that. I lost so much of myself because of that accident. And I swear to God, if I lose my dad, too. I—I can’t…”

Your knees hit the ground before it even registered in your mind. Joel was quick to drop to the floor in front of you, pulling you into his lap as the sobs wracked through your body. You rocked yourself back and forth as Joel’s arms wound into a vice around your chest. He hushed you softly as you audibly cried loud enough to echo around the room. 

“You aren’t gonna lose him,” Joel whispered in your ear. 

“What if—.” You choked on another cry.

“Breathe with me, baby. Just breathe. C’mon.”

Joel inhaled loudly, coaxing you to do the same. You followed his lead, exhaling when he instructed to. You both repeated it a few more times until you felt the surge of emotions slow. 

“That’s it, baby,” he sighed. “I’m right here with you. Everythin’ is gonna be okay.”

You burrowed your head into his chest, your tears dampening his bare chest. How was he not running away from you? You laid all your damaged pieces out, and he still had his arms around you. You didn’t deserve it. You couldn’t make sense of it.

“What do y’say we get back to the hospital?” Joel offered after a moment. “We can check in and see how the surgery went. It’ll give you some peace of mind.”

“Okay,” you acquiesced. 

Joel helped you to your feet, and you both finished changing in silence. You grabbed your purse and followed Joel to the car, and you both returned to Mass General. 

“He’s fine, honey,” your mom said, giving you a weak smile.

You were all crowded in the hospital room surrounding your dad as he lay unconscious on the bed. 

“The doctors say he’s going to make a full recovery,” she continued. “They’re going to slow the sedative down, and hopefully, he’ll be waking up in the next day or so.”

Beth and Stella stood close together, Stella’s head resting on Beth’s shoulder. Their expressions were painted with relief, and you felt your muscles loosen at the news.

“So, we just wait?” You asked. 

“We will wait,” your mom corrected. “You and Joel should go back to Austin. There’s no point sticking around now that we know he’s alright.”

You turned to stare at her, your lips twisting into a scowl.

“I am not leaving until he wakes up,” you argued. 

“We’ll call right when he wakes up,” she offered. “I know being here is hard for you, honey. And you’ve got a job that needs you.”

“Mom!” You shouted. It was loud enough to startle everyone. “I’m not leaving.”

“She’s right, baby,” Joel chimed in. “He’s gonna be okay.”

“I want to stay.”

“Look, let’s make a deal. We stay another day and then go home, okay?”

You glanced between everyone in the room, finally settling your eyes on your dad, still unconscious in the bed. Everyone was right, but you didn’t want to leave yet. You weren’t ready. Even if being here felt like hell. 

“One more day,” you agreed.

You remained at the hospital most of the day, shifting between the waiting room and your dad’s room. Everyone took turns visiting him and meeting with doctors, and Joel stayed at your side every minute. Stella took a liking to him most out of everyone, spending a good majority of the time talking his ear off about Sarah. Seeing Joel engage with her as he did was endearing as if they knew each other and were old friends catching up. He treated everyone in your family so kindly that it was hard to continue shoving down those three little words. You wanted to say them more than ever…but weren’t sure when you’d feel ready. 

Eventually, the day faded into night, and your mom urged everyone to go home while she insisted on staying. You didn’t know when she had slept last, but she was adamant about staying with your dad. Beth drove you all home, humming some song that floated through the radio. As the house came into view, she dialed down the volume and turned toward the backseat. 

“Joel, Stella, will you guys head in while I talk to sis?” Beth asked as she parked the car.

You gave her a confused stare as they filed out and walked up the driveway toward the house. 

“Did you tell him?” She asked, turning to look at you.

Her eyes were dark with heavy circles, and her lips stuck in a straight line.

“I did,” you nodded.

“What did he say?”

“He just sympathized with me. There’s not much else to say,” you shrugged. 

“That’s it?” She pressed, her brows scrunching together.

You scoffed, glancing out the side window. 

“What did you want him to say, Beth? There isn’t much to say when you tell someone your memory is all fucked up.”

“I just figured he’d say more,” she offered.

“Like what?” You snapped. “Nothing he says is going to magically make it better.”

“I know, I know. I just thought he’d say more.”

You stared at her, the tiredness creeping into your bones. You didn’t want to argue anymore, not about this or anything.

“Can we just go in? I’m tired,” you said.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

Beth and Stella offered to make dinner that night, all four of you quietly eating in heavy silence as the evening drifted later. Once dinner was all said and done, you and Joel retired to your room, curling up under the covers once again. You tangled your legs between his and kissed up his chest and under his jaw.

“Baby,” he warned. “The girls are right down the hall. Don’t be doin’ that.”

“Why?” You questioned, continuing the path up his cheek and to his lips.

Joel captured your mouth in a hungry kiss, his hands tangling in your hair. You moaned softly as the kiss deepened, his hands roaming over your body.

“I want you, Joel,” you whispered against his mouth.

“Baby, we can’t,” he groaned. But he didn’t stop kissing you.

He rolled his body over yours, pinning you to the bed as his hand slid under your pajama bottoms. You bucked into his hand, searching for a fleeting touch to quell the ache growing between your thighs. Joel responded to your desperation, slipping a finger between your slick folds. 

“I’ll be quiet,” you promised. “Just keep kissing me.”

Joel relented to your pleas, locking his mouth with yours again. He added another finger, plunging them inside you as you cried out at the pressure. His teeth quickly bit down on your bottom lip, a silent demand to keep your voice down.

“Sorry,” you exhaled.

“Be good for me, baby,” he whispered. 

His fingers abandoned you, but it was barely a moment of loss before he sank his cock into you. You used all your strength to hold back a groan of relief as the slight sting of your body stretching to him faded into bliss. Joel kept his hands tangled in your hair as he rocked into you, your bodies moving in unison as he drove himself deeper with each thrust. 

“Joel…” You whimpered against his mouth.

“Stay quiet, baby.”

His mouth roamed down the column of your throat, sucking gently at your skin as he reached one arm down to hook around the back of your knee. The change in position only sent his cock deeper inside you, your core clenching around him with every drive of his hips. 

“It feels so good,” you panted, rolling your hips. “I’m so close, Joel. Don’t stop.”

“Good girl,” he hummed. “Cum for me, baby.”

His hips snapped harder against you, and you bit back another cry of pleasure. Your body thrummed with the need for release, the waves crashing inside you growing stronger. Just a little more… a little more. Joel’s other hand snaked between your bodies, his fingers brushing over your clit. You arched into his touch and ground your nails into the skin of his biceps. 

“Joel,” you choked.

The orgasm exploded through you, fogging your vision as your core pulsated around his cock. Joel let out a strangled groan and tumbled over the edge with you, his release filling you only seconds later. 

Joel collapsed against your body, his cock slipping out of you as it softened. You welcomed the weight of him, letting his skin meld into yours. I love you. It was just a breath from escaping your lips, but you kept it shoved down. 

Another time, you told yourself. 

“Can I sleep like this?” Joel chuckled, resting his head on your shoulder.

“Whatever you want, handsome,” you giggled. 

He peered up at you, a grin curving over his face.

“There’s that word again,” he smirked.

“Oh, shut up. You like it.”

“I really fuckin’ do.”

You bent your neck to kiss his forehead before settling back against the pillow. It was easier to sleep like this, knowing you’d have him in your arms when you woke up. It made everything inside you hurt less. 

After an extra day at the hospital, nothing new had progressed with your dad. Your mom assured you that she would call if she had any news of him waking up, so you and Joel said your goodbyes and made the trip back to Austin. 

Nothing had changed in Austin, not that you were expecting it to. Joel returned home after spending an extra few hours under your bed sheets with you, groaning about not wanting to leave. You urged him to go, knowing Sarah was probably missing him. That first night home alone was the hardest; the nightmares continued again now that you had no distractions. The migraine had returned at full throttle when you woke up the next morning, and you had to make an extra effort to pull yourself from bed and dress for work. Not a single cell in your body wanted to return to a classroom full of loud kids, but you had missed enough days and needed to make up for lost time. 

Maria was the first to drill you with questions as you arrived at the school. 

“Is everything okay? I asked around and only heard that it was a family emergency.”

You shuffled into your classroom, Maria hot on your heels. You could barely stand the stream of light coming through the windows, let alone the sound of her voice.

“My dad had an accident, that’s all,” you assured. “Everything is okay.”

“Oh, thank God he’s okay.” She flung her arms around you, giving you a suffocating hug.

You peeled away from her, steadying your body against the corner of your desk. 

“I’ll tell you more later, okay? I just need to prep for classes before the first bell.”

“I’ll check in on you later,” she announced before leaving. 

The day moved on slowly, and before you knew it, your final class was over. As the students filed out, you started gathering your things but noticed Sarah lingered behind.

“Everything okay, sweetie?” You asked as she approached your desk.

“Um, kinda?” She gave you a sheepish look. “I wanted to ask you something.”

“Of course, sweetheart. What’s going on?”

She shifted her weight between her legs, her hazel eyes on the floor.

“Are you dating my dad?”

Your breath stalled, and you were unsure of what to say or do. Was it appropriate to lie? You and Joel hadn’t discussed the possibility of her finding out much and now was definitely not the time.

“Why do you ask?” You were deflecting.

“I overheard him talking to my Uncle Tommy last night,” she explained. 

Your heart pounded in your chest, and blood rushed through your ears. God, what had they said? What did she hear?

“Go on,” you insisted, your voice unsteady. 

“My dad told Uncle Tommy he loved you.”

At that moment, her hazel eyes met yours, and everything came crashing down. You tripped over your words and found yourself gripping the desk.

“Miss Smith?” Sarah cautioned. 

“I’m sure your dad was talking about someone else,” you lied. “Why don’t you head home? I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

She looked at you with confusion written all over her face but eventually followed your request and left you in an empty room.

You sank into your chair, pinching the bridge of your nose. You knew Joel’s feelings were there for you, but you didn’t want to hear it from Sarah. You wanted to hear it from him. Searching for your purse, you found your phone and dialed his number with shaking hands.

He answered immediately.

“Did y’hear from your mom?” He asked in a rush.

“No, it’s not that. Can you—” You steadied your breathing. “Can you just meet me at my house?”

“Of course, is everythin’ okay? You’re worryin’ me.”

“I’m fine, Joel. I’ll see you there in a few.”

You hung up before he could say anymore and be-lined for your car. You drove home on autopilot, the words jumbling together in your head. 

I think he’s already falling in love with you. 

My dad told Uncle Tommy he loved you.

Over and over again, Beth and Sarah’s voices played on a loop. You turned onto your street and blinked back tears. You weren’t ready to face this. What were you going to say? What would Joel say? What would—

You slammed on your brakes right before you got to your house. 

Joel’s truck wasn’t there. 

But Bennett’s car was.

[gatitties]

Hi🤗♡.

Can I request teen!fem Reader with the (strawhat pirates & kid pirates & heart pirates)( the older version of them please in there 40 or 60).

The Reader got hurt very badly and she was in coma for month.

But of course everything was fine when the Reader wakes up and everyone is happy♡.

P.s : take your time okay :) .

─Strawhats, Kid Pirates & Heart Pirates x teen!reader (platonic)

─Summary: A life-threatening attack hits you and everyone is worried about your condition

─Warnings: the characters are older, like in those 40/60 year old drawings (reference)

─ You are the little light of the group, being the youngest everyone was always watching you in battle, they had full faith in your abilities, but they would not stop being worried.

─ But you're not always in a completely accessible place, the others also have their own fights at the same time so the world seems to stop when the sound of your body hitting the ground catches Nami's attention. "Oh- No- no- my god, Chopper!"

─ Usopp, who was the one who had only been running and launching light attacks, was the first to approach your body, noticing a large pool of blood around you and a big blow on your head, he turned pale when he saw you.

─ He easily carried you in his arms and took you to a less dangerous place while Chopper rushed to finish off his own opponent, he was with you in just a couple of minutes, he could be older, but he won't stop losing his nerve when he has than treating a loved one, "A doctor! We need a doctor right away!" "You're the doctor?!" "Oh right!"

─ While the others finish as quickly as possible to know if you are okay, you are treated emergency, managing to stop the bleeding and stabilizing your vital signs.

─ The problem was that you spent one day sleeping, two, three… and it became the longest week for the entire crew.

─ Everyone was impatient and uneasy, they would not forgive themselves if something happened to you, they knew that you would wake up sooner or later, they would just wait for you.

─ Chopper checks on you daily, Sanji puts a glass of fresh water on the nightstand every day in case you wake up and no one is there at that moment, Luffy and Usopp will sit down to play any board game to keep you company, Zoro will take some occasional nap on the floor (chopper puts some pillows and blankets there because age doesn't forgive back pain), Nami and Robin will talk to you as if you were gossiping with them on a normal day, Brook will sing something at night so that in your sleep better, Jinbe and Franky stop by from time to time to see if you're awake.

─ Everyone's spirits fade when the second week passes with no indication that you will wake up and they think the worst, however they cling to the fact that your condition is stable, you are healthy and you are much younger than them.

─ A month later, Luffy had fallen asleep resting his hand on your shoulder, he didn't give you time to open your eyes and you already had your captain hugging you. "Hey, it's been a while, I don't even sleep that much after a good meal!"

─ You laughed confused because you obviously didn't know how long you had been out, and it didn't take long for the others to find out, you were surrounded in a big hug although Chopper scolded everyone because he still had to do one last check before letting you walk freely.

─ This team fights with everything it has and you were not going to be less, although much younger, you were much more energetic than that whole group of old men, as you affectionately nicknamed them since they sometimes called you kiddo or child.

─ The problem is that sometimes you were somewhat impulsive, and that's why you attacked too quickly. Kid smiled, seeing himself reflected in your recklessness, although he scolded you. "Don't get ahead, these guys aren't as weak as they seem."

─ You turned a deaf ear since you had advanced well in the attack, but in an instant everything had gone black for you, a fatal blow to the abdomen left you completely out of combat.

─ "Oh fuck, the kiddo is hurt, shit- like, really screwed up, needs medical attention right away!" Heat is the one closest to you and the one in charge of protecting you until the bloodbath ends, which they do more quickly.

─ Killer knows that you won't wake up today because when they sewed the wound you didn't wake up because of the pain, he knew that you were very complaining about pain of any kind despite being a teenager.

─ The tension grows as the days go by, uncertainty because you don't wake up to joke that you've knocked down more guys, they are mentally torturing themselves even though they don't let it be seen.

─ Wire will talk to you to tell you all the gossip you miss, Killer will stop by every morning before starting the day hoping to see that you are standing, Heat will sleep next to you some days and Kid will not visit as often because he is venting his discomfort in his workshop.

─ Kid has been in a worse mood the last few weeks because you were the person with the smallest hands and he needed your help with some screws that were too small, which delayed his project, he missed your annoying little presence making jokes about his old age .

─ Killer had full faith that you would wake up sooner or later because they had treated you on time, it just made him nervous not knowing when it would be, "I will make your favorite food if you wake up today…" he always said in the hope that the food would open your eyes.

─ A month later when everyone got used to the lack of a gremlin running from one place to another (they didn't get used to it, that's what they want to think), you woke up, there was no one there at that moment so you got rid of all the cables, feeling good.

─ "Hey child- holy shit! you're awake, hey- what are you doing up?! You need to get checked before you walk around again" "I'm fresh as a lettuce captain! I can't say the same for you… but uh-" "I'm glad to see you're okay." He put his only arm over your shoulder and squeezed you like in a wrestling hold, roughly rubbing your head.

─ They used you as an excuse to have a party, although you didn't care much because you also celebrated and ate your favorite food.

─ Law was going to kill Shachi and Penguin because you got hurt on a mission with them, you took several hits, which exhausted you, and what you thought would be a nap back on the submarine ended up being something worse.

─ They tried to keep you awake while they used what Law had taught them about minimal care, but you couldn't continue.

─ They didn't even set foot in the submarine and you were already in a bed in the infirmary, the smell of blood gave away your condition, "I want a report on what happened and the area of the body that was most beaten, we will talk about your punishment later", both swallowed, knowing that their captain did not like to see his comrades injured but above all, to see someone with so much life ahead of them injured.

─ You are treated immediately and quickly, Law knows that you will not wake up for at least a week due to the blows and your condition, but you would get out of this, that does not prevent him from feeling an emptiness in the pit of his stomach.

─ Bepo will be in your room most of the time, reading out loud so that according to him, you wouldn't get bored in your dreams, Shachi and Penguin got some free time (because they were forced to clean the entire submarine until it shined) to apologize to you.

─ Ikakku stopped by from time to time to check your vital signs and tell you some things that had been happening.

─ Even though they knew you would wake up, not knowing when the moment would be made the entire crew impatient, although Law detected some changes in your condition after a month, he knew when you would finally open your eyes, which reassured him.

─ "What the hell…?" You mumbled when you woke up seeing that your arms and legs were tied, "I'm glad to see you awake" "How are you glad if I'm tied to a bed? Oh don't tell me, have you finally lost your mind and going to dissect me?" He sighed "Security, I knew you were going to get up as soon as you woke up and I want to do one last check" "Sure…"

─ Everyone found out later because you started screaming as if you were being tortured just because had to supply something with a syringe, at least you prolonged your hug with Bepo because of that.

─ Shachi and Penguin apologized to you again, but you downplayed it, right now what mattered most to you was having a good meal, you were hungry and Ikkaku had the solution to all your problems.

[dira333]

Trouble in Paradise - Naruto x Reader

A/N: Angst to fluff, my take on Naruto's marriage

tagging @revasserium

As you walk the streets of Konoha, a sleeping boy pressed to your chest, tears barely dried on his small face, another child growing in your belly, you know things need to change.

You don't walk home. Instead, you take the slightly longer route and stop at the entrance to the Aburame compound, knocking softly on the doors of the Clan Head.

Shino opens shortly after, dark glasses reflecting your own miserable reflection.

“Is everything okay?”

“It could be better,” you offer quietly, “I’m sorry I’m springing this onto you, but I need to… I need to talk to my husband. And I don’t want Boruto to hear it.”

“I understand.” Shino eyes the boy for a second before stepping aside. A cloud of Kikaichu takes off from his hands, no doubt to call Hinata who comes in shortly after.

You must look even worse to her, or maybe it’s her incessant way of worrying about everyone, because she rushes over, hugs you as tight as she can with Boruto still clinging to you.

“Is everything okay?” She asks as well and you can feel yourself slipping again, eyes stinging with tears.

“It could be better,” you press out and swallow, rub your son’s back to convince yourself that at least he’s still here. “He’s been sick for a few days but his fever wouldn’t go down last night and we… we’ve been at the hospital for hours. They did as much as they could and it’s gone down significantly. But I… I can’t go on like this anymore. Can you take him for a few hours? I need… I need…” You can’t say it. But Hinata understands anyway. 

It still breaks your heart when she takes your son from you and carries him to the guest room he’s slept in quite a few times now. 

“Maybe you should rest first,” Shino comments calmly. “Surely something like this should be dealt with when you’re better rested.”

“No.” You shake your head. “I’ll be back shortly. Or… or in the morning, if it can’t be helped.”

“If you insist.” He offers you a nod goodbye, but you can feel his eyes on you as you walk off, your arms curled around you now that the warmth of your child is gone.

-

The Hokage tower lies almost deserted. The few guards that are up at this late hour let you pass without question. You’re well known.

Still, your hand shakes when you raise it to knock. You take a deep breath, relieved to be called in immediately.

Naruto looks tired. Exhausted, even. The bags under his eyes remind you more of Gaara than of the man you vowed to love forever.

It takes him a considerably long time to recognize you, which hurts more than you want to admit.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, a little panicked. “How late is it? I meant to come home for dinner, I-”

“No need.” You fold your hands in front of your stomach. Are you trying to protect your unborn child from its own father? Maybe. You don’t know anymore.

“What do you mean?” He’s still fumbling around on his desk, looking for something he probably isn’t so sure of himself.

“I want a divorce.”

Naruto freezes. You’ve never seen him this shell-shocked before. You know him to deal with trauma calmly, laugh about threats, treat danger like a joke. But this… it’s scary. As it should be.

“What?” He asks, voice breaking. His eyes are looking at you, but you can tell they’re not focusing.

“For the past four days, Boruto has been sick. You’ve been home once in this time and yes, Naruto, I know when you’re using a Shadow Clone. Not once have you asked how he was. I spent almost 24 hours at the hospital today because his fever got so bad that they thought about putting him into a coma. I was alone, Naruto.”

“Is he-” Naruto starts, voice breaking off.

You nod, shaking from head to toe. “He’s alright. Or as well as he can be, considering the circumstances. He’s with Shino and Hinata now because I didn’t want him to hear this. I just… If you didn’t want a family, why did you start one? I would have been fine doing missions and seeing you in between like we used to before I got pregnant. But you promised!”

“I… I don’t know… I’m the Hokage and…”

“I know.” You swallow down bile. “It has always been your biggest dream. And you can have that. I hope you’ll be happy.”

You turn to leave. But you don’t make it to the door.

Naruto pulls you in like he used to, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other rubs your back. It’s familiar and oh-so painful, but you can feel yourself sink into the touch. It’s been too long without it.

His chest shakes with every inhale. Maybe it’s your exhaustion, both physically and mentally, but you need a second to realize he’s crying, full-on sobbing into your shoulder.

Your fingertips dig into his arms, but instead of pushing him away, you pull him closer.

Is this what love feels like? When you’re too hurt to go on anymore and your head tells you to stop this, to cut the strings that bind you, all you can do is keep hanging on.

“I’ll change. Don’t leave me, please!” He says it like a prayer like you’re the goddess that rules his life. Maybe you are. You don’t know anymore.

“Come home,” you say, your voice tired, cracking at the edges with emotion overflowing.

And to your surprise, he does.

-

You wake up from a knock on the door. 

The sun is up high already, telling how long you’ve slept. Strong arms are curled around you, unwilling to let go as you move to slip out of their grip. 

“There’s someone at the door, Naruto!” You tell him, pinch his nose when he won’t move. 

He grumbles and lets go, curls into himself as soon as you’re out of bed. Typical.

Hinata looks up at you with bright, worried eyes.

“I wanted to check in on you,” she says, “Boruto is with Shino. He’s doing much better. How are you?”

“I’m not sure,” you tell her, rubbing your face. “He came home tonight at least. I can’t believe I slept this long. Boruto must feel horrible. I’m sorry, I’m such a terrible-”

“No.” Hinata’s voice is sharp now, hand outstretched as if she’s ready to fight. “Don’t go there. You’re doing your best. He’s fine. His fever’s almost completely gone and you left him with friends you can trust. You’ve had good reasons for what you did. I’ll let him know that you’re fine and that you and Naruto are doing some grown-up things and wanted him to have fun in the meantime. As soon as anything changes I’ll let you know.”

“You’re the best Hinata.” You move to hug her. She whispers into your ear. “It’s not my place to tell you what to do, but keep in mind how Naruto grew up, please?”

“I will,” you choke out when she steps back. “I will,” you repeat and she nods and leaves without another look back.

-

Naruto finds you in the kitchen half an hour later in the middle of making breakfast.

“Morning,” He shuffles closer, awkwardly folding himself around you, chest pressed against your back. You can feel how tense he is, trying his best to go back to how things used to be.

“Morning,” you reply as calmly as you can. “When are you leaving for work?”

“I thought I could stay home… today. We can go pick up Boruto and spend some time together.”

“And starting tomorrow you’re back at the office again, or what?” You can feel him tense behind you at your sharp tone and push the pan aside, turning down the heat before you burn the eggs to crisps.

Your hands are shaking, your breathing too fast. Before you can do anything else, Naruto has spun you around and pulled you in. But he’s not begging this time, just holding you close, as if that would prevent you from leaving him altogether.

It helps, though. To feel his skin under your fingertips, to be able to smell him and feel him and hear him, know that he’s not some shadow of the real thing, but the real thing itself…

You remember Hinata’s words and now you’re the one pulling him closer.

“Remember what I told you? About my parents?”

“You told me a lot of things,” his voice is a little scratchy, but he tries, “What do you mean?”

“My parents were both active Shinobi. But when I came home from school, there was always someone there. I knew both my parents and I knew I could count on them. I know you didn’t have that, but… you can be like that too. Don’t you want to be like that too?”

“Can you teach me?” Naruto asks, voice timid and soft. There’s nothing left of the Hokage, nothing left of the “strongest Shinobi of the Leaf”. This is not the man who mastered a Jutsu by sheer will, who won a war just because he needed to. 

Maybe, just maybe, this is him in his purest form. A child, forgotten and alone, who never learned how to be a parent. 

“Yeah,” you say, swallowing down the tears to speak. “Yeah, I’ll teach you.”

- - -

“Daddy, look!” Boruto calls from the kitchen table.

Naruto’s in the middle of getting ready, with bleary eyes and messy bedhead, but he stops and turns, squints to make out what’s so important to his son.

It’s the napkin he was supposed to clean his hands with, now decorated with a painting made from ketchup. 

“It’s the Kyuubi!” Boruto explains proudly. “Do you like it?”

“It’s amazing!” Naruto hops over, trousers pulled up on only one leg. He presses a kiss to Boruto’s head. “How long did you work on that?”

“Very long!” Boruto declares though it couldn’t have been more than five minutes. “Can it go on the fridge?”

“We’ll have to ask Mom about this one, buddy.” Naruto apologizes and they both turn their bright blue eyes toward you. 

You smile and rub the back of your little girl who’s currently hungrily drinking her milk. 

“It’s great, but how about we use it as inspiration and make a bigger painting with more colors? Daddy can keep it in his office then.”

“Okay!” Boruto tosses the napkin to the side and digs into his Omurice, already forgetting about it. 

Naruto shakes his head at that, pulls his trousers on properly, and walks over to you. 

“How are we doing today?” He asks softly, voice a little lower. “Still good?” 

“Still good,” you tell him, leaning in to kiss him. “Make sure to come home in time, okay? If you can’t handle this project alone, you need more help.”

“Yes boss,” he kisses your nose, “I’ll let Shikamaru know. I*m sorry for coming home late yesterday.”

“I know.” You rest your temple against his. “I love you.”

“I love you more.”

-

Life’s not any easier now that you’ve got two kids instead of one. 

There’s always more work to be done, days where you barely see your husband. 

But if Naruto’s one thing, he’s a fast learner. Determined, too. If he wants something, he’ll stop at nothing to get it, to become what is necessary. 

And to become a good father, a good husband, a good man… all he needed was a teacher..

-

“When’s Daddy coming home?” Boruto asks in the evening as you’re making dinner. He’s finished two paintings today, ran around the house until he got tired enough to take a nap, and still managed to paint the bathroom tiles with your favorite nail color.

You look up at the clock hanging from the wall.

“Well, if everyone at the office was nice today, he should be home in about fifteen minutes.”

“How long is that?” He asks just as his little sister starts to wail. 

Boruto runs over and offers her her pacifier. She quiets immediately and he beams up at you, so obviously proud.

“You’re a great big brother,” you praise him. “That was so nice of you.”

“When’s Daddy coming home?” Boruto asks again, running around your legs.

“Well, if everyone was nice today, he should be home by the time the food is ready. Can you help me with setting the table?”

“Yes!” He runs and grabs the plates, tosses the chopsticks on the table as well. It’s messy and chaotic, but right now you could care less.

Because while Boruto is busy setting the table you hear the telltale sound of familiar footsteps walking down the hallway and you know, just any second, Naruto will be home.

[hanibalistic]

WHO YOU ARE, WHO I AM | LEE MINHO.

genre | fluff, angst, (semi) slow burn / arranged marriage au / strangers to lovers / 4th wall break

synopsis | when you wake up to a good-looking man who claims to be your husband, there isn’t much to do aside from assuming you got stuck in a drama.

word count | 15.1k+

warning | mentions of cheating, blood / occasions of toxic marriage / one instance of violence / not edited since the first time i posted this story​

note | the ending is essentially the same. i changed very little of the original story, only nearing the end. / forcing me to put fic into parts is heinous.

parts | one, two, three

You have had a fair share of envious moments before.

Whenever you see adorable and loving couples wandering across the streets, sipping a hot drink while letting their shared scarf do the deed of warming them up on a cold winter night, you want to gouge your eyes out to save yourself from the public display of chaste affection. But, at the same time, you cannot stop staring. If you stare long enough, you might just be able to replace the couple with you and your perfect, imaginary boyfriend. 

You have prayed for a significant other at one time or another. Who hasn’t? Discreetly whispering towards the birthday candles, the new year’s fireworks, an abrupt desperation appearing in the middle of the night when you were jolted awake. Yet, for years, the odds were not in your favor until at this exact moment when you opened your eyes after long hours of sleep you could not remember yourself ever heading to.

The sunlight was seeping through the white mesh curtains that mirrored the fabric of an expensive wedding gown, the kind that makes you gasp in awe at the bride when she wears it down the aisle. It did nothing to help with the glaring morning gaze but you could understand why people would buy it as a decoration. Those useless and overpriced curtains, no matter what, do give the room a whimsical atmosphere. If only you ever got one.

The second you laid eyes on those mesh curtains, your eyes snapped open and the grogginess you felt from just waking up vanished immediately. Those were not yours. No, definitely not. You cared too much about sleep to allow yourself an aggressive wake by the sun. Besides, you would not be caught dead spending hundreds of dollars buying a home decoration that serves no purpose other than looking pretty.

You clenched the bedsheet and gasped in both shock and awe. Talk about the softest bed sheets you have ever felt! The blanket covering your, thankfully, fully-clothed body felt like silk yet the material was thick enough to make you feel warm like you were taking a steamy hot shower and make you sleep like you were in a coma. But the same thing applied: these bedsheets never belonged to you and possibly never will.

“Oh god,” you breathed out in a whisper as your eyes rolled around the unfamiliar room.

You were stalling at this point. The heavy presence laying next to you was far too obvious for you to ignore but you were also too afraid to look. Who could it be? You hadn’t the faintest idea. You couldn’t even recall exactly what happened last night! Did you make any plans? That would be extremely unlikely. You’ve got no friends who would invite you anywhere and you’ve got no motivation to go anywhere but slack around in your apartment!

Nothing else could explain the current situation you’ve gotten yourself in, though. Nothing but you getting very drunk and possibly handing all that was sacred about you to a complete stranger.

Slowly turning your head to the side, you let your squinted eyes fall open slowly for the big reveal. The man sleeping next to you had his body turned towards your side. His lashes fluttered even when he was unmoving and his brown locks fell just above his closed eyes in the most boyish, attractive way. The bridge of his nose arched perfectly to welcome to button tip. His lips have a natural pout to them and they somehow appeared to be glittery under the sunlight.

Oh yeah, you must be drunk last night. You were sure this man was too because no way in hell would he ever want to have anything to do with you.

You stared at the man for a brief moment. Your internal thoughts went through all five stages of confusion, with all first four of them being pure confusion and the last stage being acceptance. You felt like you opened your long hidden psychic third eye after the stage of acceptance and you have never felt smarter than before. Acceptance should have been your first instinct. What else should you have done when you wake up to find yourself sleeping next to one of, if not the most, handsome man you’ve seen on Earth?

After giving your mind a nod of approval for creating such a beautiful man, you turned on your back and closed your eyes. You went back to sleep because, obviously, this was just a lucid dream.

I would let you think you were smart for a moment, [Name], but I do believe it is about time we progress with the story and learn about who the man of your dreams was, so–I’m not sorry but up we go!

You jolted awake as if you just had a nightmare, which you did not. Your body just wanted to keep you awake, it seemed. It was as if it knew you were not in the right place, or you were in a place you have never been to before, and it wanted you to stand up and discover an escape route. Sighing in defeat, your eyes blinked at the unfamiliar room you had gotten a glimpse of before you concluded that you were in a dream.

Turning your head to the side, your eyes welcomed the sight of the man you had previously admired. The only difference this time was that he was very much awake and was blatantly staring at you with a look of utter distaste that felt more common than ever. He was not the first person to give you that unamused frown and wickedly condescending gaze but it really did add more impact to it when it came from someone as good-looking as him.

“What the fuck?” you muttered out with a hasty, croaked voice.

Minho tilted his head to the side at your obnoxious reaction, then he spoke, “Why are you on my bed?”

You furrowed your brows at him, both at how nice his voice was early in the morning and in confusion to the fact that he asked you the million-dollar question. Breathing out a short laugh, you looked away from him. “I don’t know, man. I was hoping you could tell me that.”

“I don’t have to tell you anything aside from the rules we established the first day of our marriage,” he wasted no time to say, his tone getting duller and duller as if he was really getting mad over you being on his king-sized bed.

“Oh, you’re crazy.” You rolled your eyes as you reached your hand up to ruffle your hair. 

Upon the subject at hand, it was slowly coming to light the faint weight that has been resting on your fourth finger and was completely neglected by your confused state of mind. Your ruffling slowly came to a stop and, stalling time once again, you turned over to look at the stranger who was still staring at you with distaste. Something about his lack of expression, and the weight on your hand, told you he was being honest.

“Are we married?” you asked. “The thing I am feeling on my finger is not a ring, is it?”

Minho’s gaze shifted for a moment. You seemed genuinely confused, out of your usual element if he could say so himself. Truth be told, he never really paid that much attention to you. He did once in a blue moon, never enough for your presence to stick in his head. But he could definitely tell when you weren’t being yourself, when you didn’t feel like you.

“Don’t joke around with me, [Name],” he said when he regained his usual demeanor. The theory he thought about was discarded with ease. There was absolutely no way something so fiction-like could ever happen to him. The arranged marriage aside, of course.

“You know my name?” you questioned slowly, finally sitting up now that this situation was becoming creepier. Your legs inched toward the edge of the bed to leave the soft blanket and were ready to bolt out of the room for good. “I don’t even know yours.”

“Yes, you do,” Minho said, sitting up as well. “Stop messing around. Just admit that you broke the rules and slept on my bed. This amnesia act is a waste of my time.”

You squinted your eyes at him, jaw hung open in utter disbelief. His attitude fueled nothing more than the distaste for him that was currently brewing inside you.  “Dude, I don’t fucking know who you are? Am I supposed to just guess your name? Something generic like Lee Minho?” 

He showed you a deadpan expression immediately after your voice fell. Judging by the way his shoulders dropped in annoyance, you knew for a fact that you had guessed his name correctly. That was a generic name as you mentioned. You cursed under your breath then, recognizing how your luck was completely working against your favor. 

“I–I gotta go. I have to leave!”

You let the anxiety in your body do the job as you stumbled backward and out of the bedroom. You were immediately greeted with a long and bright hallway that looked way too familiar for you to not be able to navigate around it. 

You have never been here before, but you just knew. It looked like a house straight out of a drama. With the opened curtains, the velvet carpet, the random Chinese vases located in the awkward middle, and the giant wooden patterned doors—oh god, were you on secret camera right now? Did you sign some ten-page long contract you never took the time to read?

Moving to a random direction of the hallway, you grabbed the handle of the next door you could find and opened it to head inside. The lights automatically turned on when it noticed a presence, and you found yourself in what appeared to be a walk-in closet.

It was a black and white. A very minimalistic color scheme. The orange lights made you wince because it didn’t match the atmosphere. Clothing racks lined up against the wall and eventually met each other at the end, where a tall mirror stood waiting to be used. There was a door that you guessed might lead to a bathroom and a few shelves of expensive perfume and shoes. Sitting oddly in the middle was a small round desk and a cushioned chair.

You grimaced at how obnoxious and luxurious the closet was. It was everything you could have dreamed of having. Maybe even a little beyond that. There was such a thing as too big of a closet, and the idea of actually spending that much money made your skin all itchy and irritated.

Oh, [Name]–what are you doing? You have got no time to give criticism to a rich person’s closet. You have got to figure out what the fresh hell was happening!

“This makes no sense.” You clicked your feet against the carpet floor before you started to pace around.

Marriage? Minho knowing your name yet you needed to guess his? This foreign rich land you stumbled upon? There were only four solutions you could think of after having rethink every single detail.

Exhibit A: This is still a dream.

You slapped yourself after much preparation. The pain stung you like your bare hand to a burning stove. This is not a dream, it has never been. 

It was funny to watch you slap yourself though, I have to say. 

Exhibit B: This is a television prank.

Your drama-loving, variety-show-watching freak would definitely be able to tell. Each pranking show has its distinct element to the way they execute their plan—from the setting to their actors to their fake scenarios. This was far too obvious and far too risky for any pranking show you have watched. You could cross the option off the chalkboard!

Exhibit C: Minho is madly in love with you and has kidnapped you to be his spouse!

Interesting and unbelievable. Why would someone like him need to kidnap you to keep you with him? With that face and this kind of money? You would have caved within seconds judging by how shallow your heart could be sometimes. Besides, why would someone like you intrigue him? No way. This option is off the chalkboard too.

Well, what remained was your last resort, I suppose. May I proudly present you—Exhibit D!

The door to the closet swung open, abruptly disrupting the deep-voiced narrator in your head and pulling you back into the real world… as real as it could get, at least. Snapping your head to the side, you were greeted with an unamused Minho by the doorway and your frown deepened at his unwelcoming presence.

“Why are you in my closet?” he asked, approaching you slowly.

You blinked at him and looked around. The clothes on the racks finally made themselves clearer to you, and for the first time you could see that those were men clothes. Or, at least, pieces you would never wear outside. This wasn’t your closet, but you’ve had enough to him to admit your wrongs, so yous scoffed instead.

“Is everything yours?” 

Minho raised a brow. “Besides you, yeah. I would say so.”

You closed your eyes to concentrate on holding down a fiery breath threatening to escape. Whether it was Minho or yourself it planned to head toward, exploding in the middle of a stranger’s house in an unfamiliar situation was the last thing that could help you. As much as you hated how Minho seemed to make perfect sense every time, you remained (as) calm (as you could be). 

“Whatever.” Classic comeback.  

“Whatever? No, this isn’t whatever,” Minho said, grabbing a fistful of a discarded topic and throwing it at your face. “Do we need to have another talk about boundaries?”

You furrowed your brows, but you weren’t confused this time. You were annoyed and in disbelief. His condescending tone scratched the part of your brain you learned to turn off during work hours, but since he wasn’t in charge of your finances, unlike your boss, you’ve had it up to the tip of your head with him. On second thought, you were better than this asshole! You would never agree to marry someone with this kind of shitty attitude! Exhibit C is back in the race!

“Did you kidnap me?” you asked with no reluctance.

Minho tilted his head at you, bewildered but not enough to lose his stoic expression. “Kidnap you? Why would I do that? You are the one head over heels for me ever since we got married.”

“I can’t imagine why,” you snorted loudly as you turned away from him. Then you pointed a finger at him, wanting to spat something with menace but you were stopped immediately by the diamond ring on your fourth finger.

Oh, that—that is heavy. That looked heavy and it felt heavy. How did you not feel it? You wanted to take it off and keep it in a glass box on display the second you laid your eyes on it.

“Did you force this on me?” you asked, pointing at the ring and discreetly feeling the rough diamond on your skin. Your eyes shifted slightly to glance at it and they widened on instinct. You couldn’t even begin to guess how expensive that piece of rock is and having it weighing down on your fourth finger felt like too much responsibility. “You freak! How much did you pay for this?”

Minho shook his head, continuously bewildered at the sudden questions fired towards him. “About five hundred–“

You held up your palm to shut him up. That number was all you needed to know. Judging from the way he was still trying to speak, the ring was definitely not just a mere five hundred dollars. And be it the word ‘thousand’ or ‘million,’ whichever comes out of his mouth would still make you fake barf and your heart pour blood. The only thing you could feel remotely glad about was the fact that he bought the ring.

“Also, for your information, I did not force the ring on you. We both agreed to get married. Besides, I didn’t need to force you to do anything,“ he replied. "Our parents did.”

"Our parents? What do you know about my parents–my mom and dad will never force me to marry anybody even though that is all they ever urge me to do these days!”

“[Name].”

For once, Minho’s deep and quiet voice was laced with something other than spite. His eyes were solemnly melancholic. They dropped like shadows as he gazed at you carefully. Without moving an inch, he spoke, “[Name], your parents have been dead for a year.”

Dead parents. Now that, ladies and gentlemen, is a trope you could work with. At least it has the capability of bringing your theory somewhere. Maybe on a path to insanity but still a route nonetheless.

Let me humbly do a recap of everything that went down. 

A big house. A rich man, a rich and handsome man, a rich and handsome man who hates you, a rich and handsome man who hates you because you two were stuck in an arranged marriage. Dead parents.

"Oh my god,” you gasped under your breath as the reality dawned upon your once clueless mind. Everything was so clear after you figured out all the key elements, it almost felt like you could calculate the physics of the parallel universe and the meaning of existence!

You are stuck in a drama!

After some wild stumbling about in Minho’s big mansion, all thanks to your pride preventing you from asking him the exact location of ‘your’ closet, you finally found the fashion wonderland you were looking for—your walk-in closet, that was somehow separated from Minho’s even though you two were supposedly holding hands in marriage. This degree of hated in an arranged marriage wasn’t uncommon, but you thought it hard to deal with when you’re stuck in the position.

Bursting through the door, the lights automatically turning on in here as well, you gave yourself no time to admire the inner structure of how the closet was built and decorated. Instead, you immediately went for the first mirror you could find, which was just hanging on the wall above a little table.

You heaved a short sigh when you recognized your own face and body in the mirror. That fact alone reinforced the drama theory you’ve got spinning in your head. If you were to not look like yourself, there would be a possibility that your soul got switched with someone else’s and you were actually still stuck in real life. However, the person you were looking at in the mirror was you in the flesh, therefore this was not a soul-switching experience but a teleportation experience.

You got stuck in a drama. Yeah, that was it. Either that, or you got transported to yourself in an alternative universe. To you, they meant the same thing. Anything that wasn’t your reality would be fake. That was your answer. But how did you get transported here? Flipping through the television department of your memory, not once could you remember yourself ever going through anything that happened to protagonists who were teleported somewhere else.

You weren’t almost hit by a car, you didn’t almost freeze to death, you didn’t almost drown in the ocean—oh there, wait a minute. There was a pattern there. The key to the sequence is not a near-death experience. The key to all of these is only the 'near’ of the experience, not necessarily the 'death’ part of it!

“But that makes no sense?” you mumbled to yourself as you tried your best to remember what you were doing before you woke up next to Minho, but it was to no avail. All you could remember was falling asleep on a phone call with your friend. “Everyone almost does something all the time. How do you determine which one is significant?”

Marching over to pick up a random pair of shoes from the shelf, you raised it high in mid-air and let go of it. Before it could hit the ground, you immediately caught the shoes again, then you looked around the place with the most paranoid eyes. “Oh, oops! I almost dropped these shoes!”

Nothing happened. The only thing that welcomed you were the static in the air and the realization of your stupidity.

Alright. Perhaps the ‘death’ part of it was, in fact, necessary after all.

Putting the shoes back, you puffed out some air to replace a frown that would inevitably help you gain more wrinkles than needed. Walking back to the table, you stared at yourself in the mirror and gave yourself a few pinches here and there. Both to make sure you were not dreaming and to give yourself some encouragement that things would turn out fine somehow.

One thing you did come to realize after the momentary idiotic trance you got stuck in was that while you were stuck in a drama (at least a universe that seemed to act on its principles), you were also taking the place of someone else’s life. Your position belonged to a character once. You just came in and took their place. You still looked like you, for some reason, but this position was not yours to freely maneuver.

Besides, whoever ‘you’ used to be must have been transported to your body in your world. Unfortunately, judging from the kind of life they’ve led thus far, you should pray against that case because your life wasn’t the kind of suffering they could handle. You didn’t think so. Working a full time job, not being married, and being dirt poor? Your life would suck for them. You may have to be ready to find a new job when you figure out how to go home. 

Nonetheless, you’ve got to be careful. You have no idea when you would magically disappear from this place, and you would hate to have someone pick up your pieces.

“Just live for now and don’t mess up,” you told yourself lazily, grimacing at the fact that you might have to comply with what Minho says from now on because, according to him, you were in love with him.

Now that the troubles were all set aside. It was finally time for you to bask in the big, extravagant closet of your dreams. You turned around and beamed at the clothes that lined up the walls and at the shoes all carefully placed in a row. This! This was much better than Minho’s closet, you knew that for certain!

Making your way to the other side of the room, you skipped with your bare feet happily. All that excitement only to have you trip on your own feet and fall forward. Your eyes widened in shock, your mouth hanging open to let out a small scream.

Your head banged against the wooden column that held up the clothing rack, and immediately you blacked out.

Opening your eyes was quite the scare for you.

Oh, how horrible it would be if you found yourself waking up next to a handsome man who happened to be your husband and also does not love you whatsoever but is extremely rich and is putting a roof over your head? You sniffed in distaste. You weren’t one for gold diggers. Money was never a big problem for you. You were poor, but you’ve got enough to get by. Loneliness and the lack of intimacy were the main issues! Not that you would outrightly acknowledge it, though.

The room you woke up in was different than the previous one. It was just as big as Minho’s bedroom but it had a more natural tone than Minho’s royal-like room. Holding your palm to your forehead, you winced in shock at the bumpy surface on your skin. You did remember tripping and falling head-on against the clothing rack but you did not think it would create that much damage. All you thought would happen was a small red spot and eternal suffering of you acknowledging how stupidly clumsy you were.

Aside from that, at least you gained a little information about yourself: you trip easy, you faint easy, and you scar easy. It was unlike your regular body; your threshold for pain and fatigue was high due to constant working, and you definitely did not use to trip on solid ground. Being teleported here has turned your body into a typical romantic drama protagonist. 

Your feet touched the cold tiles. Surprisingly, there were no fluffy slippers for your them to slip into. You got out of your bed and immediately went out to the hall in hopes to search for someone. There has got to be a soul working in this mansion. You could not have possibly smeared vaseline on your forehead and tucked yourself back into bed in a state of unconsciousness.

The atmosphere was eerie as you made your way down the hall. The sound of your bare feet tapping against the carpet could be heard in this quiet house and for once, you thought perhaps having such a giant home was not the best idea in the world. It has got you missing your small and cozy apartment where most things were within reach and sight. If only it didn’t take half of your pay check every month. 

“Oh, I see you’ve woken up!”

You flinched at the sudden voice, albeit it being very gentle and harmless. Turning around, you found a middle-aged lady dressed in casual clothes holding a basket of crumpled up laundry. Not wanting to act too suspicious and out of character, you gave her a small smile as you accessed her figure as quickly as you could.

She was not wearing one of those maid costumes, which was not surprising. You wouldn’t say you want to see an old lady in one either despite hoping to see an actual maid in a rich household just to experience that drama dream you’ve got stored in your head. But looking at the laundry basket she was holding, you were pretty sure she was only here to do the chores and she would leave once the day gets darker.

“Um… yeah, I have,” you replied to her as your hand reached out to softly touch the nasty bump on your forehead. You grimaced a little at the texture before you looked back at the lady, “Uh, is–is dinner ready?”

She nodded her head with a faint laugh, happy to know you haven’t lost your perception of time yet. Nudging her head to the end of the hallway, she said, “Mr.Lee went and bought home some takeout from your favorite restaurant after he got off work. They are in the kitchen if you are feeling hungry.”

You arched your brows pleasantly. Alright, that was very nice of him. Considering you weren’t holding any grudges against him yet, he did that our of sheer kindness, or responsibility—it didn’t matter. Free food is free food. You would thank him if you see him later but honestly, that would hugely depend on your mood and how he acts when you do see each other again, which you knew you would. 

“Okay. Thank you very much.” You nodded at her with gratitude, mirroring her hushed voice. “Ah, and thanks for fixing my head and tucking me to bed.”

“Of course, it is what I’m supposed to do.” She smiled. Your surprised look—from mistaking that she was the person who brought you back to bed—did not go unnoticed. Immediately, she added,“But Mr.Lee was the one who brought you back to your bed. That was not me.”

You blinked at her in bewilderment. The inside of your chest fluttered just a little at the idea of someone hoisting you up bridal-style and putting you back to bed. It didn’t cross your mind once that he might have laid you on his back instead. You were dramatizing the experience. You had to because Minho did not seem like the type to fit under the romantic category. His face? Definitely. His personality? No. 

Nonetheless, you were flustered at the idea of it. It was the first time someone has held you up like that since your father years and years ago.

“O–oh, that is–“ you cleared your throat and your mind, then you looked up at the lady with a smile–“um, is he home? I want to go thank him.”

“He is,” she nodded, “I believe he is just in his office room.”

Great. Location unlocked! All that remained would be how to get there.

“Thank you. I will just get going now.” You bowed slightly before you quickly spun on your heels and left the hallway.

After some more trials of opening doors that lead you to empty bathrooms and empty guest bedrooms, you were starting to hate this house more and more. At this point, you wouldn’t get a big home even if you’ve got all the money in the world. The hatred and annoyance have rooted too deep in your brain, you have automatically crossed your castle dreams off the bucket list.

Your feet tapped quickly against the carpet so your legs could take you down the hall and to the next doors quickly. Letting out a frustrated groan, you grabbed the door handle as soon as a new door was in reach and you twisted it open to reveal a rather embarrassing sight of Minho and a girl being all over him near the edge of his desk.

You couldn’t decipher whether this position was reciprocal. It was amazing that your brain could even function logically enough to think that perhaps Minho didn’t want to be stuck in this position considering how awkward the view was. You forgot for a moment you were looking at this from a spouse’s perspective, and panic surfaced when you dodged the girl’s annoyed eyes and instead looked straight into Minho’s shocked ones.

Your jaw dropped open slowly at the sight in front of you as if you were just looking at it for the first time. You were finally processing it, though. Then, for some stupid reason, you reached your hands up to your face and quickly smacked the heel of your palm to your eyes. Your back arched at the impact and you started wailing in (fake, but debatably genuine) pain. You disliked couples, also you thought it was funny to act out of the role you were destined to be: a wailing woman. 

The real dilemma here was if you wanted to confront them or act as if you haven’t seen anything. 

Unfortunately, confronting them may lose your status as Minho’s spouse, thus the roof over your head and the trust funds. It would be immensely entertaining to confront them, but you needed to keep everything else in mind. For now, pretending you didn’t see anything was the best response.

Minho and the girl were startled out their minds at your peculiar response. Minho’s instincts told him to stand up straight and approach you to check and see if the fall this morning was more serious than he assumed it to be. But before he could listen to his heart, your incoherent wailing started to turn into audible words.

“Oh! My eyes! I can’t feel my eyes! I can’t see!” You let your hands go free around the air and kept your eyes shut tightly to act blind. Your spun your torso about, almost dancing to a rhythm of a trot song, and your arms flailed closely beside your figure to avoid hitting the door frame. “I have not seen a thing! I’ve gone blind!” 

His lips quirked up in amusement, but the amusement was quickly diminished when the girl who just recently tried to lure him into a deceptive make-out session spoke.

“What the hell is your problem?” she asked out loud, possibly glaring at you but you could not see (because your eyes were closed, not because you’ve actually gone blind. You’ve got me fooled!), nor do you care.

However, you did almost let a gasp past your lips because good lord, the audacity of this woman! Did she see no problem in seducing a married man? An unhappily married man but a married, ring on the finger, contract signed, vowed spoken man nonetheless! Does ‘through sickness and health’ mean nothing to people anymore?

As much as you didn’t care for Minho, the concept of adultery is and will always be preposterous! You were thinking in big words just so you could emphasis how much you hate the act of cheating!

“It seems like somebody is being unfaithful and I am trying to make sure I don’t make a memory of it,” you replied calmly with your eyes still shut and your body turned at the wrong person. It was hard to take you seriously. When there was only silence, you muttered to yourself, “God, I hope amnesia happens when I leave this world. This is not a good sight to remember for them.”

Minho furrowed his eyebrows at you after your answer. Surely, you wouldn’t accuse him of cheating? You barged in at the wrong time. You didn’t even try to understand the situation from his perspective. His arms were crossed in front of his chest to create a more dominant stance before he commanded, “[Name], open your eyes.”

“Did you not hear what I said–ah, you probably didn’t because I muttered.” You sniffed the tense air before you shook your head. “No. I am trying not to make a memory of this.”

“[Name], I said open your eyes,” Minho repeated louder once again. He marched over to you and, impulsively, gripped a stronghold of your chin to tilt your head up. “I said look at me!”

You snapped your eyes open at the forceful tug, a strangled noise bursting from your throat at his violent action. You weren’t scared, no, not at all. You were angry, annoyed, and actively seeking retaliation you would’t have engaged in back where you came from. 

Your hand reached out to grip his wrist and you squeezed tightly until Minho showed a sign of discomfort on his face. A smile almost crept their way to your face; all those years carrying bags of groceries with your mom while walking home was worth it! But the matter at hand called for a more serious demeanour. This experience concerned not just yourself but whoever was once in your place. The aftermath of your choices would change their life, and your call was to stand up for them.

Your brows furrowed and your eyes flashed with cruel disbelief as you glared at him. Shoving his hand away from you, you croaked out, “How dare you treat them like this?”

Minho looked confused. Them? What did you mean? Who were you referring to? Before he could open his mouth to ask, you took a step back and glared pointedly at him. There were droplets in your eyes that you were unable to hide completely. Nobody has ever treated you this roughly before, but you weren’t upset. Those were frustrated waters. The more visible part of your hooded eyes wore a deep-seated contempt that Minho has never seen from you before.

You felt like a completely different person to him.

“I can’t believe they love you,” you sneered. “How could anyone ever love you like this?” 

Like a bullet, your words pierced through him, hitting bull's eye on his board of insecurities. He was rendered speechless at your words. All he could do was cast his gaze down at the floor and think about them. You, taking the silence as an opportunity, glanced back at the girl who stood quietly behind Minho. She didn’t quite return your gaze, possibly shocked to hear such harsh and defensive words coming out of your mouth. Not once did you consider how she was feeling. She was practically invisible until her appeared in your sight. 

You rolled your eyes before you turned and left the room. All thoughts to thank him earlier vanishing in thin air, and it would take quite the journey before they come back to you.

You stomped to the living room and into the kitchen. The subtle change from the carpet floor to the marble tiles was magnified under the pressure of your feet. The cold didn’t even bother you that much, your mind was too occupied with the previous event involving Minho.

As soon as you walked into the open kitchen, you found a milk-colored paper bag sitting on the edge of the countertop with a name printed in the middle in a pretty, cursive font. Your eyes softened for a moment when you acknowledged that the bag contained the food Minho went and got for you, but the softness lasted only a millisecond as your mind repeatedly recalled the incident seconds ago.

Anger filled your eyes like an ocean. Who was he to do that? If he had let you go like a normal person and not pull that violent stunt on you, you would have never been this riled up. You didn’t care that he was cheating; it wasn’t like he was cheating on you per se. You cared that he thought it was okay to grab you (or ‘you’)!

Turning away from the takeout bag, you approached the refrigerator and opened it to search for some eggs and meat so you could cook a meal like you used to do when you finally run out of instant noodle packs to boil. After taking out the necessary ingredients, you searched through the cabinets to find a pan to use but it was to no avail. Everything was either bowls and plates or more salt and sugar.

A frustrated huff escaped your lips, your cheeks puffing out and you gritted your teeth before you slammed the cabinet door shut. You stood up from the ground with a curse under your lips and your hands on your hips. With light sweat on your forehead and your unsightly floral pajama set, [Name], you do look like someone’s grandparent at the moment.

Footsteps made you avert your attention from the hiding pan to where the sound came from. Stumbling into your sight was the girl you just saw, with Minho following shortly behind her. You met eyes with him first, and despite wanting to peel your eyes away from him, you held onto his gaze challengingly to make a point. Minho felt his hands tremble as his mind suffered a faint disassociation.

He was right. You were not the person he knew anymore.

Turning around to look at the eggs and frozen meat you set on the kitchen counter, you stared at it as if contemplating your next move, then you turned back to the two with a shrug. Your tone was beyond slurred and impolite. “Where is the pan?”

“What do you need it for?” Minho asked.

“To knock you out,” you deadpanned, then you visibly scoffed with an eye-roll. “For cooking. Have you never seen people use one before?”

“I bought the food already.”

“I know.” You made a beckoning gesture with your hand. “Tell me where the pan is.”

“You don’t even know how to cook,” the girl interjected, her brows furrowing slightly at your vindictive tone as she assumed your poor attitude here was to compensate for what you just saw of her and Minho.

“Are we friends? I don’t know you,” you said factually.

She laughed in disbelief. “You do know me. I’m Yuna.” 

“Nice to meet you, Yuna, but I’m afraid I won't try to remember,” you said, eyes scratching fire on her skin. She looked taken back by your gaze, which may be the reason why she didn’t retaliate. Glaring back at Minho, you waited for him to answer your question about the location of a cooking pan. You didn’t know if he simply refused to tell you anything or if he didn’t know either, but you snapped either way as your patience reached its limit.

Widening your eyes at him in disbelief, you exclaimed, “Oh my god, Minho! Just tell me where the fucking pan is so I can make myself dinner!”

Now it was Minho who looked startled. You narrowed your eyes at him then, trying to piece together exactly who you used to be before this soul-switching event happened. Judging from how shocked both him and Yuna were, you must have been one mellow and kind person. It was not to say you didn’t possess those traits either. You definitely did, but Minho has done nothing to deserve your goodness, and you would not be the bigger person and give it to him.

“I asked a simple question.” You rolled your eyes and waved your hands in front o your chest in a dismissive manner as you moved from your spot to head out of the kitchen. “I’ll ask someone else.”

Minho watched as you stomped out of the kitchen. When you brushed past him, he wanted to reach his hand out to stop you from leaving. For what reason? He could not conclude. He wanted to answer your question, which was that he could only guess where all the cooking utensils were because he’s not once tried to make dinner. He wanted to ask you to clarify a few things, starting from what happened to you. He wanted to urge you to calm down. Mostly, he wanted to apologize for what he did to you.

But his muscles were rigid and his heart hollowed when he turned to your leaving figure. Your words echoed in his head over and over again. How could anyone ever love you like this? How could anyone ever love you like this, Minho? How?

The sound of a door slamming could be heard all the way from where he stood. Minho licked his lower lip slowly in realization, a realization that relied on a mere assumption. It could explain your sudden change of attitude, at least. The thought jolted his mind awake and he turned around, preparing to leave the kitchen and go after you for answers.

Have you stopped loving him? Or, judging by those words, have you ever loved him?

“Hey, where’re you going?” Yuna asked when he noticed his urgency.

“I’m going to talk to them,” he replied.

“But they’re mad at you–“

“I know.”

“So don’t go. They wouldn’t want to talk to you anyway,” she said with a half-smile. 

“I can’t, Yuna. I need to talk to them about something important.” Minho carefully moved his hand out of her grasp. “Something is off about them, I can feel it..”

“You can wait a while, Minho.” She tugged onto his arm again. “You should let them cool off. How about we sit down and eat?”

Minho paused to consider the suggestion. You were angry. He could tell by the stomping and the glaring and the cursing. Since he has never seen you like this, there was no guessing to what intensity your anger could rise. You might start throwing sharp objects at him for all he knew. But somehow, that only made him want to ‘resolve’ the situation even more. It felt as if there was a clock hanging above your head, counting down each second of him stalling and not talking about what happened, and when the clock ticks zero it would be too late for him.

(It should have been too late for him ages ago, but ‘you’ had been patient, far too patient with him.)

“I can’t. I have to go talk to them now,” he replied and once again moved his arm away. This time, he quickly took a few steps away so he could be out of reach. He gave Yuna a short smile. “Go home, okay? Text me when you get back safely.”

Yuna watched with slumped shoulders as Minho quickly made his way up the stairs and disappeared into the hallway. Her lips pursed, confused and disappointed.

She has liked Minho for as long as she could remember now. As horrible as the arranged marriage was to her, Minho has never expressed a fondness for you and that he has never shown any form of attachment towards this arrangement. If anything, he has been nothing but spoiled and distant when it came to you. It was only because of that. That was the only reason why she reacted well with the marriage and that her love-struck mind deemed it moral to try and steal Minho away from you.

But why? Why was Minho so caught up now? 

Yuna ran a hand through her long, silky hair. She glanced around the kitchen, her eyes settling on the takeout dinner. She gulped nervously. Before she left the house, she grabbed the food with her.

You were too caught up in your thoughts to hear the doors to the closet opening. Your head was lowered to stare at the ground visible between your crossed legs. One of your hand was at the mercy of your nail-biting habit while the other one was clenched into a tight fist and resting on top of your ankle. You were hunched in the middle of your enormous closet, mumbling out your thoughts.

Your initial goal was to live this life of yours as invisibly as you could. You were not going to destroy this person’s life. You were not going to destroy their relationships and definitely not their marriage. For as long as you would be here, you would try to go along pretending like you were somebody else. When you finally leave this place, you would hand this life back to the original ‘you’ as if they never left!

Your goal was facing a bit of an intrusion—Lee Minho.

Without any attachment and responsibilities, it was easy to stand up to him. Doing it for the sake of a weaker person was even easier to do. Who was he to be so rough with his spouse? What was his problem? Not to mention that incident was not the only bad example you could raise, there were so many more things about him that were unlikely and unfathomable! You were considering whether you want to help ‘you’ do the deed and cut all ties with Minho.

He was not good for you, and the original you were probably too in love to see that. That must be why they stayed, considering there was a lack of evidence for any hostage or abusive scenarios. Therefore, you would be more than happy to help them get out of this situation, even though it might hurt them in the short run. To be extra cautious, you could write a explanation letter and conduct a plan for their temporary financial coverage if confirmed that Minho was their only source of security. 

You could do this. You could save a life! Hurray [Name], you’re finally doing something useful!

“What are you mumbling about?” Minho asked as he knelt on one knee in front of your hunched figure.

You snapped your head up and immediately, your thoughtful eyes turned into a glare. You rasped out a yell, “None of your business!”

His expression did not waver, so you scoffed. “What the hell are you doing here? You can’t be checking up on me.”

“Why can’t I be?” Minho tilted his head to the side.

“Because you are an asshole.” Yu rolled your eyes, finally having the sense to scoot away from him. You sat up straight, still glaring at him but the tension in your muscles has slightly relaxed upon seeing his soft, but still stoic, gaze. “Seriously, what do you want?”

“I’m checking up on you,” he replied. “What are you doing in the closet out of all places?”

“I love this closet. You wouldn’t know.” You shrugged and turned to the side, facing the light around the mirror on your table. “It is quiet. It helps me think.”

“What are you thinking about?” Minho asked, his eyes never leaving you as if he was trying to catch every detail of your movements.

You didn’t answer for a short minute, your eyes boring holes into the wooden desk. When you finally did, you have already made the difficult decision in your head, and you were completely ready to execute it.

“I am deciding if I have ever loved you. It seems like I haven’t,” you told him with a neutral expression as if you were spilling nothing but information that contained no emotional destruction within them. “Or maybe I did, but I certainly don’t now.”

Minho’s mind blanked out. There was his answer. The only thing that was circulating his head were your words, and he didn’t understand why they hurt him so much. He, too, knew he had been distant and cruel to you for most of the marriage. There was no reason for him or anybody else to believe he would ever be sad if the marriage breaks up somehow. But he was hurting. Hearing you confess your lack of endearment stung him like a needle to the skin.

Immediately putting on a facade, Minho raised an eyebrow and he leaned away a little. “Really? Well, what do you suggest we do then?”

You blinked at his cooperative response. This was going too well for your liking, but perhaps your fate had decided to finally be nice to you for once. Shrugging at him, you said, “What else can we do? Let’s talk divorce.”

His heart jumped at the word but his face controlled all that he could express. The jump was not hectic enough for him to burst out of his usual character yet. Heaving out a heavy sigh, Minho smirked with a laugh. “Yeah, right. Why would the people who forced us together agree to separate us?”

It was your turn to laugh now. Everything was going as planned. You should be suspicious of that, but you’d rather relish in the present. “Oh, Minho,” you mused. “There isn’t much you know about arranged marriages, do you?”

He furrowed his brows at you in confusion, and for once you finally let your guard down. Standing up, you urged him to do the same as you walked over to the door. “Come on. I’ll cook us some food and we’ll talk about it together.”

“Like I said, I already got food.” Minho rolled his eyes as he stood up and followed suit behind you, his heart still beating fast.

You glanced down at your slippers and hummed. Now that he’s somewhat agreed to separation, you decided you no longer have to hold a grudge against him. Having some good, expensive food and talking about the shining end to your marriage sounded like a very great end to this problem. Turning to look behind your shoulder, you nodded at him. “Alright, let’s see what you got.”

If all goes as you assumed, you were almost one hundred percent sure his mother hates your guts. Unfortunately, the way to a perfect divorce in these dramatic circumstances was always through the male protagonists’ snobby and obnoxious mother, but you’ve got that covered! You’ve consumed so much media, these archetypes of people were predictable to you. 

You waited anxiously at the extravagant coffee house. It was a place for flower teas in floral China cups and overpriced cupcakes stacked in the shape of a fountain. You felt heavily out of place even with the expensive clothes you were wearing, and oh boy, were you anxious about being seen in public when your insides were scrambled with feelings of not belonging. Nobody could read your thoughts, but what if they could?

The conversation you had with Minho last night was a never-ending cycle of you trying to explain divorce to him and him shooting down all the possibilities you pull out of your pocket. He was defending this marriage like he wanted to keep it, and strangely, you would not be surprised that he did. After all, Minho could very well be that male character who was just stoic on the outside but was actually very sensitive on the inside.

However, that was none of your businesses. Who Minho was on the inside didn’t matter to you whatsoever. It poses no value if all he ever does is hide that part of him and mask himself with a terrible facade. An asshole with a secretly good heart is just an asshole. You have made the goal to divorce him, and there was that.

"Oh! There you are!”

An auntie-like voice jolted you out of your nervous state of mind, and you moved your eyes to find an old lady pulling out the chair before you and sitting down. She wore minimal makeup on her face, just enough to make her wrinkly skin shine over her old age. Her clothes were tacky and have an expensive air to them, which was typical of most expensive clothes. You supposed you were in no place to judge. 

“I am so sorry for being late!” she said. “I hope you haven’t been here for too long.”

“No, I got here five minutes ago.” You shrugged dismissively, your eyes too focused on watching her movement.

She who sat before you was none other than Minho’s mother, or so you thought who would be the bitch of the century. But everything she showed was against your normal drama characterizations—no tense shoulders, no frown, no condescending gaze, and no slow talking with an old woman nasal tone.

Instead, her eyes were warm as they glanced at you as if you were a long lost child of hers. She was more polite than ever as she explained why she was late for this supposed divorce conference you planned. This was completely unexpected. You weren’t sure how to react now that the possibility of not being able to bring up a divorce has risen.

“Do you know what you want to order?”

You blinked a few times at her and glanced down at the menu. You haven’t gotten the time to look at it, but it felt like you would lose your appetite as soon as you look at the prices printed on the menu. Picking up the menu, you gave her a faint smile and opened the booklet with a thick velvet cover. You laughed a little at yourself. There were no prices labeled. Of course. Rich people need not know how much things cost. Those irresponsible midgets only pay.

“I will get the green tea cake. It is my favorite,” she mentioned, finally setting down the menu.

“Oh, really? Then I guess I should try that out too,” you quickly followed, not really bothering to decide what you feel like consuming as you were already too busy thinking of what to do with your plan.

“Okay great! Let me call the waiter over!”

You smiled at her blindly, still not paying any attention to your surroundings. Oh, you have caught yourself on another stump, [Name]. While still wanting a divorce—oh god, this word would not be leaving your mind anytime sooner—you were starting to think perhaps Minho’s sweet mother would not be the easiest way to signing the papers. She doesn’t seem to hate you at all, which only served as a disadvantage to you in this situation.

You hummed. There was that. But just because she really liked you wouldn’t mean you couldn’t talk to her about wanting to end a marriage with her son. Perhaps a more civilized conversation could be held where you two talk the arranged marriage over like actual adults, and she would most likely only convince you to rethink your decision more carefully without knowing you already did.

It was not the path you were hoping to cross but it would still be a path with the desired result at the end, so you supposed there was no harm in being honest about what you want.

“What is it that you want to talk to me about?”

Alas, a lot of things are easier said than done. I am pretty sure you knew that fairly well with your many years of experience on Earth.

“I… uh…” You clenched your fists and squinted your eyes uncomfortably. The way you kept reminding yourself to be honest did nothing to your feelings.

Minho’s mother tilted her head to the side as her forehead creased with confusion. It was an expression she has never seen you have before, an expression that looked as if you were holding something back because you have something bad to say. To her knowledge, you never needed to say anything bad enough that it punches your moral consciousness in the gut. Not to her, at least. Not even when it was about her son.

“Is it about Minho–“

“I want a divorce.”

The second your voice dropped, so did her expression. You couldn’t look at her, and the striking remorse was baffling you. None of this was your fault, nor have you spend enough time to develop a bond with Minho’s mother, so why should you feel bad about telling her you wanted to leave her son? These people were all strangers! Was this the power of innate empathy people kept yapping about needing to possess?

A look of realization was apparent in her overall troubled expression. Her eyes sparking a hint of light as it dawned on her that Minho has finally done something that reached and crossed the breaking point for you, and it has tempted you to properly ask for a divorce. After the sudden startlement came a wave of tranquility, as if she already knew this would happen sooner or later.

“We can’t do that.” That was all she told you.

“Minho already told me about everything when we discussed this yesterday,” you pressed on carefully. “Legally, I can.”

She gave you a faint look of surprise, possibly from hearing that you and Minho had already talked this over. Then she sighed with a shook of her head. "If you two do get a divorce, there would be no reason for my husband to continue sponsoring your father’s company and keep it going. Your father’s legacy will fall.”

You held back a witty remark at the fact that she was talking as if your father was some prophet who died saving the world and you were supposed to be in line for his succession. Both your father and her husband were both just the CEO of some really big company, you assumed. You didn’t even know what company it was! Cosmetic? Convenience store? Toilet seats? You’d say let it crumble, but for the sake of who would inhabit your being when you return to your world, you denied that approach.

“Why do I have to marry your son for your husband to sponsor my father’s company?” you asked instead. “Sponsorship doesn’t require marriage. It only requires money.”

“Money requires relations,” she said. “He has no reason to help your father when your family was facing bankruptcy until you and Minho got married.”

You pursed your lips together. “There is no relationship going on between me and Minho.”

“And nobody has to know that,” she said, looking at you pointedly. For the first time, the soft aura she exuded was replaced with something formal, more businesslike. “Nobody knows that your marriage is an unhappy one except for me, [Name]. You were the one who caved in and told me.”

Minho had the sense to at least pretend as if he liked you in public. That was rather unexpected even though ‘acting as if everything is okay in front of people’ has always been the first rule to these arranged marriages. And the former you, too, knew enough to not show Minho that they were both uncomfortable and unappreciated when they were with him. 

Your hand flew up to your chin, and your fingertips lingered against the aftertouch of Minho’s grip. Your memories had conveniently left out the part where you dug your nails into his skin until it hurt and you never tried to see if his wrist was okay.

“I know Minho can be a little insufferable sometimes, but I hope that you can remember how much you love him whenever those times come,” she leaned forward to speak, her tone much more sympathetic now. “Of course, I am not telling you to never get mad at him. I just hope that you can love him, always, even when you hate him.”

You blinked nervously at her. That was profoundly cheesy and unrealistic. It wasn’t impossible, though. You were sure the former you had mastered the art of hating and loving Minho as a husband. But you weren’t them, and while you didn’t outrightly refuse to fall in love with Minho, he has done absolutely nothing to gain your good interest. The condescending gazes, the potential cheating, the dull voice, the rules, and bad temper—you just couldn’t like him at the moment. And if he doesn’t come back around and change his attitude, you were afraid the impression would become too hard to budge.

“And if that has become too hard for you to deal with, at least do it for your parents’ sake.”

Oh, she pulled the ‘dead parents’ card on you, [Name]! Destroying a person’s love life, even though it was a terrible love life, was a kind of guilt you believed you would get over eventually. But their parents were a whole different story. Family relationship was always a pickle. You’d hate to open the cabinet and steal the bones of those dusty skeletons with you. You wouldn’t suffer real consequences, only those your conscience imposes upon you. 

You scrunched your nose up in dismay, feeling stubborn and wanting to act on it so badly, but the situation was starting to feel more and more hopeless as it went on. Biting your lower lip, you asked with a soft voice, not wanting to startle any unwanted suspicion. “Do I… do I even love him at all?”

The look she gave you was patient as if she understood your mixed feelings. She nodded her head. “You have always told me you do. Unless you are lying to me, I don’t see how you don’t love my son.”

You grimaced. No duh? She would think the former you was in love with her son unless it was found to be a lie. That sentence didn’t need to be said. Nevertheless, you glanced down at your hands and clenched them together. You felt like yourself, you looked like yourself, and you sounded like yourself. However, no matter from which part you look at, this wasn’t your life. This ‘rich husband and a bad arranged marriage’ life wasn’t yours. The ‘working overtime and dunking down ramen soup’ life was yours and where you were only qualified enough to live.

If divorcing Minho would come with a package that held more than just leaving a toxic relationship, you would rather not do it. Suffering all the other consequences wasn’t your choice to make. 

Seeing the amount of stress that engulfed your body when you finally finished with lunch, your driver took the liberty to drive you all the way to a shopping mall so you could enjoy yourself and cool off some steam. It was a very heartwarming gesture, and you didn’t forget to thank him before you left the car and waited for him to drive away.

The shopping mall was regular. It was the kind of mall you would come across if you joined a tour group to travel to another country. You also liked to call it the shopping mall where you only walk in and never buy anything because every store inside was either too expensive or not of your taste. Most likely both. Despite having more than a sufficient amount of money on your hands at the moment, you just could not shake off the lack of interest for any of these high-end brands.

Puffing air into your cheeks, you chewed on the boba you just bought from a store located at a rather invisible corner. It was the only item you were willing to spend money on, and thank god the store did not try to amp up the prices as Disneyland would with a bottle of tasteless water just because it was located somewhere lavish.

Your mind has wandered off once again, as it has been doing recently. With these events happening all at once, and with your drama-obsessed brain’s absolute calculation, there was one very important thing missing from your life right now: the best friend.

It could be a man or a woman. Depending on the gender, their personalities would vary greatly in the most predictable and distasteful way ever. The man would be great; handsome, caring, smart, and unfortunately a doormat for everyone to step over. The woman, which you had a suspicion may be a role filled by Yuna already, would be terrible; beautiful but jealous and shallow. From what you’ve experienced, your best friend would mostly likely be a man. Possibly extremely in love with you but somehow never got picked, and now his opportunity has vanished due to an arranged marriage.

“Yeah–where is my super hot best friend?” You stopped in the middle of the mall, eyes narrowed in dissatisfaction and lips jutted out into a thoughtful pout. You were dying to meet him, whoever he may be, all just to get a sense of relief that you’ve got somebody to lean on at a time like this.

(You wouldn’t fool me, though. I know you want to satisfy your second-lead syndrome.) 

Continuing to walk, your hearing slowly came back to reality and your ears began to pick up noises outside of those in your brain. A very familiar voice rang around your area and you paused once again to hear it more clearly.

“Come on, wouldn’t I look nice in this? Let’s go in, Minho!”

Your eyes rounded at the name and you pursed your lips together. How uncanny. You have never experienced such outrageous coincidence before. Out of all the shopping malls in this country, your husband has to be this particular one and at this particular spot. You squinted your eyes then, your straw sucking up nothing because it was pulled half-way into the air where there were no liquid. A continuous hallowing noise came through the suction, but you didn’t care. This was adding up to the scene of a misunderstanding. 

What should you do, you wondered. Make a scene? Complain? Cry about your cheating husband even though he probably wasn’t cheating? If only you were at a fancy restaurant! You’ve always wanted to throw a glass of wine at someone’s face!

“Walk away, [Name],” you muttered to yourself, even after all those excited thoughts, and you fastened your pace.

“Oh–hey! Hey, [Name], is that you?”

You almost choked on the boba in your mouth. Pressing your lips together, you snapped your head up with the most menacing glare you could muster to flash it at the new intruder, and immediately you came face to face with a man with the cutest grin you have ever seen. A strangled noise blew from your throat and came out of your pursed lips, almost out of your nostrils. It was an ugly sound but you could not care less as you beamed inwardly at the sight of the man approaching you. Chubby cheeks, nice smile, not very tall but muscular!

“Oh my god,” you whispered under your breath, “it’s you.”

“Yes, is it I,” he laughed at you. “Why? Did you miss me?”

“Definitely, you have no idea.” You nodded, still chewing on your boba.

He looked surprised for a moment as he tilted his head and that bright smile dimmed. His eyes turned into those of observant ones as he started to look you up and down, then he reached out to pinch your cheek gently while he hummed.

“[Name]…” he started slowly. “You look different. Did you do something–”

“Hands off, Seo Changbin.”

Hands off—what, oh my lord. You widened your eyes at the three simple yet demanding words, and you found your stupid heart leaping at them. Pursing your lips, you lowered your head to hide a smile. God, [Name], how low are your standards? How did that manage to get your heart racing?

Minho didn’t attempt to swat Changbin’s hand away from you, the latter did it on impulse upon seeing the unamused expression on Minho’s face. Raising an eyebrow, Changbin showed nothing more than a sarcastic smile as he leaned back on his weight and stared Minho down lazily from behind you.

“Minho, how wonderful to see you here,” Changbin greeted. His eyes darted to the side to find Yuna walking up to join the gathering, and his forehead creased with light anger for a second.

Shifting his gaze to you, he was surprised to find you sipping on your drink casually as your eyes darted between Yuna and Minho, acting as if nothing was out of the ordinary. He raised an eyebrow at you and stood up straighter, completely confused by the lack of pain flickering in your eyes.

“Hey, Minho,” you greeted. “Hello to you too, Yuna.”

They looked as if they just got called out but despite the faintly rooted embarrassment, the two of them returned the greeting politely. The tension was high and thick, you couldn’t break it with just anything. Not even with a wave of Yuna’s perfectly manicured and sharp nails, which if you’ve had tried, they’re almost impossible to chip on purpose. 

“Well, if there is nothing important, I will be leaving.” You shrugged, not quite looking at Minho in the eyes. You couldn’t. Not after having lunch with his mother and after everything she has told you about him. Turning around, you smiled at Changbin. “I am hungry. Can we find somewhere to sit down and eat? Preferably a place with normal, human portion food.”

Changbin cleared his throat. Your remarks were weird. He discreetly threw a glance at Minho, not so much asking for permission but to access the sudden change of dynamic between you two. The man looked even more off-putting than you did, like he was confused and failing to pretend he understood the situation. It was hilarious. Changbin smirked to himself and nodded. “Yeah, let’s go.”

You gave him a soft smile of gratitude, happy that he agreed with no trouble. You didn’t suspect he would anyway; he was supposed to be a pushover. When you turned to Minho again, he looked as stoic as he has always been. You shivered at his expression and gave him a grimace. “Stop frowning, Minho. Your face will get stuck like that.”

Changbin stifled a laugh while Yuna widened her eyes in displeasure. She opened her mouth to speak, but she found it hard to shoot down the truth. Minho does keep his expression on constant angry mode and, while she wouldn’t bluntly say it the way you just did, she also would not mind seeing Minho crack a smile now and then.

“How do you expect me to smile when my spouse is out with someone else?”

“Rethink your sentence.” You glanced between him and Yuna.

Minho noticed and  heaved a sigh as he closed his eyes. He explained, “I didn’t plan to come out with her. She dragged me out here.”

You felt bad, and with your world’s state of capitalism and experiences of borderline free labor, feeling bad for someone that wasn’t yourself could be considered a golden empathetic response. Pursing your lips and sucking in a big, unwilling breath, you settled into a leg shaking motion to replace stomping in public like a child. You stopped after a brief moment once you realized you were too occupied with getting to know Changbin to care.

“Well,” you said, gesturing towards the heartbroken girl and already turning away. “There is no harm in letting her drag you around for another hour. You’re gonna have fun! I’ll see you at some point!”

Waving those two a generous goodbye, you quickly beckoned for Changbin to follow you before Minho could get the chance to say something your pettiness has to respond to. After walking for a little, Changbin finally breathed out a puff of air as he placed his hand on his chest to release the awkward tension.

“That was weird,” he said. “But hey, you handled that well! I am really surprised… and confused, I guess?”

“Of course I handled that well. Who do you think I am?” You rolled your eyes.

He laughed. “I guess there isn’t anything for you to worry about. You two are happily married after all.”

You blinked at his response, confused for only a short moment before you quietly exhaled an 'oh.’ Minho’s mother was telling the truth, 'you’ really did not tell anyone else aside from her about how unhappy this marriage has been for you and Minho. Not even the best friend knew.

You looked at the ground. Damn, you were hoping you could ignite some feverish fire between you two. Changbin seemed like someone who you could have amazing chemistry with, as best friends and perhaps, as lovers. However, judging by the way he acted around Minho and how he didn’t seem to mind your marriage at all, you doubted his affection for you was any more than just very close friends. The best friend zone—a delicate place, with steel walls and whatnot. 

“Yeah, I really wouldn’t worry.” You smiled.

“Besides, if anything is to happen to Minho and Yuna then it would have ages ago.” Changbin shrugged. “Nothing ever did.”

You grimaced at his remark. Oh god, Yuna. You poor girl.

Minho looked up at the clock. He could feel his anxiousness increase as the clock ticked away the morning after midnight. Checking his phone again, it took him another glance at his zero missed calls and zero new texts to remember you had left your phone at home before you went outside this afternoon.

Changbin still has not read the single, semi-threatening text Minho sent before ten o'clock asking about your whereabouts and demanding him to send you home immediately. He did figure that a reply would be too generous of an act from Changbin. For one, Changbin hated Minho. For two, you were forcibly married to Minho, which only made the hatred go even deeper into the ground. At this point, Minho was one broken secret away from being torn to shreds by your best friend. 

He bit his lower lip as his eyes trailed over to the clock once again.

Where were you? You have never been home this late before. Not to mention your actions today at the shopping mall! It was nothing like what Minho thought you were capable of! You had never once ditched him to hang out with Changbin. He practically doesn’t exist whenever you so much as feel Minho’s presence, not because you were scared of him but because you genuinely did love him.

You did love him, did you not? He was sure you did. 

In the midst of his thoughts, the front door to the house conveniently swung open. You stepped into the living room and immediately, the old lady who you saw the other morning rushed up to you with a worried look on her face.

“Where have you been!” She lightly hit your arm as she scolded.

You gave her a faint laugh. Her harmless scolding was endearing to you. You hadn’t known you shared such an affectionate dynamic but you weren’t surprised, nor were you opposed to it.

“Changbin took me to a lot of places,” you replied. “Today was fun!”

“Oh, dear lord–and you left your phone at home too!” she said. “You got Minho worried sick–you got me worried sick! I was gonna go home but I wanted to make sure you will come back safely.”

To be frank, you had beeped her out for the most part of her words. Mildly focusing on cooing at her about how Changbin had taken very good care of you this whole day, and her looking as if you were chanting some forbidden spell because you were talking about another man, your mind lingered on the piece of information she gave you: you got Minho worried sick. 

Call it your calculative and distrusting nature, but you were having a hard time believing he did it out of care. He thought you unfaithful likely just as much as you thought him. You were okay with the feelings being mutual for now. 

“I’m sorry for coming back so late. I will make sure to bring my phone next time.”

“You make sure to come back home early next time!” she exclaimed. “Don’t forget your phone again!”

“Okay, I promise.” You nodded, pursing your lips into a grin.

She waved at your expression that mirrored that of an ignorant child. You were listening, you just weren’t really taking her seriously, in the most respectful and playful way possible.

“You kids,” she sighed and placed her wrinkly hand on your arm. “Have you eaten? Are you hungry?”

Your chest warmed and you instantly knew why. You missed your mom. She would probably pamper you like this too if you ever came home this late, and probably with a much longer and serious lecture. You wouldn’t know, though. You lived far and you were always working now that you have grown up. Once you were able to return to your world, you figured giving your parents a visit wouldn’t be a bad idea. 

“I did. I ate dinner,” you said. “I am really full.”

“Are you sure? I can cut you some apples if you want. There are fruits in the kitchen! Or maybe you want some oranges?”

“No, that’s okay.” You smiled at her gratefully. “I am full. I ate so much today.”

“Okay,” she said, albeit she appeared suspicious. “If there is nothing else then I am going to go home.”

“Now? It’s really late. Why don’t you stay here?” you suggested, turning around to look out the window by the door before turning back to her.

“No worries. The driver was waiting for you to come home too so I can ask for a free ride,” she laughed as she moved over to the front door. Before she left, she turned around to face you slightly, and she nagged, “Go tell Minho you’re back!”

You only gave her a forced smile in response. As soon as those doors closed, a sarcastic and exaggerated grimace appeared on your face. You turned around, walking into the house as you mumbled mean nothings under your breath about not believing that Minho was actually worried about your whereabouts. He’s definitely got better things to do, and it wasn’t as if he cared. Why should he worry? This has to be a dignity issue. 

Despite not wanting to talk to him, you found yourself walking to his office anyway. Clearing your mind and your throat, you pursed your lips together in dismay before you knocked on the door. Your eyes widened when it immediately swung open, the lack of waiting you needed to do startling you. Minho’s furrowed brows relaxed for a brief second at the acknowledgment that you were fine and back under the roof, but as usual, he returned to his annoyed state before you could catch the concern appearing in his eyes.

He thought twice about reaching over to grab your arm so he could pull you into the room; the emotional fragment in his chest still aching, even though it wasn’t his place to hurt over something he did to you. Hesitantly taking a step back, he opened the door wider and cleared his throat to put emphasis on his current, very annoyed mood. “We need to talk.”

That is never good. The words itself were fine, but the gloomy tone was never good. Despite never hearing that from anybody other than your parents, your muscles clenched at the simple idea of what that line contained, especially now that you were supposedly married. Taking a tentative step forward, you spared Minho a glance before you walked into the office and paused right in the middle of the room.

You grimaced at the memory of when you were here last time. It was not a good sight to see, not that you had many complaints about whatever really went down back then because you still, until this moment, have zero care of Minho’s love life outside of this failing marriage. The grimace on your face expanded when the door slammed shut. You turned around and eyed Minho with a surprised look.

He glared back at you, obviously angry, and you seemed to have an idea as to why that was. He walked near you, but not close enough to create too much intimidation, and he crossed his arms. “Where the hell have you been?”

“I’ve been out,” you said, calmly in hopes that it would rub off on him. “To malls and the streets. Nowhere too far away from here.”

“You were out for really long. Do you know what time it is?” He asked. “It’s way past midnight!”

“I know, and I’m sorry about that, really,” you said. “I wasn’t actively checking the time and, well, one thing led to another and by the time we finished chatting, it’s past twelve!”

Minho gulped down the competitiveness that arose when he heard that you have been out with Changbin for the entire day, having fun and chatting like a pair of best friends, which he often forget you were. It should be normal but Minho could not help the tinted jealousy that continued to pour out of his lips in the form of regrettable words. Not to mention, his feelings were magnified after the conversation you both had about a divorce.  

He has really gotten too used to receiving your undivided love and attention that, upon the vaguest chance of anybody stealing the throne away, he growls and attacks to make sure he keeps it to himself. Rolling his eyes, he scoffed out a laugh, the corner of his lips quirked up into an unamused smirk. His arms fell from his chest and landed on his side where they found a place to rest on his hips.

“Oh, right, I forgot you were having fun with Changbin.”

“Oh?” The questioning sound was inaudible. Your mind spun fast to understand what he meant with those petty words, and despite being quite entertained by his reaction, you still felt bitter at how unfairly he was treating you. “Yet, you are with Yuna today.”

“Like I said, she dragged me out–“

“You are a grown, not to mention a man. You have more than enough capability to refuse any unwanted situation,” you said. “All you had to do was tell her no. She would have listened to you considering how much she likes you.”

“What? You’re just going to be mad at me about that for the rest of your life?” Minho clicked his tongue in annoyance. He ran a hand through his hair, turning away to convince himself not to explode. “You know, I’ve got plenty of reasons to be mad at you about too!”

You shrugged. “Enlighten me.”

“You went to talk to my mom about getting a divorce,” he accused, his eyes sparklingly wide. If you didn’t know better, you would have thought he was so upset that he was about to cry.

A part of you was shocked that she told on you, but you wouldn’t put the blame on her for talking to her own son about his relationship. You just hoped she didn’t disclose in detail what you talked to her about. After all, you have really only known Minho for a few days. Your bad opinions of him, although true, were not ideals you wanted to weigh on his back for the rest of his life. A couple of days should not sum up his entire life.

However, in the heat of this situation, your logic was completely thrown out and you both were only aiming to hurt and blame each other as much as you could.  

“Huh… I see.” Your shoulder relaxed and your gaze softened as a realization dawned upon you. “You aren’t mad about me coming home late. You don’t care about that at all,” you breathed out a faint, bitter chuckle, “you’re just mad because I talked to your mom about getting a divorce and you got an earful today.”

“Oh, oh no. It is so much more than that.”

“What else are you mad about?” you asked, feeling your cheeks heat up as you desperately tried to defend yourself the same way Minho was trying to stand on his ground. “If this is about Changbin, I highly suggest you stop caring–“

“I have to care!” He raised his voice, taking a step towards you. He stopped when you took the same steps back. “We are married, and you just went running off with some other man for an entire day–”

“Let’s not act like you love me enough to care about who I am with, Minho,” you pointed out, furrowing your brows at him. “Even if we are married legally, emotionally, we are as connected as parallel lines.”

He paused at your pretentious yet still poetic line, wondering since when have you gotten the ability to talk with your chin up like that. Then he snapped back to the argument at hand, his head tilting to the side as he hardened his gaze at you. But he wasn’t that angry anymore. He was confused, or at least baffled. “You don’t think I care about you even a slightest bit?”

You heaved a sign. Well, let’s count off all the things he has done for you so far: putting you back to your bed after you fainted, buying you dinner, being a little possessive when Changbin was pinching your cheek, worrying about you being late. For sure, those were pretty heart-racing things to do, and it seemed the effect on your fragile feelings were magnified with his good-looks. But it would not be enough if he only does good things in the shadow. His pretty silhouette could never outrun the shadow that was his stone-cold facade, and he was over here chasing after the impossible sun.

“Maybe a little bit, but I don’t want to settle for a little bit of care,” you told him. “Especially when there is someone out there who is able to provide me with so much more straightforwardly.”

Minho laughed sardonically, rolling his eyes. “We just circle back to that insufferable best friend of yours–“

“No!” You snapped, clapping your hands together on impulse.

Your eyes were wide and teary now, you were really getting into the argument. It felt almost exhilarating; you have never fought with anyone like this before. Fighting over love and whatnot. It wasn’t what you hoped to do. You were really aiming for a much calmer conversation. But at the mention of Changbin, who has been nothing but patient and kind to you, you could not stop yourself from setting the record straight.

“This has nothing to do with Changbin. It has everything to do with you and your shitty attitude, Minho, starting from the first moment I met you until now!” You counted off your fingers, numbering the things he’s done. “You look at me like I’m beneath you. You talk to me like I’m not important at all. We don’t share a bed, we don’t share a closet. You set rules for me around the house. From the sound of it, I’m not even supposed to step into your room. Why is that, Minho? I am really curious about that, truly.”

You stopped talking, but you and him both knew there was more to say than all that you have spoken of.

“I have never complained about anything, have I? All I did is love you, and you took advantage of that to become a spoiled brat,” you said, your hands joined together for a moment before they released each other. Your fingers lingered on the ring, twisting it and turning it as you contemplated your next move.

Minho was speechless as he stared at the ground, but his head was positioned high enough for you to still see his expression. For the first time, he looked genuinely distressed. His fist clenched at his side and his lips trembling in realization. Of these past two days, of all the times before you were even here, of how he has treated you.

You breathed out a soft sigh after calming down. You were sure Minho must have good qualities in him that made ‘you’ fall in love with him in the first place. And, bouncing back to all the dramas you have watched, all characters like him are often too romantically incapable when it came to expressing their true feelings. It wasn’t like he didn’t love you, it was just that he didn’t know how to show it. People like him need a lot of time and comfort, which you were completely willing to give if he was willing to try.

“Look, Minho.” You volunteered to step up so you could be closer to him, closing the distance for an unreachable form of intimacy. You looked at him, an unknown feeling coming over you as you gently tipped his chin up with your fingertips. He looked at you, surprised, but he listened. “I am sure I loved you for a reason, but I can’t love you when you’re like this. I refuse to.”

“How could anyone ever love you like this?” Nobody can, Minho. Not when you couldn’t show the pile of gold locked up in your heart. What have you been so afraid of? Why wouldn’t you let it out?

Minho’s eyes watered and he bit his feelings back. “What do you want me to do?”

“If I tell you then there’s no meaning to it.” You shrugged as you let him go, and he missed the warmth of your touch. You reached for your own hand as you smiled politely at him. “You can hold onto this for me.”

You left the room after you handed him the object. The door closed behind him and Minho opened his hand. The wedding ring stood on his palm, shining bright and expensive. 

It looked as if it would cost him his entire heart.

[mrsstruggle]

The Lost Child - Bonus Chapter [Smut] // Derek Hale x Reader

Series Summary: Y/N Stark was taken from her family when she was three years old. It's fifteen years later and her family believes she is dead. Then how is she living in Beacon Hills?

Warnings: This chapter is just smut with a bit of fluff!

Pairing: Derek Hale x Reader

Words: 2.7k

Note: Part 2 of the Shadow Wolf series is coming soon! Read my latest update for all of the details.

Additional Note: While this is a Teen Wolf x Marvel AU, not everything is true to the shows/movies/comics. I had to change things for the story.

One Last Note: Y/N was adopted by Tony Stark and Pepper Potts. I did this so more people can see themselves in this story.

***I do not own Teen Wolf or Marvel or any related characters. This is a work of fanfiction and is meant for entertainment purposes only.***

Masterlist

The Lost Child Masterlist

Previous Chapter

[This is set when Derek and Y/N get home after the major fight at the end.]

 Y/N sighs in relief for the first time in a week. Derek locks the door behind them as they walk into their empty apartment. Kicking off their shoes next to the front door, they are both covered in dirt and dried blood, and their clothes are partially ripped from the fight.

“I think I might sleep for a week,” Y/N groans, flopping face-down on the couch. She’ll hate herself later when she has to clean the stains she’s making. Luckily all her wounds are closed, so any blood on her is old.

“I think I heard Stiles and Scott talking about coming over tomorrow, but I can hold them off if you want me to,” Derek replies. He throws his keys into the bowl on the table next to their front door.

Y/N huffs in frustration before turning her head so she’s no longer inhaling the seat of the couch, “Can’t they leave us alone for one day? I swear I haven’t had a single day alone since the others got here.”

“Oh, do I need to go get a hotel so you can have some alone time?” Derek teases.

“You know I don’t include you in that statement. Especially since the last time we were alone you were in a coma.”

“Well, we’re alone right now,” Derek smirks, looking down at her as he stands next to the couch, “and I’m no longer on the brink of death.”

Y/N sits up on the couch and lightly punches Derek in the arm, “Don’t joke about that!”

Derek laughs before sitting down next to her. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, pulling Y/N into his arms and pressing a quick kiss to her forehead.

Y/N doesn’t respond but cuddles into his embrace. She feels like she still hasn’t processed everything that has happened within the last week or so. Out of everything, the thing she can’t stop thinking about the most is almost losing Derek. She’s scared she’ll close her eyes and see her blood-covered hands again.

“You know I’m never going to leave you, right?” Derek asks. With his right arm wrapped around her, his hand starts to slowly run up and down her arm in a comforting manner.

“I know.”

“No matter what happens, I will always be here for you.”

Y/N groans, “Can we stop being so serious and cute and talk about something else?” She feels like the only conversations she’s had lately have been serious.

Derek smirks down at her, “What do you want to talk about then?”

Y/N looks up at him before peeling herself away from him and standing up from the couch. She walks toward the staircase leading up to the second. When she reaches the bottom of the stairs, she turns to look at Derek who is staring at her quizzically. She grabs the top of her pants and tugs them off along with her underwear. Still staring at Derek, she also tugs off her shirt and bra. She gives him a little smirk and a wink as he takes in her naked figure, “I think I’m going to go shower. Too bad I don’t have any to shower with.”

She smiles innocently as he gets up off the couch and walks over to her. His eyes linger over her body before locking onto her eyes, “I can think of someone who’d love to shower with you.”

“Yeah…make sure to let Parrish in when he gets here then.” She turns around and quickly runs up the stairs as Derek stands at the bottom in shock and disgust.

It takes Derek a moment to recover before running up the stairs behind Y/N, “You’re so going to pay for that.”

Y/N lets out a loud laugh as Derek grabs her by the waist and throws her down on their bed as they enter their bedroom. Lying on her back, Derek crawls between her legs and places harsh kisses up her body.

“I would still really like to shower,” Y/N giggles, her hands already running through Derek’s hair. Derek pulls away from her body before he reaches her face and walks toward their bathroom. “Wait, I didn’t say stop!”

She jumps a little when Derek’s shirt hits her in the face. Pulling the shirt off her face, she can see Derek stripping off the rest of his clothes through their open bathroom door. “Are you going to stare all day or are you going to come join me?”

Y/N rolls her eyes as she gets off their bed and walks to the bathroom. Derek’s back is turned to her as he turns on the shower. She slightly leans against the bathroom doorframe as she admires his muscular back and his muscular, yet plump, ass. She knows if he’d turn toward her she would be able to see his muscular chest, defined abs, and his long, hard dick.

“I can feel you staring at me,” Derek says, turning to look back at her with a smirk on his face as he checks the water temperature with his hand.

“Well maybe you if you didn’t look so good, I wouldn’t stare at you.”

“Are you saying you wouldn’t stare at me if I didn’t look like this?”

“No, I’d definitely still stare at you.”

Derek slowly walks up to her, looking her up and down, “I’d have to lose my eyes to stop staring at you.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, “Could you be any more cheesy? I don’t think Stiles would believe me if I told him some of the things you say to me.”

Derek grimaces as he pulls her into him, “Please don’t bring up your brother right now.”

“What?” Y/N playfully smiles at him as she wraps her arms around him. “Does it not turn you on even more?”

Derek’s frown deepens. His right hand moves from around her waist to give her a quick slap on the ass, “I’m serious.”

“Yes, sir,” Y/N bites down on her bottom lip to prevent herself from smiling too big. Derek rolls his eyes as he presses kisses across her shoulders and neck. “Should we take that shower now?”

Derek doesn’t answer with words but grabs the back of her thighs, pulls her up, and carries her into the shower. As the water starts to hit her, she presses her hands against the side of his head to tilt his face toward her. She crashes her lips onto his and he slowly lets her down from his hold. Her hands move to the back of his head and run through his hair as her feet touch the shower tile floor.

Derek’s hands roam around her body as if to make sure she was still there.  Y/N moans as he grabs her ass a bit harshly. His lips slowly move from hers and down her neck. Y/N throws her head back as his left comes up and squeezes at her right breast.

Derek’s lips leave her neck as he quickly grabs her waist and turns her around in his hold. Moving his hands to her hips, he presses her ass against his him. “I’m going to make you cum once in here. Then, I’m going to make you cum at least two more times before I do.”

“It’s been like a week since we last did anything. Are you sure you can make it that long?”

“Just for that, I’m going to make it twice in here.”

“You say that like it’s a punishment.”

Derek’s left hand moves up her body before wrapping gently around her throat as his right hand glides down her body toward her core. He squeezes her neck in warning as she tries to tug his right hand down faster.

Y/N huffs in frustration when he pulls his hand away from hovering over her clit. Her eyes follow his hand as he reaches up and pulls the removable showerhead off its hook. With his left hand still around her neck, his other hand runs the showerhead around her body to slowly wash away the dirt and blood that’s still on her.

She moans softly as he lingers around her breast. Her nipples harden as the hot, steady stream of water flows onto her boobs.

“As much as I’m enjoying this, I was promised at least two orgasms in here,” Y/N says, pressing her butt back into his hard dick to make her point.

“Patience,” Derek says lowly.

He lowers the shower head from her breast and down to her pussy that feels like it’s throbbing in anticipation. Y/N bites her bottom lip as the waterfall from the showerhead starts to hit her where she wants it most. It feels good, but she needs more.

Almost as if Derek could read her thoughts, he uses his thumb to turn the showerhead to the massage setting. Y/N gasps in pleasure as the water goes from a pleasant flow to a powerful stream that seems to hit her clit in just the right place. His left hand squeezes around her neck again as she starts to squirm from the intense gratification the showerhead is giving her.

“Holy fuck,” Y/N moans out. She can already feel her first orgasm approaching fast. She can’t tell if it’s because the water stream is hitting her that well, or if it’s because they haven’t done anything in a while. Honestly, she thinks she could’ve orgasmed just looking at him earlier.

Derek can tell she’s close from the way her back is slightly arching away from his body, “You might as let go now because you’ve still got to give me one more in here.”

“Shit,” Y/N eyes roll to the back into her—her hands grabbing Derek’s left arm—as her first orgasm washes over her. Her body twitches for a few seconds before coming down from her high. She whines and tries to squirm away from the strong water stream still hitting her sensitive clit.

“Stay still,” Derek presses a kiss to the side of her head. “Give me one more and I’ll take it away. You remember what to say if it gets too much?”

“Kanima.”

“Good girl,” Derek presses another kiss to the side of her head as he brings the shower head closer to her clit, so she has less room to squirm away from it.

Y/N moans as the pleasure of the powerful stream hitting her pulsing clit outweighs the sensitivity. She lets out of string of curses as her second orgasm hits her faster than her first. The combination of the showerhead and Derek’s grip on her neck has her vision going white, her legs feeling weak, and her body spasming.

When her senses come back to her, she notices the showerhead is back on its hook and Derek’s hand is no longer around her neck. His arms are wrapped around her body holding her up while he’s pressing light kisses against her neck.

“Holy fuck,” Y/N says through her hard breathing.

“Is that all you’ve got to say?” Derek teases her.

“Give me a minute to collect my thoughts and maybe I can say something else.”

Derek turns her around to face him with his arms still wrapped around her to help hold her up. He smiles lovingly at her before pressing a soft, sweet kiss against her lips. “Are you ready for part two?”

“I’ve barely even showered,” Y/N jokingly exclaims.

“You’ll need to shower again afterwards anyway,” Derek smirks. He winks at her before scooping her up into his arms bridal style. Y/N throws her arms around his neck as he uses the arm behind her back to turn off the shower. She laughs as he carries her out of the shower and into their bedroom, gently laying her on their bed.

Derek lies between her legs as Y/N wraps her legs around his waist and pulls him closer to her. Y/N’s hands find their way back up to his hair as they make out. They can feel their love for each other through each kiss along with the gratefulness that they’re both okay after everything that has happened.

Derek continues to kiss her as his body pulls away slightly and his right hand trails down her front. His middle finger circles around her opening before slowly pushing into her vagina. Y/N moans into his mouth as her vagina subconsciously squeezes around his finger at the intrusion before relaxing. He slowly moves his finger in and out as he starts to prepare her for his cock.

Y/N starts to grind against his hand as he adds another finger, “If you keep going at this rate, I might cum before you get inside me.”

“Good,” Derek says, moving from her mouth down to her neck. If she wasn’t a werewolf, she would be covered in hickeys in the morning.

Y/N lets out a loud moan and her back arches off the bed when his thumb grazes her clit. She feels overwhelmed by his thumb rubbing circles on her sensitive clit, his fingers curling and hitting her in just the right spot, and his mouth now attached to her right nipple. Her toes curl and her hands clutch at the bed’s—now wet—comforter beneath her as her third orgasm washes over her. Her body is still spasming as Derek slows his movements as she comes down from her high.

Derek presses a hard, long kiss to her lips before he pulls his fingers out of her and moves away from her. He reaches into his bedside drawer and pulls out a condom and a small thing of lube. Y/N smiles up at him as she watches him rip open the condom packet with his teeth and roll the condom onto his hard cock. He uncaps the small lube bottle and spreads the lube on his covered dick with his hand. “Are you ready?”

“Just get in me already.”

Derek grabs her legs and spreads them a bit wider. He stares down at her already wrecked pussy with love and lust in his eyes. He can’t help but bring his hand down to give it a quick, hard slap. The squeal and moan that Y/N lets out goes straight to his cock and makes him impossibly harder.

Derek uses one hand to hold one of her legs out and the other to slowly guide his dick into her. He lets out a low groan as he enters her. He can see her biting down on her bottom lip and her lands clenching around the comforter as he eases the rest of the way into her. He bends down to kiss and suck on her breast as she gets used to him being in her.

“Move,” Y/N moans, moving her hips a little to get him to move.

Derek removes his mouth from her left boob, “What was that?”

“Move.”

“I think you’re missing something.”

Y/N has to hold back from rolling her eyes, “Please.”

“Good girl,” Derek smirks at her before sitting up. His arms wrap around her legs as he starts to slowly thrust into her.

He’s trying hard to hold himself back, but the feeling of her walls squeezing around his cock is making it hard to. Y/N eyes roll back and her back arches as his thrusts start to speed up. Her moans are loud enough that there’s no way they wouldn’t get noise complaints if they had neighbors. Thank god the people below them moved out two months ago and no one else has moved in. They probably would’ve heard them even though they’d be two floors down.

Wanting Y/N to cum before him, Derek moves one hand to her clit and starts to rub hard circles on it. Y/N’s body starts to spasm as her fourth—and last—orgasm washes over her.

The feeling of her vagina spasming around his cock causes Derek to orgasm too. His hips start to slow and stutter as he cums into the condom. He stops his thrust before pulling out of Y/N. He pulls the used condom off his dick and throws it into the trashcan next to his bedside table. He looks down at Y/N who is still spread out on their bed trying to catch her breath.

A smile crosses his face as he stares down at the woman he loves. He bends down and leans over her to press a soft kiss to her lips. “I love you.”

“I love you more,” Y/N says, pressing another kiss to his lips.

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[stargazing-imagines]

Hold Me — Conrad Fisher x Fem!Reader

Description: you are back in Cousins, but along with you came a secret that you are hiding from Conrad.

Warning: fighting, violence, slight Domestic Violence, let me know if there’s more ASAP! Plus if you are in a Domestic Relationship, YOU DESERVE BETTER! just putting that out there! NOT EDITED!!

Fandom: the summer I turned pretty

A/n: it’s summer again and you know what that means!! TSITP imagines! So get ready for a ton of them! We may not be getting season 3 till 2025, but that doesn't mean the fics stop there! Enjoy Connie Baby Stans *Winky emoji*

“I don’t know what Conrad is going to say when he sees Connor.” You said as you were packing your suitcase to head back at another summer at Cousins beach, your best friend Carolina who sitting beside your open suitcase on the bed.

“Come on y/n, Conrad shouldn’t be that upset.” Said Caroline “I mean he was the one to break up with you, and you’re better then that.”

You half smiled at your friend before looking down at your suitcase, to say that you were looking forward to cousins would be a lie.

“I don’t know… the breakup was pretty messy.” You said removing your suitcase before sitting down on your bed.

“Yeah it was bad, you were in a ice cream coma for a long time.” Said carolina “besides this summer is the summer to embrace who you are! Be yourself.”

You smiled at Carolina, before nodding your head in confidence.

"Your right! I need to just be myself."

"That's the spirit." said Carolina "Now I have to go home before my mom makes an Amber Alert for me." said Carolina as she looked at her phone before looking back up at you "Have fun, remember, call me if I need to fight anybody."

You laughed waving her off.

"Ok kids I need you all to pitch in to help with the chores this summer." said you mother "Plus with Susannah in the shape that she is we will be helping her as much as we can."

"Wait... What do you mean with the shape that she is in?" you asked as you stopped mid-bite of your Fruity Pebbles.

"We didn't want to tell you kids till the end of summer because of the boys but... Susannah's cancer is back."

"is she going to be ok, right?" you asked, pestering your mother with questions about her health, your mother stayed silent.

"Oh my god... I need to talk to belly." you said as you stand up, but your mother stops you with her hand on your arm.

"She can't know y/n." said your mother "Susannah wanted to wait till the summer is over so that we all can have one last full summer together.

You nodded your head, letting the news sink in.

"ok mom... I keep it a secret."

"Come on Conrad, you seriously can't still be hung up on y/n." said Jeremiah as he was playing video games with steven, taking his eyes off the tv every few seconds.

"I heard that she got hot." said Steven "From the way Belly talks she has a whole boyfriend and everything."

"Can we stop talking about y/n?" asked Conrad as kept his focus on the television "Besides I don't care if she has a boyfriend or not."

"Oh thats right?" asked Steven as he paused the video game to face Conrad "Your dating Nicole."

At that moment, Belly came stumbling down the stairs in a blue and white summer dress, before she can open the door; laurel stops her.

"Where do you think you're going young lady?"

'Over to y/n's house... Me and Cam are double dating her and Conner at the drive in."

"Well... Ok." said Laurel "But be back by 10."

"11?" asked Belly

"10:30, and that's it."

"Yay! see you guys later." said Belly as she walked out the door, Laurel walks back into the kitchen, the boys hearing hushed voices from Susannah and Laurel.

"Belly has a date?"

"With y/n and Conner."

"Oh that sweet boy that Connie keeps mentioning? he so handsome, apparently he is lifeguarding with Jeremiah at the country club this summer.

"You know what I'm thinking?' whispered Steven to Jeremiah and Conrad.

"No... what?" asked Jeremiah

"Crashing this 'double date'."

"You know we can't do that?" asked Conrad

"Yeah but do you really want to leave y/n alone with this conner freakshow?"

"And see Belly making out with Cam Cameron? no way!" said Jeremiah

"Come on... I know you want to."

"Ugh fine!" said Conrad "lets go."

It was pitch dark at the drive-in, Barbie playing on the screen. Belly and Cam were in the back talking, and whispering. Y/n, and Conner were in the front seat, conner with his arm around y/n, and her head on his shoulder.

"Can you guys be quiet? we're trying to watch the movie?" asked y/n as she looked towards the back.

"Your no fun?" said Belly as she playfully shoved you.

"Your getting Cherry Coke all over my car!" yelled out Conner in a playful manner, but it didn't seem playful.

'Conner, chill." you said "She just a teenage girl."

"I know but did she have to come with us?" Whispered Conner "I mean..."

"She's my best friend Conner."

"She's 15 years old." said Conner "You shouldn't be hanging around with 15 year olds."

"That's it. I have had enough." you said as you get out of the car, slamming the door making Cam, and belly shrug their shoulders.

"What is wrong with you?!" shouted Conner as he came running behind you as you were speed walking away from the scene.

"Away from you!" you yelled before walking away again, that was the moment that you saw Conner's true colors.

He placed his hand on you arm, tightly swing you around to face him. Terrified to your core at his sudden move.

"Listen here, you are going to be a good girl and walk back to the car if you don't want anything bad to happen."

"Get your hands off her!"

you turned around, and saw Conrad trailing behind you.

"This doesn't apply to you." said Conner "Now go!"

"She not going anywhere with you, Jeremiah go get Belly and Cam they don't need to be hanging around this guy."

Jeremiah Nodded his head before walking away, Conrad facing you again, checking you over.

"Your ok?" asked Conrad "He didn't hurt you did he?" You shook your head.

"Go wait in the car." said Conrad as he looked Conner stern in the eye you followed his command walking away from the situtation.

"This isn't a place to fight man but what you did tonight really hurt her."

"Shes my girlfriend, she told me all about you and how you dumped her last summer." said Conner "You really think you are the guy for her huh?"

"Oh I know I'm the guy for her, and because of what you did... You deserve this."

With that, Conrad punched Conner in the face which resulted him into breaking his nose.

"Dude you broke my nose!"

"Be glad that was all that you have broken."

With that Conrad left

"How long has this been happening?" asked Conrad

"Ever since we broke up..."

"What else has he done to you?" Asked Conrad concerned

"I don't want to talk about it..." you said "Can you please hold me?"

"Of course."

The Summer I turned Pretty Masterlist

[canonicallyobserving911]

Buck & Eddie: Buck's role in Chris' life

The color gray (Eddie's first couch and the shirts Eddie, Buck and Chris have worn over the seasons) has been in play since season 2 and it appears it relates to the role of Chris' second parent or the person who's coparenting him with Eddie.

I think I found something else regarding the Buckley-Diaz Family's attire and it all has to do with the color gray.

Before I delve into this, please note these are my observations and interpretations and it's ok if someone doesn't agree. As I mentioned in my "15 Constructive Criticisms" posts, everyone interprets media differently and it's ok when two people don't agree because both ideas can coexist.

Now back to the regularly scheduled programming...

Last year, when I completed my couch META (linked here), I wondered why Eddie's first couch in season 2 was gray and it was replaced with a blue couch in season 3.

In 2x7, SD sat on Eddie's gray couch after he invited her over to discuss Chris' admittance into Durand.

But in 3x10, Chris was sitting in front of a blue couch while him, Buck and Denny made gingerbread houses and Eddie sat at the dining room table giving Buck huge heart eyes.

At the time I didn't think too much of it because I wasn't looking for a connection to anything except the couches and I didn't realize it plays a role with Chris' other parent or the person Eddie's coparenting him with until I noticed the color of Buck's shirts in season 6 when I completed several posts about him. The first one was about his "Looking for ANSWERS" uniform (linked here), another one involved his ill-fitting clothes (linked here), also I completed one about his search for happiness (linked here). Several weeks ago, I completed a post about how Chris was looking for Dad!Buck in Buck's coma dream (linked here). After I noticed the gray shirts that Buck wore in seasons 4-6, I got curious and started researching it.

IIRC, Eddie wore the first gray shirt in 3x10 while Buck and Chris were sitting on the floor making gingerbread houses with Denny.

Reminder, he was looking at Buck with their his son and he smiled and lowered his head. This HAPPENED AFTER THE KITCHEN SCENE in 3x9 (the night Eddie met Buck 1.0 linked here) but it was BEFORE he updated his will and named Buck to be Chris' legal guardian in 3x15. Another reminder, Eddie's couch in season 2 was gray and SD sat on it but after she died in 2x17 and the season ended, the gray couch was replaced with a blue one and it's the same one he has now. It's his family's couch, the family he chose and it's for him, Buck and Chris.

Here's a reminder from the kitchen scene in 3x9 just in case someone needs a reference.

In 4x8, Chris got upset and ran away to Buck's loft because Eddie started dating again. Buck was wearing a black and white jacket that looked gray due to the way the colors were blended together. While he was there, Buck promised him he wasn't going anywhere after Chris said everyone leaves.

As the season progressed, Buck wore more gray ESPECIALLY IN 4x13 AND 4x14 WHEN HE WAS AT THE SHOOTING AND WHILE HE WAS TAKING CARE OF CHRIS.

In 4x13, his shirt was white with gray stripes and his pants were gray.

In 4x14, while he was taking care of Chris, his hoodie was light gray not white and Chris will be wearing a similar one at the end of season 6 but I'll circle back to that.

In 5x10, Buck was wearing a dark gray jacket and this is the only time him and Chris were shown in CANON together during that episode. Three reminders, first Eddie talked to Buck about Chris' nightmare that he had about SD when they were at the firehouse. This is important because before 5x10, Buck spent Christmas with Eddie and Chris in 2x10 and 3x10 (there wasn't a Christmas episode in season 4). Second, this was the day Eddie announced he was leaving the 118 and third Buck was dating TK.

In 5x13, Buck was wearing a white shirt with gray stripes and it's similar to the one he wore the day of the shooting. Why is his shirt important? It's important because later in the episode his son Chris called him because something was wrong with Eddie. After Buck answered the call, Chris said, "Buck! Something's wrong with dad!" It was just like 4x13 when something was wrong with Eddie after he had been shot. Chris called his other parent. He didn't call Pepa, Isabel or 9-1-1.

In 5x14, Buck was wearing another gray shirt which is almost exactly the style shirt Chris will be wearing in season 7. Reminder, while Eddie was in therapy, Buck was caring for Chris the same way he did in 4x14 but this time Buck was in a relationship and Eddie wasn't. Also, Chris wasn't questioning Buck's role in his life because Buck was there taking care of him while Eddie was getting better.

In 5x17, Buck was wearing another gray shirt while he was sitting in Chris' room with Eddie as Eddie packed Chris' suitcase. Buck was in a relationship then too but Eddie wasn't.

In 6x1, Buck's and Chris' shirts were blue, gray and white. They were different styles but they had the same colors. This is the scene when Eddie and Chris joked with Buck about him not having a couch (relationship/family) when in actuality he did because it was with them.

At the end of 6x1, Buck was in another white shirt with gray stripes but the stripes were bigger than they were in 4x13 and 5x13. Reminder, this is when he began his search for a couch, family happiness, basically it was the time he started taking inventory of his life like Bobby suggested and well... everyone who watched 6x18 knows how it ended with him making the same mistakes.

In 6x12, Buck was wearing all gray and he went to Eddie's house because he couldn't get any rest at the loft. He fell asleep on his family's couch while Eddie was in the kitchen. Also, notice how Eddie's preparing their son's Chris' lunch when Buck enters the kitchen. They're coparents.

In 6x13, Buck was wearing a different gray sweater while he was baking cookies with Chris. This is significant for two reasons, reminder Chris was NOT shown baking muffins with AF but he was shown baking cookies with Buck. Also, Chris was wearing their family's color, navy-blue (posts linked here and here) which means he wasn't questioning Buck's role in his life as his other parent but Buck was still unsure because Eddie hasn't told him. After Buck laid out all his ingredients, he said doing that makes him feel like an actual chef ("dad") and Chris said that made him Buck's sous chef ("son").

In 6x15, while they were at SD's grave, Chris was wearing a gray and white striped hoodie underneath his blue jean jacket. This is important because it's when he started questioning the role of his other parent since SD is deceased and Eddie started dating again in 6x14. Reminder, Buck had just baked cookies with Chris in 6x13 and Eddie wasn't there.

In 6x18, Chris was wearing a green shirt underneath his gray hoodie (the same color shirt Eddie wore in 5x3 when he broke up with AF).

Why is any of this significant?

Well... if Chris' clothes are telling the story like they might be, then Eddie won't be with M long because Chris' clothes in 6x18 illustrate how he's not happy with Eddie dating again. They've already built a family with Buck and for Eddie to be dating someone Chris doesn't know (reminder he knew AF because she used to be his school teacher) then his comment about why Eddie was so bad at it was saying something different than his clothes.

At the end of the episode, I wondered why the show had him appear to be happy with Eddie dating again when he ran away to Buck the first time. The difference between the two times is Buck was single in 4x8 but by the end of season 6, Buck and Eddie were barely talking to each other again and Buck was doing whatever he was doing with ND while Eddie tried to ask M out on a date.

TM (showrunner) released the photo above a couple of weeks ago and please notice the shirt Chris is wearing is gray and it looks almost identical to the one Buck wore while he was in Chris' room with Eddie in 5x17.

Buck was wearing a gray hoodie in 4x14 and Chris was wearing one in 6x18. Eddie was dating AF in 4x14 but Buck was taking care of Eddie's heart, his son after the shooting. In 6x18, Buck was doing whatever the "F" he was doing with ND and Chris didn't have anyone to call since Eddie was trying to date M.

Please look at the pictures above. The one of Eddie is from 3x10 and the one of Buck is from 4x14. They're sitting in the same seat in the dining room and they're both wearing gray. It's the head of the table and while Eddie was in the hospital, Buck sat there. SD and AF never sat there and it's likely M won't either.

What could all of this mean?

If their clothes really are telling the story then Eddie might break up with M quickly since Chris is not happy. Should he be looking for someone for himself and following his heart like Carla said? Yes! But Eddie has a son too and whoever he dates has to want to be a coparent as well and so far the only person who fits that description is Buck.

I said it in my multi-chapter fanfic that I don't believe M wants to have kids. I think she's the opposite of AF because she doesn't look like the type who wants to bake cakes, cookies or muffins like AF did since she's a DIY'er. She was also doing the work on her own house which could mean she's not looking for someone (other than her brother) to help her do anything. She didn't want his help either.

In season 7, Buck's shirt shows he's looking for ANSWERS and Chris' shows he's looking for his other parent 👀.

It appears M will be in the way the same way AF was but the difference is based on the gray shirt Chris is wearing in the still from season 7, he might be questioning Buck's role in his life the same way Buck's been doing for the last three seasons. If he is then Eddie's the one who has to solidify Buck's role in their family.

If the color gray isn't significant, then why were all three of them wearing it?

[cherryslyce]

Second Son (VII) | Regulus Black

Series Synopsis: Forbidden from contacting Harry over the summer, you opt to explore the eerie halls of Grimmauld Place where you stumble upon a lonely portrait of the House's second son.

— Chapter Synopsis: The summer before your sixth year is another fruitful one spent at Grimmauld Place. Regulus and Y/N have an insightful conversation and grow closer than before.

Part VI / Part VIII / Series Masterlist

Pairing: Regulus Black x GN!Reader

Notes: Cheers to another summer break! The not canon compliant warning is starting to become more apparent. The slow burn is burning a bit.

The weeks following the confrontation at the Ministry left the Wizarding World at a standstill, the alleys and streets seeming to grey and titter in jumbled whispers and conspiracies. Minister Fudge could no longer make a public enemy out of Harry, having witnessed the return of Voldemort for himself. Unsurprisingly, Fudge resigned shortly after Dumbledore was reinstated. 

Despite the retreat of public scrutiny from his back, Harry fared no better than he had the summer before, conceivably managing far worse. You don’t remember much after Sirius’ attack, only that Luna quickly rushed to your side and grabbed Regulus’ portrait from your hands, hiding it in your jacket as Auror Tonks made her way over to your glass-eyed form. 

You could never thank Luna enough because you distinctly remember being unable to feel your limbs due to shock, and you’d rather not have to explain your portrait predicament. Tonks’ words barely registered, but you heard one thing loud and clear: Sirius was not dead. 

But he did not get better. 

Currently, he occupied a suite room at St. Mungo’s, his consciousness torn away as he remained in a frigid coma. After Harry had recovered from his clash with Bellatrix and Voldemort, he had nearly tackled you to the ground, realizing that your quick thinking to grab Sirius with your spell was the only reason he was still alive. 

Breaking the news to Regulus was difficult since you knew how much he loved his brother, despite the strained relationship they had. Regulus was devastated by the news and he seemed to pale further when you told him that it was Bellatrix that got him. Pureblood family issues were so complicated. 

After your brief conversation about Sirius’ status, neither of you had the energy to talk about Regulus’ disappearance, so you ended up pocketing away his portrait. 

Despite the relief you felt because Regulus was back with you, you couldn’t bring yourself to face him just yet. Your reluctance to face him again led you to leave him in your pocket for a few weeks without talking to him. 

However, you knew you’d have to face him eventually, and it was just the opportune time to do so. Harry and the Weasleys were going to spend the summer at the Burrow, but you pleaded with Dumbledore to allow you to return to Grimmauld Place under the guise that you would research ways to help Sirius. 

Bellatrix had hit him with a highly complex dark curse, one that was foreign to the healers at St. Mungo’s, meaning that it was likely a curse found in the Black library. 

Your excuse wasn’t a lie, but it was far from the whole truth. You also wanted to further explore your magical connection with Regulus and the disappearing room, still perplexed by the wisp of magic you felt last time. But it seemed that there was little use hiding that fact from Dumbledore, as he gave you a small, all-knowing smile before giving you permission, “The world seems to have strange ways of bringing people together. I do hope you find what you are seeking.” 

At first, your heart nearly gave out because you assumed that he had used legilimency on you, but your ring gave no indication of it, so you presumed it was just a Dumbledore thing. 

It seemed that Dumbledore and Luna were aware of Regulus’ existence to some degree, which was no surprise, one was a legendary wizard, the other an understated seer. Their knowledge only served to worry you though, as you weren’t confident that Voldemort was none the wiser to Regulus’ existence now. 

If Dumbledore knew with what limited time you spent around him, there was no doubt Voldemort was itching from suspicion. 

Vengeance was practically Voldemort’s middle name (even if Harry insists that it’s Marvolo). You still had no idea how Regulus had wronged Voldemort, but you weren’t sure if you wanted to find out for the sake of your own sanity. 

As the green flames engulfing your vision slowly dissipate, you carefully step out from the floo network and brush away the ash from your clothing. Spinning around, you faintly smile at the nostalgic environment. Grimmauld Place was far from a welcoming home, but it had a certain knack for bringing along pleasant surprises. 

Before you can set out to dive into research, a popping sound has you whirling your head downwards towards the noise. 

“Master Regulus’ friend is back” Kreacher’s voice is tuned with surprise, but he looks pleased to see that you’re alone, evidently still not as accustomed to your friends or the Order members. You were secretly quite flattered to have the elf’s approval–not that you’d ever admit it to anyone. 

Grinning down at the elf, you wave as he moves to grab your trunk, “Hi, Kreacher. I’ll be here awhile, I need to research a few things to help your Master.”

“Help Master?” Kreacher turns his eyes to you in apprehension.

Nodding solemnly, you release a small sigh before answering, “Yes, he’s been in an accident.”

At your words, Kreacher’s grip on your belongings loosen, turning to look at you with a face full of anguish, “What is wrong with Master Regulus?!” 

Sputtering a little from shock, you quickly placate the elf, still reeling at the fact that he was capable of that much worry, “No, no, Regulus is fine. I’m talking about Sirius, he was cursed by a dark spell and the healers don’t know how to fix it.” 

Kreacher’s tense form relaxes considerably and he grunts, turning back to his task of gathering your items, “So, Master Sirius still breathes? Pity.” 

Expecting a far more violent response at the news, you simply nod, allowing silence to blanket between the both of you. You briefly considered asking the elf if he was knowledgeable of Bellatrix’s ledger of favorite curses, but decided it would be your last resort. 

You weren’t sure if Kreacher would be of much help considering it involved Sirius. 

“Kreacher, I’ll be in the library. You can put my things in the guest room I stayed in last summer.” Your words are met with a slight nod and that’s all the sign you need before you’re bounding up the stairs and in the direction of the expansive library. 

Much of the content filling the shelves of the sealed library were enigmatic, but you hoped that you could kill two birds with one stone and find information for both of your goals. How lucky that both of your problems involved the Black brothers. 

As you trailed through the aisles of shelves, running your finger along the leather-bound books, you sighed as you realized you were putting off your chat with Regulus. At first, it was truly because you didn’t know how to breach the subject of his portrait traveling, but now it was also because you felt guilty for avoiding him for so long. 

Rip the bandaid off, stop stalling or he’ll really leave this time around. 

Reaching into your jacket, you carefully extricate the frame out of your pocket, bringing it to eye-level. Plastering on an unsure smile, you feel relief flush through your veins as Regulus greets you with his own soft smile. 

“Little bird, it’s been a while.” Regulus’ voice is smoother than you remember, and you find yourself shuffling around as your heart begins to pound uncomfortably. Bloody crush giving you heart palpitations. 

“Hi, Reg. It has been. I’m sorry for not talking to you sooner, I’ve just been thinking.” Even though your excuse was flimsy at best, Regulus shakes his head firmly, as if all was forgiven on your part. 

Warmth shines in his eyes as he alleviates your worries, “It’s not your fault, it is entirely mine for mindlessly leaving you alone that day without a word.” 

Shocked by his initiative to bring it up first, you can only nod mutely as he continues, “I’m sorry, Y/N. My reason for leaving…it was entirely childish, and these few weeks of not communicating with you allowed me to contemplate some more. I want to be honest with you, if you’re up to hear it.”

“Of course, and I want to be honest with you as well, Reg.” Your nod and soft smile seem to strike a chord in him, causing him to emit a low laugh of fondness. 

Tilting his head to the side, his eyes seemed to shine brightly at you, “You’re always honest with me, little bird. I think I owe it to you—to us, to be transparent this time around.” 

You have to make a conscious effort to stop his ‘to us’ from replaying over and over again in your head. 

Huffing in playful annoyance at his ability to endlessly fluster you, you decide to take a stab at his declaration, “Alright, if you’re sure, then…I guess we should start with the most obvious question, why did you leave that night?” 

Dragging his hand up to tuck a loose curl behind his ear, he gives a little pause before answering you, “I was scared.” Seeing your confused look, he continues, “I was scared because…your injury. When I saw it, I was furious–and not at you, but towards Umbridge. I was terrified because I care for you… so much, but there’s nothing I can do to help you in those kinds of situations.” 

He cares. It was so different hearing it verbalized by him. 

The stress weighing on you seems to melt away, the furrow between your brows letting up as you lightly come to your own conclusion, “So you left because you were angry.” 

He shakes his head lightly, “It was not just anger, but also fear. Frankly, I feel a sense of devotion to you and I was frightened by it. I left because I thought that it would be logical to languish my connection to you, but I realized how foolish my thoughts were. I am stuck with you, just as you are stuck with me.” 

His words were genuine, but you could tell he was dancing around a deeper meaning. Still, you were glad for his honesty. It was a step forward in your relationship. 

You feel yourself getting choked up by his announcement, but before you can even muck up a response, he continues, “I was anxious that day, before I even took notice of your wound. Before you casted that muffliato, I had heard the blast and thought that you were being attacked. But I waited to hear your voice, maybe a reassurance that it was all okay. When everything became muffled, I was worried that you were hiding everything from me because something was happening to you.” 

“Oh.” Well, when he put it like that, it’s no wonder he was so furious that day. 

He nods at your realization, finishing his explanation quietly, “You are so kind, little bird. Even in that moment where you could have been in danger, you still put your consideration for me first. It’s scary to think, but I know…I know that I would do the same if the roles were reversed.” 

“You know that I care for you deeply as well, Reg. We’re in this together.” It comes out slightly watery, but your words are firm and the vulnerable glint in your eye eased Regulus’ tension. 

Reinvigorated by Regulus’ words, you decide to bring up the topic that had been troubling you for a while, “I was honestly unsettled by my attachment to you as well. I’m unsure of what to make of it, some days it feels unreal. I just don’t understand it all because logically, you’re a portrait, but deep down, I know that there is so much more to you. You’re not like any ordinary  portrait I’ve stumbled upon.”

Nodding as if expecting the topic to be brought up, he straightens up and clears his throat, “I suspected you felt this way, and honestly, I’m not entirely sure why I’m so different. I know there might be a few possibilities as to why, but I feel as though I am missing a part of the answer, myself. When I left you that night, I was able to spy on a few portraits in the castle. Of course, I couldn’t reveal myself since they would have recognized me, but, from what I observed, most portraits are not as…dynamic as me. Even the most complex ones at Hogwarts seem to be entirely derivative.”

Not quite expecting Regulus’ loss for answers as well, you can only seem to reach one conclusion, “So the answer to all of this…it happened shortly before your death then?” 

“Yes, it’s highly likely. After all there was a two week gap of radio silence between the last visit from my living-self and his untimely death.” Regulus’ confirmation has you suppressing a groan. It seemed like you wouldn’t be getting a clear answer so easily, but perhaps Regulus left clues on the research he was doing before his death around the library. 

Humming as you feel a headache coming on, you decide to let the topic drop there, “It’s okay, we don’t need all the answers right now. But I’m glad we had this conversation, and I hope that in the future we can continue to be honest with each other.” 

Regulus smiles at you, “Of course, little bird. But I’m curious, any news on my brother or about the Dark Lord?” 

A small frown tugs at your lip as you’re brought down to reality, “No changes in Sirius’ condition, but I’m hoping that maybe we can find some clues here. Unfortunately, Voldemort is making his move in bold ways, he’s truly an incisive foe. He murdered Amelia Bones last week, it was all over the press, even the muggles covered it.” 

Taking notice of how your voice catches at the end, he returns your frown, “I didn’t know you were fond of Madam Bones.”

“I was quite partial to her morals, and she was an accomplished witch, to boot. Plus, I know her niece. She has no guardian now. Voldemort murdered her parents during the war.” Shaking your head at the turn of events, you can’t help but feel a sense of unease at Madam Bones��� death. 

Voldemort was moving rather quickly. There was no telling what his next move was going to be. This wasn’t the first time he was able to strike down a famously powerful wizard or witch, even in his revived state, he was just as remarkable of a wizard. He was slowly removing the pillars that held up the Light side’s confidence, at this rate, Dumbledore was going to be the only one left to look to. 

No use in overwhelming yourself, take it one day at a time. 

Lowering Regulus’ portrait slightly, you begin to peruse through the book titles on the shelves, trying to find anything synonymous for “dark curses and hexes”. You were hoping that the search for the curse would be quick, but unfortunately, it seemed that the entire library was just pooling to the brim with parchments about the Dark Arts. 

“Hey, Reg. Do you have any idea where Bellatrix might have learned such a troubling curse? Any area of the library I should focus on?” Your words were meant as more of a joke, but Regulus’ contemplative expression has you stopping in your tracks to focus your attention back on the boy. 

Rubbing his chin, he seems to map out some ideas in his head, “During our last conversation, the day Sirius was cursed, you said his muscles seemed to constrict before he went limp and then he dropped into a coma?” 

You nod in confirmation at the pointed assessment, wondering just how useful the symptoms could be at narrowing down the possibilities.

Why couldn’t Bellatrix have used another curse of milder lethality with far more ridiculous effects? Coma, really? Why not puking up tarantulas or something? While it would make for a ghastly sight, it would be ridiculous enough to make the hex more apparent. 

After a few more moments, Regulus seems to have a lead of some kind, “I don’t have an exact answer, but it does remind me of a time when I was younger and Bellatrix would talk in circles about experimenting with soul magic. She wanted to impress the Dark Lord, so it’s no doubt something of that caliber.” 

“Soul magic?” You punctuate the words in disbelief, realizing that the circumstances might be far more dire than anyone could have fathomed. 

Realizing that you had no idea where to even begin, you decided to enlist some help, “Kreacher!” You weren’t exactly sure if it was necessary to yell, but the action soothed some of the stress you were suddenly feeling. 

A pop echoes around the library and Kreacher stands before you in mild irritation, “Kreacher has been called?” 

Placing a hand on your hip, you try to seem authoritative with your command, “Yes, Kreacher I need your help. Could you gather up all the books on the property that concern soul magic or soul hexes?” 

The elf’s eyes seem to light up at your words, clearly thinking that you were taking interest in the Dark Arts. The prospect wasn’t exactly improbable, but you were much too reluctant to choose soul hexes as an introduction. 

“As you wish. Kreacher will begin right away.” After giving you a razor-sharp grin, he’s gone in the blink of an eye and you hear a distant pop ring from deeper in the library. Hopefully, Kreacher could be trusted to keep your little research topic a secret, you would not fancy having to explain to your friends why you were researching such a dark subject amidst Voldemort’s return. 

As you begin to make your way out of the room, you bring Regulus’ portrait back up to your face, “Reg, there’s something interesting I discovered the night you left. I was wandering around the castle-” looking for you “-and I spent the night in the Room of Requirements. Except it wasn’t exactly the Room of Requirements.” 

Regulus looks both intrigued and full of reproof at your words, compelled to hear about your adventures, but displeased by your decision to break the rules and risk being punished further. 

Brushing aside his concerns, you continue, “Well, while I was wandering around, I was thinking about you and where you might be, and the room that ended up appearing was the disappearing room that your portrait was originally in.” 

Finding yourself in the kitchen, you carefully prop Regulus up against an empty fruit bowl before rounding the table to raid the cabinets. To your utter dismay, all the cabinets are empty, save for one filled with numerous knives. Groaning at the lack of food, you decide to plop back down in front of Regulus, cradling your empty stomach pitifully. 

Shooting you an amused eyebrow raise, Regulus seems to consider your findings as you continue to mope, “That is fascinating. If it was truly the same room, then it must be as a result of something my human counterpart did whilst he was still alive. When I was first painted, the room already existed–that much I know. Although he was the only one who ever came into the room, I thought very little of it at the time.” 

“It seems that all the answers about the strange magic surrounding you and the disappearing room vanished with him. How frustrating.” Your groan is cut off with a loud grumble from your stomach, causing you to slap a hand to your middle bashfully. 

Entertained at your embarrassment from the strident noise, Regulus chuckles before putting you out of your misery, “Kreacher will be awhile with the books. It’s fine, go out and grab some food, we can talk after you’re done.”

Nodding glumly at his suggestion, you quickly pocket his portrait and feel around for your pouch of galleons. Once you’re ready to head out, you grab a handful of floo powder and ready yourself for human interaction. 

Merlin, you were so looking forward to being a recluse the entire break.

The feeling of becoming a hermit only grew as the rest of the summer dragged along. Kreacher managed to snag a little over a dozen books about soul hexes and magic for your research, keeping you occupied indoors for a majority of the break. 

You only managed to stay sane because Regulus kept you company, and for that, you could never repay him enough. 

The last few days of July flickered by and soon you were preparing yourself to enter the familiar floo network to make your way to the Burrow. It was finally Harry’s 16th birthday, and you intended for it to be a happy one, needing some semblance of normality as war shifted on the horizon. 

“Little bird.” Regulus’ voice pierces through your concentration as you finish taping the last fold of wrapping on Harry’s gift. 

“Hm?” Your distracted hum has him rolling his eyes playfully. 

Tilting his head, he finally speaks up once your eyes meet his, “You do know that there’s a spell to do the wrapping for you?” 

“What? And miss all the fun?” Your teasing words have him looking unimpressed, “Besides, it has more meaning to do it by hand, Reg. You can see all the little imperfections, for example, this little uneven crease on the bottom.” As you show him the bulky wrapping, he can barely disguise his look of amusement.

Shaking his head, he crosses his arms as a pensive look crosses over his expression, “We should try something before you head out.” 

Tying a silk ribbon around the wrapped gift, you peer up at him in interest, “Sure, what’s on your mind?” 

“I think we should try out those charms you found a while back.” His words surprise you since you figured he still held reservations about the risks of the Mens est Oculus charm.   

Sitting up straighter and reaching for your wand, you can’t help but voice your confusion, “Not that I’m opposed to it, but why now?” 

“It would put me at ease to be able to talk to you, just in case.” His words are touching and you’re much too pleased to dismiss his concerns. On the one hand, you were only going to the burrow, on the other, you were aware of how risky it was to be out and about since death eaters were slowly strengthening their forces. 

Giving him an understanding nod, you furrow your brows in concentration before casting the charms. Luckily, you had much time to imprint the movements and incantations in your head so it only took a little pause to cast. 

Quirking your lips in uncertainty, you slowly bring your wand down, unsure if the charms were put into place. 

‘Reggie? Can you hear me?’

‘Impressive work, little bird. Not that I doubted you.’

Gasping loudly at his voice, you reel back in your seat to gape at a pleased looking Regulus, “Woah!” 

Laughing at your shock, Regulus opts to merely respond through your newfound mind link, ‘Woah indeed. Now, it’s about time for you to head out, no?’

As you tucked Regulus’ portrait away underneath your pillow and headed down to the floo network, you couldn’t help the victorious laugh that escaped you. 

It seemed that every summer was more eventful than the last, and you were hopeful that you could spend many more summers in the future with the boy who was slowly winning over your heart. 

Reaching out into your mind link one last time, you send Regulus a fleeting farewell. 

‘Stay safe, little bird.’

And then green flames were filling your vision. 

tag list: @krazyk99 @venomsvl @valsarchives @bunny24sstuff @novella12nite @elia-the-bibliophile @txoru @surelysherly @xlifexdeathx @trikigirl271 @urgurlfave @the-marauders-world @sleepydang @blueberry-thrawn @lestat-whore @chanaaaannel @clockworkherondale

[wolfjackle-creates]

WIP Wednesday

So, here's a short excerpt for WIP Wednesday (963 words)! Thank you for everyone who followed my new writing blog, the response has been so unbelievable.

Trigger Warning: Discussion of parental death

Original Prompt Fill

1st Shared Segment

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IKnowYourSecrets: hey

IKnowYourSecrets: I know this isnt something weve done before

IKnowYourSecrets: you said you got a cell for your last bday

IKnowYourSecrets: can I call you?

IKnowYourSecrets: heres my number XXX-XXX-XXXX

-xXPolarisXx-: is everything ok?

-xXPolarisXx-: dont answer that

-xXPolarisXx-: obv not

-xXPolarisXx-: my phones in my room brb

Danny ran up stairs to grab his phone and return to the computer before anyone could close out of his chat. He checked the number and dialed it, closing out of everything and logging out as the call connected.

“Tim?” he asked as soon as the ringing stopped. “What’s happened?”

“Danny? I… this is weird talking like this.” Tim’s voice was rough and Danny couldn’t tell if that was from emotion or just how he normally sounded.

Danny laughed a little. “Yeah. It is. Give me a sec, let me get to my room and I’ll shut the door. Give us some privacy.”

“I… yeah. I might need a few minutes.”

“Are you okay?”

Tim made a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a sob and Danny all but ran up the stairs. “No, not really. Um. My mom’s dead.”

“What?!" What was the appropriate response to something like this? Sometimes he wished he had Jazz's way with words. "What happened?”

“She and dad were in the Caribbean." Tim let out a huff. "I didn’t even know they were in the Caribbean.”

Danny made a noise to indicate he was listening, but waited for Tim to continue.

“There was a local villain named Obeah man. He captured them and held them ransom. Gave them some water to drink at some point, but… it was poisoned. By the time Batman got there, it was too late. Mom died.” Tim gave another half-hysterical laugh. “And my dad is in a coma. He may never wake up.” His voice trailed off.

Danny swallowed. How does anyone respond to news like that? “I’m so sorry, Tim. How are you holding up? What’s going to happen now?”

“The funeral is in two days. Bruce is organizing it. And I’m going to stay with him, I guess. He said he’d be happy to foster me until my dad gets better.”

“Shit, Tim. Text me during the funeral if you need to.”

“I might take you up on that. You won’t mind?”

“Of course not. Every 5 seconds if you need to.”

“Distract me. What’s going on in your life? I don’t want to think about any of this anymore.”

“Oh, uh, all right. Are you sure?”

“Please, Danny.”

“If you change your mind, interrupt me anytime.” Danny chewed his lip. What on earth could he talk about in response to news like that? The test he had in English last week? That sounded so trite. “I did start karate training with…” he trailed off before he could say his mom. “Anyway, it’s going all right. I’ve basically only been taught basic moves. I only get lessons two or three times a month so it’s slow going.”

Tim’s voice was still shaky, but he seemed to latch onto the topic to Danny’s relief. “You really have to give it your all if you want to succeed. Have you learned the basic stances and things?”

“Some, I think.”

“Hold those positions. Stand in your room and just hold them for ten minutes at a time. And practice the same punch over and over. Even if your m—” Tim’s voice caught and he changed course “—instructor can’t make it. Would you be allowed to sign up for classes? Get something more consistent?”

“We don’t have the money.” Danny bit back the embarrassment he felt at admitting that. Tim was rich-rich and never had to worry about things like bills. “Ghost hunting doesn’t really pay. My parents are at least good engineers so they can fix our own appliances and vehicles. Sometimes dad or mom will fix stuff for the neighbors for some extra money.”

Tim hummed in understanding and didn’t push the issue. “How did they even get into ghosts to begin with?”

“If we ever end up in the same place, you are not allowed to ask that directly to my parents. Don’t mention ghosts at all. They won’t stop talking for hours. As for how they got into it… Dad’s always believed in the supernatural. He could’ve just as easily started tracking big foot or the Loch Ness Monster. But he met mom in university and she was stuck on ghosts. Dragged him in, too. And he’s obsessive. Once he decides on something, that’s it.

“They were both studying the supernatural and had to decide what to focus on for their doctoral research. Mom’s hated ghosts since she was a teenager. Apparently she and a friend were dared to go into a haunted house one Halloween. She doesn’t talk about it much, but her friend died that night. She blames the ghosts and has dedicated her life to hunting them ever since.”

Tim clicked his tongue. “Wow. It almost makes sense with that back story.”

Danny snorted. “Ghosts aren’t real. I dunno what killed her friend, but it wasn’t a ghost. Wish they’d decided to hunt Bigfoot instead.”

“Really? Why do you say that?”

Danny looked out his window and stared at the setting sun. “If they were hunting bigfoot, we’d probably go camping more often. And I like camping. You get the best views of the stars that way.”

“What’s your favorite constellation?”

“That’s like asking who my favorite Star Trek character is! There’s too many to choose. But do you know the folk history of Polaris? It’s why I chose my username.” Danny talked to Tim about the stars and space until Alfred called him away for dinner. They made plans to talk online again later.

-----

Next

Now, I have a question for y'all. I was planning on finishing the entire work then publishing on a once a week basis until finished (or twice a week if I had more chapters than I expect). I've got the first chapter mostly done, just need to rewrite one section and change a few lines elsewhere. I also have the next 1.5 chapters mostly done on a first draft. I could start posting now, but I can't guarantee a posting schedule and I'll probably have to take a hiatus or two as I plan to get a new job and move sometime in the next few months.

So my question, do you want me to post now or wait? It'll probably be several months if not a year before I finish depending on how long I take and how many other projects catch my eye.

-----

In other news, the creator of the original prompt started their own fill, too! If you read mine, I am requiring you to check theirs as well because it is amazing ����. Tumblr Link and AO3 Link

Tag List

@gremlin-bot, @bonebrokebuddy, @britcision, @lady-time-lord-, @welcometosasakiworld, @akikkobara, @phoenixdemonqueen, @dolfay, @skulld3mort-1fan, @we-ezer, @markus209, @sjrose1216, @onyxlightdragon, @dragonsrequiem, @jesus-camp-the-sequel, @spidey29phangirl, @kyrianclawraith, @evilminji, @introvert-even-on-the-internet, @emergentpanda-blog, @lexdamo, @v-inari, @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit, @longlivethefallen

I removed the names of some people who requested a tag back in November but didn’t interact with the last snippet I shared. Since it’s been so long, I wasn’t sure if you were still interested. I’ll be more than happy to add anyone else, re-add anyone I took off, or take off anyone who doesn’t want future tags! Or start a separate list just for after there’s an AO3 link. Just let me know!

[taestefully-in-luv]

Our Time | JJK (Four)

Summary: After an accident and being in a coma for three months, you finally wake. But the last nine years of your life have been completely erased. You rely on none other than your best friend, Jungkook, to help regain your memories and yourself. But what happens when the truth of your missing time starts unraveling and it isn’t all it’s made out to be?

Pairing: Jungkook x Fem Reader (Detective!Jk x Graphic Designer!OC) side pairing: Seokjin x Reader

Genre: crime au, fluff, heavy angst, smut, romance, darker themes, amnesia au. Best friends to ???

Word Count: 13k

Warnings: swearing, frustrations of amnesia, mentions of alcohol, slight panic attack, confession, secrecy, lots of bonding, mentions of sex, sexual tension, yearning, erection, dirty talk (details of sexual scenarios) over the pants action, mentions of oral (fem and male rec.)

a/n: another important chapter 🤭 please let me know what you think! Send an ask if you want to be added to the taglist or just want to chat :]

© taestefully-in-luv

Previous --- Next

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

You finally lower the frame after staring at it with heart eyes for way too long. There are more than a million thoughts running through your mind but it seems your ability to truly think is somewhat halted because of the giddiness that trots around in your belly. Yes, you’re confused. Yes, you’re shocked. Yes, you’re in almost complete disbelief. But if this is true?

Then yes, you are also over the fucking moon.

You continue to look at the framed photo, eyes scanning every little detail. You take a moment to wipe your sleeve against the glass, built up dust making it harder to see clearly. You, in a long, beautiful wedding gown, fingers wrapped around Jungkook’s bicep and a look of bliss on your face. Jungkook’s suit is hugging his muscles, the tie neatly wrapped around his neck as one of his hands rest over yours. His smile is huge and his cheeks are rosy. You know when he looks genuinely happy and this is it. 

You try to suppress a growing grin, heart still racing and beating loudly in your ears. But suddenly, a headache starts forming and you roll your eyes. Maybe it’s ‘logic’ trying to push against your forehead, causing an ache to bring you back to reality.

You are happy that apparently you and Jungkook are married. But you also don’t know for sure yet. It might seem obvious but hey, you never know. This would explain the secrecy and his lonely apartment. He doesn’t actually live there, right? Maybe he just got that place quickly so he could keep up the façade of you two only being friends. 

But why keep this a secret in the first place? 

It is huge news so maybe that’s why. 

Regardless, you need to confront Jungkook. You need to tell him you know about this and if it’s actually true. And hopefully he will be just as pleased as you. He doesn’t have to pretend anymore. 

You decide to stick the frame under your arm as you close the box again. You glance around the attic one last time. Boxes everywhere, lots of dust and lots of evidence of a life you don’t know. But at least you know something and you’re going to stick to your word—nothing more than the recipe book…even though, you found something else entirely. 

Climbing down the attic steps, you can hear Jungkook’s snores from the living room. You finally get the attic closed but when the door shuts, your entire body goes still at the loud ‘bang’ when it slams shut. You’re quick to snap your head in the direction of Jungkook but when you don’t hear his snores anymore, you feel your insides twist and turn. 

Frozen, you keep your body turned in the direction of the living room and it seems Jungkook’s snores don’t continue. And then you hear the sound of feet on the wooden floors.

“y/n?” Jungkook’s voice is distant and groggy. 

You take a deep breath, eyes going to the ladder and the frame under your arm before you hold it in your hands and bring it to your chest, picture facing you. You know he’s going to appear in the hallway any second as he looks for you and you know you have to face him regardless.

“In the hall.” You finally call out. 

Not even five seconds pass before Jungkook’s sleepy figure appears before you. His hair sticks up in all directions, fist rubbing at his eye as he tries to adjust to the light in the hallway. It takes him a moment to register what he’s seeing. You, beneath the attic with a ladder next to you and something in your hands. 

“What—” He glances around much more quickly now, feet suddenly moving as he comes closer to you. “What are you doing?” He finally looks awake. Alert. Panicked. “Hey, what are you—are you trying to get into the…” He shakes his head, brows furrowing. “What are you doing, y/n?”

“Well—”

“—Did you go into the fucking attic?” He cuts you off, eyes on the ceiling as panic and concern paints his face. 

“I needed to find something.” You tell him calmly. “So I—”

“—What the fu…” He swallows hard, eyes not finding yours. “I told you not to…” Jungkook’s fingers go to his temples, eyes shutting as he tries to gather his thoughts. “You realize how fucking—”

“—I didn’t snoop into anything, really.” You rush to say though you speak slowly. Your own concern etching itself onto your features. “I was only looking for a recipe book.”

Jungkook finally looks at you and you feel small. “A fucking recipe book? That’s worth going into the attic for? I told you that there are too many things in there that would overwhelm you!” His chest moves up and down quickly, lips set in a firm line as he stares at you incredulously. “This—”

“—I only found this.” You keep your voice calm. You flip the frame to face him and you watch as his entire expression falls, every hard line on his face smooths out the moment he sees what you’re holding. And then suddenly his face begins paling.

“You—You…” He blinks at the photo, mouth fallen open. 

“Is this…” You speak quietly, suddenly insecure about the entire situation but you still move closer to him, eyes looking up into his and he immediately softens because of your delicate yet unsure expression. “Are we?” 

Jungkook’s teeth dig into his bottom lip as he gazes down at you, his eyes growing watery.

“Did we really get married?” You push the frame closer to him, your expression shifting from unsure to pleading. “Did you fall in love with me? Is this real?”

Jungkook’s expression completely crumbles at your questions, “Yes…” His voice cracks, pausing to clear his throat. “We got married…” Then he grows sad, “How wouldn’t this be real?” He asks, weak smile tugging at his lips as he takes the frame from you and he looks down at it.

“I don’t know…” Your heart starts thumping harder, you use every muscle in your face to keep you from smiling. “Maybe since I’m kind of crazy about you…that I photoshopped it or something.” 

Jungkook snorts and you feel your body relax. “Photoshop?” He laughs but his eyes are still watery. “No, no.” He brings the frame to his body like he’s hugging it. “This is very real.”

You can feel the tiny hairs all over your body rise in disbelief. You know how shocking and unreal this all is. But there’s something inside you that feels relieved, pleased and comforted. Because you have felt it in your bones that the connection between you and Jungkook was somehow different and you craved him more than your mind or body could explain.

“I’m married to you?” You stare at the frame in his hands, eyes huge with wonder. “You…this feels crazy.” You say, quietly trying to sort your thoughts. “How do we…” You finally tear your eyes from the frame and look at him. “How do we act now?”

Jungkook’s silence feels like hands wrapped around your throat. 

His body stands tall yet stiff. Fingers gripping the frame like he’s afraid it’ll drop and glass will shatter. Jungkook breaths are bated and you feel your own throat constricting when his silence continues.

“Jungkook?” You murmur his name, voice straying from confidence as insecurity leaks through the one word. 

He flinches. 

After another moment, Jungkook tries to clear his throat and speak but it seems any words he wants to say die somewhere in his chest, along with his heart. “Um,” He still doesn’t lift his eyes to you, avoiding your gaze as he continues to stare down at the frame.

“Jung—“

“—Did you see anything else in the attic?” He asks, voice slightly shaky as he doesn’t rip his eyes from the frame still. “Or was this it?”

“This was it.” You tell him honestly, his gaze finally meeting yours. Perhaps he wanted to catch your own telltale tic when you lie. But you aren’t lying.

“How are you feeling?” He asks, tone much softer. “How is your head? This doesn’t feel real for you, right? This probably might seem crazy.”

“Yes and no.” Your lips manage to form a hesitant smile. “It is crazy because wow, I’m married. But also, it isn’t crazy because even 24 year old me can’t imagine my life ending up this way with anyone else but you.”

Jungkook stares at you with big, doe eyes. A crease forming between his eyebrows as his lips twist, teeth suddenly digging into the flesh when he tries to control his obvious emotions. 

You thought he might be pleased you know but you don’t expect to see his eyes grow teary when they well with uncertainty and longing. 

He had to pretend this relationship didn’t exist between you both. It must have been incredibly hard for him.

“How are you feeling?” You try to step closer to him, but your body is still going through shock despite your mind feeling more at ease. 

Jungkook lightly scoffs at your question, lips twitching when he can’t answer with words. He’s growing more and more unknown to you. This is brand new territory. Jungkook knows you even more than you recall. He knows you differently than you know him. You’ve never experienced a romantic dynamic with him—well, you have, you just don’t remember. 

You eye him carefully, his muscles looking unbearably tense. You walk forward more, hand reaching towards him as you try to gently pry the frame from his hands. “You know you have the real thing in front of you, right?” You innocently tease, smirk on your lips but it gets immediately wiped clean from your face when Jungkook’s shoulders shake a little and he chokes on whatever words have risen to his throat. 

“I…do…” He finally looks at you, the uncertainty and longing now clearly evident on his features. “I miss you.” He whispers.

He doesn’t just miss you, his best friend. No, he misses you, his wife.

“I can imagine this has been hard for you.” Your fingers wrap around his. You’re met with his cold and clammy skin. “Pretending we’re just friends.”

Jungkook takes a deep breath, his watery eyes blinking back his emotions. “You have no idea.” He tells you, “How fucking hard this is. How hard everything has been.” His voice cracks and he pauses to take a moment to collect himself. 

“Well…” You dart around anxiously, cheeks growing warm. “You don’t have to pretend anymore.” You intertwine your fingers now, feeling brave but still so nervous.

Jungkook finally cracks a small smile, “I might not have to pretend there isn’t something between us but it doesn’t mean I can just act like how we used to. This is brand new for you.”

You shake your head quickly, a cute expression that makes Jungkook melt on your face. “I don’t mind, really.”

He laughs, his own head shaking. “It’s not a switch that can get flipped.”

“Fine.” You groan playfully, the atmosphere finally lightening and it seems the invisible fingers around your throat finally let you go. “But I can definitely ask questions now, right? And you’ll give me answers.”

Jungkook’s smile drops a little but he nods, although a bit hesitant.

“I can’t wait, Ribbit.”

~~~

You stare at Jungkook, teasing smile lifting your lips as you watch him awkwardly watch you. “You know, kind of strange that you choose now to not sit too close to me.”

He chuckles, fingers fiddling with one another. “I’ll admit it’s actually a little more nerve wracking.”

“Now that I know we’re…romantically,” You wiggle your brows, “Involved?” 

Jungkook’s cheek burn as he stares you, eyes filled with the same uncertainty and longing you’re beginning to truly pick up on. “Isn’t this weird for you?”

“What’s weird is how far you’re sitting from me, Jungkook.” You point out, “Or should I call you something more cute?” 

“Cute?”

“Mhm. What do I usually call you? Babe? Honey? Sweetheart? Baby?” You’re obviously teasing him. You always imagined he would get this flustered. He is. Even though you both have been married for seven years, it seems he still flushes under your gaze and your words. You love that.

“Just call me Jungkook.” He swallows down his own name, shy smile. “Don’t jump into anything you don’t really understand.”

He says this softly but you know he’s warning you—as gently as possible.

“You’re no fun.” You pout, loving this new dynamic. Well, you aren’t really sure it’s a new dynamic but it’s definitely a new way to tease him. Your best friend who ran home crying when he was a kid. Your best friend who got walked on from previous dates. Your best friend who grew up so incredibly well. 

“I beg to differ.” He smiles at you, “I think you’d describe me as really fun actually.”

“Maybe.” You lean back onto the sofa, “I think I’d think you’re more fun if you sat close to me.”

“And how exactly would that be fun?” He raises a curious brow.

Your eyes shine in amusement before you smirk, “I think you know.” You say slowly making Jungkook roll his eyes, uncontrollable smile on his face. 

“You’re really something.”

“But you like it, right?”

Jungkook meets your eye, serious expressing beginning to shadow his previous mirth. “You have no idea.” He tells you. “I’ll sit closer but let’s have some boundaries, don’t you think?”

You soften, smiling at Jungkook before you answer. “Okay.”

“Alright, I know you’re dying to know how this all began, right? What’s your first question, hm?”

“Hm,” You heart starts dancing in your chest when Jungkook finally scoots closer to you, his warmth suddenly caging you as if his arms were tight around your body. Well, you wish that was the case. “Okay, did something happen at Sana’s wedding? I kind of suspected we might have hooked up? Is that when I confessed?”

Jungkook suddenly looks incredibly amused, some shyness getting replaced with something more lively, “What makes you think you’re the one who confessed first?” He asks you, making your mouth fall open.

“There’s no way it wasn’t me.” You look surprised, “You did first?!”

He starts laughing, you swear you can feel the rumble in his chest just by the sound alone. “No it was definitely you.” 

Your face breaks into a grin, “I fucking knew it.”

“I wasn’t as brave as you.” He grows more tender, eyes filled with so much adoration as he stares at you.

“So…did I confess on Sana’s wedding night?”

“Nope.” He tells you, “Nothing happened that night.”

“What?” You purse your lips, “I was so sure.”

“Well…” He blushes, “Not exactly anyway.”

“What do you mean?”

“It was sort of the night everything changed between us though. Without anything actually changing?”

“I still don’t get it.”

Jungkook bites onto his lower lip, trying to remember how you both described it many years ago. “Everyone was making fun of as usual.” He starts, “And it’s like we both become extremely aware of each other. Openly?”

“Openly?”

“I already knew for a long time how I felt about you but I never made it obvious. There was no change in our dynamic. You had feelings for me too.” Then he smirks, “Just like you do right now, right?”

You conceal a knowing smile, eyes averting his gaze for a moment as you nod your head.

“Anyway, that night it’s like neither of us really hid the fact that we were looking at one another differently. We danced together and it became hard to ignore that something was forming between us without either of us ever saying it.”

“Wow.” You listen intently, “Then what happened?”

“After the wedding, we couldn’t go back to the feeling between us. The platonic feeling. It’s like things suddenly changed,” He pauses, cheeks dusting over more harshly. “It got awkward talking about dates, it got weird when I suddenly got jealous of every other man.” He starts chuckling, shaking his head at the past. “It’s like we couldn’t even hug without feeling so fucking…” 

You smile, hand landing right above his knee. “Then what?”

“One time when we were out, I—out of instinct—had a hand on your lower back, feeling protective I guess.” He shrugs, shy smile. “And you joked with me about how I’m going to scare away any future boyfriend and I still remember the stab I felt to my heart.” He laughs to himself, eyes on your hand. “After the wedding, everything was so different with us. Compliments felt different, touching felt different and I remember one night when I was feeling down you gave me some encouraging pep talk and I kept thinking about how I’ll never know anyone like you again.”

“I’ve always felt that about you.” You admit to him, fingers lightly brushing against his sweatpants. “Even when we first became friends.”

He beams at you, “I know.”

“Oh do you?”

“I know everything in your mind, y/n.” He focuses on your face with a smile. “In fact when you were 25 you were wondering if I was ever going to make a real move on you. Both of us fully aware of the unspoken new dynamic.” He admits with a chuckle, “You told me later that you knew you couldn’t have been imagining the romance between us. Always so intuitive.”

“Love that for me.”

“Anyway, as you guessed…” He touches the material of his sweatpants too, fingers dangerously close to yours. “You came to me and told me how you felt. You,” He silently snorts, “Told me you weren’t worried about ruining our friendship because it’s already changed and you thought you might as well take it into your own hands.”

“Sounds like me.” You look impressed with things that sound real despite the fact it also sounds unreal. 

“I admired you so much. Still do.” His fingers brush against yours every now and then. “I obviously returned your feelings. We started dating immediately.”

“Wow, we move fast, huh? Or maybe it was slow?” Perspective, you guess.

He laughs, “Fast. We moved in together only 8 months after dating and I proposed to you only a year and half into our relationship because we both knew this was forever.” He softens so much, fingers warm against yours, the slow and calculated movements making both of your pulses quicken. 

“Wow…” You stare down at his thigh, feeling silly for getting this excited at fingers barely touching. “I wish I remembered this.”

“Me too.” He says quietly. “I think about my life with you all the time and I wish I could just insert my memories into your head.”

“How was our wedding?” You ask him, “We look nice in the photo.”

“One of the best days of my life.” He looks up finally, his eyes willing yours to look at him as well. “I promise you that.”

“You’re a lot more romantic than I would have assumed.” You crack a smile, “Are we pretty romantic?”

He sighs, smile tugging at his lips. “Crazy for each other. So what do you think?”

You laugh a little bitterly, even when your body tingles in warmth and excitement. “I wish I remembered. I hate that nothing sounds familiar at all. It sounds like you’re reading my diary of future dreams to me.”

“I’d love to see that.” He teases. “But hey,” Suddenly growing more serious, “You will get your memories back.”

You nod, trying your best to convince yourself it’s true. “Yeah.”

“I told you I’m here for you. For all of it. No matter how this turns out, I won’t…” He looks away, visibly gulping. “I won’t ever give up.”

You realize with all this discussion that does feel overwhelming despite how pleasing it is to hear, that no actual words have been said about feelings.

“Jungkook?”

“What is it?” He hums.

“Do you love me?”

Jungkook’s brows pull together, blinking at you like you asked a ridiculous question.

“Do I love you?” His fingers finally grab a hold of yours. “I love you so much, y/n.” His confession almost looks overwhelming for even him.

Your lips lift, a sudden relief flooding your entire body. “You do?”

“Yes.” He gazes into your eyes more intense than before. “Isn’t it so obvious?”

“Tell me about our first kiss.” You request, your hand feeling a little sweaty thanks to nerves.

“Our first…” He releases a long breath, “I asked you. I wanted to take you on a date first but I didn’t really want to wait.” He admits, chuckling. “I kissed you and we didn’t really want to stop.” He looks sheepish now, his other hand rubbing the back of his neck.

“Do you think…” Your heart is hammering against your chest now as heat crawls up all your exposed skin. “If we kissed right now that it could spark something? Memories?”

And for the first time, not completely blinded by the joy you feel, you see obvious confliction cross his eyes.

“No, I don’t think we should.” He pulls his hand away from you, he wipes it on his other pants leg, ridding it of sweat. “Boundaries. Slow. This is new.”

He’s reluctant. You can understand his perspective but you sense there’s something more.

“Okay…” You mumble, “That’s okay.”

He finds your eyes, slight panic when he says, “I’m not saying I don’t want to. I just don’t think we should.”

“But what if it helps?” You try to reason with him. Yes, you’d love to kiss him because damn, you’ve been wanting to for a long time. But you also believe it could help. 

He looks antsy in his spot, eyes darting around while both hands rub his sweatpants. “I don’t know. If it’s right.” He says quietly. “I really—”

“—Jungkook, it’s okay. I’m giving you full consent if that’s what you’re worried about.” You put a hand over his, “I’d love to kiss you regardless but I also want to test this theory of mine.”

He deeply sighs out, struggling to look at you again. 

“Please.” You whisper.

He finally tries to relax his body, fully turning his entire form towards you. “Are you really sure?”

You feel touched honestly. He’s so caring and considerate and you’re wildly into him. “I’m sure.”

“Okay…” Jungkook licks the corner of his lips nervously. “Can I lead it?”

“Sure.” You nod, the feeling of a cage door breaking down when millions of butterflies escape inside your stomach, fluttering around making you feel lightheaded. “Yeah…”

Jungkook looks exactly how you’re feeling. 

Uncertain and longing.

Jungkook eyes meet yours and it’s like they’re screaming at you. In excitement? Nerves? Worry? You don’t really know. But you’re sure yours are doing the same. He breathes out, hands suddenly rising towards your face but his fingers only hover over your cheeks. You’re sure he can feel the raging heat radiating off your skin. You swallow hard, heart racing when he moves closer to you.

He continuously licks his lips, fingers finally barely touching your skin and you can feel the comfortable burn from the tips of his fingers, your breath getting caught in your throat at the small touch. 

His space is invading yours, strong tension on both sides colliding with a great force. You can physically feel the heavy, thick air between your bodies. 

You need to breathe.

His fingers cup your jaw more firmly, his skin merging with yours thanks to the heat that has you both melting. His eyes stay low, not able to make contact with yours quite yet as he continues to lean in. He’s moving so slowly, so hesitantly despite how you feel the need he exerts. 

“Jungkook…” You sigh out his name and you feel a bolt of electricity when his eyes snap up and lock with yours. His chest rises and falls and you sense he’s trying to calm his breathing while you’re reminding yourself to breathe.

You know he’s leading but you can’t help it when your hands slide up his chest, fingers splayed out, feeling the drumming of his crazy heart. He releases a shaky breath, eyes going back down to your lips and he leans in more and more. He’s breathing the same small space of air as you. His shaky breaths fanning over your mouth, a reflection of how hard he’s trying to keep it together. 

“Jungkook.” You’re barely audible, eyes closing at the close proximity. 

You want to fall apart. Jungkook’s lips ghost yours, tickling your bottom lip when his barely brushes against it. You want him to meld his lips against yours firmly but he’s so slow and careful, driving you insane. 

“Okay,” He breathes against you.

One of his hands slide behind your neck, surprising you when he urges you forward, your lips perfectly slotting between his and you immediately moan against his mouth, hands firm against his chest when they glide up, your fingers lacing behind his neck, pulling him closer against you. 

Jungkook’s chest pushes against yours, his heavy breaths hard to ignore but somehow you’re only focusing on the feeling between you both. His lips barely disconnect, more shaky breaths before he dives in again, much more force but he’s still so gentle. Little groans in the back of his throat making you ache. 

You know this is new for you. But kissing him already feels so familiar and your body has incredible muscle memory even when your brain lacks it. Your fingers grip the hair at the back of his neck, making Jungkook pull his lips away again, breathing against your mouth heavily. 

You match the pace of his erratic breaths before deciding you’ll lead now. 

You connect your lips but instead of long, firm kisses, you move your mouth against his and he reciprocates instantly. The kisses are slow even though all you feel is urgency. His hands drop from your head and find a comfortable place on your hips, squeezing your sides every time you move them. 

Another squeeze when you whine into his mouth, lips parting and Jungkook’s tongue shyly licks into you. He’s warm and quietly groans when you slip your tongue to caress his. This feels like a man you’ve made out with before. This feels like a man that knows how to kiss you.

But unfortunately no memories get sparked despite how familiar it all is. 

Jungkook’s hands slide up your frame, fingers back on your jaw when he pulls away again, same shaky breaths fanning your skin when he pushes his forehead to yours and sighs deeply. You slowly open your eyes to see how his are slammed shut, a peculiar expression on his face with beads of sweat on his hairline that soak into your own skin.

“Jungkook…” You murmur his name, fingers still tangled in his hair. 

He doesn’t respond, he doesn’t open his eyes, he doesn’t even move.

He tries to even his breathing…he simply tries to keep himself in one piece. 

With no warning, his hands drop from you altogether and he pulls away from you, a groan leaving his mouth when he leans back into the sofa, eyes still closed. 

You’re breathless, hot, lightheaded and crazy for him. You watch him with careful eyes, but it’s hard for your gaze not to lower to the prominent bulge in his sweatpants. He’s looking defeated, head tilted back, arms weak on either side of him and doing nothing to hide how hard he’s gotten.

After several long moments and he seems to be coming down from some sort of high, he opens his eyes and glances at you. “Anything?” He asks you quietly.

You frown, “No. It’s all familiar though. Good, too.”

He leans forward, nodding at your words. “Okay. It’s okay. Don’t worry, y/n.”

You feel bad for some reason. Guilty that his touch wasn’t enough for the world of memories to return to you. Like his love wasn’t enough. You know that’s not the case but you hope it’s not what he’s thinking.

“I love you too…just so you know.” You tell him, hand on his thigh.

You see how his expression twists, forcing the weakest smile you’ve ever seen as he gives you a nod. “I uh, I’m going to grab some water.” He stands from the sofa, “We should probably call it a night.”

~

It’s 4am and you can’t fall asleep. You’re tossing and turning in your bed—your lonely bed—unable to shut your brain off. Jungkook insisted on remaining on the sofa because boundaries or whatever. You get it. But you also don’t. 

You texted Misuk and Subin letting them know that the cat was out of the bag. You know you’re married to Jungkook and you couldn’t be more pleased with the revelation. There isn’t any response from either of them yet but maybe they went to bed early. You also texted your parents but they did reply almost immediately. Your mom only texting back ‘yes my favorite son in law.’  

After the kiss with Jungkook, you two put on a movie, hoping some tension would disappear between you but no, of course not. Instead it only grew, wrapping your body and pulling you under with little space to breathe. You have a lot to think about. Obviously.

You still need to ask Jungkook about the apartment, what case he’s working on and why Misuk has developed a dislike for him. But also, unfortunately, you’re thinking about the boner he was sporting after kissing you.

You feel hot and bothered at the fact you were able to affect him like after kissing for a couple of minutes. It’s relieving since he affected you just as strongly. You understand why he said the first time you two ever kissed, you both didn’t want to stop. You didn’t want to stop this time either. 

You miss him. Badly. He’s so close but not close enough. Your couch is not your bed. Isn’t it also his bed? Ugh. You’re craving to be close to him, feeling his skin and his warmth. Isn’t he itching to cuddle with you too? Although it’s not something you’re used to but you definitely could get used to it. And fast. 

You roll around in bed, body on one side and then the other but no position feels comfortable enough to relax in. You quietly groan, head banging against the pillows and you know you need to give up. Maybe you just aren’t sleeping tonight. Eyes focused on the ceiling, the moonlight seeps into your bedroom since the blinds are cracked open as it give the walls an illuminating glow. 

You just stare. Stare at nothing. An entire hour passes by and finally, you’re feeling the energy drain from your body. You realize your mind is hardly going wild anymore. Kind of loving that your mind is suddenly blanking as no particular thoughts feel busy in your head. Body feeling heavier and eyes opening and closing more often. You can feel that maybe you will fall asleep tonight. 

You blink lazily, eyes still on the ceiling. You can finally feel sleep trying to pull you under, the moonlight lulling you, a blueish white glow that is dim and—suddenly, the entire room goes dark for a quick, fleeting moment and your entire body jolts up. Heart already pounding, you’re quick to whip your head in the direction of the window because you know a passing shadow when you see one.

Sitting upright in bed, you stare at the window, holding your breath. Did you imagine that? Did someone pass your window? An animal? Maybe it was simply clouds momentarily covering the moon.

No. 

A strange feeling crawls all over your skin, unwanted goosebumps rising. 

A strange feeling that feels fucking familiar. 

You quickly get out of the bed, walking to the window when you peek out of it but there’s nothing around that you can see. You didn’t imagine that, right?

But the strange feeling makes a home within you. 

As if what just happened feels more like a dream than something you just experienced. 

Did you imagine it? Are you remembering something? 

Either way, fuck that.

You quickly close the blinds and step away from the window. Mind suddenly busy all over again. What was that? Did someone walk by your window? Did you even actually see a shadow? Or before falling asleep did you simply begin dreaming already? Or did a memory trying forcing its way out of you…?

You stand still, completely still. Palms growing sweaty because your brain is sending a million signals to your body but you can’t makes sense of even one of them.

You feel anxious. Your chest hurts and if that wasn’t enough, your skull suddenly feels on fire, a terrible ache causing your head to be on the brink of explosion. Your hands go to your face, rubbing your cheeks as you try to relax. What is happening?

You don’t need to think about it. You turn away from your window, feet taking you towards your bedroom door when you decide to wake up Jungkook.

Approaching the living room, you hear your best friend—oh, husband—snoring away on the sofa, an immediate sigh of relief leaves your lips the closer you get.

“Jungkook…” You put a hand on his shoulder, gently shaking him awake. “Hey.” 

Jungkook takes a minute to stir from his sleep, face all scrunched up as he barely opens one eye. “Hm?” He slowly tries to sit up and get a look at you. “Hey, what’s up?” He questions you softly, a curious look all over his face.

“Jungkook.” You mumble, your anxiety rising uncomfortably. “I feel…” You can’t even finish that sentence without your voice sounding panicked and overwhelmed.

Jungkook’s eyes finally adjust, his expression alert all of the sudden as he reaches for you, urging you to take a seat on the edge of the sofa. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” His hands are on either of your shoulders, rubbing them soothingly. “What’s wrong?”

Your heart is racing. Not in excitement. In fear. In fear of what’s real or what isn’t. In fear of dreams, in fear of memories, in fear of reality. “I don’t feel good.” You admit to him, “I feel sick, I think.”

“Sick?” He questions, eyes scanning your face, though it’s dark. “Upset stomach?”

“No,” You swallow hard. “Life.”

Jungkook’s expression turns pained, finally understanding what’s going on here.

“Are you overwhelmed?” He asks you, “Stressed about things?”

“I’m,” You hate the tightness in your chest. “I’m really fucking overwhelmed. My brain isn’t…” Your voice cracks, eyes stinging. “It doesn’t make sense to me. Nothing makes sense to me. This doesn’t make sense to me.” You feel panic settle. “ I don’t know what to do. I feel fucking lost. I’m lost. This doesn’t make sense to me. I don’t—”

“—Hey, hey.” Jungkook’s rubbing your arms, trying to comfort you. “y/n. Look at me. Please look at me.” His hands leave your sides when his thumbs brush right below your eyes. He’s wiping away a few miserable tears you never realized spilled. “I’m here, love. I’m here.” 

“Jungkook…” You reach for him, head falling into his chest. “Nothing makes sense. I don’t make sense. I don’t understand—” Your breaths pick up, “I don’t know, Jungkook. This doesn’t make sense.”

“Fuck,” He sighs, jaw tightening as he rubs your back, staring at the empty space behind your body. “I’m so sorry. This isn’t fair for you…I’m sorry you had to find out like this—about us—I wish things would—”

“What?” You lift yourself from his chest, teary eyes on his. “You think I’m freaking the fuck out because of us? Jungkook,” You swallow down the burn in your throat, “This news is the only good thing I’m holding on to right now. It’s everything else that fries my fucking brain.” You point a finger at the side of your head.

He looks at you, confusion swirling in his eyes. “This isn’t because of us?”

You shake your head before you wipe at your eyes, “No. This is because every other missing detail in my life. You’re the only,” You lean forward, desperate gaze set on him and he grows so weak at your expression. “You’re the only thing keeping me together. The news about you and me does make sense.”

Audible breaths leave Jungkook’s parted lips, eyes blown wide and the uncertainty and longing becoming the skeleton inside his body and it controls him. His possessed bones pull you closer to him and you quietly gasp when he kisses you. Strong arms wrapped around you, lips pushing against yours and your entire body relaxes in Jungkook’s hold. 

His lips feel so familiar. Like your brain is itching to give you more. But it doesn’t.

He pulls away, his face falling into the crook of your neck and he breathes you in, “Tell me what it is that you need from me, y/n.” 

You don’t really know what to say.

But the answer is more obvious than you realize, “This.” You tell him. “You.”

He inhales a sharp breath, head slightly nodding before he rises from your neck and brushes the back of his hand against your cheek. “Okay. I’ll give you this. Me.”

~~~

You stare at your phone, reading over your texts with Misuk and Subin even though they should be here any moment now. They finally replied to you about Jungkook.

Subin 2:14pm

🥹 I’m so glad you’re happy about it! Imagine if you weren’t in love with him yet? Lol that would be a shocker! 

Misuk 2:15pm

👍

Misuk 2:15pm

What all has he told you?

y/n 3:09pm

just some memories about how we got together and stuff

y/n 3:10pm

its kinda the only thing that doesn’t make me feel clueless right now

Subin 3:11pm

That makes sense . Just remember to take it easy, okay?💖

y/n 3:14pm

i know 

y/n 3:14pm

im trying at least 

Misuk 3:21pm

What are you doing after 5 y/n? Maybe me and Subin can swing by for a bit

Subin 3:22pm

Yes please 💕

y/n 3:25pm

really?? Id love that! Yes come over come over!!! Jungkook is off doing things so im home alone right now lol

Misuk 4:02pm

Okay we will be there after 5 then 😀

You exit the group when your finger slides over to Jungkook’s latest text now instead.

Jungkook 5:07pm

What do you think about going on a date tomorrow? 

Jungkook 5:08pm

If you’re up for it. 

Jungkook 5:08pm

But I’d love to have a date with you.

You aren’t sure if you’ll ever get used to this new, jittery feeling. The jittery feeling that causes you to smile even without meaning to. 

You look up from your phone when you hear knocking on you front door, excitedly standing to answer because you know it’s Misuk and Subin waiting on the other side. You open the door, welcoming your friends inside your home with a grin.

“Hi.” You sing out and do a little twirl, “Welcome to my humble abode where I live, as a married woman.” 

Subin giggles, her arms wrapping around you tightly in a hug. “Hey.”

Misuk watches you, sighing as she notices your big, genuine smile. 

“Should I order us something to eat?” You gesture towards the living room so you all can sit. “I want to eat a big meal.” You rub your stomach in a cute manner.

Misuk continues to stand at the doorway and you notice she looks deep in thought before she sighs again and cracks a small smile. “You look really happy.” She tells you.

“About some things, yes.” You admit before tugging on her sleeve, “Let’s sit.”

You three find spots on your sofa that you’ve grown to adore while Subin tells you both how Garam wants to go to Italy for a romantic trip, her cute, squealing voice as she gushes about her soon to be husband. You wish you could remember your excitement before getting married.

“You’re so lucky.” You speak softly, “You will have all these wonderful memories of you and Garam and you know, actually remember them. I’m jealous of you!” You laugh, “I’m so excited for you, that you’re getting married soon.”

Subin blinks at you, blush growing on her cheeks as she smiles timidly. “Thank you. But honestly, I was so jealous of you too.” She giggles, “If you think you’re jealous of me, you’d actually be more jealous of you.”

You tilt your head, “Why?”

Misuk chuckles, “Because no one was ever more excited about getting married than you.”

“It’s true.” Subin muses at you, “You were adorable.”

“Oh.” You think about it for a moment. “What was the process like? In a friend’s perspective?”

“What do you mean?” Misuk asks you, “Like, what were you like when you were only engaged? Or what you were like after getting married?”

“Both.” You grin at her, “Did I have a bachelorette?”

Subin snorts cutely, “You had more than just a normal bachelorette.”

“Yeah,” Misuk smiles, eyes going up when she tries to recall the crazy time it was. “It was more like a whole character arc.”

You purse your lips while narrowing your eyes at nothing. “I don’t understand.”

Subin laughs, “You know, most bachelorettes are like a weekend getaway. There might be strippers. Lots of alcohol obviously. Clubs. You know, the basic stuff.”

“You had a bit of a different idea.” Misuk shakes her head, smirk on her lips. “You created an entire monthlong list of things you wanted to do. Spontaneous things. Crazy things. Simple things. Things an unmarried woman would do shamelessly.”

“A month long what now?” You’re trying to think of what the hell could be on this list.

Subin glances at Misuk before questioning her, “It was one thing to do a day for a month right?”

Misuk nods, “Yeah. Ridiculous things.”

“Why?” You question your friends and Subin lights up as she responds.

“You said you wanted to do a bunch of stuff as an individual. Independent. Something personal for you, I guess.”

“I did?”

“Yeah.” Misuk answers. “And after you two got married, you guys made a whole new bucket type list that you did together.”

“It was really cute.” Subin chimes in, “But your personal list was great. You did some questionable stuff though.”

“…Like what?” You ask.

“Remember when I told you that you flashed your boobs to some guy?” Misuk smirks again. “That was like day 14 or something.”

“What?” You gasp, “What the hell! I even mentioned it to Jungkook!”

Subin waves you off with a smile, “Don’t worry. Jungkook helped you make the list and he approved of everything on it. He knows everything.” 

Misuk rolls her eyes, “He was even a part of one of the things you had on the list. Which was totally cheating, by the way! You were supposed to write a song.”

“There’s no way I wrote a song.” You snort, not believing that.

“You didn’t.” Misuk deadpans. “Jungkook basically did it for you, that romantic fucker.”

“He wrote a song with me?” You try to control your lips. Don’t fucking smile like you’re a whipped woman in love.

“More like for you.” Misuk tells you, her back meeting the couch cushion when she sighs. “He was like that.”

“I’m glad you know about the marriage.” Subin softens, her pink cheeks shimmering. “It sucked knowing something that you didn’t.”

“Regardless how I feel about Jungkook now…” Misuk mutters quietly, “You do look really happy so I guess I can suck it up for now.” 

You frown, her implication that her feelings for Jungkook now are anything but positive makes you heart sting. “Misuk.”

“I said you look happy and it makes me happy, okay?” A corner of her mouth lifts. “Seeing you like this…well, it’s nice.”

You try to erase the frown on your face. “Thank you.”

“And I got to say…” Misuk crosses her arms over her chest, “I was totally right and I’m kind of glad I’m able to shove it in your face again.”

“Huh?” You glance between her and Subin who just giggles.

“When me and Jungkook broke up.” Misuk reminds you, “I told you it was because, one, we were better off as friends and two, because I knew that the both of you were going to end up together.”

Your jaw drops a little, remembering exactly what she said.

“You were so ridiculous.” She snickers to herself, “All like, ‘oh my god, that won’t happen!’ but it totally did happen. I love being right sometimes.” 

“Well,” you pout, cheeks warming up. “Glad you were right then.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Misuk studies you for a moment. “Oh right, my mom is stopping by in a day or two but it shouldn’t interfere with our girls weekend.”

“Your mom?” You suddenly beam at Misuk. “I would love her forever if she happens to bake her famous blueberry muffins.”

“Lucky for you I mentioned it to her already and she said she would love to make some.” 

“Can you also ask her to bake that chocolate pie?” Subin moans to herself, “I would probably leave Garam if it meant I could fuck that p—“

“Oh my god, Subin.” You gape at the girl while she stares at you dumbfounded.

“What?” She glances at Misuk now, “It’s a really good pie.”

“It really is.” She nods, “Anyway, my mom is only stopping by for a bit so I’m not sure you guys will get to see her but yes, she is bringing desserts.” 

“Hell yeah.” You honestly dream about those muffins. “Can’t wait.”

“So,” Subin bites her lip, something curious and careful about her expression. “How are things with Jungkook since you found the photo?”

“Hm,” You sink into your couch in contentment. “Interesting? Not exactly what I thought of at first.”

“What do you mean?” Misuk raises a brow, “What did you think it would be like?”

“My delusional mind somehow thought that life was like a movie and we were going to fall back in step to married life—you know, the thing I actually know nothing about—and my memories would magically return. You know? etcetera, etcetera.” You shrug even though you know how ridiculous it sounds, smile creeping on your face. “But instead, I still have all my problems. But Jungkook is great. He seems conflicted, for sure.” You admit to your friends as a heavy sigh leaves your mouth. “Obviously because this is new for me and it’s something that has to develop.”

“Right.” Misuk mumbles.

“But it feels good knowing this isn’t one sided for me. That things went somewhere with him.” 

“Yeah.” Subin reaches over to pat your leg, “Things definitely went somewhere.”

“I just know that once my memories return…” You sit more upright again, determined eyes on your best friends. “Life is going to get so much better.”

Subin and Misuk exchange a quick glance and it doesn’t go unnoticed but you ignore it. Subin pats your leg again and you expect her to say something nice as usual but you realize, neither of your friends know what to say.

~

“The park?” You glance around, the grass tall and green, water calm and the breeze just right. “Ah, you did say we come here a lot, right?”

Jungkook reaches for your hand, intertwining your fingers and you try to remain cool, calm and collected even though his touch makes you yearn for him.

“Yeah.” He smiles, leading you towards that same pond on the side where the trees are. “Coming here became an escape for us.” He tells you, lifting up the picnic basket in his other hand.

You hum in contentment though you remember not loving this place as much last time you came. “Didn’t you say there’s some bad memories here though?” 

Jungkook gives a stiff nod, “Yes. But…we also have a lot of good memories here. Plus, I think if we create more good memories here,” he looks around with a hopeful expression. “Then the bad ones will eventually lose their power.” 

You squeeze his hand, “I don’t think anything could be that bad.” 

Jungkook doesn’t answer with words, just a low hum but you notice the detachment even though it only last a few seconds before he turns his head and smiles at you.

“So what’s in the basket?” You nudge his shoulder before you both stop in front of one of the trees that looks out over the pond. “A blanket I hope.”

“Of course.” Jungkook smirks at you, “I know you hate how itchy grass feels.” 

“Ah,” You eye him over, impressed. “My husband would know that, huh?”

He snorts, “Even best friend me would know that.”

“Details, details.” 

Jungkook places the basket to the grassy ground, opening it quickly as he pulls a folded blanket out, getting it all ready for you both to sit. Once sitting with crossed legs over the soft material, you watch as Jungkook pulls a few more items out. This basket reminds you of a magic, endless bag of items. 

“Oh.” Your eyes light up. “Sandwiches?” 

“Mhm.” He hands you one before pulling out his own. “And also,” He digs deeper before pulling out an assortment of fruits on a little platter. “Fruit. But we can’t forget,” he sets the fruit tray down before digging back into the basket. This basket really is like a magic bag of endless items. How the hell did this all fit? “This too.” He wiggles his brows when he shows you a box of an assortment of chocolates. 

“This is cute.” You laugh a little, “Are we going to feed each other?” 

“Is that something you’re into?” Jungkook raises an amused brow, “Because you’ve definitely never told me before.”

“Maybe I just never had a chance to discover it.” You tease him, “You know?”

“Sure.” He chuckles, “If you say so.”

“Anyway,” You admire the calm pond, “It’s a date. A first date for me. Aren’t first dates a good place for people to get to know one another, right?”

Jungkook sways into you, while his fingers are busy unwrapping his sandwich. “You want to get to know me?”

You poke his cheek innocently while you ignore your own sandwich for now. “As a lover, yes.”

“As a lover?” He glances at you, “Okay, go ahead.”

You beam at his willingness, “What are you love languages?”

“My love lang—Ah,” He nods, “That’s an online quiz you made me take one time. I don’t remember…maybe it was the quality time one?”

You giggle, “Definitely. You like quality time and my guess is acts of service.”

“Hmm, I don’t know.” He shrugs cutely.

“Are you affectionate?” You wonder, “Like to a needy degree?”

“Needy degree?” He repeats your words.

“Yeah.” You nod, “I don’t ever recall you being super touchy with anyone you briefly dated in the past. And it’s not like we ever really showed too much obvious affection either.” 

“Ah,” He gets what you mean now. “I might not be super into PDA if that’s what you mean. But in private…well, yes. Any opportunity to touch you, I take it. I love being all over you.” He admits, averting your gaze while he stares out at the pond. “And I really, really like it when you cling to me too. It makes me feel,” His chest rises before releasing a long breath of air. “Makes me feel needed by you. Loved by you. And as stupid as it might sound,” He tries to suppress a smile, eyes still on the water. “I get kind of sad when I can’t hold you whenever I want.”

His words honestly surprise you. You wouldn’t have guessed any of this especially because his touches with you are so scarce even now. How much is he holding back?

“Really?” You’d cling to him right now if he gave you the word. “That sounds like something I might enjoy too.”

Jungkook finally turns his head towards you with an adorable grin on his face, “It is.”

You feel your skin pleasantly burning. “What are some of your favorite married moments with me?”

Jungkook’s smile slightly drops and a frown that’s too cute to take seriously forms on his face, “Why don’t we wait for you to remember too?”

“No,” You rest your head on his shoulder for a moment, “I like hearing these kinds of things even if I’m unaware. It kind of gets me excited to see it from my perspective one day.” 

Jungkook studies your serious expression when you lift your face again and gaze at him. “Okay, I can share some things.” His all too cute frown disappears when he smiles again. 

“Perfect.”

“There was this time we were visiting our parents for Christmas, I think it was actually our first Christmas as a married couple now that I think about it…anyway, this might be a bit inappropriate—”

“—Thank goodness, I was hoping you’d say something that might be steamy.”

Jungkook laughs at you, “Inappropriate doesn’t automatically mean sexual, you realize that?”

“Oh so it’s not?”

“No, it is but—”

“—How inappropriate are we talking?” You smirk at him.

“If you’d let me tell my story then you’d find out.” He scolds you, “Anyway, we were walking from your parent’s house to mine, they were all already over there, by the way. You took forever to get ready and it was already dark by the time we walked over. And you remember my old car?”

You eye him suspiciously. “…Yes. The magnet.”

“Yup.” He bites his lip while raising a brow quickly. “You made a comment about how you know there’s a long list of girls that I had in the backseat of that car.”

You roll your eyes.

“It’s not even a long list by the way.” His hand goes to your thigh, giving it a squeeze. “But you said and I quote, ‘I wonder if we were actually close in high school, you would have gotten me in the backseat of your car too.’ Which of course just made my imagination run a little wild.” He chuckles, “It almost felt like a fantasy once you said it.” 

“You fantasized about what it would have been like or what?”

“I didn’t really have to rely on my imagination for long.” He admits, voice dipping lower. “I told you that you could easily erase any trace of another girl from that car if you really wanted to.”

Your eyes go wide, “You did not fuck me in that death trap in front of our childhood homes on Christmas.” 

“And if I did?” He challenges you with a sly smile.

“I wouldn’t have let you! I became just another girl in your backseat, oh my god.”

Jungkook’s fingers dance across your thigh, his eyes staring down at the little patterns he’s drawing on your jeans. “Don’t worry.” He says quietly, “Only think of you when I remember that car now.”

You act annoyed, but his touch, even through your jeans…feels enticing. “I better be.”

Jungkook chuckles, finally bringing his hand back to his own lap. “Another favorite memory is when you and I got really, and I mean really bored…and we decided to do something we might have liked to do together if we were actually friends as kids.” 

Your lips form an ‘o’ when you clearly look intrigued, “Okay, that sounds pretty cool. What did we do?”

Jungkook closes his eyes, lips spreading super wide as he recalls it. “We made a homemade movie.”

You immediately nudge his shoulder playfully, “Oh my. A homemade movie? Is this steamy too?”

He scrunches his face, “Something we would have liked as kids, y/n.”

Your teasing smile drops, “Oh yeah.”

“Anyway,” He shakes his head, grin reappearing. “It was so bad yet also so good. We made a scary movie in the house. I’m talking about dramatic light flickering, shadowy figures walking by, cabinets opening on their own and of course, the cheesiest dialogue. I still remember my favorite part. ‘who’s there?’” His voice gets high pitched as he starts dramatically looking around him, getting into character, “’whoever you are…” He pauses again as you stare at him completely amused. 

“wait!” He shrieks, you realize the one he’s mocking is your character obviously...a safe assumption. “It got so cold!” He hugs himself, rubbing his arms dramatically. “Are you a…” He snaps his head to the side, brows comically furrowed. “A ghost?!’” His eyes crinkle as he laughs. “And then it cuts to a scene where the lights start flickering nonstop with creepy music in the background but the best part is, you can clearly see my hand in the background, flipping the light switch on and off.” 

You snort when you hear that part, laughter erupting because you can definitely imagine it. 

You and Jungkook laugh with ease, eyes connected and you realize how natural this all feels. How easy it is getting into this new groove with him and you realize it’s probably because your brain, deep down, feels how familiar and well known this all is. Instead of feeling as nervous as you were previously, you realize this is just you and your best friend. But with a more deeply connected and intimate bond.

You really can’t wait to uncover more of that.

“I’m having so much fun with you.” You tell Jungkook with soft eyes. “I can’t believe this is my life for the last nine years.” 

You hope this bliss isn’t too good to be true. Because you clearly see Jungkook’s lips twitch while an odd look flickers in his eyes. He faces forward again, throat bobbing when he swallows. “You know we’ve barely touched our food, right?” He chuckles, the detached look from earlier revisits and you’re wondering what he isn’t telling you. But you choose to be blind because right now, this magic with Jungkook is all you can see.

~

“Home sweet home.” You yawn out as you and Jungkook walk through your front door. You bend down to unbuckle the straps of your shoes, Jungkook’s hand on your hip as he helps keep you balanced. “It’s only after 8, should we watch a movie or something?”

Jungkook hums out cutely while slipping off his own shoes, “I don’t know…I thought maybe the gentleman thing to do would be dropping you off after our date?”

You turn to look behind you, incredulous look on your face. “Yeah, right.” You scoff, “I’d be mad at you if you did that.”

Jungkook laughs, “I know.” 

You drag your feet to the sofa, plopping down onto it with a satisfied sigh, “Come sit with me.”

Jungkook follows behind, sitting right next to you. No awkward distance this time.

“You know,” Your pointer finger taps against his leg as you look at him, “You can bring your stuff here…you don’t have to pretend to live at that shitty apartment anymore.”

Jungkook leans back, eyes on the ceiling instead of looking at you, “You don’t know what it’s uh, what it’s like to live with me so we should probably not jump into that yet.”

“Jungkook,” You stop tapping against his thigh, instead you rest your palm against it. “If it really bothers you that much you can just stay in the guest bed—”

“—No.” He shakes his head, “That’s okay. Seriously it’s okay.”

“Okay…you’ve been sleeping here most nights anyway so I don’t really see the big deal. That apartment isn’t like you at all.” You watch his reactions to your words carefully, “Doesn’t it make you feel uncomfortable to be in there? There’s nothing in that apartment that reflects you…doesn’t that make you feel like you’re staying in a strangers place?”

“It’s fine.” He mumbles and you notice the detachment once again but then he turns his head to look at you, his features turning softer. “That’s how you felt first coming to this house, right?”

Well, yeah. You nod and when he frowns you immediately wave him off with your other hand, “It doesn’t feel like that anymore. Somehow when you’re here it feels way more like home.”

You can tell he tries not to smile at that but his lips betray him, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You confirm. “Anyway, my mom said that her and your mom are throwing us a little celebration now that I know about us.” 

Jungkook brows pinch, “They’re doing…what?”

“I don’t know, I think they’re excited that they don’t have to pretend like we aren’t together anymore. You know how our moms are…” You chuckle, “They want any excuse to have a party.”

Jungkook nods though he looks conflicted, “Is that really a good idea?”

“Why wouldn’t it be? We’re going there next weekend anyway, right? Plus, they wouldn’t listen even if we said we didn’t want it.” 

“Well, that’s true.” He sighs in defeat. “They’re a force when they’re together.”

“Hey, is Pingu still around?” You suddenly look excited. “He’s not still fighting dogs on the streets, right?”

“Pingu?” Jungkook lifts his back off the couch cushion when he leans into you with a curious expression. “Pingu…the cat?”

You nod slowly, “Who else would I be talking about?”

“You remember Pingu?” He glances to the side, gears working in his head. “Or did our moms mention Pingu?”

“No?” You suddenly grow confused. “Why wouldn’t I remember Pingu?”

Jungkook’s face morphs, looking more fixed than before. “y/n…” He meets your eye again before he’s piecing it together. “Mom didn’t adopt Pingu until just a few years ago. I think we had only been married a couple years…but you remember him?” 

Your mouth falls open to speak but suddenly you’re realizing he’s right…you don’t remember Pingu ever existing as a 24 year old so that means… “Holy shit.” Your eyes begin expanding as your mouth falls open further. “I remember Pingu.”

You remember Pingu!

Jungkook mirrors your exact expression, a giant, excitement filled smile starts growing on his face and then he’s grabbing your hands, “y/n, you remember…” Now he’s laughing, pure joy in the sound. “You remember that fucking cat but not our wedding.” He grips your hands tighter, still exuding his excitement. You can’t but laugh too.

“Yes!” You squirm in your spot, completely thrilled. “I do!”

You both relax, excited eyes on each other when you both soften, his thumbs now brushing against your fingers, “That’s amazing.” He speaks much quieter now, front teeth momentarily sinking into his bottom lip as he smiles. “You really remembered something. This is…”

“Good.” You finish, you match his smile with your own. “I remember that damn cat.”

He tilts his head with a benevolent glint in his eyes, “More will come.” He whispers. “The memories, I mean.”

“No matter how insignificant, I’m happy to remember something so normal.” You tell him but Jungkook shoots you an amused grin.

“Insignificant?” He squeezes your hands. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell my mom you just described her cat like that.”

You can’t help but laugh, “Life is crazy, huh?”

Jungkook’s smile falters but he doesn’t lose the softness on his face, “You have no idea.” 

You pull your hand away from his when you raise a finger and tap the side of your head, “Eh, I might have a clue.” You chuckle. 

Jungkook’s lips tug down, serious eyes on you when he leans closer to you, “Yeah but no matter how crazy…it’s better if we’re together.”

You feel your heart whisper to you in steady, rhythmic beats. Something about its desire to break through your ribcage, falling into your belly with adrenaline pumping in love, in thrill, and into the hands of this man. It wants nothing more than for Jungkook to steal it away.

You take a breath. Eyes focused on him and you don’t blame your heart for feeling this way.

“We are together.” You whisper, your hands going to either sides of his warm face and he nods, looking lost in your touch. Your heart wants to surrender yourself to this man and you are so willing to oblige. As if he wasn’t already the one who owns it. 

“Yeah.” He pulls one of your hands from his face and brings it to his lips, pecking your palm with light, fluttering kisses while he watches you watch him.

“Hey,” You call for him slowly, dreamily, lost in this moment. “How’s…”

“How’s what?” He places one last kiss to your wrist now before lowering your hand.

You suddenly crack a small smile making him eye you curiously.

“How’s our sex life?” You blurt with complete shamelessness.

Jungkook’s eyebrows climb slowly towards his hairline, suddenly looking taken aback before he snorts to himself, a chuckle at the back of his throat. “I shouldn’t be surprised that you asked that.” He shakes his head, “You really…you’re really asking me that?”

You show him a sheepish smile. “Why not? I mean, if you don’t want to tell me…I could always just,” You look around innocently, “You know, find out for myself.” You speak slowly, eyes finding his again.

Jungkook frowns a little, “Not yet.” He swallows, clearly trying to clear his mind from the image of you finding out just how incredible the sex is between you both.

“Are you going to give me another speech on taking things slow?” You tease him.

Jungkook looks pouty, meaning your teasing is successful. “Yes.” He says with a firm nod and furrowed brows. “It isn’t fair for you…I know you in ways you don’t even know that I know. You don’t…I just know you differently. I don’t think it’s fair.”

You release a long puff of air, “You’re the only one who sees it like that, Jungkook.”

“We have to…develop things like it’s the beginning—for now—so please…let’s not rush, you know?”

You chew your lips for a moment before asking, “Did we wait a while back then too?”

Jungkook’s face falls before an embarrassed look flashes across his face, cheeks heating up. He’s so cute, you think. “Um, no. Honestly, we did sleep together the first night.”

You smirk, “Oh really?”

You watch a blush darkens his cheeks. “Yeah.”

“Hmm,” You scoot a little closer to him, leaning your face closer with seductive eyes. “Do you think you could tell me about it?”

Jungkook feels himself drawn closer to you, but he glances away for a second. “Well…we had sex.”

“No, no.” You give him a knowing look. “Can you describe it to me?”

Jungkook releases a shaky breath, lips curved into a small grin. “You want me to describe the night we first had sex?”

“Yeah.” You tell him, “But I want to know the details. From start,” You pause, leaning more forward when your warm breath is at his ear. “To finish.”

He tenses at your close proximity but he doesn’t have it in him to back away, your mouth at his ear, your hands steadying yourself on his thighs with how you’re leaning into him. 

“You want details?” He quietly chuckles, his face feeling hot. “You want to know all the things we did? What I did to you?”

“Mhm.” Your lips graze the shell of his ear, the tickle making his hands act on instinct when he lightly grab your hips, a deep breath leaving his mouth, disappointed his hands moved on their own. “What you did to me…what I did to you.”

“I told you after we first kissed we didn’t want to stop.” He says, voice lower. “I swear I could have just kissed you the entire night,”

“Really?” Your hands slide up to the middle of his thighs, his muscles tense beneath you. 

“Yeah…” He swallows hard, your lips still at his ear when he feels your breaths buzzing around his skin. 

“How did I kiss you, Jungkook?”

He closes his eyes when he feels your lips pressing against his ear. “Um,”

You smile against his ear before you finally pull back a little, your face now just inches from his, his eyes opening again. “When we kissed…did you get as hard as you did the other day?”

Jungkook’s fingers dig into your skin as he lets out a frustrated low groan, “y/n.” He’s warning you.

“What?” You smile. “I’m just wondering how it went, that’s all.”

“You really want to know how that night went?” He asks you, eyes growing darker, maybe heavier.

“You’re right…I should just let you speak, huh?”

“I kissed you,” He begins, “And the moment my mouth was on yours, I felt like I was going to explode. You kissed me back. So fucking needy, did you know that? That you’re needy?”

You stare at him, lip twitching. “I could guess since it’s you.”

Jungkook chuckles, “Mm, you’re right. But do you know how handsy you are too?”

“Was I not handsy enough for you the other night?” You challenge him with a dark gaze. 

He keeps his eyes on you, so focused as his muscles grow more and more tense, your hands still sliding up his thighs. “I won’t answer that.” He says.

“What happened after we made out?” You continue to push the conversation.

Jungkook eyes close, like he’s seeing the vision of it behind his eyelids. His lips part when soft breaths escape. “I kissed you any place you’d let me.”

“I think I’d let you kiss me anywhere.”

He nods, eyes still closed, satisfied smile lifting his lips. “Yeah.”

“So then?”

“I kissed your neck, sucked your skin until you grew impatient with me.”

“Hm,” You watch him carefully, his flushed face making you see the effect on him. You lean forward again, his eyes suddenly opening when your lips attach themselves to the side of his neck. He doesn’t stop you. He only continues.

“I sucked your skin until you were mewling beneath me.” His voice sounds hoarse, eyelids growing heavy again when he feels how you do the same thing to him now. “I kissed down your body, taking your clothes off.”

“Mhm.” You hum against his skin, lips pressing against the side of his neck over and over, fingers pressing deeply into his thighs.

“Fuck,” He groans lowly, “I…touched you everywhere. Feeling you with my hands and my mouth.” He doesn’t realize how his hands that grip your hips are jerking you forward, your body obeying his unintentional commands. “How I tasted you…fucked you with my tongue, my f-fingers.” His hands slide to your lower back, “You felt so tight, y/n. W-Wondered how you’d take my cock.”

You pause the ministrations against his sensitive skin, an intense ache flooding the senses of your core. “And how did I take it?” You breathe heavily against him, “Hm?” Jungkook urges you forward again and before either of you can make sense of it, your knees are on either sides of his thighs, seated in his lap while your chests push up against one another.

“You took me so well…” He looks up into your eyes, a lewdness swirling messily in his dark irises. You bite onto your lip, core barely pressed over the bulge you didn’t get to feel the other night. You keep your hips still though. The aching between your legs only growing stronger at the lack of friction. 

“I hardly fucked you for three minutes before you were creaming my cock, you know that?” 

“Sounds like you knew what you were doing to me.”

“Sounds like you were desperate to have me inside you.” He retorts with a lazy smirk, eyelids half open at this point. 

“Keep telling me.” You softly command, your ass scooting back on his thighs a little so you aren’t sitting directly over his hard length anymore. 

He think you’re being wise.

“I thought we were going to leave it at that but no,” He closes his eyes again. Imagining it. “You crawled over me and took my cock into your mouth. Fuck, you swallowed all of my cum and you—"

You sneak a hand between your bodies, your palm pressing down onto his bulge, making him choke on his words, losing his focus. His eyes remain closed when his brows pull together. 

“Keep going.” You begin rubbing your palm against him, his resolute crumbling when he feels how you touch him over his jeans. It’s not exactly comfortable but it’s fucking relief.

“Um,” He struggles to keep it together. His breaths have grown heavy and erratic, chest rising and falling with each wordless moment that passes.

“Did you like the way I sucked your dick, Jungkook?” You ask him, your core dripping wet just under your pants. 

His tongue pushes against his cheek, trying so hard to focus. The concentrated look on his face makes you so turned on. He’s losing his control, you can tell.

“Your-Your mouth is heaven, love.” He pushes the words out, “Your pussy is too.”

You grind down onto his thighs, unable to keep yourself still anymore. The friction against your clit makes you softly moan above him, your hand pressing harder on the bulge that continues to grow. 

You take the next natural step…other hand going to the band of his jeans, fingers going to the top button when Jungkook, much to his dismay, opens his panicked eyes when his fingers wrap around your wrist to stop you.

“No,” He breathes out roughly, “We shouldn’t. We can’t…y/n we shouldn’t.”

Even he hates what he’s saying, you can tell.

You remove both of your hands from his body, slight sting to your ego when you nod in understanding. He shakes his head, hating how rejected you look.

“Hey,” His hand goes to your jaw, eyes still coated in lust but he tries to clear the fog. “You have no idea how badly I want to be touched by you. How badly I want to touch you.” He bores into your eyes, “But we can’t. Not now. We…” He looks how you feel. “We just shouldn’t.”

You know he might be right no matter how much you don’t want him to be. You want him so badly in every way possible. But you sigh, smiling for him and he immediately relaxes.

“I get it.” You say, “But just so you know…I don’t doubt that you want me too. I can feel how badly you want me, Jungkook.” You lean down slowly, hesitant because you’re afraid it’ll send the wrong message. But Jungkook closes his eyes the moment he realizes you want to give him a kiss. He accepts it. Kissing you back softly. Well, It seems you’re both needy.

~~~

You and Jungkook sit across from one another at the dining room table, amused glances and smiles getting exchanged by you both while you munch on the lunch he made. After the little accidental fun you had together last night, you both decided to relieve the tension with some movies to distract this feeling between you.

He slept on the sofa like usual. And you got off by yourself in your bedroom with him in your mind when you came. 

You know Misuk is going to be over at any moment. She said her mom did in fact make blueberry muffins and she was going to drop some off to you while they’re still fresh. 

Once you’re done eating, you wash yours and Jungkook’s dishes in the sink when there is knocking on your front door.

“Can you get it? It’s Misuk with the muffins,” You inform Jungkook, he nods in understanding, feet taking him out of the kitchen while you continue to wash the dishes from his cooking. 

In the distance you can hear the door opening and shutting and the slight mumbling of voices. You’re wondering what they’re talking about since they aren’t exactly the best of friends right now. You’re curious but you don’t want to snoop. Besides, they’ll probably be walking in here at any moment.

You’re scrubbing a pan when you feel bothered from the inside out. They are still mumbling in the living area. You won’t snoop.

But well, you want to pretend you aren’t snooping but with your back pressed against the wall and ears on high alert while you try to breathe silently as possible—well, you aren’t sure that this isn’t snooping. Especially because you left the sink water running so it isn’t suspicious.

You try to focus on their voices and you’re definitely making out words.

“You don’t have to keep reminding me, Misuk.” Jungkook grumbles. “But once again, I’ll remind you. These are doctor’s orders.”

“Oh?” Misuk scoffs, “How fucking convenient for you.” 

“Can you keep your voice down?” He obviously scolds her. “Look, it makes sense, okay?”

“How the fuck does it make sense?”

Your hands feel clammy as you listen, concern etching itself onto your face.

“Because I’m the one who it closest to y/n. Obviously I—”

“—Closest?” Misuk spits out the word. “That’s fucking hilarious, Jungkook. ‘Closest’” You can hear how she mocks it, your confusion growing so incredibly strong at their exchanges.

“Misuk—”

“—Closest.” She repeats one last time. “She hasn’t spoken one fucking word to you in two years.”

You feel your blood run cold. Heart completely stopping. 

What does she mean? What does that mean? Two years what? You haven’t spoken to Jungkook in two years? No, that’s not…

“But right,” Misuk lowers her tone even more. “Closest.”

~

Next

[crazyk-imagine]

Tis the Season... Mistletoe Season

Pairing: George Weasley x Best Friend!reader 

Characters: Fred Weasley, George Weasley, Best Friend!reader, Ginny Weasley, Molly Weasley, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Arthur Weasley (briefly mentioned), Bill Weasley (briefly mentioned), Harry Potter (briefly mentioned)

Warnings: Shenanigans, this is crack I swear, use of mistletoe, Reader is late to the crushing on a Weasley twin game, fluff, slight angst (at the end), reader has the best friendships with the twins, mentions of the war, mentions of... Fred (I somehow can’t not mention him when I write for George)

Word Count: 2,256

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“I know someone who has a crush on you,” Fred whispers in a sing song tune. 

You don’t look up from your essay, adding a coma where you see it needs to be. “Are you sure that it isn’t you, Fredbear?” 

“I still prefer Fred the one with Fabulous,” he lifts his hand, swishing his hair all about. “Hair but whatever.” Fred yanks the nearest chair and sits on it with his arms crossed. 

“No, no, no,” you repeat. “No sitting.” 

“And, why not? You saving it for someone? The real someone who has taken a liking to you for some reason.” You scoff, shoving his shoulder. “I’ll have you know, Fred that I’m a delight.” 

He nods, pretending to listen as he stares off into the space in front of you. “You still coming over?” 

“And break Molly and Arthur’s hearts? No thanks mate. I’m not that crazy.” 

“Same time?” 

You think about it for a minute. “You mean when you drag me home with you?” 

“Yes.” 

“Same time.” 

“You better be ready or else I’m leaving without you.” 

“You’re the one that’s late. Last time, I went out and you weren’t there so then I figured you’d forgotten because you had other plans involving your pranks and I went to Diagon Alley.” 

“I was on time,” he scoffs. 

“You showed up three days late.” 

“Whatever. You better have everything you need before you come over.” 

“I will because I’m leaving Hogwarts with the Weasley clan.” 

“You are?” 

You nod, returning your attention to your homework. “I am, I’ve already written to your mum about it, and she can’t wait.” 

“I don’t know if I should be concerned or not that you’ve talked to her.” 

You turn towards him, head resting in your palm, fingers curled settling on your cheek. 

The sarcastic and dark smile sends a shiver down his spine. “And you wonder why I don’t invite you to help George and I with pranks.” 

“Oh, shut it!” You shove his shoulder. “You lie.” 

“I would never,” he says with his right hand over his heart. “Scouts honor.” 

“You have no idea who or what the scouts.” 

“Harry said it.” 

“Ah.” 

-

You barely walk through the hallway to your usual meeting spot with Fred when you hear his voice. 

“Finally. Let’s go.” 

You scoff, “can’t even be a charming mate and help me with my bag. You can clearly see I’m struggling here.” 

Before he could respond, someone took your bag from you. “Thank you, George. I’ll buy you a chocolate frog as repayment for your kindness.” 

His brothers jaw drops open. 

“Don’t you start with me, Fred. Your brother has been more helpful than you, therefore he deserves a nice treat before we go home to the chaos.” You start walking ahead of the two, not wanting to hear Fred being a little shit. 

“Told you.” 

“Told me what,” George grumbles, hoping that the cold air will take away some of the warmth from his cheeks before you could see. 

“She fancys you. Why is this so hard for you to understand?” 

“Her offering to get me something on the train doesn’t mean she likes me.” 

“The only other time she got someone a chocolate frog was our second year and she bought it for that idiot Bobby.” 

George pauses, taking in this new information he’s just learned. “Wasn’t he the bloke who stood her up?” He continues to walk towards the train. 

“Exactly,” Fred nods. “She liked him, so she bought him a chocolate frog. Now she likes you and wants to buy you a chocolate frog.” 

“Maybe- Maybe she’s just being nice.” 

“I’m nice but I don’t buy people chocolate.” 

“That’s because you eat it all before anyone can get to it like the toad you are.” 

“That was uncalled for!” Fred shouts, chasing after his brother. 

-

You turn around, realizing neither of them are behind you only to run into something. 

“Sorry,” his voice comes out quiet. 

You lift your head from his chest and realize it’s George. You shake your head, smiling at him. “It’s alright, better you than the other one.” 

He chuckles. 

“Are you alright though?” You step back, placing your hands on his forearms as you check him out, making sure he’s not injured. “Oh, you’re looking a little red. Are you sick?” 

He shakes his head, lowering it to hide his embarrassment. “I’m fine.” A piece of paper slides by his foot. “Look up. Tis’ the season.” 

He can hear Fred snickering off to the side, his nerves are teetering closer to the edge of full-fledged embarrassment. He slowly lifts his head to find a bundle of Mistletoe beside you. He walks away from you, rushing over to Fred so he can bear him or spell him, whichever comes first. 

You notice the note and bundle, covering your mouth to hide your nervous and excited smile. 

George comes back, his hand on your back as he guides you onto the train. “Let’s go.” 

“Are you sure you’re, okay?” 

“Would be better if my brother would stop being such a prat.” 

“Good to know we agree on something. Oh.” 

“What is it?” 

“Sit with me and you’ll find out.” 

“Prank Fred?” 

You nod, a wide smile dancing across your lips. 

“Good.” 

“I have a notebook full of ideas.” 

“Perfect.” 

He finds an empty seat for three even though you’ll both try to kick his brother out. “Let’s get started, shall we?” 

“Hey, can I-” 

“No.” 

“I’m your brother, Georgie. Let me sit with you.” 

“No.” 

“That’s rude to say to your best friend.” 

“I have George, that seems like plenty of company to me.” 

“Why do you hate me?” 

“Should we let him in before he causes a scene?” You ask him. 

“If we do, we won’t be able to plan anything.” 

“I know what to do. Don’t you worry about that.” 

He stops when he notices you two have stopped whispering. 

“Come in and shut it.” 

“Good. I was worried I’d have to do something Ronnykins in order to have a seat.” 

You roll your eyes. “Shut up.” 

“Gladly... but-” Fred raises his hands when he sees your glare. “Alright, alright. I’ll shut up now.” 

-

“Oh, look at you, dear.” Molly greets you with a smile, arms wide open for a hug. “Have they been feeding you?” 

“Fred stresses me.” 

“Oh, that won’t do. Fred!” 

You snicker into her embrace. 

The boy hops down from the last few steps, wondering why he’s being called down like he’s in trouble until he sees you. 

Now it all makes sense. 

“Why have you been putting stress on your friend?” 

“What? Stress? I haven’t-” 

“Don’t try and deny it. Look at her.” 

“She looks fine.” 

“Fred Weasley! You little-” 

You sneak away while your friend whines. You stare up, knowing that he’s around here somewhere. 

His head pops over the railing, his arms crossed as he leans over slightly. 

You give him an okay hand signal with a nod. 

He smiles, waving you up. 

You look back, making sure no one is watching so you can escape. 

He backs away from the railing, leaning against the wall as he waits for you. 

You snicker as your foot touches the last step, “Oh that was too funny.” 

“It was. It’ll be funnier later.” 

“I hope so. Do you think he'll know it was us?” 

He shrugs, “maybe. Maybe not. He’s gonna try and blame us but we won’t break, right?” 

You shake your head and hold your hand out for him, “I’ve got your back as long as you have mine.” 

He shakes your hand, holding onto it longer than a normal person would. 

Ginny’s voice travels up as she runs up the stairs bringing you two out of your mini staring contest. 

‘He has really pretty eyes- oh no.’ “Uh- I gotta- bye.” You pass the youngest Weasley and run down the stairs. 

You stop in the kitchen, resting your back against the wall. ‘I fancy my best mate’s brother, who’s also my best mate.’ “Oh Merlin,” you head falls back, resting against the wall. 

“What’s got you all flustered?” a mumbled voice comes from beside you. 

Your head snaps over at his. “Noth-nothing Ron. All good here,” you give him a nervous smile. 

He narrows his eyes at you, taking another bite out of his snack. 

“Ignore him,” Fred shoves the boy away from you. “Good plan you two created back there. You should be proud.” 

You narrow your eyes at him, ignoring him as you search for your bag. 

“What’s got you all red? You’re face practically matches my hair.” 

You march in front of him, index finger a mere few centimeters away from his chin. “Shut up.” 

“Calm down,” he pushes your hand away from him. 

All of a sudden, he’s on the ground and you’re being pulled away. 

“Wha- George?!” 

He sheepishly smiles. “I’m back.” 

Neither of you say anything. 

“Would you two look at that? Why is that- Hermione, is that what I think it is?” 

The girl stares at him with furrowed brows, unsure of why she’s been brought over and then she sees it. 

A quiet, “oh,” escapes her. “If you’re talking about mistletoe, then I do believe your right, Fred.” 

“And what is that?” You ask, jaw clenched. 

A mischievous smirk takes over, “if I remember correctly when I asked Harry, which I do. You and whoever stands under the mistletoe must share a kiss and not- not on the cheek or the forehead or anywhere else. I know you and loopholes.” 

“That,” you point up to the bundle, “that is- is holly.” 

“No, it’s not.”

“No, it’s not,” you whine. 

“Fred,” George starts. 

“No, Georgie boy. You’re not getting out of it today.” 

“Out of what?” You ask him. 

“Oh, look at that. Ron’s choking- we’re coming to save you brother of mine. Have fun, you two.” 

“What did he mean by that?” 

“Huh? Oh, nothing,” he rocks on the balls of his heels. 

“Liar.” 

“Well, now that’s just rude-” 

You take a step closer to him. “How is it rude?” 

“You called me a liar with no proof,” he tells you, also taking a step forward. 

“Well, maybe it’s because I know you and I know when you’re lying.” 

“Only Fred can do that.” 

“You forget, I can tell the two of you apart.” 

He nods, eyes focusing on your lips. “You can.” 

You try to respond with a witty comeback only to feel his lips smashed against yours. It takes you a second for your brain to process his movements but before he can pull away, you eagerly return the kiss. 

“Finally… wait, does this mean you two are gonna be doing this all the time?” Fred has the audacity to ask (when he was the one pushing you two to get closer for the last few months. 

You two part, his hands on your waist, yours wrapped around his neck. You share a look with him and glances back at your friend. 

“Yes,” the two of you say in sync. 

“Oh, Merlin.” 

You giggle, turning to look at George again. “Good holiday so far?” 

“Best one before I ask you a question.” 

“Hmm. What’s that?” 

“If I tell you now, it’ll ruin the surprise.” You pout but he makes it up by showering you in affection. 

-

After Fred and George decide to open WWW, Weasley Wizard Wheezes, he proposed to which you happily accepted and got married after the war. 

You would have chosen to do it sooner had their older brother, Bill, not planned on getting married around that time. 

But you both had something to honor him. You used the pin he secretly made when he found out George had begun to fancy you. It was a prototype then and once the shop was open and he had proper tools and supplies he was able to successfully make a one-of-a-kind hair pin that popped out a small veil. 

The only reason you found it was because Fred had, at some point, stuffed it into your jacket pocket before you all left for Hogwarts. 

You thought your fiancé had barely just fallen asleep when you began weeping as you read his note. 

-

I always knew he would ask you to marry him and, look at that, I’m right. Ha! 

This is the first and only of its design, don’t lose it or else I’m gonna be upset when it’s time. 

Put it in place and it’ll work, I promise. 

P.S. I better be best man. I don’t have the right figure for a maid of honor dress. 

-

Warm arms and shaky hand pulled you close to him. 

And George, he wore Fred’s friendship bracelet, the one you made (during one of your crafting stages) after the two of you decided you were gonna be friends and pranking partners, if there ever called for a time. 

It was the only thing Fred wore on his wrist since it was “special”. Also, he would never switch with him if they pretended to be the other. 

You two didn’t leave each other’s sides during this time but as time went on, you two slowly began to get help regarding your trauma while learning how to heal and not lose one another. It pains you to say but, it’s possible that your friend’s unfortunate death brought you two closer and more understanding of how special it is to know someone and have the kind of bond you two do.