#yes I’m still exhausted and nauseated thank you for asking

[alvfr]

I just found out that my sister-in-law (who has the same name as me) is also pregnant with a due date just one week before me iiiiiiiih

[ellekhen]

Hand, Hearth, and Home

Chapter 61 - Take Flight

Chapter Summary: After a terrifying brush with death, Church and Astarion escape to find Halsin and Thaniel. The Raven Queen has a proposal.

Pairing(s): Astarion x Male Tav (Main); Past OC x Male Tav Rating: Explicit Length: 317K+ words; Chapters 61/?? (Master Post)

Excerpt below:

“No — no! You can’t die — wake up, damn you!”

The tiefling inhales sharply, his eyes flying open to ogle at the anguished face hovering above him.

“Oh—!” Astarion gasps, falling back upon his heels in a daze. 

He looks normal. His eyes are no longer sunken, his cheeks are fuller, and his ears are tinged with pink from drinking the same blood that has smeared and trickled down all over his mouth, chin, and throat. He wears his black padded armor once more — the raggedy illusion of a year of torture gone. 

Aside from being encrusted with the dirt of the Shadowfell, the elf’s fingers are still perfectly manicured — and whole.

“Hello, you,” Church rasps. “You alright?”

“Am I—? AM I ‘ALRIGHT?’” Astarion snarls. He gathers the tiefling up into his arms, shaking him. 

“Fuck you!” the elf bellows. “I hate you! I hate everything about you!”

And yet he buries his fingers into the tiefling’s hair, yanking him into a desperate, clumsy kiss that still tastes of Church’s blood. He then pulls the dazed tiefling away from him, eyes furious. 

“Why did you do that?” Astarion exclaims hysterically. “Why the hells would you let me do that to you?”

Church sighs an exhausted laugh, leaning heavily into his touch.

“You know why,” he says softly.

And by the terrified, confused look upon Astarion’s face, the tiefling knows he truly does.

—

It takes some time for Church to get his bearings fully. By then Astarion calms down somewhat, although his expression is still resentful as he surveys the tiefling for further signs of injury.

“You… you’re all healed,” Church studies Astarion with relief. “Thank the gods.”

“No thanks to the gods, I’d say,” Astarion retorts. “None of that… none of that was real, after all. Well. Except…”

He grimaces, yanking Church towards him to examine the intact, unbruised skin and tendon of his neck. The only scarring left is that of the shadow gate’s corruption.

“...except…?” Church prompts him.

“Well,” Astarion clears his throat. “I drained you dry. I… I was so hungry — I thought I was starved, but I didn’t—!”

“I know, love. It’s alright,” Church pulls away his anxious hand and kisses it, reveling in how full and soft the slender fingers feel compared to the skeletal ones that had gripped his throat. “I’m just glad it worked.”

“What? Making me kill you?” Astarion sputters.

“Yes, well,” Church winces. “It wasn’t supposed to go that far. I just thought a taste of breaking Cazador’s commandments would be enough to snap you out of it. Or at the very least you’d recognize my flavor, or something…”

Astrion scoffs. “You saw what I was. I was the furthest thing from reasonable. You should’ve just… ugh…”

Church watches as the vampire spawn covers his mouth, looking vaguely nauseated.

“Cazador used his magic to compel you,” Church explains, clutching Astarion’s hand. “Whether it’s through our tadpoles or the Weave… I never want to do that to you. I never want to take that control from you. And I thought of an alternative, so… I risked it.” 

He shrugs, smiling ruefully to himself. “And it worked, didn’t it?”

Astarion says nothing to that, refusing to meet Church’s eyes. 

“That said, how am I not dead?” Church asks, making a valiant attempt to stand.

“I assumed Tavi somehow kept you alive once again,” Astarion says blandly, hauling him to his feet.

Church shakes his head. “I don’t think he can even reach us on this plane. Maybe it was part of the illusion?”

“More Raven Queen mind-fuckery, no doubt,” Astarion mutters. 

“Yes, of course. She likes making mortals face their fears.” Church looks up, sighing. He knows very well that she’s listening. 

“I’m not mortal, and I don’t need to face my fears,” Astarion snips. “I hate this wretched place. How the hells do we get out?”

“We still need to find Halsin,” Church reminds him.

“Forget it! The druid is lost — we’ll never find someone in this bloody maze!” Astarion exclaims.

Church looks steadily at him, drinking in the sight of him healthy and whole. “I found you.”

Astarion fumes.

“Fine!” he grumbles. “Then what do we do?”

“Well… we seem to be missing an exit from this place,” Church observes. “Maybe if we focus ourselves again on our intentions…” 

He runs his fingers absently over his craggy, scarred face as he scans the round, doorless room. It appears that as soon as he had stumbled upon the tomb and the rest of the illusion, the black glass of the gallery walls sealed behind him, trapping them inside. 

Astarion lets out a short, harsh laugh. “I just killed you and you want me to focus,” he sneers.

“I… I know.” Church wraps his arms around the elf, squeezing him as he takes in a shuddering breath. “Astarion.”

It’s his name — a simple thing that is so beautiful on its own. But for Church, it’s a prayer upon his lips, and he hears the elf shiver when he says it. 

“I don’t want your pity,” Astarion says hollowly. “It’s bad enough knowing that you saw me in that pathetic state…”

But he doesn’t push the tiefling away. He relaxes as much as he can into his warm embrace.

“Good gods, get ahold of yourself,” he chides him half-heartedly. 

“Hells, Astarion… when I saw you there…” Church chokes, unable to shake the image of the nearly-skeletal spawn — starved, filthy, and feral — sealed inside of that crypt. “I thought you were dead too.”

“Well I certainly wished I was… for months.” Astarion scowls. “I never told you about that little stint in the darkness, did I?”

“I saw glimpses of that memory,” Church reminds him. He holds Astarion away, searching his eyes. “I want to know the story — when you’re ready,” he adds hurriedly as his expression turns dark. “I want to know exactly what I’ll be punishing Cazador for when we destroy him once and for all.”

A smile twitches to Astarion’s lips. “Such a sweet-talker. If only the Raven Queen wanted to take that memory of mine.” He hesitates. “Perhaps, if we must focus, I could tell you a bit more context. At the very least I will get it out of my damned head.”

Church smiles encouragingly at him. “It might help us get out of this room too,” he suggests, gesturing at the doorless walls. 

Astarion nods, eyes troubled as he finds his words. “Alright, well… once, in the first decade of my slavery… I found a… darling boy.”

As he speaks, whether through their tadpole connection or some other trick of the fortress, Church finds himself sinking into Astarion’s mind. Somehow, he tastes cheap wine. He smells the wet leather of muddy boots sitting in the corner. But closer than that, he smells… what is that? A bit of tuberose? Over-brewed coffee?

…and he sees soft, voluminous coils of black hair over a bright smile. Warm, brown skin illuminated with traces of gold in the semi-darkness. He was the quietest bard the vampire spawn had ever met. He said that he had always been on the road, but his career was only getting started.

He was a model target. He smiled too easily. Laughed too readily. He was too eager to bring Astarion to bed but was gentle. Generous. He asked him about his hopes and dreams. He told him he had a musician’s fingers, all the while interweaving them with his own.

He said he wanted to write a song about Astarion.

It was wonderful.

It was pathetic.

Astarion’s voice shakes. “I couldn’t bear to bring him back to him. So… I ran. Instead of hurting that sweet man.”

The memory fades from Church’s mind, and he feels Astarion’s hand back in his as they stand together in their prison. The elf clears his throat and continues. 

“After Cazador caught me… the bastard sealed me starving inside a dusty tomb all on my own for an entire year — a year of silence. Months of scratching my hands raw trying to carve my way out.”

He glances down at his flexing fingers, as if to reassure himself it was only a nightmare. 

“...and then even more months of not moving at all. Months wishing only for death. Complete solitude for the crime of being disobedient. Sealed. Buried alive. Voiceless. I had no way to count the days, so I… I lost track of time. I thought it might be forever. 

“Then when he released me, I vowed never to disobey again,” he finishes, face hardening. “I was the dutiful spawn, bringing back souls nearly every night for his insatiable appetite of sadism, lust, and blood.”

Church listens and nods along throughout his story. When he looks back up at Astarion, there are tears in his blazing, smoking eyes. 

“I will destroy him for what he did to you,” Church vows. “I’ll help you get your revenge. Whatever it takes. We won’t just kill him. We’ll make him suffer tenfold for what he did to you.”

“I believe you, darling,” Astarion huffs a laugh. “But he’s in Baldur’s Gate, and we are here now. Let’s get your druid and plot our bloody revenge later, yes?” 

He pauses to ponder to himself for a beat.

“Does that mean you’ll try to get out of this place alive after all?” Astarion asks pointedly. “No grand gestures of self-sacrifice this time?”

Church nods, rubbing at his smoking eyes. “As I said… whatever it takes.”

Astarion returns his tight smile. “Wonderful. Oh, look at that — there’s the door,” he says blandly.

Indeed, a door formed out of knotted, golden wood seems to have appeared out of the corner of their eyes, nestled into the obsidian walls as if it had been there the whole time. Greenery coils out from its seams, moss spreading like a welcome mat to wherever this hellish place hopes to take them next.

“Alright, then,” Astarion sighs. “Shall we, darling?”

He flourishes out his hand and Church gratefully takes it. He bitterly wonders if the Raven Queen has been getting some amusement out of watching their ordeal from her omnipresent throne.

He pushes the thought out of his head as he reaches towards the door, pushing it open with a resonant creak. Unsurprisingly, they find another infinite hallway on the other side.

“So how does this work?” Astarion prompts the frowning tiefling. “Shall we meditate upon that enormous druid of yours and his… friend?”

“Thaniel,” Church reminds him. “Who I’ve never even met and know nothing about, so how the hells am I supposed to…?”

The smell of lavender.

Church turns to Astarion. “Humor me, love?”

“What?”

“Close your eyes?” Church asks him nervously. “Keep tight hold of my hand, and I’ll do the same. I promise. But we’ll keep walking, alright?”

“Gods, this place is a hellhole of insanity. But we may as well, I suppose,” Astarion grumbles, interlocking his fingers with the tiefling’s. “Just… don’t let go this time, alright?”

Church keeps his promise. He holds tight to Astarion as he leads them onward along the echoing hallway. The two close their eyes and walk carefully — and then purposefully — forward. Surprisingly, even with the intensity of their stride, they don’t run into any walls.

The shadows part willingly for them, their hunger sated. 

…for now. 

Start from the beginning!

[obeythedemons]

When his heart first skipped a beat [Obey Me! Headcanons]

Obey Me! Masterlist

--

Lucifer

"No," MC stood their ground in front of him. He narrowed his eyes and told them to move once more. "I'm not moving, you need your rest." They spread their arms out as if their body would be enough to stop him. "I'm going to take care of your brothers, you go to bed."

"Who do you think you are ordering me around? You don't have a pact with me," he lowered his voice in an attempt to intimidate them.

"Your friend," MC replied, not at all scared of him. Instead, they looked up at him with a look that made him want to take a step back.

He felt his heart squeeze and his eyes widened at the sensation. He shook his head. Perhaps the exhaustion was giving him heart palpitations.

"Fine," he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "But once I wake up, things had better be in order."

Mammon

"I don't want to make a pact with him like this, Levi," he heard MC talking in the kitchen. He frowned and crossed his arms over his chest as he continued to eavesdrop.

"I want my money back, MC," Levi whined. "If you make a pact with him you can force him to give it back to me."

"But forcing someone to do something isn't right," MC protested.

"If he forms the pact with you, then that's his fault!"

"But holding Goldie hostage?" Mammon's eyes widened at the thought of his credit card being found. He peeked around the corner, seeing MC chipping away at the ice block surrounding his precious card.

"Just do it, MC," Levi said with a roll of his eyes.

"I don't want to use Mammon like that," MC murmured, sadness evident on their face. He felt his heart squeeze at the sight of someone not wanting to treat him like the scumbag he is. Taking a deep breath, he sauntered into the kitchen. Maybe he'd let them think they'd form a pact with him just for Goldie.

Leviathan

"Hey Levi!" he heard MC's voice from behind his door. He rolled his eyes and shared a look with Henry 2.0.

"Password?" Levi called back, going back to gaming.

"I-I don't know it," he heard MC mutter. "I-sorry, I just wanted to see if you wanted to watch some anime from the human world with me?"

His fingers froze as they were keying out commands to his character. With a sigh, he paused the game and dragged himself to the door. He looked at them, expecting them to laugh at his face.

"Human world anime?" he questioned.

"Uhuh," MC grinned and held up a disc set. "It's my favorite one."

"W-wait!" Leviathan took a step back. "You like anime?"

MC tilted their head to the side. "Well, yeah?"

He gulped. His heart skipped a beat before pounding away heavily.

Satan

"Just put it on, MC," Asmo cooed. "I promise he'll love it."

"I don't know," MC sounded reluctant.

With a sigh, Satan looked up from his book to Asmo's closet where the other two were. "What are you trying to make MC do, Asmo?"

"Oh hush!" Asmo stuck his head out of the closet. "You'll see in just a second!" Asmo winked at Satan before heading back in. "Just wear it, MC! Please!"

He heard MC let out an exasperated breath of air followed by Asmo's cheering. Asmo sauntered out of the closet with a wide grin on his face, but when he looked at Satan that grin turned mischievous.

Satan narrowed his eyes at him. "What did you do?" Before Asmo could answer, Satan's attention was diverted to the soft footsteps of MC leaving the closet. His eyes widened, his heart skipped several beats to where he was wondering if he was dying, he felt a rush of heat spread across his face.

"Do they look stupid?" MC questioned, adjusting the cat ears they were wearing.

"They look fine," Satan answered quickly, burying his face in his book, but unable to read with the image of MC stuck in his face.

Asmodeus

He smiled seductively at the camera before hitting a snack. After the photo was taken, he hummed with content as he looked it over. Perfect angle. Perfect lighting. Perfect model. It was a perfect photo, but for some reason, he had no desire to post it on Devilgram. Not, his desire was to share it with one person.

"And send," he spoke, sending his selfie to MC.

It only took a few seconds before they responded.

MC: !!!!!

MC: It's not fair how beautiful you are!

Asmo chuckled before typing away.

Asmo: Let me see how cute you are <3

It took a couple of seconds before a photo popped up. Asmo let a snort come out. He hid his face with his hands from the rather unattractive noise that just came out.

He peaked at the photo of MC making the most unattractive face possible. He burst out laughing, his heart dancing about happily.

Beelzebub

He had just gotten back from practice and starving was an understatement. He was sweating, his hands were shaking, he felt nauseated, he felt like he was going to die from his hypoglycemic episode. He stumbled into the kitchen, searching desperately for food.

"Beel! Perfect timing," he faintly heard MC's voice call, but he couldn't see them. His vision was getting blurry. "Beel?" Their voice sounded concerned. He narrowed his eyes, trying to focus, but the hunger was becoming too much.

"Food," he managed to get out as he put most of his body weight on the kitchen counter. He was getting dizzy.

A couple of seconds later, he felt something press up against his lips. He opened his mouth and swallowed whatever it was. There was more. This time, he noticed it was sweet and he chewed it. It was crunchy.

His vision started to focus back. He looked down seeing MC frown up at him. They held a batch of cookies in their hands.

"Are you okay?" they asked quietly. Beel nodded his head, eyeing the other cookie. MC let out a breath of relief before they handed him another. He happily ate it, savoring the sweet taste. "Do they taste okay? I baked them just for you?"

Beel's heart thumped heavily. "Just for me?" he questioned with his mouth fool. He swallowed the cookies and smiled happily. "They taste amazing!"

Belphegor

"Belphie," he heard a distant voice call to him. Although, this voice didn't seem to be too distant, just in the realm of the waking. "Belphie, if you sleep here you'll catch get cold."

Belphie reached his arms out and tightly gripped the person shaking his shoulder. They yelped as he brought them close to him. His arms wrapped around them.

"Then keep me warm," he retorted. He buried his face in their chest. He froze when he inhaled. It wasn't the sent of his brothers, but someone else.

He peaked his eyes opened, seeing MC close to him. His heart thumped heavily at MC's bewildered expression. With a yawn, he sat up, acting like he wasn't affected by MC's scent. It was comforting, warm.

Diavolo

MC was sitting at his desk while he finished up some paperwork. He had expected to be finished with them by the time MC got there, but alas, here he was.

"Lord Diavolo?" MC questioned, drawing the demon prince of Hell from his work.

"Yes, MC?"

"Do you like being called Lord Diavolo?" He looked up at them, seeing them look off to the side, refusing to make eye contact with him.

"I suppose if I had friends, I wouldn't want them to call me Lord Diavolo."

MC pouted, their lips sticking out. "You don't consider us friends?"

Diavolo's eyes widened. A painful sensation burst from his heart, though he wouldn't call it unpleasant. In fact, he wanted to feel it again.

"I would very much like to consider us friends."

"Good, Dia," MC grinned widely at him, making his heart flutter once more.

Barbatos

He was looking everywhere for the human. Somehow, they had gotten separated at the market. Something had caught his eye and he wandered off, but he had a sneaking suspicion that the same thing also happened with MC.

"Help!" he heard the human screech. His eyes widened as he sprinted to where the scream came from. A demon was towering over their form, salivating at the sight of the human's soul.

With a flick of his wrist, the demon was sent flying through a wall. Barbatos grabbed MC's hand and dragged them away from the alleyway they were trapped in.

"Are you hurt?" Barbatos asked once they were a distance away. His eyes trailed over MC's form, looking for any scratches or bruises.

"No," MC mumbled, looking down shamefully.

Barbatos frowned. "What's wrong?"

"I..." MC sighed. "I ruined our trip to the market together, I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," Barbatos shook his head. "All that matters is that you're not injured."

MC gave him a weak smile. "Thank you, Barbatos." They paused for a moment. "Oh! That's right." They dug through their bag. "I bought this for you. It's not much, but I wanted to thank you for bringing me here today." Barbatos's eyes landed on a bouquet of lilacs. "They're flowers from the human realm! I was surprised to see them here."

Barbatos felt his cheeks heat up and his heart dance about. Lilacs, the flowers indicating the first sign of love.

Simeon

"And how have you been adjusting here?" Simeon questioned as he took a sip of his tea. He smiled kindly at MC. "I know it's been a couple of months now, but a lot has happened since then."

"It has," MC nodded. "To be honest, I was surprised to actually meet some demons and a couple of angels, I didn't know what to think. Humans have some pre-conceived notions on angels and demons, but seeing as I've never met one, I didn't want to let that cloud my judgment."

Simeon chuckled. "That's a very diplomatic way of seeing things."

MC shook their head. "I didn't do it to try and protect myself or get anything from any of you, I wanted to get to know all of you for who you are, not what you are. And after I got to know you, I wanted to be your friend!"

Simeon smiled brightly at MC, loving the feeling of his heart skipping a beat at their kindness.

Solomon

"Just hold still for a moment," Solomon warned as he glanced at his book. "Alright, let me just...." He trailed off into muttering the encantation. His eyes flickered off from the book to where MC was standing in the circle. "How are you feeling?"

MC blinked at him. Their eyes drooping shut. "Tired." Their knees buckled and they started to fall forward. Cursing, Solmon rushed forward and caught them in his arms before they could hit the wooden blanks below.

"Are you okay?" he questioned, manipulating their body so he could look at their face.

They gave him a lopsided grin. "Just need...some sleep. But the encantation should help with insomnia," MC yawned. Their eyes drifting shut. "But maybe not with relaxing, this is a bit...too much." MC turned and buried their face in his chest. "Protect me while I sleep?"

Solomon's face turned a bright red. He adjusted MC a bit so that he was able to hold them tightly against him. "Of course, I'll always protect you." He ignored the wild hammering in his chest, opting to look after his fellow human.

[xoxo-teddybear]

You Did This To Us - Bakugou Katsuki

Bakugou x f!reader

Warnings: ANGST, cursing, gore, implied sexual activity, infidelity, alcohol abuse, marijuana use, I’m just here to rip y’all hearts out, MDNI

Summary: It was a horrible battle against raging villains and he watched you, his loving wife of 6 years, get pierced right in front of him. It was traumatizing. Your days in the hospital sent him into depression, causing him to make the worst decisions of his life. Decisions he’s regretted the second he’s made them and decisions he’ll forever regret because of what it cost him.

BAKUGOU’S MASTERLIST

He warned you not to come. No that’s not the right word. He begged you to sit your ass down at home where you would be safe. But of course, you were never that kind of hero. You could never sit on the sidelines and watch others fight a battle you knew you could at least try to help in. So with a heavy heart, he reluctantly allowed you to come. His first regret.

Because as the battle died down and victory was in sight, his world was thrown into chaos once more. The villains were down. The wind was settling. The dust was clearing. Katsuki could see you struggling to stand due to exhaustion but saw your smile nonetheless. He gave a breath of relief as he still saw you and jogged over to you. As he did, you noticed him coming your way and your smile only grew. Until it suddenly dropped, along with his own. Out of nowhere, a sharp, metal staff flew threw the air and pierced you right in the stomach. The sight was nauseating as Katsuki covered his mouth, truly shocked. He watched you in horror as you trembled before falling to the ground.

Katsuki looked behind him to find the attacker and saw some stupid, weak ass, good for nothing villain use the last of his power just to cause you harm. Then the world began to shake. No, that wasn’t it. Katsuki was violently trembling as he looked towards the bastard on the ground. Despite him being knocked out cold, that didn’t stop Dynamight from rushing over to him, grabbing him by the neck and blasting him. No one was around. No one would see. His job was safe. He could do this and have no repercussions whatsoever, so why not?

After the petty villain’s death, Katsuk used every ounce of strength in him to run to your body that had blood trickling down the side of your lips. “Y/N!”

You turned your head the best you could to find your husband sobbing his eyes out as he picked you up into his lap. He cradled your head and gently tapped your face, trying to keep you conscious. “Hey! Hey, you’re gonna be okay, alright?! You’re gonna be okay baby I promise.”

“Suki..I’m tired.” You whispered out in a weak voice. Hearing your words stabbed him through the chest.

“I-..I know baby. I know you’re tired. But- but you can’t go to sleep okay? Don’t go to sleep. You have to stay awake- stay alive! Okay?” He pleaded with you. He called out for a medic once he saw the flashing red and blue lights near the scene and held onto your body. He looked to you and saw your eyes becoming null and dense before firing back up again. You were falling in and out of consciousness. You were a fighter and you were trying to stay alive. It made him choke out a sad laugh. “You’re gonna make it, Teddy Bear, I swear.”

“….if I don’t make it-“

“You will, you idiot, don’t say shit like that!”

“But if I don’t…just- Ah-….just know I love you, Suki.”

Katsuki kissed your forehead before hugging you close. “I know, Y/N. I love you too. More than anyone, and more than you’ll ever fucking know.”

He noticed a small smile reach your lips before the medics came. Katsuki was quick to stand with you in his arms, careful and aware of the metal still pierced within you. He handed you off to the professionals who handled you with extra care. They brought you into the ambulance with Katsuki trying to follow in before being stopped.

“The fuck-“

“Dynamight, we can’t allow you to go in.” One said.

“And why the fuck not?! That’s my wife in there!” Katsuki shouted as he pointed to you.

“I understand, but her condition is severe. We can’t have anyone taking up space as we take care of her on her way to the hospital.” He explained.

“Taking up space?! Do you even know who you’re-“

“Sir, please. Let me do my job, let me save your wife’s life.” With that, Katsuki finally nodded in silence as he allowed the medic’s words to echo in his head. “Can you meet us at the hospital?”

Once again, a silent nod. With that, the medic was off and back to your seemingly lifeless body. Katsuki watched as he lead the team and perfectly directed them. He was sure that until you got to the hospital, you were in good hands. That was one guy he could surprisingly trust. He didn’t know him very well or at all for that matter, but he has Dynamight’s trust. Now Katsuki just had to head home and clean himself up before finding you again. Screw getting checked up. He knew his body. He knew he was damn well fucking fine.

—

As Katsuki opened the door to his house in a rush, he was quick to take a shower just to wash off the dirt and blood. He quickly hopped out and changed into some clothes before looking for his car keys. He found them at his nightstand along with the framed pictures of you and him. One on your wedding night and one celebrating your 3rd anniversary as a married couple. As Katsuki quickly looked through he pictures he smiled with a tear falling down his cheek. He looked around the room and took in all the pictures of you both that decorated your walls and tables.

You both were together since junior high. You were together for 10 years and despite being at the young ages of 23 and 22, he still decided to pop the big questions and propose. You said yes. It was one of the happiest days of his life, next to getting you to be his girlfriend, and meeting you in general. Forget the hero work, he’d trade it all if it meant he got to stay with you. You were always involved when it came to his happiest points in life. And now you were fighting for your life at the hospital. So with that, Bakugou wiped his tears and ran to his car, urgently trying to meet you at the building.

As he pulled up and parked, he pushed passed all the paparazzi and fans that surrounded the entrance due to news of you being there. You can assume how bad it got when everyone took notice of another pro-hero, and that pro being Dynamight no less, showing up. Despite all that, Bakugou forced his way in and made it to the front desk, demanding to know where you were. The poor lady at the desk had to deal with this explosive bomb, only to anger him even more by asking for his ID.

“Are you a fucking idiot?! Look at me! I’m Bakugou fucking Katsuki?! The number one pro fucking hero?!” He screamed at the poor girl.

“I’m- I’m sorry sir! It’s just protocol. H/N is a pro-hero, this is just what has to be done.” She shakily let out. Bakugou grunted before slamming his ID and Hero license onto the table. The lady nodded before handing him a piece of paper that had directions to your room.

Bakugou snatched it and gave her a scowl before running to look for you. Finally making it to one of the highest floors and down the longest hallways, he finally reached your door with 2 doctors already standing out in front of it. Bakugou tried to get through but they stopped him from entering.

“What?! What fucking now?!” He shouted as he stepped back to keep their hands off of him.

“Sir, they’re taking care of your wife just fine, but you have to wait here.” One of the docs demanded. With that, an argument bursted out between the pro and the doctors. The booming voices shook the building until a familiar voice was heard from behind the blonde.

“Dynamight, your wife’s in good care. I made sure my own wife was to be her head doctor.” Bakugou turned around to find the medic that stopped him from going into your ambulance there.

“It’s you.” He spoke aloud. The medic smiled before bowing.

“Daisuke Ena,” the medic said before standing back up straight. “Please trust me when I say your wife will be fine.”

“…and why should I?” Bakugou said after thinking for a minute.

“My wife is the one taking care of her. She is one of the best, if not the best, doctor in the prefecture. That’s not a biased opinion by the way, you can look her up. Daisuke Ami. I ensured it was her who was to see to your wife.” Daisuke said with a calm smile. After looking towards your hospital room, Katsuki turned back to the medic and nodded silently like he did before. But this time, he added a small ‘thank you.’

—

6 hours. Katsuki sat in one of the seats in front of your hospital room for 6 fucking hours only for them to tell him they cannot allow you visitors. You were in an unstable condition and so they sent Katsuki home. The news was heart wrenching. You always ran through Katsuki’s mind 24/7. He couldn’t stop it. But now, these thoughts were no longer happy and innocent, consisting of ‘damn, I miss her,’ and ‘I wonder what my girl’s doing right now.’ Instead they consisted of ‘Is she gonna be okay,’ and ‘she’s gonna come home, right?’ but most of all ‘I can’t lose her.’

Luckily for Katsuki, he became familiar with medical staff, Daisuke Ena, and was lucky enough to get his number. Daisuke gave him updates on Y/N. Usually, they weren’t so great but the hero appreciated the messages. The text didn’t help in uplifting Katsuki’s spirits though. If anything, they made them worse. In the beginning, Katsuki had hope that you would turn out okay.

But then a week passed.

And then another.

And then two more and before he knew it, you had already been in there for a month. This was the longest month of Katsuki’s life. It sucks to say but in the 13 years that you both have been together, he’s hasn’t done much alone outside of hero work. And even then, he would be lucky enough to work with you. It was always you and him together. Dates? Duh. Grocery shopping? Always you and him. Going for a walk? Why not? He loves spending as much time as he could with you. He loves you. But he hadn’t realize how dependent he became on your presence. In a way, you being gone drove him mad. He knew where you were. You were in the hospital. He could drive her there and see you right now!

No he can’t.

Because he would go and you would be stuck in bed, unconscious and hooked to machines, in a room, behind a door that Katsuki can’t get by. Seeing you isn’t the same as holding you. Speaking to you isn’t the same as conversing with you. There’s no reciprocation from your end. Being around your near lifeless body could only do so much. And so after two more weeks without you went by, Katsuki fell into a depression.

And that sucks because a few days after Katsuki’s depression began, it was okay for him to see you. But you hadn’t woken up yet. He didn’t think he would be able to be near you and your practically dead body. The fact that you were alive didn’t stick to him. He can’t see your beautiful E/C eyes, he can’t hear your honey-like voice..there’s no way you’re alive. The back of his mind still had hope. He knew you were stable. He knew you were gonna be okay..hopefully..but, you weren’t waking up. You were basically dead. Dead, dead, dead. And the more he thought about it, the more realistic the idea came to be.

So he didn’t visit you anymore..something else he’ll come to regret, and because he didn’t visit, he grew mad. Throwing away his life and succumbing to the tempting taste of alcohol. Any he could get. From the cheapest beers in cans to the finest liquors sold from top shelf. In the beginning, it was..controlled, but then he showed up to hero work completely wasted. Kirishima saved his job and forced Katsuki to take a break until he becomes stable again. This only gave Katsuki free time to do whatever the hell he wanted. And what did he want to do? He wanted to become lost.

Lost in alcohol, lost in weed, lost in everything. Lost because he doesn’t have you. Everyday he would spend it drinking and smoking, constantly being cross faded and surprising all his friends when he remained alive after all the substance abuse. Wake up, drink, get ready, drink, sit in the living room, smoke, cry over you, smoke and drink, eat and drink, go to sleep after a smoke sesh, cry over you once more. Eventually, Katsuki had cried so much, the only thing keeping him together was the fact that he had all these pictures of the two of you. Pictures of your smiles, you giving him a kiss, your dates, your accomplishments..he has all these pictures..but none of them would ever be as good as the real you.

Seeing his friend going down this road, Kirishima couldn’t help but try to do everything he could to fix his friend. No matter how many times Katsuki pushed him away, the red head kept going back. And none of his attempts to help his friend worked. Until…

—

“What now, Shitty Hair?” Bakugou groaned as he opened his door and squinted at the bright day light. He doesn’t remember that last time he’s seen the sun.

“I know you’ve been in a slump-“

“Slump? That’s what you call this? I lost the love of my life, Kirishima. This isn’t a fucking slump.” Bakugou said a little louder this time.

“She’s not gone, Bakugou.” Kirishima said trying to reassure his friend.

“But she’s not here either,” the blonde said as he chewed on his lip. “…look, whatever it is you want from me, I can’t give you. Not until Y/N is back at home, here, with me, safe and alive.”

“I know you feel that way man, but you can’t keep living like this. It’s not good for you. You at least need to get out of your house.” Kirishima said with his hand on the door as Bakugou tried to shut it. The blonde narrowed his eyes at his best friend before Kirishima spoke up again. “We can go wherever you wanna go and do whatever you wanna do, you just gotta get out of this house. Please.”

As Katsuki thought about it, he took a deep sigh before speaking. “Tonight at Hiro’s?”

“Dude, you wanna go to a bar-“

“It’s a club. Better than a bar, better drinks.” Bakugou corrected.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna hit the gym or maybe go to an actual restaurant or something?” Kirishima said, trying to steer his friend clear of alcohol.

“If you want me out of my house, then we go where I wanna go. No exceptions.” Bakugou said with a stern voice. Kirishima thought about it and sighed before giving in.

“Fine. But first, you gotta clean yourself up.” The red head said. The blonde nodded before going to shut his door, only to be interrupted by his friend once again. “With a little help from your best buds.”

As Kiri pushed the door open even more, Kaminari and Sero showed their faces that held kind smiles that only made Katsuki seethe. “No fucking way. This isn’t some girl’s trip and we aren’t doing makeovers.”

“Nobody said anything about a makeover, we’re just gonna help clean ya’ up Kacchan!” Denki smiled.

“I’m a grown man, I don’t need help cleaning up.” Bakugou said with a growl.

“Tell that to your stubble, messy hair, eye bags, and stench.” Sero began. “Seriously man, you smell like liquor and weed. You’re lucky you got that caramel thing going on to save you…barely.”

Before he knew it, his friends had pushed him into his house and quickly directed him to the bathroom. They did a full treatment. Forced him into the shower and made him soak in a tub of scented soaps and bath additions as they cleaned his house. Once they were done they had picked out a clean outfit for him before working on his face. They shaved his stubble, cleaned up his cut, put some eye cream on his bags, gave him some breath spray and changed out a few of his piercings. The full treatment. And when they showed Bakugou the new old him, he couldn’t deny he felt a little better. At least, before they stepped into his room again and he saw a few pictures of you. That’s when the slump in his shoulder returned.

Seeing this, his friends were quick to take him out of the house and head to Hiro’s. Walking in, they sat at the bar, ordered some food and a few drinks, and did whatever they could to keep Bakugou’s mind off of you. And for most of the night, it worked! Bakugou was laughing again, smiling, being his old self. But that’s when Denki decided to risk it.

“We doing shots or what?” The electric blonde asked. Kirishima gave him a look as he spoke.

“Uh, let’s go light on the liquor tonight. We don’t need shots to have a good time, right?” Kirishima said. Bakugou looked at him and chuckled.

“It’s nice of you to look out for me, Shitty hair, but I got this. Trust me.” Bakugou said with a small smile.

“I don’t know, man.” Kirishima said with a pout.

“Don’t be a pussy, Kirishima.” Kaminari smirked. That’s when all of Kiri’s friends, even Bakugou, began to egg him on. Of course, he gave in. Why not? What’s the worst that could happen? Bakugou gets drunk? He’s already been drunk before, nothing too crazy could happen, right?

Wrong. Shots were being downed and the 4 friends were losing themselves. The music was blasting, the lights were blinding, and the friends were…everywhere! Kirishima was probably puking his guts out in the bathroom, Sero and Kaminari were drunk on the dance floor, leaving Bakugou drunk at the bar by himself. Bad idea. The poor blonde was looking at his phone going through pictures of you and him together. He already missed you like crazy when he was sober, now that he’s drunk, that missing has hit full throttle. And then he caught the eye of a snake.

She walked up to the pro-hero with full confidence as she took a seat next to him. “Dynamight.”

Bakugou looked up from his phone with a scowl and blush from the alcohol. “Do I fucking know you?”

“No but-“

“Then get lost.” He said and downed another sip of his whiskey. The woman smirked at his crude behavior.

“Feisty. I like that about you, you know. Always playing hard to get.” She said with a seductive tone.

“I’m not playing hard to get, I’m playing impossible to get because I’m married,” he said and showed his wedding ring. “Happily.”

“You don’t seem too happy right now mister hero. My name’s Leiko..and if you want..I could help take away your troubles.” She offered with a smile as she leaned forward, making sure to expose a little more cleavage than necessary.

“My wife is better than just some quick fuck, so no thanks.” Bakugou said, still not taking his eyes off her, trying to scare her away with a glare that unfortunately she only smirked at.

“Who said I was trying to fuck? Why don’t you talk to me? Vent. Rant. It won’t get your mind off of your wife but it will help clear your head.” She said.

“And why the hell do you think I’m having issues with my wife?!” He asked with a tense voice.

“I walked over here and you were staring down at pictures of her on your phone. Miss H/N is beautiful. You’re a very lucky man.” Leiko said, playing the role of a snake perfectly.

“…I am..” Bakugou agreed before swallowing a gulp. “I’m Uh…I’m not having issues with her or anything. And we’re not fighting either. She’s just..been in the hospital recovering from a battle..I just miss her…”

He didn’t know whether it was the alcohol or if Leiko was just that good at pretending to be nice or both, but for whatever reason she made it easy to clear his mind. She listened well, never putting any input in. She let him speak freely and only spoke up when he looked at her in expectance to. In the moment..she was being a good friend. She allowed him to vent all he wanted about you, about how much he missed you and loves you. And by the end of the night, Katsuki could feel his chest feel a little lighter.

They didn’t sleep together but Leiko left an impression on his drunk self for sure. Maybe even him as a person. He’d remember her as ‘that one nice lady from the club.’ But that was until a few days later when she reached out to him on social media. Leiko was a perfect snake. Knowing exactly what she wanted and exactly how to get it. They spoke for some time online, casual conversations. Most times, it was Leiko asking about you and if you were okay. This went on for some time until their conversations changed. Leiko casually threw in a little flirt every now and then, Katsuki saw and held no reply for it, but didn’t stop her from doing so. Leiko seemed like a good friend. A good way to air out his emotions and issues. So despite her pushy and flirtatious nature, he kept her around. Solely as a friend.

Soon enough, Leiko offered to meet in person once more. At the same club they first met in. ‘Why not?’ Katsuki thought. He had nothing else to do. And so he went. Then he went again. And again. And again. The two became ‘friends’ and Katsuki even brought her back into your shared home where they shared even more drinks. Eventually, the use of marijuana came into play and now the two were cross faded. At least one of them was. Leiko was smart and sneaky. She took less drinks, didn’t inhale the smoke, and basically remained sober. She was in complete control, unlike the blonde hero who sat on the couch beside her. He was now upset and hurt as he thought about you.

“I-..I just miss her so damn much..it fucking hurts at this point.” He said with a whimper in his voice. Being so vulnerable, Leiko took her chance and slid in.

“Well..there’s always one way to take your mind off of harsh things like this.” She softly said with a hand in his lap. She leaned in and Bakugou made no move to stop her and allowed her to continue. She pressed his lips against his and despite it not being reciprocated the first time, she still pushed with it. Katsuki didn’t enjoy it all that much or at all. It was different, it was new, it wasn’t you. It didn’t feel like home. Her lips weren’t soft, they weren’t as plump, they didn’t have the same sweet and addicting taste you did but in a way..Katsuki felt it was what he needed. Her kiss wasn’t like yours. In fact, it was the complete opposite and he hated it. But it didn’t resemble you. When Leiko kissed him, it didn’t remind him of you, and that’s what he thought he needed. So despite not liking the kiss, when she pulled away, he pulled her back. Eventually the kiss grew more intense until it was brought to the bedroom where their night continued in a more sinful manner.

That morning, Katsuki made Leiko leave, angered at what she tricked him into and ashamed of his betrayal. How could he do that to you?! His love of over a decade! When Leiko was gone, Katsuki allowed himself to break down his walls and cry. He cried so hard that morning, more than he’s ever cried before. That morning made him realize his third regret.

Leiko and Katsuki never spoke again..until some days later when Katsuki allowed himself to become extremely drunk once more. He fell into his obsessive thoughts of you and felt the pain come again. Wanting to erase the hurt, he reached out to Leiko and asked her to come over and distract him again. He needed to feel something that wasn’t you. And so Leiko happily went over that night. And a few more nights because Katsuki felt the pain again for a few more nights. As Leiko kept going, she noticed the house loss more and more touches of you. Katsuki flipped his pictures of you in his bedroom so that they wouldn’t see his nights of betrayal and he moved his clothes out of your shared closet so he wouldn’t be reminded and hit with your addicting scent that lingered on your clothes. Leiko smiled, feeling like a victor as Katsuki slept beside her in your bed on your side. The two would have quite a surprise in the morning.

—

Katsuki was awake and was still feeling the shame. He didn’t like sleeping around with Leiko but he liked the way it distracted him from his painful thoughts of you. Every morning after a night spent with her was the same. The two would wake up, she would put on one of his shirts despite his protests and get ready in his bathroom as he sat in the living room downstairs. But this morning had a little surprise twist.

As Katsuki sat in the living room with his head down, the doorbell rung. Growling in annoyance at one of his friends’ presence, he reluctantly went to open the door with a sour mood. “WHAT?!”

“Umm, excuse me. Who the fuck do you think you are talking to your wife like that?” You asked with attitude. As Katsuki adjusted his eyes to the light and his ears caught the sound of his favorite song, his eyes widened and his smile rose.

“Y-Y/N?” He asked in complete shock. He saw you alive, healthy, smiling, looking naturally beautiful right in front of him.

“Missed me, Suki?” You asked with a giggle. Bakugou pushed the door open to pull you in for the tightest hug as he lifted you off the ground.

“YOU’RE BACK!” He cried out. He held you tight and shut the door with his foot as he dropped onto the couch with you on top of him. He held you close to him as he cried into your neck. “You’re really back! Fuck- I missed you so much Y/N! I fucking love you- I’ve been a mess without you..shit!”

His tears were everlasting as they fell from his ruby eyes that you missed so much. You smiled as you wiped them away with your thumbs and the soft touch he’s craved and missed so much. You pecked his nose to calm him down as you allowed your hands to get lost in his blonde hair. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’m here, Suki. I’m back.”

Katsuki still held tears in his eyes and was shaking in happiness as you remained oh so close, giving him the warmth he needed after so many months. “Tell me you love me, Y/N.”

“I love you Bakugou Katsuki.” You happily said. Your husband teared up once more, so happy he was able to hear those words from you again, before pulling you in for a passionate kiss. A kiss that brought him back to life. He took in your scent and the way you tasted illegally sweet. He let his hands roam your body in a loving way until they found way into your soft H/C locks, trying to bring your head closer to his despite your lips already being in contact. You pulled away with him chasing after your lips, needing to push him back a little to allow yourself to breath. “Relax Suki.”

He scoffed at that. “Relax? I just got you back, you’re not calling the shots today princess, that’s all me.”

You both have a little laugh as you tucked in to cuddle for a small time. He missed this. This is what he needed. This is what he’s been dying for. To have you back in his arms, alive, healthy, and present. He needed this for so long and now that he has it, he feels whole again. After spending some cuddle minutes on the couch, you rose up in need for a glass of water. As you tried to walk away, Katsuki tugged on your arm to try and bring you back to him, only to have you calm him down. “I’m just getting some water, Suki.”

He reluctantly let you go, allowing himself to smile like an idiot, glad to be around you again. As you searched for a glass in the cabin, that’s when Bakugou detected the sound of someone turning the shower off. And that’s when his eyes popped. His betrayal to you. The multiple times he betrayed your love and literal proof of it standing in his shared home with you. That’s when he began to silently panic. You were gonna find out. You were gonna find out he had been acting like a sleeze behind your back and you were gonna be pissed. Heartbroken. Downright furious and you had every right to be, but Katsuki wouldn’t allow it. He knew once you found out, you would leave again. But you can’t leave! He just got you back! You’re not allowed to leave when you finally came back to him. He’s finally happy again because you’re back! You can’t leave now!

“Hey, Baby, don’t you wanna see your friends?” Katsuki asked as he walked over to you. You had finished your glass and placed it down on the island when your husband came over asking an absurd question.

“Suki, they were all there when I left the hospital. They were the ones who bought me these new clothes. Aren’t they cute?” You asked with the smile he loved oh so much.

“Uh- yeah, yeah they look amazing on you Teddy Bear. Umm..if they were all with you, why didn’t they tell me you were coming back home?” He asked as you wrapped your arms around his neck and his went right to home on your waist.

“I wanted to surprise you!” You giggled. “How’d I do?”

“Really fucking good, you little dumbass. But why don’t we get some fresh air? Yeah?” He said as he tried pulling you to the door.

“What why? I was just out there.” You said as you stopped in your tracks. “Besides, I heard you didn’t visit me much in the hospital ya’ big meanie. I wanna spend as much time with you as I can.”

“I was gone because I couldn’t stand to see you like that, baby.” He said with a whimper.

“Yeah I figured. Which is why I’m not too mad, but you still gotta make it up to me with cuddles, so let’s go!” You said and tried pulling him in the direction of your bedroom but he planted his feet into the ground.

“We can still spend time together outside the house, Teddy Bear,” Katsuki said enthusiastically, trying to keep you away from the room that for sure reeked of sex and held scattered clothes of his own and another woman’s.

“But I want to spend time at home with you,” you pouted. Bakugou felt his heart melt at the cute face you pulled and brought you closer to him.

“I know, I wanna spend time with you too but I’ve been in the house for so long, I think I need to get out of here.” The blonde said while being aware and on the lookout for Leiko.

“Well I’ve been out of the house for so long and I know I need to be in it. Besides, as your previously injured wife, what I say goes.” You said with sass and a smile. Katsuki laughed, loving your little attitude but still worried of what you may find out.

“Baby please, can we just go?” He begged as he held your soft hands in his.

“Why are you so adamant on leaving, Suki?” You asked

“That’s because he doesn’t want you to find out about me.”

Your body jumped at the sound of a new voice and you looked at Katsuki’s face, noticing it scrunching in fear, before you turned around to find another woman wearing nothing but Katsuki’s shirt. The same shirt you’ve worn a thousand times over. You could feel your heart clenching in pain but you stood your ground no less.

“Who are you?” You asked as you dropped your hands from your husband’s. You heard his little whine at the loss of your touch as he reached out to hold into your arm but you gently pushed him off.

“Y/N-“

“Oh come on, H/N. Don’t be in denial. I bet you already have an exact idea on who I am.” Leiko said with a smirk as she looked at you. You turned to your husband with raised brows and a face of anger as you glared at him. You looked back at her and bit your lip before smiling.

“Were you in it for the long haul?” You asked Leiko, wondering if she really wanted Katsuki or if she was just getting pleasure out of this.

“Definitely not. I just came for a quick fuck every now and then. Wanted to get a feel of what it was like getting dicked down by a big shot pro-hero.” She said casually.

“Did you know he was married?” You asked.

“Yeah but he didn’t seem to care so neither did I.” She said. This made your blood boil a bit and you wanted to cry so damn bad, but you refused to allow your whore of a husband and this stranger to see you break. You huffed before smiling again.

“You can take your leave now.” You kindly said. Leiko looked at you in confusion.

“You’re not mad?” She asked. Katsuki had the same thought running through his mind as his heart raced at this conversation happening right here right now.

“Oh I’m furious. But am I really supposed to be mad at some stranger who’s content with being a home wrecker? ‘Cuz I feel like most of my anger should be directed to the man-whore behind me.” You said, never looking Katsuki’s way.

“Y/N, please-“

“I’m not speaking to you yet.” You said calmly, still not looking at him. You didn’t have to turn around to know there were tears in your husband’s eyes. Leiko smiled before standing a little taller.

“Well then, I’ll be taking my leave,” she said and took off the big shirt and throwing it onto the couch, leaving herself in her underwear. “Am I expected to be back for another visit?”

“You can come back as many times as Katsuki asks. As far as I’m concerned, he’s a single man again.” You said with a laugh.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Katsuki asked with a break in his voice. Leiko laughed too before nodding and walking back to the bedroom and gathering her things. You walked silently to sit on the couch with Katsuki following you. “Y/N, what the fuck do you mean I’m single. I’m still your husband!”

You remained silent as you looked at him with a sarcastic smile. You said nothing as you waited for Leiko to return. “Say something!”

Finally, Leiko walked down the stairs, fully dressed, and looked to you before taking her leave. You smiled at her before speaking. “So..I don’t want him anymore. Do you?”

“No I’m good. Anybody’s good for a fuck but I don’t date cheaters.” Leiko said with her hand on the knob.

“I’m not a fucking cheater!” Katsuki shouted at her as he had tears dripping down his face. She gave him a dry laugh before opening the door.

“Take a look around Bakugou. You’re not a cheater?” She asked before walking out and shutting the door, leaving the two of you in the broken home. Silence passed and all that could be heard was Katsuki’s shaky breath. You then stood up, gaining his attention, and tried walking to your bedroom before Katsuki stopped you by holding onto your arm. Tight.

“Where the fuck are you going, Y/N?” He asked as he cried angrily. You tried to shake him off of you to no avail.

“I’m leaving you fucking idiot. If you haven’t noticed, you cheated. You were disloyal. You allowed some stranger into our home, into our bed, just to get your dick wet.” You said with an angry but calm tone.

“She wasn’t a stranger.” Bakugou said trying to defend himself. You laughed and stepped to face him.

“Oh really? Tell me one damn thing you know about her.” You asked. As Katsuki thought about it..he really didn’t know anything about her. Fuck- he didn’t even know her family name. All he knew was that her name was Leiko. They were speaking for a month and in that entire month, Katsuki only ever talked about himself. She never gave up any information about herself. All she wanted to do was get to know Katsuki and get in his pants. She really was a stranger and he just tossed away his entire relationship for some whore. His silence gave you your answer. “That’s what I thought.”

You tried walking away again before he ran to stand in front of you. “Y/N! Please! Just listen, okay? I was depressed because you were gone!”

“And that’s your excuse for cheating on me?!” You shouted.

“No! But- but it hurt me to even think about you in that hospital bed! I couldn’t even face you without feeling like I was dying! And then that fucking snake came and she distracted me and kept my thoughts away from you. She kept the pain away. I know that that’s not excuse for what I did but please try to understand why I did it!” He begged as he cried.

“I will never understand! Because I could never do what you did! If you were in the hospital, close to death, I would’ve been by your side every second of every day! Yes I would’ve felt all the pain and depression you did but I wouldn’t want to distract myself from it! Because at least then I would be thinking about you, and worrying about you, and caring about you, and loving you because you’re my husband Katsuki! I wouldn’t ever want to not think about you!” You shouted in anger and hurt as you allowed a few tears to fall. This urged Katsuki to cup your face in his hands and wipe away your tears.

“I’m so sorry, baby. Please, can we just move pass this? Please.” He said softly as he pressed his forehead to your own before you shoved him off.

“Get away from me!” You shouted, breaking his heart as he stumbled back. “After everything we’ve been through, you go and do this to me?! AFTER EVERYTHING?!”

“IM SORRY! PLEASE! I CAN’T TAKE BACK WHAT I DID BUT YOU HAVE TO FORGIVE ME!” He shouted back.

“WHO THE FUCK SAYS I HAVE TO FORGIVE YOU, BAKUGOU?!” You said, emphasizing the use of his family name. The name that you also held.

“Don’t call me that, baby, please.” He whimpered.

“DON’T FUCKING CALL ME THAT BAKUGOU! WE’RE DONE!” You shouted and walked away to your room with him following you. He kept spewing apologies up until you opened the bedroom door. It was a horrible mess and the stench of sex filled the air. You covered your mouth and nose as tears pricked your eyes before walking in to open your closet, disappointed as you noticed all the pictures of you two were flipped to be hidden. When you opened the doors, you didn’t find your clothes. “Where the fuck is my stuff, Bakugou.”

“I’m not telling you because you’re not leaving me, Y/N!” He said as he tried to hug you from behind before you pushed him off again.

“I’m not staying here! Tell me where my stuff is so I can leave!” You demanded.

“Like hell I will! We haven’t even had a full talk about this! You can’t just leave!” He said. You watched as tears fell down his face which only made you even more angry. He was crying? He did this! This is all his fault! How can he be the one upset?! “Y/N please, I’ll get on my fucking knees and beg you to stay if it’s what it takes but you can’t go! We’ve been together for 13 years! 13! Even before UA-“

“And you threw all that away when you decided to sleep with someone else.” You said calmly. You walked out of the room in search for your clothes as he followed and continued to speak with sobs breaking apart his sentences.

“Y/N please! I- I can fix this! You don’t have to go! You can stay and we can be happy, just like we’ve always been! Just like we were a few minutes ago before that bitch walked in and ruined everything!” He cried making you turn around in a snap.

“She didn’t ruin anything Katsuki. When you allowed her to come into your life and into our home, that’s when you fucked up. You did this to us. You ruined everything.” You said before continuing your search.

“T-Tell me what you want Y/N! I’ll make it happen! I’ll do anything- I’ll give you the fucking world! As long as you stay!” He begged. You approached the guest room in silence and Bakugou grew frantic as he blocked you from going in. “Please- don’t.”

“All my stuff is in there, isn’t it?” You asked, already knowing the answer and only having it confirmed when he remained silent. “Get out of my way.”

Bakugou shook his head as he kept the door block as you tried to pry your way through. Growing frustrated, you used a small amount of your quirk to blast him through the door, having him groan in pain as he hit the floor and watched you find your clothes in the guest room closet. You began packing your things and Bakugou was quick to stand and take everything you put in your bag out. “Stop it!”

“No! You’re staying with me! You’re not leaving me Y/N- I won’t lose you again!” He said as he tossed your bag across the room. You watched it go and stood in disbelief at his childish antics.

“Heh, you know what? Whatever, keep all the clothes. Maybe you’ll gift it to the next girl you decide to bring back here.” You said with attitude.

“I’m not bringing anybody else through those doors! I ONLY WANT YOU Y/N!” He shouted.

“Doubtful. Keep it, burn it, regift it, I don’t care. With my salary I can buy myself a new wardrobe and a new apartment. Far. Away. From you.” You said and walked out of the room. As you tried to exit the house, Katsuki pulled you back into his arms as you struggled in his grip with your face smushed against his chest.

“Please! Please tell me what you want! I’ll do anything! I’ll buy you anything! We’ll do whatever you want- Y/N I’ll even quit my job! Just please don’t go! Please forgive me!” He cried before you harshly pushed him off to reveal your sobbing face.

“I WANT TO LEAVE! BECAUSE I DONT WANT THIS ANYMORE KATSUKI!” You shouted before wiping your eyes and bringing your voice down. “I wanted my husband there with me at the hospital! I wanted him to be the first face that I saw when I woke up! But you couldn’t even give me that! Instead, you were in our home in our bed with some random person you found wherever having sex with her despite the fact that you’re a married man! …I was in a fucking hospital fighting for my life and my husband was too busy cheating on me, trying not to think about me…..I want to leave Katsuki.”

“….I can’t let you do that Y/N…I’m sorry. But I can’t do this without you.” He cried as you listed all his shortcomings. “I’ll give you whatever-“

“I don’t want material things!” You shouted in exhaustion. “I wanted your loyalty and love!”

“And you have that!”

“We wouldn’t be in this situation if I did!” You said. “I’m leaving, Katsuki. And not you or anybody else in this fucking world is going to stop me. If you try and trap me here I will break down these walls myself and get out. If you force me to stay I will do whatever it takes to get away from you. I’m not staying with you. So we’re done. And we’re getting a divorce, whether you like it or not.”

As you walked to the door you could hear his heart breaking cries as you opened the exit. “Y/N please. I don’t want this, I waited months for you to come home to me…I need you.”

“When are you gonna realize Katsuki? This is your fault. You did this to us.”

And with that, you shut the door on the house, the home, the relationship, and him. And it was all his fault.

A/N: Y’all ima be writing a part 2 for this so stay tuned

Tag list: @sxcker4you @aomi04 @tessabrown101 @ebiharachan @is-this-ash @iris-shihabi @sxturn-stars @isolight @lanantoine @whatdidshesayyy @kiranogareru

[holdinbacksecrets]

hello! if it’s not too late could i please request boyfriend things with a prompt of when things get hard/life gets in the way/misunderstandings/growing pains lol i hope this makes sense i’ve never requested anything before

i just finished watching 25 21 and now my heart is absolutely shattered… it got me thinking how this concept would be like with the boys. you write so beautifully and thought you would capture these feelings sooo well with your writing!

thanks for all that you do and always bringing me comfort with your blog 💕

hello! thank you for sending this request. i enthusiastically watched 2521 until the second to last episode, made it halfway though, read spoilers for the finale, and i’ve yet to finish it… so i can imagine how you were feeling. 🥺 i hope i did your request justice! thank you so much 🤍 knowing you feel that way and your kind words are heartwarming💌

an: college au vibes going on with some of these warning: jealousy

namjoon: you don’t really care.. about what people think of you. maybe it’s because your mother never has. she puts money on a debit card, tells you good morning on sundays, and that’s about it. so you’ve adapted, and learned to be ok with what you’ve been given. you never let yourself think about more, or yearn for it. you stay away from the romcoms and YA novels, littered with hope and shining eyes and i love yous at midnight in open doorways. what happens if you start to change your mind? what happens if you want to see what it might be like? what happens if you start to care? because you feel yourself caring about him. you’ve started stopping by the record store he works at, perusing the rows of vinyls and buying one every once in a while. and you didn’t care, not until he mentioned knowing you from somewhere, recognizing the bracelet on your wrist, and the charm on your bag... you weren’t supposed to care

jin: you haven’t been sleeping. it’s been a couple days, and you can’t be bothered to try. maybe it has more to do with the emptiness and the cold, than a lack of exhaustion. everything happened in the bedroom. you loved. you laughed. you ate. you learned. you grew. you changed. cried. tried. became electrified. and now, the colors he brought to white walls and a spotless duvet have been taken away. so you stay awake. you drink coffee and set reminders to eat, and you hope, eventually, you’ll love again. you’ll open the bedroom door and see something special, whether it’s all you or someone new 

yoongi: “do you want breakfast?” “no. i’m not really hungry.” how could he expect you to eat after sharing such horrible news? news that should have you smiling and leaping for joy because he got the job, but shit… you’re just thinking about yourself, the distance and the time change, and the idea of him turning into someone completely different. maybe you won’t recognize him when you finally visit. “do you… we should probably talk about this.” “should we?” “we’re dating and i’m getting ready to move to a new country, so yes, we should.” “but you’re not going to say it” “say what? please, you know i hate this beating around the bush bullshit.” “saying it is humiliating. if you haven’t said it yet then you’re never going to.” his eyebrows raise, and he takes your hand, peeling it away from the mug. “of course i want you to come with me. that’s all i want, but how can i ask that of you when you’re still in school? isn’t that selfish?” “i don’t know. either way things are going to change. we’ll change. you know how i feel about change” i fucking love you, and if i lose you? shit…

hoseok: he’s known her his entire life. they have the photo albums to prove it and a box of old christmas cards because the pictures were too cute for his mother to throw away with the tree and torn wrapping paper. she’s known him for her entire life. she knows more about him than you, and you want to like her. you truly do, but there’s something nauseating about everything she’s seen, everything she’s come to know. you kept it far away- you keep your relationship with him for yourself, for private moments and safe spaces, but now she’s here because it’s his birthday: she wouldn’t miss it for the world. and it’s not that you don’t trust him. it’s not that you think she’s in love with him either. it’s just that she knows him, while he’s the only one who knows you

jimin: “i don’t understand why you’re being so quiet. it’s just me.” he’s laying beside you in the darkness of your bedroom, and his words are right. it is just him, but he told you he loves you, and something changed. it didn’t change because his feelings aren’t reciprocated, it’s because they are. it’s because you’ve suppressed all the desires that consume your mind when he’s around. it’s because you’ve told yourself the two of you aren’t right for each other to guard your heart. you’ve spent too many days as friends, with enough space between yourselves to allow room for other people: for romantic relationships that never outlast what your share with him. “i’m not trying to be quiet.” “are you… i shouldn’t have said anything, right?” “i don’t know. i really don’t. let’s just get some sleep” 

taehyung: whoever told you about college growing up left out a whole lot of shit. no one said that love is hard, and you’d probably end up wanting someone who doesn’t know your name or graduated already and spends his nights out with friends after work. you show up and look like a little kid with your backpack and reading glasses. you wonder if it’s worth it: staying together. he tells you it is, says he doesn’t understand why you’d want to throw it all away. “i’m only a year older than you. you’re acting like our lives are on paths moving in opposite directions or something.” “maybe i’m just insecure” 

jungkook: “you know i got my license for you in high school, right?” “you’re kidding… why?” he scoffs, taking the bottle of beer from your hand. “i was in love with you, and i wanted to take you out.” “we could’ve walked.” “sure, but i wanted to open your car door, and touch your thigh if i had the confidence to.” “you didn’t.” “oh come on! i got there! i made a move eventually” “you made a couple moves… i’m pretty sure a lot of firsts happened in that car. i guess i should be thanking a younger you. where would we have been without your lovestruck, hmm?” “we would’ve ended up here eventually. we’re fated.” “gross. get that hopeless romantic shit away from my beer” 

[boizandgurlzinthehouse]

Can you do some fluff imagine with damiano, please? I don’t care what it’s about since I don’t have a specific request.

𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞, 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐨 𝐝𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐝 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟗𝟑𝟓 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐱𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲? (𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨, 𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐚 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐨)

you tried to be quiet, really.

you knew your boyfriend, damiano has a work-day tomorrow –looking at the clock it's 2am, well, later this day–, that's why you went with your friends to drink and dance a little bit. the flat was dark and quiet as you shook down your shoes as steadily as your drunken mind let you, trying to step over a pair of slippers and shoes, you stumbled, not being sure if it was damiano's high heels or your own feet.

suddenly, the bathroom lights turned on, and the alcohol made you forget in an instant that you have a boyfriend who should sleep this late –grabbing your pepper-spray from your bag, you were ready to attack anybody, slowly approaching the end of the hallway as bravely as you could. you didn't even know how ridiculous this was –opening the bathroom door fast, you realized the facts too late.

"stop whatever you're doing, or i'll kill you right here!"

"jesus fuck y/n, what the fuck are you doing? fuck, really!"

damiano turned back in no time, with his hands on his naked chest, being only in a boxer –when the realization came to you, you let down your 'weapon', sighed a little bit.

"oh, so it's just you."

damiano was totally done by the look on his face, then he caught your slightly smudged makeup, smirking slightly.

"are you that drunk? or wait, i'll figure it out, you just made sure that you're safe?

you hiccuped.

"i think the second one, but now i'm not so sure..."

damiano laughed, not just on your intoxication, but on your cute looks too -yeah, your face was a little bit lost, but as you pouted, he couldn't stop his hand reaching out for your cheek.

"does my baby need help to shake off the alcohol?"

you shrugged your shoulders, then sitting on the edge of the bathtub, you closed your eyes -it was a tiny bit nauseating, you had to grab the white marble. "i'm really just tired, dami."

"nevermind, i took this as a yes."

with that, damiano took a cotton pad, spreading some makeup-remover on it, gently tilting your jaw into his direction, he began to take the mascara off of your face. you leaned into his touch, leaving his heart leaping.

"so good, damiano", you murmured.

"it is, little angel?"

damiano helped to get your out of your shirt, then your jeans -you giggled at his caring gestures.

"i am faster than you, y'know."

"trust me love, i would be the fastest if you weren't drunk."

"i never doubted that, dami~"

helping you into the shower, you blushed when you realized, you are stark naked in front of the love of your life.

"stop looking, pervert." you said, letting the water fall down above you. damiano stepped back, caressing the mirror between the two of you.

"last night weren't you the one who wore a sweatshirt of mine with only panties on?" damiano asked teasingly, letting you tap on the mirror as a sleazy intimidation. in your condition, you'd rather hurt yourself before hurting anybody else.

"i can do it by myself, bring something for me to wear."

"i hoped you forget it, baby..." damiano looked much more playful than sad.

when you were done with the shower, your boyfriend came back with your nightwear -actually, it was damiano’s shirt, but that didn’t matter. you wanted to walk out, but he grabbed your hand.

“what, what is that damiano? i want to sleep.” you mewled, clearly wondering why damiano don’t left you in the shower to go back to sleep.

“we have to brush your teeth, babygirl, otherwise if you can’t, i’m gonna do it.” you tried to reach for the tooth paste, but when you took damiano’s shaving cream with yourself, he couldn’t stop laughing.

“you’re so dumb but so cute when you’re drunk, y/n. i adore you.”

damiano helped you to brush your teeth like a toddler, brushing your locks out of your face, grabbing your jaw to balance your head -you kept being more and more tired.

rushing back to the bedroom, you climbed under the sheets, digging our face into the big, white pillows. waiting for damiano to come, you checked your phone, texting your friends that you’re home safe. damiano arrived soon with an aspirin in one of his hands and a cup of water in the other.

“after pampering my baby, what comes before going to sleep?” he asked, sitting down on the bed. “sit up, cara mia.”

“i don’t know, what?” you asked, taking the medicine and the water from him.

"a pill and a kiss", he continued, leaning down to leave a big, smoochy kiss on your forehead. you almost grabbed his hand to pull him to yourelf, but the world still spinned faintly.

"that kiss could go somewhere else too, you know." you said, acting disappointed.

"patience, baby. tomorrow you're gonna have tons of kisses, but now you need to sleep, 'kay?"

you jumped back between the sheets in agreement, pulling back the blanket so damiano could climb in too. closing your eyes, exhaustion hit on you hard.

“i feel like i’m five years old, thanks to you. but at least my teeth is clear and i'm not gonna be hangover, so thank you, really." you mumbled, leaning your face on his chest immediately when he laid down. when the lights went out, you thought about how lucky you are with him, smelling the softness of his skin.

“i love you, dami. so much.”

“i love you too, il mio angioletto.”

[lihikainanea]

This is a long angsty thought I had so I apologize: Bill and Tiger on vacation with friends and this is the first one with a few new editions to the group. Tiger gets along with all of them, but one night the girl reveals she wants to get with Bill. While Tiger gets a flare of jealousy, the calming waves and shining moon makes her feel a little more vulnerable than normal. She plays it cool, but she can’t help noticing how this girl is nice, she’s a solid friend from what Tiger can tell. She bottles up her emotions from the conversation, going straight to bed without texting or visiting Bill’s room. He’s slightly worried, of course, but just figured she got wasted. She had given him a key to her room so he walked in late to get some lovin, but she’s asleep. He sees the tears on her face, still wet and he knows somethings wrong. She wakes up from his stare and she loses it. He tries being stern with her, but he knew it was really bad when that didn’t work. She sadly tells him and he doesn’t say it’s dumb or that she’s overthinking. He just kisses her, plain stupid, grabbing her face and pulling her onto him. “Every time I look at you, kid. Every single time I look for you specifically and that won’t change.” He says, the warmth in her chest makes her head spin, and she smiles which he returns. “Plus, she spent the night with another guy hear yesterday, she was probably just a little vacation lovesick, just like another girl I know” He says, pinching her bottom. (Okay I’m done, but when she feels up to it he definitely fucks her so good she’s speechless and has to keep repeating that she’s his.)

Ohhhh sweet nani, the thoughts you have given me.

Thank you.

Thank you.

I love it when tiger just kind of gets all up in her head about this thing she has going with Bill, because goddamn if that ain't relatable eh? My friends and I talk about this a lot, about the differences in the way men and women approach dating or hell, even hitting on someone. And we have come to one main conclusion: men will almost always approach and hit on someone WAY the fuck out of their league, and women seldom will.

I don't know about ya'll, but when I see an insanely attractive guy I just like...shut down. I stare at my feet. I mumble. I blush. I want the ground to open up and swallow me whole--and the last thing on my mind is "yo, I'mma hit on this tall drink of water." Like, I would literally rather pull my own teeth out than hit on a guy that is so ridiculously attractive and so COMPLETELY OUT OF MY LEAGUE.

But dudes? Dudes will see a solid 10 walking down the street and think "Thank god I'm a fucking 14 because that bish is mine." It's actually incredible. Like, it's a scientific phenomenon.

For all the confidence that us women lack, the wrong men seem to have absorbed it all by fucking osmosis.

Fascinating.

ANYWAY. I'll bet tiger feels like that a lot. Bill is just...he's so much, you know? On the surface level there's his insane good looks, his height, the fact that he's a rich motherfucker, and he's famous. All of that weighs on tiger's mind, yes, but then she's even worse off because she knows what's underneath too. A kind, gentle mammoth of a man, the most empathic person she has ever met, someone who is incredibly sensitive and who takes such good care of her, worries over her, tries every day to make her happy. And tiger just...tiger will never understand how she got so lucky.

But then alright, it's time for another friend vacation and this time there are a few new additions. People try not to make a big deal out of it but somehow there always is just a slight check in with Bill--nobody does it outright because god Bill would be mortified and so would everyone else, but there is definitely a few mentions of new people joining the vacation and it gives Bill a chance to back out if he's not comfortable with the idea.

And maybe tiger really does genuinely hit it off with one of the girls. She's a real firecracker, and the exact type of person that tiger respects. She's funny, she's pretty as all hell, she's not afraid to make a bit of a fool of herself to make everyone laugh. This girl eats like a trucker and swears like a sailor, and tiger thinks she's good people. So much so that one night maybe the boys go off and do their own thing, macho bonding or some shit, and tiger and this girl grab some drinks and have some good girl bonding time.

But then it happens. A few drinks in, it happens. And this girl absolutely isn't trying any in vino veritas bullshit, this is really just the first opportunity she's had to drill a little deeper.

"So what's his deal?" she asks. Tiger blinks, sips her drink.

"Who's deal?" she replies. But tiger knows exactly who.

"Bill," she says, "Is he single?"

"Oh, uh," tiger knocks back another big sip of her drink, "...Yeah. Yeah he's single."

Because what is she supposed to say? No, he's taken? Then that would lead to questions about why he's on this vacation alone.

The girl gets a devious smirk, steeples her fingers together--and tiger just wants to hit something, because goddamn this girl is cute. Adorable, even. And when she gives a little whoop and a dorky fistpump, tiger feels her stomach drop to the floor--not because she's after Bill, no no, even worse--because she's actually just so perfect for him.

"Diiiiiiibs," the girl says, "Man I've been eyeing that tall drink of water all trip."

"Ha, yeah," tiger stammers awkwardly and downs the rest of her drink, "He's a handsome one."

"Are you cool with it?" the girl asks, and actually places a concerned hand on tiger's knee, "I don't want to...come between anything. If there is anything." Dis bitch is cute as a button and kind. Fuck.

Tiger gives a casual shrug.

"Why wouldn't I be cool with it?" she says, "I....don't have any claim to him."

"Would it be weird for you?"

"Go for it," she mumbles.

And tiger wants to tell this girl to back off, that Bill is claimed, and that Bill is being claimed every goddamn night of this vacation to the point where his back jammed on him again and tiger had to ice it down this morning. But she can't say any of that--and in true tiger fashion, she just gets a little sad about it. Anger and ferocious defensiveness for Bill would be her first reaction if this girl was a real fucking idiot, but god she's just....she's so nice.

"Okay, okay okay okay," the girl smoothes her hair down, starts to look real serious, "Help a bitch out. What should I do?"

And poor tiger, tiger has to sit there the whole night while this girl actually schemes to get her claws into Bill. And tiger is almost forced to help.

She retreats back to her own room that night, nauseated, sad, and with raw emotions bubbling to the surface. And bless your heart sweet nani, bless your heart for knowing mine so well--because the shining moon absolutely gets to her, the call of the crashing waves. Tiger sits out on her balcony for a bit but she just cries. Just lets it all overwhelm her, lets herself feel every emotion she tried to reel in that night as she helped give a girl tips on how to get Bill. And when she's too exhausted, when it's all just too much--she goes to bed. She misses the text messages from Bill--doesn't even look at her phone, actually. Just curls up in Sad Girl form, all balled in on herself, and falls asleep.

And Bill thinks it's pretty strange that she's not responding, and it's even more strange that she didn't let herself into his room which they had agreed would be their place of rendezvous that night. So instead, he does a quick check of the hallways and then Pink Panther's his lanky ass against the wall before deftly swiping his key card in her door and opening it.

And that's exactly how he finds her, cheeks still wet, her own thumb in her mouth, all curled in on herself. Concerned, he traces a gentle finger down her cheek and she stirs.

"Tiger," he crouches down to be eye level with her, "What's wrong?"

She blinks sleepily, bristles a little, and swipes at her cheeks.

"Nothing," she croaks. Her throat is dry from crying, and she winces.

He doesn't say anything. Just brushes his thumbs across her cheeks, keeping her face in his hands.

"Tiger," he says sternly, "We have rules."

"Yellow," she says immediately, "I don't...I don't want--"

"Okay," he soothes, running his hands up her arms, "We won't. But tiger, can you tell me what's wrong?"

"Bill, it's nothing. Let's just go to sleep."

But like, she's cracking. There are fresh tears rolling down her cheeks now, and Bill knows she needs to let something out.

"It's me kid," he says softly, "You can tell me anything."

And like, tiger cracks. It opens the floodgates. She tells him everything--the entire conversation, every little detail of it. When she works herself up too much at some points, when he starts to hear a wheeze in her breath, he puts a steadying hand on her knee to help ground her. But she lets it all out--every detail, everything this girl said about him, everything tiger told her. She's full on crying again by the end, but Bill just listens. He listens, and he waits.

And you know what I love here, nani? God it's so important. Bill doesn't tell her she's nuts. Doesn't tell her she's foolish for ever thinking he wanted anyone but her. Because that's not what will get through to her. Instead, just like he always does--he loves her and reassures her in the way that she needs, in the way that she can recognize in that moment.

He waits as she pauses, waits to see if she'll continue, but she doesn't.

"Are you done?" he asks quietly. She nods.

"Can I say something now?" he ducks to catch her gaze, and she nods again. He pulls her into his lap.

"Tiger, it's you," he says simply, "It's you kid. Only, and always."

She sniffles, and he kisses her nose.

"Everybody else can try as much as they want. They can give it their best shot. It won't matter," he continues, "It's you, kid."

Ugh, my fucking heart. It gives her the reassurance that she needs. And listen, over the next few days, Bill finds little ways to reinforce that. Maybe this girl does take a shot at him--and he politely, gently shoots her down. Maybe when tiger is feeling ready for it, man he gives it to her so good that she has to stay in bed the next day, because she's walking funny. It's his secret glances, his small winks, his hand on her knee under the table, rising just a liiiiiiiittle high under the safety of the dark night club.

It's everything she needs, in the way that she needs it.

this ask was a gift nani, thank you.

[luna-rainbow]

Ngl I would have been all for a storyline involving Bucky just going on a revenge tour across the world hunting down HYDRA agents still on the lose, particularly ones who specifically abused him. It would have been so cool and could have had a ton of layers involving healing from trauma and addressed questions about revenge. We seriously have the main heroic team of the entire MCU have a name based on avenging/revenge but Bucky's not allowed get revenge/justice for himself from HYDRA.

I know this storyline wouldn't have worked as well for a show also involving Sam, which I why I almost feel at this point that they either should have given Sam and Bucky each their own shows and just let them cameo/guest appearance in each other's shows for an episode. It would have allowed each character to grow and develop and then they could maybe have come together for Cap 4.

Thanks for the ask!

I’m going to start off with the ugly: we’re never going to get this story as long as Bucky is in Disney’s grasp. It’s too unsafe, it’s too anti-establishment, and even if it happens there’ll be some nauseating redemption at the end where he atones for the Nazis he’s executed. And because we’ve talked about how MCU!Bucky differs (EDIT: not defers, good grief autocorrect gives me an aneurysm once a day) from Comics!Bucky, I think sadly we will just never see this iteration of Bucky get the satisfaction of holding his abusers to account, even though he sounds like he deserves it the most.

There’s two main themes I want to talk about - first it’s the Hollywood idea that people who seek vengeance for personal wrongs are villains, but those who seek vengeance for deaths of loved ones are romanticised anti-heroes (or even heroes). Look at IM2 and IM3, vs say, Zemo or Clint. I believe this is partially why Bucky isn’t allowed to seek revenge. The thing is, should it be treated that differently? The deceased person will never be around to appreciate the triumph of seeing their killer punished; the avenger is doing it - just as any other personal vendetta - purely for themselves. The idea of avenging someone else’s death is more morally justified than avenging yourself is a bit of a…false fantasy, I think, because in both cases you’re avenging the life that “could have been���. In Bucky’s case, and in the Widows’ cases, they’ve had their entire lives taken away from them. Is it more wrong for them to want revenge, compared to the Avengers crashing in on Thanos to kill him after he snapped their friends?

The second is about Bucky. See, my head canon for Bucky is he’s really, fundamentally, not that much different from Steve. He’s also the kind of guy who can’t sit by and watch something go south. He’s also someone who doesn’t like fights but dislikes bullies even more. We see that in the way he treats Steve and stays in the war and joins the fights in CACW and IW. When you think about their life experiences - two kids who’ve really only had each other as peers through their formative years, who would’ve bounced off each other for their moral and ideological beliefs, it stands to reason that what we see in Steve would be very similar to what drives Bucky.

What I’m getting at is, even without wanting personal revenge for the wrongs done against him, as long as there’s any chance Hydra might rear its head, Bucky (and Steve - argh the forever lost Cap 3 movie) would not stand by and let it happen. Yes, I think there is a part of him that is exhausted by the fight - just as Steve is - but both of them are the kind of people who recognise there are some fights you just have to meet head on.

(Eh…this is the head canon I’m trying to work from for my fic anyway)

[lyallblacklupin]

Don’t miss the Yule Ball.

Sirius was already battling with their post break-up situation. He hasn’t moved on, but maybe Remus has, after the Incident with Snape. He has been forgiven by all of the Marauders, but he still doesn’t feel like going to the Yule Ball because he loves dancing a little too much, and to watch Remus dancing with someone who isn’t him is something he won’t be able to cope. He rather he will stay in than go and deal with another heartbreak. However, Remus encourages him to go to the Yule Ball. Is he giving Sirius a chance to improve their ties?

Tags: Post-Incident with Severus Snape, Angst with Happy Ending, Getting Back Together, Trust Issues. 

Chapter 1

The distress was like a cold molten lava, spreading in Sirius’ chest to deepen the void that was already created inside of him. He could feel it. The hollowness around his heart, but simultaneously there was something heavy. Like a boulder, sitting at the top of his chest. There was exhaustion in his veins, plummeting his blood pressure that made him unlike the person he used to be: steady, hyperactive, and energetic. He didn’t know what he wanted, so he let life go through him. He thought he may never live, might as well survive because he was not ready to die yet. There was still hope. A newly aroused hope of getting his friends back in his life after the two and a half month of shutting out in consequential to the Incident with Severus Snape.

Three days ago, James and Peter had asked Sirius to come in the dorm when he had been sitting in the common room, literally, doing nothing but staring at the fire grates before him. All of the Marauders, including Remus, had gathered in the dorm awkwardly.

“Look, Sirius,” James had been the one to break the silence, and Sirius’ perplexity, “Whatever we have with you is just too real and close that—we cannot just see you being so…”

“Different.” Peter had said.

“Yes, different!” Sirius had never seen James so nervous, “And we know how sorry you are for what you did.” Sirius could distinctly recall that he had flinched at those words.

“So…” Remus had begun, not meeting Sirius’ eyes, “We would like to give you a chance.”

Sirius had expected himself to smile or laugh in happiness that finally his friends had decided to forgive him, but he didn’t—more like, he couldn’t. James and Peter had been staring at him with funny looks on their faces, while Remus had a tired look as if he had been forcefully asked to forgive him. Sirius didn’t even internally blame him for that, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t hurt.

“Thank you. You have no idea how much this all means to me.” Sirius had said. He knew that time was the only key to slip into normalcy, so he went with the flow.

This time of the year, Hogwarts was illuminating with more candles, and stardust in every corridor. The lavatory sections had more irises and lilies, and the Library was filled with color-changing lanterns hanging in the mid-air. All of this was because of the Triwizard Tournament was being held, and the awaited guests from other wizarding schools were welcomed to avail the chance of becoming the lucky participant in the Tournament. The students from Drumstrang, and Beauxbatons were roaming around the decorated Hogwarts.

“They should see the real face of Hogwarts, dull and old-fashioned. Not the flowery one. That’s called deception.” Marlene commented, making everyone snigger around her. She never failed to catch attention.

“That’s called hospitality, Marls. Try to be positive.” Dorcas flung her arm around her to pull her closer so she kissed her cheek. Sirius tried not to look because it painfully reminded him of his rock solid relationship with Remus Lupin, before it crashed brutally after one reckless mistake. He rubbed his eyes because he felt tried. Again. He was tired all the time, but he didn’t like being in bed in odd hours. It made him feel useless.

“So, that means I get to take you as my date for the Yule Ball?” Sirius’ ears stood alerted at Marlene’s muffled voice in the crowd.

Of course, the Yule Ball. He loved going to the balls, and waltzing with the music. If there was anything the Black family had taught and he had loved, were the dancing lessons. He had always imagined holding a certain someone close to him, and waltz with them peacefully. This was his secret. He had never displayed it. After he had realized that he had a crush on Remus, he had always pictured him in his dreams, slowly swaying through the soft music. His hand holding Remus’ while his other one on his waist, leading him. He had never enjoyed dancing with girls. They were too small and delicate to hold, except Marlene who was tall and broad.

The night befell, and everyone filed to their dormitories from the Great Hall after the dinner. Sirius was quietly walking with the Marauders, highly tensed because he was in pace with Remus who hadn’t utter a single word to him since the forgiveness. James was loudly speaking as usual, his arm around Peter’s shoulder, while craning his neck in every angle to find a certain fiery red head in the flood of students.

“Evans! You and me to the Yule Ball, how does that sounds?” He called out once he had spotted her.

“Nauseating.” She replied, causing an eruption of laughter from the sea of student around them.

“Oh come on! You won’t regret!” He continued his show of stupidity but suddenly Sirius’ hand brushed the neighboring one, accidently. He and Remus responded at the same time by flinching away their hands.

“Sorry.”

“Sorry.”

Remus was scarlet in the face, and Sirius felt liked he had touched something electric. He could still feel the burning on his fingers. They walked in their respectful distance, and Sirius started to feel the same process of hollowness in his chest. He was sad. Very sad. They were never supposed to be like this. He missed Remus, but it all seemed like he had lost him forever. Remus had forgiven him, but not by his heart. And it was nothing but heart-breaking. Sirius felt a strong surge of emotion as if he was going to have breakdown in the middle of the staircase. He held the railing of the stairs, widening the distance between him and Remus. Sirius stopped there to breathe out, hoping his friends wouldn’t notice. However, his friends were nor heedless neither heartless. Specifically, Remus wasn’t.

“Sirius? Are you okay?” Remus retreated from the crowd to stand beside him. Sirius felt heated up, and not because he had any rage reserved in the corners of his heart or mind.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.” He tried to act nonchalant, “You go ahead. I just need a break from the walking.”

“No, it is okay, I’ll stay with you until you are good to go.” Remus’ voice was very soft, and Sirius wished that he never leave him, even as a friend. Remus was too precious to lose. Sirius stayed silent. He kept breathing in and out, until his heartbeat became normal. Suddenly, he realized that the staircase was changing with a thud, signifying that all of the students were vanished and gone to their dorms, leaving Remus and Sirius alone.

“How are you feeling?” Remus’ wide amber eyes looked into the dull grey ones, probably for the first time in a longest while. Sirius smiled at the question. How was he feeling? He was feeling sad, useless, pathetic, sick, disappointed, and hopeless and so much that wasn’t easy to name or comprehend.

“I’m feeling better now.” He answered instead.

“Well, looks like it going to be a long detour since the staircase is leading to the third floor. Four floors away.” Remus’ mouth quirked up in an uneasy smile. Sirius smiled back at him as they both began to climb the stairs.

There was silence hanging between them. Surprisingly, it wasn’t uncomfortable to Sirius because he had nothing to say which made his mind a little less chaotic. He had tried saying everything to Remus; the fact how much he regretted his mistake, how much sorry he felt, how much he valued his relationship with Remus, how much unconditionally he was in love with him. All explanations had gone into vain. He decided he had nothing to say.

“Here,” Sirius looked to his side to see that Remus was offering him a goblet of water.

“What is that?” He asked.

“Just water. You need it.” Sirius wanted to slap himself. Of course, he knew it was water, then why asked?

“Thanks.” He took the goblet from his hand. His finger brushed with his that sent tingling feelings to his body.

“So, what are you planning for day after tomorrow?” Remus asked sheepishly, smiling half-heartedly, trying to make a conversation.

“What is on day after tomorrow?”

There is sudden pause, and Sirius had to look at Remus who seemed slightly taken aback.

“I thought you knew,” He mumbled under his breath, “I meant—the Ball. The Yule Ball. Are you going?”

An ugly feeling suddenly jabbed him in the stomach.

“Oh—that. I forgot, to be honest.”

Remus chuckled awkwardly.

“But—umm…” Sirius hesitated, “No, I don’t think I’ll be going.”

“Oh.” Remus became silent then.

They were now on the fifth floor corridor, chasing the giant staircase to lead them to the seventh floor.

“Any particular reason?” Remus piped up, and Sirius felt his lung was lacking air.

“I don’t like dancing.” He lied. And SHIT! He lied to the wrong person. Remus stared at him for a little longer as if he was scanning him.

“You don’t like dancing.” Remus said than asked.

“I don’t like dancing.” Sirius repeated, hoping that saying it again and again would become a truth.

“You don’t like dancing.” Remus repeated too, under his breath but Sirius had heard him. He knew that Remus had spotted the lie, and now Sirius Black was surely labelled as a liar.

“What about you?” Sirius asked to erase the discomfort in the air. They were still chasing the staircase.

“Yeah, I think I will.” Remus replied. Sirius nodded, repressing his sad loneliness, but Remus continued, “I think you should go too. The ball is just not about dancing. You don’t have to dance, just have some fun.”

Sirius smiled at him because Remus’ voice is cheerful and encouraging. Maybe he could go. Maybe this was the chance to heal things in their relationship. Maybe Remus was giving him.

He kept thinking, quietly until they were on the seventh floor. The portrait of Gryffindor Tower was before them.

“Just think about it, you know,” Remus said gently, “Banana Fritters.”

The portrait door opened, and the common room was empty. They climbed to the dormitory when Remus slowed his pace to stop before the door.

“After everything, all of us deserve some fun,” Remus spoke tenderly again, his eyes softening and a hint of smile on his lips. Sirius returned the smile, but it was painful. He couldn’t get a word out of him. They stood there facing each other before Remus came close, and gathered him in his embrace.

Sirius felt like he became numb, all of a sudden. He was there, under Remus’ arms. Wide-eyed, his body paralyzed, and his blood racing abnormally. Trying to process how, where, why and what just happened.

Suddenly, hot tears obscured his vision before they began streaming endlessly. Sirius didn’t remember if he brought his hands up to hug him back but he was able to feel Remus tightening his embrace. He sobbed into his shoulder, and Remus let him. That was enough. It had never felt so comforting.

Chapter 2

[janekfan]

You need to back off + Please come home for some angsty Jmart?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29122362

Prompts are getting filled! Slowly but surely! :D

I hope you like it ^^

Jon woke himself coughing with the realization that what he’d hoped were allergies the day before was now full blown body aches, chills and a productive hacking cough. Reaching out for comfort, he encountered only cold sheets and he shut his throbbing eyes tightly against sudden tears, too emotional. Needy. Sick. Not that he wasn’t needy when he was well either, but.

Martin wasn’t here.

Jon gripped a handful of bedclothes, curling on his side in the space where Martin should be and wasn’t. He thought of warm hands and soft kisses testing his temperature and gentle tutting. Martin would fuss over him terribly, plying him with medicine and perfectly steeped tea with honey and lemon for his sore throat. He would want for nothing, of that he was certain, but.

Martin wasn’t here.

And it was Jon’s fault.

No. Not entirely. He was away for the long weekend for an international conference.

But the shouting match they’d had before he left was very much Jon’s fault.

It figured that he would chase him away. Jon was miserable and ungrateful on his best days and like a dog with a bone on his worst. Why couldn’t he just let things go? Why did he have to push and question and needle Martin like that when he knew his partner needed time to think? Was already anxious about being away for so long? Jon certainly knew how to pick the best time for a row. Impeccable timing as usual, god damn him. Another fit crept its way through his tight chest, up his throat, painfully forcing itself free, and he stifled himself in a pillow.

He wanted Martin.

He had no right to, but he wanted him just the same.

After allowing himself just a few moments to wallow in misery, he forced himself up, driving the heels of both hands against his eyelids. It was a cold. It’d been going around the university and he was always early to catch whatever pathogens his students carried with them. He’d been run down and tired the last week and not from finals apparently. He shuffled awkwardly to the bathroom, limping heavily on his bad leg, absently trying to massage the deep ache left over from the worms all those years ago. He let the water run for a moment, get as hot as he could stand it, and with Martin’s voice in the back of his head, resigned himself to the use of the shower stool he’d insisted on. Sagging forward, Jon let the pounding pressure beat heavy against his back, breathing in the steam in the hopes it would loosen the knots tied thick and rigid around his lungs. Washing up took everything he had left and he wanted nothing more than to collapse back into bed and curl up around Martin’s pillow. Instead he slipped on his favorite of Martin’s jumpers over his pyjamas and took up his cane and made himself tea with honey and lemon and forced himself to drink it even though it tasted wrong. Struggling through the foil of the blister pack exhausted him further but he dutifully downed the tablets with the dregs of his cold cup of subpar tea. Dizzy, nauseated, the room spun around him wildly and he swallowed it down with a sob, laying his hot face against the cool surface of the dining table.

He wanted Martin.

Martin asked him to please not call unless there was an emergency. This wasn’t that. This was some sort of bug and Jon was an adult and he could take care of himself. He shivered. Teeth chattering in his skull and against his better judgement he fumbled for his cell with numb fingers. He thumbed it awake, blinking at the blinding glare. Recents. Martin. Messages. Jon scrolled through them, lingering on his responses. It wasn’t enough.

It wasn’t enough and Martin had asked him. Asked him not to contact him. For emergencies only. This wasn’t an emergency. It wasn’t. The screen went dark. The tears slipped over the bridge of his nose, tracing the faint scar there left by some fear or another so long ago and Jon chose to be selfish.

What else was new?

“Jon.” Measured, but not cold like he feared so much it would be but focused enough to cut him off before he could even think to apologize. “You need to back off. I’ve asked for some space and I would appreciate it if you would let me focus on this conference. I’ll be back soon. We can talk then.” He paused and with it, so did Jon’s heart. “I love you.”

“I, I love you.” But he’d already hung up and Jon didn’t blame him.

Shivering with chills, Jon dragged his sorry self back into bed, curling into the duvet and closing his eyes against the woozy rolling of his stomach. The tea wasn’t sitting well and Jon found himself panting, shallow and fast, concentrating on keeping himself together and willing himself to sleep though that plan didn’t seem to be working. Salt flooded his tongue and he lurched for the bin beside the bedside, dry heaving painfully. Sweat poured down his face, dripped off his chin.

It wasn’t an emergency.

It wasn’t.

He coughed, wincing and lifting a trembling hand to his throat and pressing against Daisy’s remnant souvenir, imagining the hurt there. A mewling whimper carried on an uneven breath escaped the cage of his fingers. Restless sleep crashed over him, was dragged away from him, uncomfortable, hot and cold somehow simultaneously. Jon picked up his phone repeatedly to call, to text. But he needed to let Martin have this. He wasn’t like him. He needed time and Jon needed to be patient no matter how ill he was feeling, no matter how much he wanted Martin’s reassuring voice. And it was his fault he couldn’t have it.

Jon couldn’t remember a time in his life where he felt this poorly; not even starved for statements, or scarred by numerous fears. Sleep hadn’t been forthcoming after he lurched awake to be sick again and he hadn’t had the forethought to put anything he might need on the bedside table. Objectively, he knew when he ran fevers they had a tendency to spike at night and that if he could just get up to fetch some medicine he would feel better. Subjectively, he was convinced his legs wouldn’t hold him, that he was dying here alone and when Martin returned for his things he would find his body. Panic built and built and built in his chest, cutting off his ability to breathe, stealing the air around him as surely as Crew had when he dropped him effortlessly, eternally through the void and before he knew it his fingers were acting without express permission.

Insistent buzzing next to his ear dragged Martin up from the depths and he groaned in irritation when the rectangle of light blinded him momentarily. He sighed when he could finally see the caller and he supposed Jon had waited as long as he could before giving in and ringing him again. The man was not known for his patience, after all. Martin glanced at his still sleeping roommate, a paramedic out of Brussels, and slipped out of bed to take the call in the hallway.

“Jon.” The frustration was warranted but melted away into concern when his only answer was a strangled, hitching gasp.

“I, I’m s’sorry.”

“Jon, darling, what’s wrong?”

“Y’you want space and, and m’sorry, but I--” A sudden explosive cough caught him off guard; it sounded painful and tight.

“Jon, I need you to listen to me.”

“I’m sorry.” His hoarse whisper didn’t hide the wheeze on his breath. “Shouldn’have called, m’sorry.”

“It’s alright, sweetheart. Tell me what’s wrong.” Martin clutched his phone, voice calm and steady, hundreds of miles away from where Jon was falling apart.

“P’please?”

“What, Jon?” He was openly crying; big, ugly sobs in between each shuddering syllable, and Martin was almost at a total loss, murmuring sweet things through the line in an attempt to calm him, until his hiccuping slowed and he asked again and he answered, sad and small.

“Please? Come h’home?”

“Jon?” Tim let himself into the flat, speaking soft and low, lest Jon was asleep. “Martin told me you aren’t feeling so hot.” He pushed forward to the bedroom, sympathy welling up at the sight of Jon curled up so small, face hidden in his sweat-damp pillow. “Hey, bud.”

“Tim.” Raspy and rough, like he’d been chewing on rocks, he finished his identification on a weak cough.

“The one, the only.” When he laid the backs of his fingers against his temple, Tim hissed through his teeth at the blazing, dry heat of his skin.

“M’sorry…” the ghost of an exhale, shaky and slurred, and Jon managed somehow to pry heavy lashes apart to reveal unfocused eyes glassy with fever. Tim stroked messy curls away from his face, heart clenching when he groaned low in his throat, before deep brown rolled back and dislodged more tears.

“Let’s get you taken care of, okay?” But first, a quick status update for Martin, who had called him nearly in tears himself.

“How is he? Are you taking him to A&E?” Tim could almost see the way he was clinging to his phone.

“I don’t think so. Gonna get some water and medicine into him and see how that goes.”

“Tim? Is he okay?”

“He’s sick, looks like the flu and he’s likely been down with it a couple of days.”

“God, he tried to call me and I--”

“Gonna cut you off right there, Marto. This isn’t anyone’s fault. It just happens.”

“I was so upset with him--”

“And I’m sure he earned it. When he’s well again you can talk it out.”

“Tim.” Trembling,

“I’ll make certain he’s alright until you get home. I’ve got him, Martin.” While on the phone, Tim gathered up supplies, thankful that Jon lived with someone with brains enough to keep a stocked medicine cabinet complete with a fancy ear thermometer with disposable covers. Because Martin. Jon didn’t so much as twitch this time. 39.4. “Okay, buddy. Up you come now.”

“Nng…”

“Mhm,” Tim hummed good naturedly, holding the glass of water to chapped lips and going slow. “Good?” He took the unintelligible noise as a yes, allowing him a few more careful sips before slipping the capsules onto his tongue. “There we go. We’ll see how that sits.” He divested Jon of the wash worn wool keeping in all the heat, soothing him wordlessly when he tried in vain to keep it. A clean set of pyjamas would make him feel better and he let the relatively cool air of the room wick away the moisture left from a cursory damp flannel.

“...Tim?”

“Hey, sleeping beauty.”

“Why’m’I in...in my pants…?”

“Did your best to sweat through the last set, here.” Tim helped guide loose limbs through the appropriate holes.

“S’cold…” punctuating his statement with a full body shiver, Jon slumped forward into Tim’s chest. “M’Martin’s cross.” Nodding, Tim gathered him up to deposit him on the sofa so he could change the bedclothes. “S’my fault…”

“When he comes home, you can apologize. Get him his favorite takeaway, yeah?” Jon listened intently, watery gaze fixed to Tim’s. “Put up those books of yours he’s always tripping over.”

“He, he. He’s coming home?” Lower lip trembling, Jon sounded too hopeful for this to be the distance of a long weekend.

“Oh, you daft fool, of course he is, of course.” He let Jon cry himself out on his shoulder. “He loves you, just needed some space, you know he likes space to get his thoughts in order. Of course he’s coming back.” Gentle and soft, Tim kept up his reassurances and hoped he’d forget that particular fear. Jon was too used to abandonment and all too accepting that he was the cause of it. That he was unlovable. “Alright, dry your eyes now.” Tim thumbed away matching saltwater tracks after settling him back on the couch cushions. “There we are.” Lord, he looked exhausted, the very textbook image of a bad flu with sore, red rimmed eyes limned with bruises. “Back in a tick, love.”

Clean, cool sheets, Jon tucked between them, kettle cooling off the hob, Tim set himself up on Martin’s side of the bed, getting another read, 38.1, and sending a quick update text before tapping open his most recent gaming obsession. The conference ended tomorrow morning and Martin would be home the same evening. With the next day off, Tim could wait that long. Jon’s burn-scarred hand snaked from under the blankets to grip his joggers.

“Hullo.” Tim tugged his fingers through messy curls. “Feeling a little better, champ?”

“Yeah…” It was still early hours and Jon needed all the sleep he could get.

“Sip on this.” And fluids. Tim levered him up, helping him hold the lukewarm mug of tea in shaky hands and laying him in his lap where he could knead out the knots tying up his shoulder blades until he sank deep.

Familiar voices hummed around him like moths just out of reach, melting together, drifting apart, slipping through his fingers. A door opened, closed, and Jon thought for a moment the Distortion must have him until a familiar palm pressed itself against his forehead. Martin’s face materialized in front of him and blurred just as quickly when tears filled his eyes. Wildly, he dove for him, not thinking about the edge of the mattress and collapsing into him when his legs gave way.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright, you’re alright, love.” Jon pushed his face into Martin’s neck, body numb with relief. “Shh, shh, shhh.”

“M’m’sorry, so sorry.”

“I know.” Martin curled around him, holding him firmly, tightly, running his hand up and down the shallow seam of his spine. Jon didn’t deserve this, he didn’t deserve how good Martin was to him. And he, he didn’t--

“I d’don’t unders’stand.”

“Understand what?” Jon couldn’t look at him for fear of what he might see, hiding instead in Martin’s jumper. He shouldn’t have said anything at all. “Why I came home?” He didn’t speak, shook harder, swallowed with difficulty past the cloying clot of emotion in his throat. “Oh, love. You’re not well and everything’s a little mixed up right now.” Lightly, softly, Martin kissed his temple. “I’ll always come home.” Jon felt needy and childish, choosing to believe Martin and taking comfort in it, in the chaste press of his lips against any skin he could reach. “Back in bed now, you’re burning up. Tea?” Nodding once, Jon couldn’t bring himself to open his mouth again, worried that he’d destroy this tentative peace and so, so grateful to have Martin home and the next time he opened his eyes it was to Martin climbing into bed in his pyjamas, tea already on the nightstand.

“Will you tell me about the conference?” Jon accepted the open arms as the offer they were, fitting himself like a puzzle piece against his side, sick and sweaty and lulled by the soothing rumble of Martin’s voice beneath his ear.

There were other things to talk about, but for now, the two of them, here and now, were enough.

[taecalikook]

When the sea sleeps

summary : marriage should be based on love, but it’s not really the case with you and Seokjin. what’s more beneficial than two person who sworn off romances to get married out of obligation, right? but you should have known better, that keeping your heart straight from wanting someone like Kim Seokjin is next to impossible.

{fake marriage! au, strangers to lovers!au}

pairing : kim seokjin x reader

genre : major tooth rotting fluff, crack, smut(?)

word count : 23.720 (one-shot)

warning! mention of period and masturbation, daddy kink, big cock! seokjin, teasing, cock sucking, rough blowjob, deep throat, nipple play, oral (female receiving), riding, cum play, major fluffy love talk (?), dry hump, infidelity mentions, etc. ((omg))

“Hi, I am in the mart near our apartment. Anything you want?”

“Yes, please. I think we ran out of toothpaste and cleaning liquid. And can you get the usual donuts as well? Thank you.” Your husband replies meekly from the other side of the call. You hum in agreement, noting the order. 

“Will you be home soon?” You ask mundanely, a question based out of routinity instead of wanting an answer. Well, that’s just how it is with Seokjin.

“I don’t think so. Might have to stay late for work. You should head to bed first.”

“Okay, then. See you.” You nod and cut the call, shoving the phone to your pocket.

It’s been like this for the past two and a half years with Seokjin. Meeting him after being introduced by your mother, getting married after six months of vague dating, and then living rather as a roommate than husband and wife in your small apartment. Life has been good.

Well, it’s not like you are married for love.

Seokjin is 33 years old this year, and you are 31. Years ago, you weren’t really interested in marriage. You were fully capable of living on your own, not really interested in love and that’s about it. Even so, your mother never stopped sending you lists of men she’s going to introduce you to—but you quickly shut her off by busying yourself with work and all. 

Yet no matter how heartless you might be, seeing your mother crying her heart out before bed for god to give you a good husband and family, you finally caved and agreed to one blind date. She couldn’t be happier to give you the name of your suitor. 

Kim Seokjin. A 31 years old, living in his own apartment, working in a local bank as a manager. 

When you first heard about him, there’s no outstanding or over the top qualities he possessed, and probably that’s how you prefer him to be. Yet when you saw him first, there’s literally nothing else you preferred him to be.

“I’m sorry for this, but… I actually have no interest in marriage.”

He thought you would be slapping him across the face after saying such a ridiculous statement on the first meeting, yet when your face lightened up, he was not less than confused. 

“Me too! I only did this because of my mother.” You squealed in delight of finding the person that shares your pain. “I never intend to get married myself.” 

“God, I was scared you’ll take this the wrong way.” He finally sighed in relief, was afraid of offending you. “My mother, she is.. sick right now, and she has never stopped saying that she wants to see me married before she dies.”

“I understood that. And I’m sorry, I hope she’ll be fine soon.” You sincerely wished him well. As far as you were concerned, Seokjin looked like a great guy. He deserved better, anyway, and high chance he would be a good friend. It’s not often to see someone not too desperate to chase love after reaching your age.

After another hour talking about anything but yourself, Seokjin reaches out for the bill. “Are you up for desserts?” He asked with a thin smile, and you nod happily, thinking about the sweets you were about to consume.

That evening, when your mother asked what happened with the date, you told her that she shouldn’t expect more about Seokjin. Yet the day after, Seokjin messaged you asking for a second date, your mother was over the moon. And that was how you spent another six months in a vague relationship with Seokjin, where it seemed like both of you were serious, yet there’s no feelings attached. Seokjin was a best friend, and an outstanding listener, but that’s about it. 

One day, Seokjin asked about the idea of marrying you, whether you would detest the idea. And strangely, you didn’t. The week after, Saturday night you were just sitting in his apartment eating his homemade dishes, Seokjin asked whether you wanted him to marry you. After setting a few basic rules, and just like that you agree. 

That’s how you’ve been living with a bestfriend-like-husband.

Sex is absolutely off limit, and not that Seokjin has initiated it before. You are sleeping in the same bed, but Seokjin generously chooses the giant king bed that is rather disproportionate to the whole room to ensure both of you have personal space in bed. In the morning, Seokjin usually cooks, and you’ll take turns cleaning the apartment. You’ll water the small plants near the window, changing your bed sheet, and cleaning your wedding photo from dust. 

On Saturday or Sunday, both of you will have brunch together in the nearest cafe then lounge around watching netflix on your large TV. Once every month he’ll have a drink with fellow friends or you’ll meet up with your best friends, and meet with your parents or in-laws. 

Living with Seokjin is a series of routinity, and you actually don’t mind. Maybe you're already in the age when you are surreptitious, and had enough of surprises. 

After taking a long warm bath and getting inside your comfy sheets, you settle for a while in silence until a name comes up on your screen. Your mother-in-law is calling. You abruptly  rise to sit, pressing the green button. “Hi, mother. How are you doing?”

“I’m very great now listening to my precious daughter’s voice!” She gleefully squeals, strangely energized. You glance at the clock on your nightstand. It’s already ten. Now it reminds you Seokjin’s not home yet. “Seokjin’s father is having a birthday lunch this Saturday. You can come right? Do come by eleven, okay?” 

“Ah, I see. We will, mom.” You smile, internally noting the event to let Seokjin reserve his time. The talks then continue with your condition, whether you’re well or having sickness whatsoever—you know she actually means to ask if you’re going to give her a grandchild anytime soon. You answer demurely, not that it surprises you as your own mother has been going on and on and on about it as well. But how can you say that when you haven’t even kissed him more than five times in the past two and a half years?

But to think about it, Seokjin really has a great self-control if he really is not having an affair—for the lack of better terms—outside your marriage. Not that it would upset you whatsoever, it’s just not something you’d rather discuss with each other. Both of you agreed it would be okay to do whatever you both want, as long as you’re open to each other—but so far, nothing has implied otherwise. You somehow feel an urgency to talk about it, as you know Seokjin is a healthy man who must have his own needs as well—the one you can’t help with. 

After the call ends, Seokjin enters your bedroom at the same time, looking crumpled as ever. The top two buttons on his shirt are undone, face looks beyond exhaustion, and… the fly of his trousers is opened. You are unable to hold a sly smile.

“Are you tired?” You greet, and Seokjin nods, sighing deeply. 

“Today was pretty shitty. A client was being a jackass as per usual.” Seokjin throws his bag on the table, taking off his suit. “I think I’m going to take a long hot shower. You can sleep first.”

You hum. “Okay. I turned up the water heater, so you can go in now.”

“Thank you, Y/N. You’re a lifesaver.” Seokjin sighs in relief.

“You’re welcome. And Saturday, your father is having a birthday lunch and your mother asked us to come. Do arrange your schedule. And Seokjin?” You ask, and Seokjin looks up to you in confusion, waiting for you to continue.

“Your fly is open.”

“Fuck.” He curses and looks down, immediately zipping it close. “I hope I didn’t embarrass myself. And I swear it was nothing, I may have forgotten to close it in the restroom before going home.”

“It’s okay. You can do whatever you want, anyway.” You heartily giggle in amusement—with lots of subtle meaning behind words—settling back on your side of bed and hearing Seokjin softly closes the door behind him.

*

It’s already Friday, and somehow you still feel anxious. The day is closing soon, and tomorrow you’ll be meeting your in-laws for a family lunch, yet you are aware it’s not that simple. You have to pretend you have a real, conservative marriage with Seokjin, and it stresses you out. Not because you have to pretend to be in love—you’d rather think you’re relatively good at that, but having to lie to his parent’s face that Seokjin’s dick has ever entered you to get them a grandchild is nauseating.

“Why are you so tense, Y/N?” Hoseok chuckles, tapping your shoulder. “It’s Friday night. You should be all smiles.”

“Just meeting a few of my in-laws tomorrow. I’m a bit… nervous. That’s all.”

Jane who is sitting beside you immediately joins in. “Ah, that’s hard. My in-laws are jackasses, hence I’d rather steer clear from any family meetings. Why are you nervous? Are they annoying bastards as well?”

“No, they’re not like that.” You shake your head, confused on how to explain that you are not having a real marriage with Seokjin like most married couples. You’d rather not. “Well, I think I’m just having cold feet. That’s all.”

“You should come with us, then.” Hoseok offers with a whole ass large smile which shows his perfect teeth. “We’re having a drink tonight. No worry, we’re not going all the way to night. Just a slow one. You’ll be fine.”

That’s how you agreed to attend with a few of your peers, notably Hoseok and Jane who are your teammates, Namjoon from Legal, Jungkook from Accounting, and a few other friends you are only on name basis with. It surely started slow, and you gave Seokjin a short call before entering the bar. 

“Seokjin, hi. I’m out for drinks with friends, I’ll be a bit late, okay? But not too late though, only for two hours, three hours max.” You smile at Jungkook who is asking you to come. You gesture for him to enter before you. “I’ll give you a call when I’m done.”

“I see. Where are you drinking exactly?” He asks calmly. You quickly mention the name and address of the bar. “Okay. Let me know when you’ll be coming home, I’ll get you.”

“Ah, it’s okay! I think Hoseok or Jungkook can drive me home. No worry.”

“I see. Be safe, okay? And don’t get too hammered, we still have that lunch tomorrow.” Seokjin calmly reminds you. Probably due to the fact that you’re that quick to lose control, and the struggles he had to face on a regular basis to deal with drunk you.

Something inside you stirs at the remembrance of tomorrow’s event, but you quickly shrug it. You’re drinking to forget, anyway.  “Of course. See you!”

As it should’ve been easily predicted, you’re really loose with your alcohol control, especially with the great atmosphere and company. With Hoseok and Jane, one drink becomes two, and then four, and then in a blink, you lose count. You really should’ve predicted it, now drunkenly blabbering whatever inside your mind. Yet at once, you stumble on your seat and nearly fall until Jungkook catches you by the waist.

“Are you okay?” Jungkook checks up on you, staring at your blushing face, eyes hooded like completely feeling the alcohol dancing in your spine. “You look drunk, Y/N. Maybe you should cut the alcohol.”

“Yeah, I think I should.” You sigh, resting the glass back on the table. You rub your forehead. “I shouldn’t be drinking, since tomorrow I’m meeting my in-laws, and it’s.. fucking.. suck! You know why, Jungkook?” Jungkook shakes his head, amusement visible in his eyes while looking at you.

“Because they’ll keep asking about grandchildren.” You scoff. “They’ll keep wanting me to have a child, especially with the fact that Seokjin’s younger brother already has three of those. But how can I say it to them?”

“Why? Is there any reason you don’t want to have kids? Are you waiting?”

You hit the table with your fisted hand, aggrieved. “It’s not that. How can I when.. when.. I haven’t even had sex with my own husband?” 

“What?” Jungkook really couldn’t believe his ear. You have been married for more than two years and haven’t had sex with your husband? How is that even possible is beyond him. “Are you serious? Why?”

“Y/N.” 

Jungkook looks back at the source of the voice, finding Seokjin’s dark eyes looking at your figure, resting your head on the table. Jungkook immediately lets go of his hand on your skin. “Ah, sorry.”

“It’s okay. She must be drunk.” Seokjin sighs, circling his hands around your waist. Not that he didn’t expect it, but he feels extremely uncomfortable with the fact that someone else is aware of your little arrangement, especially with it being someone he doesn’t even know besides a name. “I’ll take her now. Here.” He says, slapping a few bills for your drinks.

Not even muttering goodbyes for Jungkook or other drunk people on the table, Seokjin instantly takes you back to his car. A minute of silence he’s staring at your face, Seokjin lightly flicks your head in annoyance before taking off, after ensuring you’re well secured on the passenger side.

*

“I’m sorry.”

The moment you’re awake, the memory instantly hits you like a truck inside your throbbing head. Constantly shoving drinks up your throat, dancing with Jane and Hoseok, and little talk with Jungkook. You also faintly make out Seokjin’s face getting you from the bar in your memory—right before passing out. God, it’s totally a mess. You really should avoid drinks again at all costs now.

“Are you awake?” Seokjin calmly asks while stirring breakfast on the pan. You nod, standing beside him. “The soup will be ready in a second. You can get our plates.”

Realizing that the talk is about to happen, you silently follow his order and prepare a few of the utensils on the table. You sit down to wait for Seokjin to join, and when he does, you are still waiting for him to open the conversation. In the midst of eating in silence, Seokjin suddenly breaks the silence.

“Do you want to have a child?”

Out of shock, you literally choke on your soup, the liquid entered the wrong pipe. Yet even when tapping your back lightly, he still has the nerves to laugh. 

“That’s not funny!” You scowl in annoyance, gulping the water Seokjin offered. Your husband is a total jerk, you really should’ve known.

“It is. And I really need to know, since last night you were talking to your friend about our sexless marriage in such a heart wrenching manner I just had to ask.”

You are silenced in guilt with the mention of last night, resting back the glass. “It’s not like that.” 

Seokjin cocks his head. “So what is it like?”

“No, I was just stressed about the fact that our families are pressuring us to have a child.” You sigh, never actually telling Seokjin about the pressure on your shoulder. “My mother even once asked me to consult with Obstetricians if my eggs are not working. Why didn’t she doubt your sperm instead?! Annoying.”

“Y/N. You really should’ve told me if my mother and yours has been pressing you to have a child.” Seokjin speaks in good nature, even with a hint of scolding. “I will let her know that it’s our decision, and we’ll have kids whenever we are ready.”

You nod. “Thank you. And I’m very sorry, by the way. Yesterday was a bit much, I know.”

“It’s fine.” He says, tapping the top of your head. “I’ll take a bath first, and we’ll go about an hour. Okay?”

And as predicted, the one that welcomes you and Seokjin even from far is Taehyun, Taehyung’s five years old eldest son. He runs with his two little feet with a light shout of glee until he clings to Seokjin’s thigh. “Auntie! Uncle! Hi!”

“Hi, Taehyun! How are you?!” Seokjin instantly takes him by the waist, bringing him up to his grasp and kisses his lumpy cheek. You are unable to hide a swooned smile. “Are you a smart boy now? Have you made friends in kindergarten?”

“Of course!” He squeals, and proceeds to tell him about his exciting kindergarten stories. You walk in, immediately welcomed by Tasha, Taehyung’s wife in a bear hug. “Sister-in-law! How are you doing? You look great.”

“I’m fine, Tasha, thanks.” You giggle in delight. You have always been close with Tasha, as she is a wonderful woman and a good friend as well. “You look amazing. And god, that hair is exquisite.”

Tasha laughs while sheepishly fixing her hair of light purple highlights. “Got a few dirty looks from my boss and Taehyung’s mother, but it’s all worth it I guess. Who said mother of three can’t rock highlights, right?”

“Absolutely!”

“You two beautiful ladies should come in.” Seokjin’s father beams at the two, gesturing to enter the house. “My wife has already prepared loads and loads of food, so I hope you’re hungry.”

“Happy birthday, father.” You smile, giving the old man a hug. “I hope this year is the best year that brings happiness to your life.”

“Well, a wish that this is not my last year in life is sufficient, but that is well welcomed as well.” He jokes, as the three of you enter the home. “Thanks anyway, Y/N. Greatly appreciated.”

“My granddaughters!” Your mother-in-law literally shouts, kissing you both on the cheek. “You both look amazing. My two sons should be thanking their lucky stars for having you both as a wife.”

“We are, mother. Every night.” Taehyung appears on your side, giving you a side hug of welcome. “How are you, sister-in-law? You’re doing great, right?”

“Amazing, Taehyung. Thank you for asking. I hope you’re well rested while taking care of the lovely miniatures of you.” You look at the three children, Taehyun, the twin Taejin and Taerin playing with their toys in the middle of the living room with your husband. 

“The sitter helps, of course.” Taehyung giggles, and Tasha elbows him with a scowl. Your mother quickly wraps the heart warming greetings and guides the whole family to be seated for the lunch prepared. And boy is the dining table packed with countless foods, not even including the dessert on the small table in the corner of the room. You just hope this won’t go to waste.

“No worries, we’ll be packing this as well to have it distributed to neighboring orphanages along with a few other donations.” Seokjin’s mother beams, sensing your worry after looking onto the countless plates.

An hour passes by quickly with the family digging on the delish in front of them. While chatting among themselves, Taehyung and Tasha hand their own gift to his father. “Here it is, father. Happy 65th birthday, hope you are always happy and healthy.” He beams, hugging his father. The large package is heavy on his hand, and your father in law laughs in glee.

It was a beautiful sight, yet you feel terribly uneasy. You haven’t gotten him anything, and Seokjin never discussed this before. How can you forget? God, you’ve really shame yourself and Seokjin in front of his family.

“What is this?” The old man questions and rips the wrapper.

“Open it.” Father quickly opens the package, and sees multiple items neatly stuffed in the box. “Healthy supplements and tea, warm jacket, acupuncture mat, few other things that can help you live longer.” Taehyung grins. The old man rolls his eyes, but nonetheless looks content with the gift.

“Thank you, son! Will put this into a good use.”

Amongst your panic of reaching out to Seokjin beside you, he instead takes turns in handing the gift of his own, an envelope, which catches you by surprise. He never talked about bringing a gift before. “This is from me and Y/N, father. Happy birthday.”

“What is this?” Your father curiously opens the envelope. At once, he literally squeals, unable to hide the delight in his face. “A two way ticket to Japan? Son, this is too much.”

“It’s not. It’s the least we can do for you and mother.” Seokjin says good-naturedly, like the precious son he is. You stare at him strangely. “Y/N and I also arranged a few stops that could be great to improve your health as well. No worries, there will be a guide as you’ll be on tour.”

“Thank you, son!” Your father and mother take turns hugging both you and Seokjin, and you only reply while in a hazen state, don’t know how or what to feel. As long as you know, it all comes from his pocket, and it’s his money to spend. You don’t even know why you feel weirded out. “Thank you, Y/N.”

“Can you at least pretend my gifts are worthy too?” Taehyung jokes, shaking his head in faux disappointment. “The health supplements cost a fortune too, father! You’re being too mean with your reaction.”

“I’m just so happy my two sons are happy with their own family.” The old man beams in delight. “And your mother prepared a gift for you and Seokjin too, Y/N. Darling, you can give it to them, okay? I’m going to the restroom.”

“Why aren’t you giving it to me too?” Taehyung whines to his mother as Tasha elbows him for the nth time already. 

“You don’t get one because you don’t need it, Taehyung.” 

Seokjin’s mother quickly shoves you a gift with the largest of smiles, and truth to be told, you instantly feel uneasy. A gift in which you need and Taehyung don’t? An easy guess instantly comes to your senses. It must be it. There’s no other way.

“We’ll open this when we get home.” You turn your head to Seokjin, seeing how expressionless he has become. Is he angry? He swiftly takes the gift from you, resting it on the other side of the room.

“Ah, it’s good to. Just be careful using it, okay? It’ll be very helpful with the conception, trust me. It’s been passed down with generations.” Seokjin’s mother winks, looking very satisfied, yet you feel queasy, feeling like you’re soon puking your heart out. On your side, you can detect how silent Taehyung and Tasha have become, and you swear you never felt this pathetic and miserable before.

“Thank.. you.”

Seokjin holds you by the hand with his face is beyond enraged now—yet you know he could never be angry with his parents. He’s a mama's boy, and you like it that he is, but you really feel like going home and crying your heart out. But you have to endure longer hours feeling like total shit with your in-laws around.

“Father, mother, Y/N and I had to go home. I just remember we had stuff to do at home.” Seokjin curtly says, and you whip your head at him in surprise. You mostly did not expect it. 

“Why? You don’t really have to do it right now—but if you really have to, it’s okay.” Your mother giggles, content with the idea that you and your husband need to leave because both of you are going to fuck and give them grandchildren. God, your head literally throbs with the misunderstanding.

“Y/N, get to the car.” Seokjin mutters tensely, there is not a hint of emotion beside morse in his tone. “Mom, can we talk?”

“Seokjin, no.” You whisper while tugging on his sleeve. “Don’t do it.”

“Y/N, get to the car.” He repeats, like he is not up for any negotiation. You are scared of what he’s going to say to his mother. Is he going to say about the fact that your marriage is faux and is only done to please her? But that’s not what you want, just thinking about it makes you sick. “You can leave the gift here.”

Mildly confused at the sudden tense situation, your mother-in-law silently nods and complies to talk with her son. Against his order, you pick up the gift and move to give Taehyung, Tasha and their three children a parting hug. 

“Hey, I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?” Tasha worriedly says, and you nod with a strained smile. “Be safe in driving home.”

“We will. Taehyung, thanks.” You hug the pouting guy, as he gives you a squeezing hug of consolation. 

“Our parents can be prodding like that. I am very sorry.”

Walking back into the room finding the confusing tense, Seokjin’s father looks at you about to say goodbye. “Are you leaving?” 

“Yes. I’m afraid we have something coming up.” You forced a smile, yet you know your father-in-law completely understands the whole situation.

“Okay then. Give this old man a parting hug.” The kind man then hugs you dearly like you’re a daughter he never had. “Thank you for coming. And I’m very sorry.”

“It’s nothing! Everything is great.” Like an idiot, you still try to lie through your teeth in front of the wise man—it’s ridiculous. “Happy birthday, father.”

Walking inside Seokjin’s car, you patiently wait another ten minutes until he comes in with an unreadable expression. And when he sits beside you, he heave a deep breath. 

“Is everything okay? What did you say?” You fret in panic.

“Nothing much. That it’s already tough for both of us now, and we’ll have kids whenever we want to.” Seokjin hums, glancing at the gift his mother gave yet refusing to comment. “I’m very sorry that I haven’t realized this before. I know it must be stressing you out.”

“Not really. I’m just.. tired.” You hollowly laugh, Seokjin slowly taking off the house onto the street. Spending a few minutes staring at the gift secured on your lap, you mutter—more to yourself. 

“Do you think we should just have a child?” 

At the unexpected question, Seokjin glances at you. Next five minutes are spent in deep silence before...

“Do you love me?”

The questions really create a ripple of shock in your whole body. You literally have no idea whether he’s being serious or not.

“W-what?”

“I don’t want to have a child when both of us know there is no love here. We both don’t love each other.” Seokjin mutters lowly, eyes trained on the road. “Let’s not put more innocent people into misery.”

Misery.

Misery.

You don’t know why that word hurts more than you thought it would, coming out from Seokjin’s mouth.

*

As expected, the things between you and Seokjin have become pretty frosty. Sunday morning, he excused himself to go fishing with Yoongi—his best friend of ten years, and you were thankful that you do not have to waste another second in his presence. Being with him is hard enough, not that you have to be reminded of the hurtful things he said.

Misery.

Yes, misery indeed. Having to marry someone you don’t have feelings for. 

But you thought he was a friend. Not that you chained him into this, and he was the one asking your hand in loveless marriage. He is being a total jackass. And you never should’ve said such nonsense. Having a child with someone you don’t love? Seriously? Even couples in love can end up in divorce because of kids—much less your ridiculous marriage.

And it sucks that this suffocates your whole being yet you can’t tell anyone, since nobody really knows you don’t have any attachment to your husband.

Well, beside...

“Hello? Is this Y/N?”

Listening to the velvety voice on the other side of the call, you instinctively gulp. Are you seriously going to talk to someone about this, more less Jeon Jungkook? You must be quite desperate. “Hi, Jungkook! I’m sorry to interrupt you. Is this.. an alright time?”

Jungkook chuckles on the other side. “Well, not really, but I can make it alright for you.”

You groan, instantly retracting your own will to talk about it to him. “You seriously did not just flirt with a married woman, right?”

“Of course not! Who do you take I am.” He giggles in mirth, and you roll your eyes. You really made a mistake by calling him. “I’m a bit busy now, but will be free in around… an hour. Do you want to meet?”

“I didn’t exactly say what I wanted to ask for.”

“I just know.” Jungkook hums, and you literally can imagine his annoying smirk on the other side of the call. “I’ll text you the details.”

You spend another seconds in silence, but reply nonetheless. There’s no harm in meeting a friend. Right? 

“Sure.”

*

“So let me get this straight. You—in this advanced, 21st century—agreed to a marriage where the both of you don’t even have little bit of interest in marriage? And all because your parents want you to?”

Now that Jungkook is saying it in front of your face, it does sound foolish.

“Is it.. weird?”

“What the fuck, Y/N. It’s not just weird. It’s crazy.” Jungkook scoffs, feeling the firsthand headache of dealing with the situation you are currently in. “I don’t know how much of a good daughter you are, but this is nuts. You are seriously chaining yourself to a relationship just out of pity, and because of someone else. You know that phrase ‘having only love is not enough in marriage’? You don’t even have that.”

Your eyebrows furrow, quite dejected that Jungkook really has to phrase it like that. The urge to defend yourself rushes unto you. “Yes, I know what we are doing now is silly, but I actually have no regret. Seokjin is a great guy, a good companion as well, and it’s basically just a living arrangement. I’m good.”

He sighs at your stubbornness. “You know, you could’ve been with someone else that you truly love. Did you realize that?”

“I won’t.” You answer almost instantly, doting the cheesecake in the middle of your table. “I’m not interested. I am living well on my own, and I don’t really think I have anyone for me. I am comfortable with myself.”

“And why’d you trade that precious solitude of yours with someone you don’t even love?” Jungkook challenges, and you take a deep breath to calm yourself.

“Because if that’s how I can make someone else happy, I would.” You answer, looking back at Jungkook’s prodding eyes. “My mother, my father, have taken care of problematic me since I was a little kid. And now all they wanted is for me to have someone that cares for me, and who I deeply care for. And if getting married is the only way they can live and die happily… I’d do anything.”

Jungkook is easily silenced at your unexpected outburst, but it feels like a weight has been lifted off your shoulder after saying what you truly feel to someone else. It feels almost relieving, the fog living in your shoulder lightens.

“But you know they’d truly be disappointed if you are lying to them, right? Lying that you are happy. Lying that you love your husband.” He observes you in concern. You smile lopsidedly.

“Well, maybe in my case, a little white lie won’t hurt.” You whisper to yourself, sipping on your beverage.

*

After hanging out a bit longer with Jungkook, you found yourself comfortable being around him. He is a great guy, albeit annoying and too curious for his own good, he is nice and easy to talk to. You were never really close to him, and usually a rather closed person, but Jungkook is too good at getting you out of your shell. 

Walking out from his car, you are stunned when finding Seokjin is also getting out of his own, about to enter your apartment building. He mirrors your expression, a paper bag filled with foods and in his right grasp is his favorite donuts box. 

“Hi.” He greets with cocked eyebrows. “I bought meat to cook for dinner.”

“Ah, I already ate dinner.” You guiltily scratch your nape, glancing to the car beside you. Jungkook is just about to drop you off, but you have no idea why he is not leaving yet. “You went home from Yoongi’s?”

“Yes.” Seokjin points to the car. “Who is it? Did you meet with friends?”

“Yes. I'm sorry, I forgot to tell you. But he’s just about to leave—”

“Hi man.” Jungkook is somehow already standing right beside you as you flinch in your spot, and he offers his hand. “I guess I never properly introduced myself. I’m Jungkook, Y/N’s workmate.”

“Ah, Jungkook. We met before, right? I am sorry, yesterday was quite chaotic, I haven’t properly introduced myself.” Jin smiles benevolently, shaking the younger man’s hand. “I’m Seokjin, the husband. Do you want to come in? I’m cooking steak for dinner.”

“Nah, I already had dinner with Y/N. But I’ll take you up on that, though. Let’s get dinner another time.” Jungkook agrees, and gives you a light tap in the back as a goodbye. “Got to go, but I’ll see you Monday!”

“Bye, Jungkook.” You reply meekly and turn back to Seokjin, staring back at you with a strange expression. “Are you good?”

“Yup.” Seokjin smiles impartially, shifting his expression. “Let’s get in, you’ll catch a cold.”

*

In a way, Seokjin realizes that something changes with you ever since coming back from his father’s birthday party. You were usually a chirpy, active person, unbothered to speak your mind, talking about Hoseok or your patronizing boss and made the apartment as loud as possible with your late night exercise—yet here you are, silently sitting down on your side of bed, watching your favorite series from phone. 

And you clearly stated how you hate watching with your phone that he knows you are avoiding him—not wanting him to join watching it with you in the living room. And what irks him is this passive aggressive thing has been going on since last week, and it’s already Thursday. He desperately needs the old you back.

“Why are you watching it on the phone?” Seokjin asks, a vague irritation slipped in his tone. “The TV is good to watch. And you hate watching it on the phone.”

You are confused to say the least, blinking your eyes at him. Your finger pauses the show. He remembers that? “Uh.. I’m just… feeling like laying in bed while watching. Is there something wrong?”

“No, don’t lie to yourself now. You are clearly avoiding me.” Seokjin hisses, unable to hide anymore of his annoyance. “And this has been going on for a week. You didn’t even let me know if you’re coming home, and rejected that one time I said I’ll get you from the office. What’s wrong?”

“I told you it’s nothing. My work is the opposite direction of your way to home. It’ll be easier to go home directly.” You reason stubbornly, trying to make sense—even if you know you really are avoiding him. You don’t want to let him know that you are hurt by the things he said, and to be frank, looking at him pissess you off a bit. Like right now.

“Y/N, you know that we are too old for this shit. You need to tell me right now if I did something wrong.” He states earnestly. You roll your eyes, not feeling to drag the conversation and position yourself back to watching.

“You did nothing wrong. It’s just me, maybe I’m going on menopause.”

Seokjin huffs, looking at you already settling back to watching—yet he is too determined to end all this bullshit that he discards the phone you’re watching onto the bed. You gape at him, dumbfounded that he really did that to get your serious attention. “Stop being a child and talk to me like adults.” He scowls.

“What the hell is wrong with you?! I told you It’s nothing.” You shout, trying to get your phone back yet missing due to Seokjin’s quick wit of taking and hanging it far above his head. And poor you, that are seriously no match to his height.

“Give me back my phone, you jerk!”

“Might be a jerk but at least I’m not a 30 years old woman having menopause.” He mocks your nonsense, yet you are too resentful to give a shit that you literally climb on bed and jump to leech your whole weight on him like a freaking koala. Seokjin literally yells at your attempt of getting stable by clutching on his hair, pulling it to whichever direction you prefer. “Ah, get off me! It hurts and you’re heavy!”

“I don’t care! You’re being a jerk, and I’m a misery anyway, right? I’m just fulfilling my duties!” You howl, shaking your body that he shrieks, losing his balance and falls on your large bed. And like how most sleazy cringy telenovela, he just had to settle on top of you, but for one teeny different, his whole weight is now crushing your being like a sweet revenge. 

“Get off me! You’re heavy.” You screech like a petulant child, punching the guy on his broad ass shoulder. After a whole minute of finally begging him to get off, Seokjin finally gets on his elbow, giving a bit of space for you to breathe.

“I apologize that I upset you.” He gazes at you in all sincerity that literally leaves you holding your breath. “It was not true when I said that misery thing. You are not a misery. You are a blessing. The fact that we are married could be the greatest thing that happens to me, and I’ll never trade it for anything else.”

You are silenced, waiting for him to continue. “I was just pissed off with myself that I was insensitive about how everyone is pressuring you, and you are struggling because of this. I actually never thought about those snarks, and I thought you would too.” Seokjin softly claims, and you are near to tears that he literally speaks like honey. “I just thought it was off limits. I guess we should’ve talked more about this before.”

You sigh, looking down. “I do think so. And I’m sorry too—I guess I should’ve just said what’s bothering my mind.” You breathe out with a hint of guilt. “I’m sorry for acting like this. I guess that misery thing just got to me more than I thought it would, and.. yeah. Let’s communicate better.”

“We should.” He hums in delight. “You are cuter when you are less grumpy. You know that?”

“I am cute in any way possible.” You sassily reply, expecting a snarky comment as retaliation yet Seokjin’s lips curl in amusement.

“Well, I can’t comment on that.” He beams, and at that  your heart literally skips a beat. or two. or more than you can count. “I want to watch what you’re watching. Let’s watch it on the TV, your eyes must be hurting doing all these grumpy behavior.”

“Yeah, I do think so. It’s like.. exhausting.” You rub your temple. “I hate being crabby.”

“Yes. It doesn’t suit you. At all.” Seokjin pulls both your cheeks in different directions with sparkling eyes. You groan. “So don’t do that to your husband, okay?”

At that, you peer at him silently while he’s searching the series you love on the TV. The way he is able to easily soothe you is.. pissing you off.

“By the way, a new movie is premiering next week and I bought us a ticket. Wanna watch it with me?” He turns to you, still with the same adorable smile. And it literally sucks that something weakens inside you at that smile.

Ugh, there’s gotta be something wrong with you.

*

Another week goes and there you are, Thursday night about to head out after a whole day of work. Tidying your desk, suddenly a voice stops your wandering mind—it belongs to your desk mate.

“Why are you so happy today? You’re all whistling and it starts creeping me out.” Hoseok snickers, suddenly peering close to you. “Did you get a good dick down yesterday?”

“What the hell, Hoseok?” You groan, closing your laptop with a loud thump. “It’s not it. Can’t a girl just be happy without any reason?”

“No. That means you're crazy. And it’s coming from Y/N, the grumpies person on the planet.” Jane titters, joining your conversation. You started to doubt what kind of connection they had whenever it concerns you. “You must had a good sex yesterday. You know, I am curious on how Seokjin is in bed. Is he a bit dom? Looks a bit kinky, I have to say.”

“Of course! The way he acts is a complete giveaway, he must have a choking kink, or maybe bondage. Daddy kink is absolutely, by default.” Hoseok responds with curiosity. Jane snickers as you are busy gasping for air.

“And his dick?! You know, the first time I saw him, I immediately knew this guy has a big dick energy. I bet his is girthy—”

“Shut up!” You literally stop her from speaking, your palm secured to close on her mouth—yet unable to manage the blush weeping your whole face to neck. You feel hot and bothered. “Stop talking about such things! I am just in a good mood. Ugh, you two are seriously perverts.”

“Yes, okay, we’ll stop before you burst your flaming ear.” Hoseok singsongs, utterly amused by your reaction. You shot him a look. “By the way, tomorrow is a long weekend. Do you both have any plans?”

“Besides taking care of my child? Nah, bro. Might have sex if he’s lucky and stop running his mouth too much. And we had to stay in my husband’s family house. Ugh.” Jane rolls her eyes whilst taking her own belongings. “I’m just happy we get to have dinner tonight. Tomorrow is going to be exhausting as fuck.”

“Dinner? What dinner?” You are weirded out, most absolutely did not expect to promise any dinner. 

“My birthday dinner, of course!”

You whip your head towards the guy in a fancy red suit, completely looking dashing and silly at the same time. Well, that’s what you expect of him anyway, wearing such eye catching outfit in the middle of workday. “I sent the invites this Monday, and you said yes, Y/N.” He continues. “And you didn’t even congratulate me! How mean. But I’ll let you off since you’re cute.”

“But—but, I can’t! I have something else to do..” You stutter. Jungkook furrows his eyebrows at you.

“What? Watching netflix and eating popcorn? Nah, bro. You’re coming.”

“But, I’m serious! I’m sorry, but Seokjin is already downstairs, and he’s waiting for me. I can’t.. just leave him behind.” You weren’t going to say this, but Seokjin said he was craving lobster and asked you to go on a dinner with him. You really didn’t remember you had agreed to an appointment before with your workmate.

Jungkook stares at you in mild surprise. “He’s in the lobby? What happened with the two of you? I thought—”

“What are you saying, Jungkook? Isn’t it normal for a husband to get her wife from work?” Hoseok chuckles, and at once Jungkook is like awakened from his hallucination. 

“Yes, of course. My bad.” He nervously chuckles, avoiding Hoseok’s eyes. “But he should come! It’s only going to be the four of us, and Namjoon. He’s waiting in the lobby too.”

“I’m not sure if that’s a great idea…”

“Seokjin should come! It would be fun, you know. I want to have dinner with him.” Jane smirks, and you sigh loudly, knowing that this would end in a huge disaster and you’ll end up regretting. Yet you find yourself thinking of what to say to Seokjin. 

“Hi, Seokjin!”

Seokjin opens his window, smiling courtesy at Jane standing beside you. You remember Seokjin met few of your friends from work before. “Hi, Jane! Nice seeing you again. Are you heading home?”

“Not really. We are going to a restaurant! With Y/N too. You should come.”

He laughs, glancing at you. “Really? You didn’t say you had something to do.”

“I’m sorry, I forgot.” You frown in guilt. “It’s okay, I know we had plans—”

“No, I didn’t say that. We can come to the dinner with your friends too, if you want.” Seokjin chuckles, smiling dearly at you. You feel your breath hasten under his ministry. “Do you want that?”

Clearing your throat, you answer in nerves. “Yes, please. I promised to attend before, I guess I just forgot and thought I am free tonight.”

“Ah, I guess that’s why you’re all sooo chirpy today, aren’t you, Y/N?! I thought your teeth were about to fall off.” Jane beams, exhilarated as she elbows you. “Turns out you have a special occasion with your husband and forgot Jungkook’s birthday dinner.”

“That’s not it.” You glare at her, but she shrugs meaningfully.

“Okay, you two should head out. I’m with Hoseok.” Jane smiles and points at the blue car which you identify as Hoseok’s. “See you guys in a few minutes!”

“Sure.”

There is only silence in the car, when suddenly Seokjin breaks it with a question.

“Is it for Jungkook? That Jungkook—your friend that we met on our apartment?”

You don’t know what’s wrong, but your gut is telling you something is strange with his tone. You clear your throat of sheer awkwardness. “Yes. Today is his birthday, so he said he’d treat us to dinner.”

Seokjin seems uncomfortable. Living together for nearly two years has made you well aware of his small habit and gestures—by the way he clings on his collar, fingers tightening on the wheel as if he’s scared just shows you how he truly feels. At once, you quickly rests your palm on his shoulder, giving it a little squeeze. “Are you okay? You look.. nervous. We don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

Waiting for the red light, he heaves a deep breath and closes his eyes. His right hand settles on your hands which were on his shoulder, linking each finger. “I’m fine.” Seokjin sighs deeply, resting both your linked fingers on his thigh. 

“I’m fine.” He repeats.

Now all you can hear is your own irregular heartbeat, with his warm palms against yours. 

And you wonder. What the hell is wrong with yourself?

After arriving, Seokjin still doesn’t let your hand go. And it’s all kinds of confusing, two years of marriage he never acts like now. Not even when going to your parents house, and it leaves you with numerous questions. And with that particular look on his face—it scares the shit out of you.

“Ah, here comes the couple!” Jane giggles, pointing to the empty seats beside her. “You can sit here. Seokjin, meet Namjoon! He’s in Legal.”

Like that, all your friends are engaged in a conversation—while Seokjin, he’s sitting silently with heads hanging low. You glance at him, concerned. “Hey, are you okay? You look a bit off. Do you want me to get you anything?”

“Yes, your husband looks like he’s not really good. Is there anything wrong?” It is Jungkook, resting his wine back on the table. All of the eyes are now on the both of you. “Does this not work for you?”

“No, I’m sorry. Just a bit on the edge, that’s why. Don’t worry.” Seokjin smiles thinly, tapping his palm on the table. You nod hesitantly, regardless of the strangely tense air with him.

Whilst ordering, you are skimming on the menu when Jungkook jumps in. “Y/N, you like the shrimp here, right? You should order it.”

“Yes, I am thinking that too.” You tap your chin, and turn to Seokjin who is still staring far at the menu. “But I want to try the duck too. Seokjin, can’t you order that too? I don’t want to eat too much, I just want to have a bite.”

Seokjin is about to answer when Jungkook jovially interrupts, “Hey, there’s no need for that. You can order all you want. But if you insist, I’m ordering the duck, so you can have mine.”

“It’s okay, I’m having what my wife asked me to. Since I’m her husband. ” Seokjin curtly responds, and you are flabbergasted at how discourteous he sounded. The conversations on the table ended abruptly. 

“I—I see. Suit.. yourself.” Jungkook blinks his eyes, completely bewildered at the hostile response. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be forward.”

You stare at him with multiple emotions rushing inside of you, yet he’s evidently trying to avoid it while shoving drinks down his throat like there’s no tomorrow. 

“You’re driving tonight.” Seokjin mutters to you between drinks, and it sounds more like an order to your ear. There’s definitely something off with him, and you’re terrified of finding out. You’re scared if it will change him, you, and what you both had together.

*

“Are you going to be okay?”

Jungkook glances in concern at your drunk husband beside you, his hand is at the top of your car while you’re on the driver side. “He’s drunk. You sure you’re going to be okay? I can come with you.”

“No, it’s fine.” You reply. “I think he’s just not in a mood today. There must be something at work, I’ll try asking this tomorrow.”

“But I don’t like how jealous he was at me. I was just.. trying to be kind and offer to help. As a friend. And he immediately snaps like that.” Jungkook scowls in irritation. “It was borderline obsessive. And it’s not like you married for love—”

“Jungkook.” You stop him with reprimanding eyes that he stops immediately. 

“I’m sorry.” He lets out a deep breath. “I never told you—or anyone about this, but my sister is a divorcee. Because her husband became obsessed with her.” You know where he is heading and are about to rebut, yet he continues. “I know what you want to say, but I’m just saying this so you’d know. They were in love. But you know it could easily turn to something else.”

“Thank you for your advice, but I know it won’t happen to me—Seokjin is not like that.” You mumble, somehow reminding yourself. It’s the first time Seokjin is like this, both of you were great at keeping boundaries, and were not even in love. You’ll be fine.

Jungkook sighs and smiles weakly, brushing the top of your head. 

“I hope so too. Get home safe, kid.”

*

Waking up, the first thing Seokjin feels is his pulsate, a straight pang to his head. It’s been a long time since he had let himself off the limit and trashed himself until he blacked out, and he regrets every single second. The hazy memory starts to invade his mind—about how rude he had been yesterday, especially to you—and it literally freaks him out that he jumps out of his bed, desperate to explain. But you are not sleeping beside him. Or anywhere in the apartment. 

“Fuck.” Seokjin hisses, bringing his phone and runs to the elevator in such hurries. 

Are you... possibly gone?

“Seokjin, what are you doing here?”

“Y/N. Where have you been?” He questions, a little bit loud.  He’s too caught tapping the elevator button that he doesn’t realize the other lift is opened with you walking out, soaking with sweat. “I wake up and you’re not there. You.. I thought you..”

“What did you think? I was just running a few laps since yesterday’s dinner was a bit much.” You shrug nonchalantly, taking off your earphone. “Aren’t you dizzy after waking up? You shouldn’t be out, though.”

Walking back to your apartment, Seokjin is trailing behind you like a disgruntled puppy—keeping his head down low as both his hands are clasped. “I’m very very sorry, Y/N..”

“What are you sorry for?” You ask, pretending nonchalance. Seokjin sits beside you with a frown on his face. 

“I was being a jerk yesterday? And I drank too much and you must have a hard time dealing with my sorry ass.” 

“Did anything happen? Can I know why you were so pissed off?” You ask carefully, afraid of invading his space. He shrugs.

“Something bothered my mind, that's all. Don’t worry about it.”

Seeing how sullen he has been with himself, you are unable to pull both his chubby cheeks to different directions. He groans loudly with each pull. “Yes, you were such a ill-tempered baby yesterday when you were drunk. Do you know that?”

He nods begrudgingly. “Yes, mother. I won’t do it again.”

“But apologizing isn’t going to solve anything. You know it.” You pretend sulk. “I think I deserve three wishes.”

Seokjin cocks his eyebrows. “Why? Why does it have to be three?” 

“Nah, I watched Alladin and it was good, so I was just copying—but that’s not the point!” You tap the table impatiently. “The point is that you embarrassed me in front of my friend and deserves a punishment. Now say yes to my three wishes.”

Your husband groans, tapping on his forehead. “God, I’m never drinking again. What? What is it that you want?”

“I haven’t really thought about it, actually..” You giggle while scratching your head. Seokjin squint his eyes at you in suspicion. “Can you give me a week to think about it?”

“No.”

“Five days?”

“Right now. Take it or leave it.”

“Okay, by tomorrow!”

“Three wishes all by the end of this day.”

“Fine! You are annoying.” You scowl, tapping your forefinger on your chin. Seokjin grins. “First, I want…lobster for lunch.” 

“Okay.” He holds the laughter upon remembering his yesterday’s request.

“And I want this new bag. I saw it on the newest catalogue yesterday, I want one. Buy it for me.” You send him a sugary smile.

“I see your wishes are getting more and more disproportionate.” 

You scoff. “But you promised to grant it!”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t going to grant it.” Seokjin rolls his eyes, resting his palm on your shoulder, skimming it until his finger hangs to yours. Your breath hitches at how it practically tickles your whole being. “Is that all? Are you saving one for now?”

“Y-yes.” You stutter, mind already turning blank that you forgot your last wish.

“Good.” Seokjin beams, swiping his thumb on your knuckles. You stare through his eyes, adoring the beautiful twinkle that sends butterflies knocking on your stomach. How could he affect you like this?

W-wait, are you hallucinating or he is really closing in right now? I-is he.. about to kiss you?

Against your expectation, he suddenly halts and snorts. “Now go take a bath, because you stink.”

You push him away, walking to enter your bathroom with a face that has gone vermillion red—especially listening to his annoying squeaky laughter from the living room. You feel terribly embarrassed. 

Did you really think he’s about to kiss you? And why the fuck do you have to act like a preteen girl having a crush on a classmate? This is literally super annoying how your body is acting strange—like you don’t even have control.

Ugh, you should never done anything dangerous with him again.

*

After having lunch in the lobster place, you and Seokjin drive to the cinema for the movie he pre-ordered last week. Sitting side by side with him, you find yourself hesitating. 

You want to hold his hand so damn much.

And this never happened to you before. Watching with him always ends up with both of you pretending to fight for the popcorn, and you’ll be far apart from each other—just like you’re watching alone. The movie’s genre is thriller and suspense, yet horror didn’t even take it for you to finally lean into him or anyone, yet that evening, you want to hold him. 

Closing in, you feel his shoulder closing on yours, leaning onto him as support. Seokjin looks at you in concern. “Hey, are you okay?”

“Y-yes! I’m fine, I just—“

“Is this movie boring for you? Or are you cold? You want more popcorn or drink?” He queries in concern at your jumpiness.

“No.” You murmur, embarrassed at your own thought. Fuck, what were you thinking? There is no possible reason at all on why you want to hold him, it’s not making any sense and it irks you on how conflicted you’re feeling. “I just… nothing.”

Glancing at you, Seokjin sees how you’re mouthing to yourself and hitting your own forehead with a deep frown—and he couldn’t bite his smile back. With one fluid motion, he loops his arms with yours and withers your small palm against his, tapping slightly the side of his head with yours. 

“Let me know if you need anything else. Hmm?”

You blush hard, the creep of warmth running in your cheek like a wildfire. Clearing your throat, you decide to focus on whatever scene it is, not realizing how Seokjin glances at you from time to time, a toothy smile creeping in his face.

Walking out of the place, you were a bit panicked on seeing Seokjin again in broad light, but he’s still not letting go of your hands around his. You don’t know whether it’s a good sign or not—maybe you’re just afraid of finding out.

“Do you want to go window shopping? Maybe you’ll find that bag you want.” Seokjin offers, you are about to discard him—telling who the hell is still window shopping these days, or your desired bag is already on your online shopping cart, yet you don’t want to say so.

Maybe you just want to be with him a little bit longer.

Walking hand in hand to around the mall, both of you stop at the high end brand stores. Seokjin is about to walk in when you stop him. “Why are we entering this place? This is out of our budget.”

“Who said I want to buy you the bag from here? I want to see it for myself.” Seokjin lightly jokes, blowing raspberries and you scowl. Contrary to what he just said, Seokjin is directing you to the female side, where the tote bags are stacked. You laugh silently. Is he trying to be a tsundere now?

He looks at you and warmly smile. “See if there’s anything you like. I’m going to the restroom first, okay?”

You squint your eyes at him in fake suspicion. “You’re not leaving me here and fleeing home, right?”

“Busted.” He giggles and you grin. “Wait here, I’ll come back in a minute.”

After Seokjin leaves, you find yourself walking to see the bags in hesitance. Yet you know how expensive they are, and it even scares you to fall in love with a bag and realizing how struggling Seokjin has to be to buy it for you. The thought immediately retrains you from taking the tawny colored bag which catches your eyes the most.

“Y/N? Is that you?”

You look back at the voice calling your name, and finding the person that hasn't even crossed your mind to be there. It’s Park Jimin, with his trademark eye smile peering curiously at you. “It is you! How have you been?”

“I’m fine, thank you.” You smile at him, a little bit surprised to see him here, even talking to you. Well, maybe the years of your troubling childhood does have its own reminder in the form of this man. “I haven’t seen you in so long.”

“Ah, yes. After moving from Busan to Seoul, I am just living my life, I guess. Got engaged a few years ago, my fiancé and I moved to Sydney for school, and I headed back for the time being for her.” He smiles jovially, letting you know things more than you expect him to. You nod with a hint of hesitation—a bit surprised that he’s still practically the same him from your childhood. Guess nothing really changes to a spoilt kid from birth. 

“Honey, I have five items already on the cashier, won’t you—who is this?”

The woman is peering closely at you, the evident staring feels deadly uncomfortable on your skin. You know that look—she is judging you from top to bottom, whether you qualify as someone she should feel competitive with. But you don’t really want to spoil your great mood from the morning and reply nonetheless. “I’m Y/N, an old friend of Jimin. Nice to meet you.”

“Hi.” She responds rudely, and turns to Jimin. “Aren’t we going after paying?”

“Wait, I still want to talk with her. You can use this.” Jimin opens up his wallet, giving her a card and she leaves almost immediately. “I’m sorry, she can be like that sometimes.”

You shrug nonetheless. “I can see that.”

Ignoring your obvious sarcasm, Jimin continues. “So, where are you going? Do you want to have dinner with us? We should meet up again sometimes, you know—“

“Y/N.”

Turning to the man calling your name, it turns out to be your husband, staring at the both of you with jaw ticked and cold stare. And Jimin is no different, completely startled with the fact that it is Seokjin calling your name. At once, you feel estranged with the tense in the air.

“Seokjin. Hi, this is Jimin, my old friend. Jimin, this is Seokjin, my husband.”

Seokjin is the one to answer, tone blunt. “I know.”

After long pregnant silence, Jimin clears his throat, and gives your husband a thin smile. “Hi Seokjin. Nice to see you again.”

“You two know each other?” You glance at both men with curiosity written in your face.

“Yes, Jimin was my junior in college. We were friends.” Seokjin answers with venom, and nobody can miss the way he pronounced the past tense. Jimin seems uncomfortable as well, trying to ignore the older guy and smiles at you.

“I didn’t know you’re married. When was the wedding? Why wasn’t I invited?” He laughs to discard the tense air, yet you can still sense the awkwardness coloring his tone.

“Ah, around two years ago, I think. My mother gave yours the invitation, but I guess it doesn’t work. It’s fine.” You shrug, keeping your courtesy no matter how much you want to shout what the fuck is going on with those two men.

“I am sorry, but I’ll send a gift your way. It’s very impolite of us.” Jimin offers kindly, but Seokjin cuts straight away.

“We don’t need it. Save your money to whom it belongs.”

You glare at Seokjin who is throwing his sight somewhere else. He never was impolite like this, and it stresses you out—the fact that you’re kept in the dark makes you feel like you’re basically second to nothing between the two of them. 

“Seokjin? Is that you?”

Jimin’s fiancé comes back with countless bags in her hand, and you can hear the loud enough snicker from Seokjin. “Ah, as expected.”

The girl looks surprised, to say the least. “What are you doing here? With her? Who is this girl?” 

At the condescending tone, you immediately turn defensive. She had no reason to talk to you and Seokjin like that. “Excuse me?” 

“Baby, don’t be like that. Y/N here is Seokjin’s wife.” Jimin murmurs softly to his fiancé, and the bitch still has the nerves to scoff with a sleazy smirk.

“Ah, finally. I am glad you finally got your shit together, stopped thinking about me and moved on.” She loops her hand around Jimin, rising her chin high. Your jaws are a second away from falling to the ground. What the hell is going on?! “And are you sure you can go here? Isn’t this too expensive for you?”

“What the fuck—”

You are ready to throw hands, but Jimin quickly pulls her away and so is Seokjin’s hands clasped on yours to hold you back. 

“Stop it. Let’s just go home.”

Hanging his head low, both of you walk to the parking lot in deafening silence. Seokjin’s face is now cloudy and dark, nose and eyes are turned red and you know he is this close to crying. You chest stings at how much in pain he seems. You have so many questions, yet you know he needs more time to figure out his own.

Trying to reach the car keys from his pocket, he can’t seem to find it and somehow ends up choking his own tears. Feeling terrible on how he must feel, you go to his side, helping him check his other pocket. “I’ll drive.” You softly say to him after, and he silently goes to the passenger side.

Night comes, and you stare at your bedroom door. Seokjin has been holed up inside the room after you both went home, and did not come out even for a drink. You knew he needed space, and you stayed in the living room to watch your series, but it’s been too long that you are on alert since this has never quite happened before.

You wake up from your seat, walking to the kitchen as you are about to prepare dinner. Mushing up your doubtful cooking skill, you cook a chicken pasta and union ring, even called his favorite donuts on delivery.

After all the food is ready, you knock on the door. “Seokjin, dinner is ready. Come out, will you?”

“I am not really hungry.” He answers softly, and you roll your eyes.

“Don’t kid me, we both know you are never not hungry.” Your joke is met with no response. “Are you really going to be like this? Come out and let’s have dinner. I already cooked for us.”

A moment of silence. “Are you sure it’s edible?”

You scowl, albeit kind of relieved that his sarcasm is still in place. “It’s not, but I’m still going to shove it down your throat until you’re begging me to stop.”

Seokjin ends up coming out, and you immediately frown at him. His face is disheveled, eyes bloodshot red, trail of tears on both his cheek and his hair is all over the place. 

“Hey, you look ugly.”

He scoffs. “Thank you for the encouragement.”

“I am serious! You look uglier than that time we went to Bali and you shit yourself because of eating too much spices.” You giggle, and Seokjin hisses. Your way of consoling people is indeed very debatable. 

“I remembered Bali. Such a great time.” Regardless, Seokjin smiles fondly at the memory. It was for your honeymoon slash not really a honeymoon, since all you did was to spend your work’s wedding free leave. You and Seokjin registered for Bali’s backpacker packet where both of you were able to explore the true nature and culture of Bali, instead of staying in a five star hotel and fucking till dawn like most honeymoon. It was breathtaking, to say the least.

After settling on the dining table, you scoop a portion and hand it to him. “Eat. I also ordered your favorite donuts, it will be here in a few minutes.”

Seokjin gives you a thankful smile, acknowledging your effort to make him feel better. 

After a whole half an hour of eating in silence, you open a conversation. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He looks to you, and lower his sight back to his plate. “This is good.”

You sigh, folding your hands on the table. Seokjin might feel uncomfortable and you understand he needs time, but you also know that he needs to share it with someone else, or the feeling will drown him instead. “You know, there is no good keeping it inside.” You breath out. “I want to know what happened with you.”

A few minutes of silence. “How do you know Jimin?” He asks instead.

“He was my childhood friend in Busan, before his father hit it big and they moved to Seoul. We used to play together. He was a classmate, and my only friend at that time.”

Seokjin cocks his eyebrow. “Only that? Why does it seem like it’s not just friends? Like he really is glad to see you.” 

You shrug. “Yeah, it was.. kind of weird. You know how kids were. We were really close, and I kind of confessed… that I liked him before he went away.”

A particular hit on the plate causes you to flinch, a deep frown on Seokjin’s supple lips. “But it was in the past, right?” He confirms with no hint of playing, and you feel something settle strangely in your chest. 

Is it possible that he is jealous?

You chase the thoughts away and curtly reply. “Of course. I was 10 for god’s sake, I didn’t even really like him.” 

“I don’t even know why you like the guy. Was Busan really lacking in handsome boys?” Seokjin grumbles, munching soundly on the onion ring. “You should have seen me when I was a kid, I bet you’ll like me instead. I've been handsome since I was even a baby.”

“I’ve seen your schoolbook photo, but I’ll just go with whatever you say.” You giggle on his nonsense—even though he’s clearly not lying. He’s probably the most handsome person you’ve laid your eyes upon, that it was quite surprising he didn’t decide to fuckboy himself and settle down with you instead. 

Ten minutes pass in silence before you continue. “Can I say my last wish?” You ask carefully. Seokjin nods, a bit uncertain.

“Tell me what happened? With Jimin. And his fiancé too.” You hum, fidgeting with your fingers. “I just wanted to know, but it is okay if you don’t want to tell me.”

Seokjin sighs, rests his utensils and drinks the water before continuing. “It’s just.. hard. His wife, Dakyung was actually my girlfriend for a long time. We’ve been together since high school. At that time, she wasn’t really well off—his parents are struggling financially, but I was more than glad to support her getting the money to support her family.”

“We were together for like eleven years, I guess? I loved her very much, we’ve been through nearly everything and stood strong. I didn’t want to be with anyone else. I only wanted her. Being with anyone else never crossed my mind.” He softly explains, yet you don’t know why you feel yourself constricting with every word. It’s hurting you to see how pained he was, the beautifully carved words meant for someone else. “So around four years ago, I think? I bought an engagement ring for her. I was going to propose—but I guess you know the rest.”

“Did she.. cheat on you?” You ask carefully. Seokjin stares at you and nods, sadness written all over his face.

“I just found out when I was going to surprise her in her apartment. She… was in bed with.. Jimin.”

“What?!” You shouts in disbelief. “Jimin, your college friend fucked your girlfriend of eleven years?”

“Yes, and I don’t know what happened too, but at that time what I remembered was Jimin pleading for her to break up with me, and she said yes, asking for him to wait for the right time. But who am I kidding? It was a good choice at her part. Jimin is crazy rich, handsome and good too. Anything a girl wants, right?”

“Hey, don’t be like that.” You mutter, resting your palm over his as a consolation. “Money is not everything, and she’s trading that for eleven years of happiness with you. It’s her loss.”

“Maybe it’s not, Y/N. At that time, I realized that maybe it was indeed my fault. I, like a fucking fool, still wanted to be better for her. Even after I knew she was cheating on me, I tried holding on to her, so the next day I asked her to meet me and still proposed. I would do anything to make her happy. And as expected, she rejected me.”

“Seokjin…” You whisper, a tear welling on the corner of your eyes on how broken he must have felt.

“She immediately eloped with Jimin, and both moved to Sydney for school. But I guess in a way, I’ve never moved on. I was always trying to contact her, sending her emails or messages until she had enough and blocked me. I was depressed. The one that I loved for eleven years, left me just like that.”

Seokjin stares at you, meaningfully. And you’re about to hear something that breaks your whole being. 

“And then, I just knew I’d never love again.”

*

You don’t know what happened with you—and Seokjin, but in a way you’ve been distancing yourself from him, and the gesture is mutual. Seokjin never came home early, and not that you ask him anymore. He always came home whenever you were already asleep, and when you wake up, he’d be gone. Even with the current withdrawal, you still find breakfast on the table, courtesy of him. Yet you’d rather he not.

I just knew I’d never love again.

It hurts. It hurts like hell when he really said that he’ll never love again. In a way, you know you’ve been feeling something for your husband—that you crave for his attention and care, and to know that he might never reciprocate the way you want him to. Hurts like a bitch.

But it’s all on you. It is clear as crystal that love is not even the foundation of your marriage, so if anything happens to your foolish heart, it’s all on you. You shouldn’t have taken this lightly. You should’ve known that you are weak at heart, and you’ll fall for him anyway. 

Because he is the greatest guy you have ever met.

The compassion, kindness and caring that he has, it’s beyond comprehension. You don’t know how someone can be so understanding like he is, the way he takes care of you and wants nothing in return, that sincerely wants the best for you—even without love—succeeds in making you fall head over heels for him. 

God, you really are a fool.

“Hey, Y/N, what’s wrong?”

You look to your left, seeing Hoseok scrutinizing at you in worry, now Jane is already beside him. “You’ve been whimpering since morning, and now you’re crying. Is there anything wrong?”

“Nothing, I am sorry for disturbing you all.” You swipe your tear stained cheeks, standing from your seat. “I’m getting some air, okay? I’ll see you guys later.”

Half-running, you enter the elevator and swiftly exit the building, trying to breathe as clear as you could—no matter how it might hurt you. God, you hate being vulnerable. You hate being weak. You hate being in love—an unrequited one, at that. Why can’t you just put your heart together? Why do you have to like him now, after two years of not caring whether he even fucked someone else behind your back? 

A whisper in your mind tells you that probably, these two years have been too great with him. Maybe, because he never gave you space for doubt. Maybe, you are already dependent on him without you knowing. Maybe, you take your feelings for granted.

“Y/N, are you okay? Why are you crying?” Someone stares at you in shock, and turns out it is Jungkook. His arm is around your shoulder. “I just finished a meeting and wanted to get  coffee and found you here instead. Are you okay? Did something happen?”

“Is it weird that I felt sad because I finally—finally have feelings for my husband? Like… this supposed to happen before marriage, right?”

“Oh, Y/N..” Jungkook sighs. “What happened?”

And like that, you fill him in on what happened between you and Seokjin, and it leaves him furrowing his eyebrows. “So.. you telling me that you think Seokjin still couldn’t forget his ex?”

You process his sentence for a while, and reply with a hesitant nod. Jungkook exhales loudly. “That’s not it, Y/N. I don’t think he’s still in love with his ex, he is... just scared. He is scared of the pain of his past, and he is scared of opening up to someone. Just like you. And with the way you are acting right now, it’s not fixing anything you both are feeling right now.”

“But he said he’ll never love again..”

“I couldn’t believe you even believe that bullshit.” Jungkook frowns. “That girl betrayed him. She gave him literally a thousand reasons to move on. He just needs time to adjust, and a couple of facts slapped to his face. He’ll come around.”

“Do… do you think I should.. talk to him about this?” 

“No. You can just shut up and hope he can read your mind.” Jungkook rolls his eyes, heavily sarcastic. “Talk to him, Y/N. You trust him, right?”

“I do.” You whisper to yourself, strangely motivated. “I do trust him.”

*

Well, it turns out trust is not a really firm base for confronting your own husband to the mess you made. After you called Seokjin to pick you up after work to get dinner together, he was visibly surprised at your request since you’re usually not the type to begin conversation after a fight—you never even asked to be picked up before. You yourself don’t even know whether it would be a good idea, but Seokjin’s easy agreement does make it better.

When you enter the car, he is the first to greet with a warm smile, and it reminds you that you haven’t seen it for so long now—you might even miss it. “Hey.” 

“Hi, Seokjin.” You let out a nervous chuckle. “Thank you for picking me up. I’m just.. feeling a bit out of it to take the train. I hope it’s okay.”

“Of course it is. I told you a million times I’ll pick you up if you can, you’re the one who rejected me.” He giggles lightly, glancing at you. “Thank you too.”

“For what?”

“For reaching out? I know past week we’ve been.. kinda avoiding each other. I didn’t know how to.. start since I was the problem in the first place.” He scratches his nape in shame. “I am very sorry, by the way. It was very immature of me.”

“No, it’s not. I totally understand.” You respond quickly. “And I didn’t know what happened, I have no rights to judge. It was your pain, and I am just glad you want to share it with me.”

Unexpectedly, Seokjin chuckles. “Why are you so sweet today.” 

“Let me know if you want my sass back, I’ll gladly serve it to you.” You retaliate, even your inside are churning with nerves.

“You know I accepted you for who you are—you can be anything you want.” Seokjin brushes the top of your head with a toothy grin that leaves you a breathy mess. 

“You are so cheesy today.” You respond briskly, noticing that you have arrived at the designated restaurant. Seokjin parks the car swiftly, and when there’s only silence inside, he turns on the lights on top of him.

“I have something for you.”

“What?”

“Look at the backseat.”

You glance at the backseat, finding an oak brown bag that somehow feels familiar. You quickly pick it up and open it. Turns out it is the exact beautiful brown bag that has catched your eyes from your previous window shopping session—before Jimin comes into the picture. You squeal in delight. “What is this?! Are you seriously giving this to me?”

“No, I’m giving it to Grandma Lee, our neighbor. Who else?” He smirks and you smack him lightly on the shoulder before adoring your bag once more.

“This is very pretty, though. How could you know which one I liked?”

“Well, let’s just say I know you better than you think? I practically know what you liked. This one greatly matches your outfits too. You know I have a great fashion sense.” He winks.

“I’ll let your last sentence pass because I’m very touched right now. Thank you, Seokjin.” You beam in joy, adoring the bag.

Seokjin nods, and when you rest the bag carefully on the backseat, he suddenly pulls you close for a hug—his arms around your waist, your chin settles on his shoulder. His spontaneity literally leaves you breathless, the heat is blooming around your cheek at the close proximity. God, you wish he couldn’t hear your drumming heartbeat.

“Thank you for being such a great friend and partner. I’m so thankful we are married, you know?”

You grimace in pain. God, the sound of your heart breaking is really audible in your ear. Oh, how you wish he had known.

*

And in the end, you are the loser in this game you played with yourself, because you most absolutely didn’t say a thing, yet you’re enjoying every second of being in love by yourself, making up scenarios and wondering if he feels the way you do.

It is ridiculous how greatly it has been played—considering how caring he usually is, yet it’s not even rare for him to say that you’re different in a way. He never explained in detail, but even you know what’s different. You started calling him frequently between work, asking when he’ll be home, his opinion on little things, or if he wanted to eat anything. It’s the small things that you’re hoping he’ll catch, yet it seems like something trivial for him and it lowkey upsets you.

One evening, you’re already waiting for him in the apartment, determined to finally tell him about what you feel—that you love him and hope he feels the same way. Jungkook was right—you can’t lounge around waiting for him. There’s no shame in starting first, especially when knowing it’s him you’re falling in love with.

Yet the clock strikes nine, he has not arrived yet. The food you prepared since six has already turned cold, and you start to feel wary, glancing nervously at the door—since he said he’ll be home around eight and is already late by an hour. You already tried calling him, but it is met with no response. His phone is on and well, yet he’s not replying. So you wait while watching the news.

Car crash. A man. Blue toyota. On the road of his way back home. You immediately reach for your phone, calling his number in panic.

Could it be?

*

It’s already midnight when Seokjin opens his apartment door, expecting darkness—but instead he finds you sleeping on the couch, phone clutched on your chest. He closes in, a thin smile formed on his lips as his fingers soothes the creases of your crouching eyebrows, but it somehow sends you flinching on your spot. You are now wide awake.

“Seokjin, when are you home?” You demand, as his pupils dilate of confusion. 

“I just arrived. Sorry, I was—”

“I thought you died, you moron!” You shouts immediately. “Car crash news was on, man driving a blue toyota. I was so scared it was you that I even called the police, yet they said the victim is still in the hospital, I couldn’t know the identity. I was so scared...” You don’t even know why you’re tearing up right now—but the emotion is overwhelming, you must be talking nonsense.

Seokjin blinks, confused. “I’m sorry, I left my phone on mute. I forgot to let you know...”

You don’t even want to hear the rest, as you quickly storm off to your bed and force yourself to sleep, muffling your cries. The feeling you had for the last few hours, the horror of thinking Seokjin might be laid in blood on the street is something you’d rather not experience now or ever. 

In a few minutes, you feel the bed dips beside you. Seokjin is there. 

“Are you still awake?” He softly asks, but you decide to ignore him and closes your eyes.

“I am very sorry. I didn’t know… this would happen. But I should’ve let you know.”

You clearly know what he refers to. You usually don’t give a shit if he’d even come in dawn, but now you’re crying and throwing a fit when it’s not even something to fuss about. It’s only you and your overreacting fear.

“Get some sleep, we’ll talk in the morning, okay?” He whispers as he tucked the blanket closer to you, stroking the top of your head carefully. 

*

The next morning, you wake up to the delicious smell of baked cheese. Unable to hold your scoff, you decided to stay a little bit on bed just to pisses him off. Frankly, you are still slightly vengeful for last night, with this urge to let him know your annoyance has not worn off.

So when he walks in and softly taps your shoulder, you are silent. “Hey. It’s already seven, you need to take a shower and come eat breakfast, hmm?” He persuades, but you turn your back to him, and Seokjin huffs at your petty acts, yet the guilt is still seeping in his chest. 

Seokjin sighs. “I’m sorry, I didn’t let you know work is unexpectedly late. I don’t want to make excuses, as I know it’s all my fault. I won’t do it again.”

At the sincerity in his tone, your anger quickly washes off, but still you’re doubtful on how to answer his apology. Should you just say yes? Or should you pretend anger?

“Hey, look at me.” Seokjin impatiently pulls you to face him, both his palms are on the sides of you. His eyes bore into yours, and you instantly turn stiff with his face so close. 

He takes a deep breath. “I’m very, very sorry, Y/N. I promise I’ll do my best in letting you know if something came up at work and not make you worry anymore.”

“I like you.”

You wonder whose word that is, but it turns out to be you. It’s literally you who said those three words that you have been practicing since last night. You didn’t even know why it’s coming out right now, it’s just the way he looks at you right now—it’s the first thing you want him to know. 

“What?” He looks mildly bewildered.

“I like you, Seokjin. I… I don’t know when or how, but I really, really like you.” You confess. You finally confess, yet the way Seokjin looks immediately puts you in horror. That’s absolutely not the look you expected from him.

He laughs with sheer awkwardness. “Of course, we are married. You know I like you too, Y/N.” Yet you know he meant differently.

You know everything will go south the moment you try to say what you truly meant, yet you don’t want to lie anymore. You are tired of hiding what you’re feeling. “I am serious. I like you, in that way. I might even love you. The past two years, we’ve been with each other and I seriously couldn’t be happier with what we both had. I know this is not what we both planned—”

“It’s most absolutely not.” He cuts, distancing himself from you, face filled with panic.

“—but I want you to know. I want to try this, Seokjin. I know you might need some time, and what I feel might be one-sided, but I want you to know and try this. With me.”

A moment of silence to tense that you can slice it to choke yourself—when it’s only you and him who is avoiding your gaze. He then scoots off the bed, and you feel like you can’t breathe.

 “I… I’m gonna go. You should finish your breakfast.”

And then he left.

The misery doesn’t end there. You never felt someone could be so physically close yet so far away like what he’s putting between the two of you right now. For a straight week he literally never came home earlier than nine, and when he did, he’d sleep on the couch. And fuck did it hurt to sleep knowing he is out of your reach. You never know love could hurt like this—maybe you trusted him too much with your heart.

Saturday, you left a note that you’ll be off to your parents house for the weekend, and even then Seokjin didn’t contact you. And coming back home, your parents fortunately didn’t fuss as much, maybe since you just said you needed time away from him. 

The night comes, you are lounging in your room when your phone rings. At once you quickly jump to retrieve it, frown when seeing its a social media notification instead.

From : @pjmin

Hi, Y/N, this is Jimin! Hope you are doing well :) [21:29]

I know this is a bit hurried, but if possible, are you up to meet for coffee tomorrow? [21:29]

It’s okay if you can’t, just want to talk and catch up while I’m in town [21:30]

Let me know! [21:31]

Albeit doubtful, you are indeed curious about what he wants to talk about, knowing it must have something to do with Seokjin. Unable to hold your curiosity, you agree to a time and place with him.

Tomorrow, you walk into the agreed coffee shop, finding Jimin already seated, sipping on his beverages. You carefully pay attention to him, and notice he indeed has changed so much from that average kid you met when you were kids. Well, not that you have any rights to comment though.

“Hi.” He greets with a smile after you are seated in front of him. “I ordered you something. Hope you’re okay with caramel frappucino. You still like sweets?”

“Ah, I’m fine with anything. Thanks. And yes, I still like them. Kinda surprised you still remember, though.” You joke. Jimin lips curls.

“Well, the memory of a kid eating four cotton candy in one sitting until she passed out from high blood sugar is not really something one could forget.” He giggles, and you roll your eyes. Well, your childhood is indeed not a pretty one. “It was rather traumatizing, I could say.”

After a moment of catching up on how he’s currently doing right now, you mindlessly ask him. “So, where is your fiancé? I thought she’ll be with us here.”

Jimin instantly dims at the mention. “Uh… We broke up.”

You stop your movement and gape at him in disbelief. “Seriously? Why?”

“Well, let’s just say once a cheater is always a cheater?” Jimin stares down at his drinks. “Not in that way, though. In the beginning, my family never really liked her, that’s why I’ve been holding off from marriage—no matter how much she pleaded to. We actually came back to get married, and get blessings. And just yesterday, my father sent me a whole report of her financial statement, slush funds, and everything. Well, there’s just too much thing she’s hiding behind my back.”

“Jimin…” You mutter, feeling bad for the guy. But still, you are unable to scoff at how blinded he has been. The girl is no doubt is using him for his money—and he just realized it now? 

“I know what you’re thinking. I must be a damn fool to just realize it now.” He humorlessly laughs, correctly reading your mind. “But maybe I was hoping she’ll one day change. I must be a total dumbass.”

“Yeah, you kinda are.” You had enough of holding back, and it surprises Jimin with your forwardness. You grin regardless. “But that’s okay. Everybody makes mistakes, right? We just gotta live with it.”

“Yeah.” He agrees with a saddened smile. “I know it doesn’t quite make sense telling this to Seokjin’s wife, but… I don’t know. I want you to know that I regretted it. I really shouldn’t have done that—cheating behind his back. Maybe this is karma, anyway. I deserved this.”

You sigh. “You know that you shouldn’t be saying that to me, right? You should tell it straight to Seokjin.”

Jimin sighs, like it has been bugging his mind for a long time now. “But of course he wouldn’t want to see me. And I have a flight tonight, back to Sydney, so I don’t think I’ll be able to.”

“Well, maybe an apology had to wait, then.” You shrug, and Jimin frowns. “You were his friend, Jimin. And I know if I were him, I’d want it coming from you.”

“I guess so. You were right.” He exhales loudly. “Thank you for that too. And agreeing to meet me. I’m really glad we talked. And don’t forget to stay in contact, okay?”

You hum with a wide smile. “Thank you too, Jimin.”

“Oh, I nearly forgot. I brought this for your wedding present.” Jimin crouches, retrieving a gift box as he displays a sincere beam. “I don’t know if Seokjin would like that I’m giving you this, but, yeah. I am very glad that you’re together. You guys seriously could be the best couple I know.”

You fiddly laugh when reminded of the current turmoil of your marriage. Well, he's better off not knowing, though. “You really shouldn’t have, but thank you for this.”

Well, you do hope that whatever Jimin’s gift is, Seokjin is still there to use them.

*

Sunday, you spend lounging on your bed, staring at the gift from Jimin, opened and stacked on your desk. You are still unable to comprehend his thoughtfulness. He gave you a couple bathrobe, a bottle of expensive Bordeaux Wine with two antique wine glasses. You messaged him thank you, and Jimin only sent a wink emoticon as an answer.

And then you are reminded of Seokjin’s scar. What happened with his ex, it was because he was too kind. He was too trustful, and it hurt to let go of someone you’ve been with for nearly half of your life and betrayed you like that. He is really the kindest soul out there—and then you realize that you missed him dearly. You wonder what he might be doing right now. Is he just as distraught as you are? Is he thinking about you as well?

In the middle of your wandering thoughts, your phone abruptly chimes. Finding an unknown number in the other line, you answer hesitantly. “Hello?”

“Hi, Y/N. This is Yoongi, Seokjin’s friend.”

It’s been a long time since you heard from him and you rise to sit, mildly perturbed. “Yes. Is there anything I can help you with?”

“Not really. Apologize if I’m too forward, I know there’s a bit of problem at bay, but I know Seokjin’s dying to talk to you, and has been stressing about it since god-knows-when. He’s in my apartment now, can you… get him? Lounging in my apartment drinking is not going to solve anything.” He huffs lightly, and you sigh in distress.

“I know. But I am now in my parents house. Do you think.. I should just come?”

An evil laugh is heard on the other end. “No, that’s unnecessary. I know what’s even better that will help with this whole thing.”

Closing his call in daze, you are still waiting for the plan—but not even an hour in, a rushed knock is already heard from your front door. In a blink, Seokjin is on your bedroom door, carefully opening it. 

“Y/N?” He softly calls your name. “Are you… okay?”

Well, the scared look on his face does make you kind of guilty. Yoongi must have told him lies that you’re sick, and then he didn’t even spend another second and went straight to you. You have no idea what to feel, decide to hide yourself under your blanket.

“Hey, look at me.” He rushes, tapping the side of your arm carefully, but you are still unbudging. Impatiently, he effortlessly tugs the blanket off of you, until you are looking at him with a frown in your face. He rests his palm on your forehead, to your neck, baffled. “Are you sick? Yoongi told me you have high fever.”

“Well, I think Yoongi lied because he wanted to chase you out of his apartment.” You scowl, turning your face with a hint of blush on your face. You never know seeing him again could be this difficult. “I heard you’ve been a parasite to him.” You tease, slightly smiling.

“Yoongi, that disrespectful shithead.” Seokjin hisses under his breath, but it’s obvious that he is avoiding your eyes. He straightens and clears his throat. “Okay then. I think… I should go  home. Are you going to stay here?”

“Seokjin…” You call, holding on his wrist from leaving. “Are you angry at me?”

His eyebrows furrowed. “I am not angry at you.”

“But you are avoiding me. And we don’t even talk anymore. This is not how we used to handle problems. What’s wrong?” You persist, determined to end this cold war with him. 

Seokjin sighs. “I am just… scared.”

“What are you scared of?”

“I am scared of disappointing you.” He is visibly downcasted. “I know what you meant, Y/N. But I also know that I can’t be… what you want me to be. I can’t seem to forget... her. I don’t want to hurt you, or myself. And I know It’s difficult, and I don’t want to put you into that pain. It’s better this way.”

“I never pressured you into anything.” You reply, your voice started shaking. “I just want you to know, and try this with me. And you know holding onto something that has hurt you is not going to work, Seokjin. Please, please stop hurting yourself and try this. With me.”

“I-I can’t.” He hurriedly mutters, intending to walk out before you hold him back, crushing yourself into his arms, your tears burst into loud sobs.

For a good ten minutes, you spend it crying on his arms, tears wetting his white shirt. You don’t know what you feel—you’re dejected, sad, disappointed, angry, too many emotions that overwhelms your whole being but can only come in tears when he’s around. “Seokjin, I like you. Why can’t you give us a chance? Are you… that disgusted with me?”

At the self depreciating cries, he quickly looks down, both palms are on either side of your face. “Don’t be like that. I adore you so much, Y/N. Don’t hurt yourself because of me.”

“There’s no way I can’t be sad if you’re still hurting yourself. I just want you to be happy—with me. Is that so hard?” You weep, hiding yourself back to his chest. “I hate this. You know how much I hate crying.”

“Then you shouldn’t have cried that much.” He scolds, stroking your scalp like he usually does—and you slightly feel comforted at his familiar gesture.

After another ten minutes just hugging it out, he finally leans into you resting his head on top of yours, taking a deep breath of nerves.

“Okay. Let’s try then. But please be patient with me, hmm? I’ll try my hardest for us.”

*

“Good morning, sleepyhead!”

He shuffles in his sleep, but is unmoving. You frown, and call him one more time yet still met with no response. Huffing, you scoot closer to him, and clasp his nose to hamper him from breathing. At your disturbance he groans, finally opening his eyes. “Why are you waking me up now… This is still dawn.”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have started getting back into gaming now. This is already half past seven, mister. Take a shower before you’re late.” You remind him, and as expected he already has two feet on the ground, running to the shower.

And as a kind and dutiful wife, you help him by preparing his outfits. You chose a nice blue themed suit this time, paired with a nice tie you bought him a few months back. Walking out with a towel wrapped around his waist, you are unable to hold your eyes from straying low. Damn, he really be packing like that, huh?

“What are you looking at, huh?” Seokjin squints his eyes at you, taking the prepared clothes. “Don’t look at me like that. I know I’m a whole snack, but I’m not a sexual object.” He jokes while wiggling eyebrows, and you scoff loudly when you can’t find a sassy reply for him.

You decide to wait in the living room, trying to calm your heartbeat. God, you’re such a loser, now even his bare chest can stupefy you like that. 

Regardless, you're more than content with the current relation with you and Seokjin. Both you definitely have gotten better, a bit more identical to wife and husband—even if it's probably only for you. You are trying your hardest for him, and when you know he can’t instantly fall at your feet and love you the way you do, you are satisfied. At least he’s not pushing you away.

“I’m a bit late for breakfast, but thank you for this.” He whispers, pointing to the pack of food you prepared for him. Noticing what’s missing, you pick the tie from his grasp, and circle around his neck and putting it on for him. He visibly stiffen on your arms.

After finished, you brush his suit’s shoulder and take a step back with a smile. “Let me know when you’ll be home, okay?”

“Okay.” He agrees and softly smiles. “See you.”

And then, he leaves a tender peck on your left cheek and exits the room. 

You literally can’t stop smiling the whole day.

*

One thing that you never really told anyone, is that you never had true sex. Like you had it once or twice in high school, but those annoying jerks never let you even finish and all you were left was disappointment. During college, you were too ambitious for your studies, so the thought of sleeping around was not on your agenda, and you never really believed in love or relationships. So when the thought of sex enters your mind this morning, it was quite frightening.

Having your lunch with only Jungkook, you decided to tell him your concern. He is quite shocked to say the least. “What the—you want to have sex with him? Finally?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know.” You exhale, pushing away your food in disinterest. “This few days we are making progress. So I don’t know—isn’t sex always the solution? I thought it would do some good for us.”

“Well, it’s indeed a solution for most problems, I would say.” He giggles between words, and you roll your eyes in disgust. “But I don’t know about Seokjin. I must say—the man really has outstanding self control. Sleeping on one bed with a woman for two straight years and still hasn’t initiated sex? Crazy. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had been sleeping around before.”

The thought immediately darkens your whole mood, and Jungkook realizes his slips. “—or, he’s just a good masturbator? Nobody knows, Y/N, especially not me. Ha ha ha.” He nervously chuckles, sipping his drinks. “And the minority of men are not that much of an sex-fueled animal. He must be good at keeping his hands to himself, and please don’t mind what I said.”

What Jungkook said might be haunting you a bit that you request to get home early—when instead you’re going to the mall for shopping. You went straight to the ladies side where all kinds of bras or lingerie is available, but you literally have no clue what’s useful for your case. Already desperate, you finally call Jane for advice, discarding the huge probability of damage that you’ll be teased or ridiculed. 

“Oh my god! That’s very fun. I still can’t believe you lied to the boss because you’re preparing to bone your husband tonight.” Jane cackles, truly amused. “God, I miss those alone times with my husband. Don’t have kids too soon, Y/N. Be happy with your husband.”

“Stop rambling and help me pick!” You hiss, realizing a few stares has caught on you. She giggles, and then proceeds to help you pack home a black lacy three piece lingerie that will instantly shock your mother if she ever sees—which she said would ‘even spice up a fifty years old marriage’. 

You don’t even know how that’s possible, or why you even asked her for advice in the first place.

Waiting for your train home, you hold your shopping bag close to your chest, slightly  embarrassed. You don’t know what you should do then—should you just wear it and surprise him in the living room when he comes home? Or lay in your bed while trying to tease him? How does that actually work?

In front of your apartment, suddenly a call arrives. Seokjin. “Hey, Y/N. Work is a bit much today, I think I’ll be late. Will be home around nine, maybe. But can you wait for me? I forgot to bring my keys.”

Agreeing mindlessly, you sigh after ending the call, looking to the bag on your grasp. You really had a bad feeling about this.

*

It’s quarter to nine, Seokjin is already on the way home and you are already all cleaned up. You started with a good, long warm shower and shaves, curled your hair, and put up a light makeup. You even tried watching porn for learning purposes—but instantly grossed out after a few failed attempts at finding a good one. Well, maybe you should just kiss him and not say or do a thing you’ll regret.

Jungkook was right, though. There’s no way Seokjin can handle two long years without sleeping around. Yet even the thoughts of him sleeping with other girls leaves you qualmish. In the middle of your busy thoughts, the bell suddenly rings at the door. 

“Y/N? Are you there? Can you please open this?”

Walking with your heels on, your head is in haze at the thoughts of him seeing you like this. God, you start having second thoughts. Should you just run inside and change your clothes? But the remembrance of the price of this lingerie instantly blanches you. You’d rather be shamed in front of your husband than wasting his much money for nothing. 

“Good ev—what is this?”

Seokjin looks at you, visibly flabbergasted at your unexpected fit. Not even once that he would think you would wear something like this, especially for him—and now your face is already beet red. You are far too shy to do or initiate anything.

“Are you okay? What are you—”

Before he can say other things that will embarrass you even more, you quickly crash your lips to his, kissing it frantically while trying to make it as pleasurable as possible. Seokjin instantly gasps, his bag falling to the floor beside him. His hands rest on your back while you are focusing to make it as good as it can get for him. 

You bite his lips for entrance, and as he moans you slips your tongue inside, tasting the sweet beverages he just drank. At one point, he finally responds—kissing you back with tenderness instead that helps manage a pace that won’t leave you breathless.

Few more minutes of tasting his lips against yours, Seokjin finally lets you go, and unexpectedly laughs. Realizing how foolish you must have been for him, you quickly flee inside the room and jump under your blanket. You hiss and close your eyes, cheeks flushed at the remembrance of the kiss and his amused face staring at you—God, can you be more humiliating?

After taking a shower, Seokjin jumps on the bed and you instantly scoot yourself further away, with your back facing him. The silent giggle is still heard and frustrated, you sent him a glare. “Why are you laughing?! There’s nothing funny.”

“I’m laughing not because it's funny, but because you’re extremely cute.” He hums, probably noticing how the blush crept back on your cheek. You scowl in annoyance. “You’re so aggressive today, but how can you’re still so cute? What happened, hmm?”

“No, I just…Ugh, I’m trying here, okay? I know these past two years might have been frustrating to you, I won’t even be surprised if you’ve been sleeping around—”

“What? What are you saying? Who’s sleeping around?” Seokjin asks, puzzled. You bit your lips, looking down in shame.

“I don’t know, maybe because my friends told me they wouldn’t last without sex and I just… I thought you’re like that too. And we haven’t really talked about that, so...”

He laughs, pulling you close until you flush against his chest. He smells like oak and citrus and it entices you at once. “I haven’t been sleeping with anyone for the past two years. My last time was probably with a stranger when I broke up, I think. I don’t really remember.”

“Really? You don’t have to lie to me, I know it’s really—”

“I am serious. And why would I lie? I just… think it’s not right. To be truthful, I also don’t want you to sleep around with someone else when we’re married, I’m just trying to keep this as pleasant as it could be for us.”

Humming against his chest, you feel your heart warming at his considerate act. You really are marrying the right person—regardless of how unconventional it started. You can’t even imagine if it was someone else. Few minutes of silence just feeling his arms around yours until you speak and ruin the whole conversation. 

“So does it mean you’re a great masturbator?”

Seokjin laughs until his whole body vibrates. “Well, maybe you could say it like that.”

*

“So, are you going to tell me what happened last night?” Jane asks during your lunch with Hoseok, Jungkook, and Namjoon with a hint of teasing on her tone. “I am surprised you even came to the office today. I thought you’d call in sick.”

“What the hell—it’s not like that.” You hiss at her, hoping she’d get your subtle message to quit it. Jane groans.

“Come on, Y/N, we are all adults here. Tell us! At least tell me how many rounds. What was it like? Did you use any other tools—like ropes or vibrators?”

Hoseok and Namjoon literally choke on their drinks, while Jungkook smirks in amusement at your flushed cheeks. “Don’t say it. Damn, Jane, it’s not it! What the hell are you saying?!”

“Well, I mean you literally called in sick to buy a lingerie—that I chose, for those taking notes—which literally will get him hot and erected in no time. How can I not be wondering?! What was it like? Tell me, I’m a lonely mother of two, Y/N. I just want to know, hmm?”

“Yes, tell us, Y/N! How’d it go with your lawfully wedded husband?” Jungkook joins in, giggling in mischief. You shot him an unamused look.

“Ah, I remember those days. Fucking till morning with my wife. Well, before the baby arrives.” Namjoon sighs dreamily, and you are visibly repulsed at his sentence. “I agree with Jane, Y/N. I love my child to death, but I’d rather wait for maybe another year or two.”

“It’s not like that!” You hide your face on your palm. “There literally nothing happened. I wore that lingerie, and surprised him when he came home, but we ended up doing nothing but kissing. He laughed, by the way. Thanks for that, Jane.” You glare at her, and she shrugs.

“Only that?” Hoseok asks, uncertain. “You’re already wearing lingerie and nothing happened?”

You vengefully nod. “That’s really all. Then he took a shower, we just talked until both fell asleep. Done.”

Namjoon contemplates, fingers on his chin. “That’s weird. Hmm. You don’t even bother jumping in the shower?”

“You are an idiot.” You sigh, massaging your temple—even if the idea struck you in a way. Should you have jumped into the shower with him? But you did your make up and all... “Even kissing him was already—”

Jungkook quickly cuts with roaring laughter. “Wow, I never know you’re that much of an idiot, Y/N! Ha ha ha I’m hungry, does anyone want to order food now?” As others are focused on skimming the menu, he sends you a look, and you just register that you were about to blabber the reality of your marriage. You grimace and mutter your thanks to him.

*

Two weeks have passed in a blink, and you are seriously pleased with the way things are. It feels like the boundary has been torn down between you two, and pretty clear that Seokjin’s been making an effort for your relationship as well. Usually, you always feel the things he does is based on mere obligation, but you know it’s no longer the case for him. You can feel how much he cares and adores you—receiving your bear hugs whenever he comes home, holding you close before coming to bed, kissing your forehead whenever it feels right. 

Just like today. You are feeling a bit feverish, and when you reply to his message asking how’re you doing, he immediately calls.

“Hey, are you okay?” He asks after the first beep, tone laced with concern. “If you’re not feeling good, you should go home. Do you want me to call a taxi? Or can you wait for an hour, I’ll take you home.”

“I’m fine. This is not really rare. I’ll be fine soon.” You giggle, even inside of you tickles on the wondrous feeling of him caring for your well being. “I’ll go straight home after this.”

“Okay. I’ll get you.” He reminds and you hum in agreement. “Stay put until then, okay?”

I love you. “See you.”

I love you too. “Bye.”

And while driving home with Seokjin, you don’t know why but you feel physically much better than before. It just feels so right with him beside you. Especially when you initiate to hold his hand, he lets go for a second and repositions himself so he could hold your hand better—you seriously think you could fall sick on how jumpy you’ve become because of him. 

“Are you sure you’re sick? Or you just need some attention, hmm?” He teases, lightly pinches your cheek. You huff in embarrassment. 

“You’re annoying.” You are about to pull back your hand to your lap when he holds it tighter. 

“Who says I wanna let go.” Seokjin’s lips curl into a hearty smile. You still maintain your fake scowl. “You’re just so cute, that’s what.”

“Why are you so cheesy nowadays.” You burst in laughter, unable to hold it back. Seokjin beams, and reliably parks the car in your apartment’s basement with one hand. Finally silence, it's only you and him with the soft engine sound when he pulls you to his arms.

“Thank you for loving me. I seriously don’t know what you see in me, but I seriously can’t believe that you really like me and want to go through this.” He exhales softly, his left arms holding you by the waist, his right stroking your hair. “I hope that you know that I’m trying my best here. But I don’t know why, it doesn’t even feel like trying. Everything is so easy with you.”

“That’s really cheesy.” You chuckles, but tighten your arms around him regardless. “I’m also very thankful that you’re giving us a chance. I seriously don’t know what I’d do without you. I keep on making a mess, falling in love when I shouldn’t—”

“Hey, don’t say that. I am really happy we’ve been through this, or I might always chicken out. Even if it could be better if I wasn’t such a jackass, but I’m still grateful.” He coos, pecking your forehead.

Releasing his hug, you are about to mutter something when he cuts with his lips lurching unto yours, cutting whatever sound beside loud moans. You are taken aback, falling a step back before steadying yourself by finding purchase on his shoulder. His palms are on either side of your face, pacing himself. 

You spend no time responding, savoring the tender taste of his lips. He tasted just the way you remember, sweet and addicting that leaves you wondering why you haven’t been doing this since the beginning. Catching a breath, he laps at your lips for opening, and as you comply, he roughly pulls you closer by the nape, tangling his tongue like he is a man starved all this time. 

“Did you eat a donut?” You giggle when he lets your lips go, trailing pepper kisses on your neck instead. When his lips ghosts to the succulent curve of your v-neck top, you abruptly pull him up to see you in the eye. 

“Baby, don’t. Not here. We’re just steps away from the apartment and we’re not getting reprimanded of public indecency.” You remind him. Seokjin scoffs, letting out a deep sigh.

“You shouldn’t wear this top. This is not good for my health.” He frowns as you laugh. “And what are you thinking, I’m not going to have our first time in this car. It was just an intro, so you better be prepared.”

“Ooh, consider me spooked, then.” You smirk in mischief. It is somehow proven by the way Seokjin cannot take his hands off of your waist, ghosting right above the bump of your ass while ascending to your apartment. At all the action you feel the discomfort between your thigh—high chance you are already dripping wet. You have been feeling exceptionally horny this few days, anyway. 

“And don’t think I didn’t know the way you’re invading my space and grinding your ass last night when we went to sleep.” He suddenly mentions the event that leaves you all blushing—especially with the other residents on the elevator. You elbow him right away, finger crossed they won’t hear a word he’s saying.

Arriving in your apartment, Seokjin doesn’t hesitate when he pulls you for a deep kiss, his fingers hovering on the hem of your top to detach it from you, flinging it to wherever. Your skin shivers when his fingers are in contact with your bare skin, and to your bra as he grabs the succulent flesh that leaves you a moaning mess. 

“Baby, wait. I need to go to the restroom.” You whisper between the kiss, when  the incessant throb quite overwhelming your good sense now. Seokjin huffs in pout but let go either way. There’s no way he will say no to whatever request you have for him.

“Don’t be long, sweetheart.”

Running to your toilet with a qualmish feeling on your stomach, you quickly discard your panties with a hypothesis—to have it confirmed by how it has been ruined… with your period blood. You hiss, the frustration building up in your head. You are just about to have sex with your husband after long days of pining, and you just had to have the period on the exact same day. There’s gotta be wrong with your luck.

Finally cleaning yourself, you walk out to find your husband is sitting on the couch, a visible hard-on from his trousers. At the sound of you walking out, he stands but to find your deep frown. “Hey, sweetheart. What’s wrong?”

“Ugh, I hate this so much. I can’t believe we’re about to do this but I got to have my period.” You run to his side, wrapping your arms around him. “I’m sorry for ruining this.”

At your visible dejection, Seokjin can’t bear but to giggle and it leaves you puzzled. How can he be laughing now? “Hey, it’s no matter to me. We can do something else about it, okay? I’ll take care of you. And we can leave that one for raincheck, so don’t be upset.”

Seokjin spends no other second in ravishing your lips while detaching your bra, discarding it in the same manner. His large palms grab the mounds, giving it a little squeeze before pinching your sensitive buds, especially now that you’re in your period. “Ugh, god. You’re so beautiful.” He gruffly mutters before taking your left mounds into his mouth, giving it a hard suck that you have to tug on his fluffy hair on how the pleasure has engulfed you. 

“Seokjin...” You moan his name as he shifts to the other mounds, his other hand strays to your clothed core, giving it a feathery touch before he pushes his digits. You bit your lips, holding back a sound.

“Don’t hold back, sweetheart. I want to hear all of you tonight.” He reminds. You nod, feeling your mind has clouded in haze and all you can feel is how great he is with his deed.

Noticing how he has been focusing on your pleasure and satisfaction, you push him back to the couch, your knees on the wooden floor before taking a ride for yourself by opening the fly of his trousers. Seokjin gasps at your cold hands on his erected cock before it springs free in all its glory. 

“God, you’re so big. I’m not sure if I can take you end when this fucking period is over.” You are shocked at the size of his girthy dick, the precum is already leaking and you can feel your saliva swimming in your mouth—desperate for a taste.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I told you I’ll take care of you, okay?” He comforts, before his tone drops. “Now suck on my cock like you’re a bitch in heat.”

You give a kittish lap on the slit, tasting the saltiness that is unfamiliar to your tongue, but is easy to discard when encouraged by the moan he is letting out with such favor. Noticing that it might hurt him to be blown without proper preparation, you spit on his dick, before giving him a sensual pump. “Fuck, Y/N, where did you learn to do that—god!” He moans in rapture. 

Your mouth closes in, sucking on the tip before taking him in your mouth. You run your tongue along the vein of his beautiful cock, wrapping your lips tight around it, feeling how it throbs in your mouth. “Fuck, don’t stop. Don’t stop.” He hisses, pushing his cock deeper into your mouth. But for the intention of teasing, you’re detaching your lips, going to the ridge of his cock’s length for a lick.

“Damn it, baby, why are you such a tease.” He groans, but is cut with your palm wrapping around his dick, the other slides up to his ball. You can feel a new wave of arousal coming out from your pussy. “Now let me fuck your throat.” He stoutly orders with hooded eyes, forcing your mouth back to take in his red tip and length until it hits the back of your throat—resulting in a gag. Seokjin gathers your hair, helping it out of your way before he raises his hips, feeling the wondrous feeling of your mouth clamming on his dick.

“Don’t flex your throat, sweetheart. Relax, okay? Tell me if you want to stop.” He stares at you, and you nod. You fucking love this, and you’d literally do anything to make him satisfied tonight. Your throat relaxes, and you savor his satisfied groans after feeling the back walls of your throat, with the tears streaking your cheek at his pace and feeling the burn. 

“O-oh g-god, F-fuck y-yes.” Seokjin pants, each syllable coming out as he thrust into your throat. “Look at me, sweetheart. I want to see your pretty face while I fucked your mouth hard.” He angles you better until he is satisfied, the lewd image of his cock stuffed into your mouth instantly sends him jerking faster.

A throaty moan slips out of you, and the action successfully sends him to his edge, feeling the vibrations cause his cock to throb in your pretty mouth. “Fuck, this is amazing. You’re so fucking great.” The compliments earns him another groan from you, and it ignites the leading to his awaited orgasm.

Few other thrusts in your throat, you finally feel Seokjin constricting inside of you. He’s about to come, and you’re expecting him to release his load for you to swallow—you were prepared, overall—but unexpectedly he retracts from your mouth, instead jerking off in immaculate pace, and the loss of his dick leaves hollowness inside your throat. “I wanna cum on your tits, baby.” He gruffly whispers.

“Give it to me, daddy.” You persuade, as he pants, still working on his red cock—on the edge of his orgasm. Yet not even once he turns his gaze from you, all red and high with lust hooded in your eyes, the trace of tears on the side of cheek, the swole of your plump lips coated in his pre cum and spit. You look surreal. 

“Fuck-fuck! You’re so fucking beautiful.” He hisses, increasing the pace of his pumps before releasing his massive loads on your tits, painting it white. You look down to yourself, feeling his cum trickles down to your nipples and to your thigh. You swipe the liquid with your forefinger, before lapping it clean inside your mouth, internally revolting at the taste.

“Damn, this is crazy. How the fuck you are so good at that.” He sighs in delight, looking at you with lidded eyes and evident aftersex glow. “Let me clean you up.” He reaches for the tissue, cleaning his loads on your breast. Both of you involuntary laughs at the current event. 

“Come here.” He crouches down, scoops you into his hold before moving to the bedroom. You abruptly circle your arm around his neck, he closes in for your lips for another make out session on bed. While his tongue is lapping at your own, his fingers move to stimulate you with your hardened nipple until your breath is rigged. His right finger cups your clothed core, giving it a welcomed pressure and humping it until you’re left with moans and satisfied sighs, your finger clutches on his hair, tugging it lightly. 

Seokjin’s lips advanced to your ear,giving it a kittish lick. “And you better be prepared, I will eat you out and fuck you all night afer your period is done, sweetheart..”

*

It’s finally Friday, and you are at your desk for work after lunch. Suddenly, Jane closes in at you. “What are you looking at that seriously?” She inquires, noticing you’ve been staring at the calendar on your desk for longer than anyone should. You turn to her, and shake your head silently. 

“No, I just realized that it's soon December.”

“So?”

“It’s soon will be Seokjin’s birthday. He’s turning 34.”

Jane nods in understanding. “Will you get him anything?”

“I don’t know.” You tap your chin, thinking of what to get him. You’ve been scrolling through commerce websites, yet to find even an idea about what to give to him. And it hits you—maybe you don’t really know him after all. “What did you get your husband for his birthday?”

She chuckles. “Last birthday I gave him a responsibility of a lifetime—my pregnancy test came out positive. I wouldn’t say it was a very good birthday present though, as we didn’t really expect a pregnancy after all.”

It dims you right away. Pregnancy? It is too far fetched, right? You haven’t even discussed it with Seokjin—and you don’t want to directly throw him a responsibility for another life being when your romantic relationship has basically just started. Days after days of late nights humping and blowjobs, waiting for your period is over is not basically a very firm foundation for having kids. You don’t even know if you’re ready for it.

And today is the last day of your period. Seokjin has actually asked if you want a dinner together—and you said yes. Based on his promise, today should also be the day you will be making love till dawn. But this dampens your mood a bit, at the thought of having kids frightens you. 

Scrolling through instagram, you see that Tasha, your sister-in-law has posted a series of photos from the previous birthday lunch of your father-in-law. The first photo is the five of them smiling together, the second is their three children with the grandparents, and the next one is Seokjin, smiling while he’s caging Taehyun’s little frame inside his arms. You smile longingly at that. Nobody can deny it though—Seokjin is amazing with kids, you know how much he loves them. And there are countless times you pity him for marrying you—as children were never part of your plan before.

But now you love him. And so does he.

And the thoughts have been haunting you that even when you’re seated in front of him in a high class restaurant, Seokjin can sense something is bothering your mind. He holds you by the hand across the table, and how you instinctively flinch confirms his suspicion. 

“Sweetheart, are you okay?”

You smile nervously at him, shrugging. “I am fine, but yeah.. Something is just.. bugging my mind, that’s all.”

“What is it?” He asks softly, a bit worried. “Don’t you like this place? Are you cold? You’re not sick, right?”

“It’s not it.” You giggle at his cute attention. “I just... you know, I saw the date and realized that you’re having a birthday soon. I just don’t know what to get you. A bit upset that maybe it feels like I don’t know you that well, that’s all.”

His face lightens at that, the creases of his smile evident. “No, you don’t have to get me anything. I’m just happy with what we have right now.” He gazes at you, pulling your hands to give it a light kiss. “I am just.. very thankful that you’re here.”

“But I want to give you something.” You frown, looking down. “It feels like you’re always taking care of me, and I’m always at the receiving end.”

“Why are—Y/N, you are the most selfless person I know. The way you take care of me just shows how much I owe you with anything I have. I want to make you happy, as you already made me the happiest I can be.” He explains in rush, like he’ll suffocate if you don’t realize how precious you are to him any time soon.

“Thank you.” You gratefully replies, holding back the tears from falling.

The next two hours, you’re already in bed with Seokjin on top of you, both your clothes are far long discarded on the floor. His palm is grabbing your succulent mounds, his right palm on the bed beside your face. His lips are lapping at yours, savoring the wine you consumed from the previous dinner.

“Seokjin, please put your dick inside me.” You moan before biting his lower lips. He smirks haughtily.

“Not so fast. I promised I’d eat you, didn’t I, kitten?” He questions, before moving his kisses to your neck, breast, stomach and to your thigh. You bite your own lips, your breath hitched when feeling the cold air he blows to your throbbing core. 

He laps at your cunt, his fingers sensually moving in circles for stimulation, and when his tongue is finally in contact with your clit, you feel the new wave of arousal is dripping out. Seokjin grins, instantly welcoming it with his tongue that leaves you a moaning mess. “Kitten, you’re dripping so much. Do you want to be fucked that badly?”

“Yes, yes, daddy. Don’t hesitate, please fuck me.” You breath out, finally pulling his face closer to your cunt. Seokjin slaps them harshly, eyes turning dark at your disobedience.

“Are you not going to be patient, kitten? Do you want daddy to stop fucking you?”

The thoughts literally scare your whole being that you deters from touching him. “Daddy, please. Fuck me, stuff me with your big cock.”

After that he continues on with his crazy good tongue, moving in and out of you until you screams his name in pleasure. Not only his tongue, his digits enter you in exchange, furthering them inside to scissors you until you are crying of ecstasy. As your orgasm builds up, he circles your clit in wondrous motions with simultaneous licking your cunt which helps you reach your edge. And not even another minute, you cum generously on his tongue.

Few minutes of reaching your breath, Seokjin laughs at your fucked out expression, your orgasm has caught up with you. You are literally glowing with sweat and satisfaction that it literally takes his breath with how blissful you feel, because of him.

“Don’t look at me like that, baby. I still need to ride you, need you to cum inside me.” You remind him right after finding his strangely contented expression staring down at you. “Just... let me take a breather, okay?”

“Are you sure you can ride me? It seems like you lost all your energy.” He giggles, plopping beside you on bed, pulling you close to his chest, that you are leaning on his arm. “I am marrying a fifty years old. How come you already lost your stamina after an orgasm?”

“It’s not it! I’m just a bit tired after work.” You scowl, rolling your eyes at his teases. “You are so annoying.”

He smirks, pecking you in the lips. “But you love me, right?”

“My fault, I know.” You huff. In Seokjin's hearty smile, and you suddenly are  reminded of the photo of him Tasha posted this afternoon. 

“Seokjin. Can I ask you something?” You ask, fidgeting your finger. Seokjin hums. “You know, I saw Tasha posted a photo of you and Taehyun this morning. And I was just thinking… if you want a child?”

“What?” He looks down at you, a bit of confusion written on his face that it scares you he’ll not take this like you want him to.

“No, it’s just—I just think that you like kids very much and they like you too, I am just thinking if you want a child. I don’t mean it now, b-but if y-you want now—”

“Sweetheart, has this been bothering your mind when we had dinner? About having a child?”

You look down, suddenly not courageous enough to face him, afraid of finding the disappointment or doubt in his eyes. “Yes. No. Maybe? I don’t know.”

Seokjin closes you again now that you are chest by chest, face by face, his arms circling your back. “I want everything with you, Y/N. At the right place, at the right time.”

He continues, fixes your locks and rests a few lost strands behind your ear lovingly. “I know this has been hard, especially for you. Pregnancy, birthing is never easy, and I know it’s not really in your plan, even including me. So I will never force you to anything. I want everything you want, okay? And it’s your body. It’s your choice.”

You nod, burying your face on his shoulder, finding purchase on the musky scent of his. Oh, how much you love this man. “Thank you. I don’t know why you always have the rightest thing to say. I really, really envy and love you for it.”

“You went through for me. Of course I want to give you everything. I love you, Y/N, until the sea sleeps.” 

“Until the sea sleeps?” You cocks your head in questions. He nods affirmatively.

“Yes. If life is the sea, I want to go through it with you. Until it ends. Until it sleeps.” He plants kisses lovingly on your forehead, to your nose, and finally, to your lips. But at once you finally push him on his back, internally shouting in joy at his choice of grand large bed.

“How can you say such thoughtful and beautiful words with your dick is pressing on my stomach.“ You hisses in fake chagrin, before continuing. 

“I love you too, but for now let me ride you, daddy...” You whisper sensually, grinding at his half-erected cock. Seokjin smirks in amusement, resting both his palm behind his head as he enjoys the lewd sight, your breast jiggling wonderfully, your cold hands palming his dick.

Oh god, how much he loves you...

*

2 Years Later....

“Honey, can you help grabbing the diapers?” You pleaded from your bedroom, carefully cleaning your five months old baby girl, throwing away the spoiled diapers near your feet. Seokjin quickly arrives with a fresh set of diapers, baby oils, a fresh pair of baby overalls and beige shirt.

“Thank you, honey, you’re the best.” You smile as he pecks your lips slightly. You continue your work in changing Mina’s clothes as the baby lets out a light gurgles, Seokjin sitting across the bed, his lips curling at the beautiful sight. 

After finally falling in love with each other two years ago, you and Seokjin decided to go with your own pace and did not rush into having kids. It was the best decision after all, not a hint of doubts when you knew he’s just as invested as you are in this marriage. You decided to savor it all, both you and Seokjin took leave from work and humdrum life to explore the other side of world together. 

And eight months together passed, you and him both decided it would be the perfect time for you to start getting off the birth pill. Few months of trying and getting pregnancy, you and Seokjin are granted the beautiful healthy baby girl, whom both you named as Kim Mina.

Holding her then or now, you just know she’s already the best gift of your life that you’d do anything for her happiness and well being. 

“So, is Taehyung and Tasha anywhere near our house?” You ask, glancing at the clock. “They are probably the only people I’d worry at this point. All my work friends are already on the way. Yoongi is already in the way, right?”

“Yes he is. But no worry about Taehyung, sweetheart. I have made him promise or else he’ll have to be a clown for Mina’s birthday party.” Seokjin laughs. “All the food is served, everything is in the way it should be. We are going through this.”

“I can’t believe we’re finally having a housewarming party. And a baby too.” You laugh dreamily, picking up Mina to cradle on your chest. “Four years ago us would never believed this.”

“Four years ago Seokjin was a blind fool, I had to say. He almost missed the greatest woman on the planet.” Seokjin warmly back hugs you, kissing your cheek lovingly. You hum in mirth. “Luckily this greatest woman is willing to fight for him. The greatest gift for that lucky bastard, I have to say.”

“Well, she loved him too much, I have to say. It was all worth it.”

With the end of the sentence, a chime of bell is heard—somebody is coming. You quickly walk to the door with Seokjin on your side. The first one to arrive is Hoseok and Jungkook, the only single bachelor of the party. “Hi, Y/N, Seokjin! Congratulations, the house is incredible.” Both of them give you a sided hug, and Jungkook shoves two bottles of wine on your hold. 

“Drink up!” Jungkook giggles, kissing your baby’s cheek as he taps on Seokjin’s shoulder as a greeting, walking into your house to your tables of served dishes. 

In a spare of minutes, few of yours and Seokjin friends are walking in—Jane and her family, Namjoon and his wife and kid, and Yoongi with his girlfriend. You welcome them all with a wide smile, thankful for their presence.

Your parents and Seokjin’s surprisingly arrive right after each other, simultaneously gushing at their grandchild. “Mina! My very cute grandchild!” Your mother squeals in delight after giving you and Seokjin a greeting hug. Seokjin’s mother immediately scoops Mina out of your grasp, moving inside the house to play with her.

Walking around talking with your friends, another bell chime is heard from the door. You and Seokjin walk to open it, finding Jimin on the door with Yoonji, his wife of three months. Their face instantly lightens up at you, and you move to hug the blissful new couple. 

About Jimin, he finally moved back from Sydney to Seoul for good one and a half years ago. He was taking over a few branches of his father’s business, and you started rekindling the friendship with him. And you don’t want to brag, but you are the matchmaker for Jimin and Yoonji. She was the new assistant manager at your unit, and one dinner, you invited Jimin for dinner with your work friend’s and they instantly hit the bat right away. It doesn’t even take a year for Jimin to get on one knee and propose to her.

“Hi, Seokjin.” Jimin grins in courtesy. Seokjin answers with a laugh, pulling the younger guy into a side hug. You point Yoonji her way to Hoseok and Jungkook. “Congrats on the new house, man. This place is great.” Jimin sincerely compliments, handing him a large box of  housewarming gifts which Seokjin gladly receives with loud squeaky laughs of thank you.

It’s also been a year since Jimin had the talk with Seokjin, in which they bonded over alcohol and food. Jimin also apologized to what he did a few years back, and Seokjin instantly accepted it—no hard feelings, knowing that it was for the best as he finally found you, the best thing that happened to him. After that, Jimin basically joins the gang with Seokjin and Yoongi, and also hangs out with your friends slash his wife’s friend. It was all good.

After the housewarming party time finally arrives, the helper hands the drinks in tray for a toast. You lean onto Seokjin’s chest, as he begins the welcoming toast.

“Thank you everyone for coming. This hasn’t been a very easy ride with me and Y/N, but we are very thankful to where we are right now. A beautiful baby, a great house, a great loan—” Everyone chuckles at his joke. “ —but I wouldn’t have it any other way. I wanna say thank you to my wife, who has stood by me through thick and thin. I’d never be able to do it without you.”

Suddenly, the shouts to kiss are visible—high chance initiated by Jeon Jungkook—and you giggle before pressing a tender kiss to his lips. The aws are heard, and Seokjin looks back to the audience. “Thank you to my family and friends. Your great support is the reason we are here right now. I am very grateful.”

“Let’s toast, for this wonderful day. May we always be healthy and happy. Cheers!” Seokjin smiles and clinks his glass of champagne to yours. The sound of glass clinking against each other is heard simultaneously, and you sips on the beverage. Seokjin gazes down on you, a toxicated smile on his lips. 

“What?” You ask, falling a bit shy.

“I am so happy. You make me very happy, and I thank you for that.” He closes, resting his forehead on yours. “I love you, sweetheart. Until the sea sleeps.”

You hum in serenity, savoring his wondrous scent. “I love you too, baby. Until the sea sleeps.”

Suddenly, the doors are busted open, Taehyung rushed eyes staring confusedly at the large group of people settling on their places, Taehyun on his grasp. “Am I late? I don’t have to be a clown, right?!”

Just an disinterested glace before the crowd disperse around the home in group. Seokjin cunningly smirks at him, walking closer and taps his shoulder in a fake comforting manner. 

“Sorry, brother. Looking forward to you coming as a clown in Mina’s birthday party, okay?”

“Fuck.” He curses under his breath, but is not missed by your approaching mother-in-law. She immediately screeches loudly in anger, completely enraged with both hands on hips.

“Kim Taehyung! Your son is there, and you curse?! How dare you set out a bad example for your son?!”

He grimace, glaring at you and your husband who are laughing heartily at his clear misery.

“Lord, have your mercy.”

Thank you for reading! it’s such a great ride writing this. Credits to one quora answer I read that inspires this whole fluffy prompt. And all the smut writers that inspired me on writing such unholy scenes lol

Do slide into my ask box and let me know what you think! 🤩💜💌  And check out my other fics ➡ (click here)!

[equestrianwritingsstuff]

For the BTHB: enemy turned caretaker with Villain whumpee and Hero caretaker ???

Thank you, your writing is amazing. Have a good day!!!

Thank you for the ask and lovely comment! I hope you don't mind that I gave the characters genders as my brain cannot write with neutral ones today, but feel free to imagine the characters as you like.

If you want to send in an ask: here.

Downside to the River

@badthingshappenbingo

Warnings: beating, intensive description of broken bones (including broken leg, ribs, and jaw), blood, minor vomit, losing consciousness, bathing, enjoying hurting others

~

Maybe she went a little too far.

Maybe, it was a possibility.

Likely? No.

Unlikely? No.

Did she? Yes.

Now, the real question was... did she care?

In the heat of the moment, that trilogy of words wouldn't dare cross her fired-up mind.

But afterwards? After the deed was done? After she tucked him into bed with a warm blanket?

Yes, she cared. She cared and regretted it.

Let's go back in time for moment, shall we?

July 15, 11:23 PM:

Her fist struck something hard, her ears heard a crack, but her heart felt victory. Her other hand dove in, earning the same satisfying sensation.

"Knock it off, will you?" The villain below her spat, blood circling in the sticky saliva. "I get your point ma'am."

Hero didn't listen. She kicked, landing a near-stunning blow on Villain's chest. He wheezed, coughing and wincing, but he didn't get much time for recovery before another kick sent him hurdling to the ground. He laid there, winded and exhausted, calculating his injuries for greatest to least- he doubted Hero would hurt him further; after all, he was already down.

Yet the otherwise positive premonition failed him. Hero slammed both fists into his temple. Way to kick a man when he's already down, Villain groaned to himself just as stars erupted in his already dimming vision.

He brought himself clumsily to his arms, legs still reclining against the wooden floor. They were on a bridge in the woods, a place that young couples would go for dates on. Though it was more than obvious that wasn't the intention for the late night visit.

Hero pounced, a flying fist meeting his ribcage. Crack! Hero pulled back for moment to allow Villain to collapse on the ground, grunting and moaning weakly, before hopping to her feet and jumping on his side.

"I get your point," Villain growled through clenched teeth.

"I doubt that," Hero retorted, and stomped on Villain's outstretched hand.

"Nngh," Villain replied, pulling in his hand instinctively, but Hero didn't allow for that form of comfort. She placed her shoe onto his wrist and pinned it down.

"Shut up, will you?"

Crrreeeeaaaakkkk

Hero stood up straighter, giving Villain minimal, but relief nonetheless. When the eerie sound didn't come again, she continued her pin of victory.

Creeeeaaakkkk

Hero looked around again, shrugged, but stopped. There was something different in the air.

It was raining.

Not just a drizzle, but a downpour.

Hero looked over the side of the bridge to see raging waters hitting the wooden beams.

Oh crap.

It was a flash flood.

Hero pushed herself away from Villain and bounded to shore. She jumped over pools of mud and water, leaped over fallen branches, and slid over slick slides of leaves.

Before sprinting back home, Hero took a glance over her shoulder at Villain who was struggling to get back on his feet. For a moment, a pure second of temptation, Hero considered going to save him.

No, she told herself, silently shaming herself for those types of thoughts. He is a monster. He brought this upon himself.

Hero looked up again to see the bridge collapse. Villain's arms and legs gave out as a beam smacked into his back, right by the shoulder blades. She didn't have to hear his holler to know the horrible sound that escaped his bloody lips.

As he fell, obviously dazed and disoriented, his skull smashed into a stray piece of wood and he was enveloped by the muddy waves.

July 16, 12:18 AM:

Hero laid upon her bed, aimlessly wrapping a strand of her hair around her index finger, making knots and toying with the invention. Her mind was wandering. Was he dead? Or dying? Was he alone and cold? Or was he not even awake, only his body awaiting inevitable death?

Hero looked out the window and into the dark sky beyond. The consistent tapping on her window told her that it was indeed still raining- pretty heavily at that. But the rain wasn't her concern.

"He is cold," she whispered silently to herself, shaking her head, blonde curls bouncing off her forearms.

She tried to concentrate on her Game of Hair-Knots, but her restless legs walked themselves to the window, her inquisitive eyes looking outside.

Where was he?

She forced herself back to her bed and plopped back onto the comfortable cushioning. She laid her head against the comforter. Should go back out there...

No. She aimed to defeat Villain that night. The task was over, mission finished.

She didn't defeat Villain. The storm did. The intoxicating flash flood that more than definitely was making Villain suffer with dreadful hypothermia.

Save him.

But he is better dead.

It's not right.

I'm saving the world.

You're saving yourself. Go!

Hero rolled onto her back, groaned, and ran down the stairs. She threw on a jacket, grabbed a flashlight and trotted through the booming thunderstorm.

July 16, 12:56:

"Villain!" Hero screamed over the gusts of bellowing winds. She waved her flashlight around wildly. "Villain!"

She was following the river. He had to have turned up somewhere. She shuddered thinking of the waterfall not to faraway from where she was.

It was too crazy of one, but if he fell...

Hero didn't want to think of the "what ifs".

After a few more minutes of looking, she came upon said fall of water. Heart lurching, Hero madly searched around it, desperate to find him before the drop off.

He wasn't anywhere in sight.

Hero ran down the hill that caged the powerful waves up. She tripped over sticks and branches, and even fell a couple times, but kept going.

She had to find him.

And that she did.

His body was laying haphazardly on a rock, completely limp and seemingly unresponsive.

"Villain!" Hero yelled and crouched next to the injured person. Shining the light over his wet face, she could see all the bruises she left, the odd angle his jaw was in, and the smeared trace of blood on his temple where he hit his head earlier.

She let the light wander over the rest of his drenched, and nauseatingly bloody, body. A large wooden beam rested on his leg. His leg, in question, was sticking up on the other side, bent inward with blood staining the pale material of his jeans.

Hero shot straight up to look closer at his leg. If she moved it, she knew it would upset his injuries even further unless, of course, she woke Villain up.

"Hey," Hero tapped Villain's cheek until unfocused eyes open. "Wake up," she whispered.

Villain took a moment to get his bearings, but the moment he did, he screamed. "Hurts, hurts so much," he sobbed. Hero kept her hands rested on his shoulder until he shook them off.

"Get your hands off of me," he growled, glaring at Hero.

She didn't blame him.

But she did ignore him.

"You are trapped under that beam," she informed the villain, pointing to the heavy board that laid upon his lower body. Villain's gaze, still full of hatred, followed her finger.

"I have to lift it. The second I do, drag yourself away. Got it?"

Villain seemed to realize how dire his situation was for he nodded his head. Hero gave an encouraging smile and proceeded to lift the beam.

"Wait," Villain said. "How bad is it?"

"Bad."

Villain noticeably gulped and furrowed his brow.

Hero lined up to the board and wrapped her arms around the slimy material. "Ready? On the count of three. One... two... three..."

Hero lifted while Villain pulled himself to his feet- or foot.

The wood slipped from her hands. Even though her muscles trembled from lifting the beam- thanks to the blessing of adrenaline- she looked at Villain, who was swaying on his foot.

Then she looked down, at his leg.

The bone was popped out of his pants, white and ragged, with cracks running downwards. Hero felt bile rise up her throat, but the nauseating feeling was quickly succumbed when she noticed Villain's eyes roll backwards.

"Crap!" She exclaimed and caught Villain as he collapsed into her arms. His head lolled on her shoulder, body the human equivalent of a ragdoll.

July 16, 2:12 AM:

Hero dragged Villain into the bathroom and quickly got him out of his sodden clothes and wrapped in countless blankets. His lips were an unnatural shade of blue, fingertips waxen in yellow candlewax.

"C'mon bud," Hero murmured, rubbing his wrists to stimulate warm blood flow. She periodically checked hie temperature and smiled as it increased by the decimal.

His hair was matted in dirt and blood- he needed that cleaned immediately before it got into any open wounds. Hero found so many, so many little cuts and deep gashes that she lost count. He would need stitches, antibiotics...

His leg. Surgery was a definite.

But bringing him to a hospital would be suicide for him.

But wasn't I the one who just wanted him dead? The one who left him for dead?

Hero shook her head. That train of thought wouldn't help the situation.

The moment his body temperature was raised enough to safetly bathe him without the risk of even more pain due to the sudden change from cold to hot, Hero filled the tub with warm, vanilla scented water, and lowered him gently into it. She took the showerhead and tenderly rinsed out his hair, picking out hardened bits of mud and dried blood.

He slept through her motherly care, sometimes groaning, but Hero was quick to soothe him.

The next task in cleaning him was shampooing his hair. She scrubbed her coconut scented soap into his hair, then rinsed, dipping his head back to avoid getting it into his eyes.

When the bath was done, Hero wrapped him in a thick bathrobe, tied the front into a bow and carried him to her room where she wrapped a blanket around his sleeping frame.

The last thing Hero did before sitting in a nearby chair was call her friend.

"Caretaker? I kinda have a situation here."

[asweetprologue]

drown all my shadows

Octoberfest 15: Lost (whumptober #20) - Last one!!

Jaskier wakes in a fog.

His immediate first impression is, in a way, a lack of impression. The world around him seems featureless. He’s standing, though he doesn’t remember standing up, or walking here in the first place. The fog is thick around his thighs, sending up slow, curling whisps whenever he moves his hands. It’s not much better elsewhere, filling the air and turning the world into an opaque canvas of white. He can’t see beyond his own outstretched hand, everything lost in the gloom. 

It’s unnerving. The world is dampened around him, like there’s cotton stuffed in his ears. Jaskier doesn’t know how he got here. He and Geralt had been together - on a hunt? There had been a cabin - a woman? a witch? - and they’d given chase, following her into the woods beyond… 

He remembers nothing else. His memories are as foggy as his surroundings. One moment he’d been running after Geralt through the forest of craggy, blackened trees, and then next thing he remembers is opening his eyes to this barren landscape. The silence around him is so intense he can hear his own heartbeat rushing in his ears, deafening. 

Half just for something else to listen to, Jaskier says, “Hello?” His voice falls flat in the fog, eaten up by the mist. No one answers. “Geralt? Hello?”

There is nothing. He does a once over of his surroundings once again, but in every direction all he can see is white. It’s almost like being in a box, surrounded by walls on all sides. Feeling panic starts to worm its way into his chest, Jaskier takes a few steps forward. He can’t explain why he feels dread curling through his stomach. It’s just fog, he tells himself. But it doesn’t feel like fog. It feels empty and oppressive and cold, clinging to him and tugging at his clothes and his feet. Something equally cold and empty echoes through Jaskier’s chest, a spot of fearful loneliness that he has always worked hard to keep at bay. 

With no other recourse, he walks. 

There are no features to the landscape that he can distinguish. The fog is endless; he may as well not be moving at all, for all it changes. The ground under his feet is a plain gray dirt, but he has not stumbled upon a single plant or animal since he’d started walking. It feels quickly as if hours have passed, though it also could have been only moments. There is no way to mark the passage of time or how far he’s walked. There’s no sun in the sky; the fact that he can see at all suggests that it must be there, but the fog has swallowed it along with everything else. He can only put one foot in front of the other, occasionally calling out to anyone who might be near. 

It could have been minutes or hours or days, but eventually something does change. He thinks he’s imagined it, at first, but as he moves closer there’s no mistaking. There is a shape in the fog, something just slightly darker than the rest of his surroundings. He can’t make it out, but Jaskier moves towards it with a burst of enthusiasm that borders on fear. As he nears, the fog dissipates enough for him to make out the outline of a figure.

“Oh, thank fuck,” Jaskier says, relief sweeping through him. Even if this person is as lost as he is, at least there will be someone with him. Anything to help assuage the nervous, lonely thing inside him. “I thought I was the only one out here, are you alright?” As he approaches, he can see that it's a woman, her yellow dress faded with age. Jaskier practically runs to close the last few feet between them, reaching out to put a hand on her shoulder. The dress is soft under his hands, but extraordinary cold. At his touch, the figure shifts like water under his hands, turning in his direction. 

She has no face. 

Jaskier screams, but the sound is consumed by the fog like all the others. He falls back, scrambling away on his ass. The thing that looks like a woman but has no face does not follow him, standing perfectly still. The flat expanse of smooth skin where her features should be does not change in the slightest or react to him in any way. Jaskier stumbles to his feet and runs back into the fog, desperate to escape the horror of it.

His heart does not stop pounding, no matter how much distance he gains. It’s impossible to tell if he is gaining distance. And it isn’t long before he stumbles across another figure, practically running into it. The man is the same, utterly devoid of features, a personless person shaped thing. Jaskier feels the terror gripping him wind tighter and tighter as he turns and immediately finds another faceless figure in his periphery. The shells never react to him, but for some reason that is more frightening than if they’d tried to attack him. 

Jaskier runs, not stopping to assess the shapes he sees blurred through the fog. He’s panicking, he knows, but he can’t stop. He’s alone in this horrible fog with these empty people. There’s no escape; no matter how far he runs, there’s no thinning of the mist. 

Finally he collapses, curling into a tight ball in the thickest part of the fog. Gasping into his knees, Jaskier thinks, frantically, that he might be trapped here forever. Who would look for him? Who would even know where this is? No one at Oxenfurt would think anything of his disappearance, his family haven’t seen him in decades. He has fans who will forget him, patrons who will mourn the loss of his art but move immediately on to newcomers. As he thinks, Jaskier feels the fog closing in tighter around him, kissing his cheeks and clutching at his shoulders. It’s so cold, in a bone deep way that scares him as much as the faceless people. No one will remember him, no one is looking for him -

Geralt, he thinks. Geralt will look.

It’s such a relief he almost cries with it. No matter what Geralt has said in the past, they’re friends, and Geralt is the most noble man Jaskier knows. Geralt would not write off his disappearance. Geralt cares about him, and he will find him. Geralt will come. 

And suddenly, as if summoned by sheer will, Jaskier finds a familiar hand thrust into his face. 

Geralt’s eyes are wide when Jaskier looks up, and it’s so good to see him, so good to see anyone that Jaskier fails to spring immediately into action. Impatiently, Geralt shakes the hand in front of him. “Jaskier,” he says, insistent. “Take my hand.” So Jaskier does. 

Instantly the fog retreats, as if blown back by a strong blast of aard. The forest comes into focus around them, the spindly arms of the trees reaching up towards the pale blue sky. Jaskier is pulled to his feet, Geralt’s hands settling on his upper arms as he is given a thorough once over. “Are you alright?” Geralt asks, gruff but clearly concerned. 

Jaskier feels a bit faint, weak in the wake of his terror. “Ah,” he says faintly. “M-Mostly, I think. Yes. What was that, Geralt? Where was I?”

Geralt frowns, glancing around the forest around them. It’s quiet, but in the way forests often are in the fall. If he strains, Jaskier can hear the rustle of animals rooting through the fallen leaves that coat the ground around them, the soft calls of birds and the chirp of squirrels and chipmunks. “The witch was kidnapping people,” Geralt says. “Do you remember?”

Jaskier nods slowly. It’s coming back now, without the fog leaking into his brain and obscuring his thoughts. “People from the village. We chased after her, when she ran from the cottage. She -”

“Hit you with a spell,” Geralt finishes. “Yes. It put you in some kind of… in-between place. Managed to get her to tell me what it was, before I killed her. It feeds off of people’s loneliness. She used it to strengthen her magic.”

“There were others there,” Jaskier says, feeling nauseated as he remembers the blank stares. “They had no faces.”

“Already gone. Eaten up by her magic,” Geralt says, gently. He’s smoothing his hands up and down Jaskier’s arms now, a grounding gesture that Jaskier is grateful for. “It wouldn’t have happened to you. I found you easily, once I got her to tell me the spell. People care about you. The spell only feeds off of lonely people.”

“I knew you would find me,” Jaskier says. He feels tired, exceptionally so. Like the fog sapped up all of his strength, both physical and emotional. “Fuck, Geralt, it was awful.” Unable to help himself, Jaskier leans forward until he’s resting his forehead against Geralt’s shoulder, fingers tangling in the familiar leather armor. 

To his surprise, strong arms come up to hold him tightly. Jaskier sighs, relief sweeping through him as Geralt’s warm palms press into his shoulders. “It’s alright,” Geralt says, in the same tone he uses on Roach when he’s trying not to spook her. Jaskier would take offense if he didn’t feel so much like he might be spooked. “I would never have left you there.”

“I know,” Jaskier says, tired but content. “I would never forget you. I’m never lonely with you.”

Geralt squeezes him tightly, once, before releasing him, though not entirely. One hand still rests on Jaskier’s shoulder, just at the joint of his neck and collarbone. “We should get back to town. Are you alright to walk?”

“Yes,” Jaskier says, though exhaustion rests in every bone. “Bit of a fright, that’s all. I’m perfectly hale and hearty.”

To prove this, Jaskier turns and starts away, not even sure that he’s going in the right direction. A hand catches his wrist as he does, and he turns back to Geralt with a questioning look. He’s met with a soft expression, one he’d rarely seen before on the witcher. “I’m glad,” Geralt says. “That you’re not lonely.”

Jaskier finds himself smiling, warmth flooding through his chest to finally chase off the cold from before. “Never with you, dear. Never with you.”

[firewoodfigs]

and A and B collapsed in it, exhausted

ERI!!! ILY 🥰💕

VADE ILY MORE <3 tysm for the prompt and I'm so sorry it took me so long to get back to it, but I hope you enjoy!! :')

(side note: this kinda spiralled out of control so it might be a better idea to read it on ao3 instead LMAO)

                                        xxxxx

There are a few things that her mind manages to dimly register before it loses focus.

One, the ongoing chaos around her — the yelling and screaming and the achingly familiar smell of smoke. Riza hopes that means the unit is safe, that the mission has succeeded. Adrenaline rushes through her veins as she struggles to remain alert, but her faculties are stubbornly uncooperative, and the only thing it really manages to absorb at the moment is pain.

Pain. Her hand is drenched, sticky. Riza inhales shakily, her breath coming out in short, ragged gasps. She’s bleeding from her side, and she has to bite her lip to keep from crying out as she presses down on her side. Her efforts are in vain; blood continues to drip on broken cobblestone like water from a leaking tap. She’ll probably need a blood transfusion or two. Riza just hopes she hasn’t punctured a lung (though she can certainly feel the makings and telltale signs of a broken rib or two).

The last thing she hears a voice she’d recognise anywhere — Hawkeye, stay with me. Stay awake, you hear me?Instinctively, Riza tries to obey the command, but it’s hard when pain is spreading through her chest like an exploding star; when she can barely catch her breath. She picks up on the desperation in his voice as he lapses into informality — Riza, stay with me, please. You’re going to be okay— and manages to choke out an apology before her consciousness flickers like a spoiled lamp. She wants to tell him to not worry, to tell him how she’s truly felt for the past decade, but the last spots of light in her vision seems to fade away, somewhere far beyond her reach, and —

And then her world turns to black.

—

When she finally wakes, her world is an astonishing shade of white.

Riza blinks groggily. She would have pushed herself into a sitting position, but the dull ache in her side seems to hint that that would be a spectacularly stupid thing to do. So she continues lying down, feeling very much like an invalid. Her nose wrinkles at the nauseating stench. Antiseptics. Disinfectants.

The hospital.

Riza bites back a groan and, this time, fighting any sense of rationality and self-preservation, attempts to seat herself up. She hears a matronly voice fussing over her predicament — something about her being as stubborn as Colonel Mustang had described her to be, and would have snorted aloud at the hypocrisy if the morphine hadn’t done its job so expediently.

Riza falls back asleep, the pain slowly ebbing away as a hand reaches out to gently stroke her hair.

—

The next time Riza wakes, her world is spinning, tilting on its axis to create an indecipherable blur of colour. There are, however, blobs of light swimming in her vision, warm and golden —  daylight? It must be daytime, then.

Riza swallows a pained groan and forces her eyelids open. Her vision is hazy, but she notes, to her dismay, that the ceiling is still conspicuously white. That must mean she’s still in the hospital. She clears her throat and blinks, hard, thinking it might just be a hallucination or a side effect of having too much morphine in her system, but her surroundings remain the same.

The only difference this time is the voice that greets her. It’s deep and decidedly masculine, one that she would recognise anywhere. (One that has been haunting her dreams.)

“Are you awake, Lieutenant?”

“I am,” Riza mumbles. She will never understand how her body can be so tired even after she’s slept so much. She doesn’t even know how long she’s been out for. “How long was I out for?”

“Nearly two days,” Roy whispers, and she immediately detects the worry in his voice. She wonders if he’s gotten much sleep over the past two days; the dark circles lining his concerned eyes tells her that he hasn’t. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m alright, sir.”

Riza shakes her head lightly in an effort to dispel some of the dizziness. Slowly, she tries to ease herself into a sitting position, wincing as a sudden wave of pain surges through her abdomen.

“Lieutenant!” he half-yells, chidingly. Riza winces again when he circles his arms around her torso without any warning. “You shouldn’t be doing that.”

“Hypocrite,” Riza manages, weakly.

Another burst of pain renders her speechless soon enough, and then she’s gripping onto the bed rail like it’s a lifeline.

Roy ignores her comment well enough. Gently, he adjusts her back into bed, the hem of his black wooden scarf tickling her cheek as he does so. She mutters something about propriety and regulations, but Roy ignores that as well, instead bringing a cup of water to her lips. Riza sips at it slowly. She hadn’t realised how dry her throat was; it makes her feel like she's just swallowed sandpaper. Like she’s back in the desert.

Riza mumbles a thanks when she’s done and leans back against the hard pillow, bringing a hand up to shield her eyes from the sunrays. She is so very tired. She thinks she could use another shot of morphine, possibly another day in bed, but there are bigger, more important things at hand, like —

“How did the rest of the mission go?”

“We’ve managed to sort everything out, Lieutenant,” Roy reassures, frowning at her priorities. “Don’t worry about it. Worry about yourself, first.”

“You’re being hypocritical again, sir.”

“Maybe, but we can save this argument for another time.” His tone brooks no disagreement, and before Riza can so much as protest he’s already taken the liberty of laying her back down. “For now, rest.”

“I’ve been resting for two days, sir.”

“Clearly, you haven’t had enough,” he says, smirking in a way that makes her want to pull the trigger on him. Regrettably, though, the hospital has a no-arms policy, and she finds that even the pistol that she always keeps hidden on her thigh has been removed. Riza huffs. “Since you haven’t shot me yet for putting you in bed.”

“I will soon enough,” Riza mutters, but the words sound tauntingly hollow to her ears. Her eyelids are starting to feel heavy again. She can feel herself slowly ebbing away, drifting back into a void.

“I look forward to that. And Lieutenant?”

“Yes?”

As much as she tries to fight it, being awake for the past ten minutes has taken a toll on her still-battered body, and she’s unbelievably exhausted. Being so drugged up probably doesn’t help, either.

“Do not, under any circumstances, risk your life like that for me. Ever again.”

That’s what a bodyguard is for, is what Riza wants to say, but sleep reclaims her before she can properly protest, and it’s dark again. (She thinks she’d managed to articulate a resolute no, though.)

—

The rest of the unit, along with Rebecca, visits her the next morning.

Riza manages to remain civil and courteous throughout the entirety of their fussing — which is a miracle, she thinks, when Rebecca and Havoc are sobbing like she’s actually dead. (Riza rolls her eyes and pats Rebecca on her hand when nobody’s looking, hoping the contact will provide some confirmation that she is still in fact among the living.)

Falman, Breda and Fuery are, thankfully, a lot more composed than them, although Fuery himself looks like he’s well on the verge of crying too. Riza distracts him expertly with questions about Hayate’s well-being, and he perks up immediately at the mention of her beloved pup (who’s presently under his care, because he’s the only one she can entrust Hayate with).

“Alright, alright, the Lieutenant needs her rest,” Roy announces at last, much to her relief. As much as she appreciates their concern, she does need her rest, and she will probably need an extra dose of morphine, too; Riza can feel the ache in her side starting to flare up again. “It’s time to go.”

Riza hears a chorus of get well soon, Lieutenant, mingled with a couple of tearful goodbyes. (Rebecca mumbles something about Roy being a selfish prick who’s kidnapping Riza for himself and warns Riza against Stockholm syndrome. Riza rolls her eyes and tells Rebecca to stay away from shitty soap operas.)

Riza waves at them as Roy ushers them out. When the room is empty again, he turns his undivided focus back to her, and asks, “Are you feeling alright, Lieutenant?”

“I’m fine,” Riza insists, although her mind is already devising a way to ask for morphine without him noticing. She’s sure that he’ll kick up a fuss if he realises that she’s in pain; the last thing she needs is him moping around day and night like a kicked puppy.

Slowly, like she’s testing the waters, Riza eases herself up - with some uninvited assistance from her commanding officer - and breathes heavily, resting her head on the pillow. She notes the weird contraption around her waist and stifles a childish groan. The fact that it’s still there means that she’ll probably be wheelchair-bound for a while, but she’s already starting to feel restless from being stuck in bed for so long. (Riza wonders if this was how Roy had felt, when he had been hospitalised after his affray with Lust. She thinks she can better empathise with his decision to recklessly discharge himself now.)

“Are you hungry?” Roy asks suddenly. Riza shakes her head, but he continues anyway. “I made chicken soup.”

Riza watches, somewhat nonplussed as he extracts a thermal flask from an insulated bag and sets everything up on the overbed table. The sudden role reversal discomfits her a little. Riza feels strangely out of her element, being cared for like this (when it’s normally the other way round).

“Thank you, sir,” she says, both embarrassed and touched by his concern. “You didn’t have to trouble yourself —”

“It’s no trouble at all, Lieutenant,” he interjects gently, smiling.

Riza shrugs and sips at the homemade soup wordlessly. The warm liquid glides down her throat easily enough, and she lets out a hum of approval, pleasantly surprised by the sudden display of culinary talent from her commanding officer.

“This is really good, by the way. Since when did you learn how to make such good chicken soup?”

“Since ten tries and a burnt kitchen.”

Riza almost sputters. “What?”

“Just kidding. I’m not that bad of a cook,” he says, grinning as he ladles out a bowl for himself.  Riza stares at him disbelievingly. Burning down a kitchen is not something altogether impossible for him, considering his track record of culinary mishaps. “Really, Lieutenant. Give me some credit. I’ve improved quite a fair bit since my days as a teenage boy.”

“Well, this proves it, for sure,” she says, and his grin widens.

“I’m glad you like it.”

Riza offers a small smile of her own in return.

“I do, thank you.”

They eat in companionable silence. Riza is relieved to note that his mood has improved somewhat. since the last time she’d been awake. She might’ve been too drugged up to fully comprehend her surroundings previously, but she had been conscious enough to note the anger and frustration, the worry in his tone when he’d reprimanded her for her recklessness. And it’s easy to understand why was mad; he’s always had a peculiar habit of putting his subordinates above his own well-being.

Still, Riza doesn’t think she’s done anything wrong. She’s simply doing her job, and he’s simply being overprotective. She is his bodyguard, after all, and that itself entails sacrifice where necessary. And she would do it, in the blink of an eye, if it means keeping him out of harm’s way.

But Riza also knows him well enough to know when to back down from a losing argument, and so she simply pretends that conversation never happened. She’s satisfied with the way things are between them — for now, at least.

Above all, she’s just relieved to see that he’s safe.

—

Later in the afternoon, a nurse comes in to check on Riza.

“How are you feeling today?”

“Better,” she says, even as the growing ache in her side threatens to expose her lie. Roy looks at her, unconvinced, and Riza feels a sudden, uncharacteristic impulse to give the nurse a hug when she ushers Roy out for privacy reasons. She’s not really the hugging sort, but this nurse - Jade, Riza notes, from the little white name tag hanging from her breast pocket - definitely deserves one. “When can I be discharged?”

“Not so soon, my dear.” Jade clucks her tongue, as if disappointed that Riza had even asked such a thing. “We’ll have to keep you around for at least a week more, but you should be able to start physiotherapy in a couple of weeks.”

Riza visibly cringes when she hears this. Two weeks is a long time to be hospitalised, and she’ll probably be out of commission for a while at this rate — especially if physiotherapy is involved. (Throw in an overprotective boss in the mix, and she’s basically done for.)

“Is it possible for us to start physio earlier?”

“No such luck, sweetie,” and Riza cringes again, this time at the term of endearment. She’s always been a little uncomfortable around nurses like these, simply because the military doctors are usually the stoic, no-nonsense with no time for coddling.

(Between the two, though, she’s not sure which she prefers, but Riza decides she just hates hospitals in general. The rooms are stifling and smell like a mortician’s lab, even though it’s a place that is technically supposed to keep her alive and nurse her back to health.)

“I’ll be fine. Really, I’m feeling much better already.”

Jade sighs, the disapproval apparent on her pretty face. “Have you even tried walking yet?”

“No, but -”

“Good, you shouldn’t. You’ll have to use a wheelchair for a few days, before switching to a walking frame.”

“I’m sorry?”

“You heard me,” Jade confirms, sounding a little more apologetic this time. “I would strongly advise against trying — unless you want to risk worsening your injury, you’re better off staying in bed.”

Riza frowns, very much displeased with her current predicament. As she’d predicted, she is, in fact, wheelchair-bound, but she hadn’t thought that she would have to rely on a walking frame, too. She’s never had to rely on one before — not since she was first trying to learn how to skate on the rink that one winter as a girl of ten.

“I’m sorry,” Jade says, patting her on the hand sympathetically. “I’m sure you’ll get better soon, with time and rest.”

Riza shrugs, feigning nonchalance. She’s irritated at the situation, but there's really not much she can do right now other than rest. Besides, her commanding officer will find a way to keep her here somehow even if she tries to escape.

“Alright. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now, do you need anything else? More painkillers, perhaps?”

Riza nods grimly. She turns away as the nurse administers another dose of morphine, and adjusts herself on the pillows in helpless resignation as she waits for it to take effect.

“Take good care of her. She’s a stubborn one.”

Riza hears these words faintly, through the charged, cottony silence filling her drug-addled mind. She tries to protest, but the words seem to come out like garbled nonsense, and the last thing she hears before falling back into unconsciousness is something that both irks and warms her heart immensely.

“I will.”

—

Riza begins her first physiotherapy session exactly a week later.

By some stroke of luck, she’d managed to bring it forward, after proving to the doctors that she had, in fact, made a rather speedy recovery — even if said recovery meant that she was still mostly stuck to a wheelchair. Her commanding officer hadn’t been too pleased, of course, but it was still worth being able to get out of her room and get up on her own two feet.

That doesn’t mean it’s easy, though. Recovery is an agonisingly slow, painful process. Riza finds herself trembling, just from supporting herself with a walking frame. It feels like someone is repeatedly stabbing her at her side, and she has to pause every now and then just to catch her breath.

Riza grimaces. She hasn’t felt this winded since the last time she’d had an awful case of bronchitis. Her legs are like jelly, and there’s a sheen of sweat that’s starting to stick to her fringe from all the heaving and wincing she’s been doing the past five minutes.

Still, Riza forces herself to keep going. She’s had worse, anyway, and this is nothing compared to the survival camps she’d endured back in the academy.

(It’s also nothing compared to what Havoc is going through.)

“Now try to put your left foot forward, Miss Hawkeye,” the physiotherapist says, and Riza follows suit, thinking of her friend as she takes her first steps. “Very good, now slowly, with the other foot.”

Riza continues as instructed, even as a fresh jolt of pain shoots through her side. Riza grits her teeth and staggers forward. She has to do this. She has to get better soon for the unit, for him. It’s bad enough that he’s already missing one subordinate, and she would rather die trying than be a liability.

(The thought of being an additional burden on his already worn shoulders is simply unbearable.)

—

“How did your first session go?” Roy asks later that evening, when he comes around to visit her. It’s already way past visiting hours, but Riza doesn’t need to ask to know that he’s probably charmed some poor, ingenuous nurse into breaking the rules and letting him in.

“Fine.”

Roy frowns. “I still think you should have waited for a bit longer before —”

“I’m fine,” Riza insists. The exhaustion is beginning to creep up on her, and she doesn’t think she can sustain much of a conversation - much less an argument - today. Riza notes the dark rings under his eyes and immediately softens. Guilt creeps into an overworked system, urging her towards a feeble attempt at reassurance. “I promise, sir. Don’t worry about me.”

Roy stares at her meaningfully, and then sighs as if to say, you know that’s an impossible request. He offers a wry smile.

“Alright,” he says, making himself comfortable on her bedside stool. He folds his arms across his chest and yawns, joking about increased paperwork and reduced efficiency in his absence, but Riza can tell that he’s still in a sombre mood; she doesn’t need to ask to know that he’s been beating himself up over her current situation.

Riza knows, however, that it’s not something that he’s particularly keen on discussing, and so she plays along with a teasing shrug.

“I hope you’re not slacking off, sir.”

“Oh, you know me. I wouldn’t dare.”

“I’ve known you long enough to know about your atrocious work ethic, sir.”

He laughs. “I’ll work on that, Lieutenant.”

“Good.”

—

Roy continues visiting her the following evenings, after her physiotherapy sessions. He’d insisted on tagging along at first, but Riza had convinced him that it was better for her to do them alone. It’s bad enough that the nurses are starting to think that there’s something more than a strictly professional relationship between them.

Besides, he’d made a promise to not skive off at work. That had been enough to get him off her back in the afternoons, but not enough, apparently, to prevent him from breaking in and visiting her at night.

“You don’t have to come every day, sir,” Riza says, because she knows he’s been basically shuttling between her and Havoc. The fatigue is obvious on his face; his complexion is paler than usual, taking on an almost sickly tone, and the rings under his eyes are starting to become almost bruise-like.

“Nonsense,” he scoffs. Riza rolls her eyes, because he’stalking nonsense. “I’m fine.”

“You look tired.”

“Is that meant to be a jibe at my appearance?”

“Yes,” she deadpans, pointing at the stubbles on his chin. “You haven’t even shaved today.”

Roy waves a dismissive hand as he carefully pours out her favourite congee into a bowl. “I still managed to charm my way in, so I’m sure I’m still as good looking as ever.”

“With all due respect, sir, you’re not.”

���Really, now, don’t be insubordinate —”

“I’m serious, sir.”

Roy regards her with abject horror, and heads to the bathroom to fix his stubbles while she slowly savours the steaming bowl of congee that he’s left on the table. Roy leaves an hour later, and at first Riza thinks he’ll take a hint and take the day off tomorrow, but he shows up the following evening, anyway, remarkably clean-shaven this time.

—

As much as Riza knows that her expectations are unrealistic, it’s disheartening to see that she’s still having trouble walking. It’s been nearly two weeks since surgery, and she’s received feedback that she’s making tremendous progress in physiotherapy, but it’s still too slow. She’s still not discharged. She’s still not allowed back at work, she’s still mostly confined to bed, and —

And she’s still useless.

She hates it, of course, but there’s really not much she can do right now. She can’t return to work without her commanding officer filing a restraining order of some sort, and she can’t discharge herself without an entire army of hospital staff hot on her tails.

She can, however, get past the nurses who are a little too preoccupied with the rumour mill. And so she does. Riza wheels herself furtively into a lift without attracting attention, and, having brought along her inconvenience of a walking frame, takes her rehabilitation into her own hands. She ventures out into the hospital garden, clumsily pushing herself towards standing. The floor is cold and the air tastes salty, but it’s the most alive she’s felt in ages. Her first step is shaky, and so is the next, but she is walking without supervision. Taking baby steps.

Riza smiles, even as her arms tremble from having to hold up her entire weight. She soldiers on anyway, persisting in her hobbling. It’s a strangely liberating feeling to walk by herself after weeks of enduring multiple sets of watchful, paranoid eyes.

But maybe she’s overestimated herself. The ache in her side returns with a vengeance, without warning, causing her to pause in her tracks.

Riza leans against the railings, gasping for breath. She presses a hand to her side as another wave of pain strikes. She’s a far cry from her usual athleticism, now. She doubts she’ll be able to ace the annual military fitness test this year like she normally does (she’s never fallen below the gold standard since graduating from the academy).

“Hawkeye!”

Riza stumbles when she hears her name. She only just manages to latch onto a nearby railing, but her limbs seem hellbent on giving way. She braces herself for the impact, expecting to fall flat on her face, but a hand reaches out to steady her from behind just before she crashes to the floor.

A little more than relieved, Riza exhales shakily and clutches onto her walking frame, with both hands this time.

“Hawkeye,” she hears again, and she knows instantly that she’s in for an (unnecessary) lecture.

“Sir,” she heaves. “I’m alright. Sorry for the scare.”

“What are you doing here by yourself?” Roy exclaims, and she shushes him with a displeased glare.

“Keep it down, please. We’re in a hospital.”

“Exactly,” he huffs, his voice taking on a reprimanding tone. “You shouldn’t be out and running about by yourself. Where are those nurses, anyway? Why isn’t anyone keeping you company? What if —”

“Sir,” Riza stresses, her irritation seeping through. The last thing she needs right now is to be treated like a helpless child. What she needs, actually, is some affirmation that she’s still a valuable asset to the team. Still useful. “I’m fine. You worry too much.”

“You’re not helping with that, Lieutenant.”

“The last I recalled, you were running around with a similar injury.”

“Yes, but I was an idiot, and you’re not.”

Riza smiles. “I can’t say you’re wrong there.”

“Anyway,” he continues, clearing his throat as if to regain some of his lost dignity. “You were nearly caught in an explosion, and then shot by a bullet. That’s far worse than getting impaled in the gut.”

“When you put it like that, I’m not too sure which is worse, sir,” Riza says. As much as she appreciates his concern, the double standard is beginning to grate on her nerves; she thinks he should at least be grateful she hasn’t broken out of the hospital by sheer force yet.

Roy huffs. “Stubborn as always, aren’t you?”

To that, Riza simply shrugs. She leans back against a nearby vending machine, enjoying the fresh air and dim lights for a bit before being forced to go back.

Roy regards her with a meaningful look like he’s debating whether to scold her or something else. Something she doesn’t want to expressly acknowledge. Not yet, at least — not during this crucial period of their lives that could very well dictate how the rest of it will go.

(But this is how it’s always been, Riza thinks. They’ve never needed words to convey the unutterable. In many ways, their actions have always spoken louder than its verbal counterparts, and it’s probably best for them to keep it this way, to suppress the felonious sentiments that they’ve already kept so closely guarded for years.)

“Put your feet on top of mine, Hawkeye.”

“Sir?”

“Just do it. You’re not that heavy,” he says, gently pulling her forward so that she no longer has the vending machine for support. Something nudges at her toes, and Riza raises a brow, as if to question whether he’s genuinely serious about this. “Go on.”

“You could end up with two broken feet, sir —”

“In which case I’ll get an extended leave from work, so really, that’s a win-win.”

“Seems like you’ve given this a lot of thought,” Riza says. She laughs quietly at his antics, and she doesn’t need to look at him to know that he’s smirking triumphantly, like he’s just bested her in a game of chess.

“Of course I have. Now get on, it’s better than walking around like you’re fully recovered.”

And because she knows better than to fight a losing argument, Riza just does as she’s told.

Gingerly, she puts her feet on top of his, mindful to not fracture anything. Roy pulls her close to him, wrapping his arms around her torso — whether to prevent falling, or to embrace her, she’s not sure, but she doesn’t mind, not really. Being shackled to a hospital bed for two weeks is enough to make her crave and cave into human contact.

“This feels an awful lot like we’re dancing, sir.”

“Again, a win-win.”

She rolls her eyes. “How very opportunistic of you.”

Laughter rumbles from his chest, genuine and unbridled.

“You know me. I would never pass up on an opportunity to dance with my favourite subordinate.”

“I’ll be sure to relay your message to Havoc, sir.”

“Thank you,” he says, and Riza bites back a laugh at the obvious sarcasm. “Alright, now just follow my lead. Move your left foot back.”

She does as she’s told, again. Roy repeats his instructions for the other foot, and the cycle repeats, until they’re trudging around in small circles. It’s like graceless dancing, Riza thinks, observing him silently as he frowns from concentrating so intensely on their every step. It’s just like when he’d first tried to teach her how to dance. (Dancing around campfires during the pumpkin harvest had never really been her thing - in part because it involved copious amounts of socialising and talking, and in part because she was born with two left feet - but it had been Roy’s, evidently. She hadn’t the heart to rain on his parade, and so had reluctantly obliged when he’d asked her to dance.)

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, sir.”

His frown deepens, and he stops moving for a moment.

“Are you tired?”

“I’m alright, sir.”

“You always say that,” he murmurs. “But I don’t want you to overdo it. Let’s get you back.”

Riza sighs resignedly. She is starting to feel exhausted, but there’s a part of her that doesn’t want this shared, private moment to end, either. She’s been enjoying it more than she should. More than she would ever admit.

“Alright,” she says, but Roy surprises her and pulls her in for a hug.

“I just wanted you to know that you’re not useless, Riza. Not at all.”

Her throat runs dry.

“Sir?”

“I know you’ve probably been feeling that way,” he continues, running a hand through her hair, now limp and sickeningly dry from all the time spent away from sunshine and conditioner. “Which is why you’ve been pushing yourself so hard. But I promise you you’re not. You could never be.”

Riza chews on her bottom lip contemplatively. She wants to ask how he’d read her mind, but there’s no point asking questions that she already knows the answers to. They’ve known each other for a long time, after all (she knows he must’ve been thinking the same thing during his earlier convalescence, too).

“I - thank you, sir.”

Roy nods, his chin tickling the top of her head.

“Besides, that word is meant for me, not for you.”

Riza laughs, but it comes out muffled as he continues stroking the back of her head.

“Your level of self-awareness today is off the charts.”

“I know,” he smirks. “Shall we?”

She nods, and Roy guides her back into her wheelchair. Their extensive experience with covert operations is particularly handy during a time like this; Roy manages to somehow evade all of the staff on duty and successfully wheels her back into her room without arousing suspicion.

Riza is so enervated that she practically sinks into the mattress without protest, even as Roy helps her in. She eyes him as he makes himself comfortable - as comfortable as one can be - in the old, lumpy chair beside her.

“Sir,” she croaks out. Riza clears her throat and tries again. “Sir.”

“Yes?”

Riza shifts a little to make space. She’s thankful that it’s already evening; she’s pretty sure she’s blushing by now, because she’s never been so bold, so forward before. (He’s usually the one taking initiative when it comes to things like this, but the unhealthy pallor in his skin is enough for her to make an exception.)

“You should rest, too.”

“I am, Hawkeye.”

She shifts a little more to the side. He gets the hint.

“Well, since you’re asking so nicely —”

“I'm not asking.”

Roy laughs, but he slides in any way, military regulations and meddlesome nurses be damned. They’ll be fine, Riza thinks; the nurses aren’t known to be particularly alert past midnight. Besides, Roy is probably sensible enough to get out before dawn, and if he’s not, he’ll probably charm or bribe his way out somehow. She’s not normally so cavalier about breaking the rules, but Roy deserves a night of proper rest, at least. It’s the least she can do after all he’s done for her.

“If you say so.”

“I didn’t,” Riza insists, stifling a yawn. She’s so tired that she thinks she might fall asleep while talking. “Get some rest, sir.”

“You too, Hawkeye,” he says, yawning as he pulls the miserable excuse of a blanket over them both. “Sleep well.”

Riza feels the ghost of a kiss on her temple, before her world becomes blissfully dark.

[giorno-plays-piano]

Blood in the water Part 2

Pairing: merman!Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, kidnapping, non-consensual drug use, brief mention of breeding, minor depiction of violence.

Words: 3496.

Part 1

___________________

He started singing again, and you turned on Slipknot to the full volume, carefully slipping on your noise-canceling headphones you ordered not so long ago. They were really a blessing, but even with them and all the noise surrounding you Steve’s voice still rang inside your head. 

He had a beautiful voice, the one people would call heavenly, but his intentions were far from angelic: the first night you heard Steve singing to you, you had almost went to the beach where he was waiting his prey, charmed by his divine voice. Forgetting about the danger, you floated like a cloud to him, only half-awake and clearly unaware of your actions. The only thing that saved you that night was a sharp rock you stepped on, cutting your foot, blood coloring the cold ground as you broke free from Steve’s charms. When you ran home, covering your ears and singing loudly to yourself to silence his voice, the merman let out an unnatural, frightening growl behind your back.

Then Steve started doing it every night, serenading you by moonlight. It could be romantic if only the merman didn’t try drowning you in the sea, determined to make you “his mate”. Worse, with each passing day the mark he left on your neck was becoming more and more painful and itchy, and sometimes you were waking up with deep scratches left by your own nails. 

The villagers couldn’t do much about it, despite being deeply ashamed of their inability to tell you about the merfolk - you realized they had been under some curse as every time they tried talking to you about Steve they were simply losing their voices. Of course, it all made sense now. 

They helped you taking care of the wound, but from all the words they couldn’t say you understood you wouldn’t get rid of the mark easily. Thankfully, it stopped bleeding, but the nasty scar left by Steve’s sharp teeth had still been there. Well, you could live with it, you supposed, if only you leave this forsaken place.

When you got on the first bus, you had fainted in the middle of the trip for no damn reason. You looked so bad with you eyes rolling back into your skull, your body shaking uncontrollably, the driver decided not to risk it and returned to the town immediately, leaving you in a hospital again. Strangely, you woke up with no pain whatsoever, fresh as a daisy. It was the curse the merman gifted you - you couldn’t be too far from him now, dragged back by the mark on your neck, and your only chance to stay alive was either staying with him or taking him with you. 

Maybe you could get rid of the curse if you killed him, you weren’t sure. As far as you knew from locals, they didn’t manage to kill even one in the last several decades. You didn’t know whether you could, too. Even if you would get a chance to stab Steve, you hardly imagined murdering him. You just weren’t the type.

So, he kept singing in his attempt to draw you to the beach again, and you kept hiding in that little cottage you rented. Oh yes, you were also worried about the rent since the month you paid for was coming to an end, but locals just smiled at you sadly, shaking their heads. This was how merfolk was attracting new people to the town.

“But my friends and family will be searching for me.” You mumbled, covering your face with your hands. “I have a job, a life out there.”

“I’m sorry, sunny, but no one will be searching for you,” the doctor said, giving you a salve for your mark - it was easing the itchiness. “You don’t know the merfolk. They'd stop at nothing to keep their mates close.”

“But why, for God’s sake?” You growled helplessly, unable to face the man and staring at your shoes instead.

“Reproduction, sunny. Mermaids aren’t as fertile anymore, and they are facing extinction.” He shrugged.

“And how is it supposed to work? Human with a merman?”

The doctor patted your shoulder apologetically, shaking his head. ‘I can’t tell you, dear. I... I physically can’t.”

You knew what he was talking about and couldn’t be angry at him. These people couldn’t do much, forced to protect their loved ones and living in constant fear of being abducted by the vile creatures living deep in the sea. Most of the time merfolk didn’t come to the town openly, and that’s why those women were so upset you lived far away, completely defenseless. But they couldn’t open up to you, revealing merfolk’s secret, and now Steve kept you on the hook.

Groaning when the sunlight crept in through the curtains, you rubbed your eyes and slowly got up, taking the headphones away and touching your ears. God, it hurt so much, but it was the only way for you to sleep at least for a few hours while Steve kept singing outside.

Oddly, you couldn’t hear the sound of the music as if someone turned it off, and you immediately went to your laptop to check. Shit, you forgot to plug it in. Thank goodness Steve stopped singing before your laptop turned off.

Sighing, you went to the bathroom, opening the tap and splashing some water into your face to wake up. It was barely six, but the sun was shining brightly, giving you no chance to go to sleep - you had always been up with the sun regardless of your circumstances. Now it was one more of your curses, considering you barely slept. 

Watching your reflection in the mirror, you chuckled sarcastically, touching your bottom eyelid - you looked like you just came back from the dead. Would Steve be willing to let you go once he realized you’re no more the sweet beautiful lady he met? What a fucking bastard.

Feeling nauseated, you rubbed your face and went to the kitchen, reheating yesterday’s coffee. You had no strength to make yourself breakfast, even the simplest one. 

Next minute you were wrapping the blanket around yourself and heading out of the house with a mug in your hand, eager to watch the sunrise. You weren’t afraid of Steve since you had never even once spotted him on the beach in the daylight. Besides, you kept a little knife in a pocket of your pants in case you needed to cut yourself and become free from his charms.

You still questioned yourself what were going to do next. Even if your parents and friends would forget you because of the curse affecting them somehow, you still remembered them. You wanted your life back. You wanted to sleep at night, unafraid of being snatched away by someone hiding in the dark. You wanted to wake up, knowing you are safe, and go to work, have one more simple day, then returning back home. You didn’t ask for much.

Well, you would have to figure out how to live in this small town all by yourself, find a new source of income and pretend like no scary mythical creature lingered behind your back. Maybe you would have to ask doctor to make you deaf. It should help with the singing.

Suddenly, you saw a huge figure rising from behind a rock not very far from you. You froze on the spot, looking at Steve walking carefully on the beach. Despite wearing something reminding you of a torn human sweater, he was naked below the waistline, and you blinked, looking at his soft cock dangling in between his legs.

Legs. Steve had a pair of strong, muscled human legs. 

For a second you forgot how to breathe, watching him coming closer to you, his movements a bit unsteady and slow. You became rooted to the ground where you stood, unable to turn away and run from the monster too human to your liking. Was it his magic again? Was it you who couldn’t keep running anymore?

Biting your lips painfully, you felt tears gathering in the corners of your eyes. Steve was wearing your sweater, albeit badly stretched out and torn in a few places - he was so much bigger than you it was a miracle he had somehow managed to put it on. You suddenly remembered how you were searching for this sweater a week or two ago, thinking you had forgot it somewhere in the cottage. How and where did Steve find it? Was he always able to walk? If so, why didn’t he take you away?

Well, maybe that’s what he was going to do now.

Finally finding some strength, you turned back to your cottage, eager to get away as far as possible from him, but then heard Steve’s angry, raspy voice, “Stay where you are!”

And you stood, moving back to face him and unable to do anything at all but watch. 

Steve looked as tired as you are: you saw the bags under his eyes, his full lips cracked, his expression exhausted as if your resistance was straining him. Wasn’t he supposed to be an invincible immortal being wandering the sea? He looked so much more human now you weren’t even sure anymore.

“You want my throat to bleed, don’t you?” He grunted in a hoarse voice, wincing when he spoke, and you realized he lost his voice after signing night after night to you. “I am doing my best for you, and you just turn on that horrible, distasteful music every night!”

You smirked - how dare was he to call Slipknot’s best songs “distasteful music”?

“This shouldn’t happen this way. You’re ruining it.” Steve continued to grumble as he kept coming closer and closer, and, oddly, you found out you weren’t as scared of him anymore as you were in that faithful night. 

“Ruining what?” You asked, sipping your still warm coffee when he approached you, wet and angry.

“The courtship!” The man exclaimed, breathing heavily - it seemed walking on his human legs was talking a toll on him. “You had to come to me, you stubborn woman! And what are you making me do? Come to you instead?”

He coughed, squeezing his eyes shut and touching his neck. It had to be really painful for him to talk.

Despite how wicked he was and how badly you wanted him to have a taste of his own medicine, you almost felt pity for your merman, handing him your mug when he stopped close to you.

“What is this? Coffee?”

“With milk. Good for your throat.” You replied, acknowledging he knew of human drinks.

Gazing at you skeptically, Steve sniffed your mug and then took it in his arms, glancing at the liquid inside. “It’s hot.”

“It’s warm. You won’t burn your tongue.” You said, taking the blanket off your shoulder and wrapping it around his hips - seriously, you felt too awkward to stand near a man dressed in just a little stretched-out sweater.

“You and you fear of nudity, humans.” Steve grunted, but sipped the coffee, nonetheless, quickly getting used to it and finishing your mug. “Oh, this one isn’t bad. I tried espresso, but it was so bitter I couldn’t have the whole cup.”

You chuckled, wrapping your arms around your own body and looking at the merman. What was he going to do now? He didn’t look vile, probably not as angry and upset as before, but who knew what he had in mind.

“So what? Are we going to stay here in the cold or you will bring me to your house?” Steve asked snappish while you snorted at him. 

“Really? I thought your plan was to drown me in the sea, not bask in the warmth of my bed.”

He grinned, pressing your mug to his impressive chest.

“Why would I drown you, silly woman? Come on, it’s cold out here in the morning. I want to stay at your place.”

He took your hand in his, and you finally moved from your spot as if Steve allowed you. Making sure the blanket was wrapped tightly around him, you went to your house, thinking of the knife in a pocket of your pants. If he was planning to attack you, you could definitely stab him through your thin sweater or cut his throat. It would require some skill, though.

Entering the little hallway, Steve looked at the ceiling and winced from the mirror hanging on the wall, looking at his reflection. Shaking his head disapprovingly, he reached out to touch his swollen bottom eyelid. 

“I thought merfolk aren’t afraid of cold.” You said, entering the kitchen and emptying the coffee pot.

“Not in this pathetic human body.” Steve entered after you, rubbing his arm in your completely wet sweater.

“Then you have to take this off and-”

“What? NO!”

He jumped away from you and stayed in the corner like a kid hiding something from his mother. You rolled your eyes.

“Although this is MY sweater, I’m not going to take it from you. I just want to dry it, alright?” You ensured, coming closer. “You’re not going to get warm if you keep it on.”

“This is my sweater.” Steve grumbled, but took it off, regardless, and handed a miserable, partly discolored piece of fabric to you to let you hang it close to the heater, watching you intently - did he really think you’d ran away with your sweater?

When you turned to face him, your blanket wasn’t secured on his hips anymore, and you stared at his naked member again, your face growing terribly hot from the sight. What was that merman thinking? Was he flaunting his.. physique in front of you? You knew of some animals doing that to attract their mates.

“For goodness sake, cover yourself.” You huffed, taking a pack of milk from the fridge. “You don’t want this thing to freeze in the open, do you?”

“Wait, it can freeze if I don’t cover it?” His eyes shot open. “You mean I won’t be able to have children anymore?”

“Yes, this is exactly what I mean.” Oh damn, it was terribly hard not to laugh as you watched Steve looking at you in horror and hurriedly wrapping the blanket around himself as much as he could. It was hilarious. 

Putting two cups of milk into the microwave, you hit the button and pulled out some butter from the fridge to put into the cup once milk would be ready. You certainly didn’t need this hissing little mermaid who lost his voice because he sang too many serenades to you.

“So, what about the courtship?” You asked, stirring melted butter in Steve’s cup as he waited for you, sitting on a chair near the table. “How do you even imagine making babies with me?”

“You don’t know?” He looked at you innocently. “Oh, don’t worry, I’m a pro at that. I’m sure you will enjoy the process.”

“For God’s sake, Steve.” You groaned, placing a cup in front of him and taking yours. “Don’t play stupid here. I can’t live underwater. I can’t even fucking swim!”

“I’m not asking you to.” He shrugged and took his milk, ensuring it wasn’t burning hot before making a sip. “Though you won’t die underwater now. Believe it or not, you can actually breathe there because of my mark.”

You touched the scar, rubbing it with your fingers furiously and narrowing your eyes at the merman who, apparently, seemed very happy to see his mark on your skin. Once he reminded you of this thing, you were ready to snap at him.

“Do you even know how much this thing hurt?” You asked, furrowing your brows.

“This is because you refused to come to me,” he cocked his head to the side, watching you growing angry. “I only need to kiss it to make you feel better. Don’t look at me like that! It’s true, let me show you.”

You stepped backwards immediately as he advanced upon you, caging you with his large body, pressing you to the kitchen counter, his skin cold. Pushing your hands against Steve, you tried to keep him away, but he was so much stronger than you that you almost ended up with your face buried in his chest.

“What the-”

He quickly lowered his head down and sniffed you, bringing his face to your neck. The next moment Steve was touching your scar with his lips, and you whimpered involuntarily, expecting it to hurt like hell. But it didn’t. He simply brushed his dry, chapped lips against your mark, and you felt nothing especially painful. 

You were growing tired of all this magical things you didn’t understand.

“See? There’s nothing scary.” He smiled brightly, and you saw he had human teeth now, too. 

“Yeah, yeah, now please go sit over there,” you grunted, but he didn’t move, laughing at you and ruffling your hair with his large hand. “What are you doing? Go away!”

“Don’t be so cold. You are going to share your life with me, silly woman, so don’t fuss over such little thing.”

You decided it was time for more effective measures and reached out to your pocket to grab the knife, but Steve grabbed your arm before you could do it, sending you a serious look.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. I’m not here to hurt you, I promise.”

“Really? I have some doubts.” You slapped his hand away, but didn’t try to take the knife again. “Because you have just ruined my life with that bite. How the hell this is going to work, anyway? How do you expect me to live with you? You’re a damn mermaid!”

“I’m a merman,” he said, looking resentful, and returned to his seat, sipping his hot milk with butter - apparently, it was working, and his voice sounded less raspy now. 

You exhaled loudly, enjoying the distance and rubbing your mark that wasn’t as itchy as before, but you scratched it, anyway.

“Listen, I’m not saying I’m totally harmless, but I’m not dangerous for you.” He said as he finished his cup. “You can remain living here, on the ground, I won’t pull you into the water... often.”

“Do you understand I can’t just go and be intimate with you, someone I see for the second time in my life?”

“I’d be surprised if you did. Look, I’m not asking for it either. The courtship doesn’t last for a month. You’ll get used to me, I know.”

His dazzling smile was making you feel nauseated, and you grabbed you cup, having a bit of warm milk, too. Steve was being impossible, but you were thankful he wasn’t forcing himself on you now. Maybe there was a chance to trick him into removing this hex, and you would have to figure it out.

“If you want to know whether we can have children together, I can tell you we definitely can. It doesn’t really matter whether I take my true or human form while making love to you, so it’s up to you how you wanna do it.” Steve grinned, and you clenched your teeth, unable to believe he was talking about it so openly, caring little for your consent. There was something barbaric in this charmingly handsome half-naked man sitting in your kitchen.

Suddenly, you felt like the nausea got much stronger, and merman’s smile wasn’t at fault. What was happening? The world was spinning, and you let go of your almost emptied cup, slipping to the floor. Shit, shit, shit. It wasn’t good.

Oh God. It was him, wasn't it? He had done something to you. He smiled and talked and laughed to make you relax, think of your situation like a simple comedy when, in fact, you were still in grave danger. Were you so stupid to believe him or was it his charms again? You hoped for the latter, curshing yourself for being too carefree and letting him into your house.

“Sorry, sweetheart, it seems I put too much medicine in your milk.” He clicked his tongue as you looked at him in horror, barely able to move now. “I thought we had more time to talk. But, well, we can always do it later.”

Steve was near you the next second, carefully lifting you up in the air in his hands, watching you with a bit of concern on his face.

He proceeded to walk in the direction of the door, but before he snatched your torn sweater and put it on his shoulder, carrying you outside of the cottage that had become your little fortress over these few weeks. However, it could keep the monster off your back, and now all you could do was watching the green door becoming further and further from you with each Steve’s step to the shore.

Your body was completely frozen when his feet reached the water, and the merman left a kiss on your cheek, stroking it tenderly despite that wicked smile on his face.

“I told you, you can’t break the tradition. It is time for you to come to me now."

THE END

___________________

Tags: @finleyjayne​ @alexakeyloveloki​   @helenaeisenhower​ @villanellevi​ @hurricanerin​ @void-hoechlin​ @abyssaint​ @heeeyitskay​ @chris-evans-indian-fanfic​ @navegandoaciegas​ @rosalynshields​ @brattycherubwrites​ @sllooney​ @angrythingstarlight​ @lovelydarkdaydream​ @soleil-dor​ @lookiamtrying @buckysbunny @sourpatchspinster​

[joonapeach]

skylines (nj)

college!au, where namjoon openly chases you and you love running from those advances. that is, until everyone in your architecture department finds out you’re the daughter of the man behind the biggest architecture firm in the country. 

alternatively... namjoon is a simp for you until he’s suddenly not 

author’s note: sometimes i just wanna write for the fun of it and not take life so seriously so this is what i churned out. 8.8k words of some minor pining and mini character development for our oc because tbh, being a student sucks and you get so caught up in your insecurity sometimes

also reposted on ao3

[this is fluff and light-hearted, with a bit of a rivalry trope, 8.8k words]

You love skylines.

From when you were six years old with short legs, you remember craning your neck up high to see each building that surrounded you. At that age, the world seemed big and you seemed small but you loved it. You loved seeing the world build and function around you. 

From then on outwards began your decades-long relationship with your first love - buildings. 

Well, you called it buildings and your father called it architecture. You were the daughter of his dreams, his proclaimed legacy. What luck I have, he would say, that I have a daughter who will grow up to work beside me.

Growing up, those comments were your food for the day. You would eat up his encouragements and cheers throughout high school, serving him back your high grades on a gold platter.

This is the way you’ve worked through your past nineteen years. It’s a little basic, maybe, but you’ve operated on your father’s ambition for you. 

But like all good things, even that seemed to come to an end. Since entering university and embarking on your path as an architecture major, the once comforting encouragement has slowly changed to a choking chain around you.

You’ve learnt a lot in two semesters at university. You’ve learnt how to finish assignments the night before, how to memorize historical names and dates minutes before an exam, you’ve learnt how fun it can be to be with your friends.

But most of all, you’ve learnt that… you’re not special. 

You’re surrounded by overachievers, all like you, all perhaps better than you in some way. You’re the daughter of the man behind HN Architects, but some of your classmates look like they’re on their way to the top of the chain.

You always thought you deserved your seat, your privilege, because you’d worked for it. These days, it doesn’t seem much like that. And you worry that your father is thinking the very same thing.

Let’s finish this assignment, you sigh, there’s not much left. Let’s do it, you give yourself a pep talk, fighting back a yawn at the practically empty library before dawn.

Books crash down on your table, right beside you. You shake, being pulled so abruptly out of your reverie. Although maybe you should be thankful, for the sleep that was threatening your productivity seems to have run away from the sound. 

“Excuse me,” you scoff loudly, making your presence known to the disturbance.

From above the tower of books on the desk, peeks out a familiar dimpled smile. His eyes glint with mischief and despite the early hours of the day, his face reads no exhaustion.

“You’re excused.” 

You groan. “There’s an entire empty library, you can only sit here?”

“Studying is more fun with company,” he retorts with a grin.

“It’s studying. It’s not meant to be fun,” you reply, hostile. “Didn’t I tell you to stop showing up in front of me with no purpose?’

He smiles again, confidently with his eyes unmoving from you. It’s almost unnerving, how much you see Namjoon smile in front of you. Architecture students are not meant to be this happy. They aren’t meant to carry a warm smile everywhere they go, looking at people with such attentive intensity.

“I haven’t shown up without a purpose though,” he says. “I came to ask for help with the assignment.” 

This time, you smile. But your smile is one of disbelief and amusement.

“Yes, that’s very believable, Namjoon,” you cock a brow. “You’re the one finishing assignments a week early and screwing up the curve for everyone but I’m sure I could help you with whatever you need.”

He grins, taking a seat next to you. “Hey, sometimes even I need help,” he replies but then pauses. “Ah, you’re right. I should’ve gone with coming to offer you help. That’s a lot more believable.”

“I don’t need your help,” you argue. “Stop showing up in front of me. And stop subtly flexing in front of me. It’s nauseating.”

He throws his head back and laughs. He looks so happy that it almost stirs a scary, fluttering feeling in your stomach. “You should be the last person to feel jealous of me, _____.”

You glare at him. “Yeah, because I’m the one who threatens your ranking?”

He shakes his head. “No, because I would help you with everything if you just asked.”

You still, for a moment. His words lull over in your head and they feel a bit weird. Your major is competitive and cut-throat, even if it doesn’t appear it. To you, Namjoon is your biggest rival, your biggest worry because you can never match up to him.

“Well, I’m not asking you for a thing. Is there really nothing you stress over?”

“No, there is. I just don’t cry over my textbook the nights before exams.”

“That was one time,” you mumble, infuriated. “And I had every right to be crying that night. It was the hardest exam that term and I have big shoes to fill. I can’t afford to be bothering people, like you,” you say with an intentional offense.

He takes none. “Big shoes? Who’s putting expectations on you?”

“Just some family. Stop being nosy,” you say swiftly. “And you didn’t even tell me. What do you stress over?”

He pauses, not giving a response for a moment. You wonder if it’s because there’s really nothing he stresses over. You wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case. While you and your friends have all cracked under the pressure of your degree, you especially with the added burden of your father… Namjoon has not once shown signs of struggle. He walks through life with that smile every day.

“Finding work,” he says after a while.

“Huh?”

He meets your eyes. “You asked me what I worry about. I worry about finding work when I graduate,” he says sincerely.

You bite back a rude laugh. “Please, Namjoon. Get real,” you roll your eyes. “You really think you can worry about that? You were the top of our class all last year.”

You don’t do a good job of hiding your envy, but it’s beyond you to care at this point. You’ve become this person now. The one who seeks everything out of their number on the paper.

“But I don’t have any connections. I come from a village, practically, as you like to call it,” he says with a chuckle. It stings you a little, he’s referring to the time you and your friends had put him down out of jealousy with those words. But he doesn’t say it like it bothers him. He says it like it’s true. 

“So?” you say, looking away from him and back on your sheet. “You don’t always need connections.”

“Not always, but a lot of the time,” he shrugs.

“Any company who takes a look at your record and speaks to you for five minutes would want you, Namjoon,” you exhale, knowing your words are 100% true. You think about your father, about HN Architects. Namjoon’s the kind of guy who your father wouldn’t think twice about hiring. He’s the epitome of someone who could fill any shoes you gave him.

You scoff bitterly. “Wait a second. Why am I comforting you right now? You’re a success story in the making,” you snap and he laughs, even though you didn’t intend it to be a joke. “You should be comforting me, you idiot. I don’t even know if I’ll have Mr. Labadee’s assignment done in time for submission!”

He puts his hands up. “Okay, okay, don’t worry. Why do you think I’m here?” he looks away, still smiling as he takes the pencil from your hand and moves closer to the sheet.

“What?” you say, watching the way his eyebrows furrow and his eyes scan the paper. He’s losing himself in the sheet now, and it feels like watching a prodigy at work. You picture this is what it would feel like to watch Bill Gates code on a computer before he formally started his career or watching The Beatles pen a song before they made it big. 

“Hm?”

“Did you come here for me?” you ask and for a split second, you see his eyes shift. “Did Chae tell you I was here?”

He doesn’t respond, instead focusing on the assignment. “Your calculation is wrong here. Look,” he says, pointing at a section. As he explains your mistake, you smile satisfied. 

He doesn’t need to admit it. You two have gone through this very situation so many times now, that you both know it’s true. Namjoon always comes for you.

/

You have kept your background, your family, extremely private since joining university.

In high school, you made the mistake of letting people know that you were the daughter of HN Architects. It resulted in years of people smooching up to you, gossiping behind your back, mean assumptions, and just a general nightmare.

That nightmare would only multiply if your friends here found out about it. They were all architect majors, all in the same cut-throat degree, and you came from privilege. 

It scared you, knowing what could happen if they ever found out. You begged your family to make sure that nothing would tie you to them here, keeping your name different on the registrar, not publishing photos of you in the paper. You couldn’t risk all the friends and relationships you made. Even if they said things won’t change, you know they would. They always do.

“I need to sleep for 10 years,” you mumble, falling on your bed. 

“Fuck this, I wish I was you right now,” Chae cries from her side of the room. “I’ve got one more submission.”

“I woke up at 4 to finish it so you should be fine,” you laugh, looking at her. “And did you send Namjoon to me?”

Chae fights a smile on her face. You sigh, knowing you’ve opened Pandora's box.

“He came to me asking about you last night. I told him you were sleeping, but you’d be at the library at 5 working on the assignment,” she smirks cheekily. “Why, did he come?” she asks, not hiding the overly inquisitive edge to her question.

You say nothing, deciding to turn on your laptop.

“He did!” she screams and your eyes widen, telling her to be quiet. “Sorry! I just can’t help it. That’s so sweet,” she squeals.

“Stop sending him after me. You’re encouraging him.”

“You’re encouraging him!” she counters. “You let him help you with your assignment, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but-”

“And you showed up at his dorm last week for notes, didn’t you?”

“Okay, but-”

“And you told him off for helping Eun like four days ago, remember?”

“Chae,” you stop her, sternly. “Have you lost your mind? Don’t you realize what all those things have in common?”

“They all are evidence of the fact that you reciprocate his year-long courtship?”

You roll your eyes. “No, idiot. All these things are work-related. I can’t afford to be falling behind, and I need his help.”

“Okay, but you were jealous of Eun-”

“I was annoyed that he was helping other people score higher! The last thing I need right now is the lazy kids of the class becoming my competition too,” you complain, grumbling.

Chae stares you down. “_____, not everything is about your degree,” she says light-heartedly, but you know your statement bothers her. 

Exhaling, you shut your eyes. You hate it when conversations come to this. Sometimes, you wish you could just tell people which family you came from. Maybe it would do them good, to make them realize that yes, for you, everything is about your degree. Everything in your life revolves around being successful in this path. 

You were cynical but at least you were real. You admitted things the way they were, when competition was competition, you said it, and when you needed something, you asked for it. That made it okay, you told yourself.

And when it comes to Namjoon… it’s especially okay. He’s both the only reason you’re hanging on okay in your degree, and the reason you feel insecure. You wonder how it can be that someone like him exists.

“Anyways, are you really gonna leave talking about Joon there?” Chae scoffs. “He’s liked you since we started. You really won’t do anything about it?”

“Namjoon is nothing but another classmate that stresses me out, Chae. I don’t see him that way. I just like his work ethic.”

Chae laughs. “You’re so skewed, honestly. Are you busy tomorrow?”

“Why, are you planning on ratting me out to him again?”

“No, silly,” she laughs, although you both know it’s likely she’d do it again. “Let’s go to the Autumn fair tomorrow. After I submit.”

“The fair? You mean those three stalls they set up and call it an event?”

She frowns. “Don’t be mean. Hobi and the others have really been working hard on it this year. It’ll be nicer than the last, I promise.”

“As long as there are at least 10 booths this year.”

“You’re too mean for your own good, _____,” she says, tsk-ing. “One day, you’ll see what it’s like to be on the other end.”

/

Your overactive imagination always paints a skyline for you, where there’s an empty space. You can always picture different styles of buildings, standing together, making a city. 

It’s at times like those you realize that even if you wanted to give up, even if you tried to pursue something else, your heart will always come back to this. There is nothing more that belonged to you than this.

Even if it’d become difficult now, it didn’t matter. It became a source of worry more than an outlet of passion, but it’s still your calling. You can’t give up on something you love this much.

“Your toffee apple is dripping,” you hear his voice before you see him.

You want to turn and snap at him but the sticky toffee syrup that falls onto your fingers stops you.

“Ugh,” you groan, trying to fix it. Namjoon’s hand comes out with a tissue, quickly wiping your fingers without a word. Even after he’s done, the sticky feeling remains. “I should just throw this away.”

He laughs. “Let’s get candy corn.”

“No, thanks, I have to go find Chae and Yuna.”

Even though you step away, you hear his footsteps almost immediately behind you. 

“What’s the rush?” he says, catching up beside you. When you two walk together like this, his tall figure towers over in a way that makes you feel small. “Shouldn’t you offer to buy me candy corn? Did you forget how I helped you at 5 in the morning two days ago for Professor Labadee’s class?”

“You chose to wake up at that time, not me,” you say, keeping your eyes trained ahead. You weren’t expecting much from this fair, but the students had done well. Bright fairy lights decorate the lamp posts around you and along the long path, dozens of stalls are set up. It all feels a little bit like a movie.

“As long as you got it done,” he says under his breath. You dare to take a glimpse of him and inhale sharply. He’s wearing his smile, he always is, but the fairy lights reflect on his face, illuminating him like an angel. Everything about him feels good.

You look away almost immediately. “Stop following me Namjoon,” you say, stopping at a trinkets stall and smiling at the girl behind the table.

“But I like seeing you outside of architecture things,” he grins confidently.

You opt to ignore him, asking the price of something that catches your eye.

He cranes his neck to see what it is. “Want me to get it for you?”

You quickly counter. “Absolutely not,” you say, handing over your money notes. 

“You’re really buying an ornament of buildings?” he cocks a brow. “Don’t you want something like this instead?” he picks up a small snow globe, shaking it so the snow moves. The globe is miniscule to begin with, but you notice how in his hands, it looks almost tiny.

“What can I say? I like buildings.”

He smiles. “More than people, maybe.”

You sigh, ignoring his statement. Once you get the paper bag with your purchase inside, you keep walking ahead. You count to three before you hear his footsteps mimic yours.

“I’ll buy you candy corn, then you leave me alone,” you turn to say to him. “It’s not good that you’re always showing up where I am.”

He nods like an obedient puppy. Then he frowns and asks, “why is it not good?”

When you don’t respond, focusing on walking to the candy booth, he adds, “is it not good for you? Getting attached to me now?”

You don’t have to see his face to know he’s doing his goofy smile again. “It’s not good for you to keep going through these many rejections in a lifetime.”

He laughs, your words not bothering him the slightest. Standing in front of the candy booth, Jungkook and Jae, two of your architect classmates greet you.

“Hey Joon! Aw, you two hanging out again?” Jae smiles widely as if he’s in some big secret. You roll your eyes, not saying a word but pointing to the candy corn.

“_____ is treating me to candy corn. Isn’t she sweet?”

“I’m not treating you out of kindness, I’m doing it so you feel compensated for your efforts with my assignment.” 

Jungkook and Jae share an amused look that you almost miss. Shuffling through your pocket, you start counting the money to give. As you hand over the money to Jae, Jungkook places a brown paper bag in Namjoon’s hands.

“You two enjoy yourselves,” Jungkook beams brightly.

You scoff. “Is there really such a thing as enjoyment when I have him on my tail?” 

Without bidding them a proper goodbye, you walk away from the stall, leaving the three standing. Like clockwork, Namjoon is beside you again.

“Here,” he says, and suddenly the bag of candy corn is in your hands.

You raise a brow. “What are you giving this to me for? You were the one who wanted it.”

“You were eating a sad, overpriced toffee apple. This should be for you too.”

“Namjoon.” You give him a look, but he pays no mind. 

Without saying anything more, you two walk together in silence. It didn’t intend to be this way, but it feels nice now. You feel good that you were dragged out of a cycle of the bedroom to the classroom to the library for once.

Of course, it’s weird that amidst all this, Namjoon is the one beside you. Usually, when you see him, your mind wanders to the place that curses him for being everything you wish you were. But tonight, you’re laying off those thoughts.

Staring at the crowd around the speakers, you two pause for a bit. You see Chae and Yuna, along with your other coursemates all together.

Still beside you, Namjoon speaks out of the blue. “Why don’t you call me Joon?”

“What do you mean? I didn’t realize I was required to,” you shrug at the random question. “I don’t know you like that.”

“Everyone in our class calls me Joon. Even your group member who I met that one time is calling me Joon,” he argues. “You know me better than all those people. If anything, you should be the only one.”

“What are you on about? I don’t know you at all,” you throw a blank look his way. “And don’t argue that we spend a lot of time together. You follow me around and show up where I am. That’s not spending time together.”

“We’re spending time together right now, aren’t we?” 

“It’s a first. Don’t get used to it.”

He laughs as if your cold remarks are something affectionate. “I don’t think I really could get used to seeing you outside the library, _____. You’re there more than me and I’m always studying too.”  

You scoff cynically. “Are you flexing your rank again on me?”

“_____, if I cared so much about my rank, I wouldn’t be helping you with work all the time,” he laughs, amused.

“I don’t know. Maybe helping me is all part of your plan to keep beating me,” you say. “Isn’t this just a power move? You always showing up to help me.”

He laughs again before his stare stills on you. His eyes are bright and sparkling… or is it just the effect of the stupid fairy lights? You can hardly tell.

Despite yourself, it all makes your stomach drop. You hate it when Namjoon shows up unannounced in your life, but more than that, you hate it when he gives you this kind of look. Like he can’t look anywhere else but at you.

“More than a power move, it’s just a gesture for you.”

The fluttering feeling worsens and you blink. You choose to say nothing, instead staring ahead at the view. “That is the ugliest building I’ve ever seen.”

For a second, he smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Eventually, he humors you. “It’s not all that bad.”

“In my professional opinion as a future architect, that is the exact type of building I would want to bulldoze.”

“Well, in my professional opinion as another future architect, I’d say your standards are far too high.”

“I’m allowed to keep my standards high. It’s me,” you smile with a glint in your eye.

He laughs, staring at you softly. “That I can agree with.”

You taunt him playfully. “You’re so predictable. Does it not get tiring hanging off my every word?”

He shakes his head loyally. “Absolutely not. I think everything you say is valuable and worth hanging off.”

“How lame,” you joke although you two share a smile. It’s true, he is a little predictable. But it’s Namjoon’s predictability that at times, catches you off guard. It’s fun, knowing that he’s two steps behind you wherever you are.

A warm feeling stirs in your body and you wonder if it’s the autumn air. Glancing up at Namjoon, the same air ruffles his hair endearingly and you tear yourself away from staring at it.

“I’m only gonna say it once so if there’s any word of mine you wanna hang off, it’s this,” you say before shoving the bag of candy corn back into his hands. “Power move or not, thanks for helping me. I really need it sometimes and I appreciate it.”

The grin on his face widens. “One more time, I didn’t hang off it enough!”

“I told you, only one time.”

“But the music was so loud, I couldn’t hear you well.”

“Too bad.”

“Come on, _____, take pity on me.”

“Shut up and eat your candy corn.”

/

You find yourself quickly back in your routine after the Autumn fair, working on new assignments and projects till your worst nightmare comes to life unexpectedly.

“Please be on time, _____!” Chae repeats to you for the fifth time that morning.

“Chae, I’ll be there. I’ll literally run from the design building to the auditorium, okay?”

She clicks her tongue at you. “Stop acting like you’re doing me a favor by showing up. You should be excited.”

“I am. But… I mean, do we really need this kind of random assembly for our architecture department?” you groan, slipping your laptop into its case. “Can’t they just give us the extra time to work on our homework?”

“But there’ll be companies there!” she retorts, wide-eyed and excited. “Just imagine. This is like those movies, where they come and scout students and then bam, life is sorted.”

You nod, forcing a smile. You remember your privilege, knowing your worry has never once been finding work but living up to the work that was set out for you. But you could never explain that here. How could you cry about the burden that kept you so troubled when it was a burden any one of your friends would happily want?

“Okay. I’ll see you there,” you settle for a wave, walking out to leave. You rush with your bag on your back to your classroom, immersed in your lesson till the hour finishes up.

For the moments after class finishes, your mind is blank. You’re going over your homework in your head, packing your things and your eyes widen. The meeting. You almost forgot.

True to your words, you actually do end up running from the design building to the auditorium. Sprinting from your class to the auditorium proves to be a harder workout than you anticipated and your heart can’t stop racing.

Stepping inside the auditorium, you jump into the first empty seat you see at the entrance.

“Where is she?” you mumble under your breath. Your eyes shift around the room, looking for a familiar head of short black hair. Catching sight of Chae, you wave to her but she doesn’t notice you at all. Instead, she’s busy talking to a group of students all from your year.

Everyone’s sat together, cozy and comfortable in a conversation together. You can even see Namjoon in the row above Chae, chatting energetically. Your heart strangely pangs.

Sometimes, seeing everyone like this, everyone from your major and year together, made you feel more like an outsider than anything. At first, you’d chalked it up to be because of your obsession with studying and academics… but students better than you, students like Namjoon and Mina, all seemed to be doing fine. 

In the end, you realized it isn’t anything to do with that. You feel like an outsider because you are one. You’ve tried your hardest to blend in, but the fact remains that you feel alone in the problems you have. You’ve kept your identity as the daughter of HN Architects a secret, you’ve kept your family pressures a secret… Now you’re alone in the burden of your struggles.

Sometimes, you’ve thought about opening up. But the thought terrifies you even more.

If you felt so alone while keeping the truth of your ambitions a secret… there’d be no telling what kind of way your friends would treat you after finding out.

“We’re lucky enough to have… here’s a representative from Canvas Corp… looking for fresh talent… Yongchan Architecture…” you’re hardly paying attention to the speakers on stage till you finally hear, “and most fortunately, the chairman of HN Architects!”

Your head shoots up so fast that it almost flies off. No fucking way.

Your father is smiling on the stage, wearing a crisp suit and greeting the architecture department heads. Without realizing it, your body cowers back into your seat as you see his eyes scan the auditorium. He must be looking for you - his daughter.

His daughter that not a single soul in this room knew was you.

Your heart goes into panic mode before you try to calm yourself down. Relax, you mutter repeatedly to yourself although it’s less effective than you thought it’d be.

Your eyes dance between your father on stage and your group of friends with Chae sitting seats away from you. Neither of them have noticed you.

Instead, your classmates are all watching your father with starstruck eyes. They’re staring at your father like he’s their idol.

Well, objectively, maybe he could be. After all, you admire your father for the very same reason every architecture student does - your father is a legend. His company has one of the best reputations in the country, which feeds your pride, and he’s nothing short of a hard-working, inspiring man.

Namjoon, in particular, is staring at your father like he can’t believe his eyes. It’s a look you’ve never seen from him before. Like he’s both nervous and thinks he’s in a dream. It’s almost endearing.

“To celebrate having the chairman of HN Architects with us today, we’ll have him say a few words!” Mr. Lim, the head of the architecture department, announces enthusiastically into the mic. He turns to your father, “do you mind?”

“Not at all!” your father grins, taking the mic before starting. “It’s my pleasure to be here today! In fact, seeing all of you reminds me of my own days as an architecture student…”

He trails off into a long speech, excitedly. You’ve been witness to every single one of your father’s inspirational speeches since the day you were born so you fight back a yawn. On the contrary, your classmates look like they’re hanging onto every single word.

As your father paces across the stage, he inches towards your side. You blink in panic, bending down but before you know it, it’s too late. His eyes sparkle with joy.

You almost worry he’s gonna wave at you mid-speech. But he doesn’t, simply shooting an overly friendly smile your way. You sneak a glance at your classmates and they’re all giving you a strange look - one that most definitely reads what the heck is he smiling at you for?

Meeting Chae’s eyes in particular, you give an awkward smile and shrug. Soon enough, your father turns to the side and you finally think you can breathe.

“That’s why I’d like to encourage you all to live up to your potential! The world is changing around you as you know it and as future architects, you can be a part of that,” your father enthusiastically continues. His eyes are on you again. “And this is what I tell my beautiful daughter everyday! She loves skylines, my dear _____, and she’s going to be a wonderful architect too!”

My life is officially over.

A little dramatic but that exact thought crosses your mind as you duck into your seat. You think you hear the collective gasp around the auditorium or maybe your ears are playing tricks on you.

No, it’s probably as bad you think it is. Your father’s called you out by name and exposed your identity that you worked so hard to conceal. Your life is quite literally over.

Oblivious to your misery, your father grins happily on stage. He returns the mic to Mr. Lim before stepping to the side. The rest of the assembly goes by without you realizing. You’re still numb to the fact of what just happened.

You risk a glance at your classmates, and in cliche movie fashion, they’re all staring at you with mouths gaping wide open. Every single one of them.

Your neck heats up and you quickly turn around. But curiosity gets the best of you a few minutes later, and you risk looking again.

They’re still staring at you in shock. Like they can’t believe their eyes.

Chae especially is looking at you with hurt flashing across her face. It squeezes at your heart and you feel overcome with guilt for lying to your friend for a year. You don’t dare to imagine what she’s thinking now.

Without realizing, your eyes travel over to Namjoon. Much to your surprise, he’s not looking at you. He’s the only one with his eyes looking ahead blankly, deep in thought.

You frown, evading everyone’s stares to focus on him. An unrecognizable emotion is written all over his face… is it realization? Regret? Embarrassment?

You can hardly tell. But for the first time, an uncomfortable feeling plunges in your stomach at the fact that Namjoon’s not looking at you.

/

“Dad!” you cry. “How could you do that?”

Your father smiles happily at the sight of you, the two of you standing outside the auditorium in a secluded, private spot. The torture, that was the assembly, has finally come to an end.

“What do you mean?” he answers in confusion. “Do you mean showing up here? Because I was invited by that Mr. Lim fellow, he-”

“Not that!” you whine, groaning into your palms. “I’m talking about saying I’m your daughter in front of the whole architecture department!”

His eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, that? What did I do wrong?”

Your jaw drops. “Dad, are you being serious?”

He nods, clear puzzlement on his face.

“Don’t you remember? I specifically asked for you and Mom to make sure that it never gets out!” you say. “Now, you’ve told everyone I go to college with that I’m the daughter of the man behind HN Architects!”

He blinks for a few seconds. “Is that so wrong?” he almost pouts like a child. “I didn’t know it was such a problem.”

“Of course, it is! Why do you think I asked you not to tell anyone?”

“...I thought you were being modest.”

“Modest?!” you exclaim, before sighing. There’s no use berating your father. It’s no one’s fault but your own for not preparing better for this situation.

“Did you really not want anyone to find out?”

You nod weakly.

“Why not?”

“I… I can’t explain it. They’ll freak out,” you look down. You can’t imagine how much worse your stress is gonna get from now on - it isn’t enough that your own title of the daughter of HN Architects is choking you to death… now you’ll have to deal with every single one of your classmates doing the same thing.

Things will never be the same again. For every grade you get, it’ll be discussed as the grade of the HN Architects’ daughter. For every drawing or idea you’ll submit, it’ll be scrutinized as the work of a girl from privilege. The pressure would multiply infinitely. 

“Oh dear, don’t be silly,” your father suddenly says, resting his hand on your head. “I’m sorry for that. I didn’t realize it was so serious to you. But even if they know, it’s not an issue. You’re an excellent student and it’s only right they pay you the respect as the future CEO of HN Architects.”

You shoot your father a smile but your stomach drops. “I guess so, thanks,” you mumble, unable to explain to him that it’s exactly what he said that terrifies you. 

For the rest of the day, you hide out off-campus in hopes to avoid facing reality.

/

“_____, I think you need to pay for the emotional shock you gave us,” Hobi laughs at the lunch table as soon as you arrive.

Hesitantly, you sit beside Chae who doesn’t share a word with you. Since yesterday, you haven’t even made eye contact with her, despite being her roommate. 

“I think I almost spat out my water when I heard my daughter,” Mina jokes and the table echoes in laughter. You smile awkwardly.

“Yeah… it’s not really a big deal,” you shrug.

“Not a big deal?! Hello! We’re talking to the next HN Architects CEO right now!” another student pipes up.

“_____, forgive me for all I did wrong last semester,” Yuri playfully adds.

“I think we need to be cleaning the floor for her to walk on!”

These statements all fly around the table, exchanged with laughs and smiles. Part of you cowers in the attention, uncomfortable by such blatant recognition of your upbringing.

Another part of you wonders… will things be okay?

You take a careful look around the table of your classmates. Not a single one seems to wear a glare, all sharing in jokes and smiles. For the strangest reason… you feel at ease.

Chae suddenly stands up, with her tray. “I’m done eating. I’ll see you guys later.”

Instantly, you mimic her and chase behind her retreating figure. “Wait Chae-”

“I have class right now-”

Like a child, you jump in front of her to block her path. “Okay, please just hear me out,” you say, pouting. “I’m sorry.”

She sighs. “What are you sorry for? It’s not a big deal.”

“You must feel… annoyed, right?”

Chae blinks at you. “I’ll admit, I was irritated at first. You come from such privilege and I’ve unloaded so much crap on you sometimes about being scared about post-college life while you never had that… but, I’m not really mad about that. You can’t help who you are, right?”

You nod. “You’re still mad at me though, aren’t you? For hiding it?”

She takes a second before replying, “I just… you’re so unreachable sometimes, _____. After I found out, I kind of realized why you’re so stressed all the time and what you meant whenever you alluded to things about your pressures and all… I’m just annoyed you never shared that part of you.”

“I’m sorry.”

For the first time since yesterday, Chae cracks a smile. “Don’t be sorry. I just want you to be more open with me. You don’t need to feel like you need to hide your background… I would’ve tried to understand either way.”

Her words soothe you more than you can explain. Since entering your major, you haven’t once relied on the people around you for support that wasn’t academic. Now, you’re realizing your fatal flaw.

“I’ll try to be better,” you say with a nod. “Thank you for not being mad at me.”

She laughs. “Anyway, you don’t need to worry about me,” she says with a glance elsewhere. “You should check up on him. He’s been spooked since yesterday.”

You turn on your heel to see Namjoon, walking around with the same strange expression on his face from the assembly. For a brief second, your eyes meet but the second flashes, and he quickly looks away.

“Did you see that?!” you scoff. “He just ignored me!”

Chae smiles. “Wow, there really is a first for everything.”

“What’s with him?” you say, watching his awkward walk in your opposite direction. He keeps glancing in your direction, but once he sees you staring at him, he swiftly looks away. It’s a completely new side to him. 

“I don’t know,” Chae shrugs. “He’s being weird. I thought he’d be running after you like always, but he’s resorted to this.”

You scoff again, unfamiliar with this Namjoon who runs away from you, rather than to you. You wonder what’s running through his mind, before pushing the thought away. He’s bound to come after you again after a few days.

/

The confidence with which you assumed Namjoon would be all over you again is faltering.

It’s been a full week since the assembly, and while life has seemingly gone back to normal for you (as normal as things can be)... Namjoon certainly has not.

In classes, he picks the furthest seat away on purpose. You even started to tease him by trying to sit in his front row with him, but instead, you found him in the back row - where he can’t even see. 

His lunches seem to be perfectly timed to not clash with yours. All of a sudden, he’s no longer in the library either. All the places you’d easily find Namjoon hovering over you, he’s disappeared from.

“Does he think this is effective?!” you rant to Chae in your dorm room. “That by suddenly ignoring me, I’ll become obsessed with him?!”

Chae smiles at you knowingly. “I don’t know… if that was his plan to begin with, I’d say it’s pretty effective-”

“Shut up, Chae! I’m just saying this is all so stupid!” you scoff. “Once or twice is fine but he’s actively avoiding me! He saw me in the library yesterday and acted like he forgot a book to leave! We were in the library for god’s sake! What book did he forget that he couldn’t find there?!”

Chae giggles like the situation is laugh-worthy. “Maybe he’s just busy.”

“He made time during final exams last year to bother me. How much busier could he be than he was then?”

“Or maybe he doesn’t want to distract you.”

“It’s not that for sure. Whenever I’d tell him that he’s distracting me before, he wouldn’t care,” you mumble under your breath annoyedly. Chae continues to grin at your behavior, as if your reaction were amusing.

You don’t say it to her but you know very well why you’re annoyed beyond relief. It’s because you know it’s to do with finding out about HN Architects.

You groan. You expected your classmates to be weird around you, maybe even your professors… but Namjoon was the last person you thought would suddenly make a 180 after learning about your family.

That’s why it’s aggravating. Because it’s the one thing you didn’t think he’d care about.

A part of you fears he’s realized just how pathetic you are. After all, Namjoon probably knows how much more promising he is compared to you and now… he had to sit with the fact that you were the daughter of HN Architects.

“Why don’t you just approach him yourself?”

You’re momentarily stunned by Chae’s suggestion. You shoot her a dirty glare.

“What?!”

“I’m not gonna chase after Namjoon! He should approach me himself!”

Chae looks at you like you’re crazy. “You’re the one who wants him to talk to you!”

“Exactly! He should come to me like he always does.”

A laugh escapes Chae’s lips. “Oh, _____… you don’t even realize it, do you?”

You cock a brow before shaking your head. “I don’t have time for your indirect dialogue. I’m just saying that if Namjoon doesn’t come to me and talk this out soon, I’m gonna have to do something very crazy.”

Chae’s eyes flicker with amusement. “Oh? And what’s that?”

You grimace, as if even saying it brings you humiliation. “I’m gonna go talk to him first.”

Chae bursts out laughing, despite your solemn expression. You brush her off, spending the rest of the night on your design homework but secretly planning on wringing Namjoon’s throat if he doesn’t go back to normal soon.

/

By now, you’re sure Namjoon can feel the daggers you’re shooting into his back.

He’s even risked turning back a few times, to see who’s glaring at him. But as soon as your eyes meet, his head spins around as if it were all in your head. He focuses on the professor teaching ahead of him, taking notes diligently.

Beside you, Chae says with a nudge, “so are you gonna do that very crazy thing you were planning?”

You ignore her for the sake of gritting your teeth. Usually, you have no trouble focusing in classes. It’s all because of this wretched situation that you’re so off-game.

As soon as the professor wraps up his powerpoint, you’re faster than anyone else in the class at packing up your things and zooming out the door. You don’t even bid Chae goodbye.

You tap your foot impatiently, staring directly at your target. 

Namjoon… try and ignore me now.

Hooking his bag over his shoulder, Namjoon comes to the door of the classroom before stopping his tracks. Aha, you smile pleased.

“Ah, I just forgot… to talk about my assignment with Mr. Choi,” he mutters out loud to no one in particular. The acting is so terrible that you don’t even have to think about it to know he’s intending it for you to hear.

You march up to him. “No, you don’t,” you scoff and when he looks up at the ceiling, you jump like an infant calling for attention. “Namjoon, if you value your life, you’re gonna drop this act right now,” you say in a menacing voice. 

Immediately, he gulps and looks down at you. His height towers over yours but you smile, knowing you’ve gained the upper hand here. He’s looking at you just as he did before - completely enamoured.

You say nothing but give a deadly gesture to follow you. He obeys without complaint.

When you two are finally in a spot you deem private enough, you raise your chin and look at him happily. Under your gaze, he looks down uncomfortably.

“So you want me to say it or will you explain what the hell is going on?”

He blinks. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about, _____.”

Your blood boils. Now, he wants to feign ignorance. “You’re joking,” you deadpan.

He looks at you innocently and shakes his head. You sigh, blinking in confusion.

This whole situation is a first. True to your words, you’ve never actually… had to do anything more than bat an eye to know Namjoon would come to you. You don’t know the words to even ask what’s wrong.

“_____,” he says in a low voice. You glance up at him, completely losing your train of thought. The sight of him has never registered you disorientated before. But now, you can’t help but trace your eyes over his dimples and sparkling eyes.

You scoff at yourself. You must’ve lost your mind temporarily. “You know what I’m talking about!”

He shakes his head so you continue, “you used to always come to the library at my timings and sit on my lunch table.”

“Oh,” he nods. “That’s because I wanted to sleep in more so I changed my schedule around a bit.”

You blink at his explanation. “You sat at the back of the class when I came to the front row-”

“I just wanted to see what it’s like to sit there. Turns out, it sucks,” he pauses when you don’t reply. “_____?”

You frown, part confused and part innocently. “I just mean… why aren’t you following me anymore?”

The words are out of your mouth before you can help it and your eyes widen in humiliation. That isn’t the way you wanted to ask the question.

Namjoon, instead, is amused. He smirks ever so slightly, before cocking his brow and asking, “Are you asking me why I don’t chase you around anymore?”

His newfound confidence almost makes you lose your footing. This is Namjoon - the nerdy guy who’d come to you. He can’t have this effect on you.

You scoff, faking an assured smile. “Are you denying that you chased me around?”

He blinks. “I mean-”

“Surely, you accept the fact that you did chase me around for a whole year,” you say with a smile playing on your lips. Of course, between the two of you, you both know very well of Namjoon’s infatuation with you. He’s danced around those feelings for both of your comedy’s sake… but this time, you won’t let that slide.

He looks at you, tongue poking in his cheek. “Fine. I do chase you around.”

You almost smile with victory but you stop yourself. Before you can speak, he continues.

“But I won’t anymore. I’m sorry. It was wrong of me,” he says sincerely, seemingly ready on his toes to walk away. Your fingers wrap around his wrist without realizing.

“Wait!” you frown displeased. He’s glancing down at where your touch meets his hand and you instantly let go. “This makes no sense.”

He blinks, confused. “What do you… isn’t this what you’ve wanted?”

“You can’t just change your mind like that!” you argue, a strange desperation cutting into your voice. “You can’t make people get used to you and do that!”

Much to your surprise, he wears a small smile. “I didn’t think it’d bother you so much.”

“I can’t stand you,” you groan. “You chase me around, then you find out one tiny fact about my family and now, you think you’re so much better than me to come after me!” you yell, your heart hammering against your chest. You sound like a child, you know as much but… suddenly around him, all logic’s been thrown out your brain.

“_____,” he says in a breath, a glint in his eye that reads surprise and amusement. His dimples are poking out and you wonder what it’d be like to affectionately poke into one. “Do you… did you like when I would come to you?”

There’s no self-preserving answer to this, one that can save both your dignity and pride. You know what you should say to his question, but nerves are prickling under your skin.

It isn’t the nerves you feel before submitting a drawing or entering an exam, but a whole new uncharted territory of nerves. Everything about this conversation is uncharted territory.

“_____, do you…” he starts a question, before nervously brushing the nape of his neck. He looks shy to even ask but after a moment, he looks at you like a child with candy and says, “do you like me?”

Your heart’s in your stomach. Immediately, you laugh, “no! No! Why would I?! Are you crazy?! Why would I ever like-”

“I don’t know,” he blinks innocently, but the stare he holds on you seems suddenly intimate. “That’s what I’m thinking. Why would you ever care about why I stopped chasing after you, if you don’t like me?”

His cocky grin annoys you. You shoot him a deathly look. “Don’t get too confident with me, Joon,” you say although you’re fumbling with words. “I still remember when you couldn’t even look me in the eye.”

He takes a step closer, holding your stare with no qualms. Your heart speeds up again, like you’ve been running.

“_____,” he says softly with a victorious smile. “You like me, don’t you?”

“I’m not answering your stupid question. First, you explain to me why the hell you think you can treat me the way you have the last week-”

“Because I thought you didn’t like me back,” he answers smoothly. “You’re the daughter of HN Architects and I’ve been wasting your time all year long. I’ve always felt intimidated by you… but now, I realized I really wasn’t worth your time.”

You blink with a frown. “Namjoon-”

“I feel really embarrassed, _____… If I ever wanted to work at HN Architects, I wouldn’t even be able to show my face knowing the way I’ve bothered you-”

“You’ve never bothered me.”

“Huh?”

Your cheeks flush and you suddenly become very aware of the words that escaped your lips. You cast a hesitant glance at Namjoon and you can’t help it. Suddenly, everything feels a lot clearer.

“You know, you’re the kind of architect my father dreams about,” you find yourself saying. “You’re the kind of student someone like me should be. It all comes natural to you. I love buildings but everything I do, it’s just part of who you are… that’s why I acted like you bothered me.”

He’s at a loss for words before muttering, “_____…”

“All I ever think about is trying to fit the ideal I know I have to be and it all comes easy for you. You feel embarrassed in front of me…” you laugh with a scoff. “How do you think I feel, needing your help?”

“I never wanted to compete with you,” he says. “I just wanted to be by your side. I really wasn’t helping you for anything apart from looking for an excuse to be near you.”

There it is… the fluttering feeling.

The truth is, you’ve known all this time too. You’ve known that there was never any ulterior motive, just your cynical mind trying to conjure excuses.

You almost hate yourself at this moment. Your insecurity over your work has warped your thoughts so much that you convinced yourself that… that you feel nothing but annoyance for Namjoon.

“_____,” he starts. His hand hesitantly reaches up, stopping multiple times on its way before finally brushing your hair away from your forehead.

“I think it goes without saying but in my eyes, you’re the smartest person in our major and every time I’m with you, I don’t even care if you reject me or look for an excuse to go away,” he says. “You don’t even realize the way I see you.”

Your eyes sting and you’re not sure if it’s because his words move you or you’ve just forgotten to blink for a long while. “You’re so corny.”

He laughs. “Well, someone needs to tell you you’re doing a good job because I can tell you’re not telling yourself,” he says before sheepishly adding, “and I thought we were exchanging what we like about each other.”

“Who said I like you?”

He grins, ruffling your hair despite the scowl you give him. You say nothing but then give a smile. You didn’t expect today to feel so good… but somehow, that insecurity that plagues your mind at all hours of the day disappears for a while. 

All you can think about is wanting this feeling to last with him. Without warning, you reach to grab Namjoon’s wrist to walk out into the open garden of the campus. In front of your sight, there’s a skyline of buildings decorating the city.

“Do you still stand by your statement that that building is the ugliest?”

You grin. “It’s literally hideous, Joon. I can’t believe you’re the top of our class but think those colors look nice together.”

He gives a warm laugh, unable to disguise his happiness at the way you call him endearingly. Your eyes go back and forth between the skyline and Namjoon beside you before deciding that while buildings are your first true love… there’s something even more beautiful about the boy next to you.

hehe so excited to write on this blog if u read till the end jus know u have all my love