#your entire life gets handed to you from your father's hands

[traveler-at-heart]

Doctor's In - Part 13

Summary: Your life in Boston after Wanda.

The air is cold, and just your luck, today you left the car outside of the building’s parking lot.

Maybe it’s not such a bad thing after all, as a cute woman is inspecting the black Corvette, in awe of the elegant and expensive car.

“Want a ride?”

“This yours?” she says, genuinenly fascinated.

“Yeap” you nod. “She’s a beauty, 490-hp 6.2-liter V-8 engine”

Do you know what those words mean? Not at all.

“My father and I used to fix cars. I need to send him a picture. Can I?”

“Sure, go ahead” you smile. “I’ll even take one of you standing next to it”

You pull out your phone.

“Oh, wait, I should have given you mine” the woman says, and you smile.

“Or you could give me your number and I’ll send the pics” you smile at her, offering your phone.

“Very smooth” she blushes, taking it.

“If you wanna talk about smooth, the leather seats are just…”

“Ugh, it’s too cold to take my motorcycle, can you give me a ride to the hospital?” Yelena interrupts, coming out of nowhere as usual.

“Shh, go away” you push her behind you.

“God, we’re gonna be late. Just skip to the part where you lie about texting the girl and get on with it” she mumbles, and luckily only you can hear her.

“Sorry, she’s being annoying” you elbow Yelena’s side. “I’ll send you the pictures, and my offer for a ride still stands”

“Well, alright then. Have fun babysitting” the woman comments, which earns her a glare from the blonde.

“Get in the fucking car” you mutter. “Why can’t you ask your mother for a damn car? She has lots of them”

“Like the one you borrow and use to get phone numbers? I don’t understand why you do it, you never call them”

“It’s not about having a date. It’s just fun to talk to girls. I never really did it outside of college” you shrug your shoulders.

You never call them because the thought of being with someone who isn’t Wanda is simply absurd.

But you don’t expect Yelena to understand it.

“I never ask for a car because then she’d be like See, I was right, a motorcycle was a bad idea”

“Get both, like your sister”

“No, because then she’ll say I’m copying her, like when she went to school with a green backpack and I got one that was similar the next day. But green has always been my favorite color” she rambles.

“Are all the Romanoffs this complicated?”

"Is your music taste always this random?" Yelena points at the screen. "Yesterday it was ABBA and now it's Metallica"

"Don't even think about changing it" you say, slapping her hand away.

You finally get to the hospital, parking in your spot, which is one of the best ones in the entire facility.

Melina is trying to convince you to stay beyond your three month contract, and she’s not shying away from providing a life of luxury, with a penthouse and a fancy car included.

If it wasn’t because you’re busting your ass in the ER, you’d feel like a sugar baby.

“Go and check on the people waiting, I have to sign discharges and look at some post ops” you tell Yelena as soon as you walk in, and she nods.

“Morning, everyone” you greet the front desk. “Is Patrick ready for his recital today?”

“Yes, he’s very excited” Nurse Roman says.

“Well, as a doctor I don’t feel comfortable saying break a leg, so let’s just leave it at good luck”

“That sounds perfect to me, Doctor Y/L/N, thank you” the woman says. You’re smiling until you notice the frown on Peña’s face.

“Don’t look at me like that. Not my fault you keep betting on Shelton when he’s literally playing against Alcaraz”

“Shelton is the future of American tennis”

“I’m sorry, I can’t hear you over the resounding noise of your debt” you say, going back to the charts but keeping your palm open. You don’t look up until he gives up, putting a 20 in your hand. “Pleasure doing business with you, Peña. I’m so looking forward to Indian Wells and Miami back to back”

You don’t realise that Natasha is also at the front desk, signing a couple of discharge forms.

It’s been a month and you’re already friends with half the people who work here. Natasha’s glad, because it can be miserable to be isolated while you’re away from home.

The other side of her can’t help but feel really stupid too, because all this time she thought you were flirting and in reality, this is who you are with most people.

Now that’s a fast way to humble someone.

“Hi, Doctor Romanoff” you say, finally noticing her. “Ending your shift?”

“Yeah. How about you?”

“Starting a 48”

“Didn’t you just do one 12 hours ago?” she says.

“Yeah, but my brother and sister are coming over so I need the weekend off” you smile, actually excited. Natasha is probably one of the only people who could understand how good it is to reconnect with your siblings, but she’s been distant with you ever since you came to Boston.

So, you wish her a good day, and walk to the madness of the ER.

“Fuck my life, fuck it hard” you mutter when you notice who’s there. Ed Lorne, aka clown nurse. He’s a young one, practically fresh out of college and with an unhealthy obsession to behave like Patch Adams in that movie that always puts you to sleep (No disrespect to Robin Williams).

“Please tell me his shift is almost over” you plead to Yelena.

“Don’t be mean. He’s trying to make an impression”

“He already did and it’s a fucking awful one”

The fact that there’s no swear jar around has turned you into a sailor on leave. Not that you keep track, but if the twins could hear you, they’d be set for an Ivy League education.

Stop thinking about this, you mentally scold yourself, trying to breathe to settle that uncomfortable feeling at the pit of your stomach.

Yelena mistakes your frustrated sigh with a protest as Ed approaches you. Truthfully, it’s a bit of both.

“Top of the morning to you, Doctor Y/L/N” he says, removing an imaginary hat.

God, you’re gonna strangle him with a stethoscope.

“Guy in bed six has problems with urinating and I’m like well, more like ur-out of my bladder!”

“Boy, you’re really bringing the theater kid energy today, aren’t ya” you complain, ignoring Yelena’s smack on your arm.

“Why, thank you for noticing”

“No, that wasn’t a compliment. Check all of my post ops and medication, then fill out the medical records in the computer”

That should keep him busy for the next two hours and away from you.

“Evil” Yelena mumbles, but she’s laughing along.

You take care of a few people, ordering lab tests and other stuff that is quickly taken care of by the staff. It’s nice to have an ER that is never short on medical personnel.

You finish your exam on a patient just in time to get your daily call.

“Hello, Judas”

“Darcy!” you say, always with the same enthusiasm.

“I hate you” she repeats, every day since you left. Well, minus the first week. You didn’t have a phone at all. “Carol hates you too and you’re no longer invited to her wedding”

You can faintly hear Carol’s voice in the background, shouting that what Darcy’s saying is not true.

“I’m trying to get her to come back” Darcy explains. “Look pal, it’s either the good way or the bad way aka getting you in the Psych ward until you go back to your senses”

“I don’t suppose you could get my stuff and send it over?”

“No, for two reasons. One, if I see Wanda I’m going to kill her and dos, you belong here. So it would be stupid to send stuff that you’ll need when you’re back. Besides, how do you know Wanda didn’t throw them away?”

“I just do. Ok, it was nice being emotionally manipulated by you, but I gotta scrub in. Same time on Monday? Remember I’m seeing Zach and Jenny this weekend”

“Yes, get me all the deets on the gossip and yes, same time”

“Love you, pal”

“Screw you”

Darcy hangs up, but stares at her phone for a moment longer. She does miss you and even if she’s giving you shit for it, she understands where you’re coming from.

“Are these the CVs for Chief Fury?”

“Yes” his secretary says, carrying a couple of files. “He doesn’t like to read on the computer”

“Oh, here, I’ll take those”

And Darcy does take them. Straight to the trash can.

Gotta make sure the job’s open when you come back.

—

You’re out of shape. It’s been 27 hours and the work keeps on coming. It doesn’t help that Boston is so much bigger than Westview.

As you sit in one of the front desks, looking over paperwork and lab results, Ed comes in, holding a deck of cards.

“Pick a card”

“Did you get the lab results for Mrs. Pattmore?” you say, resisting the urge to slap the deck to the floor.

“No, they said it would take another hour…”

“Can you check again? Thank you”

Fortunately, he leaves and you sigh.

“He’s quite the character” a man shows up next to you, and you nod.

“He is very useful when I need urgent results from the lab. The technicians can’t stand him so they rather not see him around” you laugh.

 “I haven’t seen you before. I’m doctor Stephen Strange. Yes, that is my last name” he adds when you frown.

“Oh, nice to meet you. Yeah, I’m the interim Head of Trauma. Just until they find someone new”

“Huh. Not what I heard”

Well, there’s no way Melina will convince you to stay. But then again… you never thought you’d take the job in Boston.

“That’s definitely my plan” you assure him. “Were you on break?”

“Honeymoon. We just got back” he nods towards another woman who joins you, her smile wide. “Doctor Christine Palmer, meet… sorry, I didn’t get your name”

“Y/L Y/L/N. Congratulations to the both of you” you shake her hand.

“Thank you, how are you liking it here so far?”

“Everyone’s great” you say, but Christine catches your exhaustion.

“Lorne was just here asking to do a magic trick”

“Ah. That” she nods.

“Yeah” you get paged, and then wave at them. “See you around, and welcome back”

There’s a man coming in with a stab wound. Another shift from your work in Stark Hospital; the frequency of people who come in as a result of fights is a lot higher.

It was very rare to treat these kind of things in Westview.

“BP 130/70, no external bleeding or fractures” Yelena says and you nod, encouraging her to continue. “I want a chest X-Ray, transthoracic echocardiogram and blood work”

“The patient’s yours, Doctor Belova”

You’re honestly impressed. Yelena has been putting the work, and she’s very talented, especially while working under pressure.

“She has a good teacher” Melina speaks. The woman has a talent for knowing what people are thinking.

“Well, it’s in her blood, isn’t it? The whole Romanoff dinasty”

“Yes. By the way, this is your last patient. You’re not to be on call for so many hours in a week. The workload is very different here. And we will talk about a bonus so you can buy something to that girlfriend of yours to thank her for letting you be here”

About that.

Nobody knows Wanda kicked you out.

Except Yelena, but that’s because she kept asking about what Wanda said when you decided to come to Boston. The only way to shut her up was by telling her the truth.

It’s impressive that she’s kept the secret for so long.

“No need for a bonus, I’m doing my job as usual”

While you wait for the results of Yelena’s patient, the man begins to complain about pain between the shoulder blades.

“Lorne, book an OR and page Yelena” you say, knowing that’s a bad sign.

The blonde scrubs in as you begin the laparoscopy.

“What’s wrong? I’m still waiting on the results” she says, standing next to you.

“Pain between the shoulder blades is not a good sign for this type of injury. I’m seeing blood cloths in the anterior surface of the stomach and the liver. We’re switching to a laparotomy”

You find three lacerations in the liver and one in the stomach. Well, Melina’s plan didn’t work; you’re staying here for a bit longer.

As you move to inspect the pericardium, you look at Yelena, asking if she sees anything.

“No, it’s fine. Aside from the diaphragmatic perforation”

“And how are we closing that?”

“Ethibond suture with pledget” she answers after a slight hesitation.

“You’ll do it and I’ll be watching” you nod, moving aside. Truth is, your shoulder is hurting. It’s the old injury combined with the extra workload.

“Need any help?” Natasha walks in, and you shake your head no.

“I thought your shift ended”

“Came to do some post ops, and Doctor Romanoff asked me to help so you could go home”

“I’m fine” you lie. But Natasha stays in the OR, looking over Yelena’s shoulder.

“You’re making me nervous”

“Good. You could use some pressure. Y/N’s going soft on you” the redhead teases.

“I’m not!” you say, laughing. “I’ve been told I’m a great teacher”

“I’ve heard” Natasha nods.

Though Yelena takes a little bit longer than you would have, her work is excellent. Once you check everything’s done, you give the team instructions and scrub out.

“What are you doing with your siblings?” Natasha asks, joining you.

“Well, Jenny’s looking at NYU to apply. So I’ll meet them in New York, take them to a Broadway show. I was hoping they’d wanna go to the Met but not holding my breath for two teenagers to choose a museum”

“That’s fair. Have fun with your family” she smiles.

It’s weird to think about them as your family. They are, of course.

But to you, family is an entirely different group of people. One that you’ll never see again.

“Thanks. See you around” you nod, hoping to get some rest.

—

You never thought you’d be eager to see your family, but here you are, waiting in the airport, looking for Jenny.

As soon as she spots you, she runs towards you.

“Hey, kiddo”

“Make room for me” Zach says, jumping right in and making sure his sister has no room to breathe.

“You’re so annoying!” Jenny complains. Even if she’s three years older, Zach is a lot taller, being in that awkward teenage phase. “This trip was supposed to be just me”

“Y/N invited me” he says.

Well, kinda. He inserted himself in your conversations with Jenny, and as soon as he heard the words weekend in New York, he was ready to go.

“Well, I didn’t alter my girls weekend schedule for you, Zach. So just so you know, you’re getting a manicure and we’re plucking your eyebrows” you tease, walking them to where you parked. Of course they argue over who gets to ride in the front. “Alright, this is a rental. So, rule number one, no eating in the car. No throwing stuff at each other. No feet on the dashboard. And no one changes the music”

“Fine” they agree.

“First stop, the penthouse, then NYU”

Melina had heard about your trip and went out of her way to offer you everything at her disposal. Exclusive tickets, the Romanoff penthouse (apparently they have one in every major city), a reservation in a very nice restaurant.

You took most things happily. In a way, this is your compensation for emotional damages.

“So, what happened between you and Wanda?” Jenny says.

“Wow, can we at least have lunch first?” you accidentally hit the brake, making Zach hit his head against the headrest of your seat.

“I’m blind!”

“You’re fine” Jenny shushes him, turning to you. “I’ll tell you about our parent’s divorce”

“Ugh, deal. But you go first”

So, as you get food, Jenny tells you everything, with the occasional intervention from Zach. It’s nothing exciting, not technically. Their father finally realising your mother is an evil witch and taking their children away from her. It would have been ideal to do it when they were younger, but whatever.

“And you guys are doing good?” you ask, making sure things are better.

“Yeah… I just feel bad for her sometimes” Jenny admits. “Like what if she’s lonely or sad, you know?”

“That’s because you’re a good kid” you smile at her. “Let’s go get changed, we have to be ready for your college tour soon”

“What about your part of the deal?”

“Later” you say, trying to avoid talking about it.

By the time you reach the penthouse, you can’t help but admire the view to Central Park. It’s even bigger than the one they gave to you back in Boston.

“I want the biggest room” Zach says as soon as they drop their bags.

Of course, they’re engaging in a fight that involves some name calling and a lot of finger flicks on the forehead.

“You guys are worse than…”

They turn to look at you and you smile, trying to keep it together.

“Worse than…” Zach says but you shake your head.

“Nothing. Come on, better change fast”

Worse than Wanda and Pietro.

Will you ever stop thinking about her?

—

Earning the title of cool sister only takes a borrowed penthouse, Broadway tickets and exclusive seats at Yankees Stadium.

It’s day two and though you haven’t been able to convince them to go to the Met, you’re still enjoying yourself.

Kind of.

“So how long do these last?” you ask again, even if Zach explained the rules a dozen times already. “Ok, next time we’re going to the US Open because at least I’ll understand the game”

“So, you’re planning on staying here?” Jenny asks and you shrug your shoulders.

“There’s no plan for anything, really. I have two months left on my contract”

Zach goes to get more food and you keep watching the game in silence.

“Are you ok?” Jenny asks. Truthfully, though you’ve enjoyed spending time with them, Wanda’s been in the back of your mind more frequently than when you’re busy with work.

You can’t help but think about all the trips you never took with her, or wonder what she’d think about the city.

“Want the grown up answer or the big sister being brave answer?”

“I’d like the truth”

“Well…” you take a deep breath. “I’m not ok. I fucked up big time. I had everything I wanted within reach and just… I don’t know. Maybe it was never meant for me. It was too good”

“You are good enough for it, come on. Don’t say that”

“It’s hard to believe it when I hurt her so much. And the kids. But, it is what it is I guess”

“I’m sorry. If you wanna talk…”

“I know, sis. Thanks” you smile at her. All of the sudden you hear the crowd roaring and look up to see a ball that’s coming straight your way. You catch it, thinking nothing of it, while some people around you begin to speak to you. “What? Do I have to throw it back?”

“Are you insane?” Zach comes out of nowhere, taking it from you. “This is the coolest thing!”

“It’s a ball” you say, looking at the field.

“Nu-uh. It’s Camarena’s 50th home run. You know, the most promising baseball player of the season”

“Ok, if you say so”

Turns out it is a very big deal, as the player wants the ball back and is offering to meet you in exchange for it. You let Zach decide for the two of you, and his answer is an excited yes.

So, you take a couple of pictures and thank him when he hands you a signed baseball bat.

“Thanks, Carme…”

“Camarena” Zach elbows you. “I’m your biggest fan”

Yeah, you definitely earned the award to coolest sister, and it had nothing to do with all the money you spent. It came down to your ability to catch a freakin ball, like a competition with a golden retriever.

“We still have some time before we have to take the plane. What do you wanna do? You’ve been doing everything we want to” Jenny says, and you think about it.

“Let’s have a picnic in Central Park”

“Sounds fun” she agrees, while Zach keeps taking a million pictures of the bat.

As you walk around the park, you find something that unlocks a memory that was totally lost on you.

“Balto!” you point at a statue of the sleigh dog. They both look at you with blank expressions. “You’ve never seen Balto? Seriously?”

“I don’t know. Mom wouldn’t let us watch some stuff. She said it was silly to have a movie with speaking animals”

“That and Ghostbusters. But we never learned why”

“Oh, that’s because she and dad watched that movie on the day I was born” you explain while you pull out your phone to take a picture of the statue.

“Mom is such a bitch” Zach mutters and it makes you laugh.

“Come on, kid. Screw the picnic, I’m buying you the biggest burger we can find”

“See? I’m her favorite already” he teases Jenny and they begin to argue again. You hug them, staying in the middle to prevent a fight.

“Love ya both, kiddos”

—

Coming back to an empty house stings a bit more when you spent the weekend surrounded by playful banter and pleasant company.

The silence is unbearable and you know that at moments like this there’s only one thing that can make you forget.

So, even if you have to go to work tomorrow, you get changed and head for the usual club.

“Thought you found a better spot” Laura greets you as you approach the bar.

“Work was crazy” is all you say. No one knows your name, or what you do for a living. You just get drinks and dance to loud music.

“The usual?” you nod, accepting the glass of scotch. You enjoy it slowly for a bit, watching as some people dance and party. The outfits and the music are different from your time in college; plus Darcy and you used to go to shitty bars.

Either way, what hasn’t changed is how drunk people act; messy, unaware. You love it. No one’s asking if you’re ok, or why you're there.

“I was gonna buy you a drink, but you’re not done with that one yet” a woman offers with a flirty smile.

You finish what’s left of the scotch in one swift motion, and wink at her.

“There”

“Are you that thirsty, huh?” she teases, and you laugh, sipping from the new glass. “I’m Eve. You?”

“I’m… really thankful for my drink, Eve” you say, because you’re never gonna share your name with anyone else. “Wanna dance?”

The woman rolls her eyes, but follows you to the dance floor. It’s the perfect place to get lost, and avoid any conversation. The music’s loud, there’s people everywhere and you can simply disappear when you’re done.

It’s what you do best, isn’t it?

As you go out for another drink, there’s an impulse to talk to Laura.

“That was the name of a friend”

“What?”

“Laura. Well, not my friend. My ex girlfriend’s friend”

That’s about everything they have in common. This woman is covered in tattoos and has dark hair, styled in a mullet. Very Joan Jett, which is every girl’s type.

But my type is Wanda.

“Is that why you drink until I have to call you a cab?” Laura says, and you nod, taking a shot of tequila and asking for another one.

“Yeah. Come on, just one more” you plea when she’s doubting about giving you a third one. You pout and Laura rolls her eyes. “Thank you. Ah, I love this song!”

You blow her a kiss, running back to the dance floor. Wait, no, you don’t even know this song but it’s cool anyway.

And then the next one is good enough, until you’re a bit too drunk and have no idea what’s playing.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

To your disappointment, it’s a man.

“I’m fine!”

“Yes, you are” he says, putting his arm around your waist.

“I’m gay, dude. Stop it!” you push him away.

“Come on, you just need a good di…”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence, not when your fist crashes against his nose.

Stupid move, as he’s tumbling to the floor, creating a commotion. You can tell he’s pissed when he stands up, but he never even gets to yell at you, because someone is pulling you back until you’re out of sight.

“You really are trouble” Laura tsks and you try not to laugh.

“He was an asshole”

“Yeah, he is. If it were up to me he wouldn’t go in at all. I have to get back to the bar. Stay here, drink some water. Then I’ll call you a cab”

“I’m sorry” you say, reaching for her when she walks past you.

“That girl did a number on you, huh?”

“I only have myself to blame” you smile sadly. “Thanks for the help”

Following the woman’s advice, you walk around the room, drinking some water and breathing to gather yourself. You’re vaguely aware of the pain in your hand, and remember that it was stupid to risk yourself that way.

If you can’t operate, Melina’s kicking your ass.

After a while, Laura comes back.

“Car’s waiting”

��Thanks… I owe you...”

“A cup of coffee”

You’re about to protest when she rolls her eyes.

“Not as a date. You have too many issues for me to handle. But I’d rather we stop meeting like this, with you starting a bar fight”

“Yeah, that’s fair” you smile, looking back before leaving the room. “My name’s Y/N, by the way”

“Nice to meet you, Y/N”

—

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

That’s all you can think about as you get ready for a 24 hour shift, sporting a massive headache and hangover.

You’re leaning against the elevator when the doors open, and you speak without opening your eyes, handing the keys of the car to Yelena.

“You’re gonna have to drive me today”

“Yelena already left”

You look up a little too fast, eyes meeting Natasha’s.

“Ah, jeez” you complain, feeling your head pound with the sudden movement.

“Rough night?” she says with a mocking tone, but then pays attention to your bruised knuckles, taking your hand. “What the hell? Are you ok?”

“Dude thought he could touch me and get away with it. It’s fine” you promise, though she doesn’t let go of your hand.

“You know mom’s gonna freak out when she sees this?”

“Don’t be a snitch, Romanoff” you say, stepping out of the elevator. “What are you doing?”

“Get in my car” she says, rolling her eyes. “You’re in no condition to drive”

“This is nice” you look around the Mercedes-Benz, reaching to touch the controls in the dashboard. Natasha slaps your hand away.

“Nicer than the Corvette?”

“Nah, let’s not get crazy”

“Did you have a nice weekend with the family?” she asks, rolling into conversation naturally.

“Yeah, we went to see Wicked because Jenny wanted to, then to a Yankees game where I caught the ball, which is apparently a big deal”

“It is, congrats”

“They made me buy some clothes that are not scrubs or…”

“Mini skirts? Like the one you wore last night”

“How did you…”

“My penthouse is in the same building, remember? Same as Yelena’s. Mom was smart enough to get a house away from everyone”

“Right”

“Doesn’t Wanda mind?”

That shuts you up real fast. And honestly? You don’t feel like lying. But as you’re about to answer her, she stops in the parking lot.

“Sorry, it’s none of my business” she mistakes your silence with annoyance.

“No, that’s not it” you explain, but then your phone pings. It’s a message from Jenny, sending you the Instagram post she made for the weekend in New York.

J: You made it to the gram!

Youths. You don’t even have instagram but click the link nonetheless. Yeah, those are nice pictures.

“Oh, you two came together?” Melina greets when she meets you in the hallway.

“Y/N can explain why” Natasha smirks and you glare at her.

“I was just feeling tired after the family trip”

“Natalia, who will be your plus one to the gala?” Melina changes the subject abruptly.

“I’m not taking anyone”

You direct your attention back to your phone, knowing they’re about to argue.

As you swipe through the pictures, a name catches your eye.

w.maximoff

What?

Does Wanda follow your sister?

She saw the pictures and liked them? Even if you were in them?

Don’t be an idiot, don’t think this means anything, she hates you, she’s better off without you.

The sudden urge to throw up has nothing to do with your hangover. You look around the hallway, and feel the desire to turn around and beg her to take you back.

You miss her too much, you can’t do this without Wanda.

Who are you kidding?

“Take Y/N” you hear all of the sudden.

“What?”

“Take Y/N to the gala with you” Melina decides, making Natasha roll her eyes.

“She doesn’t want to…”

“Yes. I’ll go” you interrupt Natasha.

Anything, anything at all to stop thinking about the one person who made your life worth living.

“Then it’s settled” your boss nods, pleased.

“Excuse me” you walk away, hoping there’s a ton of work that can keep your mind off everything else.

There is, and you’re grateful for the distraction it provides.

“I’m exhausted. How are you managing with a hangover?” Yelena complains after a few hours.

“Get some rest,” you mutter, looking at the lab results. “The OR won’t be ready for another hour anyway”

Unfortunately, it gets very slow as the day progresses. Everyone in the hospital is focused on a kidney transplant that is happening next week.

You see a woman walk in with her son to the ER and approach them.

“Hello, I’m Doctor Y/L/N. How can I help you?”

“Hi, yes. My son fell and I’m not sure, I think he might have hurt his wrist”

You turn to look at the kid, who is probably ten or eleven, and he looks back at you scared.

“I understand. What’s your name?”

“Kyle”

“Hi, Kyle. I’m Y/L. Can I take a look at your wrist?”

It takes him a moment to nod, but once he does you take him to one of the hospital beds where he sits. As you put on a pair of gloves, he looks around, clearly nervous.

“Cool shirt” you make conversation, noticing his Yoshi shirt. “My favorite is Rainbow Road, but the best time I ever did was on Vanilla Lake”

“Really? My favorite is Koopa Troopa Beach”

“That’s a good one” you agree, applying pressure on his wrist. “Ok, I don’t think anything’s broken but we need an X-ray to confirm. I’ll walk you there, it will take a minute”

Thankfully, it’s just a sprain.

“You’ll just wear a brace for a week, I’m also sending some medication for pain. Now, you’re gonna have to hold up on playing Mario Kart for a bit, as the movement isn’t good for your hand. Take it easy and if there’s any more discomfort or pain, come back to the hospital”

“Thank you” the woman nods, relieved that it’s nothing major. You’re about to say goodbye when her son hugs you.

“Take care, kid”

As you watch them walk away, your mind goes back to Billy and Tommy.

You miss them so much.

“Everything ok?” Yelena asks when you leave in a rush, walking towards the stairs.

Instead of answering her, you go down the steps, until you push the emergency exit, breathing heavily.

Don’t cry at work, don’t cry at work.

It’s not working. You squeeze your eyes shot, pinching the bridge of your nose.

A sob leaves your lips the minute Yelena catches up with you.

“It’s ok. I’m here” she says, hugging you.

“I miss them”

“I know. I’m sorry” is all she says, allowing you to cry as you lean your head on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be…” you finally gather yourself, wiping away the tears. Your face is hot with the embarrassment of being so emotional in front of Yelena.

“I understand. There’s nothing to be sorry about. Come on, you should get some sleep. I’ll cover the ER for a bit”

“Ok” you nod. But she still follows you to the break room, and as you lay in bed, Yelena makes small talk, asking about your trip and telling you some funny things that used to happen to her and Natasha when their mother would leave them to roam the city while she had board meetings.

As she tells you about her favorite things from the Met, your eyes feel heavy and you fall asleep, exhausted.

The younger woman looks at you, feeling a bit guilty. She understands that everyone in this situation is an adult, and sometimes relationships don’t work.

But it’s still hard to see you so heartbroken and lonely.

“Hey” Natasha walks in the room, and Yelena shushes her, leaning her head towards you. “Is she ok?”

“I don’t know” the blonde admits, closing the door behind her.  “What’s up?”

“Mom told me you’re bringing a plus one to the gala! I thought we agreed no dates for this one”

“Oh, yeah…” Yelena blushes, and Natasha tilts her head.

“Who is it?”

“So, what are you doing? Should we find you a date?” Yelena rushes to change the subject, walking with her sister to the cafeteria.

“No, Y/N volunteered. Or, my mother kinda forced her to”

“Maybe it will be good to have a distraction. She’s having a rough time”

Natasha stays silent as they get some food. To be honest, she has been distant with you. It was hard to get close again after all the hard words you exchanged.

Natasha was just trying to protect herself.

“So you’re not gonna tell me who it is?” Natasha insists after a moment of silence. Yelena laughs, shaking her head.

“You’ll find out soon enough”

—

You open your eyes to the sound of your pager. The OR was busy for longer than anticipated and you’re about to go and check if everyone’s ready.

While you yawn, you dial Yelena’s number.

“Hello?” you hear Natasha’s voice.

“Why are you answering Yelena’s phone?” you say, doble checking that you indeed called her sister.

“Oh, crap. I took her phone by accident”

“Hey” you step out of the room, and find none other than Natasha, ready to leave for the day. “Guess your mother bought these phones in bulk”

You show her the mobile Melina gave you, though you insisted in keeping your number. It’s identical to Yelena’s and Natasha’s and every head of department has one as well.

“Heads up, she might be tracking your location”

“What? Can she do that?” you say, shaking the phone. Natasha smiles at that.

She forgets not everyone is expecting the worst from Melina.

“I better go and exchange phones with Yelena” the redhead says.

“Sure, can you tell her that the OR’s ready? Thanks”

You leave, but then Natasha’s voice stops you.

“Do you wanna do something tomorrow?”

There’s a hint of shock in your face, but you nod and smile.

“Yeah, sure. Wanna come over to watch a movie?”

“Sounds good” she agrees.

“Alright. See ya then” you wave goodbye.

Between this and the gala, Natasha doesn’t know if it’s a good idea to spend so much time together.

She’s about to find out.

—

Natasha is questioning her choices as she knocks on your door, thinking it might be unwise to spend alone time with you.

She had felt like you both got some closure after the emergency surgery on that woman. And then, one week later you had shown up at her hospital, as if you hadn’t refused the offer a number of times.

As if the thought of leaving your precious girlfriend behind wasn’t the craziest thing in the world.

“Hey, come on in” you greet, opening for her.

“Love what you’ve done with the place” she teases, watching as the only real decoration is a Polaroid picture of you and Yelena that is taped to the fridge.

“I’m happy this thing came with furniture or we’d be having dinner on the floor”

“Martha Stewart would be proud” she says and you roll your eyes.

“Come on, food will be ready in a bit” you say, asking her to open the bottle of wine.

“Where’d you get it from?”  she asks as she hands you a glass.

“Uh, the grocery store?” you look back from the stove.

“Wait, you’re making it? From scratch?” she puts her glass down, looking over your shoulder.

“Well, not from scratch, it’s not like I made the pasta”

“I thought you didn’t cook”

“I didn’t” you smile, offering her a taste of the sauce. “But I got used to the finer things in life, like a good old homemade meal, and had to figure out how to get something done”

“This is actually really good” she says, surprised.

“I will give you a pass because I am also surprised that my cooking’s not so bad”

It must have been because you used to watch Wanda cooking all the time.

Ah, shit.

Maybe eventually you’ll go a day without thinking about her. Or not, and that’s your karma for being an idiot.

Once everything’s ready, you pull out two plates, and serve the food.

“What do you wanna watch?”

“Not sure, could we eat first?”

“Why, want to check that I won’t give you food poisoning?” you joke, but Natasha doesn’t laugh. “Oh, come on! I’ve never gotten sick and it’s been a month!”

“Let’s just eat”

“Fine, are you sure you’re gonna be ok talking to me? You’ve been avoiding me since I arrived in Boston” you comment, though you can’t be mad at her.

It was easier to blame her for your screw up that own up to it. You’re not particularly proud of it.

“I wasn’t sure if your girlfriend would give you shit for talking to me”

“We’re not together anymore” you blurt out, making Natasha stop chewing.

“You’re shitting me”

“She broke up with me” you shrug your shoulders. “So I quit my job and ran away like the asshole I am”

There’s a beat of silence, and you keep eating. You’re not expecting anything from Natasha, like pity or words of comfort. It’s just the way things are.

“I had no idea… I’m sorry. I feel responsible”

“Nat, don’t. Honestly, you weren’t wrong. I am attracted to you, and I didn’t set boundaries. If anything, I’m sorry for being a jerk and ruining our friendship”

She keeps eating quietly, and you know that she accepted the apology without making a fuss about it.

“Crazy, stupid love” you mumble after a couple of minutes.

“Yeah, I guess it can be”

“No” you snort out a laugh. “I mean that’s the movie I wanna watch!”

“Oh, I don’t know it” Natasha rolls her eyes.

“Of course not, it’s not a Bond movie. Come on, now that you’ve seen my food won’t take you to the ER, let’s get everything ready” you say, picking up the dishes. Maybe you’ll make popcorn, even though you are full.

“Wait a minute” Natasha says, and when you turn around, she’s got you cornered against the kitchen counter.

“Huh?”

“You said you are attracted to me. Not were. So you still are” she smirks, eyeing you up and down.

“Well, yeah. Have you seen yourself?” you stutter. It’s not helping that you’ve gotten used to physical intimacy and you’ve been craving it for the past weeks.

But that makes you think of Wanda again.

“I just… you deserve more than being a rebound, Natasha. And I am serious when I say I’m not staying beyond my contract”

You know you can’t be someone who isn’t heartbroken and in love with Wanda. But you can at least be honest about it.

“I know. It’s just fun to watch you get all flustered” she says with a sultry voice.

“Not funny” you say, pushing her away.

“Let’s watch that silly, corny movie now” Natasha rolls her eyes.

“You’re gonna love it”

“Doubt it”

As you suspect, she’s critizing Cal at every possible turn, calling him a loser. She’s also constantly texting about the hospital in between complaints.

“Hey!” she protests when you snatch her phone.

“I know we’re both workaholics, but you’re missing the parts with Emma Stone which are arguably the best ones. And this big reveal will blow your mind”

So, you put both of your phones down in the coffee table and take it as a win when she’s laughing at some of the moments in the film.

“Hannah is Cal’s daughter?” Natasha screams when you get to that scene.

“See?”

“Damn!”

“Bathroom break” you announce a while later, leaving the movie playing as you know the dialogues.

Natasha is actually interested in the movie when her phone rings and she picks up without looking away from the screen.

“Hello?”

She’s met with silence, which makes her actually pay attention to whoever called her.

Shit.

Wanda.

She took your phone.

But before she can explain or tell the other woman to wait, the call disconnects.

“What’s wrong?” you say when you return, sitting next to Natasha. “I know it’s sad, but I promise it has a happy ending”

“Y/N, I’m so sorry”

“Nat, you’re scaring me”

“I thought it was my phone, I picked it up. Wanda called you” Natasha says, handing over the phone to you.

“Oh” you tilt your head, shocked. “What did she say?”

“Nothing. She hung up. I’m so sorry”

“Well, maybe she just wanted me to get my stuff. That’s the only reason she’d call me, honestly” you say, returning to the movie.

“Why aren’t you freaking out?” Natasha insists.

“I don’t know” you confess. Maybe you’re in shock. It feels surreal to have Wanda call you, after everything she said to you.

You left your old phone at Darcy’s house before jumping on a plane. You only got your old number back after Melina gave you one of those fancy phones.

Now you wonder if she ever tried to call you.

“I should go”

“And leave me to drown in obsessive thoughts?” you say dramatically. “Look, what’s the harm here? That she’ll think the worst of me, and then what? We broke up. She kicked me out, I’m gone like Wanda asked me to. I’ll just text Pietro and ask if the kids are ok”

That was your real concern. You had a feeling that it could be a mistake or something very serious. And you’d always put your pride aside for the sake of the kids.

“We’re watching a horror movie now” Natasha snatches the remote as soon as the credits roll, looking for Insidious. “That will distract you for sure”

—

“You’re evil” you say when Natasha walks out, laughing.

“And you’re a baby”

“There was a demon! Sewing while that creepy song played. You’re sick, Romanoff”

“Sweet dreams, Y/N” she says, whistling the song as she closes the door.

Now you won’t be able to sleep.

But there’s also another thing in the back of your mind.

Pietro hasn’t answered which can mean that it Wanda's call was a mistake and he’s choosing to ignore you.

Or something so monumentally horrible happened that he doesn’t even have his phone on him.

“Fuck it” you say, trying to control your breathing as you dial back.

You begin to feel like an idiot, especially when it’s pretty obvious Wanda won’t pick up the phone.

Hands squeeze the device as you deal with the disappointment. You are about to hang up when you hear it.

Wanda, saying your name.

And for a moment, you feel like everything’s ok again.

[hypnobeauty]

a chance encounter - a cho hyun-ju x reader (part 10)

summary: a story about how you and hyun-ju met and the following years of your relationship. masterlist cw: no use of y/n, reader is afab, violence, transphobia, homophobia if you squint, misgendering, hurt/comfort, boomers. a/n: sorry girls 😭😭 enjoy xx comments are always welcome

gongju [공주] - princess eomma [엄마] - mom appa [아빠] - dad

taglist: @strayteez3staner @dekiruxxx @jeongteen @sunnysurvives @3leni @etta-huracan @honeyhyunju @basoressia @antisocial-aina @googie-jeon @christinamadsen @deernat @vvlwvvy @psychobitchsthings

part 10. love despite everything

for 28 years of her life, cho hyun-ju had another name. she was the second child of cho tae-joo and lee mi-sun, and grew up in a respectable neighborhood in seoul. her father was a former military officer turned factory supervisor—stern, disciplined, and deeply rooted in traditional korean values. her mother was a homemaker for most of her life before taking a part-time job at a local hanbok rental shop once her children were grown.

she had an older brother, cho won-jung, five years her senior. won-jung as always the golden child—the one who followed the expected path, got good grades, served his mandatory military service without complaint, and married a woman their parents approved of. he worked as an accountant in a mid-sized firm in seoul and had two young daughters, whom hyun-ju adored from afar but rarely saw.

hyun-ju’s childhood was strict but not entirely unkind. her mother was warm in the ways she was allowed to be—tucking her into bed with gentle pats on the head, making her favorite meals when she sensed something was wrong, and smoothing her hair when she cried. but her father’s presence loomed over the household like a shadow. he was a man of discipline, a man who believed in hierarchy and respect, who saw emotions as weaknesses and deviation as a personal failure.

when hyun-ju was fourteen, she gathered the courage to talk to her school counselor about the feelings she couldn’t quite name—the unease in her body, the way she never felt quite right being called a son, the way her reflection in the mirror felt like a stranger. she didn’t know the word transgender yet, only that something about her existence felt fundamentally wrong.

but instead of support, the counselor betrayed her. she told hyun-ju’s parents.

that night, her father didn’t say a word at dinner. but after the dishes were cleared, he called her into the living room. her mother stood to the side, wringing her hands, eyes red-rimmed. won-jung was out with friends, unaware of what was happening.

the first slap came before she could even get a word out. the second came when she tried to explain. the third came with words that burned more than the strike itself.

"i raised a son, not a freak."

after that, the subject was never spoken of again. but something shifted in the household. her father became colder, stricter. her mother, though still kind, became more distant, as if afraid to touch something fragile. won-jung never knew what had happened, only that his little sibling became quieter, more withdrawn.

and so, hyun-ju buried it all. she threw herself into school, into sports, into the rigid structure of the military, hoping that if she followed the rules well enough, if she became exactly what was expected of her, the feelings would disappear.

they didn’t.

they only grew stronger, suffocating her until she had no choice but to confront them.

*

one day, two months into your relationship, hyun-ju had excused herself to the kitchen, leaving you momentarily alone in her living room. you leaned back against the couch, letting your eyes wander over the small but carefully arranged space. it was so distinctly her—neat, structured, but not cold. there were touches of warmth in the small things: the folded blanket draped over the armrest, the half-burned candle on the coffee table, the framed picture of the two of you from a date at the han river, tucked between books on the shelf.

then your gaze landed on another framed photo, slightly older, wedged between a row of novels and a small ceramic dish holding loose change. it was a family portrait.

you leaned forward, picking it up carefully. the frame was simple, the glass slightly smudged, as if it had been handled often. the photograph itself was well-preserved but had a noticeable crease running down the left side, where part of the image had been folded inward.

at the center sat an older man with a hardened expression, his back straight, his mouth set in a firm line. his presence in the photo was commanding, his eyes sharp even through the faded colors of the print. to his right stood another man, slightly younger, with similar features but a softer gaze—hyun-ju’s brother, you assumed. to his right, a woman with a warm, gentle smile.

your lips curled into a small smile. “that’s your mom, isn’t it?” you called over your shoulder. “you look just like her.”

from the kitchen, she let out a quiet chuckle. “yeah. i used to hear that a lot growing up.”

hyun-ju reappeared with two mugs of tea, setting them down on the coffee table before walking over. she glanced at the photo in your hands, her expression unreadable.

your fingers brushed over the folded edge of the picture. the crease was deliberate, worn from time, as if it had been pressed and re-pressed over and over again. you could still see part of a black uniform—a military one, from the looks of it—and a shoulder, but the rest of the person had been hidden away.

your brows furrowed slightly. “who’s this?” you asked, carefully tilting the frame toward her. hyun-ju hesitated. for a moment, she simply stared at it, her lips parting slightly before pressing into a thin line. she reached out, running her fingers along the edge of the fold, almost absentmindedly.

“it’s me,” she said finally, her voice quiet. “or… it used to be me.”

a strange heaviness settled between you. you looked at the photograph again, at the careful way it had been altered. it wasn’t torn, wasn’t discarded—it was still here, still kept, still important. but a part of it had been hidden, erased just enough to make it bearable to look at.

your chest tightened and you glanced up at hyun-ju. her gaze was fixed on the image, but she wasn’t really looking at it. her mind was somewhere else—somewhere far away, in another time, another place. you reached out, covering her hand with yours.she exhaled softly, but she didn’t pull away.

“i can’t face him,” she admitted after a long pause. “but the photo… i can’t let go.”

you nodded slowly, squeezing her fingers. “because it still has your mom. your brother.”

she gave a small nod. “yeah.”

you hesitated for a moment before saying, “one day, you can all recreate this picture.” your voice was gentle, but sure.

hyun-ju let out a quiet, almost bitter laugh. “that’s… optimistic.”

you tilted your head, watching her carefully. “it’s possible.”

she finally looked at you then, really looked at you. there was something in her eyes—doubt, maybe, but also something softer, something longing.

she didn’t answer right away. instead, she reached for her mug, taking a slow sip, her fingers lingering on the ceramic. then, in a voice barely above a whisper, she said, “i hope you’re right.”

you smiled, shifting closer until your shoulders touched. “i usually am.”

that earned you a small smirk, a tiny shake of her head, but she didn’t argue. for now, that was enough.

*

the familiar creak of the front gate, the scent of home—your mother’s favorite lemongrass scent—wrapped around you like a childhood memory. you grinned as you fumbled with the keys, calling out before you even stepped inside.

"eomma, appa! i'm home!"

hyun-ju chuckled beside you, shaking her head at your enthusiasm. "you're so loud," she teased.

"it builds anticipation," you shot back, nudging her playfully.

the moment you stepped inside, the warmth of the house enveloped you. it smelled like crisped fish and garlic, like the sweet tang of gochujang simmering in a pot. the wooden floors creaked under your socks as you slipped off your shoes, and before you could take another step, your mother appeared, wiping her hands on her apron.

"gongju!" she exclaimed, beaming as she cupped your face, pressing loud, exaggerated kisses all over it.

"eommaaaa! you're embarrassing me in front of hyun-ju!" you whined, though you didn’t pull away.

your mother scoffed, waving off your complaint. "nonsense." she turned to hyun-ju, who stood politely to the side, her hands neatly clasped in front of her. "this must be your friend, yes?"

hyun-ju bowed deeply. "nice to meet you, ma’am."

your mother made a dismissive sound and pulled her into a firm hug instead. "no formalities, yes?"

hyun-ju let out a small laugh, surprised but pleased, as she bent down to return the embrace. she was so much taller than your mother that it looked almost comical.

your mother pulled back, squinting up at her. "aigoo, you're tall! good, good. you can reach the top shelves."

you rolled your eyes as hyun-ju chuckled, clearly charmed.

"gongju, come," your mother said, already tugging you towards her sewing room. "i've fixed the clothes you left here last time."

you squealed in delight, grabbing hyun-ju’s wrist and dragging her along.

your childhood bedroom was gone, replaced by bolts of fabric, a sturdy wooden sewing table, and a mannequin draped in a half-finished hanbok. but in the corner, your old single bed still remained, the only relic of your past life here. you were thankful your mother had long since thrown out your cringeworthy 2pm and one direction posters—hyun-ju would never let you live them down.

after gathering your clothes, you left hyun-ju with your mother while she took her measurements for a vest she had been working on. you wandered into the kitchen, where your father was setting the table.

the man was quiet, reserved, but affectionate in his own way. he glanced up as you entered, offering a small smile before returning to his task.

"smells amazing, appa," you said, grabbing chopsticks to help set the places.

he nodded. "i made your favorite."

you beamed, nudging his shoulder lightly. "you're the best."

he hummed in response, but you caught the small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

by the time your mother and hyun-ju returned, the table was set, and everyone took their seats. hyun-ju sat beside you, her posture straight, respectful but not timid. you knew she was nervous, though she hid it well. her hand was resting lightly on her lap, close enough that you could reach for it if you needed to.

dinner started off as usual—your mother chattering about the neighborhood, your father grumbling about his back pain but refusing to see a doctor, and him asking about "that silly ha-neul girl," as if she were an extension of you. the food was delicious as always, the table filled with dishes you grew up eating—grilled fish, kimchi jjigae, japchae, and perfectly steamed rice.

everything felt normal. until it wasn’t.

you cleared your throat, setting your chopsticks down carefully. hyun-ju must have sensed the shift in you because her fingers brushed against yours under the table, grounding you. you laced them together, squeezing lightly before speaking.

"appa, eomma… we have something to say."

the room stilled.

your parents exchanged a glance, your father’s grip tightening around his spoon. "go on," he said, his voice even but cautious.

you inhaled deeply. "hyun-ju and i are not just friends," you said, steadying yourself. "we're partners."

your father frowned slightly. "partners?"

"yes, appa. we're in a relationship. she's my girlfriend."

silence.

hyun-ju was the one to break it, her voice calm but unwavering. "sir, ma’am, i love and respect your daughter very much. i'm very grateful to have her in my life."

your mother exhaled sharply, shaking her head. she set her chopsticks down, rubbing her hands together as if trying to process the words.

"this is unnatural," she murmured, her voice laced with something between disbelief and distress. "you were never like this before."

"we raised you properly," your father added, his tone not angry, but weighted with something worse—disappointment.

you felt a sharp pang in your chest.

"appa, eomma, this isn't something that just happened. it's not a phase, not something i was influenced into. this is who i am."

your mother shook her head again, her hands gripping the edge of the table. "maybe… maybe we should see someone. a shaman, perhaps. there could be—"

"eomma," you interrupted, your voice firm but not unkind. "there is nothing to fix. this is not a curse. this is me."

she looked at you, truly looked at you, as if trying to find something in your face that would tell her this was a joke, a mistake. but all she found was certainty. your father sighed, rubbing his temple. he didn’t argue further, but the silence between you felt heavier than words.

the rest of the dinner was quiet, the conversation reduced to murmurs about work and tv, but it was hollow, a forced attempt at normalcy. when it was time to leave, you bowed politely, hyun-ju following suit, and stepped outside. the night air was crisp, the silence between you thick with unspoken words.

"that was… expected," you murmured, exhaling slowly.

hyun-ju’s fingers found yours again, warm and reassuring. "i'm sorry."

you shook your head. "it's okay. they’ll come around. they just need time."

she studied you for a long moment, her gaze searching. then, with a small nod, she squeezed your hand. "okay."

*

two weeks later when your mother called, asking you to pick up hyun-ju’s vest, you knew what it meant. she wasn’t ready to say the words, to admit outright that she was trying, but this was her way of extending a white flag. a small, hesitant step forward.

you and hyun-ju arrived after work, the house feeling as familiar as ever, but the air between you and your mother was different—less tense, less uncertain. hyun-ju changed behind the folding screen while you sat on the edge of the bed, watching your mother as she sorted through a box of fabric.

"how’s appa? still getting night shifts?" you asked, trying to fill the silence.

"stubborn as ever," she muttered, shaking her head. "his back is getting worse, but does he listen? no."

you smiled softly. some things never changed.

hyun-ju emerged from behind the screen, rolling her shoulders in the vest. it fit her perfectly, the fabric hugging her frame in just the right way. your mother stood, pins in hand, stepping forward to inspect it. she pinched the fabric at the sides, tugged lightly at the hem, then nodded in satisfaction.

"it’s perfect," hyun-ju said, admiring the fit in the mirror.

your mother sniffed, crossing her arms. "of course it is. i'm good at what i do."

you laughed, shaking your head. then, without warning, she turned to the two of you, pointing a firm finger in your direction.

"look, i don't know how you're going to do it," she started, her tone serious. "but i want grandchildren."

hyun-ju choked on air. you stared at her, wide-eyed. "eomma—"

"ahh, don't laugh, i'm serious!" she scolded, swatting your arm. "children! not cats, huh?"

you and hyun-ju exchanged a look before bursting into laughter. your mother huffed but didn’t push further. instead, she turned back to her sewing, muttering something under her breath about "at least one baby, just one."

and just like that, you knew everything would be fine.

*

it started with small comments.

"you know, my mom asked about you today," you’d mention over dinner. or, "i think my dad actually likes you. he said you were ‘very tall, like a volleyball player’ that’s his way of complimenting people, you know." or, "they came around, hyun-ju. i really think yours can too."

at first, she would only nod, offering a small, unreadable smile. but you could tell she wasn’t convinced. then, one night, as you lay together in bed, tangled in each other’s warmth, you tried again.

"i think you should try talking to them," you murmured, tracing soft circles on her arm.

hyun-ju sighed, her body tensing slightly. "i don’t know, aein. i don’t think it’ll be like how it was for you."

"you don’t know that," you pressed gently. "they might surprise you. my parents did."

she was silent for a long time, staring up at the ceiling. then, quietly, she said, "you don’t know what you’re asking."

you propped yourself up on your elbow. "hyun-ju, i know they’re traditional, but they’re your family. they love you."

she let out a bitter chuckle.

"love me?" she repeated. "do you want to know what happened the last time i tried to talk to them about this?"

you frowned. "what do you mean?"

she exhaled, rubbing her hands over her face, as if bracing herself. then, she told you.

"i didn’t even know what being trans was back then," she began, her voice quiet, but steady. "i just knew that something was wrong. that i didn’t feel right. that i didn’t fit."

she swallowed. "so i did what i thought i was supposed to do. i went to the school counselor."

you already knew this wasn’t going to end well.

"i told her that i felt… different. that i didn’t understand why i hated being called a boy, why i hated my name, why i felt sick every time i looked in the mirror."

her fingers tightened into fists. "she told my parents."

your breath hitched. "she what?"

"she called them in. she said i needed ‘guidance.’ that i was ‘confused.’"

she let out a shaky breath, staring at the ceiling again, as if the memory was playing out above her.

"my father didn’t say anything at first. he just listened. nodded. and then, when we got home, he beat me so badly i couldn’t go to school for a week."

you sat up fully now, staring at her in horror. "hyun-ju—"

"he told me that whatever ‘nonsense’ i was thinking, i better forget it. that i was a boy. that i would always be a boy. and if i ever embarrassed him like that again, he’d make sure i regretted it for the rest of my life."

she turned her head to look at you, her eyes unreadable. "so, i forgot it. i buried it. i didn’t speak about it again for another ten years."

tears blurred your vision as you reached for her, pulling her into your arms. "i’m so sorry, aein. i shouldn’t have pushed you. i didn’t know." she held you back just as tightly.

"it’s okay," she murmured. "you didn’t know."

you pressed a kiss to her temple, vowing silently that you would never, ever let her go through something like that alone again.

*

a month later, hyun-ju surprised you.

"i want to see them."

you hesitated. "are you sure?"

"no," she admitted. "but i need to do this. and i want you there."

"of course," you said immediately. "i’d never leave you alone in a moment like this."

the drive to hyun-ju’s childhood home stretched longer than it should have, the silence between you thick with unspoken fears. she had barely spoken since you left the apartment, her hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly that her knuckles had turned white. the tension in her shoulders was palpable, her breath measured but too controlled, as if she was trying to stop herself from unraveling before you even got there. you could feel it radiating off her, a quiet storm she was trying to suppress.

you reached over, resting your hand on her thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze. "you don’t have to do this, aein," you murmured, your thumb stroking small, soothing circles over the fabric of her jeans.

she swallowed hard, her gaze locked on the road ahead. "i do."

you nodded, though you still weren’t sure.

hyun-ju had chosen a time when she thought her father wouldn’t be home. she had calculated everything—the hour of the day, the likelihood of his errands, the small window in which she might be able to see her mother alone. but as she pulled up in front of the house, something in your gut twisted. it was bigger than you imagined, a nice two-story home with a tall iron fence, the kind of place that might have once felt warm but now seemed hollow, abandoned even with people still living inside. you glanced at hyun-ju, her face unreadable, her fingers twitching slightly against the steering wheel.

"are you ready?" you asked softly.

she didn’t answer right away. then, after a long pause, she unbuckled her seatbelt and nodded. "let’s go."

you followed her to the front door, standing just behind her as she rang the doorbell. seconds stretched into eternity. then—

the door creaked open, revealing an older woman with soft, lined features and tired eyes.

her mother.

she froze the moment she saw hyun-ju. her lips parted slightly, her brows knitting together in confusion. she whispered an unfamiliar name, sounding jarring in your ears.

hyun-ju’s body stiffened beside you, but her voice was steady. "it’s hyun-ju, eomma."

her mother’s expression faltered, her gaze flickering to you, then back to hyun-ju. "can we come in?" hyun-ju asked, her voice softer now.

there was a brief hesitation, the kind that felt like a lifetime. then, in a hurried motion, her mother stepped aside. "quickly," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, as if afraid someone might hear.

she ushered you both inside, glancing over her shoulder nervously. you barely had time to process what was happening before a deep, sharp voice cut through the air.

"what the hell is going on here?"

the warmth of the kitchen vanished in an instant, replaced by something thick and suffocating. hyun-ju went rigid beside you. you turned, and there he was—her father, a tall, broad-shouldered man with graying hair and a face hardened by time and bitterness. his eyes landed on hyun-ju, and his expression twisted into something ugly.

"what is this?" he spat, his voice thick with disdain. "why are you here? dressed like—like this?!"

hyun-ju opened her mouth, but before she could speak, her mother stepped between them. "please, just—"

"no!" he barked. "i want to hear it from him. what the hell is this? some kind of joke?"

you saw it then—the way hyun-ju’s fingers curled into fists at her sides, the way her shoulders tensed as if bracing for impact. she had been here before.

"appa," she started, her voice calm but firm. "i came to talk."

"talk?" he let out a cruel laugh. "you want to talk? after embarrassing this family? after throwing away everything we gave you? you want to talk?"

hyun-ju stood her ground. "i didn’t throw anything away."

her father scoffed. "you were my son. my youngest. you had a future. a career. you thought i didn't know you left your station? and you threw it all away to—what? play dress-up?"

your blood boiled. "she’s not playing dress-up," you snapped before you could stop yourself.

his head whipped toward you, his eyes narrowing. "who the hell are you?"

"someone who loves her," you shot back. "and someone who won’t let you treat her like this."

a flicker of something dark passed over his face. then, before you could react, he shoved you—hard. you stumbled back, catching yourself against the table. hyun-ju moved instantly. she shoved him back, her voice sharp, furious. "don’t touch her."

her father laughed. "ah, there’s the son i raised."

the words landed like a slap. hyun-ju’s entire body went rigid, her breath coming in short, uneven bursts. then she lunged again, shoving him harder this time and her mother wailed.

you moved quickly, stepping between them, pressing your hands to hyun-ju’s chest. "hyun-ju, stop," you whispered, your voice urgent but gentle. "this is what he wants. let’s go."

her breath was ragged, her hands trembling. but then she looked at you. and slowly, painfully, she let go. you grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the door.

"don’t you ever come back here again!" her father shouted.

hyun-ju didn’t look back.

*

hyun-ju was silent as she walked to the car, her hands shaking so badly she fumbled with the keys. you took them from her gently. "i’ll drive." she didn’t argue.

the car ride home was suffocating. hyun-ju stared out the window, her face blank, her hands clenched so tightly in her lap that her knuckles had gone pale. you didn’t speak. not until you pulled into the driveway, parked the car, and turned to her.

she was shaking. without thinking, you reached over, unbuckled her seatbelt, then your own, and pulled her into your arms. she broke. her entire body shuddered against yours as the first sob tore through her. you held her, running your fingers through her hair, whispering, "i’ve got you. i’ve got you."

minutes passed. maybe hours. when her sobs quieted into soft whimpers, you pulled back just enough to press kisses all over her face. "i’m sorry it had to be like this, aein," you murmured, your voice thick with emotion.

she nodded, her eyes red and puffy. "let’s go inside, yes?" you said softly. "take a warm shower, drink some tea, and relax together. just you and me. sounds good?"

she sniffled and nodded. inside, she showered while you made tea. when she came out, hair damp, face exhausted, she crawled into bed beside you, resting her head on your chest. the sound of your heartbeat steadied her, grounding her in something real, something safe.

"did you ever tell your brother?" you asked softly.

she hesitated. then, "no. he doesn’t know anything."

you exhaled, running your fingers down her back. "maybe one day."

she didn’t answer.

but as she lay there, listening to the steady rhythm of your heart, she realized something—no matter how much the world tried to tear her down, no matter how many times she was told she wasn’t enough, there was one undeniable truth.

she was here. she was loved. and in the quiet, in the space between heartbeats, she knew—she belonged.

[daeniradraconis]

The Leafs Legacy - Auston Matthews

Okay, so @tonyspep you gave me the sweetest idea with your comment! I know you were hoping for a more gentle Auston teaching his daughter to skate, but I thought the first game could be way more exciting! Hope you still love this take though!

So, here's daddy Auston being the proudest coach at his baby girl's first game. A few Leaf players make an appearance too. It's all about the fluff and cuteness! I just needed to write something like this today to make myself smile, and I hope it does the same for you! 💕 For more fun: masterlist❤️

—-

The arena buzzed with excitement—a lively mix of proud parents, devoted fans, and an entire section filled with Toronto Maple Leafs players, all gathered to witness history: the very first game of the newly established Leafs Girls' Program. And at the heart of it all, standing tall behind the bench in his team-issued jacket, was Auston Matthews—head coach of the future generation of hockey stars.

You still remember the promise Auston made when Clara was born. At the time, you thought he was joking about starting a Maple Leafs girls’ team, but that stubborn fool never let it go. For nearly a year, he hounded the directors and senior managers, relentless in his mission. You’re pretty sure they only gave in just to stop him from spamming their inboxes with proposals and cornering them with passionate speeches. But now, seeing the pride in his eyes as he watched his team, you knew—he had won.

From the stands, you held little Auston Jr. close, his tiny Maple Leafs onesie making him look impossibly adorable. At just three months old, he had no clue what was going on, but nestled in your arms, surrounded by the bright lights and the roar of the crowd, he was completely content. And in that moment, so were you.

You and Auston had talked about having more kids after Clara turned one, but life didn’t unfold as expected. Months turned into years, and despite your best efforts, nothing happened. Eventually, you both quietly let the topic go. But then, just as you were getting ready to settle into your life as a family of three, at nearly 36 years old, you found out you were pregnant. It was a shock—a miracle.

When you told Auston, he cried like a baby, overwhelmed by emotion. And to be honest, you were a hot mess too, crying and laughing at the same time.

You may not have ended up with enough kids to fill a hockey team, but you were surrounded by love—cherished by your little ones, who meant the world to you. The small moments of chaos and laughter, the sleepy snuggles, and the endless hugs were all you needed. And as for Auston, he never let you forget, that he was right about one thing: you were an absolute smoke show MILF.

But then, your attention naturally shifted. You glanced over at the ice, where Clara stood, her little figure tiny against the rink. She wore an oversized Leafs jersey, her pink and purple helmet snug on her head, and her tiny hands gripped her stick with surprising confidence. She looked so small out there, but the look in her eyes? That was all Auston. You could see the fire, the determination—just like her dad. In that moment, you knew she was going to make her own mark, and maybe even take after her father in more ways than one.

Auston paced behind the girls on the bench, hands on his hips, barking out encouragement like he was coaching a Stanley Cup Final.

Mitch, sitting right next to you, burst into laughter, nudging William. "Oh my god, look at him," he snorted. "He’s gonna lose his mind before the game’s even over."

William grinned, shaking his head. "I’ve never seen him this hyped, and we’ve played playoff games with him."

The rest of the guys joined in, chuckling at Auston’s visible excitement. Your heart swelled with warmth. You knew how deeply Auston loved his team, so seeing them here—supporting him, even if they were absolutely going to tease him about this later—meant the world to him.

You laughed along with them, bouncing little Auston Jr. in your arms. "He’s ridiculous," you said, shaking your head. "But you all know you’re going to be just as bad in about two seconds." You shot them a teasing grin, but Mitch and William both shook their heads in disbelief, eyes wide with exaggerated innocence.

And sure enough, the game finally started.

"Alright, ladies! Keep your sticks down, eyes on the puck! Clara, get ready!" Auston called out.

Clara looked back at her dad, giving him a firm nod before turning her attention to the faceoff. You couldn’t help but smile—she was only five, yet she carried herself with the same intensity Auston did before a big game.

The puck dropped, and the game was on.

Clara skated forward, her tiny legs working overtime as she chased after the puck. The other girls scrambled in every direction, but somehow, she managed to gain control. She took a few unsteady strides before taking what could only be described as the most adorable shot attempt ever. It wasn’t the hardest shot, and it wobbled a bit, but it went straight into the tiny net.

The arena erupted into cheers.

Auston lost his mind.

"YES, CLARA! THAT’S MY GIRL!" he shouted, jumping up and down. He turned to the Leafs players in the stands, waving his arms wildly. "DID YOU SEE THAT?! GOAL SCORER GENES!"

And as you predicted, Mitch and Willy shot up from their seats, cheering like maniacs.

"Future first-liner!" Mitch called out, clapping his hands.

McMann grinned and joined in. "She’s got her dad’s shot. Go, Clara baby!"

You shook your head, laughing as Auston continued his excited antics on the bench. Clara, meanwhile, looked up at her dad, her little face beaming with pride beneath her helmet.

She skated back to the bench, nearly tripping in her excitement, and Auston scooped her up the second she reached him. He lifted her high in the air, twirling her around.

"You did it, baby girl! First goal of many!"

Clara giggled, throwing her arms around his neck. "Did you see, Daddy? I scored!"

"I saw!" he beamed, pressing a kiss to her helmet. "And I think that means ice cream after the game. What do you think?"

Clara gasped, her little eyes going wide. "With sprinkles?!"

"With all the sprinkles in the world," Auston promised, setting her back down on the ice. "Now go get another one, superstar."

She grinned and skated off, ready for her next shift.

Back in the stands, you turned to the guys beside you, only to find them still on their feet, cheering as if Clara had just won the Cup.

Mitch was cupping his hands around his mouth. "SIGN HER TO AN ELC RIGHT NOW!"

William was whistling, and Bobby nodded approvingly. "She’s a natural."

You smirked. "And here I thought Auston was the only one who’d lose his mind over this."

Mitch turned to you, completely serious. "Are you kidding? That was ELITE."

William grinned. "We should be scouting her already."

You just shook your head, laughing as they continued their proud-uncle act. Meanwhile, Auston stood at the bench, hands on his knees, grinning from ear to ear as he watched his daughter—eyes filled with pride—like she had just scored the game-winning goal in the Stanley Cup Final.

Little Auston Jr. stirred in your arms, and you glanced down at him, brushing a soft kiss against his tiny forehead. "Looks like you’ve got some big skates to fill, little guy."

The game continued, filled with more adorable chaos, but in that moment—watching your husband on the bench, your daughter on the ice, and your newborn son in your arms—you knew one thing for sure.

This was happiness. This was everything you had ever dreamed of—and more.

Note: ELC = Entry-Level Contract. An ELC is the standard contract given to rookie players entering the NHL, typically when they're signing their first contract after being drafted.

[artsninspo]

COUNTERFEIT - three

⇽ part two

➨ rio's library - good girl nbc

「 ✦ full library & archive ✦ 」

🍒 authors note: the story is starting to heat up and give you a sneak peak of whats to come.

🍒 pairing: Rio (Good Girls) X Faith (Original Character) All my characters are black women.

🍒 word count: ~1.8K

🍒 summary: A day party, unexpected guest, damsel in distress, a lot of stress. Confrontation, unexpected chivalry, back stories & unfavourable truths. This one's messy 🌪️ .

🍒 three - unnatural habitats

I try my best for courage as the city scenes change from outside my window. I can feel Char’s eyes on me. Our argument was conveniently well timed. Now, if I don't show up now to this PR activation of her’s i’ll be toast. The worst sister in the world, problem child extraordinaire. It’s not that I don't want to support Char, it's that Jasonwas invited. In order to secure the necessary funding to make things go off without a hitch she enlisted him knowing his firm's coffers are deep. Knowing Jason, he will be in attendance. It’s the root of my reluctance to attend, not some petty spat and a childish attempt to get even. Char and I didn't speak until last night when she placed the dress she wanted me to wear today on my bed. A pinterest board of context for how I needed to look followed via text along with a detailed itinerary. I reacted to the messages with thumbs up and sat in the make-up artists and hair stylists chairs when they arrived smiling, laughing and talking with them - conceding and playing the role everyone wished to be my permanent disposition.

“Where were you last night?” Char asks, drawing me from my thoughts.

I take a breath before looking over at her, “Out” 

Char rolls her eyes at me before smoothing out her dress - it’s rare vintage and gorgeous. “Out where?” she probes.

“Drinking” I respond being short with her and she sighs.

“Whatever, screw your life up. The rest of us are responsible enough to be your backup plans” she snaps but i’m not in the mood for a back and forth.

“I can act the fool during your event if that's what you want?” I threaten her knowing the social game of chess well. Char glares at me in response. She knows she doesn't have to beg me not to. She knows I'd never knowingly light a match to anything she loves.

“I don't want that - I want the best for you Faith and you're just. I don't know what you're doing!” she shouts.

“I’m 24 and you're 25 Char, what the hell! We’ve got our entire lives ahead of us.”

“How many weddings have we been to the past few summers? How many housewarmings and baby showers?” Char snaps like any one of these guys we grew up with is worth getting to claim her in any way.

“That’s where the party dies Char. How many of our friends are the same?” I ask her.

“Just because you resent Merrick-” Char starts.

“It’s not about Merrick” I snapped, tired of that narrative. “None of this shit is real Char, I don't mind playing pretend but the charade has to end at some point! If mom didn’t have Merrick we could still live the way we do. We have an uncle you know, our fathers brother.”

“Drug money” she whispers well indoctrinated. Char looks at me appalled by my suggestion.

“Because corporations are not just as exploitative and damaging to communities, and the environment?” I ask and she looks at me like I'm a mongrel. Daddy would roll in his grave. That’s the fundamental difference - our father was never self righteous. He never made his choice of employment out to be the right thing - it was just a means to take care of his family. Char was his princess and I was his shadow. 

“Our father killed people and destroyed families with the poison he pumped into the community. Merrick is nothing like that” She snaps as the car comes to a halt. I exit the car and skip photo opps heading straight into the venue I’ve had a hand in decorating - I’m not in the mood to schmooze or network. I head to the bar and get my first round as the music gets good. I throw a few shots back heading over to mingle and maintain my reputation as the ‘fun’ sister. Girls twerk around me but I spare my sisters the embarrassment of my participation. I’m on a cool down when I see Jason watching me with longing. I don’t remember the last time I enjoyed myself this much in his company. I want to run but I can’t because we’ve made eye contact. He looks like he’s been going through it and I can't imagine how much it hurts him to see me looking unaffected by our end.

“Hey” he shouts over the music, having cleared the distance between us.

“Hey” I responded.

“You look beautiful” He smiles with a hand on my hip. It should be familiar and refreshing but it just isn't. He pulls me in coming in for a kiss but I turn my head and step out of his hold before looking at him again.

“Thanks” I mutter, not nearly drunk enough to forget we're over.

“Babe, can we talk?” He asks, lips brushing against my ear.

“We spoke already,” I remind him.

“You haven’t been taking my calls,” he says.

“Because Jason I have nothing more to say!” I say louder my impatience growing.

“Then listen to me, I love you” he says and for a moment the declaration moves me. But then something about him reminds me of Rick and it all goes away.

“Then let me go,” I plead. Jason searches my eyes before anger flashes in his. He pulls me to him like this is a bid for attention, a game of cat and mouse - a way to spice up our relationship and not a breakup.

“You want more attention, I get it. I’m here. I'll work less hours and make more time for us Faith. I love you - stop being like this” he says confirming my suspicions. It's a testament to how well I’ve gotten to know him and how little he’s been paying attention. The whole thing makes me upset and I pull away but he grabs my arms.

“Hey!” A deep voice says in warning. I relax, relieved security is here but I turn to see D’s cousin Rio. His expression is displeased as he sizes Jason up. Jason releases my arms - caught in his below the board behaviour. He straightens and my head spins. Rio’s the last person I expected here or defending me. He gives me a reassured nod before glaring at Jason like Jason has lost his everloving mind. Jason goes to grab me again before Rio steps between us.

“She’s my girl, move” Jason snaps.

“Doesn’t look like it” Rio responds unmoved.

“Why don’t you go and mind your business?” Jason snaps.

“Faith, is this your boyfriend?” Rio asks, casting a look over his shoulder at me, all the while still using his body as a shield.

“I know everyone she knows and I don’t know you” Jason snaps.

“You can do better than this, ma” Rio taunts with a smile that’s only purpose is to provoke Jason.

“Ma?! Faith, who the hell is this guy?’ Jason snaps ready to make a scene.

“Jason, call me when you aren’t drunk” I shout, needing to diffuse the situation for Char’s sake.

“Faith, don’t walk away from me” he shouts, stepping around Rio to grab at me again and it happens so fast I’m shocked. Jason is grabbed by security and his wallet is plucked from his pocket. Another guard snaps a picture of his license.

“Don’t worry, he won’t be allowed back” the guard says. I force a mortified nod as security makes quick work of throwing Jason out discreetly. A few eyes are on us, Char among them.

Fuck, I curse to myself.

“Thanks” I mumble and Rio turns to face me.

“Let me guess, finance?” He says.

My head is still spinning. “What?”

“He works in finance so he thinks people can be bought? And has shit to lose that's why he aint swing on me for talking to his ‘girl’” Rio says with a knowing, taunting light in his eyes. It kills all of the chivalry of his actions.

“Yes, finance” I admit and he looks me over again like I can do better. 

“Well D would’ve wanted me to look out,” he shrugs cooly.

“Thanks” I respond, feeling deflated.

“I’ll tell the staff you're a friend of the family, you need anything let us know” he comments glancing around the venue.

“Appreciate it” I mutter seeing Char’s wide eyes behind him as she makes her way over.

“No worries. But don’t ever come to the bar dressed like that you hear?” He winks walking away.

“Who was that? He’s hot!” Char asks as Rio disappears. 

“D’s cousin” I answer honestly.

“How do you know him? I don’t remember this cousin.” she asks.

“He was around when I saw D” I omit the full truth and she looks in his direction some more.

“He’s hot” she repeats and I smile.

“He’s not your type”

“What?” she asks.

“I'm pretty sure he doesn’t fit your criteria” I tell her.

“What does he do?” She asks.

“He looks like he does whatever he wants.” I tell her heading back to the bar. The bartender hands me a cherry margarita before I can order.

“From the boss” he smiles and I do too. My sister watches me with a hundred questions when I don’t pay and I know it’ll be a long interrogation. I wonder if Rio’s actions are genuine kindness or flirting - either way the man is attentive and clearly dangerous. I head home shortly after the incident, skipping out on the after parties. When I wake up I see a slew of emails from Jason and roll my eyes. I see a message from char saying she’s doing hot yoga and relax until my phone rings. I check the caller ID with one eye open and see Diego’s name. Relief washes over me and I answer.

“Hello”

“Char called”  Diego says on the other end of the video call.

“Yeah?” I ask and he nods.

“Asking if you were involved with my cousin” Diego says and I roll my eyes.

“Jason was sloshed and getting aggressive instead of my sister intervening your cousin did.” I explain.

“I know he told me, then asked me if guys like Jason are your type” Diego says with a knowing expression.

“We both know he isn’t” I admit. “How's the play off season going at the bar?” I ask.

“Good. You low on money?” he asks.

“No, I've been living off the tips and saving my salary. It’s nice.” I admit.

“Rio’s out of town next weekend so if you want to work let me know” he offers.

“I’m in” I tell him.

“Good”

“Did Char tell you she thinks Rio is hot?” I ask and his eyes bug out.

“Rio isn’t her type, he has a son and two girlfriends” D says, surprising even me.

“Two” I exclaim shocked and D nods. “And he’d pretend Char’s the only one,” I add, shaking my head.

“Good at it too,” D scoffs, making me laugh.

“Then he’s exactly her type, she still believes in playing pretend” I tell Jason who swallows.

“Both of you need to stay away from him.” D says before changing the subject to something lighter.

group project - COUNTERFEIT (RIO)

authors note: checking in with readers. the first chapter did well but the second not so much. idk if you all are busy or tired with the state of the world, tired of rio or adjusting to the change in POV. Whatever the case I'm willing to pause updating this story for now and revisit updating it later.

This story is a slower burn than Forgiveless but I promise all the mess and spice you love and more is on the horizon.

Comment, Like & Reblog if you want more of this story.

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[thesvnandthemooon]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤

a/n: not too happy with how the beginning turned out, but the second half of this has to be one of my favorite things i’ve ever written

summary: natasha romanoff x female!reader. based on the movie “the notebook”; you’re allie, nat’s noah

warnings: none :)

word count: 8.8k

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5

✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷

The consequences of your actions couldn't have been sweeter.

Your parents don't end up approving of Natasha, but maybe that's okay. Even two years later, they refuse to talk to her. You don't talk to them, either.

You don't tell them the big news.

They don't get an invite.

They also don't see you in your wedding dress.

Your father doesn't walk you down the aisle. Instead, Peter takes over that job for him.

It took Natasha three months to figure out what to wear. To you, it never mattered — she would've look gorgeous in anything. But, when you see her waiting for you in her white suit, you're very happy about her choice.

It's a small wedding, but you wouldn't have it any other way. Just the closest friends, and a few distant relatives who were kind enough to show up — not many of those, obviously. But you'd always suspected your aunt Vivian would support your little act of rebellion.

She sits in the second row, beaming just like Peter. When she hugs you after the ceremony, she whispers: "Your mom will come around eventually. If she doesn't, then she's missing out."

You're not sure about the first part, but the second? That, you know is true.

Natasha doesn't let go of your hand the entire night. During the vows, the toast, your first dance as wives. Her eyes are on you, as well. You're not doing anything extraordinary, other than wear a wedding dress, but she's looking at you like you hung the moon.

Your honeymoon is just as special. After a few weeks in Italy, you make your way back to where you're happiest. Back to the place that keeps pulling you in like a magnet, back to your world of coffees and canoes and mornings in the lake.

You'll always return to this house, that much is clear. You remember what Natasha said when she first brought you here — for someday. Away from everything. Away with someone.

That someone somehow turned out to be you. As you watch her reach for the key and unlock the door, you couldn't be more thankful for that fact.

"We need a bed", you mumble. You still haven't upgraded from the mattress you've been using for years now.

She glances at you, the soft sunlight catching her hair. "I like the mattress. Very grounding."

"Haha." You smirk and grab her hand, letting her lead you inside. The smell of pine and dust is comforting. It feels like a home, even more so than the apartment you bought in New York City together.

The floorboards creak underfoot. You look around, taking the familiar space in. It's old and worn, the kind of place that wraps around you like a warm blanket. Natasha drops your bags by the floor, then stretches her arms above her head with a satisfied sound.

The surface of the lake outside shimmers. You step out onto the porch and grab the broom to remove all the old leaves and dirt that have accumulated during your absence. Inside the kitchen, Natasha starts cleaning the kitchen so she can get started on dinner.

"Feels good to be back", you call, wiping the chairs and table down with a rag.

"Feels like we never left", she replies, her voice distant from the kitchen. You hum to yourself and wring the rag through your hands. Natasha's right — it really does feel like slipping into a life that was already waiting for you. But getting here wasn't easy at all.

You straighten up and make your way to the small garden just in front of the porch. Potted plants are lined up on one side of the stairs, so you crouch down and check on them. It rains often enough out here, but they look a little dry — understandably so, since it's July — so you grab a watering can.

Being back here brings back memories. You still remember that day, that conversation with Simon that started with a simple "I think we need to talk."

The heavy silence that followed, his breathing quiet and suddenly uneven. His question whether there's someone else. Your admittance that, yes, there always had been.

Your carefully composed world crumbled within hours.

It's a blur now. Your parents' fury, their desperate attempts to reel you back in, your mother's sharp warnings that you'd regret this. Beneath her mask of composure was an insecurity, stemming from being defied by her own child for the first time in her life.

You were told you'd regret this. But you got on the jet with Natasha, your hand in hers, and you didn't regret a thing.

Two years later, you're still waiting for said regret to set in. You don't see it happening, though. Not now, not ever.

A clatter from the kitchen pulls you back into the present. You pull out a few weeds and toss them into the compost, then you make your way back inside. Natasha's boiling water for the pasta now, so you wash your hands and grab a few cans of tomatoes. Right as you put them into a pot, you feel the familiar weight of her arms around your waist. Her lips meet your neck, soft and unhurried.

"Quiet here", she murmurs, pressing another kiss to your jaw. You turn your head and she kisses your nose.

"It's always been like that."

"I like it." She pauses, her hands running up and down your sides. "It feels a little empty, though."

You open your eyes and look at her, eyebrows raised. Natasha smiles faintly. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. It is empty", she mumbles, her nose nuzzling your cheek. "We should find a way to change that."

"Fill the house with pasta?"

"Maybe." Her hand slides to your stomach and slips under your shirt. Her palm is warm, but the wedding band feels cold against your skin. "Maybe not."

Whatever that's supposed to mean — you already know you'll need more room.

. . .

The drive from the airport feels longer this time. The once familiar road seems new, the trees look bigger. Inside the car it's quiet, save for the soft breathing coming from the backseat that has replaced the sound of the radio.

A turn, then another. Finally, you pull up in front of the space that, no matter what, is always one you can retreat to.

Natasha moves her hand from your thigh to undo her seatbelt, then she slides out of the car. She opens the door and gently scoops the little bundle out of her car seat. To your surprise, Masha stays asleep, even as Natasha adjusts her position in the crook of her arm. Her red wisps of hair stick out in all directions.

"She's getting heavy", Natasha mumbles, following you to the house.

"Well, she's not a tiny little newborn anymore. She's growing."

Your wife frowns at your words, despite knowing they're true. Maggie started crawling last week — she's anything but a newborn at this point.

"Still a baby", she mutters, glancing at your daughter. Her pacifier moves a bit as she sucks on it.

"Yes, still a baby." You drop your suitcases next to the bed — or rather, mattress. "Dammit, Nat. We really need to get a bed."

"Why?" Natasha bends down to place the baby on the middle of the mattress, lightly rubbing her tummy when she squirms in her sleep. "This is safer. For her."

You huff and kick off your shoes. "So what, we're just never upgrading? We'll just sleep on this thing forever?"

"You didn't mind back then", she mumbles, sitting down next to Masha. Her fingers brush over the baby's tiny sock-covered feet. "Besides, she can't roll off if there's nothing to roll off of."

"Can't argue with that." You join them right as Masha stirs again. Her eyes blink open, her pacifier falling out as she yawns and stretches. You smile and brush some hair out of her face. "Hey, honey."

Masha blinks up at you, fists clenching and unclenching, still caught somewhere between sleep and wakefulness. Natasha scoops her up and holds her against her chest.

"Yeah, that was a nice nap", she says, kissing the baby's cheek. "You're all warm, Masha."

"Looks like someone is ready for a swim", you comment, already getting up to grab your swimsuits. Natasha looks at you and you pause. "What?"

"I think we should wait with that."

"What, why?" You pout and open the duffel bag anyway. Inside, you store your swimsuits and towels. "It's sweltering."

"I don't know how clean the lake is", she argues. Masha coos and Natasha gives her a quick smile. "She's too young."

"Oh, please." You slip your shirt off and momentarily leave Natasha speechless. But then she remembers that you aren't exactly alone, and that you also probably wouldn't take kindly to being ogled in front of your daughter, so she averts her eyes. "We went skinny dipping, like, dozens of times."

"Yes, but we're not 9 months old", she says, focusing on Masha again.

"You're sure?" You smirk as you catch the way her ears turn pink. "You get just as fussy when you're tired."

"I do not", she scoffs. But Masha, letting out a sleepy whimper and rubbing her face against Natasha's shoulder, proves your point. You raise an eyebrow.

"See? Identical."

"Oh, enough." She gets up, balancing the baby in her arms. "You're serious about swimming?"

"Very much so." You manage to close the clasp of the bikini top you're wearing and put your hair up into a bun. "Come on, we'll be quick."

Natasha narrows her eyes but doesn't argue, instead rocking Masha and rubbing her back. "We can take her down to the dock, let her dip her feet in. But that's it."

The sun is beaming down at you, but the trees surrounding the lake provide some shade. Natasha watches you as you jump into the water, then she sits on the dock. She keeps Masha cradled to her chest protectively, so you tread back to the dock and raise your eyebrows.

Your wife shoots you the most unimpressed look known to man.

"You promised", you remind her, splashing some water on her legs. The baby giggles, her arms flailing.

"What if I drop her?"

"You won't." You reach out and touch Masha's bare foot. "Just a quick dip."

She hesitates for another moment, but then sighs and adjusts her hold on the baby. Slowly, she lowers her from the dock until her toes touch the water. Masha's eyes widen, her entire body going stiff — but then she lets out a surprised little squeal.

"Oh", Natasha mumbles, watching the baby's mouth form an o-shape. She starts kicking her feet and gurgling in delight. "She likes it."

"Of course." You smile and lean back in the water. "I knew she would."

"Yeah, yeah." She scoops the baby back up and kisses her cheek, expertly ignoring her wails of protest. "That's enough for now."

"Oh, come on. What are you scared of?" You reach out and gently grab Masha's foot. "That the fishes are going to nibble at her little toes?"

"Hilarious."

The baby reaches out toward the water again, her hands grasping at the air. Her feet keep kicking, but Natasha doesn't budge. She's read too many horror stories about recreational water illnesses. Sure, Maggie is over the recommended 6 months old now, but your wife likes to be safe.

"It's time for lunch, anyway", Natasha adds, using the hem of her shirt to dry Masha's feet. "I bet she's hungry."

"Probably", you agree half heartedly. You sigh and get out onto the dock again, water dripping from your body. Natasha stands up as well and wraps one arm around your waist. She pulls you closer and gives you a kiss.

"We'll go swimming later", she mumbles, her hand drifting to your front. Her fingertips gently skim over the stretch marks there. "When the little fishie is asleep."

It's not the breeze that makes you shiver. You lean into the touch and press your lips against the corner of her mouth. "You better keep that promise."

"I always do", she teases. She grabs your hand and raises her eyebrows, a playful smile on her face as she starts leading you back to the house. "Come on. Milk for the fishie, and steak for us."

Later that night, when Masha's asleep, you take her outside in her stroller and leave it close enough so you're able to see and hear her. Then you pull Natasha to the dock, kissing and tugging each other's clothes off, giggling like teenagers whenever you need to part for a moment.

Your shirt ends up god knows where — in a bush, maybe, or in the old canoe. You don't really pay it any attention. You're far too focused on getting into the water again.

The lake is still warm enough from the sun that'd been shining all day, but now that it's windy and dark out, it almost feels cold against your skin. You gasp at the feeling, and Natasha quickly wraps her arms around your waist.

"It's freezing", she whispers sweetly, trailing kisses along your jaw. "I bet it'll take you less than twenty minutes to want to go back inside."

"A bet, huh?" You smile, but a shiver runs through you and the accompanying clattering of your teeth interrupts you. "If I win, you're on diaper duty for the rest of the week."

"Deal." She kisses your lips, her own plush and warm. "If I win, you're singing me a lullaby every night. The entire week."

"Oh god." You grimace, but Natasha kisses it off your face. Her hands run to your back and she tugs at the clasp of your bra. You quickly squirm away from her wandering hands. "Hey! Behave."

"No fun in that", she replies, her hands splaying out on your back. Then, without a hint of a warning, she pulls you under the water with her.

You gasp and close your eyes on instinct, your arms clinging to her. The water soaks into your hair and fully envelops you from head to toe, and when you surface again, laughter bubbles between you. It's a silent night, save for the sound of your giggles and the distant hum of cicadas.

You lift your hands to wipe the water off Natasha's face and she pauses. Her fingers tuck a wet strand of hair behind your ear as she studies you with that look you by now know intimately.

The lake around you ripples, but neither of you move. Then you hear Masha fuss in her stroller, and you both smile knowingly.

You lean in and press your wet lips to hers, the lake water as sweet as the day you first tasted it on her tongue.

. . .

"No!"

Your voice cuts through the silent summer air, loud and sharp in a way your kids aren't used to. Archer looks up, his eyes wide and his arms stretched out to the sides.

"Don't even think about it", you say, quickly walking down to the dock. Masha grins up at you from the water and waves innocently. You grab your son's shoulder and point a finger at your daughter. "You too. You're right in front of the dock, it's dangerous."

"I'm not that close", she protests, and Archer nods enthusiastically.

"I'm careful, mama."

"I wouldn't listen to them", Natasha calls. You turn to see her on the porch, carrying Lilia in her arms. She's wrapped up in a towel, her face sticky with strawberry ice cream. "Remember the tree incident last year?"

"How could I forget?", you grumble. "I can still hear your cries, Archie."

He pouts, his shoulders slumping. "That was different."

"You fell into a bush", your wife says, walking up to the dock. "Headfirst."

"You were stuck for, like, five minutes", Maggie adds, a grin on her face. She swims backwards to give Archer more space. "It was so funny."

"It was not funny. Your brother could've gotten hurt."

"Listen to your mother, bud", Natasha says. She adjusts Lilia on her hip and brushes her hand over his damp curls. "We don't need an emergency room visit this summer."

He groans and drags his foot over the wooden dock. For a moment, you think he's accepted defeat — but then he suddenly sprints forward and leaps into the air, yelling a triumphant "ha!" Water splashes everywhere, even managing to get into your eyes.

"Archer Romanoff!", you scold as you wipe your face. Your voice gets lost between Masha's and Lilia's laughter. "Alright, that's it. Do I really need to take away your ice cream-privileges?"

He surfaces again, water dripping down his face. "No fair! Lilia ate all my ice cream!"

"Kid's got a point", your wife mumbles, glancing at your youngest. She just looks up at her with wide, innocent eyes, her cheeks covered in the ice cream she's eating. "Great, it dripped on the towel."

"We'll wash it. What we can't fix as easily, however, is a broken skull. So no more jumping when someone else is that close to the dock!"

"Fine", Archer relents. He splashes some water at his older sister, who grimaces and slaps the back of his head. "Ow!"

"No fighting", you remind them and glance at Natasha. Your wife is busy cooing at Lilia, who's having the time of her life being coddled. "Seriously? Why do I always have to be the bad cop here?"

"Because you're good at it." Natasha kisses Lilia's nose and smiles, moving the child onto her shoulders. "Besides, they're just playing."

"He splashed water at her."

"And she retaliated", she argues. "No harm done."

You sigh and glance at the kids again, who seem more peaceful now. Or, as peaceful as a five- and ten-year-old can be. Archer's spinning in circles, while Masha has plopped into the inflatable donut you brought.

"Want ice cream", Lilia suddenly declares.

You want to argue, but then press your lips into a thin line and give Natasha a pointed look — your turn. First she hesitates, but then lets out a sigh and slowly shakes her head.

"No more today, bub. Too much sugar."

"But it's summer!", Masha protests. Ankles crossed and arms behind her head, she looks like the human form of relaxation. "Also, I only had two today."

"Two's enough", you say before you can stop yourself. "We're having dinner in about an hour, anyway. Any special requests?"

"Can we have pizza?", Archer requests.

"You sure can", Natasha says, "but you're making it yourself."

"What? On my own?" He gapes at her.

"Exactly", she confirms. "Come on. I'll even help you with the dough."

The kids scramble out of the water and start running toward the house. Lilia, clearly wanting to join in on the fun, squirms until Natasha puts her on the ground. She runs after them as fast as her short legs allow her to.

For a moment, it's just you and Natasha again. Hands intertwined, the setting sun warm on your skin, the familiar little house in front of you full of life now.

. . .

Sometimes, life isn't fair.

You can talk about karma all you want, believe in fate, hope for justice. Trust that, somewhere out there, there's a referee who'll make sure everyone gets what's fair to them.

Oftentimes, that's not the case. You can close your eyes and pretend the truth doesn't exist, but it will hit you straight in the face anyway.

You're distracted when you get into the car. A sleepless night due to your son who started yelling at his computer at 3am, eight hours of work in an overfilled office, a fight with your wife that you caused — now you're exhausted, irritated, and understandably so.

You step out of the building and toss your purse into the passenger seat before getting in the car. You check your hair in the rear view mirror, quickly spotting the dark circles under your eyes and the wrinkles forming around them.

Whether you believe it or not: you're getting old.

With a sigh, you fire up the engine and roll out onto the road. From that moment on, it's like you're moving through a fog.

The world is distant, your thoughts jumbled. You turn corners, the streets blurring in front of your eyes. Your fingers drum against the steering wheel restlessly. All you want is to go home — little do you know that you wouldn't be able to do that for a while.

You're not thinking about the road.

In hindsight, you'd like to say that all it took were a few seconds of carelessness. But no. It was more, way more. That one specific second, however, where your focus wavers entirely, is what changes everything.

A sudden swerve from the car in front of you. You hit the brakes too late. Then, your world shifts into chaos.

The screech of tires. Your body thrown against the seatbelt. A flash of metal. The sickening crunch of impact. Blood on your tongue, a ringing noise in your ears. Your own heartbeat, and the deafening silence that follows.

. . .

The harsh light is what you notice first. Bright, blinding you, making your head pound even as you squint. You try to lift your hand to block it out, but your limbs feel too heavy.

Then the smell. Sterile, clinical, unfamiliar. A soft beeping sound in the distance, rhythmic and insistent.

You blink rapidly, trying to shake the fog from your mind, but nothing clears. You try to swallow, but your throat is as dry as sandpaper. It feels like you haven't used your voice in days. Instead, you attempt to sit up, but your body protests with a dull ache. You somehow manage to turn your head.

Next to you, a silhouette jumps up from a chair. Her face is familiar and unfamiliar at once, but she looks worried — so worried.

"Hey, hey", she says, first reaching out but then pulling back her hand. "You're okay."

You open your mouth, but no sound comes out at first. In that moment, you don't know much — but you do know that speaking shouldn't be this difficult.

"...Where?", you eventually manage to get out.

"Hospital. You were in a car crash."

You squeeze your eyes shut and nod, trying to remember, remember anything, connect some dots, fill the overwhelmingly large gaps.

You draw a blank.

"Who are you?", you ask, voice weak. The woman stiffens, then slowly moves to sit down next to you on the bed. Grey hoodie, dark circles under her eyes, unwashed hair. Clearly exhausted, probably hasn't slept properly in a while.

You search her face, and even if your heart beats faster at the sight — you don't recognize her. Not like you should.

"Natasha", she mumbles. "Your wife."

You nod again. "I...I don't...remember."

The words hang in the air between you. Natasha — your wife — hesitates before touching the back of your hand. Her touch is warm, comforting. Your brain may not recognize it, but your heart does.

"We have kids", she begins, quietly. "Masha. She's 17 now. Won a soccer tournament last month. Archer, he...he games a little too much. But he's a good kid. And Lilia is so smart. She's like you, you know."

You don't react. You try to assign faces to the names, but you can't. All you can imagine are three kids, faceless, practically strangers.

A mother, you wonder. I'm a mother.

You give her another pleading, disconcerted look. Everything about this is weighing heavily on your dazed mind. Why can't you remember who you are? Why can't you recognize the woman you supposedly married?

Natasha's fingertips trace the back of your hand as she starts to explain. A car crash, where the driver in front of you lost control of their vehicle. A traumatic brain injury. Retrograde and anterograde amnesia. Gaps in your memory, which are temporary (according to the doctors), but unsettlingly large.

"I know it's confusing", Natasha continues, her voice breaking. "But it's okay. It's normal. I mean, you were in a car crash. You need to recover, and you're getting better already."

"I don't feel better", you mumble. Someone knocks on the door and you look up. "What...?"

"The kids", she says, already on her way. "I asked Peter to watch them."

"Peter."

It's a statement, but it sounds like a question. Funny enough, you do remember that name. Your brain manages to flash you a picture of a teenager in an oversized shirt and Hello Kitty sweatpants, but then it's gone. You wonder whether it's a memory.

"I'll explain later", she says softly. She turns, her hand on the doorknob and her expression tentative. "Do you want to see them?"

Do you want to see them? No. Not in this state. Not knowing that you forgot your own children. The kids you carried, birthed, loved.

But you need to see them. Because you did carry, birth, love them. Because you owe it to them, in a way.

"Yeah", you murmur. Natasha nods and opens the door. One after the other, three kids enter the room. The oldest girl looks a lot like you, but her hair is entirely Natasha's. Then a boy — a middle schooler — with unruly hair and an expression torn between deep worry and mild boredom. The last one is a girl, only ten years old, who clings to Natasha's side.

They all stand there, staring at you, and you look at the woman who's supposed to be your wife. A silent call for help.

She quickly turns and nods at the kids. "Go on, say hi."

They hesitate, but then Masha steps forward. Being the oldest, she understands this situation the most — but even for her, processing this is difficult.

You can't blame her. You're an adult, and you can't quite process it either.

"Hey, mom", she mumbles. "You feeling okay?"

"I'm fine", you say, blinking a few times. You reach out and touch her hand, and while your brain may not recognize the girl in front of you, your body still does. "I'm sorry, I..."

"You really don't remember?", the little girl — Lilia, you remind yourself — asks. She's still half-hidden behind Natasha, who looks like she wants to jump in and shield you from all of this. But she can't. This is your moment, your choice.

You don't say anything for a long moment. You could either lie ("Of course I remember you, don't be silly sweetheart") but you know that Masha and Archer are both old enough to see through that. You shake your head.

"I'm sorry", you say, then add: "honey."

"It's okay", Natasha says again, almost as if trying to convince herself by repeating those two words over and over again. "Mom just needs some rest, yeah?"

"Sure", Archer mumbles. He gives you one last cautious look, then shuffles out of the room with his hands buried in the pockets of his cargos. Outside the room, a man — dark hair, friendly face that's lost its usual happiness — ushers them back into the waiting room. He glances at you and smiles weakly before turning and leaving.

Natasha closes the door and sits down next to you again. She pulls out a ring and places it in your palm. It's identical to the one she's wearing.

"You don't have to put it on", she says right as you're slipping it onto your finger. She swallows at the sight, her facade cracking. "Oh."

"Look", you murmur, cheeks red with a shame that's completely out of place in this situation, "I don't remember much about you. Or the kids. And I'm sorry for that. But you said you're my wife, and if you are, I'm probably really lucky because my heart keeps doing this weird thing when I look at you."

Natasha nods and exhales shakily. Her fingers touch yours, brushing against the wedding ring, and you stay completely still. You turn your hand so it's palm up and gently grab her hand.

"I am your wife", she says, voice breaking as she holds back tears. "You have no idea how lucky I am."

You close your eyes and squeeze her fingers. "For now, I'd like to be able to know who I am first."

She laughs and nods, tears making her vision blurry. "We'll get there."

. . .

The memories creep back in an agonizingly slow fashion.

Being back home does help, even if you struggle to associate anything major to the house you're in. Natasha told you that you bought this house right after you got pregnant with Archer, but you don't remember that. But, when you step through the front door for the first time after the accident, your brain provides you with the feeling of carrying your newborn over the same threshold years ago.

It's just a fragment of the memory, but it lays the groundwork for everything to come.

Recovery is frustrating and confusing and painful. You're physically stable, but mentally, you're in a fog.

Doing mundane, everyday tasks isn't an issue anymore. You make coffee in the mornings (even if your hands sometimes still feel like they don't belong to you; you've shattered more cups within a week than you have in your entire life), you shower, you even do Lilia's hair and make sure she gets into the school bus.

What else do you remember? Truthfully, not much. It's mostly fragments at this point, emotional recognition and muscle memory. One evening, when you're on the couch, you remember your first day of school. But looking at Natasha, not much comes to mind. All you know is that she's safe.

With the kids, it's similar. You don't remember anything, basically, but you can feel they're yours and you can feel you love them.

Masha is the most mature, being 17 years old already. She hides her pain well and, instead of wallowing, tries to bond with you — she knows how to make you feel included. She tells you about what happened at school, plays songs she claims are your favorites (sometimes, you do recognize the melodies), watches tv with you.

Archer is distant. He spends most of his time either playing video games or doing homework. His interactions with you are limited, but you'll catch him looking at you when he thinks you aren't paying attention. He's waiting for you to be his mom again, to be that woman who ruffles his hair and makes him eat his vegetables, who plays Mario Kart and goes to the LEGO store with him.

Lilia is too young to fully understand, too small, too hopeful. She curls up beside you without hesitation and hands you books you very well know she could read on her own. You still flip them open and read the stories to her, quietly hoping that it'll help. Sometimes, it does, and you suddenly see a much smaller version of her in that same spot next to you.

One day, you catch Natasha in her office. She's been spending more and more time in there, mostly when you're busy around the house. When you walk in, she closes the notebook on her desk and turns to look at you. Her eyes soften and she smiles and, oh, you forget about the weight in your chest. You feel the love between you, decades old and steadier than anything, and in that moment, it's enough.

You smile back and pause in the doorway. You still feel like you don't belong into this house, like you're an intruder. You know that's not the case, but your mind is as much of a traitor as it is a stranger.

"What are you doing?", you ask, head leaning against the doorframe.

"Writing", she replies and turns around in her desk chair. "You okay?"

There's that question again. You force another smile.

"I'm okay."

"Hungry?"

You should be. It's almost dinner time. You shake your head — you're rarely hungry these days.

"No."

Natasha nods, then gestures at you to come closer. You hesitate before approaching her.

Her eyes study you in a way that makes your skin tingle. The silence in the room is only adding to this strange, but not unwelcome, feeling. You avert your eyes before everything can become too much.

When Natasha speaks up again, she sounds choked up. "Come here."

You look at her.

"Please", she adds, almost pleading.

Another step. You sit down on her lap and glance at her. Her arms wrap around you, safe and solid. Something flashes in your mind, something warm and familiar, and you freeze to make it last.

"You know what this feels like?", you mumble when you're certain the feeling won't slip from your grasp again.

Natasha raises her eyebrows. Her hand gently runs up and down your back. "What?"

You rest your head against her shoulder. You know her scent, that much you're sure of. "A house."

"Mhm?"

"With a lake", you continue, struggling to explain. "I remember a mattress."

She closes her eyes and turns her head, her nose nuzzling your hair. Tears aren't something to be ashamed of, but she won't let you catch her crying again. All of this hasn't been easy for her, either.

"Anything else, love?"

"A mattress on the floor", you mumble. "God, my back hurt."

"Yeah." She laughs, but it's a broken sound, muffled by your hair. "Mine did, too."

"Why'd we sleep on the floor?", you ask, still confused.

"Don't ask me", she murmurs and kisses the top of your head. It's an absentminded gesture, but her heart feels lighter when you lean into the touch. "We just forgot to buy a bed, I guess. We got used to the mattress."

"I think I liked it."

"You did?" Natasha smiles, her lips pressing against your cheek. "So did I."

. . .

A few weeks pass. The fog starts to lift, the haze thins. Things become easier, memories clearer.

Masha, still pink and squishy, wrapped into a towel. Nurses and bright lights. Salty tears on your cheeks, Natasha's hand on your head.

A canoe, old and shabby but staying afloat. Summer air on sunburnt skin. Aloe gel on shoulders and a wooden dock beneath your feet. Sweet kisses, slow and unhurried.

Seeing yourself in a wedding dress for the first time. Trying it on three kids later, with a body that's changed. Natasha standing behind you, closing the zipper. Fabric that feels much more snug. Her lips brush against your shoulder.

"You got even more beautiful. Must be magic at play here."

An elementary school. You can't tell whether it's yours or one of your kids's, but the fading chalk drawings are pastel and the air is musky after it rained.

A drive-in. A diner. A jet, with an odd symbol everywhere. Emergency room visits and first words, lullabies and a tattoo shop, stars and wilted flowers. Natasha and you in a dark hallway, Natasha and you bathing Archer for the first time.

Memories that come back gradually only to disappear again. They're not permanently gone — but sometimes, keeping them alive is hard. It hurts to look at your daughter's face and briefly forget her name, it hurts that you can't make pancakes the way you used to, it hurts you don't know your son's favorite movie or the name of the football club your daughter plays in.

Your photo album, some pictures faded, some corners creased from years of handling, helps. You sit on the couch, legs crossed and fingers tracing the images in front of you.

A picture of Natasha, her arms wrapped around a younger version of yourself. Trees in the background, and a blanket with a baby sleeping on it — Lilia, maybe half a year old. You squint, trying to remember that day.

A tap against the doorframe makes you look up. Masha stands there, arms folded, watching you.

"Hey", she says. "You okay?"

"I'm alright", you quickly say, blinking the sudden moisture away from your eyes. "What about you, honey?"

"Fine. Finished one of the books on my summer reading list." She moves to sit down next to you and peeks at the pictures. She taps the one you were looking at. "That's a good one", she says, smiling.

"I don't remember much", you admit.

"Yeah? Well, we decided to go on a picnic." Masha points at the trees. "A bird managed to crap on Lil's stroller."

"Language", you say without really having to think about it. Masha's smile widens. You can see something of Natasha's in her eyes.

"That was very you, mom", she says, nudging your shoulder with hers. "Come on, you gotta know what I'm talking about. Archer got chased by a dog. Mama had to grab that beast's collar. The owner threatened to sue her."

"Yeah", you say slowly. You glance at her and smile tentatively. "I think Archer climbed a fence."

Her eyes light up. "He did, yes. And mama dragged the dog back to its owner and absolutely bawled him out."

You nod, the weight on your shoulders having lessened. You remembered something else — not much, but it's a little step in the right direction anyway.

Masha flips to another page and points at a picture. "Here. Try."

You study the image carefully. It's another one of you and Natasha, but this time, you're on a dock. You can barely see your faces, since they're turned towards one another — her nose brushing against yours, your smile wide, tiny wrinkles around your squinting eyes. A lake stretching out behind you, with a kid's head poking out in the distance.

"Oh", you mumble. You hesitate, but the warmth in your chest tells you to keep going. "It was summer. There was this- this house...and a lake. We spent our summer there."

"We spend every summer there", your daughter reveals. "Except for the one where you had Lilia."

"Right", you mumble. "Was there a storm that night?"

"Yes!" She nods, her red ponytail bobbing up and down. "The power went out. And-"

"And the kids were scared, so we lit candles", Natasha finishes the thought from across the room. You turn around, spotting your wife in the doorway to the living room. In her hand, the notebook. She tilts her head and smiles, something thoughtful glistening in her eyes as she watches you chase your own memories. "We told ghost stories."

"Archer couldn't sleep", you whisper.

"He slept in our bed", Natasha confirms. "He stayed there the entire summer, even if he kicked me all the time."

"Yeah", you mumble, looking back at the picture. Suddenly, it's all so vivid in your mind. You can pierce together fragments until they form something akin to a full memory.

When you meet Natasha's eyes again, something in them has changed. She looks resolute as she steps up to the couch, the notebook still in her grasp.

"There's something I want to read to you", she says, sitting down next to you. Masha gives her a curious look.

"Oh, really?"

"You're going to bed", she tells your daughter. "This is something I want to discuss with my wife, not your mom."

Masha looks like she's about to protest, but then her shoulders slump in defeat. She understands what Natasha means. She gets up, kisses you both on the cheeks and then heads upstairs. Once her bedroom door has closed, Natasha opens the notebook.

"I wrote this", she says, briefly glancing at the pages. "It's pretty long, if I'm being honest."

"What is it?", you ask, doing your best not to peek.

"Uhm..." She hesitates. "Our story. Beginning to end. The entire thing."

You stare at her, baffled. Your wife is telling you that, somehow, she managed to squeeze 23 years of history into one single notebook. Highs and lows, tears and laughter, everything you went through together to get here.

Then, you tear up. You remember pieces of those more than two decades. Natasha remembers enough to write a book about them.

"Okay", you mumble, sinking into the couch. Natasha squeezes your knee, looking like she's close to tears herself. She clears her throat and open the first page, skimming it.

"'We met at a fun fair'", she begins. "'You wore a dress. I hope you won't be too mad about me saying this, but you had zero aim."

You smile and shake your head, your hands covering your face. She keeps going.

"'I tried to ask you out. You resisted, obviously. You were stubborn, and so was I. There was a risk to going out with a complete stranger, but I loved taking that risk.'"

"Ferris wheel", you whisper, voice muffled.

"Yeah." She nods. "'You left again, with your friend. I felt like the most unlucky idiot in the whole world. But then I saw you again, on the ferris wheel, and I decided that it was now or never. I got up-'"

"And climbed." You brush the tears away. "Could've fallen and broken your neck."

"I didn't", she argues softly. "I made it over to you."

"You smelled like sugar", you add. "Like...beer and sugar. It was so odd."

Natasha lets out a quiet laugh, but it's a pleasantly surprised one. She looks up from the pages, her eyes searching your face. "You never told me that."

"I didn't?" You glance at her, eyebrows furrowed. You can still smell her scent from that moment, how sugary and bitter it was at the same time. "Huh."

"That's good", she says, encouraging you. Reading about your memories seems to coax more of them out of you. "Want me to keep going?"

"Yes", you immediately say.

And so she does.

Your first date, in a diner. The first kiss afterwards. Nights of sneaking out, staying with her.

The house by the lake. The mattress. The three years of separation in between, and your engagement to Simon.

Peter telling her about everything. Meeting again, kissing, sleeping with each other.

Breaking off the engagement. Leaving town, heading to New York. Staying with SHIELD for a while. The weeks that followed.

Memory after memory. Some feel like echoes, others like dreams. Some pop between your fingers like bubbles, others seep into your bones, like they've been waiting for you to find them again.

You don't remember all of it. You've blocked many things out completely — like the fact that Natasha had dinner with your family once —, which leaves you feeling unsettled.

Some of it seems too meaningful to forget. But then again, you couldn't remember Natasha was your wife when you first woke up after the accident. Now, you can at least recall saying 'yes' in front of the altar, and how you danced afterwards, and how your lipstick had stained the corner of her mouth.

Eventually, she closes the notebook. She's only gotten through less than twenty pages.

"There's more", she says, looking at you. "A lot more."

You nod, rubbing your face. "I feel like I won't be able to remember half of it."

"You don't have to remember it now", she says gently, her hand reaching out. You grab it and keep it in your lap, playing with her fingers like you used to.

Like you used to — there. Another memory.

"It's hard", you admit. "It's like I'm chasing ghosts. Like...like I can't catch them before they disappear."

Natasha hums, staring at the wall for a moment. Covered in family pictures, many of them taken in that one beloved place. The one place you've visited almost every summer, where you've gone through so much, experienced so much. A place you've returned to at various stages of your life. A place that, without any doubt, will always be there.

"You know what might help?", she says absentmindedly.

"What?"

Your wife looks at you and squeezes your hand. "Being there", she says, her smile tentative but knowing. "The house. The lake. The dock."

You swallow, looking past her at the pictures. At this point, you feel like your brain is teasing you. You can feel the thick summer heat, hear the sound of cicadas and the water lapping against the shore. But the memories actually associated to those distant sensations? You can't grasp them.

"It'll help?"

"It might."

You hesitate, but something inside you pulls towards the idea. To the familiarity of it, even if the familiarity feels foreign right now.

"It can't hurt", you admit. "I mean, it's summer anyway."

"The kids don't have school", Natasha adds. She leans in and kisses you way too briefly. You've grown more used to physical affection again, but she's still scared of making you uncomfortable. Her hands feel warm and solid on your sides. "I'll pack, we're leaving in the morning."

. . .

It's you who points at that one roadside diner you've been going to for the past ten years.

The looks you get from your family make you pause. Nobody speaks, they all just stare. Finally, Natasha squeezes your thigh.

"Bet I can guess your order."

"No way", you tease, simultaneously trying to remember your usual. Cheeseburger? Maybe fries? Definitely no pickles.

But Natasha, knowing you better than the back of her hand, rattles down your order without having to think about it. The word 'milkshake' triggers something, and you smile softly as you lean back and gaze at her.

"You'll share your whipped cream?", you ask.

"Wouldn't be a proper date if I didn't", she mumbles, grabbing your hand.

Normally, a flirty little comment like this would be enough to earn gagging noises from the kids in the backseat. But they know that everything is still fragile, so they stay quiet.

Arriving in front of the house makes you close your eyes. The sight is painful, but it sparks so many memories that it's almost overwhelming. The porch, the wooden steps, the trees surrounding the house.

"We're here", Archer says, turning off his Nintendo.

"Yeah", Masha mumbles, looking at the house with a thoughtful look on her face. "Still the same."

The kids unbuckle and get out of the car. They're all eager to return to this place, this house that feels more like home than anything else ever could.

You look at your wife and open your mouth, but for a moment, no sound escapes from your parted lips. Her face blurs, and so does her name. You exhale and squeeze your eyes shut again, your hands trembling.

"Natasha", you manage a few seconds later. You forgot her name. Even if only for a few seconds, you forgot her name. She swallows and nods. She noticed — of course she did. She's been hyper aware of everything surrounding you since you got into that accident. "Oh god, I..."

"Hey", she says, leaning over to pull you into a hug. You bury your face in her neck and fight the rising panic. "You're just nervous. It's okay, I promise."

"It's so foggy", you mumble, breathing her in. "I thought this was supposed to help."

"We're not even inside yet, love." She pulls back and kisses you on the cheek. Outside, you hear your children's voices as they run around the front yard. Masha stops on the stairs and turns to look at you, the breeze tousling her red hair. Worry fills her eyes when she realizes you're still in the car.

"What if I don't remember?", you ask, your eyes meeting Natasha's again. "What if the memories stay gone? What if..."

She brushes some hair out of your face and smiles softly. The sadness in her eyes is unmistakable, but so is the steady love there.

"Then we'll make new memories. Come on."

She leads you out of the car and wraps her arm around your shoulders. The kids chatter excitedly as she unlocks the door to the house and lets them all storm in. Again, it's a small space — two bedrooms, one of which you added when you got pregnant with Lilia, as the space had started to feel a little too snug.

It's cozy, lived-in...and even familiar. The feeling of stepping into this space never changed.

It feels like a memory — that was your first impression you ever had of this house. Turns out you still remember that.

Your eyes sweep across the room. The kitchen you renovated, the little living room, the windows that provide a view of the lake. The dock. Even the hammock is still intact, though the pattern of the fabric has faded over the years.

"Where's the canoe?", you mumble. Before Natasha can answer, you speak up again. "It fell apart, didn't it?"

"It rotted", she says, nodding. "It was fine the summer before."

"Shame."

"I agree."

"Mom?"

You turn and look at Masha, who's holding a mug in her hand. A chipped mug.

"Yes?", Natasha says, rubbing your arm.

"Can I make coffee? I'm kinda tired."

"One cup", you murmur, resting your weight against your wife's side. She leans in and kisses your temple. Then she walks you outside, to the dock and the lake. She shows you the letters you carved into one of the wooden boards, which are the initials of all your names. She makes you sit down and dip your feet in the water, causing a memory of Masha doing the same thing — only as an infant — to light up in your mind.

You watch Archer sit in the hammock and stare up at the sky. Lilia joins him, and they squabble over who gets to sit in it. A cat appears from the bushes that are on the other side of the lake, and they both get up to try and lure it with 'pspsps'-noises and a bag of pretzels.

You go back inside and make dinner. You recall the first fight you had, which makes Natasha laugh and pull you into a kiss. You curl up on the couch, with Lilia in your lap and your head on Natasha's chest, and watch the same black and white movie you watched in the drive-in way back.

"Still old", she mumbles into your ear. You smile and tilt your head up. Her lips press against your forehead.

Once the kids are in their pajamas, you all gather in the main bedroom. Archer drags his mattress into the room, so Masha and Lilia follow in suit, and now you're all cuddled up. Your oldest daughter brought your beloved mug along, this time filled with milk instead of coffee.

Your voices are soft, the words hushed. The kids have started chattering quietly — well, Lilia not really; she's out cold.

You look at Natasha again. Her eyes meet yours, and you recognize everything your brain can't remember.

Can't remember yet, you remind yourself. You've gotten this far, and you'll get further.

"I love you", you mumble. "I know that much."

"I love you too", she whispers, her lips pressing against yours in a brief kiss. You close your eyes and sink into this feeling. It's a feeling you may not always remember, but will always recognize. "You don't need to know me for me to love you."

Masha and Archer both cuddle up at Natasha's side. Your daughter reaches for your hand and you squeeze it. When Natasha starts humming the tune of a Russian lullaby she used to sing to the kids when they were still little, you close your eyes and quietly hum along. The melody returns easily, and the memory comes to life again, vibrant and warm.

A nursery, a swaddled baby, a nightlight in the shape of a sailboat. Drops of warm milk on wrists, feverishly reddened cheeks, the uncertainty that comes with being a new parent.

Outside, the water laps at the shore. The moon bathes the room in a milky light. No light pollution out here, thankfully.

The kids go quiet. Natasha pulls out the notebook and opens it, finding the page where you left off during the car ride. You glance at it, then lean up to kiss her cheek. Her voice is a quiet murmur when she begins telling the story of your first months of marriage. Not all of the memories return as readily, but that's okay. Listening to her retell them may be enough for now.

You turn your head and bury your face in her chest. Her heartbeat is a rhythm you'd recognize in a thousand lifetimes.

You thought it all started at the fun fair, where you met. But lying here, with the lake outside and the mattress on the floor, with the chipped mug in your sleepy daughter's hand, you realize that this is where it began.

The walls hold secrets that never touched the notebook. 

It all started in a small house by a lake, and it ends there as well.

[bartywinter]

paper · @black-brothers-microfic · bartylus · word count: 672 · cw: mcd

“Your classmates are not your friends, they are your opponents. You must be the greatest,” Mother told him as she straightened his white linen shirt, which had become wrinkled on the way to school. “Always remember you belong to the Noble House of Black.”

Regulus had initially been thrilled to have the opportunity to make friends. He had imagined himself sharing his hobbies with boys his own age, laughing together in the dining hall and playing football on the fresh school lawn. He had dreamed of having a friendship like Sirius and James had, of being so close with someone that no words were needed to understand each other.

Nevertheless, Regulus pushed past his own desires and burned his mother's words into his head. Satisfying his parents was more important than making friends —or should he say 'convenient'? After all, he was terrified of getting the same punishments Sirius received for his rebelliousness.

Consequently, Regulus sat alone in class and ate by himself at mealtimes and watched his classmates in sorrow from across the dining table. During recess, he would hide in the library and sometimes in the bathroom, where he would cry silently for his longing to be with the other kids. He had always looked forward to Hogwarts, but now he just wanted to leave and never come back.

What's more, there was one boy in his class who made him uncomfortable. Regulus had caught him staring at him on several occasions, and the odd thing was the boy didn't even avert his gaze, but either stuck out his tongue or smirked at him. Luckily, the boy hadn't tried to talk to him. He wouldn't have known what to say. He wasn't allowed to socialise.

Regulus unconsciously began to watch him secretly as well. He learned that the boy's name was Barty and his father worked at the Ministry of Magic. He also soon noticed he was always accompanied by another boy in their class called Evan. Both were frequently in detention for pulling pranks on other houses' students. They were the kind of company his parents probably detested. He had to focus on his studies and not on silly pranks.

“It must be done in pairs.” Groans and shouts of delight were heard in equal measure as the History of Magic teacher explained the procedure for the upcoming assignment. “You must hand it in by next Friday. I will not accept any paper after the deadline.”

Regulus glared at his classmates as they paired off. He couldn't ignore the knot that had formed in his stomach. Maybe he could do the task individually, he could go to the professor's office and explain to him he didn't have a partner–.

“You have a partner?”

Regulus looked at whoever had addressed him and immediately became uneasy. It was Barty.

“No,” he said flatly and looked away, embarrassed he had been obliged to give such a ridiculously predictable answer.

“Well, now you've got one.”

Regulus dared to meet his eyes again, which were sparkling with excitement. His lips had curved into a wide grin too.

“Do you want to be my partner?” He shyly clutched the book he held in his hands.

Barty shrugged his shoulders.

“You don't want to?”

Your classmates are not your friends.

I'm sorry, Mother.

“Yes, I do.” He smiled for the first time in two weeks.

“Good!” Barty exclaimed and held out a hand as he smiled warmly at him, showing his sharp teeth. “My name is Barty.”

I already know your name, you idiot.

He squeezed Barty's hand softly.

“Regulus.”

It is said that you are shown an overview of your life seconds before you die, and Regulus proved that to be a lie when he recalled his first conversation with Barty prior to drowning in the deep waters of the lake. Although, it somehow made sense —he hadn't been shown his entire life, but the beginning of it. His life began the moment he met Barty, and how happy he was to die that way too.

[moonmaiden1996]

Can i get any like thrist for jinshi(apothecary diaries) jinshi content is very much needed for me to stay alive

I understand completely and I got you.

Been sitting on this one for ages. If you want anything specific please let me know!

You weren’t anything remarkable at first glance—at least, that’s what everyone assumed. A court lady, a scribe, a servant—your role was one that kept you in the background, far from the dazzling light that surrounded Jinshi. You were from a good family, but as the fourth daughter, you held little importance. Your future had already been decided: a life of quiet duty as a court secretary, unglamorous and devoid of prospects, unless some ambitious noble sought favor with your father or the Emperor by marrying you.

But Jinshi noticed you. He always noticed you.

It began with fleeting interactions—passing documents, delivering messages, stolen glances across the grand halls of the palace. He should not have given you a second thought. And yet, he did.

At first, he kept his interest in check, treating you as he did any other member of the court. But Jinshi was a man accustomed to admiration, fear, and envy. Women fawned over his beauty, nobles schemed for his favor, and men either resented or revered him. You, however, were different. You were polite, but never simpered. You did your duties without seeking attention. You met his gaze without faltering, and when you spoke, it was with a sharp wit that left him disarmed.

And that—that was what unraveled him.

Jinshi knew better than to act on his emotions. He had a duty, a place as a potential heir, and an entire court watching his every move. But the more he spoke with you, the harder it became to suppress his feelings. It was no longer mere admiration—it was something far more dangerous.

He longed for you.

He wanted to talk to you without pretense. To see you smile—only for him. To touch you without restraint. But he couldn't. Not yet.

There were moments when his resolve almost wavered—when his fingers would brush against yours as he took a document, when his voice softened just a little too much as he said your name. He saw the way others began to notice, the lingering glances from envious court ladies, the whispers in shadowed corridors. If he acted on his feelings now, he would condemn you to a life of scrutiny, of danger. He could not—would not—do that to you.

And so, he endured.

Then one night, under the cover of darkness, he found you in the quietest corner of the palace gardens. You noticed the distant look in his eyes, the tension in his jaw. When you asked what troubled him, Jinshi—for the first time—allowed himself to be selfish.

"I wish I could be just a man," he murmured. "Then I could stand by your side without hesitation."

His words left you confused, unsettled. And then—his hand, cool and delicate as always, brushed against your cheek. It was the gentlest touch, but it sent ripples through your heart. You stiffened, uncertain. The court ladies would kill—literally kill—for even a glance from him, let alone a touch. You thought him drunk. Or worse, playing a game.

But Jinshi was not a man who acted on impulse.

And so, he waited.

The day he was officially disinherited—cast aside from the imperial line—was the happiest day of his life. He was free. No longer a threat. No longer a pawn in the empire’s grand game. And for his loyalty, his brother granted him a single favour—the right to choose his own bride.

He wanted, no needed you.

Not as a calculated move, not as an obligation, but as the man who had loved you all along. Not as Jinshi, the former prince, the untouchable noble, but as Zuigetsu, a man no longer bound by the weight of the throne and could love you freely and completely.

The moment he was free, he sought you out. No more barriers. No more waiting. His hands trembled as they cupped your face, his eyes burning with years of suppressed devotion.

"I have waited long enough," he whispered, his voice raw with emotion. "I won’t wait anymore."

And with that, he kissed you—desperately, fiercely, like a man who had been starving for years.

[fr34k0n4l345h]

Easy Come, Easy Go

A Marble Hornets 1920’s au fic

enjoy!!

͙✧˖*°࿐

Chapter One - Birdie

The streets were draped with a tranquil silence. Only the buzzing of distant cicadas and the rhythmic chirping of other nighttime crawlers filled the void that formed in the heart of Birmingham, Alabama. The streets may be desolate at this hour, but beneath layers of asphalt and crust was a bustling community.

The dance floor was cast in an elegant glow that coincided beautifully with men and women alike that moved and swayed about suavely in dazzling attire. Risqué attire of the likes that were frowned upon during the daytime. People of all sizes, backgrounds, and colors mingled and chattered between watered down bootleg alcoholic beverages. Brassy music filled the air that swirled stagnantly with remnants of tobacco smoke. The night life was energetic and free. Up until a few years ago, it was foreign and daunting world to Jay. Yet, it was one that he’d come to accept. What choice did a paperboy like him have?

“Birdie!” A masculine voice slurred from across the finely polished wooden countertop. This snapped Jay from his mindless idle daze.

“Pour me another whiskey on the rocks!” He looked up to meet the clearly inebriated man, who slapped a couple of crumpled bills atop the shiny bar-top. Jay had learned the hard way to keep his head down while on the clock. To do exactly as he was told. To speak only when spoken to. This job was the only thing keeping him off of the streets. The last thing he needed was his loud mouth getting him fired. So no matter how arrogant or crude his customers were, his body moved on command.

“You got it.” Practiced and gentle hands moved with precision prepare the man his requested beverage. He slid the sparkling glass across the lacquered wooden surface in exchange for the mishandled bills. The man tipped his fedora in thanks before vanishing into the crowd, melting into the sea of mingling strangers.

The bartender shoved the crinkled paper into a jar behind the bar, then folded his arms lackadaisically on the countertop with a heavy sigh. Jay often caught himself wondering if this was the life truly deserved. It certainly wasn’t the life he’d imagined as an ambitious teenager. He often wondered how things would’ve turned out had he gotten that position at his childhood friend’s budding film company. Kralie Inc. It was an industry mammoth now. He’d always known it had potential. Especially with the knowledge and expertise of the man running the business. Alex Kralie.

—

“No, no, you’re doing it all wrong!” An immature voice scolded. “You need to feel what the character is saying, not just speak the line!” The young blonde in his memory had lighthearted frustration carved into his features as he berated his friend. The innocent southern sun beamed upon the two of them, singeing his delicate skin even with the protection of his stained blouse. It was how they spent all of their days together; in the yard of his father’s victorian style mansion beneath the endless canopy of blue above them, acting out every book they could get their grubby little hands on.

“This is too hard,” Jay huffed in protest. “why can’t your sister act as the princess? She’s a girl!” Little beads of sweat glistened on their blemish-free features. A symphony of birds sang around them.

“Because she isn’t pretty enough, I already told you that.” Alex argued, arms crossed firmly over his chest. “Now start over!”

It was in that moment that Jay’s entire perspective of the world shifted, turning itself inside out. He was a boy; he couldn’t be pretty! His prepubescent mind couldn’t fathom such a concept. Oddly enough, the sun seemed to beat down on him harder.

“What are you doing just standing there? Move!” Alex nudged his shoulder with a closed fist, shaking the boy out of his flabbergasted staring contest with the ground. When he looked up, he was met with a smiling expression. One that, as a child, Jay had become familiar with. A smile that spread to his own features. A light laughter bubbled from his chest. The memory faded.

—

“I can’t be friends with you anymore.”

“But Ale—“

“DON’T!”

The voice echoed. Then, there was a trembling breath. It was so faint, yet oh so fragile. Like a mere gust of wind would cause the male to crumble into a million little fragments.

“Don’t call me that. Don’t call me anything at all. I— we’re done. For the sake of my life and yours, don’t write me. Don’t look for me. Y’know what— just forget we ever met.”

His chest burned.

“Goodbye, Jay.”

—

It was as if a boa constrictor had wrung itself around his heart. Becoming tighter with each loop around. Why, oh why did that memory always come back to tourment him?

“Sir? ‘Scuse me, sir.” A thick country accent filled his ears, smooth and warm as honey. Jay looked at the man across from him, tired eyes boring into the stranger. Eyes that weren’t quite seeing in the present.

“You seem to have, uh.. spilled.” The man gestured to the glistening puddle of an unknown liquid and cubed ice in front of him. If Jay wasn’t wide awake before, he certainly was now. He jumped to action, yanking the rag dangling from his belt and hurried to clean up the liquid. The surveying man chuckled. It was a pleasant noise that carried above the music flowing from the stage across the establishment.

“Long night, huh?” The curious customer inquired. Jay huffed out a short laugh. It was a pathetic attempt at courtesy towards the customer.

“Yeah, you could say that.” He’d murmur. With the spilled alcohol now soaked into the rag without a trace, he plopped the soiled fabric aside. Before he could lift his gaze, a wad of neat bills were slid his way. It was more than enough cash for just one drink.

“Neat moonshine for me. Get yourself somethin’ while you’re at it. You look like you need it.” His effortless smile exposed a little tooth gap hidden behind his lips. A subtle feature that complimented the man’s kind attitude. Jay could only stare at him in wonderment at the suspiciously generous offer.

“Thanks.” He’d awkwardly reply after a few moment of battling his own brain to come up with coherent words to say in response. He took the cash, then worked to pour the stranger his alcohol of choice. Surprisingly enough, even as a bartender in one of the several underground speakeasies in Birmingham, Jay didn’t get around to drinking often. To summarize a long story short, he was a lightweight and didn’t enjoy how quickly the substance got to him. But bootleg beer was the perfect ratio of water and actual alcohol to give him a comfortable edge. So, he poured himself a glass.

To Jay’s confusion, the stranger didn’t leave after being served his drink.

“Brian, by the way. Are you new ‘round here?” Brian focused in on him with upmost curiosity, but it wasn’t the condescending type. It was friendly and lighthearted. This man didn’t seem like the type to frequent a speakeasy like, yet here he was.

“Uh, yeah, kinda. I work weekends mostly.” He’d sheepishly reply. Truth be told, he wasn’t new at all. He’d been working at that joint for about a year now. Sometimes, the paperboy couldn’t help but tell little white lies. What did it matter, anyways? At these bars, he was Birdie; a hard-working student caring for his siblings at home. Not Jay Merrick; the man who was hardly getting by. A failure living a double life to escape his unfortunate reality.

The man, who he’d come to know as Brian, nodded and sipped on the golden liquid in his glass.

“Thought so. I was wonderin’ why I haven’t seen the likes of you ‘round.” He idly responded, swishing around the liquid in his glass. There was a brief silence between them. “What’s eatin’ you? You’ve got that thousand yard stare to you.”

The question came as a surprise to Jay. It wasn’t often that anyone acknowledged him beyond asking for a drink. For a moment, he faltered.

“I thought the bartender was supposed to be the one asking those questions.” He cracked an insincere smile. It was true. Jay was wrung dry; undeniably so.

“Says who?” Brian chided, a charming smile dancing on his lips. Jay felt his mouth go dry at that. He lifted his glass to his lips and took a sip of the bubbling liquid inside in a desperate attempt to drown the butterflies in his stomach.

“Well, y’know how it is.. the state of the world ‘n all.” Jay brushed the man’s obvious prying off with a lazy shrug. Much to his relief, Brian seemed to take the hint. He hummed from across the wooden bar top.

“Yeah, real shame what’s goin’ on in these parts. Especially with folk disappearing or turnin’ up dead in the night. Real scary world out there.” The stranger spoke before tilting his head back and taking a swig of his aged moonshine. At that, Jay could only stare.

“S-Sorry, what?” He stammered over his words. His brows knit together. “Did you say people are..” He couldn’t even utter the words. Why hadn’t he heard of this in the papers he delivered? Surely the press would be raging about something so alarming. Brian nodded.

“You heard that right. Murders and disappearances. Some say there’s a killer on the loose. Some are sayin’ it’s a man-eatin’ cryptid that lives in the forest.” He continued. It sounded absurd, and yet there was no sign of jest in the mans tone. Jay felt his heart lurch in his chest.

“No one really knows. Just stay safe out there, alright? Don’t give in to the shadow’s call.” Their eyes met. Jay held Brian’s gaze, which was terrifyingly sincere for a man he’d just met. It was a haunting passing moment. Then, he realized the message he was being delivered; a warning. Brain must know something that he did not. A wave of unease washed over him. Perhaps he was just paranoid— but if he were paranoid, how could Brian make such claims with a straight face?

“Loosen up, kid! look like you’ve just seen a ghost!” Jay’s boss, Mr. Murphy, boomed as he rounded the corner. He was a plump and jolly man with slicked back salt and pepper hair. Your stereotypical black-jack loving speakeasy owner. He casted one of his thick arms around Jay’s scrawny shoulders, which made him stumble. At the appearance of a new face, Brian’s pleasant smile reappeared.

“Good evenin’ to you, Mr. Murphy. I’ll get goin’ now.” Brian stood from the barstool, abandoning his now empty glass. He straightened out his tan overcoat. “It was nice talkin’ to you, uh..” Brown eyes flickered over Jay’s appearance. Oh right! He hadn’t introduced himself.

“Call me Birdie.” He promptly filled in the gap. At that, a smile tugged at the corner of Brian’s lips. A glint of an emotion he couldn’t quite capture twinkled in his eye.

“Right. Until next time, Birdie.” With that, the man with the comforting accent excused himself from the bar, revealing the atmosphere behind him. The population of customers were slowly dwindling. The music tapered to a laid-back swing. The morning hours must’ve been approaching. Beside him, Mr. Murphy droned on about tonight’s business and the typical drama that occurred almost nightly. Jay tuned him out. He took Brian’s abandoned glass and acquired a clean polishing rag.

As he was wiping the surface, something caught his eye. In red ink at the base of the glass resided two lines side by side and a curved one beneath it, resembling a smiling face. It was uniform and tidy, like it had been stamped on. Jay’s eyebrows creased. Where could this have come from? He’d been watching the customer the entire time, had he not?

He looked up towards the dark stairway that led towards the only entrance and exit of the secret establishment and felt a freezing chill run down his spine.

“Murders and disappearances. Some say there’s a killer on the loose. Some are sayin’ it’s a man-eatin’ cryptid that lives in the forest.”

Jay began to vigorously rub away the red ink with the smooth fabric of the white rag, staining it with the dye as a result.

“Don’t give in to the shadow’s call.”

He set the glass aside. He found himself looking back towards the darkness engulfed door way, as if something was luring him towards it. Beckoning him. A sense of unease hung over his shoulders. Brian’s words stuck to him like a curse. What did that man know that he didn’t? There was something strange going on. And something from deep within him, a primal yearning for knowledge, urged him to find out what it was.

Next

͙✧˖*°࿐

HIIII THIS IS MY FIRST “big” project so feedback is appreciated :]]] will be posted to ao3 and wattpad at some point!!

[finifugue]

what if max verstappen wanted to be a librarian when he grew up

[mylove-themoon]

The whole ending for the main timeline kinda sucks for Zaun, even the one good thing they get is backhanded as fuck.

Like sure, Sevika is on the council- but the council relies on majority vote, and every other member of the council only work in the interests of themselves or of piltover. Nobody else cares about Zaun, so nothing will change.

And Piltover shows they will alway protect and prioritize their own over everything else

Cait gets no consequences for her actions from the last two acts, despite doing many, many crimes. She released the Gray on the Undercity- which is going to cause disease, death, etc to many innocent people (the same disease Viktor was dying of, it was a direct result of Piltover’s oppression and the gray- I could go on and on about his ending but I shan’t.), arresting random Zaunites- including children- and just leaving them in prison, and even tho we hate Singed, threatening to throw him under the fucking prison was a little far. She gave him the opportunity to either join her or die. So the people of Zaun are animals and criminals until they’re useful?

And the scene of the Noxian guy (can’t remember his name) literally torturing that Jinxer??? Ambassa’s dead and so is he, so I guess thats their consequence, but nothing for Cait? No, Cait gets to have a nice life, she might feel guilty and maybe she’ll have a couple nightmares but really she’s not facing a single consequences You guys remember when Jayce almost got exiled for Hextech in season one? A crime in which nobody died or was grievously harmed? Yet there are no consequences Caitlyn hmmm

After everything the people of Zaun have gone through, they get nothing- they see their oppressor hailed as a hero, they see their children die of a disease that should never have touched the new generation (or just straight up suffocate while it was actively being deployed- if they get caught in that they are dead- little lungs and little legs yk- if they can’t escape it then they die) they see their only hope (Sevika) repeatedly shot down by the council, they see the abuse will continue. Even after everything they lost- all those who fought in Piltovers war- they get nothing. They helped, they worked with them when working against them didn’t work, and they still get nothing.

I think Ekko’s ending really drives it home- the ONE character who deserves the world above everybody else is sitting alone in the end. He did everything right but was still alone. If he -and Jinx- hadn’t rallied their forces and convinced the people of Zaun to fight then Piltover would have lost to Noxius. He convinced his people to fight and die for Piltover- but Cait’s the hero, and he’s still fighting for his own people.

[lxnarphase]

━ ❝ OH, IT'S MINIKUNA ! ❞

✮₊‧⁺...content: heian era!sukuna x wife!reader, fluff, mentions of childbirth, sukuna is an overly proud father, sukuna is whipped for his wife

✮₊‧⁺...lunar's note: based of this little blurbie and this one too !! needed some fluff with kuna bc he would love having a baby girl idc what anyone says !!! also i did my best describing the birthing process in a time accurate period but it's definitely a bit inaccurate because...i have never had a baby LOL

no one has ever seen sukuna ryomen, king of curses, wince before.

not until today, at the wrath of his pregnant wife who somehow got a hold of his fingers instead of his hand.

one of the nurses did warn him to not give you his finger and to ensure you always hold his hand. but by the gods, he swears you almost ripped his finger off.

it's cute to him, however, when you attempt to curse him out.

'gods, sukuna, i despise your entire being!'

'i know, my wife.'

'i should've never let you get me pregnant, you animal!'

'you begged for it, my wife.'

'i am never letting you bed me again, use your hand for the rest of your existence!'

'you can't keep your hands off me, my wife, no need to lie.'

but the sigh of relief, the way you instantly look down and coo once the sound of wailing filled the air...it makes him melt just a little bit.

he can't deny, seeing you in pain made him heated. it took everything in him not to kill every midwife, nurse, and lady-in-waiting in your birth room for not being able to make this process completely painless.

except chiyo. he would have to reward your personal physician for preparing you so well for this...

what did the old hag like again? wines, meats, gifts for her grandchildren back at home?

hm, yes, that would be great for her. of course, he'll say it was from you. the king of curses shows gratitude for no one.

he's pulled out of his thoughts at the hushed whispers once the other women exam the baby before following your unspoken request to hold your child.

"d-do you think lord sukuna will harm our lady for this...?"

"i hope not, surely he can make an exception, t-they both are still young and can always try for more!"

"but he's the king of curses, t-there no way he won't have a reaction!"

before he can demand what they find so important to discuss in front of you, chiyo hushes the girls with a wave of her hand, ushering the girls to help wipe off your sweat, tears, and clean off the baby—gentle like it's the finest glass, she instructs—before turning to sukuna with a knowing smile.

"well, your greatness...congratulations on having a healthy and gorgeous little girl," she hums, wiping her hands with a clean cloth before going to rinse her hands to help stitch any rips and clean you up.

the room falls silent aside from your soft little coos and the wails of your daughter as you brush the wet, fluffy hair on her little head.

all the women in the room continue to work, but it's clear they are silently waiting for his outburst.

everyone knows that a proper heir to any throne is a boy...but now, sukuna's first born child is a girl.

but rather angry, yelling, and threats to your and your child's life, the room is filled with Suku's booming laughter, which practically shakes the entire room.

instead of an enraged expression, pure delight, and excitement are painted on his face as he sits next to you on the soft cushiony bedding on the floor, his hand caressing the rounded cheek of your newborn.

"so, you've given me a girl," he hums in delight, all four of his eyes narrowing. "this will be the one who takes over my throne once i decide to step down?"

this thing, this tiny, itty bitty baby...came from you both? it's almost laughable how small this baby is compared to his hand, that something so little could be related to him.

she's...nothing short of perfect. "absolutely divine...she will not just be beautiful like her mother, but as powerful as both of us."

he's so proud of you and your child. he would shower your daughter with riches, love, and anything she could ever want and ask for.

but, he couldn't lie.

she's a damned fat baby, big head and all.

"sukuna, watch your mouth!"

he can't help but laugh, not realizing his thoughts came out of his mouth. "what, it's a good thing! means she's healthy," he boasts with a grin, leaning down closer to see her better.

"she looks strong already. as soon as she is able, i will personally teach her how to be a truly malevolent little princess, how to properly slit the necks of her enemies, how to—!”

oh, he is so excited, it's adorable.

“sukuna, shush, i just gave birth to a child with a massive head like yours, give me a moment," you say with a light laugh, your smile still reaching your clearly tired eyes.

“…apologies, my wife.”

chiyo can't help but laugh with you she finishes applying the healing ointment on your lower body, using a bit of her cursed energy to speed up the healing process to help you skip any serious pain.

after all, nothing but the best physician for you in sukuna's palace.

"always such an excitable boy, my lord, ever since you were a young man," she hums, helping one of the midwives properly wrap your baby in the soft, clean cloth.

"be gentle with her," you instruct him, gently moving your arms toward him so he could take the little bundle. he's...nervous, but he hides it well.

you place your daughter in his arms and he looks down at her, suddenly conscious of how loud he's breathing. she's got his hair, still a bit wet but soft and fluffy. it's pink, just like his.

a pleased rumble vibrates his chest, and he doesn't even realize he's doing it.

but then...her eyes open.

both sets.

he almost didn't notice it at first, they're just so small, but they're there. the same color as yours, pretty and big, filled with so much life.

his eyes burn, vision getting blurry. no words come to his head, he can't think of anything to say. he's so caught up in his thought he doesn't even notice chiyo ushering the other girls in the room out and shutting the door before quietly tending to you with water or food.

she knows that look, you do as well. she's been around longer than uraume to know her master, knowing the king of curses since his young years as the unwanted child of the village, abandoned by his mother for his 'horrid' appearance.

she was lucky to have found him before the villagers got to him, torches, axes, pitchforks and daggers in hand to take care of the child who they believed to have brought misfortune to their home.

getting him to safety was one of the best decisions she'd ever made, king of curses or not. no child deserved to be abandoned like that. and now, he's seeing himself in that tiny little being in his arms right now...chiyo can only imagine what he's feeling.

so, out of respect, she keeps her gaze averted, pretending she does not see the misty gaze he gives your daughter. this is a moment for you and him, and she does her best to make all her movements as quiet as possible.

all sukuna can think about in this moment is how he used to be just as tiny as this. he was just as vulnerable in his mothers arms. he couldn't talk, couldn't speak, couldn't fend for himself.

yet, his parents looked down at him just like this and decided he was an abomination and didn't give him a chance.

but now?

sukuna knows he would never, ever let anything happen to this little bundle in his arms. he would rather destroy the entire planet before letting anything happen to his baby girl. no one would make his little one suffer and live to see another day.

he flinches just a little, feeling your soft hand rubbing his bicep. "it's okay, my love," you softly coo at him, reaching up to wipe a tear from his eye before it had a chance to drip down his cheek. "she's going to grow up feeling loved and cherished because she's got a great father."

"hmm..."

a smile crosses his features as he looks back down, looking at the squirming baby so makes a little noise before calming down when he strokes her little, chubby cheek again to keep her from crying again.

"and she's got a great mother. she'll be the most wonderful princess in all of history," he says with a toothy grin, chest rumbling with a laugh.

"aww, my love, that's so sweet..."

"seriously, though, how in hells did you squeeze this thing out of ya? thing's got the head of a watermelon."

"sukuna, give me back my baby, and chiyo? get this man some food to stuff in his mouth before he says something to warrent the rage of a new mother."

all rights reserved © lxnarphase | do not repost, copy, translate, or alter my work

[gyudons]

despicable

updates as of 22 oct

Travis Dermott knew that he would draw attention with his actions in the Coyotes’ home opener against the Anaheim Ducks at Mullett Arena on Saturday. The Arizona defenseman just hoped that the spotlight might shine on the issue that he was addressing, not on him.

“You don’t really want to go against rules that are put in place by your employer, but there’s some people who took some positive things from it,” Dermott said. “That’s kind of what I’m looking to impact.

“You want to have everyone feel included and that’s something that I have felt passionate about for a long time in my career. It’s not like I just just jumped on this train. It’s something that I’ve felt has been lacking in the hockey community for a while. I feel like we need supporters of a movement like this; to have everyone feel included and really to beat home the idea that hockey is for everyone.”

“I won’t lie,” said Dermott, who is playing on a one-year, two-way contract. “From the outside, it’s easy to see that I’m putting my career on the line for something. I definitely went through some emotional ups and downs that night, not regretting anything by any means, but I’d love to have maybe done a couple of steps a little different by making sure that everyone was aware of what was going on before I did it.

“I don’t want to put my teammates or my coaches or my GMs or the equipment managers in any kind of bad light when it’s their job to kind of look out for something like this happening. It was definitely something that I did just by myself and was prepared to kind of deal with whatever repercussions the league decides to push towards that. I’m not going to back off and say that this battle is won, but we’re going to find better ways to do it.”

As Dermott noted, LGBTQ+ inclusion is an issue that he has supported for a long time. Without getting into specifics, Dermott said the issue is personal for him because it impacts people close to him.

“I’d be lying if I said I haven’t shed tears about this on multiple occasions,” he said. “So yeah, it’s something I’m definitely very passionate about.

“I’ve met a lot of people that from the outside, it looks like they have everything going right in their life and they have a smile on their face every time they talk to you. But sometimes when we get closer to people and get comfortable enough for them to open up to you, you can see that there’s some pretty dark stuff happening to some good people. It doesn’t take too many times encountering something like that for it to really change someone.

“I’ve been blessed to have some of those opportunities put in front of me to really change my view of what being a good person means; what being a good father and a good example and role model means going forward. You really see how people are hurting and it’s because of a system that maybe no one’s intentionally trying to be malicious about, but until you’ve really had that first-person experience seeing people hurting from it right in front of you, it’s tough to kind of take steps.”

It would be a surprise if the league handed down any sort of punishment. The optics alone would add to the public relations damage that the original ban created. Even so, Dermott reiterated his desire to bring the entire franchise into the fold before he takes similar actions in the future, but he also made it clear that he will not be silenced on the topic.

“It’s not like I’m shutting up and going away,” he said. “I know more questions are going to be coming. We’re just going to be as prepared as we can be to just spread love. That’s the thing. It’s gay pride that we’re talking about, but it could be men’s health. It could be any war. It’s just wanting world peace. Everyone’s got to love each other a little bit more.

“Like my parents said growing up, ‘How awesome would it be to be the guy that people look up to?’ That’s what really hit home when I was a kid, especially from my mom. You want to grow up and be that guy. You want to be the guy that’s having the impact on kids like NHL players had on you. If they had been racist or bigoted, that’s going to have an effect on you.

“With how many eyes are on us, especially with the young kids coming up in the new generation, you want to put as much positive love into their brain as you can. You want them to see that it’s not just being taught or coming from maybe their parents at home. They need to see it in the public eye for it to really make an effect.”

[punkshort]

The Farmer's Daughter

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x f!reader one-shot

Summary: Forced to sell your body after your father's farm went under, you find yourself hand picked to service the Roman army on their latest battle away from Rome. What you didn't expect was to be selected to share General Acacius's room for the duration of the journey.

Warnings: language, smut (18+ MDNI), heavy talks of prostitution, mentions of SA but none occur, reader is a (new) prostitute, virginity loss (no blood mentioned just some discomfort), descriptions of battle wounds/blood, food and alcohol consumption, one bed trope, enemies to lovers-ish, unprotected piv sex, thigh riding, angst, possessiveness

WC: 10.2K

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

A/N: I know by this point his character is mostly referred to as Acacius in the film but I'm sorry, I can't wrap my head around someone moaning that name in bed. So let's just ignore that, okay?

How did this happen? Why did fate play you such a cruel and twisted hand?

When you were younger, you expected to be married off to be a housewife to a solider. From what you heard growing up, it wasn't a terrible life. The men were gone most of the time which allowed the women to run the household and raise children in peace. Unfortunately, your mother died during childbirth and your father, a humble farmer, passed away too early in life, leaving you and his few workers to keep the farm operating for as long as possible. To make money, you spent much of your time at the market, selling the food you made on the farm and the goods you weaved and molded from the scraps.

It wasn't enough. You lost the farm after a handful of years and you were on the brink of becoming destitute. Already you were malnourished and dehydrated, but as hard as you tried, you couldn't find work.

That was how you found yourself in a long line of women, standing silently with your heads bowed and your hands clasped as you were all throughly inspected by a senior officer of the Roman army. They were choosing their group of whores to hire to accompany the men on their next battle across the sea. You were left with no other option but to sell your only remaining asset. The thought turned your stomach, but the idea of starving to death was worse.

One by one, women were hand picked to step forward and exit the room. All in all it had to have been close to forty whores hired to service an entire army.

The odds were not in your favor if you were picked.

It came as a relief when you ended up not getting chosen. You breathed a deep sigh and lifted your chin, scanning the room of remaining women and senior ranking soldiers. You would make do somehow. At least you wouldn't be spreading your legs multiple times a night for different men after they've spent the day fighting and working up their appetite.

You turned to follow the women back out onto the streets of Rome, no doubt searching for another way to sell their bodies, when you heard a deep, familiar voice call your name. You froze in disbelief, wondering who could possibly know you, and then you slowly turned.

It was General Acacius. The fearless leader of the Roman army, but you knew him from your stand in the market. Whenever he was home from battle, he always found you and purchased more than he could possibly need, feeding you and your farmhands for weeks. He never said much and neither did you, but you had grown fond of seeing his greying curls and dark, smoldering eyes approach your stall, albeit with a new wound or scar to show for his travels.

You did not even realize he knew your name.

His eyes drifted up and down your worn tunic, noticing the stains and rips and your poor fitting sandals. Your gaze flickered nervously around the room at the other men impatiently looking to wrap up their work and begin their long journey, but remained silent, deferring to the general.

"You will come with us," was all he said, his voice booming in the small room. Your blood ran cold and panic seized your throat.

"But the choices have already been made-"

"I am paying. I believe I am allowed to decide how many whores we bring along."

You clamped your mouth shut, brows furrowing in anger. How foolish you were to assume he was a man of honor, a man who wanted to help you when he bought your meager wares in the market. As it turned out, he was no better than any other, only out to seek pleasure between your legs.

At that point, you knew better than to argue. Your fate was sealed. Begrudgingly, you forced yourself to follow after the other chosen women, walking past the high ranking officials who sized you up as you went.

The army was to travel by ship. Or multiple ships, to be exact. The women were counted off and told to stand in smaller groups, one handful of whores for each ship of hungry soldiers. When your group was assigned, you heard that familiar powerful voice come out of nowhere once again, stopping everybody in their paths.

"She is to travel on mine," General Acacius announced. A few men exchanged confused glances and Acacius grew irritated. "That one," he clarified, pointing directly at you. The other men quickly nodded and shuffled you into another group, and you thought that would be the end of it, but then he spoke again as the others began to board.

"She will stay in my chambers."

If the soldiers were surprised, they hid it well, but you didn't. You whipped around and glared at him defiantly, a litany of disrespectful curses on the tip of your tongue. Thankfully, you remembered your place and who you were speaking to and caught yourself before you got killed, but as you turned to board the ship, you noticed an amused smirk play across the general's lips.

A young solider shoved you into the general's quarters, ordering you to not go through his things or they would cut off your hands, then slammed the door shut, leaving you all alone. The rest of the women had gone below deck, most likely to a shared room that was filthy and freezing cold. You, on the other hand, had a beautiful soft bed and a roaring fire to warm yourself by a small wooden dining table. There was a bookshelf tucked into the corner and your fingers itched to pull the books out and examine them, but you didn't dare. Instead, you sat on the small cushioned bench next to the only porthole in the room, tucking your knees against your chest protectively while you waited for the inevitable.

Sleep took hold of you at some point while you waited for the general to retire. The last thing you remembered was the open sea and the glorious golden sun beginning to dip just below the horizon. When you awoke, it was dark, the only light in the room coming from the fire. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes and unfurled yourself from your bench to look around, then nearly yelped when you found the general quietly sitting at the table pouring himself wine.

Your heart raced violently in your chest, knowing full well what he expected of you. And despite offering yourself up earlier that day as a whore, you had decided you would not do it for this man. Because this man came to your booth in the market under the guise of kindness that turned out to be a lie, and it simply did not sit right with you.

"I will not lie with you willingly," you announced boldly with your arms crossed. The general quirked an eyebrow and took a long sip of his wine.

"When was the last time you have eaten?"

You scowled, body vibrating with energy and ready for a fight only to be met with indifference.

"I am not hungry."

"You will eat or you will die," he said, avoiding your eye and standing to collect a plate of food by the door. He dropped it onto the table and pointed angrily at it. "Eat."

"Why?"

"You need your strength, you are frail."

"You do not like your whores thin, then?" you shot back. Acacius clenched his jaw, eyes still cast down. "You wish to fatten me up so you have something to hold onto when you force my legs apart?"

"That is enough!" he roared, fiery eyes finally finding yours and pinning you with an intense stare that had you trembling. "I will not be forcing you to do anything except eat. Now sit down, do not test my patience."

It was a combination of fear and hunger that made you obey, sinking down into the chair opposite his where the plate of lukewarm food awaited you. Acacius sat down and picked up his goblet, watching you from over the rim as you slowly began to pick at the food. You both remained silent while you ate and he drank, the only sound to be heard was the crackling from the fire and the distant laughter and yells from his men in the galley below.

He was right. You hadn't eaten in days. It was no wonder you fell asleep so quickly earlier. You wanted to express your thanks, but you were too stubborn. Instead, you finished your food and put the plate in the basin of water by the door before looking around the room once again. It was easily the nicest room on the ship. You had to imagine most of the soldiers would be sleeping in hammocks stacked on top of one another down below, but the general had the biggest, softest looking bed you had ever seen in your life.

But there was only one.

He watched you from his place at the table, studying your face as you worked out the mechanics.

"I will not force myself upon you if we share the bed," he said, dragging your attention back to him. He was still in his armor, all shiny and clean from the public celebration that took place prior to the army's departure.

"Why am I here, if not to pleasure you?" you asked. You sounded calmer than before but you were still very much on edge.

"You believe I would find pleasure in forcing myself upon a woman?" he questioned before draining his cup. You thought about it for a moment and shrugged.

"Perhaps. Yes."

He stared down at his empty chalice, your heinous opinion of him rolling around in his head and making his chest ache.

"Well, I do not," he proclaimed, standing up quickly and causing his chair to almost topple backwards. He began to unhook his heavy armor, dropping it into a pile on the floor until he was down to his tunic.

"If we were to lie together, it would be because you wish it so," he said softly with his back to you. You swallowed thickly.

"What am I to do here, then?" you asked as he began to turn down his sheets. He slid his tired body into bed and sighed.

"Whatever you like. So long as you stay in this room, you will remain unharmed."

You blinked rapidly, desperately trying to put the pieces together.

"That is all?"

"Yes. That is all. My only wish is you are safe and fed."

You couldn't help it. You had to ask.

"But... why?"

But the general rolled onto his side, effectively ending your conversation and leaving you wondering what you had gotten yourself into.

That first night, you did not share his bed. You slept on the bench by your porthole, curled up small, arms wrapped around yourself protectively until the sun rose. When you awoke, the general was gone, but a plate of food was left on the table for you.

The first week on the ship went exactly the same. You stayed in his chambers, staring out at the sea or sleeping until he returned way past dark with some food for you and a tired look in his eye. And every night, you slept on the bench, still far too distrusting of him.

The second week, the general brought a game with him at dinner time. Two cups and two wooden dice. The idea was you had to guess what you would roll. If you won, you got whatever you bet on the round. It wasn't that entertaining at first since you had only the clothes on your back and nothing else, but what you did have were stories or songs or a slight of hand trick your father taught you when you were young.

You wouldn't realize until much later that it was his way of getting to know you better.

"You released all the cows from the pasture?" Acacius repeated in disbelief. You giggled and nodded.

"I was only six years old! I thought they were being held against their will!"

Acacius laughed, the sound making you grin like a fool and your cheeks warm.

"Alright," he said once he got ahold of himself. "Go on."

You picked up the die and tossed them into a cup, giving it a firm shake and smiling when he shot you a playful wink.

You clapped the cup firmly over the table and before you raised it up, you announced, "One three and one five."

"What is your wager?"

You nodded towards his bookshelf. "One of your books."

He looked up at you in shock. "You can read?"

You gave him a fake look of disgust and nodded. "Of course I can read."

"And you have been here this whole time without picking up a book?"

"Your men told me they would cut off my hands if I touched what is yours."

His face softened and he sat back in his chair.

"No one will touch you," he told you firmly. You stared at one another, the heavy moment weighing between you, the implication of his words impossible to deny. No one will touch you because you are his.

To break the tension, you smirked and said, "So I suppose that means I do not need to wager the books?"

Acacius grinned and shook his head. "Too late, little one."

You rolled your eyes and lifted the cup, pouting when you saw two six's.

"Your turn," you said, pushing the cup to the side.

Acacius collected the dice and dumped them into the cup, shaking it while looking at you curiously from across the table and admiring the way the light from the fire flickered over your beautiful face.

"You can still take a book."

You perked up but shook your head. "That is against the rules of the game, General."

"I make the rules. Take a book tomorrow," he insisted before slamming the cup down. His large hand gripped the top of the cup, keeping it pressed tightly against the table.

"Your wager?" you asked, cocking your head to the side.

He swallowed, wondering if he should say what he wanted to say. The fear that you would pull away from him again fought against the insatiable attraction he had harbored for you for years. But the wine must have won the fight because he said, "One kiss."

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise and for a moment, he thought he made a horrible mistake. But then you squared your jaw and narrowed your eyes and said, "Go ahead."

He grinned, pulse thrumming excitedly in his throat when he said, "One one and one four."

But when he lifted the cup, his face fell. A three and a six.

"Ah, well," he said, shoulders drooping. He yawned and stood to collect the dice. "Better luck tomorrow."

Before you could stop yourself, you stood as well and leaned up to peck a chaste kiss against his scruffy cheek. He looked at you in surprise and you gave him a crooked grin.

"For the book."

He smiled and nodded, doing his best to hide his disappointment as you got yourself ready for bed. You had a small pillow and thin blanket to curl up with by the porthole, and it irked him that you wouldn't take more. He feared you would catch a sickness and your malnourished body wouldn't be able to fight off an infection, but you were so stubborn that he couldn't convince you otherwise.

However, the third and final week at sea had you shivering on your bench. Acacius could hardly sleep knowing how cold you were. He could hear your teeth chattering from across the room.

"I beg of you, please sleep in my bed," he said one night as you began to make your little nest by the porthole. You shook your head.

"I am fine, I swear it."

"You are not fine. Please, I will not touch you, you have my word."

You chewed on your lower lip and looked over his shoulder at his warm, plush bed. He could see your resolve begin to falter, so he offered to sleep on the bench in your place.

"No, do not be ridiculous. You have an army to lead tomorrow, you cannot be tense as a knot because you slept on a too small bench."

"I will if it means you are safe and warm," he said softly, his vulnerability taking you off guard.

"General-" you sighed, but he cut you off.

"Please. I promise I will remain on my side of the bed. Just stop being so stubborn for once in your life."

You scoffed and propped your hands on your hips. "For once in my life? And what would you know of it?"

He squinted at you and crossed his arms. "I know more than you think. I know you would not quit until you broke in that filly when you were twelve years old. I know you nearly pushed a boy down a well when he tried to kiss you in front of the whole school. I know you argued with your teacher over the correct spelling of amaranth and I know you poured every last bit of yourself into a dying farm just to keep the memory of your father alive."

Your jaw hung open in surprise, taken aback by the way he stored all of the little snippets of your life you had given him over the past two weeks only to end it with his own observation of you at the market.

You could feel yourself growing weak for him, the temptation to give in too much to bear. He had been slowly wearing you down since you arrived and perhaps he was right, perhaps you were far too stubborn because the last thing you wanted to do was go back on the proclamation you made that very first night.

So, you chose to be defiant.

"Fine," you snapped, swiveling on your heel and stomping towards his bed. "If you wish to share your bed with a whore so badly, then so be it."

Acacius rounded the bed and slipped in beside you, making sure to leave plenty of space.

"You and I both know you are no whore."

"Oh, you know so very much about me, I forget."

You tugged the heavy blankets up to your chin and tried not to audibly sigh at how comfortable it was in his bed.

"If you are a whore, tell me then: how many men have you laid with?"

You clenched your jaw, angry that he was able to figure you out so easily. Instead of answering, you rolled onto your side, your back to him, and muttered, "good night."

Acacius grinned and closed his eyes, proud of himself for besting you.

"Good night."

The following morning, you awoke earlier than usual. When your eyelids fluttered open, the first thing you noticed was the ache in your bones was gone. The large, soft bed had been enough to cure you in just one night.

Not something you planned on admitting to the general, of course.

The second thing you noticed when you sat up in bed was that the ship was not moving. It was completely still, and you could hear loud, quick footsteps outside your door and above your head. Men were shouting to one another and the clink of swords and armor were echoing throughout the halls. Then, through the walls somewhere above you, you heard the general's deep, booming voice yelling orders to his men. You threw off the blankets and hurried to the porthole, your eyes widening when you saw land and small boats being lowered into the water.

You had arrived at whatever distant land the emperors demanded Acacius claim for Rome, and the soldiers were getting ready to depart for their first fight.

You chewed nervously on your nail, curled up against the wall and peering out the window for hours until the very last boat sailed away. In the distance, you could see the general's broad back covered in armor, his dark curls fluttering in the sea breeze and his massive sword tucked dutifully at his waist.

He had left for war and didn't even say goodbye.

Why would you care if he said goodbye? Maybe if they all die, you could escape to shore and be free, find a new city and make a home for yourself.

Even you had to admit that fantasy was foolish. No matter where you went, your fate would always be the same. You had no money, no prospects, no skills and no family. Your destiny was already written and it was a miracle your first attempt at prostitution landed you in the cushy quarters of Rome's surprisingly respectful general.

Your nerves kept your feet moving all day. You tidied up the general's desk, sorting his papers and maps. You scrubbed at the dishware until they sparkled and you made the bed, fluffing up the pillows and tucking in the loose edges until you had nothing left to do. The room was as neat as possible, not a single item out of place, and yet you still floundered around looking for something to occupy your busy mind.

When the sun began to dip and his room grew darker, you went around lighting candles to allow for more light. You were in the middle of lighting the last candle when you heard a timid knock at the door.

Nobody had ever come to his chambers the entire three weeks besides the general himself. You swallowed anxiously, wondering who it could be and if you should answer when you heard a woman's small voice from the other side of the door.

You decided it was safe and opened the door a crack to find one of the whores you had boarded the ship with waiting on the other side with buckets of water and a basin.

"For the general," she said softly. You nodded and dragged the buckets into the room, trying not to stare at the bruises and dirt littering her dry skin. Your stomach twisted with guilt after she left and you locked the door. The other women were living like cattle and you were living the life of luxury. Not only was the general not forcing you to fuck him, but you were giving him sass at every turn.

It was a harsh reminder of your fortune, of what your life could be like. The thought of living the life of the women below deck frightened you, so you had decided that evening when the general returned, you would give yourself to him to show your appreciation, as well as out of fear he would soon get rid of you if you didn't give him what he wanted.

You remained at your post, staring out at the dark sea until you could see the bobbing of lanterns making their way across the black expanse, letting you know the men were returning for the night. You rushed to warm up his water over the fire, dumping it into the large basin. You poured some scented oils into the bath just as the door unlocked and opened, revealing a very filthy and exhausted looking general holding two plates of food.

"Good evening," you said, standing obediently. Acacius paused at the door, confused by your formality before closing it with his heel and setting down the food at the table. "I have a warm bath ready for you, General," you added, pointing towards the basin. He nodded tiredly and began to work on the hooks of his armor. You rushed forward to help him, once again taking him by surprise until he was stripped down to his red tunic.

"Would you like to eat or bathe first?" you asked. The general sighed and looked longingly at the bath.

"I will clean myself while you eat," he said. He pointed towards the table and motioned for you to turn around.

"May I assist you instead, General?" you asked with your back turned. You could hear the shuffle of fabric falling to the wooden floor and then a sharp hiss when he sunk down into the warm water.

"Assist me with what? Cleansing myself? I believe I can manage," he chuckled. You turned around to stare at the back of his head, his body now submerged in the water and hidden from view, but you could still see his shoulders and arms. They looked bruised and bloodied.

He didn't notice your eyes on him, of course. He was busy scrubbing the dirt and blood from his skin while he looked around the tidy room.

"It is very nice in here, you did not have to straighten up."

It was the least you could do and you knew it but said nothing.

Instead, you shakily lifted your worn tunic over your head and let it crumple to the floor. Nerves fluttered in your stomach as you slowly approached him, the general completely unaware as he continued to scrub his skin.

"I can think of another way to assist you," you said nervously as you stepped into his eyeline. His chin tilted up and he did a double take when he saw your naked form standing before him. His cloth dropped into the water and his jaw fell open in surprise, eyes wide and greedily raking over your body.

"Wh- what is this?" he stammered, gaze glued to your chest. Your fingers fidgeted at your sides under his scrutiny.

"I thought I would show you my appreciation for your hospitality," you explained. "I would like to repay you in some way for choosing me to share your quarters."

A small smile tugged at his lips as he eagerly reached forward, then stopped when he registered your words. He looked up at you questioningly, excitement falling from his face when he asked, "What do you mean, repay me?"

You shrugged and took a hesitant step forward, close enough now so he could reach out and touch your cunt if he chose.

"I realized today my fate could have been much harsher," you explained. "I have not been showing you my appreciation and respect, and in return, I wish to give you my body to use as you see fit."

Acacius frowned and turned his head away, searching for the cloth so he could continue cleaning himself.

"I do not want your body as payment, I believe I told you that weeks ago."

"You said we would not lie together unless I wished it so," you protested. "I now wish it."

"You wish to lay with me out of obligation, not desire. That is not something I want."

Embarrassment and confusion flooded your mind as you slowly stretched your arms across your exposed body, trying to hide yourself out of shame.

"I apologize-"

"Get yourself decent and eat," he commanded without looking up. His voice sounded hard and cold and for some reason, it made you want to cry. You did as you were told, dragging your dirty tunic over your head and sat quietly at his table to pick at your food. You were confused and ashamed, sitting in the tense room with him while you tried to work out what he wanted from you. The idea of wanting a man out of desire never occurred to you. You had grown up under the impression women of your station did not get to experience the luxury of desire, and instead came to terms early on in life that you always had one asset to use at your disposal.

Not one time did you ever imagine being with a man out of affection or love.

"I apologize," you tried again after he had dried off and joined you. He had changed into a clean, white tunic and was clenching a similar one in his fist.

"You may use this," he said, ignoring your apology yet again. He thrusted the tunic towards you and you fumbled when you took it from his grasp. "The one you are wearing looks as if it might fall apart the moment you step outside and feel the sea breeze."

"Thank you," you murmured, fingertips brushing over the soft and expensive material in your lap.

"I will also call for more water tomorrow so you may wash yourself," he said before biting into a chunk of bread.

Your cheeks went hot with shame, still feeling guilt over the mercy and generosity he had shown you.

"I do not know what it is to desire someone," you said after a few quiet moments. Acacius continued to chew and kept his focus fixed on his plate. "I never imagined it would be a part of my life. May I remind you we come from different worlds."

He grunted in response but you noticed his shoulders begin to relax.

"I understand. But you must stop treating yourself as a whore. You are so much more than that, I have seen it with my own eyes. And to watch you debase yourself, to think so lowly of yourself, breaks my heart."

Your breath caught in your throat and you felt tears begin to well up, quickly threatening to spill down your cheeks. How could you have been so wrong? How could you not see the man for who he really was? He was a man who was gentle, kindhearted, protective and most importantly, cared very deeply for you. To what extent, you were unsure, but if he wanted you to desire him and he saved you from being used by countless other men, he certainly must have harbored stronger feelings than you ever thought possible.

"Alright."

His dark eyes flicked up to yours when you spoke.

"I will not debase myself," you said flatly. The corner of his mouth twitched before he looked back down at his food.

"Very well. I am pleased that has been sorted," he replied before shoving his plate off to the side and standing to collect the cups and dice. "Shall we play a few rounds before bed?"

You grinned and nodded, gathering up your plates and dumping them in the water by the door to clean later before joining him back at the table. And somehow, the awkwardness from the evening faded away after a few rolls of the dice.

It had been two weeks docked off shore on some foreign land. You hadn't left his room in over a month and you were beginning to feel insane. You told him as much early one morning when he was dressing for battle. It was still dark outside. Acacius had mentioned he wanted to arrive on shore before dawn so that he might get into position under the cover of night.

"When I return tonight, I will take you up on the deck for some fresh air," he promised as he cinched up his armor. "Do not leave this room when I am not here."

"Why not? Are your men not with you during the daytime?" you asked from his bed.

"It is not my men I worry about," he explained, sheathing his sword after lacing up his sandals.

"Then what do you worry for?"

"I worry about everything," he confessed. His hand was on the doorknob poised to leave, but he stopped to turn to you one last time. "I do not trust the soldiers from this city not to try to climb aboard the ships whilst we are gone. It is important the ships appear empty."

You nodded in understanding before burrowing back in his sheets and he couldn't help but smile at the sight of you looking comfortable and radiant in his bed.

"Behave, my dove, and we may dine on the deck tonight," he said, making you smile wide. He slipped quietly out of his room and locked the door behind him, fearful if he lingered any longer, he may not leave the ship the whole day.

You spent the afternoon reading and bathing and cleaning the general's dirty clothes in the extra water he had brought up after he left. You weren't sure how it happened, but the two of you had fallen into a life of domesticity amidst war without even sharing so much as a kiss.

What surprised you the most was you enjoyed it. You enjoyed tending to his things and cleaning what you could during the day, and then caring for him at night when he returned all bloodied and tired.

It had not once crossed your mind that he may not return until it happened.

That night, you saw the lanterns bobbing over the water, your signal to begin heating up his water for a bath. Your hair smelled like the expensive oils you poured into his water from your own bath earlier. You smiled to yourself when you thought of smelling like him, and him of you.

Heavy footsteps landed on the wooden floorboards above your head and outside your door. At first, nothing seemed amiss. Acacius usually didn't come to his room right away. He typically visited the wounded soldiers in the infirmary, making sure they were well tended to and fed before doing his rounds, assigning a night crew, and then finally gathering food for you both before retiring for the evening.

But more time passed than usual. You could tell because your stomach began to rumble and his water grew lukewarm. You paced around the room, ears straining to hear the voices from the other soldiers, trying to discern anything from their muffled conversations.

It wasn't until two hours went by that you heard a sharp rap at the door and a man's voice echoing on the other side, announcing he brought you food.

Your blood went cold and you wondered if you should open the door, but then you remembered Acacius told you he wasn't worried about his own men, the underlying message being that his soldiers would never touch what was his. So after a moment's hesitation, you swung open the door.

"Here," a young man said, shoving one plate of food towards you. His face was stained with dried blood and dirt and you frowned before taking the food and thanking him softly.

"Where is the general?" you asked timidly.

"He fell in battle," he grumbled before turning away. Your heart plummeted as you reached out and grabbed his shoulder, taking him by surprise.

"What do you mean?" you exclaimed. Fear and adrenaline mixed with something foreign coursed through your veins as you felt your lower lip tremble. The solider shook you off with disgust before stepping back.

"He was struck down. Last I saw of him he was lying still on the battlefield."

When he saw the look of despair on your face, he took pity on you.

"Others were assisting him, his body will return to Rome," he assured you before giving you a firm nod and disappearing down the long hall, leaving you to collapse into a fit of sobs behind the locked door.

The feeling you had in your chest was similar to the way you felt when your father passed, but something was different. It felt like a piece of you went dark, like you may never smile or laugh ever again. Grief consumed every fiber of your being and you found yourself crawling into his bed, face streaked with tears so thick you could hardly see your hands reach for his pillow. You pulled it tightly against your chest and you curled up around it, muffling your wails until your head began to pound and your body felt weak.

You drifted in and out of sleep, tossing and turning until the room grew cold and the fire dissolved into embers. You stood and wrapped a blanket around yourself, sniffling and shuffling over to the fire to stoke the flames wearing the general's spare tunic he had gifted you. After a few minutes, the fire roared back to life and you sat back with a heavy sigh.

Just as you were wondering what you would do come morning and how you would ever be able to move on without him, you heard footsteps approaching. You whipped around in fear and tightened your grip on the blanket. With the general no longer around to protect you, you had assumed the other men would eventually come looking for you, but you had to admit you didn't expect it so fast.

You curled yourself into a ball on your old bench, staring at the doorknob, expecting to see it jiggle and eventually forced open from the other side, but to your surprise the lock clicked quietly and the door slowly creaked open.

When you saw the general appear, limping and bloodied but still alive, you practically screamed. You jumped to your feet and rushed over, moments away from throwing yourself into his arms before you caught yourself.

"Acacius," you whispered in disbelief, the informality slipping easily past your lips for the very first time. He gave you a tired smile and locked the door behind him.

"I apologize for missing dinner," he said. You laughed as two fresh tears trickled down your cheeks. Your hands hovered nervously over his armor as if you weren't sure where you could touch him.

"Apology accepted," you replied before gingerly unhooking the armor around his shoulders. He groaned with relief when you lifted the heavy metal off him and set it against the wall by the door to polish another time. When you turned back around, you gasped at the blood that had seeped through his tunic, staining the yellow fabric a dark red.

"You are hurt," you whimpered, then hurried around his room for clean cloths, healing oils, and salves he kept in his desk. "Take that off and sit down. Allow me to tend to your wound."

He wordlessly lifted the ruined tunic over his head, wincing slightly when the wound at his side pulled, and he sat down at the table just as you instructed. You collected some of the unused water from his bath and set it over the flames to warm up before scooping up some more and setting it on the table next to him.

"They stemmed the bleeding on the boat," he explained. "It just needs to be cleaned and perhaps -"

"I will handle this. You just rest and eat," you told him, pushing your plate of uneaten food in his direction. His eyes fell onto the food and he frowned.

"It is untouched," he said, "why did you not eat?"

"How could I when I thought you were dead?" you snapped as you brought a soaked rag to his side and began to gently pat at the nasty looking gash.

Acacius took a bite of food, the flavors melting onto his tongue and making him groan. He didn't realize how hungry he was and before he knew it, he had eaten all of the food except for the grapes. You were leaning across his lap, bandaging up his wound with intense focus. He sighed contentedly, basking in the warmth from the fire and the soft touch of your hand on his skin. He could already feel his strength beginning to return.

"That should hold," you said, sitting upright to inspect your work. He glanced down and raised his eyebrows at the neat little bandage you had adhered to his wound.

"You did a very good job. Where did you learn such things?"

You shrugged and began to clean up the salves and oils. "On a farm, many accidents happen. You learn quickly how to tend to a wound."

He smiled and sipped from the wine you had poured for him while watching you move around the room, disposing of his soiled clothes and rags and then bringing the bucket of warm water over to the table with a fresh cloth.

When you pulled the other chair closer and sat, fitting your legs between his knees so you could reach him, he began to protest.

"You do not need to -"

"I want to," you said, cutting him off with a warm, wet cloth on his aching shoulders. His eyelids fluttered with a groan, leaning back into his chair and giving in. It felt so wonderful to be washed by your hand, to have you so close and safe while tenderly caring for him. It was all he had been dreaming about for years, ever since the first day he saw you at the market.

"So many scars," you whispered, swiping the cloth down his broad, strong chest. His breathing stuttered when you reached his stomach and he tensed.

"I have been in many battles," he murmured with his eyes still closed. You hummed to yourself and continued to work, diligently and carefully scrubbing away the layers of blood and grime until you cleaned everything you could see.

"Can you lean forward, General?" you asked, "I would like to cleanse your back."

He nodded and with a grunt, sat upright so he could lean forward. You stood from your chair and positioned yourself behind him, taking great care with every swipe of your cloth, afraid of unearthing a new wound under all the filth.

"Back to general now, are we?" he asked.

Your hand paused on his shoulder blade. He sensed your confusion and he chuckled.

"When I first arrived, you called me Acacius," he explained.

"Oh," you breathed before continuing your work. "That was disrespectful, I -"

"No, I quite liked it," he said before you could finish apologizing. "You may call me Marcus when we are alone, if you prefer."

Your eyes widened and although he couldn't see you, he could tell you were surprised.

"That would be highly irregular," you finally said softly, putting down the wet cloth and picking up a bottle of perfumed oil. You sprinkled a few drops into your palm and you rubbed your hands together. "That name should only be used by those closest to you."

He opened his mouth to respond but when your slick hands found his shoulders and your fingers began to dig into the knots in his muscles, he moaned and felt himself go lax.

"Oh gods, that feels incredible," he rasped. The deep timber of his voice sent a wave of arousal right to your core. You continued to work on his back and shoulders, privately marveling at his broad frame and firm muscles under his scarred, bronzed skin. He was truly something to behold. So strong, handsome, and fearless. Yet also kind and gentle. The proximity of his body and the ricocheting emotions you had experienced that evening had you reacting to him in a way you never had before. It was confusing and strange yet also exciting, and the noises you were drawing from his mouth with every roll of your thumbs was causing a dull ache to form between your thighs.

You blinked and cleared your throat, trying to shake the heavy curtain of lust that clung to you.

"What happened out there? One of your men informed me you were dead."

Marcus sighed and sat up straight, the angle causing you to drop your hands from his tight shoulders. One of his massive hands reached back to take yours so he could lead you to stand in front of him, between his knees.

"They had called a truce. They requested to discuss terms of surrender, so I called off my men and went to speak with their king," he began, his hand still engulfing your own as he gazed up at you with his soft, dark eyes. "It was a trap. They ambushed me when I got out of range. It must have been twenty of them," he continued solemnly, his thumb brushing against your wrist as he spoke. "I slayed them all, one by one, but once I took down their final solider, an archer took aim from the wall. I was able to dodge the arrow but I was not quick enough," he chuckled and looked down at his wound. "I am not the young man I once was."

"I cried for hours," you admitted quietly. His eyes darted up to yours again, holding his breath as you spoke. "I had never considered you would not return to me at the end of the day. However, when I got word you had died-"

You paused when a sob got lodged in your throat. You knit your brows together, hoping to stave off your tears while Marcus patiently waited. Eventually, you gave him a watery smile and lifted your free hand to cup his cheek.

"I felt a grief I never thought I would feel again," you said, voice shaking. His eyes searched your face, watching the way your anguish rolled through you at the memory. He swallowed tightly and, with his other hand, gently gripped your waist.

"Tell me," he whispered, "did you feel these things only because you feared for your safety if I was not here?"

You shook your head as one singular tear trickled down your cheek.

"No," you breathed, "it was because I felt like a part of me died, too. Because I could not imagine my life without you."

When you saw the joyful look in his eye, you quickly closed the remaining distance between you, leaning down the rest of the way and slanting your mouth desperately over his. He moaned and dropped your hand so he could cup the back of your neck, pulling you even closer so you were forced to straddle his lap.

"Do you know what you do to me?" he groaned amid kisses that were growing increasingly messy as the heat between you grew. "How badly I want you? How long I have waited?"

Your mind was blank. You couldn't think of a single thing to say, but Marcus didn't give you a chance to respond, anyway. His tongue slipped past your lips, greedily swirling in tandem with yours and forcing your jaw to open wider. The hand on your waist dropped to flatten against your lower back and he pressed you forward so not even a sliver of moonlight could sneak between your bodies.

Underneath your gifted tunic, you were bare. When you joined the other whores all those weeks ago, they told you there was no use for undergarments, that the men would just destroy them if you bothered to wear any, so just like all the others, you never did. It had never been a problem until that very moment, when Marcus had you writhing in his lap, hips stretched wide and cunt free to rub against his thigh. When you first made contact with his leg, the firm muscle brushing against your sensitive clit, you jumped in his lap and moaned into his mouth.

"Tell me, sweet thing," he murmured when he finally broke the kiss. You were panting heavily, eyelids drooping with need as you gazed down at him. "I know you have not sold yourself to a man, but have you ever laid with one before?"

You shook your head and wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, holding him close. His lips brushed up against your throat and he began to suck on the sensitive skin there as both of his hands fell to your hips. Gently, he rocked you back and forth, sliding your slick, bare cunt over his thigh. He heard you sigh and smiled against your skin when your head dipped backwards in pleasure.

"Does that feel good?"

"Yes," you whispered, voice raspy and thick. "Oh, yes, it feels... heavenly," you told him with a sigh.

"Good," he grunted, "keep going. Do not stop until you come. I will need you soft and wet before you take my cock."

"Yes, General," you replied obediently, making his cock jump behind his thin loincloth.

Marcus tugged at the back of your loose tunic, stretching the material across your breasts so your hardened nipples poked through. With a low growl, he lunged forward and wrapped his mouth around one, cloth and all. His teeth added a surprisingly tantalizing amount of pressure that had you gasping for air as your hips quickened their pace over his thigh. You must have been leaving streaks of arousal all over him but something told you he didn't mind.

"You desire me, yes?" he questioned when he switched his attention to your other breast. You nodded feverishly, face tilted towards the ceiling as you chased your pleasure.

"Yes," you gasped, "yes, Ge- Marcus."

He groaned so loudly you thought he might wake up the whole ship.

"Fuck, say that again."

You smiled and circled your hips faster, grinding down onto his thick leg. You were so close, you could taste it.

"Marcus," you whined, "oh, Marcus. I cannot wait to feel you inside of me. I just know you will make me feel so good, will you not?"

Suddenly, his hand was back on your neck and his mouth was pressed tightly against the underside of your jaw, not unlike a wild animal pinning his prey against his sharp fangs. You could feel his hot puffs of air fanning across your skin and his teeth scraping your throat. His intensity might have frightened you if you weren't on the brink of an earth shattering orgasm.

"I will make you feel so good, you will never want to take another lover again," he said darkly. The hairs on your arms stood up but you continued to rut yourself as fast as you could against his thigh, your own chest heaving as you fought for air. "And if I have it my way, you never will," he added.

His words were what tipped you over the edge. You cried out his name and clutched at his shoulders for support as your orgasm rolled through you, covering him with your slick.

Your body was still trembling in his arms when he lifted you up and carried you to the bed. You blinked rapidly in response, poised to argue with him about potentially reopening his wound, but before you could get a single word out he had tossed you onto the sheets and climbed on top of you, caging you in.

"Before I ravish you, my sweet, what do you know of coupling?"

You scoffed. "I am no fool, I know how it works."

Marcus chuckled at your snark and sat back on his heels to peel your tunic over your head, exposing yourself entirely to him. A groan rumbled through his wide, bare chest as he stared down at you hungrily, all spread out and ready for him.

"I cannot lie. Ever since you first stood before me naked, your beautiful body has consumed my every waking thought."

"It shows incredible restraint, then, for you to share a bed with me each night," you teased, eyes dancing playfully as he stripped himself of his loincloth.

"You have no idea," he growled, falling back onto his forearms. The tip of his nose nudged against yours affectionately. "I have waited years for this, my sweet."

The idea of any man pining after you, let alone the mighty General of Rome, was a strange and foreign concept.

"I am just the daughter of a poor farmer," you muttered, fingers brushing his peppered curls behind his ear.

"Your station means very little to me," he replied, looking down between your bodies so he could notch the thick head of his cock at your opening. "The heart wants what the heart wants."

Your pulse quickened when you felt the slight bit of pressure he applied. Knowing how it worked was one thing, experiencing it for the first time was another.

"I-I was told it may hurt," you said meekly. Marcus's eyes found yours and he tenderly cupped your jaw.

"Yes, that is true, but I promise it will not last long," he assured you. You swallowed and nodded before spreading your legs wider and hooking your ankles around the backs of his thighs.

"Tell me if it is too much," he murmured. He pressed your foreheads together, lips hovering above yours, ready to soothe you from the pain.

"Go on, then," you said bravely.

Slowly, he breeched your opening and sunk one inch inside of you. You gasped and dug your heels harder into his thighs, but Marcus held steady.

"Speak," he demanded after a few seconds of listening to your heavy breathing.

"It stings," you admitted, "but it is not... unpleasant."

He nodded and pecked a chaste kiss against your lips before giving you another inch. You whined and squirmed a bit but once you settled, he took it as his cue to continue. It went just like that until he finally found himself fully seated inside of your tight heat.

"The worst is over, my sweet," he told you.

You wiggled underneath him, moving this way and that until you got used to the feeling of him inside you. Your hands wrapped around the backs of his biceps and you stretched your neck so you could bite and nip playfully at his prickly jaw.

"I enjoy being full of you," you admitted shyly, eliciting a grunt from the back of his throat.

"Good," he grumbled before drawing back his hips and slowly easing himself back inside your warmth. "Because I intend on having you full of me as much as possible. I fear I will never have enough now that you have given me a taste."

Your jaw dropped open when he began to move faster, gently and steadily working you open, carving a space for himself inside of you forever. The only thing you wanted was to have him as close as you could, so you wrapped your arms around him and buried your face against his neck, molding your bodies together as one.

"My sweet girl," he panted, mouth hunting for yours. "You feel better than I ever dreamed. So fucking tight and wet. I cannot believe my fortune, that you would give yourself to me. I wonder if I did indeed die in battle and have ascended to the heavens."

The stretch was divine, his heavy length dragging in and out of you and nudging against a spot that made your stomach clench and your head grow fuzzy.

"Do not say such things," you scolded him breathlessly. His hips stilled for a moment, waiting for you to continue. "Do not jest about your death. My heart cannot handle it."

His eyes softened and his mouth crashed against yours with a groan, overcome that you would feel so strongly for him. He began to roll his hips again but kept his mouth latched onto yours, swallowing down your whimpers and moans.

"I will never leave you," he whispered against your lips. His thrusts grew quicker but he tried his best to be careful and not drive himself too deep for fear of causing you pain. "I will always return now that I have you waiting for me. I shall be invincible in battle."

You laughed lightly, dragging your mouth down his throat and tasting his freshly perfumed skin.

"Was that all it took for you to become immortal?" you teased.

"Yes," he hissed, "a cunt as snug and perfect as yours is all a man needs to give him purpose."

His hand slithered between your back and sheets, pressing his palm firmly against your spine so you arched underneath him. His knees spread wider so he could get better leverage, and he began to roughly snap his hips. You gasped and grabbed onto his hair, giving it a sharp tug and making him groan. It was lewd yet somehow romantic, hearing the sound of your skin slapping together in the otherwise quiet room.

"Does it hurt?" he managed to ask through clenched teeth.

"No," you whimpered inbetween the soft moans he drew every time his cock slammed back into you. "Oh gods, Marcus, please-"

"What do you need, my love?"

He sounded breathless, his voice slightly strained, and your chest burst with pride. You loved the idea of being the one who made such a strong man so very weak.

"I- I am not sure," you admitted truthfully. "It feels so wonderful, but it is different than before."

As it turned out, you didn't need to figure out what you needed because Marcus knew. Somehow, he managed to know your body better than you. He knew how to make it sing and thrum just for him.

His hand snuck between your bodies and the pad of his thumb found your clit. He rubbed firm, slow circles over the sensitive bud, and his name instantly flew from your mouth, loud and wild. You likely could be heard from shore, but Marcus never shushed you. In fact, he smiled and worked his thumb faster, drawing out more delicious moans with every stroke.

"You are so beautiful," he murmured while sucking a mark into your neck. He could feel your lower belly begin to tense and heard your breath waver, so he circled his hips faster, cock greedily plunging in and out of your soaked cunt, chasing his release with reckless abandon now that he could feel you were close.

"I have obsessed over you for years. Dreamed of having you all to myself, just like this," he continued. He could sense his words had a great effect on you. Your walls fluttered and pulsed around him when he admitted his deepest secrets, so he kept talking.

"Long nights spent on the cold ground in the middle of war, I would dream of you. I would wonder what you would be doing back in Rome. I would pray you did not find a husband while I was away."

Marcus gasped when your cunt gripped around him so tightly that it took his breath away. "The thought of you belonging to another was enough to drive me insane," he groaned before capturing your lips with his.

"I am yours," you rasped when he pulled away, and when your eyes locked, he could see the adoration he felt for you reflected right back. "For as long as you will have me, I am yours."

Marcus's eyes slid closed in bliss after hearing the words he so longed to hear. "Come for me, my love. Come for me and when we return home, I shall make you my wife. I will take care of you. I promise you will never go hungry again."

Your hands grappled with the back of his head, fingers threading through his unruly locks as you pulled him down for a searing kiss. He muffled the sounds of your orgasm, cries of his name dying in your throat while your body bucked wildly beneath him.

It only took a few moments before he joined you. With his hand roughly squeezing your hip, he yanked you towards him. His body stilled, pumping you full of his seed while your tongues danced together in tandem until his shoulders sagged and you began to shake.

Marcus flicked the sheets so he could toss them over your trembling bodies. He planted kisses along the side of your head and jaw, then brushed the hair away from your face until your breathing leveled and your eyes reopened.

"Are you alright?"

You nodded and gave him a weak smile. "I am tired."

Marcus withdrew his hips, sliding his softening cock out from your clutch. You cried out in pain and he instantly jolted out of bed to soak a clean rag in some leftover warm water, then hurried back to press it between your legs.

"Better?"

"Yes," you sighed. "Thank you."

He gave you a quick kiss and slid back under the covers. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest so he could nuzzle your hair and murmur sweet nothings in your ear.

"Must you leave me in the morning? Can you not spend just one day recovering from your wound?"

Marcus kissed your bare shoulder and shook his head.

"The war is almost done. Tomorrow, I will make them surrender so we may sail home and start our life together."

You grinned and burrowed deeper under the covers. "Did you mean that?"

"What is that, my love?"

"When you said you would make me your wife," you said sheepishly. "Or was that just your mind getting lost to desire?"

"No, I meant every word," he said before rolling over and snuffing out the candle next to the bed. "When we return to Rome, I will make you my bride. You will bear my children and I will watch them play in the garden with you by my side."

You hummed and closed your eyes. "That sounds lovely."

You had very little idea of the politics in Rome and how the highest ranking general of the Roman army could possibly announce he was going to wed a poor farmer's daughter, but you knew deep down if Marcus wanted it, he would somehow make it happen. You knew this because his determination always won, on and off the battlefield.

After all, you were living proof of it.

[borathae]

Bonded

“You didn’t think that having Jungkook save you from an abusive arranged marriage by marking you would mean that you would have to marry him instead. Yet here you are. Bonded to him for life, with his father threatening to ban you if you fuck it up and with your marriage night one step away. It wouldn’t be that scary if you weren’t aware that his family doesn’t bond with omegas.”

Pairing: Alpha!Jungkook x f. omega!Reader

Genre: Werewolves!AU, forced marriage!AU, childhood best friends to lovers!AU, marriage night!AU, Angst, Romance, SMUT

Warnings: Hard Dom!Jungkook, happy sub!Reader, size & strength kink, he is a lot taller than her, angst & misunderstandings in the beginning, poor woman gets threatened left and right at her own bonding party, please protect her, Kook is hurt by her at first but the problem gets solved hihi, her brother is a dick tbfh, insanely protective!Jungkook, whipped Alpha in loveeee, lots of kisses and touches, he is really soft with her & just a lil nervous, he is so lethal tbfh no wonder she gets turned on by him so easily bahaha, kissing & biting of her scent spots, the spots are on her neck and her tits and her inner thighs, he accidentally stimulates them long enough that she goes into heat, which makes him go into his ruts <3, this is a really passionate bonding night for sureeee, intense and hungry nipple sucking, her poor omega tits swell and produce sweet liquid (not milk just idk omega liquid lmaloaooa listen I made this up as I was going and it's hot), Jungkook eats it upppp, sooooo much slick, lots of drool and tears hihih, rough penetrative sex with his big alpha cock, knotting, lots of orgasms for both, breeding with his hot cum mhmh, listen he fucks her roughly while he is knotted which means she repeatedly gets penetrated by his knot, she likes it cause she is so into him, stimulation of her cervix which feels really good for an omega, she is in heaven with him fr, he never felt as good before as well, sex in missionary then in mating press and then just tangled up in a mess of limbs, praise, hand holding, he calls her "baby" & "my love" & "princess", the cuddliest and safest and giggliest aftercare, they're not aware of it yet but they're true mates <3, oh yeah! they break the bed

Wordcount: 15.8k

a/n: YOU HOES (affectionately) ASKED FOR IT AND THIS HOE (me, derogatory) LISTENED!!! I FUCKING LISTENED!!! AND I AGREED!! We need more Alpha!Kook in our life and on this blog. This is the hottest smut ever like (tmi but) i need to jerk it afterwards, which rarely happens with my smut HFAHDSFH i need him to be my alpha husband and rearrange my guts daily tbfh 😔 have fun besties, i hope this is a worthy enough sequel to the first part 😩💛 ps: for all you omegaverse veterans, i'm still a newbie to this AU and this story is MY interpretation of the AU hehe any rule changes are done intentional to my comfort levels <3

If you knew that agreeing to Jungkook’s plan would mean This, perhaps you never would have agreed. Perhaps if the night hadn’t been so stormy and you so hopeless, you wouldn’t have said yes. 

But you did and now you are here. In front of the entire pack, in a long dress as your pack’s priest is talking about eternal faithfulness. You knew that being marked by an alpha would mean that you had to be with him, but didn’t think it would mean This. 

Your family is in the audience. First row, next to Jungkook’s family. Your brother stares at you with a look you can’t quite make out. You still can’t really stand his face. Jungkook’s father seems displeased and you don’t blame him. The little stunt you pulled made alpha Urquard furious and it was Jungkook’s father who had to take care of it. He wanted to trade another omega at first, but Jungkook stopped him before that could happen. You didn’t get to see Jungkook for two whole days after this incident and when he came back, his upper lip was chipped and he didn’t want to talk about what happened. 

“Urquard’s not gonna bother our pack again. That’s all you need to know”, he told you tiredly while you tried to nurse his lip. “And there’s something else. It’s about us”, he then continued.

“About us? What about us?”

“If we wanna keep living here, we have to do something.”

“What do we have to do?”

“And with this kiss, I may pronounce you husband and wife”, the priest says and howls. The rest of the pack follows. Everyone, except Jungkook’s father who is staring holes into you darkly. It is custom for werewolves to howl for a newly bonded couple. It is meant to bring luck and happiness into the marriage. Having the pack alpha refuse this ritual is not a good sign. 

You gulp down the heavy lump in your throat, shifting your nervous eyes to Jungkook. He seems nervous too, clasping your clammy hands. He closes the distance. Thankfully the howls are loud enough to mask your voices.

“He isn’t-”

“I know. Ignore him. He’s a stubborn idiot.” Jungkook cups your cheek. “Can I kiss you?” 

You hesitate, feeling dizzy from lack of oxygen in your lungs. His father isn’t howling. What if Jungkook doesn’t want this bond either? If you knew that your night with him would end in marriage, maybe you wouldn’t have said yes to him. He wants to kiss you, doesn’t he? His eyes are studying your lips. You want to kiss him too, but it is so scary to go for it. What if he doesn’t want this bond? You hesitate and hesitate. As a matter of fact, you hesitate long enough for the howls to die down. 

Heavy, thick silence follows. The pack stares. The priest stares. Jungkook’s father stares. Jungkook himself stares.

“Hey uhm, this is the part where you kiss me”, he whispers. 

“I know”, you whisper back.

The priest clears his throat. Jungkook licks his lips nervously, still waiting for your consent. Someone in the audience coughs.

If you knew that agreeing to Jungkook’s plan would lead to having to bond with him, perhaps you never would have agreed. He promised you that you would just have to pretend, that you wouldn’t have to be with him if you didn’t want to and yet here you are. You are now officially his mate. Well, not until you kissed him. You really want to kiss him, but it’s so scary. 

“You have to kiss for the bond to be sealed”, the priest whispers as well. 

You glance at the audience. Your family seems nervous. Jungkook’s father seems hopeful but also very angry. You look at Jungkook, whose eyes have darkened slightly.

“It seems that the bond is invali-”, the priest tries to announce loudly, but before he can finish his sentence, Jungkook silences him by pulling you into the kiss. 

You gasp, eyes wide open and body frozen. His big hand is on the back of your head, keeping you close. The priest sees it as a sign and begins the howling again. It fills the wedding house, almost sounding like melodies of joy. But you feel sick to the stomach. You are mated for life. Jungkook made sure of it and you made sure of how your marriage will be because you hesitated. You can see it in his eyes once he pulls back and they are as cold as ice. Holy fuck, you messed up.

The iciness of his stare continues long into the festivities. It is the duty of the newly  bonded couple to open the dance floor with a dance. You and Jungkook have to wait behind a curtain to be called to the floor. You arrive a little later than him because your mother wanted to talk to you before that. Something about being a good mate to him. You didn’t really listen because she pissed you off. 

Jungkook sends you an icy glare, tonguing his cheek.

“You”, you stomp to him. Your mother made you angry enough that you feel the need to take it out on him. 

He watches you with a cocked up brow. You shove at his chest. He doesn’t budge, but stares with widened eyes. 

“How dare you force the kiss onto me like this. You took away my choice”, you hiss.

“Tch.”

“Don’t tch me. You said that it was my choice. You forced me.”

He tenses his jaw, looking anywhere but you. You shove him again with no chance of moving him. 

“Did you hear me?”

“I don’t know if you already forgot the five prior conversations we had, but if we didn’t bond today, my dad would have banished us both. I made sure that this wouldn’t happen”, he answers you snappishly.

“This still doesn’t give you the right to kiss me like this”, you throw back, shoving at his chest.

He doesn’t budge, taking your hands to stop you from shoving him again. His grip is strong and possessive, but doesn’t hurt. 

“The priest was gonna renounce our bond. I had to act fast”, he hisses.

“Yeah well, I didn’t want to be forced into it.”

“I know that by now”, Jungkook spits and swipes your hands away, turning a cold shoulder to you. He crosses his arms in front of his chest so tightly it looks as if he is trying to hug himself.

“I want an apology for it”, you insist.

“I’m sorry.” 

You falter for a moment, not having expected it. 

“I’m sorry, okay? Just. Drop it now, please.”

“Drop it? Excuse me?” 

Jungkook turns his head away.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

No eye contact.

“Jungkook?” 

“I’m done talking to you”, he grumbles.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“It means that you hurt me.”

You gawk at him, holding your breath. He turns to you, meeting your eyes with such urgency it feels as if he is trying to drown you in the connection.

“All this talk about not wanting me to hold back. You told me not to stop telling you that you’re mine. Was it just empty talk?” he asks.

His heartbroken scent makes you feel heavy in your chest. 

“What? I, I don’t- what?” you stutter.

“Did it ever mean something to you?” 

“Kook, I-”

“Don’t call me that”, he hisses and steps closer. The thing is, however, that you don’t feel the instinctive need to step back. He doesn’t feel dangerous to you. Not because he isn’t scary, because he definitely is, but because you know for a fact that he wouldn’t hurt you. “Don’t call me that after what you did today.”

You gulp. He puts his hand over his heart, eyes showing how hurt he feels. His voice quivers as he speaks.

“You made me have my first knot ever. You, you made me feel so good that I bit you. You had your first knotting orgasm through me. I was fucking alive inside you”, he say and puts his other hand on your stomach where you once allowed him to feel himself in you. 

You gasp and tense at the touch, putting your hand over his’. His touch seeps into you, reminding you how it was to carry his warmth inside you. Everything inside you wants him within the first touch. The connection is so intense that you draw closer to him instinctively.

“I thought that it meant something to you too. So why did you hesitate?” he stresses, eyes racing between yours.

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Jungkook pulls his hand away from your stomach. “Wow, okay.”

“Kook, please.”

“Forget it. Let’s just get it over with”, he hisses and a second later, the curtains open and you have to pretend to be a happy couple.

He takes your hand, leading you to the dance floor while howls and claps cheer you on. He positions you and him in the middle of the dance floor, looking down at you with a tightened face. 

The music starts. So does the dance. 

Jungkook leads it, you follow. He holds you so close. He looks so deeply into your eyes. To anyone else it must seem as if he can’t get enough of his wife, but you are close enough to him that you know his true feelings. He wants this stupid dance to end as quickly as possible. 

You can’t bear to look up at him any longer, lowering your eyes.

“Don’t. Look up.” 

You obey instinctively.

“You’ve already fucked up the kiss, don’t fuck up the dance as well.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“It’s already a little too late for that, isn’t it?” he says and leans you back as part of the dance. For just a second you see the world upside down before he lifts you again, holding you against his chest as he twirls over the dance floor with you. It makes your dress dance with you and blurs the world around you. He furrows his brows.

“Did it ever mean anything to you?” he asks. 

“I don’t know.”

“Yes or no? It’s a simple answer.”

“I was desperate and I-”

“Wow.” 

“I, I just meant that I don’t know if it meant what it meant to you.”

“Stop talking, seriously.”

You gulp. Jungkook looks away. 

“You have to look at me”, you whisper panickedly.

“Don’t worry, the dance is already fucked”, Jungkook says and coincidentally enough, the music switches just this moment. The rest of the pack fills the dance floor, but you barely notice them.

Jungkook steps back and leaves you in the middle of the dance floor. Your chest feels tight. You didn’t want it to come to this. Of course it meant something to you, but he cornered you right now and you tend to say the wrong things under pressure. You didn’t want to give him a dishonest answer, but didn’t have the full answer ready yet. Oh god, this isn’t what you wanted to happen.

Sudden fear fills you. You know instantly that his father is next to you. You force yourself to look at him, holding your breath.

“Ruin this bond, you and your family can look for a new pack. Understood?”

You nod your head fearfully.

“Speak up!” 

“Yes! Understood!” 

“That’s better. Fucking, bratty omega. Just because my son can’t keep his dick in his pants. I’ll teach him how to discipline you, be sure of that”, he says with a deadly glare and turns his back to you, leaving you in the middle of the dance floor.

You bite back tears. 

Alcohol. You need to forget this night. Yes, that’s the solution.

Werewolf bonding parties aren’t that different from human wedding parties. There is good music, delicious food, lots of dancing and even more laughter. There is also, of course, the occasional friendly fighting between two wolves, which may seem scary to a human but is perfectly normal to your species. There is even a saying that if a bonding party doesn’t have friendly fighting, the bond will not last. A part of you had hoped that your party would be such a party just so it wouldn’t be you who ruins the marriage and therefore has to carry the alpha’s wrath. But your wish wasn’t granted the moment you watched Yoongi and Hoseok start a friendly wrestling march next to the margaritas bar.

Speaking of margaritas, you are drunk on them by now. Way too drunk, barely able to stand on two feet. 

“Fuck, I need air”, you get out and turn to leave. You run your eyes over the crowd. Your family is by their table, your brother follows you with his eyes. You must be way too drunk because for a second it felt as if he was hunting you with them. You break contact, spotting Jungkook next. He is talking to one of the betas, Seokjin. He also seems terribly drunk. You look away quickly, stumbling past him on your way outside. He follows you with his eyes as you do, but you are too drunk to notice.

The night is cold. A welcome change to the stuffy air inside. Tonight is a new moon. You look up at the moonless sky. Weddings under a new moon mean that they will last long. That’s what the legends say. The new life together starts with the new cycle of the moon. First the fighting, now this. Your marriage seriously wants to last, doesn’t it?

You stumble to a quiet corner, resting against the wall. The music is blurred behind a veil of alcohol and the thick walls of the venue.

The thing is, it’s not that you had to bond with Jungkook which upsets you so much. It is the fact that it had to happen under such circumstances. You are sure that if he didn’t have to mark you in order to save your life, he would have never even thought about taking you as a mate. You know how his family thinks. A wolf with the alpha gen should mate with another wolf with the alpha gen. Bonding with an omega isn’t a thing in Jungkook’s family. And this is what scares you. You are an omega in a family of alphas and his father seems to fucking hate it. What if Jungkook hates it too? He talked about keeping you safe and not wanting to let you go, but he probably didn’t think that he would have to mate with you. He was probably high on his afterglow and talked without thinking.

“Urgh”, you let out, grinding your fangs. 

But then, why was he so upset that you hesitated? Was it because he wanted to own you as quickly as possible? But he smelled heartbroken. Someone who is merely upset about not owning you wouldn’t smell like this. This is confusing you so much. 

“Who knew that you would be married before me.” 

You turn your head to your brother. You must be really drunk because his eyes still seem so different.

“It’s crazy to imagine that you came back and got bonded”, he says. 

“Only because you fucked up and I almost had to die for it. Otherwise, Jungkook would have never had to step in and I would have never had to bond with him”, you throw back.

Your brother studies you with furrowed brows.

“Look, I said that I’m sorry and I am. It was an accident. I thought that she was a deer.”

“Tch, sure. I know you were into her. I watched you sneak away sometimes to see her. You got jealous and decided to kill her because you couldn’t bear the thought that she was to be with someone else. Admit it”, you challenge him because you know that it was bullshit. Your brother would never kill someone out of jealousy. 

Something changes in your brother’s face, however. Your brother disappears, the face of an ice cold killer stares back at you. The face of a killer who killed before and who would do it again. He steps closer and you instinctively step back. Fear and the desire to flee overcomes you. It is difficult however when he has you cornered. It is a dark corner and there are no people around.

“What, what are you doing? You, you are scary”, you stutter.

“You know, you were never supposed to come back.”

“What?”

“If I were you, I’d be careful with your words from now on”, he warns, dragging the back of his hand down your face, “are we understood, sister?” 

You whimper instinctively, avoiding his eyes. His touch feels like sandpaper on your skin. He comes closer. You are so scared. 

“Are we under-”, he stumbles back as a strong hand tugs him away from you. It is so rough in fact that he squeaks against his will.

“Do we have a problem here?” Jungkook growls, stepping between you and your brother. He is huffing his air, torso stretching the fabric of his suit because his protectiveness is making his body grow. Your brother tries to take a step closer, but instantly stops with just one deep growl of Jungkook. 

Your brother looks at you for a brief moment. The person you once knew is gone from his eyes. 

“I was already leaving”, he presses out and turns his back to leave. He knows better than to pick a fight with Jungkook. He gets as far as one step before the latter pulls him back. 

He tries to fight him in reaction, but gives up quickly when Jungkook renders him useless with a strong grip on his chin. His claws dimple his skin, threatening to break through. He is towering over your brother by now. 

“You are the one who is going to start picking his words carefully from now on. She is under my protection now. Is that clear?”

“Is this supposed to scare me?”

“Don’t test me.” Jungkook hisses, shaking him by his chin. “I’ll let you go tonight because you’re her brother and I don’t wanna break her heart, but you threaten her again and you’re dead. Are we understood?” he snarls his words, eyes dangerously golden and sharp fangs on full display.

“Yes”, your brother croaks out.

“Speak up!” Jungkook barks, shaking him.

“Yes! I’m sorry, yes!” 

“Good. Now leave, you’re ruining my wife’s mood”, Jungkook growls and pushes him away. 

The man, who was once your brother, stumbles back and runs off with his tail tucked between his legs.

Jungkook stares him down until he truly left and only then, he turns to you. He puts his hands on your upper arms, touching you so gently one might never know how roughly he handled your brother seconds ago. His features are clouded over with worry. His body is smaller again and his muscles shrunk back to their relaxed size.

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” he asks, studying you worriedly.

You shake your head, gasping for air in small, helpless breaths. 

“Hey, sshhh you’re okay now. You’re okay”, he says, hugging you against his chest. One hand is on your back, the other on the back of your head. The calming scent of him engulfs you, masking your own frightened scent.

“People need to stop threatening me tonight”, you get out, sobbing into him.

“You’re okay, baby. You’re okay”, he keeps repeating the words, placing little kisses all over the crown of your head.

The fight of earlier feels far away to both of you. Especially to him.

It wasn’t long after you stumbled past him, that he followed you outside. At first he followed you with the intent of confronting you again, but then he saw that you were talking to your brother and he stayed back. Because of his heightened senses, he heard everything of your conversation with him. He also smelled your fear even before hearing your whimper and it drove up his desire to protect you to such levels that he has to tremble now that he finally holds you safe and sound. 

“You’re okay. I’m here now. I’m here.”

You tilt your head up, meeting his eyes.

“This wasn’t my brother anymore.”

“I know, I’m sorry”, he says, wiping your tears.

“He murdered her. Kook, he is a murderer.”

“I heard everything. I’ll take care of it. I promise.”

“He looked at me as if he wanted to kill me too.”

“I wouldn’t have let him. He’d have been dead if he tried.”

“Kook”, you get out and hide away in his chest.

You smell so sad and heartbroken and scared. Jungkook feels parts of his body cramp from how much he trembles. He wants to protect you more than he already does. It is driving him insane that he can’t do more for you.

“Jungkook, I wanna go home but I don’t…” Your sad scent reaches its peak as tears roll down your cheeks. “I don’t even know where that is anymore”, you press out and sob. 

“Hey no, don’t cry. I’ll take you home”, Jungkook says and puts his arm around you to lead you away from the venue. You let your head fall against him, crying loudly because everything is just a lot for you. 

“Do we have to tell anyone? Can we just leave? What if they ask questions? I don’t know what to do anymore, I don’t-”

“Hey, everything is gonna be okay. We’re the bridal couple, they’ll just have to accept the fact that we left early.”

You nod your head in understanding. You are so glad that he took control right now. You would have been lost and overwhelmed without him.

You walk home side by side. It happens for comfort reasons that, after a while, you and he stop hugging so close. You are in nothing but your dress and he is in nothing but his suit. The streets are empty and quiet because the entire pack is currently at your wedding party. 

You already walked long enough that you managed to calm down from the initial shock. It is an unspoken truth between you and him that you don’t want to talk about what happened. This means, however, that your walk is silent and that feels really awkward.

The town you grew up in hasn’t changed much ever since you were a child. The same trees still grow along the same streets, except that they are a lot taller these days. The same houses are still home to the same people and bonding nights are still held in the town’s sports hall. 

Said sports hall is still close to the playground and the way home still leads through it. 

You and Jungkook slow down as you walk down a metaphorical memory lane. You scraped your knee on the slide when you were eight and he had to blow on it to make it better. Jungkook sprained his ankle jumping off the swing when he was nine and you had to hold his hand as his mother rubbed it better again. Under the weeping willow, you and your friends played the silly little dares and you had your first kiss with him. 

You look away from the tree, meeting Jungkook’s eyes. He looked at it as well. You turn your head away, feeling your throat tighten in panic. Jungkook feels his heart twist in reaction. The better voice in him says not to dwell on it, the love drunk idiot in him tells him to fight for it. He wins in the end. 

“Wanna sit on the swings?” he suggests.

“And do what?” 

“I don’t know. Swing? Sober up a little?”

You contemplate for a second, nodding your head in the end. 

You weren’t even aware of how much you needed to sit until you are on the swing, stretching out your legs. You hate heels. They’re the worst shoes ever invented. You swing back and forth slowly, Jungkook does the same. This is still the same swing set you and he played on twenty years ago. The chains still leave this weird metallic smell on your hands and the rusty hinges seem to creak even more these days. You look up at the sky. The stars are so clear without the moon hiding them in her shine. You know this view all too well. In your left vision there are some branches of a maple tree and in the right a electrical pole is peaking at you. The view is familiar to you because twenty years ago, you and Jungkook sat at the same swing in the same order like you do today. 

You dare to glance at him. He is looking at the sky, unaware of your eyes on him. His face is relaxed, his lips slightly parted in awe of the vast universe. His eyes are the darkest brown right now, reflecting the stars. The street lights behind him illuminate the edges of his silhouette, glimmering in parts of his dark hair as well. He is so beautiful when he thinks that no one is looking. 

To think that you subconsciously chose the same swing even after all these years. He broke your heart like this fifteen years ago and now you are back, bonded. Your heart feels heavy. You shouldn’t have hesitated. You don’t know how Jungkook feels about this bond, but you get a feeling that you shouldn’t have hesitated. 

A gust of wind sweeps through the playground and makes you shiver. Your teeth clatter and you wrap your arms around yourself to rub your freezing skin. He looks at you, studying you.

“Are you cold?” he asks. 

“It’s fine. I just wasn’t planning on being outside for so long. I only wanted to catch some air for a bit. I’m kinda drunk.”

Jungkook stands up from his swing.

You watch him, confused.

He shrugs off his suit jacket and closes the distance to put it over your shoulders. It is warmed up from him, instantly stilling your shivers. It also smells like him, making you just a little droopy. He hovers his hands over your shoulders because he doesn’t know if you want his touch, talking in a soft voice. 

“Is this better?” 

“Yeah, thanks”, you whisper, feeling your heart race. 

“Good. Keep it. I’m too hot anyway”, he says and leaves your side to sit down next to you.

He swings back and forth gently, watching some leaves dance on the ground as the wind carries them. Now is the perfect opportunity to talk, but he feels mute. He doesn’t want to fuck it up. Or perhaps he just doesn’t want to get hurt again. 

He dances his eyes over the playground, reminiscing on all the memories he shares with you here. You and he could have been so right and then his father fucked him up. Jungkook forces down the heavy lump in his throat.

“What’s wrong?” 

He looks at you with widened eyes.

“What do you mean?” 

“I’m an omega. I can smell when people around me are upset.”

“Ah. I don’t know. I guess, just thinking of old stuff”, he says and rubs the side of his neck. 

“Yeah. Lots of memories here”, you say and sigh.

Jungkook sees it as his cue to ask you what he had planned to ask you before he witnessed you with your brother instead. 

“Why did you hesitate?”

You almost fall off the swing in shock. Jungkook takes your hand, providing you with support. He feels vast of air when you instinctively squeeze him back and intertwine your fingers deeper. There they are again. Those mixed signals. You say one thing, but do the other. You do another thing, but say the complete opposite. Jungkook can barely take the confusion anymore, repeating his question again. 

“I get it that you were nervous, but it looked like you didn’t want to kiss me at all. Why?”

“I just…”, you pull your hand back, swinging gently to soothe yourself.

Jungkook swings as well, looking at you. 

“All of this is a lot for me. I went from a normal woman to a sex slave by a snatch to an omega marked, to a wife in the span of two weeks. This is a lot to work through.”

“Yeah, when you put it like this, it really is.”

“I didn’t think that our little stunt in the shed would lead to this.”

“Yeah honestly, neither did I. I thought that they would want us to date for a little and that’s it.”

“Yeah”, you agree and glance at him. “I’m scared that you are only doing this because your dad forced you. That’s why I hesitated. I saw the way he looked at me.”

“Don’t think about him. He is old and unhappy. He didn’t force me. Not when I…I dreamt of having you as my wife ever since I’ve known you.”

“What?”

You stop swinging. Jungkook stops as well, turning with the swing to face you.

“I think that’s why I kissed you. The priest wanted to announce that it’s invalid and I panicked and went in. I just needed to know that this wouldn’t be lost forever.”

“Oh my god, you dreamed of bonding with me?” you press out, eyes full of emotions.

“Ever since I’ve known you. Well, you know, ever since I knew what bonding meant. I always wanted it to be with you.”

“Kook…”

He rests his head against the metal chain, reaching his hands out for you. You turn with your swing and take his hands, feeling your pulse in your neck because of how high he raises it. His thumbs draw hearts on your skin, his eyes are so soft.

“Yeah, I guess it’s out there now”, he says, laughing softly.

“It is”, you whisper and squeeze his hands.

Jungkook squeezes them right back, smiling with his eyes before it washes over his lips as well. 

“I can’t believe you’re telling me this on the same swing set you best friend broke up with me when we were twelve.” 

He laughs, lifting his brows for it. It’s such a cute laugh, making you laugh with him. 

“Correction, where I was forced to best friend break up with you ‘cause my dad is a control freak.” 

“Right. I’m sorry that your dad sucks.” 

"Yeah, I guess I got used to it. He’s my dad, that’s how he is.” 

“I’m still sorry.”

“Thanks.” Jungkook says and lets go of your hands to twirl back to the front. He takes a deep breath and stands up.

“Where are you going?”

“If I remember correctly, you always loved the swing the most.” 

“I did, but what’s that got to do with anything?”

He walks behind you and puts his hands on the chain of the swing. 

“Hold on tight.” 

“Huh? Oh!” 

He pushes you, making you swing back and forth. You squeal, having to laugh afterwards. Jungkook snickers with you, pushing you a second time to make you swing higher. Your shared laughter dances through the playground and in this short moment in life’s series of moments, you and he feel like kids again. There are no responsibilities lingering in the back of your heads, no fears of the future, no stresses of past days nor dreams ruined by reality. You and he are twelve again, using the swings after a long day of playing adventurers in the forests. The stars shine brighter and the wind doesn’t feel that cold anymore. You are alive again, flying to the very stars with each push Jungkook gives you. 

“Not too high please, I’ll get scared”, you squeal, feeling tears of laughter run down your cheeks. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t push you too high. I never did, remember?” 

You and he talk as he continues to push you on the swing. 

“If I remember correctly, you sometimes pushed me way too high because you were a gremlin like that.”

“A gremlin? Wow, okay”, he laughs and pushes you extra hard as playful revenge.

“Hey! No, it’s too high!” you squeak, laughing way too much.

Jungkook does it again.

“Kook please! I’m gonna fall, ah!” 

And it happens. Your drunk ass falls off the swing. You squeal, preparing for impact which never comes. Instead he catches you in his strong arms, looking down at you with protective, caring eyes.

“Are you okay?” he whispers.

“Yeah, thanks”, you whisper, watching his lips move. You giggle, dropping your head on his shoulder, “fuck, I’m too clumsy for this.” 

“Hah, yeah.”

Jungkook noticed that you looked at his lips. For just a second, he wanted to kiss you. In the end, he didn’t. He won’t ever kiss you again without your consent. 

He sets you down gently, holding both your hands against his chest. You look up at him, feeling a little robbed of air. His eyes race between yours as if he trying to build connection between your souls with just one look.

“I promise to be a good husband to you. No harm shall ever come to you through my hands and if I should ever break this promise, it is your right to strike me down. You have my body as protection and my heart to find a home in, ___. You always have and you always will.”

“You keep saying that. Does it mean..?”

“It does. It means that I love you and that I’ll do anything to make you happy.” He exhales shakily. “I know that you don’t feel the same and I’m sorry again that I kissed you. Please, can you forgive-” 

You put your finger on his lips, silencing him. He whimpers a little because of it.

“Can I say something now? Please?” 

“Of course”, he says and steps back, fumbling with his own hands nervously. 

“I’m not mad at you anymore that you kissed me. I, I was planning to kiss you, I was. I just, I saw your dad and he wasn’t howling and then I thought that we’re only in this situation because you had to save me. And I panicked and I was scared that we’d regret it and yeah.” 

He nods his head in understanding, lowering his eyes sadly. You take his hand.

“It meant something to me too.” 

He meets your emotional eyes, feeling emotional himself.

“It meant something to me, maybe not the same as it did to you but it did mean something to me. I wanted to tell you this, but didn’t know how. I get nervous when I’m cornered and I forget my words and then say dumb stuff.”

“I get it. I’m sorry that I cornered you. I guess I have the tendency to be pushy when I’m nervous. I shouldn’t have cornered you, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah well, I should have said something. I liked what we did in the shed and it meant something to me.” You put his hand on your stomach. “You were alive inside me and it was the best feeling I ever experienced.”

Jungkook sighs your name, instinctively drawing closer to you.

“But we also barely know each other as adults. What if we realize that we’re not right as mates once we get to know each other?” 

“I don’t think that will happen. I’m still the same than I was before, just older.” 

“You’re an alpha these days.”

“I am and I’ll use this status to provide for you and to keep you safe. I promise.” 

“Really?” you whisper, looking up at him with those same puppy eyes you had in the shed. 

Jungkook feels weak in the knees. Those eyes are lethal to him.

“Yes, really. All I want is someone to provide for, someone to care for and protect. And for that someone to be you. I just. I wanna keep you safe, ___”, he says.

“Oh”, you let out and exhales shakily.

“Mhm, yeah”, he breathes and brushes the back of his fingers down your temple.

“But”, you begin.

“Yes?”

“But not too much. I don’t want you to get hurt”, you say and trace his upper lip. The cut healed by now, but the memory of how it looked is still in your mind. Jungkook chases your touch, closing his fingers around your wrists. He holds you tenderly, tracing the spots most sensitive with his thumbs. 

“Alright, not too much”, he whispers, smiling softly. 

You share silence, looking at the other. Jungkook is the one to break it. 

“We’ll get to know each other again and it’s gonna be nice. I want to make this work”, he whispers.

“I wanna make it work too. Not for the sake of my safety or anything, but because I wanna love you too.” 

“You do?” 

You nod your head.

Jungkook exhales shakily, closing the distance for a kiss. He stops just a breath away.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks.

You give him your answer by erasing the remaining distance, connecting your lips with his’. His knees buckle, his arms instantly fall around you to hold you close. The world around you seems non-existent as your lips are lost in the kind of kiss a bonded couple should exchange. It is epic. Jungkook feels so alive. He knows that if he tried hard enough, he could touch the stars. 

You feel the same. This kiss is your reminder that whatever you and he have is out of your control. It is a bond made by fate, formed under a new moon. This is how you felt in the shed when he was alive inside you. 

Those feelings are heightened because of the alcohol, forcing you closer to him. Which makes him lose control for just a second, ending in you pressed up against the swing set post and with his hand on your lower back. 

It knocks out a soft moan from you. Jungkook answers it in a deep purr, sliding his right hand to your cheek to tilt your head higher. He sucks on your lower lip, ending it with a gentle bite.

The effect is instant for you. Slick begins to gather between your legs, your head gets droopy and everything inside you screams at you to give yourself to him.

Breathing shakily, you break the kiss. He stays close, gazing at you with half-lidded eyes and parted lips.

“Oh my god”, you whisper, tracing your own lips. They’re tingling from what he did.

“Yeah. Right?” he agrees, scrunching his nose and stubbing your temple with his forehead in a gesture of adoration. “Who’d have known that we’d kiss like this here”, he says, gazing at you.

Your eyes soften in submission. Jungkook feels drawn to you beyond repair.

“Keep looking at me with those eyes and we won’t reach home tonight”, he rasps, touching your waist as he basically undresses you with his eyes. “I’d take you right here and now. Make you feel so good that you see new constellations.”

Drunk you cannot handle talk like this, breaking into giddy giggles and hiding away in his chest. 

“Are you laughing at me?” he gasps.

“No, oh god no. It’s just, nobody ever talked to me like this before”, you explain yourself between giggles, nuzzling closer.

Jungkook chuckles, rubbing your back. 

“Get used to it. I realised that I’m kinda outta control when it comes to you. Maybe it’s the alpha gen.”

“Maybe”, you look up at him with pretty puppy eyes, arms wrapped around his waist and chin resting against his chest. 

He stubs your nose with his own, hands groping your butt possessively. 

“Stop looking at me.”

“It’s hard. When you touch me, I also lose control. I think it’s the omega gen.”

“Maybe. Or maybe you’re just a lightweight.”

“Hah! So you’re saying I’m just drunk?”

“Basically, yeah.”

You snicker, Jungkook grins.

“Come on, let’s go home before I actually do something indecent to you.”

You gladly let him hold your hand now that his kiss triggered your affectionate instincts, following him in happy steps.

Your walk home ends at Jungkook’s house. Two stories high and with a big garden surrounding it, it was one of the more luxurious houses in town. 

“This is where we’ll live?” 

“If you want to. I figured, you know, given how you still live with your parents and I’m living alone, we could use my place. It’s totally fine if you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s okay.” 

“Yes? Great then we can get your stuff in the coming days. But for now, let me do this right”, he says and swoops you off your feet.

“Ah”, you let out, wrapping your arms around his neck tightly. “What are you doing?” 

“Carrying you over the threshold. Why?” 

“Nothing, it’s so”, you stop talking to giggle instead, nuzzling your nose against his cheek. “It’s so cheesy.”

Jungkook chuckles, heart racing in his chest. He kicks the door closed behind him and does a twirl in the middle of his hallway. 

“Wait! I’m too drunk for this! Eeek”, you squeak, hiding away in his neck. “Please stop, I’m too dizzy.”

Luckily for you, Jungkook listens. He stops and sets you down, holding you close as you sway. 

“This wasn’t funny. Oh god, I’m dizzy”, you laugh, dropping your forehead against his chest. He rests his cheek against your head, talking in a chuckle.

“See? Told you. Total lightweight.”

“I’m not a lightweight. You’re just a gremlin”, you say and shove at his chest. He laughs, holding your hands.

“You’re adorable. Come, dance with me”, he says, placing your left hand on his neck and holding the other.

“Dance? Right now?”

“Yeah. Just you and I. We’ll do it right this time.”

“But I’m dizzy.” You step on his foot, making him groan. “And I have two left feet when drunk. Sorry, are you okay?”

“I’m okay. I’m more than okay”, he says, smiling at you as your bodies move to silent melodies.

“Sorry.” 

“It’s fine, baby. Just look at me”, he whispers, right hand on your lower back. It is so warm. 

You look up at him. The pull is magnetic and fucking electric. You are so attracted to him. He has you feeling drunker than any amount of alcohol ever could. You are so fuzzy inside because of all the laughing you have been doing. 

“You have the most beautiful eyes ever”, Jungkook whispers, raising your pulse with it.

“Kook, I”, you begin, eyes flitting to his lips. Merely seeing the shape of them is enough to reignite the flames in your stomach. Dancing becomes a little harder now that you are so excited.

“What’s the matter?” he whispers.

“It’s embarrassing”, you confess with a heated face.

“Tell me.” 

“No, it’s so stupid. I don’t even wanna do it but it just happens.” 

He guides his touch from your lower back to your waist. Gentle and loving but insanely possessive at the same time. “I promise I won’t laugh.”

You hesitate.

“Promise.”

“I’m, uh, there is slick.” 

Jungkook draws closer, making you chase his kiss. 

“Shit. There is?” 

“Yeah”, you whimper.

He lowers his eyes, making you taste the idea of his kiss. It makes you so desperate for him.

“Is this normal for you or….” 

You shake your head, “it never happened before. Not like this. Or that easily. I don’t know, I’m sorry, I can’t stop it.”

“Holy fuck. Baby.”

“It’s so stupid.”

“No, it’s not. Just kiss me.” 

You kiss him. At least you try to because before your lips can touch, you step on his toes again. Vigorously.

“Ouch, hey”, he gasps, flinching back.

“Sorry! Oh my god, sorry. Are you okay?" 

“Ah fuck”, he laughs, “yeah, I’m okay. You’re a terrible dancer.”

“Hey”, you pout. 

He chuckles and pecks your cheek.

“I want to show you one thing before we make it official”, he says.

“Show me, please.”

“Follow me. You can leave your shoes by the door.”

Jungkook’s home is somehow exactly how you imagined it to be. It is neat and tidy, but doesn’t really have a lot of character. The rooms are spacious with little furniture filling them. The furniture is modern and there are barely any decorations present. It is the house of someone who doesn’t feel at home in it. The desire to make it cozy and homey for him becomes stronger and stronger within you. There are already a million ideas swarming your head.

“You’re quiet. Do you not like it here?” Jungkook asks you.

“No, it’s not that. I’m thinking.”

"About what?”

“It’s gonna sound silly.”

“Tell me.”

“I already have so many ideas on how to make it cozier here. Sorry, I know it’s your house and everything.”

Jungkook steps close and cradles your face, making you look up at him.

“And it’s your home. Make it as cozy as you want to”, he speaks softly, eyes warm and caring.

“Really?” 

He nods, kissing your forehead.

“This place never felt like a home to me anyway. It can use the caring touch of an omega.” 

You can’t explain how he makes you feel because you never experienced it before. The best way to describe it is cozy and safe. You want to curl up close to him and be yourself with him. This is how he makes you feel. As if you are allowed to be your truest You. 

“Speaking of cozy omegas, we’re here.”

“Here where?”

“My surprise for you. I worked hard on it these past few days.”

He opens the door for you, allowing you view of one of the coziest rooms you have ever seen. It is filled with soft surfaces to lie on. A bed, a big sofa, some bean bags, a window bench. Curtains frame the window and the bed. The floor is covered in soft rugs. There are pillows to sink into on every surface and he installed fairy lights on the wall and the bed frame. 

“What’s this?” you gasp.

“It’s your nest.” 

You look at him. He is clearly nervous, smelling of it as well.

“I’m still new to the entire omega heat thing. I know that they’re a thing, obviously, and I know that you like to get cozy for them. I looked up nest inspirations online. It told me that you like lots of pillows and blankets and that I should make it cozy and warm. You can totally change everything in this room, of course.” He touches the side of his neck. “I just thought that I’d try to make it comfortable for you. At least maybe? I don’t know, I just wanna make it nice for you.” 

Your lower lip trembles.

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t wanna make you cry. Is it that bad? I’m sorry, I suck at interior design.”

You shake your head and fall around his neck, “thank you.” 

Jungkook closes his arms around you, nuzzling his nose into your neck. You smell of happiness right now. 

“Does this mean you like it?” he asks.

“I love it so much. I never had a nest before. I’m so happy.” 

“You are?”

“Yes, so much.”

You step back, giving him a smile. Jungkook retorts it. You giggle and turn so you can hurry through the room.

Jungkook watches you, enjoying the droopy feelings in his chest. The longer you are in the room and the more details you spot, the stronger your scent of happiness gets. It almost fills up the entire room by now, making him feel so warm and complete. He feels at home in his house for the very first time.

“This is so cozy, oh my god. So soft, wow. I love this colour, holy moly. Wow. So cozy. Wow”, you gush and gasp as you inspect everything and anything. 

You end up dropping into one of the beanbags, nuzzling into it as deep as possible while you purr in contentment. 

Jungkook feels his knees buckle. He got you to purr. Holy fuck, he was seriously placed on this earth to treat you right. 

He closes the distance between you and him, kneeling down in front of you. He comes closer, putting his weight on his elbow which he rests on the beanbag above your head. He leans down to kiss your cheek. 

You stop your nuzzling, gasping quietly as his sudden closeness surprises you. You look up and can’t look away again.

“You’re the most beautiful bride I have ever seen”, he whispers, cradling your cheek with his other hand.

“Oh”, you let out, feeling dizzy. 

“No wonder I had to kiss you.” He furrows his brows. “I know I shouldn’t have done this and I’m sorry.” 

“I’m not angry anymore. You built me a nest”, you tear up, “Jungkook, please give me my bonding night. I want to be with you.”

“Really? Are you sure?”

“So sure, please. I can’t take it anymore.” You shiver. “I keep producing slick and I’m so cold without you and, and I wanna feel that good again. Like we did in the shed. I, I wanna feel like this again. Please.”

Jungkook closes his fist on the beanbag, trying to keep himself at bay. His instincts threaten to kick in when you beg like this.

“Do you want it here?”

“Yes, please.”

“And you know what I’ll do to you? What might happen again?”

You deepen the lethalness of your puppy eyes, taking his hand to put it over your stomach. You whisper your words, turning him into puddy.

“I want to feel alive again. Together with you.” 

“Holy fuck, ___”, Jungkook croaks and goes in for a kiss. He growls and stops himself. “I need you to say that you understand. Please, don’t make me do it without hearing it first.”

“Yes, Kook. I know what you’ll do to me. I need you to, please.” 

“Thank you. Oh my god baby, I wanna treat you so right”, he croaks out and finally falls into the kiss. “I’ll never ever force myself onto you again. Never. Fucking never. Holy fuck, baby”, he babbles between kisses, turning you into a weak, turned on mess. “Wanna treat you so right. My baby. Mine.” 

His touch is everywhere at the same time, unable to decide where to find its home. It feels so good. Each spot he touches, tingles and heats up. Whenever he changes spots, it leaves behind shivers and goosebumps before the entire process repeats itself again.

You want to keep kissing him, but soon have to stop because of his touch. You have to gasp for air, you would suffocate otherwise. 

Jungkook, barely holding onto the threat of humanity by now, doesn’t see any problem in being denied your lips. He kisses a path to your neck hungrily. Your aroused smell becomes stronger and stronger the closer he gets to your scent glands. He knows how good it feels when someone kisses his scent spots and he wonders if it is the same for you. 

He kisses the spot on your left side, forcing you to arch your back and gasp loudly. You instinctively grasp his back.

“Do you like this?” he rasps his words, nibbling on the sensitive spot. You smell so good. Jungkook has never felt such an obsession with another’s scent before. He needs it all over his body, melted with his skin so everyone can smell who his heart belongs to. He can’t stop kissing you, picking up more and more of your scent.

“Does this feel good?” he asks again because you were too busy gasping the first time.

“Ye-yeah”, you gasp out, staring at the ceiling in shock. Your fingers twitch and tremble on his back, claws threatening to come out and slice open his shirt. 

What is happening to you? You were kissed on your neck before, but this feels different. This feels lethal, fateful, like it is changing the way you view pleasure. You have never felt so electric before and so close to losing control. 

“You smell so good, I can’t get enough.”

“Wow, oh god, wow…”

Jungkook stays on your left side until he can smell your arousal on his lips. Only then, does he kiss a sloppy path to your right side. He moans when he witnesses you roll your head to the side willingly and he moans again when he goes in to worship your hard working scent spot. And it is working hard. Fucking hell, you smell like pure sex and arousal. Jungkook huffs it up hungrily, biting and licking at the delicious spot. 

All while you stare and gasp and lose control over yourself. The bites feel so good. You want to squirm and moan. Your head is fuzzy, your body so weakened. What is happening? What the fuck is happening to you? You can’t stop producing more slick. You are so hot. Seriously, so fucking hot. Oh god, you can’t think anymore. Anything you can think is how much you need him to fuck you. 

“Seriously, fuck”, Jungkook comes up for air, mouthing at your cheek drunkenly, “you smell so good. I feel high.”

“I wanna be naked”, you croak out, arching your back. You don’t have many thoughts except desire and sex. Being naked is all you crave right now. If you’re naked, Jungkook can potentially bite more parts of you. This is the logic of your fuzzy mind and it is driving you crazy that it isn’t your reality yet.

“Sit up then and let me open your dress.”

You obey gladly, almost dry heaving in desire. Jungkook reaches behind you and opens your dress. He wanted to pull it off slowly to make the moment romantic, but you shrug it off quickly for him. 

He meets your eyes. They are golden and clouded in desire.

“Are you okay with this?” he asks.

“Why not?”

“I never saw you naked before.” 

“Oh.” A little clarity returns to your eyes. “Right.”

He can smell hints of coyness in your scent. And a little bit of nervousness. 

“Wrap your arms around me.”

You obey his order and like this, Jungkook is able to lift you out of your dress and carry you to bed. He lays you down carefully, straddling your lap without sitting down. 

You are below him in nothing but your underwear, feeling small and fragile, but so safe. 

“Do you wanna take it slower?” he suggests.

“No, just nervous that’s all.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle. We can slow down whenever you need to.”

“Okay”, you whisper and make puppy eyes at him, “can you, uhm, can you bite me more?” 

“Yes. Wow this is…hah. Of course”, he lets out, “first, let me match you.” 

He is getting undressed. First his tie, then he opens his buttons. His shirt leaves him first, next his belt and last his slacks. He stays in his briefs, heavy cock straining the fabric as much as he soaks it. 

Now sharing in your state of undress, he leans down, taking your hands to pin them gently. He kisses you, blurring your thoughts into one big mess of arousal and safety. His thumbs caress your hands as he kisses you. Your scent is on his face, forcing even more slick to run out of you. Any sort of nervousness you felt is getting wiped out with each new kiss you share. He tastes so goddamn good. His lips are soft and the piercings on them are so exciting to feel.

The kiss breaks when air is sparse. Jungkook stays close to paint paths of worship down your body. He bites the softest spots and sucks marks of ownership on the firmer spots. And you are in heaven, wishing for him to never stop. Such heavenly feelings are unfamiliar to you. You had people mark you before, but it didn’t feel like this. With Jungkook, you need him to continue. You need to know that every single inch of you is marked by him in one way or the other. Whether it be a bite mark, a kiss spot or his scent, you need it on your body and each time he gives it to you, you leak more slick. It is out of your control, unfamiliar and amazing. So amazing. 

Jungkook is lingering over your sternum right now, hot breath tickling your skin. His strong hands are holding you under your armpits, reminding you that you were owned by the safest lover. 

“I know it’s difficult for you, but please stop me if I go too fast. I can’t stop myself once I let go, so I need you to yell it at me.” 

“Please. Don’t stop. Please, you feel so good”, you sigh, writhing.

“Wow, I….fuck, I want you”, he rasps, having to kiss every inch of you. “I want you. I want you so bad.” 

“Ah…please…don’t stop…”

Jungkook reaches your breasts. They are swollen and plumb from arousal. They aren’t always like this. When you are feeling normal, they also look and feel normal. They are how breasts are supposed to be, sagging from gravity and soft when lying down. Not right now. They stay in place. They are a little bigger, plumber and hot to the touch. They also smell like your arousal. Even through the fabric of your bra. It is so much sweeter and richer than it was on your neck. Jungkook moans like a druggy having found his drug, going in for a taste with an open mouth and way too much tongue. 

“Ah”, you whimper, following it up with a submissive mewl. You are losing control again and it feels so good. Why does everything he does feel so good? It is as if you are a virgin being touched for the very first time, which is insane because you definitely aren’t. 

“Your skin’s so soft and warm. I can’t get enough of you”, he mumbles between his hungry kisses, turning you into puddy. You lost sense of how much more you can still take before you burst. 

His masculine, possessive hands hold your breasts, kneading the sensitive flesh desperately. His spit soaks the fabric of your bra, leaving behind spots of coldness whenever he moves on to a new spot.

It happens again. You experience sensations you have never felt before. People played with your tits before, you played with them as well but it never felt like this. It never felt so otherworldly. They are so swollen. You can’t breathe because there is so much pressure building up behind your nipples. You throw your hand over your mouth to muffle the overwhelmed sob, twisting the sheets with your other hand. It hurts. The pressure really hurts not to be taken care of.

Jungkook doesn’t seem to hear your panicked whimper because he doesn’t slow down in his feast. 

“Your scent, I’m so high. It’s insane, holy fuck, so good…” 

It gets too much for you. The pressure hurts so much. You’re scared. What is happening to you? 

Jungkook squeezes your breasts and bites down gently. The pressure bursts. You wail, arching your back as warmth trickles out of your nipples, soaking your bra. 

The sweet scent of it hits his nose instantly. He tenses up and shudders, cock threatening to burst through his briefs.

“What the-”

Jungkook’s instincts tell him to rip your bra off and lick up the sweet scent, but he forces himself to be stronger than them. It is you who lies below him in such a vulnerable state. If he took advantage of that, he would never forgive himself. 

“Jungkook, help me. Please. I’m scared”, you beg him in a quivering voice. 

“Try to focus on me. Focus baby, right here”, he tells you, cradling your cheeks.

Your eyes search aimlessly for a moment, but soon find their home in his gaze. 

“Koo”, you whimper, grabbing his wrists, “I’m scared. What is happening to me?”

“I don’t know. It never happened to me before. My instincts tell me to clean it for you, but I don’t know if you want this.”

“Please, it hurts. Just make it stop, please.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes, please”, you sob. 

“Sit up.”

You barely manage to obey. Jungkook supports you, using his other hand to open your bra and tug it off of you. He throws it to the side, helping you lie down again. 

Your breasts, normally victims to gravity, stay plumb and perky as you lie down. It is yet another proof that whatever he is doing to you is working beyond comprehension.

“Holy fuck, ___, your tits”, Jungkook gets out, gawking at them in total awe. They are seriously so swollen, your nipples are so hard and they seem to keep leaking pearlescent liquid. “You’re so beautiful, but holy fuck they’re so swollen. Baby, wow.,”

“I don’t know what’s happening. They’re so… so…there’s so much pressure.”

“I can’t. Oh god.”

If only you and he knew that this is happening to you because he stimulated your scent glands. If only you knew that simulation of said glands only works this well with your true mate. You could have a hundred other men play with your tits the same way Jungkook did, but your body would never fall into such helplessness with any of them. Only he will get you to such levels of pleasure. Because it is only his mouth which is destined to taste your sweet pleasure.

You and he are unaware of this fact however, because this is still new to both of you. 

“What, what do you need me to do?” He stutters, salivating.

“I don’t know. Your instincts, I don’t- ah.”

“Right.” His eyes glow golden. “My instincts”, he growls and gives in to the voices. “Stay still, I’ll take care of it.”

He picks up your tits and squeezes them together so your nipples are close to each other. He lowers his dripping mouth to them, taking in your right first but with the intention that your left will follow very soon. 

His instincts tell him to stimulate your nipples with soft bites first until they are throbbing and then change to sucking them. He listens to his instincts, getting you to moan so loudly that his cock throbs painfully.

“Is this working, baby?” he asks, drooling all over your sweet nipples.

“Oh god, yeah”, you croak, arching your back. You twist the sheets, curling your toes. “It doesn’t hurt anymore, Koo thank you…”

“Fuuuck baby, so hot”, he drags out his words until it turns into a growl instead, loving you oh so right.

He bites and bites, licks whenever you sob and bites some more, all while his strong fingers knead your plumpness. And then it happens. You arch your back and wail up as his stimulation finally forces your breasts to tighten and throb. Liquid shoots into his mouth and down his throat. It is the sweetest taste he ever had on his tongue, intoxicating him beyond saving. Jungkook’s eyes roll back, he thinks that for a second he blacks out before he comes back to be totally guided by his instincts. 

He gurgles and moans, sucking the sweet nectar from your right nipple while his fingers play with your left just to keep it ready for him. It is a messy business and whenever he changes sides, he has to lick up the mess he made before he can suck on your nipple. It is not a terrible fate. On the contrary, it’s heaven. For both. Jungkook has never felt this high before while you love his tongue on your body. He is so hot and soft, giving you the perfect contrast to the sharp bites his fangs give you.

“Kook oh god, Kook ah! Ah! A-ah!” 

You spill tears, grabbing your own face to muffle yourself and make sense of what is happening to you. This is life altering. You are in a constant state of genuine orgasmic bliss and it doesn’t want to die down. You can literally feel how Jungkook sucks the liquid out of you, relieving you of the painful pressure as he does it. It helps so much, while at the same time making everything worse.

He might help you with the nectar of your breasts, but your body still keeps producing slick. And it is getting dangerously full inside you. Your panties feel like imprisonment to your cunt. 

You twist a bundle of his hair, sobbing in ecstasy and desperation.

“Koo, I’m scared, it’s so good”, you sob, trembling. 

Your touch motivates him. He is starving for you even though he is currently feasting on you. He seemed to have sucked you dry. No matter how much he bites and sucks, your nipples stay dry. The starvation remains. He needs more of you. 

“More, give me more please”, he orders, growling his words between vigorous sucks.

“I, I can’t. Ah, Kook ah.” 

“Fuck, I can’t stop. You’re so sweet.”

He can’t take a break, he needs more of you. He lets your scent guide him. It gets stronger and stronger, the closer he comes to your cunt. Don’t be mistaken however, it is not your pussy which calls him, but your inner thighs. Your scent glands to be more specific. Working overtime to produce your arousing smell and begging for attention. They are the most sensitive of your scent spots, but you don’t know that yet. You had men kiss you there before, but none of them were Jungkook. None were your mate. 

Jungkook shoves your legs open and buries his face in your right thigh with a growl. His fingers dimple your softness, his fangs tickle your skin. Not long and he bites you. 

Your entire body reacts to it. You tense and flinch as if he shocked you, letting out a howl of surprise. Your empty cunt aches, craving nothing more than him.

Jungkook lifts his head, eyes droopy and drugged and lips still glossy from your tits.

“Is like a drug. You is like a drug”, he lulls his words and drops his face back in your thigh. Your left one for a change. He kisses and licks it, grabbing your waist possessively. He holds you with such strength that he even manages to bring it in a little, forcing you to burn in a fire you were never in before.

“I fucking want you, fucking need you, fuck can’t get enough.”

“I’m so hot, I-I’m so hot.”

“So hot, so fucking soft. Fuck, your smell drives me insane.” 

“Oh god, Kook. I’m so hot.” 

The thing about omegas and heats is that it isn’t as common as one might think. Before an omega has reached maturity, heats obviously aren’t a thing. Afterwards, they are manageable when living with other family members. They feel more as if you were bad mooded and grumpy. You managed to sleep them off whenever they happened.

Burning in this unfamiliar fire as Jungkook repeatedly bites your sensitive scent spots makes you realize that perhaps you have never truly experienced a real heat before. Maybe it slumbers in an omega until they are with their true mate. Maybe the grumpy days are just nature’s way of saving the omega of embarrassing moments in front of family.

You can’t explain why you know, but this is it. This is the real deal. Jungkook stimulated your sensitive glands for long enough that he forces you to go into heat. It feels different from anything you have ever experienced, it even feels different from the thing you thought to be your heat when he was with you in the shed. You were wrong back then, this is it. This is the real thing.

And it scares you so much that you beg for him. He comes up when hearing your distraught, cradling your face. He is clearly far away, seeming changed as well. The only thing having forced him away from you is his stronger instinct of keeping you safe. His dark hair is a mess, his eyes are foggy.

“What’s the matter, baby?” he lulls his words. 

“I’m, I’m in heat.”

“What? It can happen like this?”

“When you bit my scent spots, it made me…oh god, please make it stop please.” 

“What, uhm, what do you need?”

“You. Please fuck me. I beg you.”

“Holy fuck, I-” Jungkook stops himself, growling deeply and twisting the pillow above your head, “something’s wrong with me. I’m losing control over myself.”

“Koo”, you croak, touching his chest. He is burning up, muscles swollen and tense. His heart races like crazy, unnaturally fast at that.

“What is happening to me?” he stresses.

“I don’t know.”

If only you and he knew that his accidental efforts of forcing you into heat, forced him into his ruts with you. If only you knew that these are the effects of being with your true mate. If only you knew that the only remedy is sex. But you don’t know and so you and he are fated to stumble through the unknown, still doing the right things because your instincts are stronger than anything else. It is as if your bodies do the talking without you and him having to speak their language yet. It is most certain that you will be fluent in it one day.

“I want to rip your panties off.”

"Please do.” 

Jungkook gives in and does as he wants. He rips your panties off, throwing the thin piece of fabric over his shoulder. He rips off his own briefs next, discarding the fabric. His heavy, thick cock slaps your stomach. He is so big and swollen by now that he can barely stand up despite his hardened nature. His slick pools in your navel and smears all over your skin. 

“Holy fuck, urgh fuck”, he drops his head in your neck, “it hurt so much to keep it in.”

“Kook, you’re so heavy.”

“I know, I’m so hard that I can’t keep it standing. I…” He lifts his head, cradling your cheek. “Say you want me.”

“I want you.” 

Jungkook shifts his hips so his cock probes at your entrance. You whimper and open your legs widely, putting them around his meaty thighs.

“Just the tip”, he whispers.

“What? No”, you get out and pout.

Jungkook chuckles, cradling your cheek.

“You know, like last time.”

“Oh”, a giggle shakes you and makes your face glow.

He chuckles, soaking up the moment of honest happiness like a dried up sponge would water. Each time he hears your laugh, he falls more in love with you.  

“Just the tip when it didn’t mean anything and we shouldn’t have done it.”

Your giggle changes into a sigh of his name. You gaze into his eyes, building soul consuming connection.

“Right?”

“Right.”

Jungkook allows his tip to fill you. Just enough to let you feel that he was finally there with you. You whimper, spilling tears of relief.

Jungkook wipes them, spilling his own tears. He loves you. This is it. The moment it is official that you are mates. And it happens exactly how he always dreamed it would. You under him, looking so vulnerable and safe as he can gaze into your eyes and see your face change in pleasure. 

“This means everything to me”, he croaks out and buries himself inside you to the base. “Ah.” He twists the pillow.

“Oh god. Ah.”

“Too deep? Hurts?”

“No, it’s perfect. I feel, ah, I feel whole.” 

Jungkook moans your name, eyes filling with emotion.

You touch his messy hair, scratching him behind his ear. Jungkook shivers, eyes threatening to roll back. You are stimulating one of his scent spots, forcing him deeper into his ruts.

“Okay. If you. Fuck. This is my scent spot. It feels. Ahm. I, I have to fuck you”, he struggles with his words, cock throbbing inside you as if it had his own pulse. 

Throb. Throb. Throb.

He fills you with more of his slick each time he twitches. It tingles whenever he does.

“Please don’t hold back. Fuck me like you need to, please”, you whimper, shaking in agony. You tickle his scent spot especially good and it’s over for him.

Jungkook’s fingers slip from control. He can’t hold back anymore. He knows that you can take it. 

He pulls out only to slam into you again in a deep, passionate rhythm. In and out. In and out. It is endless and harsh and feels so fucking good.  

Your eyes instantly roll back and stay there. Your fingers dimple the nape of his neck as you clutch him for dear life. Jungkook himself can’t keep his eyes focused, gazing at you through a veil of blurriness.

“Is this good for you?” he gets out through gritted teeth.

“Good”, you wail, writhing in ecstasy.

“Fuck, I’m fucking high on you.”

He thought that he knew the feeling of your cunt but this is different. This actually forces him to listen to nothing but his instincts. He thought that he was out of control in the shed, but he wasn’t. This is it. You are so hot around him, so soft and you are filled with slick to the very brim. It is Jungkook’s task to fuck it out of you in heavy, strong thrusts, making a mess of your bodies and the sheets in the process. He isn’t aware of it yet but this gives you so much relief. You were bursting inside and now it is finally leaving you. There is no muscle in your body which isn’t currently puddy. Everything you exist for right now is to be fucked by him. There is no other sensation to you than that of his thick cock reshaping your insides. 

“Baby, this is a lot. Holy fuck, this is argh”, Jungkook gets out, scrunching his face in anger. He wants to go deeper, but he can’t. It pisses him off, makes him want to break shit. He knows it’s this stupid position. Fucking good for nothing. Who thinks of something that unfavourable? (Jungkook will think back to this moment once he is clear in his head and wonder why he hated missionary so much.) But he hates it right now. He can’t even see himself inside you, his base is barely inside. 

“More, I need more”, he growls and pulls out.

“No please, please it hurts please”, you instantly beg.

“Patient, I’m rearranging you.” 

Jungkook takes your legs and guides them into a better position. You let him reshape you. This is what your body currently exists for and wants. It needs someone as strong and dominant as Jungkook to bend it to his will. Each second where he handles you feels like heaven. 

He puts your legs over his shoulders.

“Hands.”

You obey, giving them to him. He puts them on your own thighs, squeezing them against the back of them.

“Hold them for me there. I want you to feel yourself shake.”

“Yes”, you whimper. 

“Good omega. What a perfect thing you are”, he lulls and slides his hands to your ankles. He picks them off his shoulders and lifts them up. Like this, he opens you for him. Your butt is lifted off the sheets, your cunt instantly gushes out masses of slick. 

“I can’t keep it in”, you confess.

“It’s good, baby. You don’t have to. Relax”, Jungkook assures you in a hungry whisper, eyes a deep gold and mesmerised by you. He moves his hips close and buries his heavy cock back in you. 

You mewl, curling your toes. Slick drips onto the sheets as it makes space for his girthy length, you feel whole again. 

“There we go, fuck”, Jungkook growls and bottoms out. He stays there for nothing but a second before he pulls out again to pick up a punishing rhythm. 

It feels so good that your eyes roll back and you resort to moaning and wailing for him. Jungkook moans with you each time he is deep inside you. This finally scratches the itch. This is finally as deep as he can go. He can finally see himself inside you. Finally he can see how his thick cock reshapes your swollen cunt. He is so big and you take him so easily, moving and trembling around him as he repeatedly pounds you stupid. If you keep this up, he might get pussy drunk.

“I can’t take this. You’re so pretty. Is it good for you?” 

“Yes. More, please.” 

“You’re so perfect. Holy fuck”, he growls and throws your legs over his shoulders to hold your hips instead and pull you onto his cock each time he thrusts into you. You are tighter like this, jerking off his fat cock.

Your voice pitches and rises in volume. You were never fucked like this before. Your needs were never ever getting satisfied like this before. It is changing you and Jungkook makes it even better by taking your clit between his fingers to massage her. She is so swollen and big that he can jerk her off just a little, making you howl. Your hands drop from your thighs just so you can rip the sheets in your attempt to twist them.

You can’t take it. He makes you climax. It is so intense and fulfilling that your sensitive breasts leak again. You howl his name as it happens.

The scent of your sweet breasts and your pretty face sets off Jungkook.

“I have to. It happens”, he gets out and throws his head back. He moans loudly, falling victim to his orgasm. His toes curl for it, his tones stomach flinches.

And because you are currently in heat, existing for nothing but him, his seed sets you off again. It brings you back into this uncontrollable, intense state of bliss you experienced for the first time in the shed. It should be familiar to you by now, but it is not. 

You cry and sob, knowing that you won’t be able to stop orgasming for as long as your body needs to. 

Jungkook knots instantly, cursing so graphically that he is surprised himself. 

“Baby, I can’t stop. I can’t, I’m sorry”, he chants panickedly, unable to stop his hips from rutting into you. It forces his knot to keep leaving you and then popping back inside. The stimulation is unlike anything he has ever felt before, making his toes cramp from curling them so harshly and his hips become even more violent. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, it feels so good. Stop me, I can’t stop it”, he apologises because you cry so much. He wants to stop hurting you but he can’t. His hips rut against his will. 

“Don’t stop please. It feels so good”, you release him of his guilt, clenching down on him as he drills his knot back into you.

“What? You’re in no pain?”

“No pain. Oh god Koo, I’m cumming again…Ah!” You have to wail, squirting around his thick knot as he buries it inside you over and over again. 

“Ah! This is the best sex I ever had, oh god”, Jungkook moans, arching his back.

The knot fucking burns so deep in such a good way. You are so empty without him, the breach is so intense and once he is inside again everything is well. Your pussy sounds so wet, squelching around his knot sinfully. This is seriously the best sex he ever had.

“It’s so good, I’m so high”, he growls, following your orgasm with his own. It is so unbearable to keep moving but his hips have a mind of their own. They keep rutting and fucking even through Jungkook’s shakes. “I can’t stop this. Holy fuck, urggghh.“

If you knew that your little stunt in the shed would lead to having your guts knot fucked by none other than Jeon Jungkook, you would have agreed to this bond sooner. Yup, we have reached the point of total acceptance of your situation. Fuck that his father didn’t howl. Fuck that you only married Jungkook because you were forced to. Fuck that this wasn’t meant to happen. This right now is everything which counts. It is making this entire situation right. It was meant to happen.

“Jungkook, I can’t stop”, you sob, grabbing for him helplessly.

“I know. I can’t either”, he gets out, holding your hands and pinning them above your head. Like this he is lying himself down on you, folding your willing body in half and burying his knotted cock so deep inside you that you feel him against your cervix. In your state, lost in heat and his seed, it is the highest level of pleasure he can give you. And you thank him with loud cries and your claws digging into his hands against their will. 

His own claws come out to play. He angles his hands so they wouldn’t hurt you. Like this, your hands are under his’, shaking and twitching as he brings you over one edge after the other.

“I can’t stop. Jungkook please help me”, you wail.

“You’re safe. I’m here. Baby, I’m here”, he soothes you and shakes as he manages to bury his knot in you again. You are getting tighter and tighter and his knot more and more sensitive. “Urgh, baby you’re making me- ah!” 

He loses control, pumping your belly full of his hot cum. Now that he is pressed against your cervix, his seed pushes its way right past it, giving you the feeling of being alive you so dearly craved. Of course it sets you off again, of course you cry as if you never had an orgasm before and experience it for the first time. Of course it sets him off again. Of course all of this is happening. It was meant to happen. Of course it was. 

And as you cry and sob in relief and bliss, Jungkook can barely stop his claws from hurting you. He grew in size and strength. Your small, fragile body is in danger of being crushed under him. 

He does what he needs to do. Jungkook grips the headboard, growling like a rabid animal. You are so stretched out, so lose around his knot. And so wet. He can’t stop fucking you with his creamy knot. It feels so good to have you struggle for a second but then take him happily. It feels even better because you moan with such ecstasy each time he drills it back into you.

Jungkook growls and grips the headboard tighter. And tighter. And tighter with each heavy thrust. With each of your moans. Tighter and tighter until suddenly it cracks loudly, breaking into two right under his hand. The bed gives up, forcing you to sink a good ten centimetres. 

“What?” You squeak out, looking around you disoriented. 

“Doesn’t matter. Look at me”, he dismisses it, cradling your cheek tenderly. One might never know that seconds ago he broke the bed with the same hand. “Look at me, only look at me.”

You look at him and fall back into the pleasure, having to orgasm instantly at the sight of him.

You wail for him, watching with blurry eyes as he orgasms as well.

His seed hits you in the deepest parts of you. He fucked you so sensitive that you can feel his thick vein pump it out of him. His knot trembles as it happens, bringing you to your blissed limits.

“Again.”

“Me too. If you- I- me too.”

His hips freeze as he is deep inside you. Your walls tighten and force his knot to stay inside you. He can’t move. It is happening to you as his seed drugs you, his knot does the rest. You can’t stop climaxing. It is finally happening. 

Jungkook whimpers helplessly, dropping your legs and collapsing into you. Your limbs close around him, his own do the same with you. He is on top of you, but gravity forces him to fall to his side and take you with him. You are stuck together, shaking and flinching as your bodies are trapped in the most addicting state of being. You orgasm which sets him off, which sets you off and so on. You should know the drill, but it doesn’t get easier to bear. You drool and sob and moan, holding each other so close that you almost melt together.

Jungkook cries out as an especially strong high hits him, writhing helplessly which ends in your position changed. He is on his back, you serve as his warmest blanket. He hugs you so strongly, knotted cock shaking inside your tight walls. You drool all over his strong chest, feeling far away because you are so close to his scent glands. He smells like sex and ecstasy but also like safety. 

It feels more intense than last time. This kind of knotting orgasm isn’t just sexual, it is also emotional. You want to be close and you are and it is ecstasy. There is enlightenment that what is happening to you only happens because you are with your true mate and this enlightenment makes the orgasms only this much more intense.

The sun is starting to rise once you and he finally come down. You are fucked raw and sore by now, crying into the crook of his neck. 

“Holy fuck baby, urgh. I can’t do it again. I’m cramping”, he says, “sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m sore. Kook please I’m scared.”

“Don’t be, I’m here. Baby, my love. I can’t believe we did that”, he instantly falls into a love drunk, sappy state. He hugs you so tightly, feeling up your knotted pussy gently to soothe her. 

“I don’t wanna be on top, please”, you beg, shivering.

“You’re safe, princess. I’m here”, Jungkook says and changes positions for you. Somehow in a mixture of his strength and your refusal to give up his knot, you and he end up in flipped positions. He is still inside you, keeping you bred and warm. All while he gives you warmth through his body, adoring you right with kisses all over your face and neck. 

“I’m so proud. I’m so fucking proud. Holy fuck, I feel high. You did do well. Oh my pretty princess. My baby love”, he whispers between his loving kisses, hands caressing your sweaty, sore skin gently. 

This is instinct as much as it is his heart’s desire. He wants to soothe you, adore you, bring you down gently after lifting you so fucking high. He isn’t aware of how important this is to you. You feel so vulnerable and emotionally sensitive. It would be the same thing if someone decided to start open heart surgery on your aware self. This is how vulnerable you feel and it is Jungkook who makes it okay. It is Jungkook who calms you down and reminds you that you are allowed to be sensitive because he is there to protect you.

“I can’t comprehend this. I feel high. Wow baby, wow. How do you feel?” he babbles.

“Vulnerable.”

“Oh baby, I know. I’m here. Your Kook is here”, he assures you, nuzzling his nose against your scent spot. He hopes that if he nuzzles it long enough, he can spread some of his relaxing scent on you.

It works. Of course it does because your bodies need no instructions to communicate. It is natural and right and makes you and him feel fuzzy. 

You sigh. Jungkook smells the relief against your neck. He kisses a path to your face. Your glassy eyes await him,  eagerly building connection once they can. 

“Thank you”, you whisper.

“No, I have to thank you. This was the best bonding night ever.”

“No, thank you”, you insist, spilling tears 

Jungkook wipes them, knowing that you want to tell him something.

“For what, princess?” 

“For, for making me feel like this. I, I was never in heat like this. I didn’t know that I could and it makes me feel really vulnerable. But you’re so gentle with me and it’s so nice.”

His eyes soften. He whispers your name adoringly and kisses your forehead.

“I feel the same. This was my first rut ever. I didn’t think that it would be so intense.”

“Kook, I’m scared. I don’t know what this means.”

“Don’t be scared, I’m here.” He kisses your nose, stubbing you with his own afterwards. “We can ask someone about it, but all I know for now is that I don’t wanna fucking stop having you close.” 

“Yeah, me too.” 

He kisses your lips, making your heart race and feel at home. He breaks the kiss gently, giving you the fondest and warmest smile ever.

“I’m so proud of you. You did so well, my princess baby.”

“Oh wow”, you get out, having to giggle. 

Jungkook giggles with you, smiling as he steals a cheeky kiss. Afterwards he sits up. He is still connected with you by your middles, making you gasp and shiver.

“Sorry, I shifted. Are you okay?”

“Yes, oh god. What is happening to me? I feel so comfortable.”

Jungkook smiles, caressing your sides. He can’t stop looking at you. Your breasts are normal again, natural victims to gravity and so soft. They are still messy and wet from what happened before but nothing new leaves you. Your belly is bloated from his seed and covered in a layer of sweat. No wonder you sweat so much, you were burning up. Jungkook dances his palms over your bloated stomach, furrowing his brows in emotion. 

“So alive”, he whispers.

“So alive”, you sigh, placing your hand over his’. 

“___”, he says and meets yours eyes. 

“Yes?” 

“You’re so fucking beautiful. I didn’t get to say it as we were doing it because I was dumb in pleasure, but you are so beautiful.”

“You think so?” 

“I do. I can’t believe that you’re real and, and that you allow me to see you naked. I just”, he exhales shakily. “I’m just so happy”, he chokes out, throwing his hand over his eyes to hide his tears. 

“Kook, don’t cry”, you gasp and pull him down to you. He falls to his elbows, allowing you to hold his hands above your head. 

He is pouting and sniffling. You give him a  smile.

“Don’t cry.”

“They’re happy tears. We’re bonded, I’m so happy”, he says and smiles through his pretty tears. 

Your smile grows, you squeeze his hands. He was right when he said that you and he will get to know each and that it will be nice. You can feel it. You are right for each other. You are so right. 

You put your legs around him and push him deeper again. 

“Oh”, he gasps, squeezing your hands, “wo-oah this felt really intense”, his voice quivers as he speaks.

“It does”, you agree, rolling your hips up.

Jungkook gasps, “what are you doing?” 

“I want more of you.”

“Really? Baby, you’re sore. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Please. Be gentle. Please make love to me, Kook baby.” 

Jungkook spills tears, whimpering your name. This is everything he ever wanted. He pulls out of your sensitive warmth to thrust into you. 

Crack! 

You and he scream in shock as the bed finally gives up completely and comes crashing down onto the ground. Jungkook keeps you safe with his arms around you and your head cradled against his chest. 

You and he share a moment of shocked and disoriented silence before you break it.

“Oh my god”, you let out, breaking into loud, honest cackles. Jungkook looks at you, having to break into laughter as well.

“Did we just get cock blocked by the bed?” 

“I think so. It might be my fault. I kinda broke it when I fucked you with my knot. Sorry.”

“Oh god, Kook.”

You laugh oh so loudly, throwing your head back for it. 

Jungkook has to almost squeak as he laughs with you, heart bursting in his chest. 

“This is so funny. Oh my god.” 

“Yeah, it’s hilarious”, he agrees and goes in for a surprise kiss. 

Your laugh cuts off, a gasp replaces it. Your eyes fall closed and your hands bury themselves in his soft hair. This kiss is emotional and it is deep. It has meaning. It is happy and filled with love. Jungkook lets you experience it to its fullest, ending it with a stub of his nose and a smile. 

“I promise to fix it. I’ll add steel in the frame.”

“So you think we’ll break it again otherwise?” 

“Yeah.” He laughs breathily, nodding his head. “If this is how it feels to be with you during stimulation induced heat, imagine how it will be once it’s your natural heat.”

You gulp, gazing at him dreamily. The rising sun shines on his face, making his skin glow golden. 

“Koo, I think you need to heat proof this entire room”, you whisper, making him chuckle and nod his head.

“I will. I’ll make it safe and cozy. Shit baby, I can’t stop saying it. You’re so beautiful. The sun is shining on you and you’re so beautiful.”

You feel your cheeks heat up, looking at him shyly 

“You’re beautiful too”, you whisper, making him blush. 

“Wow, thanks”, he mumbles, scrunching his nose. He does a little shift to be closer to you. The bed croaks and punishes him for it by making the headboard drop. He catches it before it can fall on top of you

“Piece of shit bed.”

“Oh god”, you laugh “I think we need to take care of this mess first and then continue.”

“Yeah shit, I think you’re right. The bed’s out to get us.” 

You laugh and snicker, kicking your feet happily. He chuckles and shoves the headboard to the side. 

“Come on, let’s take a shower”, he says and picks you up.

You nuzzle into him, feeling beyond safe.

“Do you have snacks too? I haven’t eaten since yesterday morning.”

“Of course. You know what? First fact about me? I’m actually a really great cook.”

“You are?” 

“Mhm, I’m also a total foodie. So if you wanna bribe me into snuggles, get me food and I’ll be the cuddliest boy ever.”

You snicker. It makes your heart flutter when he talks cute with you.

“Do you like food?” he asks.

“Yeah, I like food. It’s comfort.”

“Yeah, right. Do you like cooking together?” 

“I never did it before.”

Jungkook holds you closer.

“Then I know what we’ll do. Shower and cook and I get to give you kisses. And later when you’re not sore anymore, I’ll make that gentle love to you. If you want me to.” 

“Yeah, I want you to. This sounds so nice. Koo?”

“Yes, love?” 

“It’s gonna be so easy for me to fall in love with you.”

“Wow, you. Urgh, you drive me crazy you”, he gets out through gritted teeth and presses you against the next best wall to attack your face and neck with tingling kisses.

You squeal his name, having to laugh in giddiness. It will not be the last time that you laugh because of him.

[madamechrissy]

Cursed Promises

Pairings: Sukuna x Fem reader

CW: This chap, fingering, cunnilingus, dirty talk, Sukuna calls you little bunny lmao, soft Sukuna in places, reader is a lil innocent thing, gonna get A LOT freakier as we go, true form Sukuna

Summary: You have been promised to Ryomen Sukuna, King of curses, for as long as you've been alive, ostracized from your village, 'special'. Now you are to marry him, sight unseen. People everywhere fear him, but will you find yourself intrigued by him. Just who is the King of Curses to his new wife? Arranged marriage au

A/N: Finally writing Sukuna oof I'm nervous aha- SMUT with feelings. Gonna be like four parts to this, so a short fic! Monsterfking and fluff lol- Taglist open <3 Comments/ reblogs appreciated ❤️

Part Two>>>

Part One

Today, you are to marry King Ryomen Sukuna, the demon king of curses, you’ve known this your whole life, this is what you were chosen for. The special girl in your village raised to one day be his bride, however you did not feel special growing up, if anything you were just different. You could not even play with other children normally, you had to have special care taken, and others whispered of you.

You were now twenty years old, the wedding was supposed to be a couple of years ago, but was put off due to Sukuna being away during a war, battling and being gone for long. He was now back, and claiming what was his, though you had never even met him, you had heard the tales, the frightening ones of him, how he ransacked villages, ended lives.

Your village was protected and saved because of you, as if you’re a sacrificial lamb being led to the slaughter, a thing to be whispered of, because you alone possess energy, energy you truly have no clue of, but it makes you special. You now are standing in the most beautiful and elegant robes, everyone was speaking of your beauty, smiling at you, but you saw it, the fear in their eyes.

The tears in your mother’s eyes, and the sullen look on your father’s face, even your terrified little siblings, and you have to wonder, is he so terrible and cruel? And is your life over already? You take several breaths, clutching the flowers in your hand so tightly a thorn pricks your finger, crimson blood dripping down.

You peer at the finger, sighing now, inside the high castle walls of the king, contemplating how everything had happened so quickly. Even knowing your life belonged to him, you still lived relatively normal, until that royal emissary had come, and told you now was the time, the great honor bestowed upon you.

The way they speak of him… Would you even survive?

Your steps feel heavy as you walk through the halls of the palace, your heels clicking on stone floors, decked out in royal, beautiful robes, guards on the other side of you, for if you choose to run you will be captured. You knew that, and had no intention of running, for you want your family and the village to be safe, even if they seemingly threw you to the wolves.

Or, wolf that is.

Your heart beating a frantic rhythm in your chest, you try to stop your heavy breaths, to slow them, as the guards open the ornate doors, revealing the enormous room before you, where many have gathered to see. You look down at the floor beneath you, trembling at the thought, feeling his immense presence before you even look upon him.

It was as if the entire room trembled in fear from him, and you could feel it, his gaze upon you, as you continued to step slowly, one foot in front of the other, now the eyes of everyone in the room were on you. You feel the weight of this arranged marriage heavy on your shoulders, the fate of so many depend on it.

You finally get closer and look up slowly, studying his form in his white robes, thick and muscled and so tall, so big he towers over everyone. You trail your gaze up his broad chest, to his four broad arms, the veins wrapping around each forearm, huge hands on each one with long black nails, like daggers. You nearly trip then, and one of his large hands grasps your waist, taking it over like you’re nothing.

You’re shaking now, eyes darting up to his face, an arrogant smirk on it, and ruby red eyes staring down at you. Four of those eyes, assessing you in that gown, his long fingers curling at the nip of your waist, burning you through the robes. His presence is so intimidating and intense, but…

You’re not scared?

His hand feels so… you cannot describe it, the burn of his touch, the insane feelings you’re having all at once, like you can’t breathe. He’s so huge everyone has to crank their necks, you feel so small in his grasp, next to him, barely reaching his chest, which you see somewhat from the opening of his robes, the strong muscles and taut skin, before darting back to his face.

“Tch, clumsy girl.” He huffs, setting you in front of him now, and you curtsey low in your robes, eyes down.

“Forgive me, my King.” You murmur, trying to be obedient, it’s what you were taught, right? He scoffs, crossing one set of his arms, tilting his head at you, he has shockingly light pink hair, a color you’ve never seen, raising a dark arrogant brow, the candles are flickering and casting shadows in the grand hall, making him look even more intimidating.

“Hmm.” Is all he responds, taking your hand in one of his, it absolutely swallows yours, and you both turn to look at the orator, who now will start the ceremony, and you stand and bow your head, as he locks you both together.

You are now Ryomen Sukuna’s bride.

You look up as he is supposed to kiss you, it would be your first kiss, he leans so low, bending at the waist, and you prepare for it, shutting your eyes, how would it be, to kiss the King of Curses? However he merely brushes his lips against yours for a brief moment, before stepping away, and announcing you as his bride.

The anticipation kills you every moment, as you watch his concubines dance for him, but his ruby eyes keep flickering back to you, constantly, even as he drinks from his golden goblet, and even as several women run their hands on his chest. You think that’s for the best, perhaps he will have no interest in you, for you’re a simple village girl, many speak of your beauty, but you’re not worldly or experienced like them.

Perhaps he will not do more than what is necessary, and spare you from supposed cruelty. You’ve heard so many tales of what he has done, however you did not feel any cruelty when he held you, when he brushed his lips upon yours, but maybe you’re a bit naive, so sheltered to be the perfect wife for him.

You’re taken to your new chambers now, they are luxurious and beautiful, regal and fit for a Queen. You are a Queen, aren’t you now? It’s insane to take in, while your lady’s maid begins undressing you, you take in the surroundings, the red and gold ornate decorations, the low bed that has a canopy above it, draped with the same white and gold Sukuna himself wears.

Your peer in the looking glass, draped in a thin red yukata, with nothing underneath, your breasts are apparent, the opening exposing the valley between them, making your cheeks heat up. You feel the silk against your bare skin, floating across your body, knowing you’re naked under it makes you so nervous, as you know your duty will be to give the King his heirs.

You have very little knowledge, your mother had said to lay there and endure it, and that you would love your children, so that would get you through. The thoughts about that are purely horrific, you do not know anything aside from that, that he would lay on top of you and give you babies. You also know men seek pleasure elsewhere, not with their wives.

You don’t know what to think, but your heart falters when the door to your chamber opens, and Sukuna’s standing in your doorway, so massive he takes it over entirely. His eyes glint as he studies your body slowly, his sharp tongue darting to lick a lower lip, you fiddle nervously with your hands as he shuts the door behind him with a resounding click.

“My king, I hope I please you.” You say, dipping obediently, and he laughs then, the sound booming, a snarky look on his face.

“You’re trained to say everything right, perfect little thing huh?” He walks to you, one of his hands tilting up your chin, the sharp black nail pressing under it.

“I am meant to bear your children. It’s my duty.”

He scoffs now. “Your duty, hmm? Tell me, are you afraid of me little bunny?” You glare then, earning his chuckle.

“Little bunny!”

“A lamb for slaughter, surely, but also a little bunny frozen, afraid of the big bad wolf hmm?” His hands trail down the edges of your wrapped kimono, you struggle to keep any composure.

“You need not tease me, I know how it’s done.”

He’s grinning now with his sharp teeth, his two bottom eyes squinting to almost lines, the top two crinkling at the corners. “Oh, show me then, wife.”

You stomp over to the bed now as he laughs, taking several breaths and laying on your back, staring up at the canopy. Now he’s laughing louder, and you peer your head down. “What, you’re supposed to… give me babies.”

“Holy fuck this is rich.” He snorts now, walking to you, hovering over you.

“Well I know I… here.” You slip the knot of your robe off, baring your body then, and watch his breath catch, desire flaring in his eyes. “I’m supposed to be naked for you… do I displease?” You ask, as he backs away then.

“Displease… foolish brat.” He looks away for a moment, before exhaling and sitting you up on the bed instead, eyes drinking in every bit of your body slowly, tantalizingly, you’re breathing even faster, knees knocking from your nerves. “You’re terrified.”

“I am not! You may… do it.” You spread your thighs, eyes shut now, and he sighs, two of his hands slipping up your thighs now, the other two cupping your face, surprising you.

“You think it will be so terrible, your duty?” He speaks through gritted teeth, you keep your eyes shut, staying still.

“My mother said I shall endure it.” He sighs now, tracing your jaw, his huge hands surprisingly delicate, then you gasp as his other hands sliding up your thighs grow tongues. “Ah! What!?”

Your eyes lock onto his, and he’s so close you can inhale him, this musky heady scent that makes your tummy clench. “You think I, King of curses, don’t please those who enter my bed?”

“I… you mean all those girls?”

He tilts his head, the tongues lapping at your skin again. “I’m in here, aren’t I?”

“But you’ll find pleasure with them, I am only your duty.” You murmur, looking down, he hums to himself.

“Tch, you are… your body…” He trails off then, sighing. “I will not sleep with you tonight.”

“So I do displease!” You blink back tears.

“God you’re quite annoying. Just… shut up.” You glare now, and he grins. “I like that angry look, little bunny.”

“I am not a bunny! I… ah!” Sukuna’s hands are slipping up your thighs further, his other two sliding to your breasts, exhaling as he squishes them, black nails pressing into tender flesh, but it feels so good. You’re getting wet between your thighs, confusing and embarrassing you, making you pull away.

“Ah-ah, brat. Where do you think you’re going?” He’s moaning now, kneeling between your thighs, the King is kneeling before you!? It seems like insanity, his hot breaths now between your thighs, his eyes drinking you in. “Fuck, look at you.”

“Y-you said you will not lay with me tonight? Please don’t look at me there like that, I’m all…”

“Soaking wet.” He slides his long tongue against your soppy wet cunt now, licking a stripe up your slit as he moans. “Fuck you taste good.”

“What are you doing! I… ah… mmm!” Sukuna has two hands shoving your thighs wide, as you go to pull his head off you, the sensations of his wicked tongue are so overwhelming, only for him to moan when your fingers entangle in his pastel locks, two eyes glaring up as his tongue flicks on your clit, making you gush. “My king… I…”

“I want you to cum all over my face, be good for me bunny, would you? If you do a good enough job, I’ll reward you tomorrow.”

“A good job!? This is wicked… it feels… s’good- ah!” Your head is thrown back now, and you’re shoving his face against your cunt, you gasp then, realizing your folly. “I’m so sorry-”

“Shut your mouth, I only want to hear your cries.” His head dips back between your thighs, tongue lavishing your velvety walls, you’re gushing honeyed arousal all over his handsome face, yes he is handsome to you. You’re not afraid of him right now, especially as he’s touching you everywhere.

You’re crying out and shaking, thighs struggling to close, but he holds them firm, his other hands squishing your breasts again, tongues on his palms lapping at the sensitive peaks of your nipples. His tongue is fucking into you, one of his rough fingers rolling your clit now, making you go fuzzy, your walls are pulsing around his wet muscle, clit twitching under his fingertip.

You feel tension pooling in your tummy, feel yourself getting hotter, on edge, like something is ready to explode, overwhelming you, you’re sobbing almost, tears flowing but they’re from the insane pleasure. How his big hands grip you so tight you’ll bruise, how his tongue’s devouring you, you can hear yourself, how wet you are, mixing with your hoarse moans.

You never knew your duty would feel like this, you never knew you could crave a demon king’s touch, and you certainly never knew his tongue could bring you to the brink of ecstasy, or that he would want to give you pleasure. His eyes glint up at you, as he flicks his tongue faster, his hands pinching your nipples, the pleasure making your eyes roll back in your skull.

Your toes curl, draped over his broad shoulders, as he works you more and more, everything is heightened, you can barely see, hearing the squelching wetness, hearing him drinking you. “Ngh- my King-”

“Cum, let me feel you. Drink you.” He whispers, and you have no clue what he means, he sees it clearly. “Release, now. An order.” There’s the military leader, the demanding king, but it just makes you wetter for him, makes your hips arch up for more of his caresses.

You nod weakly and he groans, his tongue lapping you up, his hands massaging your breasts, making your back arch, so filled with pleasure, and for the first time in your life you feel desired, you feel alive. Your first orgasm rocks through your body, your cunt clenching around his tongue, your body shaking, your heart racing, your eyes blurry with the intensity. 

“Oh my god… oh my!” You’re soaking his face, taut nipples lavished by his tongues, and he’s smiling against your cunt, you feel his lips curve, tongue sliding out to flick up to your sensitive clit, watching you shake violently, walls fluttering around nothing as you breathe in heavy pants. “I… we… you…”

Sukuna pulls back then, smiling smugly up at you, licking his lips clean, your juices glistening on his tongue, even the strong jut of his chin is coated in you. “Good girl, now how is your duty going?”

“I… I cannot think.” You whisper, he leans up over you, his heavy, tattooed chest weighing on your soft breasts. Your hand touches his chest tentatively, feeling the burning hot skin, the strong muscles, his steady heart beat.

“You taste so sweet, little prey.” He kisses you then, not a kiss like the wedding, no it was brutal, taking you over, and you embarrassingly taste yourself, surprised at how the flavor is. His tongue darts in your mouth, his four hands gripping your waist and hips as he presses you into the bed, you gasp as you pull back. “Ah, those eyes, already drunk off me.”

You look at his lips, tracing them with your finger tips, his quiet moan does not escape you. “Do I do it back? The…”

He’s chuckling at you, making you angry again, a sarcastic look on his face, a brow raised. “What a slutty virgin, you wish to suck my cocks?”

You blink. “Cocks!? Two!?”

He’s laughing now, kissing down your jaw, moaning against your ear as you tremble under him. “You’re so tiny, it would be so easy to break you. So fun to break your pretty little head.”

That only serves to make you wetter, and he notices, moaning as you feel hardness between your thighs, under his robes. You tentatively raise your hips, earning his hiss, him pinning your hips down, thumbs pressing into your pelvis. He looks down at you with four dilated eyes, tongue licking his lower lip, one of his other hands brushing back your hair.

“Mmm, you will go to sleep, and tomorrow, I shall show you how much more there is to your duty than just bearing my children.” He says, you nod carefully as he stands up, leaving you on the bed, breathless, overwhelmed.

“And will you… lay with those concubines?”

He raises a brow, eyes trailing down your body. “Will that anger you, little bunny? Should I be afraid of your little paws?”

“It would upset me.” You say, pouting now, and he glares, clearly irritated. He then rolls his eyes with a sigh.

“Tch, already annoying me. Fine then.”

“Really?” You sit up, hopeful, suddenly craving more of him, your hands slipping up his strong biceps, you watch his eyes flutter shut for a moment.

“Yes, irritating creature. Now go to sleep.”

“Will you sleep with me?”

“Sleep in bed with you? No, I need to care for my precarious situation, caused by a bratty new bride.” You giggle and he glares, sobering you up. “You’re giggling at me, the king?”

“N-no. Sorry, my King. I shall see you in the morning.” You say softly now, he scoffs once more, eyeing your body lustfully as you slip back on your robe.

“Tsk.” Is all you get, as he leaves you alone in your chambers. You hesitantly touch yourself, seeing the sticky, glittering wetness still left, from your arousal and his tongue.

Lay there and endure? More like lay there and beg for more and more, blinding fucking pleasure from his tongues. Perhaps everything you think is completely wrong? What more is there to your duty, if you can call it that? You simply must know… and you’re very curious about his… cocks, fuck just the thought makes your pussy clench.

You’re snuggling up to a satin pillow in your new bed, lewd insane images flitting your mind, and for some reason you’re able to shut your eyes, and fall fast asleep, still feeling his touch on you.

Part Two

[beloveds-embrace]

can we get Duchess reader yearning for a baby of her own 🥺 imagine there was a Ball in the neighboring kingdom and Duchess!Reader and Duke!Price was invited, celebrating the birth of the Kingdom’s new heir, a baby boy on her fellow Duchess’s arms.

And reader coos at the baby while masking the deep ache in her heart thinking that it’ll be so impossible to have a baby with her husband due to him and his lovers 😢

cue to Duchess!Reader having a heavy heart through out the entire event and even the days after that, until one of our boys asks her what wrong.

(And John having to hold Johnny back bc that nasty dog has been waiting to get his paws on her since forever)

Oh my god yes??? Anon i could smooch your brain right now yes??? This is so good i love it. Sorry for the abrupt ending though, had no idea how to finish it off 😔

Original Post

“Such an adorable little one,” you coo softly, the newborn held delicately and carefully in your arms, swaddled in the baby blue blankets you and John had bought among your other gifts for your fellow Duke and Duchess. “He looks so much like you, I’m in awe.”

Your friend laughs lightly, sipping on her drink. With a soft sigh, she leans closer towards you. The party is in full swing, so many other nobles mingling and networking, but thankfully you and your friend have your own little corner for now and everyone has already congratulated her and her husband.

“So,” she begins, her eyes flickering towards where both of you two’s husbands are speaking. The smiles on their faces are clearly happy, though you aren’t surprised; John had mentioned that he’s already friends with the Duke during the carriage ride. “So. What about you and Duke Price, hm? Any surprises we should prepare for?”

Ah. You had been dreading this.

You sigh, shaking your head. Though the smile returns as you gaze at the napping baby, so small and precious in your arms. With you friend’s permission, you gently kiss his tiny little fists. “Not at all. We are happy as we are.”

And it’s not as if you are lying by any means, oh no. You are happy. Life as Duchess was far, far much better than you had expected it’d be, a lot less restrictive than you had prepared for it to be.

But…

You can’t lie to yourself. You’ve been feeling a sense of discontent from the very second you stepped into the gala venue. Perhaps for even longer, though it hadn’t been especially felt until this moment. Not until you held this baby in your arms.

You want a baby, too, you had realized. Motherhood. A child all yours, calling you momma and toddling into your arms. You had been unable to stop yourself from feeling the little bud of jealousy towards your friend, because you knew you’d likely never experience such a thing due to your unique situation.

John has his own partners whom he loves. You weren’t among that list, and you didn’t particularly enjoy the idea of having sex with another man with the potential risk of your parents, or anyone else, asking for a paternity test because you know someone would ask. Your mother, probably; she was always warning you not to whore yourself out, and your father didn’t even need to say anything-

“My dear?”

John’s concerned voice pulls you out of your thoughts, his hand gentle on your elbow, and it’s only then you realize you had been staring down at the baby with such sadness, so not befitting of such a beautiful gala. So you shake your head, clearing your thoughts, and turn to him and your friend's husband.

When the baby squirms, you coo softly and hand him back to your friends, gentle and careful. That's when you turn to John, giving him a simple smile. "Yes, Your Grace?"

The worry remains on his face, less visible however, and his eyes look over you carefully. Your friends are too busy with their son and showing him off to care about what you two are saying in the corner he’s led you to. "Are you alright?”

As if you’d ever tell him what the issue is. You don’t want to make John feel pressured into this, of all things. You’d rather be divorced than do so, and that should speak volumes on its own.

It’s a silly want, anyways. You have everything you could possible need right now, married and stable. You aren’t about to ruin it with your own two hands.

So you nod your head, and brush away all thoughts of a little baby cradled in your arms. “Yes, I am. I was just lost in thought. Shall we return to the party?”

John observes you for a few seconds more, and then he sighs and nods. “Very well. Would you do me the honor of this dance, my dear Duchess?”

Between the dazzling lights and John’s arms, you can almost forget the lingering desire.

But over the next few days after the gala, it becomes clear to John- to all your the men that something is terribly bothering you. There is a lingering sadness around you so profound even your maids have sensed it, wondering if perhaps you and the Duke have finally had your first fight… but he looks even more more worried and confused than them. You weren’t mad at anyone, that much he could tell, but he didn’t understand the heartache plaguing you.

“…are you sick, my lady?” Kyle asks you one day, placing down a tray of fresh desserts. Your favorites, all made by Johnny himself, yet you barely flick a look towards it.

“Not at all. Thank you, Kyle, but I’m afraid I can’t eat anything at the moment.” Your reply is soft, patient, as it always is, but the furrow in your brows remain and your frown deepens. Kyle hates it. He hates it so, so much. You’ve even stopped taking your usual break-walks, staying inside your room and asking for nothing in particular.

“My lady,” he presses on, voice softer. Comes to stand close to you, and holds his elbow out. “Maybe a walk, then? You look tired. Some sun might do you good- or a picnic? I can pack the desserts and-”

You avoid his eyes and look away, shaking your head. “Thank you, but my answer’s the same, Kyle. I’d just… like to be left alone, please. Could I trouble you to also inform John I won’t be joining him for dinner tonight?”

You are simply glad you managed to hide the little paper you’d been writing on before he came in. Baby names, for the babies you’d never have. It certainly didn’t help make your mood better, but you couldn’t help yourself. Looking at John, or any of them, also made you feel guilty anew.

“…not a problem, my lady. I’ll leave the desserts here for you just in case.”

Several days later, it’s Johnny who comes to you. You are alone in the conservatory, trying hard to get over this stupid, lingering feeling. It’s silly, you know it is, but… ugh.

Johnny says nothing even when you call his name out with a questioning tone, and much to your shock, he kneels down to take your hands in his. It’s so wholly inappropriate, and you look around in fear of anyone seeing.

“No one’s around, m’lady,” Johnny shakes his head, not letting your hands go yet.

“Johnny-“

“No one’s around.” He repeats, firmly, and his eyes gaze at you. “M’lady. Have we made ye angry? Has anyone made you upset? Is my food not to your liking?”

“Johnny…” you sigh, shaking your head. Inwardly, you scold yourself for bothering everyone like this. This should have been your issue alone to solve and hide. “No, no. Nothing like that. I just need some time alone, in general.”

“But why-“

“No particular reason.” You quickly cut him off, gently pulling your hands away. “Please, Johnny. I’ll get better soon, promise. But I just… need time.”

But the desire, the longing, still remains. You can’t even confide in anyone, so you also feel painfully lonely on top of everything else. John is still searching, still trying to find what or who’s made you like this, but not even your closest maids are of help.

Still, while you wished to wallow your misery away in your rooms and office, you didn’t have much choice when you’d received an invitation to the opera troupe funded by the Price duchy; making an appearance was a must, and unfortunately John had a very important meeting that day so Simon is the one to accompany you.

“You’ve been sad lately.” Simon doesn’t beat around the bush, all the lights focused on the stage so you are both draped in shadows, hidden from sight.

You turn to him, a refusal on your lips already-

“No.” He shakes his head. “You aren’t just tired, Duchess. You are sad. Everyone can see it, and it’s making us worried. All of us.” He adds, not letting you latch onto your usual excuse. Performance ignored, his entire attention is on you.

And you are just- too tired. Ashamed of yourself, you sigh.

“It’s awful of me…” your whisper, bottom lip quivering. “I-… I want a baby, Simon.” You admit, so softly and quietly you don’t look at his reaction to see if he’d even heard you in the first place. You shouldn’t be telling him of all people your issues, but- you can’t help yourself. “A child. I want to experience motherhood, but- I don’t, I refuse to put such a burden on John, or get in the way between all of you again-“

You ramble on, not meeting his eyes. Your hands are tembling around the mask you’d taken off, holding it in your lap.

Simon?

Simon can’t take his eyes off your stomach. You. You, pregnant; swollen and glowing with a child. Maybe children, even. Their children. His. He can’t believe this is what has had you so upset for so long; did you think they- John- would say no to you?

“Darling, ” The nickname slips out; he couldn’t help himself. He is glad the no one is paying attention to them, in the higher rows. Simon laces your pinkies together, raising your hand to kiss your knuckles, silencing your worried rambling. “Darling. Let us return home. Staying here isn’t doing you any good. Tonight, I want you to let Kyle spoil you with a warm bath, and for you to eat and then sleep. Rest. Tomorrow, we’ll speak. I’ll inform the troupe leader you weren’t feeling too well.”

“I- I… speak about what? What?”

Simon simply ushers you out, to the awaiting carriage. He doesn’t answer any of your questions, even when you pout and the it makes your lipstick glisten to prettily, though if you can feel that his hands are inappropriately tight around your waist, you simply blame it on your tightened corset.

At home, you are still confused. Simon is acting off, staring at you with a look that makes you all flustered, but you don’t protest when Kyle gently leads you away.

You’ll get your answers tomorrow, you are sure. But in the meantime…

“She wants a baby, John,” Simon groans, repeating the words again. His jacket is thrown off to the side, sleeves rolled up his elbows. Even from here, he can see how John eyes them appreciatively. “A baby, John. Seeing her pregnant-“

Another groan, but the one comes from between John’s thighs. Johnny, hands tied behind his back with Simon’s belt because the second he found out what the issue he was so, so ready to go and beg you to let him fix it. A bairn is what you want, a bairn is what he’ll give you- chunky, adorable, and hopefully looking like you.

John had to hold him back, though. He wants nothing more than to do the same, kiss you breathless and promise he’ll give you as many as you want, but he also knows you need a clear, rested head before he speaks with you.

The thought of seeing your pregnant, though, has his fist tightening in Johnny’s hair.

“I know. Fuck, I know, Si. Tomorrow, I’ll speak to her.”