#i stay up all night to make a goddamn presentation for this fucker

[sprinklethetangerine]

When I graduate my graduation cap will be specifically antagonizing MY FUCKING ENGLISH TEACHER

#i stay up all night to make a goddamn presentation for this fucker #i send it in because im sick and KNOW im gonna be absent the day i present and im okay with losing marks on that #just as long as i get the marks for making the presentation #and THIS FUCKING BITCH ASS FUCKING BITCH #is like “you get a zero cause youre avoiding the presentation” #SIR DO YOU THINK YOURE THE ONYL SIBJECT I HAVE THAT DAY #FOR ALL YOU KNOW I COULDVE BEEN AVOIDING LITERALLY ANYTHIGN ELSE #FUCK YOU FUCK YOU I MADE A PRESENTATION AND I DESERVE THE MSRKS FOR THAT AVOIDING OR NOT #I PUT IN THE HARD WORK OF MAKING A GODDAMN STUPID FUCKING PRESENTATION FOR YOUR BITCH ASS #AND I GET A ZERO JUST BECAUSE YOU CANT COMPREHEND THAT THERE ARE TEACHERS OTHER THAN YOU IN THE WORLD #YOU KNOW I WAS EVEN CONSIDERING GOING BECAUSE OF THAT PRESENTATION #YK THE ONE HE SAID I WAS AVOIDING #LIKE BFFR #IF I MADE SONETHIBG IF I PUT IN THE EFFORT TO DO SOMETHING I DESERVE CREDIT FOR WHAT I DID AT THE VERY LEAST #GIVING ME A ZERO JUST BECAUSE OF SPECULATION IS SUCH A DICK MOVE #i shoudl also note #I AM ONE OF THE BEST STUDENTS IN THAT FUCKING CLASS

[epicstuckyficrecs]

Favourite Stucky Fics of 2022

This feels a little bit like a farewell, but don’t worry... I’m never too far away! Here’s my favourite Stucky fics of 2022 :) 

Complete

💙 FUBAR by Ginny_Potter/ @hipsterdiva​ (Post-Endgame Fix-It | 64K | Explicit): Steve jumps in the past to return the Infinity Stones and doesn’t come back. When Bucky travels to 2012 to look for him, the Ancient One tells him just one thing: “Captain Rogers decided to move on”. Back in the present, Sam Wilson is more driven than ever to find his friend, believing him to be lost in the Quantum Realm but Bucky knows, just knows, that Steve made a choice and the choice was to stay in the past. Struggling to cope with a world he doesn’t recognise, Bucky falls in an addictive spiral of jumping up and down the timeline under the vigilant eye of the Ancient One, just to see Steve one more time, just to get his next fix. And in doing so, without even realising it, he heals and in the end finds out if he was right. Or, Time Travel is addictive, Steve is lost, and Bucky slowly realises that healing together is better than healing alone.

💙 he said, there’s a paradise beneath me (she said, am I supposed to bleed) by voxofthevoid/ @voxofthevoid​ (Hunkyclunks aka Winter Soldier Bucky/Modern Beefy Steve, BDSM | 23K | Explicit): “If you kiss me like that, Rogers, you’re gonna have a hard time convincing me you want to fuck me.” “Can’t have that,” Steve says and— And the fucker bends Bucky back like this is a goddamn romcom and kisses the everloving shit out of him. (Part 1 of some sweet violent urge)

💙 The Devil and Captain Rogers by kocuria-visuals (kocuria)/ @kocuria, zilia/ @ms-zilia​ (Post-Avengers, Canon Divergent | 55K | Mature): Steve Rogers woke up in the twenty-first century and joined the Avengers to defeat Loki and save New York. But afterwards, he finds himself struggling to adjust to his new circumstances, desperately lonely and missing Bucky more than ever. So when the Guardian of the Soulworld visits him and offers to give him one person back from the dead, he jumps at the chance to get Bucky back. The only problem is, when he arrives in the Soulworld, Bucky doesn’t seem to be there.

💙 Maybe we’ll get it all (If we choose one night) by sourwolphs/ @sourwolphs (A/B/O AU, Sex Worker Bucky | 69K | Explicit): As it turns out, it’s pretty hard to find a job as an ex-firefighter omega with PTSD, no left arm, and no high school diploma. After the accident forced Bucky to leave his job at the fire department, he stumbles upon ComfortCycle— a service that helps alphas and omegas get through their heat and rut cycles— and becomes a trained Cycle Partner. And for the first time in his 34 years of life, lonely, rich alpha Steve Rogers is considering paying for sex.

💙 Blooming Under the Dappled Light by thiccbuckybarnes/ @thiccbuckybarnesfic (Historical AU, Secret Identity | 52K | Explicit): Despite being the son of a gentleman, James “Bucky” Barnes could scarcely allow himself the hope of one day being tied to another in happy matrimony. In a society where the first-born children are revered and inherit all of a family’s wealth, last-born Bucky feels trapped in a life he did not ask for. When he makes the drastic decision to run away and become a tutor for a wealthy family, he is hoping to save enough pennies to someday have a dowry and be worthy for marriage despite his deposition. What he is not anticipating, however, is falling into the rough and skilled hands of his employer, the rakish widow Lord Steven Rogers.

💙 Okay, so he can play… (pretty’s got nothing to do with it) by darter_blue/ @darter-blue (University Hockey AU | 50K | Explicit): This is supposed to be Steve’s year. He’s meant to be taking his team to finals. He’s meant to be the number one draft pick. He’s meant to have it all. Until in walks the new kid, with his beautiful face and his tiny shoulders and his long hair and his graceful skating. Who doesn’t look anything like a proper hockey player. Who’s going to ruin everything. Bucky Barnes is about to bring Steve Roger’s world crashing down. And Steve is about to realise that’s a good thing.Maybe the best thing that ever happened to him.

💙 Rhapsody on a Theme by Astaraiche, Bittersweet_in_Boston (Orchestra AU | 41K | Explicit): in which Steve Rogers, principal cellist at the Boston Symphony Orchestra, meets Bucky Barnes, piano soloist and BSO artist in residence, and the inevitable occurs. 

💙  Read, White & Blue by JJK/ @trenchcoatsandtimetravel (Shrunkyclunks, Librarian Bucky | 99K | Teen): If Steve was certain one thing would have stayed the same during his sixty-something years in the ice, it was that libraries were still the place to go if you needed information. And Steve needed information. Lots and lots of it. aka Librarian Bucky helps freshly desfrosted Steve learn how to use computers and catch up on everything he missed whilst he was in the ice.

WIP

💙 hey now, you’re an all star (get your game on, go play) by buckyismybicycle/ @buckyismybicycle (NHL Hockey AU | 18/? | 55K | Explicit): Boston Bruins trade notorious party animal/human disaster Bucky Barnes to the Dallas Stars, and captain Steve Rogers is not impressed when Fury puts him on babysitting duties. But, as he gets to know Bucky - really gets to know Bucky - he wonders if maybe the media has got it all wrong - very, very wrong.

💙 Love isn’t always a ‘coup de foudre’ by Becassine/ @becassine, kocuria-visuals (kocuria)/ @kocuria (Bridgerton AU, A/B/O | 6/13 | 26K | Explicit): When Steve Rogers is presented at Court as a desirable Male Omega to the world, he has no idea what to expect. But after meeting the sought-after Duke of Buchanan through a chance encounter, his life is forever turned upside down.

💙 A Story We Must Tell by AHM1121/ @love-ha-fge​, MissyRivers (Modern AU, Fisherman Steve, Writer Bucky | 8/15 | 61K | Explicit): Or, the story of how ex-military turned Author - James Barnes collides with ex- Army Commander turned Lumberjack/Fisherman Steve Rogers and all the ensuing fluff, drama, romance that comes their way.

💙 This is (not) a Ghost Story [COMIC] by PottersPink/ @potterspink​ (Post-WS | 10/31 | General): Steve moves into a haunted house. Well — everyone else is convinced it’s haunted, anyways.

#stucky #stucky fic #stucky fanfic #stucky fanfiction #stucky fic rec

[verystressedcollegestudent]

sitting here in various stages of rage after reading my peer review from ied lol

so we had a report due the wednesday after spring break and NONE of these fuckers did anything until the monday we got back and i asked for help twice, once someone was willing to help but i had to give them a goddamn PLAY-BY-FUCKIN-PLAY on what was needed in the section (they didn't even think they needed sources for fucks sake) and the other time i asked someone to add sources for the section THEY WROTE as we're finishing the report an HOUR BEFORE THE FUCKIN THING IS DUE and they were too busy studying for another exam to do anything

like do...do they expect me to hold their hand through following a damn rubric? the project is explicitly divided into sections so we had decided everyone would take two sections and some people just didn't like what the fuck do you mean i need to "ask for help" this is a group fuckin project and the only reason i did more (other than picking bigger sections) was because you fuckers couldn't hold up your end of the bargain

like i had to bullshit entire paragraphs 30 GODDAMN MINUTES BEFORE THE FUCKIN THING WAS DUE because for one section, i kid you not, the idiot put in two tables with a single sentence before them saying "x is a table with y" how the fuck am i supposed to trust you idiots to do ANYTHING when the things you do contribute are half-assed, short and leave out half the damn rubric

and ofc we didn't even have a finished report by 8pm the night it was due which would have been not ideal but okay if everyone in the group was working on it but NO. fuckin no. it was just me and one person (the two who already wrote over half the damn thing) desperately trying to finish it and make their portions halfway presentable all while getting "i can't do this because i have an exam to study for can someone else do it" texts as well as reminders from them to "submit it because we have x minute left." and then i ask how their exam went and they say that it was HORRIBLE because they were up till 1 AM studying like bitch? i pulled a fuckin all nighter trying to flesh out your mediocre tiny paragraphs and here you are complaining to me that you had to stay up a little late to study while blowing alex and i off completely? EXCUSE ME?

so it just genuinely boggles me that they pull all this shit, contribute half assed mini paragraphs and then have the gall to ask why i don't trust them to help more or why i don't ask them to help more like why should i trust you to help when i have to explain that you need to CITE where you got your price range???? like either i do it myself or i have to sit there for twenty minutes talking you through what's on the rubric and what needs to be cited like you're a fucking middle schooler

[shadowworks]

Compulsion

Pairing: Mafia!Dabi X Reader

Warnings: dubconish themes, flirting with Hawks, blood, murder, blackmail, fingering. NSFW, quirkless AU!

Word Count: 4.4k

A/N: Alright! This piece is for The Smut Pile Mafia Collab

I have to give my wholehearted thanks to @hisoknen @some-kindofgnome , @pleasantanathema, and @ever-enthralled for reading this over the last couple weeks, and making sure it reads well! I am so happy to have you beautiful souls! Also a special shoutout to Raph for brainstorming with me when I was stuck at the very end. 💕

Edit: This has fanart! Beautiful @maewoahoah created a Mafia!Hawks piece right here and a Mafia!Dabi piece here! She’s very talented! ;)

On this ominous winter evening it begins snowing. 

You readjust your peacoat and step through the frosty glow of the street lamp to your front door. Your muscles ache a little more than usual, your steps a little heavier. It’s been a long and tedious day at work; far less stimulating compared to Toga’s position working for a bootlegger named Tomura. But both jobs pay the rent. You push papers and withhold your scowls towards clients. Now, you want a bath. 

The sound of a muffled radio plays on the other side, and it floods your ears as you walk in with warmth and an iron smell wafting your chilled nose. 

“Folks, I'm goin' down to St. James Infirmary...

Seeeee, my baby there;

She's stretched out on a long, white table

She looks so sweet, so cold, so fair.”

Toga’s playing blues again. It’s a routine she has before the graveyard shift across town. At this time, she’s in the kitchen making something before she goes, but you’re having trouble figuring out what food smells like copper. 

“He-e-e-y,” you call lazily, a sing-songy tone in your voice. 

She doesn’t answer, though you hear the clacking of stiletto heels on wood, which makes you amble down the hall to see what she’s doing. 

“Think you can smuggle some whiskey tonight? I thought we had some, but Keigo probably polished it off last—“

You stop in the doorway. 

There’s a poor bastard lying flat on his back, head twisting too far towards the sink. Ribbons of blood streak down his colorless skin, pouring out from a dark and glossy hole just beneath his jaw. You see it puddle and stain the edges of his hair a sticky red, the only sound besides your heart thudding is the soft thrums from the parlor.

“ When I die please bury me in my high top Stetson hat

Put a twenty dollar gold piece on my watch chain

So the gang'll know I died standing pat.”

You’re in a daze, one where you’re not sure how long you’ve been staring. It doesn’t seem real. Is it real? But it’s not until you hear the sound of heels clicking against the wood floors that you drag your gaze to the noise. 

Toga’s standing near the stove, her features vacant, shoulders slouched, and she’s holding a knife that’s still wet.

What the fuck? 

You want to scream, berate her, seethe what the fuck was she thinking, or if she was thinking for that matter. But the blonde speaks up before you do, with a voice above a whisper. 

“He was going to leave me. Said he was too dangerous.” Toga doesn’t look in your direction, moving to the rim of pooled blood which has stopped spreading out, “I told him I wouldn’t let anyone come between us, but he wouldn’t listen.”

Your jaw goes taut, staring incredulously at her steely face. The lack of emotion gives you a sinking feeling in your stomach.

The man wasn’t a random suit who bled out on your floor, this moron was seeing Toga on and off for months and had been trying to be more present.

Nights spent arriving at your door with flowers and sweets, and driving her to work was becoming a staple in his routine. He preferred staying in Toga’s room if they had the day off, and he always slipped out when the morning frost dusted the grass, a soft bluish hue painting the streets before sunlight. 

But that’s not the problem. See, he was a core member inside the Mafia running the northern side of the city, ‘The League’ they like to call themselves. The only men above this guy was his boss Tomura, and the underboss Dabi. You don’t know the former, but you’ve spent time with the latter.

You’re aware of his sadistic nature that flashes behind those teal eyes, and he doesn’t try to  hide it, either. The sideway glances during a poker match before he fucked someone over , the smile he wore when you asked about the purple bruises on his knuckles. 

So fan-fucking-tastic, the broad has some nerve.

You curl your lip, already shrugging your shoulders from your coat. You toss it over the table and start rolling up your sleeves to the elbows.  

Toga finally turns towards you after catching movement by her side, brows raising confused, “What are you doing?”

“You’re gonna grab his feet and we’re gonna move him onto the rug in the hall.” 

You step in the blood, grabbing him by the rusty black colored jacket and dragging him from the puddle. Of course it leaves drag marks, your heels making tracks alongside, but you can deal with the clean up later. 

Toga hurries over to help, carrying him by the legs and letting you guide the body to the floral rug.

“You don’t want to know what happened?”

You stop. Immediately dropping the dead weight, his blond head lolls off to the side. Your palms sheen with red, but you straighten up and push a beach curl from your cheekbone with the back of your hand.

“Not really. All I want is this fucker out of my house.”

It’s her turn to stare at you incredulously. This is completely out of nowhere for you to be assisting in hiding a dead boyfriend, even if you two are roommates. You’ve only been living together for four months now.

“Toga, I need you to listen, okay?” you say, a bit mockingly, “I can look past the murdering business by pretending you acted in self defense, but if you don’t have the goddamn brains to realize this idiot has friends, then I suggest you don’t stab people!”

Toga flinches slightly at the lilted pitch in your voice, already suggesting panicky, “We can take him to the woods and hide him there?”

“That’ll work.” You don’t think Twice about it.  

Working together, you both hoist him a couple feet onto the rug, refusing to look at his face. You didn’t need to be feeling a pang of guilt. It doesn’t take long for you to roll him towards the front door, as the material wraps around his figure. 

The hardest part is retreating to the car. The moment you push through the door, you see the distance from where you stand and the car parked a little down the sloping street. You both give a hard look to the powdery snow dusting the ground, quiet and enchanting. It would be beautiful...had you not been carrying a corpse.

“Stop being a little bitch and heave!”

“I can’t! You’re making me hold all the weight!”

“He’s off the ground! How the fuck are you holding all the weight?”

“But my arms hurt!”

“Fucking hell, Toga. What if I had stayed at my sister’s tonight? What then?”

“Stop yelling at me! I get it, alright? I shouldn’t have done it in the house!” 

Your bickering toils through the winds, muffled by the falling snow. The burst of cold air is running through your buttoned blouse while crossing to the 1929 Chevrolet causing a shiver to roll down your back. When you reach the car Toga plops the rug down onto the snow first, then you. Your wet fingers feel numb against the metal handle. 

There’s one entrance on each side, which likely will make shimming the body to the backseat  much harder. You pause, looking at the front in thought. 

“I’ll go first,” you say, “when he’s in, you go and grab our coats.”

“Are we burying him?”

“Think the lake’s faster.”

“What if it’s icy? They’ll see the hole if we throw him in.”

You both ponder your options for a little while, this isn’t exactly something you’ve done before...You can’t say the same for Toga, but she seems just as puzzled, almost clueless on how to get rid of her ex. 

Meanwhile, the rolled corpse behind you starts to slip downhill, little by little. The slanting street gives speed and the rug starts to roll.. Red droplets trail behind in its wake. 

You just happen to see it first.

“Toga—Toga, the body! The body!” 

Toga cries out, taking off after the rug as best she can on a frozen sheet. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” 

The graceful snowfall flutters with pain and chaos.

Toga skids against the fresh ice, feet stumbling under her navy blue dress. She falls to the ground with a hard thud, and you see she isn’t stopping. She keeps going alongside the body, sliding until the two disappear under another parked car. 

You don’t have time to think, a chill strikes up your spine in your panic. 

“Toga!” you call out, taking off after her. Unfortunately you find yourself abruptly on your back, pounding hard on the stones and stealing the breath from your lungs. 

If you could sigh right now you would. Or rather, if you could punch Toga right now you would, as rage twists with a throbbing pain in your chest. Was all this worth having a mobster roommate? The odds were piling against her. You have a mind to push her in the lake when you get there.

Several silent minutes go by with you staring up at the cloudy sky. It’s brighter from the illuminating white snow, and despite the icy powder prickling your flesh, you have no choice but to wait for the ache in your chest to fade. 

“Enjoying the view?” 

You hear a new voice, male, and the suave tone tells you who it is before he treads near. He looks over you with half lidded eyes of honey gold. 

He’s very pretty. The drifting snow flakes above his wheat coloured head manage to enhance this, though the uplifted eyes lined in black, and nicely sharp features are the last thing you want to see. You’re nowhere near ready to start lying out of Toga’s mess. 

“That can’t be too comfy down there,” Keigo says, bending forward with an outstretched hand,“C’mon, upsy-daisy.” 

You take his hand, feeling another leather glove hold your waist and lift you onto your feet. When you settle, he starts brushing the caked snow off your back. Mobster or not, he’s at least a gentleman.

“You alright?” he asks, giving you a once over for any fresh scratches.

You give a slow nod, crossing your arms over your chest. Fear’s got the better of you, and you look anywhere but him., “What are you doing here? I thought you were working tonight.”

“Oh I am! You could say I’m on patrol, need to pick up a few things.” 

Your gaze stills to your left, heart skipping. Keigo’s not alone. Standing nearby, a slim figure dressed in black from head to toe is watching you two lazily. A thread of smoke seeps from his parted lips, clouding a handsome face and spikes of black hair. Keigo keeps talking, but you can’t take your eyes off the ghostly presence you know to be Dabi.

“Unfortunately that includes loverboy. He was supposed to be back hours ago, but we figured he’s still fooling around,” a little smirk tugs at his mouth, suggestively “He’s still inside, right?”

You blink, turning back to face Keigo, “I wouldn’t know, I just got home,” you lie. 

“Look at you! You look like you’re about to freeze to death.” He starts suddenly, swiftly slipping his arms out from his heavy coat, revealing a black three piece with pinstripes, and a brighter crimson tie. In one smooth motion he twirls the long, beige coat over your shoulders, letting it rest over your figure.

“Thank you,” you say, before your eyes catch something. 

Dabi moves towards the clumsy skid marks, head tilting down to the red dots in the snow near his polished shoe. You stiffen.

“You sure you’re okay?” 

Your gaze flashes from Dabi’s retreating back to a politely smiling Keigo, “Yeah, I’m fine! I’m really cold is all.”

“Well, we should get you inside. You know you left your door wide open?” Shit, the door. You forgot about the stupid door—

(Dabi looms across the indents in the snow and follows down the hill like a dark shadow against crystals illuminating bright.)

“Ah yeah, I thought I left my purse in the car. It was just for a second, and then I slipped,” You force a smile. Relax. You need to relax. Keigo doesn’t seem convinced, reading something off in your features.

“Is that right?”

(He gets the edge of the old Ford, and notes the specks of red soak wider here. The spots lead underneath.) 

“I know, it’s pretty foolish. It’s um...It’s a good thing you showed up when you did, or...”

Your eyes drift over Keigo’s shoulder. The underboss starts to crouch low. Your pupils shrink, a new wave of panic tingles the back of your neck. Damn him, why was he so clever? 

“Dabi, wait!” you shout, pushing past Keigo’s shoulder. In your hurry you kick up the snowy crystals, rushing to the taller mobster in his long obsidian coat. Dabi quickly turns, standing up.tall before you hook onto his upper arm like a lover. “I saw an animal go under there that looked hurt. You shouldn’t mess with it.”

A smirk that breaks into a grin spreads on his face, a look of amusement blooming from your look of fright. You want to glare at him, though that could be dangerous. Why does he like seeing you scared?

 “An animal, you say?” he parrots back, adopting the same mocking pitch you gave Toga earlier. He’s not in the least bit on edge, and you really don’t like that. He flicks his teal eyes up to look behind you just then, “Good thing I have the city’s best exterminator right here.”

As if on cue, you hear the crunching boots of Keigo walking to the car. “Give me a break with the dirty work, will ya?”

“What, scared of a little pest?” Dabi taunts back coolly.

 “I’m not too fond of getting my knees wet, actually,” Keigo returns quite dryly, sharp eyes studying the long pattern marks. He places his gloved hands on his thighs and drops himself to a crouch in front of the vehicle.

You desperately hope Toga proves you wrong. Maybe she had the common sense to bail while no one was looking. It’s all you can do at this point, while Keigo dips his head underneath. You don’t realize, but your grip on Dabi’s arm presses tighter into the wool.

Keigo inspects below for a moment. There’s a long pause like a winter evening should be. Silent. Calming. You can almost believe in the soothing little lie. Then Keigo coughs a laugh  that echoes through the street. Bursts of manic giggles grow louder from the mobster, leaving you tilting your head at his pushed back hair, confused.

“There’s a pest, alright! I think I caught something—“

Keigo reaches under, and with an impressively strong yank, Toga’s head pops out in a doe eyed stare. Her arms are wrapped around a bundled rug with a fairly familiar head sticking out. 

“Hey there, Toga!” Keigo exclaims, “When did you become a rat?”

 Dabi tips his head down, drawing the lit cigarette back to his lazy smile. He’s shockingly calm which does nothing to ease your shivering panic. Toga however, seems fine. In fact, she’s moved on to livelier feelings.

“Hey! Does it look like a rat could’ve done this?!” she snaps, shaking the body in her arms. It bangs against the bottom of the car sending loud echoes through the nearly empty street. Specks of blood dribble on the white ground, and a couple more drops spray her cheeks.

You stare up at the clouds, rolling your eyes. Goddamnit Toga.

“Yeah, I guess a rat can’t hold a knife, huh? Ya got me there.” Keigo turns and beams you a smug look, eyes half lidded in an expression that reads, nice try, but you failed.

You scrunch your nose, quietly shooting him back a glare. Asshole might’ve caught you both red handed, but he didn’t have to be so fucking cocky about it. It’s only charming when he has a winning hand at cards. Beside you, Dabi’s shoulders shake with silent laughter, though you don’t have the guts to flash him the same glower. He is second in command after all.   

“Yeah, see? That’s what I thought!” Toga says in victory.

You blink very, very slowly at Toga when she finally meets your vastly unamused gaze,“...Nice work, Toga.” 

It comes suddenly. A fiery warmth ghosts the dip in your waist as Dabi leans in. It’s not unwelcomed, raw and soothing even, but it hardly lasts. His hand curls around Keigo’s coat collar and pulls it off your shoulders. The crisp wind rushes to your exposed arms.

“You got any rat poison on you, Hawks?” Dabi tosses the coat to Keigo. 

He catches it mid air as he rises to stand. “Nah, fresh out. But we have some back at the house.” 

“You want to take care of our rat problem then?”

“Can do, boss man.”

Before you can figure out what they mean–what they have planned for Toga–Dabi’s pristine leather glove presses at the small of your back and directs you toward the pouring light of the open door. “Don’t wait up.”

It’s barely there, but as you shift your eyes to Keigo, his features take on a darkened look toward Dabi.

“Play nice, now,” you hear Keigo say. This time though, the joyous tone is gone. 

A new song hums on the radio when you’re pushed through the threshold, you listen to the richly solemn blues as Dabi closes the door. He turns the lock with a click and pockets the key.

“I forgive you 

'Cause I can't forget you.

You've got me in between the devil and the deep blue sea”

He doesn’t give you a passing glance, instead he turns and strolls down the freshly bare hall. He hasn’t removed his coat, and each room he passes he tilts his head in to search for something, stopping by the parlor. With a twist of a knob, he shuts off the radio.

“Where’d she ice him?” he asks, still not looking at you by the stairwell. 

“In the kitchen.” You return. No point in hiding it now. 

His steps creak the wood as he ambles further down, knowing full well where to go. He’s been here a handful of times; of course, those were happier evenings filled with drunken laughs.

You watch him stand by the doorway, staring at the vibrant mess of a crime scene. He pops the tip of his cigarette in his mouth before slipping from your line of sight. Dabi’s got the key to the door, so it’s not like you can run away—especially with Keigo just outside. It’s too risky to try and you know it, but it does cross your mind. 

Summing up the courage, you decide to follow Dabi with measured steps, “What are you going to do with Toga?” 

When you face the kitchen, Dabi’s near the table where you threw your coat. He has a hand in one of your pockets, and he’s fishing for something inside. It jingles in his grip as he stuffs it into his own pocket. Your car keys. 

“Are you going to kill her?” you try again, a little irked he’s swiping your things left and right. He doesn’t release your coat either, laying it over the crook of his elbow.  

He draws a final inhale from the dying bud, and crosses to the sink to snuff it out. An exhale of smoke blows out from his lips, “Killing her seems like a favor, don’t you think?”

“I thought it was the other way around.”

He turns, flicking teal eyes sheening with energy at you, “That lunatic’s no longer your concern. Right now, you ought to be more worried about yourself.”

Your features go taut, which in turn makes Dabi’s sadistic smirk return.

 “I didn’t help her kill him.”

“No,” he agrees, taking a few strides around the blood to approach you,“but you were willing to stash the stiff.”

“Yeah, for this very reason. I didn’t want you coming after me!”

Dabi draws dangerously close, mere inches apart as he glances down with lidded eyes, the smell of tobacco perfumes from his shirt collar nestled under a violet tie. He crooks his index finger, embellished with a silver ring, ghosting it under your chin. “How’d that turn out for you, babydoll?”

With a ruthless smile, he breaks the fixed stare and rounds you to the hallway. He seems to be making his way towards the parlor again, but the swish of your peacoat in his arm, set you off.

How dare he? You don’t like how he’s walked inside, claiming what’s yours. You might have your life screwed over, but at the very least you want your coat back as some semblance of control.

You stalk after him, picking up pace to aim for his arm. The clacks of your heels are loud, but you currently couldn’t care less about being sneaky, “Give it fucking back. You’re not keeping that!”

You lunge for the black wool, but as your fingers brush the material on his left elbow, Dabi whips the coat, rotating arms. You’re not fast enough, but you try a second reach for his right arm, huffing out a growl at his stealthy reflexes.

“Dabi, I’m serious! You’re such a—”

In a twirling motion his newly free palm shoves at your shoulder, pinning you against the stairwell’s wall. He’s close, so close, the blue flames in his eyes are absurdly intense. 

“That makes two of us. You’ll get this back when I say so.” 

His voice is low, soft lips almost connecting to yours. You tilt your chin up, glaring at him with fearful, tentative eyes. His gaze flashes with mirth, and he huffs a small laugh at you.

“I’ve always liked this about you. That spark inside you.” He muses. The peacoat spills to the floor. Dabi lifts his slender fingers, pushing back a loose curl from your cheek. 

Your stomach flips, as shocks tickle your skin. There’s been subtle flirting between you two before. You just wrote it off as overthinking the moment. Even though he only called you, babydoll, and he sat next to you at gatherings. How he filled your glass with water instead of booze as the nights waned. Now, you feel foolish for denying the little signs. 

“You have a horrible way of showing girls you like ‘em,” you counter back, your voice’s quiet but leveled. 

“Yeah?” he asks. The arm holding your shoulder tightens, while the other lowers to collect your long skirt. He traces his knuckles on the soft flesh of your thigh. As his hand trails up, his eyes remain fixed on your facial features. “Maybe this will help.”

His slim fingers reach the cotton slip, and it’s easy to pull off to the side, exposing the lips of your warmth. He tests the waters, sweeping the tips of his fingers across your folds. Your mouth parts in a breathless hitch in your throat. Dabi parts his own lips drawing near, ‘til his lips touch yours but not quite pressing together yet. His pierced nose bumps yours.

“Now here’s what’s going to happen,” he starts, just before sinking two fingers between your folds, pumping deep and slow inside. “You’ll go upstairs and pack what you need. When you come down—”

He thrusts particularly hard into you, sending a gasping moan to fall from your open mouth. His voice remains calm, a hint of glee can be detected. Fucking bastard.

“—You’ll be leaving with me. You’ll work for me...Live with me…And you’ll do everything I say. You got it, babydoll?”

He adds a third finger, soaking his knuckles deep with your slick. He’s hitting the right spots, the perfectly deep pressure. Your attention turns hazy as wakes of pleasure tighten just below your stomach. Your hips buck against his thrusting hand, yet still, you manage to nod your head. 

Moans flutter from your lips and vibrate onto his smiling one. To heighten the pleasure he begins swirling your wet clit. “Ah, Dabi...Oh god, Dabi—”

He slows his fingers suddenly, which makes you cry out. He pretends to ignore it. “If you try to escape me...I will hunt you down and hurt you in ways that will marr that pretty skin of yours. I’ll make you scream so loud, and no one will be there to save you. Tell me you understand.”

He curls his knuckles, pressing into a rough spot at the top, pumping fiercely against your slippery, muscular walls. You cry out, squeezing at his shirt collar and coat. “Fuck—I understand, I understand! Baby, right there, ah!”

Dabi gives you no mercy. He tugs and twirls the bud of sensitive nerves, swirling with driven circles that clench your walls in wonderous pressure. You’re close, he’s so close to sending you in high bliss. Your moans get heavier, and your clenching more and more and—

He removes his fingers. Another cry of protest sobs from your mouth only to be swallowed by Dabi’s lips on yours. His tongue massages the moans from your breath, his scent of cigarettes and smoke immerse your senses as you drown in the kiss.

He slowly breaks apart with a wet sound, looking deeply in your lust-glossed eyes. His voice is low and arousingly husky. “Now get your things.”

Before you know it, Dabi pulls away from your shoulders, and turns for the parlor. You try catching your breath, watching his slim, muscular back...Did that happen? Did he rob you of everything? Your home, your life, your orgasm?

Eventually, with light steps you do as you’re told, and turn to climb up the stairs. What choice do you have? He has your life in the palm of his hand. And right before you make it to the top, your hand drawn on the railing, the spinning clicks of your house phone perk your ear.  

A long pause. Then finally, Dabi’s rich voice speaks up from the parlor,

“Hey, I’ll be needing a few guys at Togas...Yeah, we found him….Toga did him in pretty good...No, we’ll need the good bleach for cleanup.”

***

P.S, this might be a mini series 👀

#dabi x reader #touya todoroki x reader #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #dabi #touya todoroki #my hero academia fanfiction #boku no hero academia fanfics #mafia!dabi #tw blackmail #tw blood #keigo takami #bnha x reader #the smut pile #tw dubcon #shadow tales

[necros-writing-stuff]

You opened this can of worms. Now lay in it.

But I’m all seriousness if you have time can you do the wedding ask but with Kylar, Whitney, and great Hawk (I just think I’d be funny to try and explain a wedding to a harpy)

Aight here we go, part two electric boogaloo

NSFW below

Great Hawk

So, so confused. Does not get it, these strange landstrider ways of signing things.

Of getting permission from people to love.

Perfectly happy stealing you ring after ring until they find a perfect one though. If you want pretty jewellery, the harpy is more than happy to provide.

Its gonna be impossible to get the harpy into a dress or tux. Impossible to get them into town and find a venue or do anything normal.

And getting an official out in the moors? You better be paying good money.

But say you do do all that, manage to escort some poor priest or whatever to the tower, Great Hawk may get a little territorial. 

Once you calm them down, they’ll allow the person inside. If it will make you happy, they suppose. 

“Don’t worry about a witness,” the officiate says, obviously uncomfortable and wanting away from the situation.

If you dress up, Great Hawk will smother you in compliments, their mate looks amazing! So excellently preened!

The officiate goes through the words as quickly as they can, jumping when, instead of saying vows, the harpy screeches a song that declares their love for you.

You sign the presented papers, helping the harpy put their mark down, too. and the officiate runs off so they don’t have to risk their sanity any longer.

Buying a radio so the two of you can have a dance, sing along. Maybe even buying a small cake and feeding it to them, delighting in how they react to the sweet taste.

Great Hawk could fly you anywhere you wanted for a honeymoon. But what about the nest? Maybe you should wait till winter, then you two can find a nice spot somewhere warm.

Excited to mate that night, stripping your clothes and laying you down so they can breed you full of chicks. Tries to keep your clothes pristine for you.

Very thorough in their treatment of you, caresses your body and praising your everything.

You’re not entirely sure Great Hawk gets what happened. You’re still happy though, and so are they, knowing that you’re bound by their ways and yours.

Kylar

Oh this fucker planned.

Years and years in advance.

I’m talking slide shows, binders, cut-out collages of outfits and themes.

Proposes to you. The ring is goddamn expensive, and its perfect because of course it is.

The proposal was more of a formality, a definite put the plan into motion moment, you’ve always been bound to marry.

Lets you check the plans over, any changes you need to make are okay. Its your big day, too.

So happy to tour venues, to try catering, to find outfits. Everyone can see how excited Kylar is, how proud they are that they get to marry you.

Tells. Fucking. Everyone.

Old lady on the bus? Told. Local butcher? An earful. Don’t bring them to any poetry events, they’ll claim the mic to tell the whole room.

Really wants a Halloween themed wedding. Wants the two of you dressed like Gomez and Morticia, or Victor and Emily, or Jack and Sally.

If you let them do that, they’ll cry from joy and start practicing make-up every day so its perfect.

Don’t worry about price, they’ve got that covered.

The day comes and Kylar can’t wait to see you. Does not obey the traditional don’t see each other thing, will drag you off to touch you.

Most of the people from school are banned. Especially Whitney. May allow Robin, if you’ve assured them that you’re just friends.

Kylar’s family is there, they’re an interesting bunch. Rich, some a bit condescending. If this is your first time meeting his parents (unlikely) then I agree with the headcanon that one of them is probably just like Kylar - and gushes over you. Their little baby is getting a spouse all of their own.

Done in a church, even if its been dressed up in spiders webs and other stuff like that (if you let Kylar theme it).

Every guest is in costume, too.

If the PC is given away, then again you could use Bailey. They’ll smile and wave, knowing they can socialise and use it to their advantage. But I would find it funny if Doren does it, briefly telling you they were worried about Kylar in school, but you look so happy now! That's wonderful!

Kylar cries. Almost sobbing. Their mother/father stand beside them with tissues.

Records the wedding.

Personal vows. Its a poem, of course. Its not like the racy ones in English. Its heartfelt, beautiful, been drafted over and over again till it looked wrong and then right again,

One of you is getting dipped in the kiss. Be careful not to drop each other.

Honeymoon in Japan!

Going to the official stores of games you like, cat cafes, Kylar spending so long in the arcade.

Of course marathon sex. They’re not letting you go. You’ll be finding it hard to walk, room service being the only thing keeping you going.

Already said ‘I love you’ a thousand times during sex, now says it a million.

Time to start planning for babies, they’ll point out. They also have slideshows for that.

Whitney

You know how people get really drunk and do it impulsively? Yeah.

It would be on a trip out to some foreign country, you’re their slut so of course you get to come with. Doesn’t admit to having saved up for so long to take you away somewhere, just the two of you.

Parties hard throughout the vacation, taking advantage of the hot climate to dress in as little as possible, and wants to fuck you anywhere they can.

Until you wake up one night to find a signed marriage certificate with your names on it and a whole lot of missing memories.

Finds a camera, flicks though it to find out the two of you got married the night before. You’re dressed up in the worst outfits they’ve ever seen, but you’re smiling so wide, the kiss looks so full of love.

Oh look you took photos of the consummation, too.

Divorces are expensive, you know. Besides, not like you’re leaving them anytime soon. Its convenient to stay married.

Years down the line you could convince Whitney to do a proper ceremony. A recital, just so you can have one you remember.

They give in, and let you plan. But dear God are they nervous.

Terrified to tell their family. Doesn’t really want them there, scared they’ll say something to you. But if you insist.

Jokes about inviting Leighton for a brief second before deciding against. Bastard would show up and ruin everything, knowing them.

Almost runs off. Even if you’re already married, if its just a little ceremony with close people, Whitney feels vulnerable. Their friends will be there, will they think they’re weak?

But they suck it up and go to the recital.

Tries not to cry when they see you. Fails. Quickly wipes their face before anyone can see. Everyone already saw.

Whispers their vows to you. So quiet everyone leans in, but you hear them perfectly. They mean it when they say they love you, and you can only tell further when you go to place the ring on their finger to find a black band a writing around where the ring goes.

Its your name. Tattooed in a band, around their finger.

Okay now you’re both crying.

The after party is one hell of a show. Even if the venue, the food, the DJ aren't expensive, Whitney and their friends make it so that it isn't dull.

The best man’s speech is embarrassing for both of you, whether its your best friend (Robin, probably) or Whitney’s recounting something like you two stabbing at each other with protractors in Maths.

At one point you hear Whitney’s friends congratulate them. Telling them its okay they cried, they’re all happy for them.

The honeymoon? The place you got married in the first place. And you’re going to recreate the photos from the night, too.

Whipped cream and strawberries. Whitney covers you in it, licks it off and is eager to try other food-related kinks with you.

Whitney is very happy they didn’t run.

#degrees of lewdity #degrees of lewdity whitney #degrees of lewdity kylar #degrees of lewdity great hawk #spill your guts #anonymous

[whenwordsmakesense]

Another first sentence + 5 sentence fic, "I hate it when you're being a martyr!!?"

Lol, next time just send me a sentence. I don't think I'll ever be doing "only" +5 sentences xD

Okay, okay, so this isn't from my *THE* time-travel fic, but the thing is... I just love the idea of a bamf!sterek that go back in time and don't tell anyone about the truth and then comes this CONFRONTATION and everyone else is confused/in awe.

Quick rundown of dynamics, just because: Alpha Talia Hale. Human/Alpha Mate Nathaniel Hale. Betas Peter Hale, Laura Hale, Cora Hale, Claudia Stilinski. Human Noah John Stilinski. Alpha Derek Hale (but he presents as a beta to everyone except Stiles). Human Stiles Stilinski (but he is actually a spark, the strongest there is).

Idk their ages, but you can imagine Stiles as a 15/16 year old teen (he's mentally older, of course, think like... hmm... let's say he came back in time at age 21. So he should be 30, mentally). That makes Derek 21/22 (mentally 36).

Okay, enough rambling, now let's get down to the fic!! I'll be writing this from Laura's POV. Also, tell me if I should post this one on AO3? Now it's on AO3!

The Moon's Come Out

"I hate it when you're being a martyr."

Stiles' voice is a soft whisper underneath the chaos of blood and death, but it's not quite enough to drown under. It's a resigned exhale of breath, a truth so absolute that it's no longer just a truth. It's a fact.

Laura Hale wonders when her baby brother aligned himself to such a fact. She wonders lots of things about her baby brother.

She remembers the day when it all changed. When Derek changed. It was subtle, but it was prominent.

She remembers when she'd helped Derek with his flirting skills. Paige, she remembers; the same Paige who had once held Derek's eyes had been rendered into nothing that day. No, not nothing—something else. Something deeper. Something like grief.

But why would Derek grieve someone living? It's a mystery, but more than that it's an act shared between Derek and Stiles—like they're barely tethered to the world, and every moment with anyone but each other is like a gift and a curse, all in one.

But this isn't the time to think about it, how it feels like she's lost Derek once.

It's time to save him.

"Mom," her voice is a barely there sound, but her mom, her Alpha, she's here.

And she's silently crying.

"Mom, we need to- need to help him,"

Her mom is nodding her head, and they're moving between the bloody bodies—hunters, who'd come to kill them, only to die by Stiles'... everything.

Laura feels she can save him.

"Stop." Stiles' voice is still a whisper, but it's an order. A command.

Her mom—Alpha Talia Hale—stops in her tracks, and Laura, with her injured leg has to stop with her.

Dad is shouting at Cora to stay back, and John is trying to free Claudia and Peter from their confines, and Laura can hear all that. But right now, her world boils to where Derek is. On the ground, only a few feet away but so, so far away, spitting blood out of his mouth as his healing tries to kick in where the bullets are lodged on his body.

Bullets. Because Derek had jumped in front of the hunters when they started shooting at Peter and Claudia. And they're all wolfsbane laced.

Laura opens her mouth to protest, to shout, but Stiles doesn't let her.

He's always stopped her from talking.

She hates Stiles.

He's taken Derek away from her. From the pack.

"I can deal with this, you don't have to worry,"

"You can't order me around." Laura's eyes flash at her Alpha's tone, and she bares her neck.

Stiles' jaw sets with a determined look. "Oh, yeah? You really think so, Talia?" Laura watches him as he speaks, words fast paced and laced with worry and fear and anger. It's an ensemble of emotions, but even Laura has to admit that there's always been something special about this kid. His hands work as he talks.

"I mean, maybe you do. You Hales always think you know the best, don't you? It's like you think nobody else has any brains but you. Well, except Peter. That fucker is just too clever for his own good and he knows it. But he at least knows not to underestimate others. That's more than I can say for you, Talia. Or Laura. You two are so similar, you know?"

Laura does. She does know. And she is proud of that fact. But Stiles says it like a curse, like being so similar to her own mother—her Alpha—is nothing short of the worst thing.

Laura wonders why. She wonders a lot when it comes to Stiles.

"Stiles," everyone stops at that voice, as if freezing in place would freeze time itself.

Laura has been tortured, she's seen more blood than she needs to today, and she'd cried herself hoarse when they'd started to torture her previously unconscious mom. And then she'd wanted to die when the hunters turned their guns toward Cora, Claudia and Peter. So much so that she'd barely noticed Derek somehow escaping from his own personal confinement, the shackles he was in, all of it covered in wolfsbane. Neither had she witnessed Stiles breaking the literal cage the humans of their pack had been put in. But the thing that truly, truly scares her isn't any of those things. No.

It's losing Derek. Her baby brother (he used to hate it when she called him that, but when he changed, that hate turned into a grieving sort of fondness, like this was something he'd missed), who feels more like an adult than she is, her Derek. She can't lose him. She just can't.

It would break her. It would break the pack. Derek has always been the heart of it, the sweet little kid who is adored by his sisters and trusted by his parents; the man who even Peter respects, and Claudia cherishes like her own son, and John who calls him a good man.

It's no surprise they all just stop when Derek speaks for the first time since he was shot. And oh, was it only minutes ago? It feels like hours.

"Finally coherent, huh?" Stiles asks Derek, like Derek speaking right now is no big deal. Like it's that easy to try and repel the poison of wolfsbane.

"Shut up," Derek coughs out, voice throaty and weak.

"Derek," someone calls out. It's choked with tears, and it's a female, and it's her voice. "Derek! Please don't die,"

Derek tries to move his head, but falls back on the ground with a thump. Stiles swats at him, and Laura only now notices that Stiles' hands are covered in blood, one anchored on Derek's chest while the other digs around one of the holes. There's a host of bullets lying on the other side; Stiles throws another bullet there.

Perhaps everyone notices the same thing just then, because everyone makes a noise, a wail of pain and disgust and fear, all of it mixed in one sound.

Her mom has lost all her fight in herself, and Laura deflates, too. Stiles seems to know what he's doing.

And he doesn't seem to care what he sounds like.

"No, shut up? Me? Shut up? I swear to the fucking moon, you asshole, if you die on me I'll follow you. I'll fucking follow you there, because nothing is left for me here, okay, and I know you know that. You know this. How could you even do this to me? I told you to wait for my signal! I never would have let them get hurt, Derek! No, no, shut up! You keep your words to yourself and you listen, you goddamn martyr, you listen.

You made me a promise. When we came back, you promised me we'd be together. Always. We'll fix things, then we'll live, and then we'll die. Together. But you-you broke that promise, Der. You did tha-that,"

Laura is missing something. They all are.

Stiles' voice is a steady stream, a flow broken only by the cracks in his voice and the anger in it. And then it's a whisper, the height of his voice toppled down by his sorrow.

Derek smiles softly, as if Stiles worrying himself to death about him is not a new thing. Like Derek almost dies on a constant basis, and this is a routine they have—Stiles worries, Stiles shouts, and then Derek smiles because he's still here. He isn't gone yet.

Laura watches as Derek puts his weight on his elbows, brings his face close to Stiles'. Nobody interrupts them, still frozen in time, still processing what they just went through. Stiles shuts his eyes.

"I am here. I am here, Stiles," Derek tells Stiles, and Stiles takes a shaky breath, and it hangs there, that breath—the worry, the anger, the pain, everything—between them, before Derek lunges forward and presses his lips against Stiles'.

There are a few sharp breaths, and a hysterical giggle from Claudia. "I told you," she says, and Laura thinks she's saying it to John.

Laura isn't exactly surprised. She's caught them kissing multiple times, and she's always wanted to tattle on them. And she would have, because this is wrong—Stiles is a teenager and Derek is an adult—but Stiles is clever and somehow always a few steps ahead of her. He knows all of her secrets, and she'd rather he didn't but that's not the life she has. No, the life she has is—

—clearer in hindsight. She thinks back on those kisses, shared in the early mornings or late nights, between whispered words that Laura couldn't make out and with a desperation that went beyond the desperation of wanting a good time.

And she looks now, looks at the way Stiles' breaths are shaky and labored, but his hands are steady, even as he brings flames appear out of nowhere and presses it against Derek's bullet wounds. She looks at the way Derek has his forehead pressed against Stiles', and how he moves his head to Stiles' neck at the precise moments that the fire touches his skin. Like he's done this before, knows how to keep his pain between him and Stiles. She looks at the way Stiles' other hand, still bloody, tangles in Derek's hair, comforts him, like he's the only comfort Derek needs in this world.

She looks at the way Derek's body heals, like even his body is used to being hurt like this.

"It all makes sense," Peter's voice brings her out of her thoughts, and she turns to look at him. He's vibrating with excitement. "The way they talk—the way they behave—it all makes sense!"

Laura doesn't want to know. She doesn't want to know how this much blood and death and crying and confusion could ever make sense.

But if knowing is the answer to ease the burden on Stiles' and Derek's shoulders, she'll take it. She will know.

#derek hale #stiles stilinski #laura hale #the hale pack #teen wolf #my fic #thanks for the prompt!

[1oserjk]

— full stop | 03

* .✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*. * .✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*.* .✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.  

a series.

a messy divorce, unrequited feelings, and a five year old. 

* .✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*. * .✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*.* .✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.

02 ⇋ 04

x full stop masterlist | x masterlist

shit is 16k .. sry 

* .✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*. * .✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*.* .✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.

full stop | 03: unhappy birthday

Hyejin has always been a ball of fury when you poked at the wrong buttons on her. But something about Jungkook and the aftermath of the divorce has made her even more apprehensive of the man, and you can only do so much to shift her opinions elsewhere.

“Fuck him over. Somehow, someway — just do it.”

You choke.

Eyes widening, sputtering out, “H-Hyejin..” 

“I’m not kidding,” she deadpans, already rolling up her sleeves, “How many times do I have to tell you that fucker will never learn?” 

A hand comes up, “Okay wait.” You pause. “Are we going to collectively forget Jungkook is my daughter’s father?” 

Her head shakes. “Not relevant—and also hard for me to care when it comes to him.” 

You exhale, eyes fluttering closed and palms resting flat on her kitchen table. “Look, I know he’s not the most liked between everybody right now. But, I can’t just tell him no.. That’s not fair.” 

“But there’s boundaries,” she points and argues, then prompts, “What kind of outcome does he expect when he goes out with the one person who caused most of the mess two years ago.”

Your eyes roll back. “She took a micro-portion of it.” 

“Her presence was still there and highly significant if I'm judging from most of the nights you came to me for!” 

“Hyejin.” You glare. 

“And don’t even try to do That Thing where you deduce your own valid feelings and assume everybody else’s choices and actions are reasonable when it’s clearly not!” You glare and she blatantly ignores it, waving you off, “And I know you’re keeping everything within yourself for the sake of being a better co-parent, or whatever fucking advice you read in the facebook group you’ve recently planted yourself in, but god. I’m mad, anyone would be mad, so let me be mad for you.” 

“No one is going to be mad about this,” you finally decide. “There’s nothing to be mad about. He is his own person and he can make his own decisions.” She pins her stare at your nails that you pick at. You feel it. “Even if it means going out with someone younger, more exciting, who prances around with a pen in her hand as if she’s really doing something useful all the fucking time for whatever goddamn reason. I could care less,” you can’t help but mutter under your breath shortly after. 

“Ha!” One of her acrylics poke at you and you flinch. “You are mad.” 

You groan out loudly. “I’m not mad,” you exasperate. “All I’m saying is for him to have at least decent taste if he’s going to date. Not someone so expectant after a divorce.” 

Her eyes narrow. 

“But that’s not the point,” you make sure to add right after. Fingers run through your hair and you sigh. “Look,” you ease gently. “I’m trying to be alright in this, okay? The last thing I want to do is stomp in like a madwoman and refuse a relationship that would’ve happened sooner or later.” 

Of course, she disagrees. “God,” she stands, grabbing both of your mugs and heading to the sink. “You’re turning into one of those Milf’s that stand by to live, laugh, and love—it’s grossing me out.” 

Your ears perk at attention and you smile smugly. “You think I’m a Milf?” 

“Shut up. You’re flattered.” She turns it on to soak both of your cups before the coffee sticks. “I only dropped by to tell you that it’s okay to freak out once in a while.” 

The only reason she’s been keening on you to go apeshit in front of your ex-husband, was the frantic phone call you left on the night of ditching Jungkook in your own kitchen. Being that she was here now, claiming that Kiumin ached for a playdate with Yeona, when in reality, her only goal was to scold you for not swinging at the doll Jungkook pranced around with as of late. 

She puts a hand on her hip and leans towards the counter. “Turning to corny coping mechanisms like following a Bob Ross tutorial isn’t going to fix your rage you’ve been pushing down.” 

“Okay, but that’s only because Jungkook still has some of his supplies laying around and the only thing I could come up with was painting a fucking sunset. Sue me,” you defend, throwing your arms up. “Besides, you weren’t there to see him, Hyejin. He was getting out of his office for once, smiling even, a-and it was different. A good different, and..” You’re completely at a loss, mouth opening, then shutting back closed, because what was even the point. 

“..You don’t want to take that away from him,” she finishes, a tilt to her head and a consoling expression gracing her features. 

“Exactly,” you exhale. “I can’t even be mad that she’s actually getting him out there, taking him to things that didn’t involve work. Something I couldn’t even do-“ 

“Hey, no,” she stops you, head firmly shaking. “No, you don’t get to do that. You were there and present, even on the days you were close to giving up before you actually did — you were there, trying your absolute hardest, clinging onto what he barely gave you. You were never the problem, okay?” 

You meekly nod, tired eyes on her when she takes a firm hold of both of your hands. 

She makes it clear, saying, “As a wife and a mother, you were always there and that is something nobody can take away from you.”

“I know,” you confess. “I’m just in a weird position right now, and I’m stressed out from it. Not mad—stressed.” 

“And you don’t have to be, alright?” She shakes on your shoulder. “I know I insisted on breaking some plates and screaming, but hearing you out, I’m sure you would rather stray from the subject as a whole.” 

“Please.” 

“Alright. I’ll get out of your hair for now, and if I come up with something to do for us that doesn’t involve egging someone’s car—“

“Hyejin!”

“—then I’ll let you know.” 

You huff out a breath and finally stand, entering into her arms she spans out. “I’ll always be worried about you, babe.” 

“I know,” you mumble, “And I’ll keep telling you I’m fine every single time you ask.” She pinches your side that earns a loud yelp from you and a hiss of pain a second later. 

“Love you.” 

“Always,” you promise and then remind, “Please save some space for Yeona’s birthday that’s coming up, and be prepared for any phone-calls beforehand of me crying because my baby’s growing up and I have no control to slow down time for it.” 

“Ah, that’s right,” she says. “Tell me if you need any help planning, alright?”

“Of course.” 

“Kiumin, baby,” she calls out, heading towards the living space, “Buddy, let’s go. We gotta get home before dinnertime.” 

Both of your children are on the floor, several toys in front of them and a television with brightly lit characters and colors that did not have to be at a high-volume as it was right now. 

“Aw,” the little boy pouts, “Okay.” He turns to your daughter and waves hesitantly. 

“Bye Kiumin,” Yeona yells out, clambering across the floor to get a hug. Short arms wrap around tiny figures and it’s absolutely adorable. Your eyes can sense a hint of red on Kiumin’s cheeks when your daughter’s hands tug tightly onto his. “See you soon, maybe.” She shrugs. 

“Don’t worry, Yeonie,” Hyejin promises. “We’ll meet up again soon.” 

At that, Yeona nods enthusiastically and shuffles herself forward for another hug directed towards your best friend. “Bye, aunt Hyejin.” She receives a soft pat to her head. 

“Be safe on the way home,” you order. 

They make their leave swiftly, and it finally gives you time to properly breathe—and think for a long while. 

-

Tiny fingers pinch the paper in between them, a determination set in her eyes as she excitedly jumps around in her seat. “It’s done,” she announces. 

Your eyes resemble a wink when you squint at her, sun shining way too brightly for it to be this early in the morning. It practically reflects Yeona’s attitude in starting the day like this, while you sit pathetically in an oversized shirt and coffee in hand. 

Taking the time in the morning for yourself was barely a thing, especially when it came to your daughter and her way too early sleep schedule her school had willed her on. 

Instead of sleeping in, you’re dealt with Yeona already being wide-eyed in her bed, making grabby hands at the toys in her bedroom you’ve put the time in cleaning up on the floor from the night before. 

Even staying home in her matching sweats her father had gifted her, she would still request her hair up and out of her face for the rest of the day. So, you’d be taking fifteen minutes to slick her hair up in her choice of a ponytail or pigtails instead of preciously sleeping in. Even right after, she’d become hungry, wanting breakfast to go along with her cartoons she had downloaded on her tablet. 

Which was perfectly fine, you’d be up soon anyway, so it would be better overall to just start the day off a bit earlier. It would only just leave you a bit off-looking and disoriented in the things you’d do for yourself. 

Years back, when Yeona was younger and you were still married, the routine was easier and much steadier when you would tag-team in getting ready for the day, passing off your daughter after one task would be done for the other and it would be your own turn for yours. 

At first, it left you frazzled when you were alone most days, but now, since the separation has settled in, it’d been okay for the most part. It just meant that some of the things and time you put aside for yourself were sacrificed, and that you would have to save your self care routine for later in the night when Yeona would flutter her eyelashes closed for slumber. 

You excitedly clap a few times and reach eagerly. “Can I see?” 

Yeona’s birthday was reaching close and for most of them, you would be able to know exactly what she’d want for that particular year. Normally, it would be a themed party of whatever she had been obsessed with at that time, and obviously the gifts you would drown her in. Last year went with a breeze. You were glad at that time when most of the conflict between you and Jungkook had faded when the time came, solely focusing on your daughter and that was it. But now, with the way things had left between the two of you recently, you were worried it wouldn’t be the same as this year. 

Yeona had declared she wanted something different this year and decided that she’d write it all out in a list. Still unsure and a bit confused, you complied and set out her supplies for her to take over on the paper. It was only fifteen minutes after she claimed that she was finished. 

Leaning towards her paper, you expected it to be drowned in color and design, taking the same artistic habits as her father. But to no avail, it was left blank. 

Your brows furrow. “I thought you were done?”

She nods. “I am!” 

“So.. Where—“ You awkwardly left off, wondering if she was hiding it beneath the table or behind her back. She giggles when you curiously dip your head under the tabletop. 

“In here,” she points. A single finger pokes at her head and she proudly smiles before explaining, “The list is in my head! If you read all of it at once, then it wouldn’t be fun, so I’ll tell Mommy the first thing now and the rest for later.” 

Your mouth opens in a sound of realization, and your eyes glint at how clever she became. “So,” you excitedly lean towards her more, landing a soft peck on her forehead. “What does my baby want for her birthday?” 

“No party,” she firstly says with a firm shake to her head. 

Your eyes widened. “No party?” Since the beginning, it’s always been one. 

“Nope.” Her lips purse out with a crinkle to her nose. “Mommy,” she says, eyes twinkling. “I’m growing, so big girls don’t have parties.” 

You hum, “Is that so?” 

She nods dramatically. 

“So what would you want this year?” 

“I would like to ask if we could have my birthday at Uncle Jin and Joonie’s beach house.” 

Your brows shoot up. “That’s all the way in Jeju..” 

She nods. “We could all take the ferry!” Then, she pouts. “We never go on the ferry.” 

Her idea runs through your mind for a few seconds before theorizing with her, mindlessly murmuring to yourself, “We could take the one in Busan and visit Grandma and Grandpa on the way..” You were sure they would want to see Yeona on the day of her birthday. 

Her eyes brighten when she picks up on your mumbles, grappling your wrist and shaking it, “Yes, Mommy! We’ll take everybody, like, Daddy’s co-workers and Kiumin!” 

It seems that you were already confirming the idea instead of considering it, though it all seemed like a perfect idea that wouldn’t take a lot of effort or stress. You can already imagine the small gathering for the weekend getaway, already knowing how much the others would like some time off, especially the guys that would always be cooped up in the suffocated shop filled with needles and ink. It would be a nice way of switching a few things up and catching up with the rest of the inner circle you’ve accumulated from the time of being with Jungkook. 

“Well,” you start, “Let me have a conversation with your Daddy and then maybe,” you halt when she begins to turn giddy, “Maybe it will happen. But he’s going to have to ask Uncle Jin and Joon if it’s alright, so it's honestly up to them to decide..” 

“Okay,” she quickly obliges, confidence set in her tone and smile, telling you that she was completely sure of her idea and their compliance to it.

-

“Of course!” 

Jungkook’s head drops down in embarrassment while you sit across from him, mouth almost gaping. 

“S-Seokjin,” you sputter. “You barely even gave it a few seconds to think about.” 

He shakes a hand back and forth, “Why would I need to?”

“You can’t just..“ You lead off hopelessly. Turning to the lanky man next to him, you raise a brow. “Namjoon?”

“Fine by me,” he says over a mouthful of noodles, “We barely even use the house, anyway.” 

“O-Okay, but-“ 

“We should go a week before the date to check up on it,” Seokjin suggests to Namjoon. 

“You’re right, just in case anything is out of place,” he replies. 

“The fireplace should be okay, right? I heard it rained last weekend.” 

And then they fall into their own conversation, leaving you and Jungkook, the real parents in this situation — silent. 

“I guess.. It’s happening?” You squeak out. The expensive couch sits uncomfortably on your bum, and you grow sweaty from being left to bask in the tension between the man across from you. It’s awkward, almost dragging on since you’ve entered the flat and sat down with Jungkook.

You were thankful at first, when Seokjin had butted in the conversation, boyfriend in tow. 

The last time you’ve encountered your ex-husband, were only the past few weeks of dropping off Yeona on his days off, stoically handing her to him and running off until you would have to pick her up again. 

It was childish, you knew that. You knew it exactly when you turned your back to him and completely shut him out three weeks ago. But at this point, it was the only way you were able to cope with however you were feeling about him, and simmering down most of your anger. But seeing that you would have to deal with him sooner rather than later, being that Yeona’s birthday was coming up, you were reluctantly willing to face him. 

“Yeah, I don’t think we have a choice,” he chuckles, palms nervously rubbing against his knees. A small part of you is definitely basking in the way he squirms under your scrutiny. 

“It’s fine,” you say, “This was the biggest part of Yeona’s list, anyway. She really wanted this.” 

He offers a quirk to his lips, and your heart immediately seizes, having to force yourself to stop looking at him so obnoxiously. It’s gross, really, how you’ve managed to be so affected by him - good or bad, since the very start. 

A throat clears, and it’s Namjoon, one hand stuffed in his pocket while the other on Seokjin’s lower back. You grow curious if he noticed. “Tell Yeona we can have her birthday at our house in Jeju.” 

“Thank you, really—to you both. She really wanted this, and for you guys to be there too.” 

“Of course, we’ll send a message to the rest that they’re invited.” 

With a smile, you stand and wrap your arms around both of them on your way out. “Thank you, again,” you can’t help but repeat. They only chuckle in your tight grasp that clearly proved how grateful you were to them.

“I’ll walk you out to your car,” Jungkook offers when he stands. 

You shake your head, “It’s alright. I took a bus here.” 

“Then, I’ll drive you back.” 

“Jungkook, no, it’s okay-“ 

Already disappearing into his room, he makes a grab for his jacket and shoes to head out. 

Seokjin chuckles when you whip around to face back the both of them, “Stubborn.” 

You’re breathless when you repeat in stress, “Yeah.” 

“Have a good night, _____.” Namjoon and Seokjin simultaneously wave, sending you both out the door. You embarrassingly let out a light laugh, waving back and wishing the same for them. 

You rush to the side of Jungkook when they disappear. 

Nobody talks, even until you’ve reached his car, unlocking the doors and allowing you to slip in the passenger side. 

He got the vehicle shortly after finalizing his move out of the house, offering the one you previously shared and owned. You didn’t have much of a choice when he slipped the keys in your hand and left shortly after without any argument. You were more nervous that if you pushed more for him to take it, he’d go out and buy you a new one the next day. 

For Jungkook driving the sleek black car everyday, it practically seems unused, leather seats still having that particular smell and everything still being tidy around it. Then again, Yeona is now older and less messy than before. 

Everything in the car is so exactly him, and you weren’t quite sure how to feel about it. 

After buckling up and properly settling in, he slides the keys in the slot, leaving you to stare at the hanging car accessory up at the rearview mirror. 

It’s a picture of you and Yeona, laid out on the floor. You remember the memory clearly, Yeona declaring a tickle fight and sprawling out on the floor for a fair match. Even with Yeona sat on top of you, it seemed that you were winning in the game with how her head was thrown back and a wide grin on her face, you could practically hear the squeal she was letting out in the picture. 

He still had it. 

For a second, you smile back at it. 

You barely even notice the car already moving and him asking the question, “Why didn’t you drive?” 

Your head flicks to him, and your eyes stay right at his jaw when he makes a smooth turn. You shrug, “It was nearby, I didn’t mind.” 

“You should’ve told me,” he says, “I would have come home instead of you travelling all this way for me.” 

Home. He still called it home, like it’d be any day now for him to return to it, that this was all a temporary fix until everything would get less foggy. 

“It’s fine,” you pass off. “I didn’t think you would see the offer as worthy since Yeona is at my mom’s place right now.” 

His head shakes, turning away from the road to catch your eyes for a split second. “I don’t need any reason to see you, _____. Just tell me, and I’ll be there.” It’s with vigour and promise, you almost turn flustered. 

You let out a small scoff before looking down at your hands. “If you said that a long time ago, we would’ve still been married,” you joke, though it comes out bitter. “Thanks for the offer, though,” you sarcastically add. 

The car suddenly halts and you look up, the red traffic light flashes in front of you. 

Jungkook shuts his eyes before tiredly letting out a sigh. 

You grow anxious, looking out the window from the side. Some of the restaurants and shops are surprisingly still open and you focus on the windows with bright lighting inside of the buildings. Friends and couples are eating out, some are laughing, and you wonder what some of their conversation consisted of. You surmise it’s something foolish when one of them throws their head back in a fit of laughter. 

Your hands grip each other when a pair from the opposite side of your vision pucker up and kiss. It turns personal way too quickly and you immediately feel like you're intruding, grateful that the light turns green and you finally move away from the intimate image, wondering if you would ever get close to that phase of your life again.

The silent minute brings you to announce abruptly, “We’re going to take the ferry in Busan instead of here, so that she would be able to see your parents before leaving.” 

“Sounds fine,” he replies. “My mother would like that.”

You nod. 

“What about yours?” He suggests.

You sigh, head hitting the headrest of the seat softly. “Another detox trip. They said they would send her a birthday card before they would leave. Probably why they’re spending as much time with her as they can before they leave.” 

Even with eyes on the road, he still seems to be listening intently. He hesitates a few seconds before asking, “How’s your dad?” 

You send him a smile, the least you could do before answering, “Still hates you.” 

He snorts. “Yeah,” he says, “I figured.” 

You swallow tightly and decide to ask, “How’s settling with Seokjin?” It’s been a couple of years, but still, it all still feels new and something you haven’t gotten around to asking ever since. 

He hums, “It’s quiet most of the time since he’s at Namjoon’s nearly everyday..” 

“The place is practically yours then,” you attempt to joke again, but it comes out as hardly, not exactly comfortable to throw that specific tone around.

He shrugs. “Wish he would let me pay more than half of the rent, but it’s tolerable.” 

“Are you ever planning to get your own place soon?” 

“Huh,” he thinks. “Haven’t put much thought into it.” 

“Well, if you ever do, I can always help out,” you quietly suggest and he takes a quick glimpse at you to see if you were actually being serious. 

“Really?”

You nod. “Yeah. I actually think it would be cool for Yeona to have a second room at your place. So it’s home over there for her as it is with me.” 

Another red light, and his eyes blink close for a moment. The conversation is going too fast and all of a sudden, it starts to hurt. 

Jungkook doesn’t want another home, a place that reads that he is officially separated from you and out of his reach, not when it doesn’t include you in it. 

It would hurt him even more if you would egg it on, support him and the move away from you, like you would want him to, and maybe you really did. He would understand why. Still, it hurts when you talk so freely like this, seemingly eager to get rid of him.

Jungkook doesn’t voice his disagreement, avoiding talking at all and keeping his mouth closed instead. 

The conversation falls off after that, and he most likely figured that would be the most he got out of you for the rest of the car ride. 

That was until you spoke up again. 

It was quiet, almost barely heard, and it’s said quickly. “You can invite her, you know?” 

His fingers unknowingly grip on the steering wheel. 

You look back down. “I don’t mind and I don’t want you to think that I’ll hold you back from doing so.” 

They want to reach out, grasp for your hands you keep fiddling with, scold you for biting on your lip too harshly, everything he used to do, he wanted to fall back and do it all at once. 

They keep clinging to the wheel. 

“I was mad back then,” you guiltily admit and he immediately shakes his head. 

“You had every right to be.” 

“I probably looked silly for being so mad on something I have no control over.” You move your eyes back over the window and the blurry images that pass by solemnly. “Especially when everything’s been said and done with, right?” You turn to him and he gulps. His heart drops at how quick and firm you said, as if it was that easy. 

“Yeah,” he agrees quietly. 

“Maybe this is a learning curve for us,” you nod to yourself. “So, I’m open to having her with us this year.” 

He had no idea why you were so sure that everything between Seol and himself were solid enough to introduce her as his girlfriend, fuck, even he wasn’t sure he could spit the word out himself. 

Everything was going by way too fast, too much to process. 

He only nods, clinging onto actions rather than words to speak for him. 

His throat clears and the car slows down to a clear stop. You peak over his head and find your house already being presented as the car decreases in speed. 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah,” is all he says.

“Well,” your buckle releases and you slide out onto the edge of the seat, already gripping onto the handle. You offer him a smile. “Thanks, Jungkook.” 

The door opens and he stiffly nods and doesn’t pull out of his spot until his own two eyes have watched your figure disappear into the entrance of the house. 

-

“Did you double-check that you have everything?” 

She nods. 

“Okay, then I think we’re ready.” You clap, zipping up the rest of your bags. 

She can’t even stand still with her excitement, having to run around at times when it got too much. 

Ever since the beginning of planning this weekend trip, you surprisingly had a lot of time on your hands from the immense help of everybody else who volunteered to plan. You were glad that they reached out, but you also became antsy at the fact you had no control over the outcome of this gathering. In anything that Yeona wanted, you strived to make sure it would happen with reasonability. Being away from most of the planning had left you anxious on most days, wondering what Seokjin would be pulling under his sleeve on Yeona’s celebration. 

“Here.” You hand her backpack to her, silently ushering her to turn around so you could slip it through her arms. “Sit on the couch and watch your show for now. Your father will be here soon to pick us up.” 

She complies easily, shuffling towards the cushioned chair. 

Before she becomes too absorbed in the cartoon, you ask a mindless theory for her to answer, “If Daddy shows up with a friend—that is a girl.. You’ll be nice, right?” 

Her head tilts and her brows crease. “Girl—friend?” 

Your fingers tighten against the hem of your sundress. “M-Maybe? I’m not sure, he hasn’t told me a lot about her..”

“That’s not right,” she notes. “Daddy should tell Mommy so she knows..” 

You send her a softened smile that holds a sad shift in it. “Not this time, baby.” You look down at your hands. “Just be nice to her, okay?” 

She only nods. 

You brush off your knees when you stand back up, moving back towards your room to grab whatever else you might’ve forgotten and rush through most of your makeup bag to fix yourself up a bit. 

You debated a few times in your head to switch up your dress for another one in your bag. Usually, you never cared, but this time, oddly, you wanted to satisfy more than yourself with the way you currently looked and dressed as - for whatever reason you cannot decipher as. But having to change, you would also have to switch out Yeona’s dress since you both decided to match today. 

You decided not to bother since it would take too much time, especially since you hear the buttons being pressed at your front door, buzzing when the code punches in and indicating that Jungkook was finally here. 

You quickly pull and clip on a necklace that was mindlessly set on your bedside table, and rush out the room with your bags. 

When both of them come into view, you already see Yeona attached to Jungkook’s hip. No one else. 

“Hey,” you breathlessly greet with a nod, trying not to seem blunt by focusing on the front door to see if a certain person tagged alone. “I hope this isn’t too much—? I cut down most of it last night..” 

He shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it,” then looks down at the bags, “But—uh, are you sure you need all of this? It’s only a couple of days.” 

“Yeah, but,” you hesitate, pushing some strands of your hair away, “It’s clothes, swimsuits, sunscreen, shower products, presents—“ 

“Presents?” Yeona brightens. 

“No,” You and Jungkook rush. 

“Mommy meant something else..” 

“Oh.” Her expression flattens. “Then what did she mean?” She presses. 

Jungkook’s mouth gapes and he attempts to spit out an answer before you boisterly interrupt, “Oh no! We’re running late.” 

He nods comically when he meets eyes with you. “Y-You’re right! Let me take your bags,” he offers. 

You practically shove them into his hands when you switch positions, taking Yeona into your own and softly letting her down. 

When you stand up straight, he eyes the both of you in awe when he notices. 

“You’re both matching.” 

You grow heated under his gaze and shyly nod, straightening out the flimsy skirt of your dress. “She’s been hounding me to get a mini size for her when I wear mine, so this was her first gift from me.” 

Her tiny hands cling onto your fingers and squeezes them, “Yup! We wanted to look pretty for Daddy.” 

You practically choke out a small cough at her statement as he arches a brow towards you, your cheeks dusting a shade of embarrassment immediately. 

“T-There was no set intent for doing this exactly,” you defend with a growing pout before you childishly point at Yeona and sputter, “It was her idea and I just went with it.” 

He chuckles, encouraging the dusty rose to spread to your ears and neck. “Well,” he starts and confirms, “You both look beautiful.” He’s already turning away and moving towards the door before you can react. “I’ll compliment you more when we get in the car, but we should hurry.” 

You both scurry in front of him, and a firm hand lands on the small of your back to lead you out. Whipping around slightly, you turn surprised from the mere gesture. 

A certain feeling washes over you — it’s nostalgic, almost drowning you from the blunt force when his fingers land on only the thin material that separates your skin from his. For a second, it feels like what it has always been. 

Even as false pretense or even reassurance, you bask in the feeling you can only assume is melancholy and warmth, all at the same time. It’s bittersweet, but it’s something and it’s clearly there.

He offers a smile, and it’s not a polite one you usually send each other when you would interact, it’s not a forced one either. It was genuine, and it was towards you. 

A smile that read this weekend would be a memorable one, like all of the other birthdays you celebrated each year. 

For a split second, you feel like a family again. 

The door clicks shut and you finally all head out to fulfill Yeona’s birthday journey. 

-

“God,” he rubs at his shoulder that aches. “What did you pack in here to make me feel like this four floors down?” 

Rolling your eyes, your daughter’s leg brushes against you when it kicks up for the minute of buckling her up. You don’t bother asking her to stop, silently allowing her to start playing with your hair when you lean over the other side of her carseat. You adjust her sandals while you’re at it. “We took the elevator, I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.” 

“You weren’t the one carrying it,” he argues, shutting the trunk closed. 

Finally finished with making sure Yeona would ride safely in the backseat, you recover your crouched form and rise. “You offered.” 

He sighs, hands on his hips, and a smile creeping on his face he managed to halt before your eyes would land on them. “You never answered my question.” 

Both of you make it to the front of the car and slip in, shutting the car doors simultaneously in coincidence. 

You wave a hand in dismissal before reaching up for the seatbelt. “It’s a few gifts for your mother. She really liked the scent of the apartment when she last visited, so I packed a few candles of the ones I’ve been using.” 

“A few?” He scoffs, pinning you a look. The car begins to run when he slides the key in the slot. He has a hard time believing in your estimate of the amount you were bringing when he picks up weights on a regular basis at the gym, not boasting when he clearly can’t help mentioning it every now and then. There were way more than a few.

You hesitate, observing him shift the gear and backing the car up and out of the parking space. “Fine, I slipped in a few more for Seokjin,” you confess and it’s clear that he has a smug smirk carrying his expression. “Only because he asked,” you huff.

A light chuckle slips out and his fingers on the center console almost twitch when he hears you let one out also. 

You abruptly turn towards the backseat. “Yeonie? Please turn down your tablet.” It Had been ringing in both of your ears since you got in the car. You wanted to have a proper conversation without having to scream out your words over the rhymes and overplayed sound-effects. 

When she does, you finally sigh and lean back in pure exhaustion from the lack of sleep the night before. 

Jungkook notices. 

“You okay?” He asks. 

Your eyes flutter open slowly and you nod. “Didn’t get a lot of sleep last night, so I’m dealing with the repercussions of it.” Your gaze on the road soon turns blank. 

If you were being honest, it’s been a long time in dealing with enough sleep. If you were in bed, you were most likely staying up, keeping yourself busy, not deeming it as a good enough reason to sleep just yet. Before, you slept easily, paying no mind to what was happening around you, you actually slept. Something changed to the point where you weren’t granted that access anymore, having to question the exact reason on why you should even sleep. You weren’t sure if you would find it, sticking with just coaxing yourself into slumber through most nights. 

“You can take a nap if you want,” he suggests. “It’s going to take a while before we get there, so you might as well.” 

You hum absentmindedly, barely registering any of his words if you were being honest. 

Yeona yawns. He shifts his attention to the back, watching Yeona squirm for a comfortable spot - as comfortable as she can get - in her carseat. “Are you sleepy too, baby?” 

She mewls out a tired noise in confirmation and leans her head to the padded side of hers. “Daddy, sing to me,” she requests, blinking, lagging until they fully close.

Jungkook’s soft hums fill up the noise of the car other than the white noise surrounding you when he drove. 

Your eyes go back to closing when it hits you, a metaphorical blanket that deems where you were, what you were doing, and who you were with — as safe. Your brows furrow unconsciously at the thought that you’ve been dealing with this specific problem about your sleep for God knows how long, but Jungkook suddenly fixes it and now it’s all gone. 

You finally sleep. 

-

An hour  into the drive and you suddenly ask, “Is she.. Driving on her way too?” 

His eyebrows furrow and he turns to stare at you, disoriented by the question. “Who?” 

You eye him wearily and tip your head forward, like it was obvious. 

He’s still confused. 

“Seol?” You finally spit out. 

“Oh.” 

That’s all he says and you grow impatient. “So?” 

“She’s not coming,” he finally answers. “I didn’t invite her. Why would you think I would?” 

“She wasn’t in the car when you picked us up, or at the house, so I just assumed..” 

“No,” he quickly denies, looking you in the eye this time. “She’s not coming.” 

“Oh—okay.” You wonder why. 

It’s silent except for when his throat clears and he turns the car. 

“Um,” you drag unsurely. “Are you.. Still—seeing each other?” It’s personal, and you regret asking, but for the sake of your bouncing leg and bated breath, you wait. 

“I—I don’t know? I mean we’re going out, but it’s not anything official.” He looks nervous, eyes shifting back and forth from one side of a street to another. 

“So.. You haven’t asked her to be your girlfriend yet?” 

This is weird. Too fucking weird and now Jungkook’s acutely uneasy because there is absolutely no malice in your voice. Just curiousness being unravelled.

“No, not really,” he nervously stammers, and he tries his best to gauge your reaction but you hold absolutely nothing to read on. “I want to decide carefully.” You suddenly stare back at him and he has no choice but to continue, “Like you said. I want to make sure it’s right. No fuck-ups anymore. Not with you or Yeona.” 

Your head shakes. “Jungkook, you don’t have to-“

“It’s my decision,” he firmly states, “and it’s on my terms.”

-

Jungkook’s mother was always a bright soul who greeted and welcomed you with open arms. 

The first time you were off to meet her, you were twenty-three years old and absolutely terrified, and you made sure to tell Jungkook that before you even stepped foot in the house he grew up in. 

You informed him how much bad luck you came with when it involved meeting your partner’s parents. More specifically — your past boyfriends and their overly clingy mothers who did not like you no matter what you did, as long as you were dating their son. 

“My mom loves everyone,” Jungkook explained previously the night before the anticipated meeting. 

You shook your head vigorously, eyes wide and anxious, shivering from having the thought of reliving something you always dreaded. “That’s what they all say before we end up arriving and then all of a sudden I’m being pounced on by an overbearing mother who obviously can’t stand the thought of having another woman in her son’s life.” 

He laughed. “Your exes were probably an only child,” and then continued to inform as if it would ease your nerves, “I have an older brother.” 

You shrieked. “Holy shit, that makes it even worse because you’re her youngest. The baby of the family—her baby.” He cackled and you landed a solid strike at his arm with a whine, “Jungkook, Take me serious.” 

“Alright, okay,” he shushed you and tugged at your hips before closing in on you. “I can assure you that my mother isn’t some type of villain you’ve painted out in your head.” 

You winced and patted his chest with a pout, “Sorry. Past minor trauma.” 

“I get it,” he reassured. “But she’s different than the rest, I promise.”

And she definitely was. 

The house fills with a scent of something cooking on the stove top and it immediately engulfs you in warmth when you hear the television going off in the spacious area of the living room, assuming it was Jungkook’s father planted on his signature chair he was always found in. 

When Yeona finally kicks off her shoes, she immediately runs through the house to find her grandmother. 

“Careful,” Jungkook calls from next to you. 

He notices your dazed state and takes a step closer. “How are you feeling? Still tired?”

Your mouth falls open and you shake your head with a smile, brushing it off, “My head is aching a bit from the long car ride, but I’ll be fine. Maybe I’ll sit down for a few.” 

He shows concern in his expression and leans forward to inspect you carefully. “Come here.” 

“I told you I’d be okay, Gguk. I’m fine.” Still, your feet take you closer towards him until calloused fingers land at your temples before applying pressure. “Mm,” you let out in surprise, lips pressed when he goes in circular motions against your skin, grappling onto one of his wrists for support. Your eyes flutter shut when the pain starts to subside. Four fingers each from both hands are firmly planted while his two thumbs continue to ease the throbbing that’s been planted in your head since you’ve gotten out of the car. 

“Starting to feel better?” He murmurs softly. 

 You nod with the space he provided for it. “I still think I should just take some medicine.” 

He doesn't stop his ministrations, only humming. “In a minute. Want to avoid my mom a bit longer before she starts to ask why I haven’t been visiting lately.” 

A smile quickly settles on your lips and you squeeze at the wrist you’ve been gripping on. 

It’s up close when he sees you softly giggle and his heart surges forward. Your eyes open back up and you’re suddenly staring at such a close proximity. 

“She worries about you.” 

“I know,” he promises. “Just not sure what to say when she starts interrogating me.” 

Before your mouth can slip in an answer, a throat clears and you tense immediately. 

You both stiffly turn towards the new figure in the room who raises an amused brow. 

“Uh, hi Mom. Where’s Yeona?” 

“With your father.” 

You remember suddenly before coughing and tugging at Jungkook’s hands that stay planted against your head. 

“We were just..” Jungkook attempts, wiping off his palms that have gotten significantly clammy in the span of a minute or two. 

“Headache,” you finish and state for him. 

“Yeah.” 

“Did we go back in time before medicine was a thing?” She jokes then tilts her head towards the direction of one of the bathrooms. “There’s painkillers in the medicine cabinet.” 

“Uh I’m going to.. Yeah.” Jungkook scratches at the back of his neck and seems unsure before seeing himself out to grab for the bottle of pills. 

“Please, don’t give me that look,” you beg once the embarrassment settles in and your cheeks start to warm up. 

“No, I’m just happy is all.” She smiles in satisfaction. “Last time I checked, you were divorced to my son.” 

You groan. “And I still am.” 

“Then what was that?” She refers back to the scene she had unfortunately walked in on. 

“A ploy to drag out time before hearing your questions about why he hasn’t been visiting as often as he should be,” you easily tattle. 

She gasps. 

Jungkook walks back in with two bottles in hand, eyes bouncing back and forth to each one. “It doesn’t matter which brand right? I brought out two just in case-“ 

“Jeon Jungkook,” his mother scowls. 

He freezes and looks up to his infuriated mother, then pointedly looks at you before the gears turn in his head. 

“You told her?” 

You simply shrug and snatch both bottles away before his mother would start shifting her target towards him. “Thank you.” 

You don’t bother to hear the scolding, instead, walking through the house to find where your daughter had drifted off to. 

Mrs. Jeon takes some time to catch up with her son and gives you enough to rest from the prolonged car ride. 

Small feet tap on the wooden floor and you try to search for the doe eyes and pouty lips that come with them. 

“Yeona, where have you been?” 

“With grandpa!” Then, she enthusiastically stomps. “He said my gifts are hiding from me.” 

You chuckle. “Is that so?” 

A bigger pair of feet walk in and Mr. Jeon looks flustered, as if he had done something he wasn’t supposed to do. His head angles down to Yeona and he explains, “I messed up! I was supposed to wait for Grandma to feed you guys before I said anything about birthday presents.” 

Your mouth opens to reply that he was perfectly fine before large hands settle firmly on your shoulders. You squeak and jump, registering that it was only Jungkook when you whip around to face the culprit. “Seriously?” 

“It’s payback,” he simply says. “I got scolded for fifteen minutes all because you decided to be a snitch.” 

“Sorry.” You softly nudge. “She was assuming too much when she saw us.” 

“Ah,” he realizes, and he suddenly seems okay with the thought of going down just for you. “I’ll have to talk to her again about doing that. Sorry.” 

You dismiss it with a smile. “Just more worried about you. Poor baby,” you tease. “What? Did she make you face the wall for five minutes?” He scowls. “Jungkook, she misses you,” you reason. 

“I know,” he mumbles. “I promised her I would be here more often.” 

He has that look in his eye you are way too familiar with — when the gears start turning and he begins to overthink his whole entire schedule for the month, figuring out the time-slots—if he even has any free space for it. 

“Hey,” you call, and he snaps out of it. “Don’t try to fill your family in your schedule as if they’re appointments. You’ll visit when you want to, okay? Not because you have to.” 

He exhales and nods. “Right. I will.” 

He then notices your features significantly brighter than the last time he’s taken them in, no more fatigued, so he asks, “Did you take the medicine?” 

You nod. “I just took it, but moving around a bit is helping a lot already. 

“That’s good.” 

His brows furrow when he catches the expression on his dad. “Is he okay?” 

You turn and observe him tailing your hyper daughter who has been checking every crevice of the house for any mere glimpse of eye-catching wrapping paper.

“Like father, like son,” is all you say and he stares on with no clue. “He’s literally a second away from hearing his own scolding.” 

Mrs. Jeon walks in and shrieks. “You told her already—?!” 

The man beside you sighs and questions out loud what on earth his father had done. 

So, you explain, “They put on a scavenger hunt for Yeona’s gifts. Except, it was supposed to be after lunch.” 

“Oh no.” 

“Yeah.” 

“You were supposed to wait so that I could take pictures for it!” 

The older man’s hands get thrown up in defense. “She hasn’t found them yet, it’s fine.” 

“What if she actually does?” She tests with a brow raised. 

“Mom,” Jungkook calls and both of his parents finally turn to give him attention. “It’s alright. We can do the scavenger hunt now since we’ll be leaving soon.” 

“You aren’t going to stay and eat?” 

“Please don’t worry,” you kindly decline. “I’d feel bad if you were to cook something, just for us.”

She waves a hand carelessly in the air. “Nonsense! I want to do this for you. It’s been way too long since the last time I cooked for more than two people.”

Your elbow prods at Jungkook who lacks his own attention. You quickly send him a look, a silent message to stop her from whipping anything up when you wouldn’t have much time to properly eat it, given from your strict itinerary. 

“We only have half an hour to be here before the next Ferry arrives,” he finally speaks up. 

“Oh,” his mother dejects with a pout. “Well, that’s a shame.” 

“Yeah, sorry mom.” 

Your hip pushes against his side, and your throat clears. “We’ll come back and stay for dinner,” you promise. 

“Please do,” she nods. “My son doesn’t even visit anymore.” 

She plainly ignores Jungkook, whose mouth has dropped significantly. “Mom—! I told you I would visit more often.” 

“Can’t even make a simple phone call,” she tsks. “Your ex-wife interacts with me at least three times a week—more than you ever did within a month.”

“Mom!” 

Your hand lands on top of his shoulder, giving it a soft squeeze and sending his mother a smile of understanding. “We’ll be there. Promise.” 

She sighs, hands smacking against her fruity apron and then clapping enthusiastically. “Alright, fine! Let me get my camera first.” 

Her son groans. “Just use your phone.” 

Her head shakes, already bending down and shuffling through the drawers, “But you got me that nice camera for Christmas! I haven’t used it yet.” 

“Alright, fine,” he reluctantly obliges. “Dad, will you please give my daughter a hint? She’s going crazy here.” He points and your daughter is exactly there, crawling through the coffee table and easing herself to the next tiny space she can fit in. 

“Baby, you’re going to hurt yourself,” you warn when she breezes through a few expensive-looking structures around the house, “Or break something.. Jungkook—!”  You tug on his sleeve and push him to grab her before any mishaps could happen. 

When Jungkook finally gets a hold of a squirmy Yeona, his father finally ushers everybody outside towards the direction of the backyard where the scavenger hunt is officially located.

-

“They just texted me that they’re already at the house,” Jungkook suddenly announces by the time Yeona finds her fourth present. 

You double-check the time on your phone and worriedly ask, “Do you think we’re running late?” 

His head shakes. “I doubt it. If anything, we’re probably on time. We left really early in the morning.” 

You sigh out with both shoulders deflating and he notices. “You okay?” 

“Yeah,” you ease. “Just worried, you know? This is the first year we aren’t doing a birthday party and she’s only turning six.” 

“Hey,” he chuckles. “It’s not like these aren’t going to be a forever thing.” 

“I know,” you groan and rub harshly at your temples. “I think I’m just so used to big gatherings, the amount of unnecessary attention, and the cake nobody eats because it’s all it really was for me growing up.” As much as the parties were for good intentions, it was never in a good way. 

The only reason your mother was set on giving you a birthday party every year was for the pictures and some way into measly bragging about how well her life was going and not everybody else’s. 

“And in no way I’m saying it as a way for Yeona to live through whatever I went through, but every year I try my best to plan something she wants.” You rub at your elbow unsurely with lips turned downwards. “For some reason, her not asking for one this year makes me think how much she didn’t like the others and how shitty I am for not seeing it much earlier.” 

Yeona giggles when she picks out another that happens to be sneakily hidden snug between a few branches of a tree. 

He shakes his head and calls for you softly. “Are you kidding? I’ve never seen her happier with every passing birthday you manage to outdo every year. Our daughter also has incredible confrontational skills - If she doesn’t like something, she’ll tell us regardless.” 

You snort. “Right.” You grow nervous how serious he becomes when you catch onto his eyes and his front faces you so suddenly. 

“She loves what you do every year,” he assures. He then reasons, “And maybe next year it’ll be different — she’s growing up.” 

You slowly nod, handing him a laugh of disbelief. “Yeah. God, you’re right. Sorry.” 

“Even standing here with a headache, you’re still worrying for nothing,” he scolds. 

“I told you I already feel better,” you argue in return. “The medicine helped a bunch. I’m okay.” And for the next ten minutes, you ignore the side-eye full of concern overpowering on his side when he shoots you a glance. He’s known you since the start of his twenties, of course he would be able to pick out if you were lying or not. 

“What’s the count?” Jungkook asks, eyes squinting from the bright sun casting down at the colorful yard. 

His mother points the camera at him and raises a hand, “Number Five!”

“And how much in total?” 

She pouts. “It wouldn’t be as much fun if I told you.” 

“Mom.” 

You shush him. “Leave her alone.” 

“Six! Six! Six!” Yeona yells near the fence. 

“You found the sixth one, sweetheart!” Jungkook’s father exclaims. 

His mother curses and whips the camera back around. “I missed it!” 

It’s comical when you watch it from afar, and a large smile blooms across your face at the three. “God,” you snort, quite endeared by the sight, “This is a mess. It’s cute.” 

Jungkook stays behind alongside you to simply observe you and them, and he’s already memorizing every part and aspect of this moment to set aside for later. 

Everything fell into place so perfectly, everybody belonging exactly where they were supposed to be. 

“You really do look pretty today, _____.” 

Eyes widening, you whip around to his figure with a questioned gaze. 

He’s willing to repeat the words, let you know over and over until you grow tired of the repetitiveness, drown you in all of the compliments he’s thinking of right now. 

But, you curtly nod and turn away. “T-Thanks.” 

His hand reaches out, exactly to where yours is and his sight subconsciously falls on your fourth finger that was blank of a specific jewelry he put on you two years ago. It’s already been two fucking years and he still grows somber when his eyes catch onto where the diamond used to be.

No matter how many times he can confront it with his own eyes, stare at it for however long you would allow him to look, seek it every time it would raise or show itself — It still hurts nonetheless. 

It’s exactly what makes him pull back and grip onto the chain tucked into his shirt, away from your eyes to see the charm that glints exactly like the first day you put it on him. 

-

Finally having it be the middle of the day, you get to leave and head towards the station to get from Busan to Jeju. 

The station is way more quiet than what you initially anticipated, it being the weekend and all, but the line barely lasts a minute, and you’re already boarding the ferry, right behind Yeona who holds her father’s hand tightly across the dock that transitions to the ship. 

“Snacks?” Is the first thing Jungkook asks for when you all sit down and you quickly reach into Yeona’s backpack. 

“All I have our a few baggies of rice-puffs and juice-boxes.” 

“I want one!” Yeona intercepts, and greedy hands suddenly wave in front of your face. 

“Alright, baby, hold on a minute.” You request and stare back up at Jungkook to propose the idea of sharing a muffin his mother offered last-minute when you slipped through the door to part ways. “There’s only two juice-boxes.”

Jungkook’s head shakes, going to decline the kind offer and allow you to have it before Yeona perks sweetly, “Daddy can share with me!” 

His thumb and pointer softly caresses the supple cheek beneath it before landing a kiss on it and murmuring, “Always so sweet.” 

Sitting back down, Yeona on Jungkook’s lap while you sit side-to-side, plastic cover of the muffin opened and lips pursed out to your own straw. 

With Jungkook’s hands full, squirming daughter all over his lap, you make it easier for him by popping small pieces of the muffin in his open mouth. 

You let out a laugh when you miss and watch a few chocolate crumbs dribble down his chin. “Sorry,” you murmur with a smile, fingers rubbing off some of where the chocolate smeared against his skin. 

“Do you need a tissue?” 

Turning to the nimble voice, you notice an elderly lady with a soft smile she carries so sweetly. “I’m sorry,” she laughs off. “I just noticed how much of a mess you’ve made on your husband.” 

You both don’t flinch at the assumption, smiling back at her. 

“Oh,” your voice brightens with a laugh of your own and bowing in your seat slightly, “Thank you so much for offering.” 

She brings out a few from her own bag and reaches out over the seats, “Here.” 

“Thank you again,” Jungkook says and she looks at you expectantly, practically requesting you to wipe off his mouth yourself. You jump at the realization and clear your throat with whatever protest that bubbled from within, and start with stiff fingers. You’ve already stuffed pieces of muffin in his mouth, what harm would it be to clean up the mess you’ve made? Except it’s completely different, not very easy doing the simple action with a bright-eyed old woman who seems very entertained by the aspect of it, all life returning to them when the tissue rubs at his bottom lip. 

“Daddy,” Yeona taps. “Want off.” 

His gentle grip on her tummy loosens and allows her to slide off of his legs to approach the woman. Your daughter gently waves and let’s her smile speak for itself, so easy to sway the woman when she was so used to doing this to every other person she meets daily. 

“Hi there.” The woman waves back and bends her back more forward to reach Yeona’s level. “Where are you off to today?” 

“Jeju!” She exclaims, and then boasts proudly, “It’s my birthday.” 

The woman eggs her giddiness on by clapping gently, “Oh wow. What a wonderful place to celebrate your birthday!” 

“Yes ma’am,” she agrees sweetly, hands clasped behind her back. “I told my Mommy and Daddy to bring me there and they said yes! We even rode all together here!” 

The woman spares you an odd look at the figures Yeona points at, and you both refrain meeting her eyes that read about obviously riding together, you were married with a kid after all.

At least, to her eyes you were. 

Unfortunately, the both of you lacked the guts to tell her the truth, and that this was just another day to simply tolerate each other more than you already do during the week. 

Nothing more, nothing less. 

The woman hums. “Your parents must love you a lot then. They look good together, too.” 

It all seems too much, as if she was mocking you, and you immediately grow antsy at her nosy stare. 

Luckily, after Yeona had her fair share in her frankly short conversation with the older woman, she left all of you alone for the rest of the ride. 

“That was—” Jungkook starts. 

“—Definitely new,” you finish. 

“I don’t think I’ll ever be used to the assumptions of us still being together. It’s hard not to just blatantly say no so that they could get off of our backs for once.” 

Your voice lowers a bit, just to make sure she can’t hear you from her corner-seat. “But we also have to understand their point,” you reason, “When people see both of us with a daughter, it’s easier to assume that we’re together.” 

His head leans on the metal rod behind him, still listening with his eyes closed. 

“Besides, I don’t really mind.” 

His head shoots back into position and he stares with widened eyes. “Y-You don’t?”

Shrugging, your head shakes. “It’s better this way. I’d rather just go along with it than explain exactly why we’re separated, let them into something they have no business in being in.” 

“Right,” he drags it. “Exactly,” and he says it more for himself to grip on, because fucking obviously. Not for any other reason but for convenience. Always for the best, and he was fine with it. Perfectly keen. 

His head turns towards the water, and he squints, legs bouncing obnoxiously, Yeona whines. It’s only then you realize he’s decked out in all black, as usual, with beads of sweat running off his temple and onto his neck. It’s only worse when he’s seated exactly right under the sun, where the roof fails to give him any shade. 

“You idiot,” you suddenly call and his brows furrow, whipping around to find you in a state of absolute worry, searching through your bag. “Out of all days, when we’d be outside, you’re wearing everything you’re not supposed to.” 

His eyes widen and he stares down at his attire, sizzling back down into realization when he finally realizes the problem. “I’m fine,” he passes off cooly. “Yeona wanted the seat nearest to the water, and I figured you wouldn’t want to be under the sun this long.” 

Before he can even come out with an argument, you’re already moving forward and grabbing Yeona off of his lap. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Come on,” you pat on his thigh, silently coaxing him to scoot. “We’ll trade spots. You can’t be under the sun like this.” 

“_____..” 

Your lips purse and stray down into a pout, and his heart falters, his argument pushed down his throat until he swallows it away. “Jungkook, I’m worried. I don’t even think you put on sunscreen today either.” 

He’s fully aware how irked you get when he doesn’t follow the skincare regimen you set up for him. It’s especially the distress you hold in your eyes and lips when he forgoes the most important step of it all: suncare. 

“Shit doesn’t even work,” he exasperates, and your eyes roll back.

“Say that to me when you’re fifty and covered with sun spots you’ll never be able to erase because you never wanted to listen to me.”

His bite comes without even a second thought, falling back into the banter he secretly misses, when it was comfortable to joke around you, tease you to no end, and drive you up the wall. “You’ll still like me that way, right?” He’s teasing now, and it’s clear when he raises his brows in expectancy, lighthearted and jokeful. 

To your embarrassment, your cheeks tint pink and you don’t have enough pride to return his stare. The only thing you can really do is stammer severely and point at your purse. “J-Just put some on and leave me alone.” 

He hands you a hearty and genuine laugh and you only try your best to ignore it, lips curving the same until you force them to stop from going any higher. 

-

“Holy shit,” you gape. “It’s huge.” 

“They’re loaded.” 

“I-I can’t go in this, Jungkook.” 

“You couldn’t have told me this before we went on a whole road trip and had me prepay tickets for a ferry ride here?” 

You hit his arm. “Jungkook, I’m serious.” 

He laughs. “Why exactly can’t you? It’s just a beach house.” 

“This is too big for a six year old! A few candles from the fucking mall is never going to pay off the fact they are letting us have it for the weekend.”

“With their advision,” he reminds. Yeona stirs in her sleep from the backseat and Jungkook pins you a look. “Can we get out now?” 

You hesitate. “How are you okay without thinking about being possibly indebted to Seokjin and Namjoon? First, they put out a car for us to drive here when we arrived, and now we’re staying in this? We’re being pampered.” 

“Because I’ve been leeching off of Seokjin since I was a teenager, _____,” he states, nimbly remembering when he would depend on a few meals paid from him and even to now - being roommates with the older man. “He’s fine with it. He offered first, after all. We’re just following orders,” he defends so easily. 

Reluctantly, you climb out of the car, crossed arms from your chest, heading towards the back to take out your daughter from her carseat. With a soft nudge and a kiss to her cheek, her eyes shot back open with the realization that this was the last stop, that she was finally here. “M-Mommy, look!” 

“I know,” you coo, “I was just as shocked as you are now.” 

She moves quickly, already releasing the buckle and sliding down to the car floor. She still requests to be picked up like a princess when her arms span out for you, and of course, you oblige. 

“Jungkook,” you call. “Are you getting the bags?” 

The trunk shuts, keys jingling in his hand, “Already on it.” 

When you reach the porch, Yeona eagerly leans towards the right of the door to ring the bell. 

It only takes three seconds for Kim Seokjin to open it with a wide smile. “Welcome!” 

Yeona squeals, legs kicking all over the place and you finally set her down for her to enter first. Not before giving her uncle’s leg a big squeeze of her own, “Thank you, Uncle Jinnie! Love it so much!” 

He chuckles, smoothing down her hair, “Anything for the birthday girl! You haven’t even taken a look around yet, sweetheart. Go find Uncle Joon and he’ll show you everything.” 

“Okay!” Her form is only a blur when she rushes out. 

He smiles. “You guys are on time,” and he says it like it’s a complete surprise. 

A brow arches. “When are we not?” 

“New years,” he recalls. “You both made it five minutes late after the countdown.” 

Jungkook slips behind you to set the bags down. “That’s not fair.” 

You agree. “Yeona was two years old that year. She had a hard time handling the fireworks. I had to coax her to sleep through the phone that night.” 

His head tilts in reason, “Fair.” 

Jungkook nudges you. “Where do you want these?” 

You shrug, turning to Seokjin. “Depends where you want us, Jin.” 

“It’s up to you guys. Taehyung and Jimin already took two of the guest rooms. There’s only three more.” 

“Kiumin is sleeping over, so they can have one room,” you calculate. “And Hyejin’s coming with Kiumin, so we can split.” 

The older man stares wide-eyed at his roommate. Jungkook stares back with the same expression, so Seokjin asks for him, “Split?”

You’re too busy with some of the messages on your phone regarding birthday wishes to your daughter, vaguely returning them with typed out thank you’s and kissy faces. “Yeah.” 

“Does that mean you and—“

You send him an odd stare before turning around and grabbing onto your own bags, disregarding Jungkook’s. “Of course not—? I’m rooming with Hyejin and Jungkook can have the extra room to himself.”

“.. Right.” 

“Is it this way?” You ask without a clue to the men behind you. 

“Uh, yeah! Let me help you,” Seokjin rushes. 

Jungkook is left at the doorway, all alone and with his own bags and a fuming heart that drags as if the slim possibility of what would have happened was anything more to go by.

-

It’s nighttime now. 

You’ve directed Hyejin to your room and have let her unpack while you watched over Yeona and her little boy. 

Your knees bend into a crouch, the familiar smell of chlorine filling your senses when you near the water. 

Jungkook's hair flicks back when his fingers push through them and the blue rays of the water reflect against his chest. His collarbones glisten against the minimal light the night provides, making it harder to strictly set your eyes forward and stray away from anything that wasn’t his own. 

“You couldn’t have waited a second for everyone to settle in before dipping into the pool?” 

He pouts. “Why?”

Head tilting, you pin him a stare and direct your eyesight towards the pink floatie in the corner, swaying calmly. “Because Yeona’s been eyeing that giant flamingo and now she’s asking to hop in with you.” 

“Let her in, then. Namjoon’s already here.”

Your head turns to the outdoor bar and they pin the figure reading a book with amusement when he sends off a small wave. 

“But then Kiumin..” 

Hyejin walks in with a relaxed sigh at the sight in front of her when she passes through the widened double-doors. “Too bad it’s nighttime. I could’ve been tanning.” 

“Hyejin!” You gawk at her bikini. “You’re going in too?” 

She nods in an obvious answer. “Kiumin’s been begging me to let him jump in since we’ve gotten here, and with a view like this — how could I say no?” 

Jungkook points. “See? Our friend is obviously taking the advantage of being here.” 

“We are way far from friends, Jeon,” she practically snarls back. “It’s almost insulting when you say it like that.” 

“Hyejin,” you warn, and turn back to the man standing in the waist-deep side of the pool now. 

Ignoring your friend’s hatred fueled statements, he coaxes. “Come on,” he lulls. “Taehyung and Jimin are already planning to jump in too.” 

Your head shakes in decline, “I can’t. I didn’t even pack a swimsuit, only Yeona’s.” 

“I have one laying out for you in the room,” Hyejin pitches and your eyes widen significantly. “It’s the one I’ve been meaning to give you.” 

“Perfect!” Seokjin claps by the doors, tray full of glasses and the two children following right behind him. “We can start having a pool party!” They immediately cheer and your mind starts to reel in defeat. 

You rub your arms shyly, “I-I’m fine. I don’t really feel like swimming right now..” 

Hyejin snorts. “Don’t even lie. We used to be obsessed with the pool when we were kids. We can do it again for old times’ sake! Show our kids where they got it from.” 

“Literally, what does that have to do with anything in wanting to swim? Aren’t kids naturally drawn to the pool, because it’s a pool?” You grit. 

“I’m just saying to take the chance and relax,” she stresses and her arms extend, waving around carelessly. “We’re here!” 

“You’re going to miss out if you don’t get in,” Jungkook bets, and he knows how much you despise being the outsider while everyone had their share of fun. You loathed the plain idea of it. “Just put the bikini on and stop being a pussy.”

“J-Jungkook!” 

Childish. Absolutely childish.

You hear footsteps approaching right behind you, the vow reaching your ears. “I’ll only jump in if we do it together.” 

Taehyung’s head shakes side to side, eyes narrowing at the shorter man with apprehension. “You pull back every fucking time we do it. I won’t fall for it again.”

Jungkook’s throat clears at the two and he orders his friends, “Tell _____ to get in the pool.” 

Taehyung’s brow furrows, “She doesn’t want to? It’s the pool—and we’re in Jeju!” 

You stubbornly shake your head. “Don’t care.” 

Jimin has a teasing glint in his eye, something you dislike a lot when it’s crystal clear he has something stirring up in his sick head of his, especially since Taehyung had turned down the proposal of his playful and expectant joke.

“We can—grab her and push her in?” He suggests. 

“That’s elementary school shit, Jimin,” you warn. “Get away from me.” 

He’s inching closer and you’re nervously sputtering for Jungkook, helplessly calling for him to get his friend from throwing you in the water so carelessly. 

Luckily, a small hand grapples onto you and it’s Yeona with eager feet who stops Jimin in his tracks. “Mommy, t-the pink birdie!” 

You have a staring contest with it, the one side of the floating flamingo’s eye stares back at you and you exhale a puff before finally standing back up. “Alright, come on. Let’s get dressed.” 

-

The white bikini on you terrifies you enough to cross your arms over yourself and skirt around the edge of the pool until you reach the chairs where Hyejin sits. 

No one’s noticed yet. Not when Jungkook and the rest were already in the pool, putting on the floaties for the children who sat on the pathed ledges made of stone. At some point, you can see both of Jungkook’s eyes completely wiped out and squeezed shut when Yeona excitedly flaps her arms around the water, hyper to get in. 

“Hyejin,” you hiss out, finally reaching your friend. 

She hums with furrowed brows, too distracted in trying to connect her phone to the bluetooth speaker. 

“Why in the world would you give me something like this. I-It’s too much,” you whimper out weakly. 

Her eyes roll back. “It’s a bikini, _____. Remember those? I bet you look great—“ She screeches, chin dropping, hands hovering over her mouth. You flinch, just as shocked as she was, shushing her to shut up before anyone even has the chance in blinking your way. 

“Holy shit.” 

Eyes squeezing shut, you shy in on yourself, carefully taking the wooden pool-chair beside her. “Please, shut up.” 

Her arms raise, “I haven’t said anything—yet.” 

You scowl. “You seriously couldn’t have given me any other fucking set? Like a wetsuit? This is too weird for me.” 

She cackles. “Relax,” she attempts to ease. “Why are you so freaked out? It’s just a swimsuit.” 

Your head knocks back against the wood and you sigh tiredly. “It’s been way too long since I’ve worn something like this. Something not.. Mom-ish.” 

“And why not? This literally proves how much of a Milf you really are!” She stresses. 

You shrug shyly. “I haven’t had much of a reason to.” 

“Well, I’m begging you to. Seriously, _____,” she reassures. 

You quietly break into a laugh, smacking at her arm harshly. 

“Where’s mommy?” You hear Jungkook suddenly ask, and you think you’re a hundred percent fucked. 

Yeona’s voice is muffled against your ex-husband’s chest, incoherently explaining, “Mommy was already running away when we got outside.” 

“Running away?” 

“Yeah! Kind’ve like a ninja. She was there and then—poof!” 

You don’t even announce your bathroom break to Hyejin, standing up and rushing over towards the doors that were close yet so far away.

It would only be a second before you would reach it, and straight into changing back to the sundress that was always deemed as safe. 

Part of you wishes that you could parade around with no care, being so long since you’ve gone out in something like this. But another part that tears you completely, thinks about Kim Seol and how different she is compared to you. 

With stark personalities and looks, you most likely would have never even thought about comparing you from her. But now that Jungkook was going out with her, everything’s changed, and your mind reels into thinking how in the world he had the chance of going to someone else completely different from you, and if he even liked you in the first place, relationship and marriage long forgotten, not even being considered in this context. 

You weren’t exactly sure how long this feeling would last, and maybe it wouldn’t, sticking to all of the new relationships he would continue to open up now that he was available. 

Sure, he’s seen you plenty of times in bed and in the shower from the past years of being together. But this is now and before he had anything younger, more vibrant. 

This was possibly the only thing you could take away from him. Seeing anything physical to compare you with another was the only thing you truly, absolutely wished for. 

You accidentally collide against something. Hard and wide. 

And when you eventually look up, you’re relieved to only find Namjoon with a bag of chips in hand. 

“Shit, are you okay?” 

“I-I’m fine, Joon. Sorry for—running?” 

He chuckles, pointing back to his boyfriend back inside of the house. “Save it for the lifeguard, but he’s off-duty right now mixing margaritas for everyone.”

You attempt to let out the same energy of a laugh as his, but it all turns dry and brittle, making him halt and inspect. “You okay, _____?” 

“O-Of course I am.” 

A few murmurs are made at the back of your figure until a small voice calls out, “Mommy! Over here!” 

Letting out a small gasp, you reluctantly turn around, weakly mustering a smile and avoiding the eyes that officially lay on you when he notices. 

“Hi, baby.” 

“Mommy!” She splashes. “Swim with me and daddy!” 

“U-Uh..”

“Looks like your daughter wants you to get in the pool.”

Turning back to Namjoon, you stiffly nod, “Yeah.” 

“If you’re worried about the temperature, don’t worry. It’s heated.” 

Far from your true concern, you manage to give him a thumbs-up and head back to the very place you’ve been trying to escape. 

“I’ll be there in a minute, okay? Let me go get Aunt Hyejin first.” It’s truly for your sake more than for hers, a cry for help in a situation you could have easily avoided if you had just never put the bikini on. “I hate this,” you managed to mutter against your breath when you finally reached her. “I’m never listening to you ever again.” 

She yelps when you rip the towel away from her, tugging tightly at her arm, urging her to get up. “Hey!” She pouts. 

“Come on,” you order. “Yeona wants to swim and I am not doing this alone.” 

She sits up and observes, quietly biting on a sly chuckle when she notices. 

“What now?” 

“Nothing,” she waves off. “It’s just—your ex is making googly eyes right now.” 

You groan, stomping impatiently. “Hyejin, stop lying and get up.” 

“I’m not lying,” she pleads. “I swear — I’m looking at him right now!” 

“I don’t care,” you deadpan. 

When she finally stands, you put a death-grip on her arm and timidly walk towards the pool. 

“Ouch.”

“Sorry,” you sheepishly say, releasing a bit. 

It’s a pleasant feeling when the warm water wets the bottom surface of your feet, and your shoulders subconsciously relax when your waist-deep. 

Hyejin coos at her little boy, proud of her son when she watches Jimin help, something more in her eyes that go starry at the man who leads him through the water. 

“Thanks, Hyejin,” you whisper.

“Ah, don’t worry about it,” she pats softly at your arm. “I know how nervous you are and all. Just don’t, okay? You’ll be fine.” 

You weakly smile at her again before finally sending her off. 

When she moves out of your view and directly towards Jimin and her son, you find Yeona eagerly waiting for you. 

Taehyung has his eyes blown at the sight of you, whistling with your name trapped between his lips, which exactly makes you wrap your arms tighter around yourself. Of course, he’s teasing, the natural flirt in him most likely powering over him. 

Fortunately, you’re saved when he gets whacked with a strong push of water, Jungkook’s doing. You don’t notice it when your daughter cutely dog-paddles towards you. 

All is forgotten, smile setting on your lips.

“Mommy! Stay right there, okay? I’ll swim to you.” 

“Oh,” you perk, arms already rising beneath the water. With the long distance, you subtly move forward when her legs kick to make it easier on her, and within a few seconds, she’s splashing against your arms with a squeal. 

You giggle. “Are you having fun?” 

“So much, mommy!” She exclaims. “Daddy threw me up high when I wanted a splash.” 

You gasp with a smile, nerves diminishing. “Really? I wish I was there to see it.” 

“Are you too cold?” A voice asks from behind her and you hesitantly face Jungkook, always polite and concerned for your well-being, except there was definitely something else in his eyes you weren’t able to pinpoint and didn’t bother to anyway, now that you were in the water. 

You stiffly smile and shake your head. “I’m fine. The water feels really nice.” 

He nods. “T-That’s good.” 

God, he feels like it’s high school all over again, having no utter idea in starting a conversation with a girl, wanting to, but not even knowing exactly how.

Still, he can’t stop the burning stare, even when your attention zeroes back in on Yeona. 

The nice music sets a comforting nuance around the place, hearing splashes coming from everywhere, specifically when Seokjin’s yelling resonates from the chairs when Taehyung targets him with a cheeky grin. 

“The slices of watermelon are here, you dick!” He scowls. 

Jimin butts in with a scold to the older man, telling him to censor his words around the children. 

Jungkook doesn’t have time to hear the continued argument when he’s hit with an expectant splash of water of his own. 

He doesn’t even need to ask a second later when he hears the both of you giggling. Wiping away the drops on his face and in his eyes, he brushes strands of hair back to get a good look at the satisfied looks on both of your faces. He approaches slowly. 

Your head shakes, already aware of what Jungkook was doing — getting his revenge. 

“I-It was Yeonie’s idea!” 

She only giggles louder, knowing fully well she would easily be the untouched one out of this. 

“Jungkook, I swear to god if you do anything to me-“ 

Your warning goes straight out when strong arms turn you around to face your daughter. Fully wrapping them around your form for a slim chance of being able to escape, you hear a soft chuckle against your ear. 

“I think it’d be fun to splash mommy, huh?” He teases and you tense. 

“Jungkook—!” 

“Yeah, let’s do it!” She pumps a tiny fist from out of the water.

“Sweetheart, no! Listen to me-“

Your nose scrunches, hair whipping with you to cover your face when she splashes. Jungkook helps along the way by releasing an arm and moving some of the water forward against you to hit you square in the face. His wave comes stronger and does an excellent  job at soaking you completely.

You gasp, wiping some of the water away from your face. “Okay, please, I’m sorry,” you whine, gripping his wrists softly, eyes squeezed shut.

He falters at the frail sight of you, easily making you his biggest weakness. 

“It’s okay, mommy,” Yeona speaks up first. “I forgive you.” 

“Hey!” You scoff with a pout. “It wasn’t even my idea.” 

Her eyes crease and she giggles loudly. 

“_____!” Hyejin suddenly calls, and your chin tilts up to find your best friend. “Kiumin wants to play with the birthday girl.” 

Yeona eagerly looks up at you and you simply nod with a smile, letting her small legs kick and float over to her best friend. 

“Ah,” you realize, now being all alone. “I think I should go now.” 

Still, with his arms wrapped around you, he leans closer, “What, why?” And it’s needy, wanting to pull you closer than what he already has. “Can’t you stay?”

“Yeona’s all the way over there and we’re..” Exes with barely anything to talk about or to get along in general. It wasn’t in the book you’ve written out for yourself and probably never will be. “I-I have to get her cake ready. Your mom worked really hard on it.”

“I’ll help you put the candles on it,” he quickly offers. “Just.. Just stay here with me for a while.” 

A brow raises and you turn in his arms. “And do what?” 

He feigns in thinking about it, sharp jaw tilting for you to settle your eyes on. 

Seokjin interrupts with a call of his name and a raised brow at the sight. 

You clear your tight throat and gulp when he hands Jungkook a towel. “Your phone is ringing,” and then carefully gives it to him over the water. 

You observe him as he answers. “Hello?” 

A female voice is heard on the other end and you sense the way he pulls back a bit, that it was Seol. Her muffled voice is enough to push you back into reality and to what exactly you were doing before the call. 

“Ah, hey..” He awkwardly greets, nodding to whatever she was saying. Your head turns away when his eyes land on yours and you feign interest at the potted plant set right next to the door that led inside. “I’m at the house now with.. Everyone else.” 

He chokes up a bit when she says another thing, and you don’t understand until he returns the words. 

“I—I miss you too.” 

Swallowing harshly, your expression hardens, and you begin to pull back. 

“I’ll call you later tonight, alright?” He assures, almost in a rush. Your ears catch some of her words, not really interested in any of the conversation anyway, wanting to create a distance between you and Jungkook before anything else would happen, before you would hear something else you wouldn’t want to be hearing at all. 

Finally hanging up, he takes a slow breath in and sets the phone at the side of the pool. 

You finally pull away from him completely. 

“_____.”

You give a curt smile. “Yeah?” 

His head shakes. “Nothing. It’s just.. Are you okay?” 

You nod, slightly with bewildering eyes, asking, “Why wouldn’t I be?” Then, you laugh softly. “We’re not married anymore, Jungkook.” He stiffens, jaw ticking and eyes shifting to catch your flat expression. “And from what I clearly remember — you’re seeing someone else.” You point towards the phone laying carelessly on top of the stone. 

For once, you feel bad for the poor girl who’s probably wondering when his goodnight text from him would be. 

You keep your eyes on his hands that sink and submerge into the water, and back to his sides. 

“Just because it’s our daughter's birthday does not entail us playing family again,” you mumble. “You took that all away from me two years ago, Jungkook.” 

He doesn’t say anything, shamefully looking down at the waves in the pool caused by Yeona a few feet away. A reminder that was given way too late. 

You nod again, turning slowly around. “I’m going to go get the cake ready. I’ll ask Hyejin to help.” 

With the distance you’ve given him, he finally looks up and finds a disapproving look being given by his own roommate, who had seen and observed every single second of the two of you together since being in the pool. 

He understood exactly why. 

-

Everybody eventually makes their way out of the pool and back into the house to hang out at. 

The same subtle music speakers through the house, the kids being fully entertained by the large television in the living room, and the inside of the house being overall in a mood and feeling that definitely differs from your own thoughts that constantly circle around your head. 

Whatever Jungkook was getting at in the pool, definitely wasn’t sitting with you right. And frankly, everything leading up to it too. 

The process of the divorce was already stripping and tiring enough, finalizing the documents and who would get exactly what was already overwhelming enough, but to throw all of that away and not even consider it when you’re wrapped in the arms you were so accustomed to was entirely stressful. 

It didn’t make sense. It never did when it came to him. 

“Yeonie, are you getting sleepy already?” You ask across the room from the kitchen as you watch your little girl yawn and squirm on top of the fluffy carpet she lays on. 

Her head stubbornly shakes with a pout set on her lips. 

Glancing at the clock sat beside her, it was only eight, but judging from the exertion taken place at the pool, Yeona must have been exhausted. 

Your feet move to where she lays lazily, crouching down and moving her towards your lap, you murmur, “Stay awake for me, baby. You haven’t even blown the candles or opened your presents yet.”

She yawns in protest and nuzzles her nose further into your neck. “Not even a nap?” 

Chuckling softly, probably making it worse for her when your fingers trace against her back, you repeat, “Not even a nap.” Saying it exactly knowing what that would entail, Yeona misinterpreting what a nap and sleep was more often than not. 

Jungkook comes back with damp hair and sweats, black socks shuffling through the floor until they reach you. 

“Hey,” you greet, looking down at the sleepy-head in your arms. “She’s tired.” 

He hums, crouching down with an endeared smile. “I can see.” 

“I swear,” you promise to Yeona, patting her back. “Dinner is almost done and then you can go to sleep, alright?” Your eyes search for Jungkook’s and you request, “Keep her awake while I get everything ready?” 

His arms stretch and extend out, and you pass off the small body in your arms. 

His lips instinctively purse to a gentle shush and rocks her gently when he feels her squirm. 

You glare. “I said keep her awake, not encourage her to count the sheep.” 

He winces. “This is new! Usually I’m doing the exact opposite.” He lifts her head, and begins his futile attempts in keeping her eyes open. “Alright, sweetheart. What mommy says, it always goes, so you’re going to have to help me out here, okay?” 

She mumbles incoherently. 

“Come on,” he nudges, “Up.” 

“Play that dancing game she likes,” you suggest. 

Taehyung from the couch, perks at that. “God, I love that game,” inputting himself in the conversation and inviting himself a second later, “Please count me in.”

“You think they have any games like that for kids?” He specifies with a swift look at his friend and Taehyung sends a throw pillow his way. 

Seokjin quickly dissipates it with a scold of how much the pillows cost and which country they were exactly from.

You eye the bar full of wires and game controllers, easily making the assumption quickly, “With the eight different consoles I’m staring at, they must.” 

His head dips down. “How does that sound, baby? You want to dance?” 

Yeona’s completely untouchable when she’s grumpy, so it doesn’t come to a surprise when her arms reels back to try to smack her father away from talking to her anymore. 

Luckily, he dodges it. 

But as her eyes open wider and catches an eyeful of Jungkook dancing along with Kiumin and Taehyung twenty minutes later, she ends up joining them in the end, the same jittery moves she first walked in with. 

You pull Hyejin out of her light conversation with Jimin, opting to question her tinted cheeks for later when it would be time to head to bed. 

Of course, Hyejin will want to pry whenever and wherever, deeming it acceptable when it’s noisy enough with the conversations and laughs airing through it. “Want to talk about it?” Hyejin, located beside you who unwraps the carefully decorated box, asks carefully. 

You feign cluelessness to the subject. “Not sure about what.” 

She pins you a stare. “Come on. I saw what happened. Everybody did.”

Shrugging, you grab the candles, sticking them carefully, three on top and three at the bottom. You would’ve gotten the actual number six, but Jungkook had argued that it would be more fun for your daughter to blow as many candles as she can, the singular candle not being enough for a kid’s satisfaction. 

“I don’t know,” you start unsurely. “It’s just weird, is all. It’s always hot and cold when I’m with him — having weird moments happen every so often and reminding him where the line starts and ends, and then acting perfectly poised when Yeona’s there.” 

Her back hits the counter as she leans, arms crossed and head shaking. “This needs to stop, _____,” she says honestly. “He can’t keep going back and forth like this, completely forgetting everything else that happened — you’re broken up for a reason.” 

“Forget it,” you dismiss with a bite to your lip. “It’s not like I stopped him on time. For a second, I forgot about everything too.” 

She’s visibly stumped, stern expression faltering and letting the silence bloom, other than the outdated pop music and stomping in the background. 

“_____..”

“I’m not going to sit here and blame him for every little thing that I could have controlled myself if I just stayed in my own lane,” distressed hands and fingers pull against your hair and you sigh out, eyes closing shut and feet swaying a little. The throbbing in your head continues and pulls at you venomously, like it couldn’t get enough from the first time. 

Hyejin’s eyes widen and she rushes over to you in full concern. “Babe, are you okay?” 

You nod, even if your furrowed brows clearly show the opposite. “Of course,” you pass off, eyes darting to the same place they’ve been at all night. 

He’s still dancing and smiling.

“He’s not my husband anymore.”

And you say it again, wanting it to stick inside of your head until it fully processes, that it’s your fault just as much as his, for playing against the papers and agreements you’ve spent so many nights and days over. A constant reminder for the rest of your life, and not the other. Not the one that consists of vows and promises. Never that one anymore. 

You muster a quick smile, turning to her gaping mouth who yearns to reach out, but you refuse it when you turn the corner, beginning to set everything up at the main table. 

“Is the birthday girl ready?” Your voice drags, upbeat lilt feigning the pounding in your head. 

High pitched squeals resound from the main room and their small feet bounce against the hardwood. 

Jungkook follows suit. 

“Me!” Yeona calls excitedly, “It’s me, Mommy!” 

“Woah,” Kiumin gapes. “You’re cake is awesome, Yeonie!” 

She giggles and hops on her tippy-toes to get a peek, “Thanks! My grandma made it.” 

“Oh,” Kiumin nods. “She’s awesome.” 

You chuckle softly at the kids, smiling down at the cute cake. You go to pull out your phone for pictures and videos to make sure she would see her work being fully appreciated. 

Jungkook hoists Yeona up on the chair, her lifted cheeks and glittering eyes proving her excitement when she sees the candles already lit. 

“Has it already been six years, already?” Seokjin asks in disbelief, plates and forks already in his hand to set down on the table. 

You nod, pouting and squishing one of her cheeks, “Already a big girl.” 

Yeona hums, “Basically a grown-up now!” 

Hyejin bursts in laughter, everybody following right behind. 

“Alright,” Jungkook sighs, arms circling around her softly, placing a kiss on the top of her head. Fondly staring down at his rapidly growing little girl, the same feeling you hold to your chest. “Don’t need to rub it into our faces, miss.” 

Your camera clicks on its own, a fond smile subconsciously forming. 

“Are we ready to sing?” Namjoon timidly asks. You turn to find him weary at the sight on the wax that begins to drip rapidly. “It’s just—the candles are starting to melt.” 

You laugh, nodding. “Alright, let’s sing.” 

It starts off normal, a little bit muted, until Kiumin bursts into a full performance for his best friend. Until Seokjin follows along and throws in an impromptu dance routine. Her father and the others join in right after, impressed at how eerily good it actually looked, almost looking rehearsed. But then you familiarize yourself with the sharp moves, the hands and arms showcasing that it was the corny traffic dance Seokjin taught them all a few years back on one drunk night.

Until eventually everybody does their best in throwing Yeona in a fit of giggles. 

You join her side and guide her into making a wish, clamping her hands shut and scrunching her eyes closed, until the commotion quiets and she opens her eyes with hopefulness written all over it. 

Kiumin is the first to question through the silence. “What’d you wish for, Yeonie?” 

She simply smiles, glancing at you from her side, and then moving her gaze straight to Jungkook. 

She subtly shakes her head, voice so soft, almost completely blurred into a whisper, “If I tell you, it’ll never come true.”

* .✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*. * .✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*.* .✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.

hi, i’m back omg. i had to take some time away bc midway of finishing this up, literally a few paragraphs away, i ended up having my mental health spiral down. but now, i’m better and managed to finish this part.

also please tell me ur thoughts! i crave validation n use ur feedback as my fuel towards anything i write. :]

* .✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*. * .✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*.* .✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.

#mine #bts #bts fanfic #bts angst #bts smut #bts fluff #jeon jungkook #jeon jeongguk #jungkook #jungkook fic #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #full stop

[astringofmadhousefloozies]

Surprises

Surprises of all kinds, found after a shopping trip goes wrong. Content warning for coarse language, sexuality, threats of violence, mentions of suicide and incest, and copious amounts of headcanons.

As always, there is more in my Twisted Wonderland Fanfiction tag, and send me a message if you liked it, I crave positive feedback.

~*~*~*~

TXT: where the fuck are you guys it's already quarter past

After a few minutes, you got a ding.

M: idia doenst want t leave something about a person see you aftr he needs freind

Oh goddammit, it's so fucking hard to get him out and about. At least Mal was with him.

You looked to Grim at your feet. "Looks like it's just us, buddy."

~*~*~*~

It was just you and Grim browsing through the dollar store, when a boy in a ratty shop apron came up to you. "Ma'am?"

You turned to him, and he coughed. "Uh, Miss. You're not supposed to have pets in the store."

Grim bristled at him. "I'm not a pet!"

Poor kid, he looked so startled. And you decided to make it worse, because yanno, why not. "How dare you refer to my son as a pet! Does he look like a pet to you?"

He looked between your face and Grim's, confusion growing. "Wh-"

"I know the resemblance isn't the strongest, but honestly! How could you say such mean things about him!"

Grim, bless him, actually caught on and decided to play along for the chaos of it. "Why are you being so mean to me? My mom works hard to keep me happy! She said I could pick out a toy today!"

The confusion had turned to anger. "That's not your kid! You're too young and he's an animal!"

Grim looked up at you, mock tears in his eyes. "I'm your kid, right? I'm not adopted like the boys at school say?" He started sniffling. "I'm not adopted, right?"

You clapped your hands over Grim's ears and glared at the now horrified shopboy. "Look what you've done! I hadn't told him yet!"

He just fled in horror, and it was all you could do to keep from laughing.

~*~*~*~

The village on the island wasn't the worst appointed. Being equidistant between two prestigious magic schools, it had a few places worth going, and after hitting up your personal favourite, you went to a small park, settled down on a bench, and started unwrapping your prizes.

You have a love for gashapon machines that bordered on a serious problem. In your biweekly trips to buy snacks and supplies to stock up your miserable, beautiful dorm, you easily fed 3000 madol (which you think was about thirty-five dollars or so at home, but couldn't be sure) into the long rows of machines in the drug store, coming out with tiny keychains, figures, and various useless but wonderful little totchkes that you kept lined up in rows in your bedroom. The joys of tiny presents! And the containers were useful too; for a creature who heavily insisted he wasn't a cat, Grim lost his shit like one every time your rolled a ball with a bell inside across the floor.

You were marveling over a tiny, perfectly realistic jellyfish on a phone strap as someone sat down heavily beside you. "Is that," they pointed to Grim poking his way around the cattails by an ornamental pond, "yours?"

"... Yes?" You turned to examine your seatmate. Charmingly strange looking, they sat impeccably robed in forest green velvet and squinted at you from behind perfectly round sunglasses. Flat-faced and thin-lipped, they reminded you of a toad, with their roundness and severe expression.

"Ah, then you are the one I am looking for. You're the pet of the prince."

"I'm a friend of his. Is that a problem?" You decided to keep opening your prizes, and pulled out a heavy ball from the bottom of your bag.

"His Highness does not have human friends."

"And yet, I am." This one, unwrapped, was the chase in the set: a tiny cauldron the size of a thimble that seemed to be actual cast iron. The chill of it was pleasant in your hand, and instead of returning it to your bag, you left it in your lap.

This presumptive stranger leaned in. "You're a diversion. A distraction from what he should be learning. Instead he plays with mortals and lets them forget their place."

"If it was so important that he didn't play with mortals, then why was he allowed to attend here?" You got a cheap set of rings on a goldtone chain in this one. Boo. You'd wanted the miniature necklace of the set for your doll. "He's very happy with the company of us all."

"Too happy. He forgets his place." The toady eyed the glittering paste gems before looking away. "Above you. Instead he crawls into your lap and serves you like a dog."

You froze. "Now, where did you get that idea?"

"We have sources." They leaned in further, smiling. A barely perceptible line of triangular teeth, sparsely placed and translucent in tone. "Foul things happen to the unwanted lovers of heirs, don't you know?"

"I am a wanted friend." 

"You're a parasite who should flee."

You realized something, and turned to face your strange benchmate. "Why are you threatened by me?"

They scoffed. "Why would we be threatened by you?"

"If you weren't," you said, dropping your voice as your leaned in, "then you wouldn't be here trying to put the fear into me." They leaned back, glasses slipping off their nose. The eyes in their face were exquisite, shining gold and black speckles with a ring of gold around an oval pupil. You could help but laugh. "Pretty eyes. You really are a toad. Who sent you? The Thorn Witch? Can't be, I'm not worth her time and if I was, she'd've sent a fucking letter."

"We're a concerned party, preventing our future king from making the mistake of dealing with filth." 

Well, that one pissed you off. You grabbed their wrist, feeling bumps and warts on their skin through the fabric, and pressed the tiny cauldron to the back on their hand as they started screeching.

"You," you looked them dead in their impossibly lovely eyes, "You go back where you came from, tell them I'm not a threat to whatever stupid bullshit they're worried about, and never bother us again. Or I will make you swallow this and you'll beg the precious prince you're so damned worried about to burn you alive to stop the pain."

You'd never seen anyone run so fast in your life when you let them go.

"Hey, Grim! We gotta go."

~*~*~*~

TXT: MAL SOMEONE SENT ME A TOADY SAYING I CAN'T BE AROUND YOU ANYMORE

TXT: MIGHTA BEEN YOUR GMA BUT I DON'T THINK SO

~*~*~*~

"I'm gonna kill that fucker."

"Killing them might start an international incident. If one hasn't happened already. You burnt them with iron, Yuu."

"I should have done worse! Whoever the fuck they were, that's two friends they've tried to threaten to stay away from you! That we know of!"

It turns out that the mystery toady had been the person to scare the piss out of Idia the night before. Not that they'd gotten far into their leave-the-prince-alone spiel, Idia had simply kicked them square in the stomach and fled, assuming another kidnapping attempt.

"It wouldn't have been my grandmother. In the last letter I got from her, she said it was very nice that I was making friends. She said to keep making them, even."

"She'd probably care if she knew you were sleeping with said friends." Idia was curled into the corner of his bed, and from the looks of it hadn't slept since his own encounter.

"No she wouldn't."

"You sure about that?"

You'd said that that was only going to happen once. Everyone agreed. But when all three of you settled in to play a game or watch a movie, hands moved and bodies flushed and you all seemed to find yourself tangled and gasping. And it didn't seem to require all three of you - you no longer had the strength to say no to Mal's obvious advances, and you'd walked in on your boys more than once. At least you were still friends? Really, really close friends?

"She wouldn't."

"Could they be worried about heirs?" That seemed logical. Even if no accidents were happening, they might not know that.

"That's not possible."

You raised an eyebrow. Everything worked right, and you all knew it.

Mal looked back at you. "Yuu, I hatched from an egg. I could have you both five times a day for a decade and all there would be to show for it is you couldn't walk. I cannot have children with either of you without magical intervention."

Idia made a truly impressive death rattle before mumbling something about the end of his bloodline, and you just nodded. "Makes sense."

"It's quite interesting, really, it requires numerous spells and potions, that if not kept up on, the babe will-" Malleus placed his hands together, back to back, and mimed the motion of tearing something open.

You flinched. "That's awful, goddamn."

"I have a direct ancestor who took a great deal of human women as breeding stock and simply let them be eaten from the inside out. That's what started one of the earlier human/faerie wars." 

"... Wow."

"I am not proud of her."

"Can we please talk about anything else?" Idia looked ready to be sick. "I don't want to think about any of this."

"Sure, let's grab one of your doujins."

~*~*~*~

"So you're already engaged?"

"As soon as it was clear I would survive to adulthood, yes. Idia, what is this series?"

"Nyan Neko Sugar Girls. It's not that great storywise, but it has great gags." He reached over and grabbed the next one in his pile. "It's not that unusual. My mother wanted Ortho to marry my cousin Alecto when they grew up, before..."

"Before he made a lifestyle change?" That seemed the politest way to put it.

"Before she went to the criminal ward."

You shut your book with a soft thump. "What?"

"I remember the trial." Mal sighed. "Strychnine in the sugar bowl at Sunday dinner. I made sure to get the newspapers sent to the palace."

"Mother was heartbroken over it, until she realized that the wealth of that entire Shroud branch defaulted back to us." Idia shrugged. "It's sad. She was just eleven. I still send her emails."

"Idia."

"Mm?"

"Why the fuck would an eleven year old poison someone?"

"My uncle said she couldn't get a puppy until her grades went up."

"What the fuck." You'd lie down if you weren't already doing so.

"It's the curse." He sighed. "We thought she might've been from an affair? But that proved it."

"My dearest Shroud, you can't guarantee it was from the curse." Malleus turned a page. "It might have been trauma from her mother's death."

You could see more bad history incoming. "Oh no."

"Alecto was from Uncle Jo's first marriage, to my dad's cousin Alita. She had a sister, but when her mother drowned herself, she only took-"

"Is this normal for your family? Or is that just some exceptional bad luck?"

He leaned in, lamplight eyes flashing. "Out of all the Shrouds of my generation that are still capable of inheriting, I'm the most mentally sound."

Both you and Mal had to stop and really consider the implications of that.

"So, Mal. Yours isn't that closely related?"

"Fifth cousins at most when they're finally born."

You sat up. "What?"

"I'm supposed to marry the third grandchild of the Hollyoak Baron. They're a well-respected family, and of snake fae descent so little aid will be needed for conception. His eldest child is in..." He had to think about what words to use. " I believe the term is 'middle school'?"

"They really planned it that far ahead?"

Mal shrugged, the movement rolling down his whole body. "I cannot complain. It gives me a very long time to learn how to be a husband before I have to be one."

"But what if you don't like them?"

"Marriage is chiefly a contract to produce heirs. I'll learn to like them, and ideally love them."

"And if you don't?"

"I'll still treat them as kindly as I can."

"And I suppose you'd take a lover."

"Maybe. They can too, as long as all the children are mine. For legal reasons," he added.

Idia, snapping out of his thoughts, tapped Mal's shoulder. "Does the Hollyoak Baron have any friends who are toad faeries?"

It was Mal's turn to sit up. "That... He could be worried that if I have favourites at school, I'll resent my betrothed for not being either of you. Or that I would attempt to break it off entirely."

"That still doesn't tell us how he found out about..." You gestured around the room.

Idia rolled his eyes. "All that would have to happen is any one student from the Valley of Thorns writing a letter home."

"But -"

"Malleus, you're not shy in your affections. At all."

"Yes I am," he bristled.

~*~*~*~

"Mal?"

"Mmph?"

"You have to put me down. I have class."

He made a slightly different mmph and shook his head.

You tried to pat his head, but your arms were securely pinned to your sides. "I know they're fantastic, but you have to stop."

He still refused to remove his face from your chest, making a noise that could have been purring if it cane from anyone who was a proper mammal.

"Mal, we're blocking traffic."

He still wasn't putting you down, instead swaying slightly in place.

A familiar long-fingered hand with dark nails reached from behind you and tugged at Mal's lapel. "Malleus, please stop, it's ten AM and everyone is staring."

Mal finally put you down - only to switch targets, wrapping his arms around Idia's waist and pulling him flush, fixing him with such a look of besotted fondness that you immediately felt like you were intruding.

"You look beautiful today."

Idia immediately burst into a ball of pink flame.

~*~*~*~

"... Perhaps I am a bit obvious."

Idia stared up at his ceiling. "You'd be at home in my otome games."

You chimed in. "What would be obvious, in your mind?"

"Very easy. I finish the paperwork declaring you Lord and Lady of the Bedchamber and have you officially ensconced as Court of Thorns royalty, ensuring you're both taken care of for the rest of your days."

"... Finish?"

"It seemed the easiest thing to do if either of you chose to visit my homeland."

You swatted his leg. "And you didn't think to ask us first?"

Mal was starting to clue in that he had once again overreached himself. "... Surprise?"

"I'm okay with it."

You glared over at Idia. "That's not the point."

"Look, if I ever get disinherited, I have a place to go. He won't make me go outside if I don't want to. I'll bring Ortho. It'll be great."

"They don't even have dial-up over there, Idia. Lilia told me he had to get all this stuff installed to play his MMOs."

Idia pointed at Mal, easy smile turned to outrage. "How dare you try and trap me!"

It honestly seemed like Mal and Idia had switched expressions, the look of worry on his face so strange. "It's a protective measure! If you're titled, people will get in trouble if they try and remove you!"

"That's still... wait." The gears were turning in your head. "If you finish that paperwork, whoever sent Mixter Toad is going to get in so much more trouble."

Everyone went silent as they considered this.

"... As soon as I get the official permission from my grandmother. She won't like it very much, but if I explain..."

Idia turned to Mal. "You were going to make your human fucktoys official members of the Court of Thorns without telling your grandmother, the queen. Who has a notable and often justified dislike of humans."

"No?"

"Mal."

"I simply prepared ahead."

"Mal."

"I - "

"Malleus." You leaned over and kissed his cheek. "You're so goddamned stupid. Love you."

He didn't say it back with words, but you got the message loud and clear.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland fanfiction #idia shroud #malleus draconia

[willowbird]

Cute uncle!Andrew and Neil with Aaron’s future kids!

Ooh! Don’t mind if I do! I hope you enjoy! <3

------

The reunion had been Abby’s idea, and while Wymack had done some obligatory grumping about the idea of having this particular group of Foxes invading their house (”I hope you remembered to hide the liquor.” “David, they’re all legal adults now and we’re inviting them over to drink with us.” “Make sure you have the fire department on standby.” “David, I highly doubt they’re going to burn down the house.” “I swear to fuck if those Minyards think they’re going break my shit I’ll haul their asses out to the park and leave them in a cardboard box.” “David, I think you’re being a bit dramatic.”) he was able to admit, at least to himself, that he was looking forward to seeing them again. 

Sure, he’d kept up with all of them individually in his own way, and they’d gotten together periodically over the years, but this would be the first time in at least a decade that the lot of them would be under one roof -- under his roof -- and he was looking forward to seeing with how own eyes how they were doing. 

He’d thought he’d known what to expect. 

After all, he’d paid attention to the pro careers of Matt, Allison, Kevin, Neil, and Andrew. He spoke with Renee at least once a year in person when she came by PSU to hand-deliver her donations (and Allison was usually with her these last few years as well). He saw less of Nicky and Aaron, since Nicholas had returned to Germany after graduation and Aaron had moved on to medical school and that was even more rigorous than the training schedule he’d put them through, but he was still aware of their general well-being. Dan he probably saw the most, as she’d gone on to coaching and was now in the same division as PSU, running a newer exy team at a small public university in northern Georgia. Kevin was always around for the holidays and visited during the off-season, and they spoke on the phone regularly -- so he was generally up-to-date with his son’s life. 

It had started out within the bounds of his expectations. Nicky and Erik had flown in the night before and stayed at a hotel in town, but Dan and Matt had arrived first because Nicholas Klose still didn’t understand the function of a goddamn alarm clock. A prompt Renee and Allison showed up a little after them, followed by a harried Nicky and an exasperated Erik. Kevin ambled in solo, followed by Neil and Andrew, who still looked unbothered by the whole damn world (probably because they were the ones typically setting it on fire, but hey - what did he know?). Last to arrive were Aaron and his wife, former Vixen and one of the youngest female neurosurgeons in the field, Katelyn. 

That was when things got... strange. 

Wymack had been in the kitchen, pouring a seltzer for his (three years sober) son, when he heard the front door open and Abby greet the final arrivals. He heard a small, excited little voice call out, “Unca Annew!! Unca Neew!!” Then there was the rapid patter of little feet followed by a squeal of delight and a deep laugh that Wymack couldn’t place because he’d legitimately never heard it before. 

Curious and confused, Wymack stepped out of the kitchen just enough to peer into the foyer and his eyes didn’t quite register what he was seeing. 

Andrew was standing in the foyer with a blond-haired little girl in his arms who couldn’t be any older than three (though frankly, he was shit at guessing ages on munchkins). He was grinning and hugging her, listening as she jabbered on about something-or-other. Neil was standing at his shoulder, also smiling, though his attention diverted and his expression softened in a way that Wymack hadn’t known the venomous little viper to be capable of. 

“U-unca Neewy?” Wymack noticed that the little girl in Andrew’s arms wasn’t the only child present. An identical child in a different colored dress was huddling behind her mother’s legs, looking anxious at the new place and the strange woman (Abby) who kept smiling down at her. 

“Hey there Pips,” Neil said quietly, crouching down and opening his arms in offering. It took a moment, then the little girl cautiously edged away from her mother before half-tripping on uncoordinated legs the five or six steps it took her to get to Neil, who wrapped her up in his arms as natural as breathing and hugged her tight. He murmured something in her ear that Wymack couldn’t hear and when the little girl nodded he scooped her up and kissed her cheek before turning to join Andrew and the other small child. 

Andrew and Neil holding children. Andrew and Neil being good with children. Andrew and Neil, smiling and laughing and comforting small little children. It was such a bizarre thing that Wymack didn’t really think when he spouted off a bewildered, “What the actual fuck?”

Seven faces instantly snapped to where he was standing and it took more will than he liked to admit for Wymack not to cower under the five disapproving adult gazes and the two shocked child ones. 

“David!” Abby hissed, and he grimaced an apology. 

“Ooooooo, he said it! He said it!” crowed the chatterbox in Andrew’s grasp. 

Andrew looked like he was about ready to commit murder and never in all the years had he known the bastard had Wymack ever felt intimidated by him -- until now. It made no sense, but somehow, he became about thirty times more effective with a small child in his arms. What the fuck was up with that?

The other child made a timid little whimpering sound and Neil shot him a similar promise of an untimely death with one scathing narrowing of his eyes. Suddenly, Wymack was very eager to cancel his plans to go see the Denver Wildcats next game. 

Then Neil softened again in that way that made Wymack feel like he’d been transported to an alternate dimension. He bounced the child gently and murmured quietly to her, and this time Wymack was able to hear what he said. 

“I know he’s big and loud, but that’s Wymack. Remember I told you about him?”

“Uh-huh...”

“Remember what I said?”

“Uh-huh...”

“Pips.” The tone was gentle, but still commanding in a way that eerily reminded Wymack of Betsy. This was getting too weird. 

The little girl hugged Neil tighter around the neck, then took two deep breaths before pulling back and peaking over at where he was still standing right at the entrance of the kitchen. She studied him warily before saying, “He’s da bear man.”

The... bear man? What... the fuck?

“That’s right. He’s big and loud but very soft. And he’ll stay far away if you don’t want him close.” 

Wymack was pretty sure he needed to lay down.

Thankfully, Aaron finally decided to speak the fuck up. Granted, the tiny fucker sounded way too amused for his own good. “Coach, you haven't met the twins yet. The little energizer bunny with Andrew is Penny and Neil’s got Piper. Piper is a bit shy, that’s all. She’s not all that great with strangers still.”

“Alright family, let’s get out of the foyer hm? Would you girls like some snacks? I bet Uncle Andrew will show you where the cookies are if you ask him nicely,” Katelyn offered with a knowing smile.

It had an immediate effect. Even the shy one, Piper, lit up like damn Christmas tree as both girls looked to Andrew like he was here to deliver them Salvation. In a childlike unison that had absolutely no right being that adorable, both girls gasped, “Cookies?!”

Andrew smirked. Then he chuckled and kissed Penny on the cheek. “Oh, I think I can find something.”

Wymack stepped out of the way as Andrew led the way with Penny, Neil and Piper right behind them, into the kitchen.

He watched them go, then just stood there, gobsmacked for a moment. Katelyn was the one to cross over to him and pat him consolingly on the shoulder. “If it makes you feel any better, Neil has already offered both of them to teach them how to pick locks when they turn five.”

It did but it didn’t. 

Aaron snickered unhelpfully. “Go have a drink, Coach. If that is fucking you up, just wait until tea time.”

“Tea time?” Even to his own ears, his voice came out raspy. “What the fuck is tea time?”

Aaron cackled in response. Cackled. 

Jesus Christ, this was not what he had signed up for.

#asks #blue-hail #aftg #aftg fic #aftg prompt #future fic #uncle andrew #uncle neil #andrew is good with kids #neil is good with kids #pov david wymack #andrew minyard #aaron minyard #neil josten #david wymack #foxes reunion #fluffy drabble #100 followers

[misha-moose-dean-burger-lover]

"Won't it suck, Cas?" Dean declares, as Castiel enters their room with bags hoisted on both shoulders, and elbows the door shut behind him - because apparently when you're pretending to date in front of your parents, sometimes they turn out awesome enough for you to get to - or, Dean supposes he should say, have to share a room.

Cas puts the bags down, next to their bed.

"Won't it totally, and completely, and really suck if our cover blew?"

"Who suspects what?" Cas turns, with a frustrated frown. Which soon flips to a planning, expressionless face. "Because I've still got some of those baking-stories left. I believe I can swing them into a conversation." Cas folds his arms. "And you should come with me. You tell them great, because it's the one thing which isn't a lie."

That - isn't completely fair.

A lot of things, at least as far as Dean sees them, have not been lies.

Dean does make Cas coffee every morning, sometimes takes it to his bedroom too, and Cas does do most of the shopping for the flat - there's this inside joke Dean has going with Cas's brother Gabriel, that the employees at Walmart are terrified of Cas because he once threatened someone over pie, which he never forgets, and Dean always gets so soft over that story.

They do share clothes sometimes, even if it's just ratty t-shirts they'll never wear outside, and they do have movie nights every Thursday where Dean comes up with amazing films and Cas unpreventably falls asleep in the middle of them. And they did name all of Cas's bees one night, drunk and dreamy on the balcony.

Sure, they don't fall asleep in each other's arms later, or do the couple-y things they've had to edit into otherwise real stories, but Dean thinks he makes up for it by being in all kinds of love with Cas.

Not that Cas knows, of course.

"Well, I don't doubt that you've got enough adorability ammo." Dean returns, grinning. "We are pretty cute, to be fair. And, nope." He clarifies. "Nobody doubts that we're not dating yet."

When opportunity had presented itself a couple weeks ago, at the beginning of December, Dean had found in himself just enough courage to ask Cas if he'd be okay with being his fake-date for New Year's, since he was spending it with the Winchesters anyways - adding hurriedly, that if Cas felt weirdly about it at all, he could drop the idea right there, and he'd quietly just go off in search of someone else and not bring it up again.

Cas had blinked at him a few times before saying okay, and what a wonderful understatement that had been because by the time they had to leave for Kansas, Cas was more invested in the program than he'd ever been.

"Yet?" Cas recoils, eyebrows knitted together. "What are you implying, Dean?"

What had started off as a means to shirk off lectures from his family, was now being treated like a mission. But as of the moment, sitting cross-legged on the edge of the bed - Dean is happy. He's around the people he loves most, and well-fed on a heavy homemade lunch and two beers, and he's feeling light-hearted and brave.

"Tonight's fireworks night." Dean shrugs, trying to go for nonchalant and hoping he lands in non-shy, at the very least. "Out by the riverfront, sitting on blankets on the grass, and staring up at the night sky - the whole shebang."

"So?"

"People will probably expect us to kiss." Dean clears his throat, studying Cas's face for reactions. There's nothing for him there, but he doesn't stop staring. "And since we can't do that, we might -"

"I -" Cas interrupts, and maybe he's blushing a little. Jesus, Dean hopes he is. "I can."

Dean raises his eyebrows.

"Kiss, I mean."

And fuck that fucking fucker for not specifying that he can kiss Dean, because those words, strung together in a sentence and delivered in Cas's glorious fucking voice would've automatically sent Dean to paradise.

Dean's run out of things to say so he lets out a sound that's supposed to be the wordless equivalent of a 'huh'.

"I-if we had to." Cas adds, uncertainly. "Couldn't you?" He asks, and the ball is back in Dean's pitiable court.

"No, yeah." Dean supplies, and his voice cracks unhelpfully. He clears his throat and braves on to previously untraversed territory. "I could. Sure, I could."

That's one too many, and Dean wants to swallow his words back but Cas has already heard them, and there's a slow smile stretching slowly on his features.

"Then what's the problem?"

"It'd be obvious," Dean answers him, matter-of-factly. "Way too obvious that it's our first kiss. The, uh." He can't believe he's actually saying these words. "Being that close, basically. First times are bound to be weird - just the very newness of someone's lips on yours." He's goddamn rambling but he isn't going to be the first to acknowledge whose, either.

Cas's cheeks are sufficiently pink by now for Dean to feel a little bit triumphant. But then it's his turn. "You're not wrong." He begins, nodding seriously, in spite of his flustered voice. "It takes all couples a while to fall into rhythm. Sync up pace, get comfortable touching each other, and grow familiar with their partner's technique."

They're both just saying words now, and it doesn't really mean much - in fact, it's infinitesimal as compared to the lengths being exchanged by means of a long-held stare.

Questions are proposed within the silence, and permissions are granted in whispers.

"Not for nothing," Dean finally says out loud. "But maybe we should get the first time out of the way."

Cas steps closer, and there's a twinkle in his eye. "Maybe we should." Dean keeps on staring, his tongue shooting out to wet his lips. "Maybe, right away."

Dean stands up, breathing out traces of a 'yes' and Cas is right there. He's so close, and so gorgeous, and just that one inch shorter - so Dean can just lean in and Cas will probably go on his toes a little bit, and it'll be like they're meeting in the middle, and -

Dean's so lost thinking about it that he almost misses the first spark which goes through him like goddamn electricity in his veins, when Cas's hand cups his cheek, fingers splayed on his neck and thumb oh-so-close to his lips.

Dean can feel his breath hitch when Cas gently runs the pad of his thumb across the bottom lining of Dean's lower lip, and he doesn't have a single thought in his head except for Cas, Cas, Cas, as he reaches forward to grab the lapels of his coat and closes the gap.

He knows he's probably expected to ingest the intricacies of how the kiss feels - the details of Cas's taste and smell and touch; the curve of his lips, the stubble across his jaw, and his hand on Dean's face.

But far from mapping Cas's fucking technique - Dean can't even process when he's supposed to pull back. All he can do is stay, hands entangled in Cas's coat, and trapped between them, eyes closed but all other senses overly sensitive to everything Cas does.

It's not like he doesn't do his bit, but that's all instinct - his brain's signed out for the day, and this is just his nerves in command. It should be terrifying, feeling this lost - or more appropriately, afloat, in the middle of a kiss, but as their noses bump and lips collide, in slightly different angles each time they pull off to gasp for breath, it just feels right.

It feels real.

Their first kiss isn't just one kiss, Dean muses, as they separate finally but linger. It's an amalgamation of a thousand kisses, and a half a thousand breaths because Cas kept taking his away - and it's the way Cas's hand came to rest on Dean's arm, and Dean's fingers clutching a soft material which is more Cas than anything else he owns, and it's every little everything, and then some.

"Wow." Dean sighs, and he doesn't even regret sounding as overwhelmed as he does. "Cas, I - wow."

He's never been kissed like that.

Cas looks back at him a little starry-eyed, and proceeds to relax into a gummy smile instead of words - and it's happy, and lovely, and perfect.

"I might be wrong," He mutters, stepping ahead, and there's no space left, so Dean falls back to sit on the bed in surprise. "But second kisses can be pretty tricky too."

"Right." Dean scoots on backwards on the mattress, and Cas follows, climbing on the bed. "Right, yeah, with all the pressure from the first -"

"And the relatively newfound elements of intimacy -"

"And the -" Dean tries to add, but Cas is unbelievably kissable, just leaning over him, with his smile and his eyes and his hands, and Dean stops himself short. "We just really shouldn't risk it."

And that's all the preamble before he's pulled Cas over him, lips desperately seeking out all the right places to be, and their hands all over the place like they're trying to make up for years of tension in a single minute - but after a while, they're back to kissing slow and deep and warm, and he's wrapped his hands around Castiel's neck - and Castiel's fingers ghost over his spine every now and then, from where his hands rest on Dean's waist -

And it's everything Dean's ever wanted it to be.

#destiel #dean winchester #dean winchester/castiel #bisexual dean winchester #castiel #castiel/dean #castiel/dean winchester #destiel fluff #fluffy destiel #deancas fluff #destiel ficlet #fake dating #destiel college au #roommates au #destiel kisses #destiel first kiss #flustered dean #soft bois™ #just them being soft and lovely and totally gone on each other because im supposed to be working on my wips and instead im out here #dishing out #fluff

[yet-another-fan-girl9]

Inhuman (4)

Summary: All beings in the universe have a soulmate except for Midgardians. People can hear their soulmate in their heads. For almost five hundred and fifty years, Loki believed that he had no soulmate until 1513 when a Midgardian princess was born. Will fate be kind to them or will the universe tear them apart?

Warnings: violence, language, hella historical inaccuracies (I tried to do research but then got lazy), maybe some AOS season 3 spoilers(?)

Word Count: ~4000

“Captain.” Loki strode up to him. “I need to speak to you. Alone,” he added when he spotted his brother linger by the doorway. “It’s about (Y/N).”

The blond supersoldier turned to look at Loki. “How did you know her name?”

“I know everything about her. Or, I knew everything. She is— was my soulmate.”

“S-soulmate? Those things are real?”

“Midgardians are the only ones in the nine realms that don’t have soulmates. For a long time, I believed that I did not have a soulmate. It wasn’t until 1513 I felt the connection.”

“1513?” Steve stared at him. “So she’s even older than I thought.”

“Yes, she was the queen for a time. I thought she had died even before the date in the history books.”

“This is a lot of information,  Loki.” He sat down. “A queen? Queen… (Y/N)? You expect me to believe that Queen (Y/N), one of the infamous Tudors, Queen of England is still alive and became a hitman?”

“It’s hard for me to believe it as well. Trust me, when I came to the conclusion that it was her, that she was alive…” he drifted off.

“Thank you for telling me. This information will be important in trying to track this organization down. Maybe you should tell this to everyone else?”

“No, I would rather not participate in one of your little presentations.” Loki turned and strode out of the room, leaving Steve to process everything.

[New York, New York, May 2024]

It had been a couple of months since you had been to the Avengers compound and there had been no sign of the superheroes. You were getting bored, though it wasn’t the longest you had been on hitwoman hiatus. Surprisingly, Max wasn’t in the same mood as you. He and Liam were having a jolly good time galavanting around the city or whatever young couples did these days.

You sat at your kitchen counter reading your emails. There were plenty of job offers you could take. Should you resume taking them? What if one was a trap set by the Avengers? It wasn’t like you were going to run out of resources any time soon but you were bored goddamn it.

Alright, just a simple, quiet job. One that you could do on your own. This one seemed inconspicuous. Fifteen thousand for making a woman’s unfaithful, abusive husband look like he committed suicide. You always would help someone in a bad situation and she even offered a down payment of five thousand. Just in case of a worst-case situation, you sent Max your plan.

I’m going out on a small job. If I’m not back by tomorrow at noon, you know what to do.

After you had the little excursion at the Avenger’s compound, you had sent out a step by step list of what to do if someone was compromised by the heroes. You appreciated what they did, as long as they stayed away from you and your employees. You couldn’t let them dismantle your small empire after over a hundred years. Yes, you killed for a living, but sometimes it’s for good.

Like right now, you sat in your black Lambo by Mrs. Davis’ apartment, preparing to kill her husband. You got out and smoothed down your white blouse that was paired with some ripped jeans. Your boots sent soft echoes down the empty street. You made your way to the front door and rang the unpleasant sounding doorbell.

“Hello, are you Mr. Davis?” you asked when the door opened to reveal a tall, blond man. You leaned against the doorframe and looked up at him through your eyelashes.

“Yes, who’s asking?” Although the question was defensive, his tone was suggestive.

“Oh, I heard about you from my friend.” You twirled your hair around your finger. “I was wondering if your wife was home?”

“Fortunately, she is not. Come in, come in.”

You followed the man into the apartment, disgusted by how quickly he had let you in. You walked past a framed photo of the Davises at their wedding. Does the fucker make all of his mistresses walk past the photo? While you strode down the hallway, you slipped on a pair of leather gloves. He led you directly to the bedroom.

Well, no use in waiting. You pulled a gun out of your jeans and when the man turned around, you pressed it to his temple. A breath hitched in his throat and he raised his arms.

“I need you to write something for me,” you sneered. He nodded and grabbed a notepad from the bedside table. You stayed behind him, the threat of the gun always in the back of his mind. “You’re going to confess to everything. Hurting your wife. Cheating. Everything bad.” He complied and fortunately, his hand didn’t shake much. He was left handed, you noticed as you read the note from over his shoulder. “Tell them you feel guilty. So fucking guilty you couldn’t live with yourself.”

When he signed the note, you tore it off and put it somewhere blood wouldn’t stain it. Mr. Davis was shaking like a leaf while you stood to his left and raised your gun to his head again. At least he wasn’t pleading for his life. He wasn’t on his knees, groveling. Without warning, you pulled the trigger.

The man’s blood and brains coated the bedroom wall as he crumpled to the ground. The loud bang of the gun rang in your ears. More blood spilled from the bullet holes in his skull and you watched it seep into the carpet. You placed the gun in Mr. Davis’ left hand and wrapped his fingers around the handle. Then you placed the note on the bed.

No white rose today, you were certain the Avengers were keeping an eye out for them, but you still took a picture to send to the newly widowed Mrs. Davis. You quickly left the apartment, people would have heard the gun go off, and made your way to your car. You could hear the sirens in the distance as you drove away.

🌹

“Something’s happening!”

Everyone rushed into the room to see all of the screens flashing. A typical radar screen with a large blinking dot. Stark had mimicked the technology from the ship Loki had stolen from the Grandmaster and combined it with his own. What resulted was a powerful, as well as specific, radar system.

“What the?” Thor mumbled and looked at the numbers on another screen. “I recognize these signatures but I just can’t place them.”

Brunnhilde and Loki pushed their way to the front.

“I suppose they do look a little familiar.” Loki shrugged and Brunnhilde nodded her agreement.

“Hey, for the idiots back here,” Barton said from the back, “you guys want to tell us what the fuck’s going on?”

“The radar is picking up a surge of energy,” Stark pointed at the dot. “A big surge of energy based on the numbers.”

“Shouldn’t we be doing something about them?” Steve asked.

“Here’s the thing.” Stark pushed his way through the small crowd and stopped at another screen. “This one is scanning up and it keeps picking up something. Never long enough to get a good reading. Most likely it’s a ship using a cloaking mechanism. Woah, what the fuck? Something’s coming down.”

“I remember now,” Thor cut in and everyone turned to him expectantly.

“Well, get on with it,” Steve prompted.

“Yeah, do we need to suit up?” Nat added.

“Yes.” Thor looked at Loki. “The Kree are here.”

🌹

You were about thirty minutes away from your penthouse, taking unpopulated back roads, when you noticed something in the night sky. It looked like a large meteor and it looked like it was headed right toward you. Fast.

“Shit,” you mumbled to yourself and stepped on the gas. Your head hit the head rest as your car was propelled forward.

Moments later, the meteor hit the spot your car had just vacated. The resounding explosion caused you to lose control of your car that was going very fast. Fortunately, it stopped quickly. Unfortunately, it was stopped by a brick wall.

“Motherfucker.”

Your head ached and when you gingerly felt around, your hand came away stained with red. More blood dripped from your nose onto the airbag and it felt like your upper arm was broken. You could already feel the small cuts from broken glass heal, and it wouldn’t take long for your bone to snap back in place, but definitely not fast enough.

You had heard that you shouldn’t get out of a crashed car unless it was going to blow but that advice was for normal people. You didn’t want to stay stuck in your car. Unbuckling your seatbelt was hardest, especially with your arm.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Shit. Motherfucker!”

Of fucking course the fucking door couldn’t fucking open all the way. You were able to do some maneuvering to pull yourself out of the hole in the wall but it included a lot more swearing. The fires from the meteor had settled and you realized that it wasn’t a meteor at all. It was some kind of pod that had fallen to Earth.

Two large figures emerged from the burning ship. In the light of the fires, you saw their metal staffs and blue skin. They wore gold on their dark cloaks and around their jaws. You were curious but you also knew that their intentions weren’t going to be good. The Avengers had probably been notified as well and you really couldn’t deal with them right now.

“INHUMAN!” one of them roared and they both pointed their weapons at you.

Then it all clicked. Blue angels that fell from the heavens to Earth. Called the Kree.

“Kree,” you responded much to their shock. “What do you want?”

“You. The Inhumans. We are here for our projects. Only the best will be brought back to Hala. The rest will be terminated.”

“Thanks for the warning.” You back up as inconspicuous as you could, cradling your arm. “How do you choose who lives and who dies?”

To answer your question, one of the Kree activated something on his metal vambrace. A holographic screen popped up and a bright yellow light scanned you.

“Species: Inhuman,” a male voice reached your ears. “Abilities: enhanced human body, strength, healing—”

“Yeah the list goes on and on,” you said. There should be an alley you could escape through somewhere.

“—combat, memory, and speed. Threat: high.”

“You’re coming with us.”

“Yeah, I got that.”

You reached the alley and ran down it as fast as you could. Everytime your arm moved strangely, you winced. You had no plan. No idea where to go once you got to the end of the alley.

But you didn’t have to worry about that because you never made it out. Your legs were swept out from under you and your back hit the pavement. While you struggled to get breath back into your lungs, one of the Kree appeared and loomed above you. He didn’t smile but his eyes held victory. Then he grabbed your leg and pulled you back towards the crash.

“W-where’s your pal?” you said once you could speak. He didn’t respond but he did drop your leg when you reached the pod.

Taking the chance, you struggled to your feet. Run or fight? You had already tried to run and he had reached you before you got far. Fighting was going to hurt but it was the only option you had left. You needed a plan. The glint of the Kree’s weapon caught your eye. It was a terrible plan, but it was a plan. Fuck it.

Your knife came out of your boot right as the Kree turned to face you. With your injured arm, you swung your knife at his face. It barely scratched his face and he tried to raise his own weapon but he discovered that your other arm held it down. You tried to stab the hand holding the weapon, which looked more like an axe than you realized, but he grabbed your broken arm.

You suppressed a scream, but dropped your knife. He pushed you hard and you stumbled backwards a few steps. The Kree swung his axe at you and the pointed tip cut through your blouse and grazed your chest. You moved forward, dodging the next swing with your eyes on your knife. When you got close enough, he grabbed your wrist and began to squeeze. You could feel the bones start to groan under his grasp.

He went to sweep your legs with his own leg again but this time you jumped forward and used his own momentum against him. He fell on his back with you over him. You grabbed your knife off of the ground and he growled when you brought it down on his wrist. The weapon clattered to the pavement.

The Kree flipped around and wrapped his thick hands around your neck. He lifted you off the ground a few inches before slamming your head back onto the hard ground. Combined with the head injury from the car crash and the lack of oxygen, black spots began to cloud your vision.

You brought your knee up to his crotch and his grip lessened but only slightly. You moved the knife around in his wrist and reached for the axe with the other. Your fingers wrapped around the cold metal and before the Kree could realize you were armed, you plunged the weapon into his side. You pushed him over and pulled out the axe. Its blade was stained blue instead of red.

“Inhuman scum,” he spat.

Movement in the sky caught your attention and you saw more pods falling in the distance.

“How many of you are there?” you asked and pointed the axe at his face.

“You will lose.”

Something pulled your attention away from the Kree. Sirens and shouts came from the next street over. You were able to feel Loki through your pain. You were able to pick out Steve Roger’s commanding voice in the noise. The Avengers have arrived to save the day. You raised the axe over your head and cleanly separated the Kree’s body from his head. You felt the now familiar tugging grow stronger.

You escaped away from the heroes and Loki with the axe grasped firmly in your hand. It took some pain to fish the burner phone out of your back pocket and despite it almost falling apart in your hand, you were able to call Max.

“Hello?”

“Max, thank God—”

“Hey, girl. Liam, it’s (Y/N).”

“Hi (Y/N).” Liam’s voice came through the phone.

“Hi. We have a problem. A really big fucking problem. I bet it’s on the news, but the fucking Kree are here.”

“Kree? Like from the stories? Blue angels and shit?”

“Yes, I need you to come pick me up at the Battery. Now, please. A couple of ‘em caused me to crash my car—”

“Not the black Lambo?” he whined.

“Yeah, the black Lambo. Anyways, have Liam spread the word to really get underground. Also if they stick to groups, it’ll be easier to take down the Kree.”

“Wait, what do they want?” You heard the couple moving around and keys jingling.

“To bring the strongest Inhumans back to their planet and kill the rest.”

“Damn, okay, we’ll be there soon.” The line went dead.

You stood on the sidewalk, watching the pods fall. The gash in your forehead from the crash was healed and the pain in your arm was definitely less intense than before. You looked at the cut on your chest and realized that it was still bleeding lightly. It was a thin cut, just a graze but it hadn’t healed yet.

Goddamn it, the Kree’s weapons were made from fucking vibranium.

🌹

He had felt her, but she was nowhere to be found. Loki surveyed the scene before him. The first thing he noticed was the Kree pod that had created a small crater in the middle of the street. Then there was the car halfway through a brick wall. A decapitated Kree lay on the ground. Oh, and it seemed like every fucking thing was on fire. At least there were no crowds.

“It looks like more pods are coming,” Steve looked at the sky. “We should cut them off before they get too far.”

“These are Kree Reapers.” Loki examined the armor. “Stronger than regular Kree. They’re savages. Hunters.” Which makes the fact that she was able to kill one that much more impressive.

“Alright.” Thor nodded and glared at the corpse. “Let’s get these guys out of the sky.” He and the others that could fly took off towards the pods.

“She was here,” Loki said to Steve, not letting the others hear. “But she was gone by the time we arrived.”

“You could… sense her?” Steve responded.

“Yes. We used to have another connection, a telepathic connection. All soulmates have them, but for some reason ours broke a long time ago.”

“Hey boys,” Romanoff called. “Doesn’t this knife look familiar?” She removed a knife that had been lodged into the Kree’s wrist.

“It looks like the one we found in the Senator’s bodyguard which means that she was here,” Barnes concluded.

“Where’s his weapon?” Brunnhilde looked around. “It was probably used to decapitate him.”

“Are there any cameras on this street?” Steve asked and checked the buildings.

“Nope,” Romanoff shrugged. “But Bucky and I can probably figure out what happened. We’ve been to a lot of scenes like this.”

“I’m guessing the crash of the pod caused her to crash her car into the wall,” Barnes guessed and walked over to the wrecked car. “There’s some blood on the airbag but I can’t tell the extent of the injuries.”

“The most common car accident injuries are broken bones in the legs and arms as well as whiplash and other head injuries,” Romanoff supplied.

“She was able to defeat a Kree Reaper even with the injuries she had sustained,” Loki pointed out. “And based on the fact that she disappeared before we arrived, her legs are uninjured.”

“It looks like the pods have room for two of these large shitheads,” Brunnhilde reported. “There’s only one dead bastard, so where’s the other one?”

“Are you guys done there?” Stark’s voice crackled in everyone’s ears. “We need some back up. Now!”

“On our way.”

🌹

“You look like shit,” Max said when you collapsed in his backseat.

“Yeah, fuck you too,” you groaned. Your back was bruised from the multiple times you were slammed to the ground and your head was throbbing.

“Need help patching yourself up?” Liam handed you a first aid kit from the front.

“I’ve got it.” You needed to get all of this blood off of you. “Thanks, though. Maybe I should replace Max with you.”

“You wouldn’t,” your right hand man gasped. “What’s with the… spear? Axe?”

“Both, kinda. It belonged to the Kree before I cut off its head.”

“So they want to kill us all?”

“Only the weak ones. The ones they find useful I guess they’ll turn us into warriors back on their home planet.”

“I wonder what I’d be classified as,” Max hummed.

“Trust me, you don’t want to be close enough where they can scan you because you’ll be close enough for them to kill you. Easily.”

When you finally pulled into the lot under your penthouse it felt like you released a breath you were holding. Your head injuries were gone and your arm should be back to normal in fifteen minutes. Even though you were physically healed, you were exhausted.

You made it through a soothing shower before you pulled on your favorite silk pajamas and collapsed into bed.

“Are you sure about this?”

“Yes.” It had been twenty days since your father had died and today he was going to be put to rest. “Are you sure?”

“You are my friend. I would do anything for you.” Agnes secured the jewels around your neck. “You are also my Queen. I have to do what you tell me.”

“Even if it means your death?”

Sunlight streamed through the curtains and you rubbed your eyes. Your phone told you that it was almost eleven thirty in the morning. You sat up in bed and stretched your arms over your head. Everything felt normal and you didn’t feel sore at all. You examined the thin cut on your chest. It had scabbed over and probably wouldn’t leave a scar.

The weight of last night’s events crashed down on you. The Kree were going to be a huge problem. You needed to keep your people safe. When Afterlife fell, your organization became the largest group of Inhumans. When you reached the kitchen it took you a moment to register the two men sitting at your counter.

“You’re still here.”

“Of course,” Max said and handed you a cup of coffee. “You were looking pretty rough last night.”

“We have a lot of work ahead of us.” You looked back and forth between Max and Liam to ensure they were willing to join you.

“You’ll need all the help you can get,” Liam confirmed.

“Yeah, we’ll need all the help we can get.”

“What are you hinting at, Max?” You raised an eyebrow.

“The Avengers!”

“No.”

“Come on. Just think about it.”

“So do you think we should gather everyone and fight or disperse and hide?” You ignored Max and looked at Liam.

“Maybe gather and hide like you said last night? We shouldn’t go looking for a fight. Especially with these guys.”

“(Y/N), the Avengers might be able to help.”

“You got the word out right? I want to hear from everyone periodically.”

“Yeah, the word’s out. I hope you don’t mind, but Izzy’s coming here to bunker down with us.”

“It’s fine I have plenty of space.”

Izzy arrived at two and settled into one of your guest rooms.

“So Max texted me and tried to make me make you go to the Avengers.”

“Of fucking course he did. You can just ignore him.”

The four of you ate Chinese takeout for dinner. The whole day, you had been contacting other Inhumans warning them of the Kree threat. According to the few contacts you had in Europe and Asia, only one pod landed in Russia. They had quickly taken care of that. None landed in Australia or Africa. You didn’t know how fast the Kree would move south, though.

“I think,” Max began. “That you and the Avengers can exchange information.”

“Max when will you drop this?”

“Never.”

“I think they can help too.”

“Izzy, not you.”

“Just hear me out.” She held up her hands. “I don’t know your history with them, but they did manage to eliminate a few of them last night. And a few of them know more about the Kree than we do.”

Max nodded and raised his eyebrows. You looked at Liam for backup but he just shrugged and then fed his boyfriend some orange chicken.

“It’s three against one,” Liam smirked.

“No.”

🌹

There was something in the room. The AI had called everyone to the living room for a meeting. Loki had thought it was a strange place to meet but at least the seating was more comfortable there. Something was close. He settled down on the chair that was distanced from the rest.

 Only two members of the team had gotten seriously injured during the fight with the Kree. Wilson had been knocked out of the sky which resulted in multiple broken bones. The Maximoff girl had been knocked unconscious after she had been hit by seemingly hundreds of lasers. She still hasn’t woken up.

Everyone was certainly still in rough condition, even twenty-four hours later. Morale wasn’t very high either. The majority of the Kree Reapers had escaped.

“Why the fuck are we meeting here?” Stark asked when he spread out on a couch.

“I was about to ask you the same thing,” Steve said. “I thought you called us here.”

“I thought you called us here.”

“You may be wondering why I summoned you all here.” Four figures emerged from the shadows.

*

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Tags: @kaithehero @liliannyah @andreasworlsboring101 @oatballsoffury @aberrant-annie @simplybree @adalina-perez @emage-king @yandereforyou @notactiveonmain @tvdplusriverdale

#inhuman #loki x reader #loki x soulmate reader #loki moodboard #loki #steve rogers #Captain america #kree #marvel #mcu

[nightfallrevel]

Tied With a Bow

A/N: Well... it’s February, and my slow ass is just now finishing my piece that I wrote for the BnHA Hangout discord collaboration. ^^;

To view the other pieces for the collaboration, the master list is here.

I chose to write for the Naughty side, for some reason. I always regret choosing smut, but here we are. So... here we go.

Warnings: bondage, minor ass play, blow job, minor face fucking, use of gag, established relationship/married

KiriBaku

Words: 1,639

Two hours. That was how long it had been since Katsuki was supposed to have been done with his patrol. Eijirou knew this as he had spent each agonizing minute waiting for him to come home to their shared home. Even though it was Christmas Eve, his explosive husband had insisted on working with the compromise that he would stay home to spend Christmas Day with Eijirou.

It hadn’t been easy to convince him, but Eijirou had decided to reward Katsuki for finally agreeing. The problem, however, was that Eijirou was not sure he would last long enough for his sexy blond to get home. As it was, the ribbon that had been tied so precariously around his dick was causing such a delicious friction that he wasn’t sure he could hold it in, anymore.

About an hour before Katsuki’s shift was supposed to end, Eijirou had called over Denki and enlisted his friend’s help in tying him up naked in preparation to “gift” himself to his husband. Their electric friend had been reluctant at first, but Eijirou knew that Denki was proficient in shibari, seeing as he bragged about it often at their squad gatherings. It wasn’t as though Eijirou could tie himself up all alone, plus he promised to compensate their friend to make it more than worth it.

That didn’t stop Denki from complaining the whole time about not needing to see his best friend naked. Still, he made good on his end and Eijirou was tied up prettier than a Christmas present for Katsuki to ravage when he got home. To top it all off, he had plugged and gagged himself just before Denki tied him up. The plug had been inserted that morning, though, so that his friend wouldn’t have to witness that, at least.

Not long after Denki had left him alone, however, Eijirou had begun to regret his position. His arms and legs had been tied underneath him, arching his back in a way that pushed his dick in the air and put his plugged ass on full display. He tried to stay still, he really did, but he couldn’t help shifting every so often to keep himself comfortable on the floor of their living room. The problem was that, with every movement, the ribbon stroked along his length in every right way.

It was a feather touch, really, but combined with the way the plug in his ass moved, too, it was nearly too much. It wasn’t long before Eijirou couldn’t help himself, moving his hips to get more and more as he ached to be touched. Where was Katsuki? He had a sneaking suspicion that, if it wasn’t hero work, then Denki had devised some sort of distraction as revenge for making him help. It wasn’t like Eijirou wasn’t going to return the favor!

As the three hour mark neared, however, he began to think less and less of when his lover would return and more of the delicious pleasure that coursed through his veins. Thick and heavy moans leaked from Eijirou’s mouth around the gag, drool dripping down his cheeks as his hips thrust what little they could into the air. He was almost there, if he could just move a little more… The lock at the front door suddenly clicked open and the thought of his husband catching him completely wrecked and a mess was enough to send him hurtling over the edge.

Eijirou cried out with relief as his own cum splashed across his abs and up his chest. A shocked shout came from the front door, but he could barely hear it through the buzzing in his ears. His vision had blacked out with the intensity of the orgasm as he had basically been edging himself for the past several hours. As it gradually returned to him, however, he became aware of a body looming over him.

“Holy shit, Ei. What the fuck did you do to yourself?” The gruff voice that reached Eijirou’s ears definitely belonged to Katsuki, though he sounded rather amused. Through blurred vision, Eijirou locked his eyes on him, letting out a soft whine that begged for attention. A soft curse left Katsuki as he ran his hands softly over the silky ribbon. “Did you do this just for me?”

Eijirou nodded his head quickly, feeling like it flopped around as though it weren’t connected properly to his body. His vision had finally cleared just in time to watch the slow smirk that stretched across Katsuki’s face, the sight making him groan. Eijirou loved that look of pure sadism. It was a good thing he was such a masochist and a glutton for punishment, but only for Katsuki, though. No one else affected him like this.

A cry muffled by his gag ripped from his throat, his body arching and spasming as Katsuki pressed firmly on the plug in his ass. It rubbed against his overly sensitive prostate, causing tears to gather in the corners of his eyes. He panted heavily as Katsuki pulled away, and he slowly came back down. 

When he looked up, his husband’s eyes were dark with desire and glinting with mischief. His jaw ached and his limbs were nearly numb from being in the same position for so long, but the way Katsuki looked at him sent electric desire through each of his nerve endings. Eijirou let out a soft whimper as he felt a tear slide down his temple, needing to be touched despite already being over-stimulated.

“You’re such a good boy for me, Ei.” Already, Eijirou’s cock was jumping back to life as Katsuki reached for the ribbon that was tied in a pretty bow there. Katsuki let out a dark chuckle as he drank in the sight. “I think my present has waited long enough to be unwrapped.” He tugged at the ribbon and Eijirou nearly screamed at the shift of touch. Katsuki paused with a slight frown. “Oi, you good, Ei?”

Eijirou nodded rapidly, his head still feeling floppy on his shoulders as more tears streaked down his face. He was good, too good. He couldn’t think of a time when he’d ever been this sensitive, his cock throbbing with so much need that the slightest touch might send him hurtling over the precipice of release. Still, Katsuki reached up and removed the gag in Eijirou’s mouth, first.

“I think I’d rather hear you fucking say it.” His darkened gaze seared into Eijirou’s, waiting for the word to continue or to stop. Eijirou worked his jaw for a moment, easing some of the soreness before speaking.

“Good. I’m good. Just… so sensitive.” His jaw felt loose and he wasn’t sure just how clearly he’d spoken until the devious smirk returned to Katsuki’s expression. Smooth fingers returned to the ribbon, gently unwrapping it from Eijirou’s body. A soft sigh of relief puffed from his lungs as his limbs gradually regained their normal blood flow. He’d definitely been in the same position for far too long.

Katsuki helped to stretch out his shaking limbs, rubbing the muscles of his legs to help him regain feeling in them. A frown pulled at the corners of his mouth as he looked Eijirou over. “Kaminari helped you with this, didn’t he.” Eijirou could tell by his tone that his husband already knew the answer even as he nodded his head in reply. “That fucker is gonna get his ass beat tomorrow for purposefully distracting me from coming home.” Katsuki’s gaze roamed over Eijirou’s body as he licked his lips. “For now, though…” Eijirou gasped and groaned as Katsuki leaned down to lick a stripe along the underside of his shaft before sucking just the tip into his mouth. Eijirou whined and writhed as his partner pulled away from his cock with a small ‘pop’ and a devilish smirk. “I am going to fucking devour you, Ei. You’re my Christmas gift, so I get to do whatever I want, right?”

It took every ounce of willpower for Eijirou not to absolutely scream as Katsuki’s fingers tugged gently at the plug in his ass. His quirk rippled across his skin as his breathing grew ragged. “Yes!” He gasped, his body arching as more tears sprang to his eyes. Another needy whine left him as the plug was pulled free, leaving him feeling achingly empty.

“Fucking patience, Eijirou.” Katsuki cursed as tore off his own shirt and quickly tugged his belt from his pants. Eijirou sat up shakily onto his knees, swaying slightly as he watched Katsuki stand to yank down his pants and underwear to free himself. His eyes zeroed in on his husband’s hardened cock and immediately surged forward with his mouth open.

A heavy moan fell from Katsuki’s throat as he took half of his cock all at once into his mouth and sucked hard. Rough fingers sank into Eijirou’s hair and he was pulled down the rest of the way until the tip hit the back of his throat. “Goddamn, Ei. I’m gonna fucking wreck you…” Katsuki moaned louder when Eijirou swallowed more of him down.

Eijirou didn’t need to take Katsuki’s word for it. He knew full well what to expect for the rest of the night. The morning would be sweeter, gentler to make up for how hard they would go through the night. His heart raced with anticipation, eager to please Katsuki with everything he had to offer. 

The love he felt for his husband filled his lust-hazed brain as he drank in Katsuki’s first release of the night. Katsuki’s mouth slammed into his a moment later to kiss him with heated fervor that nearly made him melt. Even though he knew that they would have many future holidays to celebrate together, Eijirou knew that this was about to be the best Christmas ever.

#my work #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bakukiri #kiribaku #bakushima #bakugo katsuki #kirishima eijirou #christmas collab #bnha hangout collaboration

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Fire Meet Gasoline Part One

Javier Peña x Reader

Words: 2690

Part One of ? Summary: Your life is put on the line when you decide to become a CI for the DEA. When your heart starts to influence your decisions concerning the agent that you’re working with, you get lost in the flames. Javi worries that his growing attachment to you could spell danger for the both of you when he discovers that your brother is the right hand man to Pacho Herrera. 

Notes: Two imagines in one day? *gasp* That’s right, I’m posting double for a Pedro Birthday Bonus.  I have an unhealthy love for this man. It’s really a problem. This series is inspired by the song Fire Meet Gasoline by SIA. (And if you don’t understand why I picked it, just go look up the video. You’ll thank me.) And again, I’m not using any real facts for this, I’m only using the character since I’m making a different side plot. 

Warnings: Violence, Language, and I might be getting a little steamy for this series (nothing smutty, but definitely more than suggestive)

-

It’s dangerous to fall in love, but I 

Wanna burn with you tonight

“You look magnificent.” Pacho exclaimed as you ran your hands over the silky emerald fabric of the dress. Your brother sat next to him and looked bored out of his mind. 

“Do you like this one best, or the orange one?” You looked yourself over in the mirror, but there was no question. Green was definitely the dress. 

“Whatever you chose, is my treat.” He smiled and you nearly tackled him with a hug. 

“Pacho, that isn’t necessary-” Your brother started, but Pacho held up a hand to silence him. 

“Consider it a birthday present to the brightest star in all of Columbia.” You gave him a glowing smile and left to change back into your day clothes. Blood or not, Pacho had become your family over the past five years. Your brother was his most trusted right-hand man and he treated you like a sister. He definitely spoiled you like one. 

He was throwing you a huge party for your birthday that night and was sparing no expense. There would be flowers and lights everywhere and plenty of wine. Of course, you made him promise that there would be no product anywhere in the vicinity. Although it was the source of the extravagant life that you lived, you hated cocaine. The vile substance is what tore your family to shreds when you were only eighteen. Pacho understood completely and avidly commanded his men to keep the coke at the door. Of course, that didn’t stop your brother. 

The night glittered with stars and crowds of your friends and your brother’s associates flooded the garden space, filling the air with laughter and chatter. The green dress hugged your body in all the right ways and you earned many intrigued glances from important men- along with jealous glares from their wives. You were the envy of the night. After all, it was your party. You promised your brother that you would refrain from dancing with any strange men, but he also promised not to get high and he looked perfectly content snorting the white powder at the set-up bar. 

You scanned the garden for someone to dance with until your eyes landed on a man sitting at a table by himself. His black button up was partially hidden by his leather jacket. You didn’t recognize him, but he didn’t look out of place. You cut through the crowd and his eyes caught you coming towards him. 

Of course Javier knew who you were. You’d been seen with Helmer ‘Pacho’ Herrera at multiple events, including the wedding that was attacked by Pablo Escobar. Your brother was Pacho’s most trusted adversaries. Luis was in charge of finding and tracking threats to the Cali cartel. Occasionally, he was in charge of disposing of them. 

“You don’t seem like you’re having much fun.” You noted, taking the seat beside him. He gave you a smirk. 

“I am now.” Javier couldn’t deny it- you were stunning. He could understand why Pacho kept you around. With those seductive eyes alone, he was sure you could charm your way in or out of any situation. Mix that with the perfect hair, the lips, the body… you were a bombshell. He looked around, making sure that the kingpin didn’t leave his sight. Luckily, Pacho seemed busy talking up a young waiter. “You must be the princesa of the evening?” 

“Don’t let my brother hear you say that.” You snickered. “He’d say my head has gotten too big. That I don’t remember where we came from.” Your voice trailed off, slipping back into those memories. Memories of a little girl afraid of the dark. You pulled yourself out of those thoughts and your smile returned. “Tell me, dark stranger, do you dance?” You stood up, the silky green fabric swaying loosely around your hips. Javier gulped. 

“I really-”

“Consider it a birthday present.” You didn’t leave him much of a choice, holding out your hand for him to take. Javi stood and shed his leather jacket, letting you pull him into the middle of the dance floor. Dancing wasn’t really the right word for it, but whatever it was, you were spectacular. You put his hands on your hips as they moved with the rhythm. All he had to do was sway along. There was something about him that kept you wanting more. 

There was something between the two of you that Javier didn’t recognize. It wasn’t just lust, which there was plenty of as his hands roamed your body. His heart beat faster every time you looked at him and everytime you flipped your silky hair over your shoulder, he felt the urge to run his fingers through it. What the fuck was wrong with him? 

“There’s something different about you.” You whispered, your lips nearly touching his ear so he could hear you over the noise of the party. 

The music was almost louder than the gunshot. Almost. 

Javi grabbed your arm, pulling you out of the way of the stampede of screaming people. Another shot had you scanning the crowds for the source. One of Luis’ friends stood over the body of a bargirl, blood oozing from the gaping whole where her eye should have been. 

“Shit.” The mystery man muttered. Every part of Javi was screaming to shoot the bastard, but he knew he would be gunned down before he could take two steps. He needed to get out of there. Javi put his hands on your shoulders. “I have to go.” 

“What?”

“I can’t be here.” He insisted. Javier wanted to stay. Goddamn, did he want to stay. But if Pacho found out he was at the party to spy on him and Luis, he would be fish food. Still, a part of him couldn’t just leave. Despite all of his better judgments, he collided his lips with yours. Something ignited, starting the slow burn you were sure would destroy you. He pulled away too quickly. “Happy Birthday, Miss Y/L/N.” You watched as he vanished amongst the crowd fleeing the party. You hadn’t told him your last name. 

“Y/N!” A voice rose above the chaos. Pacho was shoving through guests, his eyes blazing. For a moment, you were actually frightened, not of the crowd, but of him. His hand found your arm and he dragged you through the running guests like fish trying to swim upstream. 

“Pacho…” You struggled to keep up, his fingers digging into your skin. “Pacho, you’re hurting me.” 

“Do you have any idea who you were just dancing with.” He said the word dancing like it left a bitter taste in his mouth. Your fear returned and he didn’t let go of your arm, instead grabbing the other one, pinning them to your sides. You’d never seen him act like this before. Not with you. 

“Pacho, I-”

“The fucking DEA!” He spat. You blinked, shaking your head. 

“What?” 

“His name is Agent Javier Peña.” You knew that name. He’d spoken that name before. “He was the agent that fed us information whe Los Pepes was trying to take down Escobar.” 

“I didn’t know, Pacho.” You insisted, his tight grip now bringing tears to your eyes. “I wasn’t in Columbia during all of that. You know that. Please, you're hurting me.” 

To ensure your safety, Pacho had had you stay with Chepe in New York during the whole Pablo Escobar debacle. You’d overheard little details here and there, including the names of the DEA agents hunting Pablo; Steve Murphy and Javier Peña. The anger in Pacho’s eyes faded and his grip loosened, instead running his hands up and down your arms to sooth you. 

“You’re right.” He sighed, straightening your now rustled dress. “You couldn’t have known. I’m sorry.” He pulled you into a hug, but it brought you no comfort. Your body tensed in his arms and you had to resist the urge to shove away. He pulled away and looked down at the blood pooling on the porch tile. He didn’t bat an eye at the body. “Somebody clean up this fucker’s mess.” You stared down at the girl, disgust building inside of you. She barely looked 18. 

“No,” You said firmly. You pointed at Luis’ friend, Marques. “I want him gone.” You held your head up, trying to look as authoritative as possible. 

“You don’t give orders-” Marques started, but you cut him off with a slap. 

“And you don’t come to my house, shoot up with coke, and shoot up my waitress.” You turned to Pacho. “I want him gone.” 

“Don’t listen to this bitch, Pacho.” Marques snarled. Pacho seized the collar of his shirt and shoved him against the bar, bottles shattering as they hit the ground. 

“Don’t you ever disrespect Y/N.” 

“Pacho-” Luis started, but Pacho gave him that deadly stare, telling him to back off. 

“I will deal with you later.” He spat, turning his attention back to Marques. “You heard her. Now get out.” He let go of him, shoving him hard to the ground. Marques gave Luis a pleading look, but Luis had his furious eyes on you. 

“Fine.” Marques stood up with as much dignity as he could and left. Pacho clapped his hands together. 

“Right, I think that you all have done well at ruining this party, so you can all clean up.” He put a hand on the small of your back. This time his touch was soft, caring. But that didn’t stop the shivers up your spine. “I’m going to make the birthday girl a drink.” 

Walking back through the yard, you noticed a lonely leather jacket draped over one of the chairs. You paused, picking it up, feeling the heavy material in your hands. 

“Whose is it?” Pacho wondered, watching you slip it around your shoulders. You shrugged to cover your lie. 

“No idea.” 

-

You didn’t know how early it was when Luis woke you up. It was still dark out, casting his face with menacing shadows. Since the party had ended early, you decided to get some sleep rather than deal with Luis and his bunch of now-angry high friends. Perhaps you had forgotten that you lived in the same house. 

“What do you want?” You groaned, looking for the clock. 

“Get up.” 

“Luis, what the fuck-”

“I said get up.” He ripped off your blankets, exposing your thin nightgown to the cool night air.  You were suddenly surrounded by men; more of his friends. It was until you saw Marques that your fear woke you up completely. 

“What’s going on?” You raised your voice. Pacho was long gone, but maybe you could wake one of the servants. “Take your inmundicia out of here!” Marques covered your mouth with one hand and wrapped his other arm around your waste, carrying you out the door while you tried to kick your feet. Another man grabbed your legs, holding them together firmly. They took you all the way out to Luis’ waiting car. You were shoved into the front seat and Luis got into the driver’s side. 

“You have humiliated me for the last time.” He spat. 

“You’re high, let me go.” 

“Shut your fucking mouth.” 

“What do you plan to do, huh? Are you going to kill me, Luis?” His icy stare answered for you as he took off down the road. Your own brother. “Pacho will know.” 

“Don’t worry about Pacho.” 

You wanted to scream. You wanted to fight. But what could you do? Your only family was going to kill you. 

Luis drove for another twenty minutes before picking a spot by the river. As soon as the door was unlocked, you figured you might try to escape one more time. You opened the door and ran as fast as your bare feet would take you, feeling broken bottle shards cut into your skin. Marques was faster and stronger, catching you in a matter of seconds. 

“No!” You shrieked, fighting against his steel hold. Luis had the trunk of the car open and waiting. “You bastard!” You could already feel the darkness close around you even though the sun was starting to rise. “You’re just like him. You’re going to kill me just like he killed her!” Luis held up a hand for Marques to wait. 

“That’s the thing, Y/N,” He grabbed a handful of your hair. “You’ll always be the little girl hiding in the cupboard. Still afraid of the dark.” He slammed your head down on the edge of the trunk and you felt the metal slice across your cheek. 

“Luis, please. Don’t do this.” Him and his friends stuffed you into the trunk while one poured the gasoline. Luis threw the leather jacket on top of you. 

“You liked it so much, you can die with it.” He snarled, leaning in one more time. “Say hello to father in Hell.” You screamed and he slammed the hood down. He was too high to notice that the sleeve of the jacket was caught in the mechanism, preventing it from closing all the way. But the dark was enough to make you feel like you were dying. 

You’d been terrified of the dark since you were a young girl. Every time you found yourself in the dark, you went back to that night all those years ago. Even in the trunk of that car, preparing to die, you could hear his shouts and your mother’s screams, along with the sound of cracking bone. 

“We have to get out of here before someone sees us.” A voice said. 

“I want to watch the bitch burn.” 

“Luis, we don’t have time, man.” 

Luis let out a frustrated scoff and you heard the click of a lighter followed by the roar of an ignited flame. Tires squealed against the pavement, signalling your escape. The roof of the trunk was stuck and you pressed your hands against it, the metal immediately burning your palms. You recoiled, but you couldn’t give up. Smoke started to fill your lungs and you knew you didn’t have much time before the fire reached the gas tank and the whole thing blew. You winced through the pain and finally pushed the trunk open. 

You wrapped the jacket around as much of yourself as you could and rolled out of the trunk, your legs only catching the flames for a moment. Hopefully they wouldn’t be as badly burned as your hands. You got as far away from the burning car as you could before your legs couldn’t move anymore. The explosion was deafening and would have knocked you off your feet if you weren’t already on the ground, feeling completely and utterly numb. The only thing you felt was the sting of the leather jacket slipping over the cuts on your arms as you put it on, trying to cover yourself. Your night-gown had torn and you were exposed in multiple places. 

You felt something in the inside pocket and pulled it out. You cradled the small card in your hand, hundreds of plans suddenly forming in your head. Revenge on your brother, but more importantly, an end to the thing responsible for all the pain you had endured, as well as all the pleasure; cocaine. 

-

Javier felt like an idiot. Not only had he kissed Pacho’s Princesa, he had left his jacket at the party. The jacket with his card in it. If they hadn’t already known he was there, they did now. He was on his second glass of whiskey of the night when his phone rang. It was either someone from the department or his death calling. 

“Is this Javier Peña?” A small voice said on the other line. It was a voice he recognized. 

“Who is this?” His tone was harsh and to the point. 

You gripped the phone with a trembling hand, earning strange looks from the drugstore owner. If he wouldn’t help you, you were done for.  You smirked, trying to keep the fear in your voice in check. 

“Someone who knows that you’re one hell of a dancer.”

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#javier pena x reader #happy birthday pedro! #two in one day #javier pena #fire meet gasoline #pedro pascal #start of something

[therainroguefanfiction]

🔥 ℝise Ⱥbove I̾t ◈ [Thanksgiving Special! 🦃]

📑 Table of Contents | ◂Backward

Word Count: 4,439

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〈“Oh, oh, oh, it’s Thanksgiving, we’re gonna have a good time. With the turkey ey! and mashed potatoes ey!. We are gonna have a good time. It’s Thanksgiving~” Nicole Westbrook, “It’s Thanksgiving”〉

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Oh look, the Author’s Note is at the top this time. I bet you’re thinking, ‘Well shit, this can’t be good!’ And you’d be right 😂 Okay so, I wanted to write a special for Thanksgiving right and I had these plans to make it this shit fest of just absolute crack and humor right. WELL if you know anything about me you know that I go back to angst by default. Like, you know how when you play online games, sometimes your settings just reset on their own and then you gotta go and turn off the music and turn the subtitles back on and why the fuck is PVP ticked on?? That’s basically me okay. I auto default back to angst unless I changed the settings again lmfao

So, I started this off, full fucking intent on being funny right. Yeah, no. Runaway while you fucking can. It got so fucking heavy in the middle and it’s just… I’m sorry bro. That’s all I can say. It might make you cry? I mean, I’m a sensitive lil bitch and I cried while I wrote it sooo~ But fear not! I gave it a cheerful, happy and somewhat enlightening/inspiring ending?? At least I think so anyway… Also, you don’t have to celebrate Thanksgiving to enjoy this! Oh yeah, and don’t @ me about facts, I literally used Wikipedia because I’m an uncultured fuck that knows nothing about Thanksgiving even though I live in the USA lmao Don’t fucking @ me about the song I chose either 😂 I ain’t adding that shit to the playlist tho.

So yeah! Read this shit, cry into your snuggie or your dog that looks like a mop and then go enjoy some turkey or hug your mum. Don’t forget to reblog this chapter because I’m a hoe for them reblogs ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

☔ Rain

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The door to class 1-A slammed open with so much force, it bounced off the wall and came back, stopped only by a gloved hand. An obnoxiously loud voice filled the room, “Are you ready, kids?!”

“Aye aye, captain!” I jumped up, automatically answering only to curse myself a moment later when he smirked. “Bitch, this ain’t Spongebob!!”

He clicked his tongue and gave me double finger guns. “But you responded!”

I slumped into my seat in frustration.

Present Mic approached the board, picking up a piece of bright orange chalk before writing a word on the board in English: Thanksgiving. He slapped his palm under the word, making several pieces of chalk fall to the floor. “We’re going to be talking about the meaning of Thanksgiving in Western Countries, most notably in the United States!”

“Sir!” Iida’s hand shot into the air.

“Thanks for calling, listener! What is your request?!”

Iida stood tall. “With all due respect, sir, we don’t celebrate Thanksgiving in Japan, we celebrate National Labor Day.”

“You’re correct… almost! Many people consider National Labor Day to be Japan’s Thanksgiving! Plus, I’m your English teacher, so why not take this time to talk about a wonderful holiday where you get to stuff your face with as much food as you can handle without being looked at like a weirdo?!”

“It doesn’t matter what you do,” I commented blankly. “People will always think you’re a weirdo, cockatiel.”

“Hey, aren’t you American, Winchester?” Kaminari questioned, tilting his head back to look at me.

I shrugged. “My mom was American, but I was born in Japan. I mean, Gramps taught me English and we had a small dinner every Thanksgiving to ‘celebrate my heritage’ or some shit, but I don’t really know the details about the holiday.”

“Which is what I’m here for!” He slapped the board again, giving up a grin. “Now pay close attention, listeners! In America, Thanksgiving occurs on the fourth Thursday of November every year! In Western Countries, this holiday is known to be the moment to thank the Native American people for helping European pilgrims to survive their first winter in the United States! Typically, this is a day when families come together from across the country to be with their loved ones and feast!”

I hummed. “Gramps used to always make me watch these American pageants where grade-schoolers put on plays reenacting the interaction between the Pilgrims and the Native Americans. I remember one year, this kid was dressed in a fucking black trash bag stuffed with newspaper.”

“Plays are very popular in schools all across the states!” He nodded his head. “Can anyone tell me what year that Thanksgiving became a federal holiday in the USA?” He cupped his ear, but the only thing he got in response was a cricket that had snuck into the room a week ago to avoid the approaching chill settling over Japan. That fucker is really good at hide-n-seek because we still can’t find him and he’s at the back of the room so it’s like he’s in my fucking ear. “That’s right, the year is 1863! Before that, it was celebrated off and on since 1789 but the third president, Thomas Jefferson, just wasn’t feeling the holiday so he put a stop to it!”

“Seems suspect,” I responded.

“Now, who can tell me about the First Thanksgiving?!”

Chirp chirp chirp chirp chirp.

My eye twitched and I turned in my seat, eyes scanning the back wall. Where the fuck is that goddamn cricket?! I swear to Deadpool I’m gonna roast that bitch when I finally fucking find it.

“Right again, my impressionable listeners! The First Thanksgiving was created by the Pilgrims after their first harvest in the New World in October 1621! The feast lasted a total of three days and, according to one attendee named Edward Winslow, there were one-hundred-forty-three rockin’ attendees – ninety Native Americans and fifty-three Pilgrims!” He continued to drone on about the history of Thanksgiving in the states, listing off several different dates and names I couldn’t be bothered to remember.

I mean, History is cool, I guess, but when am I ever gonna need to know this stuff to function as a member of today’s society? Especially here in Japan, where American norms aren’t focused on at all? Plus, that fucking cricket is all I can think about!

“By the way, there will be a test on this and if you fail, you get remedial lessons with me, your chart-topping host!!”

Oh, fuck me.

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I stepped out into the chilly night, my breath coming in puffs of smoke as I walked. Aizawa didn’t like us to leave the dorms after dark, but there was no specific rule about it as long as we stayed on campus. It was two in the morning, and I had been tossing and turning in my bed since I got there. It hadn’t bothered me at first when Mic brought up Thanksgiving, but now that it was just a couple days away, I’m starting to get restless.

This would be my first Thanksgiving without Gramps…

I fell onto the icy cold stone bench, letting my head fall back to stare up at the navy sky. It looked like ribbons of velvet, bright stars dotting across it like sequins caught under the light. The moon was a perfect crescent.

“Jen?”

I glanced over, seeing Zuku with his arms wrapped tight around his body. Even with the thick sweater he wore, it was obvious he was cold. I patted the bench beside me and he sat down, letting me throw my arms around his body. I focused on my quirk, raising my body temperature to warm him up. “Why are you awake?”

“I got up to use the bathroom and spotted you out the window.” He frowned up at me, his brow furrowed. “You look so… sad. What’s wrong?”

My grip tightened around him and I smiled sadly. “I guess I am a bit sad… This is my first Thanksgiving without Gramps, so… it kinda hurts, you know?”

“Oh, I see… I’m sorry…”

“It’s fine. Just something you gotta deal with, ya know? It’s life, and life is full of unfairness.”

“Will you… tell me about it?” He asked softly, playing with his fingers in his lap. “About what the two of you did each year? If it’s not too painful, I mean…”

“I’d love to,” I ruffled his hair and closed my eyes. “Let’s see – Gramps thought it was important for us to celebrate Thanksgiving because my mother was American. ‘It’s part of who you are, kitten, so we must celebrate!’ is what he’d always tell me. He spent the first five years learning everything he could about the holiday because he wanted it to be authentic and at age five, he started hosting a small feast for the two of us each year.”

“It sounds like he loved you a lot.”

“Yeah… Yeah, he did. We were each other’s world, the only two people we had in life. It was just us against the world!” I chuckled, but it held no humor. “Gramps was a hell of a good chef. He always used to attribute that to the fact that he worked for near six years in a restaurant with his father before the man died and the place had to be sold. Cooking reminded him of a simpler time, so he took pride in everything he cooked. Now that I think about it… that was the first time I met Skye and Heather.”

“Friends of yours?”

“Nah, they made my life hell growing up.” I waved my hand. “I don’t think they remembered this, but I met them once when I was seven. They lived a couple blocks down from us and Gramps had met them on several of his midday walks. Skye was half-Japanese on her mother’s side, while her dad was American and Heather was full American but her family moved to Japan just a year or two previously. Since Gramps wanted to make Thanksgiving as authentic as possible, he went to them for advice. Sky’s father had asked his grandma back home to send a few of her recipes for the holiday and that’s when I met Skye for the first time. He stopped by on his way to work to drop them off and she was with him, but she took one look at me and turned her nose up.”

“You were bullied?” He asked softly, lowering his head. “I never would have thought that.”

“Yeah, but it didn’t start until I was twelve.” I chuckled. “Anyway, we didn’t have much money to work with, but he saved up with every paycheck for months in advance. Just small amounts from each check and then the week before Thanksgiving, he’d take the money he saved and go all out, buying a Turkey, potatoes, pumpkin pie, the works. Some of the shit he couldn’t even get in our town, he had to travel to specialty shops or order the ingredients online from overseas. I kept telling him it was too much work, but he was a stubborn old man.”

Izuku shifted in my arms, his head on my shoulder. “Tell me more about him,” his voice was soft and growing husky as sleep started to claim him.

I hummed softly. “He liked what the day symbolized – families coming together to be thankful for the people in their lives and for the things they were gifted with. To be honest, I often wondered as a child if he regretted raising me, but I knew that was wrong as I got older. It was almost like… raising me gave him a purpose, a reason to face every day with a smile. And I guess in a way… he was the same for me. I remember it so clearly, waking up at one in the morning on Thanksgiving day to sounds in the kitchen. I’d sneak down the hallway, careful of that stupid ass board on the right that always creaked when you stepped on it. And there he was, seeming to radiate warmth and happiness as he bustled around the kitchen getting all the dishes ready for that day.”

I smiled, my hands fisting around his jacket as I took a shaky breath. “He always wore that stupid ass apron I gave him on his birthday in fifth grade. It was this god awful snot yellow color with lime green stripes. If you stared at it too long, you’d go fucking cross-eyed. And it had this… hell, even to this day I don’t know what it was. I think it was a Rhino in a chef’s hat but I guess it coulda been a hippo? Or a fat giraffe with a short neck. He was convinced it was a Thanksgiving Zebra, but I still think he’s nuts. There’s no way that was a damn Zebra, and I would literally list the reasons why it couldn’t be, but he’d just listen intently with a bright smile, nodding his head to show that he was listening. And once I was done ranting, he’d pat my head and simply say, ‘Thanksgiving Zebras are quite special’. I swear he was batty.”

Zuku chuckled. “What makes a Zebra a Thanksgiving Zebra?”

“They have to be fat as fuck apparently. And orange. At least I think it was orange. It coulda just been a really dark yellow. I’m telling you, this apron was all kinds of wrong! I will never understand what I was thinking when I looked at that thing in the store and was like, ‘This is feckin’ awesome, he’s gonna love it!’. But he did love it, wore it every time he cooked, even on the rare occasions we had guests over. He wore it without shame and always with a smile.”

“Because it was from you, so it was special.”

“Hmm, probably, yeah.” I sighed deeply. “Come on, let’s get you to bed, you look like you’re about to pass out.”

“I wanted to hear more stories,” he pouted, but he was clearly having trouble holding his eyes open.

“I promise to tell you some more later, okay?” I stood up, putting my arms under his body and lifting him into my arms. He snuggled closer, mumbling something under his breath before sleep finally claimed him. I held him closer, feeling my eyes sting with tears, but I forced them back. I swore to myself that I wouldn’t cry, not until I’ve earned the right to do so.

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“Hey, Jen, wait up!”

I paused in the hallway, glancing over my shoulder. Ryuu was dodging students as he headed toward me, smiling brightly. When he finally reached me, he threw his arms around my neck, pulling me into a hug. I chuckled, hugging him back. “Hello to you, too. What’s up?”

“Are you busy?” He questioned, pulling away.

“Uhh, I got a shit-ton of homework that I probably won’t do and might accidentally burn but that’s about it.” I grinned.

He huffed, putting his hand on his hip. “You better not! You’re not allowed to get kicked from the hero course because you refuse to do your work.”

“Yes, mother.”

He nudged my shoulder but I didn’t miss the way his lips twitched up. “What do you say we hang out at the library for a bit and work on it together?”

I hummed. “Why, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to lure me away, Hiryuu Rin~”

“As if,” he teased, tugging on my hand. “Come on, let’s get to it!”

“But learning is so boring~”

“You won’t be a hero with that attitude~”

“Last time I checked, pros don’t have to go around dividing letters with numbers to defeat villains,” I grumbled, throwing my head back.

He hummed. “True, but what if you come across a math villain?”

“Punch him in the dick.”

He sweatdropped. “What if he has hostages and he’ll only release them if you solve his math problems?”

I looked at him blankly. “What are the actual chances of that fucking happening, Ryuu?”

He huffed, puffing out his cheeks. “It could happen!”

I poked his inflated cheek with a chuckle. “Anything is possible, I guess.”

Ryuu led me to the back of the library, settling down in the corner. The next few hours were spent taking turns on our homework assignments. I was able to help him with a couple subjects, while he had my back for some of the harder ones, like math. And then there was physics, which left us both fucking stumped.

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The librarian peeked her head around a large bookshelf, her tired, dull eyes landing on us. “Library’s about to close. Time to leave.”

I glanced out the window and clicked my tongue. “Damn, we were here for a while. It’s dark out.”

He nodded, stuffing his books into his bag. “They say time flies when you’re having fun, but…”

“We weren’t having fun at all,” I pointed out and he shrugged, stifling a yawn.

“Can I come back to your dorm?”

“Ho~? I didn’t know you were so forward, Ryuu.” I wiggled my eyebrows at him and he rolled his eyes, rubbing his arms as we stepped out into the cold.

“I was thinking more along the lines of hot chocolate and a movie.”

“Well, that’s no fun.”

“Just what were you thinking…” he muttered under his breath before shaking his head at my grin. “Nevermind, I don’t want to know!”

The walk to 1-A’s dorm passed in comfortable silence, Ryuu practically glued to my side as he soaked up the warmth from my body. I wonder if his body reacts negatively to the cold because of his reptile-like quirk. I should ask him about that later.

We stepped inside and I immediately froze in the doorway, my eyes wide.

Ryuu took his shoes off, looking back at me curiously. “Jen? What’s wrong?”

“I, uh…” I swallowed hard, covering my mouth and closing my eyes. As soon as I stepped into the building, the smell of food had wafted to my nose, almost as if it were waiting at the door to tease me. It smells just like… like the house did every Thanksgiving morning. It’s the exact same smell.

A hand rested on my shoulder, Ryuu looking at me with worry. “Do you feel sick?”

“No, I just…” I took a breath, forcing a smile as I tried to ignore the smell. “Sorry, just remembered something.”

“Are you sure? You look pale…”

I chuckled, pushing past him. “I was born pale. You up for grabbing the hot chocolate and heading to my room for the movie? Not really in the mood for socializing.” I stepped into the kitchen and froze for the second time. What the fuck?

“If you’re not in the mood for socializing, that might be a problem, Winchester.” Kirishima grinned.

“You better fucking get in the mood, bitch!” Katsuki scowled, his face twisted up.

“Welcome home, Jen.” Izuku greeted, brightly.

“Huh, class A certainly loves going over the top for everything, don’t they?!” Monoma laughed, but it didn’t have its usual mocking undertone to it.

“I hope you don’t mind us joining you guys,” Kendo smiled, tilting her head.

My eyes scanned the faces of classes A and B, all stuffed into the kitchen around the table that had been covered in various dishes of food – turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, green bean casserole… Am I dreaming? I don’t… I can’t…

Ryuu embraced me, his hand finding my cheek. “You’re crying…”

“What? No, I -” I lifted my hand, wiping at my eyes. I am crying. I’m crying in front of both classes. They’re supposed to look at me and be reassured and feel safe, how can they do that if I’m crying my eyes out? Why am I even crying?

Momo and Ashido rushed over to me, pushing Ryuu away as they fussed over me, squishing me between them. “We’re sorry, we should have asked first!”

“Yeah, don’t cry, Jen!” Ashido squeezed me tighter.

“I don’t… know why I’m crying…” I sobbed, rubbing at my eyes furiously but the tears wouldn’t stop coming.

Izuku smiled sadly as he approached, pulling my hands away from my face. “All Might thinks you haven’t properly grieved for Gramps. That’s why I thought it would be a good idea to do this, to give you a chance to… to… properly grieve and to realize… to realize that you’re not alone!” His shoulders shook as his eyes filled with tears.

“Damn it, Deku! You’re supposed to make her feel better not start crying with her!!” Katsuki slammed his hand on the table, the silverware rattling.

“Can I… have a minute, please?” I asked softly.

The two girls exchanged a look before hesitantly pulling away. I bowed my head and stepped out of the kitchen, heading back out through the doorway. As soon as it clicked, I leaned back and slid down, my body shaking from the effort it took to hold back the rest of my tears.

‘Remember, kitten, life isn’t always easy. More often than not, you will face hardships and pain that will be so bad, you will begin to question why it has to be that way. However, just as happiness is often fleeting, so, too, is sadness. You may think that crying makes you a weak person, but I assure you it does not. Crying is a sign that you’ve been strong for too long, and there is no shame in it. Don’t be afraid to show your emotions, kitten. They are not your weakness, they are your strength.’

“Young Jen?”

“Toshi…” I sobbed, tears flowing down my cheeks as my body shook.

Warmth flooded me as I was brought into a strong chest, arms wrapped tight around me. A tired voice sighed from somewhere behind him, “I told you this was a bad idea.”

“Shouta…”

He kneeled beside us, his hand gently rubbing the top of my head. “Sorry, I should’ve stopped them.”

I shook my head. “No, I… I just…”

Toshi rubbed my back comfortingly. “When young Midoriya came to me and told me about his conversation with you the other night, I saw this as a teaching moment. He wanted to get together with the rest of your class, as well as class B, to have a Thanksgiving dinner in honor of your Gramps. I knew this would be hard for you, but I was sure that it was the right thing to do. You accepted the fact that he was gone, but you never grieved for him, did you?”

I shook my head, clutching his sweater between my fingers.

“When we lose someone we love, closure is important for us to heal and move forward. And… I worry that you might feel alone in this new world, but you have impacted those around you, even those from class B. They were more than happy to help out when young Midoriya explained things to them.” Toshi pushed me backward, grasping me by the shoulders and giving me his signature smile. “You are surrounded by people who love you, my dear Jen. Never forget that.”

And I smiled back, even with the tears still falling from my eyes.

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

When I returned to the kitchen twenty minutes later, several worried eyes snapped to me, no doubt noticing my red and swollen eyes, but I smiled brightly at them to ease their worries, stepping aside to let the two teachers inside.

“Hey, All Might made it!” Kaminari cheered.

“And Aizawa-sensei, too!” Kishima grinned.

“Does that mean we can eat now? I’m fucking starving,” Katsuki complained, his arm thrown over the back of the chair as he glared at the ceiling.

“Yes, let’s dig in!” Momo clapped her hands excitedly and the room sprung to life, everyone squeezing into the chairs around the table. Not everyone could fit, of course, and they ended up sitting off to the side or on the counters. All Might himself took up two and a half seats as he sat at the head of the table, laughing and chatting with the students as he told them stories from his youth.

I sat at the opposite end, between Shouta and Izuku, both of whom kept glancing at me with worry, though the greenette wasn’t trying to hide it like our teacher was. I chuckled, taking each of their hands with my own. “Thank you for this. It really means a lot to me.”

“Of course!” Izuku squeezed my hand, giving me a bright smile. Aizawa didn’t say anything, but he squeezed my other hand.

“You Sparky fuck, that turkey leg was mine!!”

“Huh? I don’t see your name on it, Bakugo.”

“Do you wanna die?!”

“Ahahaha! What deplorable manners class A has! Pathetic!”

“Be quiet, Monoma!”

“So many beautiful girls packed into one room, I just wanna touch them…”

“You’re disgusting!”

“Can you pass the cranberry sauce? Ribbit.”

“Here you go, frog girl!!”

“You’re too loud, Tetsu!”

“Hey, All Might, what was your favorite thing about America when you lived there?”

“That’s easy, young Kaibara! I loved seeing the -”

“Hey, you guys started without us!!” The room turned their attention to the doorway where Midnight, Gran and Present Mic stood. Midnight, who had spoken, huffed in annoyance. “There better be a turkey leg left!”

“Itps mjinre!” Katsuki mumbled around the turkey leg that he had stolen from Kaminari.

“You little brat, give it here!” She demanded, nearly jumping across the table to tackle him. His eyes grew wide and he took off, yelling obscenities at her as she chased him around the kitchen.

Gran approached me, putting her hand on my shoulder and smiling kindly. “Happy Thanksgiving, deary.”

I looked around the room, watching the chaos that was ensuing around me. And I smiled, my heart full of happiness and warmth. Things haven’t been easy, and I’m sure the road ahead of me is far from clear, but I’m surrounded by people that care about me, that I care about. Gramps… wherever you are right now, I want you to know that I’m okay. You don’t have to worry about me. These idiots may not be entirely sane and they may drive me up a wall sometimes but… they are home. My home.

“Hey, hey!” Mic raised his voice, making the glasses rattle. “Let’s go around and say what we’re thankful for! Start us off, Uraraka!”

She pulled a surprised face at suddenly being called before tilting her head and smiling. “I’m thankful that we can all be here together!”

“Excellent! Iida, you next!”

“I’m thankful to be with friends during this time of giving thanks!”

“That’s the same as what Uraraka just said but good job! Let’s keep this train a-rollin’, folks!”

“I’m thankful for music.”

“Boobs. Definitely boobs.”

“I’m thankful Bakugo didn’t kill me for that turkey leg…”

“I’m thankful that everyone here is so manly!”

“I’m thankful I’m not sitting next to Mineta…”

“Anime and manga, definitely.”

“I’d be thankful if this bitch would stop chasing me!!”

“And I’d be thankful if you’d give me that turkey leg you brat!”

“I’m thankful that all of you dears are healthy~”

“Hah, I’ll be thankful when class A finally goes down!”

“I’ll be thankful when I don’t have to babysit Monoma anymore…”

“I’m thankful I got to meet Kirishima!!”

“I’m thankful that I sparkle so beautifully. I am magnifi -”

“I’m thankful for this awesome food!”

“What about you, Jen?” Izuku asked, curiously.

“Me?” I hummed as several people looked at me expectantly. I grinned brightly. “Ain’t it obvious? I’m thankful for tacos!”

Zuku sweatdropped. “I shoulda guessed…”

“Well, you stick to your guns, at least, young Jen!”

“Speaking of,” I looked Zuku dead in the eye, my expression deadly serious. “Where the fuck are my tacos, bro?”

His body tensed and he swallowed hard. “Um, I… I didn’t see any mention of tacos when I was researching Thanksgiving…”

I clicked my tongue. “That’s fucking shameful, Zuku. No holiday is complete without tacos.”

“I-I’m sorry!”

I grinned, ruffling his messy hair. “Make sure you don’t forget next year, ‘kay?”

His face lit up and he nodded. “Of course!”

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

「“Give thanks for a little, and you will find a lot.” – Hausa Proverb」

「“People cry, not because they’re weak. It’s because they’ve been strong for too long.” – Johnny Depp」

「“Small cheer and great welcome makes a merry feast.” – William Shakespeare」

「“Love doesn’t make the world go ’round. Love is what makes the ride worthwhile.” – Franklin P. Jones」

「“We fall, we break, we fail. But then, we rise. We heal. We overcome.” – Unknown」

[pug gif]

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

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[freejaybird]

hi!! i saw you opening requests for rdr2 hcs?? i was wondering if you'd write about how the gang members react when you gift them something out of the blue????? no limits to whoever it is.. just write whoever you like bcs i love them all!! thank u so much!!! stay safe 💜💜

this is such a MF CUTE IDEA!!! Thank you so much for requesting, I really hope I did your request justice! It was genuinely so much fun to create. I just did the boys on this one because I didn’t want it to be too long, however, if you’d like one including the girls too don’t be afraid to ask <3 stay safe!! 

Arthur Morgan 

You decided it’d be best to give him your gift outside of camp. You both had just finished scouting out a job, the sun resting high in the afternoon sky. It’s rays melted through your clothing, coating your skin in a growing layer of sweat. With a sigh, you look longingly at Flat Iron Lake, whose water you could see gleaming through the trees.

It’s on account of your invitation to go cool off at the shore of the lake, and you’re not surprised that the bulky cowboy next to you agreed almost immediately. He adjusted his gamblers hat, spurring his horse through a nebulous trail through the brush. You followed his lead, as you usually did.

Soon enough, you’re both chilling on the shore, boots long ago kicked off and pants rolled up. The water lapped up at your legs, creating a chill that rolled from your feet all the way up to your shoulders. A wonderful breeze kicks through the air, and it's now when you’re both in pure bliss to give him his gift. Your hand fumbled in your pant pocket, fingers squeezing around the object in an act to reassure yourself before you presented it to him with a smile. 

 “So- I thought you’d like this”

confusion.jpeg 

The first thing he utters is, “Darlin’, are you- you sure you meant this for me?” 

A blush coats your cheeks, the warmth a wonderful opposite to the cool water that swallowed your legs. You nod assuredly, pushing the gift towards him more to convince him to take it from you.

He’ll hold the gift extremely gently, fingers carefully wrapping around it as he turns it in his large hand. His silence worries you for just a second, and you’re just about getting ready to regret every single action in your life leading up to this moment. In reality, though, Arthur’s still reeling in the fact that out of everyone in the goddamn camp, you decided to give him a gift.

You shift your posture to divert your gaze to the water in front of you. The sun glistened off the lake, light rolling in symphony with the rhythm of the waves. The shaded spot you two were sat together in provided a wonderful paradise from the rest of the world, and, as you take a deep breath, you relish in the feeling. You shift your eyes to his again, delighted to see that he met your gaze this time.

His eyes almost seem to twinkle when his gaze falls into yours, and his hesitant, heavy hand comes to rest on your shoulder gently, as if he was afraid that if he rested the full weight of his hand on you you’d sink into the ground. He then proceeds with the goofiest, most sweet smile on his face to say,

 “I.. well this is beautiful, Y/N. Thank you.” 

You don’t think you’ve smiled so hard in your life. 

After that encounter, Arthur will absolutely agonize over what to get you back. Every time he rides out of camp, his mind is extremely distracted by what to give you. He cherishes your gift nearly every day, so he wants to get you something you’ll like nearly as much.

Oh, and he’d definitely sketch your gift in his journal too, with a typical Arthur™ caption that’d say something along the lines of, “So, Y/N gifted me something today. Still making up my mind about what to gift her back”

When he finally does get you something, you can tell he put a lot of thought into it. It’s most likely something that no one else would think to get you, such as a secret hobby you divulge in or something you’ve secretly been yearning to buy for yourself for a while. 

Whenever he sees you using what he got for you, it’s insanely difficult to hide the proud smile and blush that coats his features. You both will definitely tease each other about your reactions. 

Dutch Van Der Linde 

It’s a relatively cool evening when you decide that the moment is right to give Dutch your gift. You had chosen it out for him very carefully, and now that it was time to actually give it to him, your heart hammered painfully against your rib cage. Whenever your eyes drifted to his encapsulating figure by the docks a wildfire erupted on your cheeks, which very quickly spread to your ears.

“You fool..” You whisper to yourself, kicking your boot into the ground before making your way over to the man. Your balance teetered a bit, as if even your body considered this action a bad idea.

When you first appear next to him, he doesn’t think much of it. It was almost routine for you both to stand on the docks of Clemens Point, basked in the moonlight, thoughts silently being swallowed by the lake. However, what he didn’t expect was for you to hold out a gift and, very adorably, go into a ramble about it.

Oh boy, without a doubt this is an ego boost for him. However, don’t think for a second that he doesn’t genuinely appreciate your efforts.

He’ll hold your gift in his hands with remarkable thoughtfulness, a ghost of a smile passing his lips. His eyes are uncharacteristically soft, and it reminds you of the way you catch him looking at Hosea from time to time. 

That softness, though it was a treasure to see, is only there for a passing second though. Almost immediately, he’ll get the most shit-eating grin on his face and purr, “Well… ain’t this fine.” 

Goosebumps almost immediately raise on your skin, sending a shiver through your bones. Instinctively, you clasp your hands behind your back, tipping back on the heel of your boots to take a step back from his looming presence. 

“It’s okay, Dutch? I just- I know you do so much and…” The shaky, undecided sentence you started trails off almost as soon as his deep, commanding eyes make eye contact with you. Your hands tighten around each other, as if that will provide any comfort for your nervousness in the moment. 

Whilst maintaining eye contact, he plucks your arm from your side, running his hand down your arm to your slightly shaky hand before taking it into his and very gently raising it to brush his lips past your knuckles. His mustache tickled the skin there, sending flashes of what felt like lightning where the bristles of hair touched. The smooth fucker.

Heartily chuckling, he encapsulates his hand over yours in an instant. The size difference alone is enough to get you shifting in your boots. “Of course, Y/N. I appreciate… the faith you’ve kept in me. This…” With his other hand he holds up your gift to eye level, momentarily drifting his eyes to it as if it was a prized jewel. “This is magnificent, my dear.” 

He’s definitely going to get you some type of jewelry or at least something that you’d be able to wear. He loves seeing you walk past him to get something, only to freeze and almost proudly look into his eyes when he points out that you’re wearing his gift. 

Javier Escuella

When you pop up by his side one night at the campfire, he’s not too surprised. Although you two didn’t talk too much, there’s always been a silent agreement that you guys sit at the campfire together. Whether it be to listen to him play guitar, or to sit silently whilst lounging in the fire’s warmth, the comfort of on another was always something to look forward to at the end of a long day.

When you present it to him his lips immediately shift into a smile, and he looks up into your eyes with such a soft expression. The orange hues of the fire light danced along the features of his face, adding to the warmth of the occasion. 

“For me, hermosa? You’re too kind.” 

He’ll look over what you gave him for a few seconds, his smile never leaving his face as he takes it into his hands. He shifts his sitting position in order to get a better look at what you gave him, his eyes dancing over it as if it was the most beautiful object in the world.

Tentatively, you ask if he likes it. Your hands fidget a little bit, and ever so slightly you shift so that you’re a little farther apart. If he didn’t like it, your plan was to wither into the dirt. 

“Do I like it? Querida... I love it! Thank you, mi pájaro cantor.” 

He sets your gift down very carefully beside himself to lean over and hug you, closing the distance that separated your bodies. His scent, a mixture of gunpowder, cigarette smoke, and sweat, engulfs you, and for a moment it's hard to focus on anything else other than the comfort of his arms around you. 

Following this occasion, you can definitely expect a gift in return. In fact, the morning after you gave him yours he’ll have placed a beautifully crafted knife next to your bedroll. There’s nothing discerning that the knife is from him, but just the vibe surrounding the item screams Javier. 

Later in the day, when you both share the warmth of the campfire again, he presents a beautiful selection of wild flowers to you, tied carefully with a satin ribbon. He’ll look at you with an expression that’s absolutely dripping in honey seeing you take the flowers he picked for you. Everyone is absolutely convinced you’re both sweet on one another.

The girls will definitely tease you for the rest of eternity for that stunt.

However, any embarrassment you felt would dissipate as soon as you see Javier smile upon seeing you use the knife he got you, as well as the gentleness of any interactions you share following this event. 

Charles Smith

It was routine for both you and Charles to go on hunting trips together. Your strategies and general vibe complimented each other so well that whenever Pearson mentioned that he needed meat for the next stew, you both just assumed you were going to be hunting together. You’d never felt more comfortable with another person, and you cherished his presence. 

You two are finishing up your most recent hunting trip when you pull his gift out of your saddlebag. The sun is just setting, casting a purple glow across the scenery that surrounded you both. A soft wind rustles the leaves of the trees, and in the distance a pack of coyotes bark and yip. 

“Charles?” 

As soon as he turns around, you’re holding your hands out with his gift. His gaze shifts from the gift and then to you, his lips parting. 

You fumbled with your words explaining yourself to the man, very slightly gesturing with your free hand to his body.“It’s for you. I- well I thought you’d like it.” 

The softest of smiles graces his features as he takes the gift from you. His eyes seem to waltz along the features of your gift, his head just slightly tilting. 

“This is such a thoughtful gift, Y/N. Thank you.” 

The eye contact he makes with you after he utters that sentence nearly sends you into cardiac arrest.

For the next coming days, expect him to be really sweet with you. If he’s ever on guard duty, or you’re returning from a task together, he’ll help you off of your horse and make sure you know that you did an absolutely amazing job that day. You’re absolutely swimming in compliments from the man.

It’s during a hunting trip a lot like the one you two shared a few days ago that he gives you a handmade bow. It reminded you a lot of the one he often carried on his back, and your entire chest swelled with pride when you looked over the engravings intricately entwined in the wood. How long did it take him to make this? Your eyes nearly bugged out of your head at the thought.

“So you like it then?” His voice, tinted with amusement, interrupts the silence you created entirely by accident. This man was gonna kill you, you were sure of it.

“I- Charles of course I do! This- how…” Your breath escapes you, almost as if your lungs just decided to forget how to intake air.

It’s hard to ignore the way he looks at you whenever you use that bow (which is quite often might I add). You can’t completely discern the emotion he’s conveying, but all you know is that you’re absolutely enamored by his gaze.

Sean Macguire 

Oh, this is a silly interaction all around. In fact, even when you were even picking out a gift for him, you were almost positive he’d find a way to make the occasion goofy as hell. 

You give the gift to him whilst in camp, snatching the opportunity whilst he was on a break from guard duty.

“Oh my… love. Is this a present for good ol’ Macguire here?”

He has almost a puppy-like expression on his face, and the man doesn’t even let a second go by before he’s taking it out of your hands. A giggle slips through your lips at the child-like grin on his face, I mean, come on, he’s holding this gift as if it’s the secret to life.

“I take that you like it?” You tease, taking the time to lean against a tree. Your body felt light with fondness for the man. 

He wildly gestures with his gift, taking a step closer to you as he tilts his head, “My da always used to say tat’ when a lady gifts y’something it’s a sign, y’know.” His eyebrows raise expectantly, as if you knew the context of whatever he was talking about.

You teetered on the edge of asking ‘a sign for what??’ but decided against it. This grand advice from his da will be listened to vehemently by you, a special occasion reserved only for today.

The sight of his eyes absolutely gleaming with joy as he recounts one of his da’s life advice™ is almost enough to melt you on the spot. 

He’ll definitely give the most bone-crushing hug imaginable to show how appreciative he is for your gift. He smells absolutely terrible, but you can overlook that so long as he continues to smile like he is right now. 

Look, afterwards he’ll try his best to get you a meaningful gift, but it will most likely be something along the lines of whiskey or some type of treat front the general store. He’ll genuinely be so excited for you to react to it, he’ll give it to you almost as soon as he gets back to camp. It most likely happens around the campfire too, with a few gang members watching this interaction unfold like 👀

Bill Williamson 

You surprise him with his gift at the scout campfire. He’s just finished his guard duty, and before he starts his evening alcoholism™ you pounced on the opportunity to give him the item. You call his name once you decide you're close enough, a slight smile turning at your lips as you present it to him.

Once he realizes that what you’re holding out to him is supposed to be for him, he’ll look at you with such a mean scowl that you falter in your next step towards him, causing you to nearly fall face first into the dirt below.

“I ain’t in the mood for your goddamn jokes, Y/N.” He growls, prodding at the fire with the tip of his boot. He glances at you with brief concern as you regain your composure, his posture tightening as he decides on what exactly he wants to do, but he doesn’t threaten to check if you’re alright. He’s still bent on you playing a joke on him, after all. 

“I’m gonna be in a worse mood if you don’t take th’ gift I chose for you, fool.” You tilt your head, a friendly yet threatening smile blessing your features as you lean down to his level, placing the gift in his open lap. The bear of a man glances at you, a huff escaping him. He found it hard to keep his guard up with you looking so intently at him, as well as when he finally studied the object that was placed on his lap.

“Well, thank you very much, Y/N. Don’t know why you’d even think to get me somethin’ like this.” There’s still an ounce of bitterness in his gruff voice, as if he was still expecting you to snatch the item out of his grasp and taunt him. 

Your smile absolutely melts away any doubt lingering within him, though.

In fact, he feels an unfamiliar warmth fill his chest as you sit down next to him with a slight sigh, your head turning to look him in the eyes once again. “Yeah? I thought you’d like it.”

When your shoulders brush, he has to look at the gift again to hide any sign of a blush appearing on his cheeks. He was sure his beard would hide it, but he didn’t want to risk you seeing him in such a vulnerable state. 

“Sorry for…” He makes an awkward gesture towards himself, and he fumbles with the item in his hands before continuing his attempt to converse with you. “This is… This is fine, Miss/Sir.”

You hummed, assuring him with a smile. 

Afterwards, the man is so unsure of what to do with himself around you. Does he get you a gift back? Does he strike up more conversation with you? He’s at a loss. It’s been so long since someone at camp was so genuinely nice to him he doesn’t want to mess up anything. 

If he does decide to get you a gift back, don’t expect anything gaudy. Honestly, it’s most likely something he stole off of someone or a bottle of your preferred alcoholic beverage. He’s really shy when he presents it to you, but upon seeing your true, unadulterated happiness that he even thought to get you something back is enough to get him smiling. 

You two spend a lot more evenings together after this, filled with hearty laughs, Pearson’s stew, and a few beers.

[honeymoonjin]

heavy - hoseok x reader smut

A/N: a birthday gift for the wonderful vi @jeonau 

Mafia!AU Hoseok smut. Warnings for sexually explicit content: fingering, restraints, dom!Hoseok, praise kink, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex. 2.9k words.

Your Hobi was stressed again. You could tell by the tension in his shoulders when you ran your hand over his back, or the way the muscles in his cheek jumped as he clenched his jaw. Of course being the head of Seoul’s most infamous gun-running empire came with a certain level of stress, but Hoseok had always seemed to take it in his stride, navigating the black market underworld with an instinctual ease.

Now, though, with the police hot on his heels, he had become less blasé and self-assured, spending more and more hours holed up in the basement of your shared home to try and minimize the time he was out in public and vulnerable. Unfortunately, the lack of sunlight and proper exercise was beginning to make him stiff and tetchy. You smoothed your palm over his Egyptian cotton-clad back as he pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing at whatever the person on the other end of the phone line was saying to him.

“Reynolds doesn’t have access to the accounts, so, as suspicious as that fucker acts, I don’t think it’s him.” A slight pause as the muffled voice responded. “Well, maybe if you didn’t employ a goddamn narc in the first place, we wouldn’t be in this situation! Now, if you could please track down the man who’s put my ass on the line and deal with him, that would be great. Don’t call me again unless it’s good news. You’re wasting my fucking time.”

Without waiting for a response, Hoseok hangs up and chucks his phone lazily at his desk, sending it skidding across the thick layer of miscellaneous papers strewn over it.

You let both hands sweep over his shoulders, thumbs digging in to the knots in his back. Hoseok tips his head back with an exhausted groan. “You shouldn’t be down here,” he admonishes, though his tone is more tired than angry. “You know that the less you know, the better. I don’t want you in the line of fire, baby girl.”

You hum in response but make no effort to leave. “Perhaps I just want to make sure my husband isn’t facing the line of fire alone.”

“Mm, ‘at’s sweet of you,” he mumbles, eyebrows knitting together as you continue to work out the tension that’s deep-set in his muscles. “God, you’re the only person in this hellhole of a world I trust, you know that? Even my own team are betraying me, but you’ve stayed loyal all this time.”

“And I always will,” you promise earnestly, enjoying the way he becomes lax under your touch. “It’s you and me against the rest of the world, baby.”

Unprompted, Hoseok breaks out in a yawn, and rolls his shoulder blades back in two tight circles, breaking your hold. You let your hands hover uncertainly in the air, then drop. A sudden movement causes you to step back slightly as Hoseok spins in his leather desk chair to face you, eyes lidded. “Take a seat, baby girl.”

There’s no other chair in the basement; Hoseok is the only one who ever uses this room, but that wasn’t what he meant anyway. You wet your quickly drying lips and step forward again, stance widening around his knees until your wrists link around the back of his neck, and you’re lowering yourself daintily onto his lap. His eyes dart down to the spot between your legs as the skirt you’re wearing slips further and further up your thighs. You lean in, cheek resting on the firm plane of his chest. “I’ve missed you,” you confess into the dimly lit room, “you never come to bed anymore.”

A strong palm comes up to rest on the back of your head, cupping you against him. His chest reverberates as he speaks. “Is my baby feeling a little needy?”

You nod softly, enjoying the way the expensive cotton of his shirt slides smoothly over your skin. It was generally pretty common for the two of you to be having sex multiple times a day; normally when business was good, your husband was feeling a little more generous with his cock and his time. But you had been deprived of any action for going on two weeks now, and his simple proximity was enough to have a hot wave of need rolling around inside of you.

He chuckles out his nose at your lack of verbal response. “Do you know what? I’ve spent the past few days punishing my subordinates for their misdemeanors and disloyalty. I think it’s only fair that I reward good behavior too, don’t you think?” Again, you nod, this time more feverishly. “Mm, I thought so. And you’ve been such a good girl for me, haven’t you?”

“Of course, Hoseokie.”

“You didn’t get yourself off alone while I’ve been busy?” You shake your head. “Did you try to?” Your face burns with shame as you remain still. Truth be told, you had spent many a lonely night with your hand between your legs, unsatisfied with how big and empty your bed felt without him in it, but you could never get there on your own. He had really ruined you for any other lovers, including yourself. Hoseok simply gives another soft chuckle, the hand buried in your hair tugging softly at the roots. “That’s okay, I’m not mad at you. Your sweet cunt was waiting for me, even if your hands weren’t. Fuck, and I’ve missed it, too.”

You shift your head so that your chin props you up and you can look him in the eyes, which are twinkling with something a little darker than amusement, and a little deeper than lust. “Will you take care of me now?” you ask quietly, voice sounding small in the large empty space of the basement.

His grip tightens on your head slightly, turning from comforting to possessive. “Are you gonna be a good girl for me?” You nod as best you can under his hold, and he rewards you with a devilish smile. Suddenly, the back of your head feels cold as he removes his hand and begins loosening the knot in his tie, the dark, thick fabric snapping when he tugs it off his neck. “Wrists,” he commands firmly, and you hastily rush to present them to him, side-by-side. With a knitted brow as he focuses, he slips the length of the tie between and around your wrists until they’re solidly bound together, your fingers automatically linking in with one another, clasping your hands. Once they’re complete, he hooks his finger in between them to check they’re not too tight, and then uses that same hold to pull them up, ducking his head so that your hands fall behind his back. He lets go, and untucks his arms so that they’re over the level of yours, and your wrists rest snugly around his waist.

The realization of your own immobility never fails to send a rush of heat between your legs, and you bite your lip, watching as his eyes rake languidly over your body. Finally, his gaze lowers to the sliver of your panties visible underneath the edge of your skirt. It’s risen up practically to your pelvis, and you know that if you can see some of your underwear from your position, he was probably getting an eyeful.

Playfully, almost lazily, he takes a single finger and runs a featherlight stripe up the seam of your panties. You twitch in his grip, having felt how damp the fabric was when it was pressed slightly against your folds. “Please,” you whisper out reflexively, thighs straining to open your legs wider. He smiles at the sight, and swipes your clothed core again, smile widening when you let out a whimper.

“Look at you,” he croons, “all spread out in front of me, vulnerable and open.” Another pass, this one with more pressure, and your pelvis tilts up to chase it. “Completely at my mercy.”

“Hoseok,” you breathe. “I need you.”

“You’ve waited a couple weeks,” he says lightly, tone betraying the slightest edge of warning, “I would hate for you to lose your reward for being impatient now.” You swallow hard and shut your mouth, eyes pleading with him silently. The corners of his eyes crinkle in a smile. “Good.”

Hoseok sighs out deeply, running his hot palms up and down the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, fingertips coming dangerously close to the seams of your panties every time. Like he’s got all the time in the world, he starts fiddling with the lace edge between your legs, nail scratching the skin ever so lightly. You try to keep your breathing steady, but you can’t stop from whining low in your throat as he stays just an inch to the left of where you really want him.

“My girl definitely is feeling needy,” he mumbles, tapping at the wet patch right over your entrance. “You’re completely soaked for me, and I haven’t even touched you yet. It’s because this pussy is mine, isn’t it? You’re creaming yourself just for me.”

You can’t help yourself. “Please, Hoseokie, I need more.”

Wordlessly, he tucks his fingers underneath the sopping fabric and presses two fingers inside you, stopping at the first knuckle. You writhe on his lap, trying to shuffle forward to pierce yourself more on the fingers you know would feel so good seated fully inside you. “Use your words, baby. You get to pick a reward for being on your best behavior, hm?”

You give up on trying to get him to go deeper as he pulls his hand back every time you sneak forward. “I want your cock,” you confess simply, clenching around his fingertips.

He lets out a low curse, and lets his fingers sink inside you slowly, your mouth dropping open in pleasure as the knuckles of his other fingers rest snugly against your folds, preventing him from going any further. “So, you don’t want my fingers?” he asks with an air of innocent curiosity. “You don’t want me do to this?” A moan is ripped from you as he begins fingering you deeply, curling up against your g-spot with every stroke.

“Y-yes,” you gasp out, rocking your hips into the sensation.

“Oh, you do want my fingers? That’s strange, I swear just earlier you said you wanted my cock.”

“Both,” you moan, face falling onto his shoulder as your wrists tugged uselessly against his lower back, unable to draw them back around like you wanted to. “I want both, please, Hoseokie.”

He continues to finger you as you garble nonsensical moans, the sensation feeling so blissfully good after your extended lack of orgasms recently. “My sweet girl,” he coos into your ear, the soft words almost drowned out by the wet smacking resounding between your thighs, “I can never say no to you. You’ve been so good for me, so patient. Will you be a good girl for me now and cum? I want to feel you cum on my fingers before I make you cum again on my cock.”

Your thighs begin to shake as his thumb slides up to rub at your sensitive clit, and his other hand palming your ass to push you further onto him with each thrust of his fingers. “I w-will, I’m so close, Hoseokie,” you promise, burying your face into his neck and clasping at the back of his shirt with your bound hands. “Please, I need to cum.”

“Let go for me, baby. Let it all go, that’s it. That’s it,” he croons happily as you come apart on him, the pleasure only heightened by the fact that he keeps going full-speed, and you’re helpless to stop him or do anything but take it. Once your body shudders subside, your walls still periodically clamp down around him. You whine when he slips out of you, and you’re left clenching down on an unpleasant void.

“Please, can I have your cock now?” you moan into the crook of his neck, nibbling and lapping affectionately at the skin made slightly salty from exertion.

He groans at the sensation. “Does my girl want me to fuck her now?”

“Mhm.”

Hoseok hums in affirmation, one palm slipping under your skirt to cup your ass, the other deftly unbuttoning his slacks. “Can’t wait to feel your pretty pussy around my cock, baby girl, I’ve missed it.” His hand dips into his pants and pulls his cock out, Hoseok tipping his head back with a sigh as it’s finally released. He smears the precum lazily with his thumb, looking down at you with lidded eyes. “Do you see how much I’ve missed your sweet cunt?”

You bite your lip as you look down. It’s not a word you’d usually use to describe the appendage dangling between a man’s legs, but Hoseok’s dick is truly a beautiful specimen. Average in length, and only a little girthier than most, the beauty comes in the graceful curve that appears when he’s hard, an arc up to his stomach, so that the tip would graze the taut skin of his abdomen, just below his belly button. It was mostly smooth, and as bronzed as the rest of him, although it darkened as blood rushed to it, like now.

Getting impatient, you rock your hips towards his cock, the friction from the wet fabric of your panties causing him to groan your name. “Hoseokie. I need you now.”

“Come on then, baby,” he mutters sweetly into your ear, “open wide.” And with a single, strong arm, he’s lifting you up and using his other hand to line up his cock with your entrance, pushing the sopping fabric aside with his head, and letting you impale yourself on him.

Normally, the stretch is very bearable, especially after fingering you like he almost always did, but it had been too long that you had gone empty and feeling him inside you again had your toes curling, even as he let you stay still on his cock to adjust. “Hobi,” you whimper into his chest, unable to use your hands to prop yourself up. You feel the pressure of his chin on the crown of your head.

“You feel so fucking tight around me, baby girl. That pretty pink pussy of yours was made for me. God, it’s so perfect. You’re so perfect.”

You keen and clamp down on him at the praise, and he curses, the sound muffled in your hair. Unable to get any leverage to ride him with your hands bound behind his back, you wait for him to drop his hands to your hips, and slowly pull you off of him, the drag inside you pulling another moan from deep in your throat. He stops once only his head is snug inside you and holds you firm.

Instead of making you ride him, he plants his feet on the ground and begins thrusting up into you. With every stroke, his skin smacks against yours audibly and with the angle, his cock rubs slightly against the bottom of your clit every time he moves. “Oh, god, Hoseok, feels so good with you in me,” you pant.

“Yeah?” Hoseok questions through gritted teeth, voice stiff with exertion. “You’re taking me so well, baby. Fuck, I’m not gonna last long.”

“Me neither,” you assure, “just please don’t stop, Hoseokie. I need it harder.”

With a groan that comes out more like a growl, Hoseok begins slamming your hips back down every time he fucks up into you, burying himself deeper inside you than before. You can feel him strike your cervix wall on particularly strong thrusts, and the pressure feels so good that you can’t help but let your mouth fall open, drooling onto his shirt lightly as he forces your hips down onto his cock harder and harder, until you’re panting desperately, hanging off an orgasm by a thread. “Hobi, I’m close,” you confess.

“Fuck, I’m cu- ah! Yes, fuck, yes,” Hoseok chants, thrusting once, a second time, then holding you right to his pelvis as he cums. You squeeze down on him to help him through it, and the pressure it puts on your g-spot, combined with the feeling of him spilling inside you, has you falling over the edge into your second orgasm, shuddering violently on top of him as he slowly grinds his way through his orgasm.

When you both finish up, he makes no effort to pull out, simply putting your arms back over his head and untying you, massaging your wrists gently for you to make sure circulation returned.

“I love you so much, you know that?” he mumbles into your hair as you snuggle up to his chest. He’s starting to soften, but you don’t want to lose the connection, and he seems happy enough for you to stay on his lap as he’s buried inside you. “I’m sorry I haven’t been taking care of you enough. It’s just that work’s got me totally strung out, and I want to make sure-”

You shush him, reaching down a hand to interlink with his. “It’s okay,” you promise, “I’m with you now, let’s just enjoy this, okay?”

His fingers tighten around yours. “Okay.”

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