Tumgik
#not to mention the pressure to post about it to prove you’re a ‘big enough’ fan
raging-violets · 10 months
Text
Under Pressure // Kendall x Riley // Big Time Rush
Summary – Kendall is stressed and under a lot of pressure and only one person can really understand how he feels, especially when it has to do with his father.
Tumblr media
A/N: I’ve done something like this before but this one-shot hit me after reading a post about Kendall on tumblr and wouldn’t let me go until I finished writing it. So, in essence, this is a character study on Kendall, lol.
Set during 2x11 – Big Time Songwriters (though it just mentions it more than it being a plot point).
Words: 3069
TW: mentions of child abuse, deadbeat dad, neglect, parentification, parent death
Tumblr media
Tightness stretched across Kendall’s shoulders, increasing as the seconds passed. So much so that he stopped to wiggle and stretch them every few steps. Nothing was making the boulders of his muscles melt away. And it probably wouldn’t until peace returned to him and that wouldn’t happen until his father left Los Angeles.
In the meantime, everything was fine.
He was fine.
He was fine.
He was so fine.
He was so not fine.
Kendall turned away from the mirror, pressing his hands into the sides of his head. He paced across the floor of the costume closet, hearing the distant sound of Gustavo’s screams. The screams only slightly accompanied by off-key notes slammed on a piano.
Not a good song writing day, if Kendall had to guess. Not that he even had to guess. The look on Kelly’s face when he arrived at Rocque Records that day was clear enough. The twitching of her eye only stopped long enough for her to ask, “What are you doing here? You’re not scheduled until tomorrow.”
“I just wanted to…” Kendall briefly closed his eyes. Thought hard for an excuse. He opened his eyes and glanced at the empty practice rooms nearby. “Get some guitar practice in. You know…” he blinked hard, forced a smile that was seconds from breaking. “See if we can spruce up the ‘Oh Yeah’ song.”
“Okay…” Kelly gazed at Kendall. Who wasn’t blinking as he continued to smile at her. “Stop it. That’s creepy.” Kendall dropped his smile. Kelly looked him up and down for a minute. “So long as you don’t destroy the place like you did when you and the boys were writing. Everything’s still getting patched up.”
Kendall nodded and backed away from Kelly, heading towards the practice room, stepping over the broken pieces of furniture and poster sized photos of Rocque Records bands that had been ripped off the walls, wincing as he did so. (And that was nothing compared to the wince that went across his and his friends’ faces when they say the bald patch in the back of his head after he’d ripped out the hair extensions he’d put in when dressed as a viking that day).
After a few steps, Kendall turned back as if he’d only just though tof something. “Hey, uh, do you know if Riley’s here?” He ignored the knowing smile that stretched across Kelly’s face before following her head tilt toward the costume closet. “Just…you know…Gustavo’s asking about the outfits for our videos so I thought I’d…y’know…check on it.”
“Uh-huh.”
So there he was, pacing, pacing, pacing, trying not to look at himself in the mirror. Because if he looked in the mirror, he wasn’t going to see himself, he was going to see him. The man who—unfortunately—had given him half his genes and DNA. The same man he had just seen not even an hour before and Kendall barely managed to get through that conversation without his brain exploding from the pressure of keeping his mouth shut.
He hadn’t been that angry since the all-out war he and the boys had when writing their song. But that was even worse; that was a song that needed to be written so it could go on the deluxe album per Griffin’s wishes. And even then, it was even more pressure because they were writing their first song to prove a point to Gustavo and they needed to like it so he would like it so Griffin would like it so that the fans and critics would like it and…
Kendall’s temples throbbed at the mere thought.
If things didn’t go well with the song, then they wouldn’t go well with the band, then all of that time they spent going to LA would’ve been…a catastrophic failure. Which would mean…everything in his life would’ve ended in abysmal failure.
His parents’ marriage? Ruined when his father became a professional hockey player and enjoyed that life more than being a family man. (Where he may or may not have cheated on his mom, Kendall still didn’t know for sure.). He ended up being the “man of the house” at a young age. Had to be the one in charge of anything and everything when his mom wasn’t there. Had to be another parent when he didn’t even truly know what being a parent was.
His mom? Worked as a waitress in a diner just to be able to afford groceries, rent, Kendall’s hockey and Katie’s lacrosse. She worked almost all day every day and he could barely remember when she got a full day off. Sometimes, Kendall wondered if his mom knew how to be a person again. Not a mom. Not a provider. But a person.
Katie? He walked her to and from the school bus every day, made sure she got into the house okay, consistently called in and checked on her while she was there. Took her to his hockey practices when he had no choice but to go and he watched her quietly sit in the stands, bundled up against the cold, sometimes falling asleep on the bleachers. (She got to know the staff at the arena very well, they were her first victims of poker playing).
His friends? They were always going to be by his side. He couldn’t remember the last time he wans’t. If they got detention he was either coming up with a plan to get them out of it or get him in it just so they could hang out. Anyone who dared tried to say anything bad about them (saying James had no talent, that Logan was a wimp, that Carlos was crazy) was met with potential death. The amount of times he’d gotten into fights with guys who tried to bully Logan or with bigger goons on the ice trying to smash James’s face in was enough to give him the nickname “Killer” early in his hockey career. He was nothing without his friends. So much so that even when James was mad about him getting the deal to go to LA to make music Kendall couldn’t imagine not having them with him.
Him? He had to take care of the cooking and housekeeping while his mom worked late into the night. Where he still had to do his homework, study for tests, worked as the captain of the hockey team, hung out and got in trouble with his friends, and keep his job at the grocery store. All the while he kept a smile on his face. He was loyal, compassionate, friendly, kind, caring, smart, and loyal to everyone around him. The people he loved and cared about. He helped Mrs. Magicowski with her yardwork when the time came, bringing her home some groceries when he was able to get some from the store. Giving up multiple areas of his life, growing up fast so that he could make his life a little bit easier for his mom and sister.
Any of that becoming pointless, becoming useless, becoming not worth it…was not a reality he wanted to live. And if that all came crashing down because he couldn’t get his fucking father’s face out of his head…he’d never forgive him.
Not that he ever would anyway.
The more he looked himself in the mirror, the more he saw his father’s face in his own. It was all he could do to keep from smashing himself in the face with a hockey stick just to knock his father’s teeth out. The idea made him smile in that way that had multiple people telling him, “Stop it, it’s creepy” more than enough times that day.
“What are you doing here, Hockey-Head? Aren’t you supposed to be meeting your dad?” Riley’s voice made Kendall turn. She moved into the costume closet, closing the door with her foot as she carefully maneuvered a surfboard through the door. She set the board on the wall and brushed her wet hair behind her shoulders. “You’re not going to tell Kelly and Gustavo I skivved off, yeah?”
Kendall smiled softly. “No, I won’t tell them.”
“Ace.” Riley peered at him closely then moved to sit on the arm of the couch. “I reckon you being here means your meeting with your dad didn’t go well.” She looped her arms around her upraised knees as he collapsed onto the couch next to her.
“Understatement of the century,” he replied. He flopped back, draping his arm over his face. Let out a heavy sigh, the weight on his shoulders only given a slight reprieve while lying down. “I could hardly stand looking at him.”
He could hear Riley hum softly. “What’d he say?”
“That he was happy to see me,” Kendall replied. He dropped his arm from his face, resting his hands on his stomach as he stared at the ceiling. Alternated looking at Riley then back to the ceiling once more. “That he was glad I took the time to meet with him. That I looked like I was doing well. He wanted to know everything about me.”
A bitter laugh ripped from his throat, as if it had been waiting in the wings for the right moment to strike. The harshness of his laugh, he saw, made Riley jump. She blinked over at him, eyebrows coming together in concern.
“My own dad wanted to know everything about me, like I was some random kid he’d just met for the first time.” The reality of the thought, sobering, settled right into Kendall’s gut. His voice was soft when he repeated himself. “To him I’m some random kid he’d just met for the first time.” Even quieter when he added, “He didn’t even apologize.”
“What do you want him to apologize for?” Riley asked. For a moment, Kendall shot her a ‘are you serious?’ look. The tension in his shoulders moved to his head, started to throb with his heart beat. She simply blinked back at him, blue eyes big and round as she gazed back at him, chin then resting on her knees.
“He couldn’t apologize for leaving,” Kendall said. “I gave him so many chances…and he couldn’t even mention how he’s been gone. He just kept asking me questions, things he would know if he was around. He couldn’t even remember how old Katie is!”
An even stronger throb of pressure.
Kendall clenched his teeth together, working to keep from exploding.
“He acted like he’d always been there and just forgot some things. Like we’d always been in LA, he kept talking about places to and things to see as if being out here was normal.” Kendall’s eyebrows came together when it hit him. “It’s normal to him. Because he’s been out here. He’s lived a life of luxury while we’ve been in Minnesota struggling to make rent every day. He’s been living the life anyone would ever dream of while mom was working from sunup to sundown and barely got a day off. And he was out here while Katie was the only girl in her class who didn’t have a dad to go to the ‘Daddy-daughter’ dance at school, so I had to take her!”
“Kendall—”
“And Mom had to deal with all the whispers and rumors of the other hockey moms. And she had to deal with a crappy boss at the diner just to take care of us. And taking me to my hockey practices and hockey games! And she wouldn’t let me quit them to work more to help her! All the while he was living in the lap of luxury as if he had no family to come home to.” He lurched to his feet, hands slamming into clenched fists. “I hate him!”
Lift off.
“I hate him for what he did to you!” Fury couldn’t describe the emotion that flashed over Kendall’s face. Swirled through his eyes. Riley watched him violently place; eyes wide as she slowly stood from the arm of the couch. “How he stood up there and made it so that the guy that abused you for years practically got off scott free. He stood there and told a judge that you guys were practically the reason for Robert to torture you all for so long and work you to the bone for your career just so he could make money!”
“—Kendall.”
Kendall turned to look Riley in the eye. “I hate that everyone knows what he did. That he knows you all didn’t deserve it and still tried to make it look like you were to blame. How he  made other people think Robert was just an innocent man who was stressed and worked out his stress in a bad way. I hate that he did the same thing to you that…” Kendall trailed off.
Riley took in a deep breath then bluntly said, “That’s not what’s bothering you.”
Kendall’s hands clenched once more, twisting in the air, as if he were wringing the neck of a hockey stick. Seconds away from taking it and slamming it over his knee. The thought made him smirk a little, wondering what his dad would think if they ever came up against each other in a hockey game. He wasn’t called “Killer” for nothing. Then again, his dad wasn’t called “Knuckles” for nothing either.
“What do you want me to say?” Kendall demanded.
“The truth!” Riley shot back. “How you’re really feeling! You fucking hate him; I know you do. But you don’t hate him for us, you hate him for you!” She jabbed him in the chest with her fingertip. “I hate him for what he did to you and Katie. And I don’t even know him! You’re his son and he did that to you! With Rob…your dad was just doing his job. But for you…he wasn’t doing his job as a dad.”
Kendall dropped his hands back to his sides, then folded his arms. He was silent for a long moment. “Do you want to hear how I got tired of hearing my mom cry every night? When she thought Katie and I couldn’t hear her? Where I saw her stressing out over bills and charges? Where I thought about dropping out of hockey because I knew how expensive it was? How I had to live up to his name over and over because it was all people wanted to talk about? How I always had to hear ‘you’re just like your father?’ and cringe inside? How much I don’t like to look in the mirror because I look like him? How I often wonder if my mannerisms are his or if they’re mine? How I hate how angry I am at him and that I hate how everything Gustavo’s ever said to me just reminds me of him? How, as much as I hate him, there’s a tiny part of me that wonders if this time…” he trailed off, his voice cracking badly, the pressure lessening. “If this time is the time he decides to stay? And I have to act like…like none of that happened? And I have to pretend like nothing’s wrong if he leaves again?
“ I don’t…I can’t…” Kendall brought his hands up to the sides of his head, grasped his hair. His chest heaved, tears trickling over his cheeks. “I can’t take the pressure.” He sank to the floor and pressed his face into his hands. Hated that he was crying and equally hating it was his dad that was making him do it.
He slid to the floor, bringing up his legs and hid his face behind his arms. Allowed the tears to flow as long as they would go. He felt Riley sit down next to him before she put her arm around his shoulders, resting her head against his.
They sat that way for a long time. He had no idea how long. All he could focus was on the throbbing in his back and shoulders that slowly ebbed away with each pulse of his heart. Starting off strong then simmered. A gesture like that, one that his mother usually would give him, would’ve sent him running. (More likely to the hockey rink, where he would’ve done laps until he was dripping with sweat and exhausted). But he simply collapsed into Riley’s shoulder, resting his head under her chin, in the crook of her neck.
“You’re lucky,” Kendall murmured. “Your parents are dead. They can’t let you down.”
Riley’s voice was flat. “Yeah, not being able to have them at any of our milestones…let alone to meet you…I have no idea what being let down means.”
Kendall sucked in a sharp breath, briefly closing his eyes. Was almost too ashamed to open his eyes again, afraid of the ferocity of the anger she’d deserve to throw his way if she wanted. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean--”
She raised her hand, cutting him off. Not out of anger, but compassion. A tearful compassion that showed she completely understood what he meant and didn’t hate him for it. “Don’t be sorry, Hockey-Head,” she said. “This isn’t about me.”
“I don’t want him in my life.”
“You don’t have to want him in your life. Not just because he’s your dad. Just keep the people you want around.” With the hand by his head, she tapped him on the side of the head. “You’re in control of your life and who’s in it, Kendork.” He chuckled, lightly rolling his eyes at the use of one of her many nicknames for him. “Don’t give anyone else that power.”
Kendall nodded.
He brought up his hand and grasped hers, squeezing it.
His shoulders slumped.
The pain went away.
Relief.
He was fine.
Kendall lifted his head and looked at her. “How did you do that?” He asked.
Riley smiled.
Tag List: @partiallypearl @witchofinterest @mystic-scripture @darknightfrombeyond @arrthurpendragon ​
9 notes · View notes
quindolyn · 3 years
Note
hi hi i have a req- remus and/or sirius where the reader has like bigger boobs w like stretch marks and stuff (bc theyre natural!!) and shes insecure ab them so the boy(s) make her feel better
Stripes || Wolfstar
A/N: I am not particularly fond of this piece all that much but it is what it is. I tried not to mention breast size too much because I know not everyone has big tits and I want as many people as possible to resonate with my work. Tits of all shapes and sizes can have stretch marks, they are completely natural and beautiful.
Warnings: smoking, it's not too too smutty I'd call it more fluffy smut, tit sucking, mentions of love bites, all acts are consensual and there is an established safe word
Word Count: 1,928
“We could go again,” Sirius offers as he lights his cigarette, leaning up against the headboard, guiding the fag to his lips he inhales deeply and you can’t help but be mesmerized as you watch his lips wrap around it.
Pink and soft, they're swollen from the night's previous activities, thinking about how they got that way sends a shiver down your spine, do yours look the same? Exhaling, you watch the smoke curl out his nose before dissipating into the air.
“Don’t know Pads, you think you could get it up again?” Remus stretches to reach his wand on the bedside table quickly and silently spelling you all clean.
Grey eyes flash with annoyance as he lifts the cigarette back up to his lips, though you must’ve watched him smoke hundreds of times you still can’t manage to tear your eyes away.
Maybe it's the way his fingers manipulate the small object as he plays with it absentmindedly that draws you in, the joints and muscles in his hand shifting under pale skin which looks almost as soft as it actually is.
Every now and again he’ll catch you staring at him, like now for example. His eyes flicker downwards finding your optics already fixed on him, “You want a hit Princess?” He raises his eyebrow, gesturing with the hand holding the smoke.
You nod your head, it’s not every day you’re included in their little smoke breaks post coitus, “Please.”
“Please,” Sirius mocks you as he leans down to hold the cigarette to your lips. You barely have the chance to taste the tobacco before it's being pulled away, this time to your right where Remus takes his time enjoying his smoke.
You can’t help but whine as it departs your lips and you’re met by the shit eating grin on Sirius’ face, clearly taking pleasure in teasing you so mercilessly.
“No whining Princess, smoking isn’t good for pretty girls is it?” Letting his hand cup the side of your face his thumb runs along the soft cushion of your bottom lip, applying just enough pressure to tease you.
In your peripheral vision you catch the cig being handed over your head, exchanging between the two boys as you nod your head once more.
“Good girl,” He coos, before taking another hit.
As the smoke leaves his nostrils he’s dipping down to find your lips. He tastes of smoke and something about it coming from his lips makes it all the more sweet, it’s probably better than the real thing.
It’s intensified as his tongue delves into your mouth, you can practically feel the smoke in your lungs, you’ve never been a match for him and simply let your tongue be manipulated by his before he pulls back, connecting the two of you with a strand of saliva that when it breaks falls onto the side of your face.
“Messy girl,” He murmurs, smug smirk on his lips, as he wipes away the mess, in reality his efforts only work to smear the spit on your cheek rather than clean it up.
“So what do you think baby?” Remus asks, sitting up and pulling you with him so you’re both upright, “You wanna try and go again?”
“I don’t know Rem, you think Siri can get it back up or is my wrist gonna cramp trying to get him hard?”
“You two are cruel,” No matter how hard he tries to hide it you can see the slight smile pulling upwards at his lips, “You’re even hiding your titties from me, mean.”
He gestures towards your chest, he’s right, you’d subconsciously clutched the sheet to your chest, crossing your arms to keep it in place and your breasts covered.
Heat rushes to your cheeks as the realization dawns upon you, it wasn’t that you were intentionally guarding them from either boy but you realize that that is how it looks.
“No it's not that Siri I just, I usually keep them covered. They’re… they’re… “ You stumble over your words, only increasing your embarrassment.
“They’re what puppy?” Remus asks, lightly brushing your hair behind your ear so that he has access to your temple, smearing his lips across the soft skin.
“I don’t know,” As you grow shy your voice drops to a mere mumble, “They’ve got all sorts of marks on them.”
This proves worrisome enough for Sirius to set down his fag, letting it sit in the ashtray on the nightstand.
“You mean stretch marks Princess?”
You try your best not to cringe at those words, stretch marks. It's not a dirty word, somewhere inside you, you know that but that has never stopped you from being insecure by them. Deliberately choosing tops that side the ones that sprout from the tops, near your under arm before traveling down the curvature of your tit. Making sure your lingerie always has some sort of extra covering where they’re most visible.
You feel Remus’ hold on you tighten from behind at your pained silence, it's telling enough.
“Just don’t like them.”
Your words have Sirius climbing closer to you, throwing your legs around his hips so the two of you can sit face to face while Remus holds you from behind.
“May we see them, Puppy?” Remus’ elegant fingertips dance along the top of the sheet which resides just a few inches below your collarbone. You shiver at his dainty touch, his fingers are light as feathers, slowly coaxing you into trusting them with this.
“It’s okay,” Sirius’ hand delicately grasps your knee over the soft sheet, “Wanna see our pretty girls but it's alright if you need a moment puppy.”
“No, s’okay.”
Sirius gives you a small smile that only grows as you drop the sheet, letting it pool at your waist.
He spares you a glance before slowly extending his arm, giving you time to tell him to stop or pull the sheet back up, and even though you want to do both those things and more you love Siri. You love Rem. And you know that they’ll be gentle and patient with you.
So instead you steel yourself for his touch relaxing as you feel Remus’ sizable hands wrap around your waist, resting on your tummy.
Your shoulders bunch back up as the tips of Sirius’ fingers,  nails having been painted black just a few hours ago. His touch is steady as he finds a particularly predominant mark tracing along the curve of your tit.
“You’re so fucking gorgeous (Y/N), can’t believe I get to touch you.”
“You’re silly Siri.”
“Not silly, you’re just fucking breathtaking. You got the nicest tits.”
“Just all marked up,” You shrug your shoulders, Remus takes the opportunity to smooth his chapped lips along your joint.
“No,” Remus contradicts, “They’re marked up when we sink our teeth into them and leave pretty bruises all over them,” His hands travel from your waist to explore your tit before stopping on the top of your left one where he remembers having sucked rather fervently just an hour before, “Like right here.”
His pressing down on the flesh pulls a squeak from you as a shock of pain shoots up your spine, leaving your body tingly and the specific spot where his fingers rest pulsing.
“These,” He continues, dragging his fingers over the small indents in your skin, “Are your stripes.”
Sirius leans down, capturing your nipple in his mouth as his hands go to support the weight of your breast. The angle’s a bit awkward but it seems to do little, if anything, to discourage him.
Gently capturing your nipple with his teeth he sucks harder, nuzzling at your chest as he does so. The pleasure that you derive from such a simple act has your head falling back onto the solidity of Remus’ shoulder, pulling whimpers from your throat as you jutt your chest out.
“So fucking good,” Sirius growls as he regretably lets go of your titty, “Pretty nipples,” He accentuates his point by twisting them each between his fingers, “Pretty stripes.”
Leaning down he drags his tongue along one of your stretch marks, beginning in the valley between your breasts before extending upwards.
“They’re completely natural, Puppy,” Remus’ voice is subdued as he runs his hands up and down your waist, “Lots of people have them on their tits, Siri and I have them in other places too.”
“S different on you , Remmy,” You try to explain, “You two are perfect.”
“Does it bother you when we see them during sex baby?” He asks with genuine curiosity in his voice, the thought of making you uncomfortable when you’re so open and vulnerable leaving his stomach twisting.
“Not always, no,” He remains silent, urging you to continue, “You make me feel beautiful Rem, both of you, I just can’t help but not like them, don’t like the way they look, or the way they feel.”
You hear him suck in a deep breath and you can practically hear the gears in his mind turning as he contemplates just what to say.
His hands move to hold both sides of your face in his palms as his forehead falls to rest against yours.
“Let us show you how beautiful your tits are, will you let us do that?”
“You don’t have to-”
Sirius cuts you off, releasing your tit from his mouth, “We want to (Y/N), let us,” He dips his head back down, delicately kissing the top of one of your breasts, “Please.”
He murmurs the simple, one syllable, word against your skin, the sensation sending shivers through your body. He rolls your hardened nipples between his fingers, it's nearly enough to have you mewling as you kneel at his feet. Maybe another time.
Before you can register what’s happening, strong hands are softly pushing you back so that you’re laying down on the bed.
You feel the steady weight of your breasts bouncing on your chest before they’re being grasped by hands that just by touch you recognize as Remus’. His thumbs run along the insides of your breasts where more faded lines reside, creating swirling patterns that Remus seems to thoroughly enjoy.
“You know why you got these right?” Sirius questions, raising his brow.
You shake your head.
“Because you got big fucking tits Princess, look at them!” Smoothly he replaces Remus’ hands with his own, letting their weight settle in his hands, “Bigger than my hands, bigger than Rem’s, they’re fucking gorgeous.”
He drops onto his bum as he reaches over you to pick up his fag, raising it to his lips as his eyes fixate on your bare tits, a wicked smirk on his lips. Instead of feeling uncomfortable under his eyes the feeling is something equivalent to the sun’s rays shining on you, warming you all the way down to your core.
You can’t help but smile at the sincerity in his voice, the absolution with which he speaks pulling at your heart strings. How did you get so lucky as to deserve his love? Though he’s not as chatty you know Remus believes every word out of Sirius’ mouth, tenderly he takes your hand in his, absentmindedly playing with your fingers while your two hands rest in his lap.
“It’s just hard to believe you guys sometimes, m’your girlfriend, you gotta be nice to me.”
Gently Remus guides your hand to his crotch, you’re met by his aching cock which you’re just now realizing is standing fully erect, aching, weeping red tip smearing precum against his lean belly.
“Believe us now?”
tag list: @randomoutsiders @weasleyposts @amourtentiaa @kittykylax @superbturtlemakerathlete @oliviashea05 @pinkandblueblurbs @dracofknmalfoy @itsmentalillness @zzzfour @gubleryum @advictedtohim @marauderswhore07 @st0nesnglitter @priii @miraclesoflove @shadesofvelma @ashlovesthemarauders @artemis1orion @skaratjung @ava-brooke-blog1 @fairyprettygirly @padfootswife @roonilwazlibswhore @swearingsolemnly @jamespotterslover @lolooo22 @adrianscumslut @jeannelupinblack @wh0reforthemarauders @myalupinblack @ashesandstars @remugoodgirl @planet-wolfstar @saintlike78 @i-love-scott-mccall @cedricisnotdead @pretty-pop-princess-hs  @sunshinexweasley  @saggyb1lls @trashyvicks @sprucewoodlover @slut4drvc0 @1-800-amortentia
749 notes · View notes
tetsunormous · 3 years
Text
Prove yourself useful
Tumblr media
pairing: dom!Kenma x f!reader x spectator!Suna x Spectator! Osamu
genre: smut (18+), established relationship, post time-skip university, gamer boyfriend
word count: 2.4 k
warning: thigh riding, exhibitionism, voyeurism, swearing, hair pulling, mentions of edging, spanking (?), degradation
Tumblr media
It’s just past 2 in the afternoon and your lecture finally finished. University is nothing like what you grew up thinking it would be, but it would be a lot worse if you didn’t get to live with your boyfriend.
You met Kenma during your first year and it didn’t take long for the two of you to begin falling for each other. He is more complex than you’d ever imagine and everyday you learn new things to learn about him. At the surface level he’s incredibly successful; being a youtuber, a pro gamer, a fucking CEO, all while taking university classes. However, Kenma is so much more than that.
The Kenma you know and love is the Kenma that’s cooped up in his gaming room spitting insults at his friends while they practice for a match they have later on in the night. The Kenma that you find yourself daydreaming about is the one obsessed with your apple pie and insists it's never too hot to eat right out of the oven. Your Kenma doesn't show the world all his little quirks, but you’ve learned to understand all of his many facial expressions and what he needs at the time. Everyone sees Kenma as this shy intelligent man who prefers to keep things to himself, which he is, but your favourite Kenma is the one he only lets out behind closed doors.
For someone so reserved none of his following would ever expect him to be the kind of lover to share you with others. No one would ever suspect Kenma for being the kind of lover to get off on seeing you completely ruined and embarrassed. This version of Kenma is definitely the one you find the most interesting because he kept it from you for the first year of your relationship, but two years in and his friends have seen more of you than you could keep track of.
Just thinking about him gets you worked up and it's times like this that you’re grateful for online classes. You tiptoe into your shared bedroom to discard the panties you’re currently wearing. The mere thought of riding his thigh gets you so excited the pair of black lace you previously wore didn’t stand a chance. You stare at your reflection in the mirror, your outfit isn’t anything special but it's his favourite. The sweater you’re wearing just big enough to cover your ass, sleeves long enough to hang past your fingertips, no bra or panties, the sheer thigh high socks that never fails to leave him hard, and the little cat ears resting on your head he bought for you months ago.
If he saw you now, there’s a chance you’d get your way.
You knock softly on the door before entering. The blinds are shut and there's a purple hue emitting from his LED lights. He’s sitting in front of his three monitors with nothing but a pair of sweatpants and his headset on, “Kenma? Are you in a game right now?”
His back is towards you so you begin to walk towards his desk, closing the door behind you. Osamu and Suna have seen the two of you naked plenty of times but for some reason, you still get a little shy. You wave at them on screen as you stand behind your boyfriend and you can hear their remarks through his headset.
“Oi, I think a little kitty wants to join before we play tonight”. Suna is always the first to say something, but Osamu definitely teases you more.
“You didn’t tell us we’d get a special treat today, Kodzuken”
Kenma stares blankly at his friends before turning to you, “Hi pudding, you finished with class?” he asks as his eyes wander down your body. You can see a slight smirk form on his lips before reaching out to give your hip a squeeze, “Miya was right, what a special little treat you are”
You know Kenma is observant but you can’t help but act a little cuter when there’s an audience around. “If you’re just practicing for now, can we cuddle Kenken, I missed you”, you ask with a slight pout on your face and your sweater paws reaching out for his arm, eyes glancing down at his bulge.
His eyes soften a bit and he chuckles at your act, “yeah yeah, sit on my lap you little brat”
You happily oblige and sit on his left thigh. Your head leaning on his shoulder as he presses a kiss to your temple. With your arms resting on his shoulders, you begin playing with his hair and rocking your hips ever so slightly.
“We haven’t seen you wear those little ears in a while y/n, don't tell me you put them on after class just for some cuddles” A blush creeps onto your face as Suna continues to tease you about your intentions.
“Awh, don’t hide your face from us y/n. Kozume has shown us you’re not really as shy as you seem, did Suna’s little comment really make you blush that hard?”
You feel your boyfriend nudge you lightly with his shoulder, a breathy chuckle leaving his mouth. “She knows I won’t fuck her till tonight yet she still climbs up onto my leg without panties on, she can act shy all she wants but we all know how shamelessly needy she is” You lift your head from his shoulder with a surprised look on your face. He’s still staring at his monitor, fingers busy with the controller, “you didn’t think I’d feel how wet you are? Your pussy is soaking through my sweats kitten”
The boy's laughter rings through the headphones and a whine escapes your lips. He takes his headphones off and has them resting around his neck before putting his controller down. You feel his hands under your arms and he positions you so that you're sitting on his left thigh facing his desk, legs resting on either side of his.
“Awh Osamu, look at the little kitty pouting cause her big bad boyfriend turned her away”
“She’s always so needy, aren’t you y/n? And in front of us too? You like putting on a show and having everyone see what a slut you are, huh”
Your thighs squeeze around Kenmas as your entire face starts to become red. You can hear your boyfriend clearing his throat before landing a hard smack against your thigh. “He asked you a question kitten. If you’re going to be a needy slut and come in here while we’re practicing, at least show some manners”
“Y-yes Samu” you whisper, “I like having you watch”
All the boys hum in unison and Suna leans back in his gaming chair, leaving his controller on the desk. “Well since you interrupted practice, I think it’s only fair you give us something in return, isn't that right Kenma”
“Suna makes a good point. I treated you so well last night cause we both knew I would be busy until later tonight, and I wouldn’t be able to give you the attention you need.” His slender fingers weave through your hair at the base of your scalp before pulling hard, exposing your throat for his friends to see. His nose softly traces your sensitive skin, inhaling your scent, “I let you cum all night long, but here you are with your greedy little cunt rubbing itself against me trying to get off”
“Maybe you need to be more mean with her, she should know better than to come in here if she isn’t going to make herself useful”
“You hear that?” Kenma’s other hand travels up your sweater and pinches your hardened nipple making you hiss in pain. “Should I listen to Osamu and be extra mean to you so you learn how to act?”
All three boys are now smirking at you but that just makes your body more aroused. Your pussy is throbbing and it takes everything in you not to start grinding on his leg. You feel him flex his muscles and you can't help but to cry out as the additional pressure on your clit sends an electric shot throughout your body.
“The poor baby can’t even respond”, Suna chuckles and pretends to pout “you are just a dumb little whore, aren’t you y/n?”
You let out a whine as your eyes meet Kenma’s. His cold stare alone asserts dominance over you and without thinking your hand reaches out to touch him. You feel a sharp pain as he smacks your hand away, “I don’t remember giving you permission to touch me kitten”. He yanks his hand back from your hair causing you to jerk forwards and grab a hold of the desk for balance. “We all know you won’t get allowed to cum later on but you will put on a show for us and prove you aren't just a useless slut”. He leans back with one arm resting on his armrest, “shall we make things interesting boys?”
Osamu stares intensely at you before laughing in your face, “Yea, let’s see if she can prove herself. If she can’t, I don’t think she deserves anything tonight”
“Y/n can be more than just Kozume’s dumb fuck, right? You gonna put on a show for us?”
Your mouth parted and eyes wide, you whip your head back to meet your boyfriends but he only smirks at you. “You have eight minutes kitten. Your hands stay on the desk and I won’t be touching you. If we hear a peep slip out of your lips, you lose. You better ride my thigh like you’re chasing the last orgasm you’ll ever have because if you fail to cum, I will edge you all night long to the brink of insanity, but all you can do is watch me fuck my fist instead.”
Osamu and Suna are rubbing themselves through their sweats as they snicker at our boyfriends rules. They continue to tease you but all you can focus on is the way Kenma is looking at you. He reaches back to tie his hair into a low bun and bounces his leg lightly, “are you ready?” he asks with his eyebrows slightly raised and a smirk. All you can do is nod back in his direction as you feel him flexing his thigh. He reaches for his phone and you watch as he sets a timer for eight minutes, “alright kitty….start”.
Your legs squeeze around your boyfriend's thigh as you begin to roll your hips. You shimmy yourself forwards a little bit so your clit can press against the base of his quads every time you rock forwards. Kenma was right, you're so wet it’s almost embarrassing how your own juices have lubricated your folds. Even against the fabric of his sweats, your pussy is drenched with your own arousal, helping you grind against his leg with ease. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip, trying your hardest to control your breathing so the overwhelming pressure doesn’t cause you to moan out loud.
You can hear the two boys teasing and laughing at how filthy you really are but all you can think about is chasing that O. The noises coming from your riding, the way your juices have dampened his pants, making a wet slapping noise every time you rock. Your fingers are gripping his desk hard and all you can do is throw your head back, chest heaving, trying to swallow your whines as you start to feel the tension building in  your stomach. “I can feel the way your pussy is twitching every time you rock forwards, sometimes close isn’t she?” Kenma moves forwards and speaks softly by your ear, “You only have three more minutes, why don’t you let us hear your pretty voice hmm?”
“Oh y/n, you look like you’re close to cumming, we’ve never heard you this quiet before. I bet it would feel even better if you moaned for us”
“Suna and I always talk about how pretty and desperate you sound, let us hear you”
The constant egging didn’t help but it definitely made you more needy. They all knew how loud you were when Kenma would stuff you full and just as you let out a heavy breath, your boyfriend flexes his muscles. Your mouth falls open as you roll faster, knowing your orgasm will happen soon. The way his thigh feels against your slick folds should be illegal, it shouldn’t feel this good before he even touches you.
“Oh I think someones going to cum, show us how you fall apart. Ride my fucking thigh and imagine how much better it would be if my cock was in your needy hole”. Kenma now palming against his dick as he watches your eyebrows furrow, your eyes squeeze tight, your cheeks glowing , the baby hairs sticking to your forehead, all while you bite down on your bottom lip trying your hardest to keep all your noises inside. You look absolutely stunning to him, falling apart over his leg. He keeps flexing his thigh at a fast pace to help you reach your high, no longer caring about the challenge. He’s so mesmerized by the way your pussy feels as it’s throbbing, and how your legs squeeze harder against his as you completely come undone.
You can hear the boys let out soft moans as you cum all over your boyfriend's thigh with a force that even you’re surprised about.
“Fuck Kenma, you get to see that every time?”
The timer goes off and you limp over the desk, “fuck off Suna, consider yourself lucky the two of you got to get off to her”, he says with a smile on his face.
“We know we’re very lucky,” Osamu says chuckling, “ thank you y/n, we’ll definitely win our 3v3 later”
Kenma looks over at you and pulls you close to him. He slips his hand under the sweater and rubs your back, “you did so well baby, I’m surprised you didn’t make a sound”
“Promise I did good? D-does this mean I get to cum later?”
“You really think I’m going to forget why this all happened in the first place? You just came all over me and you’re already thinking about getting stuffed huh” he cradles your face with a faint smile on his face. “You did so well, so we’ll see” and presses a kiss on your lips, “for now, you can stay here for the next while and sit in embarrassment as they continue to tease you about you cumming just from my thigh”
Tumblr media
© tetsunormous 2021 lmk if you want to be added to my tag list
557 notes · View notes
rkived · 4 years
Text
year 22 (m) — jjk
Tumblr media Tumblr media
‘‘I knew you’d be standing in my front porch light, and I knew you’d come back to me.’‘ 
Tumblr media
Pairing: childhoodfriend!jk x f!reader 
Genre/Tags: angst!!!, drama, a lil fluff, f2l, e2l-ish, pining, slow burn, smut
Rating: M +18
WC: 11.5k
Warnings: time jumps, underage drinking, jk being a douchebag for most of the fic, reader can’t catch a mf break, mention of character death ((no major one tho)). smut in the form of oral (f. receiving), fingering, nipple play, unprotected sex ((wrap it b4 u tap it y’all)), my being called pretty kink making a brief appearance soz
Tumblr media
A/N: i listened to cardigan for the first time n had it on replay the whole time i wrote this so ig u should do it too ! this is my first time posting smut on here but who would i be if i didn’t throw in some good angst ? also tysm to @periminkle​ for being my unofficial beta reader n checking it up for me, she knows i’m constantly looking for her validation n i def wouldn’t post this if she didn’t love it ilu vira thx for being the best ever mwah !!! 
Tumblr media
You’re five, cowering behind his mother’s legs, sniffing as tears stream down your face. In front of you both stands Jungkook, there’s remorse written all over his face as his mother stares him down with hands on her hips and a look that just screams that this is only the beginning of his punishment. 
‘’Apologize to Y/N right now Jungkook, or I’ll have your father have a word with you,’’ she threatens with a stern tone, making her son quickly shake his head no. ‘‘You need to learn how to share your toys.’’ 
You peek behind her lanky leg and find the slightly older kid looking at you with narrowed eyes, ‘‘I’m sorry, Y/N.’’ He apologizes with a bow, but he’s obviously displeased with the whole ordeal. 
His mother sighs and Jungkook pouts at the look on her face. She urges you to come out from your not-so-secret hiding spot and to go back to playing with him, even though you seriously doubt that will do any good to what just happened. 
Jungkook’s bedroom door is kept open as he sits back down on his city patterned carpet, you twiddle with your thumbs and stare at the Spiderman poster on his wall. There’s an awkward silence between you two until you feel a toy bump your crisscrossed legs. 
It’s the shiny red car he had refused to lend you before, provoking an argument between you two which eventually made you run out of his room in tears as you ratted him out to his mom. 
‘‘Wooow,’’ you whisper in awe, taking the car in your hands with so much care, treating it like it’s one of your newest dolls. 
Jungkook huffs, crossing his arms as he looks at you with distaste and he’s forced to settle with other boring toys as you giggle to yourself, making the car follow the carpet’s tracks. He learns then to never trust his mother again. If she ever says she’ll bring a new friend for him to play with again, he’ll refuse wholeheartedly.
He doesn’t like sharing his toys, and it’ll probably take him a long time to learn how to.
Tumblr media
You’re nine as you hand Jungkook one of the multiple Valentine’s Day cards you carefully crafted the night before with your mother, adding all kinds of pretty stickers and shiny glitter to make each one of them unique. His is different from the rest, though. 
You added hearts to the dots in the I’s, there’s a hint of your favorite body splash enveloping the pink construction paper and it fills Jungkook’s nostrils with so much force that he feels he could gag at the smell. 
‘‘What do you think?’’ You ask the fourth-grader with a big smile on your face, cheeks tinted with a light shade of red as you see him reading the little message you wrote inside the card.
Jungkook lets out a mocking chuckle, ‘‘Are you serious? You like me?’’ He asks you, but it doesn’t look like he’s looking for answers. Your smile slowly fades away, looking at him with glossy eyes, ‘‘I don’t like you, you’re just a dumb little girl.’’ 
His card was the one you had invested the most time in and yet it only took him a second to crumple it with his hand, and another five for him to toss it into the trash can near you before he goes back to his group of friends in the school’s playground.
You learn how to hold your tears in then, thinking it’s a great accomplishment and that maybe now he’ll stop calling you a crybaby.
His friends receive him with high-fives and he smiles with gratefulness because they just saw how much of a badass he can be. Once recess is over and everyone’s going back to their classrooms, Jungkook nears the garbage bin where he had thrown the Valentine's card in, but finds it’s now dirty with yogurt someone tossed inside. 
He grimaces at the sight and sighs, there’s no way he can save it now.
Tumblr media
You’re twelve and you’re the only girl in the treehouse who hasn’t gone through puberty yet. It wasn’t something that bothered you until just recently, when it became pretty evident why none of the boys would even give you a onceover compared to the other girls.
“I don’t know if I want to play,” you mumble after Kim Jihyo suggests playing spin the bottle. You’re the only one who opposes the idea, though you could count Jungkook in given as he just sat there without saying a word.
Park Yerim rolls her eyes, “You’re so boring, Y/N!” The comment makes the rest giggle as you pout at being the designated party pooper. 
It’s all fun and games of truth and dares to whoever the bottle lands on and you’ve been lucky enough to avoid the tip of the plastic Coca-Cola bottle to point at you, until it lands on Jungkook who has done a few funny dares so far.
“Alright, Jungkook, let’s make things even more fun!” Jihyo announces since she’s been the one who has assigned most of the embarrassing challenges and questions, “I dare you to kiss one of the girls here for ten seconds.” 
The dare makes the boys cheer with excitement and the girls gasp with anticipation, hoping one of them is the lucky chosen one. Your lips part slightly as you stare at him sitting across from you, he’s clearly not comfortable with the dare, but knowing him, he won’t express his current discomfort. 
His eyes land on you as you stare back at him with concern, hoping that he’ll speak up to avoid himself the embarrassment. Has he even kissed someone before? If this is his first kiss, you’ll witness it alongside everyone else and you can only imagine how terrifying that must be. Even though Jungkook’s always been a brave kid, you can always tell when he feels under pressure.
“Uhm, I’ll uh—“ Jungkook keeps staring at you and you feel your heart start to beat like you just ran the usual ten laps around the gym in P.E class. Are you about to have your first kiss? With him? 
You nod your head absentmindedly, a sign to let him know it’s okay for him to pick you from all the other developed girls who probably have more experience kissing than you do, but it’s okay because you’ve always been a quick learner. 
“Yeji,” Jungkook says after what feels like forever, though it’s only been a mere few seconds, “I’ll kiss Yeji.” He adds, removing his eyes from yours and settling them on the girl with the high ponytail and pink colored nails. 
You bite your bottom lip hard, breaking the dry skin as you feel yourself taste blood. It doesn’t matter because no one’s paying attention to you and instead they’re focused on Jungkook’s neverending kiss with Yeji. 
When you get home that night, you look at yourself in the mirror and frown at your lack of everything. Is this the reason as to why he hadn’t picked you? 
Tumblr media
You’re fourteen and Kim Taehyung just sent you a message through MSN in which he confesses to have feelings for you. Your eyes widen, rereading the message several times, rubbing at your eyes just to make sure you’re seeing things correctly. 
You run off across the street to Jungkook’s house, ringing the doorbell quickly for someone to open up. You’re greeted by him looking at you with an annoyed expression, he had to pause his GTA game to come and open the door. 
“What do you want?” Jungkook asks harshly, crossing his arms as he stares into somewhere that’s not your face. He’s anxiously waiting for you to spit out whatever it is you’re there to say. 
You calm yourself down by breathing in deep and out, blowing the air right at him, “Does Taehyung like me?” You ask him, making Jungkook’s eyes widen in surprise and his brows to raise. 
His reaction tells you that you might’ve just discovered a secret you weren’t supposed to and it only makes your heart beat even faster because if it’s true, then this is a pleasant surprise. Kim Taehyung is one of the hottest boys in the tenth grade and he happens to be one of Jungkook’s closest friends. You think he must know something since you see them hanging out at lunch.
“Uh—I don’t know, Y/N.” Jungkook mumbles, rubbing at the back of his neck, finally looking at you and he feels a gut wrenching punch in his stomach at the sight. “Taehyung isn’t a really good guy, you shouldn’t—“ 
“What are you saying?” You interrupt him with a question, confused as to why Jungkook was painting a negative picture of his friend. “He was really sweet with what he said, he thinks my eyes are pretty when they sparkle — I didn’t even know they did that!” 
Jungkook grimaces and sighs, there’s really not much he can do here. You’ve always been so stubborn, so relentless. No matter how many times life tries to tell you something’s not meant for you, you challenge each and every one of it’s obstacles until you take what’s yours. 
“Okay, then what are you gonna do? Date him? You haven’t even had your first kiss yet.” Jungkook reminds you with a mocking tone and you furrow your brows together because, how does he know that? 
You stammer, “I-I have! I had it at camp last summer, actually!” That’s a lie, but he wasn’t there so he can’t prove the veracity of your statement. “And what do you care? So what if I want to date him?” You add with anger, not understanding why couldn’t he just support you in search of true love. 
The thought of dating Kim Taehyung had never crossed your mind, thinking he was way too out of your league for him to ever notice you. But that confession sitting in your MSN chat now served as a nice feeling of knowing you aren’t as invisible as you think you are. 
Jungkook scoffs, “Taehyung would never date you, okay? He’s older than you, he’s cool, he goes to parties and has kissed almost every girl in his grade, do you think he’d really like someone as boring as you?” He doesn’t mean to be so harsh, but you’re just so difficult and impossible to get through.
Jungkook’s used to the trembling bottom lip and the teary eyes that you give him everytime he says something that definitely strikes a nerve within you, but he’s always impressed on how you always refrain from crying in front of him. Last time you did that you were both kids and he probably took the last lollipop from your batch of collected halloween candy. 
“Screw you, Jungkook,” you say through gritted teeth, and if looks could kill, he’d be dead already. 
He looks at you quickly stomp your way back to your house, only heading back inside once you slam your front door shut. Jungkook enters his room to find two new messages in his MSN.
$$ kIm tAaEhyYyuNG $$: it worked! 
$$ kIm tAeEhyYyunGG $$: she fell for it xDxD where did u even come up with the sparkly eyes thing?? that’s gold bro rofl 
Jungkook sighs, ignoring the messages and shutting his computer down.
Tumblr media
You’re sixteen and you’ve been invited to your first party. Granted, it was Jungkook’s, but he knew that if he didn’t ask you to come you’d probably tell on him with his mom. No matter what age he was, he’d always fear his mother’s scolding. 
“Drink this!” Park Jimin says with his beautiful smile and you’re starting to realize why they gave him that very same superlative on the school’s yearbook. You take the red solo cup without any second thought, placing the rim straight to your lips and choke once you feel the liquid burn your throat. 
“Ugh—What’s this?” You ask, cleaning the droplets of liquid around the corners of your mouth. 
He chuckles, “Fruit punch!” The liquid is indeed red like the familiar drink you’re used to, but there’s definitely something else mixed inside. “Oh, and vodka,” he adds with wiggly eyebrows as he shows off the small flask he was hiding in his sweatshirt’s front pocket.
You gasp and hand him the cup back, “No, I don’t drink alcohol, sorry.” Jimin rolls his eyes and it reminds you of the many times you’ve received this same reaction from your classmates before. Always a party pooper. He’s about to take the plastic red cup from you until you quickly drink the spiked punch in one go.
The boy howls in excitement, “Woo, go Y/N! Another one coming right up.” 
Jungkook knows he should be making sure everything’s alright downstairs. If his mother notices there’s at least one misplaced object, she’ll know right away something went down in her house while her husband and her were away for the weekend on an emergency trip to their hometown. Leaving him unsupervised only because they both believed their son was old enough to tend for himself.
But Jung Eunha had dragged him into his room with the excuse of wanting to see what it looked like, but the mini tour had turned into them kissing on his bed and Jungkook is thankful he changed his Spiderman sheets in exchange for some boring plain grey ones. Eunha smells like fresh mint and Jungkook is way into his head to focus on properly kissing her.
It’s not until his bedroom door is abruptly open, slamming against the wall that Jungkook literally jumps to his feet, making Eunha gasp as they both look at the person who has interrupted their awkward makeout session. 
“Guk-ah, what are you doin’?” You curiously wonder, a hiccup following right after which makes you giggle. Jungkook’s chest rises and falls with quickness as he notices you look different from the last time he saw you twenty minutes ago when you were talking to Jimin. “Guk-ah, were you—you kissin’ Eunha?” You ask once more after not receiving an answer to your previous question.
“Y/N, are you okay?” He asks in concern, coming closer to analyze your weird state. You stretch your arm out to avoid him from nearing you, making him falter in his place as he studies your expression. 
You hum, “Guk-ah, you busy. Sorry,” you apologize in a shy tone, ready to head back down and have more of that fruity alcohol punch you now found tasty, but you stumble and only avoid yourself from falling by holding onto Jungkook's door frame, he’s already reaching out by then. 
“Are you fucking serious, Y/N? Get out!” Eunha complains with irritation, getting up from the bed and ready to kick you out of his room, but his free arm stops her from getting near you. “Whu—?”
“Eunha, go back down. I’ll deal with her myself.” Jungkook says as calmly as he can, thinking three’s a crowd and dealing with you wasn’t an easy thing in of itself. She’s about to argue, but he interrupts her again, “Go down, now.” 
She rolls her eyes and bumps her shoulder against yours harshly once she steps out of his room, “Whatever, that kiss was shitty anyway.” 
He pretends he didn’t hear that and takes you in his arms instead, dragging you to lay on his bed as you cuddle into his favorite pillow and hug it close to your body. How much did you drink? Why did you even do it in the first place? Jungkook knows you’ve never tried alcohol before, which means he’ll be in big trouble if you show up back to your house like this. 
When you open your eyes hours later, your head hurts and it feels lightweight when you move it side to side. The room you’re in is familiar, that spiderman poster is still hung on the wall, but there are no more toys laying around the floor; they’ve probably been stored somewhere in his garage or sent off to a donation center under his mother’s demand.
The pillow that you’re hugging smells just like him and any other day you’d hold on to it tighter and inhale his scent like your life depended on it, but you abruptly sit on the bed as you’re reminded of how you got here. The action is not appreciated by your dizzy head, but you look around the room to notice how dark it is and there’s no more music playing downstairs. 
You quickly jump to the ground, only to hear a “Fuck, ouch!” from below, stepping on Jungkook’s leg unintentionally. It makes you gasp, looking down to notice the older friend laying on the cold floor, having gotten rid of that childhood carpet of his. His head’s laying on a makeshift pillow made out of a towel and he’s trying hard not to shiver. 
“I’m sorry, sorry, sorry!” You quickly apologize, stepping away from his figure as he soothes the shin of his leg you stepped on. “Jungkook, what happened?” 
He sighs, “Someone decided to drink like five cups of spiked punch knowing damn well it was their first time drinking alcohol, stepped into my room like a crazy person, and then crashed on my bed like they—What’s with the face?”
“Bathroom.”
Jungkook grimaces while he holds your hair back, you’re throwing away all the liquid you had taken with a few additional snacks you had munched on earlier, “Are you done?” He asks in a tired mumble and you shake your head no.
He feels guilty that you’re in this position. He didn’t even want to kiss Eunha, but she was one of the most popular girls in his grade and he knew that if he turned her down she would most likely put a bad word in with the rest of the girls and the guys would make fun of him for being such a wuss.
That would’ve been better, because after laying you down on his bed he had to go down and tell everyone that the party was over, putting an excuse that the neighbors had warned him and threatened to call the cops. They all cleared pretty quickly, but he knew he was going to be the butt of the jokes come Monday. He even had to call your parents to let them know you had gone home to a friend’s house for a sleepover, which he knew wasn’t totally believable, but it had somehow gotten them convinced that their daughter was alright because they trusted Jungkook to never hurt you ever. 
Once you feel like you’ve puked your stomach out, Jungkook hands you a pill accompanied with a glass of water and hands you clothes of his that might be more comfortable to sleep in. 
“Good night, Jungkook,” you whisper once you’re laying back on his bed, still hugging the pillow he preferred to sleep with. He makes a sacrifice to make it up to you. 
His back is going to hurt by the time the sun comes out in a few hours, but it’s okay if it means you’ll sleep comfortably after the events of tonight. “Good night, Y/N.” 
He’s unable to sleep, but finds entertainment in your hanging hand beside his bed. The skin on your palm looks soft and there’s this strange urge inside of him that makes him want to grab your hand in his, but he refrains. 
To calm the current chaos in his head, Jungkook finds peace in the light snores coming from his bed.
Tumblr media
You’re just about to turn eighteen and your date to the prom is Jeong Jaehyun, who had only asked you out a day before the event because the girl he had initially wanted to take had been asked and he didn’t have a plan B. 
Jaehyun is okay, at least he managed to get you a corsage that matched the color of your dress. He even smiles in the pictures your parents take of you both as you awkwardly try to look comfortable with his arms around you even though by then you had only exchanged a few sentences. 
The prom’s theme is Summer Nights and you think it’s fitting considering this is the very last event before the graduation ceremony, meaning that you’d most likely never see most of these people ever again. You had purposely applied to a college that was outside of your hometown for that same reason. You’re ready to live the life you’ve always wanted to live, without anyone judging or knowing you. 
Your date spends most of the night talking with his group of friends as you’re left alone on your table, looking at your well manicured nails. You knew you weren’t going to get the same prom experience the high school kids on T.V enjoyed, but you at least hoped it would’ve been a little more fun than this.
A tap on your shoulder makes you turn around to see Jungkook trying to loosen the tight tie around his neck. He looks incredibly handsome and you suppose his mother helped him pick the suit out, Jungkook rarely ever wore fitted clothing, so this is one of those once in a lifetime moments..
“Hey you,” you say and he gives you half a smile, wondering why you’re sitting by yourself at an empty table when everyone else was either mingling or dancing. “Where’s your date?” You ask with curiosity, you’re surprised that Jinsoul isn’t trailing alongside him given how she had behaved for the past week ever since he asked her to come with him. 
“Retouching her face or something,” he answers casually, “what are you doing sitting here? Where’s Jaehyun?” Jungkook asks.
You shrug your shoulders, “Don’t know, probably talking with the guys of the basketball team. He’s been gone for a while.” Not like you care, anyway. If your conversation with him inside his car on the way to the venue had been any indication of what it would’ve been like for the rest of the night, you’re glad he's not here trying to make any more small talk with you.
Jungkook huffs, thinking he’ll kick his ass if he sees him. He had asked him to invite you so you wouldn’t come alone, and yet here you are, sitting all by yourself while the douchebag’s making a social life somewhere in the crowd. He calms down once he notices how unbothered you are by it, though. You’re a big girl now, you’ve been through too much to be affected by something as simple as this.
“Is there something you wan—“
“Dance!” You interrupt with excitement and Jungkook chuckles.
“I was gonna ask if you wanted something to drink, but—alright, let’s dance.” Jungkook can’t dance for shit, but you took lessons when you were younger and he can still remember how you’d always show him the routines you learned in class. He’d always boo you, but in reality you were pretty good. He wonders why you stopped, he doesn’t recall you ever telling him.
It’s just his luck that once you both step into the dancefloor, the hired DJ stops the up-tempo song playing before and switches to a much slower romantic one, “Alright everyone, I want all the couples on the dancefloor for this one.” 
You step away from him with nervousness, it’s couples only after all. But Jungkook holds onto your lower back firmly, pulling you closer into his space. Your eyebrows raise as your lips part, “Uh, s-should we, uh—?” 
“It’s just a song, Y/N. You wanted to dance, then we’ll dance.” He tells you with such confidence it makes you feel like this is totally normal and something all friends do. All the known High School couples are dancing together, heads tenderly placed over chests and chins resting lovingly above them. You wait for Jungkook to take the lead because you have no clue of what you should be doing, you might’ve taken dance lessons years ago but you’ve never slowed danced in your life. 
Jungkook places his hand on your hip, the touch makes goosebumps crawl in your arms. He pretends he doesn’t notice it as he takes your right hand in his. You stare at the way he delicately holds it like it’s his mother’s fine china. “Place your other hand on my shoulder,” he instructs and you do as asked, your palm coming to rest on the strong muscle. 
He’s only slowed danced once before at a family member’s wedding where his mother taught him how to, with her as the teacher. Back then he thought it was incredibly ridiculous, but now he’s sort of glad that happened because he’s the teacher now and you’re now looking at him with your big eyes as you sway alongside him. 
You clear your throat, “This isn’t that hard.” Jungkook nods as he stares down at you, noticing how uneasy you are given that you’re looking at everything and not entirely immersed in the moment.
“You look beautiful tonight.” He says out of nowhere, making you look at him like a deer stuck in headlights, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. He had never called you that before. 
An awkward laugh escapes your lips, looking away from his intense gaze as you try not to take his words too literally, “Ha ha, that was a good one.” To you there’s no other explanation than this being one of his mean pranks on you.
But Jungkook doesn’t falter both his words and gaze, “I’m not laughing.” There’s seriousness in his voice and you have to look back at him again just to make sure he really isn’t, “You look beautiful, just take the compliment.” You nod and there’s silence between you two after that. You’re digesting the romantic lyrics that the singer is talking about and hope that the song ends soon, because you’ve never been this close to him and it’s starting to feel too crowded.
You clear your throat, “So…” 
“So…,” he repeats. 
“What are you doing for summer?” You ask him in an attempt to break the tension and wanting to take advantage of the little intimate moment since Jungkook rarely ever lets you pry into his private life. 
“I think I’ll train before heading off,” he answers. It was more than obvious he was going to earn that sports scholarship he had been aiming for, he was one of the best athletes on the school; though you considered him to be the number one between them all. “I’m kinda scared, not gonna lie.” 
You look at him with surprise, tilting your head to the side, “You’re scared?” You ask in disbelief because as long as you’ve known him, he’s never been scared of anything. This is the same kid who instilled your fear of monsters in a closet after watching Monster’s Inc. together, also the same kid who helped you get over it after he realized you had actually taken it seriously.
He chuckles lightly, “Yeah, I’m just scared about starting over.” It’s interesting how his biggest fear is the one you’re looking forward to the most, but you suppose it’s fitting for someone who has never had to worry about what people think of him. In this town, Jungkook has swam freely without any concerns. Out there, he’s just another fish in the big and scary ocean. “Aren’t you?” He questions, hoping that you’re able to relate to what he’s feeling. 
“Honestly, I—“ 
You’re interrupted by Jaehyun clearing his voice in front of you two, making you both turn your heads towards his direction. You quickly separate from Jungkook and he feels his body lose the warmness you were providing. 
“If you wanted to dance, you could’ve just asked. I’m your date after all.” He says smugly and you chuckle awkwardly, nodding because he’s right. 
Jungkook wants to punch his stupid face, how dare he interrupt you both when he had been ignoring you the whole night? Why does he suddenly want to dance with you when he’s probably still upset at him for asking Jinsoul to the prom before he could?
“Your date’s looking for you, buddy. She doesn’t look too happy.” Jaehyun adds with a smirk as he takes your hand in his and drags you away from Jungkook towards another place on the dancefloor. 
He’s left to stare at the way he holds your hand, and he only hopes he’s doing it ever so carefully. 
Tumblr media
You’re twenty when Jungkook sees you for the first time since you both left for college two and half a years ago. He’s rendered speechless when he spots you in the crowd, there’s a manly hand around your waist as you giggle into the stranger’s mouth before placing a kiss to his lips. 
There’s only so much social media can provide him, pictures and stories aren’t enough for Jungkook to keep up with you. He thinks you’ve changed, not only appearance wise but you seem way more outgoing, carefree, and happy. Did he miss the boyfriend announcement picture? He’s sure he didn’t, he checks your profile almost every day and he’s never even seen him in any of your stories. 
A gasp escapes your lips once you spot him, completely forgetting about the possibility of bumping into him given that both your schools were playing against each other that night. You tell Namjoon you’ll be right back and he nods, going back to a conversation with the group of college friends you had made. 
You surprise him by jumping into him, arms around his shoulders as you hug him from behind. You let out a shrill of excitement and he blushes as his friends chuckle at the unexpected approach from this unfamiliar girl. 
‘‘Jungkook! You didn’t tell me you’d be here,’’ you say once he turns around to face you and he’s able to see you better upfront. You look beautiful and he thinks the Instagram pictures are not doing you enough justice. You’re glowing, and it has nothing to do with the highlighter you applied on your face and collarbone area. 
The both of you aren’t able to properly talk until you suggest moving to a different area, Jungkook apologizing to his friends as he explained he needed to catch up with an old friend. They don’t complain and instead shoot him teasing looks and small pervy comments that go by unnoticed to you. 
Jungkook listens with intent to your ramble about what you’ve been up to. From your courses, to your roommates, the parties you’ve attended, and even the fact that you handle your alcohol better now. He’s happy that you seem so too, but it irks him that you hadn’t been capable of telling him that you had a boyfriend now. Is there a reason as to why you omitted that important piece of information? 
‘‘And what about you? How’s college?’’ You ask with curiosity. 
He blinks a few times, realizing you had stopped talking about yourself and was now wondering about him instead. ‘‘It’s fine,’’ he answers with a tight lipped smile, the lack of detail compared to you was astonishing, but even though you were still hungry for more you decided not to pry any further. 
There’s fear in revealing that he’s been having a hard time catching up with the rest of his peers. College was indeed fine, but it could be better. He’s settled with the idea that this is as good at it’ll get, some things just aren’t like you expect them to be. At least you’re happy, and that fact brings him comfort. 
‘‘Was that your, uhm─boyfriend?’’ He finally asks after a while, both about to head back to your respective group of friends. 
The question takes you by surprise, looking at him with raised eyebrows and mouth agape. ‘‘Who? Namjoon?’’ He nods, though he doesn’t know anything about the guy he had first seen you with. You let out a wholehearted laugh, ‘‘Hell no, too many commitment issues with that one,’’ you answer and Jungkook’s forehead creases with confusion. 
Why were you kissing him then? 
‘‘We’re friends with benefits,’’ you inform him as if you had read his mind. ‘‘He’s a nice guy, though. Also, super smart, he’s helped me with a few of my─’’ 
‘‘You’re not a virgin anymore?’’ He abruptly asks, disbelief in his tone as he internally screams to himself for thinking out loud. Jungkook expects you to berate him about such an imprudent question, but is surprised when he sees you giggling. 
‘‘Duh, silly. I think I lost it freshman year?’’ The carelessness in your voice makes him look at you like you’ve gone crazy. Why are you so lax about this? Why are you telling him about losing your virginity without a care in the world? ‘‘Anyway, are you going to be home for the─’’
Jungkook interrupts you once again, ‘‘Was it with your boyfriend at the time?’’ He asks in genuine curiosity and you sigh, rolling your eyes slightly at him. 
‘‘No, it was some random dude at this party I went to. Could you please─’’
‘‘Y/N, are you insane? Why would you give up your virginity to some fucking stranger like it’s nothing?’’ Jungkook’s voice raises as he scolds you about being so negligent about yourself, ‘‘You can’t do shit like that!’’ He fumed, making you let out a breathless chuckle. 
‘‘Could you stop treating me like a fucking child for once in your life? I’m perfectly fine, Jungkook. I’ve been doing pretty well for myself without you here, actually. I don’t know why you think you have a say on what I do, is it the entitlement you have of me that you still carry around because we grew up together? Because if that’s it then you can drop it, I let go of my little girl who wanted a friend and was treated like pure shit in return complex a long time ago.’’ 
He knows you’re right, but he thinks he’ll always have this odd sense of protection over the five year old girl who cried to his mom about not lending her his favorite toy. He’ll always want to apologize to the eight year old girl who declared her love for him with a Valentine’s Day card while he ended up breaking her heart in exchange. He’ll always wish to look for help within the twelve year old girl who witnessed him give out his first kiss to another girl who he didn’t even like. He’ll always feel guilty towards the sixteen year old girl who had gotten tipsy on a spiked fruit punch and crashed on his bed. He’ll always hate himself for not asking the seventeen going on eighteen year old girl to prom when he knew he could’ve, but chose not to in fear of ruining your friendship. 
You only wanted someone to be there for you growing up and Jungkook had never been the brave boy you thought he was, always running from his fears in hopes he’d have a wide advantage margin from them. Yet here they are, standing right in front of him in the form of a twenty year old you, and they’re there to let him know that you’ve never needed him, yet he’s always needed you.
He can’t even apologize, he only looks at you with wide eyes as he fidgets in his place. Either you’re both too old now to understand each other or you just realized that you’ve outgrown Jungkook. 
Your mouth set in a hard line as you crossed your arms, the night’s breeze feeling colder than usual. ‘‘I miss you Jungkook, but I can’t keep playing this cat and mouse game with you any longer.’’ 
You leave him behind to go back to Namjoon’s arms, seeking refuge in his sweet embrace as you try your hardest to put on practice what you learned all those years ago when Jungkook broke your heart for the first time, you should be used to it by now.
Tumblr media
You’re twenty-one when you’re back in your hometown to attend the funeral of the old lady down the street, the one that always scolded you and Jungkook growing up. 
You had been scared of her as a child, but always following along your friend’s footsteps when he proposed playing around her garden. It tugs at your heartstrings even if you hadn’t known the woman well. Her death was imminent seeing as she’d been ill for quite some time. 
A taller figure stands next to you as you both stand way in the back of the ceremony. He looks tired and you figure that it’s because of the fact he arrived late into the night, you heard his car’s engine from your bedroom window. Dressing in all black, you notice he bought a new suit. You’re sure that the one he wore for prom no longer fits considering he’s bigger now. 
You haven’t talked to each other since last year when you both left off on a sour note. The hurt you felt was no longer present, though. You chewed on your bottom lip as you thought of a way you could talk to him again without making things awkward, but you let out a small gasp once he placed his arm around your shoulders, giving it a small squeeze as he sighed and kept his focus on the service. 
Watching the casket be lowered into the ground felt weird. She was a human being just like you, but her existence was a reminder of your childhood. Would it be okay to say that her death meant a part of you leaving with her too? 
Once it hits you, it’s Jungkook who consoles you by hugging you tight. Your eyes are too blurry with tears for you to realize this is one of those rare moments where he’s holding you close without hesitation. He lets you ruin his tuxedo’s jacket with your mascara covered tears as he brushes your hair as a sign of comfort. 
You know things are back in order when he proposes the idea to go back to the old lady’s porch, for old times sake. ‘‘Will we ever let her rest?’’ You ask him with a small laugh as Jungkook sits on the doorsteps of the old lady’s empty home, opening the bag of candy worms he bought at the grocery store. 
He shrugs, ‘‘She loved us, always told my mom how much she missed us running around the street.’’ The revelation makes you smile, hoping it was true. He pats the empty space next to him, indicating for you to fill it up with your presence. Once you do, you feel the familiar warmth of his proximity. 
Jungkook seems different and you only hope he’s changed for the best. 
‘‘When are you going back?’’ You ask him with curiosity, hoping that he’ll be in town for a few more days so you can catch up with him on a better note this time around. 
He munches on one of the snacks, ‘‘Tomorrow morning, I have training camp and can’t miss it.’’ His answer makes you sigh with disappointment, but you nod nonetheless. ‘‘What about you?’’ He asks in return, and you inform him that you’ll stay for a few more days to spend time with your family. There’s silence after that and Jungkook can only offer you the gummy worms in the bag, you take one with a small thanks.  
‘‘College fucking sucks,’’ he says out of nowhere and it makes you look at him in bewilderement, ‘‘I hate it there, I wanna drop out so bad. But I’m a year away from graduating so it’s too late now.’’ You see his shoulders visibly relax, like a weight had been lifted off them. ‘‘Plus my mom would kill me if I do so,’’ he adds with a chuckle. 
Last time you asked everything was fine. Had things changed or had they always been this way and he was just now being honest with you?
You rest your head on his shoulder and focus all of your undivided attention on him as he keeps rambling about what his life has been ever since he left this town. He’s had bad games, bad grades, and bad girls. But he’s also had incredible games, good grades, and a couple great hookups, and yet he still feels empty, it’s not enough. 
‘‘I miss you,’’ he mumbles as he faces you, ‘‘I’m sorry for being such a shitty friend, you deserved better.’’ His apology is genuine and you can feel it in the way his voice trembles, sincerity has always scared him after all. 
Jungkook’s never known when the time is right, and he misjudges the look on your face. When he leans down to press his lips against yours, he’s blinded for a mere moment into believing that you wanted to kiss him just as much as he had been waiting. 
You abruptly separate from him with wide eyes and parted lips, ‘‘Jungkook, I’m─I’m dating Namjoon now.’’ He can physically feel his heart shatter, the revelation coming out like an old newspaper headline he should’ve read a long time ago. 
He lets out a breathless chuckle, ‘‘He got over the commitment issues?’’ The rhetorical question is bitter. 
You scoff, ‘‘And what about it? I preferred to wait than to rush into getting my heart broken.’’ Plus it’s not like you were expecting Namjoon to grow feelings for you, the whole no strings attached arrangement was named that way for a reason. 
Jungkook looks at you with narrowed eyes and he shakes his head sightly. Old habits never die down, still so stubborn and challenging as ever. 
He’s startled as you stand abruptly, fuming as you look at him, ‘‘I don’t even know why you care! Did you forget that you threw my Valentine’s Day card into the trash? Or that you kissed Yeji in front of my face? Or that you let Taehyung date me as prank between your friends? Or that you were making out with Eunha while Jimin kept giving me alcohol? Or that you asked Jaehyun to take me to the stupid prom even though I was perfectly fine going without him or anyone for that matter?’’
‘‘We were just kids!’’ Jungkook argues back at you.
‘‘It still fucking hurt,’’ you counter, ‘‘still hurts, actually. You think that by giving me a measly apology and kissing it better I’ll suddenly forget about all of it?’’ Jungkook knows it won’t ever make up for all those years, but he had at least hoped you’d be willing to give him a chance. 
He wishes he could say something else. Explain that he had just tried to protect you in his own shitty way from everyone else or himself maybe, he doesn’t know anymore. He wants to speak up again, but there’s disappointment written all over your face, you’re not angry at him...just saddened. 
‘‘Hope you have fun at your training camp.’’
Jungkook watches as you leave him sitting by himself on the old lady’s doorstep. A hand runs through his hair as he feels his eyes water, and he can almost hear a whisper in the wind that asks him why he didn’t stop you when he could’ve. 
Tumblr media
Jungkook didn’t think that his family coming together with yours for Christmas dinner would’ve been a great idea. You’re cold to him at first and it’s fitting for the winter weather, but as always it only takes for him to sit next to you for things to warm up again. 
It’s with the excuse that you’ll run over to your house to grab a new bottle of wine from the kitchen counter that Jungkook trails behind you, both slightly tipsy on the different alcohols your families had offered each other. 
Years have passed since he last stepped foot inside your home, you used to visit him more often than he did anyway. It still smells and looks the same; the only difference is that there’s new pictures of you hung up on the walls, updated accordingly to the changes you’ve made ever since you left off for college.
You’re sporting a big smile in all of them, which in exchange makes him copy the action as well. His lack of presence in your life has done you better than compared to when he was around, and if that’s the case, then at least he did something right. 
There hasn’t been much said since the beginning of the night, just a simple hey out of courtesy. There’s so much he wants to say, but with no clue where to begin. Another apology is due, though he thinks it’s a little too late for that. He also wants to ask about what you’ve been up to since he last saw you, are you still dating the Namjoon guy you had told him about after he kissed you? If he’s still there, Jungkook rather keep quiet and not wonder out loud to you, he’s sure that it’ll hurt if it’s true. 
Growing up Jungkook always mistook your bravery with stubbornness and your courage with relentlessness. You’ve always been challenging, but only because you wanted him to do so too. It’s moments like this that prove him that you’ve always been the stronger between the two.
‘‘So, we’re just gonna pretend like nothing’s wrong between us?’’ You ask, speaking directly to him for the first time that night. It makes him look at you like a deer stuck in headlights, surprised by the sudden question and out of all the years of knowing each other, he feels small under your gaze for once. ‘‘How much time is it going to pass until you want to finally talk things like adults?’’ 
Jungkook gulps the lump in his throat, his brain quickly thinking of the right thing to say, ‘‘I just wanted to protect you from─’’
‘‘From what? From you? Everytime you’ve done that I end up getting hurt in the end. I’m left to pick the pieces up by myself,’’ you interject with anger in your voice. ‘‘It fucking pisses me off that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you kissing me, I haven’t stopped thinking about you and─’’ A sigh, you close your eyes to center yourself again as Jungkook waits for the final blow, ‘‘and you look like none of this has ever bothered you in the slightest because, you don’t really care about me do you?’’
‘‘I do care about you.’’ He’s sure about it, even though he’s been extremely bad at showing it. 
Even though your eyes are threatening to spill tears, you still muster up the last bit of what’s left of your courage to step closer to him until you’re a few inches away. ‘‘Prove it, then. Show me that you care.’’ 
His brain is sent into quick overdrive due to your close proximity. There’s a slight hesitation because he only hopes that what he’s about to do is what you’re demanding him to prove. He doesn’t care if you’re still dating the Namjoon guy because he’s settled with the idea that it’s okay if you don’t correspond, it’s not like he did the same to you when you were both younger. 
Once his lips press against yours, there’s no turning back. He’s waiting for you to push him back and let him know that your heart’s still taken, but you kiss him with such fervor that he knows in that moment that you’re right, it’s better to wait than to rush right in. 
It’s no fairytale kiss, though. There’s desperation in the way you chase his lips, as if you were to slow down he’d find a way to escape from you. You grip the cotton material of his crewneck into your small fists, holding on to the fabric like your life depended on it. The small kiss you had both shared last year was nothing compared to this, and Jungkook’s taken aback by your neediness. 
He doesn’t know how you manage to drag him to your childhood bedroom without missing a beat, only separating once you both realize you need to catch your breaths, and even then Jungkook can’t have a minute to take just happened in because your lips attach to his neck to get more of a taste. His fingers curled around your arm, sighing at the way your kisses felt like electricity on his skin. 
‘‘Y/N,’’ he calls your name out in a breathy tone, but you’re too immersed in your little bubble to even realize it. 
Jungkook groans when you bite into the skin of his neck, then blowing over the red mark as you kissed it better. It’s going to be bruise and he doesn’t like when that happens, but he’s not bothered at all if it comes from you. He forcibly grabs your chin so you can face him, looking at him with big eyes, a small pout, and with your chin messed with drool. 
It’s then that Jungkook kisses you hungrily, making you feel like you’re in a dream-like state,  though you could partially blame the Christmas eggnog for that. The way he bites at your lips and how your tongues clash together is an extreme juxtaposition as to how you could describe this moment. It’s as if you’re floating on air, clouds surrounding you in a heavenly embrace, angels singing in the background every time his hands touch, grab, hold and caress every part of your body. And yet, even with such a difference, it’s perfect because it’s Jungkook. You’ve been waiting for this too long, which is why your hands creep beneath his crewneck, touching his tonified abdomen tentatively and enjoying the way goosebumps arise on his skin at the sensation of your fingers trailing patterns wherever they caress.  
It’s only fair that he pays attention to yours as well. Jungkook’s lips trail from your mouth onto your jawline, planting wet kisses on each space until he begins sucking on the skin of your neck, making you moan in the process. He chooses then that his new favorite sound is the way you voice out the pleasure he gives you. ‘‘Hurry up,’’ you say, ridding the bottom of the crewneck higher over his stomach, making him shiver at the sudden change of temperature. 
Jungkook chuckles before completely getting rid of the material, ‘‘Calm down,’’ he sighs as he gives you a sweet smile, ‘‘You know our moms could talk forever.’’ 
You ogle his chest, admiring the way his training camps have obviously done wonders to his body. ‘‘It’s not them I’m talking about,’’ you correct him with a teasing smile that only makes his grin grow wider, chuckling at your impatience. Jungkook lets out a small gasp of surprise when your hands grasp at his shoulder blades, turning him around so you can back him until the back of his knees hit the edge of your bed. It’s funny how he lets himself be bossed around by someone who’s way smaller compared to his frame.
Jungkook finds leverage on his elbows splayed against the mattress, your knees resting on each side of his hips as you leaned into him and kissing him just as widely as you had done before. Jungkook could fill just how quick things were escalating, especially the way his crotch area was beginning to become a problem he couldn’t possibly control at the moment, not with your own being directly on top of it. In any other situation he would’ve apologized with an awkward laugh, but his breath hitches once your hips start grinding over him.  
His hands make their way on the inside of your knitted sweater, provoking goosebumps on the exposed skin. You let out a shaky laugh, halting your movements so you can quickly get rid of the fabric as Jungkook’s eyebrows lift in surprise at your haste and then at the sight of your bra covered breasts. His hands are still steadily placed on each side of your waist, only brought up because your own had redirected them over your breasts, hoping he gets the message on what you want him to do now.   
Jungkook hesitantly squeezed one of the round globes, provoking a small moan to come from out of your lips. He wishes to hold you as close as he possibly can because the idea of ever being away from you again has been his main fear as of lately. But he refrains, you look so delicate and he feels like you could easily break. He stares at your body lovingly and your cheeks heat up at the way his eyes ogle your chest like a kid in a candy story. You give his arm a light slap and he chuckles, leaning over you to place a passionate kiss on your lips.
“You’re beautiful,” he says frankly. It doesn’t help to dissipate the flush on your face, but the compliment doesn’t bother you in the slightest. Jungkook leans in to trail kisses past your collarbones and into the swell of your breasts, making you bite your lip with anticipation. He looks at you asking for permission and you nod quickly with parted lips as you start to become impatient for him to make his next move. Jungkook lowers the cups of your breasts, freeing your hardened nipples and immediately envelopes one of them with his lips. “Mph—!” A sigh escapes your lips as you try to memorize the way his tongue traces over your tit. He pays attention to your other one, fingers rolling over the bud and pinching ever so often. 
You can feel your panties damp by then, trespassing into the fabric of the black leggings you’re wearing over them. Reaching behind your back, you fumble in unclasping the hooks of the now uncomfortable bra. Jungkook’s forced to stop the undivided attention he had places on your breasts to look at you like he’s lost, why are you going so fast? 
Once your hands delve with the buckle of his belt, he has to hold on to your wrists with a firm grasp, ‘‘What are you doing?’’ He asks with quick breath, you blink stoically towards him. 
‘‘Uh─getting you naked?’’ You answer with a nonchalant tone, but his hands don’t let go and your demeanor changes, ‘‘D-Did you not want this?’’ Your voice turns smaller, embarrassed that maybe you had pressured him into something he didn’t want to participate in. 
Jungkook quickly shakes his head no, ‘‘No, I-I do want this! It’s just─you’re going so fast,’’ he tries to explain, ‘‘I’ve been waiting for this for too long, I don’t wanna rush.’’ Your eyes lit up at the revelation as he waits for you to answer back, only for his back to hit the comforter with a small thud, giggling at the way you urgently kiss him again, but this time with much more care. 
‘‘Why didn’t you say so before, stupid?’’ You mumble with a sheepish look, ‘‘I thought it was just going to be─nevermind, I need you right now.’’ You have to force yourself from spitting out any details that could possibly ruin the moment between you two, deciding to wait instead for any emotional confessions you want to make. 
He switches positions between the two, panting as he brings you down to the mattress and Jungkook can feel the goosebumps on your skin, whether from the coldness of the room or because of the sheer electricity of his hands caressing your body like it was molded just right for him. He dips his hand lower, cupping your clothed heat on his hand. It makes you tremble and you whine, encouraging him to keep going. 
“Baby, you’re really wet,” he comments with a teasing tone and you pout at him. His fingers hook into the waistband of your leggings and he pulls them down as he travels with them, greeted by the sight of the damp cloth of your panties. He exhales with content, caressing your thighs in an up and down motion. You twist underneath him and he has to hold your hips down to calm you down, “Patience is a virtue.” 
“I’ve been too patient, do some—Ah!” Your whining is interrupted once Jungkook moves your underwear to the side holding it with his free hand, fingers coming to trace the slick covering your pussy lips. He becomes entranced with the transparent gooey liquid, bringing them close to his face as he separates his fingers and sees a strand connecting between them. “Guk-ah, p-please…” Your needy voice brings him back to reality, delving his fingers back into your exposed heat but this time with intent. 
Jungkook’s thumb lifts the hood covering your clit, mouth coming down to give it a small tentative kiss. That action alone has you writhing above him, it makes him chuckle to himself as he dives back in. The moans you let out are loud and clear inside your bedroom, thankful that it’s only you and him inside your house. Your hand pulls at his hair, making him groan against you and the vibrations are felt throughout your body, only adding to the euphoric pleasure you already possess. His fingers trace the inside of your thighs until they reach your entrance, circling the fluttering hole which makes you pull at his hair harder and with your other you hold on to the bedsheets of the comforter tightly into your fist. 
Jungkook’s tongue is still working your engorged bud, but he focuses his eyes on you as he dips the first finger inside you. “Oh—fuck,” you let out in a breathy moan. He tries to maintain a rhythm between his two ministrations, but it’s hard when he wants to focus on all of them at once. “‘Nother, please,” you begged once he let your clit rest, quickly following your request by adding another into your warm heat. He lets out a breathless chuckle as he notices how easy it is to thrust both fingers inside of you, your whole crotch area is covered in slick and his wet chin is a dead giveaway to where he was seconds ago. 
He watches you unravel over him with such adoration, not even his wettest dreams or dirtiest fantasies could prepare him for this. Seven minutes in heaven he plans to stay in forever. “Guk-ah, I wan’ you. I-Inside, please.” You plead with teary eyes, and he slowly stops, removing his arousal covered fingers from inside you as he makes you sigh in the process. He kisses you again and again, your hazy brain is probably hallucinating all of this right now, but damn is it good. You tug at the crewneck he’s wearing, he’s too overdressed for this occasion. He tends to your demands, quickly getting rid of all the layers of clothing that stop him from being inside of you fully. 
“I don’t have a—“ 
“I’m on the pill.”
You both speak at the same time, making each other chuckle. Jungkook gulps at the idea of taking you raw as the first time together, and you salivate at his hardened length; the head already oozing precum out and you want nothing more than to wrap your lips around it and lick the tip up. You’re just about to when Jungkook quickly grabs your wrist to stop you from reaching him, you look up at him with the big sparkly eyes he has loved for too long. 
“I just—I wanna be inside you right now,” he sheepishly admits, and you smile with a nod; sharing the sentiment. You back up until your head rests on the pillows comfortably, relaxing into the mattress as you wait for Jungkook to ready himself. He places a kiss on your lips before placing a hand next to your head, using it as leverage above you. His free hand takes his cock and rubs the tip along your folds, making you squirm with anticipation. Jungkook chuckles, “Are you ready?” He asks with a sweet smile. 
“I’ve always been,” you whisper, your hand tucking a strand of his long hair behind his ear. 
A caress to his cheek as he nods, slowly pushing the head of his dick into you. You bite into your lip hard, it’s been a while since you had sex with someone and Jungkook’s size and girth was different from the rest. Your walls are tight around him and he has a tough time trying to reach the hilt with you squeezing him so hard, “Baby, relax for me.” He pleads and you nod apologetically, breathing in deep as you feel him reach parts inside of you, you didn’t know existed. Once he’s all the way in, he waits for you to give him the go ahead while he presses kisses into your heated cheek. You wrap your legs around his waist and give him a nod, letting him know he was allowed to start thrusting.
Jungkook manages to hit all the right places, keeping a steady pace as he enters and exits you each time. You’re left to moan and writhe underneath him, letting him take you as he pleases. Your kisses become messy, teeth biting into each other’s lips, teeth grazing against each other as you both tried to fight for the dominant position. It’s that heavy makeout that incites you to push at his shoulders, making him turn in his back, exiting you in the process. Jungkook pants, chest rising and falling with quickness as you straddle his lap, arms connecting behind his neck. 
“You always want to win, right?” He chuckles with half lidded eyes, enjoying the way your pussy lips grinded over his twitching length. You bat your eyelashes at him, offering him an innocent smile. The same technique that used to get you everything you wanted when you were younger. Same determination as you seek for what’s yours. He’s under you after all, still a victim to your charms.
Jungkook takes the bulbous head of his cock and teases it in your clit, if you weren’t holding on to him tight you would’ve collapsed into his chest. And by the way you moan his name out, he knows you’ll always look for him no matter the weather. “What a pretty girl,” he coos into your hair and you pinch his nipple in retaliation which only makes him groan in return. “My pretty girl.” He states before sinking himself deep into you again, sighing at the feeling of your hips circling over him. His rough hands guide them as you bounce up and down his length, moaning every time you rose and hissing when you came back down. 
He makes sure to keep this image engraved on his head forever. Your breasts bouncing over his face, your thighs working extra hard to keep up with his thrusts, and the way your sounds bounced off the walls of your bedroom. 
“You’re doing s-so good, baby.” Jungkook praises you, kneading your ass cheek. “Taking my cock s-so well,” he falls into a trance of admiring the way his length would appear and disappear inside of you, covered in a thick layer of your arousal. It makes him drill into you faster, sitting properly against the bed’s headboard as he takes your hips with force. He’s too turned on to keep treating you so delicately, and the way you moan and pant at the increase in speed only lets him know you enjoy him like this way more. “I-Is it good, baby? Am I-I fucking you well?” He asks in between rapid thrusts, your thighs had given out by then. 
You nod and a whimper escapes your lips, “Y-yes, Guk-Ah. S-so good, feels amazing.” Your praise is honest, the fucked out tone in your voice is a clear indicator of how well of a job he was doing. A minute longer and you’ll be right on cloud nine, never wanting to come back down. “Wanna cum Guk-Ah, plea—“ There’s no need for you to even finish your sentence because his thumb rubs your clit in figure eights, making you groan with the intensified feeling of his hips circling inside you deliciously. You can almost see the blinding white light ahead as Jungkook kisses you feverishly. You feel tears escape the corners of your high, the familiar feeling tickling inside you as Jungkook’s thrusts don’t let up. ‘‘Ah! Yes, yes, fuck,’’ you cry out once your orgasm hits. Jungkook holds you close to his chest, trying to soothe your shaking body with his arms. Your walls squeeze and relax continuously around him, it serves him as the impulse he needs to chase his own high. 
‘‘I love you, Jungkook,’’ you confess in between panting breaths, ‘‘so much.’’ 
His release shoots out and he groans, digging crescent moons into your hips. You hiss at the sensation, but giggle at how his eyes are screwed shut and brows still furrowed together, as if he was holding on to the last of his orgasm. In reality, Jungkook is just hoping that once he opens his eyes you’ll still be in his arms. Your fingers tilting his head to face you are very much real, he sees spots once he opens his eyes as they adjust to the room’s lighting. 
‘‘I love you too.’’ He says with a fixed gaze and you coo at how perfect this is.
You’re twenty-two when Jungkook’s finally yours.
Tumblr media
You’re both twenty-three and it’s another weekend spent at his apartment, he’s been playing for three hours now and you’ve given up on having him pay attention to you. Deciding to switch your plan around and join him instead, if only he would let you play.
‘‘Jungkook, you said it was going to be my turn five rounds ago!’’ You complain with a pout, crossing your arms across your chest. 
His gaze is still stuck on the T.V screen, ‘‘Baby, shhh, you’re gonna make me lose.’’ He mumbles as he tries to remain concentrated on the game in hand, but he can hear your humph’s from behind him, ‘‘Patience is a─’’
‘‘Virtue, yeah, who cares.’’ You interrupt him with a roll of your eyes, familiar with the saying a little too well. ‘‘Hope you remember that for later tonight,’’ you add in a mumble, but he doesn’t hear it because of the loud sounds coming from the game on the screen. 
‘‘What did you say, babe?’’ He asks with a raised brow, hitting the buttons of the controller with expert ease. 
‘‘I’ll call your mom and tell her you don’t wanna share.’’ You joke with a threatening voice, but Jungkook knows better than to take your words so lightly. He pauses the game and turns to look at you with an are you serious? expression on his face, you giggle as you’ve finally got what you wanted. 
He apologizes by covering your face with kisses, pleading for you not to tell on him with his mom. You promise not to do so this time, knowing that the woman was probably tired of having to scold his son at his big age. 
Plus, ever since Jungkook surprised you with the almost exact replica of the Valentine’s Day card you gave him all those year back, you’ve taken advantage to tease him even more knowing he’s at your beck and call. You always remind him that he came close because the stickers he used were not like the ones you had, but he remembered to add the hearts on the I’s so that’s good enough. 
‘‘Alright you can play, but━!’’ He says after he finishes his attack of kisses, ‘‘I’ll be your guide, I can’t risk you messing my record up, no offense baby.’’ None taken as you nod excitedly, you’ll always take whatever chance he gives you. 
Jungkook’s finally learned how to share his toys after all.
Tumblr media
3K notes · View notes
Text
Serenade (Daniela Dimitrescu/Reader) Pt. 5
Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Pairing: Daniela Dimitrescu/Reader (Gender neutral) Rating: T for language and mentions/references to an (emotionally) abusive relationship. Mild, brief violence. Warnings: TW for referenced emotional abuse, mild TW for possible physical abuse (sorry, angry Dani is not 100% gentle with people she doesn't love-love) Notes: Music for this chapter here. If you're following this story and really want to continue reading, but worry about the TWs for this chapter, just send me an anonymous message and I'll write up an alternative version of this post. It's not something I would do without it being requested, but it's also not a big deal so don't feel like you're bothering me if you want that. Previous Chapters: Pt. 1: Nocturne, Pt. 2: Overture, Pt. 3: Accelerando, Pt. 4: Tocatta
Chapter 5: Poco a Poco (Italian: Little by little)
Finding a schedule for lessons to follow proved to be an insurmountable task. Consistency was something that Daniela struggled with greatly, even when it came to things that she genuinely cared about. Things like ensuring you lived long enough to entertain her. Instead of working with you to find a balance that worked for both of you, the youngest Dimitrescu daughter seemed intent on doing things in her own time. Little by little. Which would have been fine, if the two of you weren’t restricted by time.
Fate wasn’t entirely unkind, however. There were still a few things that Daniella recalled from her “youth”, bits and pieces of musical theory, the bare basics of reading sheet music. Not having to teach her proper posture or the structure of a piano would save you a little bit of time. On top of that, you had been informed that, somewhere in the castle, there were a few books of sheet music you could borrow. Assuming you were eventually able to find them, that is. So far they had eluded you, but you hadn’t even had much time to search, as you were still expected to perform your usual Maiden-related tasks.
In the end, it was Daniela herself that proved to be the biggest obstacle in your way.
“Look,” Daniela said one day, barely ten minutes into a lesson, “I think we should take a break… maybe have some fun?” One of her hands is resting on top of yours, the other tucking your hair behind your ear. There’s a smirk on her lips, unsurprisingly, and she’s mere inches away from kissing you. If not for the heavy threat hanging over your head, you would have already thrown yourself into her arms. Instead, all you can do is sigh, turning away from her as you do. “Don’t be like that, sweet thing. C’mon, no one can hear us right now. Might as well enjoy ourselves.”
“Babe. Darling. Buttercup, honey, cute little button on a bear, you are not the brightest bulb in the lighting department,” you replied, holding the bridge of your nose between two fingers. Instantly Daniela is upset, giving you a (thankfully) playful smack on the arm. Before she can protest more you continue speaking. “Your family would not hear us making out, true, but they would definitely hear us not playing the piano. I’m pretty sure your mother already thinks I’m doomed to fail as a teacher, and the last thing I need is to give her a reason to drop the curtains this early into our performance.”
“First of all, I am not an idiot,” Daniela said, a bit of a growl to her voice. “Secondly, what harm can a few minutes really do? Don’t you think I’ve been working hard enough to earn a little reward?” Now she’s holding a finger under your chin, lifting it up, making sure you’re looking right at her. There’s no dissuading her, it seems, as she leans in for a soft kiss. This was one of the more frustrating aspects of dealing with (courting?) her; communication felt like a one-man play, except the audience was as likely to throw knives as rotten tomatoes. Whenever Daniela acted like this, pushing away your concerns in favor of her pleasure, it felt helpless to try and resist her.
So you kissed back, wrapped your arms around her, and hoped that she’d be more open to compromise afterwards. At least kissing her was nice. Even though it had only been a week since you first kissed her, she was already getting better, evidently learning through experience. The passion behind her movements had grown as well, leaving you a tad breathless. Regardless of her odd perception of romance, and her insistence that she knew best, you found yourself charmed by her. It was scary. Terrifying, really, how you felt yourself falling under her spell. Wait. Hadn’t you been in this sort of situation before?... Staying with someone who wasn’t good for you? Why were you kissing her? Why were you starting to tremble, tears in your eyes, mind falling down a slippery slope of memories?
By the time you snap out of it, you’re sitting on the floor, Daniela awkwardly kneeling by your side. What the fuck? You think, sniffling a little. Head spinning, mind reeling, you struggle to form coherent thoughts. Next to you Daniela is unsure of how to help. But she’s trying, sort of, one hand holding your own, the other gently rubbing your back. She’s saying something, the words going right over your head. Understanding her takes times, focus, like tuning an instrument until the pitch is just right.
“I don’t understand, we were only kissing, what happened? Can you even hear me? Is this your way of tricking me into not making out with you? Because that’s a total dick move and-” she rambles, only stopping when you give her hand a soft squeeze. Then she’s meeting your gaze, looking uncomfortable, shoulders tense. “You’ve been weird for a while. Distant. Like you don’t want to touch me anymore. Don’t you still love me?”
There’s real, honest pain in her eyes when she speaks. If the timing had been different… you’d have thrown your arms around her and covered her face in kisses, promising to hold her onto she felt better, promising that yes you cared. You cared so fucking much. But she’s making you exhausted; every second has to be focused on her, not you. Every moment of concern is flipped around until she’s the victim, or at least the one that needs comforting. You didn’t think that she even realized what she was doing. Well, you hoped that she didn’t, wanted to believe that if she understood she’d change.
“Remember the first day we kissed?... how you pulled me close, and I kissed you harder, and we started…. Remember how I made a move and you pushed me away? I’ll never forget the look on your face. I felt like shit afterwards. I should have asked before I tried anything,” you explain, letting go of Daniela’s hand so you could pull your knees to your chest. Somehow you can’t bring yourself to maintain eye contact with her- not right now, not when you could still remember what it felt like to be on her side of this story. “I don’t want to push your boundaries, or make you feel pressured to do something you don’t want to do. The last thing I’d ever want to do is hurt you like that.”
“Oh bullshit,” Daniela snarled, shocking you, before getting to her feet. Confusion doesn’t begin to describe how you feel in the moment as you watch her pace back and forth. Both her hands are clenched into fists, and she’s refusing to look at you. There’s a buzzing sound in the room, faint but growing louder, like she’s a split second away from entering swarm mode. “We’re a couple, aren’t we? Shouldn’t you be able to tell what I want? Shouldn’t it be obvious what I desire, when I’m pinning you to the wall and shoving my tongue down your throat? What more do you require?”
“Holy shit, Dani, I know communication isn’t your forte, but have you really not even considered talking to me? That’s simple, easy, literally the first thing that should come to mind!” You snapped, too in disbelief to keep your voice down. For a moment Daniela stops her pacing, turning to stare at you with narrowed eyes. If you weren’t so mad, you’d be convinced she was ready to kill you. But she doesn’t move to grab her sickle, or otherwise advance on you, instead groaning and tugging on her own hair in frustration.
“Because that’s not romantic, genius!” She replied. Some dots start to connect in your mind, but you lack the full context, as if looking at sheet music with no clefs or time signature. It’s not until Daniela continues that you really understand; and, by extension, realize just how ridiculous this whole mess is. “None of the books I’ve read involve conversations like this. People just… they just love each other! And figure it out as they go along, reading each other’s body language and facial expressions, inferring what they need to know through touches and reactions. Why can’t we do that?”
“This isn’t a fucking book, dumbass! I don’t have powers like you, I can’t just read your mind and figure out what you want. That’s not how relationships work! Communication is key. And you can’t just talk, you have to listen, hard, and understand,” you continued, still on the floor, heart pounding so furiously you thought it might leap from your chest at any moment. As angry as you are, you wonder if you’re being too loud, too angry, wonder if there was a better way to get through to Daniela. Before you can think of a solution the air is ripped from your lungs. Your “partner”/student is grabbing you by the front of your shirt, yanking you to your feet. Instinct makes you struggle against her, as useless as it is.
“I. Told. You. I’m not an idiot!” Her free hand comes up to your face, cupping your cheek for a moment, then pulling away just as fast. When it moves back up she’s gripping onto her sickle. The sharp edge ends up resting against your neck, the slightest movement threatening to cut you open. This is the most Daniela has ever openly threatened you, and in that moment all your anger melts back into fear, tears spilling down your cheeks. A flicker of something shows in her eyes, making you think that even she doesn’t like where this is going. “Give me one reason not to end this right now.”
“... I don’t… I can’t think. I… Why would you?” The words leave you in a rush, even with the pauses, and each syllable makes the sickle press into your skin a little more. There’s sure to be a cut there, though you can’t even begin to estimate how bad it is. The blade is sharp, clearly, and it hardly even hurts as it slices you. Thankfully the sensation doesn’t last long. Once you’re done speaking, Daniela’s grip loosens considerably, hand slowly letting your shirt go. Her other hand takes a few seconds to move, but eventually pulls away without any fuss. For a few seconds she just watches you, eyes filled to the brim with a rich sorrow, mouth open but unmoving.
“No lesson tomorrow. I need a break,” Daniela whispers, barely audible. Then she’s dusting herself off, no longer looking at you, and heading towards the exit. Just like the first time you met, she pauses in the doorway. “How’s that for communication, hmm?” When she laughs, it’s empty, forced. Part of you wants to stop her and ask if she’s okay.
Instead, you watch her leave, unspoken words tangling with your tongue until you almost can’t swallow.
Then your feet move, automatically, leading you to the piano. You sit down without thinking. You touch the keys without thinking. When you play, you play without thinking. It’s just a song, the world tells you, and you have no choice but to play. It’s not just a song, you know this, but you can’t think. Can’t argue against the personification of your isolation, or the embodiment of your trauma. All you can do is let yourself get lost in the music, softly, recalling lyrics from a forgotten time.
I’ve been running all my life, trying to find a place to hide ‘Thought that I had settled down, but I guess things are changing now Don’t make me go, don’t make me go Just don’t make me go, this feels like home
As soon as the last note fades out you stand, wordlessly, and leave. Your feet carry you down corridor after corridor, past maidens working, some of whom gasp when they see you. But you don’t stop, not even when you cross paths with Lady Bela, who eyes you with surprising concern. She doesn’t try to stop you, though, and you doubt you would have cared if she had tried. It’s not until you are within your shared room that you finally stop moving. It is there that you sit, shaking, finally pressing a cloth to your neck. Blood stains the fabric, first in just a few dots, then spreading out. There’s not enough to make you fear for your life, but there is enough to make you cry harder. Washing the wound will sting… so you don’t do that. Soon you will have to return to your work, and the thought puts pressure on your skull, summoning an all-too-familiar migraine.
When you close your eyes, you don’t mean to fall asleep, but that is exactly what you do. And when you dream, you do not wish for nightmares. You never do- and fate never denies you their company.
156 notes · View notes
ssahotchhner · 3 years
Text
hunter, hunted
i should not be so excited about this but i just discovered that when you copy and paste text into a new post tumblr FINALLY allows italics and bolded fonts to be transferred over so I don't have to remember to go through it and do it myself again i could literally CRY rn. ANYWAY I thought it would be fun to write a oneshot like the Profiler, Profiled where Morgan is accused of murder. i created an oc for this one and I hope you love April I've spent a lot of time with her the last couple of weeks (:
words: 13.4k
pairing: hotch x oc
warnings: detailed descriptions of murder and torture and sexual assault
questions comments concerns
Tumblr media
“Where’s the weapon, April?”
It was almost laughable. A federal agent handcuffed in an interrogation room being questioned for murder in her small town while visiting a childhood friend. She shakes her head at the detective, laughing. “I carry a gun on me at all times because, as I said, I’m a federal agent. You have it in your possession already. If you want to test it to see if I’ve fired it recently, be my guest. You won’t find anything.”
“You’re right, we won’t find anything because Brandon Perry died from blunt force trauma to the head. So I’ll ask you again, where is the weapon?”
This time, April does laugh. Of course he wasn’t shot. That would be too easy. “You know what, Detective Barnes, if you hadn’t kicked my hotel door down in the middle of the night, handcuffed me and dragged me in here, I may have cooperated with the investigation, but here we are. So I’ll tell you again: my Unit Chief is SSA Aaron Hotchner. I won’t be answering any more questions until I can speak with him.”
The middle aged man glares at her until finally getting up and leaving her alone in the interrogation room. She rested her head on the table and hoped that maybe that stupid motherfucker would listen to her this time.
***
“Hunter has been detained in Bar Harbor, Maine.” Hotch tells the team in the conference room.
JJ frowns, “Isn’t that her hometown? Why has she been arrested?”
“For murder.” Hotch says. Before the team can react, he pulls up a picture of Brandon Perry’s body, “Brandon Perry was found yesterday by a fisherman just off the docks a week after he was released from prison on parole. He had been bludgeoned to death with some sort of blunt object, the M.E. suggests a baseball bat.”
“And why do they think April did this?” Spencer asks.
Hotch clicks a button and a picture of a couple brutally murdered in their bed, a little boy who’s throat had been slashed, and a little girl with brown hair and bright green eyes, alive and well filled the screen, “Because he was serving time for the murders of Addison, Jacob, and Timothy Hunter. April’s family.”
Everyone stares at the monitor in shock, “Her whole family was murdered when she was a kid… and she never mentioned it to us?” Penelope asks, her lower lip trembling.
“April was left relatively unharmed, but she had been sexually assaulted by the assailant. She said he was tall, but he had on a ski mask so she was never able to give solid identification.” Hotch finishes.
“So how’d they connect these murders to Brandon Perry?” Rossi asks.
“He was connected to a couple other home invasions and assaults nearby so he entered a plea deal. The local police were under a lot of pressure to close the case.”
“Breaking into homes to murdering almost an entire family is a big escalation.” Morgan says.
Hotch nods, “I thought so too.”
“April was just a kid,” Prentiss says, “And to go through a trauma like that, I’m sure she believed whatever the police fed her. And to see him be released from prison like that… I hate to say it, but it could have been the trigger.”
Penelope’s shaking her head, “No, no, you guys don’t really think April did this, do you?”
Everyone’s silent for a moment and then Morgan speaks, “Baby girl, if she’s innocent, we’ll prove it. But we can’t rule out the possibility that she did this just yet.”
“I know April hasn’t been here that long,” Garcia says, “But she is still a part of this family. You can all treat her like an unsub, but I won’t.” She finishes and marches out of the conference room.
Aaron sighs, “Wheels up in thirty.” He says resolutely before leaving the room.
***
Hotch walked into the police station, the team at his back and was greeted by a man about April’s age who introduced himself as Detective Fielder. “Detective, I’d like to speak to my agent.” Hotch demanded after shaking the man’s hand.
The man shrugged, “Sorry, sir. My partner’s in there with her. She’s stubborn as hell. I went to school with her, you know it’s a shame the way her family died but… must’ve knocked a screw loose or somethin’. She ain’t ever been the same.”
Aaron thought it over, killers had made their way into the bureau before. Not like this, though. Not under the nose of his whole team. April kept to herself, but she had joined this team less than a year ago, it would be overwhelming for anyone. “You misunderstand, detective. It wasn’t a request. Bring me to my agent.”
Reluctantly, the younger detective brought Hotch to the back of the station where he could already hear another man, older by the sounds of it, screaming at April.
She was staring back at him, her posture relaxed, looking more annoyed than anything. Hotch walked in and she relaxed further, only then letting on that she had been putting on a show of being unbothered for the detective, “Thank God.” April sighs, “I thought maybe they didn’t call you.”
“Are you alright?” He asks her first, unable to explain why hearing another man scream at you had made his blood boil.
“I’m fine,” She says and directs her attention back to the older detective, “Detective Barnes won’t even get me a water, though.”
“Detective Fielder, get April some water.” Hotch demands. He can feel the two men exchange a look behind him before the younger detective leaves the room. “Detective Barnes, uncuff my agent.”
“You can’t let her go, you don’t have jurisdiction here.” He growls.
“I’m not suggesting you let her go, but even if you’re right she committed a one off crime of revenge. She’s not a threat to anyone here. Uncuff her.” The detective glared at April who only smirked at him. “Now, detective.” Aaron said, firmer this time.
With a look of disgust on his face, the detective uncuffed a smiling April as detective Fielder came back in the room with a cup of water. “Thank you, Billy.” April said as the detective placed the cup in front of her. He ignored her completely.
“I’d like to speak to her alone.”
“Like Hell.” Detective Barnes spat.
“With all due respect, detective, it doesn’t appear that you’ve gotten much out of her. You’re welcome to watch through the window, but I will be questioning her. Clear the room.” They stared at each other for another few moments before the detectives both left the room. Hotch turned back to April whose entire demeanor changed. She sighed, relaxing her shoulders and slouching over the table as she rubbed at her wrists where the cuffs had been. The antagonizing behavior Hotch had just witnessed her exhibit completely vanished.
“You don’t help when you antagonize them like that.” Hotch says.
She shrugs, “The men in this town don’t like a woman who thinks she’s his equal. They never liked my attitude. They like it even less now that I outrank them. Either I act like the superior I am, even in cuffs, or they force me into submission.”
He sits down at the table across from her, “Why didn’t you tell me about your family? It wasn’t in your file.”
“Strauss knew.” April says, immediately defensive. She hadn’t lied, the bureau knew.
“But you didn’t want me or the team knowing, why?” She doesn’t answer him, just stares at her hands. “April, I can’t help you if I don’t know.” He says gently.
Finally she looks up and sighs, “When I was twelve my entire family was brutalized and murdered in front of me, but not before the unsub raped me in front of my parents. And I didn’t react the way the people of this town wanted me to. I was twelve and I was covered in semen when he left. So I showered before calling 911. I didn’t cry even once in front of anyone and I never spoke about what happened to anyone, not even the police. Only enough to tell them that I had no idea what he looked like, but I thought he was white.” Her eyes water just slightly and she doesn’t meet his eyes, “For the six years after the murders that I stayed in this town, I know a lot of people thought I did it. That I was some kind of psychopath. So no, I didn’t want it in my file.”
“You thought maybe we’d arrive at the same decision the town did.” Hotch opens the case file, “But you were never tried or even considered a real suspect. There was no physical evidence.”
She smiles sadly, “No physical evidence means nothing to a small town who’s rarely ever seen a scandal, and certainly nothing like this.”
He stares at her for a moment, “And so when Brandon Perry was released from jail, you thought he hadn’t suffered nearly enough so you came back up here and killed him.” April laughs and Hotch can see he’s made her feel antagonistic again, “This isn’t funny, April, you’re a suspect in a homicide.”
“No, Hotch, you don’t understand. It’s funny because I don’t even believe Brandon Perry killed my family and I haven’t believed that for a long long time. Which is why it would make no goddamn sense for me to kill him.”
“That’s bullshit!” The door bursts open and detective Barnes walks in.
“Detective--” Hotch stands as if to shield her and April nearly frowns at how protective he seems to be of her right now. She had seen him this way around the rest of the team, but never her.
“You told Detective Fielder when you were fifteen that you would kill that son of bitch yourself if he ever got out of jail.”
Hotch looks at April with a bit of annoyance, he hated when others had more information than him and from the second he walked in here she kept hiding things from him, not telling him the whole truth.
She lazily rolls her eyes and stares at Billy, “I was fifteen. I was angry. He cooperated with the police so he had the opportunity to get parole after fifteen years? Get his life back after I thought he had ruined mine? Yeah, I said some stupid shit, I think any kid would have.”
“When did you start to doubt that Brandon Perry had killed your family?” Hotch asks, but she’s still shooting daggers at the other detectives, “Agent, eyes here.” He says roughly, growing impatient with her.
Her eyes snap to his, “I used to lurk on support pages for people whose loved ones had been murdered and I remember seeing that this girl described… Almost exactly what had happened to my family, but she said it happened while Brandon was on trial here. She lived a couple towns over.”
“So what did you do?”
She shrugs, “Nothing, I was seventeen, I didn’t have any resources there was nothing I could do.”
Hotch sits down across from her again, leaning over the table so he’s closer to her, “You really expect me to believe, with the conviction you just said Brandon is innocent, that you didn’t look into this further?” She stays quiet and won’t meet his eyes, “I can have Garcia search your desk and computer if you’d rather do this that way.”
She leans back in her chair, rolling her eyes, “Jesus fucking Christ, I’m not a fucking criminal.”
“Then tell me what you know.” Hotch says, voice raised.
“Fine! I started volunteering at the police station so I could get access to files. I was good with the digital databases, but no one else was so they basically gave me free reign. I was able to find three similar cases, all within a couple years of each other but in different cities. One of them, he crossed into New Hampshire. All of the local police departments either arrested someone like Brandon or dismissed it as a one off crime and let it go cold. The files are in my desk drawer at the BAU.”
“You carried them with you all this time?”
She picks at the cuticles around her thumb, something Hotch noticed weeks ago she does when she’s nervous. “I thought… I thought about asking you guys to just look at the case a million times. See if you saw what I saw. And if you didn’t then maybe I could finally move on.”
“So why didn’t you ask?”
Her eyes dart around the room, to the detectives, the one way window, and then back to Hotch, “You guys, the team, you all have… This unbreakable bond and I… I barely just got here and I thought if I’d asked…” She sighs and runs her hands through her hair, “I just… I didn’t think you’d care.”
“The whole team flew out here at the drop of hat for you and you think we wouldn’t care?”
She frowns, “The whole team is here?”
“Yes.”
April sits back in her chair, looking dazed.
“Detectives, you’ll be releasing Agent Hunter from your custody now and since we have reason to believe there’s a serial killer loose and across state lines, we’ll be staying on the case.”
“You don’t really believe anything she’s saying, do you? She’s a psychopath!” Detective Barnes fumed.
Hotch stands and steps to the detective who immediately takes a step back after noticing Hotch’s menacing stance, “She is a federal agent and is no longer a suspect, you have no physical evidence and you just lost motive. You will speak to her with respect and if you don’t think you can handle that I’ll contact your superintendent and have you removed from the case. Is that clear?”
The detective stood back and out of their way, April looking at the ground so Hotch wouldn’t have to yell at her for antagonizing them again.
“What’s the history with you and Billy?” Hotch asks as they walk out of the room.
April rolls her eyes, “He was my high school boyfriend.”
“Oh,” Hotch muses, “You can do better.”
Before she can figure out if he was joking or not, the team realizes she’s walking of her own free will and they seem to all release the tension in their bodies. JJ walks to April first, pulling her into a hug before she can react.
April slowly raises her arms to hug JJ back, “I wish you had told us sooner.” Is all she says.
“I’m sorry you guys came all the way out here.” April addresses the team when JJ moves away from her.
“That’s okay, Hunter, we’re just glad to see you aren’t a murderer.” Morgan teases.
“We might actually be staying here for a while after all.” Hotch says.
Prentiss frowns, “Is there a case here?”
April opens and closes her mouth, “I-- Maybe.”
“Why don’t you call Garcia, ask her to get those files to everyone.” Hotch says to her quietly.
April nods and walks off.
“What’s going on, Hotch?” Rossi asks.
Hotch pushes his hands in his pockets, “The reason we were able to clear Hunter is because she has no motive. She doesn’t believe Brandon Perry killed her family and she hasn’t since she was a teenager.” He pauses, “She thinks the murders may be the work of a serial killer. She found three additional cases nearby, one crosses over to New Hampshire, that she believes are the work of the same unsub.”
Prentiss slowly nods, “And you want us to see if that’s true or not.”
Hotch nods, “I’m sure April would really appreciate our support.”
Everyone on the team is already nodding when April comes back, “So, as Penelope might say… Avengers assemble?” She asks hopefully.
Thankfully, they all laugh and nod, even Hotch cracks a smile, “Great.” April sighs in relief, “Let’s go to the conference room.”
With Garcia on a laptop screen, April tells them everything she knows, which admittedly, isn’t much. However, there are overwhelming similarities between the cases.
“Every family he chose was wife, husband, two kids. The eldest was the daughter all between the ages of 11-13 and in each case the daughter was raped and kept alive.” April was speaking as if she wasn’t speaking about herself and Hotch would be lying if he said it didn’t concern him. “In each case the parents were brutally tortured with a knife, forced to watch the rape and then killed with a fatal gunshot to the head. The boy was always killed first and it was always quick.”
“A mercy kill?” Reid muses.
April sighs, “I’ve never been able to figure that part out. It’s obvious he gets off on the rape and torture of the parents and daughter, but why not leave the boy alive the way he always leaves the daughter if it’s out of mercy?”
“It could be he thinks he’s sparing the boy the pain and trauma of having to go through the after effects of watching his parents and sister tortured.” Prentiss says.
“When all is said and done the daughter suffers the most psychologically.” Hotch says, “She could be the real target, maybe a surrogate for someone he knew.”
At this point, Hotch notices the way April is staring at the table, eyes unfocused, “Hunter,” Her eyes shoot up, “You must be exhausted, let me drive you back to the hotel so you can get some rest.”
“Hotch, I’m fine, I want to help.”
“No,” He says and she frowns, “If the daughter is the true target we’re going to have to dive deeper into victimology. Why he chose you. You don’t want to be here for that.”
Everyone’s quiet and deliberately looks away from April. She sighs, “Fine, but I’m coming back first thing in the morning.” She stands and walks out of the conference room without waiting for Hotch.
“Garcia, see what you can find about April’s childhood as well as the other victims and let us know if there’s any similarities.” Hotch says.
“It feels icky, but I’ll do it.” Garcia responds.
“I’ll be back.” Hotch addresses the rest of the team before heading after April.
They ride in silence for a few minutes, Hotch glancing over to the passenger seat every few seconds. “Whatever you want to say just say it.” April says, growing tired of the constant glances.
“You don’t have to keep working on this case like it’s any other case--”
“It’s not just any other case.”
“I know,” He says gently, “I’m worried about you. I know you bottle things up, showing emotion to other people makes you feel vulnerable, which in turn makes you feel weak. And I worry that the way you’re bottling up your rage is going to lead to you taking it out on--”
“I didn’t kill Brandon.” She says.
“I know you didn’t. But if we do find the real killer, I can’t let you come with us into the field until he’s been taken into custody.”
“Hotch--”
“It’s not up for discussion. I’m sorry.”
She sat back in the seat and crossed her arms over her chest and they continue on in silence for a while longer. “Do you think our unsub is also responsible for Brandon’s death?” Hotch felt guilty about upsetting her and thought maybe getting her brain back into work mode would stop her from giving him the silent treatment.
For a few moments he thinks she might continue to ignore him, but finally, she sighs, “It’s possible. If we think he gets off on the suffering of the daughters, he might be upset that I thought he had been caught. That I felt safe knowing he was behind bars. Killing Brandon after he was released could have been a message to me that he’s still out there and obviously following me.”
“You don’t feel safe anymore.”
“That’s not what I said.”
“It was implied.” Hotch pauses, “I can stay at the hotel with you, work with the team remotely from the room next to yours.”
He expects her to refuse, but instead she agrees. “Okay.” She says quietly. This only worries him more as she is typically unlikely to accept help unless he insists upon it.
They walk up to the hotel room in silence and Hotch stands behind her as she unlocks her door, “Hey,” He says softly and she turns, “Anything you need, anything at all, I’ll be right there.” He nods his head to the door next to them.
“Thank you.” She says, giving him a small smile before pushing the hotel door open and then quickly closing it behind her.
He stands there for a moment, staring at the space she was just standing in before sighing and going to his own room.
“How is she doing?” Rossi asks when he calls the team from his room to let them know he’ll be staying there.
“She won’t admit it, but she’s scared. She thinks he might be following her and that Brandon Perry was a message to her that he’s still out there.”
“That would make sense if we think the girls are the real targets.” Prentiss chimes in.
Hotch stays on the phone with them a little while longer before they all decide to head back to the hotel. He stares at the wall that separates him from April and tries to get his mind to quiet enough to rest. He’s right here. Nothing will hurt her if he’s right here. He thought about how just last week Rossi had teased him for catching him staring at April. He had nearly convinced Aaron to ask her out. But she was so distant and hard to read and he didn’t want to chance rejection. Eventually, he closes his eyes and drifts off, an image of you smiling at him on the backs of his eyelids.
***
April was exhausted, but she stared at the ceiling for what felt like hours. Small noises that she never thought twice about now startled her. Hotch is next door. She reminded herself. She thought about the comment he made about Billy: You could do better. Had he been… Flirting? Aaron Hotchner… Flirting? It felt absurd. Shaking the thought out of her head, she got up and poured herself some water from the Brita in the mini fridge. Finally, after drinking the water, she’s able to fall asleep.
The breeze against her face wakes her. Slowly blinking her eyes into consciousness, she notices the balcony doors are open. Those were closed when I fell asleep, She thinks to herself and shoots up in bed, scrambling for her gun as her heart races. April considers yelling to Hotch, but if he’s still here she doesn’t want to scare him off.
On the wall at the foot of her bed reads “Welcome Home” in what looks like blood. Under it sits her favorite childhood teddy bear, head ripped clean off. She tightens her grip on the gun in order to stop the shaking and then glances around the room, but there’s nothing. Then she slowly opens the bathroom door. Pointing her gun at the shower, the curtain moves. She doesn’t hesitate she fires off four rounds, breathing hard. She doesn’t hear a body fall. Reaching out she pushes the curtain, but no one’s there.
Seconds later, Hotch is calling her name, but he doesn’t wait for a response before kicking down the door. “Hunter?” He calls again and she thinks she might hear fear in his voice. Fear for her?
“I’m in the bathroom. You can put down your gun, it’s clear.” He appears behind her a moment later, still staring at the shower, “I thought he was still in here.”
She walks around him and back out to where he left the message, “He came in through the balcony, I— I thought I locked it…” She trails off, looking at the glass of water on the table and realizing she can’t remember when she fell asleep.
“What is it?” Hotch asks.
“He was in here before. I think he drugged my water.”
He narrows his eyes at her, “We should go to the hospital then, I’ll have the team come here and treat this as a crime scene.”
“I don’t need to go to the hospital, I’m fine—“
“We don’t know what he gave you or how much, besides, having you tested will tell us what he used faster than sending a sample of the water to Quantico.”
“Fine.” She agrees begrudgingly, he was right. She walks over to her bag of clothes and it’s only at this moment that she realizes she had worn only an oversized t-shirt to bed and Hotch was making a valiant effort not to stare at her legs.
“I’ll, um, I have to get dressed as well.” He says hurriedly, gesturing to the pajama pants he’s wearing. He leaves before she can say anything else. Under normal circumstances, April’s sure this would have made her laugh, but that teddy bear seems to be staring her down. She gets dressed and leaves the room without another glance.
***
April stares out the window of the SUV in silence while Hotch calls Rossi to fill him in on what happened so the rest of the team can start assessing her hotel room. When he hangs up, she feels his eyes darting between her and the road again.
“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks quietly.
She’s quiet for a moment and then she takes a shaky breath, “That teddy bear went missing from my room a couple weeks before the murders. It was my favorite.” She swipes impatiently at the tears that start falling, “I blamed Timmy for it, we fought about it for hours. He felt so bad that I was mad at him he used his birthday money to buy me another one. I really thought he took it.” She tilts her head back in the headrest, trying desperately to stop the impending sobs.
Hotch doesn’t say anything, but he reaches across the car to hold her hand. To her own surprise, she lets him, the calluses on his thumb rubbing reassuring circles on the back of her hand.
***
“What do you have, Garcia?” Hotch steps out of your examination room for a moment to accept the call.
“How is she?” Penelope asks first.
“She’s… shaken up. But, like everyone else on this team does an excellent job of seeming unaffected.”
She sighs, “My poor wonder woman. Anyway, I think I found the connection between all the daughters.”
“What is it?”
“Well, it turns out that our April was a very talented child. Her parents took her to talent shows regularly, she was voted ‘Most Likely To Make It To Hollywood’ in her middle school yearbook.”
Hotch frowns and looks back at April, “We’re talking about the same federal agent, right?”
“I know, sir, not much surprises me anymore, but this did. There’s videos of her singing all over the internet, she was on the local news, quite the young star.”
“And the other victims?”
“All singers, sir. Every last one.”
“Thanks, Garcia.”
He walks back into April’s room, “You used to be a singer.” He says.
She rolls her eyes, “So?”
“So all the other daughters were singers too.” She sets her jaw and won’t meet his eyes. She’s not surprised by this information. “Why didn’t you mention it?”
“I didn’t think it was relevant.”
“You didn’t think it was relevant that there was a connection between all of the victims?”
She sighs and she feels shame at his obvious disappointment, “I’m sorry. I’ve worked really hard to block it out, sometimes I honestly forget.”
“What else aren’t you telling me?”
She bites her lip and looks down at her hands, picking at the cuticles around her thumb again, “He made me sing while… While he raped me.”
“Is there anything else?”
“No. I swear.”
He stares at her for moment and she knows he’s trying to see if she’s lying. It makes her angry at him, but also at herself. Maybe Hotch had never been as fond of her as the others, but he had never distrusted her. Just another thing the unsub had taken from her. “What song did he make you sing?”
The question is so painful to think about that she visibly flinches, “Do you really need to know that?”
“You know I do.” He says softly.
She looks away from him again, back to the cuticle on her thumb that she’s made bleed, “Like A Virgin by Madonna.”
He places his hand over hers again and she finds it almost alarming the way his touch seems to immediately calm her. “April, we won’t stop until we find him. I promise.”
She gives him a teary smile, “Will you stay with me?”
He smiles back at her, giving her a hand a slight squeeze and his smile takes her breath away, “I’ll be glued to your side until this case is over.”
***
A couple hours later they had found out that there was a classic date rape drug in April’s system: Gamma-hydroxybutyric acid, or GHB. The drug is usually prescribed for narcolepsy, but it was most often obtained illegally from Mexican pharmacies which they assumed was how the unsub got it.
“I’m bringing you back to the police station so you can stay with me and the team like I promised, but you don’t have to keep working the case.” Hotch says as he drives.
“Funny that you think you can stop me from working the case.”
He smirks a bit and brings his attention back to the road.
“What do you guys have for a profile so far?” He looks over at her, frowning. “What? I know you guys have been working while I’ve been reliving my trauma so what’ve you got?”
“White male, when he murdered your family he was probably in his twenties so now we’re guessing mid thirties to early forties. The torture is consistent with a sadist. Killing an entire family is an incredibly high risk crime which suggests he’s a narcissist, but also very organized. He’s able to control four people at once without much difficulty and he’s never left a shred of physical evidence behind except on the daughters. This means he’s arrogant and--” Hotch cuts himself off.
“What?”
“You said you showered before calling 911. Why?”
“I… I told you he left… He left his semen all over me, I was just a kid, I wanted a shower--”
“No.”
“Excuse me?”
“No, that doesn’t make any sense. Yes, you were traumatized, but every kid has it hardwired in their brain that as soon as something bad happens the first thing they do is call 911.”
“Okay, well I didn’t.”
He presses some buttons on the console of the car and then Garcia’s voice is coming through the speaker, “At your service, sir.”
“Garcia, in any of the family murders, was there a rape kit done on any of the daughters?”
“Well, surely there must have been-- Oh. No, no rape kits, not on any of them.”
“Does a police report tell you why?”
“I’m checking… and…” There’s a sigh from Penelope.
“What is it, Garcia?”
“All of them showered before calling 911.”
April is already shaking her head, “No, no that can’t be right.”
“Did any of them report why they showered before calling for help?”
“Most of them, like April, just reported that they felt icky and needed to shower, but the first one, the very first victim Katie Yates, she reported that the unsub made her shower. Like, held her at gunpoint, marched her to the bathroom, and watched. Once he was satisfied with how clean she was, he left while she was still in the shower.”
“That’s not what happened,” April says quietly, her eyes closed.
“Thank you, Garcia.” Hotch says and hangs up the phone before she can respond, “April--”
“No.” She says fiercely, “I’m telling you that’s not what happened.”
“Every other aspect of the crime is controlled and calculated, he wouldn’t make the mistake of leaving DNA all over his victims--”
“I would remember that if he did--”
“No,” Hotch says gently. He had pulled into the police station now, putting the car in park, “No, because you didn’t want to remember. Just that one memory, that one you wanted so badly to believe was your own. That he wasn’t there for the shower. But he was, wasn’t he?”
“Please stop.” She said breathlessly.
“I’m sorry.” He sounds sincere and he puts his hand over hers, “Look at me.” She doesn’t obey immediately so he reaches up to grip her chin and gently turn her face to his. Her eyes are shining and her breathing is uneven, but his eyes are soft and she has the absurd urge to rest her forehead against his. “He can’t hurt you anymore. You’re safe.”
She nods and swallows. “I need you to walk me through exactly what happened after the rape.” He continues. Her lip trembles, but she nods again. “Okay, close your eyes.”
“Hotch--” She whimpers.
“I’m right here. I’ll be here the whole time. You know how this goes. Close your eyes.” She takes a shaky breath and closes her eyes. “Good. He’s on top of you still. He’s just finished. Tell me what you feel, what you hear.”
“Um. I’m crying. I can hear my parents crying. His weight on me is making it hard to breathe.” She starts panicking, her breathing quickens.
“April, focus. He’s not here. You’re safe. What about your hands, what are you touching?”
“The carpet. I’m on the floor in the basement.”
“Can you see your parents?”
“Yes,” She gulps, “But I’m trying not to look at them. It’s humiliating.”
“Okay. Now what is he doing?”
“He… He kisses my neck and whispers in my ear ‘Thank you for the show’ and then he stands up.” Her breathing quickens, “He’s walking to my parents, I don’t want to watch, he’s going to kill them, Hotch--!”
“Okay, okay, come back. Open your eyes. I’m here.” His hands come up to cradle her face. She should be startled by her boss touching her like this, but she’s oddly comforted.
Her breathing finally slows, “I’m tired.” She says softly.
“I know. We’re almost done. Close your eyes again, you can do this.” His hands stay on her face as she closes her eyes again, “Okay. Your parents are dead. What does he do now?”
“Uh, I’m screaming. He’s looking at me and laughing and then he grabs my arm and pulls me up from the floor. I struggle and he puts the gun to my head and says if I don’t calm down he’ll blow out my brains like he did my parents. And then… He walks me up the stairs to the bathroom…” Her breathing becomes rapid again, “I don’t know if I can do this.”
“Yes you can.” Hotch’s voice is low and soothing. He believes in you, she thinks to herself, if he thinks you can do this, you can.
“He turns on the shower. I’m already naked and once I’m in the shower he starts undressing.” Silent tears stream down her cheeks and she’s distantly aware of Hotch gently wiping them away with the pads of his thumbs. “He comes in the shower. He’s touching me. I’m begging him to stop. Oh, God.”
“April, stay there. He’s undressed, he’s taken the mask off, do you recognize him?”
She’s shaking her head, “I can’t… I can’t look.”
“The water’s hitting your skin, his hands are on you--”
“Stop.”
“Look up, April.”
Despite herself, she listens. She’s in that shower, significantly smaller than she is now, and she looks up to see blue eyes looking down at her. Shaggy brown hair nearly covers them, especially now that it’s wet. He has a smirk on his face and crooked front teeth. There’s a tattoo on his right arm of a cross.
“Okay, okay that’s enough, you did it.” Hotch’s voice pulls her back out and she becomes aware of the car that’s still around them and the fact that she’s sobbing. “You’re okay. You’re safe. You did so good.” She falls forward in his arms and after a moment of hesitation he wraps his arms around her, holding her until her breathing settles. It takes him a moment to realize that anyone could look in the SUV and find him in a seemingly compromising position with his subordinate and he pulls away. To his shock, she seems to look disappointed. “You ready to go inside?”
“Yeah.” She says and without another word, she gets out of the car. Hotch can’t deny that he feels like he’s done something wrong as he watches April walk into the station.
When April walks in the station, her whole team cranes their heads to watch her, but she heads straight for the coffee without looking at anyone. Hotch files in soon after.
“Is she okay?” Reid asks, the rest of the team waits for his answer.
“I just gave her a cognitive interview, I’m sure she’s upset.”
“Did you learn anything?” JJ asks.
“Yeah,” Hotch nods, “She remembers what he looks like and she identified a tattoo on his right arm.”
“We should have Garcia run that, see if we can get an ID.” Morgan says.
“Call a sketch artist as well.” Hotch looks up at where April was standing just a few moments ago to see her gone, “Excuse me.”
***
April’s hands shake so hard as she tries to pour the coffee she ends up putting it down in frustration. “Need some help?” She turns to see Billy, standing there smirking at her.
Sighing, she stands back and gestures for him to go ahead. He steps in to pour the coffee, “Pretty elaborate ruse you got going on, staging a break in at your hotel room with that teddy bear.”
She stares at him in disbelief, “You still think I did this?”
“I think,” He says, handing her a cup of coffee, “That you’re impulsive and you went to confront Brandon and you didn’t mean to kill him, but you did and now this is all to cover everything up.”
“Oh,” She scoffs and starts walking away from him, “You are delusional and a dick.”
He follows April into another room and closes the door behind them, “Open the door.” She says when she realizes she’s shut in.
“You and your stupid FBI team are making this whole police force look bad, you need to drop the investigation.”
“The cases cross state lines, we have jurisdiction.”
“Yeah, you would have jurisdiction if there was a real case, but there isn’t. You’re a pathological liar and you can’t even see it. Brandon Perry murdered your family and raped you and just can’t let it go.”
“You’re a sick son of a bitch,” She walks around him to the door, but he turns quickly and places his palm against the door, slamming it shut again. “Let me out.” She says slowly.
“I’ll let you out when you promise me that you’re going to march out there and tell them that you’ve been lying this whole time and then march your pretty ass back to D.C.”
“Or what?”
“Or I’ll arrest you for the murder of Brandon Perry.”
“You have no evidence.”
“Oh, April, April, April. I know you know what a coerced confession is here. And I also know that you know a jury of your peers here in Maine would send you to prison for less.”
There’s a sharp knock on the door and Billy finally steps away. When she opens it, Hotch is on the other side, “Everything okay in here?”
“Just fine, Agent Hotchner. Isn’t that right April?” Billy says and grabs a strand of her hair, twirling it around his finger and tugging, exactly like he used to when he sat behind her in middle school.
April slaps her hand on his wrist and twists his arm around until he yells. “You lay a hand on me or threaten me again, I will make sure you don’t have a career here anymore. Understood?”
“You can’t--” He starts, but she twists his arm further.
“Am I clear?” She says again.
“Alright, fine!”
She shoves him away and he stumbles, nearly falling to the floor as April storms out, Hotch still standing in the doorway, watching Billy.
“I told you,” Billy says, pushing himself to standing, “She’s a crazy bitch.”
“Detective, let me make myself very clear. If you continue to harass my agent or impede on this investigation in any way, not only will I make sure you never have a career in law enforcement again, I will arrest you for obstructing a federal investigation.”
Billy shakes his head, “She’s got you all wrapped around her finger.”
“And I think your boss has you wrapped around his finger. He’s the one who arrested Brandon Perry. Seems like he would have a lot more to lose if he was wrong than you would.”
“He wasn’t wrong.”
“Then let us conduct the investigation. If it leads back to Brandon Perry, then so be it.”
“You really think she’d accept that?”
“If the evidence led us there, she would. Now stay out of our investigation if you value your job.” Hotch leaves without giving him time to respond and then tries to find April.
“Are you alright?” He asks when he finds her. She’s sitting alone at a conference table.
“I’m fine, Billy��s just an asshole.”
“There’s more to your relationship than you told me to begin with.”
She frowns, “What are you talking about?”
“You said you came up here to visit a friend. Who were you visiting?”
“I’m tired of being interrogated--”
“The reason Billy is so sure you killed Brandon Perry is because you were with him that night and then you left suddenly, isn’t it?”
April sighs and looks down at the table, “Hotch, I appreciate everything you’re doing to help, but who I was with and what I was doing that night doesn’t change the fact that I didn’t kill Brandon so please just drop it.”
He shakes his head and he looks almost frustrated with April, but that doesn’t make any sense. Why would he care so much about her relationship with Billy? “I don’t understand why you would waste your time on a cop like that, look at what a mess it put you in.”
She frowns, “With all due respect, sir, it’s really not your business who I’m sleeping with.”
“Why did you leave that night if you didn’t kill Brandon?”
She scoffs, “I can’t believe this.”
“Answer the question.”
She was angry with him. Practically bursting at the seams with rage. Just like every other man, thinking he’s entitled to everything about her. They all disappointed her in the end. “Billy and I had a fight and I wanted to be alone.”
“What was the fight about?”
“He wanted to be an official couple again. I didn’t.”
“Why not?”
She tilts her head to the side, “Just because I’m a good fuck doesn’t mean he gets to claim me. Like you said, he’s just a stupid cop and I could do better. Now will you leave me alone?”
April recognized that look in his eyes: He was jealous. Aaron Hotchner was jealous that she had a sexual relationship with another man. And suddenly her anger evaporated and was replaced by desire. She supposed she did always have a thing for older men which she was sure a profiler would say had to do with her dead dad. Either way, she sent a smoldering glare his way until he left her alone.
When he left, she rested her head on the table in exhaustion and didn’t notice Emily had approached until she heard the seat in front of her being pulled out. She raises her head and manages a smile, “Hi.”
“How are you doing?” She asks.
“Better now that you’re here, I’m tired of all the men around here.”
She laughs, “Good. Well, the sketch artist is here and I’m sad to report that he is a man.” April groans. “But, I will stay with you if you want and then I think we’re all going to work through the night, but Hotch was talking about bringing you back to the hotel to get some rest. It sounds like you had a rough day.”
“Yeah,” She sighs, “Cognitive interviews are the worst.”
As promised, Emily sits with her while she talks to the sketch artist and Hotch walks over not long after. When it’s finished, Emily gives your hand a squeeze and leaves with the sketch to pin to the evidence board.
“You should get some rest, I’ll take you back to the hotel now.” Hotch says, hands in his pockets. It was intriguing to her that he could act like he didn’t just ask about her sex life only an hour ago.
“I can’t sleep in that room again.”
“You can sleep in mine. I’ll sleep on the floor,” He adds quickly upon seeing the look on her face.
She sighs, “You don’t have to sleep on the floor, just don’t touch me.”
“Won’t be a problem.” And with the indifference in his tone, she thought maybe she had actually imagined everything earlier.
“Great.” She murmurs and gets up to walk out first.
Hotch stays behind for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose and Rossi comes up behind him, “You picked a terrible time to start giving her hints about the way you feel, Aaron.”
“We’re trying to solve a case about her family’s murder and all I can think about is how pissed off it makes me to know that she’s been sleeping with someone else.”
“You’re human.”
Hotch just shakes his head and walks away.
***
“Daddy driving you home?”
The voice behind April makes her jump, her hand flying automatically to her gun.
“Woah, it’s just me April.” Billy laughs, leaning up against the station building, “You really are on edge, lately, huh? A sign of guilt or genuine fear?”
She could strangle him right here, she thinks. But instead, she reigns in her temper and leans against the wall next to him, “What about your daddy, huh? Haven’t seen him here all day. Is he too busy making wrongful arrests?”
Billy scoffs, “Yeah, and how’s your stupid little profile going? Did you find the real killer yet?”
She sighs, “You cops are all the same, think your old fashioned police work is better than profiling.”
Billy looks like he’s about to respond, but Hotch walks through the door just then, “There’s daddy, you better hurry up and get in the car like a good girl.”
Hotch barely registers what Billy’s said before April launches herself at him, fists flying. He immediately reacts, grabbing her arms, “Hunter, hey, hey! That’s enough! Get in the car.” He says sternly.
She shakes him off, but walks to the car all the same.
“Fucking bitch.” Billy mutters, drawing Hotch’s attention back to him.
“Detective, I thought I made myself clear that you were to stay away from my agent and out of my case.”
Billy steps up, eye to eye with Hotch, “This is my station, agent. Back off.”
Hotch stares him down for a few more moments, “The superintendent will be hearing from me tomorrow, at the very least you’ll be getting suspended. Maybe now’s a good time for you to clean out your desk.” And then he turns and walks back to the SUV, ignoring Billy’s curses behind him.
Once Hotch is in the SUV and starts driving away, he starts talking to April, “When you’re out in the field you represent me, you represent the team, and the whole bureau. You can’t just--”
“I don’t need a lecture right now.”
He’s surprised to hear tears in her voice and it softens him immediately, “April, I’m sorry I’ve been so hard on you today.”
“You’ve only done what you need to do to solve the case, you shouldn’t apologize.”
“No, no, I… I shouldn’t have questioned you about Billy earlier. You were right, it’s none of my business.”
“It’s fine.” She says. First indifference, now an apology. Maybe she really had imagined everything. “I just want to sleep.”
***
Hotch works for a while by the light of the lamp when you get into bed, poring over the case files again and again, trying to figure out if they had missed anything. He’s pretty sure April is actually sleeping and once he’s sure he can’t get any more work done, he turns off the lamp and gets ready for bed.
He slips in the bed as quietly as possible, hoping not to wake her, but there’s the smallest moan that escapes her lips when the mattress shifts. A moment later, she turns over, still in sleep and slings her arm over his chest, sighing contentedly as she rests her head on his chest. Hotch freezes, unsure of how to react before slowly wrapping his arms around her in return. Her shampoo smells like peaches and vanilla and he breathes it in deeply knowing in the morning she’ll pretend this never happened.
***
When April wakes up and finds herself in Hotch’s arms, legs tangled under the sheets, she does her best not to panic. With the way they were positioned, it was clear she had initiated this which was all the more embarrassing. Lucky for her though, she doesn’t have to figure out her next move because his phone rings. She pretends to be asleep as he slowly comes to wakefulness and reaches for his phone.
“Hotchner.” His voice is husky from sleep and it sends a thrill through her and she imagines for a moment what it would be like if Aaron Hotchner was hers. Then she hears Billy’s voice in her head calling him her daddy and the moment sours.
“Okay.” He says after a few moments, “We’ll be there as soon as we can.”
He ends the call and sets the phone back on the nightstand, but to her surprise, he doesn’t immediately wake her. “Are you awake?” He whispers after a few moments and she tries not to balk.
“Mmm.” Is all she manages and she keeps her eyes closed, not sure she can meet his eyes like this.
“They’ve, um… Another family was killed last night.” He tries to say it as gently as possible, but she shoots up in bed anyway, “The daughter was killed as well this time.”
She’s shaking her head, “No… No, that can’t be. She has to… She can’t be dead.”
“It’s probably a message to you.” Hotch says calmly.
She scoffs, “That’s great. A whole family’s dead because of me.”
“This isn’t your fault.”
“Oh, like hell it isn’t.” She says, climbing out of bed and pulling on her jeans. She doesn’t fully realize who she’s getting dressed in front of until Hotch tries to subtly avert his eyes. “I should’ve solved this case years ago. I’ve known it was serial for a while. I could have saved them.”
“You know as well as I do that thinking like that isn’t helpful for anyone.” He says, following her lead and getting dressed in front of her. The fact that they’re both acting like nothing out of the ordinary has taken place between them makes everything somehow even more intimate.
She sighs, “Let’s just get over there.” And she walks into the bathroom to brush her teeth.
***
April can feel the bile rising in her throat as her team mills around the crime scene. She’s crouched next to the girl, Layla, whose throat had been slit. She had also been stabbed too many times to be counted by the naked eye. Her eyes stared blankly ahead, but April could see the fear there. He had left her here, in front of her parents’ bodies, naked. “He went through the entire ritual, even the shower, then brought her back down here and killed her.”
“He’s always been very controlled and organized, but this last kill is full of rage.” Prentiss notices.
April frowns as she looks at Layla’s throat and notices that it almost seems to be bulging, “I think there’s something in her throat.” She pulls on her latex gloves while everyone crowds around her and then gently prys the girl’s jaw open. Reaching in, her fingers brush what feels like crumpled paper at the back of her throat and April pulls it out. Heart racing, she smooths it open.
Welcome home, April. I’d like to see the woman I’ve created. Arrive alone at the place where we first met, 20:00.
Everyone was silent as April read the note over and over after reading it aloud the first time. The word “alone” had been underlined several times. There was no threat attached to it, but April knew it was one all the same.
“We’ll have to call SWAT and let them know, we’ll also have to prepare the local police--”
“No.” April cut off Hotch, “You can’t be serious, he said to come alone.”
“April, his end game is clearly to kill you, if you go there by yourself you won’t come back out. And I already told you you’re not allowed to handle the arrest.”
“This is our one shot to get him,” Her eyes water, “This family died because of me--”
“Hunter--”
“Stop.” The tears fall down her cheeks and he wants to brush them away like he had the day before. “I won’t let this happen again, I’m going to see him by myself.”
“At least go in with a wire, we’ll stay a safe distance away.” Morgan bargained.
She shifts her attention to Morgan, to her team who are all looking at her sadly. Concern dripping heavy from their limbs. “No SWAT.” She insists, “Just this team.”
Hotch sighs and rubs a hand over his face, “You’re sure you can handle this?”
She wasn’t, but she nods anyway.
“Fine.” Is all he says before walking away.
***
Aaron is conscious of her eyes on him as he helps her put the wire on, “You steer the conversation away from yourself when you’re in there. Don’t let your guard down for a second. He’s going to try to get in your head, blame you for what he’s done. Don’t let him, just feed his ego and then call us when you’ve got him. Okay?”
“Yeah.” She says quietly.
He finishes putting the wire on and leans away from her in the surveillance van, “I can go in with you.” He says, giving it one last shot.
“No.”
He nods resolutely, “Promise me you’ll walk out of there alive.” She avoids meeting his eyes, “April.”
Finally she locks her eyes to his, “I’m scared.” She says, and her voice shakes.
It’s the first time he’s heard her admit it. He’d known she felt it, but she’d never admitted it. “Listen to me.” He says firmly, “You are not the twelve year old girl he knew. You’re stronger than him. You can do this.”
She takes a deep breath and nods, moving around him to exit the van.
“Be careful.” He says one last time and he thinks maybe she’s aware of just how worried he is about her, his eyes full of concern.
She gives him a small smile before turning away and walking down the street, rounding the last block to her childhood home, the house she hadn’t entered again since the murders. The town was small and since everyone knew what had happened there, it had never been sold.
April stands just outside the house for a minute, hand hovering just above her gun, trying to get both hands to stop shaking. Hotch believes in you. She reminds herself, recalling his words in the van. She can do this.
She’d been avoiding thinking about all his touches in the last few days. The way his rough, callused fingers felt so gentle on her face when she cried. The way he’d wrapped his arms around her in sleep, almost protectively. The way when he woke to answer his phone this morning he had absently stroked her shoulder. Did they mean anything to him or was he just an overworked, touch starved man, desperate for any sort of attention, even from her.
Shaking the thoughts from her head, she headed for the door, raising her gun as she approached. The door was already slightly ajar and she pushed it lightly with the pads of her fingers. Carefully, she cleared each room, heart ricocheting against her rib cage, though she already knew where he’d be waiting for her.
After they had found the last family, Garcia had been able to ID the killer based on the sketch and the tattoo as Allen Grey. He had the usual tough past, abusive father and mother, grew up in poverty. His parents died when he was still young and his older sister was left to take care of him, and she then continued the cycle of abuse, escalating to sexual assault. It explained the mercy for the young boys and torture of the eldest daughters, but April couldn’t bring herself to feel sympathy for him.
She stood at the top of the basement stairs, could already see the lights on down there and could hear Madonna’s Like a Virgin playing on vinyl. April hated the way her body reacted, the way everything in her was telling her to run. She was a federal agent for Christ’s sake, she took down killers like this one all the time. He was no different, she tried to assure herself, he was just like the rest. And then she steeled herself, brought her gun back up in front of her at eye level, and began descending the stairs.
“There you are! Welcome home, April!” Allen says cheerfully as you point the gun at him, “Now, now, come on, I don’t have a weapon,” He raises his hands, “Why don’t you holster that gun, Agent Hunter.” He had an arrogant smirk on his face.
Tears stung the corners of her eyes and her finger flexed on and off the trigger, wanting so bad to just pull it and be done with it. But she knew her team was listening and this was exactly why Hotch hadn’t wanted her in the field for this. She lowered her weapon and put it back in her holster.
“That’s better. Why don’t you have a seat?” He gestured to the worn out table and chairs, “Let’s have a drink. Talk.”
She swallowed thickly, “No thank you.” She managed.
“No, come on now, April. We have to catch up!”
“Why did you bring me here?”
He smiles at her again and comes closer to her. Slowly, he pulls a knife out of his pocket and brings it up for her to see. She balks, but he quickly grabs her from the back of her neck to keep her steady and runs the knife gently over her face. “You were always so clever, April.” She keeps eye contact with him, doing her best not to show any fear. “So pretty and smart. I only followed you, after, you know? You were… number two, I believe. I chased the high I got with you with everyone after, but none of them were the same.”
“Is that why you stopped for a while after the fourth family?”
He nods, “Like I said, you were always so smart. And then I saw how you became obsessed with people like me, went to college to study criminal justice, always thinking about me. Joined the FBI because you were so obsessed with me, weren’t you, little April?”
She wanted to spit in his face, but she remembered what Hotch said about feeding into his ego, “They say you never forget your first.” She says cooly, almost seductively.
It works, an arrogant smile twists its way up his face and he pockets the knife. “All I ever wanted was to find you,” She says, slipping into character, “See those blue eyes again. I dream about them every night.” None of these statements are lies, but the tone she takes when delivering them, the sweetness she adds to it, the act she puts on makes bile rise in her own throat.
“I knew it.” He says, looking at her with newfound desire, “We’re soulmates, you know?” His words are gentle, but he grips her by the hair again and pulls, exposing her neck. “Let’s run away together, baby.”
“Okay.” She says softly, “I’m ready.”
Hotch is already ordering the team to go in, jumping out of the back of the van with Morgan. Through his earpiece, he listens closely to you. He can hear your fear in the way you’re breathing, but he’s not sure Allen is picking it up from you.
When she agrees to go with him, he spins her and shoves her against a wall, her head painfully bouncing off the cement. He laughs as she winces and then leans in to kiss her throat, “Are you going to tell your team to leave us alone?” He reaches under her shirt where the wire is and yanks it off her. “April, April, April. My clever, clever girl. You had to know I would have expected you not to come by yourself.”
He pushes himself off her and walks to the table, reaching under it and pulling out a gun that he had taped there earlier.
April’s jaw tenses as he raises the gun to point it at her head, “You won’t kill me.” She says smoothly, though she’s not sure she believes it herself.
“No,” He cocks the gun and turns slightly to aim towards the doorway, “But if Aaron Hotchner walks through that doorway I’ll kill him.”
She does her best to betray nothing, but a muscle in her jaw jumps involuntarily and he narrows his eyes at her, “Yeah, I thought you liked him.”
“I care about everyone on my team.” She says stiffly.
He shakes his head, “No. Don’t forget April, I’ve been watching you. I know your weaknesses as I’m sure you know mine and the past few days here I’ve noticed the way you look at Agent Hotchner when you think he’s not looking. But he always notices because he’s always aware of you, even when he tries his hardest not to be. So, April, I’ll give you one chance,” He hands the wire back over to her, “Tell Aaron to back off.”
Reluctantly, she takes the wire from him. “Hotch,” She breathes, “Stand down.”
Hotch holds a hand up to the team on the outside, signaling them to stand down, though he can barely hear past the roaring in his ears.
“There,” Her voice comes in his earpiece again, “Are you happy now?”
“I’ll be happy when he hears me kill you and knows there’s nothing he can do to stop it.”
“I thought we were running away together.”
“You think I can’t tell when you’re playing me?”
“No, I know you can’t tell when I’m playing you.” Something in April had unlocked when Allen threatened Hotch. Threatened her team. And she knew Hotch could hear them and though she had told him to stand down, he was trying to figure out another way to get to her. He wouldn’t stop until she was out of there, whether it ended with both her and Allen in body bags or Allen in cuffs. But she wouldn’t let it come to that.
“Since you’ve been watching me my whole life, you know the entire town thought I killed my own family and that I lied about the whole thing. Do you know why they thought that? Because they saw in me what my team sees in people like you.” She walks up to him, and though every instinct screams to run, she instead places a hand on his chest, “That night… you made me into you. So no, Allen,” It’s the first time she uses his name and she relishes the shock that lights in his eyes, “You can’t tell when I’m playing you.” Capitalizing on his surprise, she disarms him the way Morgan has drilled into her over and over, quickly slamming his wrist into the nearest surface and catching the gun when he releases his grip. Faster, she takes a step back from him and draws her gun as well, now pointing two weapons at him, “And I think you’ve overplayed your hand, babe.”
He raises his hands and now there’s genuine fear in his eyes, “April--”
“I’d like you to very slowly remove the knife from your pocket and toss it to the floor and if you even think about launching it at me, just know that I am a very good shot and I have been dreaming about killing you every day since I was twelve, don’t tempt me.” Her voice shakes, but this time not from fear, but from anger that she’d harbored close to her chest since the man who stood in front of her stole everything from her.
As Allen slowly does as he’s told, April hears footsteps on the stairs and is relieved when she spots another gun trained on Allen in her peripheral. Morgan begins to walk to Allen, but April stops him, “No.” She says, “I want to do it.”
He nods and redraws his gun, backing away. She holsters her own weapon and hands Allen’s gun back to Hotch without looking at him. Drawing cuffs from her pocket, she walks behind Allen who has managed to get a smirk back on his face. The sight breaks something in her and she roughly shoves him against the wall, feeling satisfaction at his grunt of pain when his face collides with the cement. She tightens the cuffs a bit more than necessary and begins stating his rights to him as she marches him up the stairs.
“I’m going to be a legend, you know? They’ll make all these dateline documentaries about me and the families I’ve killed.” He’s smiling still as April shoves him in the backseat of Billy’s police car. She’s trying not to think about the fact that he showed up here.
“Prisoners don’t look too fondly on those among them who kill and rape children, Allen, and I’m going to make sure that whatever cell block you rot in knows exactly what you’ve done. Have a nice life.” And she slams the car door.
Billy’s watching her as she does so, “I’m sorry.” He says simply.
April sighs, “I don’t care.” She says without looking at him and then walks away.
Hotch is watching her, arms crossed and frowning deeply. She stops in front of him, tilting her head to the side and noticing the concern written all over his face as he sizes her up, “Thank you for backing off when I asked you to. I know that was hard for you.”
He simply pushes himself off the car that he was leaning against and pulls her to his chest. She feels surprised for a moment, but then wraps her arms around his waist in return, breathing him in, focusing on his touch rather than Allen’s. And when the sobs begin to wrack her body, he just holds her tighter. He knows the rest of the team is watching and maybe he’ll have to explain this later, the way he rests his head on top of hers to reassure himself as much as her, but he doesn’t much care. He’d been fairly certain she was going to die in there and he’d never have the chance to tell her how he really felt.
Hotch drives back to the hotel with her sleeping in the passenger seat. The medics had checked her out and concluded that she didn’t really have any injuries, but his heart had nearly shattered in his chest when April asked if there was any way they could refill her sleeping medication. They had been unable to, but decided to give her a few doses of ambien anyway, to last her until she could call her prescriber back in DC.
“You can take as much time off as you need when we get back.” He had said as they climbed in the SUV, his too big FBI jacket wrapped tightly around her shoulders as she immediately popped the ambien in her mouth.
“I don’t need to take time off.” Was all she said before she curled herself in a tiny ball, facing the car door, and fell asleep only minutes later.
Now, he pulled into the hotel parking lot, rain falling gently against the windows and debated whether he should wake her. “April.” He said softly, gently shaking her shoulder.
“Mmm.” She murmurs and her eyes flutter. Still straddling the line between sleep and wakefulness, seeing Hotch’s face above hers prompts a small smile. “Aaron.” She says softly and reaches her hand up to touch his face.
Hearing her use his first name so tenderly sends a jolt through him, but he reminds himself that she’s sedated, albeit lightly, from the ambien. “Do you think you can walk up to the hotel room?”
She nods sleepily and he quickly gets out of the car to help her out of the other side, pulling the hood of his jacket over her head to shield her from the rain. She walks slowly because of the drug, but he doesn’t mind. And when she slides her hand down to his to intertwine their fingers, he doesn’t mind that either. When they get to the hotel room she wordlessly strips down to her underwear and climbs into bed.
He stares at her for a while, unsure if she would want him in the bed or not, and decides it’ll be safest to sleep on the couch. He begins taking some cushions off the couch when he hears her voice, “Aaron?” There was his name again. He wasn’t sure why hearing her say it had him coming undone, but he wanted her to repeat it over and over again.
“Yes?”
“Why won’t you come to bed?”
He opens and closes his mouth a couple times before responding, “I was going to sleep on the couch.” She’s quiet for too long and he thinks she must’ve fallen asleep so he turns back to the couch.
“I don’t want to sleep alone.” Her voice is so quiet, he wonders if he imagined it. But when he turns back to the bed, she’s watching him, eyes full of sadness and what he thinks might also be desire. He can’t say no to her. She continues watching him as he takes off his clothes, first unbuttoning his shirt. She watches him carefully, no traces of shyness and he tries his best not to let on the way her attention affects him. He undoes his belt buckle and then pulls off his pants before walking to the bed, pushing the sheets aside, and climbing in.
She turns to him and brings their faces close enough that just another inch would have them rubbing noses together. “Why have you been so nice to me this whole case?”
It’s not what he was expecting her to say and he frowns, “It was a tough case for you that brought back a lot of trauma, why wouldn’t I be nice to you?”
She shrugs, “I know you’ve never liked me the way you like the rest of the team--”
“That’s not true--”
“Aaron.” He wonders if maybe she’s caught on to the way saying his name affects him as his mouth closes immediately, “I’m not stupid, I haven’t been here nearly as long as the others and I certainly never open myself up in front of them the way the rest of you do. It’s not anyone’s fault, I’m just… Not a part of the family. But this case… You treated me the way you would treat Reid, JJ, Morgan, Prentiss… Any of them. Why?”
“The second you join this team you’re a part of this family and I’m sorry we made you feel otherwise.”
She rolls her eyes and turns her head to look at the ceiling, “Would you have shared a bed with any of them?”
Heat floods his face and he’s glad she’s not looking at him. “No.” He says and he’s sure his voice, thick with desire has betrayed him.
But April only nods, still staring at the ceiling, “Is it just because you’re lonely?”
It’s then that he realizes what she’s getting at. He hears the vulnerability in her voice, the fear there. She thinks she’s not good enough for him and it breaks his heart even further. “April, look at me.” She manages to turn her head to him and her eyes are glassy. “You have shown the last few days how incredibly resilient, intelligent, and just amazing you are. You can’t really think that the only reason I keep reaching for you is because I’m lonely.”
She smiles sadly, “You wouldn’t be the first.”
A lesser man would’ve taken this personally, perhaps groan about how she could think so little of him, but Aaron was different. He understood what she’d been through, that he could have been Superman himself and she’d still have her doubts.
“Then I suppose I’ll have to prove it to you.”
She turns her head back to him and frowns, a trace of amusement on her face, “And how do you plan on doing that?”
Hesitantly, he reaches out and strokes a thumb across her cheek, “I’d like to start by just holding you tonight, if that’s alright.”
She closes her eyes at his touch, nuzzling her face further into his palm and he melts. “I’d like that.” She says softly.
So he gently wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her to him. Her little sigh of contentment as she settles against his chest is almost too much for him to take. “Aaron?” She says after he's spent a few moments just listening to her heartbeat.
“Hm?”
“You’re the only man I’ve ever felt truly safe around.”
He feels her sadness then and he tightens his grip around her to convey that he’s sorry she feels that way, but he’s grateful for her trust. They fall asleep like that and neither attempt to move away from the other the entire night.
***
“So this is a date.” It had been about two months since they had gotten back from Maine and Aaron had been nothing but a gentleman to her. So much so, in fact, that at some points she thought he was no longer interested in her.
He chuckles, “It’s not a date. We’re meeting the team.”
“Yes, but you’re taking me,” April grins, linking her arm through his as they walk towards the bar, “So it’s a date.”
“If it was a date I would’ve done this--” Hotch spins her in front of him and abruptly kisses her. At first, she freezes, but when he gently nips at her bottom lip she moans slightly, kissing him back. As sudden as it began, it ends and Aaron is staring at her with a look of such arrogant satisfaction she wants to slap him.
“Okay, so it is a date.” She murmurs quietly as Aaron steps around her and walks away, “I knew it.”
When Aaron opens the door to the bar for her, he casually slips his hand in hers, intertwining their fingers. He notes her questioning look from the corner of his eye, but just squeezes her hand in response. And instead of detaching herself from him when the team notes their arrival, she squeezes his hand in return, even when the relentless teasing from the team commences.
Aaron only slips away from her to go get them drinks and even then she looks back for him. It’s the most unsure of herself he’s ever seen her and it only broadens his grin.
“You finally did it, eh? Attaboy, Aaron.” Rossi’s already at the bar, a whiskey in hand and another on the bar that he slides to Aaron. He takes it and then orders April a gin and tonic.
“It’s just one date, Rossi. She’s still… hesitant.”
“She doesn’t look hesitant,” Rossi says, looking over his shoulder, “She hasn’t taken her eyes off you since you walked away from her.”
Aaron smirks, “Yes, well, I’ve discovered playing hard to get is very effective with her.” He tips the bartender and clinks his glass with Rossi before walking back over to April. When he hands her the drink, she seems to shrink into his side, taking larger gulps of her drink than he thought she should.
“Slow down,” He plucks the drink from her hand and places it on a nearby table, “Why are you so nervous?”
“Look at all of them just staring at us, I feel pressured.”
“Pressured into what, being with me?”
“Aaron, no,” She places a hand on his arm, sensing the insecurity rising in him, “I want to be with you.”
“Then what?”
She shrugs and reaches for her drink again, but Aaron covers her hand before she can, clearly expecting an answer from her. She sighs and looks up at him, “I feel pressure to be perfect because I can see on their faces how much they love you and I don’t want to fuck this up and then you all hate me because I wasn’t good enough for you.” It all comes out in a rush and she feels breathless after admitting it, her cheeks reddening as he lifts his hand, allowing her to reach for her drink.
“April, they like you just as much as they like me.” She rolls her eyes and he reaches out to tip her chin up gently with his fingers, “You could never mess this up.”
“I messed it up with Billy.”
He drops his hand, unable to hide the annoyance and jealousy on his face at the mention of Billy, “Billy was an immature boy who didn’t know how to treat you anyway.”
She smirks, “And you’re a big strong man who can sweep me off my feet at a moment’s notice?” He manages the smallest of smiles as a slow song starts playing, “Come on, Hotchner. Ask me to dance.”
“You want to dance in front of the team?”
“Well you brought me here to show me off, didn’t you?” He gives her a look like he’s offended she would even think so and she laughs, “Please?” She pouts, “Billy would dance with me if he were here.” She adds teasingly, her eyes glittering with mischief.
Hotch shakes his head at her, but he’s grinning, “You love causing trouble, don’t you?” And she laughs in response as he takes her hand and pulls her to the dance floor, letting his left hand rest gently on the small of her back, his other hand holding hers.
He twirls her around the room and with the whole team watching, he kisses her as the song ends. Their lips worked together to teach each other their own dance and for a moment, it’s just the two of them, until the rest of the team starts jeering and April pulls away, her face flushed. Aaron is still looking at her, smiling and she reaches up with her thumb to swipe at his mouth, “I got some lipstick on you.” She says quietly.
“Can I take you home?” He says finally and his voice is husky and full of want.
She wonders if he’s aware of how alluring the sound of his voice is. “Yeah.” She responds swallowing.
He leads her out of the bar after much protesting from the rest of the team, but all he wants and needs is to get April, April who’s smiling at him from ear to ear, home and in bed with him. They settle into their new relationship with ease, the team noting that they’d never seen either of them smile so much and all of April’s fears and insecurities melted away day by day.
As long as her unit chief quietly placed a coffee on her desk every morning with a sweet note attached to it, she figured she could overcome anything.
219 notes · View notes
fatefulfaerie · 3 years
Text
Domesticity
Zelink Week 2021 prompt #5/7 @zelinkweek2021
Word Count: 1,951
Incarnation: Breath of the Wild 2 (post)
Additional Prompts Followed: Hearts, Family
No Trigger Warnings
“Is one of us dying?”
The feast was definitely unsettling to Wendie, and although she was mostly joking, she couldn’t help but think that such a nice dinner at such a random time of the year was odd. Of course her dad was a great cook, but this was a step above, despite there being no family birthdays for at least three months and no holidays for five.
“No,” her mother said as she placed on the table a large bowl of goat-buttered mashed potatoes, one of Wendie’s favorite foods. She had said it with a slight motherly laugh and a warm smile. “No one is dying. We’re just having a family dinner.”
The mother, who went by the name Zelda, had aged gracefully over the past twenty years, blonde hair highlighted with streaks of white that her husband would often call angelic and ethereal when she would doubt her beauty. At the moment, her age-hued hair was swept into a single braid behind her head, messy yet secure.
“Our family dinners aren’t usually this elaborate,” Wendie observed. “You made mashed potatoes and seafood rice balls—which is Elyjah’s favorite food—grilled carrots, meat pie, mushroom skewers and you have an apple turnover on the counter for dessert!”
“Nothing gets past you,” her father said, putting a bowl of baked and salted radishes on the table. His blue eyes looked over to Zelda. “I think we raised them too smart.”
“Nonsense,” Zelda said, walking forward and using the rag that was just draped over her shoulder to wipe a smattering of flour off of Link’s forehead. “Where’s Elyjah?”
Wendie made a sound that sounded a lot like a lazy “I don’t know” while shrugging her shoulders where she sat at the table.
“He can just eat when he gets home,” Wendie reasoned. “There’s more than enough food.”
Wendie didn’t see her parents exchange glances, the seventeen-year old not caring in the slightest that her twin brother wasn’t here to ruin her first dibs on dinner.
“I’ll try and find him,” Zelda said with a sigh, Wendie looking back up at her parents. Link nodded as Zelda departed. Wendie once again questioned what was going on.
“Ly!” The father and daughter heard outside, Zelda from just the doorstep of their modest Hateno home calling out to the entirety of Hyrule. Link sat down across from his daughter, elbows on the table and arms folded into each other. The deep thought he was in concerned Wendie greatly. He wouldn’t even meet her glance. Was she in trouble?
“Okay, okay, I’m coming.”
Elyjah.
Of all the people to be in trouble, surely it was him. He had never gotten into anything truly bad but he was the biggest prankster in Hateno. The only shop he wasn’t banned from was the dye shop. The green-eyed troublemaker was here nonetheless and Wendie prepared herself for another fun show. Zelda moved to sit down next to Link at the table but Elyjah stopped as soon as he saw the table, mouth popped open and body frozen.
“Is someone dying?”
He had looked over to his sister when he asked the question.
“Yeah,” she said. “You.”
“What?” Elyjah asked, almost believing it.
“Wendie, that’s enough now,” Zelda said, before looking over to her son. “No one is dying. We would just like to talk to you both.”
Elyjah sat next to Wendie with the same bewildered look as her, trying to figure out what it was before their parents spit it out. It was like Hylia’s Day presents except they didn’t have a good feeling about this, especially when Link took Zelda’s hand and looked at their children, ready to address them.
And yet it was Zelda who started.
“Do you two remember the fairytale we used to tell you?” Zelda inquired, her voice shaky. “The bedtime story? Of the princess and the knight?”
Neither Elyjah nor Wendie had any clue of the relevance, but they both remembered the tale well.
“The one with the weird ending?” Wendie asked nonetheless. “Where he rescued her and then that was it?”
“Yeah,” Elyjah said. “Didn’t they just stare at each other in silence? After all they had been through, it seemed like there should have been more.”
Link dove his hand into his forehead.
“Zelda, you could have given them a better ending,” Link suggested.
Zelda scoffed and put her hands on her hips.
“It was a lesson in imagination,” she said. “And clearly none of you have any.”
“But that’s besides the point…” Link said, prompting Zelda in a different direction.
“Yes,” Zelda said, nodding at Link and returning her gaze to their children, confused as ever. And yet she smiled at them.
“You both have grown up so fast,” Zelda said. “We both love you very much and cannot believe that you have blossomed right before our eyes into adults.”
Zelda’s smile became sad and she bowed her head.
“You see it’s a lot easier to lie to children.”
Wendie’s brow furrowed.
“Lie…” she repeated from her mother.
When Zelda’s head tilted back up, green was glazed with waves of coming tears, making the emeralds that Link fell in love with a hundred years ago shine even brighter.
“That fairytale…” Zelda said. “The princess who used her sealing power to keep away Calamity Ganon and the knight who slept in a ruined Hyrule for a hundred years in order to recover from his injuries and save her…”
Zelda stopped herself. Twenty years of keeping it in and it seems it wanted to stay in. She wrestled with her conflicted heart, kept it at bay long enough for her to blurt it out.
“It’s true,” Zelda said, no weakness in her voice, no lie, no apprehension. “The knight and the princess really did fight the calamity, really did survive a century to see it through and then some. Once they tracked down the cause of the anomaly, destroying the true form of Ganon, they settled down in Hateno. They got married and eventually gave life to twins, a boy and a girl.” Zelda’s eyes were proud as she looked upon her children, although they glistened with tears. Her heart hurt to see their faces in shock, but the outspoken truth felt better than she could have imagined. She felt Link’s grip tighten around her fingers.
“You both have royal blood in you,” Zelda said. “Even though I stepped away from the throne in the search of a simpler, more fulfilling life, you both still have claim to the titles of Prince Elyjah and Princess Wendie. We wanted you to know in case that path would prove fulfilling for you and…well, now that you’re adults you have the right to know the truth.”
Wendie stood up and walked out of the house, her parents not daring to stop her. Elyjah, however, just sat in shock, piecing it all together in his mind. Link and Zelda both could see his green eyes working, much like his mother’s did when she went over schematics or theorized about plant life.
“The story,” he finally started, “everything you went through…the pressure…you wanted to protect us from that…you wanted to give us the childhood you never had…that neither of you had.”
Link nodded.
“That’s right.”
Elyjah pursed his lips and nodded. Sometimes he was just like his dad. He shrugged.
“Okay,” he said, replacing his empty plate with the one filled with the seafood rice balls meant for the whole family. “Cool,” he continued, or at least it sounded like the word “cool”, his mouth mostly filled with rice.
Link raised his eyebrows and looked over at Zelda.
“Apparently we’re…cool.” Link said the last word as if it were completely foreign.
“Not all of us,” Zelda reminded her husband. She started to stand up. “I’m gonna go talk to her.”
Yet Link placed a hand on her arm.
“I’ll go,” Link said. “You stay and enjoy the food.”
Link found his daughter on the banks of Firly Pond, knees hugged close to her chest and water lapping at her bare toes.
At first he waited with his hand on the bark of the near apple tree, pursing his lips. Sometimes he was thrust back in time twenty years, when he felt he had no idea how to be a dad. This was one of those moments.
Link saw in his mind’s eye Wendie’s big blue eyes staring up at him, stubby arms reaching for him. He smiled. She grew up so fast.
“I know you’re there,” he heard Wendie say. She didn’t turn her head away from the pond. “Did you come to give me a speech?”
Link walked towards her.
“Maybe.”
He sat down next to her and Wendie only gave him the smallest of glances.
“I feel like I don’t know my parents at all,” she finally said.
Link nodded.
“I understand.” He said. “I don’t agree, but I understand.”
Wendie looked over to his profile, trying to ascertain how he could be serious. The calamity was real and her parents fought it. Sheikah technology really could heal fatal wounds and the goddesses power really was wielded by a mortal, not to mention her own mother, who never seemed like a princess in the slightest. Her father was a knight in a kingdom that really did exist and she?
Well she was a princess. This whole time, she was a princess. The girl who was called the “ugly duckling” of the family as a child was a princess in peasant’s clothing. She almost wanted to go brag to the town, but that seemed petty for just a small ounce of appreciation from the people her age who used to tease her when they would play as children.
Her parents were legends and in comparison, what was she?
Definitely not a princess.
“You know us as what we became after everything we went through,” Link finally said, having taken the time to get his words together. “The people we were before…”
He hesitated.
“We were nothing more than what the kingdom wanted us to be…statues, legends, weapons…we were never fully ourselves, and we could never afford to be ourselves with an entire kingdom looking at us to save them from a calamity. The slivers that were left of us found a friendship in each other, one that grew into love in time. After everything was settled, we began to truly find ourselves, basking in the freedom to do so. It’s something that usually occurs in a fifteen year old but your mother and I were a hundred and twenty years old when we solved the identity crisis. She did not want to be royalty and I did not want to be a knight. When we finally did not need to be those things, we took our first breaths as Link and Zelda. We wanted our children to take those breaths from the very second they were born, and that is why we let you grow up before we told you the truth. We wanted royalty to be an option for you two, not a necessity. We wanted you to become yourselves, not tiny versions of us. I only hope we have…at least I think we have.”
Wendie smiled.
“You have,” she said. “If you want your daughter to have absolutely no idea what she wants to do with her life.”
Link brought his daughter closer by hugging her far shoulder, bringing her close enough to kiss the top of her head.
“That’s exactly what I want,” he said. It sounded strange but Link didn’t mean it as a bad thing. “Because finding out your passion for yourself is the most exciting thing in this entire wild land.”
42 notes · View notes
blu-joons · 3 years
Text
Dating BamBam ~ GOT7 Headcanon
Tumblr media
Getting Together:
BamBam definitely wasn’t backwards in coming forwards the second he saw you in the room
His eyes had been on you for the most the evening which Yugyeom soon noticed
It was the confidence that he carried himself with that caught your eye too
Despite Yugyeom’s advice, he knew exactly how he wanted to approach you and ask you out
He wasn’t nervous at all to talk to you, he had everything planned in his head
Straight away you were drawn to his big smile as he spoke
It didn’t take long for you to agree to a date with him
Of course, being BamBam he didn’t hold back, taking you to his favourite restaurant for your first date, blowing out all the stops
From the start he often had his hand somewhere on your body making you feel safe
He was a giant flirt, but that was what you loved, all his attention on you
Every so often he couldn’t help but let go of a huge laugh too
He’d always be sending you funny videos or texting you to cheer you up
He liked to be around you as often as possible going out and adventuring together
No one had ever made you laugh quite like BamBam had done before, you were always in giggles
He loved to tease the boys with details too, he wouldn’t tell them everything, but enough to leave them wanting more
After you had a word with him once, he stopped spoiling you too much on dates, enjoying the simpler things in life
A couple of months had passed since you met, and at this point, BamBam knew you were the one
He remembered simple as he planned to ask you out officially, organising a picnic for you both down by the river
It was perfect for what you wanted, bringing a smile to your face
That didn’t stop him however bringing a bottle of champagne in the hamper for the two of you to enjoy
He just couldn’t help it, he liked having someone in his life to spoil and make the most of
The two of you laid side by side as he turned to look at you, unable to hide the wide smile on his face
His hand slipped into yours, bringing it up to his lips and kissing the back of it
“I was wondering how you’d feel about making us official and being boyfriend and girlfriend rather than just dates?”
For the first time, Bam began to feel nervous around you as he waited for a reply
“I’d like that very much Bam, let’s make it official!”
His arms wrapped around you as soon as you replied, pulling you closely into him
The smile he wore was wider than ever for the rest of your afternoon together too
He couldn’t wait to go back to the studio and tell the boys he’d done it and got himself a girlfriend
Already he began to plan his future with you, when it had only really just begun for you both
Tumblr media
Being In A Relationship:
If you thought the jokes would stop after you got together, you would be very wrong indeed
And he still didn’t stop teasing the boys and oversharing all about your relationship
He loved sharing your relationship with the fans as well, gushing about you always
You weren’t just a girlfriend for BamBam, you were often a bit of a personal shopper too
He was forever playing pranks on you to wind you up, pushing the boundaries each time
Every week he’d make sure to take you out to dinner at least once so he could spend time with you
When he wanted your attention, he’d sing around the house as you’d always beg him to stop
Or he’d resort to aegyo because he knew that you could never say no to him then
He’d always pretend to be annoyed when you stole his wardrobe, there was designer stuff in there, but secretly he loved to see it on you
Of course, BamBam wasn’t just him, he came with all his cats too who you completely fell in love with
He’d love to sit back after a long day and watch you play with the cats around the living room
He wasn’t much of a cook, so he’d usually sit and order dinner whilst you played around
Yugyeom was practically a live-in feature of your house, he was always around with you both
Even though he should’ve been the third wheel, you were pretty sure you were it instead
He would always get super embarrassed when he messed up around you with a bright blush
Anytime he called his family they loved to have you on the call too so they could say hi
You’d worked hard to learn Thai in order to impress them with BamBam’s help
He loved to show off his raps to you, plus it was a bit of a turn on for you too, so it worked in both your favours
Whenever he gamed, he liked having you in the room with him, preferably sat in his lap with his arms around your sides
You’d be surprised, but BamBam is very affectionate, especially late at night when all he wants to do is fall asleep
When he was on tour without you, he loved falling asleep with you on the phone
The first time you actually got to meet his family was incredible, he would not shut up talking about you all day
You got on best of all with his sister and his mum, leaving him to catch up with his brothers
He loved to travel around with you and explore all these places he’d never seen before
Just because he’s on tour, don’t ever think that stops him from spoiling you
Parcels arrive most days, and even more gifts come when he arrives back home in his case
He’s very attentive to the things you need, even if there are thousands of miles between you both
If you’re sick, prepared to be absolutely spoilt, there’s no way you’re moving a muscle if you’re unwell
But make sure that you return the favour when he’s ill otherwise he’ll become very needy
Walking around with one eye open because he always loves to jump out and scare you
When he’s preparing for a show, he loves your opinion on his experimental makeup looks
Even though he much preferred your natural face, he’d often feel pressured to wear makeup around you
So, fill his heart with compliments and always remind him how handsome he is
If some guy has your attention, your damn straight Bam will get jealous and do whatever it takes to bring your attention back to him
He’s more than happy to make a fool of himself if it makes you smile
Prepare for him to ask you to take a lot of pictures of him to post on his social medias
But he also takes plenty of you, his favourite ones when you have no idea that he’s even doing it
Every week his lock screen changes to a new photo of the two of you to bring a smile to his face
These photos often get posted online too, so prepare for a lot of attention from the fans and adorable comments
They’re always begging for the two of you to post another photo together
He’s big on relaxation, so prepare for a lot of candles around the apartment and nice smells to calm you both down
If he can get you to the gym too that’s a win for him, and a chance for him to show you how much he’s bulking
Before every show you always send him a reassuring text to make sure that he has a good show
After every show he’d always send you a message in response to let you know how well it had done and how much he missed you
When he first gets back from tour, he’s very cuddly, you simply cannot get rid of him
It doesn’t matter where you are, he’ll be affectionate anywhere, even if the boys are begging the two of you to stop
He never runs out of things to say to you, he’s like a machine when it comes to conversation
It’s mainly because he loves to hear your voice and your opinions on everything
If he ever went live on Instagram, he’d beg you to join him and show you off to the fans
Your whole relationship was the perfect chance for BamBam to show you off
Tumblr media
 Affection/Skinship
As already mentioned, BamBam can be quite affectionate in order to show off that he’s the lucky guy that gets to be with you
He always has a hold of your hand to make sure you’re by his side and safe
Sex with BamBam is very playful, he loves to tease you and make you squirm under his touch
Intimacy is sometimes something he struggles with, so expect a lot of giggles and jokes
That didn’t stop him wanting to show off his muscles though, carrying you around whenever he could
Prepare for a lot of cuddles and kisses before getting down on each other
He liked to be the dominate one in your relationship, as the protector, he’d want to prove that he could be serious
But that didn’t stop him from sitting back sometimes and letting you take control
He likes for sex to be long and sensual, but if time didn’t allow it, he wouldn’t be opposed to a quickie with you if he could get his hands on you
Noise isn’t a problem for BamBam, he’d happily let the whole world know how good of a time he was having with you
He’s always a cuddly boy after sex, grabbing the sheet and wrapping it around you both
His hands can often be found on your ass, he simply cannot get enough of it
Whilst you’d often hold onto his arms, impressed by just how strong they were
Whenever he looked down and saw you, his breath would be taken away by how incredible you looked
Your relationship was very jokey, but BamBam used this time to really show you how much he loved you
He liked to keep his body as close to yours as possible, it didn’t matter what position you were in
But prepare for any intimate mood to somehow be ruined by a joke or two by BamBam 
Tumblr media
 Arguments:
There’s nothing in the world that BamBam hated more than when he’d argue with you
It would have to be something pretty serious for either one of you to so much a raise your voice
If you were honest, it was terrifying when you wouldn’t see joking BamBam
They never lasted too long though, it hurt you both too much not to talk to each other
You tended to be the one that walked away from an argument, but BamBam would quickly follow you to apologise
Whilst he tended to believe he was right, from time to time he could accept that maybe he wasn’t so perfect after all
You’d always talk about it afterwards; it was no good just apologising without understanding each other too
Any time you argued, it would make you quite upset, the sight was enough to break BamBam’s heart
All he’d want to do is make things right, but that wasn’t always the answer
If he’s wrong, prepare to be spoilt, BamBam will do whatever he can to make things up to you
When something blows up bad, he’ll always go to Yugyeom for a friendly bit of advice
He was always ironic and sarcastic, so it was difficult for you to realise sometimes when he was actually annoyed
But he was still very much a gentleman, he would never insult the woman he loves or speak down to you
He was much calmer than you were, he hated arguing just as much as you did, it was horrible on you both
Prepare to laugh about it as soon as you both are comfortable to do so, wondering why you even got in such a mess in the first place
Yes, BamBam got stressed sometimes, but not once did he ever take it out on you
Tumblr media
Your Relationship With The Boys:
When the boys first met you, they already felt like they had done before because BamBam talked so much about you
You were quick to join in with BamBam’s teasing which settled you in well to their friendship group
Just like he had done with BamBam, JB took you under his wing quickly and made sure to protect you from everything
You found yourself a brother in Yugyeom straight away, seeing as you practically lived with him anyway with how much time he spent with you
Jinyoung was a great distraction for you when you wanted a moment of peace to enjoy talking about serious things and your life in general
The same applied to Mark, he was super thankful to you that you took such great care of BamBam
Youngjae was like BamBam’s twin to you, he’d always make you laugh and tell stupid jokes like BamBam did
You also developed a close friendship with Jackson who always checked up on you and made sure that you were doing well
Having you around was a nice distraction for them all, there was too much testosterone in that studio anyway sometimes
But best of all, they loved showing you all their embarrassing photos of Bam to get back at him for all his teasing 
Tumblr media
The Future:
From the moment you moved into his home after a few months BamBam was convinced you were the one
He was surprisingly keen to settle down and get married as his siblings began to start their own families too
But you’d always remind him there was no rush and that instead he should enjoy the time he had with the band first
He was desperate to have children with you having seen how amazing you were with the children in his family
When the band started to be put on the backburner, BamBam knew it was the time to really focus on his family
If you think he’s ever going to abandon you, you’re wrong, he’s the most dedicated father and husband you’ve ever met
Yes, he spoils you and your family far too much, but would you ever really have it any other way?
Tumblr media
Masterlist
167 notes · View notes
Text
The Crown, The Sword, and The Gay
Meant To Be Good News
A/N: ... heyyyyy- its been a bit. I got rapped up in exams and i felt like being productive today so u get a chapterrrr and i wrote another one so u have about two chapters guaranteed ill try to be more consistent lol (also long chapter as compensation)
(also let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist!)
First | Previous| Next
words: 2286
summary: Virgil doesn't want to deal with this mess but he was sent to deliver a message so, theres not much he can do
pairings: eventual prinxiety, eventual intrulogical, eventual moceit, Remile
warnings: some potty language (not much), stress, anxiety, negative self talk, food mention, worried for a characters safety
(let me know if there's any other)
They went up the steps in silence.
As they entered through the door, Roman grabbed the basket that was abandoned during the argument. He left it on a table near the entrance, he headed towards the corner with shelves, grabbed a brown book, nothing interesting in the cover, just a plain brown book and headed towards the window seat to read.
Virgil was struggling to decide if he should try to speak or not, he absolutely despised small talk but if he didn't talk he didn't want it to get awkward. He looked over to Roman because if he did decide to talk to the prince, what in the hell would he even talk about?! Virgil saw the royal glance up from his book to look at the small table near all the shelves that had a single red book, it was simple like the one he was holding, it just had a title, yet it caused more intrigue than the other.
When Virgil took a good look at Roman he looked somehow defeated, like he had lost- no, given up on a 100 year long fight. The monarch glanced once more at the table with the red book, this time however, he caught a glimpse of the stormy knight, “ You should sit down, the trip back alone takes a few hours, it's gonna be some time before you get to go back.” Virgil looked up at the prince who had resumed his reading, “Uh… yeah” he took a seat near the desk Roman kept glancing at.
Virgil decided to take a glance at the book. It seemed to be a fictional adventure book...seems interesting. Roman looked at the table again and spotted the tall knight carefully opening the book. “It’s an adventure book. Just a fairytale.” Roman’s voice seemed to startle Virgil as he immediately slammed the book shut.
“Y-yeah sorry, I didn't mean to open it without permission, that was so rude of me and-” Roman stopped him mid rant “It's alright, you can read it. One of my personal favorite books.” The prince smiled at him to show he didn't mind “I’m not much of a reader. I just uh… got curious, I guess?” Virgil didn't seem sure of his answer. “Well, I can give you a small summary! If you’d like me to, of course.” Roman backtracked pretty quickly, snide comments about how excited he got over meaningless things forcing themselves into his head. But Virgil’s “Sure, Why not?” Made him a little less apprehensive.
“Ok! So, the story is focused on this boy named Aaron. He is a poor farm boy living with his family in a village that was overthrown by the guards, they became corrupted and betrayed the royal family and took control for themselves.” Virgil just nodded along.
”They treated the least wealthy of the kingdom the worst, they didn't have money to bribe them with so to them they were useless, it got to the point where they were becoming the robbers, they would never steal from people with money because they were cruel people. Aaron and his father wanted to make a change but his mother didn't want them to, she wanted to play it safe and just gather enough money to leave for a better place.”
Roman rambling about the story not realizing how little of a summary it actually was since he definitely wasn't being concise, “I agree with the mom. Her plan sounds safe and effective.” Virgil didn't really mind, at least he wasn't going to be bored while he waited, “Maybe so! But where's the fun in that, dear knight?” Roman didn't really get the knights perspective “May not be fun but at least they'll get outta there without a problem” Virgil thought he was in the right and that the main character would make stupid reckless decisions for the drama and suspense.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Aha! They went back to the mom’s plan anyway! There was literally no need to try and do all that heroic shit.” Virgil was now fully invested in the story, he probably wouldn't have been if Roman wasn’t such a good storyteller.
“Well yeah... But it was worth it! If they didn't try they would have never known the outcome of that situation.” Roman was happy the knight seemed invested, he was mostly happy because he finally got to discuss the book with someone, and that someone had very different opinions than himself.
There was a knock on the door.
They both looked at each other, It didn't feel like they had been talking for that long. So, who in the hell was at the door?
Virgil stood up, hand fidgeting with the hilt of his sword. Roman stood as well, they both walked towards the door. Virgil opened the door, only to find Ruth on the other end of the door. “Oh, it's the lady from earlier.” Virgil turned to Roman as he let her in.
“Nurse, how did you get back so quickly?” Roman spoke up. “I wouldn't say it was that quick, it's been a few hours. But we found someone along the way so that did speed up the process.” Ruth talked as she noticed the untouched basket and started nearing it.
Roman and Virgil on the other hand looked at each other with confusion. It didn't feel like they had been talking for more than half an hour. “I'm sorry, I must have been talking your ear off.” The royal felt a need to apologize, “Hey, at least you made the wait entertaining.” the knight did not deem it necessary.
Ruth turned and glared at Roman. “So, you haven't eaten?” Roman glanced at the untouched basket and cursed under his breath, he completely forgot. “ Well…” Ruth was not having it “You brat.” She walked behind him and started pushing him towards the table.
“I had an excuse!” Ruth stopped pushing him “And what is it?” Roman turned to meet her eye and said, “I get nauseous when I eat too early.” Ruth looked unimpressed “I'm fully aware Roman. But it's almost noon.” Roman’s brain scrambled for another excuse “I was reading and I lost track of time.” She was still very much unimpressed. “As long as it wasn't the book you always read, fine by me”
As Roman’s nurse made sure Roman ate she noticed Virgil standing a few feet behind them. “I wasn't able to introduce myself earlier. I am Ruth, the brat’s nurse.” She extended her hand with a smile. Virgil shook her hand while he chuckled, which was interrupted by Roman’s overdramatic offended noises. “Nurse! You’re making him think I'll be a nightmare to care for!”
Ruth turned to him “Was I supposed to lie to him and tell him you’re a delight? My apologies, sire” Roman put a hand on his chest and gasped. “Now I understand why Trent called you a witch!” Ruth laughed, “You’re just basically proving my point.” Roman could only grumble and go back to eating.
Ruth took a look around the tower and spotted the red book on a table. “I see you've decided to become a liar huh?” Roman turned to her “Whatever do you mean?” She walked towards the table and picked up the book “Seems like someone was reading the same book they always read, I don't understand why they read it if they've memorized the whole book!” Roman knew Ruth was only joking but he didn't appreciate being called a liar “I wasn't reading it this time it was just out in the open! You can ask him!”
Roman pointed at Virgil, Ruth just looked at Virgil expecting an answer, “He wasn't reading that book, he was reading the one by the window” it wasn't a lie. “You better not be covering for that devil.” Virgil noticed there wasn't any malice behind her voice, her words portrayed something different. “Are you accusing me of being a liar? I thought that was reserved for the prince.” Ruth started laughing “Hey! You’re supposed to be on my side!” Virgil just chuckled.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Roman’s nurse sat next to the window, looking out worriedly. Roman knew his nurse fairly well, “Has Remy not gotten back yet?” Ruth sighed and turned “My son and his tardiness again”.
Roman went over to his nurse, giving her a hug “I’m sure he’s just a little late..” Ruth tried to smile at Roman “I know Roman. I'm just a worried old hag.” Roman rolled his eyes and sat by the window
Ruth looked out the window one last time and took a deep breath. “Well I have to get going so we get there some time before sunrise” Roman stood up to say a proper goodbye to his nurse. “See you in a few days…” Roman really didn’t want to let go but he didn't have much of a choice.
Ruth started packing what she had brought in silence, once she neared the door she spoke “Roman, his and her majesty will have to be informed about this incident..” Roman was obviously not content because this would surely somehow be put partially on him. “Yes, I understand.” Ruth smiled sympathetically and turned to the storm eyed knight only a few feet away.
“Virgil, you’ll have to stay with Roman for a while longer. Commander Arlott sure didn't expect the need to find a replacement for Trent and truly not a day after being stationed here.” Virgil just nodded, he understood the circumstances and was glad to be able to witness such a sight. “The Commander insisted it would take quite some time to take someone off their post, he insisted he wasn't worried.” Ruth opened the door ready to leave, while Virgil was just trying for the pressure to not get to him.
Ruth said her final goodbyes and exited the tower.
Virgil then turned to the Royal, who went back to the same spot he had been before Ruth arrived, and just stared out the window as his nurse left.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
As Roman sat near the big window just looking out he started wondering why Virgil had even come here in the first place. He vaguely remembered Trent mentioning him being a messenger but that could just be some Knightly insult he was unaware of. So… he asked “Virgil, if you don't mind me asking...why exactly did you come here?” Virgil looked alarmed for a second as he had just zoned out for about 20 minutes “Commander Arlott, wanted me to deliver a message to Trent” Roman just responded with a simple “Oh” and resumed his staring out the window.
“So… how did the book end?” Virgil felt a little embarrassed to interrupt the silence to ask but he got extremely invested, to the point that if the Prince refused to share the information he might just read it himself. Roman just laughed, he knew how intriguing the book was “Well… In the middle of the mother’s plan being in motion they actually got word of a rebel group that had been inspired by their attempts to take the crown back.” Virgil sat down right across from the Royal nodding for him to go on.
Roman continued speaking but he kept getting distracted by a tapping sound. At first it was nothing, but then it got so prominent he couldn't ignore it anymore. Mid-rant he stopped himself and started looking around to see where the sound could possibly be coming from.
Virgil was confused as to why the heir had stopped speaking but then he started to hear taps. They didn’t sound like just a regular forest sound and they would surely not hear minuscule noises from such a height.
“Dear knight, are you hearing that?” Virgil nodded and stood up to see what could possibly be causing the ticks, Roman stood right along with him and then suddenly pointed towards the balcony doors. “Virgil, it's coming from the balcony.”
Virgil stopped to listen carefully “Yeah, but what's causing it?” They then saw a little pebble hit the glass doors of the balcony and make the tapping they had been hearing.
Roman went to the balcony with no hesitation and opened the doors.
Virgil started having his thoughts race a mile a minute, what if this was to lure the prince out to assassinate him? If the prince died on his watch he would be hung no doubt.
As these thoughts crossed his mind, he moved forward to follow the prince. He then quickly realized the prince was leaning over the balcony having a casual conversation with his possible murderer.
“Remy, what are you doing here? Ruth is going to kill you if you don't get there by sunrise!” Roman screamed down to the man in a black cape with dark tinted glasses covering his eyes. “Well yeah! But I had to make a stop here! I have something for you!” That made Roman start jumping with anticipation as to what Remy could have brought him from his trip
“What is it Rem? Is it something fancy? Is it food? Is it a book?” Though his eyes couldn't be spotted, not only because of his glasses but due to the height, it was very apparent he rolled his eyes. “No! It's a letter.” That got Roman even more excited. Could it actually be him? Roman haven't received anything but it could actually be! Finally some good news!
“Who’s it from?!” Remy looked down at the letter as if inspecting it “I don't know.” That caused Roman’s excitement to dull immensely. He would have surely marked it. There’s still a chance it could be him, right? Roman’s anticipation quickly turned into more of an anxious feeling.
taglist:
@meowthefluffy
@shade-romeo
@pattonsmile
@sevencreepycatsinacoat
@mychemically-imbalanced-romance
@innerpostturtle
@queenof-hell
@joyrose-fandomer
@vpow
39 notes · View notes
darthmarrsgf · 3 years
Text
monday night tumblr fic
or: big game hunting for fun and friendship
i love qyzen. i was so jazzed to do his alliance recruitment mission with my consular because we're buds, and this resulted. (more theron/consular. i'm being boring but this is what i have the most written/unpublished for, and also, this is Very Scary to me, so i'm easing into posting, lol.) unbeta'ed as always; probably repeated words without realizing which is one of my biggest personal demons.
~~~
“Caf?”
Sohlara responded with a single raised eyebrow.
“Fine. There’s a little whiskey in there, too.” Theron rolled his eyes as the Jedi huffed out a laugh and turned back to scan the landscape with a pair of downright antique-looking macrobinoculars. “It’s really not as bad as you think.”
She hummed noncommittally. "Should I be worried about you drinking and shooting?”
“Nah. This is just enough to pretend you’re staying warm. Besides, I’ve shot my way out of a fight with a lot more alcohol in me.”
“I can't decide if that’s reassuring or not. Here,” Sohlara said, passing the binocs to Theron. “Due north.”
Theron tucked away the flask as he squinted into the viewfinder. “Big. Think Scorekeeper will approve?”
“We’re about to find out,” she replied, offering Theron a hand after smoothly moving to stand. “We’ll go on foot. If there are more around, I don’t want to draw their attention yet.”
Theron had to pick up his pace to catch up to the woman, who had already outpaced him with seemingly silent strides through the snow. Actually, he reasoned, they probably were silent.
“You probably could have talked him into coming without offering to hunt,” he observed as he reached her side.
She shrugged. “I know I could have. But he’s a respected warrior. It’s only fair that I prove I can regain my score, the same way he did. And hopefully, it will show his men that we're worth helping.”
“So when he calls you Herald—"
“Scorekeeper’s Herald. Qyzen was an old friend of my master’s. I assume you’ve heard that story?”
Theron nodded. Between his close affiliation with several members of the Order, his history in the SIS, and details Sohlara had mentioned herself over the years, Theron was familiar with the unexpected trials that had led to her designation as Barsen’thor.
“He was on Tython when Yuon first fell ill. He helped me without question, but he was captured.”
“Which is bad.” He remembered that much.
“It’s a forfeiture—worse than death. When I freed him, I convinced him that he should try to regain his score by helping me hunt Lord Vivicar.” Sohlara stepped deftly between boulders and snow drifts, moving quickly enough to avoid the beast’s gaze. “He determined that Scorekeeper chose me as her Herald to guide him through a second chance.”
“Well… he wasn’t wrong.”
“I won’t take for granted the trust he gave me, even as a Padawan. A soft thing.” The corner of her mouth quirked. “He has honor. It’s not exactly honor in the same way you or I might see it, but I do my best to respect it.”
“Herald, Barsen’thor, Commander... You’ve racked up quite a reputation.”
“You know what the Esh-ka called me?” She paused, peering around an enormous spire of ice with her binocs.
“I truly have no idea.”
Sohlara leaned toward Theron, expression deadly serious. “Silent Teeth,” she whispered, snapping her jaw shut centimeters from Theron’s face.
“Blast—" Theron flinched, rubbing his ear as Sohlara laughed quietly and turned back to face the tundra.
“They let me pick that one, though. Oh, and there was a group of Gree ambassador droids on Coruscant—I never thought being called a ‘black bisector’ could be such a compliment."
“A black—never mind. I don’t want to know.”
Theron mimicked Sohlara’s slow crouch as they edged their way from behind the boulder. The animal was just yards away, back turned to the pair as it crunched on the bones of some unfortunate, smaller creature with a cracking sound that ricocheted through the icy canyon.
Faster than Theron could blink, she rushed forward on feet bolstered by the momentum of the Force. He sighed—he hated when she did that, because it always took him an extra second to catch up. But he couldn’t help but admire her like this. As much as they both groused about the planet’s climate, Sohlara had seemed particularly at ease since they arrived on Hoth. Between reuniting with her old friend and spending time away from the constant pressures of the Alliance base, the Commander was clearly… lighter.
As he fired off impeccably aimed rounds at the beast, Theron reflected with a twinge of guilt. He should have been paying closer attention to the clear stress Sohlara was exhibiting. She was always getting onto Theron for working too late into the night, but when was the last time she’d been able to snatch more than a few uninterrupted hours to herself?
Theron closely monitored the fight, but Sohlara took the beast down with ease and a particularly theatrical flourish of her saber.
“When was the last time you went on vacation?” Theron asked, slipping his blasters back into their holsters as the Commander wrenched a square of the animal’s pelt from its body with brutal efficiency.
Sohlara blinked up at him, sending a sudden pang of longing through Theron's chest like lightning. He willed himself to commit as much of the moment to memory as he could—the bright pink of her cheeks, brought to the surface by the combination of exertion and Hoth's frigid wind; the strands of chestnut hair flattened against her forehead with sweat; the tingle of awareness at the base of his neck as the protective Force barrier she'd cast around them retreated into her body. Even now, seeing her so vibrant and full of life felt like a miracle after all the time he'd spent trying to forget the way her eyes sparkled when they met his own.
“A vacation? Besides the five years I spent as Arcann’s wall decor, I— No. Sometimes we would stay an extra night to rest if we passed through a big city, but I suppose I've never been on a real vacation.”
Theron stepped forward, letting his fingertips brush her shoulders as he leaned in close to her lips. “Let’s take one. When we get back. Even if it’s just a couple of days.”
Sohlara’s eyes drifted shut, just for a moment, and she swayed into Theron’s space. “What exactly about hunting predator animals for sport on a desolate ice planet inspired this?”
“Nothing to do with the ice ball,” Theron declared, moving out of the way so she could shove the trophy into the sack the hunters had provided. “Although seeing you fight is always sexy. I’m serious, Sohl. Lana is more than capable of handling things for a few days, and we should go while—"
Theron swallowed. He hadn’t meant to say that part out loud, but it was too late now. “While we still have the time.”
Her expression was soft as she turned to face Theron. “Okay,” she murmured, brushing a feather-light kiss over his lips before stepping toward the main trail.
“O— Wait. Okay?” Theron blinked in surprise.
“Okay. Where are you going to take me on vacation, Agent Shan?”
Theron grinned, jogging to close the distance between them. “Somewhere warm. Somewhere private.” He reached forward to brush his hand against her ass, smirking as she nearly stumbled. “Watch it.”
“Watch—" Sohlara jammed her shoulder into his. “You can apologize on our vacation.”
15 notes · View notes
soulmate-game · 3 years
Text
Okay, I’m not sure if what I was trying to say in my last post was said very well.
I completely understand the tagging situation from the First Wave with the DC fans. That’s discourse that is mostly solved and we can’t do anything about those who are forever gonna be bitter or lazy. I’m not talking about that stuff.
The stuff I want to prevent/limit is the hate that comes after our fandom deliberately. And yes, I know I can’t stop it. None of us can stop bitter, antagonistic people from being bitter and antagonistic. None of us can stop people who just want to be angry.
I’m not talking about stopping them, though.
I’m talking about what we can do to protect ourselves as creators and consumers in this fandom. As people who love and appreciate what the creations and people in this fandom have to offer. In simplistic form, I’m saying we need to learn how to shield ourselves from bullies. And there are methods we can use to make ourselves less of a target to the people who go after us, and methods to cut their attacks off short. None of these methods are fool-proof, but they will work to filter out a good majority of the shit we would otherwise be showered by, like a big umbrella against Assholery. Sure, the wind might still blow some in our face and we might splash in a puddle or two by accident, but at least we aren’t soaked.
So let me list the various things that can help you shield yourself from hate/harassment/antis who might just be out to get you.
1) leave the fandom.
The most effective, but least attractive method possible. This is limited to being a last ditch effort, if things have just gotten too hard to handle. I’m covering it first though, because we have to acknowledge that it is a viable method. If you feel trapped, hated, bullied, I’m sure all of us in this fandom would prefer you take a break and leave us for a while in the sake of your own health and safety then stay where you are miserable. This is less of a problem for us though, because mostly this option is gonna be for fandoms where the discourse and attacks are internal. Maribat is largely a peaceful and supportive/healthy environment once you’re inside our little bubble, the main discourse comes from outside in. So let’s focus on the main point of this post— how to keep our bubble from popping.
2) Make it apparent right away that you are Unapologetic.
Whenever you post content or are approached by someone about the topic of your fandom, don’t you DARE ever apologize for liking what you like or posting unproblematic content. You need to make it clear right off the bat that you are not gonna be swayed, bullied, or shamed out of your fandom. Stand with pride and make it clear, but don’t be verbose about it. A simple “Don’t like, don’t read” is classic but sometimes if you’re posting/talking during a more confrontational period of the fandom, you need to up your game to reflect that. The funny thing is, people can easily be intimidated by swearing if it isn’t directed at them or clearly antagonistic. If you’re swearing in a joking, casual or even in a manner that shows you’re not taking yourself too seriously, people will usually avoid picking fights with you. For this, my favorite lines to use on my work include;
“Don’t like, I don’t fucking care. I fell down the rabbit hole.”
“Don’t bother reading if you’re not into this, this shit bitch-slapped me and dragged me along on it’s adventure.”
“I’m addicted to this fandom, don’t bother trying to save me. If it bothers you, I don’t give a fuck. Save yourselves.”
3) Don’t approach or interact
Unless someone comes at you first, never try to persuade someone away from hating us. That just makes you a target in an empty field, for the vultures to surround and gang up on. If someone approaches you with provocative but not overly insulting or intelligent language— I.e; trying to start a fight, vague insults not always relating to the fandom itself, trying to insult your character/judgement— do not respond. Delete the message, block the account, and surround yourself with fluffy good stuff to forget the wanna-be harasser. These people are often not brave enough to outright start a fight, and want you to get defensive first so they know the weak points in your armor to exploit. Defensive statements declare your own insecurities, don’t get defensive. It gives them a way to win without having to defend themselves or feel vulnerable— it’s like exploiting type differences in Pokémon. You wait for an unfamiliar Pokémon to expose it’s type, then snipe it with the moves it’s weak to. Then, you have a near sure-fire win even with under leveled Pokémon on your team.
Don’t be a proud Infernape that gets sniped by a weak-ass level 5 Piplup. We’re strong, don’t show them the chinks in our armor.
4) Have a support network. Even if they don’t know they are your support network.
The fandom as a whole serves this purpose, and this is mostly gonna be a tactic you use when the discourse is inside the fandom, but there can be uses for this in discourse from outside the fandom as well. If someone tries to act like they like your story/art “but...” they passive aggressively state things they “would prefer” or they try to make it sound like you made stupid mistakes (a tactic to make you insecure about yourself) instead of kindly pointing out errors or offering constructive criticism (ex: “you know you put your trigger list somewhere where it’s useless right? Love your story though.)—THESE ARE ALL PROVOCATIONS. They are trying to make you insecure so that you change things about yourself, your work, or jump through hoops to try to “make it up” to them when you did nothing wrong and there are no problems to fix. Do not fall for it! Instead, politely as possible, bring the issue into a public space where you feel safe/trust the people in that space to keep the bullshit from escalating. For me, I straight up explain my reasoning for the placement of my trigger list as if I’m advertising a particularly boring but important product that I’m selling, then offer places for them to bring the issue into a discussion with others. I send them to a discoed group or right here to my tumblr, and I immediately make the issue into a big discussion (do YOU think there is anything to change? Let’s ALL talk about it) so that I am no longer isolated and easy for them to harass. They might refuse to join the discussion and further try to pressure you, but do not cave. Merely say that a public discussion has been started, and if they are actually, legitimately concerned about the way you do things then they can debate it in a public setting. This way, you have back up. 9/10 people who try to target you this way will back off and never enter the conversation you started.
5) Do not fight back.
This sounds counterintuitive, but a lot of the time once discourse gets this bad, arguing/defending/ trying to prove your point only fuels their rage more. I have found that people hate very little in this world more than they hate being wrong. And people who hate being wrong will fight to the bitter death about their opinions, no matter how invalid or hurtful they are, in the favor of their blissful ignorance. Remove yourself from harmful discussions or those that seem to be going in circles as soon as possible, and try to surround yourself in your support group. Never let people make you feel stupid, your opinions illegitimate, or your likes/dislikes invalid or evil.
6) Try to learn how to recognize bullies in disguise
It’s too much for me to try to cover here, but you need to PLEASE look into how to spot gaslighting. Tactics of gaslighting are often used to attack others and try to make them feel like their own opinions are invalid or their mindset untrustworthy. People will often approach you in the guise of friendship/support/ “I am not into this, but...” and while this is not always a red flag, we have to keep our eyes open for any signs of this person or their approach being rooted in anything other than legitimate curiosity or kindness. Not all suggestions that say they are out of concern actually ARE. Keep an eye out for warning signs, and cut off interaction once things seem like they may lead to an argument or you being in a vulnerable position if you continue interacting.
(Brief mention of s**cide and threats in the section below)
7) If all else fails, BLOCK THEM.
No hesitation, we don’t need this shit. They make a second account? Block that too. Don’t respond, only take screenshots or reblog if it is directly harmful information that can/should be documented (words that encourage suicide, threats, insults that seem a little too specific for comfort) and give the evidence to someone you trust to look out for you. A therapist, a family member, or even the authorities if you deem that necessary. Just don’t handle it alone.
We are not responsible for other people’s actions, opinions, or anger. Take the steps to protect yourself instead of trying to reconcile. Sometimes, reconciliation isn’t an option. Both parties have to be willing to reconcile, and it is clear they have nothing in mind but hurting us. So raise your shields and protect yourself and your friends, we’re not gonna lose a war to petty jerks.
54 notes · View notes
wistfulwatcher · 3 years
Note
Hello I saw your tag on that "im 25 and dying post" please tell us how it got better for you. Im 26, still living with parents, currently having a fight with my boyfriend, and i still have a year until I get my bachelors. The comparison to everyone younger than me is killing me.
I'm really sorry to hear that you're struggling, but I hope you can take some solace in the fact that that post has a lot of notes and you are absolutely not alone in feeling the way you do! I can certainly try and share my experience, but unfortunately I think the biggest factor is just time (and like, a buttload of self-reflection).
I moved back home after college and worked full time at an administrative job I was doing during school breaks. I majored in psychology and anthropology in college, and was planning to eventually go into forensic psychology, but wasn't interested in going straight into grad school. So I did that administrative job for about a year, and tried to find something that was a bit more stable and at least semi-related to my field. I did end up finding a new job when I was 23 - stable, semi-related to my field (a psych/research background was required), and decent pay (especially as I was still living at home). Exactly what I needed, since I still wasn't ready to start looking into grad school.
I was doing pretty well, until I started getting comfortable at that job, and then I started getting hit with the "I'm not doing enough," and "I need to look into grad school," and "will I ever find a boyfriend?" (friendly reminder that 23-year-old me thought she was straight, yikes), "how will I afford to move out, I have to save my money and do it soon!", "I'm not doing anything but watching TV, I'm wasting my life," "I'm lonely, but I'm too tired to try and make friends," etc., etc.
But it wasn't constant. I'd have a flurry of those questions and fears, and then days where I was just living life and doing my job and taking care of my dogs, without any of that. And I don't think I felt good or particularly comfortable those days, it was more like I just wasn't actively thinking about it, like when you feel "good" after a physical pain goes away and you're just normal.
Eventually, I started thinking about all of these concerns I had, and the fact that it felt like it was URGENT whenever I thought about them. It felt like I needed to get my shit together immediately. I also started to acknowledge that there was this big sense of guilt around those concerns; I was too old to be living at home, I was too old to be single, I was too old not to be starting a career. I felt like I was wasting my life (cue the guilt), and I realized that part of why I felt like I was wasting it was that I felt like I was missing milestones I wouldn't be able to do at a later time because the older I was past "normal" the more humiliating it would be to try (cue the shame and embarrassment, hard).
I also started to doubt that I wanted to go into forensic psychology. More importantly, I started to seriously doubt that I wanted a "career" at all. My job (as I kept that same semi-related to my field one) was absolutely a job, not a career. And I think this was a huge tipping point for me, because a career had always been a given in my life. I'm passionate about what I'm interested in, so it literally just never occurred to me that I would be content with a job. I also started acknowledging that I had some messed up associations about being content with a job meaning that I was lazy (because the only way to be ambitious is with a career and, more damaging, a lack of ambition is fundamentally bad).
Now, I need to clarify that all of the above occurred over the course of years. I was constantly seeing "friends" (i.e., of the facebook variety) go to grad school, start careers, get married, buy homes, etc. And with all of that alongside the entire mess I've outlined in the above paragraphs, it was really, really, tough. It gets hard to find a foothold in better thinking, I believe, when seeing all of these people (some younger) doing things "right" was really just compounding my guilt and shame. (I feel like it's worth mentioning, too, that I was always "an individual" growing up, march-to-the-beat-of-my-own-drummer, yada yada. I feel like that's worth pointing out for others who may be in the same boat, because I think it can lead to another layer of shame in comparing yourself to those around you - especially if it's a big part of your identity that you DON'T do that, because I think it's inevitable as you get older, and you're looking to reach these milestones that prove you're an adult.)
So, here I am, acknowledging that I feel guilt and shame about what I'm not doing. And suddenly I ask myself my first really important question: Do I want a career? The question hot on its heels is: Do I want to go to grad school? Honestly, my answer is no. There is nothing in me that's excited by the prospect. But what, does that mean I'm just going to work my job for the rest of my life? How is giving up going to make me feel better about Not Doing Enough?
As I'm opening this door (remember, years), three things happen: 1) I realize I'm gay, 2) I watch Dirty 30, 3) I start playing D&D.
First, realizing I'm gay. Woohoo! Not only was this exciting because girls are amazing, but it made me seriously look at myself. Realizing I had spent 25 years assuming one thing about myself that turned out to be completely wrong made me question everything for a while. I started to ask myself, "Do I really like this?" more often, which seems like a really obvious question, but I'm not convinced that it's one people ask themselves consciously all that often. But once I did, I realized how freeing it was to answer, "No," and move on to something I did like.
Second, I watched Dirty 30, the Grace Helbig/Mamrie Hart/Hannah Hart movie. It feels dramatic to say that it changed my life, but the older I get the more I honestly think it did. Mamrie Hart's character is a dental hygienist who is freaking out about turning 30 and feeling very much like that text post I reblogged. But (spoilers), at the end of the movie, she decides that she loves her job (job, not career!) because it's comfortable and she has fun at work, and that it makes her happy. She has other things going on, but the idea that a character in a film is content with her job and choosing to "settle" into her life as-is and she's genuinely happy about it? I honestly can't think of a single other time I've seen that happen on-screen. I still think about that ending very often. And after seeing it, I started to ask myself another question regularly: "Am I happy?" Again, this feels pretty obvious, but I think there is something incredibly empowering about making sure you are happy on a regular basis, instead of just assuming that you're fine until something hurts.
Third, I started playing D&D. This is not a plug for D&D! (Well, maybe a little.) One thing that happened to me when I started to get into the urgent-guilt-shame-confusion mess of my mid-20s was that I got very much into a routine of go to work, come home, sleep, go to work, come home, sleep, be totally brain-dead on the weekend, repeat. I found it very difficult to feel creative because I was just wiped, and as all of my creative outlets (gifs, fanfic) are self-motivated, it was really easy to brush them off. I ended up starting Critical Role (this is also not a plug for CR! well, maybe), and I wanted to give D&D a try myself. (I was VERY lucky - my best friend happened to be listening to the Adventure Zone at the same time I started CR, and she wanted to try to run a game. The stars truly aligned!)
I started playing, then DMing, and found that it was a great fit for my interests. I used to be a theatre kid, and I was getting to act again (something I didn't realize I was missing). I was getting to build and flesh out characters, which is what I love the most about writing fanfic. I was also discovering that I was stretching myself - world building and plot had never been my strong suit, but as a DM it became the majority of my creative effort. It gave me soft deadlines with people I didn't want to let down, and it made me truly social again for the first time since college. Essentially, it was filling in all of the gaps of what I felt lacking in my life. This isn't a D&D plug because it wasn't D&D specifically, but rather a hobby that satisfied what was missing in my life. For example, I didn't realize how isolated I was before D&D until I had regular interactions with friends, and that isolation absolutely made the urgent-guilt-shame-confusion worse.
D&D gave me that final push to realize that I was OK with having a job and being passionate about hobbies instead of trying to fit myself into a career, because I was getting out of that hobby what I had been convinced I would get out of a career. I started to really value that I could punch out and go have fun doing exactly what I wanted to do. (It feels so obvious as I type this, but it took me a long time to get here! Sometimes it really is that simple!)
The above is specific to my job vs. career struggle which may not be in the mix of things you're struggling with. But what I do think is universal/can be your take away, is that sometimes you just have to actively choose to let go of the pressure to be doing things. Which, I know, sounds so much easier than it is (and part of why I think it just takes time/is part of growing older). But I think it's something that can be worked at over time, by checking in with yourself about what you feel, why you feel it, and what you need to make yourself feel better in the present.
It's been 6 years since I started that semi-related job, and I'm still there. I still live with my mom. I'm still single. My circumstances have not changed since 24, but honestly? I'm OK. When I check in with myself about it, I do enjoy living with my mom and our dogs (even though I'm 30 and "real" adults move out). I am happy more often than I'm not (much more, actually!). I have a job that allows me to be done after 8 hours, and I have hobbies I look forward to doing each night (and the energy to do them, most of the time). My weekends are free to play D&D with my friends and laugh until I cry. That is what I've worked out as my definition of what I want life to be right now. You'll notice it includes none of the "milestones" that those younger than me have hit.
As I noted on that text post tag, I still struggle with this. I definitely have days where I think, I'm a mess, I'm not DOING anything. It's hard. But time does help, those days become fewer and farther between.
I know that was probably a hundred times longer than you wanted it to be, but I did want to illustrate just how much of a process it is. It takes time. My summary advice is to check in with yourself often, be honest about what you want and what you need, do not let anyone else define where you "should" be. And if you aren't living life how you want to be, identify what you can do (however small) to make yourself feel like you're getting closer.
37 notes · View notes
a-simple-imagine · 3 years
Text
Run Away With Me
Synopsis: Every moment shared with Charlie Weasley is an adventure all it’s own. How you wish to spend every moment together and all it takes is to run away. 
Pairing: Charlie Weasley x fem!reader
Words: 6.3k+
A/N - Every year I post a story on my birthday and today’s the day I turn a year older. Usually these stories are pretty sad but this year I wrote something a little softer so here is my birthday present for you guys, I hope you enjoy it. 
Tumblr media
1. A Stolen Kiss
A bright-eyed and clueless young student, excited to be attending a school of magic. Nobody else in your family had magic so it was a big surprise when you received a letter alongside a weird lady who looked like she just stepped out of the early 1920s. Sat between your parents, the older woman explained the entire situation much to your excitement and your parents' confusion.
 Diagon alley had been your first experience of all things magical; it had been like stepping into another world instead of just any old street in London. There were book shops lined with all kinds of books, some were bigger than your head while others were tiny. A shop that sold weird and kinda gross jars full of who knows what. There was a place that only sold brooms but according to the list you had read like a hundred times, first years weren't allowed their own brooms. You spent what felt like a lifetime at Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions getting fitted for robes. Your parents were utterly fascinated by all the different styles and kept asking questions that made the experience so much longer than it really needed to be. You'd never had a pet before, but after a lot of begging they let you pick out a cat; he was a small Persian cat. Not quite a kitten but not quite fully grown. Checking off each item as you went along, you were exhausted by the end of it. There was even enough time for a trip to Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour where you had enjoyed a cone of strawberries and cream with sprinkles on top. All that was left on your list was a wand. Peeling gold letters rested over the door of a shop that read: Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. Stepping inside it was a tiny little store with no costumers. Thousands of narrow boxes lined the walls all the way up to the ceiling. It didn't take long for the weird old man to give you a wand that felt warm in your hand. Unlike the other disasters that came at the result of you waving various wands, a stream of red and gold sparks shoot out the end of this one like a mini firework. The wand chooses the wizard whatever the hell that meant. All ready and packed for Hogwarts, you were really giddy to go. Your mother cried as she waved you off to boarding school but you couldn't sit still. The train ride took hours and it was a little lonely considering you didn't know anyone but as soon as you entered the castle you knew it was exactly where you were meant to be. The building was massive and practically oozed magic and mystery through each brick. The pictures, much to your surprise, were moving on their own. Hogwarts had four houses and each student had to sit on a tall stool, put on a funny talking hat which would decide ultimately where they belong.
The very first friend you made was Nymphadora Tonks but only because she was in all of your classes and by some twist of fate you always ended up seated together. She was a sweet girl with pink hair and a talent for mischief. There was never a dull moment with you two. Then there was Charlie Weasley. Ever since that brisk day in October when he had ridden in clumsily on his white horse to save the day, the two of you had been the best of friends. You were still getting used to all your different classes. Potions class, however, was proving the most difficult. Too many ingredients and types to get used to. Not to mention Snape was just... mean. The task had been to prepare a simple Wiggenweld Potion; a powerful healing potion that can be used to heal injuries, or reverse the effects of a Sleeping Draught. The book was open on the desk as you carefully followed the instructions until.... poof. All the confidence you'd gained since arriving disappeared as Snape scolded you in front of everyone for messing up. Charlie had swooped in to take the blame landing himself in late-night detention. On the other hand, you got to leave with your tail between your legs and a few house points shaved off the total. And yet even his small act of kindness wasn't enough to capture your affection at least not at first. For the little version of yourself was infatuated with another Weasley. An older Weasley.
The nerves of a handful of students could be felt by anyone sat in the great hall for breakfast. Tonks is sat beside you running butter over a piece of toast. Stifling a yawn, Charlie takes a seat across from the two of you sporting a jumper of Gryffindor red and gold.
"Good morning," You flash your cheeriest, half-asleep smile bringing your spoon of Cheeri Owls to your lips. "Nervous?"
"A little," He was looking especially pale today suggesting he was more than just a little.
"You should be," Tonks perks up. "It's only the last game of the season and all hope rides on the seeker,"
"No pressure then," Charlie huffs out a dull laugh. The boy excelled in his position as the Gryffindor seeker but there was no way to determine how he'd play today when he was carrying the hopes and dreams of his teammates and entire house.
"You should eat something," You suggest, pushing a bowl of assorted fruit forward. There was little you could to make him feel better except take his spot but that wasn't allowed. You also probably wouldn't be that good. "Might make you feel better?"
"I'm too nervous to eat," He insisted but he still took an apple; rolling the red fruit between his palms.
"Win or lose you're still number one in our heart, right Tonks?" Elbowing her gently, you shovel another spoonful of 'O' shapes into your mouth.
"Sure," she shrugs. "If you want we can jinx the other team's seeker? I've been practising."
"Or... how much time do we have? I can get one of the older students to brew some Felix Felicis." You play along. "Nothing like a little liquid luck to win a game."
"You both know that's not allowed," Charlie took a large bite of his apple.
"When has Tonks ever cared about rules," Sometimes you wish she did care, you probably wouldn't have ended up in detention so many times alongside her.
"Thanks but no," he took another bite. "We have to win fair and square."
The conversation drifted from nerves to lost spells and planned practical jokes. Charlie seemed to relax a little the more he spoke. Maybe all he needed was a distraction to cheer him up.
"We need to take a trip to Hogsmeade" Tonk announces. "I'm out of dungbombs."
"Urgh- you and that silly joke shop." You can't help but roll your eyes but it was all good-natured. Despite hardly ever buying anything yourself, you spent an awful lot of time at Zonko's infamous little joke shop. "I could do with a trip outside the castle though. You should come too Charlie and maybe... you could ask Bill if he wants to come?"
"You're still gushing over Bill," Now it was Tonks turn to elbow you playfully, her lips curling up into a tantalising smirk.
"I do not gush over him," you state firmly, brows knitting together in a frown. You didn't appreciate being made fun. Bill was older, wiser and always made time to show you kindness. He made your little heart flutter whenever you saw him and Tonks took every opportunity to tease you about it. "I just thought It'd be nice is all. Wouldn't you agree, Charlie?"
"If you want him to come, ask him yourself." He responds, taking a large gulp of his juice.
"She won't because she has a crush."
"I don't have a crush Nymphadora- stop it," It was infinitely more embarrassing talking about this with Charlie sat at the table. "Don't ask him then, I don't care."
"Yes you do," Placing her arm around your shoulder, she pulls you into her side. "Because you're in love-"
"I am not!" You snap, pushing out of her grip.
"I'll see you guys later." The two of you share a look as Charlie disappears without another word. It was probably just pregame nerves.
"You know what? I think I'll get some frogspawn soap too and put it in the prefects' bathroom." Typical Tonks.
You'd come to learn through your time at Hogwarts that Quidditch was the most popular sport among wizards. And each house had their own team who compete for a trophy and bragging rights. Today was the final game thankfully. Gryffindor vs. Slytherin. Apparently, it came down to these two a lot. As the Gryffindor team filter out of the changing rooms, you slip inside to find Charlie sitting on a little bench.
"Guess who?" You sing-song, slapping your hands over his eyes but only briefly. He turns to look at you with an almost sour expression.
"What are you doing here?"
"I came to support you," you reply soft, offering a smile he couldn't even see as he turned away.
"You're not supposed to be in here," Had you done something to upset him? Surely not. This was the first time you were seeing him since breakfast so there hadn't been a moment for you to mess things up and yet, his voice held an icy chill.
"Guess Tonks is rubbing off on me?" You jest, looking around the room. It was empty apart from you two. Bags and clothes scattered across benches or half shoved into lockers. A chalkboard stood in the corner with drawings you couldn't understand. "I just wanted to see how you were doing before the big game, is all. We were worried about you."
"You were worried about me," He repeats slowly, looking up at you. "I thought you hated quidditch."
"I still do," Your shoulders rise in a little shrug. "It's silly. Doesn't matter how hard the team works or how many goals it's pretty much all decided by how good the seeker is so why even have goals?"
"Score enough goals before the snitch is caught and anyone could win," He perks up. "You just don't understand how good and exciting it is."
Your lips curl up in appreciation for Charlie Weasley and his love for quidditch. It didn't possess the sparkle that came along when he talks about dragons but it was still nice to see him liven up. "Then go out there and show me how exciting it is,"
You stand under the spotlight of his gaze as he seemingly takes in your choice of attire; wearing the Gryffindor colours with pride to show your support. You even let Tonks paint your face after she promised not to draw genitalia. "Do you really think we're gonna win? What if I mess up and everyone hates me?"
"Then you mess up and everyone hates you," You shrug a little. "But that's not gonna happen and you know why?" His head shakes slowly. "It's because you're the best seeker at this school Charles Weasley." You place your hands on either side of his shoulders. "And I believe in you."
"How does that help me?" With your index finger under his chin, you force him to meet your eyes.
"Because I'm never wrong."
"That doesn't sound right." He tries to look away but you stop him.
"But it is," You offer a reassuring smile; one full of determination. "You've got this Charlie. So come on before you miss the game entirely."
The cheers outside were seemingly growing louder by the second. With a deep breath, Charlie stands up, grabbing his broom. "You're staying to watch, right?"
"Of course. Tonks is up in the stands too." Taking his hand, you lead the way out of the tent. "Consider us your good luck charms." Charlie brings the both of you to an abrupt stop before you even reach the opening of the tent, pulling you back to him. "What's up?"
The peppering of freckles that covered Charlie's face was even more vibrant against the rose pink blush. You squeeze his hand a little hoping it makes him feel better. And then it happens. The crowd grows silent in your ear but only for a moment as Charlie's surprisingly soft lips crash clumsily against yours. "For good luck," his whispers; his hand slipping from yours as he leaves you dumbfounded.
"He okay?" Tonks asks as you return from your trip.
"Yeah... still nervous," You reply, sitting down beside her. "It's his first big game after all."
"Are you okay?" The crowd erupts into cheers as the Gryffindor team flys in first. You're almost too embarrassed to look for Charlie; worried about what you might find so you keep your head down. "You look like you've just seen a troll or something?"
"Mhmm," you hum, forcing yourself to watch the Slytherin team as they enter. Why had Charlie kissed you? Did it mean he liked you or was he just messing around? Your head swirled with possibilities.
"You want a sweet?" Your friend offers as the game finally starts. It takes you a second to register but you smile, reaching into the little bag she was holding only to come to a stop.
"They're not gonna burn my tongue off or something are they?"
"No," Her chuckle sounded a little too innocent but you trust her for some reason. Taking a piece of confectionery out of the paper bag.
"Charlie... kissed me." You announce, throwing the sweet into you mouth; face scrunching up when they turn out to be sour. Ten points to Slytherin as they take the lead.
"He what?"
"He... kissed me."
2. Together
Who was Bill Weasley but a distant playground crush after that day. And your time of classrooms and magic lessons came swiftly to an end; how bittersweet it felt to leave a place you loved dearly. A once naive little girl stepping into the unknown now called the Wizarding World Home. Now you would go on to be a healer which was simply a magical doctor although your parents strongly disagreed with the comparison. However proud they were of you there would always be some part of them that wished you had chosen to become a lawyer or 'real' doctor.
Bathed in the warm embrace of the setting sun, you ponder the tranquility in a bed of green grass. The youngest Weasley lay beside you, struggling to keep still as often children do. She was similar to her brother in that way who now paced back and forth a mere few steps away. The invitation had been for dinner but you arrived a little early. The burrow was always such a welcoming place like stepping into a home you used to live in many moons ago; it was cosy and warm and there was no doubt that many lived there. You found your house to be almost the opposite, it always looked like nobody lived there. Immaculate. Polished. Cold.
"Will you stop pacing, you're making me nervous." You call out to your boyfriend, opening your eyes only to squint at the bright light. "What's wrong with you?"
Charlie comes to a stop as you sit up; Ginny mimics you in sitting up but the boy's eyes stay on you. The longer he stared, the more the pit in your stomach grew; what exactly hid behind his blank expression. He normally possessed such a playful warmth but it seemed to have vanished as of late. Plucking a stray purple flower, you enclose it in the palm of your hands. "You know I love dragons right?"
"Of course," Since meeting him, he had probably managed to slip dragons into every conversation you had ever had. It was at a point where you knew far more about dragons than you ever really cared to know. Many found his obsession annoying because that's what he so obviously was, obsessed but you found it enticing. Charming, even. Opening up your hand, a small butterfly with deep plum-purple wings flutters into the air and onto a giggly Ginny's nose. The innocent glee of a child; how those days were gone for you. "What's that got to do with anything?"
"Promise you won't be mad?" It would be foolish to make such a promise when there was no way to guarantee your reaction. Whatever it was must be bad, if he was this worried. Your shoulders rise a little then fall.
"I make no such promises- just tell me."
Charlie took a breath that travelled on the wind to your ears before he blurted out.  "I'm moving to Romania."
"Okay," Is your first reaction while your brain tries to make sense of something it didn't want to hear. "Wait- what?"
"Charlie is moving away to work with big scary dragons," Ginny announces playfully, baring her little hands like claws.
The once small pit grew into a mighty black hole of uncertainty and sadness that threatened to swallow you whole. There had been conversations shared between friends of Charlie wanting to move away to a foreign land, just to finally see a dragon but you had never taken it at face value. Always so convinced it was but a dream rather like those of when you were little and you wished to be a vampire. Technically back then you didn't know they actually existed but still, even now it was never going to come true. Eyes cast upon the second eldest Weasley, he kicks up the grass with his hands buried in the pockets of his pants. "It's the nearest Dragon reserve."
That was something you already knew but it didn't make the decision, at least in your eyes, any less confusing. Instead, it prompted water to well up in your eyes for this was something that affected not only him and his family but your life too. "I... I don't know what to say,"
"Hey Ginny, can you go check if dinner's ready yet?"
"No- why can't you do it?" The bark behind her words was very in character for the fiesty young Weasley. Blinking away the tears, you plaster on the best smile you can muster.
"If you go check on dinner I promise we can play a game later, okay? Exploding snap maybe?"
"Really?" She eyes you suspicious probably because it was a promise you had broken before. Not always for the right reasons but this time it was genuine. Charlie clearly wanted this to be a private conversation or perhaps he was just saving you for the inevitable moment where she asks why you're crying. Ginny scrambles to feet when you nod and skips off towards the gravity-defying house. It still amazed you that the building hadn't fallen yet. Rising to your feet you brush yourself off.
"You know I want nothing more than to work with Dragons and this is the only way I can do that," There was no mistaking the serious tone that came along with his words. It didn't matter what you said there was no changing his mind but you wouldn't do that anyway. It seemed cruel to even try to get him to give up on something so precious and you would never want to do that to him. "I have an opportunity to do something I love and I won't waste it to get some boring job at the ministry."
"I don't expect you too..." You wanted nothing more than to tell him to stay; beg him even. You were fighting against the selfish little devil that was stabbing you in the heart. It was a dull, deep pain in your chest. You wanted Charlie to follow his dreams, you just never expected them to not include you. "It's just a lot to take in."
"I know," The red-headed boy walks ever so slowly over to you, taking both hands in his. His hands had always felt a little rough ever since Hogwarts. You used to complain back then and insist he needed to moisturise but over time you had grown fond of the familiarity. How you wished this tender moment could last forever because it very well might be your last. You're caught off guard when he yanks you forward. You stumble into his chest where he wraps his arms around you like the big teddy bear he was. You breathe in every inch of him like it was the last time. The intoxicating aroma of an early walk in the woods; that fresh earthy smell that really makes you appreciate where you are. You could almost picture the pine trees.
"I feel like I'm losing you," Your words but a whisper, lost on the breeze.
"You're not," His grip around you tightens and suddenly your in the air, spinning around. "You could never get rid of me that easily.
"Charlie," You fight back a smile as you return to the ground; burying your face in the nook of his neck. "What's gonna happen to us?"
"About that-"
"Because I don't know if I can do the whole long-distance thing? So do we break up?" The tears threaten to fall once again as you pull back to get a good look at him. You never wanted to forget the emerald of his eyes or each and every freckle that called his body home. The unusual scare that adorned his eyebrow that was always amusing to look at. If that was his true purpose to break up with you then there would be no stopping the tears when they finally burst through the damn.
"No, I-"
"Because that's a little mean Charlie, you could have at least waited until after dinner. Should have done it first actua-"
You words become mumbled by the palm of his hand which he's placed over your mouth like a seal of protection. "Shush for a minute."
It's hard to resist so you simply don't; sticking your tongue you deliberately lick the palm of his hand but it seems to not phase him whatsoever.
"I'm not breaking up with you, silly," You meet his gaze. "I was kind of thinking you could come with me?"
Reaching up, you yank his hand away. "To Romania?  You've got to be joking."
"Why not?"
Did you even know how to answer that? There were so many reasons why one should not just up and leave to go live in a completely different country with the boy they dated through high school. "I can't just up and leave my family- my mum will be devastated."
"I'll talk to her about it," Charlie hums softly, placing a delicate kiss upon your forehead. "Your mum loves me and she wants you to be happy."
"Dinner's Ready," For such a small girl, Ginny had one big mouth. There was no mistaking her call. However, this whole situation now felt a little... off. Could you even sit through dinner without it all becoming weird?
"We're coming," Charlie yells back; offering up his hand which you reluctantly take and he leads the way back to the house. "You want to be a healer right? You could do that in Romania."
"I guess," You weren't exactly worried about not finding a job.
"You don't have to decide right now," He tells you before you have a chance to speak up again. "Just think about it. I mean the invitation is there and for what it's worth, I'd really like you to come."  
3. Creeping doubts
It took a lot of convincing but despite everything you decided to follow Charlie into the Unknown. Your parents weren't thrilled with the decision but they respected it; they were just worried about what would happen if something went wrong. And as their only child, they would obviously miss you. A lot of time was spent at the burrow that summer before moving to Romania; you were beginning to feel like an honorary Weasley only with the experience of having been a muggle for the first eleven years of your life. It was but a three-hour flight to Romania and your mother had sobbed at the airport. It made you think back to your first time stepping onto the Hogwarts express, leaving your parents behind to go to a magical boarding school in Scotland. It was a peculiar thought but a nice one. One you wished to cherish. Now in a foreign land with no support system behind you other than a boy you had been dating for years, you were ready for a new adventure. And there was officially no doubt in your mind that you would do just about anything for Charlie Weasley.
"It's not much," Charlie sets his suitcase down on the table. "Best I could do, for now, I'm afraid."
"It's fine," It was an old apartment in a building full of what you assumed were muggles. There was a small living room area with an ugly pea-coloured couch nestled against one wall. Beside it was a small coffee table and on the other side of the room was a TV, you weren't convinced actually worked. Then there was the kitchen which was attached to the living room. It had a fridge, a cooker and some cupboards. The only other room was a bedroom that literally only housed a bed in at the moment, then there was a door that leads on to the bathroom. It definitely wasn't much but a crappy apartment was just part of the experience, right? At least that's what you were telling yourself. "it'll feel like home soon enough," You had everything you needed to make this place feel like home right in your suitcase; oh the joys of magic. Patting yourself down, you search for the key to easy unpacking. "Uh... have you seen my wand?"
His head shakes and wears an amused grin. "You remembered to bring it right?"
"Yes," you huff. "I was gonna unpack," Falling back against the wall, you slide down onto the floor which you imagine hasn't been cleaned in a while considering the dust. "It's gonna take so long without my wand- which may actually be in the suitcase now that I think about it."
"Did you forget I'm a wizard too?"
"You do it then," You drop your head back against the wall. "I'm starving."
"actually have you seen my wand?"
You giggle to yourself "You're an idiot,"
"Hey- you lost your wand too." His shadow lingers over you as he comes to join you against the wall. Taking up a seat beside you, your head falls to rest against his shoulder.  
"Can we get pizza? I saw some of those leaflets when we came in so we could order some?"
"Whatever you want, my love."
As time ticks on the pizza box is left discarded in the kitchen as the two of you retire for the night. Who knew not actually unpacking but simply thinking about it while eating pizza on the dirty ground could be so much work. You struggle to hold back a yawn as you snuggle up to him trying to absorb as much of his body heat as you can. All that lay across the two of you were a blanket and this building was next exactly the warmest. "Do you think we'll be okay? "You ponder aloud; it was a question that had been on your mind since agreeing to follow him to Romania. For not many people stay together with their high school loves. What if things fall apart now that you're in the 'real' world? What if this was all just a huge mistake?
"What do you mean?" Always such a simple boy; you wonder how he deals with his anxieties. Did he actually not know what you meant or was he merely putting on a brave face? A once proud Gryffindor suggested that he always looked to be brave above anything else.
"Do you think we'll be okay?" You repeat as if that somehow answers his question but it must have done something because even in the darkness you can just tell he's smiling.
"You worry way too much." Charlie laughs.
"You don't worry enough,"
He lays a kiss upon the top of your head, his hand moving up and down your arm. "It used to be the other way around."
"I was young and reckless back then. "How you missed the days where you ran around the halls of Hogwarts with reckless abandon. Well, not entirely reckless that was more Tonks but things had definitely felt simpler back then.
"You're still young and reckless now, I just have to hear you stress about it afterwards." Charlie taunts, pinching your arm. You recoil at the sharp pain.
"Shush."
"Being in Romania doesn't change anything," He expresses; his voice sounding louder in the quiet darkness. "I loved you back home and I still love you now. I'm really glad you decided to come with me."
Hoping to distract yourself from every worrying thought that clouded your brain you decide it's time to change the subject. "Are you nervous about tomorrow?"
"Getting to work with Dragons all day every day? that's like dream come true."
"A dangerous one," Dragons were perhaps the most vicious creatures around other than humans. As captivating as they were and as much as charlie adored them, you couldn't help but worry about his safety. It seemed no matter the topic this evening you'd find a way to stress yourself out.
"I'll be fine, I'll have you there to patch me up," That he will for you had taken on the role as a healer willing to help out with all the injuries that inevitably come from dealing with dragons. You wouldn't admit it but you weren't quite convinced you were up to the task; you had never actually dealt with dragon-related injuries so this was like diving headfirst into the ocean when you only just learned how to swim in a training pool. "and if not- well, we had a good run."
"Don't joke about that," Nuzzling against his chest, you finally let your eyes close. Today was the start of forever with the one and only Charles Weasley and here he was joking about his ultimate demise.
4. The perfect day
It's peculiar how life can just fall into place. Your odd little world of dragons and leaky apartment buildings just became the norm. You had come to love your work at the reserve, Dragons were actually incredibly cool up close. Not to mention getting to see Charlie work with them after years of never shutting up about them was truly a sight to behold. Every day, it was like taking an excited little boy to his first day of school. His eyes simply lit up whenever he was at work although it was hard explaining his injuries to the neighbours when they were being nosey. You also had to be careful when using magic since you were basically living with muggles and it would be a headache if they ever found out.
With your site blocked by a thin piece of fabric, Charlie guides you carefully forward with his hands skillfully placed upon your arms to steer. This was the first day off the two of you have shared in a long time. Little information was given about your destination other than it being a surprise. With Charlie that could mean just about anything which wasn't always a good thing but you trusted him enough to believe he wasn't leading you into a dragon's den or something. A gentle breeze nipped at the skin of your neck and the ground felt soft under your feet. The gentle singing of a symphony of birds filled the air and the sun beamed down with remarkable easy. All this suggested you were somewhere withdrawn in nature. Charlie had always been one for the great outdoors. There were countless times you had found him sneaking in or out of the forbidden forest back at school.
"Am I going to like this surprise?" You inquire; your anxiety building with each step. You would much prefer to simply know what was going on rather than experience some dramatic reveal especially today of all days. Every year the boy seems to forget that he agreed not to make a big deal.
"I sure hope so," You practically slam into him as she comes to an unexpected standstill. "Because I don't think I can return it."
"Return what? Oh god- can I take my blindfold off?"
As the flimsy fabric skims the length of your face to settle loosely around your neck, your eyes take a minute to adapt. You don't know quite what you were expecting but this was not it. Before you stands a small cottage surrounded by nothing but a wide-open field full of a rainbow of wildflowers. It was a beautiful little house with as much charm and beauty you'd expect from a place out in what seems like the middle of nowhere. It could be described as the perfect place to settle down.
"Surprise!" He was redder than a cherry tomato when he stepped into view. Both arms in the air as a sign of celebration but you were just rather... confused? Whose house was this and why had he brought you all the way out here?
"I don't get it?"
"We've been here for a while now so I thought we should get our own place or like, a better place. One where we don't have to worry about anyone else." His confidence appeared to develop with each word but his face was still powdered in a deep shade of pink. S this was your house? He'd decided to up and move without even consulting you? "So I got us a little cottage in the middle of nowhere. It kinda reminds me of the burrow only, y'know, smaller."
"It's ours?" His excitement is clear on his face and he quickly takes your hand. Pulling you along with him. "And that's not all."
"There's more?" Surely a whole house was enough. You were quite proud of Charlie for picking such a beautiful little place. Come summertime, you could already see yourself sitting among the flowers painting little pictures. You also wouldn't have to worry about muggles. Coming up on the front door, your boyfriend delivers you a little golden key. And with just a tiny degree of fear about what could be on the other side you unlock it. Much to your astonishment and disappointment, nothing is behind the door except the hallway leading inside. Charlie enters first and even as you follow, you half expect someone to jump out.
"I know I agreed not to make a big deal but how could I not?" He opens a door at the end of the hallway that leads to the kitchen. It's not a massive space but it's assuredly not small either, the whole place was already furnished but you recognise the surprise was truly what sat on the table. It was a two-tier cake covered in blue frosting including the words Happy Birthday scrawled across the top followed by your name.
"You... baked?"
"Mum sent it actually," Charlie chortled lightly as he wanders up behind you. Tossing a package of red with multicoloured polka-dots onto the table. "Sent this along too. Reckon it's a jumper or something."
"That was nice of her," You weren't sure of how to react to it all. Birthdays had never really been your thing but you appreciated that Mrs. Weasley had gone out of her way to make you something special.
"And from me..." He trails off and the sound of tiny tracks echo off the walls attended by an adorable yelp. Up to your feet slides an ash grey puppy who was more legs than anything else. It had bright blue eyes and floppy ears.
"You got me a dog?"
"I got us a dog- thought we needed a pet around here. I debated getting a crup but that'd be a disaster if your parents ever decide to visit." Crups were notorious for their dislike of muggles. You never understood why but he was right in his decision. The gesture was sweet but rather odd all things considered but still you smile. It was hard to be mad at something so cute and you weren't just talking about the dog. The puppy sits at your feet, wagging its little tail a mile a minute. There was no denying how adorable it was and at least it wasn't a dragon. Or a murtlap for that matter, those things were ugly. "You don't seem happy... do you not like him? I can take him back?" Kneeling, your hand drifts over the soft fur of the puppy's head. In response, the dog jumps up in an attempt to lick at your face. Your smile grows as you try to get away. "I think he likes you."
"What's his name?"
"Whatever you want? He's a Great Dane by the way." The puppy had calmed down a little and you stare as you ponder the perfect name for an ash grey Great Dane. "How about... Arlo?"
"Arlo?"
"Mhmm," You hum standing up straight. "And I'm plenty happy if not a little overwhelmed. You know how I feel when it comes to my birthday."
"I do," He nods casually. His palms snake around your waist drawing you flush against him "But I never want you to forget that someone cares about you- that I care about you so bloody much."
"I know you do," You give him a quick peck on the lips. "And I'm thankful for that and for all of this."
"Arlo is the perfect name, Happy Birthday" Your lips connect in a beautifully slow embrace that fills your body with warmth and as he pulls away, his forehead comes to rest against yours.  The dog barking as it explores the kitchen. "I'm just so grateful that you decided to run away with me."
178 notes · View notes
jjyusmile · 3 years
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
stepping out of your apartment lobby, juyeon leaned against the fluffy coated wall with his hands tucked into his jacket pocket with an enormous smile on his face. something about the snowflakes that sat cozy in his hair squeezed your chest; he looked delicate, with a mixture of his boyish charm seeping through with the not-so-subtle wink he sent your way for staring too long.
with a huff in preparation to step into the snow storm, you rubbed your hands together in hopes that it would fathom some kind of warmth. of course you would leave your gloves behind. you exhaled in a chuckle as you noticed juyeon grasp remnants of snow from the wall and headed toward you. his fingers delicately decorated your hair with small flakes as he sprinkled what he had collected over your head. something he did every time it snowed since you first met.
“come on then,” he started as he headed in the direction of his apartment. it was only a 15 minute walk, but that was on a day with no interruption. 
his tip of his nose was turning more crimson by the minute. the fluffiness of his jacket appeared inviting, granted it was big enough to fit the two of you. meanwhile, you still pulled your sleeves over your hands to act as mittens, which wasn’t exactly working in your favour.
sensing your quietness, he stopped in his tracks, causing the people behind you to huff and try to scooch past on the narrow footpath. your eyes widened as he simply stood and stared at you.
“what are you doing? come on, we’ll be late!” turning on your heel, you started walking without him, in the hopes that he’d follow along. but a hand wrapped around your covered one, warmth radiating through the material began to spread throughout your body. that jacket really was inviting right now.
it was when he genuinely began to remove it you rushed forward to stop him, icy fingers reaching for his own in an attempt to keep his zip up. your fingers melting into the maroon sherpa on either side of the zip.
his face warped in confusion, eyebrows in a frowning permanence. “but... you’re cold.”
“yes, but so will you be.” you pulled the top of the jacket together and zipped it all the way up, the fluff wrapping around his chin and tickling his nose. “I’m fine, I promise.”
his eyes quizzical, searching for a hidden meaning behind your words. but your small smile that reflected how touched you were was enough for him to back off, grabbing your fingers in the process.
“Fine, we’ll walk like this then.” he intertwined your fingers delicately, careful not to make any rash movements that might make your fingers sting. with his unoccupied fingers, he opened the clasped pocket on your jacket and guided your untouched hand to tuck in nicely away from the snowstorm.
your intertwined fingers were soon covered in an extra layer of warmth as he tucked them into his own jacket, walls of fluff feeling like a plush teddy on a cozy evening. when you tried to question him with your stare, his gaze remained on the path below you, feet falling in step as they crunched along the settled layer. 
it wasn’t unlike him to be like that. but since that night in your apartment, something had shifted. his once platonic gestures appeared to be wavering; whether it was your own mind that began romanticising the idea, well you weren’t sure. but something had definitely changed. he often came to pick you up from your apartment but never would you walk with your fingers intertwined like this, snow or not.
the small smile that lingered on his lips went unnoticed by you, his chest flooding with warmth as he felt your palm melting into his. he had contemplated asking you about him on this walk. knowing that you couldn’t go into much detail in 15 minutes, hoping that with the delicate snowflakes falling from the sky, you’d feel more at peace. he rarely got you alone anymore, there was no other chance he got. so he tried it.
“hey,” your attention turning from the way his feet made your own appear childlike, the imprints of the snow doubling with your stride against his own.
you hummed in response, eyelashes fluttering against the rush of wind. the way your cheeks gushed in rosy perfection almost made him second guess his next words. but you were best friends, and he was worried about you. or he was jealous. either way, he had to ask.
“I know you said you didn’t want to talk about it...” he trailed off, thumb subconsciously rubbing the back of your hand in slow, controlled circles.
“... but you want to know how it happened?” you finished his question for him. sooner or later, you were going to be asked about it. you hadn’t expected it to be then, but the reassuring gesture that applied delicate pressure to your skin was soothing... it was time.
“well... I couldn’t blame him. he definitely could’ve handled it better but that was just to his taste.”
“I could’ve told you that. I always told you he was never good enough for you,” he muttered, a small pout meeting his lips.
“yeah. I guess he wasn’t. he completely shut me out. you always rattled on about soulmates, how we would always find the perfect person for us in our lifetime. how it would always be the same person in each life time, you’d always find each other one way or another... I guess him saying he loved me wasn’t enough for him to sleep around with others.” 
your eyes pooled with tears, the first time you had spoken about this out loud. a small squeeze drew your eyes back to juyeon, his own whirling with emotion as he took in your appearance. 
“he cheated on you.” his words weren’t questioning. they were more of a statement of disbelief, more to himself than to you. “I’m so sorry, y/n, I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
a light smile found your lips at his sincerity: “I was going to tell you eventually -- it’s okay. I’m surrounded by people I love.” you squeezed back this time.
“I guess I’ll just never find my true soulmate.” the low whisper was meant to be for your ears only, but his senses considerably heightened whenever you were around. he could hear a pin drop. the thought of you worrying about what he once said to you left a dull ache in his chest.
he had told you that because he had already found his. his was you. and he was determined to prove that he was yours, too.
to feel free [social media au] - eight
pairing: best friend!juyeon x reader
genre: fluff, angst, some suggestive!
summary: what happens when your idea of soulmates is corrupted and the fear of losing your soul places walls around your heart?
warning: mentions of infedelity!
updates: every thursday and sunday at 6pm GMT (or sooner if I feel like it)
taglist: @yeolsbubbles @localjisung @cgv-kayy @elcie-chxn @jaehyvnsvalentine @s33saw✨
ch 8 | next
main post
71 notes · View notes
stillebesat · 4 years
Text
A Hero’s Rescue (part 2)
Sanders Sides: Roman, Virgil Blurb: After being defeated in battle, the last thing Roman expects is to have a soaking wet hero show up at his doorstep. Fic Type: Hurt/Comfort Superhero!AU Inspiration: This Post by @messythoughtsandscribbledplots Overall Fic Warnings: Blood, Injuries, Drugging (mentioned), Negative Self Talk, Threats of Violence, Death Talk Taglist in reblog. 
Part 1
Roman had made his mother’s special soup over a thousand times. To the point where he could do it on pure muscle memory--a feat he discovered after a particularly unrememberable encounter with one of Brainiac’s mind ray beams that he didn’t want to experience ever again.  
Still. Being able to feed himself with his mother’s soup even when his mind was completely blank of conscious thought was a good survival instinct to know he had...despite the circumstances. 
And yet. 
His master chefs had needed to take over the making of the soup halfway through after Roman had nearly sliced open his finger for the second time while dicing the onions because he wasn’t focused on the task at hand. 
Now though, with the main preparation done, he’d sent them back to their slumber, leaving him alone to stir the soup on the stove while keeping an eye on the pot of hot chocolate simmering nearby. At least he hadn’t managed to burn either one...yet. 
He supposed he could be granted a pass for being distracted though.
It wasn’t everyday he, a supervillain, had one of his nemesis’ over for a...well Roman had said kidnapping, but honestly, it was hardly that considering he’d left the kid alone to clean himself up without locking the door or even tying him up.
Roman exhaled, forcing his tense shoulders to relax as he reached up with one hand to check that his mask was still on.
Not that he’d let it or the crown he still wore to vanish. But he had to make sure.
Because he had a hero in his house.
He had a HERO in his House.
If any of the others ever discovered this--but no. He frowned. Someone had treated the young Thunderclap bad enough that he’d want to--that he’d come to Roman, no, to the Tyrant. To be--be---.
He let out another shaky breath, tilting his head to listen for the sounds of running water. For any indication that Whirlwind was still in the house.
For all he knew the young Rainspout had vanished as soon he was sure Roman had left the room. 
Or...he could be sneaking around the place right now. Looking for the Tyrant’s Lair. It could all have been a trick. A trap--NO. Roman growled under his breath.
There had been no mistaking the despondency and then the disbelief in Sparky’s eyes at how he, as Tyrant, was willing to take him in and treat him like a decent person--which Roman honestly needed to figure out how that was gonna go down for the next couple of days having a guest--instead of well...killing him. 
As Tyrant he was a lot of things…but an outright murderer? Hardly. Sure he could easily name a dozen other vile villains who wouldn’t have hesitated. To kill. To injure. To treat a hero, even a new one, like a punching bag. A dozen people Roman would need to check on to ensure they hadn’t mistreated Thunderclap in such a manner. Honestly, it really was a stroke of luck that the young hero had chosen to come to him first instead of--
Roman stiffened, hands going still on the pot as the hairs on the back of his neck rose.
Static Electricity. 
Did Sparky realize he gave off that much energy? Probably not.
The soft coo of his dove confirmed that his new...guest? Yah. Guest was probably the best way to think about this. Had finally arrived.
“Fifteen minutes late, Whirlwind.” Roman said, fighting the urge to again check his mask to make sure it hadn’t slipped. “And here I thought heroes were supposed to be on ti--” He turned to the young hero standing awkwardly in the doorway with the dove on his shoulder, and promptly forgot to breathe as he caught sight of Sparky’s face. 
His maskless face. 
Roman jerked his eyes back to the soup, heart hammering in his chest as he gestured with a hand to conjure a simple silk mask, making it the same shade of purple as the pjs he’d created earlier that Sparky now wore. 
He coughed awkwardly, desperately trying to forget all the little details, all the bruises, he’d seen just from the two second glance at the, oh Crofters, he’d known the hero was young, but not a freaking teenager! What was he fourteen?!
He’d better have not been fighting a child this entire time. No, Sparky had to be at least eighteen. Please let him be an adult and not a minor. Because if he wasn’t...Roman would have to rethink his fighting strategies against his favorite hero. 
He clenched his jaw. And if...if the kid was actually freaking fourteen years old...then the perpetrator who’d hurt him like this would soon come to regret their actions because there was no way the Tyrant would let them get away with it.
Still looking away, he held out the mask to where he’d seen the hero standing, sending it with a flick of his fingers to hover near him in a crimson bubble. “You uh--forgot something, Thunderclap.” 
Perhaps he should have taken Sparky to a hospital first if he was so addled in the head to forget something so simple as keeping his secret identity intact in front of his enemy. 
 There was a soft sigh and a faint tingle as static electricity brushed against Roman’s crimson glow, like a finger poking into the side of a balloon, before the mask was pulled free from his hold. “I didn’t forget.” Came the quiet response as the hero edged closer, pausing by the oak dinner table, using it as a feeble barrier between them. “Figured you wouldn’t let me keep it on long anyways if I’m your…prisoner.”
Prisoner? Roman scoffed, moving to pull cups and bowls out of the cupboard, setting them down on the counter. “Even if I intended you to be a prisoner, Whirlwind, which I don’t by the way even if you are technically kidnapped, because otherwise you’d be in a containment bubble where I wouldn’t be risking getting myself shocked senseless by one of your little lightning bolts. I still have standards. I wouldn’t unmask you like that.” 
“....You wouldn’t?” 
Roman glanced at him from the corner of his eye, noting the mask was definitely still in the kid’s hands as he dished up the soup. “Of course not!” It was hardly fair play. Especially for a new hero. 
As the Tyrant, Roman may have enjoyed his battles with the Waterspout over the past six months, but they definitely weren’t ‘there’ yet when it came to him feeling any sort of victory from finally tearing away the hero’s mask to see the face of his enemy.
The moment he could corner that annoying army zapping Nerdy Wolverine though? Oh, that would be a sweet sweet victory he would savor for at least a year when he finally defeated Brainiac and rightfully discovered his true identity. 
Roman turned, two bowls of soup held in his hands as he carefully kept his eyes directed at the kid’s bare feet, noting that even there the hero had cuts and bruises. He fought back the flare of anger, adding a couple more potential acquaintances he’d need to pay a visit to on his ever growing mental list. “If I wanted to find out who you were, Whirlwind, I would have taken your mask off outside when you were kneeling at my feet in the rain.” 
He took two cautious steps closer to the young Hurricane, watching the feet as they shifted in place. He needed to tread carefully here. Go slow. His hero had been hurt and Roman needed to prove that Sparky was safe with him here. 
He took a breath, holding out both bowls to give the kid the option of choosing one, conscious of how the hero had been concerned that they could be drugged. Right. Drugged. Mentally he crossed off six names and added one more. “Beyond the fact that I would very much prefer it to happen after a long hard fought battle where I soundly defeat you, at least that reveal outside would be far more dramatic and rewarding than doing so in my kitchen of all places.” 
Wind whistled in his ears as Waterspout huffed a bitter sounding laugh as he tossed the mask onto the table. “Sorry to disappoint you then. But I’m done.” The lights flickered, the static electricity around them increasing. “Done with this...hero business. I can’t, Tyrant. It’s too much pressure. I’ll just fail.”  
Roman shook his head, frowning as he set the bowls on the table, gesturing with his hand to float the two mugs of hot chocolate by the stove over to them. “You haven’t failed me.” He said lightly, setting them down.
Scare him? Yes. It wasn’t every day that a hero comes to your home out of the blue asking you to kill them. 
Thunderclap snorted, resting his hands on the back of the chair closest to him, his fingers turning white. “Umm. Earlier today?” 
“I know you can’t make every battle, Sparky. It’s not the end of the world if you don’t show.” Roman said with a shrug as he pulled out a chair at the table and sat, pushing the purple mask closer to the kid while fighting to not adjust his own or look at the hero’s face. 
Sure he’d been disappointed. He always was when Thunderclap didn’t come to face him. Their battles were far more exciting, far more challenging compared to the other heroes he’d faced over the years. “You may not want to be a hero right now. But you’re injured. Exhausted. And hopefully hungry because I made you a ton of soup.” He twisted his hand, a soft red glow surrounding his fingers as two golden spoons appeared. He was careful to keep his eyes down away from the kid’s face as he twirled the spoons around his fingers. “After you eat your fill and get a good night's sleep in a big soft bed you might find you’ve changed your mind come morning.”
He could feel the static electricity continuing to build in the room until it felt like every hair on his body was standing on end. It made it difficult to not retaliate and send up a shield of defense against the lightning bolt that could be coming his way any second. 
But the kid had no reason to zap him. At least he hoped he didn’t. He just had to stay calm. Stay relaxed. 
Unexpectedly, the static energy vanished like an iceberg breaking apart leaving goosebumps racing up and down Roman’s arms as Sparky relaxed his grip on the chair. “You’re...not...acting how I expected you to.” 
He smirked. Good. The Tyrant couldn’t be just your predictable regular run of the mill bad guy. “Oh?” 
The chair scraped against the tile as Sparky cautiously sat down, his hand resting on the mask. “You...you care far too much about...” He shakily inhaled, the lights flickering above his head as he raised a hand, presumably to scrub at his eyes judging by the movement. “Me. No one ca--but you--and--and you don’t even know who--” 
No one cares? If he wasn’t certain he’d be electrocuted on the spot Roman would have pulled the young hero into another hug then and there. It sure sounded like he desperately needed one. 
“Kindness doesn’t need to be shown a face, Sparky.” Roman said softly, laying the spoons on the table with a quiet clink. “Just because I’m a bad guy...doesn’t mean I’m a bad guy.” 
The kid huffed another shaky laugh. “Did...did you seriously just quote Wreck-it Ralph at me?” 
Roman jerked his head up in surprise. “You know--” 
The hero flinched back, causing the dove on his shoulder to take flight as his violet eyes half hidden by damp bangs flashed with panic while lightning crackled at his fingertips. 
Wait! Face! Gah! Roman twisted in his seat, hissing under his breath, his body tensing with the expectation of getting electrocuted. Great. Of course his love of Disney would come back to bite him at a delicate moment. 
This really would be much easier if the kid would just put on the mask already, so he wouldn’t have to worry--- but Roman wasn’t going to force him to do something he obviously was reluctant to do. Sparky was a guest…even if he was technically kidnapped. 
“I didn’t see anything, Whirlwind” He said as evenly as he could as the dove landed on the counter nearby with a soft coo, his mind racing as he turned his head further to stare at the pot on the stove. “But...judging from your reaction...perhaps you don’t actually want me to know who you are?” 
“I--I--” There was a thunk on the table as the crackling sound coming from the boy faded. “I don’t want to...be a hero right now, Tyrant.” He whispered. “I--I can’t--not now.” 
But the kid couldn’t exactly use his civilian identity in front of the Tyrant either since they were enemies. A pretty pickle. Except Thunderclap seemed to be forgetting one thing. He didn’t have to be either identity.
Roman glanced towards the young hero to see his face buried in his arms, purple mask half hidden underneath them. “Last I checked, Hurricane.” He said quietly. “There’s no rule saying that because you wear purple and white as a hero...that you can only ever wear those colors.” 
It would be a dead giveaway to the villains--for the smart ones at least--if the heroes did that.
Roman gestured, his hands again glowing crimson as he created a dozen more masks similar to the purple one the table, making each one a different color of the rainbow plus some boring shades like black and brown to give Raindrops a variety to choose from.
He turned away from the display as Sparky looked up. “If you don’t want to be a hero then pick a different color mask. You can be anyone you want to be under it. I can even conjure you a different set of pajamas so you can distance yourself further from your hero color scheme while you’re here. Just…” Don’t give up just yet. He shrugged. “Pick one.”
Waterspout reached out, hesitantly touching a blue mask, before shifting to hover over a green one. “...It can’t be that easy.” He whispered.  “What’s the catch?” 
 Roman made a face. “No catch. Pick a mask and then tell me a name to go with it.” He said, watching him from the corner of his eye as the boy lowered his head, his bangs hiding his eyes. “Any name.” He coaxed. “And I’ll call you that instead while you’re here. You won’t have to be a hero. You can just...be my guest.” 
“A guest. To the Tyrant.” Thunderclap said, putting an emphasis on the name.
That--the kid had a point. Roman exhaled. How could Sparky forget he was a Hero if his enemy, the Tyrant, was still around? Which meant...he would need to create his own alter identity as well. 
For the seemingly simple task of taking in a young hero and giving him soup...this whole thing was becoming more and more...complicated.
“No. Not to him. To me. Your host.” He stated, raising a crimson hand to his golden mask, altering it so that it became the same size and shape as the ones on the table, his crown vanishing as Roman made minor alterations to his appearance to keep Whirlwind from guessing his own civilian identity. 
He dropped his hand from the simple red mask he now wore, heart hammering in his chest at how...well naked he felt in the thing as he turned more fully to the kid, once more back in the clothes he’d been wearing while working on recreating his Knightmare Soldiers, careful to keep his attention on the masks on the table and not the hero’s bare face. No wonder Sparky was reluctant to wear this sort of thing. It hardly felt like a disguise at all. 
“You can call me Pryce.” He said, spreading his hands, fighting not to fidget under the weight of Sparky’s eyes boring into him, taking in his changed appearance.
“Pryce?” 
Roman nodded, watching Thunderclap’s hands twitching over his color options. “Yes.” 
It was one name he knew he would answer to that couldn’t immediately be connected back to his own civilian life.
“You’re serious about this? No heroes...no villains...just…us?” 
“So long as you’re here as my guest. Yes.” If Raindrops needed a break, then Roman would give him it. Anything to keep the kid from doing--from---from repeating--.
A soft sigh. “Okay.” Thunder rumbled in the distance as Sparky plucked up a plain black mask, placing it over his eyes. 
Roman blinked. Wait. Black? “Sooo...what? You going all goth on me now, kid?” He asked, slowly turning more fully towards the hero--to his guest as the boy looked up, already visibly relaxing now that Roman could look at him without seeing his identity. 
The corner of his lips twitching in a half smile as Sparky ran a hand through his darker hair, ensuring the bangs still half covered his eyes. “You have a problem with me wearing black?”  
Roman rolled his eyes. He was a villain who wore gold for a reason. Of course he didn’t like black. “Beyond it being such a common, dull, and boring color?” He waved a hand dismissively, vanishing the other masks. “No. Not really.” 
Thunderclap huffed, shaking his head. “Then...you can call me Andy.” He said, reaching for the closest bowl of soup, violet eyes flickering to him to check Roman’s reaction. 
Andy. 
Roman tilted his head. Not a name he would have picked for the hero. But he supposed that was kinda the point. “Andy.” He repeated. “Nice.” Not as nice or creative as Pryce, but he’d save his critiques for the boy’s lack of originality another day. “Is it short for the Mountain range?”
Spar--Andy choked on a laugh, shaking his head as he picked up a spoon. “No--not after--No.” 
“Pity.” Roman said, a more natural smile appearing on his lips as he grabbed his own bowl of soup, purposely getting the spoon to his lips before his guest to prove that the soup was safe. “After the Mints then? I would be more understanding of your emolicious choice in black if that were the case.”
Andy flashed him a smile, eyes sparking. “Only if Pryce is short for Price Tag. How much you going for these days? Two bucks?” He asked, taking a cautious sip from his bowl, only to immediately go for another spoonful.
  Roman nearly choked on his own soup. Price Tag? TWO BUCKS?! How dare he insult the Tyr-- Gah! Right. Not actively being the bad guy right now. But STILL. The audacity! 
No wonder he loved bantering with this kid.
“You’ll come to find, Hot Topic, that I’m priceless. You can’t afford me.”
Andy hummed, nodding like a wise old sage as he picked up the bowl in both hands, tilting it to his lips. “So your name is Less now?”
Roman clicked his tongue, watching the kid gulp down his soup like there was no tomorrow. Okay...he’d walked into that one. “No.” He said, summoning the pot over from the stove, so that the kid could get more if he so desired. 
“Pity.” Andy set the bowl down, glancing to the pot then to him. “Guess I can’t think of you any Less then.” He licked his lips, meeting Roman’s eyes before he could respond. “Not after--well...thanks--for letting me...crash here for a bit...Pryce.” 
Roman blinked, caught off guard at the sudden change in direction. A pity. He’d had a great retort to that earlier remark too. 
He took up the ladle, filling the kid’s bowl once more. “No problem, Peppermint.” He said as he also pushed the mug of hot chocolate closer to the hero, summoning a bag of marshmallows with a twitch of his fingers. He chuckled as the kid’s eyes once again lit up. “Stay as long as you need.” 
412 notes · View notes
hey-lady · 3 years
Text
Always To Be Loved
Started off as a headcanon and it became this. Enjoy!
Dr. Turner reminisces on the ones he has lost around the time of the birth of Baby Teddy. He recollects the birth of his first son, Timothy, and his relationship with his first wife and the barriers they faced. Marianne had made her wishes clear for her son early on, but what about her husband?
Read it on ff.net!
Read it on A03!
Patrick was surprised when he found himself quite sad at the prospect of Sister Julienne helping his wife through labor and subsequent delivery of his child. It was never because he doubted her skills,—in fact, he could not have chosen someone better for his wife—but rather it was because of Sister Evangelina.
Timothy and Marianne had been under the care of Sister Evangelina back in 1948. Marianne had had a difficult pregnancy filled with a bundle of prospective complications. They quickly came to the conclusion that if they could help it, Timothy would be their only child for the sake of Marianne. She had taken to this situation very poorly and quickly fell into a deep, unresponsive depression. Patrick found himself badly equipped at handling this situation. Her own struggle only reminded him of his pain during the time following the war which no one other than him and his doctors knew about.
Sister Evangelina was the one who noticed their struggle and quickly—and rather unorthodoxly—assigned herself to their case. She spent extra time with Marianne pushing her to continue in her life for her husband and baby's sake. Everyone was astounded by the amount of personal care that she put into the Turner case.
Sister Evangelina never told anyone, but it was because she noticed some distinctive behaviors in Dr. Turner; he would flinch at the mention of any possibility of death, his face would drop instantaneously when someone expressed mental distress due to the war, and he held an obsessive, perfectionist desire for care that if it faltered in any way would cause him to spend the next several days scrutinizing and berating himself.
It became wildly apparent to the Sister that Dr. Turner saw one of the soldiers he was unable to save in his own pregnant wife. In her eyes, it was clear that Dr. Turner had experience some sort of mental instability following his service in the war.
'What if I can not save her?'
This was question that flooded his mind each time Marianne slipped into one of her episodes or her or the baby's health took a turn.
Sister Evangelina saw her place to help and made sure to do so. When the time came for Baby Turner to make their appearance, Sister Evangelina took up her call to action.
Labor had begun close to dawn on a frosty November morning.
"Patrick. Patrick, wake up!"
Patrick awoke to find his sheets properly soaked in clear in amniotic fluid, and a terrified wife in the midst of them. Much to his concern, contractions did not arrive until about 2 hours afterwards, but luckily picked up quickly once they did finally begin. Nonnatus House was rung once the pains hit 5 minutes apart, and Marianne could no longer keep silent.
Patrick was frightfully uncomfortable. This certainly was not his first time seeing a laboring woman, but when it is your own wife. Well, it changes things. Nevertheless, he tried his best to coach her through the contractions the best he could with his stereotypical, well-practiced dialogue he said to all his mothers.
But she wasn't all of his mothers. She was his wife.
Although he rarely prayed and did not even know if he believed in God, he prayed today, and prayed that the midwife would hurry up already and take it from here. He was not strong enough for this. After what felt like eternity, but was more likely no more than 20 minutes, Sister Evangelina came knocking on their door, bag and dictating attitude in hand. In true character, he was promptly removed from the bedroom to allow for the women to do their work.
It was a grueling 18 hours of groans, whimpers, screams, and sobs before Sister Evangelina began to question if this baby would come without help. Sister Evangelina had let this labor go on much longer then she normally would ever allow, but she knew that a transport to hospital or even the maternity home would be traumatic for mother, baby, and father.
Baby was refusing to budge despite exhausting the list of solutions. Marianne was at her wits end and was no longer listening to Sister Evangelina or the back up midwife who had arrived several hours before for support. Every time they spoke to her she would thrash her head far back into the pillows refusing to listen to their words of encouragement or instruction. Patrick had stood post and been pacing outside the bedroom door for hours now smoking a countless number of Henleys.
He could not stand it any longer.
It had been hours. Many more hours than Sister Evangelina would ever allow. Enough was enough.
Patrick unceremoniously barged through the door making a beeline for his laboring wife.
"Out! Out! Out! Right now, Doctor!"
Sister Evangelina whipped her head around to see the doctor and was astounded at just how unkempt he looked. His usually pomaded hair was now loose and freed into its natural waved state. It was strewn in all ways across his head with several stubborn pieces falling directly in his face. His eyes were puffed and red and cheeks stained and flushed. All pointing to the conclusion that he had been crying for quite some time now and sleep had completely evaded him. Gone was his coat, tie, and vest, leaving him in a set of wrinkled trousers and a crumpled shirt that was missing cufflinks which forced him to roll it up his forearms. A small glimpse of his chest was provided due to the open buttons and loosened collar around his neck.
In a moment of exasperation and out of character, he pointed his finger towards Sister Evangelina and demanded,
"Absolutely not. You know better than I that she has had an extremely long second stage, and baby is not properly descending into the birth canal. It is in everybody's best interest that a doctor be present."
Even Sister Evangelina could not argue with that. Marianne's blood pressure had been wildly fluctuating, but with her skill and experience had managed to keep it stable enough.
"Pat…Pat? Are you really here?" Marianne whimpered from the mattress. Her hand weakly wavered up from the bed to reach out towards the direction of his voice.
"Of course, dearest. I'm afraid you and baby are having a little bit of trouble. I'm going to be here just to make sure nothing goes amiss."
All doubts of him being unable to handle this situation were out the window. He had to help. He had to.
"I trust you."
"I know you do."
It was at least another painful 45 minutes of breathing, panting, and pushing before Sister Evangelina announced Baby Turner's beautiful vertex was in view and carried an absolute head-full of dark brown hair to prove it.
Patrick was kneeling next to the bed face-to-face with Marianne as she was on her left side with her leg flopped over the Sister's shoulder. One hand was fervently stroking her sweat coated hair out of her face and the other was gripping her hand harder than she was as he coached,
"Breath, Mar, breath. Slowly does it, slowly does it. That's the stuff. You're doing so, so well, my darling." Insisted the 'doctor-who-was-present-only-in-a-completely-medical-capacity. "Let baby do the work. Let baby do all the work now. You've done so well."
"Crowning now, dear Marianne, your baby's head is crowning! Slow push now. Slow, slow push for us." Sister Evangelina coached. "Slowly! Slowly! Slowly! Here it comes, here it comes, here it comes, marvelous work, my girl, marvelous work. Next one will do it for us. One more big push for us!"
Patrick looked up. His brown eyes were shining with unshed tears. He never anticipated to ever personally be in this situation. He had always doubted the institution of marriage after seeing the unfaithfulness and violence of his father. Discovering he had no interest in marriage or fatherhood throughout his younger years, he never sought it out. He did not necessarily turn his nose up at the possibility of one day experiencing it, but he had no expectations for it to ever come to him.
Patrick had met Marianne shortly after his release from the psychiatric hospital. She had taken quickly to him, and in desperation for stability, he followed suit. He was ashamed to admit that for the first year or so of their relationship, he did not love her. He used her. She was eager. Cheerful. Did not pry. And bluntly put, a distraction. Marianne knew this but did not mind it. She loved him and truly believed that he would one day as well. Believing this was his one chance, Patrick took the plunge and proposed after a long, yet stable, three year relationship. Patrick had grown to love her in his own way and was genuinely fond of her. It was not the sweeping romance shown in the pictures, but it was happy, and it was stable. Just what he needed.
They were married on a sunny July day in 1947 in the presence of all her family and friends and the small group of his. He was happy, but both of them were naive. They both ignorantly ignored the barriers between them. One of their most obvious barriers was physical.
He had become quite distant in their engagement. He never touched her—really. Only a hand on the small of her back guide her through a crowd. His hand to help her out of a vehicle or off a bus. Occasionally, when publicly necessary, an arm to walk with. Other than that, nothing.
Looking back, he realized that his past self instinctually knew that he was in the wrong. What he was doing to Marianne was not right. She deserved better. He had even tried to let her leave him. He was in no way worthy of Marianne. She was far, far too good for him.
"Marianne, I care for you. I do. Really. Which is why I'm telling you this. I am too much for you. To ask you to bear me and all of my burdens would be far too much to ask. If you want out, I won't be upset with you."
"Patrick…I…I am afraid I do not know what you want me to say. Do you want…out? As you so kindly put it."
"No….," He was lying, "I…I, Marianne, I just want you to be happy."
"I am happy. With you…Patrick," she sighed, "I have to marry you. I have to. Even if I did not want to, and I do! I am over 30 years old and unmarried. Forgive me, but you have no idea what it is like to woman who is unmarried in this society. I am so ashamed. My mother has made sure to tell me that unless I marry you now, I'll never have another chance." She dryly chuckled, "Apparently, I'm far too vocal than what men want. I'm afraid that the war changed me. I always have been, but the war made me quite independent, and I've had trouble letting go of that. You have been wonderful with allowing me that freedom. Patrick, you are a good man. A kind one. You're doctor and will be able to provide for me."
She became too choked up to speak , and tears that had been welling in her eyes began to fall. She moved to sit on the settee in her mother's living room. He slowly joined her; awkwardly, sitting on opposite ends of the piece of furniture. The silence was frightfully loud. Neither one could say how long the sat drenched in stillness.
He hesitated, "Marianne," it was his turn to sigh, "you're right. Certainly you are. I am sorry. It was wrong of me to bring this up."
Marianne shifted to look at him and scooted every so slightly closer to him.
"No! No, Patrick. I am happy you did. I do not expect for you to confess everything of your past. You are nearly a 38 year old bachelor. I am sure you have some things you may not to speak about, and I can respect that."
He moved to sit next to her reached to grab her hands.
"Mar, there is so much that you do not know about me. Things that I am not sure if I will be able to say out loud. I do not want you have to be exposed to that."
He never made eye contact and kept his vision on their now intertwined hands griping each other's.
"Pat…oh Pat…you need not speak about those things if you do not wish. But we can happy. The two of us. We can. Please believe me."
She pressed her forehead into his shoulder and breathed in his scent. He lowered own head to rest a top hers.
The engagement proceeded, and the wedding took place.
The physical barrier did not lower once they were wed. He had obviously touched her at their wedding: Offered his arm, held her hand, put his arm around her waist. And even at the end of the night as they prepared for bed, pulled her against his body, brought his hands up to cup her cheeks, licked his lips, and placed a solid kiss on her's. Nothing else happened after that though. Their marriage was not consummated.
They shared a bed. Only occasionally touching each other. He would kiss her cheek each time he left and returned from work. If they ever kissed on the lips, it was Marianne who pulled him down to her level, and it was never more than a swift peck.
Marianne was not a prude. She had worked during the war. Her friends made sure to provide detailed accounts of their liaisons. Her mother had had conversations with her before the wedding. She knew that Patrick was ignoring a vital part of their union.
One night she broached the subject to him. Her seated on the settee mending a sweater and him in his chair smoking a Henley while reading the latest Lancet. He had not always smoked Henleys. It started after his release after he had not been allowed cigarettes out of fear he might hurt himself. When he walked out the doors, the first stop he made was to shop to buy some cigarettes. He grabbed the first pack he could which happened to be Henleys. He never stopped after that; uncharacteristically believing perhaps it brought him some sort of luck.
"Patrick, may I ask you something?" She asked not looking up from her mending.
"Of course, dearest." He responded in the same distant fashion with his eyes not leaving the page as he took a long drag.
"Are you intimate with other women?" She asked finally lifting her eyes from the sweater to gauge his reaction.
His head shot up from the page. Eyes alight with fury and confusion. His body now visibly rigid.
"Marianne. What?" He tightly hushed.
"Are you sleeping with other women?" She repeated her query with insistence.
"Marianne, why would ask that? Do…do you believe that?"
He was angry. He smashed the small remnants of the cigarette he had been smoking into the ashtray on the table next to him.
"Not necessarily. But Patrick, I know that men have needs, and you never once sought relief from me. I know that perhaps I am not as attractive as other women around us, but I won't not lie to you, it is hurtful to think that you would throw your vows away over something like physical attraction. I thought you better than that. Besides I have never been…well…I have never partook in that side of things. I thought you might like that."
Patrick was almost physically sickened by the thought that Marianne believed that he cared about her purity. He had concluded long ago that that sort of thing did not impact his feelings, and he had absolutely no right or business to be passing judgement on what a woman chooses to do with their body.
"First of all, I will have you know that even if you had come having 'partaken' it would not change my view of you. Secondly, Marianne, I would never break my vow to you. Ever. I think and feel far too much for you to ever bring you close to a position like that. I obviously can not deny having not sought relief, as you put it, because of my own insecurities. I will spare the details, but all of my experiences were out of desperation during my younger years. I took…physical…pleasure of out them but the psychological toll was too much for me. I am afraid it has clouded my view of that side of things. I have learned to manage it. I-I-I am sorry, Marianne. I can not talk about this anymore.'
He quickly pushed himself out of his chair, moved across the room, and next thing she heard was the front door opening and loudly slamming shut. He spent the night in his office at his surgery.
Patrick returned the next evening with flowers in his hand.
Marianne was sitting at the kitchen table nervously moving her hands around each other. When she heard the door open, her anxiety only rose. His footsteps grew closer to her residing place, and as he came into view, his heart broke at her face. His wife. His young, darling wife thought she was in the wrong for inquiring about the obvious absence in their marriage. She had every right to know why he refused to consummate their union.
She rose from her seated position and they were standing an awkward distance from each other in the kitchen.
"Patrick. Oh Patrick. I am so sorry. I am so, so sorry. Forgive me. I had no reason to pry you about that. It was completely my fault." Marianne sputtered out quickly before he could say anything. She began shaking with silent sobs and moved to cover her face.
Patrick laid the bouquet down on the counter and intercepted her rising arms and pulled them to wrap around his torso. He wrapped his around her shoulders and tucked her head under his cheek as she cried even harder.
"Marianne, I will hear no such apology from you. The only one who needs to be apologizing and is at fault is me. I have been terribly selfish and ignored your own feelings and needs. You have absolutely every right to ask about the intimate side of our relationship. And even though you do not need it, I give you outright permission to pry about how I am fulfilling my desires."
She hesitantly moved her head from under his and moved to look up into his face. Her eyes were frightfully swollen and red. Much more so than if this would have been the first time she had cried. Brownish, purple rings under her eyes testified to the fact that she did not rest well, if at all, the previous night. She sniffled before she quietly spoke.
"Patrick, I never meant to upset you. It's just that I want to make you happy, and I know that you're not like other men, but you are still a man. And…it's just that…ah…my mother…how do I say this?" She had lowered her gaze to look at his lapels. She squared her shoulders and moved to remake eye contact before saying. "She told me that you would most certainly seek my body as a release and that I should be amenable. I want to help you. Please."
Patrick sighed. His heart broke even more than it already was at the thought that this magnificent woman believed that their intimacy would be a chore for her. It was exactly what he was afraid of.
"My dear, it is my hope that if and when we do become intimate," she shivered in his arms as his voice lowered in his register and became graveled, "that you will derive as much satisfaction as I will."
"That's possible?" She was practically red and uncomfortably shifting in arms from embarrassment. "I am afraid I do not even know what you will get out it. I am terribly unaware of these things."
He cracked a rather sensual smile before lowering it his forehead to rest on hers and said, "Oh it most certainly is."
She sheepishly smiled back and pressed further into the embrace before began moving her gaze to his lips. Patrick noticed shift and took initiative.
He moved his face so that his lips pressed firmly against her smooth, rosy ones. His knees practically buckled when she gently moaned into his. He parted her lips and tongues briefly caressed each other before he pulled away, breathed shakily and rasped, "Marianne, dearest, as wonderful as this is, I am not quite ready to go there. I am sorry. It is completely me. Not you in any way."
She a bit disappointedly looked downwards before looking back up with a wry but gentle smile and said, "Of course. When you are, you know who to ask."
They both softly chuckled at her jab.
Their marriage was consummated 7 months after their ceremony. It had been unexpected when it did finally happen and had in no way been planned or anticipated. Since that evening shared the kitchen, the couple had gotten more comfortable and frequent in sharing kisses. In the weeks leading up to the main event, Patrick had begun to let his hands wander—not too far, but enough to be suggestive.
It had begun in the same way and simply put, it did not stop.
Patrick slowly pulled back to break their passionate embrace.
"Oh Pat…Pat, please…Pat, please, no." Marianne muttered. She moved to pulled him back to her lips.
"Marianne, are you sure? Are you ready?" Patrick was taking no chances with this and wanted a clear answer.
"Patrick! Am I ready? Of course I am. I believe the question is, are you?" She breathed out.
He was.
Things naturally progressed from there.
It was difficult for them. Marianne quickly discovered that certain parts of their marital relations caused her a fairly great deal of discomfort despite her desire to experience and provide it. Patrick was wonderfully patient and sought to make her as comfortable and satisfied as possible. It was disheartening for her regardless of Patrick's insistence that she was completely blameless in all of this, and he was still happy with their marriage both inside and outside of their marital bed.
Patrick had his suspicions of whether or not there was a medical explanation for this, and his hypothesis was only confirmed as her pregnancy progressed.
Somehow the thought and prospect of children had never crossed his mind until she started to become quite unwell in spring of 1948. She would be awoken almost every morning by nausea and vomiting that would return in the evenings, and would often return home to her squatted in the kitchen or living room experiencing dizziness or lying on their bed with a headache. It embarrassingly took him several days to put it together.
He glanced over his shoulder find the empty spot in his bed that normally occupied his wife. Before he could question her absence, he heard it: vomiting. As a doctor, he was all too familiar with the sounds of gagging, dry heaving, and vomiting to the point that he found himself barely phased.
Patrick rose from the bed and made his way into their bathroom to find Marianne hunched over the toilet trying to empty her stomach—except there was nothing to empty. He lowered himself on the ground next to her before gathering the hair that was grazing her face. She eventually shifted her face so that her flushed, yet pale, cheek rested of the cold seat of the toilet.
"Nothing is coming out," she croaked, "I honestly wish that something would come out. Maybe I would feel somewhat better."
Patrick only pushed her damp hair behind her ear and began to stroke her cheek before asking, "Would you like me to make an appointment for you to se if there is a problem?"
Marianne's now closed eyes slowly opened before she raised her head and gently smiled at her husband. She could not help but be a little amused at the sight of her dear husband seated on the tiled floor of their bathroom with his wavy mop of a hair wildly askew looking worried and unconvincingly confused.
'Mmm it never does seem to want to corporate, does it? Somehow it fits him though.' She indulged herself with the thought.
She stared at him and murmured, "Patrick, don't act like that. You know what's wrong with me. Don't think I don't see you looking at me differently. You've known for weeks. You probably knew before I did!"
He bashfully averted his eyes down to the tile floor before querying, "How long have you known?"
"A week. I have wondered for about 3 though."
"A baby."
"Yes."
"I suppose they're right. Only takes several times—once really."
"You would know better than I." She countered. "Pat," she reached to caress and stroke his cheek with her thumb, "I hope this is alright."
"We don't have much choice do we?"
"I'm afraid not." She whispered to him. Marianne hesitated, "But this could be good. This could be really good. Yes?"
"Of course it can," He was surprised to feel himself grinning, "As long as the baby is like you."
"No! I want him to look and act just like you."
"Him?"
"Yes. Him."
And now they were here. Patrick stared at the midwife who just announced that his baby's head was resting in her hand. His baby was about to enter the madness of the world that they called home.
Patrick snapped back and turned to his laboring wife who was whimpering into the pillow absolutely exhausted.
"Mar. Marianne. Marianne, darling. Baby is about to be born. Our little baby is about to be here." He was so proud. "We only need one more big, big push from you." Patrick was practically begging before the next contraction arrived, "I am so proud of you. So, so proud."
Unsure if she even heard him, he looked back down to the end of the bed where Sister Evangelina resided. She looked conflicted.
"Sister?"
"If you utter a single word to a single soul about what I am about to do, you will live to disdain the very day you were born."
Patrick bewilderedly started at her before she motioned for him to join her. He glanced at his wife and realized she was so exhausted she would not even notice the absence of his hand. He quickly shuffled down.
"Finish us off then."
Sister Evangelina backed away leaving him to handle to rest of the birth on his own. Her contraction began as her whimpers turned to groans. With no time to waste, Patrick became Dr. Turner.
"Marianne, big push for us. One more." Tears were pouring down his cheeks as she encouraged her. "Come on. Yes! Yes! Bit more. Little bit more! That's it! Oh…oh…oh Marianne!"
His baby.
His son.
His son was now wailing in his arms making it abundantly clear that he was not pleased with the harsh change in temperatures upon his arrival into his father's arms. Patrick was weeping. Absolutely, positively, completely weeping over his son that was held in his hands. Tears poured down his cheeks and slid down his chin onto his neck. Several probably landed somewhere on the baby.
He was tiny. So very, very tiny. He was a normal size for a newborn baby, but Patrick could not help but be struck by the fact that this small creature was encased in his two hands.
'What a privilege.' He thought.
And then he remembered his wife. His wife. His wonderful, brilliant, magnificent wife who had carried, nurtured, and birthed this child. How could he forget?
"Marianne, we have a son! He is so, so beautiful!" His voice was thick with tears.
Marianne had suddenly been revitalized at the sound of her baby's crying. She had flopped over onto back. Nightgown hiked up around her waist soaked with sweat, fluid, and blood. Legs wide open. It mattered very little to her as she reached for her son. Her arms were aching to hold him.
"The cord, Doctor." Sister Evangelina intervened the touching moment. He chuckled at his forgetfulness and glanced up at the Nun to find tears filling her own eyes. As she leaned in to take over from him, she moved so that her face was directly in line with his grinning profile. She warned into his ear.
"Just so we're clear, Doctor, everyone outside of this room will be under the impression I delivered this baby."
He only smiled wider and grabbed the clamps she was offering and swiftly cut the tie between mother and baby that had sustained and formed his son.
He quickly swaddled baby up in a towel that was placed on the bed for that very purpose and moved to place their son on his mother's chest. Her arms were outstretched and an absolutely beaming and glowing smile plastered her face as tears rolled down her cheeks.
Had he ever seen a more beautiful sight?
His wife holding his son.
If he had doubted it in the past, now he was certain: he was hopelessly in love with that woman.
He had just watched her become the mother of his child.
How could he not love her?
"Oh my dear. Oh my darling." Marianne was crying over her baby as she tried to soften his own. "I want you always to be loved."
He would.
Patrick sat back as he remembered that moment. One of the happiest moments of his life. Timothy was his saving grace after Marianne died. A gift from her.
It was when Timothy was around 4 years old when she first began to have issues. Her cycles became longer and more painful. Timothy had to start going to nursery daily for about a week and half as she became incapacitated.
She never really opened up to him about it. He often later blamed himself for not prying more and possibly intervening sooner. He obviously knew something was awry and begged her to go and see a specialist. She refused to even let him examine her and certainly had little desire to inquire further.
For 3 long years, Marianne suffered in agonizing pain often undermining her discomfort for the sake of her husband and son. Timothy knew no different and simply understood that Mummy was sometimes quite poorly. In those times, he would go to nursery, with Daddy to the surgery to play in his office, sometimes even to Nonnatus House to spend time with the nurses and nuns, and to Granny Parker's to be showered with love and cakes.
Her diagnosis was clear and obvious once she finally relented to help after the insistence of Sister Evangelina.
"You are hurting your son by not caring for yourself. You know better than this."
Uterine Cancer.
It was a result and explanation of a slew of issues she had experienced throughout her late 20s and 30s.
Patrick was absolutely ashamed to not have noticed it sooner. Perhaps he had, but just did not want to accept it.
He did not want to think about her death. Not right now. His current wife, his darling, darling, darling, Shelagh, was about to give birth to their third baby any day now.
He could not help but be reminded of his first wife though. Sometimes he wondered if Marianne was watching over them. Ironically, he had always called Shelagh his "Angel" and not Marianne. The latter would make more sense technically. Yet, he had occasionally pondered if Marianne had actually sent Shelagh to him and Timothy.
Marianne had made her requests clearly known during her departure.
She had been sleeping almost constantly, likely due to the large quantities of morphine coursing through her cancer-ridden body. The end was very much near.
Patrick refused to leave her side. Clinging to her hand. Holding it to his face and heart. He knew she was leaving him and yet he refused to accept it. He could barely fathom that there had been a point in his life where he was with her and not utterly in love with her. As soon as he recognized it, she was leaving him.
"Patrick?" She rasped, barely audible "Pat…Pat? Are you really here?" Marianne gripped his hand with the most strength she could muster.
"Of course, dearest. I'm afraid you're having a bit of trouble. I'm going to be here just to make sure nothing goes amiss." His face crumbled into pieces as his sickeningly remembered the last time they had said those words to each other. There would certainly be no baby at the end of all this. He clung tighter to hand and pressed his fervently to his wet cheek.
"Patrick." Her eyes were surprisingly cognizant and fierce. "Patrick, you must promise me something. Please. For my sake. So I can rest easily."
"Marianne. Oh, Marianne…Mar…please don't say that."
"We both know it's true. You know better than I." She managed a wry smile remembering yet another moment they shared.
"Find her."
"What?…Who?…Marianne, who are you talking about? Your mother? She's looking after Timmy. I can get her." He began to rise from the chair to summon his mother-in-law.
"No, Patrick." She forced him to stay and somehow managed to grip even tighter to his hand.
"Find her. The one who you're meant to be with. The love of your life. Your soulmate if you believe in all that."
"Marianne, what are you talking about? You're right here—"
"No. Oh no, Patrick. No, Patrick. We both know I'm not that woman. Perhaps you're mine, but I'm not your's. I can see it. I can feel it. I always could."
Deciding an argument would most definitely not be a good use of the little time they had, Patrick made an attempt at a joke through his tear coated voice.
"You'll have to help me then. You know how bad I am at missing the obvious when it comes to my personal life." He choked out with a wet smile. Her hand was now covered in his salty tears.
She smirked.
"Oh. Oh, I will." She looked up at the ceiling that was behind his head convivially, deep in thought.
"Maybe I'll make her fall. Injure herself." Marianne was beginning to wheeze but managed to continue. "Nothing too serious. No, that would be wrong of me. Enough for her to need your medical expertise. Knowing you though, that would not be enough." She moved her head back to establish eye contact with him before whispering. "Perhaps I can arrange a reason for her to be sent away as soon as you realize and cause you to spend your days and nights pining and longing for her. Mmm…yes, I think that will do best."
They managed to share a small laugh.
"And where will Timmy be in all of this?" He humored her.
"Oh he'll be painfully aware of what's happening." Her face fell as it became serious. "She's going adore him. My little Tim. Oh." Tears of joy begin to rain on her cheeks "Oh. She'll love him so much. I'll make her forget sometimes that he's not her's…He'll never forget me though. I know it."
"No. He won't. I won't let him."
"Good. Good." She smiled again. "And I think I'll see if I can't find some siblings for Tim."
"Siblings? As in more than one?"
"Oh yes. A whole brood of children." She held her eye contact with his tear glistened brown ones.
"Promise me, Patrick. Find her. Promise me right now."
"Marianne—"
"Patrick, promise me. Cross your heart right now."
"Alright. Just for you." He put his right hand over his heart. "I promise."
"Thank you."
Sister Evangelina had been there with him as Marianne left the world. Just as she had been when his son entered the world. Once again she had been there to help guide him through the waters he had never anticipated in drowning in. It was ironic, poetic really, the two of them sparred more than any other midwife he had ever worked with. And yet, there she was, by his side.
When he had proposed to Shelagh and word spread through Nonnatus, he avoided her. Out of complete and utter fear.
One day though, she called him out to a delivery. Classic case of forceps. All ended well and as they were cleaning up and leaving, the inevitable arrived.
"So. Dr. Turner, how is Shelagh?"
"She is quite well. I'll be sure to tell her you asked after her. She will appreciate it."
She pursed her lips. He feared for his survival.
"Doctor…I need know only one thing."
"Yes?"
"Do you love her?"
"She's the love the of my life, Sister."
She cocked an eyebrow, smirked, nodded, and moved on with her day. She did not let him off the hook. Oh no. She took every chance she got to make a comment about the doctor taking one of her sisters.
Patrick brooded over his cup of tea as he remembered several other memories with Sister Evangelina. His discovery that she spoke to Shelagh about her infertility, her first visit to meet their Angela, his hearing about her health issues, her stroke, and most difficult of all—having to be the one to pronounce her death. The only one harder than that one was Marianne.
That was a memory for another day. Sister Evangelina would most certainly not be pleased with him spending this much time remembering her. She might condone his late wife's memory, but her certainly not her own.
Instead, he smiled down at ring that now was housed on his left hand.
'Yes.
Sister Julienne is a most appropriate choice for my Shelagh.'
15 notes · View notes