#I used to listen to their cover of beach life in death every morning while laying on the floor with my eyes closed

[from-the-clouds]

Kiss Me More (Part IIII) - Zemo/Reader

Masterlist | Part One | Part Two | Part Three | 

Summary: Reader ponders the decision they made after meeting Zemo in Riga. Series now complete!

Words: 5.2k

Warnings: Kissing, marijuana & alcohol abuse, heavy angst & depression, small reference to suicide, implied casual sex, yearning

A/N (also check out A/N at end when finished reading): This is it, everyone! I was going to end this completely differently originally, but after some thinking --  and some light peer pressure from ya’ll, I did something a little different. I did fight with this part the most out of all of them, so I hope it’s still good. Please enjoy. And thank you for all the love on this series, it’s been so fun to write! Also I was listening to this song while writing this.

---

The incessant buzz of her alarm clock jolted her out of her dreamless sleep. Fumbling in the dark, she slapped the top of it, hitting the snooze button and looking at the interface with bleary eyes. 

4:00 A.M. It stared, indifferent, back at her tired face. 

She groaned, squeezing her eyes shut and lamenting, bargaining, half expecting the clock to turn back time when she opened her eyes again. Unfortunately, it did not. With a huff, she threw back the covers and stretched, disturbing the orange cat that slept in the empty spot next to her where her husband used to lay. 

Snorting, the cat lifted its head to look at her as she climbed out of bed before curling back up in a ball where her feet had been. 

“Don’t mind me, just getting ready for work so I can feed us,” she said, grumpily, then in a moment of repentance, affectionately scratching her behind the ears. 

She had always been a night owl, so she didn’t think it would be possible to ever get used to waking this early. No human was meant to function at this time. It was the one part of the job she hated most. The rest of it was manageable, though it was still work. 

Setting about her morning routine, she showered, made coffee, and donned her uniform. Eating a day-old bagel and nursing her coffee on her tiny balcony, she looked out over the darkened horizon. It was far too early to even enjoy a sunrise. 

There was a saying, time heals all wounds. After her husband died, she’d heard it a lot. It was a saying she had come to find true. But it’d been well over a year since she’d left Helmut, alone in that swanky hotel room, and it still hurt like it was yesterday. 

“I understand,” he’d murmured, and she felt the ghost of his kiss on her forehead, arms around her waist, even now. She shivered, not from the chill of the morning air.

She’d left her old life behind, all of it. Sam and Bucky, too, about a month after their time in Riga. She couldn’t look them in the eyes after what she’d done.

But, she was proud of what they’d accomplished. They’d defeated the Flag Smashers. Bucky seemed happier, more at peace. Sam had accepted his role as the new Captain America. John Walker seemed to have faded into irrelevancy. All the loose ends had been tied up in a pretty little bow.

Except for hers.

Which is why she moved, sold all the stuff in her tiny NYC apartment, and packed her car full with what she couldn’t bear to part with, some photos and momentos from a different lifetime. Her car didn’t stop until she hit the Atlantic Ocean, on an island just south of Charleston. All but undiscovered by tourists, the residents in the sleepy beach town kept to themselves, and she could go about her life in peace, undisturbed. 

She couldn’t just run away from her problems, that was why she’d left Zemo. It seemed counterintuitive, but in her mind, it made sense. The problems would catch up to her, like they always had. The dissatisfaction she had with her life, with herself, was always going to return. And she knew she had to be alone to deal to face it head on. Like a wounded animal, crawling into the woods, there were only two ways things could end here; either she’d heal and come out stronger, or eventually she’d die. And so far, the healing part wasn’t going great. 

Each day was a matter of convincing herself that she’d made the right choice. Especially now, as her eyes burned, fighting to stay open against the inviting embrace of sleep. 

Despite it being dark outside, the bakery was bustling already when she walked in the service entrance. It smelled amazing, as always. Sweet and warm, a cacophony of aromas, baking bread, fresh coffee, sugar.

She set about the usual preparations to open up, packaging orders for the regulars, sweeping the floor, wiping down countertops. Once the place was open, she didn’t have to work the register, as she prepared batches of dough in the back for proofing, to be baked the next day. 

Before, she’d been a terrible cook, but she’d grown comfortable in the kitchen after learning to bake. There was something satisfying about working with her hands, at this point she’d memorized all the recipes and the work became second nature to her. Now, she always had fresh bread and pastries in her kitchen, although they were the slightly disformed, ones the shop owners deemed too ugly for the glass display cases. Daylight was cherished, even if she barely saw it inside the shop. Because while she was awake, busy with work, her thoughts remained pleasant.

At night it was the hardest. Things got quiet, lonely. When she got home, she poured herself a drink. Cheap whiskey, the kind that came in a plastic bottle and burned on it’s way down. She had never been much of a drinker before, she was now. Her thoughts were more manageable after a drink. Especially because she was usually thinking of Helmut. 

It was often that she wondered what he may be doing, and those thoughts usually ended with the image of him lying in the sun, poolside, on some island in the Pacific Ocean, drinking expensive champagne with a supermodel. It wasn’t a particularly comforting thought to her, and yet she was plagued by some variation of it every night. 

Sometimes, she’d humor herself, and imagine what they might be doing had she decided to stay with him. Unfortunately, thinking of that was more upsetting. She wanted it, selfishly, though she wasn’t willing to admit it.

When she was younger, it had been so easy to block out the pain, to just press forward, no matter what. Much to her dismay, it didn’t get easier as she got older. Years of watching those she loved in pain, years of being in pain had taken a toll on her resilience. She wasn’t the strong woman she once was, she was weak.

That night, one drink had turned into two, into three. Wallowing in her own self-pity had become second-nature, she felt like Hamlet, lamenting her circumstances, a constant turmoil monologuing in her brain. But this night felt particularly worse, for some reason. 

For the record, she had been doing better. But she was all-too-familiar with how grief worked, pulling her back down the dark side of the mountain, where she was forced to fight her demons over and over again. At some point, they were going to win.

It was a funny thing. Despite the loss of her husband, who she had loved dearly, his death had been easier to accept. Final. She couldn’t bring him back. Helmut on the other hand, was still out there, an open wound that could never fully heal.

Before she knew it, she was four drinks in, at her bedside table, fumbling through the bottom drawer, until she found what she was looking for.

Back on her couch, she stared at the card in her hand, the hastily written phone number on it, an international line. Helmut had given it to her, the day she left, stuck it in her purse while she wasn’t looking. She didn’t discover it until she had returned home.

It had been months since she last did this, pulled the card out of its hidden place in her drawer, placed it on the coffee table in front of her next to her phone, and considered dialing it. It had been a frequent occurrence when she first moved here, when she couldn’t find a job and spent most of her mornings either hungover, or stumbling home from rendezvous with men whose names she wouldn’t remember, and she wouldn’t care to, because there was only one man she really wanted. She could only hope he’d be as close as one call away. But she never called. 

I mean really, he’d probably moved on by this point. If she was going to call, she should have done it months ago, when there was more of a chance that he’d give a fuck. 

She considered this a setback. But she’d made her way halfway through the cheap bottle of whiskey, it was the drunkest she’d been in ages and she was curious. She didn’t know whose number it was, who’d be on the other end of the line, and never knew why Helmut would want her to have it to begin with.  

At this point, she wasn’t capable of good decision making. In general, it hadn’t always been her strong suit. So why did doing the right thing matter now? It didn’t, she decided. 

Taking a swig of whiskey straight from the bottle, she ensured she wouldn’t remember what happened next, at least not clearly. 

The phone rang twice before someone picked up. “Hello?” she didn’t recognize the sound of the man on the other end of the line immediately, so she didn’t answer. All she had wanted to do was maybe hear Helmut’s voice, he didn’t even need to know it was her that was calling. 

“Hello?” the man repeated, and she realized it wasn’t completely unfamiliar. The grandfatherly, comforting tone wasn’t her former lover, but someone close to him. And she supposed that wasn’t terrible.

“Is this Oeznik?” she asked. 

“It is,” he said after some hesitation. “May I ask who’s speaking?”

Truthfully, she was shocked she’d allowed herself to go this far. This was a bad idea. If she stopped now she could get off without doing any real damage. But just as she was about to hang up, she heard her name, muffled, on the other end of the line. 

“H-How do you know it’s me?” She raised the phone back to her ear. 

“I thought you sounded familiar,” Oeznik chuckled, low and soft. “Helmut told me you might call.”

“He did?” she squeaked. “Yes, although it was awhile ago. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I uh….I….well….” she managed. “I guess I just….I guess I wanted to see how he was doing.”  Her words flowed together like the liquor she was drinking, she knew she sounded drunk.

“Good, since we last spoke,” he said. “I don’t hear from him much these days...maybe every couple months. As you might imagine, he’s trying to keep a low profile for the time being.”

She nodded. Perhaps Zemo was as lonely as she was, hidden away in some cabin in the middle of nowhere. Though she had to imagine it looked much nicer than her current place, and maybe he had better company than a portly orange cat that begrudgingly liked him. “I understand.”

“How have you been?” he asked.

It sounded stupid, but she realized it was the first time someone had asked her that. Sincerely. Checked up on her. Even if she was the one who had dialed the number in the first place.

“I’m good,” her voice cracked. “Just keeping busy.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” he said. “Helmut always had such nice things to say about you.”

“Really?” she couldn’t stop herself. 

“Of course, would you like me to let him know you called?” 

“No, no...I wouldn’t want to bother him,” she choked on her words, something catching in her throat.

“Are you sure you’re alright, dear?”

“I’m okay, I just….” she felt tears prick at the back of her eyes, lowering her voice, since she didn’t think her normal register would come out as anything other than a whine. “I think I made a horrible mistake.”

“What’s the matter? What did you do?”

She shook her head, shaking the tears loose and now they were lining her lashes, threatening to spill over. However, she managed to make the next words she spoke come out clearly. “Nothing, I just...it’s really stupid, I really shouldn’t have called.”

He sighed on the other end of the line, and she felt like, despite her attempt at staying calm, he could still see that she wasn’t somehow. “It seemed Helmut was awfully sweet on you,” Oeznik’s words next came hesitantly, calculated. “I shouldn’t be telling you this, but he told me if you ever called, to help you with whatever you might need, no matter the ask.”

Oh God, what had she done? A sob left her, one she couldn’t control, and she clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle any more. Her tears were flowing freely now, tracking down her cheeks and along her chin. She wiped at them clumsily, clearing her throat. 

“That’s very kind of him, but you can’t help me. I’m so sorry to bother you, please just forget I even called,” she forced a smile on her face so that hopefully he could hear it. “Goodbye.”

She hung up, horrified, and within seconds had deleted the call log from her phone. She’d been thoughtful enough not to memorize the number, and the lighter she used whenever she smoked sat in front of her. Without a second though, she burned the card, watching the paper blacken and disintegrate, until it was all but a pile of soot on her Wal-Mart coffee table. It was a fair punishment, and ensured she’d never get the chance to embarrass herself like that again. 

And then she cried, sobbed into a pillow next to her, until her tears ran dry and she wore herself out, falling asleep on the couch alone. When she’d wake the next morning, the only evidence of her actions would be a throbbing headache and a dead phone. 

She wouldn’t remember the call.

----

Life went on, as it always did. It had been about a month, and since that night she grew more indifferent, remembered how to ignore heartbreak. For now, she was stuck in her purgatory, waking up before the sun and falling asleep before it set, smoking joints, drinking cheap liquor, and going on the occasional date with people who she didn’t really like, tourists who would leave after a week and wanted temporary company. 

Despite everything, she partly believed things were getting better. Maybe they weren’t, but the possibility that someday they would seemed feasible. And that was enough, for now. 

On her days off, she’d walk to the beach and lay on a blanket, reading a book until the sun dipped below the horizon and lit up the sky in hues of pinks and purples. She found a record player at an antique store and began collecting vinyls, listening to obscure artists whose albums she found in the $1 bin. It wasn’t so bad. Life wasn’t so bad. 

She took a shower after work. Tomorrow was her off day, and she wasn’t sure what she had planned besides maybe watching a movie and getting stoned. Maybe she’d try going to the beach. The weather was getting warmer, and she could even go swimming if the water wasn’t too cold. 

Exhausted from her day of work, she laid down in her bed, still in her robe, her hair wrapped in a towel around her head. The sun was setting outside, the windchimes she’d hung outside slowly clanging together, birds singing in the warm spring air. Her cat hopped on the bed, offered an affectionate trill and curled up at her side, purring, in a rare display of affection. A cool breeze drifted through the open window. And for the first time in over a year, she felt content. Closing her eyes, she savored the moment, committed it to memory, so she could recall it the next time she was drunk-crying in front of her TV. 

She fell asleep slowly, so slowly that when she woke, startled by something in her kitchen clattering to the floor, it felt like she hadn’t even been sleeping at all. The clock next to her red 11:31 p.m. and it was pitch dark outside, the cool breeze from before had grown stronger and her bedroom curtains were billowing, wind whistling loudly through the apartment. Her cat had left her side, and she frowned, shivering in the sudden cold.

Pulling the towel off her head, she made her way over to the window with the intention to close it, sleepily, lazily, until she heard something else. A creak in the floorboard. A heavy footstep in her kitchen. That wasn’t just her cat. 

Some kind of muscle memory was ignited then, an ancient instinct that called to her from a different lifetime. Darting across the room, the gun she kept was in her hand, stealthily pulled from its hiding spot beneath her mattress. Truth be told, she never thought she would’ve needed it. Anyone looking for her would be smart enough to kill her in her sleep, not be so foolish as to wake her first with their heavy footsteps. 

A dark silhouette stalked through her kitchen, moving slowly. It was a man, she assumed, based on his broader figure, and lack of coordination. In her experience, women were often stealthier without trying. He took another step, the floor creaking below him, shuffling on bargain linoleum. 

Staying low, she crept forward, ducking stealthily behind furniture, avoiding the spots on the floor she knew made noise. It didn’t appear the intruder had a weapon, in fact, it seemed he was bumbling about, searching for something. A burglar, and a bad one at that. An island full of vacation homes owned by rich doctors and they thought they’d find valuables in her shitty apartment?

It wasn’t until she was standing directly behind him, gun aimed at his head, that she finally spoke up. 

“I believe you’ve come to the wrong place,” she said flatly. “Whatever you’re looking for, it’d be in your best interest to leave empty-handed.”

Her eyes were still adjusting to the dark, but the intruder froze, arms slowly raising in defeat, empty-handed, as he turned around to face her. In the dingy room, she couldn’t make out any of his features, could only see that he was clad in all black.

“Unfortunately, liebling, that wasn’t my intention.” 

She would’ve recognized that voice anywhere, though the endearment he’d used was enough to clue her in. Hitting the lightswitch with her free hand, she was face to face with the man she’d spent the past year trying to purge from her memory, Helmut Zemo. 

Her gut twisted, her mind raced, but the only thing currently bubbling up, over the surface of every other emotion was the pure, seething rage left behind in the wake of fearing for her life.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” she stepped towards him, gun still raised, fuming. 

“Hey, hey!” he staggered backwards, hands raised, eyes averted. 

“I thought you were a fucking robber!” she hissed. “I thought you were here to kill me!”

“Lower your voice,” he scolded. “You’re going to wake your neighbors.”

Taking a deep breath, she realized she still had her gun trained on him and she lowered it, clicking the safety and discarding the weapon on the countertop. “What the fuck?” she asked. “What the hell is wrong with you? What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I didn’t know you had such a mouth on you,” he smirked, but she wasn’t finished, and she glowered at him. 

“You broke into my apartment!” she growled.

“I had to be sure I was in the right place.”

“Yeah? You couldn’t have knocked first?”

He nodded, eyes trailing down to her hands, which were trembling, she hadn’t even realized. He seemed to understand what he’d done then, and she flexed her fingers, eyes locking with his. “I suppose...you may be right,” he said, surrendering.

She felt the rage subsiding as she took in his appearance. He looked not so different from the last time she’d seen him, except a fair amount of stubble covered his jawline in a short beard. He was still devastatingly handsome. Zemo’s dark eyes, filled with longing, drank her in, tilting his head as his gaze shifted to her lips. It was like she could read his mind, she knew what he wanted, what he was thinking. And her body was going to betray her if he kept it up.

Despite everything, she was still upset. Upset and embarrassed, as the light was doing an unflattering expose of her tiny, cluttered apartment, full of mismatched furniture and water-damaged wallpaper that her landlord refused to replace. It probably gave the prison cells that Helmut had spent years in a run for their money, and was in stark contrast to every other aspect of his life.

“What’s this?” he asked, gesturing to the empty liquor bottles on her countertop, stowed in her trash can. “Have you been drinking?”

“Not tonight,” she quipped, on guard. Had to be. As much as some old instinct told her to throw herself into his arms, press her lips to the underside of his jaw, and let him envelope her in the comfort of his embrace, she knew she couldn’t.

“Hmm,” he brushed past her, frowning, looking disappointed, as he made his way to her living room. 

“How did you find me?” she asked, eyeing him wearily.

“I’m a wanted man, I trace every call that comes into my estate,” he said over his shoulder. 

Helmut was taking inventory of the cramped space, staring at the photos she’d hung in a collage on the wall behind her couch, with a few watercolors painted by her late husband. One in particular, that he was focused on now, was from her wedding. Of all the memories she chose to hang, this one was her fondest, her former partner was all dark curly hair falling into deep blue eyes, and she was the portrait of a blushing bride, wearing a dopey love-drunk smile, gazing at him, ignoring the camera. 

“You looked so beautiful on your wedding day,” he said, turning over his shoulder to look at her. He was so out of place here, standing in her living room, for a moment she thought he might be a hallucination, some physical manifestation of the heartbreak she’d experienced. “Although that doesn’t surprise me.”

She flushed, suddenly self-conscious in her thin black robe and still-damp hair. It occurred to her that she wasn’t looking her best, which made this whole situation that much more disconcerting. However, the compliment disarmed her slightly, and the anger she felt began to dissipate, slowly. She was going to offer him something to drink until her cat, who had been absent through the chaos, suddenly jumped up on the back of the couch and promptly hissed at him in an attempt to defend her territory.

“Pumpkin, be nice,” she said, although it was mostly to placate Helmut. Pumpkin never listened to her. 

Helmut let her sniff his hand, and she was stunned when the cat rubbed her face against it. Of course, Pumpkin would like him of all people. That made sense. Then again, she supposed it made them not so different. He turned away to look at the rest of the room. “I see you haven’t kicked that bad habit you told me about,” he gestured at the ashtray full of roaches on the coffee table. 

“Did you just come to my place to insult me?” she asked, putting her hands on her lips and feigning confidence. She could’ve rolled over and cried and told him how much she missed him, how many nights she’d spent crying over him, and while all of it was true, she felt indignation was the better option for her self-preservation.

“That’s a good question,” Helmut turned to face her now, hands in the pockets of the leather jacket he was wearing. Completely inappropriate for the weather here, but he didn’t seem to notice, or care. “Why do you think I’m here?” he asked.

She shrugged, feigning indifference. “I don’t know, but you shouldn’t be.”

He snorted, his frustration evident, and she saw a glimpse of the man that so many feared, the side that had earned him his dangerous reputation, that had him locked away in a high-security prison for nearly a decade. “I didn’t come all this way for nothing, draga, we’re going to have it out.”

“Fine,” she said, lacing as much venom as she could into her words to prepare herself. “Then get on with it.”

He stared her down, and the expression her wore startled her, something sparkled in his eyes, mischief, relief maybe? It was insulting. Like he didn’t take her seriously. But there was something else there, too, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on, but it was wiped from his visage before it registered.

The tension in the room dissipated slightly when Zemo sat on the arm of the worn couch she’d bought from a yard sale, and she winced. “I spoke to Oeznik the other day,” he said flatly, snorting, eyes focused on a stain on one of the rugs she owned. “He told me he had the pleasure of speaking to a friend of mine about a month ago.”

Frowning, she tilted her head, her eyes meeting Helmut’s. Something in her brain sparked a memory she’d once dismissed as a dream after a particularly bad night of drinking.

“He was concerned, you see, because this friend didn’t seem to be in the best state of mind,” Helmut rose from the arm of the couch, stalking forward slowly, and she couldn’t move backwards, not even if she wanted to, as he could pin her easily against the front door. His voice grew louder, faster as he went on. “He said she was crying, slurring her words, he told me he thought maybe she might be-” Helmut cut himself off abruptly and closed his eyes, clenching one of his fists, a look of distress on his face as he took in a terse breath. “I won’t finish that thought, but you’re a smart girl, you can imagine what I’m getting at.”

Swallowing hard, the phone call came back to her in pieces, the tears, sobbing on the phone to a man she hardly knew. It was the night she finally admitted to herself she’d made a mistake, even though she’d already known it, deep down when she left him in the hotel room. 

“Please forgive me for breaking in tonight,” Helmut said. “But I couldn’t bear the thought of you not answering the door, I needed to see with my own eyes that you were okay.”

Exhaling through her nose, she looked at the floor. “It’s not like that. I had too much to drink.” she said, keeping her voice as steady as possible. “It was just a bad night.”

“Then tell me, what was the horrible mistake you made?” he asked, stepping closer. He was close to her, now. So close. And his proximity made everything more difficult.

God, if only she could remember exactly what she’d said, the only thing that came to her were the emotions, desperation, sadness, grief. It was all too much, and he was threatening to bring them all back to destroy her again. 

“I shouldn’t have called,” she said, shaking her head. “And I’m sorry. What do you want me to say? What do you want from me?”

“What do I want from you?” He asked, tilting his head, his eyebrows pulling together. “Do you have any idea how worried I was? How hard it was to sit on a plane when all I wanted to do was be here? With you?” His hand rose to cup her cheek, stopping just short of her face when she flinched away from his touch.

“Please stop,” she managed, the burn of tears behind her eyes almost menacing. The last thing she needed was to cry in front of him. “You’re undoing everything.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” he asked. 

“You’re….you’re here,” she murmured weakly, wetness seeping, glossing over her pupils. “I only have so much capacity for pain right now, if you touch me now, you’ll ruin everything.”

No one ever had this kind of hold on her, she’d never bent her rules to appease anyone else, and she’d gone toe to toe with super soldiers. He was just a man, and yet, he terrified her. 

“You really want me to leave?”

She couldn’t answer, but one tear escaped, sliding down her cheekbone, and she sniffled. 

“I’m not the one who did this to you,” his thumb, swiped along her face gently, wiping it away. He’d touched her, just barely, and she was reeling. 

“I know,” she stuttered, gasping. “I know it was me, but I thought I was doing the right thing.”

“You are so stubborn.” His expression softened as he looked upon her, his thumb tracing underneath her jaw, tilting her head upwards to look at him. Malleable, she obliged. “I’ve thought about you everyday since the night we spent together. You’ve plagued me. That can’t be a coincidence. Are you really happier this way? You must be honest with me.”

She shook her head, blinking out fresh tears. “No, I’m not. I just thought...by the time I realized I made the wrong choice, you’d have moved on. People like us don’t get to be happy.”

“Says who?”

How could she refuse him anymore? This would continue to go on until she gave in. And from the beginning, she wanted to give in. There was no use in fighting the inevitable. The small point of contact -- his hand on her chin -- radiated impressive warmth, and she could feel every part of herself being attracted to him, quelling some ache deep within her. 

Reaching up, she clutched at Helmut’s palm, which didn’t last long, because he pulled her into his arms, nestling her head underneath his chin. She melted into his embrace, finding solace in the warmth of his solid frame. 

“Come home with me,” he coaxed softly. 

“I will,” she murmured, surrendering to the comfort of his presence. “But you have to let me bring Pumpkin.”

He chuckled, warm and amiable, the vibration of his chest echoing in her own. “Of course, you’ll bring Pumpkin,” he murmured into her hair. Oh, how she had missed hearing him laugh. They could’ve stayed that way for hours, and she would’ve been content, but he pulled away, hands on either side of her face as he studied her.

Unable to hold back any longer, she leaned in to kiss him. It was chaste at first, all the memories of her last night with him came flooding back quickly when he parted his lips to deepen the kiss, but she didn’t want that quite yet, just needed a moment to process this. The simple comfort of being held by him, kissed by him, was more than enough for now. He’d been waiting for this, she could assume in the way that he responded, pulling her impossibly close so she was engulfed in him.

Her stomach flipped, a warmth blossoming in her chest as he pulled away, their foreheads touching. “Oh, I missed you,” she sighed, shivering as his beard tickled her neck, his mouth on her sensitive skin.

“And I, you,” he murmured. His eyes studied her, carefully, up close, and for the first time since meeting him, she really let him see her, teary-eyed and vulnerable.

She would never let him go again. 

---

A/N: So here we are! I know it’s been a ride, but I’m really excited for these two. However, I don’t feel like I’m done writing for Zemo yet. If ya’ll have any headcanons, thoughts, questions, requests, etc, feel free to drop them in my ask box or shoot me a DM. I’d love to talk more about him. I also would be down to write more oneshots based around this series, because I am sort of like….okay, they obviously have a connection, but they don’t know that much about each other, and I may or may not have a light future already mapped out for them. I might do an epilogue at some point even. But if you have anything you’d like to add, let me know!

Taglist: @juice-1981  @sapphiredreamer26  @tatooineisdry  @marvelsvision @spookycereal-s @trelaney @fireghost-x @booksarekindaneat  @thunderingbats  @felicityofbakerstreet @takacsgram @mischiefmanaged71 @fanfictionedagain @merelyhooper @gyllord @mundaytuesday @friday18eo  @lovegood7553  @adara-wolfhart @a-djarin @farawaywasteland @sky-writes-stuff @fuckinglittlekitten @katyasrussianaccent @agent-jbarnes  @neoarchipelago @pattispunk @kpopnena @purebloodwitch @spookyconsultingcriminal @msmarvelwrites @professorrw @lazyradeecal @captainrexstan @notyourfuckingbusinesss @felicityofbakerstreet @unlikekiana @maeday-18 @friendly-letters @fandom-lover-4 @meefal @queenfairyfangirl @gogomonbebelf @scullys-alienpussy @the-multiverse-approach @sky-writes-stuff @safiakillspop @eggofhumiliation @originalcollectorsaladsstuff @archangelproperty @friday18eo @jayden-rose-leon @actuallyanita @mayhemmachine @kermuddgen @zadiewrites @pach-inks @theokatz @reichelhache @autumnsoidier @mischief-siriusly-managed @danaaeaa @joey-motorola @singlemomslayer @stevesbestgirl @dinna-fashh @popriskra @xaanyhs @adorable-punk-superheroes​

#helmut zemo #helmut zemo x reader #helmut zemo x you #helmut zemo imagine #baron zemo #tfatws #the falcon and the winter soldier #marvel #mcu #marvel writing #tfatws writing #daniel bruhl #zemo x reader #zemo x you #zemo fanfiction #helmut zemo fanfiction #writing #fanfiction #tfatws fanfiction #series

[hollyhomburg]

Reasons Wretched And Divine (Pt. 8)

(Yoon Min Joon x Reader) (Hybrid au) (Mafia au)

Summary: After years of abuse, you’ve all finally found each other. But for one of you- the fear still lingers in hidden lies and dead bodies. Yoongi doesn’t want much, just a few more weeks. The clock ticks closer- every second he has with you bringing him closer to zero.

Tags: pregnant! Reader, Dead bodies, hybrid on hybrid violence, referenced police mistreatment/indifference, mentions of emotional/physical abuse, referenced drug use/overdosing, Angst, touch starved characters, violence, explicit sexual content, foursome, voyeurism, exhibitionism, lactation kink, pregnancy kink, Breeding kink, knotting, dirty talk, unprotected sex, unrealistic amounts of cum, cumplay, marking kink, Dom/sub undertones, Dom! Namjoon- Sub! everyone else, Cum control, Overstimulation, squirting, oral sex (f receiving), fingering (f receiving)

W/c: 20.3k~

A/n: get ready for some nasty af smut~ But also be mindful of the angsty tags. You guys are gonna hate me for the cliffhanger! 

Series Masterlist

One month after your husband's death

- Yoongi had learned when and where not to provoke his owner over the years. Yoongi hadn’t been born with the ability to hold his tongue, His biting proclivities earning him more than a few broken ribs and bloody noses in his lifetime. But no matter, his owner had trained his tongue out of him, had even threatened to cut it out on occasion.

- And yet, his personality couldn’t be measured in the same way, a simple eye roll or a huff or sigh was enough to land him in trouble. Which is why he’s in the position he’s in now; Bloody lip, another bruise likely forming under his eye and on his ribs. His head spinning from what is likely another concussion. How many could a person get before they had brain damage? Whatever the number- Yoongi was probably toeing the line or already over it.

- He’s trying to avoid more damage, which is why he sits outside of the living room of their double-wide trailer. His owner has a nicer house somewhere- but this is the place that’s always functioned as the stomping grounds for all of her illegal business. And It’s the only building that Yoongi’s ever been able to call home.

- The yellowing walls that have turned greasy with cigarette smoke over the years, as well as the thin blanket and the pillow that he uses on the couch when no ones hanging around. If they are and the house is filled with gangsters- Yoongi’s usually doomed to the floor or until they leave for the night. Only able to sleep without his back to the wall when the gangsters stop their drugging (usually methamphetamines) and intoxication (most often moonshine)

- More than one person’s overdosed on the couch that Yoongi calls his bed. He tries not to think about it when he goes to sleep. What did it matter if someone else had died here- at least Yoongi was still alive.

- Even breathes stick in Yoongi’s lungs like honey, something dammed and impure. It’s a testament to his nerves (or years of learned abuse) that he doesn’t flinch when the crashes and bangs increase from the other room. It’s just glass breaking- now gunfire- that would have Yoongi ducking and running for cover.

- Revelry like he’s used to surviving through hasn’t existed in recent months, not since the business, or lack thereof had started to seep into every moment like a slow-moving poison. Gang wars are messy and they take years to play out. But it hadn’t been until four weeks ago that his owner’s gang had suffered its first casualty. A gang couldn’t exist without its plug, and now there was a power vacuum in the underworld. And whoever controlled the supply would be the most in-demand.

- “I’ve had enough of your bullshit excuses! If you don’t find the shipment this instant I’m going to start blowing brains like bubbles” his owner screeches. A tumble and shatter sounds from the other room, probably the plate of food Yoongi took in before. Cooking was one of his only valuable skills according to his owner, and he’s spent at least a quarter of his life avoiding a beating by becoming a better cook.

- The threat doesn't bother him. Yoongi barely lets himself think about the business of the gang, the bloodstains and bodies that they’ve most definitely left in their wake. He tries not to let it bother him knowing that there will probably be more in the next few months. His only concern is making sure his body isn’t one of them.

- Yoongi doesn’t care about anything other than keeping himself alive. And even that just barely.

- He listens from outside the door, her screaming finally quieting. This isn’t the first meltdown of her’s he’s witnessed this week. He hears the rustling of papers, silence from her as whoever's on the other side of the phone speaks. “Yeah I have it, fuck- his bitch must really be moving if she already has this in the goddamn paper.” She pauses, and Yoongi hears one of the gangsters stoop to try and clean up the mess that she’s surely made, “If that’s true, I think I know the perfect person for the job- if you can even call it that.” 

- It helps that Yoongi’s not expected to speak. Sometimes, when there’s a loud enough noise, or when he sneaks out to walk the sum mile to the beach, Yoongi speaks. Just a sentence or two at a time, his voice gruff and sore after a few words. Just to make sure that he can still do it and hasn’t forgotten how. That his voice still exists hidden somewhere in his chest and his throat. Locked away like a delicate yolk- only able to be seen if you break the eggshell outside.

- “Yoongi!” his owner shrieks, and he has the good sense to hasten to a place where she can see him. He stands in the doorway and doesn’t meet her eyes. There are a few assorted gangsters here. His owner looks unhinged, her flyaway hairs sticking in front of her face, wiping away smudged lipstick and a fair amount of saliva that had dripped down her chin from all her screaming.

- “I have a job for you” She tosses a newspaper at him, and Yoongi catches it easily. Careful not to step into the mess of glass that would surely cut his feet. A drawn red circle cuts through an article on a local high school to highlight something in the purchased ads. Just a little map with a heading “hybrid sanctuary: a safe place, three meals a day. If you or anyone you know has witnessed hybrid abuse, please call this number for help.”

- Yoongi looks up, giving her a short nod. Yoongi will do whatever she needs in order to survive. Anything to keep the blood in his veins and his heart beating. 

- He listens patiently while she explains the plan.

---------- Now---------

- The clock ticks, and You don’t find the body until noon. By then there are flies buzzing around him. Blood already dried on those fingertips and underneath His fingernails- the sun warming his body like the hybrid could still be alive.

- You’re just retiring from a day working in the garden (usual and ordinary) when one of the bear hybrids thunders through your door- his eyes wide, shouting for you (strange and surprising). Yoongi is the only one with you; Jimin’s just set off down the hill to change. Namjoon’s not in the house either; helping Jin with more fencing for the animals. 

- Your grim expression is mirrored in the terse face of the teenage hybrid that had been going for a walk when he’d found him. You’d started down the hill at a run At least until Yoongi had stopped you. Eyeing your stomach with a worried expression. It’s not that you can’t run or that he doesn’t think you should it’s that the hilly path down to the front entrance is littered with potholes.

- It’s not your first time seeing a dead body (that honor is owed to your late husband) but the unnatural way a body lies still is always incredibly unnerving. You lean over the body nausea rolls in your belly worse than it ever did in the first few months you were battling your morning sickness. But you know you can’t vomit over a crime scene.

- You recognize the body, It’s one of your hybrids; a coyote hybrid that came to you after the second month you were open, and had come and gone quite a bit since then. You need to look at your ledger to know for sure if he was in-between stay or if he’d been here prior to today.

- You tend to be a little laxer with the hybrids that aren’t permanent residents of the farm. You barely even learn the names of the deer hybrids that come for a dinner or two here and there before they go. You’re used to the nomads and this hybrid was one of them. You’re kicking yourself for that now. Because if you have a killer in your mix- a shiver goes down your spine at the thought of any of them being in danger. You need to get all of your hybrids in one place to make sure they’re safe. Right now.

- You turn to yoongi and the teenager; a bear hybrid from Tae's group- Beomgyu. You recall the little details you know about him- how he likes to hang around with Yeonjun and the other cats in the kitchen sometimes. He’s so young, eyes wide, shaking his head making his curved ears flop when he finally tears his eyes away from the body and looks at your face. 

- You make your voice more soothing, “Ring the lunch bell- get everyone by the main barns okay? We need to make sure everyone is accounted for” the bear hybrid turns to run up the hill but you catch his arm. “The barns have to direct a line of sight to here- so keep the children in the far-field, after you ring the bell- get Namjoon and Taehyung and tell them to come here before you tell anyone what's happened.” The last thing you need is a group stumbling around here and contaminating a crime scene.

- He leaves with a thunder of footsteps in the dry grass, “Yoongi” you say, “Would you mind going up to the main house to get the logbook and my cellphone?” Yoongi looks like he doesn’t want to leave eyeing the road with a suspicious glare. Making a noise in his throat and staying put. “Yoongi” your voice is strangled- like you’re trying not to cry. “He’s been dead for hours, any danger here has passed, I’m safe- I promise.” but Yoongi shakes his head, reaching for your hand and then thinks better of it.

- At the sound of heavy footsteps you both look back up the hill- Namjoon racing in your direction, his ears pinned to his head with Taehyung not far behind. He gives you one final glance and nods before he takes off up the hill. Namjoon stops when they pass, calling his name but Yoongi doesn’t stop. “let him go Namjoon” you call behind.  

- The bell that they use to call people in at mealtimes tolls out across the field.

- Yoongi watches as the kits raise their heads from their playing in the field. A look at the sun telling them that it’s too early to be called in for dinner, lunch just finished. The confusion that gives way to panic as he travels through a crowd of older hybrids. He almost runs into one of the cat hybrids as she leaves the kitchen. Shouting back to her friend that’s fussing with something. “Just turn off the stove- something’s wrong we need to go.”

- Yoongi snatches the book from your small office off the living room and thunders back down the porch steps, pausing when he sees it. Anyone else might not have noticed the difference- or noticed it at all. But Yoongi used to survive by noticing the small day-to-day differences in his world; and it’s a habit that hasn’t died even though Yoongi no longer needs it to survive.

- There is a piece of paper stuck behind your windshield wipers on your car. Not a ticket and not a note- but a business card. And Yoongi knows it wasn’t there yesterday.

- Yoongi pauses, your phone in one hand, and the logbook in another. He shoves your phone in his pocket and wastes precious seconds to retrieve it. It’s simple- just plain cardstock a single sentence on the other side. “You’re welcome” there isn’t any signature beside a small doodled bunny rabbit. 

- Yoongi knows that signature. Memories dredge up from the bottom of his mind like a swell of cold water washing over him. He’d seen his old owner- (his current owner- his own internal monologue berates him) go into a rage after seeing that same moniker spray-painted across her truck or buildings on more than one occasion.

- Yoongi rolls his tongue over his teeth, putting it together. His owner’s words- dimly alluding to a second mole at the farm- warning Yoongi to be careful. And now this- a thank you card from a rival gang. Chaos whirls around him as different groups run to the barns. He hears Taehyung’s raised voice “Everyone quiet! I need you to listen to me- please!” 

- Other hushed words echo from the field as Yoongi puts it together. In a moment, Yoongi knows what’s happened- but he can’t for the life of him understand the motivation.

- What motivation could his owner’s rival have to kill their mole? And if he knew who at the farm was connected to the gang life- why didn’t he kill Yoongi last night too? This body and this note raise too many questions.

- Yoongi doesn’t think it through, just shoves the card into the bottom of his work boot, hiding it so that it lies flat under his sock. Knowing it's better to hide it then hand it over to the police. Yoongi’s hands shake with the very idea of you being caught up in this mess. Although it looks like it's already too late for that. How much less involved can you be with a dead body on your front doorstep?

- If the note is addressed to you? How much do you know about your late husband's business- if anything?

- You attribute Yoongi’s shakiness to the dead body you’re deceptively calm- nausea set aside when he gets back. yoongi nearly runs into taehyung on the way down the hill. Anger an annoyance and worry rolling off the bear hybrid in heady waves. “Don’t worry- Jimin and I have nearly everyone in the barns already, and Daehyun and Hoseok are taking care of the cubs on the other side of the field” 

- Taehyung barely looks at Yoongi as he passes, shouting at you over his shoulder. It helps to hear that Jimin is all right, but Yoongi doesn’t think he’ll believe it until he sees the other hybrid with his own two eyes. Namjoon looks much the same. Though he holds your hand tight as he can.

- You call the police the second Yoongi hands over your phone. And together- you wait for them. Namjoon sends an anxious glance both of your ways. It doesn’t take long before you can hear the sirens heading in your direction, echoing out over the empty hills.

- Back up at the barns, Jimin sits on the second floor, the windows are opened to their full capacity to let in a nonexistent breeze. The top floor of the barn isn’t really the most comfortable place to be in the middle of the day, the heat muggy, and all-encompassing. But every dog hybrid is in their bunk room. but it’s too hot to be comfortable regardless of the fans running at full power. Jimin sits on the floor dangling his feet over the side.

- Below- Jimin watches Taehyung as he does a headcount. Clipboard in hand, shouting names and waiting for people to respond. the hybrids have separated themselves by type, bunny hybrids on the outer edge, bear hybrids close to the center around Tae, Cat hybrids on the ground floor to stay out of the sun. Jimin and dog hybrids- the most easily riled up and hardest to contain because of their energy- on the top floor where they’d all stay put and not sneak off. 

- Jimin’s room has already been counted, there isn’t much left to do but wait and watch. If he looks over the hillock he can see the police cars and you. The flashing blue and red lights and a small group.

- A small crowd has gathered to watch and linger, police tape set up to the entrance of your farm. A few of your neighbors gathered too at the sound and small-town gossip is sure to follow. Your two closest neighbors- an elderly couple come over to ask you a few questions about all the commotion. They’ve never been unpleasant to you or hostile, still happy that you took their farm animals off their hands many months ago. But they remain firmly separated from your hybrids on either side of a circle of crime scene tape.

- When Jimin looks to the other side, he can see Hoseok and another dog hybrid with the children. Sequestered them with a bunch of games and ice pops on the other side of the hill, away from any and all possibility of them seeing something they shouldn’t.

- Even some of your hybrids linger around the crime scene. the leaders of various groups that need to see for themselves. Beomgyu is here too as well- even though you gave him a look that said you dont need to see this. As it is, you give the teenagers that refuse to go a questioning cross look. Yeonjun in particular just shrugs at you when you give him an expectant look. All of the teenaged hybrids are particularly used to your no-nonsense looks. It doesn’t help that he’s several inches taller than you. 

- “You really think this is the first time I’ve seen a dead body?” one of the other cat hybrids has the good sense to cuff him over the back of his head for that one. You know he’s young, but some respect for life and death is something he’ll have to learn at one point or another. If he wants to stay that bad- you’ll let him. 

- Namjoon might hate the police, but he does speak their language, and it’s easy for you to sink to his side and rely on him to take over the story as you relate everything you know (which isn’t much). The pack leaders- or what would be the pack leaders all waiting on the fringes. Taehyung comes back to tell you that there isn’t anyone but a few bunny hybrids missing- quickly sniffed out by one of the dog hybrids, all of them looking a little pink-cheeked and embarrassed from whatever they were doing.

- That gets a few laughs out of everyone that’s gathered- Taehyung shakes his head and rolls his eyes, but tempers still remain raised. From the top story of the barn, Jimin watches it unfold. Taehyung shoots him a tired look.

- A quick look at your ledger shows that the last time the hybrid left was just a little over a week ago. Your fingers hover over the date. The book is photographed by the crime scene photographers too, the camera bulbs flashing, a few of your more sensitive hybrids have to turn away- the bright flash too glaring. The officers take little notice of their discomfort.

- They tell you that they might come back to collect it for official evidence. It’s nice to have something to give the police to show them that the hybrid wasn’t in your care when he died. You have a good reputation with them because of your ex-husband as much as you hate to admit it. And it’s jarring to hear you referred to as his widow, especially with Namjoon standing so close, a protective presence between you and the police. 

- A few months ago you might have started breaking down when you heard his name, but all you have to do is look at Namjoon to know that you’re okay, you’re both safe. 

- Well maybe not now- if you have a killer in your midst then you’re all certainly not as safe as you thought.

- For all the feaux concern they have about the dead hybrid- the ones around you might as well be window dressing. They would have ignored Namjoon entirely if he hadn’t introduced himself as an ex-police hybrid.

- It’s more than that, their unconcern sinks under your skin and makes you want to shout at them as they take his body away in a black body bag. They promise you they’ll try to find whatever killed him. They don’t look too bothered- another dead hybrid isn’t anything new or a cause for panic to them, about as regular as finding any other pet- and not a fucking human being- dead or murdered.

- The police tell you they’ll do what they can- but a dead hybrid is hardly their priority, even if it makes a growl build in Namjoon’s throat when they brush off your concern. Your blood boils. 

- But as the sequestering drags on and on into the afternoon- and the temperature increases with every moment everyone still has to stay put. the idle chatter quickly turns agitated. In the main barn- A few of them have been playing cards on and off, most of them in states of undress because of the heat. Jimin is the only man still wearing his shirt, though it’s only his tank top.

- “What the fuck do you think it is? Who do you think killed them?” Jimin listens in on the other hybrid's conversation against his own violation. He’s never been close to the other dog hybrids at the farm save for Namjoon, and he’s not about to start right now. They laugh, but it sounds more like a bark- or a hyena chuckle, “you know me- if there’s an issue my money's always on the snake,”

- Jimin’s head whips around, “Excuse me?” the hybrids turn to him, “oh Jimin- we forgot we were here” if they want that insult to sting- they’re going to have to try a little harder. Jimin was used to being forgotten for the first half of his life, and that won’t start hurting now.

- Sweat drips down the back of Jimin’s neck, “he has a name you know,” he says with no real venom. it’s greeted with resounding scoffs from a few of his bunkmates. He lets the silence sit for a moment before the weight of it grows too oppressive for him to handle, “What?” he says feeling like he’s missing something. The rest of the hybrids in the bunk room fall quiet.

- The dog hybrid- Taeyong- Jimin’s brain reminds him, snickers. “Nothing- just- figures you’d be possessive of him after yesterday.” A flush of heat hits Jimin’s cheeks that has nothing to do with the temperature of the room. Someone must have seen Yoongi leave the showers and then seen Jimin leave a short minute later looking sex dazed. He knows the meeting had left his scent all smelling like honey arousal. They must have put two and two together.

- Damn those bunny hybrids with their sensitive noses. Now that Jimin thinks about it- Taeyong is a friend of one of them- a small little rabbit called Jihan.

- Jimin shrugs it off because fuck them- he is protective of Yoongi and this conversation only shows the reason for that. But they don’t leave it at that- not at all. Taeyong taps his foot against the floor, grinning and showing the edge of a sharp incisor “Being with him will only end you in an early grave you know, but you might as well keep your head down and enjoy your one-way ticket to living up at the big house.” 

- “That’s not why I’m- we’re not-“ he doesn’t know what to say, he can’t say that he’s with Yoongi- not officially, not yet. And though there is something with them. Jimin doesn’t know how to put a name to it. let alone how to put a name to what he has with all of you. 

- There must be something written on his face, because the hybrid sits back, satisfied that he’s hit Jimin with something that can stick. The other hybrids snicker. A fair few turn away- sensing the fight that’s about to develop, content to stay out of it.

- “You know he doesn’t deserve to be up at the big house right,” Jimin can’t stop himself from getting angry at the calloused way they talk about Yoongi. His temper rising with the heat, Jimin has never been good at holding his tongue, and maybe it’s his fault that things happen the way they do. Jimin rises, and so does Taeyong, Suddenly chest to chest, “well if he doesn’t deserve it- you certainly don’t, maybe if you guys were just kind for once in your life you’d be staying up there too.” Jimin barks.

- A few other hybrids blanch, and more turn away, Jimin’s misspoke- can judge by the silence that he’s the one being judged. “And I actually happen to enjoy their company- I’m not-”

- Jimin knows what he’s just insinuated, that being loved is just a correlation of being kind and pleasant to be around. (You’ve been talking through that particular thing with him. The fawn response to abuse. And Jimin knows he should unpack that later, but like many other things- it just slips out. His post-traumatic stress disorder makes him think things he knows are wrong. He doesn’t believe the words he says, not really.)

- Taeyong steps forwards, and Jimin shrinks back sudden bravery forgotten. “You’re not what? Being a manipulative little puppy? Batting your eyes at them so that you could get a spot? Go tell that lie to someone who believes you. You might be a puppy, but you’re a snake to your core.” 

- Jimin has never wanted Taehyung to be there more than now. Where is he when he needs him? Jimin looks back through the open window, but Taehyung isn’t below them on the patio. Their fight seems to have gotten more than a little attention. Wide eyes upturned, startled by the sound of raised voices. It's the wrong moment to look away because suddenly Jimin’s reeling from a shove, two hands on either shoulder. 

- Jimin catches himself on the window frame. The open space taunting and frightening. All at once, the image hits him; another well-placed shove- Jimin falling- cracking against the slate patio outside where you usually set up dinner, the ground hard and unforgiving. Bones breaking. 

- Jimin isn’t sure why he says it; “No wonder why you haven’t got adopted if this is how you act when someone disagrees with you.”

- Jimin’s never fallen from any height before. But he’s been tossed and pushed and shoved, and never learned how to fight back. He freezes now at the memory of it. He’s been shoved into concrete before, and he bets slate hurts just as much.

- “Don’t pretend like you haven’t had your eyes set on the big house since you first got here puppy, little thing like you probably just wants to be owned- how do you even have an ounce of self-“ 

- Jimin gets shoved again, and he barely manages to hold his ground. Taeyong grips his shirt in both his fists, lifting Jimin up so that he struggles to keep his feet on the ground. 

- From below, he hears a shriek, His name shouted from your mouth. You run as fast as you can, Yoongi stayed behind to help you. His face turned up imploring at Jimin. Jimin hears the thud of Namjoon’s feet on the wooden floor below. He and Taehyung, as they take the stairs two at a time. Jimin doesn’t know how they knew to come, or how suddenly everything’s escalated.

- The other hybrid steps forward, and there is nowhere left for him to go, Jimin grips the window frame, and tries not to let go.

- Namjoon’s words can barely be made out around the growl, suddenly in the doorway. Jimin keeps his eyes on the hybrid in front of him. Not at Namjoon’s face, screwed tight with anger. “Enough, step away from him.”

- Namjoon looks more threatening than Jimin’s ever seen him, teeth bared, ready to attack. His curved ears quivering as Namjoon seems to swell in the doorway, his eyes shiny and reflective in the half-light. An alpha ready to protect his own. The scars that crisscross his face a reminder of the lengths he’s willing to go to protect his family.

- A sheepish looking Taehyung toes the line behind him, “I’m sorry- I heard the beginning outside the door and went to get them” Jimin is at once thankful for Taehyung and a little angry- because really? He couldn’t be bothered to just intervene then? Taeyong seems to think for a moment before he lets Jimin go. Jimin sees Namjoon’s hands tighten into fists by his side. The threat of what he might have tried to do dissipating. You rush forward with Yoongi, pulling Jimin out of the doorway.

- More than one hybrid in the room jerks when you get too close to the window. They can’t help it- for many of them, you’re the only human they’ve had a positive relationship with. And the dog hybrids are nothing if not a loyal bunch. Which is probably why Taeyong shrinks back, nostrils flared- still angry and feeling threatened. like a cornered animal. 

- Jimin tries not to run back to Namjoon’s side- but it's hard, especially when he makes eye contact with Yoongi. Your chest heaving blinking away tears as You pull Jimin to you easily, a hand on his cheek. Eyes so worried, searching his face and his frame for even a hint of damage. The words are out of his mouth before he even has a chance “I’m okay- it’s okay- I’m fine.”

- “It wasn’t my fault, Jimin started it” you look up, and Jimin can tell from the tilt of your eyes that you don’t believe them for a second, your voice is shaky when you speak, so quiet. and jimin wonders- how many other times you’d spoken up like this in your past against your ex-husband and gotten hurt for it. It takes no small amount of bravery for you to speak now and Jimin’s arms tighten protectively around you. 

- “This isn’t- this isn’t how you treat another person Taeyong even if he did start it- you don’t react with violence.” one of the other hybrids shakes his head at Taeyong- but he doesn't react well to your words. Bearing his teeth at you and it takes every ounce of self-control for your three hybrids not to jump in front of you at such an obvious display of aggression. 

- “He shoved me first” Taeyong lies, and Namjoon answers it with a growl. stepping up to go chest to chest with him in much the same way that Jimin had just minutes before. The other dog hybrid crumbles against the alphas stare. “Would you like to repeat that? or do you maybe want to tell the truth this time?”

- You pull Jimin behind you and Namjoon steps between you and the other hybrids, looming and large in the small space. “If I hear that you're causing any more trouble you’ll be out on your ass faster than you can say “it wasn’t my fault” Namjoon barks, turns, both you and he have a hand on Jimin’s trembling shoulders. When did they start shaking?

- A sudden hush has settled over the hybrids, everyone is here to witness it. And it doesn’t make sense until they hear a set of quiet footsteps at the door. “Is everything alright miss?” the police officer says in the doorway, suspiciously eyeing the hybrids. His hand hovering dangerously close to the gun in his holster. The fucking police- Jimin had almost forgotten they were here.

- You don’t look shaken, stepping back to be between him and your hybrids, and the police officers' shoulders relax. You’re so disarming- Jimin barely sees you shake even though he can smell the distress rolling off of you in waves. Turning your usual scent all muddy. Your smile is strained, “No officer- everyone’s just a little bit high strung right now I think. We’re fine.” 

- “Sorry for that distraction, we can continue up to the main house if you’d like. After you.” You set back off down the steps and Jimin knows what you’re doing- keeping the police officer away from them because you know how twitchy the cops make most of the hybrids. “No thank you- I dont think that will be necessary. As your k-9 unit specified earlier in his interview the crime scene is mostly contained in the driveway. I think we’ve seen enough.”

- Jimin can’t help but stumble to Namjoon’s side, pressed tight under the arm of his alpha. Namjoon’s disarmed by Jimin's sudden need for affection; for his alpha all around him. “We’ll talk about this later” Taehyung glowers at the other hybrids and they all fall silent. Namjoon’s ire- they might be a little more used to but Taehyung’s anger is used a little more sparingly. The four of them, Yoongi, Namjoon, Jimin, and Taehyung the unlikely fourth turn to leave.

- You’re already in the lower level of the barn when Taeyong speaks, his voice low to keep it out of earshot from you. “Sure thing pet,” Taeyong says under his breath- though really what was he trying to do? Everyone here had above average hearing- so really, his whispered insults whereas good as speaking at normal volume.

- And to a hybrid- being called a pet is the ultimate insult.

- Namjoon freezes in the doorway, no matter that Jimin’s hand pulls at the arm of his long-sleeved shirt. A whine building for him to just leave it alone. Namjoon turns, jabbing his finger at Taeyong. “I want you gone before sundown tomorrow.” 

- The four of them head down the stairs, leaving the silent room. The ground floor of the largest barn the area is flush with activity. With hybrids going every which way you must have decided that it was okay for everyone to return to their days as normal. Someone calls Taehyung’s name, asking for his help with something before he’s even fully down the narrow steps, Taehyung sends Jimin a single discerning look before he leaves. Namjoon utters a soft thank you to him as he slips away.

- In the grass- you share one final word with the police officer, shaking his hand with one hand resting on your baby bump. Though Jimin can tell from the way you hold yourself it's the last thing you want to do. He nods at Namjoon once as they approach and heads off down the hill. You’re quiet for a moment, going to hold jimin’s hand while Namjoon and Yoongi mill. None of you are sure what to do next.

- “I’m assuming Taeyong won’t be a problem anymore?” Namjoon has the good sense to look a little abashed at that. “He said- there was- he’ll be gone by tomorrow afternoon.” Is all he says, and you nod, giving a sad look back to the barns. But you don’t counter what Namjoon’s said.

- And while Jimin knows there needs to be some sort of order here- it still seems a little extreme. Even if the threat of bodily harm was there- he didn’t actually do anything. It seems a little severe to throw them out for just a couple of words, and a shove. He tells Namjoon this much as they walk up the footpath to the main house.

- You whip your head around, looking stricken, and Jimin have to struggle not to flinch back, you look almost angry with yourself for the sudden movement. all of you are a little on edge. “He almost hurt you Jimin! he was about to-“ Yoongi fists a hand in the back of Jimin’s shirt, “if he’d hurt you I don’t know what I’d-“ you break off, and Jimin sees you sigh and the breath sounds all rickety like there's something else rattling around in your lungs. You shake your head and hold onto his hand tighter.

- Jimin sucks on his lower lip and keeps walking towards the main house after a moment. And he can’t help feeling like he was the one who kind of did start it. A hand on your arm to help you up the steps. You’re getting more and more pregnant every day, and your baby bump has become more of a mound than the small bulge you had when Jimin first came.

- Jimin just wants to make sure you don’t wobble or trip. Unable to shake the feeling that the reason why Namjoon had punished the others was because of how they’d treated Jimin- and not because of any rules.

- Jimin’s gotten to know you and Namjoon pretty well over the last few months, but the way Namjoon keeps his head down, playing with his hands, makes him look younger and more open than he’s ever been around Jimin. Namjoon and Jimin linger just inside your house. standing quietly- letting their tempers fade.  

- The cat hybrids have already started dinner, the clamor familiar and comforting. One of them hears you come in and calls your name; Yoongi is close behind, he doesn’t look at Jimin. And Jimin smells his scent- his fluffy marshmallow goodness twined with a hint of something burn and feels the guilt clinging to him like bad perfume. He’s about to head after him when Namjoon grabs his shoulder. “Should I- you’re going to stay up here right?”

- Jimin sucks on his lower lip. and even he has to admit that staying up here tonight is a more attractive offer than returning to the barns anytime soon. “Yes- if you want me too” Namjoon nods, looks shy, but Jimin can tell what he’s feeling through his scent. The worry makes the pine strong and musky and tempts Jimin to curl up in it. Namjoon couldn’t tolerate being separated from any of his pack right now; not with the danger of a killer on the loose. Namjoon tugs him in the direction of the stairs. “There’s something I want to show you then.”

- The last time he’d been up on the more private floor of your house he hadn’t really had any time to explore. Namjoon leads him to one of the unknown and previously unopened doors that line the long hallway between your master suite and the stairs, pointing out Yoongi’s room as they go. The room is small and more than a little dusty. But it’s the closest unoccupied room to the master suite and across the hall from Yoongi’s. “Oh” Jimin realizes as it clicks, “you meant stay- as in move in stay.”

- Namjoon has to kick away boxes of Christmas decorations to get to the queen covered with a white sheet that fluffs with dust when he pulls away. Jimin touches the edge softly. He’s never had a bed so big all to himself before- he doesn’t know how he’s going to handle so much vacant space next to him.

- There will be no soft sounds of sleep and rising chests when Jimin wakes in the middle of the night. Only the sounds of the house, and even though this means he’ll get to spend more time with you, Namjoon, and Yoongi, the room can’t help but feel lonely. Something in his chest reminds him that he’s not really that far, Yoongi’s room is across the hall, and yours just a few steps after that.

- Maybe he won’t feel so lonely after all.

- The windows are covered with thick drapes, kind of small in themselves. And it makes the room feel darker and cold. “We’ll move out the decorations to the attic tomorrow, are you gonna be okay with this for tonight? We can get you some fresh sheets and blankets.”

-  Jimin nods hands tugging back the curtains to let more light in. Namjoon reaches around him to crack it open when the window sticks. Even though this room doesn’t feel like his yet. Namjoon almost drops a box of decorations “you could also sleep in our room if you want?”

- Jimin can’t do much more than just blush and nod, stuttering out that he’ll decide later. And it’s not that he doesn’t want to be all snuggled close between you and Namjoon it’s just that- things are happening a little too fast. Jimin feels like he might need a night to just decompress.

- The body, the police, the fight, and Jimin almost falling through the window. For some reason, Jimin feels paralyzed in that doorway. On one hand, he’s happy that he has a room here now that he doesn’t have to go back to the bunk room for more than his clothes, and on the other hand he’s sure he doesn’t deserve it.

- Like Namjoon can sense he’s overwhelmed and doesn’t know how to feel, he pulls Jimin to follow him. Gentle orders that tell Jimin what to do with his body and give his mind a second to catch up. Namjoon retrieves fresh linens and a big fluffy blanket from the closet while Jimin hovers hugging a pillow to his chest. 

- The elder prattles along to Jimin about getting him some more things to fill the room like a dresser when Jimin notices it. A small narrow door that’s mostly glass down the hall from your master bedroom and the bathroom that Jimin assumes he’ll share with Yoongi.

- Unless Yoongi has a bathroom in his room. Jimin asks Namjoon- who tells Jimin that he does and Jimin pouts. He has to admit he wouldn’t mind Sharing a bathroom with Yoongi. Flashbacks of that night, of Yoongi’s skin, pressed close to his underneath the deluge of water- consume him for a moment at the thought of that. 

- Before he pads over to see the other room at the end of the hallway. It’s narrow, only the with of the couch at the end and twice as long, Jimin could probably touch both walls if he lied down on the floor Waist height windows ring the outside of the room and a few skylights cast square shadows on the floor, The roof slanted down at one edge.

- A single potted plant sits on the waist-high shelf- crusty and brown from no one watering it. He orients himself in the house to figure out what room is below him but the smells and sounds drifting up from the floor tells him he’s somewhere above the kitchens.

- He stands in the doorway. A thick layer of dust sits on everything. But the light is amazing. All golden in the afternoon haze though that might just be the walls. The light yellow paint is faded, cracked a bit by the doorway but it's nothing a fresh coat couldn’t fix.

- Jimin knows the second he sees it that he wants it.

- Namjoon finds him standing in the doorway. Already looking out the windows- he can see the gardens from here and the woods that stretch beyond. And the edge of a falling-down barn yet to be restored by you and Namjoon- and a tiny sliver of the river. “What- what is this?” Jimin’s voice is so hushed. So quiet, like he’s worried about disturbing the dust.

- Namjoon comes up close behind him, putting his arm around Jimin’s shoulders. “It’s a sunroom.” Namjoon clarifies. In the afternoon light, Namjoon’s skin looks honeyed and golden, horizontal shafts of light stretching across his face. Namjoon pulls Jimin close, nose running along his hairline and near his ears, nuzzling into them. His back the perfect place for Jimin to rest his heavy shoulders. 

- “Is it okay if I- can I stay here and not the other room?” Namjoon’s smile is reassuring and gentle, “probably, but let's ask.” Of course, Namjoon would know Jimin needed explicit permission right now- needs the sureness of a yes or no from you.

- The sight that awaits Namjoon and Jimin in the living room is one that warms both of their hearts. You and Yoongi sitting side by side in front of the television. you’re listing into Yoongi sleepily head on his shoulder. Your eyes fluttering against your cheek adorably. Yoongi sends Namjoon a panicked look which means “please save me from her she’s being needy” but at least Yoongi isn’t shaking and going all panicky.

- With a word from Namjoon you wake, sitting up straight and yawning, taking in Jimin hovering on the steps, your smile sleepy and a little dopy. Your eyes still half-closed still looking soft and an inch from resting as you need.

- Namjoon’s hand rubs up and down your swollen exposed ankle. His voice honeyed like he doesn’t really want to wake you up. Hell Jimin would carry you up the stairs to let you rest in your own bed and not the couch even though it's barely 5 pm. It's been a long day for all of you. 

- “Hey, can Jimin take the sunroom instead of the other room?” Yoongi gives a little surprised noise, eyebrows lifting in question, you seem to share his confusion. Jimin realizes that you must have already talked about which room would be his, and whole new warmth floods him. “Are you sure? That room’s a little small.”

- “I’d like to stay in there if you’ll let me- I mean- I can go back to the barns too” maybe he’d go to the girl side this time- he’s sure they wouldn’t be nearly as bad as the male hybrids. Namjoon and Yoongi look upset that he’d even try to suggest that. “Take the sunroom Jiminie,” you say, Namjoon and Jimin watch as Yoongi’s hands shake when he reaches forward before he slowly draws his hands through your hair, and you arch into he touch. If you were a hybrid Jimin thinks you’d be purring.

- Namjoon does actually end up carrying you upstairs, despite your protests that you could do it yourself. Yoongi makes a noise in the back of his throat, and Jimin finishes it for him saying, “we’ll make dinner, you should rest.” Namjoon pauses on the lower step with you in his arms, and Jimin feels something in him settle. There isn’t a little bit of you that doesn’t want him to stay here, the way you so easily give up space for Jimin to be accepted into your routine- your home.

- It’s good; it feels good to knock shoulders with Yoongi in the kitchen, the craziness of the day calmed as the cat hybrids bring the food down to the barns for everyone. 

- Taehyung stops by briefly to have a word with Namjoon- telling the elder that they have a rotating watch figured out for tonight to make sure nothing else happens. Taehyung empties out with the other cats, leaving just Jimin and Yoongi. It’s harder than it should be, but Yoongi instructs Jimin on how to do the chopping with a careful and slow demonstration while he starts on the stew.

- When Namjoon reappears a few minutes later he puts on the radio- switching it to something a little bit more his style, not kitschy pop or idealistic  questionable country music, though Jimin doesn’t like it at first listen, he hears Yoongi humming along and figures- it’s enough to have them enjoy it. Especially to see Namjoon try and fail to shake his ass. 

- The night gets even better when Jimin goes to get you from your bed, calling your name so you wake up with barely a huff as you blink at him. You look so soft Jimin can’t resist it, leaning forward to peck a kiss on your forehead. 

- You eat dinner on the porch, and the night gets better with every moment. every second Jimin realizes that he always should have been here. The love filling Jimin up just like the fresh bread and Yoongi’s stew, Namjoon and Jimin go inside halfway through the dinner to get blankets for you and Yoongi.

- Dinner reinvigorates you four, and though Jimin protests “I can just sleep in the other room tonight it’s really not a big deal” Namjoon and Yoongi shake their heads at him, though you're left out since you really can’t lift anything. 

- After dinner Namjoon, Yoongi, and Jimin pull down the attic stairs from the hallway, and go up to the third floor to find a bed that will fit in the sunroom. You shout and pull yoongi out of the way when Namjoon and Jimin lose their grip and the soft mattress clangs down the stairs, sliding with a soft thump. They’re more careful with the box spring.

- They shout and huff with joyful frustration when the couch gets stuck in the doorway of the sunroom. The kind of happiness that comes with a problem that you can fix- and like who you fix it with. And finally, when you fit the double bed into the space it just barely fits. You set the bed up with pillows and sheets asking Jimin again and again if he really doesn’t mind just the single bed while Namjoon and Yoongi put the green velvet couch outside in the hallway nook, just across from the bathroom.

- The first morning Jimin wakes in the sunroom is the most peaceful morning he’s ever gotten. The light comes in so early that it’s hard for him to sleep past sunrise. From all the way up here, he can see the way that the dew on the grass makes the whole field sway and sparkle like the ocean. He taps his toes against the wall as he sits up and looks out, and hears a knock at his door. A soft rap on the glass. 

- The sounds he hears below say he’s not the only one awake in the house. And still, the sight of you in your extra-large sleeping clothes and your robe makes him surprised. Though the tangled mess of your hair says you’re barely awake. Jimin slept so well that his ears hang nearly in front of his eyes, soft little floppy things that you push out of the way, Pushing back his wild hair as you do it. You have two cups of hot coffee in your hands. One, which you sit on the shelf that rings the room, and the other that you press into his hands, the warm ceramic a welcomed weight.

- Jimin helps you sit, a hand on your lower back to ease the ache. Without really thinking he guides you to sit back against his chest. It’s quiet and it’s lovely. And Jimin trails his nose down your shoulder and holds you loosely around your waist. “I forgot how nice this room is.” You say after your cup is halfway gone, Jimin’s cheek rested against your shoulder.

- “It’s so bright- I love it.” when Jimin closes his eyes he can still see the dark garage where he used to sleep- was it barely 4 months ago? Is he okay now? Is it okay to hope? Can he really count on things to be okay? To count that they won’t get bad again?

- With you in his arms, Jimin feels like it’s okay to hope for more good things.

- It feels like the right time to say it, the light spilling into the little yellow room, his tail thumping against the bed. The soft comforter that you picked out for him last night encircling you both like a halo. 

- The words are gentle, and they’re the truest Jimin’s ever said, “I love you” you smile over the edge of your coffee cup, lips soft and pink like two bright petals, happy little flowers like happy moments blooming with frequency. Every soft thing that Jimin’s ever wanted or dreamed of. Every way you could love a person- that's the way that Jimin loves you. And it feels like an unbreakable promise when you smile up at him. “I love you too Minnie.”

- And that’s how it happens. He says it again over breakfast and Namjoon barely lifts his eyebrows in wonder. But his tail betrays his attention, His tail kicking up a happy rhythm. Now that he’s said it- he feels like he doesn’t want to stop. 

- Yoongi pays the revelation a little more attention, making prolonged eye contact with jimin and stumbling around the kitchen half asleep like usual. But isn’t Yoongi the one who had taught Jimin how to love like this? That love is not really about saying it- but showing it. Yoongi- who he’s still never heard speak. and Somehow it doesn’t bother Jimin as much anymore.

- The next morning goes much like that- as does the next and the next. You spend the late nights all cuddled up together on the couches watching movies or sometimes you’ll retire to your small study room on the first floor to do some work- typing away on your computer. Calculating monthly costs, balancing your budget, submitting your paperwork on time to get funding from the state- the endless budgeting.

- Sometimes Yoongi helps, and you dictate numbers while he adds them up. Namjoon and Jimin sit on opposite ends of the couch, Jimin’s feet in Namjoon’s lap. And Jimin gets to watch the way Namjoon looks at you and Yoongi. “You really love them don’t you?” Jimin asks, worried about sounding jealous, but how could he really be jealous of that? Namjoon’s dimples are the most beautiful thing- Namjoon is the most beautiful thing when he’s happy. He nods shyly on the other edge of the couch. “Yes, so come here.”

- The aborted whine that tones out is enough to grab Yoongi’s attention when Namjoon clutches Jimin to his chest. The snake hybrid’s head appearing over the edge of the couch. The huffing sound that all of you associate with Yoongi’s laugh makes Jimin blush as Namjoon curls a strong arm around his waist. A deep rumbling in his chest similar to a purr as Jimin settles there. He can hear Namjoon’s heartbeat and ends up falling asleep to it.  

- Other evenings you’ll make smoothies with them or root beer floats, teasing Yoongi for the foam on his upper lip. Jimin finds himself sinking into this easy happiness. Now when he wakes up in the morning. He doesn’t have the ire of the others to contend with. Though he makes sure to keep up his friendships. 

- he follows Taehyung around more often now that he sees the four of you every waking moment. Taehyung and Jimin spend a few days together helping Seokjin and Hoseok clean out one of the unused barns together.

- He comes upon the two of them; that is Hoseok and Seokjin, sitting in the grass one day. The older hybrids hand laced in Hoseok’s curly hair. Taehyung murmurs to Jimin that they should just make it official already.

- He’d caught Hoseok sneaking out of the barns to head to Seokjin’s room more than once when he still lived in with the others. Since Seokjin is the only hybrid besides your little group that doesn’t stay in one of the main barns. And there were only so many places that Hoseok could be trying to go at that hour.

- They do make it official - though it takes a few days.

- It was early morning- just after breakfast and the three of you’d been buzzing with happy energy, Namjoon already half of the way out the door. Almost crashing into them where they’d waited unsure on your porch. “oh! Jin hyung! Hobi hyung!”

- Your morning plans for the usual gardening had been put on pause, Seokjin and Hoseok sitting hand in hand at the prep table while your hybrids try not to listen in. Namjoon doesn’t even bother - just stands behind you and rubs your shoulders while you listen. Their hands bound over the top of the table.

- “We’d do all of the work ourselves, and you know I wouldn’t ask you for any money for it- we want to do it on our own” Jin smiles, and you’ve never seen such a gently happy expression on his face. Next to him- the otter sits closer. Looking up at Jin like there isn’t anything more precious than he could hold in his hands. And while their love hadn’t completely escaped your notice- this is still a surprise.

- Seokjin makes a fair amount of money selling his yarns and other knitted goods from the alpacas and the sheep. You’d always been firm that he should keep the money he makes from it for himself and not give it to you to put into the farm. The same way you let the bear hybrids keep the money they make from harvesting the honey. You don’t own them- they’re their own people.

- One of the first things that Seokjin had bought with his money was a cellphone, and he and Hoseok excitedly show you ideas for tiny homes on Pinterest, boards of colorful little new England style cabins, loft beds, and micro-fridges. “We already have one in mind- you know the little cabin by the river?”

- Namjoon pipes up “you mean the old chicken coop? We can build you something nicer- the roof of that one is shot though- you’ll need an extra hand,” you look at their plans, careful doodles, and color swatches, nodding. “we’ll help you, of course, we’ll help you both.”

- And that’s how Seokjin and Hoseok had started work on their home. A separate place away from the rest of the farm for just the two of them to get some privacy. Though it's still on your property; neither of them has any sort of desire to ever leave the farm or each other now that they’ve found their mate.

- The house isn’t more than 200 square feet. And the roof does need a fair bit of work. But it’s not just a chicken coop like Namjoon had said, it’s got nice bones and a good foundation. It’s close enough to the animal barns where Seokjin will still be able to check on the animals every morning, but closer to the river.

- You don’t realize the significance of this until you’re helping them one day, Namjoon, Yoongi making quick work of some loose floorboards and the one wall that needs to be replaced. While Jimin and hoseok watch on- deemed a little too clumsy to help with some of the work. They look for wood-burning stoves on craigslist and other things that they’ll need to make the house complete. 

- Seokjin takes a moment, coming to your side to get some of your offered lemonade, his hair tied back with a bandana. Sipping at it as he looks at Hoseok and Jimin. their feet dangling over the edge of the streambed. “He finds it calming- he can’t sleep without the ocean. That’s how I first noticed him- I caught him sneaking out one night just to listen to the running water.” Seokjin had confessed to you, watching Jimin and hoseok giggle at paint names as they flip through a color swatch book. A far cry away from how they’d once been. 

- This little cabin is certainly close enough, a mere ten feet from the shore of the stream. And with all the windows open you can hear the babbling brook and the sound of the birds in the forest. Before they retire to Seokjin’s room above the stables. Both Hoseok and Seokjin stand in the cabin, taking their shoes off to feel the floor below them and think- this is it- this is our home. Holding each other close while they listen. Even if it will take another few months to get it truly in livable condition- to set the walls with insulation and electricity. This will be their home.

- But first, they cleaned it out. The whole bottom floor filled with dusty jam jars and weird bottles that Seokjin thinks must have been for moonshine. The next day- Jimin finds a few of the glass bottles have made the way into his new room. As Namjoon struggles to put together his new dresser, and Yoongi takes It over after Namjoon lets out his 5th frustrated sigh. They’re cleaned and polished, a small little rainbow of glass, filled with water and flowers that you pick with Jimin. 

- Every morning you bring him coffee in his room. And it slowly progresses from there, sometimes you just leave it and let him sleep. Other mornings. Jimin gets to wake up with you in his arms. Watching him or cuddling him close. He Wakes to a press of lips against his forehead and your hands in his hair. 

- His body always knows before he wakes. He’ll wake to find himself nuzzled close, or pulling you closer with greedy hands. He feels greedy with you now that he can have you every morning, though Namjoon gets the evenings. 

- And when he falls asleep at night his sheets smell like you, like peaches and cream. And then one morning he wakes pressed chest to chest with you. Your baby bump taking up significant space on Jimin’s tiny bed. And without thinking, He tilts his face forward. Kissing you softly and simply. Pulling away, whispering good morning. The pink in your cheeks says you’re shocked, but you pick up like it’s nothing The same way you took his confession.

- Kissing you is nothing like kissing Yoongi- at least not at first. It starts slow- just the simple press of softness against softness, lip to lip, and breath to breath. Until Jimin gets the hot feeling in his mouth and both of you open your lips and start to get a little lost in each other.

- The kind of kiss that makes Jimin want to reach out and hold onto you and never ever let you leave this bed. The kind of kiss that takes both of you apart gently and slowly and so carefully. Has him growing hard in his pants more than once. But you’re both shy- both so scared of pushing this any farther before the timing is right.

- Sometimes, Jimin will wake to you in his bed and Namjoon smiling softly at both of you from the door. “You know- you could always just sleep in our bed.” and Jimin knows that Namjoon might be just the tiniest bit jealous. Jimin has been stealing you away in the mornings after all- and it must be hard for him not to snuggle his mate every goddamn day especially with how soft and needy you smell. It’s so hard to leave the bed some days.

- There are more kisses after that before you go up to bed at night. Yoongi and Namjoon stretched out on the couch, Namjoon prattling on about how inaccurate a movie is while Yoongi indulges him and nods along. You kiss Jimin on the steps, winding your arms around his neck so sweetly, Yoongi wolf whistles and Namjoon chortles, “get a room!”

- But when Jimin looks over Namjoon just winks at him, and keeps talking. Like it’s nothing to kiss you so sweetly and normal to do it in front of them. There are no secrets between the four of you. Maybe there are things that are left unsaid and uncommunicated- but there are no secrets. 

- And that’s how Jimin first starts to fall into you. Easy and simple, like kisses and coffee in the morning. And Jimin loves everyone. Loves you so much sometimes it feels like his heart is going to break with it all.

- Jimin wishes his wanting stopped with the kisses, but it doesn’t, if anything it only grows. An ache in his jaw that wants to bite and consume like that moment with the kisses and Yoongi- he wants to kiss you deeper and deeper but it never ends up going that way. Not even when your bare thighs brush him in the morning and Jimin can tell you’re only wearing underwear underneath the shirt that smells so much like Namjoon.

- Jimin smells you on Namjoon, smells Namjoon on you, and wants and wants and wants. It’s worse on the mornings that you’re a little late coming to Jimin’s bed, and on the ones where you come in smelling undeniably like Yoongi too. And Jimin can’t fathom what it means and isn’t brave enough to ask.

- He asks Taehyung what it could mean- confessing it all in a rush one afternoon while they process some of the honey. Heating up the wax in the kitchen. Tae just laughs at him. “Are you sure they’re not all together? I mean- they are your pack Jiminie and he’s lived there longer than you have.” Yoongi has lived in your home longer. And it stands to reason if you and Namjoon have invited Jimin to your bed, that you might have invited Yoongi too.

- But Jimin doesn’t know for sure until one morning he wakes restless, his bed vacant. He can hear soft steps in your room. But when he peers down the hall, he’s shocked to find Yoongi softly closing the door behind him. His hair looks a little ruffled, his pajama pants hanging low on his hips as he slinks off to his own bedroom.

- You’re not the only one bed-hopping. And Jimin thinks about what it might mean. Yoongi hasn’t come to Jimin’s room. And he thinks back to the way Yoongi kissed him like it was the best and the worst, the sweetest but most forbidden thing. Maybe he’s just too nervous.

- Yoongi stays up late with Jimin, and they can both hear and smell the arousal that shoots down the stairs from both of you. Jimin has smelt it more than once by now, on you or on the air that bacons them- as members of the same pack to the same place. Jimin wonders how Yoongi handles it. Because it has Jimin growing half hard in his pajama pants, shifting on the couch needy. Yoongi’s too from the looks of it- but the snake never makes a move. Your moans echo from upstairs, their sensitive hybrid ears can hear every word that you share. And Jimin can almost taste you on the air.

- Namjoon’s gentle teasing growl is faint as is his words, “do you want them to hear you, my love? is that why you’re being so loud?- or is this” Namjoon pauses, and a wet sound fills the silence, “just too much for you?” 

- At night, when you’re not there, Jimin bites the pillow and lets his own hands wander. Feels guilty and not guilty at all when you end up in bed with him the next morning, and he licks at the hickeys on your neck left there by Namjoon’s mouth, tasting his alpha on your skin and on your lips. 

- Jimin goes to bed one evening alone, and lies listless for a moment before he realizes how much he wants to fall asleep next to you too- Namjoon too. How many times had Namjoon invited Jimin to stay in your room? How many times had he woken up to you by now? He knows the other room isn’t off limits and right now. His body shivers with need, for touches and touches, any that you’d give him. He tells himself he’s just looking for a goodnight kiss as he gets up and walks to your door, the house quiet so late in the evening.

- It shouldn’t feel so tremulous when Jimin walks to your room, to see the warm yellow light leaking through the door. Already cracked and open a few inches letting the noise of you and Namjoon spill out. The giggles he can hear, your voice, sounding the way you do when you smile. And then, a bitten-off moan.

- Jimin can’t stop himself from looking through the crack in the door- even though he knows it’s a private moment, that he really shouldn’t. You’re sitting in-between Namjoon’s legs on the edge of the bed. Jimin’s alphas mouth is firmly attached to your neck, licking and biting and sucking in a way that has Jimin riveted.

- But what really grabs his better judgment by the balls is the way that he can see the silhouette of your body through the large white shirt of Namjoon’s. The shirt so thin and well worn that jimin can see the shadow of your nipples and the hard outline that Namjoon’s hands smooth over, teasing them to a stiff peak. it has Jimin’s mouth-watering. Namjoon’s deep voice crooning as his hands pull at the hem over your baby bump, “let me see you, darling.”

- You’d complained to Jimin the other day that this far into your pregnancy none of your clothes were fitting comfortably anymore, and he can see the supple swell of your stomach and the generous curves of your body. Jimin can’t help but drink in, and stare at hungrily, swallowing thickly. A low whine of want building in his throat.

- He knows it’s wrong to be jealous, but he can’t help it. The feeling growing in his gut as he watches Namjoon pull you back to bed despite your protests. Namjoon looks deliciously good too; miles of his golden skin on display, his rippling thigh muscles exposed. Hair sleep or sex ruffled (Jimin can’t tell the difference)

- “Love I have to pee” you whine, Namjoon’s arms still ensnare your waist and he answers only with a playful growl as he hides his head in your shoulder. His hands roaming those curves like Jimin dreams of doing, Namjoon’s tail thudding against the plush comforter.

- You sigh, your head tilted up, one of your arms back behind you to tug at Namjoon’s hair, swollen pink lips parting in a sigh. He shouldn’t be watching this- this isn’t meant for him to see, this is intimate. He backs up and immediately hits a warm wide chest. “Yoongi!” Jimin squeaks, conscious enough to be quiet, his cheeks flaming as he’s caught.

- The snake hybrid raises an eyebrow in question. Yoongi looks ruffled, his hair messy from sleep. And it seems Jimin isn’t the only one who had plans on sneaking into your room so late at night. Yoongi’s cheeks are pink in the half-light.

- Yoongi leans in, nose so close to Jimin’s throat- where his scent is the strongest and Jimin almost flinches when he realizes how strung out and aroused he smells. Yoongi’s rippling growl makes Jimin’s legs week. 

- You’ve suddenly fallen silent in the other room; exchanging soft words that Jimin can’t hear. “I was just going to…” Jimin searches for a reason, to remember why he was here in the first place. His cheeks absolutely flaming, but before he can find a good reason to why he’s listening in and being quite the voyeur Namjoon speaks up from inside your bedroom. 

- “Jimin, Yoongi” not a question, but a command. Yoongi reaches around Jimin to push the door fully open so that both of you can see the two of them. “You can come in,” you say.

- Jimin has never been redder than he has been right now. Seeing you and Namjoon in your bed, obviously, about to- Jimin gulps audibly. “You don’t have to watch from the hallway” Namjoon teases. “You can watch from in here” Jimin is actually going to pass out, and you sense this, smacking Namjoon lightly on the arm. “Don’t tease him Joonie.”

- “Is it really okay if I-“ Jimin feels tongue-tied, his mind hazy with the smell of both of you, the pheromones that his sensitive nose can pick up on the smell of your slick, and Jimin’s mouth is suddenly so so wet. “I don’t want-“ Jimin breaks off; trying to keep his gaze averted, but can’t resist peeking. “I don’t want to make either of you uncomfortable.”

- Jimin sees out of the corner of his eye, Namjoon’s hands rubbing up and down your waist, and he wants to look, wants to see- but can’t. Keeps his eyes averted. “You don’t Jiminie- I” you break off when Namjoon’s hand travels further south. Your other puppy has absolutely no problem trying to distract you. Jimin can’t see exactly what Namjoon’s hands are doing but your chest jumps. And he realizes he’s staring again. 

-“If you’re going to look- you might as well help me take care of her too” Jimin has never heard Namjoon’s voice sound so guttural, and a look at Yoongi reveals his pink cheeks too. “unless you just want to watch like Yoongi does, that's fine too” 

- Jimin sends yoongi an accusatory glance, and the snake hybrid just shrugs at him. leveling him with a dedicatory look. well, Minnie- which are you going to choose?

- “I want- I want” jimin cant get the words out. He knows he doesn't want to leave. but is it really okay if he- is he really allowed to touch you? to make you smell like him the way that Namjoon does? Claiming you in that way. “jiminie- you can- I want you too-” your words are so quiet, face so warm. And it makes Jimin whine- looking to Namjoon for guidance. Imploring him to make the choice- to take the hint because Jimin just needs a little push. And from the looks of it so do you. 

- “You’re both obviously too shy to get it done- so let me take the reigns okay?” Namjoon counters to the silence. Yoongi is still standing behind Jimin, a step closer than should be necessary, and you give them both a shy, wide-eyed look. Like you’re checking to see that this wants it too. Jimin nods, short, jerky, unable to tear his eyes away from your face to see Namjoon’s expression until the elder shifts.

- Yoongi crosses to the other side of the room where a green velvet chair sits, stretching out and making himself comfortable. Whereas Jimin and Namjoon are always a little too soft looking to be threatening. Yoongi eyes the three of you like he’s some sort of predator. Tongue flicking out to lick at his lip. Like he can taste what Jimin can smell- the four of you- the smells of your arousals mixing together. Something satisfying and musky and undeniably pack that makes Yoongi's every instinct sing.

- Jimin has always appreciated Namjoon’s body, the strength there. In many ways he’s the stereotypical alpha; the strength in his arms and in his chest, his collarbones strong and chiseled, but he’s anything but cocky. There is someone so genuine about how unconcerned Namjoon is with his own body, and jimin can’t help but find his confidence attractive. 

- Namjoon lounges back against his hands, And the way he watches Jimin watch both of you lets Jimin know that it’s okay to look his fill. Yoongi too, the low rippling growl he lets out fills the room, makes you feel hot all over as his eyes roam you, Namjoon, and Jimin- the pretty picture you both paint.

- You sit between Namjoon’s legs, his hands on either side of your inner thigh parting your legs gently to show your wetness to Jimin. You make an aborted noise as you realize what he’s doing. All of you swollen and bear for him and nothing to cover you but Namjoon’s shirt and that just barely hiding the tone of your skin behind the creamy white fabric. You’re not wearing any underwear.

- Your pink core trembles a little, your hand gripping Namjoon’s forearm as he grins, drunk on the feel of you in his hands as he squeezed your thighs. Namjoon goes a step further Reaching down to glide a thumb across your wetness. Making you jerk in his hold as he hits the little sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of your cunt, glistening wet and ready. 

- “Can you believe it?” he says, his voice a blown-out growl. “So full and still ready for us?” beside Jimin, Yoongi’s pupils are blown, his body jerking as he shifts in his chair, hips on the edge.

- You’re wet and dripping. Your face is hot as you look at him, standing there in the middle of the room, fully clothed while you and Namjoon are intimately bare. Jimin can’t tear his eyes away from you. You smell so ripe and for the taking.

- “You can come closer- you can touch Minnie, it’s okay,” Namjoon says it that way, but his eyes are on Yoongi, gliding down his hips to the bulge in his pants. Namjoon knows he won’t come closer- even if he really wants yoongi too. And Jimin sees that pain him- just for a moment before he puts his chin out in his direction. It’s okay- anything that Yoongi wants, whatever level he feels he can partake in this- it’s okay. Jimin wonders how Yoongi can handle it and hold himself back; how he can handle the dizzying rush of pheromones and not come closer.

- Yoongi settles, his eyes hazy and his legs spread to make room for his hands that touch with purpose. Jimin doesn’t know where to look- at him, his hands slowly smoothing up and over the bulge in his pants or at you. The way you drink in every line of Yoongi, stretched out in his tight pants. A simple hand at your throat, Namjoon rolling his fingers down from your chin to your collarbones. “Let's put on a show for him yeah? Is that what you want Yoongi?”

- Yoongi’s tongue is pink as it swipes across his lips, he nods. In a moment, Jimin feels a little unsure, but that instantly dissipates as Namjoon gestures for him to come forward.

- He’s never been touched or touched another in this way- not with love anyway. All of the small touches you’ve given him, hands on your shoulders the small of your back, felt nothing like this. His fingers reaching out, rounding on the edge of your knee experimentally. Waiting to see your reaction to make sure what he’s doing is okay. Namjoon’s tail starts up it’s wagging behind you. his hands shake with too warm palm smoothing over skin he’s never seen let alone been allowed to touch. He looks at you and feels positively ravenous, licking his lips.

- Namjoon trails a kiss down your neck and Jimin can’t help but wonder what it would feel like to sink into the skin there too. In a moment- he’s not sure if he’d rather be you being bitten or be Namjoon biting you on the neck. You probably don’t get the significance of it quite yet but Jimin- Jimin wants to be on the receiving end of that mark. To bear the mark of an alpha means to be under their protection.

- He wants all of it- all of your sweet looking soft and supple swells. Your body that’s accommodated the life within you so well and deserves a little appreciation. Anything, everything, Jimin and Namjoon will gladly provide. And Yoongi will be content to look. Not ready quite yet to be apart of this the way Jimin is. But it makes you feel hot all over, his piercing eyes on every movement. Barely even blinking.

- Jimin doesn’t know how to be the same sultry tempter that Namjoon is- but at the very least he can follow his lead. Jimin hasn’t had many sultry kisses- the ones you’d shared in your bedroom done with less intent, but he hopes that these can be just as satisfying. He leans in close to you, a hand on Namjoon’s shoulder to steady himself as he leans down. 

- The kiss is a gentle thing that Jimin knows won’t hurt. You’d never hurt him- because you’re like him. His softness and sweetness is just like yours. Both shy and honest- the genuine passion that overflows too easy. Like a hurricane filling a teacup.

- You know to go slow, and Jimin lets Namjoon- his alpha, (a whole rush goes down his spine at the idea of it) take the reigns. Feeling a comforting protective feeling wash over him as your lips play together. You suck on one of his lower lips, plush and soft between yours, and hasten a soft bite that has Jimin gasping, jerking forward to rest both hands of his on your upper thighs. Namjoon lets them go- lets you settle in between both of them.

 - He pulls away with a start. “I want both of you- please just- please- let me” you’re already pulling at the edge of his shirt. You’d seen his softness here and there too, but now, having him underneath the palm of your hands feels even better. Jimin has gained weight since he got to the farm yes- but he’s also put on more muscle than anything else, enough protein and hard work has left him soft but with clean edges, lines on his hips that point invitingly south. Dimples that you sink your fingers into.

- You hover there, skimming your hands along them, Namjoon reaching out from behind you to press a flat hand to Jimin’s pelvis, his flannel pajama pants still on, but still, even you can feel the way his abdominal muscles clench at the slightest touch. Even as you tug, give a pleading little whine, Jimin is so so weak to all of you. Jimin takes off his pants so quickly that he almost trips and falls into you, and a quiet chuckles and quick look says that Namjoon is equally as endeared by Jimin’s eagerness as you are. Even Yoongi is grinning.

- Yoongi makes a noise too and all of you look over, he’s got his pants pulled down his hips too, hands slowly teasing at the head of his cock hidden by his boxers. A wet spot there that makes jimin lick his lips. One-day Jimin will earn Yoongi’s trust enough to get his mouth on that length. Yoongi juts his chin out- an invitation to continue.

- Jimin wonders how often you’ve done this before with Yoongi- if this is only the second or third time. The question hovers on the tip of his tongue, struck out of his mind when you put your hands on him and touch him properly. Behind you Namjoon shifts, finally showing that he’s bare too- not even wearing underwear.

- A first look says yes, Namjoon is a little longer than Jimin is. But he’s far thicker than Namjoon and that small blessing in itself has a whole new kind of heat thinning in his gut. Especially when Namjoon stands and measures, going hip to hip with Jimin so that the head of his cock touches Jimin’s stomach. The older hybrid reaching out to skim his large hand over his head. Jimin’s already wet and sensitive gasping at how Namjoon’s hands- so big, fail to cover all of him.

- “I really shouldn’t call you puppy” he hastens with a chuckle, tugging at jimin’s erection, and Jimin can’t help but whine and pant. Namjoon’s mouth skims down and over Jimin’s shoulder, the contact lighting sparks under his skin with how sensitive he feels, and yet- it's still not where he wants it, Jimin feels vacant his mouth unclaimed until you stand too.

- This time you tug Jimin down with a hand in his hair, running your fingers over his ears the same moment that Namjoon bites down on his neck and pulls, teasing over the head of his cock. and it’s too much- too much so soon- making Jimin go soft and pliant as Namjoon sucks jimin’s skin between his teeth. Jimin doesn't know why the edge of a high rises so quickly only that it does and leaves his knees weak- almost giving out at the weight of all the pleasure. 

- To Jimin’s credit- he only cums a little- maybe not a full orgasm from just that. The shame and humiliation of Cumming so early makes him want to hide his face in you and hide he does. Especially when Namjoon lifts his hand up to look at Jimin’s release, chuckles, and licks it.

- He collapses into your front, breathing heavily already. The waves of your sweet arousal washing over him, his nose feels so sensitive he wants to bury it in your heat and breathe in deep, his whole body feels sensitive as Namjoon- now behind Jimin, smoothed his hands up and down his sides, somehow knowing he was a little too overwhelmed by so much so quick.

- He hopes that’s not weird- he has a feeling he’s just a little too touch starved not to get wound up. He doesn’t want this to be over that fast, wants to savor every moment. “I’m sorry,” he squeaks out, but you and Namjoon are quick to soothe him.

- “It’s nothing to be ashamed about Minnie baby, you’re just a little sensitive” Jimin loves that- that nickname falling from your mouth as your touches get slower. more sensual and loving so they don’t overwhelm him so fast. He can tell you and Namjoon and maybe Yoongi are sharing a glance, communicating silently about Jimin- but it doesn’t make him feel annoyed. It just makes him feel cared for. 

- Jimin knows he could go again, isn’t finished, he’s still rock hard, cock bobbing and twitching against his stomach. He just needs a moment to calm down. 

- You guide him to sit back up against the bed and he lies, half in your lap and half to the side. Shifting closer to you with his nose pressed to your neck, licking and sucking to his heart's content. Leaving his bruises right next to Namjoon’s. 

- You’re used to the way that Namjoon gets after an orgasm, his more animal instincts closer to the surface. Sometimes he even fails to speak with words, instead favoring whines and growls. It doesn't surprise you at all that Jimin would fall into a similar headspace the second he got overwhelmed. He laps at your skin, tail thumping as his ears twitch. His nose drawing small circles. The instincts in him pulling him lower as Namjoon rubs up and down his back soothingly.

- Jimin doesn’t realize where he’s ended up until your soft laugh and Namjoon’s chuckle join in tandem. “I take it back- you’re a puppy.” Jimin goes absolutely bright red as he opens his eyes and realizes that he’s been nosing at your breasts, the origin for your milky sweet scent.

- “Can I- have a taste?” he asks. And you turn hot for a whole different reason. you push him off a little, and Jimin wants to whine before he realizes that you’re finally taking off your shirt. and /oh/ you’re so soft looking. Your chest ample and swollen- you look absolutely perfect.

- “Sure but- uhm- I’m- just don’t be surprised if I-” you’re stuttering and shy and Namjoon just leans over, pulling lightly at your sensitive nipples so that Jimin can see for himself. He really is good at making sure you guys don’t get too shy to continue, he’s a good alpha.

- At the sight of a small bead of milk tugged forward by Namjoon’s hand Jimin growls, He tugs a little more and a single droplet travels down your sternum. You exhale as you feel the full heavy feeling that your breasts have taken on these past few weeks starts to ease a little.

- Jimin notices your discomfort the way you shift and doesn’t think- his instincts taking over before he leans forward and hastens a lick. taking the droplet from your skin into his mouth and licking up- so that he doesn't waste a drop. his plush lips melt around your nipple and he closes his eyes- savoring it. It only takes a small suck for your milk to really come in, and you shift instantly under Jimin's hands, throwing your head back with a sigh as the ache eases. Jimin growls and pulls you forward by a hand underneath your back, jostling you in his eagerness.

- You taste so sweet, the fatty liquid sliding down his throat as he suckles eagerly. Namjoon buries his fingers into your hair, pulling you up to kiss him but Jimin isn’t paying attention- can’t concentrate on anything other than the smooth taste of you sliding over his tongue as he sucks and sucks and sucks. the taste of you- the cream to your peaches and cream scent sliding like ambrosia over his tongue. 

- Jimin may not be talkative- brought down to his lower basic instincts- but he does make noise. His tail wagging behind him Hitting Namjoon’s, a whine mixing with a growl. Eyes rolling back into his head- he can’t help it you just taste so fucking good. 

- You can’t concentrate on Namjoon’s kiss either; your mouth open and a little sloppy, Namjoon levels you with a hot look. “What do you say lovely? Does she taste as good as she smells?” Jimin is so drunk on you that he barely even hears Namjoon. His teeth nip a little, you hissing a little.

- Namjoon tugs on Jimin’s hair and the other hybrid growls. It’s a Feral and angry sound- anything that would take him away from your sweet taste would have jimin angry. It’s so unexpected- that he would be so possessive- that Namjoon actually laughs. 

- You do too, though it’s quickly interrupted by a moan when Jimin pauses his sucking to lave a lick against your nipple. Namjoon holds him too far away for him to properly suck. “Gentle puppy” Jimin’s hands grip underneath your breasts, possessively clinging to you. whining at Namjoon. begging his alpha to let him go back. Namjoon lets Jimin tug his own hair before he guides his head back to you. 

- Namjoon keeps your eye contact until the second he lowers to suck too. Having both of them at the same time overwhelms you. Especially when you look past their heads and see Yoongi licking his lips too. Stroking his red cock slowly and carefully. The head is already red, and you can tell from the way he pulls off that he’d edging himself. Hips shaking every time he senses his touches. And you wonder if he wants to cum with you. His throat bobbing every time his tongue darts out.

- Having both their mouths on you makes you keen. And when Namjoon guides Jimin’s hand to your cunt you lose it- moaning, panting their names and gripping at their heads, pulling their hair. Jimin’s hands are sloppy as they grip and touch. Hungrily exploring your thighs. Namjoon’s a little more guided, paying special attention to your entrance. When he realizes Jimin’s gotten distracted feeling up your thighs and ass he guides Jimin so finger you, smooth fingertips rubbing at your walls in time with his sucks, while Namjoon rubs smooth circles against your clit.

 - You time the rolls of your hips with Yoongi’s as he shallowly fucks his hand.

- You cum like that, both their hands on you, and Yoongi’s growl, Namjoon’s head snap up. “You can cum Yoongi” Namjoon commands, with a fucked out chuckle. Your milk caught in one of his dimples. Yoongi’s hands are tight around the knot at the base of his cock, cum dripping down around his wrist, his head thrown back. Lazily spread out, his limbs turned to jelly.

- To Yoongi- it doesn't feel awkward to have cum so soon. If anything the sheer intimacy of it all- knowing that he can be vulnerable and fucked out in front of both of you- makes him feel even hazier. And just because he’s cum- doesn’t mean he doesn’t enjoy the sight of you three all tangled together.

- Jimin’s hardness pokes at your thigh as he straddles it. Rocking against you in time with his sucks. hands returning to their appreciation of your thighs once you’ve cum, head a little clearer. Namjoon is equally as hard and waiting. Namjoon groans as one of your hands finds his cock. 

- You’re used to the way he likes it by now, concentrating your attention on his head. Your other less dominant hand still makes Jimin jerk. Fucking into the tight circle of your hand that can’t fit around the entirety of his cock but is more than enough to tease his head until he’s throbbing.

- Jimin gives one last bite as your milk peters off; no more left and your other breast rightfully as drained, pulling away and licking at his lips. He’s so high on the taste of you, the smell of you, all of you that he barely realizes he’s grinding against your thigh or into your hand. Namjoon stills your hand against him when he gets close. Your thighs shake as Namjoon guides both of you to sit back; pressing a kiss to your forehead, Jimin’s, and then your tummy.

- “Why don’t you watch and see how it’s done puppy” Jimin gets off, sitting on his knees to the side and resists the urge to touch. Namjoon gives him a look and you look up from where you lie against the bed, grinning at him. but he’s obedient, doesn't touch, and just watches to learn. 

- “Would you cum again if I called you good b-” Jimin flushes, scrambling to get a hand over your mouth and stop you from finishing that sentence as his cock twitches and dribbles pre-cum onto the blanket. Face flaming as you laugh against his palm. “Yes- so please don’t I just want to-” Jimin whines. the humiliation making him hornier somehow. Yoongi’s rueful grin and Namjoon's expectant expression that says Jimin is just the cutest thing he’s ever seen.

- It’s somewhat of an honesty thing too- because you know Jimin- you know him so well enough to tease him and have it not be awkward but arousing- knowing just the right words to say to get him riled up. To prove to you that he can be good- can learn how to fuck you well without cumming (again) “why don’t you help me hold her Minnie.”  

- Namjoon’s smirk is happy and a little fucked out as he pulls your hips to the edge of the bed by your ankles, your laughter turning into a giggle. Knowing how Namjoon loves to man handle you. And you’d be lying if his strength- the fact that he can still lift you without issue even this far into your pregnancy wasn’t a little bit of a turn on. 

- Namjoon gently manhandles you into the position he wants, you stretched out against the sheets, your nipples all puffy and pink from the way Namjoon and jimin mercilessly handled you earlier. A bruise forming where Jimin was a little rough, half-circles from his mouth. 

- Namjoon guides you to hold your hands above your head, guiding your wrists into Jimin’s to hold you there, his hands lacing with yours, bending down to kiss you. You gasp into Jimin’s mouth at the first push of Namjoon into your dripping cunt. The push and pull of his hips. It’s as erotic as it is sweet, Jimin presses his hips to the bed to relieve some of the aches but does not rut forward. And a look from Namjoon tells him to be careful- he’ll allow that- but the next time Jimin cums Namjoon wants it to be by his command.

- “You see Minnie- she’s not the biggest fan of a rough fuck- we’ve got to be gentle with her see, but as long as you make them deep and long she likes it” Namjoon shows Jimin and below Them, you moan. Lacing your fingers with Jimin's. 

- There is a certain unspoken dominance between Namjoon and the other hybrids. You too- though that has less to do with scent and the instinctual pull that you feel to be good for him. Jimin can’t get a good handle on why exactly he wants to do everything the elder says only that the idea of Namjoon being upset with him right now sends a jolt of fear all the way to the end of his tail.

- When Namjoon cums it’s with a low groan, and you squirting weakly around his cock. Your thighs are shaking and Namjoon leans close to kiss you through you high, then leans up to kiss Jimin too in reward for being patient. 

- You’re panting, body humming with pleasure as you feel namjoon’s knot press just outside your entrance, bulging so much that his rocking rubs against your clit. Namjoon is careful to fist his knot in his hand, meant to lock him and his partner in place to ensure a pregnancy would take place. If you were a hybrid you would be keening for his knot, probably crying for it. But as it is you’re a little glad he didn’t decide to stretch you out on it today. 

- You’re sure that the next time you cum your eyes are going to roll back. And you might pass out. It’s happened before. The first night you and Namjoon ever let Yoongi watch you. Namjoon had so thoroughly put you through your paces that you’d collapsed, and come to with two very panicked hybrids standing over you.

- Especially because it would have taken several long minutes to go down and Jimin is hard and aching for you. Namjoon is a good and patient alpha; he’ll let Jimin knot you tonight. Namjoon gives his knot one final squeeze before he gestures for Jimin. He lets go of your hands unwillingly, joining Namjoon at the edge of the bed.

- Namjoon pulls you by your legs to the edge of the bed, the movement so sudden that it makes you giggle. You’re a little fucked out, but it only makes your hybrids endeared. You close your eyes as Namjoon manhandles you into place, sighing out a “fuck” as he sees you below him. god- Namjoon loves you so much and you can feel it in every touch. 

- He hitches your legs up and asks you to hold them, hands gripping underneath your knees. Keeping you bare for all of them. Jimin’s mouth waters when he sees your wet and messy cunt, a little bit of Namjoon’s cum dripping out of your entrance.

- Fuck just getting his mouth on Yoongi; Jimin wants to get his mouth on all of you. Huh- maybe he has some sort of oral fixation. Jimin is so caught up in imagining it he barely processes Namjoon stepping away, tugging jimin in close and positioning himself behind the other dog hybrid, Namjoon’s knot and wet cock presses up against Jimin’s ass as Namjoon uses his hands to guide jimin into your heat. 

- Jimin is so thick. So big compared to your entrance, the stretch doesn't burn after Namjoon but you do feel full- so deliciously full that it makes you gasp and grip jimin's shoulder, letting your leg fall against his hip. 

-  You're so wet and warm; Jimin has to slow down immediately. whining loud in the quiet room. “Alpha- I can’t-” namjoon's hand forms a vice around the base of his cock, keeping him from cumming. “You can- and you will Jimin” Weather it’s your wetness or Namjoon’s cum that makes the slide inside of you so slick. He can only thrust forward so far before his stomach makes contact with your baby bump, and the slide, the simple push of your hips against his makes him feel tingly all over.

- “Fuck you feel so good,” Jimin pants out, and you smile, reaching forward to brush his hair out of his face and over his ears, sending a shock of pleasure all the way down to his tail. Maybe it’s because he’s been wound up so much, or because you’re still tightening with the last thrum of your orgasm that makes Jimin come so easily. 

- He’s only been trusting inside of you for a few minutes before he feels his knot start to swell, pulsating against namjoons fingers and ready to spill inside. namjoon lets him go and Jimin can barely keep himself from getting rough with you. though he won’t- would never dream of hurting you. It feels nice to be filled by him, and you feel yourself brought to the edge again by his gentleness- he doesn’t have to thrust quickly for it to feel good- just being this close- as close as you two can get to each other is enough.  

- It’s not Jimin’s first time having sex. But for all intents and purposes. You’re the only ones it matters for. He sends a panicked look in Namjoon’s direction, unsure if he’ll be able to hold off. His hands shaking where they sit, entwined with yours. Body crouched as close as he can to you. Through the entirety of it- Namjoon has been stroking up and down his back, and he grips his hips now- guiding him through each thrust to make them less sloppy.  “Alpha- alpha please-“  

- “You can cum Jimin, make sure you knot her.” At his alphas command Jimin cums with a shout. Namjoon pressed to his back and Yoongi hissing over his shoulder. Watching every thrust with baited breath. namjoon pushes jimin’s hips inside at just the right moment and you twitch as he knots you. feeling him swell inside you more than should be possible entrance pulsating in time with his twitches. jimin cumming into you with squirts and squirts of warmth as you milk his knot.

- You squirt weakly- and it drips down around his cock and makes it even wetter if that’s even possible, no doubt leaving a puddle against your bed. you hold jimin close and he wants to collapse against you but doesn't because of namjoon holding him around the middle, guiding you to safely sit to the side, giving your little baby bump a little loving rub. “Gotta keep the bun safe minnie” namjoon chides. “Sorry hyung just- so good” Jimin slurs. eyes still rolling back in his head as he just keeps Cumming. 

- “Can I call you good boy now?” you tease, and jimin whines again predictably as both namjoon and yoongi nodd. Jimin’s knot does not stay inflated as long as namjoon’s does. starting to shrink after a few minutes once he stops cumming really. though the occasional spasm of your walls around him has him tensing again. 

- When its gone down fully he makes to pull out but namjoon catches his hips again, and tells him to wait. A shiver goes down his spine as yoongi walks over to watch. your leg flopping to the side, open so that he can see, though you grumble and cover your flaming face. it might be a little embarrassing- but it’s also really fucking hot- the way they like to see how much they’ve wrecked you- claimed you in a way they only could.  

- jimin doesn't understand until he sees namjoon and yoongi’s ravenous expressions, the way they lick their lips. it’s only then that namjoon carefully guides jimin to pull out. 

- the rush of cum is immediate, forced out of your entrance by your lingering orgasam makeing you clench and force their cum out of you. there's so much of it, dripping down your thigh thick and viscous and so so messy. 

- jimin is so overwhelmed, as his cock keeps dripping. he flops back onto the bed after a second, close enough to you to be wrapped in your arms, both of you huffing with labored breathes, Namjoon gripping hard around his waist and guiding him into the comfort of the bed and your arms. Hands splayed wide on Jimin’s trembling stomach. Pinching at Jimin’s knot for a moment. And the whole room spins.  

- Jimin is so pretty when he arches his back to try and get away from the over stimulation, especially when your hand joints namjoons and you both squeeze- head thrown back in ecstasy, his plush lips parted with his pants. “Stop fuck- too much” your hands are off of him the second he says it. Jimin’s eyes are closed, as you lean in and kiss at his neck. “Sorry puppy” he hears the older alpha chime- Jimin whines, his whole body turned to jelly.

- You’re barely sighing and settling back into the sheets, head tilted to get a sloppy fucked out kiss from Namjoon. Yoongi lingers. And you look up at him expectantly. His cock is still hard and curving against his stomach.Somewhere between jimin and Namjoon in thickness and length but ribbed with veins that stick out like the ones on the back of his hands.

- You think he’s going to mount you too (your deepest darkest fantasy’s hope that he might. You have to admit that you like the idea of one of them going one after another, Cumming in you, making you feel full and well fucked. You’re certain that one day- if they still want this- if they want to keep doing this with you. You’ll have that, each of them knotting you and filling you up- breeding you and making sure they knock you up again. human hybrid pregnancies are so rare they’re practically non-existent, but you know if there where any that would manage it it would be these three.)

- jimin’s eyes nearly roll into the back of his skull when he smells yoongi closer, nostrils flaring, “gotta help us breed our omega yoongi” he slurs. clutching posessively at you. The words so unexpected but so right. Namjoon can’t take his eyes off Yoongi. While in his arms. jimin tries not to dose- thoroughly spent. 

- It’s the kind of language that Namjoon’s used with you before- calling you their omega- though you’re human you know what it means. To be theirs, taken care of and knocked up and fucked out. You and Namjoon- for the amount you bicker like an old married couple. Also communicate a lot,

- Though talk of your fantasies has mostly been pillow talk. Both of you spoke of wanting this before it happened and of your feelings for the others too. Namjoon had squealed almost as much as you had when you’d told him of jimin’s confession.

- You’d done your best to learn all you could about hybrids. So it never struck you as strange when Namjoon had come to you and confessed that Yoongi would one day be apart of his pack. Namjoon’s alpha instincts choosing Yoongi- spreading protectively over the snake hybrid. Namjoon hadn’t had much control over who was accepted into his pack- much in the same way that you have never have control over who you fall in love with.

- And maybe it was through you- that Namjoon and Yoongi eventually found a way to connect beyond the touches. Because Yoongi looks at the utter mess of your entrance, splattered with jimin and Namjoon cum and growls. His hands barely brushing your skin as he guides you to spread your legs and bare yourself to him. You dont understand what obsession they have with looking at your cunt- but there has to be something. 

- Namjoon ever insatiable even snakes his hand around to spread you out for Yoongi. Teasing at your outer lips before his thumb presses against your clit- making your legs tremble. His touches so slow and firm, enough to make you absolutely desperate for another orgasm.

- Yoongi won’t touch you, he won’t make you cum- you know that enough by now because as much as Yoongi loves the intimacy you have it’s still too much for him. But one of his fangs hangs out over his lip when Namjoon starts to finger you. Rubbing their cum into your clit. And like you could read his mind, Yoongi starts up his stroking above you. 

- He never breaks eye contact with you. Beside you, Jimin shifts to watch. His sweat making his hair stick to his forehead. “I’m not going to stop until you’re squirting,” 

- “Why do you always want to- ah- make me messy?” you tease Namjoon- bickering with him even now. “Who knows maybe dirt is just my kink.” 

- Jimin snorts, “You hate gardening Namjoon-“ you laugh, but you’re also squirming in overstimulation, as Namjoon’s thumb teases and teases until you’re trembling, and you want to gasp say that you can’t possibly cum again- but a look over your shoulder tells you that Namjoon knows you can. Yoongi’s eyes lock with yours when you look back, and you see the sweat on his temple, Namjoon’s hand speeding up when his does.

- Cumming after a few minutes with a gush that makes your cheeks flame. Hips jerking up and off the bed as you squirt- pussy clenching so hard that it forces their cum out to drip. Timed with you again- the intimacy of it all- of Cumming together, Yoongi’s cum spurting all over your stomach before he directs it to your clit. Mixing with the other hybrids cum. 

- You’re thoroughly spent, legs falling open with no shame to hide you from the painful friction that would surely arise if anything touched your clit right now. Reaching out for arms that gladly take you. Ready to have them close.

- Jimin sits up, brain finally a little clearer as the pheromones in the room start to dissipate, leaning forward to hasten a lick Over your entrance tasting all of you intermingled makes his tail wag. But you’re a little too sensitive even for that- and you pull Jimin away before he can give a second lick, and he curls up close to you in the next second, face buried in your shoulder. 

- He’s just as fucked out at you are, wrung out and hung to dry by all of this intimacy and pleasure making his body feel satisfied and settled. Unwilling to move from this bed. speaking only through whines and grumbles. Practically non verbal- and brought low into his hybrid headspace. Jimin and Namjoon don’t mind the mess on you. To them- it just smells like pack and home.

- He’s dimly aware of Yoongi going to the bathroom to get a rag for you- because as much as you love the feeling of all of their cum filling you up you really don’t want to have to change your sheets and luckily for you- most of the mess of your lovemaking has been well contained On you skin and your well placed blanket that can easily be exchanged for a fresh one.

- Namjoon softly turns jimin over onto his stomach, Jimin’s red cock pressed uncomfortably to the bed as they wipe down the release on Jimin’s back too. (Had Namjoon cum there? rutting in-between Jimin’s ass cheeks as he’d been inside you? and had Jimin been too lost in the throws of his passion to realize?)

- “I love you Yoongi, thank you for letting us do this, thank you for being apart of this.” he hears you say, and it makes Jimin’s tail wag.

- He stays awake long enough to hear Namjoon switch the fan on and to feel Namjoon swallow both you and Jimin in his arms. He hears them quietly conversing. “Are you sure you don’t want to come closer?” Yoongi must indicate one way or another. Because Namjoon quietly settles. 

- The bed shifts, and he gathers Yoongi must have curled up several inches to the left of him. jimin squirms- wishing he’d come closer. but then he feels the slow trail of Yoongi’s fingers just along his spine and smiles into your hair.

- He wants to reach out, to pull him closer- but Jimin won’t know that touch is so tenuous for him. He knows him not partaking tonight isn’t anything to do with not loving you three. Jimin will respect Yoongi’s boundaries for as long as it takes for Yoongi to not feel a bit of the aching hesitation he suffers through when it comes to loving his pack. His eyes closed, he feels fingers trail along the edge of his hairline, ears flicking and nose twitching, Jimin lets out a happy little puppy grumble.

- “Love you” he finds himself whispering against your hair, “love you all so much” his words are slurry and not all there. And he’s rewarded with Namjoon muttering it back, reaching out to run a hand gently along his cheeks. A large hand knots in his hair, not rubbing through and just gripping, and jimin knows its Yoongi hand.

- Yoongi stays awake that night until all of you are asleep, wishing that for once- he felt the pull of Namjoon’s alphaness the same way Jimin did. The younger certainly seemed hazy; all of the tension in his body giving way with Namjoon’s will exert itself over him. But he’s content to see them the way they are now, all soft and vulnerable. Namjoon and Yoongi bookending the both of you curled together in the middle. So peaceful. Yoongi hopes he can make the two of you feel as safe as Namjoon makes you feel.

- Yoongi reaches out to touch your face, thumb drifting a hair's breadth from your lips, he knows he could never hurt you- never even dream of it. His mistress- owner- this mission was doomed from the start. He was yours- for all intents and purposes of the words. Yoongi didn’t want to be anywhere else in the world. Other than your bed at that moment. 

- And when he closes his eyes He imagines all the ways that he would touch you if he could. How he would have touched you tonight if he’d just allowed himself too. Maybe in the future- maybe in a few days when he gets used to this togetherness he’ll get to be close to you in the way he so desperately wants. Tonight was so nice, and with you smelling like all three of them. Yoongi feels like he’s apart of this- in a way that he hasn’t felt before. 

- it’s not only touches he wants- it’s the love you share too. All of the words he would whisper low in your ears where he able. He’d find out your favorite foods and cook them every day, find out everything you like- badger you even. So that he could learn your favorite things and hopefully earn the right of being one of your favorite things too. 

- He imagines the three of you holding him close in the winter and giving him space in the spring when his skin gets all sheady and itchy. Maybe you’d even make him one of those oatmeal baths that you’d started to favor towards the end of your pregnancy to help ease the shedding process. he imagines Jimin prodding at his scales and counting them. Namjoon kissing the ones behind his ear. 

- Yoongi thinks of the future you have with namjoon and jimin and thinks about you and your child. Yoongi imagines for a second even though the image hurts; what it would be like to see them. He feels his heart ache so viscerally it’s too much- he can’t think about that. 

- He can't think about what he can’t have. In the next few days he’s going to do his best to love you three and protect you and then that will be that. that's all yoongi gets. Not a life with you or a family with you. And then he opens his eyes, swallowing. And thinks that even if he doesn’t get to see all of that- at least- at the very least, he can savor every moment like it might be the last.

- And it is the last moment, Five. 

-  Four. He leaves the room to get a glass of water. If he’d known, maybe he would have looked back when he crossed over the threshold of your bedroom door. The clock ticking down to zero in an instant like a timer left unwatched. 

- Three. If he’d known, maybe he would have leaned over Jimin’s body to kiss your lips- just to kiss you once. Given Namjoon a kiss too. Touched Jimin's face to say ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t give you the love you want, but they’ll give it to you in my absence,”

- Two. On his ways down the stairs, the house is quiet and so familiar. The only home he’s ever had, the only place he’s ever wanted to stay forever.

- One. He’s just on the landing, when he sees the car out-front, black with its lights off, but if he listens he can still hear it running, as quiet as a mountain lions purr. Then He hears a quiet knock at the door. And Yoongi pauses on the steps.

- The clock stops at zero.

- The cherry of her lit cigarette is the only thing that glimmers in the moonlight with any color. That and the red tip of her tongue as she rolls it over her teeth. Yoongi freezes in fear the second he sees his owner, standing with her arm against the doorframe. 

- A wash of cigarette smoke tainting the scents of all of you on him. He sees her farce, her thinly veiled superiority, and the tenseness in her body. Three men behind her. it’s all a lie, she’s angry and she’s afraid and she’s a devil in human skin. 

- “Times up Yoongi.” One moment- he just needs one more moment. Holds up her finger and for once, she listens. Taps her foot impatiently. 

- The house is quiet, upstairs you sleep on, unaware of what happens below. 

- The next morning you wake up to Jimin and Namjoon curled up close. Their soft breathes intermingling in the golden light of morning. Jimin nosing underneath your chin. You cuddle close for a moment letting the safety of sleep melt away, before you sigh and get up to get dressed. The heats broken over the night, and you wrap your fluffy robe around your shoulders just to feel a little cozy. You don’t know why you feel so restless, but it’s like your bones are cold.

- Things are too quiet, the hum of Yoongi’s air conditioners aren’t running, aren’t filling the top floor of your house with their white noise hum. And you realize something’s wrong the second you pause by his door. Usually, his air conditioners run through the night, and leave the space under his door and immediately outside in the hall cooler to the touch, but a look inside after a nock reveals his room is empty, his straw hat is missing from its hook too. You’d assumed he’d left after last night to sleep in his own room because yours was too warm.

- You spill out onto the first floor of your house looking for him, searching for him by the coffee maker or on the couch watching the morning news, but a small commotion, terse hush words interrupt your train of thought.

- The cat hybrids are crowded around something on the table. Breakfast barely even started. One of them turns when they see you in the doorway and if any of them notice something different about your scent- probably drenched with both all of your hybrids. None of them say anything. If you had to guess- you’d say that whatevers wrong is much more pressing than any hybrid faux pas.

- “We were going to wake you” one of them says, biting her lower lip, her torn ear twitching. “We didn’t think you’d want us to move it until you saw.”

- The crowd parts, and you pull up to the side of the prep table. a blanket is folded on the table- it’s Yoongi’s- the heated one. The one that he needs to sleep if he’s going to not wake up shaky and too cold in the middle of the night. His sun hat- the one he always wears sitting on top of it, a little note sitting there too tucked into the leather band.

- The simple note- two words that aren’t enough to soothe the sudden panic in your veins. “I’m sorry” written in his neat scrawl. The words he wants to say but can’t- had to erase and then scribble over so you can’t read them. “I’m sorry I can’t stay, I would if I could, and I want too so bad. it’s not your fault that i had to go.” 

- But there are just those two. I’m sorry. Not enough and almost visceral in the way that they shock the air out of your lungs. You gasp- almost falling with the way it hits you. You wish it wasn’t true, but deep down you know what it means.

- Yoongi is gone. 

Please Reblog and Comment! Likes are nice but they do little to support content creators! 

Kofi

#bts #bts fanfic #bts hybrid au #bts poly au #bts poly hybrid au #bts polyamory #bts pregnancy au #min yoongi x reader #park jimin x reader #kim namjoon x reader #2 seok #taekook #hybrid! min yoongi #hybrid! kim namjoon #hybrid! park jimin #hybrid! bts #bts mafia au #bts angst #bts a/b/o #myg #pjm #knj #BTS X READER #bts fanfiction #kim namjoon #min yoongi #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #kim seokjin

[ve1vetyoongi]

wherever you will go | jjk

Pairing: Jungkook x female reader

Genre: actor!oc, director!jungkook, smut, angst, humour.

Word count: 21k

Summary:  Not much happens when you grow up by the coast. Tourists come and go, the theatre where you work shows the same shows over and over and there’s always sand and salt in the air. Your dreams of making it big in the city are exactly that: dreams. When your hopes of becoming an actress are shattered into a million pieces, you find yourself getting drawn to a captivating up-and-coming movie director by the name of Jeon Jungkook. With his bright eyes and charming smile, he seems determined to glue your pieces back together -- even if it means leaving Ocean City behind for good.

Warnings: themes of loss/grief, mentions of death of a parent, dom!jungkook, dom/sub themes, spanking, squirting, unprotected sex, oral sex (f recieving).

Rating: Mature.

A/N: Hello loves! HAPPY JK DAY!! This fic is a lil celebration of our golden boy Jungkook so I hope you enjoy!! This whole fic is sickeningly fluffy and reads like a pretentious YA novel but ya girl wrote this while she was stuck in quarantine a few weeks ago and I debated not posting this bc I lowkey love it lowkey hate it so pleasedonthateme if it’s bad LOL. Also -- just incase you haven’t read the warnings already there is a running theme that deals with the loss of a parent (a topic very close to my heart, hence why this piece was especially healing to write.) so reader discretion is advised if that is triggering to you in any way shape or form!!!! P.P.S Largely unedited so pls bare with any mistakes!

Prelude.

You're late for your work shift, you note, as you catch sight of your watch face glaring up at you menacingly from the arm clutching the handle bars of your bike. As if your mood couldn't get any more miserable -- the dreary morning drizzle that falls from the sky and drips icily down the back of your nape was bad enough.

Goddamn, you groan to yourself as you will your feet to pedal ever faster. Now my hair is gonna be frizzy.

It's a Saturday and the theatre where you work always opens earlier at the weekends. You promised you'd be on time today, but yet here you are, speeding down the worn in sandy sidewalks of your seaside town a whole block away when you should've been opening up half an hour ago.

It's a habit of yours, being late. And as hard as you try, you just can't change a habit. But it can't be helped you suppose. Continuity is all you've ever known. That's the thing about living in a tiny seaside town. Things never change.

The view from your bedroom window has been the same for as long as you can remember — Ocean City — Aka, block after block of rainbow coloured houses with flaky paint leading up to the harbour where boats bob nonchalantly and fishermen reel in their catches beneath the gull filled sky. Beyond it the beach; greyish rolling waves and upturned pebbles nestled atop of hard sand in the winter and clear water and brightly coloured beach towels and brave surfers in the summer.

Nobody ever leaves, and the tourists that arrive in summer never stay. Life becomes a predictable practice, just each day lived out to the next in an endless cycle of never ending continuity. It's suffocating and endless and sometimes you feel like you're just a pawn on a giant chess board, destined to move one agonising square forward at a time, never diagonally. It's hard to change directions when you've been taught to stick to what you know.

You didn't always live here, in this town of continuity. You lived in the big city for a while, where no day was the same as another. But after your mother died you and your older brother were shipped off to live with your dad, who wouldn't know the definition of adapting if it hit him square in the face. He's always been the same square shouldered, balding dude in his forties who never wanted kids and never quite got over losing your mother to the big buck actor she ran off with when you were two.

So that's how you ended up here. Late for work at your job in the country's most prized vacation spot. And your boring reality.

You roll past the beach huts on the shoreline that alternate between vibrant pink and muted blue, barely paying attention to the boardwalk with its little boat house that stretches out into the horizon like a crooked finger. When it gets dark, you can spot the pier carnival lights flashing in the distance from here as they dance across the reflection of the pale white moon and play among the waves.

Even now, the yellow lights of the ornate street lamps that line the water's front shine like tiger's eyes against the sky just like they always have when you turn down the familiar route that takes you past the winding lanes of trinket shops and the happy hour bars and the carnival that feels strangely empty at such an early hour, not a single rollercoaster ride in operation.

Before long you're skidding to a stop outside of the The Crestmont, the old theatre where you work. It's everything you'd expect from a vintage cinema; pink and blue neon lights and a gold trimmed ticket booth out front with a three-sided marquee that extends from the front of the building like a brightly lit airport runway. You hurry beneath it, grateful for the protection it provides from the rain that has started to come down in lashes now, before heading over to the rack around the back of the building where you can chain your bike.

The Crestmont used to be somewhat of a hotspot back in the day or so your told, but these days it only shows cartoons at a discounted price for the neighbourhood kids and the occasional local production of some worn out musical everyone has seen a hundred times before. It's lost all it's magic, everyone says. But you disagree; you probably spend more time here than anyone, and there's magic in every inch of this place.

From the red velvet curtains to the grand chandelier, The Crestmont is one of a kind. Sometimes you disappear into the theatre by yourself for a while unbeknownst to your manager. You can almost taste the laughter and the tears and the love that has been spilled and shared unapologetically amongst these seats. Pure magic.

Your mom left a piece of herself here, too. If you close your eyes you can hear her laughter spilling out into the theatre, or her lilting singing voice filling every nook and cranny like a haunting siren. She was the Crestmont's star. Ocean City's sweetheart.

There's a wall of fame in the lobby. It's covered in portraits crested with gold frames, all filled with pictures of the Crestmont's greatest performers. You've spent hours there — (turns out it's the perfect hiding spot from your manager) — fingers tracing the plaques beneath each one, all inscribed with names that townsfolk whisper with dreamy looks in their eyes. Some are black and white, some colour, but all of them depict pretty faces with beaming smiles that never seem to fade.

Not even your mom's. Her smile is pearly and bright, right above the plaque with her birthdate. And her death date.

And right there at the end, an empty frame. Your frame. You can feel it. You already know how you'll pose for your picture. Hair over one shoulder, hand on hip, smile so convincing that it'll be like every happiness in your heart is written right across your forehead proudly, and you won't have to dull it any longer.

You finish hooking a chain around the handlebars of your bike, catching sight of your reflection in the darkened windows. Staring back at you is a girl dressed in a maroon v-neck with a preppy dicky bow tied around her collar. You frown. The white shirt itches and the high waisted pants make your crotch look weird but the uniform is compulsory. The only thing uglier is the sour expression on your face, which you try to smooth out with your thumb, experimenting with plastering a sickly smile to your face instead. It might be convincing if your lips didn't strain and your eyes weren't so prone to rolling without your permission.

You need to learn to hide your emotions, your father said. You have your feelings written across your face. Customers don't like that.

It's true; customer's didn't usually like you, your unforgiving face or when you spilled cola down their blouse or spat in their popcorn. One more complaint and you were on the path to being fired once and for all, and although in some ways you would be glad to say goodbye to the stupid slushie machine that always gets stuck and the ungrateful customers and the goddamn uniform, you can't loose this job.

Not when it's your ticket to making it big. Then customers will point to your picture as they pass and clutch their chest with a snide superiority, Oh! Can you believe she served me a cola once? I always knew she was gonna make it! instead of Would it kill you to smile a little, honey?

So you swallow a sigh and make your smile as convincing as possible and march inside of the ornate theatre doors of The Crestmont, hoping that today may be the day where things finally change for once.

Where it begins

"I'm going to work!" You call as you you pull a baseball cap down over your hair to cover it's unbrushed wildness. "I won't be back for a while so don't wait up, okay Taehyung?"

You pause with your hand on the door, listening carefully for a response; the small house you live in pulsates with the bass of some indie rock album your brother and his friends are obsessed with at the moment, and your eyes roll when you peer up the staircase and find Taehyung's bedroom door firmly closed like always.

With a shake of your head you scribble out a message on a sticky note — GONE 2 WORK. — and leave it for him to read when he eventually emerges from his man cave in search of sustenance and finds you gone.

You brush away the funny ache that nestles in your stomach. This is nothing new. You're used to not being heard. Your dad is always gone for trips you suspect involve more play than work, and your older brother pretends he's not broken by hanging around with the neighbourhood cool kids and barraging himself in his room for days on end. Despite living under one roof it feels as though you're miles apart, an invisible barrier separating you indefinitely.

You weren't always like this; distant, always stepping on eggshells around each other. You were a family once. A happy one. But since the accident there's been an absence in this house, and nothing has been the same since.

Still, you know that beneath Taehyung's standoffish persona, he's still your big brother. He worries about you. So you tack the note to the fridge and make your way outside.

The lawn is already brown despite it only being late May, and summer is shaping up to be hot and sticky, though you live two blocks away from the beach so the coolness of the ocean still thankfully pervades against your perspiring skin, the gulls already calling you with their high pitched squaks from down at the shoreline.

You've barely made it to the end of the drive before there's the sound of knuckles rapping against glass. You look up and your heart jumps into your mouth. Staring back at you is a pair of dark eyes from behind the upstairs windowpane. Even from this distance you can see how they shine, deep and dark like a cup of black coffee, and you'd recognise the annoyingly cute smirk that matches them anywhere.

Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook. Taehyung's best friend, and, unfortunately, your crush for as long as you knew what the word love meant.

"Hey, Y/N!" Your heart sinks when the window slides open and a messy head of brown hair sticks out through the gap and points at you with a pout. "You're leaving already? Without me?"

Oh; another thing about Jeon Jungkook. He's also your co-worker, which means you spend 16 hours a week in his company, much to the glee of your heart and the dismay of your conscience.

You weren't exactly surprised when you turned up to the Crestmont theatre for your first shift and were left in the capable hands of none other than Jungkook to teach you the ins and the outs of the popcorn machine and the ticket booth.

For as long as you've known him he's been somewhat of a film buff. He practically grew up holding a camera. You always used watch him and your brother making home movies in the backyard, fit with ketchup sachets for blood and endless costumes from your mom's closet. And the one time you stayed at his house when your dad went away for a while after the accident, you saw all the classic movie posters on his bedroom wall; Casablanca, Singing in the Rain, Jaws. So it made total sense for Jungkook to be at the Crestmont. In fact, you couldn't imagine him anywhere else.

That day you were mostly just surprised that he knew who you were at all. While you had spent years watching him from your bedroom window while he kicked a ball around with Taehyung or avoiding his eyes at the table when he stayed for dinner, he had never so much as glanced in your direction.

Deep down you think the reason he was so quick to take you under his wing is because he knew first hand how hard the accident hit your family. You suppose he feels he owes it to Taehyung to keep you in high spirits.

Although if you weren't you and he wasn't him, you'd swear Jungkook's attentions had become almost flirtatious as of late. He always goes the extra mile to spend time with you, and you even though you know it'll end up with you getting hurt you can't bring yourself to stop him.

You see, Jungkook has a gift for subtle charm. Like how he always sneaks you sodas out back on your lunch break, never forgetting the extra syrup — tooth rottingly sweet just how you like it — slipping one of his own dollars into the cash register to avoid a telling off from your manager. Or how he insists on helping you clean up after the theatre is empty, showing you the best secret places like down the back off seats to find misplaced trinkets and the creaky floorboard where your manager hides his cigarettes. How he insists on walking you home after the evening shift, even if he says he's going this way to see Taehyung anyway.

You've spent countless hours pondering over whether his sweet talking words mean as much to him as they do to you. And as much as you know it's unlikely for someone like Jeon Jungkook to ever have feelings for you, you can't help the way your heart speeds up every time he shoots you one of his signature bunny smiles that light up his whole face like he's happiness personified. And you can't bring yourself to hate him for it.

"I did call," you respond matter of factly, finally sucking in a breath of courage to turn around and squint up at him through the afternoon sun with a shrug. "But that trash you're listening too was too loud for you guys to hear me."

Jungkook's eyes widen as he fumbles around beneath the windowsill and pops up again holding up a shiny vinyl record sleeve. You recognise it instantly; it's from his favourite film — Submarine. He hardly ever shuts up about it.

"This is not trash. This is, like, the best movie soundtrack ever made!" He shakes his head as he takes the needle off of Taehyung's vintage record player, music ceasing with a scratch, and slips it into the sleeve with a grin. "Good thing I have it downloaded so we can listen to it on the way to work, hm?"

You roll your eyes and tap your foot impatiently, and at that, Taehyung appears behind him.

"You're leaving already?" He frowns, words directed at Jungkook even as he glances through narrowed eyes at you stood awkwardly on the front lawn.

"Yup. My shift starts in twenty." Jungkook shrugs, disappearing into the room for a second before he emerges again with a backpack slung over his shoulder. "Sorry dude. I can come back afterwards though, if you want?"

Taehyung purses his lips. Even from here you can see the stress lines embedded in his forehead that make him look older than his humble age of nineteen, somehow weak unlike how you always saw him as a kid. Big and strong; untouchable; your brother.

His blunt eyes never quite meet Jungkook's as he shakes his head softly. "'S good. I was gonna try and sleep, anyway, before the sun goes down. Didn't get much shut eye last night. Not with the..."

Nightmares. Taehyung trails off, but you know that's what he's alluding to. The nightmares that turn your big strong brother into a sniffling mess in the dead of night, kicking around mercilessly until you sneak into his bed and whisper to him until he slips into slumber again. Not that you ever acknowledge it in the morning over your bowls of cereal and vacant good morning's.

"Okay." Jungkook's face momentarily falls; a rare occurrence from the boy who seems to be perpetually cheerful. He pats Taehyung on the shoulder gently. "Take care of yourself, okay man?"

Taehyung just nods, letting out a yawn as he rolls into a stretch. "See ya tomorrow."

You're jolted from your thoughts when Jungkook throws his left leg out of the window, then the other, arms bulging in just the right way where they poke out of the sleeves of his plain white tee as he climbs down the drainpipe and lands with a thump on the soles of his high top sneakers.

"Hey kiddo." He grins as he wipes the palms of his hands on the thighs of his ripped jeans, before messing up your hair despite your groan of protest.

"Don't call me that. You're only a year older than me."

You're startled when you meet the pair of warm eyes that glint golden brown in the summer evening light, chest contracting as you look away and break into a fast walk towards the street.

"And you know you can just use the front door right?"

You hear him snort behind you, neglecting to use the front gate and instead launching over the fence so he lands directly in front of you on the sidewalk.

"How am I supposed to impress my best friends little sister if I can't show off my guns?" He flexes his arm, but you just brush past him with a roll of your eyes.

"You're an idiot."

You hear the clunk of his bike chain unhooking from the gate, before a set of wheels pedal up on the sidewalk beside you. "Hey! Where are you going?"

"Uh, to work?" You offer bluntly, squinting at him through the sun. "You should be too, we start in fifteen minutes."

"I mean why are you walking? What happened to your bike?"

You roll your eyes. "Some tourist kids slashed the wheels at the beach."

"Shit. Really?" Jungkook tuts, but you don't miss the glint in his eye as he nods towards the pegs on the back of his bike that were made for carrying a passenger."Then I guess it's my lucky day. Hop on, we can ride together."

You come to a standstill, arms crossed tightly. "I'd rather walk."

"Oh come on!" He wiggles his eyebrows. "It'll take double the time if we go on foot, and I recall it being you who got a final late warning last week."

"If we go on foot?" You laugh breathily, determined to stand your ground. "Just go on ahead, I'm good here."

"Well, I'm not exactly going to leave you here alone on the side of the road now am I? So I'll be forced to walk with you. And I'm older than you remember? Look, I'm already out of breath! My legs aren't what they used to be, y'know."

"Fine!" With a pout you take the helmet resting in his front basket and hook it underneath your chin, biting your lip to stop a smile from gracing your lips at the excitement that lights up Jungkook's features. "But only because I want you to shut up."

"Your wish is my command." He says with a pat to your head. "Hold on tight, okay?"

And as you wrap your arms around his waist, you're sure his ears heat up a deep shade of red, even it could just be the evening light playing tricks on you.

The theatre at the Crestmont feels eerily quiet when its empty.

You know that because even though your shift was supposed to end at 5, you offered to stick around to help clean up after today's performance. Phantom of the Opera.

"Jesus," You groan as you pick up another sticky soda cup that someone had kindly spilled all over the ground for you to clean up, dropping the offender into a black trash bag. "Doesn't anyone around here know how to use a trash can?"

You fall into one of the theatre seats with a sigh and run your fingers over the scarlet velvet, worn yet plush, the texture soothing you instantly. You tilt your head back and let the silence engulf you. No orchestra, no musical numbers, no stage crew shouting directions. No whirring cotton candy machine. Just you and the stage.

From here you can see every detail on the high ceiling littered with renaissance-style paintings of mermaids and babies armed with heart shaped bow and arrows. Your mom was an actress. When you were a kid you used to spent hours staring at them while she rehearsed. You were convinced they came alive once the theatre closed up for the night, their cheeky smiles evidence of a secret only you knew.

A trail of rainbows is cast by the grand chandelier hung in the center, and it draws your attention all the way down the aisles and up to the stage.

The Crestmont is only small, fitting perhaps 200 people at most. It's hardly Broadway. But the fire in your chest ignites as you glance side to side before sidling up the creaking wooden steps that wind up to the Crestmont's center stage. Your favourite part of the whole theatre.

It's not the first time you've done this. You often like to come up here after everyone has gone home, even though you technically aren't supposed to. There's a certain magic about being alone up here as you collect the lone roses that were thrown on stage by tonight's audience. Breathing in the musty smell of butter popcorn that lingers on the velvet curtains, feel the warmth of the bright stage lights glazing your skin. Something about it feels like home.

The first time you ever saw the Crestmont stage was on tv, watching a grainy camera shakily capture your mom in the very same spot you find yourself right now.

Your mom used to have a cardboard box filled with her old audition tapes. Everything from Hamlet to A Streetcar Named Desire, she'd starred in it, and you spent hours together in front of the television set trying to memorise the way she spoke your favourite lines and listening to her lilting voice recite backstage anecdotes about her rendezvous with foreign directors who dined on her in Paris or underground parties with celebrities you had never even heard of as she stroked your hair.

It wasn't until you got a little older that you realised that, just like you, your mom was a dreamer. Sure, she'd visited a couple different states and starred in some makeup commercials once, and that was enough to make her a celebrity in a town as small as this.

But really? She was just a small town actress with dreams larger than herself and way larger than the Crestmont where she made her name. And suddenly the gaps in time where she would disappear for weeks — sometimes months — on end no longer made sense to you. If she wasn't drinking cocktails with the prince of Monaco or clubbing in London, then where was she?

"Down town with those no good roadies," Taehyung told you once. "They made all these empty promises. Told her she'd make it big if she just did what they said. But look how that turned out."

That was the day you realised your mom was a better actress than you ever knew.

She always thought that her dreams would come true. She believed it so hard that you believed it too, naively. But who knows? Maybe they would have if she didn't get into an accident on her way to New York for her big break.

It's easy to imagine how your mom felt up here. She always looked so alive and free in those VHS tapes as she danced effortlessly across the stage with an ethereal weightlessness, the theatre silent except for the melodic sweetness of her monologues that drew tears to the eyes of those who listened eagerly.

If you close your eyes you can hear the roar of the crowd, hands clapping furiously. The orchestra tuning their brass in the pit, bows melodic against strings. Flowers landing at your feet. The deep breath of satisfaction as you take your final bow and the curtain closes.

Just like that you're moving across the stage, reciting the lines you know so well...

"You're gonna be a star like me some day," A voice whispers against your ear, soft and gentle. A memory. Your mom. "Just like me."

And just like that, she's there. In the audience, clapping. For you. And you feel invincible.

The sound of applause breaks you out of your trance. Real applause. You find yourself stood center stage, broom in hand, staring out at row after row of empty seats that gape with the same emptiness that was here when you arrived.

Except one of the velvet lined seats is filled now. Right at the front.

"Encore!" Jungkook whistles, the harsh thwacks of his palms clapping together clanging inside your ears. "Do it again! That was amazing!"

Your chest seizes painfully, a sudden bout of panic turning your blood cold. You feel the colour leave your face. How long has he been here? How long has he been watching?

Jungkook is watching you attentively, eyes soft at the edges with wonder. It makes bile rise in your throat. You can't be up here. Not when there's a pair of eyes looking at you, judging.

"I..." You begin, but the words get caught in your throat.

"I can't do this."

The way Jungkook's eyes widen and he lurches forward to catch you is the last thing you see before your vision goes black.

The boardwalk is strangely quiet for a summer evening. It's happy hour so you suppose most vacationers are already in the bars in their I LOVE OCEAN CITY T-shirts drinking cocktails or whatever. Not that you're complaining.

The smell of hotdogs and vinegar from the vans that line the strip still fill the air, snatches of conversations from children begging their parents to let them go on the waltzer one last time barely audible above the tinkling bells of the carousel. The ride operators drink soda's as they fan themselves with rolled up newspapers, grateful for the gentle hubbub on such a sticky evening, and then there's you, caught up in the middle of it all.

The wooden boards of the pier are warm against he backs of your thighs. You're sat with your legs dangling through the peeling guard rail that lines the strip. It was painted pastel blue at some point but years of sea spray and grubby hands made it fade to a sickly green tinge that matches the ocean.

Speaking of, the ocean would usually be directly below your feet, murky and wild, but today the tide has receded right back to reveal a large strip of sand. The stands suspending the pier rest on top of it so that you could walk right under and around them if you wanted to. You and Taehyung used to do that all the time when you were kids. Searching for barnacles. Exploring the dark places.

"Here. Eat up. You totally passed out on me back there. You could probably do with some sugar."

The soft voice beside you is the only thing loud enough to permeate your daydreams. You don't have look up to know who it belongs to. Jungkook.

He peers down at you, sun beating down against his back. He's holding two vanilla ice cream cones, double scooped, and he thrusts one into your hands before mirroring your position at the edge of the boardwalk.

The walk down here from the Crestmont was more or less silent, and your stomach twists now you realise Jungkook wants to talk.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing." You lie. The ice cream is cold and sweet and covers the bitterness. "I just think it's funny."

Jungkook's tongue sneaks out to lick up the melted cream dribbling down his cone. "What is?"

"How this place stays the same but I feel so different." You were born here, raised here. This place was your whole life once, with it's salty air and bustling casino's. But since the accident, something's been bubbling inside you, swelling and crashing like the ocean below that taunts you and you've never felt farther from home in your life as you do now, looking out over the town that just won't budge, just like the funny ache in your chest. "Forget I said it. I don't know why I'm even telling you this."

Jungkook fidgets beside you and runs a hand through his hair with a sigh."It's okay, y'know. To miss her."

Your mom. You know that's who he means. Just the mention of her stings.

"Mhm." You snort. "Tell that to my family. If we all carried on missing mom then we'd be in pretty hot shit by now."

"If it's Taehyung you're worried about, then don't be. He's stronger than he looks."

"Until he's not anymore. And we lose him again just like—" You pause. You hate how you can hear the pain in your voice so you smooth it out. "Just like before. And I can't let that happen. I won't."

Jungkook shifts. As Taehyung's oldest friend he was there for everything in the aftermath of the accident. He was there when you put on a brave face for the sake of your family. He was there when Taehyung couldn't be any more.

"That doesn't mean you have to be strong all the time. Think about it this way. The ocean isn't always this calm right?" He gazes wistfully out over the ocean that swells and crashes against the shore, fingers twirling the gold chain around his neck. "Last winter when we had that huge storm, the waves were so big they smashed right through the pier support beams."

You furrow your brows. "What about it?"

"The ocean was just too much for the pier to bare and it would've come crashing down forever if half the neighborhood didn't come down to the beach in the dead of night, despite the rain, and hold it together until the storm calmed and the emergency repair boats could get to shore."

It's true. You remember how unforgiving the rain was as it pelted down against your back and froze you through to the bone that night as each and every familiar face from your neighborhood came down to the seafront to lend a hand, your family included.

Jungkook was there too. He was the one who knocked on your door in the early hours to spread the word. He got given free churros for life by one of the pier stall owners as a reward.

"What I'm trying to say Y/N, is that Taehyung has you to lean on, right? So who do you have?" Jungkook says, staring at you head on now. His sincerity almost makes you blush.

You bite your lip. Deep down you know that your beams are just as broken as Taehyung's and it's only a matter of time before they come crashing down into the water, and this time there'll be nobody to hold the pieces together.

"I don't need anyone. I'm just fine on my own. I can handle my ocean."

Jungkook brushes your hand. You flinch, so he pulls it back into his lap. "Well if you ever need a life boat, then you know where I am okay?"

You don't believe him, but he's staring at you so expectantly that you just tell him what he wants to hear. You're good at that.

"Okay." You whisper. "Okay."

Children's laughter bubbles up from the beach. You watch their distant silhouettes dancing among the waves. It's Jungkook who breaks the silence before it settles between you and becomes uncomfortable.

"Anyway, what were you doing up there on the stage today?" He smiles, like he's trying to lighten the mood. "You looked like you were having the time of your life before—"

You feel your cheeks start to burn. How long had Jungkook been watching you at the Crestmont? Had he seen the whole thing?

"It was nothing. I was just being dumb."

"Nothing?" Jungkook cocks his head to the side and punches you playfully. "It didn't seem like nothing."

"It just...it makes me feel close to my mom when I'm on the stage." You admit. "I loved watching her when I was a kid. She was always larger than life in my eyes. She had this way of making you really believe she was someone else. It was like she wasn't just acting -- she was becoming. Sometimes...sometimes I think I liked her better when she was in character."

You shake your head with a small smile. "I like me better when I'm in character. I used to dream about going to New York one day and becoming an actress just like she wanted to. Small town girl making it big in the city and all that." You scoff. "But I'm nothing like her. It's just fun to pretend sometimes."

"You're good. At performing. Like, really good." Jungkook's eyes are wide. When he places a hand on your forearm you don't shake it off this time. "You take after her. Everyone says it."

It's true. There's one photo of your mom in the house. It's in Taehyung's room. When you were younger you thought it was your face staring back at you from behind the glass. Sometimes you'll be walking down the boardwalk or serving soda's at work and you'll hear the whispers. See their heads turn. Is it her?

"Pfft. Looks mean nothing." You scoff. "She was fearless. I can't even speak in front of one person without passing out, let alone a crowd."

Realisation crosses Jungkook's face. "Oh. So that's what happened back there? Stage fright?"

"Uh huh." You roll your eyes. "So don't give me the follow your dreams spiel or whatever."

"Hmm." Jungkook uses his arms as a makeshift pillow so he can lay back against the ground. You mirror him, peering through your fingers to watch how the golden rays of the sun swallow his frame. "Remember that play they made us do in middle school?"

"The Nativity?" You raise your eyebrow. It was the first theatre production you were in, before the accident and way before you had stage fright.

"Yeah." He grins. "I was the sheep. Taehyung made fun of me for months afterwards because of that stupid costume my grandma made."

"Yeah." You snort. "You did look sorta dumb."

Jungkook bumps your arm with a playful pout that makes you giggle. "And do you remember how I forgot my lines on stage and nearly pissed myself with stage fright? God, I still remember how mad my dad looked in the front row. We'd practiced that part for weeks. I don't know why it happened. I just froze—" A small smile forms on his lips. "But you didn't. Next thing I know there's a kid in a gold star of Bethlehem costume running on stage to recite my lines for me. You stole the show, remember that? Everyone loved you."

"That was then." You murmur, but you can't suppress the smile tugging at the corners or your mouth. "I'm not the same person."

"You were a year younger than the rest of my class but you auditioned anyway, because you knew that you were the only person who could play the star. Because you were a star."

Jungkook turns so that his head rests on his elbow and you're suddenly so close you can feel his breath ghost across your cheek. Your heart pumps in your ears as you gaze dips down to his rosy lips and back up to his sparkling eyes which bore into yours.

"You still are a star."

The words echo in your ears, soft and sincere. His tongue snakes out to wet his lips. You lose your breath. And then you jump away, placing a safe distance between your bodies before you can do something you regret.

"And what about you. Are you still a sheep?" You tease, turning your face so he can't see how it burns rosy red.

"Nah. Figured out pretty quickly after that that I was better off behind the camera." He chuckles.

"Oh right. You still have that thing?" You nod to the camera in his lap. It's one of those old ones that looks like the type that needs a film reel and a projector, but it's been modified so there's a little viewfinder at the side to check the footage instead. "Can I see?"

"What?" Jungkook blinks.

"Some of the stuff you've filmed?"

"Oh! Right!" It's his turn to flush now, scratching the back of his neck as he anxiously thrusts the camera into your hands and pays close attention to the hangnail at the edge of his thumb as you watch the footage.

Your eyes widen when a familiar scene rolls out on the tiny screen. You, on stage at the Crestmont. Jungkook filmed you.

"This is..."

"You." He rushes."Yeah, I know. Sorry if this is awkward—"

"No. Not at all. I just—" You watch in awe as the you inside the camera moves across the stage with an effortless grace. How the lights make your eyes shine and your skin brighter than you remember it being in the mirror this morning. "How did you do that?"

Jungkook's forehead creases. "Do what?"

"Make me look like...that."

"I didn't do anything." Jungkook shrugs. "That's just how I see you."

You could listen to him say that all day, but you stop yourself mid swoon.

"Don't say things you don't mean."

"I do mean it. And I'll show you." He wiggles his eyebrows.

"How?"

He grabs your hand and squeezes it. Tight. "I don't know how yet but I will."

You roll your eyes. "Good luck, Jeon."

"You know I like a challenge." Jungkook laughs, and the melodic sound goes right to your chest. "I'll make you see yourself how I see you. Just wait."

"Since when did you have four wheels?" You call to Jungkook with a quirk of your brow, resting your elbows on the window ledge of the beat up truck he pulls up in outside the Crestmont.

It's a sticky August afternoon and the rusty red vehicle purrs— or more like splutters — in the parking lot as Jungkook untangles your bike from the rack and lifts it into the cargo bed like it's weightless. Just yesterday he came by with his pump and a patch to fix that goddamn slashed tyre, and now he's stealing it?

"Hey! What are you doing with my bike?"

He is clad in nothing but a white vest and board shorts, and you can see perspiration glimmering at his temples as the salty breeze blowing from the beach ruffles the dark curls that flop over his forehead.

"This is my dad's truck," His eyes flash with pride as he hops into the open drivers side door and makes the engine growl. He nods to the empty seat beside him and pushes his dark round sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, fanning his face with his hands. "And you won't be needing your bike today. Now hurry up and get in, loser. I've been waiting ages for your shift to finish and the AC is broken."

You raise a brow. "We're going somewhere?"

"Yeah. Why else would I be waiting for you to get in my truck?"

"I mean, we're going somewhere in this?" You nod towards the truck's worn tires, the fumes that wisp from the exhaust pipe like a lit cigar. "Are you sure it's safe?"

Jungkook notices the way you bite your lip. You don't even have to tell him the worries that are running through your mind. It's as if he can read them like an open book.

"Are you still scared of riding in cars?" He questions, softly.

You nod. That's what an accident does to someone. Makes them scared of something they ordinarily wouldn't even question.

"A little." The breeze ruffles your hair and you hide behind it. "I'm getting better." You add, so he doesn't feel bad because you know he does. His face tells you as much.

"It's a short drive, if that helps." He rushes. "And I asked Taehyung and he said you'd be okay, but if you aren't then I can just walk you home—"

"No." You shake your head firmly. There's a funny fizzing in your stomach that's been there ever since that day on the boardwalk, and it's only growing stronger and stronger now you're inches away from Jungkook and his warm eyes and gentle smile. You don't want it to end just yet. It's enough to outweigh the wriggling fear that's always inside you just a little. "Where are we going?"

Jungkook's face lights up and your heart flips when you realise it's because of you.

"I told you I was gonna make you see what I see, didn't I?"

"Oh that was today?" You tease. "Must have missed it it in the calendar."

"Stop asking questions! Just get in. Please?"

"Fine." You walk around to the passenger door, sliding in beside him and throwing your bag into the back seat. "But I need to be home by midnight or Taehyung will worry."

"No problemo." Jungkook salutes as he switches on the engine and the truck roars to life. You clasp your hands tightly in your lap and breathe through your nose. You're okay. You're safe."Home by midnight. It's a promise."

You gaze out of the window to stop your thoughts from running wild. Jungkook turns left, away from town and the beach and everything familiar. You watch it get smaller and smaller in the mirrors, strangely relieved. Strangely excited.

"Now will you tell me where we're going?" You ask.

"Nope." Jungkook chuckles when you pout. "Just sit back. Relax. Take in the view. Listen to the music."

He leans across the dash, making a point to keep his eyes on the road as he fiddles with the stereo. A familiar string of guitar chords fill the truck. You recognise them, even if vaguely. Probably from Taehyung's vast collection of records.

"The Beatles right?" You ask, resting your chin on your knee as you dare to take a peek at him, blushing when you find him already staring at you.

"Pfft, yeah. Of course it's The Beatles! Only their greatest soundtrack, like, ever."

You shrug. "I've never listened to them before, so I wouldn't know."

"Oh come on? You haven't seen A Hard Day's Night?" His eyes widen when you shake your head. "Super Fly? Pulp Fiction? Purple Rain?"

You stifle a giggle at the look of pure shock he's sending you. "Nope. Should I have?"

"Absolutely!" He splutters. Passion shines in his eyes. "You're missing out on some of the greatest cinematography known to man!"

"I guess you have a lot to fill me in on, then."

"I sure do." His eyes soften. "Open the glove box."

You open it. Inside you find an assortment of cassette tapes, old and new. You send him a curious look.

"Close your eyes and choose one." He nods. "Go on."

You do as he says and shut your lids tightly, feeling around until your fingers curl around a tape you're strangely drawn to. When you open your eyes you find a worn box in your palm, yellow at the edges, and you're momentarily disappointed until Jungkook hums in approval beside you.

"Good choice! Dirty Dancing. A classic." He takes it from you and slides the tape into the stereo. It crackles a little before the music starts. "Trust me, you'll love it."

The stereo tracklist flashes amber. 01: Do You Love Me?

"You broke my heart 'cause I couldn't dance," Jungkook sings along in a deep voice, eyebrows bouncing as you loll your head to the side to send him an eye roll. "And now I'm back to let you know I can really shake 'em down!"

The song starts, all vibrant guitar and drums. It has a funky 60's groove, like it belongs in a swing dancing club instead of on the highway at sunset. It's a happy song and you think it suits Jungkook just right.

Speaking of Jungkook, he starts to bob his head in time with the beat, fingertips tapping in rhythm against the steering wheel. He looks adorably dorky, losing himself to the song, like he's forgotten you're even sat beside him.

"You look like an idiot." You deadpan, though you can't cover the laugh that escapes you as he sings along louder.

"No, I look like I'm having fun!" Jungkook rolls down the window and turns up the music so loud he has to shout for you to hear him. "Don't you ever do this? Just give in to the music for a while? Let your body do what it wants?"

"Uh, no. I prefer to just listen." You shout back. "Besides, your body should be focused on driving this car right now--"

"Oh come on! Just try it."

"Try it?" You blink, stomach suddenly knotting."Like now? In front of you?"

"Well duh. Look. Copy me."

He starts to shake his shoulders from side to side, fingers clicking as he nods for you to do the same.

"I...okay." You start to copy, but you catch yourself in the rear view mirror and you just look stiff compared to how effortlessly Jungkook moves to the rhythm.

"See you're doing it!" Jungkook grins, throwing his head back. "Feels good huh?"

"Kinda..." You have to admit there is something liberating about just letting go. "Like this?"

Your knees volunteer themselves to the beat, and then your arms, and before you know it you've got your eyes closed, hair whipping around your face as you speed down the interstate

"That's it. Feel the music!"

Before you know it, the song ends and you realise all at once that you're laughing. Loud and free, enough to make your belly hurt. Jungkook is too, the sound better than any song you've ever heard, and neither of you can seem to stop.

"Oh my god." You pant, covering your face with your fingers, embarrassed. "Now we both look like idiots."

"Don't hide from me." Jungkook bites his lip. You're suddenly aware of how close he is. His arms grab your wrists, pulling them away from your face, but he doesn't drop the one closest to him. Instead he links your fingers and uses your shared grip to change the gear as he turns down a winding road.

"I'm shy." You say, and you can feel the heat in your cheeks.

"Why? You're beautiful." Jungkook puts the car into park. You realise all at once that you've been driving for ages and you didn't even panic once. "Besides, we've arrived. And you're not gonna wanna miss seeing this."

The destination Jungkook seems so excited about turns out to be a concrete parking lot.

"Where are we, Jungkook?" You ask, looking around but finding nothing but tyre tracks and dirt.

Jungkook has already hopped out of the drivers side, sliding over the hood of the car to tug open your door with a quirk of his brow.

He holds out his palm, upturned and calloused. "Do you trust me?"

You bite your lip, heart pounding. Do you trust him?

Your body speaks for you and you slide your hand into his. His thumb traces your knuckles reassuringly.

"Yes." You breathe. "I trust you."

"Good."

You yelp when an arm wraps around your waist and hoists you out of the car, tightly interlocked fingers blocking your vision like a makeshift blindfold. "Don't open your eyes until I tell you to."

"Okay." You giggle, feet stumbling as you try to find your balance with the help of a sturdy hand beneath your elbow.

Jungkook hums gently beneath his breath as he guides you up a path that turns from concrete to loose rock to dampened grass beneath the soles of your beat up sneakers. There's a voice in the back of your mind that tells you to be nervous; who knows where he could be taking you right now.

But as you breathe in the musty notes of his cologne and feel your heart flutter in your chest when he comes to a stop and rests his chin on your shoulder, just close enough to feel his laugh ghost across your neck, you don't care where in the world you are right now as long as it's beside him.

"Now, open."

The sun is startlingly bright when you open your eyes for the first time and see the vibrant meadow that stretches as far as you can see.

Wait — that's not the sun. It's sunflowers. Clusters of them, cheerfully waving with the breeze from where you stand on the path that continues for a few steps before it disappears among their stems.

The sunflowers are a burst of golden colour against the fading green of the meadow, and the horizon beyond that which boasts the silhouette of beach rock against the soft blue of the ocean at sunset. There's tracks here and there where the uncut grass is trampled, like some children had played hide and seek.

You reach out a hand and brush your fingertips over the velvety petals; breathe in the botanical scent of the fresh sunny blooms that dances through the meadow. It's breathtaking, you think. There's no coordination, just freedom choreographed by the wind as the tall stems sway back and forth in their gentle dance.

Before you know it you've taken off into a run, grinning with childlike glee when the tall grass tickles your nose and the sun whispers against your neck.

"Jungkook, this place is—"

"Beautiful right?" You nod breathlessly, blushing deeply when you come to a stop and find him staring right at you. He squeezes your hand and that's when you notice your fingers are still interlinked. "I come here a lot. When I need to think."

"How did you find this place?"

"Taehyung and I stumbled upon it a few summers ago by accident." He says. "Nobody knows about it. It's our secret."

"It's so beautiful." You whisper. "The whole world needs to see this."

Jungkook kicks at a stone with the toe of his boot. "I kinda like it being a secret. This place...is special to me."

"Then why...." The words get caught in your throat. You swallow and try again. "Why did you bring me here?"

"I wanted to show you the things I find most beautiful. Remember?"

"The sunflowers?"

"Well yeah..." He scratches the back of his neck. Swallows thickly, like he's preparing himself. "But I was thinking of something a little different..."

You close your eyes, a smile appearing on your lips as you let the crisp breeze caress your face. "Then what?"

There's a sharp click of a shutter, and when your lashes flutter open in surprise, Jungkook is shaking a Polaroid picture back and forth, his eyes glinting with something mischievous.

"Hey! Give me that—" You reach for the Polaroid, stomach churning with a sudden shyness that makes you hug your arms.

"Just — don't do that okay?" He holds it out of reach, pleading with his eyes. "Please."

"Do what?"

"Give up on what makes you happy just because you're scared." His palm cups your cheek. "You said it yourself. Being in front of the camera is where you belong. Don't you see that?"

"I'm not scared." You feel the heat rise in your cheeks when Jungkook sends you a knowing look. "Okay maybe I am scared. And so what if I am? You've already given me the face your fears spiel and I told you. I'm perfectly happy avoiding every camera known to man for the rest of my life if it means I never have to face them."

"But you've already faced one of your fears today. You got in my car, remember?" He raises an eyebrow, smug. "Well, two technically, 'cause you're here with me now and I know how nervous you used to get around me--"

"Did not!"

"Do too! Every time we talk outside of work you get all shy and--"

"Shut up."

"See! You're doing it right now!"

You don't know what compels you to do it. Maybe it's the heat rising in the apples of your cheeks or the way your heart quickens when Jungkook closes the gap between you, but before you can stop yourself you're reaching up and grasping his face with both hands.

"Oh just shut up and kiss me, doofus."

The smug smirk on Jungkook's face is replaced with wide eyed surprise, his lips falling still for a moment when yours crash against his. But then his steady hands find your waist and he supports you on your tip toes so he can pull you ever closer, melting into the plush press of your lips.

When you pull back, you're smiling. You can't help it. You've been dreaming of this moment since, like, middle school. And goddamn, he even tastes how you imagined. Like black coffee and toothpaste.

"See." He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. "Happiness suits you."

"Whatever, Jeon." You smirk. "Don't let it go to your head, but it's thanks to you."

Jungkook flashes you the biggest bunny grin you've ever seen, eyes sparkling at your words.

"Wait...stay like that." He reaches for his camcorder in his backpack and points the lens at you. The smile falls from your lips. You place a hand on his arm, grip tighter than you intended.

"Jungkook stop."

"What's wrong? Just keep smiling like that, the shot was perfect—"

"I don't know what to do." You shrug, the lens boring into you like a judgy aunt at Thanksgiving dinner. "The camera makes me nervous."

"Just pretend I'm not here."

You sniff. "I don't want you to not be here..."

"Listen," Jungkook cups your face, thumbs tracing your cheeks fondly. "The reason I brought you here? It's because this place reminds me of you. Beautiful."

"Jungkook--"

"Just like you said, the world needs to see this place. Just like they need to see you."

"I..." Your heart is on the verge of exploding, you would swear it. "Okay." The word rolls off your tongue before you can stop it because somehow you trust him. And deep down, there's still that fizz of excitement mixing in with all the nervousness. The Jungkook Effect. You don't want to lose it to the darkness like everything else.

"I'll try. Just-- don't laugh at me okay?"

"You have my word, sarge." He salutes with a thoughtful grin. "Hold on a sec. I know exactly what you need to get you going."

Jungkook jumps to his feet and you watch with your chin tucked between your knees as he jogs down the rocky path and opens all four of the truck doors, even the trunk, before his head disappears into the vehicle and the same pumping bass from earlier starts blasting into the quiet serene of the sunflower field.

"There," He grins as he returns, out of breath, and sits back down beside you cross legged, holding his camcorder to his eye. "Now do what you were doing before again, but over there. Just pretend you're on stage at the Crestmont, okay?"

You feel the music wash over you and the urge to move hits you like a wave. Jungkook nods encouragingly and there's something in his eyes that flips a switch inside you. And for the first time in a long time, all the passion and spirit and feeling inside you fizzes up to the top and you can't contain it any longer.

"That's it!" Jungkook calls, shutter clicking uncontrollably. "I knew you could do it!"

An oak tree provides sun-flecked shade, a cool sanctuary from the sun that sets on the horizon and splashes the sky's canvas magenta.

Jungkook laid out a checkered blanket from the trunk of his truck which you both lay upon, shoulders pressed together as close as humanly possible, surrounded by your devoured picnic consisting of his mom's fruit punch and bags of snacks he took from the concession stand at the Crestmont when nobody was looking.

"Holy shit, Y/N." He says through a mouthful of popcorn, jabbing his finger at his favourite shot of you in front of the sunflowers. "This is what I've been saying! You're a natural in front of the camera."

"No, you're amazing, Jungkook." You feel for his hand. It's funny how natural it feels already when his pinky links with yours. "Behind the camera."

"You think?" He chews his lip, eyes searching yours for approval.

"I know. You should do something with these. People need to see them."

"I'm thinking of becoming a filmographer, actually"

"Like at the pier?" You think of the tacky photo booth that overlooks the sea in town, fit with all the silly cardboard cut outs that tourists come and take a photo with for a dollar.

"No, I mean a real filmographer." He shrugs, and you're sure there's a trace of a blush on his cheeks. "Y'know. Movies and stuff."

You nod. It makes sense for Jungkook to spend his life with a camera glued to his right hand. You can't imagine Jungkook anywhere else, and you have to ignore the sinking feeling that comes with the realisation that he would eventually leave Ocean City -- and you -- behind for the big screen.

"Well you bet your ass I'll be front row to watch each and every one, Jeon Jungkook."

"My lucky star." Jungkook smiles.

"Always."

He must see the sadness brimming inside you, his body shuffling closer so your knees brush. It's reassuring somewhat.

"Actually...there's something I should tell you."

He shifts under your gaze. The nerves rush back. "What is it?"

"I guess I finished writing my first screenplay..."

"That's like a movie script, right?" You ask eagerly, and he nods. "That's great, Kook!"

"Yeah, it's great it's just --" He pauses, and clutches your hand tighter like he's scared what he says next will make you let go forever. "It's about you."

You pale. "M-me?"

"I mean, it's about you and...and Taehyung! And your mom." Jungkook rushes. "I was inspired by your story at the boardwalk and it just happened! I'm sorry, I know you probably hate me now and think I'm crazy but--"

"Burn it." You deadpan.

Jungkook blinks. "W..what?"

"I said burn it." You pull his hand into your lap and he lets out a sigh of relief. "I don't hate you, Kook. I just think you were right earlier when you said I need to face my fears. And the only way I can do that is by forgetting my past. The last thing I need is a whole freaking movie about it."

He joins in with your strained chuckles. "Sure you aren't mad?"

"Not mad." You assure with a smile.

"Then I'll burn it."

You avoid his gaze shyly. "I'm kinda honoured you wrote about me, though." You admit.

"I guess...I guess I could call you my muse." Jungkook blurts hurriedly. His nose is a deep shade of pink and it makes you want to tease him forever.

"Yeah." You nod to yourself with a smile. "I like that. Your muse."

And then his lips are on yours again, like he can't quite help himself, and you start to forget where yours begin and his end.

This time it's not delicate and sweet. It's slow and languid, hot and heavy. The sunflowers break your fall, Jungkook's lips never leaving yours as he climbs on top of you, one hand tangled in your hair, the other planted beside your head so that his chest hovers above yours. You're almost certain he can feel how hard your heart is pounding in your chest, but you don't care, too lost in the bliss of finally feeling Jungkook's plush lips against your own.

"Come to New York with me." He says breathlessly between kisses, and your heart stops.

"What?" You can hardly drag your lips away from his but you have to be sure you heard him right. New York?

"I mean, in the future. I'm gonna go to New York. Get a job at a film production company or something, I don't know--" He tucks a piece of hair behind your ear. "Come with me."

"I...I can't."

"Why?" He frowns. "Is it me?"

"No! God no."

"Then why? You said it was your dream right?" You nod. "So what's stopping you?"

"I..I have to take care of Taehyung, and my job at the Crestmont and--"

"Okay. Lets pretend none of that exists. It's just you and me." His breath ghosts against your forehead. "Y/N, will you come to New York with me?"

"Yes." It comes out breathless, but you mean it. With every atom and nerve and fiber in your body. "Lets go to New York."

Where things change.

3 years later.

A postcard sits on the Welcome Home! Doormat you and Jungkook bought before you left for New York. You recognise the picture perfect image of Ocean City on the front, and Taehyung's messy scrawl on the back that tells you he's doing fine at his new management job at the Crestmont and he will be sending a housewarming gift imminently.

— Stay smiling, Y/N. Miss you already! Taehyung. :)

With a small smile you tack it onto the bare fridge. It brightens up the empty kitchen somewhat, a little piece of home and a reminder that you don't need to worry about leaving your brother behind to fend for himself so much any more. Since he pulled his life together and got a job at the theatre, it's like he came alive again. Found his purpose.

Speaking of purposes, you suppose that's how you found yourself here. In your very own apartment in a nice complex on the east side. The east side of New York City.

There's a pair of satin curtains hung over the balcony doors, probably left behind by the old tenant as it's the only form of furniture in the whole apartment. They rustle in the morning breeze and you tiptoe across the room barefoot to rip them open, letting your eyes flutter shut when the early morning sun filters through the glass and cascades over your face like a warm embrace.

You press a hand to the glass, studying your reflection; the messy lump of hair atop your head, the soft shadow of your lashes atop your cheeks. And beyond it, New York. Your new normal in all it's familiar glory from your dreams, yet still so deliciously foreign it makes your heart leap whenever a cab horn rings out in the distance or you breathe in the smell of fresh bagels from the shop down the street.

Home. You could finally call it that now. But New York is just a city and this apartment is just a house. The real reason you get to call this place home is because of who you came here with.

Jungkook.

You've been dating for two and a half years by now. He let you borrow one of his old much-too-big t-shirts to sleep in last night. There's a hole in the shoulder and the hem brushes your knees but it's warm and smells like his cologne and your heart expands when you close your eyes and remember this is just the beginning. You have so much to do, so many things to see here in New York. So many things to learn. And there's nobody you would want to explore life with more than Jungkook.

His camera equipment lays in a cardboard box by your feet, and something compels you to take out the old-school camcorder he loves. The leather strap tightens perfectly around your hand and the red RECORD button flashes as you open the doors wide and lift the lens to take in the view. Something tells you you're gonna want to remember this moment forever.

It's not long before a pair of arms wrap around your waist, chin tucked cheekily into your shoulder. "There you are." Jungkook husks, stilly groggy with sleep as his lips ghost across your cheek.

Turning around in his grasp, you find him still shirtless, sweatpants slung low around his hips. He's been working out recently, and you can't deny you don't love how firm his shoulders feel when you brace yourself on them to stand on your tip toes and leave a peck to his lips.

"Morning sleepyhead," you say, running your fingers through the strands of his silky bed hair. It's longer these days, whispering across the nape of his neck and falling across his round eyes sweetly. They flutter closed when you massage his scalp just how he likes it. "I was wondering when you'd finally get out of bed."

"Missed you." His lips turn up when he sees the camera pointed at his face. "Whaddya doing with that?"

"Making memories." You say simply, zooming in on him as he rubs his sleepy eyes. "So we never forget this."

A cheeky smirk appears on his lips as he wraps you in his arms, a surprised giggle leaving you when he spins you around and grabs the camera so he can point it at the both of you, his chin resting on your shoulder now as his bare arm snugly wraps around your waist.

"Hey stop! I just woke up, I look bad!"

"Hello us of the future," Jungkook chuckles, pulling your fingers away from your face when you bury your face in his chest to hide from the lens. "It's our first day in New York and Y/N is being all camera shy--okay, okay fine, lets show them the view instead!"

Jungkook finally flips the lens around so it focuses on the distant silhouettes of tall skyscrapers skimming the blue skyline, before he turns it back onto you guys once more with a mischievous look this time.

"But we have to go now because we have far more interesting business to attend to..." He lowers the camera as his lips start to trail up your collar bone and he smiles when your eyes flutter shut and you gasp at the feeling, but it's quickly replaced by a pout when you wriggle out of his embrace with a stern look.

"Not now. Later."

"Mmf? Why?" He whines, making grabby hands towards you. "You're so warm, jus' wanna cuddle for a bit."

"No time!" You call over your shoulder as you grab him by the hand and drag his heavy feet behind you. "We've got an apartment to decorate."

Before you know it you've enlisted Jungkook's help in laying tarps across the living room floor, two pots of bright white paint plonked in the center. It's not like you could afford a decorator after all. You are two broke twenty-something's trying to make it big in New York, and all that cliche stuff. So you would just have to do it yourselves.

Jungkook's over in the corner, miming along to the guitar solo from some rock song playing from the radio balanced on the windowsill, the paint roller his instrument as he dances around the room with giddy impulse. There's paint all over his butt where he accidentally leaned against one of the wet walls and he's got his hair tied back into a bun at the crown of his head and you watch him out of the corner of your eye while an affectionate smile creeps onto your face no matter how hard you try to curb it.

That's when you notice the camera in his other hand. He zooms in on the stepladder in the corner, the paint spillage in the hall, the heart with Y/N + JUNGKOOK FOREVER written inside it on the back wall. Documenting everything as usual.

He was always filming you, too. Whether you were making coffee in the morning or drying your hair. He'd even slow down beside you on the sidewalk to get the perfect shot.

You find it cute, even though you pretend to hate it. It makes your heart flutter every time you catch him rewinding the footage with a contented smile on his face, like he just captured the whole world with his lens.

It's no surprise when you finish putting the final coat on the wall and step back to admire your handy work that you find him wandering around the apartment with his hand curved around the lens of one of his bigger cameras like it's natural to him. You always joke that thing is like an extra limb, but he looks so calm as he looks through his lens at the room that is now drunk on the afternoon sun pouring through the window, the golden rays like honey on his skin, that it's easy to see that the camera really is a part of him. Passion lies in the soft lines of concentration on his face, in the plump lip tugged between teeth as he fiddles with the settings.

Jungkook sees beauty where others don't, where others can't. It might as well pump through his veins. And it's one of the reasons you love him so much.

You shake your head when you see how a small smile finds his lips when he leans a shoulder against the door frame and lets the camera land on the thing he swears is most beautiful.

"Hey." You warn, shooting a side wards glare at the camera lens you spot Jungkook not so discreetly pointing in your direction. "Stop it."

"Stop what?" He runs a hand through his hair, lips pulling back into a sly bunny smile when you bend down to reach a spot you missed at the bottom of the wall. "I'm not doing anything."

Your upper lip twitches. "Are you zooming in on my ass?"

"What? No!" Jungkook scrunches his nose with wide eyes, a habit you knew meant he was guilty, a pout forming on your lips as he snaps the viewfinder closed and shoves the offending piece of his equipment behind his back.

You narrow your eyes affectionately. "Perv."

"I don't know what you're talking about." He blows a strand of hair out of his face innocently but there's a playful glint in his eyes and you can hardly keep a serious face as you plant your hands on your hips in what you hope is a menacing manner.

"Then lemme see it." You challenge with a nod to the camera behind him.

He feigns indifference, cocking his head to the side like an overgrown puppy. "See what?"

"That's it!" You shake your head, charging towards and him making grabby motions towards the camera. Jungkook looks down at you fondly as he holds it above your head, out of reach, and it only makes you you pout harder. "Hey! Give it!

"Never!" You jump pitifully, fingers grasping around nothing. A melodic chuckle spills from Jungkook's lips when you cross your arms over your chest in defeat and blink up at him crossly. "You have to say the magic word first."

You scoff at the teasing look on his face as he wiggles his eyebrows and waves the camera just above your head, before an idea strikes you and within seconds you're wielding a paintbrush, Jungkook's eyes widening when you point the paint coated bristles at his face.

"Give it up." You hold out your palm with a smug look. "Or the walls are not the only thing getting a fresh coat."

"You wouldn't." He smirks, despite being backed into a corner now.

"Oh yeah?" Without further ado you swipe the brush down the bridge of his nose, swallowing a giggle at the white smudge it leaves behind and his shocked expression beneath it. "You underestimate me, Jeon."

Jungkook pushes his tongue into his cheek, eyes dancing up and down your body before they lock with yours daringly. "You shouldn't have done that."

"Or what?" You taunt playfully, a laugh escaping you, but you quickly bite down on your lip when you see the glint in Jungkook's eyes as he submerges both his hands into the nearby bucket of paint.

You don't run when he steps closer. Instead your breathing quickens, heart doing a funny somersault when he brushes your hair to the side and clamps both of his wet hands on the sides of your jaw to bring your face up to his.

He tastes like coffee and desire when your lips crash together in a delicious tangle of teeth and tongue, all the thoughts racing through your mind dripping away like honey until all that's left is the thump of your heart against your chest and Jungkook's warmth as he backs you up against the wall.

When he pulls away he rubs his paint covered nose against yours, cocking his head and smiling sweetly when he leans back and admires his handy work.

"You have paint on your face." He looks down at his white hands innocently with a shrug. "Whoops?"

His hands trail down to your hips. You reach to your side and grab a fistful of paint, wiping it down the centre of his face and giggling when he groans and scrunches his eyes closed . "So do you."

"Okay, that's it. This means war!" Jungkook growls, strong arms wrapping around your waist, and before you know it you're stumbling over to the mattress in the corner, Jungkook's body hovering over yours.

"You wanna play dirty, huh?" Desire-filled eyes trace your face, travelling down the expanse of your neck before zeroing in on your collar bones. You gasp when Jungkook's lips attach themselves to the sensitive skin, every inch of you set alight when his burning fingers slide beneath the hem of your tshirt and find your thighs. "Always being such a bad girl, huh?"

"So? What're you gonna do about it? Punish me?" You say teasingly, and he stiffens, lips leaving a mark behind on your neck with a pop. Jungkook's narrowed eyes meet yours and you feel your heart speed up with anticipation.

His lips twitch, like they're dying to turn up. "Brat."

With that, you're being flipped over onto your knees with a yelp. Jungkook's hands work quickly and before you know it your tshirt is over your head and the sudden breeze from the open balcony doors against your hardened nipples makes you gasp.

"You love it." You laugh breathily.

"Too much," Jungkook confirms, before his large palm presses you down into the bed firmly between the shoulder blades so that your ass is thrust up in the air. You wiggle is teasingly, though the breath catches in your throat when the first spank lands on your bare skin. Then a second, the sound ringing out through the empty room like an echo and making a damp spot appear on your panties.

"Hey!" You chastise when you remember the paint on his hands that just left two glaring handprints right across your ass.

Jungkook just smirks. "What? Now everyone knows it's mine."

A third slap and you have to bite the blanket to stop from groaning, then a fourth, and a fifth and by then your eyes are watering but in the best way. Calloused hands smooth over the burning area, soothing it.

"Good girl," A raspy voice whispers next to your ear. "Such a good girl for me, taking your punishment. I think you deserve your reward now, hm?"

"Please." You moan as he reaches around to grasp your breast, tweaking your nipples in a way that has you writhing beneath him.

"Don't say I didn't warn you though," Jungkook chuckles as he rips your panties down your legs, gasping at the sight of your dripping slit like it's the first time. He runs a finger down your folds, biting back a groan when it makes your legs fall open a little further, desperate for his touch. "I'm not gonna go easy on you."

"Jungkook, what do you-- oh!." Before you can finish, Jungkook is pushing your face back into the comforter, spreading your cheeks with his palms and licking an agonizingly slow stripe up your throbbing core. His tongue finds your clit easily, toying it with the tip playfully until you're gasping for air.

"Mmf, tastes so good." He murmurs against your folds, the vibrations of his chuckle making you moan so hard your legs start to shake. His tongue finds your hole, swirling around teasingly before it slips inside and you can't handle it anymore.

"Jungkook!" You gasp, reaching behind to grab his hair. "I..I can't-"

"You can." He says, almost a command, mouth leaving your pussy only so he can slide over onto his back and pull you back down onto his face by the hips.

"Oh g-god!" Your hand reaches for the headboard, landing on the wall to steady yourself when you remember you still haven't bought a bed frame yet. Your legs are starting to ache from holding yourself up but you don't care, too lost in the feeling of Jungkook's tongue lapping at your swollen folds as you grind in lazy circles on his face.

"C-close, Kook." You manage to splutter, head thrown back with pleasure when he slides two of his fingers inside you and starts to pump in time with his tongue, the sensation of being filled enough to send you over the edge into a shuddering climax that is unlike anything you've felt before, the only thought on your mind the way your hole clenches around your boyfriend's fingers.

It takes a few moments for your legs to stop shaking, your hearing slowly coming back into focus as you hear both of your heavy breaths intermingled. You look between your legs to find Jungkook staring up at you with a grin, eyes filled with wonder. His chin gleams with your juices, the front of his t-shirt damp as you realise with a gasp what just happened.

"Did I--?"

"Yup."

"Holy fuck." You swing your leg over his shoulder so you're beside him, Jungkook sitting up to look at you, still mesmerised. "I...I'm sorry, that was--"

"The hottest thing you've ever done." Jungkook finishes, grinning at you like he just won the lottery.

You raise a brow, surprised. "Really?"

"Yeah. Can I fuck you now?"

You can't help but laugh at his eager puppy dog eyes, hands practically twitching at his sides to touch you. A quick glance at his crotch confirms the biggest tent in his pants you've ever seen, and you crook a finger towards him with a sultry smile and a nod.

"Let's see if you can make me do that again."

"O-Okay!" Jungkook pulls his shirt over his head eagerly, and then he's on top of you, burning skin meeting burning skin. Your palm runs down his chest, Jungkook's eyes falling shut when it reaches the hem of his sweatpants. You cant help but gasp when your fingers wrap around his length through his boxers, core already throbbing again to be filled. He shivers when your finger circles his tip, admiring the wet patch on his boxers.

"Eager?" You smirk.

"You squirted on my face, Y/N, of course I'm goddamn eager."

"Get these off then." You tug at his pants and he kicks them off without a second telling.

"Your wish is my command."

When he returns to hovering over you, both completely bare now, he pauses. His eyes meet yours, a gentle smile appearing on his lips as he tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear and grips your jaw protectively.

"I love you, y'know."

You close the distance between you, pressing your lips against his but barely able to keep yourself from grinning with the elation swirling in your chest. "I love you too, doofus. Now hurry up or I'm gonna have to fuck myself."

"That sounds kinda awesome--"

"Kook!"

"Okay, okay, on it!"

Palms spread your legs, and you both gasp when Jungkook runs the blunt head of his leaking cock up and down your slit, coating himself in your juices before he lines it up with your entrance.

"Ready?" He checks, thumb tracing circles into your inner thigh.

"As I'll ever be."

And with that, he pushes inside, his head falling into the crook of your neck with a sigh of relief at finally feeling your walls clenching around his throbbing length. The stretch of his girth stings, but it makes you feel so deliciously full, so perfectly whole to be connected to Jungkook like this that all you can get out is another soft I love you that earns a blissful smile from your boyfriend as he starts to move.

Each stroke makes you lose your breath, the tip of his cock hitting your sweet spot just right. It's when Jungkook takes your nipple into his mouth that you feel a second orgasm start to build, one hand gripping the sheets as the other drags scratch marks down his muscular back in blissful agony.

It's not long before Jungkook spills inside you with a deep growl, your own high hitting you as you feel him coat your walls. He collapses onto your chest, breaths deep and exhausted, and wraps you in his arms before you can even catch your breath.

Jungkook pulls the sheets up over your shoulders and places a kiss to the top of your head. He's so warm you feel yourself start to drift off into a blissful sleep, the smile on your lips never faltering.

"I love you too." Is the last thing you hear him say before sleep takes you under, and you're safe wrapped up in each other's arms.

When you open your eyes, the room is warm with sunset's rose tinted blush, and Jungkook's body is no longer beside you. Rubbing your bleary eyes, you sit up on your elbow and find him on the ground in front of the freshly painted wall, intricate petals and stems flowing from the end of the paintbrush he delicately waves across the surface to paint the prettiest sunflower you've ever seen.

"I'm home!" You hear your boyfriend yell out as he shuffles into the apartment, quickly followed by a yelp. "Hey, Gureum, stop trying to lick my face!"

You can't stop the smile that spreads across your features when a ball of white fluff comes bounding into the living room, the puppy that excitedly jumps into your arms tracking a trail of muddy paw prints over the script in your hands.

"Hey Gureum," You coo, scratching him behind the ears where you know his sweet spot is. "You're such a good boy, huh?"

"Don't praise him! He totally ran away from me in Central Park and I had to chase him all the way home!" You can practically hear Jungkook's eye roll, shaking your head fondly at the mock annoyance in his voice. It was Jungkook who begged you to adopt a puppy for months in the first place, and they've been more or less inseparable ever since — the little guy hardly ever leaves his side. It's safe to say Jungkook is definitely Gureum's favourite.

The smell of coffee and fresh bagels wafts through the apartment, a warm sensation settling in your stomach as your boyfriend rounds the corner and waves a brown paper bag.

"Still got us enough coffee to stay up all night learning lines though." Jungkook grins, dumping the contents onto the coffee table and raising his eyebrows when your hands dart straight for the chocolate cookies. "Speaking of learning lines, how is it going, pretty?"

He nods towards the script in your hand. It's worn at the edges and ferociously dog eared from all the nights you have stayed up until sunrise reciting the words littered across the pages over and over, until it's like your lips are moving by muscle memory and the words are a part of you.

After what felt like hundreds of failed auditions, you had started to lose hope. With every letter that landed on the porch with another SORRY or MAYBE NEXT TIME, you felt all the confidence in the dream you worked so hard to uncover start to dwindle.

But Jungkook was always there, by your side no matter what. Encouraging you when you forgot your lines or holding you when you didn't get the callback. Reminding you to eat whenever you were too absorbed in your work to cook or cheering you on from the crowd at your weekly improv performances.

It was Jungkook who cried with you when the director of the small theatre downtown called and gave you the lead part in his upcoming stage production. Your big break. And you were determined to make sure everything ran smoothly at opening night tomorrow, which is how you find yourself snuggled up on the couch rewinding your VHS copy of Dirty Dancing over and over again until you have every word memorised by heart.

"Pretty good." You say as you pop a salted peanut into your mouth while Jungkook slips out of his tweed jacket. He's been trying to dress more New-York-ish these days, or so he says. More dress pants and less sweats. "Final rehearsals start at five."

"Aren't you nervous?" Jungkook squishes into the space beside you, Gureum cuddling up between your bodies.

Tomorrow night's show is sold out, along with every night after that for the next week. You heard there were going to be at least 700 people there each night.

"Terribly." You admit, stomach churning at the thought of 700 pairs of eyes staring right at you. You try to focus on the fizzing excitement that lingers there too, growing stronger and stronger. "But I think I'm more excited".

"I'm excited to see you up there doing what you love." Jungkook smiles, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. "My star."

"Well don't get too excited because I still keep messing up this one goddamn scene," You flip the script to a page covered in bright highlighter scribbles and run your fingers through your hair exasperatedly. "I'm totally gonna mess it up and then I'll never get another job and—"

"Shhh," Jungkook takes the script from your hands and runs his eyes over it quickly. "Don't talk like that. You're gonna be amazing — hold up..." He raises an eyebrow. "Is this...the kiss scene?"

You feel your cheeks redden, voice small. "Yes."

"Then you're in luck because who better to help you practice than the best kisser in all of New York?"

You snort. "Wow, I sure could use some of your expertise Good-Sir-Makes-Out-A-Lot."

"Then you're in the right place..." He runs his finger over the script, jabbing at one line in particular.

[Johnny and Baby kiss.]

"Let's start here, hm? For practice, obviously."

"For practice." Your eyes roll but your heart still beats a little faster as he closes the space between you, hand pressing into the wall so his sturdy body hovers over yours, hands instinctively pulling him closer by the collar.

"Come give me a kiss, m'lady..." Jungkook murmurs, but before he can tilt your chin up towards his lips there's a sudden series of frantic knocks at the front door.

"What the heck?"

You both jump out of your skin, Jungkook's eyes narrowing as he glances over his shoulder at the shadowy figure outside, fist pounding the glass fervently, like they're trying to break it down.

"Okay, damn, I'm coming!" He yells with a roll of his eyes. He wraps the blanket around your shoulders as he hops up from the couch with a sigh. "Probably just some dumb marketer again or something — dude, chill! I said I'm coming! — be right back."

The lock slides open and you hear Jungkook gasp. Your stomach drops. "Who is it?"

"Uh, Y/N..." You hear the door click shut and the sound of squeaky shoes shuffling inside. The anxiety in Jungkook's voice makes your heart skip. "You might wanna come see this."

"Huh?" Your legs feel shaky as you follow him out into the hall, chest seizing when you lay eyes on the dripping wet hair and chattering teeth of the shivering man stood before you, eyes dark and grave like they used to be.

"Taehyung?" You splutter, ripping the blanket from around your shoulders and swaddling him in it as quickly as you can, Jungkook already bounding into the other room to get dry clothes and towels after shooting you a terrified glance.

Taehyung grabs your shoulders and pulls you into a tight embrace. His cheeks are wet against your shoulder, but you can't tell if it's because he's been crying or because he's been out in the freezing cold rain — hold on, did he walk here?

"Y/N," He murmurs frantically, eyes darting back and forth but never quite focusing on anything. You knew this look. This is how he looked that day you found out about the accident. Murky, far far away. Devastatingly sad. Something wasn't right.

"What is it?" You ask, pulling him into the living room and sitting him on the couch before his shaking knees buckle beneath him. "What are you doing here, Tae?"

"It's...it's the Crestmont." He whispers.

"What about the Crestmont?" Jungkook appears behind Taehyung, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, but it's like your brother doesn't even feel it.

"They're tearing it down." He mumbles. "They're tearing down the Crestmont. Forever."

"Okay, now let's start from the beginning."

Jungkook's calm voice lilts from beside Taehyung who, after a warm shower and two cups of cocoa, has stopped shivering and seems to be ready to talk.

A hand reaches across the coffee table to tug on your wrist mid-lift to your mouth, a reminder from Jungkook to stop biting your nails. An old nervous habit you thought you'd left behind in Ocean City but apparently more than just Taehyung showed up here unannounced tonight.

"I...I got a call this morning." Taehyung begins, pausing to take a sip from the mug he cradles in his lap. His hands are shaking so he places it on the coffee table for safe keeping, right beside your discarded script. "It was from a construction company."

"And?" You prod, somewhat impatiently, making Taehyung jump.

"And apparently the owner of the theatre is behind on rent and...and..." He swallows hard. "And they're buying the rights to tear it down and build an apartment complex in its place."

"What?" Both you and Jungkook exclaim at the same time.

Jungkook's fists clench. "I always knew that old man was shady."

Taehyung fumbles in the pocket of the coat he arrived with, retrieving a brochure which he thrusts towards you.

The image on the front is of a metal skyscraper, far too shiny and new to belong in a seaside town like Ocean City. Fusion Apartments — modern living.

Jungkook rakes a hand through his hair, eyes sorrowful as you pass it over to him. "This sucks. Big time." He murmurs. "The Crestmont is the heart of Ocean City. How can they just bulldoze it like it means nothing?"

"That's why..." Taehyung swallows. "That's why I came here. I thought maybe you guys could help me, and we could do something before they—"

"We?" You furrow your brows. "You want us to help stop them from tearing down the Crestmont?"

"I mean yeah, I guess? I figured you guys would understand how important it is—"

You bite your lip. Taehyung flinches when you place a hand on his knee. "Tae. It seems like they've already got it figured out I mean...what can we do about it? The Crestmont has had a long run and maybe it's time for something new in Ocean City..."

"Y/N?" Jungkook warns, but there's a betrayal in his voice. How could you say that? It pains you, but you continue anyway. "What are you saying?"

"I just...I think it's time to let the Crestmont go."

Taehyung stands up so abruptly his mug smashes onto the marble tile.

"How could you?" He roars, but his bottom lip trembles. "The Crestmont is mom's place! It's all we have left of her in that fucking town and you want to just let them burn it to the ground?"

You tut, kneeling to pick up the broken pieces of china with a sharp glance at your brother. "For goodness sake, Taehyung. Mom isn't there anymore. She never was. She was always running off with some roadies and leaving us behind because she thought she was something special."

Taehyung scoffs. "What? Just like you?" He grabs the cocoa sodden script, crumpling it up in his shaking fist. "You are exactly the same as her. Running off to New York and leaving me behind to get your big break."

Jungkook steps forward warily. "Taehyung, you don't mean that—"

"Yes I do! If Y/N had just gotten in the car that day she wouldn't have died. It was all her fault. And now she's just gonna let them take what we have left of her."

"What?" Jungkook blinks.

Your stomach sinks. Is that really what Taehyung thinks? You wouldn't blame him. Deep down, his words strike a nerve. Because you know they're true.

Taehyung's eyes are hazy, unfocused. You reach for him dizzily, but he backs away into the hall.

"I shouldn't have come here." Taehyung whispers. He looks between you and Jungkook one last time before he's grabbing his coat and running down the steps to the first floor.

"Taehyung, wait!" You hear Jungkook's footsteps follow him out into the stairwell, but you're trapped on the ground, heaving for air.

Your hands shake as you pull yourself up to the window pane and watch Taehyung disappear into the gloom of the city, the sorrowful raindrops that lash against the glass mirroring the ones on your cheeks.

YOU: Taehyung??? YOU: [CALL IGNORED] YOU: please Tae YOU: can we at least talk about this? YOU: we're worried about you

It's been nearly 12 hours since you watched Taehyung disappear among the hustle and bustle of New York from your apartment window.

You and Jungkook were out all night searching for him. By the time you gave up the sun was rising and the birds were chirping and Jungkook somehow convinced your shivering form to return home to rest with a Taehyung shaped hole in your heart.

"It'll be okay. He'll be okay. He always is."

A phone call to your dad revealed he hadn't returned home that night; so where did he go exactly?

The weight of that question sits heavy in your chest as you sit backstage at the theatre, staring into your own vacant eyes in the dressing room mirror.

It's opening night. The show is due to start in fifteen minutes. Your lips are painted a deep shade of red, hair backcombed to perfection by one of the makeup artists. Beneath the harsh lights of the exposed bulbs that line the mirror, you look almost unrecognisable.

Confident, strong, successful.

Anyone would say your dreams had come true, or something sappy to that effect. But even as you sit among the hustle and bustle of the costume team and breathe in the fragrance of perfume and powder blush, you couldn't feel further away from the New York version of yourself if you tried.

Staring back at you is a reflection of the shy, terrified girl from Ocean City you worked so hard to forget. Yet here she is, mind whirring with worries for her brother instead of the lines she should be rehearsing to death before curtain call.

This should be your big moment. One which you will remember forever. But all you want to do right now is hold Taehyung close like you used to and tell him you're sorry and that you won't leave him again.

"Y/N!" You're snapped out of your thoughts by a familiar hand on your shoulder. You cover it with your own, instantly eased somewhat when you glance up and lock eyes with Jungkook in the mirror.

"Y/N, I found him."

"What?!" You jump to your feet, chair scraping obscenely. It draws the eyes of the people around you who quickly register Jungkook's polite smile as their cue to shuffle out of the dressing room and leave you two to talk. "Where is he? I need to talk to him—"

"He's not coming."

"What?"

Jungkook sinks into the chair beside you, forehead creased. He runs a hand through his hair and momentarily you catch a glimpse of the old Jungkook. The Jungkook that always took care of his best friend Taehyung.

"I...I gave him a ticket for the show tonight and told him to come. To see how much this really means to you...but—"

Your finger nails press half moons into your palms. "But what, Kook?"

"He was already leaving for Ocean City."

A sob wracks your frame. "Do you think he hates me?"

Jungkook's arms engulf you before the first tear can roll down your cheek, his chin tucking perfectly into the cleft of your shoulder. "Of course not, he's just...he's hurting right now."

"I can't lose him — not like this, Kook..."

"Shh. It'll all be okay."

You jump back and start to pace. "But it's not okay! What he said last night is true!"

Jungkook sucks in a breath. "What?"

Your knees buckle and you crumple. You can hardly breathe, shame washing over you as you admit the truth for the first time.

"I caused the accident! I'm the reason my mom's...she's..."

Jungkook wraps his arm around your shoulder, voice soothing. "What are you talking about?"

"The night of the accident she got a call from some big buck director. She was cast in this huge movie. Her big break." You're speaking to fast, but Jungkook nods to tell you he's listening.

"So she told Taehyung and I we were leaving for New York that night. And we were packing our bags before my dad got home and...and I said I wasn't coming. I didn't wanna leave Ocean City behind."

"I kicked and cried and said I didn't want to go, so her and Taehyung took off by themselves and that's when they got into the crash. She was upset and going too fast. It was all because of me." You start to sob. You've never admitted this to anyone before. Not even yourself. It tears your heart in two to say it out loud. "I'm the reason Taehyung's broken."

"You can't think like that." Jungkook clasps your face in his hands, thumb wiping away a stray tear. He looks scared, but his voice stays calm and convincing. "What happened was an accident. You were a kid. None of this is your fault."

"That's why Taehyung must hate me so much." You choke. "I'm doing what mom always wanted to, but she never had the chance because of me."

"Y/N?" A crew member steps into the room awkwardly with a cough. "I'm sorry to interrupt but the show is about to start. The audience is getting restless."

"Go. I'll take care of Taehyung, okay?" Jungkook pulls you to your feet, engulfing you in a final hug before he pushes you towards the stage entrance at the small of your back. "You're needed out there. Show them what you're made of."

Your eyes widen. This can't be happening. Not now.

"I...I can't."

"You can." Jungkook grabs your face and captures your lips, hard. It tastes salty with tears. "You're my star remember?"

"I love you." You whisper when you pull back, fingers reaching for him weakly as a costume designer hurries you towards the door.

"I love you too." Jungkook calls. His smile is the last thing you see before the door slams shut and there's no going back. "Now go break a leg, pretty!"

Particles of dust float in and out of your vision beneath the blinding stage lights.

Everything feels different from side stage. Your heart races as you press your ear to the velvet curtain separating you from the world, listening to the hubbub of laughing children and chattering adults filtering into the theatre. You imagine them taking their seats, buying icecream from the vendors, alive with anticipation.

The lights dim. You hear the director behind you, shouting something about places please! but it's like you're underwater, limbs weighted as you move like a ghost to your position for the opening number.

Your palms are clammy and you wipe them on your dress.

Show starting in 5...

Your legs turn to jelly. You close your eyes and try to calm your racing thoughts.

4...

Taehyung. Is he okay? Why didn't he come tonight?

3...

Shit! What was your opening line again? Goddamnit, Y/N, think!

2...

Mom. Would she be proud?

1...

You open your eyes.

The curtain is gone, and a pair of hands pushes you out into the harsh white spotlight. You shield your eyes with your fingers, heart dropping when you look up and find hundreds of eyes staring. Staring right at you.

It's like you're on the edge of a cliff, about to dive into the cool water below. Or fall.

Everything starts to blur. You're a teenager again, stood on the stage at the Crestmont. Panic rises like bile in your throat, and you don't know whether to scream or to run.

Run. Run. Run.

Your mouth opens, then closes. There's an awkward cough from the audience. Words run your mind in circles, but none of them are right, and before they can reach your lips they evaporate on your tongue.

Your panicked eyes roam the sea of seats that zoom in and out of focus. Your knees buckle, and you're sure you are going to pass out right here in front of everyone, but then your eyes meet a familiar pair of brown ones that makes the room stop spinning for a moment.

Jungkook. He's smiling at you, fingers crossed in his lap. There's not a trace of nerves in his gaze as he nods for you to go ahead.

I believe in you.

Just then the door to the theatre flies open and every head in the audience turns towards the darkly clothed figure shuffling through the aisles, mumbling sorry's and excuse me's until he reaches the empty seat beside your boyfriend.

He lets down his hood, shakes free a head of blonde hair that's still damp from the rain. He's out of breath, like he ran here.

Taehyung.

Your brother looks up at you, frozen in place, and his eyes soften. He flashes you a thumbs up and his lips curl around the four words you needed to hear.

You can do this.

And just like that, the panic disappears. The words come flooding back, and your body flies into action, moving across the stage

You forget all about the fear, and the anxiety, and Taehyung and the Crestmont. For now it's just you and the stage, together in harmony.

And you've never felt more alive than when you take your final bow and the crowd roars to life, just like you always imagined it would.

Your jaw hurts from smiling, and before you know it you're crying. Because when you squint against the theatre lights, you see Taehyung and Jungkook in the front row, holding each other and shouting your name.

Y/N! Y/N! Y/N!

"Hey! Be careful!"

The bouquet of congratulatory geraniums cradled in your arms gets crushed between your body and your brother's. He practically tackled you as soon as you entered the dressing room, carried on the cheering shoulders of the other cast and crew members.

"Holy shit." Taehyung holds you at arms length. His eyes are ringed red around the edges. "You were amazing, Y/N."

"You really think so?" Tears start to well and you're so happy to see him that you throw your arms around his waist. "I'm so glad you came, Tae."

"Yeah. You were just like her." He smiles. "Just like mom."

You share a small, sad smile. You've heard those words all your life but it feels different when it comes from Taehyung.

Jungkook pops his head into the room. He catches your eye over Taehyung's shoulder, and flashes you a small smile when he sees you cradling him in your arms.

Talk to him. He mouths, and you're suddenly reminded of why Taehyung came here in the first place.

"Hey listen—"

"Taehyung—"

You both start to talk, bursting into easy laughter when the other stops, seemingly hit with the same idea at the same time.

"You go first." You smile, encouragingly.

"Okay." He pulls you over to the couch. "I'm just...I'm sorry for storming out last night. I shouldn't have come here and expected you to help me—"

"No, stop. I'm sorry." You place a hand over his. "I want to help." You hold an arm out to Jungkook, who crosses the room and slides his hand into yours. "We want to help. We want to save the Crestmont."

Taehyung's eyes bulge. His voice drops to a whisper. "Really?"

"You were right. The Crestmont was mom's place."

You think about how it felt to be out there on the stage, in front of a crowd cheering your name. The excitement, the exhilaration. Your first stage.

The Crestmont is your mom's first stage. It's where she felt those same emotions for the first time. You can't let it be demolished. Not for anything.

"She deserves a legacy. We can't let them tear it down. I don't know how yet, but we'll save it."

"Thank you." A tear streaks his cheek, and his arms pull you and Jungkook into a tight bear hug.

"Thank you. For showing me what really matters, Tae." You whisper. "Let's do this together, okay?"

"For mom."

Taehyung holds out his pinky finger, and you link yours with his.

"For mom."

Where things go wrong.

Six months later.

Every second that passes is marked by a deafening tick from the kitchen clock.

Jungkook was supposed to be home 10 minutes ago. You're sat alone at the dinner table, a carefully presented meal for two spread across your mom's old polka dot table cloth. You even lit candles.

With a sigh you drop your chin into your hand, absentmindedly pushing your spaghetti around the dish while your eyes remain trained to the front door that will open any moment.

To be honest, it's been months since you and Jungkook shared a meal together. He spends most of his nights in his office, hunched over his laptop staring at the blinking cursor on some script he'll never finish. And ever since Jungkook's big script got rejected and he fell into a slump of no work, he had to get a job at a local convenience store all day for some spare cash to get you through the month.

You know he hates it. He hates the rude customers and how he can never shower the smell of grease out of his hair.

You know the bickering that turned into arguing that turned into fighting was just a result of his restless aggravation at being shot down too many times. Of watching his dream slip right through his fingers.

But you haven't exactly been as understanding as you should have been. You're overworked too, with the play, and The Crestmont, and you hate how easy it was to accept sleeping apart and missing dinner dates.

So you texted him to tell him you were making dinner tonight. A cease fire of sorts, or maybe just a feeble attempt at glueing back together the cracks that have appeared between you recently with pasta sauce and meatballs.

But he's late. Again.

And it makes you wonder whether there was any point in trying.

"Y/N?"

A gravelly voice jolts you out of your thoughts. Keys jangle onto the counter, shoes are slipped from feet and thrown into the storage cupboard with the creaky door.

"I'm in here." Your voice sounds meek, but you straighten and muster up a smile. To show at least one of you is making an effort.

Jungkook appears in the doorway, clad in his ugly traffic cone orange uniform. His shoulders are slumped, bangs limply stuck to his forehead. He looks tired, exhausted.

"What's all this?" He nods disinterestedly towards your untouched homemade buffet before heading to the sink to fix himself a glass of water.

"Dinner." You cough. He stiffens. "Remember?"

"Oh." He scratches the back of his neck. His eyes flash with something close to guilt momentarily, but then he smoothes it out. "Yeah. Dinner."

"It's okay, you're not too late. We can just heat this up in the microwave—"

"I already ate, Y/N." The glass in his hand slams onto the counter a little too loudly. "At the store."

You can't hide the way your face drops.

"Please." You whisper. "For me?"

Jungkook stares at you for a few seconds, unblinking, before he exhales shakily and pulls out the seat opposite you.

"What's on the menu?" He asks, hands already grabbing for the bottle of red wine in the middle of the table without so much as a glance at the food you worked so hard to prepare.

"Pasta."

"Right."

An uncomfortable silence settles. Jungkook nibbles at a meatball, and you suddenly feel too sick to the stomach to keep anything down.

You jump when Jungkook's fork clatters to the table. He wipes pasta sauce from the corners of his mouth with a napkin and you're sure you can see a slight tremor in his grasp.

"There's something I need to tell you."

His words ring out into the deafening silence that shrouds the apartment. You train your eyes to the candle in the middle of the table that flickers back and forth and carefully place down your own cutlery.

"Should I be worried?"

"No...I mean, I don't know. Maybe." Jungkook waves his hands around and when his eyes meet yours they're distant. Like the table that separates you spans oceans. "Just promise not to freak out."

"I'm not promising anything. Why are you looking at me like that?"

He shifts and the cheap flat pack dining chairs you bought when you moved in creak like they always do. "I...I got a movie deal. They loved the script I told them I've been working on and they want me to direct it."

Your heart fills with something sweet; pride. Even despite your downs recently this is still incredible news. You knew your boyfriend should be ecstatic...so why is he staring intently at the table cloth like it killed his whole family? "That's awesome, Kook. So what's the problem?"

"I gave them a different script."

Something shifts in the air. You hold your breath.

"Huh?"

"The script. The one you told me to burn before we came to New York. The one about you...your life."

Your blood runs cold and it's like your frozen. Just searching through the never ending blackness behind Jungkook's eyes that fails to falter, no matter how hard you pinch your inner thigh and hope you're about to wake up from a bad dream.

"You wouldn't." Your voice sounds strained and Jungkook doesn't even flinch. "You...I don't believe you."

"I'm sorry." He runs an exasperated hand through his hair. "It's just that they hated the first one and I wanted this deal so bad. It's a once in a lifetime chance Y/N, don't you see?"

The boy staring back at you isn't the sweet and sensitive Jungkook from Ocean City or the strong and passionate man from New York. His words get all mixed up in your head as you repeat them over and over and it's as if you don't even know him at all. All you can feel now is betrayal. And just like that all the anger that has been building inside you for months explodes.

"So my life is just a fucking plot for one of your indie movies, Jungkook?"

"It's always your life isn't it? Never mine." He slams his hands on the table hard enough to make your insides shake. "Ever since we came to New York I've supported you, sat back and watched as you achieved all your dreams. And it hurts, Y/N. To come home from my dead end job, and write another goddamn script that nobody wants to even read."

"I came to New York because of you!" You don't even realise you're crying until you taste the hot salty tears that won't seem to stop. "I came here so you could make it big! You're the one who encouraged me to audition for the play in the first place!"

"God, are you really that naive? Don't you see? I came to New York because I saw how much it meant to you." Jungkook lowers his voice, and there's something in his words that makes your heart twist. Pain. His eyes look watery and you long to reach out for him. Like the skin on skin contact will somehow make all of this okay. "And not once have you ever considered how it might feel for me to sit back in your shadow."

"So that's what this is? Jealousy?" You shake your head and get up from the table and turn to leave, but Jungkook grasps your wrist.

"Why can't you be happy for me?"

"I am happy for you Jungkook. And I always will be." Your heart softens and you're reminded of the boyfriend you know. The boyfriend you love. You want to believe he's in there somewhere so you place your hand over his, and for a second he looks hopeful. "But this was never your story to tell. That's what hurts."

He drops your arm, gaze cold and distant. "Then I guess that's it then."

"What?"

The room starts to spin.

"If you can't accept my decision to go ahead with the project then I guess we can't do this anymore."

"This?" You whisper.

"Us."

"Jungkook...Are you saying we're over?"

He drops his head into his hands and lets out a sigh. "Maybe. I don't know."

"You don't know?" You chuckle but it's hollow, empty. "You don't know if you love me any more?"

Jungkook's face drops and he lurches towards you, but you step back.

"No, shit Y/N I didn't mean it like that!" He looks scared. "I was just angry and it slipped out."

"Don't." His arms reach for you again but the brush of his fingertips feels scalding hot, wrong. "Don't fucking touch me."

"I'm sorry..."

"Don't lie to me Jungkook." Your vision is blurred with tears as you rip open the closet and yank out a suitcase. "You're not sorry. I was never your muse. I was just a stepping stool to the top."

"Where are you going?" Jungkook's crying now too. It comes out as a sob.

"Home." You say as you rip open your shared closet door and start throwing your things into the case. "I'm going home. Where I belong."

"I can't lose you like this. Please." He reaches for your wrist again but you're already half way to the door.

"Too late." You say. "I'm going home. And I'm never coming back."

The familiar scent of burned popcorn and candyfloss soothes you as you creep through the backdoor of the Crestmont. It always had a broken hinge which opened just enough for a body to squeeze through. Seems not a lot has changed since you left Ocean City.

It's dark inside. Silent too, without the popcorn machine running and the movie trailers playing on LED screens. You don't know what you expected. It's gone midnight by the time you get back to Ocean City, but you don't want to go home just yet.

Comfort washes over you as you run your fingers over the gilded edges of the counter, and slip beneath the hatch on auto pilot. It feels strange to be back here without the starched shirt and bow tie you used to hate. You've swapped out worn sneakers for heels that click against the tiles and you've performed on stages for crowd's bigger than the Crestmont's but here and now, you feel like yourself. Even though everything in your life has changed, you're still the same small town girl underneath it all.

Without thinking your legs carry you to the wall of fame. The faces smile up at you, like they're saying welcome back.

"Hey mom," You whisper, stopping momentarily in front of her portrait. You stared at it for so long as a kid that you have every detail committed to memory but seeing it up this close makes your breath hitch. "It's me."

With a sigh you force yourself past into the hall. Your hands tremble as you push open the door to the theatre. It's just how you remember it, sparkling gold and red velvet and mystery. But there's yellow tape strung up across all the seats and a sign has been propped up on the stage, red glaring letters burning a hole in your heart as you read them.

DANGER. DUE FOR DEMOLISHMENT. STAY AWAY.

All you can do is let your legs buckle, back sliding down the wall as you hug your knees to your chest and let out a throaty sob that echoes from the high ceiling.

When did everything go so wrong? You must be cursed. Everything you touch gets destroyed.

"Y/N?"

The lights flicker on, bathing the room in a soft golden glow. You wipe your tears, but that doesn't stop them from coming.

"Over here."

Your voice is small but a few seconds later Taehyung's face appears from behind one of the velvet seats. His eyes soften when he sees you curled up in the corner.

"What are you doing down here?" He clambers over the seat to join you, his long legs folded awkwardly in the small space.

"Having a one man party." You snort and point to your tear stained cheeks.

"Are you okay?" His hand covers yours and the contact makes you jump.

"Yes..." You sniff. He raises a brow. "No. Jungkook broke up with me."

Taehyung chokes. "What?!"

"I mean, we fought and then he...he said we were over." Your heart stabs painfully but you shrug. "So I came here. Didn't know where else to go."

He places an encouraging hand on your shoulder. "Listen...I know I haven't always been there for you when I should've. Hell, you always took care of me and I never even asked how you were doing." He offers a small smile. "But I'm here now. And you can tell me anything. If...if you want to."

A few seconds tick by in silence. You try to form a sentence but everything just comes back to the same three words.

"I miss mom." You blurt.

It echoes through the theatre, and you can practically hear the mermaids and the cupids painted on the ceiling gasp. It surprises you too, the combination of grief and relief that washes over you at finally admitting it.

"I know." Taehyung pulls you into his chest, lips whispering against your hair as you let out a sob and it's like all the sadness and denial is rushing out of you like a faucet, filling the whole room up like a water tank. You're terrified of the moment it gets too full, and you stop being able to breathe. "But you're a lot like her, y'know."

"That's exactly the problem!" Your words come out as a yell and it makes you both jump. "Everyone always says I look like her, I talk like her, I act like her. And I hated it for the longest time because I hated her for leaving us!"

"But without even realising it I became her, Tae. I did what I always said I wouldn't and became selfish. I hurt you, and Jungkook and even the Crestmont."

"That's not true."

"It is! And the worst part is I don't even hate her any more. I need her. To hold me, and tell me it's going to be alright. But she isn't here!"

"What does this have to do with Jungkook?"

"Jungkook wrote a script. A long time ago. About mom. And you and I. And everything that happened." You swallow, Taehyung's eyebrow raises though he doesn't look at all surprised by this information, nor as horrified as you that a record of your bleak shortcomings exists for anyone to read. "He got a movie deal. That's why we fought."

Taehyung hums. "You don't want him to make the movie?"

"It's not that I...I want to be happy for him. But I can't." You choke. "It's too painful. Remembering."

Accepting.

"When I said you were a lot like mom, I meant that you are headstrong." Taehyung pauses. "I felt that way once too. Like I hated mom and the goddamn world for taking her too soon. But in the end, the only person I hated was myself. Like however hard I tried I could never get over her, and all the pain I was pushing down into a dark place kept taunting me through the nightmares." He shivers, and you grip his hand tighter. "But one day I realised I don't have to be afraid of that pain any more. That pain is a part of me. But that doesn't mean I have to let it win."

"So what did you do?"

"I let myself feel it . I faced it. The only way I could let mom go was to stop running away." He pats your shoulder. "You need to set the girl in that script free, so you can move on."

And just like that, you're swimming...up, up, up, until you reach the surface of the water tank and you can take a heaving breath for the first time.

You throw your arms around his neck. It feels weird to hug him like this, but it's nice. "I missed you, Tae. Thank you.”

"I didn't do anything." He says. "The strength is inside you, you just need to find it. Just like you need to stop holding on to the past and let the new you shine for once."

You shake your head. "I need to talk to Jungkook. I don't know why I stormed off like that and..." You trail off. "Wait, how did you know I was here?"

Taehyung grins. "I didn't. I got called in to sort some paperwork and I noticed the back door ajar. Good thing it was you and not some crazy with a baseball bat, right?"

"At this time?" You nod to his still pyjama clad state. "Is it important?"

"Y/N," He laughs lightly. There's excitement shining in his eyes. "Someone just bought the Crestmont."

You scramble to your knees. "What?"

"We're staying open, and I get to keep my job."

And then you're hugging again, and laughing and crying because the Crestmont is going to be okay. You're going to be okay.

"That's incredible, Tae! Who is it? Who bought the Crestmont?"

"I don't know, it was an anonymous transaction. But the guy said he would be here...." He glances at his wrist watch, and as he does, the door creaks open. "Around now."

"Hello? Anyone here?" A familiar voice calls out.

"Jungkook?" Both of your jaws drop as you poke up from behind the seats. Sure enough your heart flutters when you see him, all wind swept and out of breath like he ran here.

"I thought you might be here." He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. "Can we talk?"

The car ride to the pier was mostly silent. Jungkook borrowed his dad's old beat up truck -- it was that or his old bike with the pegs on the back -- and it still smelled like leather and petrol like it used to.

Everything about Ocean City is the same as you remember it. The pier stands strong atop the rocky sand, sea air deliciously fresh as it fills your lungs. The rolling waves shimmer like gold dust below the wisps of pink clouds that greet the rising sun. The beach is a peaceful view at this time. No tourists, all of yesterdays sandcastles swallowed by the sea spray. It took a couple hours to work through the paperwork so by now it's early morning — 5:30am according to your phone lockscreen.

It's chilly, and your skin is covered with goose bumps even despite Jungkook's suede jacket wrapped loosely around your shoulders. But you don't mind.

You've missed this. You've missed Ocean City.

"No ice cream, I'm afraid." The breeze ruffles Jungkook's hair as he emerges from the fairground and settles beside you with his legs poking through the rails. He flashes you an apologetic smile. "I guess the parlour doesn't open until 9..."

You feel a pang in your chest. Being here is like a serious case of deja vu. Countless hours spent in this very spot, eating vanilla scoops with rainbow sprinkles beside Jungkook used to be so normal. When did you grow so far apart that you're surprised he even remembers?

"Jungkook..." You swallow hard when you meet his eyes, hands longing to reach out and stroke the stream of sunrise on his cheek that makes his dark eyes sparkle. "We...we need to talk. About everything."

There's a moment of silence filled only by the calls of seagulls greeting the morning before he speaks. "I sold the script."

He sounds nervous. Like he's not quite sure what your reaction will be.

You swallow. "And you used the money to buy the Crestmont?"

"Yeah." He says matter of factly, scratching a phantom itch at his nape. "I guess I did."

"Why?" Your voice is small.

"I can't loose you, Y/N." He murmurs. "Just like you can't loose your mom. The Crestmont was her everything. But you are mine. And loosing the Crestmont would be loosing a piece of you, and I couldn't stand that."

The breeze ruffles his hair as he reaches for your hand and links your fingers and squeezes hard. You don't make any move to stop him. You know what it means, so you squeeze back and return the sentiment. I'm sorry.

Before you can stop yourself you lurch forward, arms curling around his neck and it's like coming home. His hands pull you flush to his chest, hearts beating in sync and you know everything is going to be okay now.

"Thank you." You whisper against his nape. A tear rolls down your cheek and soaks into his collar and before you know it you're blubbering. "Thank you so much, Kook."

"You aren't mad?" His voice is muffled but you can hear the quirk of his brow.

"Mad? No..no..." You lean back and wipe your eyes with your sleeve. "But what about the movie? And your dream to be a director and--"

Jungkook grabs your shoulders. His own eyes are glassy as he tucks a piece of hair behind your ear.

"That was never what mattered to me, Y/N. Not even a little bit. There's one reason I went to New York and it's the same reason I came back to Ocean City tonight. You."

"But--"

"No but's. As long as we're together, I'm already living my dream." His lips turn up into a smile, his eyes tracing your face like it's the first time and he can't get enough. "And I never ever want to wake up."

You shift in your spot to face him properly for the first time, and emotion hits you like a tidal wave. It's like all of a sudden you realize how stupid you've been; to fight with the man before you, a man who only knows kindness, about the trivial when the things that mattered the most were always right here, in front of you. The things that mattered most were always in Ocean City.

You brace your hands on his shoulders and lean up so your lips are inches apart. His eyes fall shut naturally, and you can't help but laugh with what you can only describe as one thing: happiness.

"I love you." You whisper against his lips. A warm palm cups your jaw and closes the distance between them and you're almost too lost in the way Jungkook's kiss takes your breath away to hear his response.

"I love you too."

"Sooo..." You bite your lip with a coy smile when Jungkook pulls away, the blush upon his cheeks scarlet beneath the sun which is rapidly rising. "I take it we're no longer broken up?"

"Well duh," He swats you playfully. "You think I'd do all this just to dump your ass?"

"Hey!" You pout. "I dumped your ass."

Jungkook shakes his head with a laugh.

"Besides," He glances out over the horizon nonchalantly and shrugs. "I'm gonna need help if I'm gonna start my own film company and run the Crestmont."

Your jaw drops. "A what now?"

"A film company." He explains. "A different type of film company, right here in Ocean City. For the outcasts like me who have a vision that even the biggest names in New York can't see yet." He smiles, so big and bright it makes your heart leap. "I'm gonna show them, Y/N. And everything I need to do it is right here in Ocean City."

"I know you will. I never doubted you for a second." You take his hand and link your fingers, squeezing hard. "And you bet your ass I'll be front row to watch each and every one, Jeon Jungkook."

Epilogue.

"Just keep your eyes shut!"

"I already know where we're going, so why can't I look?" You laugh, attempting and failing to tug Jungkook's interlocked fingers away from your eyes.

"Shush, it's a surprise! Just roll with it."

A surprise. That's what Jungkook said earlier too when he woke you up at the crack of dawn by throwing a dress at your head and telling you to meet him outside in the truck in 10 minutes or else.

By the time you pulled up into the familiar parking lot of your not-so-mysterious destination, the sky was already aflame with the glow of morning skimming the horizon, and Jungkook practically leapt out of the truck, palms unusually sweaty as he grasped your hand and pulled you towards the path quicker than your feet could carry you.

"What's the hurry, Kook?" You get out between heavy breaths, quads burning as the path gets steeper beneath your feet.

Come to think of it, your boyfriend has been acting strangely all week. Like hiding things behind his back when you walk into a room or talking in hushed whispers on the phone to Taehyung when he thought you were sleeping.

"You'll see." The path levels out and you stop. Jungkook wraps his arms around your waist, chin tucked into the cleft of your shoulder like a perfect puzzle piece. "Okay. Now you can look."

You round the corner, heart racing when your eyes flutter open and your vision is filled with a sea of yellow flowers. Your place.

The meadow is just how you left it, tall grass and sunny blooms dancing beneath the rays of morning sun peeking out from between the clouds. A warmth spreads through your chest and you both laugh when Gureum lets out an excited yelp, before bounding off between the stems playfully.

"I think the little guy wants us to follow him." Jungkook raises a brow and throws you a knowing shrug.

Excitement flutters in your stomach like a butterfly trapped between cupped palms. "How could I refuse?"

Fingers interlinked, you part the sunflowers and jog after the ball off fluff bouncing across the meadow, the breeze cool and forgiving as it ruffles the strands of hair that billow behind you.

Eventually you reach the clearing, and Gureum wags his tail at you proudly when you stoop down to scratch him behind his ears.

The sun reflects in Jungkook's eyes, turning them a warm golden brown. "Turn around."

You spin on your heels with a questioning glance. "Why?" That's when you see it. The spot where everything began. The tree where Jungkook kissed you all those years ago has bloomed with fragrant blossoms, and twinkle lights glow like tiny stars around it's branches. A blanket is laid out in the sun flecked shade beneath it, littered with feather cushions and lanterns and a trail of sunflower petals that begin at your feet.

"You did this?" You take his chin in your palms, face beaming despite the tears that have started to blur your vision. "Oh, Kook."

"Surprise." He smiles knowingly, grabbing you from behind and spinning you round and round until you both land with a soft thump in the middle of the outdoor cushion fort. "You haven't even seen the best part yet." He says with a nod to his right.

It's then that you notice the white sheet that's strung up a couple meters away between the trunks of two trees, Jungkook's vintage projector set up in front of it.

"What is this?" You ask, bewilderment evident in your voice.

"Gureum, would you do the honours?" Jungkook chuckles, extending a finger to point at a remote that your puppy obediently picks up with his teeth and drops into your lap with a wag of his tail.

Jungkook tucks a piece of hair behind your ear and takes a deep breath, like he's been waiting for this moment for a long time. "Go ahead. Press play and find out."

Your head shakes fondly, but your fingers tremble with anticipation as they find the PLAY button. You press it and the projector starts turning, a light flicking on at the top that makes a grainy image appear on the sheet.

The first scene is you. A teenager, dancing through the sunflower field, laughter spilling from your lips. The first time you hung out. And then it switches. You, again. Cleaning up a spill at the Crestmont, unaware of the camera. You. Paint in your hair as Jungkook chases you around the apartment in New York. You. Tears in your eyes as you hold baby Gureum for the first time. You. Asleep on Jungkook's shoulder on the subway, the camera panning to his face which lights up in a big grin, lips mouthing three words.

I love you.

Tears are hot on your cheeks, laughing as you remember the good moments and the bad, the funny and the sad, all immortalized forever through Jungkook's eyes.

The film fades out, and you throw your arms around your boyfriends neck. He chuckles when you tackle him to the ground, throwing a leg over his lap so that you can lean down and capture his lips between yours in a kiss that says all the words you want to say but you don't know how to. I love you too.

"I take it you liked it, then?" Jungkook says coyly, thumb stroking your cheek.

"It was beautiful Jungkook." You place your hand over his. "Now I know why you're always goddamn filming me."

"What can I say? You're my muse."

"Shut up." You punch him playfully. "You're gonna make me blush."

It's Jungkook's cheeks that flush pink. "Actually..." He starts to sit up, fumbling around in his back pocket. "There's something else."

"Oh?"

He clears his throat. "The first time we came to this place I knew I loved you. Back then, I said I wanted to show you what I found most beautiful. And it was you. It's always been you." He takes your hand, grip tight. "When we met we were just kids with big dreams. We might be older now but heck -- I still don't know what I'm doing. All I know is dreams come and go but you never left. You always stayed by my side. Which is why I want to promise you something."

"What, Kook?" You manage to whisper. Your heart is beating a million miles a minute in your ears. Is this what you think it is?

Jungkook swallows hard, eyes boring into yours.

"That I'll go wherever you go. New York, across oceans, up mountains -- you name it. As long as we're together, everything will be okay. So that's why I wanted to ask..." His fingers tremble as he produces a tiny black box, flicking it open to reveal a ring that sparkles see through in the sun. "Y/N, will you marry me?"

"Oh Jungkook," You throw your arms around his neck, overcome with emotion now as you capture his lips with your own. "Of course I'll marry you. You didn't even have to ask."

He lets out a sigh of relief, and then he's spinning you around in circles until you're both dizzy with love and belly laughter.

"I love you." He whispers, eyes shiny. His hand gently grasps your wrist as he slides the ring onto your finger.

You've heard him say it a hundred times before, but this time it's different. This time it's forever. Your heart flutters.

"I love you too, Kook."

Where there are new beginnings

Ocean City is the same as it always was.

You wake up each morning to the distant crash or waves, and you fall asleep each night to the tinkling fairground music that makes your heart sing. Tourists come and go, flooding the casinos and eating churros on the beach.

The Crestmont is doing better than ever. Once Taehyung took over as owner, the theatre became the heart of the city, attracting visitors from near and far to see the renowned plays directed by none other than Jeon Jungkook, the most sought after playwright and filmographer in all of the East Coast.

And then there's you. Ever since you starred in one of Jungkook's plays, about a girl from a seaside city moving to New York with big dreams, there's been no shortage of movie deals and acting opportunities thrown your way.

But in the end, you always find yourself coming back to Ocean City.

Tonight the Crestmont reopens for business after some much needed renovations. Taehyung is throwing a party, and there will be plenty of big Hollywood faces attending to see the brand new theatre and the updated __.

But one thing will always remain the same. The picture of your mom hung in the gallery. Her big smile is the heart of the Crestmont, greeting each and every visitor with pride.

And in the empty frame at the end of the wall of fame, there's a new picture.

You. Smiling, with your hair over one shoulder, just how you imagined. And beside you is Jungkook, with his arm wrapped around your waist and Taehyung holding Gureum and making a silly peace sign behind your head.

And you wouldn't have it any other way.

Okay so hi if you’re still here!! I decided to put this at the end because I didn’t wanna spoil the ending so please send love to @brekkiejeon​ !! They sent me the request for the ending of this fic all the way back in January and i’m trash and took like 7 months to finish writing it so i hope you enjoyed it even so lovely !!! <3 thank you for the request and sorry for the wait, this one really got me creative lol! 

Also I’d like to dedicate the smut in this fic to @atastefulwonderland​ because I know you love some good ole JK loving!! Hehe, ily~~

Also lemme know if this was bad because I never usually give OC so much backstory because I want it to be as relatable to the reader as poss obvi but these characters wrote themselves lmao like i’m just the writer i had no control okay???? I just do what these mfkers say. LOL.

#bts #happy jk day #bts smut #jungkook #jungkook smut #ksmutclub #smutcentralnet #jungkook fluff #jungkook imagine #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts imagine #btswriterscollective #btsguild #kwordsmiths #bangtanarmynet #thebtstown #my writing #fic: wywg

[kylosgenesis]

Teardrops on Fire

Synopsis:

Steve Rogers is the last Alpha of the an almost extinct Lycan pack. With only less than 100 members left. Steve must produce an heir to ensure the species survival and reduce the chance of attacks from others. Omegas are rare, and betas have a hard time producing children. Steves reality is finally setting in as his obligation of producing an heir faces a major set back.

Reader is the last suitable omega to mate with Steve, due to the fear of her daughters fate in the pack, her mother kept her hidden from the pack after her own exile. Only her mother, and Bucky's family know of her existence. Bucky is Steve's right hand man, and the packs best warrior! He and the reader developed a friendship and bond over the years, but age forced them to become distant.

What happens when she presents and her first heat cycle comes? Her body is in excruciating pain and a strong fever quickly overcomes her body. Facing the fear of her daughters possible death, her mom calls on the only person who can save her at this point, Alpha Steve! Bucky and the alphas friendship will be tested. The reader will be faced with her love for Bucky or her duty to the pack.

Warnings: Mentions of death , A/B/O dynamics

Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/user/gennyzoe/playlist/7xFIhRFa8o2Ae4QJpD1Hp9?si=gWsZ__YOQdKCS81X21jZqw

Chapter 4: I found

Hours had gone by! Bucky was caught of guard with the smell of fire. Faint...but distinct enough he knew it wasn’t his imagination. The chilled air dragged a whiff of the combined scents of fog, smoke, and very faintly in the background... HER!

She was close! He could feel it! This wasn’t new territory to him, but he wondered how she’d ended up hours from her home. He followed the wind, blowing ashes by his face. Leaving a trail, that called to him as if nature was guiding him to her. All the odds were against her tonight, but the forest smelled safe! It was like it protect her from the evil of the elements.

After a couple of minutes on the trail, it hit him! The smell blew the air out of his lungs, he approached the small faded fire with caution. Not wanting to scare her off. As he got closer he noticed her small frame. She was attempting to stand up, but doing so knocked her directly into the fading red embers of where a fire used to be.

The world disappeared for him at that moment! It was her! Just him and her!

And she smelled delicious! Everything is his being screaming to make her his in this very spot, and vanish with her. Nobody to find them! As long as she was there, there was nothing he’d want in this life or another! She was the trophy and the torture, that cursed through him. To love, but never poses. How could he even be thinking of love right now? He hadn’t even looked into her eyes yet.

What if she hated him?

What if she didn’t recognize him?

How was he gonna explain what’s going on to her? She has to know what her body wants right now, what it’s craving for her to do! And how much he wishes to not crave her in the same way.

He bolted to her with all his might, and caught her calling frame. As her eyes slowly faded into unconsciousness, peace resonated in her eyes. He’d dreamed of those eyes for years! And as her body went limp on his arms all he could do was hold her close and pray for the strength to keep her alive and safe... from himself!

She opened her eyes as they adjusted to the moonlight above her. Her body was covered in a warm flannel, she didn’t recognize the source of it.She remembered the eyes she saw before losing consciousness.

Had it all been a dream?

She felt like her limbs were on fire! They responded to every bit of stimulation the flannel was rubbing upon her body. She realized it wasn’t the flannel that was causing her body to jolt up at the feeling of touch; It was that it smelled like an alpha. Her body was trying to absorb as much of him as it could! She was unconsciously reacting to him and granting him access to her.

Hearing a branch break from behind the forest bush, she sprung up as quickly as her body allowed her to react and grabbed a beach from her side.

“Who’s there?” She was in full alarm, she also noticed the fire she had started had been reignited, and was fully blazing and strong!

“What do you want from me? And for the love of... “

She noticed that the reason she had the flannel on was for her own modesty, because underneath the flannel she was as naked as she was brought into the world.

“ Why am I naked? ”

Bucky noticed her panic as he approached the camp again. He’d gone out to get some more firewood and clay to dress her wounds. He wasn't expecting for her to be so recovered.

“I’m sorry ... I didn’t mean to startle you! I'm here to help.”

He put his arms up, to show her he wasn’t a threat, dropping the contest of his arms to the ground! “I was just getting us some more fire, and you need something for your wound... it doesn’t look good!” he fixed his hair back with one of his free hands, a nervous habit he had kept since childhood.

She furrowed her brow, and took a swing of the branch startling him and forcing him to step back. ” I bet you would you know what wound need tending to?” She replied with a cocky attitude! She imagined he would’ve had to look at her body while he took her clothes off, but the realization that her body was not in display contrition made her blush for a moment.

Ignoring the heat rising to her cheeks, and the small pit of embarrassment in the pit of her stomach. She put on a brave face! As he got closer her body reacted to his presence.

He was tall! Always had been, but despite the fact she’s grown since he last saw her, he still sported a good foot above her. She lowered her stance and let go of her makeshift weapon.

Taking a step back, she tripped, and stumbled back. Bucky tried catching her, but before he could he lost his own footing and tackled her body to the ground.

There she was!

Looking like a goddess underneath him, in a flannel, with her little confused doe eyes! She didn’t even try to fight him off. They just stared at each other's eyes, for a small eternity that what theirs to have.

They could both see their changing features, the fire’s light shone on Bucky to reveal his dark black hair. There were messy strays surrounding his face, but the rest was neatly tucked behind his ears. Stubble framed his face, and his jaw was the jaw of a man. It was also an awkward time to notice how much muscle he’d gained in the last 10 years. His body was solid on top of her, even through his shirt, his body told his story! He was a man of work! His body was that of a man who did hard labor, a man who was outside for long periods of time. Which was something she could tell as she noticed the tan in his upper neck had begun fading as the weather grew colder.

His muscles responded to her stare in ways she couldn’t pinpoint!

He on the other hand noticed her delicate face, the way she had grown into her childhood innocence and beauty. Her frame was so small and breakable compared to him. He for a moment thought he could easily crush her, and tried to ease his weight to make it lighter on her.

Her hair was gorgeously long! It surrounded her like a halo, fit for her like an angel. And her eyes where large and expressive. He could’ve read those eyes a million ways years ago, but now! He couldn’t help but wonder what they were trying to say.

He couldn’t stop himself as the word slipped from his lips.

“Doll!”

He placed his knee between her legs and pushed on the palm of his hands in an effort to lift his body weight off of her.

“Don’t call me that! Haven’t heard that in a long time”... she wiggled under his body and pushed him off her “ that name used to be special to me”

She tried to stand up, but a dizzy spell forced her to remain seated on the ground. Looking at his hurt expression a few more seconds that she wanted to.

“ I really missed you!” Her eyes filled with tears that threatened to roll down her cheek as she tried to stare forward, but he would still read her pained face. “ When you caught me. I thought I was dying! ..and you weren't real”

“ Im sorry! Im so sorry! I shouldn’t have left you just like that!”

He sat down next to her frame, he noticed how her body was shivering, even close to the fire. Her smell was spiking up. He knew that once morning came he’d have to rush her to Steve as soon as possible! But for now, he just wanted to enjoy her! Just enjoy her own smell one last time.

“I never stopped thinking about you!” He lowered his face to the palms of his hands. It was there when she noticed. One of his hands wasn't quite his. It was a lusterly metal, but it still radiated his energy, and warmth.

“I'm sorry too! I shouldn't have interrupted whatever it is you guys do in the village...” she was guarded! Her body tensed up as she talked, a knife in her words ” a lowlife like me getting lost... that’s what it took for you to care again” the tears began to fall, a combination of her hormones, and now shock!

Her body was changing and she couldn’t do anything about it, and now the ghost of her former best friend was back. She didn’t know how to process. She was stronger than this! Why was her body dissolving her to her nature?

Bucky wanted to embrace her! To say so many things, but nothing felt like enough to him.

“Listen now it’s not the time for... ” as he stood up he heard her let out a pain filled grunt. Her hand reached out to grab his thigh, as she doubled over to the ground in pain.

He quickly reacted to her pain, and kneeled down next to where she now laid doubled over on the cold moist ground.

“No, no ,no , no listen to me doll... you have to pull through!” He positioned his body as comfortably as he could for her “ I can’t help you... I’m not supposed to...”

He’d made a mistake! He’d coated her in his smell from the moment he held her in his arms. Her body was screaming for an alpha and it was only going to get worse till an alpha helps her body respond to it’s needs.

From the little life she had a few minutes ago, this little omega at his feet was shaking, and frail!

“I’m sorry, doll…” he looked around in distress “please just stay with me! We have to make it till morning! Please just look at me...tell me you’re alright! “ he cradled her small body and held her close to him.

As a strong wave of her scent hit his nostrils, and a small seizure overcame her body.

Bucky knew what he had to do!

But he wanted to make sure he had well enough exhausted all of his options. It would be selfish of him not to admit he wanted to help her.

“ Bucky... am I gonna die? ” she looked up at him with pained eyes, she was suffering! He used his shirt to wipe down the trails of blood exiting her nose. He wanted to help her so badly! She was nuzzled up against his body, shivering and looking more lifeless by the moment.

Her body was rejecting her omega change!

Bucky knew the fever wasn’t a good sign! But with the seizures that were now overtaking her body every few minutes, it was confirmed to him that she was moments away from collapsing upon herself. An alpha made an omega stronger! It was in their nature!

She needed an alpha !

As he held her in the heart of the forest, illuminated by the light of the moonlight, he could see the teardrops of red leave her eyes. Tears the color of fire!

And when the moon was above then at its brightest, Bucky looked up at the sky, and then down at her “Im sorry doll! I'm about to let you down one more time... I hope you can forgive me one day” as he exposed her neck to him, her untouched mating gland on full display to him.He carefully extracted his canines, and like a soft kiss, he bit her!

He knew Steve wasn’t going to be happy, and quite frankly he was even more scared of her finding out he’d taken away her choice!

Tag list: @austynparksandpizza @nerdgirljen @exposition-belongs-somewhere @connie326 @patzammit @blessedwedgie

#bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #alpha bucky x omega reader #alpha bucky #alpha steve x omega reader #alpha steve rogers #omegaverse #a/b/o dynamics #steve rogers #james bucky barnes #alpha steve rogers x omega reader

[dapandapod]

Hollow pt 4

It is finally here. After a year, the last chapter of Hollow is here. Prompted by my darling shiny @chaotic-fae-queen and a careful beta read by wonderful @kuripon (both are amazing writers, go check them out!) and Im so happy for them both!

Thank you all for following me through this. I hope you like this last chapter 💖

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Ao3

He is anger and hurt and shuddering breaths and thunder and sadness.

It trembles through him, when Jaskier looks at him with no recognition. Geralt knew, he knew it would happen and still it hurts. It was wise to let Yennefer approach first as he is not sure he would have been able to do it again. If the bard feels any fear, the wind has swept the scent of it away.

Jaskier leads them towards a little hut a short walk from the beach. It is a nice hut, walls tightly fitted and barely letting any of the raging wind inside. The inside is as modest as the outside; there is a bed, a fireplace and a small bookcase. The lute is leaning against the wall in the far corner of the room, seemingly untouched. A table stands in the middle of the room with two chairs. Of course.

Yennefer sits down while Jaskier bustles around to start a pot of tea, and Geralt leans against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.

“May I offer you anything? I didn’t bring much but I'm sure I still have biscuits somewhere.”

Geralt ignores him, eyes locking on a familiar notebook on the bed. It is a bit worse for wear than last he saw it, the pages worn with use. Jaskier always brought that with him, and that seems to be true still.

“So, Gerald was it?” Jaskier says, looking through cabinets and drawers in his hunt for biscuits. “Have you been around these parts before?” Smalltalk. Jaskier is making smalltalk.

Geralt nods silently, still avoiding to look at the bard. He can hear the bard turn to look for a reply, so he nods again, staring holes into the notes.

“Jaskier, would you please sit down with me for a moment?” Yennefer finally asks, snapping Jaskier out of his hosting duties. When Yennefer asks like that, it is better to listen.

“There is something I need to tell you, and I need you to listen and tell me if you recall anything.”

Geralt chances a look at Jaskier, who is swallowing hard and darts a look back at Geralt. Fuck. He aches inside, and he looks away again with a frown.

“What do you remember from before you came to Oxenfurt?” Yennefer asks.

“I- uh…” Jaskier frowns, looking down at the table. “I'm not sure. I remember I hired someone to bring me there, but I can’t recall his name anymore. I think I was attacked on the road, because I have a scar on my side.” As Jaskier talks, he idly touches the side where the scar hides.

Yennefer nods and then looks pointedly at Geralt.

“I took you to Oxenfurt,” Geralt grumbles out. “And it was because of me you were hurt.”

“Geralt!” Yennefer protests, but it’s the truth. Geralt's truth.

“You did? But I don’t recognize you at all!” Jaskier says and Geralt just wants to leave.

“Alright, we will do this another way.” Yennefer sighs, clearly done with Geralt already. “Jaskier, memories were taken from you. Are being taken from you. You and Geralt spent years together, and something is making you forget him.” Jaskier frowns at that, then puts his face in his hands.

A soft moan comes from him, as if he were in pain.

“Do you know what you have forgotten, good and bad, or do you wish to carry on? I need to know if you want to remember.” She asks, and puts a hand on his shoulder. “I won’t force it on you. You have a choice.” Yennefer shoots Geralt a glare as she says this.

The seconds tick by, and Geralt is all nerves.

On one hand, he desperately wants Jaskier safe. On the other hand, he desperately wishes to have him close. They don’t go well together, sadly.

“I think I need to know.” Jaskier finally says, and Geralt feels like someone has punched him in the chest. “But I don’t think I can do it today. It is a lot to take in.”

~

Yennefer and Geralt return to the hut in the morning. The skies have cleared up and the gulls are circling high above them and diving into the wild sea. Jaskier sits outside his door, leaning back against the dirt wall, chewing on a piece of straw. His eyes are closed, head tilted up towards the sun. The breeze is warm and brings a salty tang with it. When they come closer, Jaskier startles.

“Yennefer! I'm so glad to see you! It’s been so long!” He bounces up, arms wide like he is going in for a hug. He doesn’t, thankfully, so Yennefer doesn’t have to do something cruel. It doesn’t bode well that he doesn’t remember yesterday, but at least they are about to do something about it.

Then Jaskier's eyes snag on the witcher behind her, and his eyes widen comically.

“Bringing a bodyguard while visiting little ol' me?” His eyes rake Geralt up and down. Not a modest bone in that one.

“He will be staying outside,” She says with a smirk over her shoulder and Geralt scowls. “Do you have chamomile tea?”

She stalks into his hut without waiting, sitting down in the same chair as yesterday. Jaskier comes inside after her, giving one last look at Geralt before he closes the door, and then he starts the same routine as yesterday, looking for herbs and kettles.

“It really is such a great coincidence to meet you today, Yennefer,” He tells her, banging the same cabinets and drawers. “There is something I need to ask you.”

He puts the water on, takes out mugs for them and finally, finally sits down. There is a short silence, only disturbed by the sound of waves and seabirds from the outside. Yennefer is sure Geralt is listening to every word they say through the door.

“I think,.” Jaskier begins, clutching his empty cup in his hands,” I think there is something wrong with me.” He looks absolutely miserable, twirling the cup back and forth.

“What makes you think that?” She asks, knowing full well.

“I have a notebook,” Jaskier says quietly, like a confession. “It is filled with my handwriting, but I don’t remember a thing.”

Oh.

“Yennefer. I think I was in love.”

Oh fuck.

“May I see it?” She asks. She doesn’t know why she asks, but it is too late now. Jaskier hesitates for a moment, then he stands up, checks on the pot above the fire, and fetches a collection of notes that Geralt was trying to stare to death yesterday.

That explains a thing or two.

“I can’t for the life of me figure out why I don’t remember them. And everything in here is just hints, the shapes of secrets,” he says as Yennefer looks through the worn pages. It’s beautiful and rough, and just as he said, shapes. But Yennefer sees Geralt in them, and he sees the feelings Jaskier talks about.

“I might know what is wrong with you,” she says, closing the book and pushing it over the table. Jaskier takes it and strokes it’s cover lovingly. “But I need to do something to be certain. Jaskier, are you sure you want to know? Because there is so much pain in your past.”

Jaskier takes a moment, thinking it over. When he looks at her again, he looks troubled.

“It feels like someone is raking through my mind, and there are so many things I just can’t wrap my head around.” Jaskier says, looking down at the table. “It is eating me up inside, carving and emptying me out. I need to know.”

The same reply as yesterday then. Good. She can work with that.

~

Yennefer is strong. Incredibly powerful. Julian can’t wield magic, but he feels the vibrations of it in his chest, in his mind.

“You have a powerful curse on you,” she tells him, sweat forming on her forehead. She makes no attempt to wipe it away, only trying to force her breathing into a more steady rhythm. “It is going to be a bit tricky undo. I need to find what it is centered around.”

The vibrations stop, and he feels strangely empty when it’s gone.

“How?” Julian asks, and Yennefer smirks. She is indeed terrifying when she does that.

“I'm going to ask intrusive questions and you are going to answer them honestly.”

And she does. She asks about everything and nothing. When she asks him about his lute, he is surprised. He has a lute? Since when? Then he looks around the small hut and sees it standing in a corner. Not for the first time, he feels fear’s icy fingers grip around him.

Then she asks him about the songs, the poems, if he remembers where it all comes from. He finds he cannot answer.

“I have a theory,” Yennefer finally says, sipping her tea. “It is a little insulting if it is true, but nonetheless.”

“Let's hear it,” Julian replies, will he finally, finally know what’s happening to him.

“I think the curse makes you forget what you love most.”

Julian gapes. A million things run through his mind. A million things, his minds fingers grasping after them as they slip away.

“I can break it, but it will take some work. Do you want that?” She looks at him, he feels her in his head. He knows she has found his answer, but he says it anyway.

“Yes.”

~

Geralt hears bits and pieces from the conversation going on inside. He has taken the chair that Jaskier vacated, the sun warming his face in the breeze. Geralt tries not to listen in. Nothing good would come from hearing their conversation.

He focuses on the sea instead. On the gulls cry, on the roar of the waves, on the familiar lull of Jaskiers voice. It is peaceful. Quiet. If it wasn’t for the storm inside him, he would have been content.

Jaskier's eyes on him today, assessing him like he would a stranger in a tavern, it was… sad. Geralt misses his friend. And fears for him too. The scar that already mars his body, the curse, just being with Geralt puts him in danger.

What will happen next? When Jaskier remembers? What if he can’t remember, if Yennefer can’t break it? Geralt is not sure which is worse, but being forgotten hurts. There are many ways to lose a friend. But it stings even now, as he knows that the word friend is not enough. Not near enough.

Geralt has many friends. Many people he cherishes. But with Jaskier, it’s bigger. What he feels when he looks at him, it’s… frightening. He knows the word for it. It is waiting on the tip of his tongue, hidden behind firmly shut lips. The reason he needs to protect Jaskier.

Geralt falls into meditation easily. Their voices through the wall become a backdrop, his mind following the clouds instead of the raging sea. It soothes him to hear Jaskier again. Yennefer is right. It is not his decision to make.

Shame and fear drove him to this.

Geralt is selfish, he knows.

His medallion vibrates, a flash of light and the smell of sulfur breaks him out of meditation.

In the blink of an eye, Geralt is on his feet, sword in hand and heart in his throat. He sees no threat, senses no one else in the area, and slowly straightens again. Right.

So it’s done then.

This is when Jaskier leaves him, memories intact.

Silence reins inside the hut. Geralt doesn’t dare break it. He sits back down, leaning his head back against the wall. He closes his eyes and feels every emotion that rushes through him. All the what-ifs, all the if-nots.

Maybe Geralt should leave. He could leave, right now, and Jaskier wouldn’t get hurt because of him again.

Jaskier comes out of the hut, Yennefer close behind him. Geralt turns his head and looks at them, but says nothing.

Yennefer puts a hand on Jaskier's arm, squeezing it and smiling. Jaskier stands with his back turned, but Geralt thinks he is smiling too.

“I’ll be in town if you need me,” Yennefer says quietly. She turns, opens a portal, and then she is gone.

Once again silence sits between them, thick and heavy.

When Jaskier turns, he is frowning.

For a long moment, they just look at each other. Geralt feels locked in place, the roar of his emotions keeping him firmly stuck.

“Why?” Jaskier asks finally. He looks angry, hurt, disappointed.

“Because I can’t lose you,” Geralt says before he can stop himself. It is the truth anyway.

“So you let me forget?”

“To keep you safe.”

“Geralt. Do you know what the curse was?” Jaskier asks, and Geralt shakes his head. Jaskier presses his lips together into a thin line, another flash of anger behind those blue eyes.

“It made me forget what I love the most. Who I love the most.”

Geralt did….not expect that.

“Vital parts of me, gone. Do you know what it’s like to feel hollow inside, Geralt? To have a piece of yourself so thoroughly missing?” Jaskier's voice is calm, and Geralt can’t stand it.

Geralt swallows thickly and stands up, walking closer to Jaskier.

With one hand he grips Jaskier's chin and angles it up so that they look at each other.

“I do.” Geralt confesses. He is pain and fear and hurt and shuddering breaths and thunder and sadness.

It tears through him, and he lets himself feel it, show it, and Jaskier watches it all.

Jaskier loves him.

Jaskier forgot him.

Geralt let him.

“Why did you let me go?” Jaskier whispers, his own hurt and sadness and shuddering breaths falling from his lips. His hand comes up to wrap around Geralt's wrist, his eyes searching for the something hiding on the tip of Geralt's tongue.

“Because I… Because I love you,” Geralt says quietly, and the something builds. Builds and builds in his chest, so big that he can barely breathe. Geralt lets his other hand come up and cup Jaskier's cheek.

They are standing close together, the wind tearing at their clothes, but they are holding on to each other so tightly.

“Because I can’t stand to see you hurt, not because of someone like me.”

“Geralt-”

“Please let me say this. I think I need to tell you this.”

Jaskier nods and shuts his mouth, his hand on Geralt's wrist warm and grounding, keeping him steady.

“I am selfish, Jaskier.” It feels so good to say his name again. “The only way for me to let you go, I-”

He falters. It is hard to speak. Once again he admires Jaskiers ability to express himself.

“To forget me, to let you go this way was the safest way I knew how. It hurt me, but I could live with that pain if it meant that you are safe.”

Anger and hurt flashes in his eyes again.

“Geralt. She tooks my memories, yes, she made me forget all I love, all that brings me joy. Not just you. I forgot my name. My lute. My songs. My friends. One after another, they all faded away. Do you know how terrifying that is?”

With his words, Geralt grows cold. He didn’t realize it was so bad.

Let it hurt you like it hurt me.

It made perfect sense now. The spell was aimed at him, not Jaskier. And Jaskier has so much love in him.

“And I kept you from those things.” Geralt realizes with a shaky whisper. “I thought I could keep you safe, but I hurt you. Again. I don’t know how to keep you safe.” Jaskier smiles sadly at him and pushes their foreheads together.

“Idiot witcher,” He says, and Geralt closes his eyes. “Life isn’t safe. I am very angry with you for leaving me, Geralt. But I am incredibly happy you came back for me.”

“I almost didn’t.” Geralt confesses with a whisper, because he can’t seem to stop himself from hurting either of them. “I was so convinced that you were safer without me.”

“I probably would be,” Jaskier agrees, and the confirmation rips through him, sharper than any blade. “And you will never stop believing that. But you don’t get to make that choice for me. That choice is mine.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I think that is only the third time in my life I have heard you apologise,” Jaskier says, and Geralt can hear the teasing smile in his voice.

“I have something I need to say too, but I think you already know by now.”

Geralt swallows hard again, a roaring need rising in his chest.

“Would you look at me, Geralt?” Jaskier whispers, and he does. Their eyes lock, inches from each other, and Jaskier's grip on his wrist tightens. His eyes are so incredibly blue.

“I love you,” Jaskier tells him, smiling sadly again.

No, that sad smile is not allowed.

Geralt leans forward that last inch, tilting his head, closing that terrible distance.

It is soft and a little awkward. Jaskier kisses him back, lips dry and clinging to each other, but Geralt wants nothing else.

“Don’t ever let me forget again.” Jaskier whispers against his lips.

Geralt can do nothing but promise.

#memory loss #geraskier #light angst #the witcher #geralt x jaskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #julian alfred pankratz #dapanda writes #jaskier the bard #yennefer of vengerberg #getting together #difficult conversations

[cloudenthusiast2]

You meet a HQ volleyball team on your vacation #1

Length: 1500 words

Genre: a little fluff & slice of life

#1: Karasuno (beach)

You look up to the deep-blue sky, shadowing your eyes while searching for a cloud, but no matter how hard you tried, you can’t find any. No wonder why, it is the hottest day you’ve seen that summer. The air is heavy from the heat and your throat feels really dry even though you’ve drank from your bottle just a couple of seconds ago.

The beach is crowded as usual which makes you feel a little lonely. You try and not think about that as force your way through the people, fixing your eyes on the sea.

The aquamarine water in front of you seems so fresh, so inviting. You just can’t wait to get into it. You just can’t wait to sink into the infinite water and forget all about your worries and struggles, and actually enjoy your summer break.

You quickly throw your towel to an empty spot on the ground covered in sand, then stripped out of your clothes. Apply some sunscreen in a hurry, put your hair up in a ponytail then you start rushing towards the water.

As you get closer, it keeps getting bigger and now it’s the only thing you see. You instantly forget about everything, your grades that didn’t end up being good enough, your friends who didn’t even care to accompany you to the beach, your parents who have to work all day leaving you all alone at home…

And you’re ready to take the last step to jump into the water…

And your senses are blinded by the beautiful, luring water, so much that you don’t hear the alarming yell.

You only feel something, an unknown power harshly hitting your head. Then you lose your balance and everything goes black.

The first thing that reaches you in the blank darkness are the many different voices.

You’re hovering in the infinite black for a few seconds until their meaning finally gets to you. And suddenly, everything comes back.

You’re conscious now but – despite that your body immediately wants to move – you stay still, and continue to listen to those sounds.

– Bakageyama! Your toss was too low, I told you to bring it higher! – An excited voice claims loudly. – Now look at what you’ve done!

– It was your fault! – Retorts someone. – You can’t even handle my easiest tosses, idiot!

– Someone strangle these imbeciles – joins the dialogue a low voice who doesn’t sound like excited at all, almost like its owner was bored to death.

– Hinata! Kageyama! Calm down! – orders someone, while other sound like they’re holding back their laughter in the background.

– Is she gonna be okay, Suga? – asks someone in a worried, or rather scared tone.

– Stop shaking, Asahi, she’s fine. – The voice comes from directly above you, so suddenly that your heart skips a beat.

You open your eyes slightly so you can catch a glimpse of the guys around you.

The last words came from the boy kneeling next to you. He has silver hair and eyes – you state as you examine him through your eyelashes.

– Are you sure? Shouldn’t we take her to the infirmary?

– She’s gonna wake up in a minute, I’m sure – replies the silver-haired boy, Suga, then he turns at you.

You’re caught. It’s too late to close your eyes, so you just open them wide and look up to him. His whole face brightens up as he smiles at you.

– Good morning! Are you alright?

The whole group goes silent and everyone looks at you. You avert your eyes in fluster, then slowly nod. Although the back of your head does feel a little heavy where you got hit, it was bearable.

– Ah, good – sighs Suga but the tall, bearded man next to him looks even more relieved. – You scared us a little with your faint. Hinata, you should apologise for hitting her so badly!

– I’m really sorry! – An orange-headed little guy jumps in front of you and although he was arguing with his friend a few moments ago, he seems regretful now. – It was the low set, my hand slipped, I wasn’t aiming at you, I promise!

– I’m glad – you mutter, touching the back of your head. You feel really embarrassed as so many people are looking at you, but when you take a better look at them, they actually seem like nice people.

– I apologise too – says an older looking guy with a warm smile. He places his hands on Hinata’s and a grumpy looking, black-haired boy’s shoulders. – My kids can be quite feral.

– You’re not their dad… are you? – You instantly regret asking this stupid question from a guy who’s clearly in his late high-school years but luckily he just starts laughing along with some other boys.

– Daichi-san! He really is kinda our dad at this point! – yells a very short boy with his hands on his hips.

– Dadchi-san! – adds the guy wearing no shirt next to him.

– Well, I’m the captain of the team – explains Daichi kindly. – So you could say I’m some sort of leader figure.

– Team? What team? – you ask.

– Volleyball! – shouts Hinata. This one word is enough to make him so excited that he grabs your hand and makes you stand up. He points at the other side of the beach. – We play there, in groups of four! Kageyama and Suga-san are the setters and I’m the ace of our team…

– She’s probably not interested in this – interrupts a blonde guy whose voice you remember. When your eyes were closed, he sounded salty but actually seeing him up-close makes him look at least three times saltier. A tall, green-haired boy stands next to him, nodding to his words with a sweet smile. – Just let her go back to her group already.

– Ah, you’re right, Tsukishima! – agrees Suga to his words. – So? Where’s your group? We can walk you back.

– I- I came alone.

You hate to say that out loud. Now everyone will pity you and make your loneliness a hundred times worse.

You lower your head… Only to look up again when the orange boy next to you excitedly yells.

– Oh! Then she can join us!

You stare at him in disbelief but you’re the only one who’s surprised by his words.

– Good idea, Shoyo! – shouts the other short boy, then he points at himself. – My name is Nishinoya, the libero! Great to have you in the group!

– I don’t… I don’t want to be inconvenient… – you start stuttering.

– You’re not – smiles Suga –, it’s the least we can do for you after our children attacked you.

– But I’m really…

– Come on, we need one more player anyway since someone has to be the referee.

You try to refuse again but it’s actually harder this time. The idea of playing with them seems actually nicer and nicer with every passing moment. Volleyball was always much fun and the boys seem like a good company.

– I can teach you my Rolling Thunder if you play with us – says Nishinoya but the others instantly boo him.

– That won’t make her come!

– You know your thunder is just a regular receive, right, Noya-san? – asks Tsukishima with a contemptuous smirk.

– Don’t be cocky with your elders!

You can’t help but smile at them, then finally give with a nod. Tsukishima and Noya keep on arguing but the others ignore them and ask questions about you as they lead you to the volleyball net.

Hinata explains to you how playing in the sand is so different, Suga and Daichi ask how you do in school, even the bearded man, Asahi and the shy Yamaguchi tries to get to know you.

You soon begin to play beach volleyball and it has the same effect on you as the water. You really do forget about everything and have fun with the dorky boys who are really funny and amusing, even without realizing it.

Noya really tries the so called Rolling Thunder, but only half-succeeds since he fells into a sandcastle a little kid is building. They calm him down by giving him Kageyama’s milk which the setter is not particularly happy about. Yamaguchi tries a floating serve and starts happily blushing when he succeeds, immidiately turning to Tsukishima, who nods with a hidden smile. Suga teases Asahi so much, Daichi has to cut in. When Tanaka scores, he can’t rip off his shirt since he’s already shirtless, so as a compensation, he shouts so loudly that a kid nearby starts crying. It turns out it was the same child who’s castle was ruined, but the milk isn’t enough this time, so Hinata – who’s the best with children – and you have to play with him a little in the sand. Later you go back and with the help of the aspiring ace, you score a point and everyone cheers for you.

You only realise how much time you’ve spent with them when the sun starts setting down. You only realise how much you’ve enjoyed yourself with them. And how don’t feel alone on your vacation any more.

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #hq #hq x reader #karasuno #karasuno x reader #fluff #haikyuu fluff #hq/vacation/teams #haikyuu team #haikyuu karasuno

[drewstarkeys]

SWEET TO ME : JJ MAYBANK

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Summary: being JJ’s girlfriend comes with a lot of highs and lows, yet you stick with him throughout it all. Based off of Sweet to Me by Summer Salt.

- NOT MY GIF! ALL CREDITS TO THE OWNER -

“You’re so sweet to me.”

He had his arm wrapped around you as he let out a loud laugh at whatever John B was saying. His body was the only thing keeping you warm as you sat on the beach drinking warm beers in the cold air of early June.

You huffed after a breeze went by as you watched your skin litter with goosebumps from the cold air. The fire in front of you was dying off, which only added to your growing discomfort. You wished that you had dressed warmer but you hadn’t thought of that earlier when you chose a pair of shorts as your only cover-up over your bathing suit.

“Baby,” JJ whispered into your ear, “you cold?” He asked, his eyes meeting yours as you turned to look at him. You nodded at his question and in response, he pulled off the hoodie he was wearing and handed it to you with a small smile.

You thanked him by kissing his cheek, happily accepting the warmth that his hoodie was giving you, “I love you.”

“Will you be sour later?”

“JJ put the gun down or we’re done!” You yelled, glaring at the blonde in front of you. Anger was coursing through your veins as you stared at him and you could tell he was feeling the same way from how he ignored your request.

“Keep threatening that.” He spat back, still holding the gun tightly in his hand, “he touched you and he deserves what’s coming to him.” He added, glaring back at the girl.

Topper had gotten too friendly with you at a Kook party and when you told JJ, his first reaction was to grab the gun, despite all of your protests.

The two of you had been fighting for over twenty minutes, trying to find common ground but it was clear that both of you were too stubborn to give in.

“Let’s climb in our tree. Looking back, looking back, I remember. Stepping out on the moon.”

JJ was sitting on a tree branch holding his hands out to you, begging you to come up with him. He had his back rested against the trunk of the tree and looked as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

You were standing a few feet away from the tree with your arms crossed over your chest. As much as you trusted your boyfriend, you didn’t trust the tree. It was dark out and you were scared to slip and fall which would cause you to get hurt.

Finally, you gave in, letting the boy help you up onto the tree branch. He had placed a ladder next to the tree for easy access and you climbed it with ease, refusing to look down.

Time passed with the two of you on the tree, your back pressed into his chest as he leaned against the trunk and the two of you stared at the moon in silence.

Every now and then, he would kiss your cheek, mumbling about how he loved you and how lucky he was and you would answer in an equally sweet way.

“Back home where we’re from. Digging your company. Day has just begun.”

The morning sun had barely risen and yet you missed JJ. The two of you had gotten into a fight and he had chosen to sleep at John B’s instead of at your house so that the two of you could cool off.

You thought back to the night before when JJ told you that loving you was too scary, that he felt like he couldn’t take it anymore. You had originally tried to reason with him, but he mentioned wanting to break up and you had gotten upset.

You had told him that if he ended things the night before that you would never get back together. That threat was the only reason you two had stayed together, JJ knew that he couldn’t lose you for real.

Your hand ghosted over your phone on the nightstand and texted your boyfriend, giving him a small apology and asking him to meet up. You missed him and wanted to make up with him more than anything.

“Nowadays the waves ride high as we crash on the ocean floor. Dusting off the daisy chain you wore.”

You watched your boyfriend hit a wave the wrong way and he was quickly flipped off the board, falling into the water. You stood up off the sand to look for him, considering it wasn’t usual for JJ to take a hard spill like he just did.

Once he popped back up, you let out a sigh of relief, watching as he swam back towards the shore and came out of the water. He made his way over to you and dropped the board down, a frown evident on his face after his last fall.

“Baby,” you pouted, looking at the small scratches that littered his back. It was clear that he had hit a rock or a group of rocks from his fall, “you were doing so good before that. Don’t worry about it.”

He sighed, clearly not happy with himself, “I’ve got a surfing competition in two days, I need to win to get that money. I can’t win if I’m not surfing at my best potential.”

You played with the shark tooth necklace that hung from his neck as you listened, feeling bad for him. You could hear the stress in his words and just wanted to be there for him, “I’ll be on that beach cheering you on the whole time.” You answered, leaning up to kiss him.

“When life was new and strange. Taking us back for a change.”

“Remember the first time I told you I loved you?” He asked you softly as your head lay on his chest.

You smiled at the memory even though it was bittersweet. You had gone to his house to check on him after he said he needed to talk to his dad and had walked in on him in the bathroom, laying on the floor. He had been beaten up and you were terrified, quickly running to him and asking him if he was okay, despite the fact that he wasn’t. After a few minutes of comforting him, he let the words slip, telling you that he loved you more than anything. “Yeah, how could I forget the best day of my life?”

The blonde smiled at your words, “my heart was beating so fast at that moment, I thought. would pass out. I just needed to let you know how I felt about you.” He answered, his hands playing with yours as he spoke.

“So sweet to me. Bringing treats back from the food trailer.”

He ran up to you with a wide smile on his face, grabbing your hand to pull you along with him as he ran for the boat. You laughed at his actions but ran with him nonetheless.

When you guys arrived at the Pogue, he was quick to open up a cooler he had, bragging about all the snacks that he forced Kiara and Pope to help him make. You smiled at how proud he was, pulling him in for a kiss, “I love you so much.” You whispered against his lips.

“I love you more, baby.” He said, pulling away for a second to look at you as he spoke. He paused for a second, looking down as he took a shaky breath, “I think I want to marry you someday.”

You smiled brightly at his words, he wasn’t always the most expressive with words but right now he was and you appreciated every single word that he was saying.

“I could leave you a key. Kicking back, feeling lazy. Tripping around the house.”

You and JJ were sitting at your kitchen table, listening to some quiet music as you talked about your favorite show, still trying to convince him to watch it.

“Oh, wait!” You exclaimed suddenly, “stay here.” You added, running up to your room to grab the gift that you had gotten for him.

It wasn’t until you reached the kitchen again that you started to get nervous, it was a big gift and you hoped that you weren’t going to overstep anything with the gift.

“Close your eyes,” you mumbled, watching as he closed his eyes and held his hands out. You smiled as you placed the small object in his hands, “open them.”

JJ opened his eyes and looked down, scrunching his eyebrows in confusion but a small smile was resting on his face. “A key?” He asked, not sure what it was for.

“In case you ever need somewhere to go, you’re already welcome here whenever but I wanted to remind you of that.” You answered softly, watching as JJ’s smile grew bigger from your words.

“You’re amazing,” he said, pulling you into a tight hug. “Thank you.”

“Been away too long. Spinning me all your love. Though I’m lost and gone, nowadays you’re still my partner in crime, my cherry lime.”

“They’re gone,” he sobbed into your arms, trying to pull you even closer to him, despite how close the two of you already were, “I want them back.”

You sniffled, knowing what he was talking about. Sarah and John B had disappeared over a week ago and JJ seemed to be taking it the hardest. John B was his best friend since the third grade and he didn’t know what to do without him.

“Promise me,” he said, a sob interrupting his words, “promise me you won’t leave me too.” He begged, pulling away to look at you.

His eyes were bright and watery as he stared at you, silently begging you to give him the confirmation he needed. You hated when he cried but whenever he did, his eyes would turn the brightest blue and you would fall even more in love with them.

“I’m never leaving you, I love you, JJ.” You whispered, pulling him back into your arms as he continued to cry.

“Shaking out the stereo with songs we used to know and sing. Taking us back for a change.”

Two months after the “death” of John B and Sarah Cameron and things were slowly starting to become okay again. Obviously it wasn’t the same without them, but JJ was starting to become happier, he was even starting to sing along to the songs on the radio again.

You two were currently working on fixing the twinkie, repairing the windshield, wheels, and more. It was one of the few things you had left of John B and the two of you were dead set on cleaning it up to use it again.

One of JJ’s favorite songs came on through the speaker you two had set up and he moved away from the twinkie, pulling you up with him, “dance with me!” He suggested, pulling you closer to his chest.

You laughed but complied, putting your head on his shoulder and swaying with him to the music, just happy that your boyfriend was smiling again. It may have taken a while but you wouldn’t change it for the world.

“I love you.” You mumbled, turning and kissing him on the cheek, watching as a blush spread over his cheeks at your words. Despite how many times you told him those words, they always seemed to affect him.

“I love you too.” He answered, “thank you for always sticking with me, through everything.”

#outer banks #jj maybank #jj x reader #jj imagine #obx jj #jj maybank imagine #rudy pankow #outer banks imagine #outer banks fic

[okaybutlikeimagine]

Forever’s Not So Long

(hi, major apologies but I actually wrote something canon compliant and it hurt lol. also preface: this is not me advocating for or demeaning religion or Catholicism. my family is Catholic but I don’t call myself religious. I just listened to DeVotchKa and cried over Billy)

TW: mentions of Catholicism, questioning religion, implied/referenced domestic abuse, implied/referenced child abuse, major character death

(it’s also on AO3 if you’d rather read it there)

---

Billy never understood it: going to church every Sunday when he had cartoons and corn flakes and PJs at home. He never understood having to wear his fanciest, itchiest shirt, especially because only the one would do so his mother had to wash it and iron it every week- even though she burned herself on the iron a handful of times through all her distractions. He never understood wanting to go somewhere where they told you what to do. It was all they ever did there, and there were few things he hated more than being told what to do. Stand and sit and stand and kneel and sit and stand and sing and speak speak speak. There were too many words he didn’t understand. There were too many people talking at once. There was too much and yet not enough going on to the point that he felt under stimulated and overwhelmed and desperate to crawl out of his skin and that incredibly itchy shirt.

There was no sense to be found in his grandmother either, and the way she clutched at her bible on her way to church. They used to drive her every Sunday, but then they moved further away and trips to church got less and less frequent until they stopped altogether. Still, she walked herself to church every week, some weeks every day. Billy only knew because his mother complained and worried herself sick over it. His grandmother insisted she wanted to. She had to.

“Just because you lost your devotion doesn’t mean I’ll lose mine.”

It took a couple years for Billy to understand the words.

And still it was nonsensical. So many questions of why sped through his head.

Billy would spend some weekends at his grandmother’s house and on those weekends, she’d drag Billy to church with her small wrinkled hand on his limp and sore arm. It didn’t matter how old he got- he was 9 and insisting his parents had let him stay home before and still she made him walk with her there. Stand and sit and stand and kneel and sing and speak and speak and speak.

“It’s good for you.” She insisted. Billy thought wistfully of TV and his grandmother’s pet cat that would lay next to him on the couch.

And on those Sundays, as Billy stood bathed in the bright light of the morning sun slipping through the colorful windows, somewhere in the middle of all those serious people, in his itchiest shirt that had wrinkles in it because his mother had been too sad to work the iron lately... his grandmother wept. Every time. Wept silently, tears spilling down her cheeks in rivulets of quiet emotion Billy couldn’t understand for the life of him. Eyes shining brightly, drowning in something indistinguishable, speaking the same words as everyone with a hushed voice like a promise to the world or herself or maybe someone Billy couldn’t see.

Billy never understood. More than that- he never forgave. He couldn’t help but turn angry eyes onto the building around them and the man at the front and the book gripped tightly in her hands. Too many factors in his grandmother’s anguish over something he couldn’t even understand.

But some moments etched themselves in Billy’s mind, and brought themselves to light on quieter days, in quieter moments of reflection and wondering. Moments when she would grasp his face… when she held out her shaking hands and stilled them on his cheeks, wet with tears because he was just a toddler and he watched a cat die in the street and he couldn’t understand. When she looked deep into his eyes and mumbled something that sounded like one of those promises and shed a tear for him and pulled him close. When she brought him over to light a candle to whisper a promise. When she gripped his shoulder and guided him to the kitchen to get a treat. When she prayed over her ice cream and over his too… maybe it made sense.

The time she introduced him to friends at church that smiled bright and friendly smiles and said “what a good kid”. The time she guided him through the church in the early morning when they got there before the service and she explained every picture and every story. The time she made him that fish pot pie that warmed him up from the inside out, because Easter was quickly coming and she explained why they couldn’t eat meat as they sat in front of the window and listened to the rain.

All the times she gripped her beaded cross over his bedside when he would fall ill, and closed her eyes tightly and rocked back and forth with it when one of the sicknesses got more serious. When he recovered just fine, and she laid a necklace with a woman on it over his neck and onto his chest- that same woman he saw everywhere in the church, the Mother. And then she looked at him with teary eyes and a watery smile as she allowed him to run off to play.

Maybe… maybe then, it made sense. In fractured moments of love and cherish, he could understand somewhere inside of him. Sometimes the devotion he saw in her eyes and felt in her actions made his heart feel right in ways words couldn’t describe. And those times, he could almost understand, as her passionate belief licked his wounds.

And he tried to hold onto that. Damn did he try to hold onto it- he’ll tell that to anyone. But it angered him still. Kind and beautiful moments never overshadowed the pain. It drove him wild with confusion and sadness and maybe something close to fear if he thought about it. At times he saw her as a woman possessed- obsessed and clinging to words and wishes and pleas of humanity. She clung to her book instead of taking her medicine. She yelled at his mother as she cried to her, begging her to listen. She walked and walked and walked even when she could barely keep herself up. She accepted rides only when she was begged to.

She gave her book to Billy’s mother one morning, after she had finally convinced them all to join her at church again. She handed it over with shaking hands and healthy eyes- healthier than Billy had seen them in a long time. Bright and clear. A smile that was a comfort. A look that was so serene.

She died suddenly the next day. His mother got a call from the neighbor who had gone over to check on her and ask if she wanted some baked goods. His mother wept the rest of the day and tried desperately to hide her tears behind smiles in front of Billy.

And Billy feared the book. Then he hated it. Then… he craved it.

A classmate mentioned the death of her own mother in class. She walked like she was in shock still. There was sadness in her movements. Billy learned the word “mourning”. He felt the despair encapsulate his heart as if he was mourning too- could imagine the pain and the sorrow and feared ever losing his mother. He remembered when his grandmother helped him understand death, so he wandered to his parent’s room and over to the book. He snuck in and stole it away and read what he could- the start of the world and the good deeds and the stories his grandmother once told him in the church.

He read about sacrifice.

Seven feet…

He read about hope.

You told her…. The wave was seven feet.

He read about humanity, and compassion, and understanding.

You ran to her… On the beach.

And he wanted that with him.

Yelling matches began. Infrequent until they weren’t. Crashing and shattering began. Quiet until it wasn’t- until it made its way nearer and nearer to his room. Until words became wails of despair and agony to “stay away from him”. When Billy began to clutch the book in shaking hands, began to rock back and forth, began to mumble words to himself he still wasn’t sure he understood.

Until he started taking sacrifice seriously. When his mind decided things were literal.

Stop it! Don’t hurt her!

Because she sacrificed. He heard so much. He figured sacrifice happens in lots of ways, in many forms. And he could sacrifice, too- get between it as well as his small body would allow. For the good in the world, and he saw a lot of good in the world, and she was the brightest.

So he could sacrifice.

But then she stopped. The book didn’t prepare him for when she would give up.

He wrestled with it for years.

How long? How long?! I miss you…

He thought sacrifice was a thing that always happened for the good. She told him he was all the good in the world- he was the sun and the moon and the stars and the Earth. He was every fantastical being. He was the light in her days.

But then she was gone- in a sudden and dizzying whirl of memories and pain, she became intangible. He watched, tired and dizzy from sleep, in the late late hours of the night as a cab raced her away from their home and into the darkness. It was an attempt to sneak away. Not even one last hug.

She left without her son, and Billy couldn’t fight the thoughts that in her flight, he became her last sacrifice.

I don’t understand… why not? Please Mom, don’t do this…

And he fought with himself more than anyone. In less than a month he was dodging jeers and anger and resentment and pain. He found himself mourning. He clung to the book while his ears rang from the yelling. He clutched it with red and shaking hands, clawing into the cover with desperation. He held it to his chest and begged for it to help him. He laid in bed and listened closely for the sound of the liquor bottles being slammed onto counters and he held the book. He mumbled the words he knew. He wondered if his grandmother could hear him up in the better place- if she was disappointed that he got the words wrong or just proud of him for trying.

Phone calls were frequent until they weren’t. Bruises weren’t frequent until they were. Billy clutched at his chain and the pendant and let hot tears hit his arms for the only Mother he had left.

And then the anger rose again. He quickly realized how he never forgave, and never should. How he couldn’t. Tears to books weren’t worth it- they only wrinkled the pages and blurred the words.

Sacrifice wasn’t worth it. Not when it involved leaving him in hell anyway.

Loud music drowned it out. He could make his ears ring all on his own.

Fights numbed it. He could bruise his body up on his terms, or bruise another body just the same.

Pushing away feelings fixed it. It can’t hurt to be someone’s sacrifice if you don’t care about them.

There were seagulls.

And he didn’t care.

He shoved the book in the back of his closet. He berated himself for ever thinking the words were real. He kicked himself for believing words and pleas were safeguards against anything physical. He sat and wondered to himself angrily, angry as all of Hell and every wretched being inside it, how he could remember his grandmother’s empty tears and think it was sane. Think it was reasonable. How he could experience her death and think it was understandable.

Fuck feelings and wanting and pleading. He didn’t care.

Not then.

But now...

She wore a hat… with a blue ribbon.

Now now now...

A long dress… with a blue and red flower.

Days have been gray for years. He also left his sun. He didn’t pack it with him.

She left him then she left him and then he left her too. Left it all behind.

Y-yellow sandals… covered in sand.

But he never found a way to leave behind the memories. Even when they fade in pulses, they don’t leave him. In the dark of night, he sees them. In the light of day, he sees them. In the sunshine and the shadows.

He sees them now.

She was pretty.

He sees her and her smile. Feels her and her warmth. His body has been so cold for so long… has been freezing for days but maybe also for years. He’s been cold for so long. But the chill of the ocean that he remembers like he turned 9 only yesterday… he remembers that differently. He remembers that’s different.

Her laugh is a song and her eyes hold prayers. The sand is so soft beneath his feet. The seagulls are calling him home.

He feels tears and he sees them too… on another face, bloodied and saddened and desperate as the flames of Hell themselves. Desperate, perhaps more like the clouds of a more promising place, beckoning him to something better.

Maybe desperate like the Earth. Like the trees and the leaves and the grass. Desperate like a human.

She was really pretty.

Yes… yes she was.

She was the sun… she was the sun and the moon and the stars and the Earth. She was every fantastical being. She was the light in his days.

And just because light fades, doesn’t mean it can’t come back. The book has told him. Told him light can return. Told him light is there if you only search for it. Told him sacrifice is for light.

Oh god that book… Where is it....

He’s been in the darkness for days. Weeks months years. There’s been so little light. But there was one… one that came into his mind when he was wallowing and forgetting himself. A girl, who held her hand out and looked at him like a human. Made him feel human for the first time in a long while. Let him shed a tear before the monster took over him. Let him show her all the fears of his life.

And that light is here now, talking him out of himself… now now now-

And you… you were happy.

Yes.

Sacrifice is for others. Sacrifice is for those who depend on you.

Sacrifice is for the light brushing his cheek. For the child in his heart still, begging in pleas he’s borrowed from his grandmother.

He stands on shaking legs, with the light of the sun in his heart and with hot tears filling his eyes, and he wishes with all of him that he had that book. His fingers twitch at the memory of feeling it in his hands. His heart lurches at all the memories- memories of women who held him close and begged to some invisible force that his life be easy.

He remembers, briefly and vaguely, the pleas of his grandmother. That he be happy and healthy and safe. That life be easier for him than any of them because he deserved it. She begged and pleaded all the time. She hoped and she wished.

His body aches standing here, staring down the monster that mirrors the evil that’s taken over his body and made it its own. And still, he’s within himself again. He sees it as clearly as he can with tears and with headaches and with every last memory and every last strike of pain.

There’s fear coursing through him… but that’s what comes with sacrifice. He knows that better than anyone, he thinks. He allows himself that last, tiny bit of selfishness.

Sacrifice isn’t easy. It’s pain and it’s fear- it’s the worry that maybe it won’t work. Maybe it won’t be worth it. Maybe the pain searing his hands at holding every evil thing back is only giving mere seconds of grace before the world ends anyway, putting all his actions in vain.

But this monster is him too. It’s the thing consuming him. With every strike it takes to his body, it’s attacking itself, and he knows this. Even mere seconds of grace can be worth it… maybe sacrifice isn’t always about success, just for the chance of hope. Isn’t that right? Just for a chance...

It’s violent… does sacrifice always have to be so violent?

His body falls… does sacrifice always have to end with someone fallen?

There are shrieks, distant and muffled…

Light fades and enters and fades, pressure appears on his arms and his name is being spoken. His mind briefly registers the face, the face of a girl he’s sacrificed himself for enough times he couldn’t count. A girl he’s stood in front of, metaphorically, to block any pain from reaching her. A girl he’s inflicted pain on, despite.

“I’m sorry.” is all he can force out, even through the desperation licking at him to say more. Say it all. Say everything.

In his last breath, the pain fades until all he can feel is the stickiness of the pendant on his sweaty and broken chest- the Mother pressed to him.

And he thinks of his grandmother. Thinks and wonders, with the wispy, fleeting thoughts going dark and black… thoughts of a place of hope and how his grandmother must be there- waiting with her clear eyes and kind smile and shaking hands to help him through it. To grab his arm and show him around. Just like she always did.

He wonders if he should thank her for the book.

#Billy Hargrove #Stranger Things #fic #writing #major character death #religion #angst #uhhhhhhh #i'm sorry? LMAO #i'm writing fluffier things i SWEAR #i've got a year old project i'm still working on for my beautiful friend #i just heard this song and i wrote this in a fit #in a daze #i had to get it out of my system #canon compliant #canon compliance fuckin sucks my dudes #also like.... don't let the pope come after me for this LOLLL #i'm not trying to make a big statement about religion #or offend anyone #i just wanted to talk about my own reflections on religion through the pain of Billy #bc it's so interesting to think about him and his mother #and also him and religion #and how it must all feel for him #y'know?????? #anywayyyyy #i'm sorry i've been gone so long i've been struggling a fuckin lot okay bye

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

Empires on the Horizon XVI

Jason is a CEO: Part XVI

okay wow it has been a hooottt minute since i’ve updated a multi-chap fic and an even hotter minute since i’ve updated this one. so here’s a recap:

jase and zoe broke up, because she is being forced by her father to marry someone else (who that may be is yet to be revealed). jason has finally had enough and at the insistence of his friends he packs up on a holiday to Panarea (in italy) where he is delightedly shocked to discover Percy Jackson is currently working, and oh no.....would you look at that......the hotel messed up their reservations and now they have to share the same room, and the same bed. lmao they’re dorks.

here’s how the last chapter ended:

“Let’s just stay together? We’re friends. We know each other, we trust each other, and it’ll be less hassle than trying to find a room for either of us.”

“But there’s only one bed?” His brain was short-circuiting.

It shut down altogether when the man before him smirked. “Well i can keep my hands to myself, if you promise to.”

“I-” What is stopping him from saying yes? Why should he say no?

“It’s totally okay if you don’t want to.” Percy’s expression was so gentle, and it turned every weathered rock in Jason to gemstone.

“Yes.” He said firmly. “Let’s share the room.”

It was only when they got back to the hotel did Jason realise they were still holding hands. He wondered if they’d find each other like that in their dreams too. They did.

masterlist; my links

Jason awoke to an arm slung over his waist and soft breaths fanning the bare skin of his back. Bright sunlight streamed through the windows, bringing with it the heat that was sure to get unbearable. He thought he’d feel uncomfortable with someone touching him in weather like this but Percy seemed to be cool, and gods did he look cute with his messy black curls, and brown skin that absorbed rays of light and turned it into magic.

They had promised each other that they’d keep to their sides of the bed and refrain from mauling one another in the night, but it seemed like they had gravitated together anyhow. And Percy was certainly a cuddler. 

A knock sounded and with groaning realisation he saw the clock on the wall read ten am. They were out later than either of them had realised. 

“Jackson,” He nudged the man gently, “I think you need to get up.”

A mumbled response sunk into his skin as soft lips brush against his back. Jason went completely still, the sensation running along his nerves like hot wires. 

“You okay?” Another mumble filtered through his delirium. 

“I’m fine,” He managed to choke out, “I think we need to get up though. Room service is already here.”

That sparked movement. Suddenly green eyes were wide open, and cheeks, streaked with the creases of the pillow, were red with panic. “What is the time?” 

“It’s ten am,” He pointed to the clock. 

“Fuck!” Percy practically leaped out of bed and slammed his shoulder into the door frame as he skidded into the bathroom.

Jason heard the shower go on, and an electric toothbrush whirr to life, and then he heard a multitude of curse words, a loud bang and some groans of pain.

“Er,” He should go in there and make sure his friend was still alive. “Jackson?” He stepped into the bathroom and was not at all prepared for the sight that greeted him.

There, tangled in his pants, toothpaste stains on his face, and the shower soaking the bathroom floor was Dr. Percy Jackson.

“Do you need help?”

“This is not how this morning was supposed to go,” The dark-haired man garbled, looking hopelessly at the mess he had created.

Jason hid a smile as he bent down to help tug Percy’s pants off him, “And how was the morning supposed to go.”

Green eyes clashed with his, the toothbrush still whirring in his mouth. “I was supposed to wake up early and order a buffet for breakfast and then as we stuffed ourselves-” he cut off, choking on the toothpaste. 

Jason couldn’t hide his amusement, and burst out laughing at Percy’s subsequent glare. Standing up and tossing the pants in the wash basket, he offered his hand to his friend, who took it gratefully before heading to the sink to finish brushing his teeth.

“What were we going to do while we ate?” He asked, leaning against the basin, one leg crossed over the other.

“I was going to feed you maple-covered waffles and answer some emails, and you were going to read that book I know you brought.”

“Are we an old married couple in this scenario?” He quirked a brow, lips twitching.

Percy frowned, stripping off his underwear and stepping into the heat of the shower. “I’m just trying to start our future early.” 

Jason watched those glorious back muscles ripple, as water streaked down, but he refused to follow its path, not daring to go lower than the small dip of that spine. He didn’t even know why he was still in the bathroom, why he was being such a creeper, but his feet were superglued to the floor. He couldn’t move even if a crowbar tried to pry him away.

“Are you not agreeing with my vision?” A muffled voice drifted around him.

He attempted to come back to reality but it was proving near impossible. “Uh no-” He stuttered, “I think it’s a solid plan.” His eyes traced the sharp angles of that jaw, and the strong-bridged nose, and black hair matted to beautiful brown skin. He was sure he was dreaming. There could be no other explanation for the surrealness of the moment.

“Jase?” Percy touched his arm gently, skin hot from the shower. “You okay?”

He startled into the world so fast he felt dizzy. Where on earth had he gone? To another dimension it seemed. “Oh gods i’m so sorry,” He groaned, dropping his face into his hands. “I just watched you shower like a complete pervert.”

His friend smirked, and then he was laughing. “Who says i didn’t enjoy it?”

The blush that raced across his skin was enough to dull rubies. He didn’t know where to look, or how to breathe, or what he was made of. He was simply an untied balloon barreling towards the nearest thorn bush. “You,” He managed to choke, “Are going to be the death of me doctor.”

“Good,” He heard the smirk like violins, “Maybe then I won't feel like I'm falling straight to the bottom of the ocean all by myself.”

Jason peeked through his fingers, watching as Percy finished up and flitted around the room, trying to still the heart that threatened to beat out his rib cage and into a drum set. It was an ache in his chest, how much he felt for this man. How much he wanted him.

“So i’m going to be in and out for the next few days but i’m going to work my butt off so i can have Thursday and Friday off. I’m sorry for being a terrible roommate but i don’t think i’ll make meals until then.” He could see the regret in the doctor’s eyes, turning that vibrant green a shade like dying leaves.

“No,” He shook his head, “Seriously it’s not a problem. You do what you have to.” He couldn’t believe his friend felt bad for leaving him, when they hadn’t even known they’d be here together. It said enough about Percy's character that Jason was trying very hard not to bundle the man up in blankets and kiss his cheeks until the guilt of the past stopped carving valleys between his brows. Instead he hugged him, accidentally letting his lips brush against Percy's neck, just above his collar as he pulled away. Accidentally. The squeeze at his waist let him know his accident was well received.

“Goodbye Jackson.” He smiled as he watched the doctor race down the hall. A ringed wave was the response before he disappeared around the corner.

Jason closed the door, leaning against it with an expression made from coffee foam and whipped cream. He couldn't imagine a morning as peaceful as that one, not in days, months, years? With a satisfied sigh he flopped back into bed, inhaling the ocean scent of Percy that lingered across the sheets like cool waters on a summer evening. The plan for the day was that there was no plan. Thalia had chosen well by booking this little place. He wouldn’t be distracted by touristy things ergo he couldn’t possibly do anything else but relax. So he snuggled into the pillows and stared at the ceiling and fell half asleep and listened to the wind and felt the heat creep across his skin and he just let himself be.

His thoughts were as wild as the tides and sometimes they spilled like ocean water across his cheeks. But then he’d drift off to a dream and wake up to the sound of people laughing and cars sputtering and footsteps stomping past his door and all of a sudden nothing felt too far away.

He was sad. He was sad enough to wonder if sadness was all he knew. His ex boyfriend, who he had loved like stars loved darkness, had broken down his dream and rebuilt it as a nightmare. He managed to wake up. His girlfriend, who he could have loved given time, had tied all the fraying parts of his heart to the wheel of a car and pressed accelerate. He managed to cut himself free. His girlfriend, who he had loved outright and bold, had danced him to the edge of a cliff and left him with one foot already going over. Had he managed to catch himself before reaching the bottom?

It was a question that kept him occupied through the day. Through the breakfast he ate slowly. Through the sleep he found restlessly when his mind wouldn’t focus on the book he’d brought. Through the very late lunch he gobbled down like his stomach would start a rebellion if it didn’t get it’s due. Through the golden sunset he sat at the window and watched.

But it was finally when he sunk to the floor of the shower, letting the water hit his back like welcome rain, that he had an answer; and with it the question of “What came next?” That answer, he knew, would come later. Clear and bright and ready to be grabbed with teeth and hands and love.

So he finished his shower, and changed into loose cotton pants and a shirt that he didn’t bother to button. A walk on the beach didn’t require formality.

The sand was soft on his feet, different to the way New York beaches felt. And the ocean was a richer blue, as if he were being introduced to colour for the first time and this was how water was supposed to look. He supposed places like this weren’t called paradise on earth for nothing. The last dregs of sunlight skittered across the water, as if playing with it. His fingers itched to paint the scene but with nothing but the sand at his fingertips he simply took in the view, and let his mind form the painting he couldn’t.

The air was cooler here, not as sticky, but that didn’t mean the heat wasn’t ever present, scorching the sand like coal hearths. His feet would be blistered if it weren’t so late into the evening. Any earlier and he may have been hopping around like a scared crab. The image was enough to make him giggle to himself. It’s a sound he misses, and one he loved enough to leave him smiling.

“Care to share, comedian?” A smooth voice called from behind him. 

He turned around, whipped faster than the wind, to see Percy walking towards him, a grin on his handsome face.

“I was picturing myself as a scared crab.”

Dark eyebrows raised in confusion, before rich laughter burst into the air. Jason swore it turned the night into magic. “Maybe I should have left you in peace.” The doctor shook his head. 

“Who says you’re disrupting it?” He tilted his head, before starting on his walk once more.

He didn’t see the look that crossed his friend’s face, like comfort turned to being.

“What did you do today?”

“Self reflection,” He said into the air, into the world, into himself. “How about you?”

“Oh you know, a little lab work here, a little analysis there.” Percy shrugged.

“Tell me more,” He prompted.

The look of surprise on his friend’s face made him want to throttle anyone who’s ever stopped this man from talking.

“You sure?” It was hesitant, it was heartbreaking.

“I can’t promise to understand everything so I may have questions but if you’re willing to indulge me I want to hear all about it.”

With a look that spoke of worlds beyond their comprehension Percy launched into a detailed play-by-play of his day. He answered every question with patience and sparkling eyes, and there were many questions. By the time they got back to their hotel the crescent moon was their only source of light in the inky blackness of the sky and his stomach was growling enough that he knew he couldn’t afford to snack for supper.

“Want to go to the restaurant for dinner?” He tilted his head to the opposite side of the lobby where grand doors opened and closed periodically. 

“I uh,” His friend winced, “I have some work today so i’m going to head to the room.”

“Okay,” He shrugged smiling, “I’ll meet you up there later.”

“Uh yea,” Percy’s face held an expression he didn’t quite know how to interpret. “See you then.”

“Want me to bring something up for you?”

“No, no, don’t worry about me.” Black curls bounced as he shook his head. 

They parted ways, Jason only slightly confused by the weird turn his friend’s mood took, and decided he’d bring back a chocolate brownie if nothing else.

As he sat down at a table, observing the grand balustrades and curtained windows he felt suddenly alone. It wasn’t a feeling he let himself be consumed by but just the fact that it was there had him reaching for his phone. With a few taps he was calling Leo, knowing it’d be early morning for them.

“Hello,” A cheery voice crackled through his earphone. It was enough to settle all the worried nerves hidden between his ribcage.

Their conversation was bright and energetic, Leo being a morning person; he even got a few grunts out of Annabeth, who was decidedly not. Everything was okay with his company and more importantly his friends were fine.

“I found a person we know here,” He mumbled, trying to keep his voice and excitement quiet.

“Who?” Leo was practically vibrating. Even Annabeth looked at the camera with blurry eyed curiosity.

“Uh Percy.” He scratched the back of his neck, shyness crawling across his skin.

“Oh,” His friend’s eyes widened. “What is he doing there?”

“Work,” This was fine. This was safe. Nobody was jumping to any conclusions.

“Are you sure you didn’t run away to get married?”

And there went all his hope of having reasonable friends. “No!” He hissed. “And besides I didn't run away, you guys forced me to go.”

“Well it’s done you good. I can finally see some colour in those pasty cheeks.” Brown eyes sparkled with mischief. 

Before Jason could respond another call was interrupting. “Zoe Nightshade” flashed across the screen.

“Uh Leo,” He frowned at his phone. “I’ll call you back.”

“Everything okay?” He heard the worry like tv static.

“I hope so.” The furrow between his brows didn’t disappear. 

And then he hung up on his best friend and answered the other call.

“Oh Jason,” Relief flooded in his ear like water in a drought. “Thank you for answering.” The smooth voice of his ex-girlfriend reached him.

“Zoe,” His nerves were bow-string taught. “What’s wrong? Why are you calling me?”

“I need your help.” She answered. She sounded desperate. “I can’t marry Octavian.”

Jason Grace nearly falls off the cliff.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Tags (if you want to be added/taken off the tag list just let me know. All my channels of communication are open):

@lesbian-peanuts​

@leyontheway​

@queen-of-demons-and-hell​

@msdrpreist​​

@sparkythunderstorm​

@nishlicious-01​

@lucyisblue​

@legendary-cupcake​

@larrikin-is-a-himbo​

#empires on the horizon #part 16 #pjjg fanfic #pjjg series #jercy #jercy fanfic #jason grace #percy jackson #grace #percy #jackson #jason #i loved searching for moodboard images for this one #i got to stare at muscles and hands for hooouurrrssss

[drunkhemingway]

Sorry, did someone say “A Zutara selkie AU that nobody asked for?”

I thought I heard that, so find it on AO3 or below the cut.

sealskin and saltwater

Summary: Katara wonders, for the first time in her life, if this is what drowning is like.

There is a storm the night she is born.

Outside the caves, the sea rages and the wind howls in times with her mother’s cries. The aunts and grandmothers gather around and pet her mother’s hair as the labor wracks her body. The storm quiets for only a moment as she slips from her mother’s womb. Her mother baptizes her in saltwater and names her Katara.

***

For the first long span of her life she knows nothing but the warm caves where the tribe sleeps and the joy of playing in the waves and the lazy contentment of sunning on rocks. Her father teaches her to hunt in the shallows where the fish are plentiful, and her mother teaches her to weave shells into her hair, and her brother shows her the places where the shiniest rocks can be found. When storms toss the waves high above her head and lightning spikes and twists in tempestuous patterns, Katara is not afraid.

“The sea keeps us safe,” her father tells her. “And the sea will always bring you home.”

Katara and Sokka go to a beach covered in sea glass and shed their pelts while they collect blue and green pieces of sparkle to bring back to Kya.

She hugs them fiercely close, and tells them, “Never leave your pelt unguarded. Never, never.” Katara does not understand why this is important, but she promises anyway.

She understands, later, when Kya sheds her pelt and then does not return. Hakoda searches the beaches for weeks, and it is only when the winter storms come that he returns to the caves and admits defeat.

Katara and Sokka sing a mourning song. Hakoda listens to their cries and refuses to hunt.

Days pass. Kya does not come home.

Hakoda sings a song of lamentation and loss and unbearable pain; then he slips into the sea, and Katara does not see her father again.

***

The world of men is cruel, and rough, and unyielding. Katara knows this. But the best sunbathing is on the beach where men’s scent lays heavy, and the winter has been long and harsh.

She tells Sokka she is going. He cannot drum up the energy to care. He is wooing a female from another tribe, and he is focused on that. “Sure,” he says, and she takes that as permission.

Katara sheds her pelt when she hits the rocks. She hides it carefully, always. She remembers her mother, remembers the whispered words of caution while Kya brushed out her hair. Katara remembers her mother, who was strong and brave and beautiful and never came home. Katara will not be captured.

She sunbathes on the beach that is heavy with the scent of men, and does not fear them. It is the cold season, when the storms rage and the surf beats angrily against the shore. They are almost never on the beach during this weather; and if they were, Katara knows that she can grab her pelt and dive into the sea, and the sea will take her home. She is never unsafe while her toes dangle in saltwater. The sun is wan and thin and gray, but it feels warm and nurturing after so many months in her tribe’s caves. Katara basks in the glow of the winter rays and thinks that she should go across the sea, where she hears there are golden beaches that are warm and drenched in sun all year round.

It is then, naked and relaxed and daydreaming, that she sees him. He is tall, pale even by the standards of men. His hair is dark like the ink of a frightened squid, like the depths of the sea trenches where fish with long teeth hide. But his eyes are gold like sunset on shallow waves, gold like early morning, gold like the underside of a shell. Katara decides, on impulse, that she trusts him.

“Are you alright?” he asks, and his voice is low and husky and concerned. Katara tries to meet his eyes, but he is looking at the ground and blushing. She frowns. Is he afraid? He removes the outermost layer of his clothes — a jacket, she thinks — and offers it to her. “It’s alright,” he says. “I won’t hurt you. Maybe put this on, though?” Katara does not take the proffered layer. She tilts her head, considering the boy before her. Her pelt lies in a small hole some feet away, covered by a rock. She could reach it before he drew his next breath, if she needed to. She does not want to.

“You’re a selkie,” the boy says, and Katara turns and disappears into the water.

Men are not to be trusted.

***

The next time she sees him, he is on a boat.

“He’s just a human,” Sokka says, when she leaves to follow the boat out to sea. Katara does not respond. She does not care to.

The boat hits rough waters while it pulls in its fishing catch. Katara sees her human near the bow — he is not in danger, and she is oddly relieved. A different human, one she does not know, falls from the boat. The sea, Katara thinks, will have its due. This boat of humans cannot stray this far from the shore without paying the toll.

But the boy is at the side of the boat, and he is yelling and throwing ropes and floating rings and wooden rods overboard, and suddenly Katara finds herself pushing the fallen human upwards and back towards the boat. They break the surface of the water, and he yells, and ropes fly, and Katara ducks back under the waves. Hakoda would be incensed to learn that she had saved the life of a human. But she could swear that she saw her human, the boy, right before she dove; and he looked like he wanted to say thank you.

***

She goes back to the beach. He is not there.

She sheds her pelt, day after day, and sunbathes naked on the sand. She cannot understand what keeps him away. She cannot understand what keeps drawing her back.

It is months and months and months before she sees him again. It is sunset, and the sand is bathed in red and gold when she sees him walking towards the water.

“I didn’t think you’d come back,” he says, when he finally finds her. “I didn’t want to hope.”

She says nothing, only pulls him towards the sea. If she can shed her pelt, surely he can sprout gills — and she has wanted nothing in her life so badly as she wants this human boy with ink-black hair and haunted eyes.

“I can’t,” he says. “But you should go back. The people I’m with will trap you, if they can.”

Katara tugs him towards the water once again.

“I wish I could,” he says, and sinks down to sit on the sand. He holds out an arm to her, and says, “Sit with me? I’ll tell you the story my mother told me about the very first sunset.” Katara sinks into the sand beside him, and listens.

***

“You’re obsessed with a human,” Sokka says.

“I can be obsessed with whoever I want,” Katara answers.

“Just don’t get hurt,” he responds.

“I won’t,” she says.

“Don’t let him take your pelt,” Sokka says.

“I won’t,” she repeats.

***

“Shall I tell you about the creation of the first lily?”

Katara nods.

“Alright. When the world was young…”

The tale does not matter as much as the voice that tells it. The story does not matter as much as the mind that spins it.

(His name, she learns, is Zuko.)

She speaks little, on the nights that she meets him on the dunes. He is there every night. She knows, because on the few nights that she did not come to greet him, she watched him from the waves. He waited, patient, for a long while, until finally he followed the dim light of the early-morning moon back to the world of men.

(His world is a world of men, and she does not belong there.)

His voice when he tells her stories is rich and sweet and full of life. Katara longs for a world that she has not seen or touched or heard of, when he tells her stories. She wants it; she wants to walk on streets paved with stone and buy candied fruit. She can only imagine it. He knows what she is; stepping away from the sea makes her heart seize and her brow bead with fear. She cannot leave her pelt. She cannot leave the sea.

Zuko asks for her name; then he never questions her again. He never asks after her pelt or her tribe or her cave; he simply tells her stories. She sings for him, sometimes, hunt-songs and songs of change and newness and wonder. When she leaves, he watches her until she slips out of sight beneath the waves.

There is some small, reasonable part of Katara that tells her not to return. She does not listen.

He tells her stories, night after night, of the Good Neighbors and the Fair Folk. He does not ask about selkies. He does not ask about the sea.

Katara returns to the caves and does not answer Sokka’s questions.

“What does he know?” Sokka demands.

She says nothing.

“You put us all at risk,” he accuses her.

Katara does not argue, and she does not speak of her human.

***

“I want you to stay with me,” says Zuko one day.

Katara does not answer him.

“I won’t ever make you,” he swears.

He is lying. Katara knows this. Humans lie. If she gives him her pelt, she will never see the ocean again.

She flees.

***

“You haven’t gone to the beach lately,” says Sokka.

Katara shrugs.

“What happened to your human?”

“He’s just a human,” Katara says. “You were right.”

She hunts with her brother, and sings the tribe-songs, and dances in sun-dappled waves. Just as she has always done. But her heart longs for the small rocky beach, and a boy with ink-black hair and golden eyes.

***

“I think I met the son of a seal-wife,” says one of the aunts one day, while they brush out their hair on the warm rocks outside the entrance to the cave. “He did not look like us, but he stood on the sand and sang a hunt-song. His mother must have taught it to him.”

Katara looks up, her heart clenching with an emotion she cannot name.

“How sad,” says another. “To know that part of you belongs in the sea, but having no pelt, no way to come home.”

Katara thinks of Zuko, standing alone on the shore, singing a song for her. Asking her to come back. She thinks of Hakoda, who sang his death-song and let the sea take him away, far from the tribe and their caves. Katara has always wondered if the sea had taken him back to Kya, in some way. If that was its way of taking Hakoda home.

She wonders where the sea will take her if she lets it.

***

She goes back, many nights later, when the moon is full.

He is asleep.

There is a hut on the beach now, a little ramshackle makeshift thing made of driftwood and covered by sailcloth. It is hardly more than a lean-to, something to keep the rain off of the camp he has made, with a sleeping roll and a fire pit. He is asleep now, breathing deeply and evenly beside the gentle glow of the coals that are all that is left of his cook-fire. He has built this, she knows, because he has been waiting for her.

(His hair is longer. Has she truly stayed away from him for so long?)

She sheds her pelt and lays beside him, content for now to watch him dream. Moonlight turns his skin to silver; his hair falls like a shadow over his face. She reaches out to touch it, and it is as smooth and silky as her own pelt. She strokes him gently, running her fingers lightly through his hair, fascinated with the way it slips through her fingers and falls back against his cheek. He does not stir. Katara hums softly, a song of longing and wanting and needing, a song of apology, a song of thanks. When she looks back down at his face, his eyes are open, and he is watching her like a man who is dying of need, like a sinner looking at their god, like a sailor seeing home after months adrift at sea.

“You came back,” he whispers.

She nods.

“I was afraid you wouldn’t,” he says. His voice is low, just a murmur, as though she is an illusion that will shatter and fade if he speaks too loudly. His hand comes up and strokes her face, once, gently.

Katara leans into the caress, and Zuko repeats it, touching her with soft, reverent fingers. He traces the line of her cheekbone, her jaw, her temple; he threads his fingers into her hair and smooths it away from her face. “I waited,” he says. “I think I would’ve waited forever. I came back every night, hoping you would return.”

She thinks of the long days since she has seen him, and the endless longing for their beach and his voice and his shy smile, and is glad that he missed her too.

“And you came back,” he whispers reverently. His finger traces the shape of her lower lip.

“For you,” she murmurs, and leans forward to press her lips to his. He pulls her closer, and she rises over him and fits her body to his, and the feel of his skin on hers washes over her like crashing waves. He feels like the sea, like the endless depths and steady pull of the tides. His skin tastes of saltwater, and when she cries out his name it sounds like waves breaking on the shore.

Later, they sit close to the water, huddled together in a blanket, naked limbs tangled together under the wool. Katara is amused at Zuko’s discomfort with nudity; his body is beautiful, long and rangy and silvery-pale in the moonlight so he looks nearly as fey as she. But he is human, and they are odd about things like this, so she lets him wrap the blanket around them before he pulls her against him and holds her close.

“Come back to me again,” he whispers as he nuzzles her hair.

“Always,” she murmurs back.

***

She comes back to him, again and again.

He never asks her to stay, but his golden sunset eyes are sad when she slips back into the water. Katara thinks that she would give up more than the sea to prevent his sorrow.

“I think I love him,” she tells Sokka one day.

Sokka’s eyes are full of heartbreak as he looks at her. “Do I have to lose you, too?”

She curls close to her brother and does not answer.

“He’s a human,” Sokka tells her. “If he can trap you, he will. They can’t help it. They don’t understand what it means to be free.”

Katara thinks of Zuko hiding his body beneath a blanket, of the tribes who still sing the mourning songs for brothers and sisters who wandered ashore one day and never came back. She thinks of her pelt, always hidden close at hand. She thinks of her human, her lovely gold-and-silver boy, and the look in his eyes when he said, I want you to stay with me. I won’t ever make you. She wonders what he would do if she placed her pelt in his hands.

“I think I love him,” Katara repeats out loud.

“You belong in the sea,” Sokka replies.

“What if I can have both?” Katara asks.

Sokka only puts an arm around her and holds her close.

***

She gets tired of waiting.

Zuko watches her dive into the water, as he normally does; then he turns to walk away, back to the world of men. Katara waits until he cannot see her, and then she emerges from the water and sheds her pelt and follows him.

She holds her pelt wrapped around her like a cloak to cover her nakedness, but she has no clothes. And beyond that — she has seen enough humans to know that she does not quite look like one of them.

(She is a selkie, and there will always be something a little uncanny about her. She belongs to the sea. It leaves its mark.)

It is dangerous. If she is caught, or seen, she is too far from the water to flee the grip of men. She trusts Zuko, but not all humans are like Zuko. If she is seen, and someone takes her pelt, they will take her away and hold her captive and she will never see Zuko or the ocean or her brother ever again. She follows Zuko anyway.

He goes to a cottage that she assumes is his home. The door is unlocked; Katara lets herself in, and curls her toes against the unfamiliar feeling of wood floorboards beneath her feet. She drapes her pelt over the back of a chair, deliberate.

“You’re here,” he says wonderingly when he sees her. “How are you here?”

She smiles at him, shy now. “You let me leave,” she says. “I got tired of you letting me leave.”

He reaches for her, and she curls into him, easy and gentle like the morning tide.

“Ask me to stay,” she orders.

“Stay,” he whispers into her hair. “Please.”

She does.

The next morning, when she wakes in Zuko’s bed, surrounded by blankets heavy with his scent, her pelt is still on the chair where she left it. He has left her a note —

 Working today. Come back to me tonight?

She only smiles, and slips her pelt over her shoulders, and goes back to the caves, to the scent of saltwater and damp rock, to tell her brother that he was wrong.

“You’re staying with him,” Sokka says.

“I love him,” Katara answers. “And he does not try to tame me.”

“Come back when you can,” Sokka tells her, and it is the gentlest kind of goodbye, because she sees in his eyes that he truly does understand.

Katara thinks that this is what love is, a letting go, a come back to me, a kind benediction and a farewell. She kisses her brother on the brow, and softly hums a song of love and gratitude and belonging. Sokka weeps when she leaves, and she hears a song of farewell and heartache and pride and boundless, boundless love echo over the waves behind her. Katara reaches the beach, and sets her feet on the path toward the world of men.

Toward Zuko.

***

His love keeps her safe. Her pelt hangs in the closet, next to his coats and her skirts, and Zuko never touches it. The closet is locked when strangers come to visit, and Zuko laughs off the idea that his wife is anything more than human.

(The neighbors know she is fey, but by their way of thinking, Katara makes the best smoked fish in the village, and if Zuko wants to pretend that his woman is not a seal-wife, then that is none of their business. They whisper behind their hands, and wonder how he has kept her happy for so long, and how long it will be before she finds her pelt and disappears into the waves forever.)

Katara dives into the sea sometimes, when Zuko is gone on the fishing boats and she misses the pull of the sea. Then she returns to the caves, and hunts with her brother, and dances between the waves, and sings the tribe-songs. Sokka kisses her brow when she leaves, and commands her to come back when she can. He does not weep when she leaves. She returns to the little cottage, and Zuko is always waiting. There is a fire in the hearth, and a place for her to hang her pelt, and a warm pair of arms waiting to welcome her.

His love keeps her safe, and his love guides her home.

***

There is a storm the night their daughter is born.

Katara insists on going down to their beach. Zuko protests, but takes her anyway, and holds her hand while the aunts and grandmothers gather around and pet Katara’s hair and sing the birthing-songs as the labor pains wrack her body. They grumble at Zuko’s presence, but he refuses to leave.

Finally their daughter slips from Katara’s womb into the world as a particularly demanding crack of thunder sounds above them. Katara baptizes her in saltwater.

“We’ll call her Kya,” Zuko whispers into Katara’s hair. Katara smiles, and kisses her daughter’s tiny webbed toes.

fin.

I’m gonna tag a few folks who I know enjoy Zutara fics because I thrive on attention but PLEASE let me know if you want to not be tagged and I will remove you!

@firelxdykatara

@rllyjohnrlly

@markedmage

@grumpyzutara

@purelyzutara

@bluelady-atla

@lilylizard

#zutara #zuko x katara #zutara fic #shameless self plug #i did NOT work hard on this but i would still love it if yall read it #im kinda proud of it? #in a look-at-my-trash kind of way #anyway thanks #love yall

[lost-in-the-80s]

The Hotel - Halloween Special

Pairing: Izzy Stradlin x Reader

Words: 4,859k

Summary: You and your boyfriend, Izzy decide to make a road trip, however, strange events end up leading you to a strange hotel on October, 31st. (kind of angst) 

A/N: Halloween is one of my favorite holidays, so I decided to make an Imagine with the Halloween theme. It is inspired by the song Hotel California by Eagles.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of death, ghosts and paranormal events. It’s a horror fic, if you don’t like this theme, maybe this isn’t the right fic for you. 

Tag list: @roger-taylors-car​ @ladieswttda​ @teasid​ add yourself to my tag list :)

It was the fall of 1990, you and your boyfriend, Izzy were enjoying the last few months you had together before he went on another world tour with his band, Gun n Roses.

The two of you were in the living room of your shared apartment in L.A. You shared a cozy blanket while sitting on the couch, watching some romantic movie on the TV. Izzy didn’t really like this type of movie, but made an effort because he knew how much you liked them. 

You snuggled in his chest, pressing yourself even more on him, he chuckled a little and passed his fingers through your hair.

“We should do something.” He stated.

“Like what?”

“How about a road trip? We take the car and drive until Portland, then come back.”

“Portland? You mean, Oregon?”

“Yeah, Oregon. I was looking on the map and it has some beautiful locations there.”

“But how long will it take us?”

“It’s a 14-hour drive, we can make it in a week through the coast and then come back in another week, taking a different road.”

“Hmm, sounds nice! Let’s do it!” 

“How about we leave by the end of October? So I can have enough time to finish some stuff at the studio.”

“Sure, babe!”

And so October went by, Izzy finished some final touches at the studio, you rescheduled some appointments of yours, you two organized your bags, bought a map, a flashlight and some other travel essentials and checked the car with a mechanic. Everything was going as planned. 

You decided to leave on Monday, 22nd, because the roads would be less packed. So you both woke up, took shower, had a delicious breakfast and started your amazing trip.

You knew that the reason why Izzy wanted to leave town for a while, was because he was stressed. Axl was a perfectionist, while Izzy liked things to sound less rehearsed, for that reason the two of them have been bickering towards each other during all this album recording, and Izzy really needed some time away from all of this. 

The trip started just fine, you drove through the coast and you got amazed by how beautiful California’s coast was. All its colors, shapes and beaches getting a special place in your memory.

The first stop was Santa Barbara, you two enjoyed it’s beaches, becoming friends with a group of sourfists that taught Izzy how to surf. By night you went to a nice restaurant in front of the beach, delighting yourselves with cocktails and seafood.

Then you went to San Francisco, where you decided to stay for two days, visiting all its touristic places, like the Golden Gate Bridge, Lombard Street, Pier 39 and the Coit Tower.

Moving on to Sonoma, you could savor some of the best wine you had had in your life and spend the night at a cozy cottage, reading a book and cuddling together in front of the fireplace. 

The last stop in California was the Redwood National Park. You got completely stunned by that place, admiring the magnitude of the world, as you looked so small beside those trees. 

Soon the greenish color of the sea turned bluer, the sunset became less orange and the mornings turned more grey, the sand turned to earth and the breeze became colder and you arrived in Oregon. 

You glimpsed the strength of the sea at the Samuel H. Boardman Scenic Corridor and Cape Sebastian State Scenic Corridor and admired the sunset at the Face Rock State Scenic Area. 

And finally, you got stunned with the Devil’s Punchbowl and spent a day relaxing at Neskowin Beach ending the week taking the most beautiful pictures at Cannon Beach, where you bought souvenirs for all your friends. 

Then you finally arrived in Portland, spending the weekend there, seeing all the touristic places and visiting museums. On Sunday night, Izzy took you to this fancy restaurant, you wore a beautiful blue dress he had asked you to bring along, while he put on a black shirt with a blazer.

You had just eaten delicious lamb meat with a glass of wonderful wine and were waiting for the dessert when he started talking.

“I’ve been thinking these past days, about the tour and stuff.”

You looked up at him and his eyes caught yours.

 “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, but I’m sure it will be a long time and I didn’t really want to leave without doing something first.”

He touched your hand that was resting on top of the table.

“You’ve been with me for years now. You met me when having a big band and becoming famous were just dreams, you saw me in my best and in my worst and you never let go of me, even when I was being an asshole with you.”

He made a pause.

“I wake up happy every day, just because I know that I’ll see you when I open my eyes, and I can’t imagine my life without you. So I was wondering if…” He stopped and started to search for something in his blazer pockets, he took a small black box out of it and you gasped, covering your mouth as a huge smile appeared on your face. “If you would like to marry me, Y/N?”

Recovering a little from your surprise, you replied with teary eyes. “Yes, Izzy, I would love to!” 

He placed a small silver ring with a single diamond on top of it, on your ring finger and kissed the back of your hand, then he leaned a little on the table and pecked your lips.

“I love you!”

“I love you too, Izzy”

When Monday came by, you two fueled the car and started driving back home. stopping at some locations you haven’t been before.

You had the chance to drive a buggy at the Oregon Dunes, take lots of pictures at the Heceta Head Lighthouse and make a forest trail at the Cape Perpetua Scenic Area before camping at Beverly Beach. Which, by the way, was a disaster, you forgot the repellent spray and the mosquitos had a nice dinner over with you and Izzy. 

Soon, day 31st arrived. You woke up in your tent with a single sunbeam illuminating the place, you felt Izzy’s arms holding you close to him and you took a moment to admire your engagement ring. 

You stretched up a little bit, which woke him up. He yawned and squeezed you harder, before speaking with a husky morning voice. 

“Good morning, beautiful!”

“Good morning, Iz!”

You turned around and kissed him quickly on the lips.

“Happy Halloween.”

“Today’s Halloween?” He frowned.

You just hummed in response. 

“All right, let’s get up then.” He pecked your lips one more time and let go of you, as he sat up. 

You got ready, packed your stuff and exited the tent, starting to walk towards the parking lot. 

You looked up to the sky and saw the grey color became prevalent.

“I think it’s gonna rain.” You said.

“Maybe if we have breakfast fast enough, we can get to California before it starts.”

You sat on the passenger seat, scrolling through the radio stations until you found one that pleased your ears.

After a few minutes driving, you stopped at a cafe, taking a table in front of the window and ordering pancakes with coffee.

“Where’s the next stop?” Izzy asked.

You took the map out of your purse and looked cautiously.

“Mount Shasta.”

“Hmm. I think we’ll get there for lunch.” He paused to take a sip of his coffee. “A friend of mine told me about a hotel there, I don’t remember the name, but it has Wale on it.”

“Nice. We should spend the night there!”

“We really should.”

You finished eating and started driving again. Izzy took the wheel while you gave him the directions. It was a little past ten when the rain started pouring, making Izzy drive slower, not trusting his car to stop fast enough if you needed it.

About 2 in the afternoon you got to Mount Shasta. It was still raining and the trail had been closed due to the bad weather.

Not having many more things to do, you both had lunch at a local restaurant and took pictures of yourselves at the mounting foot and other places you found interesting. You smiled as Izzy made a funny face for you to take a picture.

An old man started walking near you, and you asked him if he could take a picture of the two of you, which he happily complied. 

You went to Izzy’s side and rested your hand on his chest, while his hand circled your waist. You saw the flash and then Izzy kissed your forehead, the second flash hit your eyes and Izzy thanked the man, getting the camera back.

The day started to grow dark and you decided to head to the hotel, since it was about an hour away from the city.

The rain became stronger and the mist started to cover the road. You passed by the numerous trees that surrounded the road while listening to Lynyrd Skynyrd.

In the distance, you saw a red light appear beside a big house. “There!” you shouted.

You were right, it was the hotel. You were both sure as you saw “Californian Wale” written on top of the house. There was just one problem, the red neon light in front of it said “No vacancy”, which meant you would have to keep on driving, during that weather, until you found somewhere else to stay. 

As the sunset and the night arrived, the weather got worse, thunder and lightning turning the night into a spectacle and you barely could see anything until it was really close to you. 

You were becoming hopeless, you thought you wouldn't be able to find anywhere to stay for the night.

By 7 in the night, Izzy didn't see a hole on the road, a loud sound broke in the darkness and you knew you had punctured the tire.

For a second Izzy lost control over the car and you ended up out of the road. 

"Fuck! Are you alright?"

"Yes." You let go of a breath you didn't realize you had caught.

"Where's the flashlight?"

You searched through the glove compartment until your hands touched the cold material. You handed him the object as he thanked you and exited the car.

After a few minutes, he came back. "Fuck!" He was dripping wet. "We don't have a spare wheel."

"What do you mean we don't have a spare wheel?"

"I mean we don't have a spare wheel, Y/N!" He replied to you as if he was talking to a toddler. 

"I thought you had checked the car out with the mechanic!"

"I did it! But we just checked the engine and shit, I didn't even think about the step!"

"Fuck! What do we do now?"

"I don't know." He leaned his head on the wheel while cursing.

Suddenly a car headlight lightened the road.

"Look!" 

Izzy lifted his head and you smashed the car's horn, making the driver stop his truck beside your car, turning on the alert lights. 

It was a squeak. You breathed out in relief.

"What happened?" He shouted through his window.

"We punctured the tire and don't have a spare wheel!"

"Alright, hold it!" He lined up his truck with your car and exited it.

"Wait inside." Was all Izzy said before exiting the car to help the driver hitch the car on the truck.

After a few minutes he came back and the car started to be pulled back on the road.

"He called us crazy for not having seen the weather forecast on the news. We're underneath a huge storm cloud." He chuckled.

"He said there's a small city not too far from here, he'll let us there."

"Good" You sighed.

After some minutes you saw the city's entrance, he wasn't joking when he said it was small. It had just one main street and all the houses looked old.

He left you and Izzy in front of a mechanic garage and refused to get the money Izzy offered him for having driven you there.

You entered the office of the garage, hand in hand, and a man in his 40s appeared behind the counter. He had a toothpick between his lips and looked like he hadn't taken shower in ages. 

"Hm, good night. We have a punctured tire." Izzy spoke up.

"I see, let's take a look."

He moved outside and looked at your tire. 

"Well, it's not that bad. I have a tire of this type here, I can fix it in 30 minutes or so."

"Good!"

"Do you have a car jack?"

"Yes, it's in the back."

"Go get it while I get the tire then."

Izzy moved towards the car and the man looked you up and down, making you feel a huge discomfort. 

You walked quickly to Izzy's side while the man walked back inside the office.

"I don't like this man." You whispered.

"Me neither, but we need to fix the car, baby." He put a lock of your hair behind your ear and closed the trunk. 

The man came back and you leaned against a wall while you watched them working on the car. 

"All done! It's 250 bucks." The man said, while he scratched his nose.

"250? Wow, that's way more than I had thought."

"I'm working at night, kid, my time it's not for free."

Izzy stared at him.

"I can take the tire off if you want." He said, leaning down. 

"No, it's fine." 

You both walked inside the office, while Izzy paid the man.

"Do you take a check?"

"I don't, usually." 

"I don't walk around with 250 bucks in my wallet, man." 

"Alright, I'll take your check then, but I want the date for tomorrow."

"Alright, man."

"Where are you guys going?"

"We're going to Los Angeles."

"It's a long road until Los Angeles, especially with this weather. If I were you, I would spend the night at a hotel… We have a good one, a little bit after the city. They serve a good soup at nights like this."

Izzy signed up for the check. "Thank you"

He grabbed your hand and you walked back to the car.

"What do you think? Should we check out this hotel?"

"I think it's a good idea. I'm soaked, we're hungry and it's raining cats and dogs outside." He turned on the car. "Plus, we don't know if we'll find somewhere else nearby."

You agreed. 

He drove until you saw a huge Victorian house with a sign saying "Hotel Hoffmann".

"I guess we're here."

He parked the car and you both exited, running in the rain until you got to the main door of the house.

You knocked repeatedly until an old woman opened the door for you. She had white hair and dark eyes and was dressed as if she still lived in the 50s.

"Come on in, kids." She gave you a creepy smile.

You gulped, grabbing Izzy's hand before entering the place.

"What a night huh?" She laughed a little. "Bill called saying you two would probably stop by."

"I'm sorry, but, who's Bill?" You asked.

"The man who fixed your car, darling."

"Oh"

"We still have some open rooms for you. Do you prefer it on the first or second floor?"

"Second, please" Izzy cleared his throat, the rain starting to make him feel sick.

"All right, I'll put you in room number 13." She looked through the multiple keys behind her, before putting the one with a locksmith with a big 13 written. 

"We'll be serving soup until nine at the main saloon." She put a leather-covered notebook on the desk. "In which name should I make the reservation?"

"Jeffrey Isbell." Izzy spoke before you could answer. 

She wrote his name down with a beautiful calligraphy before handing him the pen to sign. 

She handed you the keys to your room and said she would take you both there. Izzy interjected saying he would go grab your baggage in the car.

"Do you want help?"

"No, honey, it's okay." He left the room and an uncomfortable silence filled in. 

"It's been a long time since we last had a young couple like you."

You forced a smile, not really knowing what to say.

Izzy came back with the bags and she led you to your room. Once inside, Izzy locked the door.

You stopped for a moment to look at the room. It was big, the walls were painted in peach color and the furniture looked old.

"Finally some peace." He hugged you from behind, kissing the top of your head.

You turned around, hugging him back. "You need to take a shower, or you're gonna catch a cold."

"Hmm, and will you join me?" He asked suggestively.

"No, I'll go later, babe"

"Are you sure?"

You nodded your head and he walked towards the bathroom, closing the door behind him. 

You took a long breath. Something was wrong. You couldn't quite put into words what, but your heart was clenched ever since you got in that town.

You took a seat at the bench underneath the window, looking at the dimly light garden. No cars were passing by, the only thing you distinguished outside was a dog running down the street.

"The rain is starting to stop." 

Izzy's voice made you jump a little, you hadn't realized he had left the bathroom, nor that you had been there for so long. 

You looked at him. "Why don't you take a shower and we go down to eat something?" He caressed your face and you instantly felt calmer.

He always had this power over you, no matter what was happening, you always felt safe and calm when Izzy was with you. 

"There's something wrong, Iz."

"What do you mean?" He sat in front of you.

"I don't know. I don't like this place, there's something wrong with the energy around here."

"I don't like this place too, but it's only for one night, tomorrow morning we get in the car and drive to the next destination ok?"

"Okay"

You stood up and walked towards the bathroom, closing the door and turning on the shower. Taking off your clothes you looked at yourself in the mirror before getting underneath the hot water, letting it warm your body.

Exiting the bathroom you put on a pair of jeans and a red sweatshirt and walked with Izzy to the main room. There was just a couple with a young daughter there. They stared at you until you sat down. 

Another old woman brought you two plates with soup and you started eating. The taste was horrible, but you were so hungry that you ate everything.

Back to your room, you guys were feeling so tired that decided to call it a night, Izzy removed his clothes and you put on his sweater, before climbing on bed with him. You adjusted the blankets and closed your eyes, allowing yourself to fall asleep.

A loud scream woke you up. You sat down on the bed and turned the night table light on, looking at the clock you saw it was 3 in the morning. 

"Did you hear that?"

"Yeah." Izzy said getting up and putting his pants on.

The corridor light allowed you to see a shadow passing by the door.

"Turn the light off." Izzy murmured.

You did as he said and you saw the person take another direction.

After a few seconds you turn it on again, and a scream left your lips as you could swear you saw someone behind Izzy.

"Shh, it's okay." He climbed on the bed and cupped your face. "I'm here, nothing is gonna happen to you, ok?"

"Okay." You breathed slowly, trying to calm yourself.

Suddenly the bedroom windows opened and the cool breeze of the night invaded the room.

"Izzy…" you tugged on his arm.

"Let's get out of here." He grabbed your hand and dragged you out of the room.

The corridor was empty and you started to walk quickly towards the entry door. You turned left and were faced with a long corridor full of doors.

That's when you hear what looked like a child asking for help. Izzy started walking towards the sound and you pulled him back by the hand murmuring for him not to do so. 

"It's a child Y/N!"

He let go of your hand and moved towards the only room with an open door. You walked closely behind him. You saw a boy sitting on the floor crying as he asked for help again. 

Izzy entered the room, but before you could do the same the door closed behind him.

"IZZY!" 

"Y/N!" He yelled back, trying to open the door. 

"IZZY!!" You started to shove your fists against the door.

You heard a loud sound inside the room and Izzy saying: "Oh my God!" And you became hysterical.

You tried to open the door with all your force, shoving your fists and shoulders on the wood trying to take Izzy out of there.

"Y/N Leave!"

"I'm not leaving without you!!" You started to cry.

"Get on the fucking car and leave!!" 

Before you could reply the corridor lights started to flick and you saw someone approaching you. Turning your head to the left you saw a young man getting closer to you, illuminated by the moonlight. 

You were about to ask him for help when the lights flicked on again. He was tall and was dressed in 60s clothes, everything looked normal except for his white morbid eyes and his broken neck, his head slightly leaned to the side.

You screamed loudly this time as you started to walk back.

"Y/N!!" Izzy hit the door trying to open it.

You turned around and started running down the stairs, while still hearing Izzy calling for you. 

Running towards the main door you were stopped as a woman with a cut neck appeared in front of you.

"Where are you going, sweetie?"

You screamed again and turned left, getting in a corridor you haven't been before. 

She started to walk behind you and you saw an open room, getting inside and closing the door behind you. It was a library, with big windows. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck."

You heard a loud sound coming from the second floor and one of the windows breaking. 

You saw someone falling from it, and when you got closer to the glass you saw a white man with black hair and red leather pants. 

"Izzy!!" You yelled punching the glass, seeing his lifeless body laying on the grass.

Tears started to fall from your eyes as you heard the door of the Library opening.

"You are going to be with him soon, darling, don't worry."

It was the old lady.

You ran and passed through the second door of the room, ending up in another corridor.

You ran until you found two big doors separating the corridor. You opened them and were greeted with an indoor pool area. The ceiling was made of glass, just like most of the walls. You looked from one way to another but there were no other doors. You were stuck.

"It's useless to run." She reappeared behind you.

You turned around, facing her. "Please, just let me go!"

She said nothing, but took one step closer, making you take one step back. 

"Please, I didn't do anything! Just let me go!"

The couple from the dinner appeared beside her, alongside the boy with the broken neck and the bleeding woman, along with some other people you haven't seen before.

They all looked hurt in some sort of way and their eyes were white as if a cloud was hiding their true ones.

You kept walking backward as they kept walking towards you.

"Please, let me go!! Please!" Your crying was evident in your voice and you were starting to freak out.

"Please, don't hurt me!" You took one last step back and was involved in water. You fell in the pool. 

You were so scared that you forgot the pool was there, and most importantly, you forgot you didn't know how to swim.

You tried as hard as you could. Moving your legs and arms to try to get to the surface again, but it was useless. The more you moved, the deeper you got.

You opened your mouth to try to breathe but was greeted with water filling your lungs, making you choke.

You moved your hand to your neck as if the gesture would bring you some oxygen. You looked up and saw all those people circling the pool and then darkness overtook you.

You woke up gasping for air, touching your body to check you were ok. Sweat covered your forehead and most parts of your body and hot tears left your eyes.

You suddenly saw the lights turn on, realizing you were still in the hotel room. "Shh, it's okay." 

You pulled away when he touched you.

"It's okay. It's me!" You didn't look at him, so he touched your chin and lightly made you look in his direction. "It's me Y/N!"

You let go of a long breath and hugged him tightly. 

"It's ok, it was just a nightmare. You're ok!" 

"You were dead and I was dead and the pool…." You dragged on, sharing the first memories you had from your dream.

"Shh" He kissed the top of your head. "We're fine Y/N."

"She was following me…"

"As long as I'm here, no one will hurt you, okay?" He parted from you to look in your eyes. 

You nodded slowly.

Looking at the clock on your bedside table you saw it was 2:35 am.

"Let's get out of here, Izzy. Please!"

"But it's in the middle of the night, babe"

"Please, Izzy, please, let's get out of here!"

He saw how frightened you were. "Okay." He paused for a second. "Let's get dressed then."

You both got up and got dressed, throwing all your stuff back in your bags. You paused before exiting the room.

"Promise me that you will ignore anything you might hear!"

"What?"

"Promise me, Izzy!"

"Ok! I promise!" 

You grabbed his hand and dragged him down the corridor and down the stairs as fast as you could. 

Arriving at the reception you rang the bell on the table tirelessly until the old woman appeared. She was wearing a robe, but didn't look tired at all.

"What's the problem kids? Didn't like your room?"

"We want to check out!" You replied quickly. 

"Now? But it's still early!" She paused for a moment, trying to think about what to say. "Wouldn't you prefer to leave by morning?"

"No! We have to go now!"

"We serve a good breakfast here."

"I said we have to go now!" You were growing frustrated.

"Okay, but I'll have to demand the same price as if you had stayed until morning." 

"Ok! How much?"

"45 dollars."

You opened your purse, looking for your wallet, getting 50 bucks, and putting them on her desk.

She opened a drawer to get your change, but you rushed in saying she could keep it, before grabbing Izzy by the hand and leading him to the door. Trying to open it, you realized it was still locked.

"The door is locked, mam" Izzy spoke up.

"Oh, wait a minute, I'll get the keys. They might be somewhere here.” She entered a small room behind the reception and you started to stomp the ground anxiously.

"She's taking too long!"

"Calm down, Y/N!" He touched your shoulder, making you feel calmer, but you were still cautious.

"We're in a rush!" You shouted.

"Oh I'm sorry, I was not finding them." She walked calmly towards the door, using all her time to open it.

Once she finally opened, you stormed out of it, dragging Izzy with you.

"Where are the car keys?"

"Jesus! Relax, Y/N! They're here!" He took the keys out of his pant's pocket and opened the trunk of the car first.

You literally threw your bag inside and rushed to the driver's door. "I'm driving!" You extended your hand for him to put the keys on. 

"No way! You're too shaken to do so. You're gonna end up killing us."

"Fine, but be fast!" You gave in, rushing to the passenger door, seating fastly once Izzy unlocked the car.

Turning on the engine, he drove the car back to the street, driving out of the city.

"What time is it?"

He looked at his clock. "3 am"

You looked back just in time to see all the hotel lights turning on and strange people appearing at the windows.

A shiver ran down your spine as you sat still on your seat again, thanking that you were out of that place. 

#halloween week with harley #izzy stradlin #izzy stradlin fic #izzy stradlin imagine #izzy stradlin fanfic #izzy stradlin x reader #guns n roses #guns n roses fanfic #guns n roses x reader #guns n roses imagine #guns n roses fic #halloween #halloween imagine #halloween fic #harley writes

[kiritella]

Can you do a bucky barnes x daughter reader (like 15 or 16) using 1 and 6 please?

Absolutely!  Thanks for the request!  So this one might have been a lot longer than I was anticipating, but um...hope you like it? XD

#1: “I thought you left…” — “Not a chance, Love.”  

#6: “Soldiers are allowed to cry.” 

----------------------------------

The mission hadn’t gone exactly the way it was supposed to, leaving a few of the soldiers battered and bruised and delaying their return home by a few days.  Most of them were restless, aching to be back in their own beds, have a half-decent meal on their stomachs after being on rations for almost a week. Bucky was restless for an entirely different reason.  The bandages on his side covering his impromptu surgery itched, and the limited medication on hand left him with only a little bit of pain relief as his body worked through the drugs too quickly.  The doctors weren’t thrilled about him walking out of the hospital only two days after getting a bullet removed from his abdomen, but he was homesick and restless, and damnit, he’s a super-soldier, he’d be fine in a week.  He had promised not to pull a stitch right before walking out with doctors screaming at him.

The jet was quiet as Bucky pulled his wallet out of his duffle bag, grunting at the pain in his movements. One of the newer agents gave him a confused look, one of the “you walked out of a hospital after surgery, what the hell are you doing?” kind of look.  He’d gotten it plenty from old-timer Steve so he knew it like the back of his hand. With fumbling fingers, he pulled out a photograph, the sun glowing in the background of the beach, you looking back at him from the water and as he traced along the sides of the photo, he smiled. His little girl.  

That was the reason he was restless.  He was homesick for his baby girl, one he wasn’t able to call to let know he wasn’t going to be home on time.  One that he knew was probably worried sick because no matter how hard you tried to hide it, he always knew.  The one that was basically the only reason he did any of his work with the Avengers, to make a better world for you to grow up in.

“We’ll be landing in another hour,” Sam called out from the pilot’s seat and a few of the agents nodded in recognition.  Bucky just laid his head back against the wall, his eyes closing as he held the picture of you between his fingers.  Almost home.

---

Your feet ached, your back hurt, everything about you screamed exhaustion.  You spun on your heel and paced back over the landing pad, twisting your fingers for a moment before crossing them over your chest, and not a moment later you were back to fiddling with your fingers.  Three days.  He was late by three days.  Your dad always said he would come back home, but you knew it was foolish to hold onto that kind of promise from someone who couldn’t change the fate of life and death. So, you paced.  You distracted yourself for days as fear swallowed you whole, but now he was coming home.  Friday announced a transmission from the team, an arrival time.  Only another few minutes.  

Tears threatened to spill as you crossed your arms again, but you wouldn’t allow yourself the privilege, you couldn’t.  Your dad loved his work and raised you to hold your own, you couldn’t break his heart by showing him just how much you hated hearing he had another mission.  How you had panic attacks when he would leave. How you barely slept when he wasn’t there to tell you goodnight and kiss your forehead.  You ached for those moments and cherished them because you knew one day it would be for the last time.  Your heart jumped in your chest when you heard incoming engines and you bit your cheek to try and stop the tears from flooding your eyes and revealing themselves.

As you stepped into the clear zone, the jet broke away from the clouds, its landing gear set in place as it eventually settled onto the ground.  Every moment between the sound of the engines shutting off and the hanger doors opening seemed to last an eternity and you bounced on the balls of your feet, trying to contain your nervous energy.  

The second you saw him though, your heart dropped in your chest.  His duffle bag was thrown over his right shoulder as his hand cradled his left side, his limp ever-apparent, but when his eyes found you waiting for him, his smile was enough to crinkle the edges of his eyes, overtaking his face even despite the frown etched into your lips.  You wanted to run up to him, jump in his arms and let him hold you, scream at him to never leave you hanging like that again, but you remained frozen, eyes locked on his injured form as he made his way over to you in the cleared zone.

Bucky’s smile dulled when he saw you bite at the corner of your lip, the hesitant way you held yourself, and he cursed himself for being so late, “Hey, Sweetie,” he started, and moved to hug you, but his heart sank as you pulled away, refusing to even meet his eyes.

“You’re late,” you muttered, and he nodded weakly.

“We ran into some complications…”

“I can see that much,” you said, maybe a bit too harshly, maybe not harsh enough, you couldn’t tell, but everything hurt, and you just wanted it to stop.

Bucky’s face twisted into confusion, but he held his tongue, aching as you shrunk into yourself, your arms twisting around your body, and he just wanted to hold you, tell you everything was okay.  “I’m fine, Sweetheart.”

“The limp says otherwise,” you counter, holding yourself a little tighter and taking a moment to breathe. As the air left your lungs again, you pushed everything aside, every fear, every hope, every emotion you put on halt until you could deal with it later.  You looked up an smiled a little, but Bucky frowned, his worry spiking as he watched your shoulders stiffen, an emotionless façade cast upon your face.

“Why don’t you go to Medical and get some pain meds, I’ll go make dinner,” you suggested, but before Bucky could even get the chance to argue, to figure out what was going on in your head, you were gone.  He listened to you though, making his way down to medical and carried his confusion with him. He knew you got worried when he left, but this seemed to be something else entirely…

---

You scrambled across the kitchen, wiping the tears that happened to escape the wall you put around your heart, but if you’re being honest, that wall had been breaking for a while now. Dinner was in the oven when the door creaked open, and you quickly dried your cheeks and swallowed the aching in your chest, closing the cookbook and starting to wipe down the counters before Bucky rounded the corner.  He leaned against the entrance frame as he watched you walk back and forth around the kitchen.  

He shook the small tainted orange bottle in his hands, the pain meds clanking on the inside, “Doc said to take them with a meal.”

You nodded and swiped the flour off the counter and into your hand, “Dinner should be done in twenty or thirty minutes,” you said before rinsing out the washcloth and returning to cleaning.

Bucky walked into the room and leaned on the kitchen island, “Plenty of time for you to tell me what’s going on with you.  What’s wrong?”

You shook your head, “Nothing, I’m fine,” you said and moved to put the seasonings away when Bucky caught your wrist, bringing you in front of him and he caught sight of your red eyes, the dried stains of tears on your cheeks.

“You forget who raised you. I know you better than I know my weapons, and you’re not fine,” he said and you snap your eyes to his, and for a moment he sees your lip tremble, but only for a second before your jaw clenches and your gaze hardens, “I know you’ve been crying, stop shutting everything out, you’re allowed to cry.  Soldiers are allowed to cry,” he whispered, and it broke you.  The last bit of the walls crumbled to the ground and exposed your bleeding heart.  

Your lips trembled as you sobbed and Bucky grabbed hold of you and held you against his chest, tucking you into him, “I just wish I knew why you were crying.”

You held him tighter as he shuffled you over to sit on the couch, and he bit back the groan of pain that shot through his side.  You clung to him as your heart broke and put itself back together.  Bucky held you close, running his fingers through your hair and pressing kisses to your crown, whispering sweet nothings in your ears until you were able to catch your breath

He waited until your breathing steadied until he spoke, still letting you hide in his chest and neck as he rubbed patterns on your back, “What’s wrong, sweetheart?  And don’t try lying, we both know that won’t work.”

“What’s wrong is that you were late,” you croaked, and Bucky’s brows furrowed.

“I’ve been late before, and you never acted like this, quiet, sure, but not like this…”

You shifted until you could hide even further into him and he let you, holding you tightly, and you cried. You couldn’t breathe anymore, every day seemed like the last, and it hurt, “Before I wasn’t so tired, before I was able to keep it in lockdown until you weren’t around, before I didn’t let you know, but dad I’m so tired,” you choked out and Bucky’s confusion grows, “I’m sorry, I know you love your work, but I’m tired and I’m scared, and I’m so sick of going to sleep every night wondering if you are going to be there when I wake up.  I’m sick of not knowing if I am going to have a dad next week.  I’m sick of being so freaking worried that I can’t breathe.  I don’t sleep, I can’t eat, I can’t focus.  I’m so tired.  And when you didn’t come home…I thought this was it, this was the end of everything, you wouldn’t be there to wake me up in the morning, tease me, kiss my forehead, or tuck me in.  You wouldn’t be there for my graduation, or walk me down the aisle, or call me.  I thought you left…”

A knot jumped into Bucky’s throat as his stomach twisted, “Not a chance, Love,”  He whispered, choking on his realization that he never saw how much he was hurting you, “There’s not a chance in the goddamn world that I am going to miss any of that with you.  You’re going to have a dad, I’m going to be there, I promise—’

“You can’t promise that!” you said and sat up from his arms, staring at him, “You can’t promise you’ll come home, and you know that, every time you get on that jet, there is always a chance you won’t be coming back.”

“Sweetheart—”

“I’m sorry, I’m not trying to make it hard for you or make you feel guilty, I’m just so tired and it hurts.  I know you love your work—”

“I love you more than that,” Bucky countered, and you shook your head, “Maybe it’s time for desk work.”

Your eyes widen and you instantly recoil, “You have responsibilities you uphold.”

“Damn straight, I have a daughter to raise, and like hell if I am going to miss that opportunity.”

“You love what you do—”

“I can still work in the same expertise, just not on the field.  Mission strategy, the guy that’s in the ear of everyone on the field, there are plenty of areas I can go into.  I’ve been thinking about this for a while, so don’t go blaming yourself,” Bucky finishes and tears start to threaten your eyes once again.  He cups your cheek and presses a kiss to your forehead, trying to swallow the lump still pressing in his throat, “I’ve just been looking for a reason.  I’m sorry I didn’t notice what you were going through sooner.”

You shook your head, “I didn’t want you to know.”

“You can tell me anything, I don’t want you to hide from me, especially when it’s hurting you, alright? Next time talk to me.”

You nodded and settled back into him, his arm wrapped around your shoulder and after a minute, you spoke, “Dad?”

“Hm?”

“Just so you know, you aren’t allowed to walk around for at least a week.”

Bucky scoffs, looking down at you suspiciously, “And why’s that?”

“Because you got shot, idiot.”

Bucky pulled away from you a moment and glared, “Who told you?” he demanded.  The agents knew he didn’t want you involved with his injuries, the work he did, they knew that there were consequences.

“I threatened the new guy.”

“You threatened him?”

“You forget who raised me.”  You grinned and Bucky laughed.  

Yeah, maybe things were going to work out fine after all.

-----------------------

Forever Tags: [Open]

 @snarky--starky @thelovelydreamer17 @bugsbucky

#ellatalks #500 follower celebration #prompt list #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #dad!bucky #bucky barnes #bucky #james barnes #james buchanan barnes #dad!bucky x reader #dad!bucky x you #dad!bucky x teen!reader #dad!bucky x daughter #dad!bucky x daughter!reader #bucky x daughter #bucky x daughter!reader #father!bucky #father!bucky x reader #father!bucky x daughter!reader #father!bucky x daughter #bucky x teen!reader #x reader #x teen!reader #marvel #bucky imagines #bucky imagine #bucky fanfiction #fanfiction

[oldguardhc]

Old Guard hc #56

Prompt number: 17 - “Give me a minute or an hour”

Fandom: The Old Guard

Rating: PG-13

Warnings/Tags: joe x nicky, fluff

AN: @flamingbluepanda encouraged me to write a Psych AU for this prompt

Joe cranes his neck to get a better look at the body. The puncture wounds are interesting, each one spaced at least four inches apart, all at differing angles, both in entrance and position meaning whatever killed this man wasn’t just a random attack. If they were closer, Joe would have thought they were bite marks and maybe they are, but the last time he checked, there were no animals in the ocean or on land with a bite-radius that large and teeth spaced that far apart. At least, there’s nothing alive today that has a 34-inch bite-radius.

“You getting something, Mr. Kaysani?” Chief Freeman asks.

Can it be? The bite marks are looking to be more of a match the longer he stares at them. “I’m…getting something,” Joe says, snatching the yellow pad and a pen from Andy and ignoring the small huff of irritation she lets out.

He starts with a brief outline, it’s been a while since he’s drawn one of these and he has to use small strokes to get the head right.

“Wait, I think this is a boating accident,” Andy says, and Joe briefly looks up to see her point at the body. “Head trauma from…from falling off the boat. Hit a motor maybe?”

The eyes are tricky. Should they be looking straight or at the viewer? Joe decides the viewer for a more startling effect.

“The wounds on his back, they were caused by a…by an industrial crab trap. Yes, a crab trap. Or a whale. A lonely whale that got lost from its pod and traveled East, West. Saw our floating guy from below, thought it was a seal and…you know, had a little chomp.”

The teeth are definitely not his best work. The teeth to mouth ratio are way off and they’re definitely not as uniform in real life like he drew them. It’ll have to do for now. He adds a little shading to the drawing, giving it a more realistic appearance.  

“A whale?” Booker slowly asks, when it seems like Andy is finally done with her explanation.

“What’s your guy got?” Nicky immediately shoots back, coming to his partner’s defense.

Joe can practically hear Booker’s smug look, “Watch and learn, Genova. Watch and learn.”

“Alright Kaysani, show me what you got,” Chief Freeman says.

Joe blows on paper and holds the pad to his chest, hiding his drawing from a peaking Andy. “First of all, I would like to say that this is not my best work. It’s a very rough sketch, the shading isn’t finished, the torso is a little plump and the teeth are…they’re not completely accurate. If I had more time, I would’ve definitely given them more shape, more individual characteristics. If I had my druthers, I'd have done this in charcoal.” Booker gives him an understanding nod and Joe would high-five him if he was standing right next to him, “You know what I’m talking about! Almost nothing beats a good charcoal drawing-“

“Mr. Kaysani!” Chief Freeman interrupts, crossing her arms and tapping her feet. “The verdict?”

Joe dips his head in apology, “Yes! Look, the key was in the puncture wounds,” Joe says, using his pen to point at said wounds. “They’re very unique puncture wounds. So unique in fact, that I was able to draw a semi-accurate profile of our attacker.” Chief Freeman gives him the look that says ‘Well? Get on with it’ and Joe turns the pad around and smirks at Andy.

Both Andy and Chief Freeman do a double-take and lean forward to get a better look. He resists the urge to flinch. It’s really not his best work and it shows. After a second of intense scrutiny, Chief Freeman shakes her head with a slight scoff and stalks off.

“Chief? Where are you going?” Joe calls out, still holding his drawing up. The culprit is right here! Well, not here here but here on paper. She’s halfway up the beach already and doesn’t even turn around to acknowledge he spoke. Great.

“Nice work, Kaysani,” Andy says, snatching her pen and pad back, a pleased look on her face, and runs to catch up to the Chief.

“A dinosaur?” Booker asks, mouth downturned, fingers working the buttons in his sleeves to roll them back down to a more professional length. No, we were supposed to get fish tacos after this. “Jesus, Joe. You couldn’t have shot for something in the last million years?”

Joe places his hands on his friend’s chest and steps in his way, “Give me a minute, or an hour to prove it was a Tyrannosaurus rex.” Booker shakes his head, the disappointed look doing funny things to Joe’s stomach, pats Joe on the shoulder, and steps around him to leave.

Great, just great. Even his best friend didn’t believe him. Joe rubs his temples, he can feel a faint throb and he hopes that it’s just a regular throb and not a foreshadow for a migraine.  

“I thought the drawing was pretty good.”

Joe drops his hand and turns around. Nicky has that faint smile on his lips that Joe’s still trying to figure out if it means he likes Joe or likes likes Joe. He’s already made it obvious on multiple occasions how he feels about Nicky.

With Nicky’s looking at him like that, it’s so easy to smile. “Thanks!” And because no one else is here to witness his humiliation, he makes his smile a little more flirty. “You know, I can always use a live model.”

Nicky cocks an eyebrow at him, the faint smile still there, maybe even a little wider if Joe’s not delusional. “I’m going to go calm Andy.”

“Don’t die, I’d hate to miss your pretty face.” A light blush creeps up Nicky’s neck as he nods and jogs back up the beach.

Joe doesn’t stare at Nicky’s ass. He doesn’t, because that would be rude and Nicky is more than a beautiful body.

It’s a good thing the only witness is a dead body.

Joe turns back to the dead body. “Definitely not a boating accident.”

—

Joe slumps against the growing mound of dirt. He’s exhausted. He feels like he completed an Iron Man and climbed Mount Everest twenty times. Who knew being shot at could be so draining? To make matters worse, the throb from this morning was a foreshadow. His eyeballs are going to explode any second now with how strong his head is pounding. He digs his knuckle into the valley between his eyes until it hurts, it’s a different hurt than the one going on behind his eyes though, that it feels strangely good.

Joe sighs, at least one good thing happened today; he was right about the body. It’s a real shame he doesn’t have ‘Use a 20-year-old Tyrannosaurus rex model built by a 9-year-old Booker to solve a murder case’ on his bingo card. He would’ve been the only one to mark it down.

A bottle of water is placed on his lap and Joe opens his eyes, a ‘thanks, Booker’ on his tongue. Except, it’s not Booker standing above him, it’s Nicky.

Joe musters up the best smile he can despite feeling like death has crawled its way inside him through his eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“Your head’s been hurting all day,” Nicky says, crouching down, a small frown on his face. He pulls two packets out of his pocket and holds them out to Joe. One’s red and the other’s green. “I didn’t know if it was a regular headache or a migraine, so, I got both.”

Joe stares at the two packets. Nicky bought him medicine. Nicky saw that he was hurting and brought him something to feel better. Joe swallows the lump in his throat, reaches out for the red packet. “Thank you,” Joe says, brushing his fingers with Nicky’s.

The corners of Nicky’s lips tick upwards, “No problem.”

Joe tears the packet open and dumps both pills in his hands before tossing them into his mouth. Nicky has the bottle of water open and held out for him and Joe takes it with a grateful nod. Even though he swallows the pills on the first gulp, he finishes the whole bottle. Only when he’s done, does he remember that Booker might want some too.

“I gave him a bottle too,” Nicky says and that’s a sign, right? That has to be a sign of how amazing they would be together. “The pharmacist said those pills should work in 15 minutes.” Joe nods, he’s intimately familiar with the wonders of Excedrin. He would’ve taken one around lunch if they hadn’t been following another lead at the time.

“Thank you,” Joe repeats, closing his eyes again even though he wants nothing more than to stare into Nicky’s gorgeous blue eyes. He hears and then feels Nicky settle beside him, no doubt getting his suit all dirty, and he’s doing that for Joe.

“Is there anything else I can do?”

Joe shakes his head, “You’ve helped a lot already. We just have to wait now.” Joe resumes his earlier ministrations, digging into that spot that hurt but was a better hurt than the one inside.

Cold fingers slide over his own, “Don’t press too hard, you’ll hurt yourself,” Nicky chides.  

Joe grabs Nicky’s wrist and guides those cold fingers until they’re covering his eyes. Relief instantly hits and Joe presses those cold fingers harder against his eyes.

“Should’ve gotten an ice pack,” Nicky mutters to himself.

“S’fine, your hands are working.”

They sit in silence as they wait for the pills to kick in. Every few minutes, Nicky switches hands and Joe doesn’t even have to hold his wrist anymore. He knows how hard to press and it’s nice. It’s really nice. He can almost ignore Booker digging in the background and the occasional splash of dirt that rains down on both of them.

“Never thought my poor circulation would come in handy,” Nicky jokes when the migraine finally subsides.

Joe grins and reaches out to press a kiss to both palms. “They were lovely.”

“Please tell me I’m not going to have to listen to you two flirt the entire night,” Booker calls out from the hole. “I don’t want you two ruining my discovery.”

Excuse me?  

“Your discovery?” Joe asks, crawling over the mound to look down at Booker. He’s made an impressive amount of progress. Probably only six more feet before they hit the skull.

Booker stabs the shovel into the dirt, both of his hands coming up to rest on his waist. “I’m digging, so yes, my discovery.”

Joe makes an outraged sound, “I found the right hole!”

“It wasn’t a hole! I’m making it a hole!” To prove his point, Booker picks up the shovel and tosses the next scoop at Joe.

Joe should’ve seen that one coming.

“Alright, I’m going to go home. Have fun digging, boys,” Nicky says and when Joe turns around, he’s brushing dirt off himself. “I’ll see you later?”

Joe nods his head probably a little too enthusiastically, “Definitely. Thank you again for the pills. I’d still be dying if you hadn’t have come back.”

Nicky smiles, the small one, and one day Joe’s going to see if he can get him to grin ear-to-ear, lips stretched so wide his cheeks will hurt. But not today. Today, he’s going to make history by being the first Psychic Paleontologist.

Nicky dips his head again and yeah, Joe hates to see him go but he sure as hell loves to watch him leave.

That ass is definitely better than a charcoal drawing.

A new spray of dirt rains down on him and that’s it.

It’s a shame no one is there to hear Booker’s loud yelp as Joe tackles him to the floor. Oh well, it’ll live rent-free in Joe’s mind forever.

#joe x nicky #the old guard #booker #nile freeman #fictober20 #andromache the scythian #hc

[singingaboutwishingx]

Hello! For the prompt list: Sam/Josh with Poorly Timed Confession/Grief Fic?

38. grief fic + 60. poorly timed confession

tw: death. starts under the cut.

sam wasn’t at leo’s funeral. he was invited, of course, but he wasn’t there. it’s still unclear as to why, but everyone was so wrapped up in their own grief that they barely noticed.

well, everyone except for josh.

josh looks fine on the outside (well, as fine as a person can be when their surrogate father-slash-vice president-elect dies right before he can become the vice president-elect), but for whatever physical signs of grief and stress his body is showing, it’s infinitely worse inside his head. and so, after he goes home from the white house that night, josh calls sam. and he pours his heart out. 

“listen, sam, i can’t live like this anymore. i... i sat at leo’s funeral this morning, and i realized that i’ve let too many years go by without telling you this. the year we were together was the happiest i’ve ever been, and for a long time, i was content to just be your friend, to be near you, but four years ago, when you left, it nearly killed me. and i thought i could do it, i thought i could move on, but i couldn’t. sam, i’m in love with you. i think i’ve loved you since the day we met, and, god, i would do anything if you would just give me another chance.” josh is completely ruined, on the verge of tears while pacing around his house. 

it takes sam a very long time to respond. josh waits for what feels like an hour.

“josh,” sam says in that choked voice of his that damn near kills josh, “i got engaged three days ago.”

and for once in his life, josh is completely, utterly still. he’s frozen for several moments with the phone to his ear, not moving, not blinking, not breathing. when he can finally move his body, he just hangs up the phone.

josh never goes to california to find sam. he grabs will bailey and asks him be dcos (subconsciously, will still reminds him of sam a little, which absolutely has nothing to do with it, and anyway, despite all the russell drama, josh knows that will can do well in this role). will accepts, and while he’s not afraid to speak up to josh, he doesn’t think it’s his place to tell josh to take a break. so josh doesn’t take a break, and a year into the santos administration, he has an eternal stress headache, too-high blood pressure, and ulcers. he doesn’t have donna this time, either. something in josh just snapped after he hung up on sam, and the heartbreak mixed with the unbelievable stress of the job is literally killing him. eventually, matt forces josh to take a week off because, seriously, between will and lou, we’ve got it covered.

josh spends most of his time in hawaii in his hotel room, essentially having an anxiety attack because there’s no one here to force him to actually relax. he calls once a day and is essentially told to shut the hell up and go sit on the beach. when josh comes back, he is not better, but they barely have time to notice because they’re on the brink of getting matt’s education bill introduced to the house.

all this time, sam has been living in malibu with his now-wife. and he loves her, she’s great, but not a goddamn day goes by where he doesn’t wonder what would have happened if he wasn’t engaged when josh called. he sees josh on the news sometimes, steadily looking worse and worse.

in the end, it’s donna who really notices. it always is. josh has already tempted fate twice, though. he was fine after being shot, and he was fine after putting his hand through a window, but third time’s the charm.

josh, in what sam thinks is the cruelest thing the universe could have possibly bestowed on them, has a heart attack. and unlike for his predecessor, one is enough.

sam travels to dc for the funeral alone. he sits between donna and josh’s mom in the front row, staring at the box that holds josh’s body. the women on either side of him let their tears flow freely, but sam is still barely able to process what’s happening.

in his hotel room that night, the emotion hits him ferociously. he wants to scream, shout, smash the lamp and the television and jump out the fucking window, but all he does is send himself into quiet hysterics, sobbing noiselessly, knuckles white from gripping a pillow to his chest as he sits against the headboard of the bed, feeling like he’s dying, too.

when he goes back to california, he’s quiet. that was to be expected, of course. his best friend just died. but the quiet lasts too long. sam used to be chatty, a nervous talker, but now he only speaks when he absolutely has to do so. he’s... different. his coworkers notice. his wife notices. she gently suggests that he see a therapist. 

he just says “okay.”

the therapist has a lot of trouble getting anything out of him. week after week, he answers in single words, in short sentences.

sam doesn’t write anymore, either. he used to pen short stories, unfinished novels, poems, whatever, but now, he just doesn’t. he can’t. it’s like the sight of josh’s body drained him of his words. legal briefs, which used to be easy, are now a struggle. he pulls them off, he supposes. he’s still good at his job, but he finds no joy in it.

sam knows his wife locks herself in the bathroom and cries and he knows it’s his fault and he feels really bad because he can’t do anything about it because he thinks that there simply is no feeling better because he’s pretty goddamn sure he killed josh lyman.

and when he tells his therapist all this, she’s shocked (of course, she covers it well, as she’s been trained to do) because this is the first time he’s strung together more than six or seven words in one answer.

“i think it was my fault,” sam says. “he called me and told me he was in love with me, and i told him i was engaged, and he just hung up. i didn’t call him back. and when i would see him on the news, he just kept looking worse. i figured i was the last person he wanted to talk to, so i just... didn’t call. and then a month after the last time i see him on television, donna calls me, and he’s dead. and the worst part is that i loved him, too. dammit, i loved him, too.”

he spills everything that session, and a month later, he writes a poem: “requiem for a friend.” one and a half months after that, he starts initiating small talk again. slowly, week by week, he feels the pain in his chest start to ease, and along with it, the guilt.

there are good days and there are bad days and there are worse days, but sam lives through them all. he goes through every single one of them with the same goal: to be there. and he is. goddammit, he is there, he is present, because if josh can’t be, sam sure as hell will be.

and ahead he forges. in grief, in love, in life, ahead he forges.

color palate/vibes: black. too many people dressed in black. too-bright malibu sunshine. an ache in josh’s head, an ache in sam’s chest , and they just won’t go away.

this is partially inspired by that one fic where josh doesn’t take that vacation and works himself to death (that one was josh/donna, though, i think). very sorry, i do not know what it is, but it is on ao3 in case anyone happens to run across this.

also, holy shit. i write a lot of pining, but this is actually the saddest thing I’ve ever written. i’m about 99% sure that this is NOT what you meant, anon, but this is what my brain spit out. my apologies, but as always, if i had to feel things, you all have to feel them, too.

#this was a bit of a departure from my usual writing lol #bianca writes the tea #bianca's two tropes #the west wing #samjosh #josh lyman x sam seaborn #tw: death

[thewildomega]

Second Chance Ch.10

Waking up you yawned and gave a little stretch, rubbing your eyes you sighed and sat up from the couch, feeling only a little ache in your chest as you did so. Looking around the home you saw the early morning light coming in through the windows and grinned. From the empty sound you didn't think Ed was up yet. Swinging your legs around over the edge you stood and started folding the blanket that you had been using, tossing it over the back of the couch and fluffing the throw pillow back up you nodded, satisfied with it looking like you hadn't been sleeping there for the past week. Remembering how that conversation had went you felt the corner of your lip lift up the slightest amount.

Washing your face and braiding your hair down you back you walked back out to the living room and saw it empty. Listening you could hear the shower from Edward's bedroom and figured he was getting ready for bed himself. The both of you had ate supper with Marco and his wife Zella, staying to talk to them both about your world and some other things. Zella was very nice and for the now second time in your life you could see a blossoming friendship there... maybe... maybe she was just being nice. Biting your lip you decided it was best not to overthink it. 

Seeing as the lights were off, other than his bedroom one you walked over to the couch and looked around. Biting the inside of your lip you reached out to pull the throw from the armchair. Turning to the couch you moved to lay down on it, adjusting the throw pillow behind your head and turning to your side. Pulling up your legs so the throw would cover a bit more of you, you sighed. You hated sleeping with pants on, jeans especially but you would just have to deal with it. This wasn't your home, it was his and you didn't want to seem like you weren't respective of that. Closing your eyes you yawned, at least you were already tired. Relaxing you felt yourself drifting off when suddenly a deep, low voice spoke and jolted you from sleep. "Wha..." you asked looking to the back of the couch that you were facing and then turning your head some to see him standing above you. 

"I asked you what the hell you thought you were doing?" 

Blinking in confusion you felt your bow twitch, "Going to sleep." you answered in an unsure voice.

"You are not sleeping on the couch lass." 

Opening and closing your mouth you looked back to the couch and then up to him, "Th..then where do you want me to sleep?" you asked in a low voice. He wouldn't ask you to sleep on the floor would he?

"In the bed of course." 

Knitting your brows you looked to him and shook your head. "That's your bed." 

"I am not letting you sleep out here on the couch." 

"Well I'm not taking your bed so it's either here or the floor." you told him with a firm look. 

"I said you're not sleeping on the couch. After everything you did to help me when I ended up in your world I will not allow you to sleep on the couch while I sleep in a bed." 

"Yes you will. I am fine here. Plus there is no way you can fit on this thin comfortably." 

"I'll make it work now come on, go get in bed." 

"No." you huffed, rolling back over to face the back of the couch. 

"Y/n." 

"Edward." you mocked in the same irritated voice as his. Hearing him growl you kept your eyes close. 

"You are so stubborn." 

"Maybe you're just too used to getting your way." you shrugged. Hearing a grunt you assumed he had walked away to go to bed but then felt as the throw was ripped from you to be replaced by a heaviness. Opening your eyes to see he had thrown another blanket over you looked up to see him standing there with his brows lowered and his arms crossed over his chest in what looked to be a pout. 

"You'll at least use a better blanket than that damn thing." 

Grinning you saw him let out a sigh before those warm yellow eyes dropped down to you. "Thank you." hearing him only grunt in response you chuckled "Aren't you too old to pout when things don't go your way." 

"Keep it up darling and I'll go get them ropes." 

Giggling you saw his lip lift into the smallest grin "Goodnight Ed." 

"Sweet dreams lass." 

Hearing how low his voice went made those butterflies in your stomach flutter and you turned back to the couch to hide your blush. Closing your eyes you listened to him walk to his bedroom but didn't hear his door close. 

Every night he had offered you his bed but every night you had turned him down. He was already feeding you and offering you shelter, he took time out of his day to spend with you and he had even gotten the a seamstress in town to make you some more clothes, you would not take his bed. Walking to the bathroom you looked in the closet to see the basket that held you clothes. Taking off the large shirt of his that you had more or less claimed as a sleeping shirt, you folded it up and picked out your clothes for today. Pulling on a pair of jean shorts, your bra and a navy loose fitting tank top you pulled loose you hair and ran your fingers through it before nodded and letting out a little hum. Walking out of the bathroom you moved to the kitchen and made him a quick omelet, your way of paying for your stay was cooking for him and cleaning, even though he told you on multiple occasions that you didn't have to. Good thing was you seemed to mostly wake before him so there wasn't much he could do to stop you. Sitting his plate at the head of the table where he always sat you also got his tea cup ready. Cleaning up you made your way outside, breathing in a deep breath of the clean fresh air. 

"Good morning y/n."

Looking over to the close line not too far from Edward's house you saw Zella there hanging up a load of laundry and smiled. Walking over to her, "Good Morning Zella." 

"How are you feeling today?" she asked. 

"Good. My head isn't even hurting anymore and neither is my chest." you told her

"I am glad to hear. I'm sure Whitebeard is happy to see you no longer in pain as well." Smiling up at the woman she hung up her husband's pants. "So what is it you are going to do today?"

"Umm I don't really know. Is there anything I can help you with?" 

"Not help per say but I'm going to the market when I get done hanging out clothes and you are more than welcome to join me if you would like." 

Smiling you nodded. Helping her hang up the rest of her and Marco's clothing the two of you were soon off to the market. While you didn't have any money to buy anything it was fun to just hang out with Zella and look at all the different foods and stuff. Things here looked and smelled so much better than in your world with nothing being processed. Everything tasted better too, although you really missed pizza. You could probably make it but you would have to get the ingredients first and well yet again you had no money. 

"...I'll pay you fifty berries...." 

"No way!" 

"Fine a hundred berries." 

"I said no! Anyone would have to be a fool to do it." 

"Well I can't leave this island until it's done... I'm not leaving that damn chest down there."

"Best I can tell you is start asking around. Whoever take the job is going to have to be a damn good swimmer is all I'ma say...either that or one of them fishmen."

Having caught on to the conversation between the two men you bit your lip. Looking down to Zella you tapped her shoulder. "I'll be right back." you told her and saw her nod. Walking over to the two men you licked your lips. "Um excuse me sir but I heard you talking about a job you needed done, one that would need a good swimmer and I... well I'd like to take it." you said and saw both of them looking up to you in shock. 

"Girl this ain't no job for..." the one started but felt a jab to hsi ribs and shut up.

"Is that right doll? Well I must ask, are you a decent swimmer?" 

Looking to the man with the long scraggly beard you nodded. While you hated being called doll you would bite your tongue in favor of making some money. "Yes sir, I'd like to say so. What exactly is it you need done?"

"Well you see doll my ship collide with the reef out there during that storm two weeks ago and the damn thing sunk. Me and my crew just did make it out before the sea swallowed it up but my chest of goods, including my log book and post are in that chest so you see I kinda need it back before we can set off again. It's finally low enough tide that someone would be able to dive down and fetch it for me, I'd go myself but I'm not a good swimmer and neither is none of my crew." he told the abnormally tall young woman. 

Nodding you tilted your head. "So where is the chest at exactly?" 

"It's in my cabin, second floor of the ship." 

Nodding again you looked him in the eye. "A hundred berries if I bring it back to you?"

"Aye. I'll sweeten the deal, I'll give you two if you also manage to bring up my hat and sword, I had them on my nightstand when I went to sleep that night." he grinned.

"Alright I'll do it." 

"Well then let us show you the way." he grinned. 

Quickly going back over to Zella and telling her you would catch up with her later you saw her knitted brows as you only told her you had gotten a quick job. Hearing the men call for you, you gave her a grin. "I'll be fine. if Edward asks just tell him I'll be back later." you told her before turning around to follow the men towards the shipwreck. Arriving at the beach you saw some of the reef and rocks sticking up but you didn't see a ship which meant it was deep underwater. 

"She's just there doll. Remember my cabin is just left off the stairs, second floor." 

Taking a deep breath you nodded. You were sure your heart was beating hard enough against your ribs that it just might burst through. 'Calm down. You've swarm back and forth across the lake a million times, this is going to be a piece of cake. Besides if you do this you will be able to pay Edward back for the clothes and buy enough stuff to make Pizza for You, Ed, Marco and Zella. Hell maybe even some type of desert too.' taking a step out into the water you felt it decently warm, good at least you wouldn't be freezing to death. Slowly walking out into the water you felt the waves crash into you but pushed on. 

"I'll be waiting for you doll." 

.........................

Waking up he walked into the kitchen and saw breakfast waiting for him on the table like usual, sighing he moved to sit down at his seat to eat, knowing she had probably not made herself anything. She was constantly cleaning and cooking for him. He told her repeatedly that she didn't have to but did she listen, No. Y/n was a hard headed woman but she was also kind and funny and caring. Between her world and his own he had taken notice how she always put herself last, like her boots, those hole ridden things should have been replaced by now but instead she had used her money to buy him clothes and food. He knew she didn't make much working at the bar and when he had accidentally knocked a notebook from the coffee table one day he had opened it to see papers stating things she had to pay, he still found it odd people there had to pay for something as simple as water. Adding them up he knew she was by no means a wealthy person but she never complained. Smiling to himself he took another bite of the omelet. 

"What has you smiling so much Pops?" 

Snapping his eyes over he saw Marco walking into the room with a soft grin on his face. "Oh nothing really..."

"Mmm maybe I should have asked who, although I'm pretty sure I already know." Marco chuckled. 

Humming he took another bite of his omelet, bacon and cheese, his favorite, well she did add in spinach but he wouldn't complain. She tended to add vegetables into everyone of his meals. Seeing Marco take a seat at the table beside him he swallowed his food. "What is it you have been doing this morning?" 

"Helped Mrs. Harp deliver her new granddaughter." 

Smiling he gave a light chuckle. "Oh yea, I'll have to go tell them congratulations. Rea and the babe all healthy?"

Nodding he grinned. "Yep both of them are doing great." Rubbing the back of his head he leaned back in the large chair, "So Jozu, Vista and Izo are on their way back here."

Looking back up he blinked, "Did you tell them?" he asked and saw Marco shake his head. 

"No I thought it would be easier in person."

"Do you know when they will be here?"

"Within the next week." 

Humming he finished off his food. While he was excited to see his children again he knew he would never be able to see all of them. He and Marco had already spoken and he agreed with his son, it was best if Whitebeard stayed dead. Standing he carried his pate over to the sink to wash, if he didn't go ahead and do it she would. Putting on the kettle to make his tea his mind  drifted again to his soulmate. He wanted to do something for her, something special but he didn't know what yet. Glancing up out the window he saw Zella outside, she looked to be just getting back from the market judging by the basket in her arms. Seeing her looking around he grinned softly. "Marco lad, I think your wife is looking for you?" 

Standing Marco moved to push in the chair. "You know Pops I could be saying that same thing to you before long." 

Hearing this he felt his body stiffen a bit, "Marco..." he said in warning but his first only chuckled in response. Being left alone in the house he couldn't help but think on his son's words. The thought of being able to call y/n his wife made his chest warm up, a upward tug of his lips. He knew he was falling in love with her, he had been around long enough to be in touch with his own feelings and emotions. He was also well past the age to be playing around, he knew what he wanted, he wanted her. There was only one thing holding him back. Her. Nothing about her in particular, hell in his eyes she was perfect. Perfect for him. BUT, she herself wasn't there yet. She had started to open up more and more to him. He knew her likes and dislikes. He knew how she liked her food, how she enjoyed exploring and the water. He knew her favorite color, he knew that she hated bugs and how she wasn't fond of the sitting around but the one thing he knew nothing about other than the little he had been able to piece together himself was her past. She kept that part of herself locked away in a deep abyss that he knew even she wished she could just forget about. She couldn't' though, it was something else learned with age, something she had yet to grasp. A person can move on from their past, learn from it but you could never forget it. Until she got that, until she opened up to him, trusted him he knew their relationship could go no further.

Snapped out of his thoughts by the kettle he moved over to pour himself a cup of tea. Sipping at the hot drink he looked towards the couch she had been sleeping on and frowned. He really had to find her somewhere else to sleep. When he had built himself a home he had assumed he would never have anyone to share it with. His boys stayed where ever doing God knows what when they docked on his home island while he chose to spend it quietly. So being that he had only ever built one room, his room. Yes the other rooms were larger, big enough that if his crew came over to eat or whatever else they could but sleeping wise, no, there was no where else. Sitting his cup down on table he walked over to the book shelf and looked through them until he found what he was looking for. Grabbing the green spined book he opened it and took out the folded plans for the home. Carrying them back over to the table he opened them up and set them down to look them over. Crossing his arms he tapped his finger on his arm in thought. He could easily add another room off of the living room. Finding a pencil he moved to sit down to start making the plans when he heard the door open again and what sounded like the rushed steps. "Marco what..."

"We have a problem..."

.................................

Kicking your arms and feet you kept your head above water, bobbing up and down with the waves as you swam to where to reef was and the apparent sunken ship. Luckily the water was clear so you could make out the ship once you rounded the large rocks. Fish were swimming around so hopefully that meant no sharks. Getting to where you were just over the wreckage you took a few deep breaths, readying yourself. "You got this." you told yourself. With one deep breath you dived under. Swimming down deeper and deeper you saw the ship come into full view. Taking a moment to look the whole thing over you grinned and then moved towards the stairs. Second floor to the left. Second floor to the left. Repeating it over and over in your head you paused when it got much darker inside. Letting your eyes adjust you went into the room that had to be the captain's cabin. Seeing a few fish swimming about you scanned the room for the chest. At first you didn't see it but then you saw something under a knocked over chair. Swimming over you placed your feet on the floor and pulled it up. Thankfully it was a smaller chest and so you grabbed it and started swimming out of the ship. Getting to the surface you set the chest on the rocks that were above water.

Taking a few minutes to regain your breathing you dived back down to get the hat and sword that he said he would pay extra for. Finding your way to his room easily this time you started searching for the sword and hat. He had said they were on his table but everything had been knocked over when it sunk. Seeing a shining sword against the wall you grabbed it, putting it over your arm for now. Now for the hat. Looking over the whole room you ran out of breath and had to take the sword back up. Placing it on the rocks as well you decide to go look on more time, wanting to pay Ed back. Swimming your way down to the ship and getting to the room you looked it over again. Seeing the bed you got down to peek under it and long and behold there was the hat. Reaching under it you felt the material of the hat and grabbed it. Pulling it out you suddenly felt a sharp pain on your arm. Snatching your arm out you saw a eel biting you. Having let out a scream when it bit you you didn't have much air left. Hitting it to try and make it let go it only started to shake, blood coming from around it. Clenching your teeth you grabbed a shard of the broken mirror on the floor and stabbed it. As soon as it let go you dropped the glass and quickly took hold of the hat. Swimming out of the ship you saw blood pouring from your arm but ignored it as your lungs burned. Kicking your feet and arms about you pushed for the surface, desperate for air.

As soon as you broke out you gasped for air, coughing the water that had started to fill your lungs. Crawling up onto the rocks you put the hat beside the other items. Lifting your arm you saw the wound bleeding down your arm. The whole area felt like it was on fire. Were eels venomous? You didn't know but you did know that you really needed to get back to shore. Putting the sword strap over your arm you grabbed the chest and shoved the hat through the other handle. Holding onto the other side you slide off the rocks and started your slow swim back to shore. 

...........................

Finding the man in town that Zella had described he saw the man laughing with some other men that he knew weren't from his village. Gritting his teeth he walked over to him and reached down to lift the man off the stool by his shirt. Holding up to his level he looked into his eyes. 

"Hey what's the big deal?"

"You think you are something don't you punk?! Conning an innocent woman to go risk her life out there in those waters!" 

"I didn't con anyone, she made her choice, I didn't hold a gun to her head or nothing."

Growling he looked down to the open chest and saw it filled with a little treasure and a log pose. "I am going to make this quick and simple for you. You and your crew will be off of this island within the next thirty minutes or I will personally see to it that you all join your ship." Seeing the man nod vigorously he dropped him to the ground and went to where his heart was pulling him. 

Walking over to the beach he looked around until a head of h/c hair caught his eye. Moving over to her he saw her sitting in the sand, her hair and clothes soaking wet but that wasn't what caught his attention, it was the blood currently dripping down her arm. It looked to be in the shape of a moray eel bite and he could hear her mumbling as he got closer. "Can you not go a full two weeks without injury?" 

Snapping your eyes up to the all too familiar voice you saw a look on his face of both annoyance and concern. "I can, I just ah... well..." seeing his brow raise as he crouched down in front of you you snapped your mouth shut. 

Moving to kneel in front of her he grabbed her arm and turned it to look the bite over fully. Sighing he pulled her up and lifted her up into his arm, hearing her let out a little 'eep'. Turning and walking towards his home he heard her huff, feeling water run down his front. 

Being carried in one of his arms you huffed out, "You do know I can walk, it's my arm, not my leg." you complained but secretly loved the warmth his large body was giving your chilled, wet one. 

"I can see that but as it turns out darling I can not trust you not to do something to put yourself in danger so I am going to carry you." 

"I didn't tell the eel to bite me!" 

"No you just decided to go swim out to a shipwreck in waters that are infested with sea kings and a million other things that would swallow you up in an instant. All for nothing I might add." 

"It wasn't for nothing." 

"Then tell me lass what was it for?" 

Turning a little in his hold you grabbed the folded money from your pocket. "It was a job." 

Looking to the berries he knit his brows, "So you risked your life so you could have some money? What do you need money for?"

"It's not for me, it's for you." you told him leaning over him to shove the money into his back pocket. 

Quickly pulling the money out of his pocket he looked to see about two hundred berries there and shook his head at her, "Why is it for me?"

"To pay you back for the clothes and food and letting me stay with you." 

"I'm not taking this." 

Feeling him shove the money back into your hands you knit your brows. "Yes you are."

"No I'm not."

"Yes you are." Going to put it in his pocket you saw him hold his hand over it to stop you. Sitting up you reached up to push it under his bandana. 

"Y/n." he grunted. Trying to reach up to take the money out of his bandana he felt her grab his hand to try and stop him. 

"Ed please just take it I want to pay you back, I...I don't want to bum off of you or make it seem like I'm not grateful." 

Sighing he held her hands in one of his and looked into her eyes. "Lass I know you're not bumming off of me, I know you are grateful. I won't allow you to pay me back because there is nothing for you to pay me back for." seeing her go to speak he pressed his finger to her lips while still holding her hands still. "Did you not buy me clothes, feed me, shelter me and spend your money on other things of entertainment while I was in your world?"

"Well yeah but that's different..."

Chuckling he rose his brows, "How so?"

"Because you...you fixed my roof." 

"I patched your roof once. That one deed doesn't count as payment." 

"You chopped wood..."

"Hmmm chopped wood for a fire to keep us both warm, still not enough." 

Looking down you thought on the main point that had been filling your mind, "You kept me company."

Hearing how soft her voice had gone he felt his brows lower and the smile slowly fall from his face. "Aren't you doing the same thing with me darling?"

"It's not the same thing. You have friends here, your son, your family. You don't need me." biting the inside of your lip you looked away.

Furrowing his brows he  placed her down on the log bench outside of his home. Kneeling down in front of her he curled his finger under her chin to force her eyes to his while the other rested on the bench by her thigh. "Need no, want yes. Don't ever think you are burdening me darling..." licking his lips he dipped his head closer to hers, "... That I won't ever want you by my side." Glancing down to her lips he felt that pulling in his chest.

It felt like your heart was going to beat out of your chest the closer his face got to yours. When he was only a few inches from your own you felt your eyes begin to slip close. 

Going to close the distance he dipped his head and...

"Woah what happened to your arm.... oh... um..." 

Tensing up when Marco's voice suddenly sounded from beside the both of you you quickly leaned back and looked down, feeling your whole face heat up with embarrassment. 

Leaning back he glanced down to y/n to see her head dipped down and her shoulders curled inward some. Gritting his teeth he let out a small sigh as he moved to stand. Looking to his son he gave him a glare that he knew Marco understood when he saw him making that same guilty face he had made since he was a young boy. Glancing back down to his lass he saw her very uncomfortable and knew even if he told Marco to leave there was no going back to that moment right now. "Marco tend to her arm while I go get her a towel. Lass don't give him a fuss." Rubbing her shoulder he saw her nod but still not lift her eyes to his.

"I'll go get my kit Y/n, be right back."

Walking towards the door he gave his son a smack to the back of his head as he passed, hearing him mumble out a small 'sorry'.

..............................

Once Marco had cleaned your arm and bandaged it you looked up to his eyes and gave him a small grin, "Thank you, I'm sorry I keep using up your bandages and stuff." 

Chuckling he looked to the woman and smiled, "Nah you're fine Y/n. Keeps my skills refreshed." he said and saw her smile. "So Zel told me about this thing called a pizza you told her about, what is it exactly?" 

"Well actually I was thinking maybe I could make us some for supper, if your father is okay with it that is?" you asked finally looking back up to the man for the first time since what now had to be one of the most embarrassing moments of your life. Just thinking about what had almost happened made your cheeks heat up again. 

Looking down to her eyes he saw a blush on her cheeks but said nothing and nodded. "Of course lass, as long as it won't bother your arm." When she smiled he grinned as well. "Alright then well let's go back into town and get the stuff you need." 

Nodding you got off the bench and moved to hang up the damp towel on the clothes line to dry. Your clothes were only a little damp now, along with your hair but in the sun they would dry quickly. Walking back over to Ed and Marco you saw the man look to you. 

"Anything me and Zel can do or bring?" Marco asked, packing up his things.

Shaking your head you smiled, "Just yourselves."

"Alright then. I'll see you both at supper then." 

Walking beside her towards town he glanced down to her arm, the bite wasn't that big on her as it would have been a normal sized person but he knew it still hurt, eels bites were nothing to take lightly. "You make sure to keep that bite clean lass." Seeing her nod he licked his lips and reached up to rub the back of his head. He wasn't liking how awkward this felt. 

Wanting something to talk about but not wanting to talk about that you glanced up to the mountain and tilted your head. "What's up there?"

Humming he followed her eyes up tot he mountain and rose his brows, "Ah what do you mean?"

"Like is it flat or are there more trees or something else?" 

"Don't know. Probably just rocks." he shrugged.

Tilting your head you grinned up at him. "You've never climbed up there?"

"No." 

Pursing your lips you smiled. 

Seeing her smiling and looking towards the mountain he knit his brows, looking back and forth between the woman and the land mass. "Don't even think about it." 

Hearing him say that you looked to him and grinned. "What?"

"You are not climbing up there." 

"And why not?"

"What do you mean why not? Because it's dangerous that's why."

Waving him off you smiled, "It'll be fine, I climbed the mountains back home loads of times. Besides I want to see what's up there." 

"I said no. We are not climbing that mountain."

"I didn't say you had to go."

"Well I sure as hell ain't letting you go up there by yourself."

"If you're scared though there is no reason in you..."

"Scared?! You think I am scared?!" Chuckling and then laughing he shook his head. "We are not climbing the mountain and it's not because I'm scared." 

Looking to him you smirked "Bock bock bock." 

"Chicken noises really? I am not a chicken. I'm not scared." Crossing his arms over his chest he looked down at her and saw her still looking up at him with that teasing grin. "Don't they teach children to respect their elders where you are from?"

"I mean they do but I didn't know you when you were older and technically we don't know how old you are now so I could very well be your elder." 

'That'd not how that works." he grumbled.

"Oh come on it'll be fun." you smiled. Seeing his brow lower you wrapped your arms around one of his. "Please?" you begged in the sweetest voice you could.

Casting a glance down at her he saw her smiling sweetly at him, batting her lashes as a bonus. Sighing he dropped his head back. "You are going to be the death of me." 

"Second death, I wonder what world you will end up in this time?" 

"The next time I die I better stay dead." 

#Whitebeard #whitebeard one piece #one piece whitebeard #whitebeard x reader #edward newgate #feedback would be appreciated #edward newgate x reader #one piece #One Piece Fanfiction #soulmate au

[ghostbustermelanieking]

oddly specific memories i have of listening to tma

in honor of the finale, and because i am a sentimental asshole, i bring you this potentially uninteresting and completely pointless list. i'm gonna miss this show a lot

half my original reasoning for listening to the podcast was to motivate me to walk on the treadmill. this did not work. but i did it the first time, when i was going through the trailers and anglerfish, and i remember the room where my dad keeps the treadmill is really dark and the spooky chanting sort of freaked me out

after the treadmill, i ended up listening to the bulk of the first four episodes on the couch, and halfway through i let my oldest cat, winnie, who always lived outside (i know, i was very against actually keeping her outside) in the house. and she jumped up on the couch with me, which she literally never did. (she was very grumpy and not super affectionate.) i had that cat since i was five, and she passed last june, and i really miss her. quarantine kind of gave us the opportunity to hang out with her a lot, because we were home so much. so i'm glad these memories are kind of intersected in my mind. (below: a pic i have from that day.)

my friend sarah relistened along with me the first time around, which was extraordinarily sweet of her, and also led to some interesting interactions. for example: she forgot when it was revealed that sasha was dead, so she accidentally spoiled that for me when i asked when the others would find sasha (and i spent all of season 2 just like. anxiously vibrating over this fact). she also made this post, when i was still in like early first half of season 1, and my immediate thought was "oh no martin is dead." i hadnt even MET martin at this point

back in early quarantine, my mom had this rule that we had to do something new every day (to keep away the depression... ha ha). anyways, all i wanted to do in my free time was sit around and listen to tma (and also watch this show i was into on netflix), so i came up with some lame excuses, one of which was "i'll give myself a pedicure." this led to the memory i ultimately associate with mag 56 (trevor herbert 2) being me sitting out on our roof balcony thing, giving myself a horrendous pedicure

another time, my family wanted to go play tennis, and they brought me along and brought a hammock for me to lay in. there was this excess material from the hammock, and the sun was in my eyes, so i ended up pulling it up and over me to block the sun and creating this ridiculous hammock cocoon thing. one of the episodes i listened to that day? "tucked in."

before i ever started the show, my friend sarah stayed with me while i was pet sitting. i remember when she got there, she'd just listened to 150 and was telling me how freaky it was (she was still trying to get me into the show), and she was like "of course we're staying on a CUL DE SAC." (that was also the weekend she watched us for the first time and was very upset because i slept through the whole thing, which is scary when you're staying somewhere by yourselves.) anyways, i spent the whole show waiting for the scary cul de sac episode

while i was listening to the show for the first time, my step-dad (an artist) started painting an EYE on the door downstairs near my bathroom. a fucking EYE. he didn't finish it til i had finished the show. but still weird!!

i binged like 12 episodes in one day to finish season 4, which is not impressive at all, but it's still my personal record. i just remember staying up late in my dark bedroom (til like.... 11 i'm lame and i go to bed early), listening to like 158 & 159 & 160 and just being knocked on my ass by how good it all was... i was SUPER spoiled by this point, through my own fault, and i knew exactly what was coming, but actually experiencing it was nuts

the second week i listened live was 167, where the public release was delayed by a couple hours by accident. i spent like 20 minutes refreshing spotify, thinking it was broken, before going on tumblr and seeing what the deal was. (and 167 remains one of my favorites of s5 because i remember just going "thank god it was worth the wait.")

this one car ride where sarah and i made some of our friends listen to the first three episodes of the show. it was the middle of the night and we were just like blasting down i40 listening to anglerfish and do not open etc

the night the what the ghost episode publicly dropped was the night after my graduation, and i was sleeping out on the couch in the living room so my grandfather could sleep in a bed. it was super dark, and i am a jumpy person, and i Remember being mildly disgusted with myself because the corny sound effects were actually freaking me out. (i think i mightve actually seen something weird that night, maybe, but that's another story.)

the weekend my parents moved me into college, we couldn't get the cable in the house we were staying in, and we were all sitting around doing nothing, so i jokingly suggested starting tma with them, and they were like ok grace. my step-dad promptly fell asleep and my mom zoned out -- which is probably good, she doesn't like horror and she's super claustrophobic, so it's probably better we never got to do not open

my brief roommate in college talked about how she was into those youtube channels where people just read scary stories, so of course i was like try tma out. so she listened to the first episode on her own, and we were out one night, and she started mag 02 while i went into an ice cream place. she was into it (she kept being like open it, ya pussy) and wanted to keep listening while we went home, and even back in our room. i had only been in town for a couple weeks, and barely knew my way around, but i also didn't want to turn the gps on and be interrupted every five seconds. so i tried to find our way back on my own. it took the entirety of mag 03, and into mag 04, before i did it. so now i will forever associate across the street with all those wrong turns i took in a dark, semi unfamiliar city, trying to get back to our college without a gps

the day of the early drop for 179 was the day i moved back home from college -- a five hour drive by myself. i ended up listening to it on the final stretch of the trip, when i was super tired and it was dark and i knew it'd probably be a crazy episode. just me full blasting down i40, drinking an energy drink (which i never do) through a hole punched in the top, listening to daisy's death

186 early dropped the day after initial u.s. election day (when we still didn't know anything). my mom had set up a "watch party" in the living room with these giant air mattresses, and we all sort of spent the day crowded around the TV watching the numbers. not much of a memory, but i remember sitting on that air mattress and listening to martin's monologue in the midst of that messy week

i had a virtual therapy appointment on the day of 187's early drop, and my dad was home, so i drove to an empty parking lot to do the session in some privacy. i was trying to listen to the episode before the session started, so i ended up listening to the last half sitting in my car, in the pouring rain, just staring at my radio in shock (187 remains one of my favorite s5 episodes)

my friend sarah had just come home for winter break the day 189 dropped, and we decided to listen together, just like driving around in circles drinking coffee and listening and speculating on whether or not that was really martin

i started my relisten right after thanksgiving and was just kind of blowing through fast as i could through the whole of december. i had to go back to college to empty out my dorm, and i went to the beach after, and i ended up listening to mag 11 while just like walking around in circles in the tide pools. the closer it got to christmas, the more christmassy i wanted to keep things, so i would like. listen in the mornings and turn on one of those Netflix fireplaces and get all cozy

my other friend went with me on a mini bagel road trip in december, and he was still trying to get caught up, so we listened to mag 169, 170, and 171 on the drive home. (by this point, i was accustomed enough to s5 and smiting scenes to automatically reach for the volume controls when jude perry and jared hopworth died.)

when i relistened to mag 47, i was sitting with my cat beezus. i paused the episode to write this big long meta, so i was in a different headspace when i pressed play again. jon immediately yelled for sasha and i immediately jumped, and beezus gave me a searing glare and just got up and left

i relistened to piecemeal while i was cooking, which i thought was kind of funny and also disgusting

after christmas, i got into the habit of bringing my cat georgia into my room in the mornings, and she'd crawl under the covers with me while i listened to tma

one story i've always liked to tell from my first listen is how when i first listened to the meat arm grinder episode, my dad asked me to help him cook hamburgers later that day and explained how hamburgers are ground up (to my disgust). i hit meat grinder in my relisten and um. you'll never fucking guess what i made for lunch that day

so i had all these arbitrary rules for myself when i started tma last april, and i've broken like all of them. i started listening to tma while virtually working -- you just pull it up on your computer and it works. (i got the life scared out of me when one of my coworkers started talking over the podcast, wondering who it was that had walked into jon's office and why he wasn't reacting and why i didn't remember it.) i also started listening a lot while driving, which led to several long meta posts i wrote being typed up in a parking lot somewhere

i spent the entirety of 194 anxious-cuddling georgia. (i tried to do this for 198 and then didn't have any anxiety to cuddle her over.) i fully plan on doing this for 200, where i am sure i will need it again

my favorite place to listen to tma probably ended up being the roof room at my mom's, and unless something goes awry, this is where i will listen to the finale. (with georgia, of course.)

this list is super uninteresting, like i said, but here it is. i'm gonna miss this show a lot. i can't wait to return to it, later in life, and make all new listening memories in the process

#the magnus archives #personal #food mention tw #pet death tw