#i know this chapter got long and i use line breaks excessively but DAMN

[aquaquadrant]

from eden, part IX (act I)

Word count: 11,504 Warnings: Blood/injury, violence, death, animal death, temporary dismemberment, dissociation, self-deprecating thoughts (not really, Jimmy’s just a listener and doesn’t know it), strong language, fictional racism/xenophobia, panic attacks Summary: The Double Lifers have successfully thwarted the invasion by Hels Tek, but not unscathed. Now that Tango’s been outed as Bravo’s doppelgänger, the remaining threads are starting to unravel, and Jimmy suddenly finds himself fighting to save Tango from his own inner demons. Can their love survive the fallout?

A/N: This took a ridiculously long time to write and got way longer than I’d originally intended so uhhh happy belated holidays? There’s a lot in this one that I’m excited to show y’all so I really hope u enjoy it, pls reblog/comment if u do, it means a lot.

Also this chapter has been split into two parts bc Tumblr is a hoe with a paragraph limit, link to the second half at the end. And as always, this is part of a series, so the previous chapters can be found on my au directory here. - Aqua

~*~

from eden, part IX (act I) - no tired sighs, no rolling eyes, no irony

~*~

Somewhere in Double Life, a player kneels in a bloody wheat field.

Jimmy’s senses are flooded with iron. He’s regenerated enough health that his nose isn’t actively bleeding anymore, but he’s sure it’s still all over his face. As he finally pulls away from Tango, he realizes he’s smeared plenty of it on Tango’s shoulder. The blood on Tango’s chin and claws hasn’t fully dried yet, either. And through his slightly parted mouth, Jimmy can see it’s stained his teeth.

(Did you see what he did back there?)

(He was like an animal.)

(How long do you think he’s been keeping that in?)

Jimmy pushes the thoughts away. Focus on the here and now.

To be fair, though, the ‘here and now’ is a horrible place. The ranch is burning behind them. His eyes are burning from the tears and the smoke in the air. His throat feels tight and scratchy. He’s physically and emotionally exhausted, the weight of it dragging him down, sinking into the trampled soil beneath him. The singed edges of his wings are still stinging, but it’s an easily forgotten pain among everything else.

Jimmy hates crying. Especially in public. Really, nothing makes him feel more useless and pathetic than crying. But he has to admit, he’s at least a little calmer and more clear-headed. Now that he’s cried himself out, his awareness is gradually returning to the conversation going on around him.

“What in’a world was that about?!” Bdubs cries out, sounding absolutely flabbergasted.

“Yeah, who were those guys, anyway?” Etho asks, knitting his brows together. “How’d they get here?”

Joel makes a distressed noise. “They shouldn’t be able to open a portal here, this is a private world!”

“I know, I know, okay,” Grian gripes, “I’m workin’ on it. Hang on-”

“And what was all that nonsense about doggelpangers?” Scar pauses. “Uh, dop- doppabang-”

“Doppelgängers?” Cleo calls over wryly.

Scar hangs his head. “Dang it. Yes, that.”

“I dunno, but what if they come back?” Joel asks nervously. “What should we do?”

Isn’t that the question?

Jimmy takes quick stock of his surroundings. Grian is standing a little way’s off from Jimmy’s huddle, head bent down as he furiously scrolls through his communicator, the screen reflecting in his tinted glasses. Scar is hovering next to Grian, peering keenly over his shoulder, his bow held limply at his side. Both of them look a little roughed up from the battle, but alright for the time being.

Etho, still crouched at the spot where Bravo died, is searching through the dropped items. Joel is pacing in front of the broken portal frame and casting anxious glances at it, one hand gripping his sword while the other rakes through his hair, antennae twitching with agitation. There are a few scrapes and gashes between them- mostly superficial and likely to heal on their own.

Pearl’s wolf pack has been considerably thinned out- something Jimmy notes with a pang of guilt- but there’s still plenty of them milling about the place. With blood-matted fur and tucked tails, it’s clear they took a beating. Pearl herself must’ve gone, from the way they sniff and look around aimlessly, giving plaintive yips and whines. Scott is conspicuously absent as well, another hint as to the bonded pair’s fate. Jimmy’s sure they’ll be along soon.

Bigb and Ren are also nowhere to be seen- likely more casualties of the battle. Ren makes for a rather large target when in wolf mode; he probably drew a lot of enemy fire. And of course, Bigb would’ve gone with him. Box is quite a way from the ranch, Jimmy recalls, so it’ll take them a few minutes to get back.

Martyn is busy mining up the rest of the portal frame, seeming none the worse for wear. Cleo sits a couple yards away, one leg stretched out in front of her. The other one has been chopped clean off at the knee, and is clenched in their hand- but wait, it does that sometimes, Jimmy reminds himself before he can panic. The detached limb isn’t even bleeding, and she’s already pulling some string from her inventory to stitch it back on, seeming more inconvenienced than anything else.

Bdubs, across the field, looks no more beat-up than he always does. He’s fussing over his horse, snatching up stray bits of wheat to heal as it struggles to get its legs under it. Impulse’s horse, devoid of rider, has wandered off towards the barn- perhaps hearing the other horses inside. Impulse himself is crouched beside Jimmy and Tango, his golden eyes intently studying the collar that’s been locked around Tango’s neck.

Tango is still completely silent. He doesn’t move or give any indication that he’s at all mentally present, just kneeling idly in the dirt, expression blank, eyes distant. Nothing but static through their soul bond. He doesn’t seem to be seriously injured- most of the blood stains aren’t his. That realization isn’t as relieving as Jimmy wants it to be.

Grian clears his throat. “Right. First thing’s first, are we all still here?” he asks, scanning his communicator. “No one went through the portal?”

“Nah, all good,” Martyn calls over his shoulder as the final obsidian block pops onto the ground.

Etho has his communicator pulled up too. “Yeah, uh, just looks like Scott and Pearl got killed,” he reports. “Ren and Bigb, too. I’ll shoot ‘em a message, see if they’re alright.”

“Right, okay.” Grian chews his lip, wings ruffling. “And all the other fellas are gone?”

Etho nods. “Yep.”

“Okay-”

“G,” Scar cuts in, tugging on Grian’s sleeve, “you gotta respawn before that injury sets in.”

Grian shrugs him off. Only now does Jimmy realize he’s holding one of his wings closer to his body than the others, the one that took an arrow during the fight. “Gimme a second-”

”Um, guys?” Martyn says suddenly, pointing at the ranch. “Fire tick is on, yeah?”

Grian looks up at that, sucking in a breath through his teeth. “Hoo boy. Yeah, we need’ta get a ditch around the ranch, okay, or else the whole forest’ll go.” He casts a sidelong look at Jimmy, expression apologetic. “Tim, do you mind…?”

Jimmy shakes his head. “No,” he says hoarsely, “no, no, by all means. Whatever you need to… oh gosh, it’s all gonna go. It’s gone, isn’t it? It’s-” His voice breaks, and he quickly looks away, fresh tears welling in his eyes.

It wasn’t much, the ranch.

Only two floors- three counting the basement- and a bit tight on space. It wasn’t the most impressive build, not by a long shot. Certainly not when compared to the other builds on this world. It was something that would’ve taken two actually competent builders nothing more than a dedicated afternoon to put together. Plainly decorated, and comprised mostly of wood and stone variants. Nothing that’s particularly hard to obtain. And in all honesty, it was just a starter base; they were going to outgrow it sooner or later, anyways.

But it was theirs. 

It was the scorch marks in the wood from Tango’s blaze rods, in the moments where his emotions got away from him. It was the rocking chair where Jimmy liked to do his embroidery, when he needed to unwind after a busy day. It was the auto-sorting storage room that Tango spent weeks fine-tuning. It was the small but cozy living room that Jimmy decorated with potted flowers. It was the kitchen that always smelled faintly of charcoal, and the wool rug in the foyer that came from their own sheep, and the bedroom that they shared with an east-facing window to let them watch the sunrise together, on the rare days when Tango was awake early enough to see it.

The ranch is burning, and there’s nothing Jimmy can do about it.

(Great. Gonna start crying again, are you?)

(What exactly is that going to accomplish?)

(Man up! Don’t be so pathetic.)

A gentle hand on Jimmy’s shoulder makes him look up. Martyn is there, sympathy glimmering in his eye. “We’ll save what we can,” he promises.

Jimmy manages a grateful smile, blinking away his tears. “Thanks.”

Martyn nods before straightening back up. “Etho, Joel, you got water buckets on ya?”

“Oh, yeah.” Etho puts his communicator away as he and Joel start toward the ranch, buckets in hand. “Yeah, here, let’s make an infinite source..”

“Right. I’ll get the ditch started, then,” Cleo chimes in, rising to their feet now that both legs are once again intact.

Grian makes an appreciative noise, still tapping away at his communicator. “Okay, so that’s done-”

“Grian,” Scar says again, more insistently. “You gotta-”

“Hang on!” Grian huffs. He looks up to meet Jimmy’s gaze. “Okay, so uh, I can’t ban them… but what I’m gonna do is lock the world down,” he explains, taking a few steps over. “No one goes in or out… not even through a backdoor portal. This is just a temporary solution, but it should do the trick for now.”

Relief washes over Jimmy. “Thank you,” he murmurs.

(Good thing Grian is here to clean up your mess, huh?)

“Hey, guys?” Impulse speaks up, making Jimmy startle. “Um, Tango… he’s not lookin’ so good.”

That’s putting it kindly. Jimmy’s heart tightens. “Right. We should prob’ly get him inside, um…” He trails off as he instinctively looks at the ranch, which is on fire.

Right.

Impulse gives him a comforting look. “C’mon, you guys can crash at our place.” He rises to his feet, calling out, “Bdubs, would you bring the horses over?”

“Yeah, gimme a sec,” Bdubs shouts back. He’s finally gotten his horse standing again, glancing around for Impulse’s. “C’mere, stupid- hey! No, don’t wander off…”

“You finished, Grian?” Scar asks impatiently, notching an arrow.

“Okay, okay, hang on…” Grian presses a couple more buttons before putting his communicator away. “There, it’s done. Now, I’m gonna do some diggin’ and see what I can find out about this. But, um…” His gaze sweeps over Tango, expression pinched. “As soon as Tango is up for it… we all need to have a serious chat, okay?”

The wording immediately puts Jimmy off. He can feel his feathers bristling, his wings flaring out almost unconsciously to block Tango from view. “Wh- hey, this wasn’t his fault!” he protests.

Grian holds his hands up. “Ey, I know, I know,” he says lightly. His lower wings sweep out and flatten into a sort of fan as he crouches; an appeasing gesture. “None of us think that, okay? But clearly those guys came here for him, so we need’ta figure out why and how if we’re gonna figure out how to stop it from happenin’ again. Alright?”

Jimmy takes a breath, letting his feathers smooth over again. “Right. You’re right, sorry,” he mumbles.

(Wow, so defensive.)

(Like you could protect him, anyways.)

(Have you no faith in your own friends?)

Grian glances at Impulse. “You got them, Impulse?”

“Yeah, don’t worry,” Impulse assures him.

Scar draws back his bow. “Any day now, Grian…”

“Okay.” Grian turns around with an exasperated sigh. “Alright, Scar-”

He disappears in a puff of respawn smoke. Scar immediately follows him, his bow clattering to the ground amidst the shower of other items.

Impulse exhales in what might’ve been a laugh, if he didn’t sound so tired. He turns to Jimmy. “Can you stand?” he asks, holding out his hand.

(Look, they all think you’re weak, too!)

Jimmy feels himself flush. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he says, his tone short. Ignoring Impulse’s hand, he struggles to his feet unaided, wings flapping about to help keep his balance.

And then he feels incredibly silly about it. These are his friends, for goodness sakes.

“Thanks,” Jimmy adds, to soften it. “But Tango, I dunno if he… I mean, normally I’d carry him, but right now, I think- I think I’d drop him,” he confesses. Already, the effort of just standing on his own is starting to fatigue him.

Impulse just nods, a knowing look in his eye. “Yeah, no problem.” Slowly, he crouches down next to Tango again. “Hey, Tango, buddy?” he calls softly. “Can you hear me? It’s Impulse. I’m gonna pick you up now, if that’s okay?”

Tango doesn’t respond. Carefully, Impulse gathers Tango into his arms in a cradle hold- which Tango doesn’t react to besides curling in on himself a little more. His breathing quickens for a few seconds before he settles down again.

“Sorry,” Impulse whispers.

Jimmy swallows. He’s never known Tango to be so quiet, so still. It’s incredibly disturbing to see. And gosh, he knows Tango’s pale, but right now he looks about as white as quartz.

The events of this afternoon were a lot for anyone to handle. Jimmy’s still only working with bits and pieces, of course. He knows that Tango originally came from a terrible world called Hels, escaped from that creepy scientist guy Dr. Atlas, and has been hiding out on Hermitcraft ever since. So it’s not surprising that Tango got a nasty shock when his past suddenly came knocking at his door- literally, in Bravo’s case.

But Jimmy also knows that Tango is quite tough. He’s not the type to shut down in the face of hardship- in fact, he’ll often go the opposite direction, with manic bursts of frantic energy. So for a reaction this extreme… either that collar they put on him is having a more drastic effect than Jimmy realized, or there’s something more to the story he isn’t aware of.

Before the collar dampened their soul bond, the fear Jimmy felt from Tango had been damn near overwhelming. What could those Hels players have done to him to elicit such a strong reaction? Jimmy dreads to think of it.

The sound of hoofbeats pulls Jimmy out of his musings.

“Here I am!” Bdubs announces loudly, leading a horse by each hand. “Got the hawsies all ready t’go- oh, hey, waugh- what happened to him?” he gasps, his horrified gaze falling on Tango, wide eyes going even wider. “Wha’ th- is he okay?!”

Impulse gives him a tired smile. “Bdubs, I know we’re outside right now, but indoor voice, please? I’ll explain later.”

“Oh, okay!” Bdubs immediately drops into a stage whisper, ducking his head sheepishly. “Right, right, right, right, right, sorry.” He eyes Tango nervously for another moment. “Jeeze, they really… okay, okay, okay, right. Let’s go.”

With an appreciative look, Impulse moves beside one of the horses. Shifting his hold on Tango, he hikes one foot up into the stirrup and swings onto the horse’s back, forked tail lashing through the air.

Bdubs follows suit, climbing onto his own horse before glancing down at Jimmy. “Uh- you wanna ride wi’ me, Jimmy?” he asks, still whispering.

“That’d be great, thanks,” Jimmy says gratefully. Just the thought of walking or flying to their base makes him feel like all his bones have turned to slime.

His own attempt to get on the horse doesn’t go anywhere near as smoothly. With someone else already in the saddle, it’s a clumsy maneuver, his flailing wings more of a hindrance than anything. In the end, Bdubs grabs the back of Jimmy’s shirt and helps haul him up. That only makes Jimmy feel worse. Bdubs is so much smaller than him, how did he manage that?

“Okay…” Bdubs glances over his shoulder as Jimmy gets settled. “You alright back there?”

“Yep, yep, I’m good,” Jimmy says quickly. He clears his throat. “Can we- can we get goin’?” He’s anxious to leave this depressing scene behind and get Tango someplace calmer.

Bdubs nods. “Okay. Uh- hang on tight, and you’d better keep those wings folded or else you- you’ll be blown right off’a this thing!” He turns to Impulse. “We go now!”

“Alright, let’s go.” Impulse urges his horse forward, and Bdubs swiftly follows.

The horses gallop away from the ranch.

Jimmy does as he’s told, leaning forward to put his arms around Bdubs’s shoulders and tucking his wings tightly against his back. The jostling of the horse’s stride isn’t kind to his aching muscles and bones, but he’s not about to complain. Right now he feels completely out of sorts- like a stranger in his own skin.

As exhausted as his body is, his mind is absolutely racing. He can’t stop thinking about what Bravo said, that Tango was to blame for his being in Hels. And Tango hadn’t really denied it.

From what Jimmy can recall from today’s chaotic events, Tango used to be in Hels, and then a portal appeared. He went through it to Hermitcraft, and somehow, that got Bravo sent to Hels. That seems to be the conclusion they’ve come to. And Tango didn’t know about it at first, but he’s known about it for a couple years at this point, and said nothing.

(How selfish of him.)

But it wasn’t Tango’s fault! He didn’t intentionally send Bravo there, and he only kept his knowledge secret because he was afraid he’d get sent back himself if he revealed the truth. That’s… really upsetting. If Tango didn’t trust the Hermits enough to tell them, after spending nearly a decade getting to know them, it’s no wonder he didn’t tell Jimmy.

Has Tango spent this whole time feeling like a fugitive in his own home?

And what is Hels, really? What kind of world doesn’t allow portal travel in and out? The way they’d spoken about it, it almost seemed like a prison. But created by who? And why?

What exactly is a Hels player? What does a ‘doppelgänger’ entail, exactly? Because if Tango is supposed to be an evil version of Bravo, Jimmy is clearly missing something, ‘cause he doesn’t buy that for a second.

Do all players have a Hels counterpart? Does Jimmy? Oh, now there’s a disturbing thought. Is there another Jimmy running around in a prison world somewhere, locked away from the rest of the universe?

Now that he’s aware of the possibility, he isn’t sure this is something he can just forget about.

But he knows his questions will have to wait. Tango is hardly in the condition to be discussing any of this- getting him recovered from his shock is Jimmy’s first priority. He’s about to ask how far away they are when two figures appear in the distance.

It’s Scott and Pearl, on the way back from their respawns. Pearl is preoccupied, intensely scanning her communicator as she walks. But Scott spots them immediately, nudging Pearl with his elbow and lifting a hand to wave them over.

Impulse glances over his shoulder at Bdubs and Jimmy. “Guess we’d better go see what they want,” he says as he steers his horse towards the pair, Bdubs following suit.

Pearl looks up at their approach. Her respawn must’ve taken care of any injuries she sustained from the battle, because she seems like her usual red-eyed self. But there’s an unmistakable air of anxiety about her- one that Scott seems to share, based on his terse expression.

“Impulse!” Pearl shouts, as soon as she’s within proximity hearing range. “You seen Tilly ‘round?”

Impulse eases his horse to a stop. “Oh, uh- she’s the one with the dyed collar, right?” he asks, knitting his brows together. “Yeah, yeah I’m pretty sure she was back at the wheat field.” 

Pearl exhales heavily. “Oh, thank goodness. I- I lost so many dogs, I wasn’t sure…” She puts her communicator away, looking them up and down. “So uh, is everyone alright? Are… you guys alright?” she asks uncertainly, quirking a brow.

“We’re fine,” Impulse assures her easily. He jerks his head back in the direction they came from. “The others are dealing with the ranch right now, it’s uh… it’s a pretty big fire, I’m sure they’d appreciate some help.”

Pearl follows his gaze, eyes widening at the plume of smoke still visible above the trees. “Oh gosh, yeah, we’d better get goin’, then.”

“You alright, Timmy?” Scott speaks up suddenly. 

“Huh?” Jimmy startles at being addressed. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Mmm.” Scott doesn’t look convinced, his sharp eyes studying Jimmy’s face before flicking over to Tango. “Is Tango alright? Where’d tha’ thing on his neck come from?”

Jimmy’s heart jolts. “Um…” He isn’t sure how much he should be sharing with the others, while Tango’s incapacitated like this.

Luckily for him, Impulse cuts in. “Don’t worry,” he says gently, “we’ve got it covered. You guys go check in with the others, okay?”

It’s not a very subtle hint, but Scott allows it. “Alriiiight,” he drawls, holding his hands up. “Just remember you’ve got help if y’want it.”

“I appreciate it,” Impulse hums, but Jimmy catches the flash of relief in his eyes as he turns his horse away.

“Yeah, ‘preciate ya!” Bdubs echoes as they ride off.

They ride in silence for a few moments, until they’re out of proximity range, before Impulse clears his throat. “I just think Tango would appreciate some privacy right now,” he explains quietly. “You know everyone else- they’d all want to help and see if he’s okay, but a big group would probably freak him out.”

“Ah.” Jimmy nods. “Good thinkin’.”

(Gee, Impulse is really taking charge, huh?)

(You’re basically useless.)

(He would’ve been a way better soulmate for Tango than you.)

The thoughts make Jimmy flinch. He hasn’t often felt insecure in his relationship with Tango, despite having known him for a much shorter time than the Hermits. But right now, his general lack of knowledge and experience in how best to help Tango has become glaringly obvious.

Thankfully, before he can spend any more time feeling sorry for himself, Impulse and Bdubs’s house finally comes into view.

They’ve added another floor since Jimmy was last here. Floor-to-ceiling windows made of light gray panes curl around one side of the building, continuing with the sleek mid-century modern design. The front yard has received some landscaping as well; a wide, circular path that frames a small cluster of custom trees and shrubbery before leading to the dark oak door, framed by neat flower beds on either side.

As they come up on the house, Impulse and Bdubs turn their horses along a branch of path that veers off from the main circle, taking them towards a small structure built against the house’s side. Made only out of diorite wall posts and a flat, deepslate tiled roof, it creates sort of an overhang, divided into two compartments with warped stem fence posts. Its purpose quickly becomes obvious as Bdubs hops off his horse and pulls a lead from his inventory, leashing his horse to one of the posts.

Jimmy swings his leg around to slide off the horse, dropping onto the ground with an ungraceful grunt. In the stall beside them, Impulse has carefully dismounted from his own steed, still cradling Tango in his arms.

The longer Jimmy looks, the more his chest aches with longing. So he looks away.

“Alright, let’s get inside.” Impulse’s voice is soft. He turns back towards the front of the house. “This way.”

Bdubs finishes hitching the other horse to its post. “Right behind ya!” he chirps. He pats Jimmy on the arm as he passes- an encouraging, or perhaps comforting, gesture.

Either way, Jimmy appreciates it. He knows Bdubs tends to diffuse tense situations with humor, or by maintaining an energetic demeanor. It might be mistaken as inconsiderate, in some situations, but he seems to know where the line is. Genuinely, Jimmy thinks he’d feel worse if Bdubs was suddenly walking on eggshells around him.

Pity is a suitor that won’t take a hint, no matter how many times Jimmy turns it away.

He follows Impulse and Bdubs around the front of the house. Bdubs has already scrambled ahead to open the door for Impulse, whose arms are, of course, full of Tango. He ushers Jimmy in after them with a wide sweep of his arm.

They’ve moved their bedroom upstairs at some point, it seems. The main floor is now a dedicated living space with a modest kitchen in the back, overlooked by a loft from the second floor. An L-shaped lounge made of quartz stairs is built into the conversation pit occupying the center of the room, surrounding a small fireplace. The glass panes encasing it go all the way up to the ceiling, but the sight of fire makes Jimmy flinch anyways- which he immediately kicks himself for.

(Jeeze, man, get a grip! What if Tango saw that?)

If Impulse and Bdubs noticed, they don’t comment on it. Impulse silently leads the way up a spiral quartz slab staircase, which opens up into the loft. Bdubs’s interior work is clearly showing here, with cozy seating nestled beside a custom bookshelf-console unit. Straight ahead past the loft is a short hallway with a couple doors on either side.

Impulse stops at the first one on the right. “We got a spare room here,” he says, nodding his head at the door.

“Not finished yet!” Bdubs adds hastily, though still making an effort to keep his voice low. “Or uh, heugh- furnished. I’m gonna- I was gonna do the interior, I swear.”

Somehow, the fact that Bdubs is concerned Jimmy will judge his lackluster interior decoration- despite everything else going on right now- makes Jimmy crack a smile. “Well, beggars can’t be choosers, ey?” he jokes.

“Oh, very freaking funny!” Bdubs huffs, but he’s grinning, too. He opens the door for them, and Jimmy lets Impulse carry Tango inside before following.

The room is, as expected, fairly bare bones. Quartz walls and a dark oak floor carry over the mid-century modern theme from the exterior, but there’s no furniture other than a double-wide cyan bed against the wall. A couple of haphazardly-placed torches on the walls provide the room’s only lighting.

“No windows yet, either,” Bdubs mutters, clicking his tongue as his critical gaze sweeps over the room. “I need ta- I- I still gotta figure out how to place ‘em, with the exterior wall and stuff.”

“It’s alright,” Jimmy assures him. Windows would make him feel a bit too exposed right now, if he’s being honest.

Impulse carefully sets Tango down on the bed. “Okay, Tango, here we are.” He straightens up, running a hand through his hair as he exhales heavily.

Bdubs crosses quickly-but-quietly over to Impulse, wrapping him in a hug. “You okay, sweetie?” he asks softly.

Impulse smiles down at him. “Yeah, yeah, I’m good. Don’t worry.”

“Okay.” Bdubs goes up on his toes to kiss Impulse’s cheek- and even so, he barely makes it. “I’m gonna go check on our boys, then, and see if the others need help with th- with the uh, the ranch. D’you- is there anything you want me to tell ‘em?”

“Yeah,” Impulse says thoughtfully, “maybe just let them know that we’d like to give Tango and Jimmy some privacy right now? We’ll let them know if we need anything, and we’ll chat more once everything’s calmed down.”

“Right, okay.” Bdubs glances at Jimmy. “That- is that good? For you?”

Jimmy is taken aback by the amount of consideration he’s being given. “Oh yeah, that’d be great, thanks.”

“Alright.” Bdubs casts one final look at Tango, trying but failing to hide his worry from those big eyes of his. “Alright, I- I’ll be back in a little.” 

He slips out the door, leaving them alone.

Before an awkward silence can descend, Impulse clears his throat. “So uh, looks like someone got you pretty good,” he says, gesturing to his face.

“Huh?” Confused, Jimmy brings a hand to his face- only to jerk away as his fingers brush against his nose. Now that he’s actually paying attention, there’s a dull ache of pain radiating down the bridge of his nose, and underneath the still-sticky blood, he can feel a prominent bump where there wasn’t one before.

“Oh, right,” he murmurs. “Forgot about that.”

“Yeah, looks broken,” Impulse says sympathetically. “Need a respawn?”

Jimmy pauses. It’s difficult to tell when an injury will result in lasting damage- no one’s really cracked that particular scientific riddle yet. But generally, it’s understood that the sooner the respawn, the better the outcome. That’s why things like creeper explosions hardly ever leave a mark, since the death is usually instant.

More so, superficial wounds tend to be less likely to scar than deeper, more structural wounds. A simple gash will almost always go away after respawning- if it hasn’t already healed on its own- but things like broken bones can linger in the form of scars, joint deformities, and chronic pain. If he’s being smart, he really should get a quick respawn in, just to be sure.

But they’re on the Double Life world, and right now, his life isn’t just his own.

Jimmy looks Tango over. None of his wounds are serious enough to warrant a respawn, he only got a little scuffed up in the initial attack. In his current state, it’d probably do more harm than good.

“No,” Jimmy decides, “I… I can’t do that to him, not right now. He’s disoriented as it is.” He shrugs a shoulder. “Besides, I think it’s just the cartilage. Either it’ll heal on my next respawn, or it won’t, and it’ll just match the rest of my face.”

Impulse doesn’t laugh at the self-deprecating joke, simply offering a sad smile. “Alright. I’ll see if Martyn can bring some healing potions by once they finish up at the ranch, I’m pretty sure he’s got a brewing set-up.”

Jimmy’s throat tightens. “Right, thanks…” He smoothes a hand over the bed’s cover, setting his spawn anyways, before he eases himself onto the mattress. “Tango…?” he ventures. “Are you alright? Can you hear me?”

Tango has yet to move at all from where Impulse deposited him, back against the wall with his knees tucked to his chest, arms limp at his sides. He doesn’t acknowledge Jimmy at all- which isn’t anything malicious on his part, of course, but god does it hurt.

Taking a deep breath, Jimmy tries again. “Hey, Tango? It’s me, it’s Jimmy.” He puts a gentle hand on Tango’s shoulder, watching him all the while for any sign that he’ll startle or panic. “It’s over, you’re safe now. Are- are you hurt anywhere? Do you need anythin’?”

Still nothing. Somewhere behind Jimmy, Impulse makes a noncommittal noise. “Jimmy, buddy, I don’t think that’s gonna work right now…”

Jimmy ignores him. “Please, Tango,” he pleads, feeling his eyes sting, “can you just…” Idly, he lifts his other hand to wipe some of the blood off Tango’s chin. “Can you look at me?”

Unexpectedly, that gets Tango’s attention. He lifts his face almost robotically to look at Jimmy, eyes and expression still devastatingly blank.

The sudden movement startles Jimmy, his hand jerking back. And as it does, Tango lets his head drop back down.

An image flashes in Jimmy’s mind; Atlas, the doctor with the blood red gloves, grabbing Tango by the chin and tilting his head up.

(Oh, that’s messed up.)

(You’ve really done it, now.)

(Brilliant, just brilliant.)

Jimmy’s stomach turns. He scrambles back, away from Tango, his heart starting to pound. “Sorry,” he whispers, even though Tango gives no indication that he’s hearing it. “I’m sorry, I didn’t…”

A hand lands on his shoulder, making him jump. Impulse gives him an understanding look. “I… think he just needs some time to come out of it,” he says quietly. “Y’know, alone. When he shuts down like this, there’s really nothing to do but wait.”

Jimmy finds his voice again. “Wait, you’ve seen it before?” he asks, creasing his brows together.

Impulse winces. “A couple times, yeah.”

“Oh.” Jimmy swallows, glancing back at Tango. “I dunno, I- I don’t wanna just leave him like this…”

“We can stay right outside,” Impulse says reassuringly, folding his arms. “It’s just… when he gets like this, I’m not sure he’s fully processing what’s going on. It’s like a defense mechanism. So he’s not gonna come out of it until he feels safe, and um… well…”

It’s not hard to catch his meaning. Jimmy bristles. “What, are you- are you sayin’ he doesn’t feel safe with me?” he snaps, which is so unfair because Impulse has been so helpful and so kind and he’s actually sort of right, but Jimmy can’t help it.

Impulse holds his gaze. “Not if he doesn’t recognize you.”

That sobers Jimmy a little, his wings sagging. “Oh. Oh, yeah, good point. You’re right.” Ducking his head, he swings his legs off the side of the bed and rises to his feet. “I guess he’ll be okay in here,” he relents. “But um, can we- would you mind if we put out the lights? It’s just…”

“Tango feels safer in the dark,” Impulse finishes, realization dawning in his eyes. “Good call.”

“Yeah.” Jimmy fidgets with his hands as Impulse collects the torches.

(Wow, he really knows Tango, huh?)

(Thank god someone knows what to do.)

(What exactly are you even here for?)

With the room now sufficiently darkened, Impulse holds the door open for Jimmy. Jimmy gives Tango a final look-over, his blank face now lit by the dim glow of his dampened blaze rods.

“We’ll be right outside if you need us, Tango,” Jimmy says in parting.

Tango remains silent as Impulse closes the door behind them.

As soon as they’re back in the hallway, all of Jimmy’s fatigue seems to hit him at once. He sways where he stands, shoulder bumping against the wall- the dull pain is easily ignored in favor of the black spots dancing across his vision. He squeezes his eyes shut, biting back a groan.

Fortunately, Impulse is there to steady him. “Woah, easy there.” He quickly guides Jimmy over to the loft to sit down. “Just breathe, okay?”

Jimmy takes a few slow, deep breaths- in through the nose, out through the mouth. When he opens his eyes again, the room is no longer spinning around him, so that’s a plus.

“Here,” Impulse presses something into Jimmy’s hand, “you must’ve worked up some hunger.”

It’s a golden carrot. “Thanks,” Jimmy murmurs, immediately starting to nibble on it. He probably does have food on him, somewhere in his inventory- cooked steak, most likely- but the extra saturation helps.

Seemingly satisfied that Jimmy isn’t going to pass out, Impulse sits down in the chair next to him. “How you feelin’?”

“Better, thanks,” Jimmy murmurs, shifting to fold his wings a bit more comfortably. He feels awkward and just… so out of place here. And Impulse is a nice guy, sure, but it’s a little embarrassing to have to be taken care of like a child. If it weren’t for Tango’s sake, he probably wouldn’t have accepted Impulse’s offer of help in the first place.

“Good.” Impulse looks him up and down, brows pinching together. “Jeeze, they really did a number on you. I’m sorry we weren’t there sooner, chat was chaos and we thought they’d be at spawn ‘til we saw your SOS.”

That comforts Jimmy a little. At least he managed to do something right. “It’s alright, not your fault,” he assures Impulse. “I mean, if you guys hadn’t come when you did…”

“Yeah.” Impulse nods solemnly. “That, uh… would’ve been pretty bad.”

Jimmy studies Impulse for a moment. Now that they have a second, there’s a question that’s been nagging at him. “So…” he starts, “how much did you hear, of what Bravo said?”

“Eh, bits and pieces.” Impulse shrugs. “Something about Tango being an evil doppelgänger from Hels.”

He says it so casually, like he’s talking about the weather. Jimmy’s stomach cinches. “Impulse…” he says carefully. “Did you… did you know?”

“What?” Impulse looks at him in surprise. “Oh, that Tango was from Hels? No. No, I never knew anything about before he came to Hermitcraft. But you know, I always kinda knew there was something… not great in his past. I mean, there were signs. I just figured he’d come from an anarchy server or something.” He knits his brows together. “I guess you… never saw what he was like, when he was still new, huh?”

Jimmy frowns. “Wha’d’you mean?”

Impulse makes a noncommittal noise. “It’s not my place to get into all that. But let’s just say… he’s come a long way since then. So um, looking back, it kinda makes sense.”

“So then…” Jimmy hesitates. “D’you believe what Bravo was saying? About what Hels are like?”

Impulse actually laughs- though not unkindly. “Oh, no, not by a long shot,” he assures Jimmy. “Don’t worry about that. I mean, there are players who think non-humans are bad, right? Like, there are still public servers out there that’ll ban Cleo soon as she joins, just for being a zombie.” He shrugs a shoulder, his forked tail idly flicking through the air. “Or me, for being a demon.”

“Oh.” Jimmy blinks, feeling stupid. “Right. It’s… so easy to forget, sometimes, that some folks still feel that way.”

Impulse tilts his head. “Well, not when you have to live it,” he says lightly.

“Oh. Oh!” Jimmy smacks his forehead. “No, no, right, of course,” he adds hastily, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it’s easy for you specifically to forget. Just, in general, I guess. ‘Cause most players don’t have that problem with avians- I mean, sometimes they think some of our traits are weird, sure, but uh- but it’s not the same thing, cause we aren’t hostile mob hybrids. Obviously. And- and none of my friends feel that way, either, so I just…” He trails off, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, I’m not makin’ a lotta sense.”

Impulse gives him a gracious smile. “It’s okay, I know what you mean.” He leans back in his chair, his eyes thoughtful. “I’ve gotten so used to Hermitcraft, sometimes it catches me by surprise when I travel to public servers and people act scared, or… distrustful of me. And that’s without even seeing me in ‘full demon’ mode. So uh, even though I don’t know anything about this Hels world, I don’t believe that just being from there would automatically make someone evil. I know Tango better than that.”

Jimmy’s throat tightens. “Right…”

Now it’s Impulse’s turn to give him a sideways look. “... you don’t believe what Bravo said, do you?” he asks, voice low.

“What?” Jimmy blanches. Despite himself, he feels his wings puff up with indignation. “Gosh no, no, that’s- not in a million years, mate, it’s utter nonsense!”

“Alright, alright, sorry,” Impulse chuckles, holding his hands up. “I didn’t think you would. But you know, I just had to make sure.”

“Yeah.” Jimmy sighs, letting his feathers smooth down again. “You’re a good friend, Impulse,” he says, glancing away. “Seems like you know what to do, here. He’s gonna need that.”

“He’s gonna need you.” 

That makes Jimmy look up. “What?” 

Impulse’s expression softens. “I’ve known Tango a while, now, and even though there’s been plenty of fun and good times over the years… this is the first time I’ve seen him truly content. Like, he just seems at peace in a way I’ve never seen before. You do more for him than you’ll ever know- probably ‘cause he’s too scared to tell you.” There’s a knowing glint in his golden eyes. “Emotional vulnerability, uh, isn’t exactly his strong suit.”

A bittersweet smile tugs at Jimmy’s mouth. “Yeah, I’ve noticed.”

Impulse claps him on the shoulder. “We’re gonna figure it out, okay? You guys aren’t alone in this.”

Warmth blooms in Jimmy’s chest. “Thank you, Impulse,” he says softly, “I appreciate it.”

“No problem.” Impulse returns his smile before sitting back in his chair. “Now, how about you get some rest?”

Jimmy’s heart jolts. “Wh- no, wait,” he protests, “I’m not gonna leave-”

“You can stay right here!” Impulse assures him easily. “Just close your eyes and rest a bit. I’ll keep an eye out, and wake you up as soon as Tango comes to, okay? But right now, frankly, you look exhausted. And I’m sure you’ll wanna be well-rested for whenever Tango’s ready to talk about stuff.”

“Ah…” Chewing his lip, Jimmy glances over at the door to the spare room- mere steps away.

Since he forewent a respawn, he has to admit some shut-eye would be quite welcome at the moment. The immediate danger has passed. And right now, there’s nothing he can do to help Tango but give him some time. Might as well spend that time resting.

“I… suppose you’re right,” he relents finally. “But you gotta promise you’ll wake me if anythin’ happens, alright?”

Impulse nods. “I promise.”

“Right, then.” Jimmy settles into his chair, folding his arms across his chest. He fights back a yawn. “Thanks again. I- I mean it though… any little thing…”

“I know, I know.” Impulse waves him off. “Don’t worry.”

“Famous last words,” Jimmy quips, closing his eyes.

Impulse huffs a laugh but says nothing else.

Silence settles over the room, filled only by Impulse’s steady breathing and the rhythmic tap-tap-tap of him typing away on his communicator. He’s probably updating the others on the situation, so Jimmy can rest easy. He’s considerate like that.

Jimmy would’ve thought it’d be hard to fall asleep. This chair isn’t exactly built for it, and as lovely as Impulse and Bdubs’s home is, it’s not the ranch.

The loss is still fresh. He already knows it’s gonna hit him even harder in the coming days. But for right now, the post-adrenaline exhaustion is finally sinking in, and before he knows it, he’s drifted off into the inky blackness.

~*~

A gentle hand on Jimmy’s shoulder startles him awake.

“Jimmy,” Impulse whispers, his golden eyes glowing in the darkness, “wake up.”

It must’ve been quite a deep, dreamless sleep, because while it seems to Jimmy that he only just closed his eyes, he can clearly see through the window that it’s been at least several hours. The sun has long since set; a half moon is rising in the night sky. That’s alright with Jimmy- he was afraid he’d have nightmares.

Rubbing his eyes, Jimmy squints at Impulse. “What’s goin’ on? Everythin’ okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Impulse scratches the back of his head. “I uh, I just heard a thud in Tango’s room so I went to check on him and- he’s fine, don’t worry!” he adds quickly, as Jimmy bolts upright. “He’s fine, he’s up, but he still seems kinda disoriented? Like, he’s conscious, but when I tried to go in… I guess I look a bit too intimidating,” he taps one of the curved horns poking out from his hair, “‘cause he growled at me.”

“Growled?” Jimmy repeats, raising his eyebrows.

(Well, that’s promising.)

(Round two!)

(Here we go…)

“Yeah.” Impulse gives a sad smile. “So um, I think you should go try and talk to him, if you’re up for it.”

“Oh.” Jimmy blinks. “Oh, right, of course.” He rises to his feet, shaking off residual soreness from his awkward sleeping position.

Impulse pulls a lantern from his inventory and holds it out to Jimmy. “Give a shout if you need anything.”

Jimmy takes the lantern. “Right, thanks.” Steeling himself, he creeps over to the spare room, knocking lightly on the door- which is slightly ajar. “Tango…?” he calls softly, poking his head into the room. “You okay?”

The bed is empty, covers strewn in disarray. Tango is crouched in the corner farthest from the door, his back pressed against the wall. Hunched over and breathing hard, he stares at Jimmy, his blood-stained face lit by the faint glow of his blaze rods. His pupils are dilated again, lips curled back to show his teeth. There’s no recognition in his expression at all.

(You cannot sleep, there are monsters nearby.)

Jimmy swallows. His heart starts to pound. “Tango,” he starts tentatively, holding the lantern up so his face is clearly illuminated as he steps forward, “it’s okay, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Tango makes a blaze noise deep in his throat; a haunting, hollow sort of growl. It’s unmistakably a warning.

Jimmy hesitates, wings shuffling uncertainly. How to get through to him? General reassurances don’t seem to be working. He needs to remind Tango of where he is, to convince him that he’s safe- in a way that only Jimmy would know.

He takes a breath. “Hey, rancher.”

Tango falls silent. Surprise flickers across his features, mouth parting, gaze sharpening. For a moment he just stares, motionless. Then he squints.

“... Jimmy?”

Oh, Jimmy could cry. “Yes, there we go!” he says encouragingly. “It’s me, it’s Jimmy. You okay, Tango?”

Tango’s breath hitches. He takes a single, careful step forward- then he halfs runs, half stumbles towards Jimmy.

Jimmy rushes to meet him, catching Tango before he falls. “Oh jeeze, okay…” Setting the lantern down on the bed, he lowers them to the floor, shifting so he can wrap Tango in his arms. “It’s alright, it’s alright…”

“Jimmy, thank god.” Tango clings to him just as tightly, face buried in Jimmy’s shirt. His claws dig into Jimmy’s skin just shy of being painful. “I- I woke up,” he gasps, “and the quartz- I thought I was…” He pulls away enough to scan Jimmy’s face, eyes wide and frightened. “Where are we? What- how long has it been?”

Jimmy knits his brows together. “Uh- we’re at Impulse and Bdubs’s place, and it’s been… several hours, I think? Half a day?”

“God.” A shudder runs through Tango. “That- that really happened, didn’t it?” He starts to breathe faster, his voice straining into that faint upper pitch that Jimmy’s come to associate with panic. “Oh god, I- I- I don’t- hhh, I c- can’t…”

“Hey, hey, breathe,” Jimmy soothes, rubbing circles on Tango’s back. “I’m here, you’re safe. It’s over. Just breathe.”

They stay like that for a while, Tango curled against Jimmy as he rides out the worst of it. He shakes violently, eyes squeezed shut, breath hitching as he tries to get control of it again. Jimmy’s heart aches for him- he wishes there was something more he could do to help.

But he knows from experience that just being here is enough.

It’s not terribly infrequent for Tango to have nightmares. Sometimes he simply startles awake at night, apologizes for waking Jimmy up, and goes back to sleep. If Jimmy asks about it the next morning, he brushes it off as nothing; just silly nonsense nightmares, the kind that are terrifying at the time but seem utterly ridiculous in the light of day. Nothing more than that.

And all this time, Jimmy believed him.

(What a fool.)

Jimmy’s only ever seen a couple nightmares cause a reaction as severe as this. The shaking, the shortness of breath, the panic. What helped in the past was simply holding Tango- offering a few reassurances, but mostly silent comfort. And of course, Tango never wanted to talk about those nightmares, and Jimmy didn’t want to push too hard. He’d figured that Tango would talk to him about it when he was ready.

(Fool me once, shame on you…)

Gradually, Tango calms down. His tremors cease, and his breathing starts to grow deeper. He’s still holding onto Jimmy, but it’s less desperate, now. More familiar. Jimmy curls his wings around them, as if providing another barrier, another layer of security.

After Tango’s been still and quiet for a few moments, Jimmy softly breaks the silence. “How much d’you remember?”

Tango takes a shaky breath. “All of it,” he whispers. “E- everything, I was- it was like I- I was watching everything happen to someone else, like I was outside my body…” He looks up to meet Jimmy’s gaze, eyes brimming with tears. “Jimmy, I- I’m so sorry.”

“What?” Jimmy frowns. “Tango, what on earth are you apologizing for?”

Abruptly, Tango pulls away. “I burned you,” he grits out.

“No, you-” Jimmy almost grabs him by the arm, but then thinks better of it. “That wasn’t your fault.”

Tango stares at him incredulously. “Wha’ th- what do you mean? Of course it was!” He rakes his claws through his hair. “I- I lost control, I set the ranch on fire, and you got burned.”

“That’s not the same thing,” Jimmy argues. “You didn’t do it on purpose, you were just defending yourself.”

“Doesn’t matter!” Tango throws his hands up. “If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have gotten burned, true or false?”

(True!)

(He’s got a point…)

(Why are you arguing this?)

Jimmy doesn’t answer. “Look,” he says instead, “honestly, it’s not a big deal. I’m fine!”

“Well, you don’t look fine!” Tango says bluntly. Distress flashes across his face as he looks Jimmy up and down. “Your poor wings- and oh, your face! What, did- we didn’t respawn?”

Jimmy ducks his head. “I didn’t wanna put you through that,” he explains, wincing.

He can actually see the guilt in Tango’s eyes intensify. “Ohhh no,” he breathes, dismayed. “You- why did you…” Shaking his head, he fixes Jimmy with a firm look. “Okay, you- you need to respawn, now.”

“It’s not important,” Jimmy replies, just as stubbornly. He holds a hand out, beseeching. “Tango, please, I- I’ve been worried outta my mind about you. So much happened- ”

“I’m fine,” Tango says shortly.

“No, you’re not,” Jimmy insists, working hard not to raise his voice. “I mean, honestly, I- I don’t even know what that thing ‘round your neck is doin’!”

Tango shuts his mouth with a sharp click and glances away. 

That sobers Jimmy instantly. Tentatively, he scooches a bit closer to Tango. His eyes trace the collar- it’s so deceptively simple, so innocuous at first glance. Just a ring of smooth, flat iron. But clearly, there’s a lot more going on; a single red light above the keyhole hints at a mechanism hidden within.

“Do you… know what it is?” Jimmy ventures, giving Tango a searching look.

Tango’s jaw tightens. “It’s wither rose.”

Jimmy blinks, taken aback. “What? But… we aren’t withering, we aren’t takin’ damage-”

“It’s not…” Tango makes a noncommittal noise, waving a hand in an aborted gesture. “They’ve modified it, somehow, I dunno. It- it’s not the full effect. All it’s doin’ is dampening my fire.”

“And our soulbond,” Jimmy realizes, his stomach sinking. “After he put it on you, I- I couldn’t feel your emotions anymore. It’s just… numb.”

Tango’s face is grim. “That’s what wither rose does,” he says lowly.

The certainty in his voice is… somewhat concerning. Sure, any player who’s been ‘round the block will have learned what it feels like to be withered, at some point or another. But due to the tedious and somewhat risky nature of obtaining the roses by way of a wither farm, most players don’t regularly encounter them. And as far as aesthetics are concerned, they aren’t the most appealing flower, so when they are farmed, they’re mostly used for mass-producing black dye or as the killing method in a mob farm. Not as decor or landscaping, where a player might actually touch the rose and be subjected to the wither effect.

Personally, Jimmy can’t remember the last time he touched a wither rose, as a player who doesn’t make a habit of farming withers or even taking on the boss fight. But the tone of Tango’s voice right now is the tone of someone who is horribly familiar with the sensation.

“Tango…?” Jimmy prompts quietly. “Is there… somethin’ I should know?”

Tango swallows. He’s avoiding Jimmy’s eyes. “I… I don’t wanna talk about it,” he whispers hoarsely. “Not right now?”

It’s almost a plea, and Jimmy’s heart tightens. “Okay. That’s okay,” he says gently, forcing down his disappointment; this isn’t about him. He rises to his feet, holding out his hand to Tango. “Here, come on, let’s… let’s get up on the bed, alright? It’s late, you need some proper rest.”

Tango hesitates, though he accepts Jimmy’s offered hand to help him up. “You need to respawn…”

“It can wait,” Jimmy says easily. He tries for a grin. “Honestly, I- I already knew I wasn’t exactly easy on the eyes, but I didn’t think it was that bad…”

“No,” Tango says quickly, “no, you’re not-” He makes a frustrated noise. “Your wings.”

Jimmy softens. “They’re just feathers. They’ll grow back.”

Sure, it might take a while if his follicles have been badly damaged, and his wings won’t be a pretty sight once all the burned feathers fall out. But most of his flight feathers are still intact, so in terms of places to get burned, it could’ve been much worse.

Tango huffs a breath, clearly still upset with himself. But he doesn’t protest further as Jimmy eases onto the bed, gently pulling Tango with him. After collecting the lantern so the room is properly dark again, Jimmy nestles under the covers, sweeping a wing out to lightly gather Tango beside him.

Tango settles against him, and it’s then that Jimmy realizes he isn’t as warm as he used to be.

He’s not cold, not by any means. But Tango has always run a bit hotter than the average player- a blaze hybrid trait that Jimmy’s quite fond of. It was the whole reason they first shared a bed, back in the early days of the world, and inadvertently plunged their relationship into new, terrifying depths. If it wasn’t for that moment, they likely would’ve danced around the issue for far longer, and been robbed of many precious days of happiness together. So even on warm nights, Jimmy will still cuddle up beside Tango. Even if he has to kick all the blankets off.

But with the collar dampening Tango’s fire, he’s been robbed of that, as well.

Jimmy swallows the lump in his throat and puts an arm around Tango, who curls into his side, head resting on his shoulder. Having Tango so close is immediately comforting. God, to think of how close he came to losing this, to never holding Tango again… 

It’s scary. It’s incredibly scary. There are few things in the universe that can really, truly cause lasting harm to a player. Injuries can heal upon respawn, death isn’t permanent- except for worlds where it is, then they just respawn on a different world and start again. But if those Hels people had succeeded in taking Tango through that hacked portal, into some isolated prison world that Jimmy has no way of finding… he’s afraid that would’ve destroyed him.

Jimmy turns his head to press a kiss onto Tango’s forehead, right between the dimmed blaze rods hovering around his temples. “Goodnight.”

“Night,” Tango whispers back.

The room grows silent. Jimmy stares up at the dark ceiling. His earlier tiredness has up and left him, his mind racing, plagued by thoughts of what might’ve been. It’s all he can do to reassure himself that it’s over, that Tango’s safe and still here with him.

That for once, he was lucky.

(For how long, though?)

He isn’t trying to stay awake. And he isn’t pretending to be asleep, either, just laying quietly with his thoughts. But at some point Tango must think he’s nodded off, because only then does he start to cry.

It’s a quiet sound. Just the sharp inhale and exhale of breath. Jimmy might not have even known he was crying if it wasn’t for the way his shoulders shake, and the sudden dampness seeping into Jimmy’s shirt. 

It takes all of Jimmy’s willpower not to console Tango, to hold him tighter and offer hushed reassurances. There’s a reason Tango waited until he thought Jimmy was asleep- he’s very much the kind of person who prefers to show emotion on his own terms. If he knew Jimmy was awake to witness this, he’d completely shut down again. And he needs this.

So Jimmy pushes down his own emotions and does nothing as his soulmate cries, trying not to move or start crying himself as the guilt for being so useless eats him alive.

(Sweet dreams…)

~*~

Morning comes, eventually.

At least, as far as Jimmy can tell by his internal clock. The room he wakes up to is still fairly dark- just a slim beam of light coming in from the hallway through the cracked door. Impulse must’ve done that to better keep an ear out for them overnight. Thoughtful guy. Tango is sleeping deeply next to Jimmy, and the sight is quite comforting.

It seems they’ve kept with their usual sleeping habits, even without a sunrise to greet them.

Carefully, without jostling Tango, Jimmy pulls up his inventory to grab his communicator. He can’t recall hearing it go off, but he wants to make sure there isn’t anything that urgently requires his attention. He’s surprised, however, to find a potion of healing; Impulse must’ve slipped it to him while he was sleeping.

A smile tugs at Jimmy’s lips. He’s long since regenerated his health, but the potion ought to help with his lingering injury. He downs the potion quickly, grimacing at the cloyingly sweet note of melon. It doesn’t take long for a cooling sensation to settle over his broken nose. When he gently probes at it, he can feel it’s still a little crooked, but at least the pain is gone.

Putting the empty bottle away, Jimmy digs out his communicator, squinting against the blue light. No one’s used chat lately or sent him any whispers- it seems they’re taking the request for privacy quite seriously. But there is the backlog from yesterday waiting for him. It takes him a minute just to scroll back to where it all began.

Bravo joined the game.

<Grian> ey??

AtlasSyn joined the game.

Tyrannicide joined the game.

Phantonym joined the game.

<Grian> EYY????

Helfyre_004 joined the game.

<PearlescentMoon> Ummm?

<Renthedog> What the heck??

CRIMETIME joined the game.

t3rr0r_b1te joined the game.

EbonyHelmentia joined the game.

baddomen666 joined the game.

<InTheLittleWood> WHO ARE YOU PEOPLE?!?

staluggmite joined the game.

PwrPlayz joined the game.

<PearlescentMoon> Hello??

XxSLAYERxX joined the game.

Vexed2theMax joined the game.

ApexGamer98 joined the game.

<Smajor1995> wait how is this happening

<PearlescentMoon> Raid?? D:

SheHelsSeaHels joined the game.

ne’er_do_hels joined the game.

<Grian> i don;t know??

Jaffu joined the game.

<Grian> theres no one at spawn???

<Etho> woah!

<SolidarityGaming> SOS RSNCH

<Smajor1995> oh no

<Renthedog> What??

<Smallishbeans> rsnch lol

<GoodTimeWithScar> G come pick me up

Tyrannicide was slain by Tango.

staluggmite was slain by Tango.

Phantonym was slain by Tango.

<InTheLittleWood> Wait WHAT?!?!?!?!?!

<Smallishbeans> NO WAY

<BdoubleO100> OHHHHHHH

<Grian> EVERYONE TO RANCH

<ZombieCleo> what is happening???

staluggmite joined the game.

Tyrannicide joined the game.

<Smajor1995> omw cleo

Phantonym joined the game.

<impulseSV> Etho, Joel, our place?

<Renthedog> BigB where you at??

<bigbst4tz2> coming

SheHelsSeaHels was shot by GoodTimeWithScar using [hOtgUy]

EbonyHelmentia was shot by Smajor1995.

XxSLAYERxX was slain by impulseSV.

CRIMETIME was slain by Wolf.

t3rr0r_b1t3 was slain by Renthedog.

Jaffu was doomed to fall by ZombieCleo.

SheHelsSeaHels joined the game.

ne’er_do_hels was shot by GoodTimeWithScar using [hOtgUy]

Tyrannicide was slain by Renthedog.

XxSLAYERxX joined the game.

EbonyHelmentia joined the game.

CRIMETIME joined the game.

Phantonym was slain by Etho.

t3rr0r_b1t3 joined the game.

ne’er_do_hels joined the game.

XxSLAYERxX was slain by Wolf.

Jaffu joined the game.

Helfyre_004 was slain by Renthedog.

Vexed2theMax was slain by bigbst4tz2.

Tyrannicide joined the game.

XxSLAYERxX joined the game.

Jaffu was slain by Renthedog.

SheHelsSeaHels was slain by Wolf.

bigbst4tz2 was shot by AtlasSyn.

Renthedog died.

Phantonym joined the game.

baddomen666 was slain by Wolf.

SheHelsSeaHels joined the game.

Jaffu joined the game.

PwrPlayz was slain by InTheLittleWood.

Helfyre_004 joined the game.

Vexed2theMax joined the game.

staluggmite was slain by Smallishbeans.

Helfyre_004 was shot by Smajor1995.

EbonyHelmentia was slain by Wolf.

PwrPlayz joined the game.

ApexGamer98 was slain by PearlescentMoon.

baddomen666 joined the game.

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Jimmy doesn’t know how long he spends looking at chat, reading it over and over again as he tries to make sense of it. All those Hels players came here with the express purpose of kidnapping Tango. But why? Dr. Atlas had said something about ‘getting back to work’ and a farm design, but what does that even mean? 

Speaking of that doctor fella, he seems to have been the only one to get kills on the Double Lifers- the rest of them must’ve been preoccupied with Pearl’s wolves. Gosh, to think what her chat must look like…

But that’s something worth noting. Atlas didn’t waste his time with wolves, he went for Pearl and Bigb. He must’ve realized the wolves were Pearl’s and targeted her because of it. And the fact he went for Bigb instead of Ren, who was racking up the most kills... that means he was able to put together that they were soulbound, and he used that to get rid of the threat more easily.

Out of these Hels players, Atlas is clearly the one to watch out for.

Well, him and Bravo, of course. Though Bravo technically isn’t a Hels, if Jimmy’s understood it properly. But he’s certainly just as cruel and bloodthirsty as those other guys were, and he’s got it out for Tango the most. Jimmy can’t recall the last time he saw such hate in a player’s eyes, for any reason. And this is the guy claiming he should’ve been Jimmy’s soulmate? Unbelievable.

As if Jimmy would ever go for such a dense, hateful, entitled piece of-

“Honey,” Tango says suddenly, sitting up on his elbows, “you okay?”

Jimmy jolts in surprise; he must’ve been looking quite cross with his communicator. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” he assures Tango softly, offering an apologetic smile. “Sorry if I woke you.”

It’s difficult to make out details in the scarce light from the hallway, but Tango looks much improved from yesterday. Even underneath the dried blood, the warmth has returned to his skin, replacing that sickly, pale pallor. His red eyes are sharp and alert- that’s a huge relief, as well.

“No, no, you’re good!” Tango says brightly. He leans over to press a kiss to Jimmy’s cheek. “Sleep alright?”

His tone throws Jimmy for a moment. Someone’s feeling better. Blinking, Jimmy puts his comm away. “I did, yeah,” he answers uncertainly. “You?”

“Yep!” Tango smiles at him; it seems a bit forced. “I uh- I’m all rest-ificated and ready to start the day. So, what I- well, I- I guess our first order of business, we should go take a look at the ranch, right, see what the damage is? Then we can do some resource gathering and start rebuilding, so we aren’t crashing at Impulse and Bdubs’s place forever.”

Jimmy pauses for a moment to process the words. “Umm… are you sure?” he asks tentatively. “I mean, we can go look at it if you want, but uh, are you- we should really focus on getting that collar off you first, don’t you think?”

Tango shrugs. He isn’t quite meeting Jimmy’s eyes. “Doesn’t bother me. Besides, we don’t have the key.”

Jimmy knits his brows together. “So what, we just... let it alone? Move on?”

Tango huffs a laugh- it sounds a bit faint. “Yeah, yeah exactly.” 

(What an abrupt change of character!)

(Lying again, it seems…)

(How suspicious.)

Okay, this is definitely strange behavior. Considering everything that happened yesterday, Jimmy would’ve expected Tango to still be physically and emotionally wrecked. But instead, he seems rather keen to just move on, like everything’s normal- 

Ah. Of course. Jimmy doesn’t know why he’s surprised.

“Tango...” he starts, “I don’t think-”

“Good morning!” Impulse hums as he pokes his head through the cracked door. “How we doin’, guys?”

Curse his timing. Tango, of course, immediately takes advantage of the distraction.

“Oh, hey Impy!” he says cheerfully. “Hey uh, sorry about earlier. You know, I uh, I was a little confused, and uh… you know...” He pulls a face; overdramatized. He’s trying to make light of it.

Impulse seems to share the same realization as Jimmy. “Hey, it’s alright,” he says easily, though he keeps his tone in a lower register- more serious. Not feeding into the fake energy. “No hard feelings. Here, I brought some food.”

Tango takes the offered food without even a second of hesitation; a stack of golden carrots. “Of course. Thank you, thank you.” He quickly starts crunching on one, conveniently busying himself so he doesn’t have to say anything else.

Oh well, at least he’s eating. Jimmy gives Impulse a tired smile. “Hey, Impulse. Thanks again for lettin’ us crash here.”

Impulse returns his smile. “Yeah, of course, no problem. So um, I’ve just got a bit of an update for you guys.” He sits down at the end of the bed, expression sobering. “The ranch situation is under control, they managed to get the fire out before it spread to anything else nearby. So your pastures, barns, and fields are safe. All your animals, too.”

It’s easy enough to pick up on what he’s left out. “But the ranch itself is gone, isn’t it?” Jimmy says quietly.

Impulse nods. “I’m sorry. Most of what’s left is just the stone. I think the basement is pretty intact, too, but everything else…”

“Yep.” Tango, finished with his carrot, shrugs a shoulder. “Yeah, I figured. That’s what we get for building with wood, even though I’m super flammable and stuff.”

Jimmy gives him a sympathetic look. “It’ll be okay-”

“So,” Tango interrupts, avoiding Jimmy’s gaze as he gives Impulse an intent look, “uh- anything else?”

(Ouch! Testy…)

Impulse rubs the back of his neck. “Uh, yeah. Grian wants to know if you guys are up for a chat. Nothing bad,” he adds quickly, “he’s just trying to figure out a solution and we’re just a little in the dark about everything. You can stick to the basics; if there’s something you aren’t comfortable telling us, that’s fine-”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Tango assures him. Despite his grin, there’s a hard edge to his voice. “Let’s do it. Call everyone up, we’ll have a nice chat at spawn or something. Let’s- let’s get goin’.”

Impulse pauses. “Well, if you want, we can have just Grian come over...”

Tango huffs. “No, why- let’s just get everyone on the same page, okay? Get it all over with at once.” He spreads his hands. “No point in delaying, or- or having to explain the same thing over and over again, right? I mean, everyone’s stuck here ‘til Grian lifts the lockdown, I- I’m sure they’ll wanna know why.”

Jimmy exchanges a look with Impulse. “I… I suppose,” he says hesitantly. “But are you sure you’re-”

“Yeah,” Tango says, “yeah, it’s fine.” 

Impulse purses his lips, clearly fighting not to let his frustration show. 

The sentiment is one that Jimmy shares. It’s obvious Tango is trying to downplay everything- and if that’s his way of coping, fine. But it really throws a wrench into the works when moving forward requires actually addressing what happened, and having an in-depth conversation about it. And this doesn’t bode well for long-term; they can’t just pretend everything’s normal, no matter how much Tango might wish it. 

“Okay, I’ll let him know.” Impulse rises to his feet. “The bathroom’s at the end of the hallway if you guys wanted to wash up.”

Tango actually makes a face at that, dropping the facade for a moment. He really doesn’t like water. “Wash up..?”

Impulse winces. “You’re um. Still covered in dried blood.”

(I was wondering when he’d realize that…)

Tango blinks. “Oh. Oh, right, of course.” Absently, he reaches a hand up to scratch at his chin. “I should probably wash that off, yeah. I mean, everyone knows I’m a vicious monster but I don’t have to look it, right?” he laughs.

Jimmy’s heart tightens. “Hey, Tango…”

“No,” Impulse protests, “that’s not-”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Tango says shortly. “Thanks, Impulse.”

“Alright.” Impulse lets the matter drop, turning to leave. “Come downstairs when you’re ready.”

As soon as Impulse is gone, Jimmy turns to Tango. “Hey, so-”

But Tango has already hopped out of bed and crossed to the door, calling, “Hang on, be right back!” over his shoulder.

Down the hall, Jimmy hears the bathroom door open and close. He sighs.

This is gonna be a fun conversation.

~*~

CONTINUED IN PART IX, ACT II

#hels to pay au #HTP fic #hermitcraft #double life smp #my writing #man tumblr really threw a wrench in the works #i know this chapter got long and i use line breaks excessively but DAMN

[axoxtxhxh]

(Rain) Not Without Trying - Chapter 1

So I read the story Snow by SasageyoWrites and LOVED it. I will link it here. I definitely recommend reading it. It’s a super cute Levixreader story and while I was reading it, I wanted to make a similar story with Reiner since it was so fluffy and warm.

I started writing a LevixreaderxReiner love triangle chaptered story and it’s actually my first chapter, but also works as a one shot. I’m nowhere near being done with the whole story, but I do have some nice little chunks I can post. Let me know what you think!

Summary: Reiner and reader get rained into a cabin for the night. Reader is a captain. I also made Reiner a bit older than 17.

ReinerxFem!Reader          Fluff, slightly suggestive, mentions of virginity          Word Count: ~4,000

What a nightmare Y/N thought as she pushed harder through the thick mud, her boots getting harder and harder to pull out the more they walked. She could barely remember how she got here. Shivering in her cloak and light jacket, they weren’t expecting the heavy rains to pick up this quickly. She turned back looking at the only soldier she should be able to see, Reiner.

At least he was big enough to wade through the mud, she thought. She was the one who volunteered to search out the furthest knowing a thunderstorm was coming. She wasn’t too worried because she knew there weren’t many titans out in this area. She had chosen Reiner to come with because if something did happen, she would need someone big enough to get them out. However, the rain wasn’t supposed to start getting bad until much later, but now that the sun was going down and their feet were getting stuck in the ground, she realized they needed a plan. And fast. The dropping temperatures weren’t helping.

What a great Captain I am, she continued worrying. Get lost and freeze to death with a cadet. Wonderful. She had worked so hard to make Captain and work alongside Levi, Hange, and Erwin for so long. She was different from the three of them though. None of it came easy to her. She wasn’t brave, she wasn’t smart, she didn’t really have much talent at all. She was a hard worker and always tried her best. Even if her best got her lost in a storm.

She took one more look behind her to see how he was doing. They had been walking by foot, the horses needing a break from pushing through the thick mud, for nearly an hour now. She shivered, pulling her soaked coat a little tighter.

“What’s the plan, captain?” Reiner called shakily from behind her. Even he was starting to quiver with the cold. They both knew they only had a short amount of time before they were in complete darkness and big trouble following that.

“There should be a cabin not far from here,” She called. “It used to be an old safe house for scouts.” She squinted her eyes trying to see further in the distance, not actually sure just how far this cabin would be or even exactly where they were. After a couple more minutes of walking, she noticed a darkness up ahead.

“Up there!” she pointed and Reiner let out a small sigh, picking up his pace clearly excited to be almost out of the cold. The rain falling was nearly blinding, but after a couple minutes, they were at the front door of the cabin, pushing open the door. Looking around, their faces fell.

“When did you say this was last used?” Reiner questioned. They both stepped in a little further.

“Honestly,” She started, “Way before me. I think even before--” In the darkness of the cabin Y/N walked right into a spiderweb and started shouting while flailing her arms around. “Reiner! Get it off! It’s all over me!” He tried wiping her face, but her arms kept swatting him out of the way.

“Hold… still… Captain...hold…” He rumbled. “Y/N!” Finally, he grabbed her arms and forced them to her sides until he could see her face. The little bit of moonlight shining through the open front door lit up her face. He picked off any little pieces of spiderweb that he could see and looked at her. “All gone,” he chuckled lightly, “I didn’t realize you were scared of spiders.”

“Just the webs, really.” Y/N said with a shrug. The horses made a noise outside and Y/N turned to the door, “I’ll get the horses somewhere warm.” As she walked towards the door, she felt a pull at her belt.

“I can do that. How about you find something useful for us in here.” He motioned to the room.

“There should be a small stable around the back,” she said already searching for a light in the cabin. And Reiner was out the door. Y/N looked around the cabin with the small lantern she had. There were some candles she was able to light to give the cabin a glow bright enough to look around.

A bed in the back corner with a layer of dust covering it at least half and inch thick, a tiny fireplace next to that with a couple pots and a kettle, a chair to the right of that. On the other side of the cabin was a tiny kitchen with an even tinier table. Not much, but it’s only for the night and the fireplace should offer some sort of warmth. She set off to light the fireplace and see about using the kettle to heat up some tea. Surely there had to be some tea in the cabinets.

She moved to the open cabin door and filled a kettle up with some rainwater and began heating it over the now lit fireplace. Digging in the cabinets, she wasn’t as lucky. She did manage to find some black tea, which was quite a rare find, but nothing in the way of food.

With a gust of wind, the cabin door banged against the wall as Reiner walked in. “Whoa!” He exclaimed pulling the door away from the wall to get it closed. After a couple tries he got it to latch closed. “The horses are good,” He knocked the excess mud off of his boots, “There was some old hay left there that they might eat. I think they were just happy to be out of the rain.” After failing to get all the mud off his boots, he settled with taking them off at the door.

“They are better off than we are. Nothing to eat in here.” She sighed. “I did manage to find some tea though.”

“You think it will be clear by morning?” Reiner questioned looking through the window.

“I certainly hope so.” The tea kettle started whistling and Y/N ran over to get it off the heat. “Someone should get sent out to get us if not.” Setting out two cups, she started getting the tea ready. Loud coughs started behind her and she turned quickly to see what was happening. Reiner had hopped on the dust-coated bed and created a huge puff of filth that swirled around his head.

“This,” cough, cough, “is so…” cough, “disgusting.” He waved his hand in front of his face trying to clear the air. “Are people expected to sleep on this?” he coughed out.

“It’s not so bad, “Y/N laughed bringing over the tea. “We will have to pat the dust out of it, but it sure beats the floor.” She said sitting on the floor, “We will be fine.” She looked at the fire and warmed her hands which allowed Reiner to hide the slight blush that appeared on his cheeks.

Did she say we? He thought. As in, WE will sleep on the bed. Together? He shook it off. No way, there’s a chair in the opposite corner. He will definitely be on the chair. That seems like a better option either way. He coughed again.

“This fire really isn’t helping how cold it is, huh?” Y/N shifted trying to get warm.

“I’m feeling warmer,” Reiner quietly added watching her rub her hands together. He noticed how long and slender her arms were. She wasn’t too slender though. She was one of the taller members of the survey corps and he liked that. His eyes travelled down her waist and onto her hips. Yeah, she had a nice amount of curves. He watched as she reached towards the fire to shift around the wood, eyes moving back up her waist. He tried to look away, but could only manage a couple slow blinks and continued watching her.

“Well that makes one of us,” She smiled and his heart started beating a bit faster. It never occurred to him that she always wore her hair tied back. Walking through the storm filled her hair with water leaving her hair wet and falling loose, drips of water rolling down her neck. Reiner followed one of the drops as it rolled over her collarbone.

“You look pretty.” He said lost in a daze. Y/N quickly looked at him. He nearly shrieked and tried to correct himself. “I mean you look warm-- I mean, no, it. IT looks warm. Damn it! The fire… the fire looks pretty warm…Fuck.” Y/N laughed quietly watching him bury his face in his hands. “I’m just going to pat this off in the other corner.” He grabbed the blankets off the top of the bed and walked to the kitchen and hung it on a line. He found a stick to use to release the dust and began hitting until the dust started coming out. Hoping he would choke to death on it.

Why am I thinking like this? He thought. She is a captain. Not that he couldn’t think about her. In fact, he thought about her quite a bit. He took a quick glance her way and saw her take a small sip of tea. She was rather remarkable. She was the smartest next to Hange and the toughest next to Levi. He had heard that she was also second when it came to strategizing. Regardless of her position, she was much more approachable than all of them. Since she had been in the survey corps for quite a while, she spent more time with the cadets. After being promoted, most of her time was spent with the other captains. So she was much older than Reiner, but not too much older, he assured himself.

He couldn’t get himself to look away from her. She did look really pretty trying to keep herself warm. Reiner could help her get warm if he just sat next to her. No, no no. I can’t think about this.

“So, do you have any siblings?” Y/N’s voice called over from the fire place breaking Reiner out of his thoughts. He looked over and she was getting up off of the floor and walking towards him.

“Uhh, me? No.“ He looked away from her as she sat at the tiny kitchen table across from him. “I have a cousin, but Bertoldt is the closest thing to a brother.”

“You two are close,” she took a sip of her tea, “That’s really nice.”

“What about you?” He said trying to keep the conversation going.

“I have a lot of siblings.” She laughed. “Lots of girls. Two sisters and a younger brother.” Reiner looked over at her.

“I always wanted a sister,” he revealed. Y/N smiled at him. She looked at his eyes and saw how even thinking about a younger sister made his eyes twinkle a little. He smiled back at her. She could imagine him being a really great older brother. He may be annoying, just like all the younger cadets, but she could definitely see his desire to take care of people benefiting a younger sister. She noticed herself falling into a daydream and quickly jumped up.

“I’m so sorry!” She put her cup down and stood up, “Let me finish dusting the blankets and you sit with your tea.” She took the stick from his hand and pushed him to the chair she was sitting in while she picked up his patting. After a couple of hits, she realized there wasn’t any dust left in the blankets. “Huh, I guess you finished.” She picked up the blankets and carried them over to the bed and laid them out so they could use them. When she turned around, Reiner was putting both empty mugs into the sink. He walked over as Y/N took off her boots.

“We should probably get some sleep.” They both said in unison. They laughed at their similar thoughts. Y/N started taking off her jacket. Reiner noticed how nicely her shirt fit and how tightly it hugged her curves.

“Uh… I can—I can take the chair,” Reiner stuttered and looked toward the chair across from the bed, clearly too small for him.

“Nonsense!” Y/N snapped. “We’re trying to stay warm here.” She started unbuttoning her shirt and Reiner quickly looked away.

“The uh… the fire is already really warm,” He motioned at the slowly dying fire, “You can even keep the blankets.”

Y/N laughed, shirt fully unbuttoned revealing an even tighter tank top underneath. “This is why you would make a great brother.” She pulled her shirt off the rest of the way and began unbuttoning her pants, “But don’t be stupid. That fire is dying and we don’t have any more wood. Plus, our clothes are soaked. Once you take them off and sit on that chair, you will freeze.”

Reiner could barely bring himself to look at her or breathe. His eyes were wide as he leaned over the fireplace. Take off our clothes? Like, all of them?? Y/N could tell he was uncomfortable.

“Look…” she walked over to him, putting a hand on his arm, “I know it’s not ideal and it might seem a little awkward.”

“Ideal?” He looked at her, questioning, trying not to imagine anything.

“Yes, but I promise you, it won’t matter once we’re both warm.” She pulled him over to the bed. They both sat down. “I promise, I won’t even look.” She covered her eyes so all he could see was the big smile she had on her face. The light from the dying fire was dancing on her skin. The orange glow creating shadows along her jawline that he wanted to touch and trace down her long neck all the way to—

“O—okay… Um,” He broke away from his thoughts and started removing his jacket, then shirt and finally his pants. He laid down, covering himself with the blanket.

“Can I open my eyes yet?” Y/N wondered. Reiner noticed her take a peek through her fingers just to check and laughed.

“Yes, you can look.” She smiled down at him, stood up and without pause, took off her tank top to reveal only her bra underneath then took off her pants. Reiner let out an inaudible gasp, but this time he couldn’t look away. He watched as Y/N climbed over him to get to the other side of the bed, climbing under the covers and letting out a small shiver.

“You warm yet?” she asked. Reiner tried to find the words, but nothing came out. “I’m kidding. Obviously, it’s still cold.” She adjusted the blankets next to him. “Do you mind if I hug you from behind?”

“I—uh… I mean... if we—you…” He stumbled over his words, “If… you need…”

“Relax…” Y/N turned her body to face Reiner, “It’s half the reason I am behind you. You youngins. “She chuckled. “I won’t have any idea what’s happening in your pants… Well, your pants are on the floor, aren’t they?” She laughed. “I’m only hear for your warmth and what little I have to share with you.” She put her arm around Reiner’s waist and he felt himself tense up immediately. “You weren’t lying, you really are warm.” She held tightly and all Reiner could think about was her body pressed up against his back.

How can she just lay in bed with me like this? Half-naked?! She’s half-naked. Oh God, she is half-naked touching me. Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. Reiner couldn’t think about anything except their bodies pressed against each other. He was starting to feel very thankful she thought to sleep behind him.

“Reiner?” Y/N broke the silence. “I have something I have to tell you.”

“oh—okay,” he nervously replied.

“I peeked.” She told.

“Huh?”

“When you were taking off your shirt earlier. I said I wouldn’t look, but I did.” It was silent until Reiner started laughing, his body shaking in her arms.

“That’s it?” His laughing slowing down. “It’s okay.”

“Oh good,” Y/N sighed. “I felt the need to be honest with you.”

“That’s admirable.” He felt her snuggle into the blankets more.

“Reiner?”

“Yes?” Pause.

“Good night.”

“Good night Y/N.” She pulled him in a little tighter.

She had to give herself a little pat on her back. Laying here in this bed in a cold room isn’t so bad having Reiner next to her. She could have asked to have Connie with her and they would both be freezing. Reiner was much bigger than her and seemed to have an endless supply of body heat. She took a deep breath, breathing him in. There was the faintest hint of his sweat. He smells really good, she thought. Why is it always the ones you never expect to smell so good? She wrapped her arm a little tighter around him, moving her arm to rest on his left arm.

She wasn’t lying when she said she had peeked at him, what she failed to mention was how much she enjoyed the peek. Reiner was tall and had a great build. She had definitely noticed him before, but they don’t have much time for relationships. Plus, he was much younger than her, but he honestly didn’t look it. She had to remind herself why her arm was around him and it wasn’t for the reason she had hoped. Trying to push back her own lustful thoughts, she closed her eyes, forcing herself to be tired. Resisting the urge to nuzzle her entire face into his back, she settled for her forehead and fell asleep.

Reiner felt Y/N press her nose into his back and realized she had fallen asleep. Her skin was so soft and it did feel warmer with them touching. He could feel her breath on his neck and back each time she breathed. And just as quickly as he tensed with her touch, he felt his body relax. He leaned back into her arms with an odd feeling of security. He moved his hand so it rested on hers. Slowly, he felt himself drift further into relaxation and then finally off to sleep.

…..

The sun started rising around 7am which caused Y/N to start stirring, not wanting to open her eyes just yet. She felt so comfortable resting on her warm pillow. She pulled it a little closer and it started moving, pulling her closer. She quickly opened her eyes trying to figure out why her pillow was moving at all. Reiner was gradually waking up as well. He was laying on his back with his arms around Y/N while she lay cuddled to his side, her head on his chest. It took them a while to realize what was happening before they both shot up.

“We were cuddling,” she said, confused. Then climbed out of the bed and slowly backed away.

“No we weren’t!” Reiner shockingly refusing.

“You’re really going to try and deny it?” Y/N gestured towards the bed, an obvious tone in her question. When Reiner didn’t say anything, she rolled her eyes. Reiner stood up. He was staring at her. He was still shirtless, in his underwear with his pants on the floor, revealing his muscular legs. While she searched for their clothes, she noticed him staring and realized he was gawking at her chest, still in her bra. “Oh grow up!” She threw his shirt at him and searched for her tank top.

“I’m sorry, I’ve just never…” He mumbled, pulling his shirt over his head. Y/N found her tank top and was putting that on as well.

“Never what?” She questioned, confused where he was going. He pulled on his pants, buckling as he tried to explain.

“You know…” Y/N’s eyebrows drew together having no idea what he was talking about. “This…” he indicated waving his hand up and down at her body. Her eyes slowly searching back and forth trying to understand what he was getting at.

“Had sex?” She said a little too excitedly with wide eyes waiting for his confirmation that she guessed correctly.

“Well—I… I meant more,” more gesturing and hand waving at her, “seen… a woman… naked, but yeah,” He nodded hesitantly, “had sex.” Her eyes opened even wider and she followed him as he crossed the room to get his boots, sitting in the chair to put them on.

“You’ve never had sex?” This was the conversation she liked. She sat on the bed forgetting about getting dressed, continuing to question him. “You’re young, but you’re not that young. How old are you? 18? 19?”

“20,” he zipped up his boots.

“20 and you’ve never had sex?” She thought out loud and quickly realized how judgmental she sounded and tried to correct it. “It’s not bad, I didn’t have sex until I was 23.” She shrugged, disclosing the information so he didn’t feel uncomfortable. “I’m just a little surprised.”

“I’ve been training to be a soldier for a long time,” he stood up looking for her shirt so she could continue getting dressed. “I guess I just didn’t have time for a girlfriend.” He handed over her shirt and she put it on.

“Wait! You’ve never even had a girlfriend?” Again, she tried to correct herself. “I’m sorry, it’s just really hard for me to believe. You’ve kissed someone before though, right?” Reiner looked at her, handing Y/N her boots, his mouth open trying to explain, his shoulders mid-shrug. Y/N’s eyes widened. “Oh my gosh! Reiner!” She took her boots from him, her mouth agape and eyes following him as he walked back and sat on the chair. Once he was facing her, she smiled and shook her head while pulling on her boots. “You definitely took last night like a champ then. Sorry, I was trying to be playful, but it was probably terrifying.”

“It wasn’t too bad,” he smiled at her. She smiled back at him and they stayed like this until they heard a splintering crack and both their expressions turned to concern looking around to see what it was. Reiner flew back with an, “Oh fu…” as the chair he sat on collapsed into a pile of wood under him.

“Reiner!” Y/N jumped up and ran over to see if he was okay. He erupted in a loud, hearty laugh, holding his stomach trying to contain his laughter. Y/N smiled at him and started to laugh with him, enjoying the sound of his amusement filling the cabin. She reached down for his hand, pulling him up. “And you wanted to sleep on that.”

It was only about 10 minutes later that Levi arrived, opening the cabin door searching for them.

“Oh good.” He stepped into the cabin further. “You guys are here.” They were both sitting on the bed in the corner and stood up when Levi walked in. “Are you ready?”

They made their way out of the cabin to where Levi left his horse. The rain had stopped, but the mud hadn’t quite dried out completely.

“Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to bring more than one horse so we are going to have to double up. We can come back later for the other horses when the terrain is a little clearer.” Levi informed them. “Reiner, you can take this horse and Y/N, you can ride with me.”

“I don’t mind Y/N riding with me,” Reiner interjected as he climbed up on the horse.

“Are you some kind of idiot?” Levi narrowed his eyes a little. “I wasn’t basing my choice off of your comfort. That horse doesn’t need to be carrying two giants. It makes much more sense for Y/N to ride with me.”

“Do I need to remind both of you that I haven’t eaten since yesterday’s breakfast?” Y/N interrupted. She reached for Levi’s hand and sat behind him. “And in the three years of knowing each other, I have never skipped dinner.”

“Is that why you won’t stop growing?” Levi related as he started riding back towards the base.

“Aww, your jealousy is showing?” Y/N laughed.

“Tch.” Levi reached into his pocket and pulled out a bread roll and handed it to her. Her eyes lit up as she grabbed the roll.

“Levi!” She smelled the roll, eyes rolling back at the smell. “You do care about me.” She ripped the roll in half.

“Don’t let it get to your head.” Levi slowed the horse down to Reiner. “I know how you get when you’re hungry.”

“Reiner!” Y/N looked back at him and handed him the other half of her roll.

“Thanks!” He took it and finished it off in two bites.

“Let’s go.” Levi turned and led the way with Reiner following behind.

A/N: Please Please correct my warnings if I don’t do it well enough. I’m still getting used to making sure I properly inform everyone what to expect before they start reading.

#reiner #reinerxreader #attack on titan reiner #aot x reader #snk x reader #attack on titan #SNK #snk reiner #reiner braun #reiner braun x reader #reiner imagines #reiner imagine #reiner braun imagine #Reiner braun imagines #AOT reiner imagines #AOT reiner imagine #snk reiner imagine #snk reiner imagines #reiner oneshot #reiner braun oneshot #reiner fluff #reiner braun fluff #aot reiner fluff #Not Without Trying

[captainsimagines]

To Topple A Giant || Chapter Nine

Summary: You had made it your mission to destroy even the smallest evils. When the opportunity arises to finally take down your own family after years of gaining their trust, you reach for it. And so does Steve, the man who represents a symbol of everything you hate.

Pairing(s): Steve Rogers x Reader || Avengers x Reader

Part 9 of 10 ~ Mini-Series

Warnings: This story contains mature themes and discussions such as extreme canon violence, strong language, emotional angst, mentions of Endgame deaths and recoveries, sexual situations, and emotional/physical abuse. This is purely fanfiction.

Warnings in this Chapter: strong language; use of a derogatory slur/racist language (not said by any main character); mentions of blood and injuries; angst!  

Word Count: 11,200+

A/N: One more chapter after this - I should really stop labeling this as a mini-series considering it’s already over 100,000 total words lmao. Thank you for staying with me this long! I love you guys soooo much!!!

~

Utah Merry Hotel, January 2025, 2:09pm

     “I’m being an ol’ sport, why can’t you?” You whine, stomping your feet as you trudged up the stairs to the hotel roof. “It’s our first serious stakeout in forever! I’m pretty sure Wanda shaved her legs for this.”

Steve shoots a flustered and unsettled look over his shoulder. He’s lugging the rifles and extra equipment on both his shoulders so you know he’s truly baffled because to even attempt a look over… well, that required real effort. He doesn’t answer, however; he continues upward. 

Bucky and Clint are following close behind. They’re tired, huffing every few steps and grunting while doing so. Finally, Bucky whines and throws himself against the wall dramatically. “Remind me why we couldn’t just get Wanda and Sam to lift us up there?”

Steve readjusts one of the rifle straps while he replies, “Buck, I told you not to skip leg day.”

“I skip ‘everything’ day. I’m just now employed as a superhero, thank you very much. The serum should be enough.”

“Are we even close?” Clint asks and passes Bucky on a few steps. Bucky takes that as a challenge though and hoists himself more steps before giving up again. 

You just watch in pure amusement. Makes you really proud that your thighs are stronger than theirs. “Just a few more flights.”

They both groan in unison. Steve has already rounded the next flight, no longer waiting on the three of you. It takes several more minutes until you kick open the roof door Steve had left slightly ajar. It’s cold outside, wind howling with icy droplets whipping through your hair. It’s only fifty stories up but it’s pretty high - you can see the tops of the trees, or branches really. It’s winter in Utah and most of the trees are naked and covered in snow. You hope Bucky and Clint, the dynamic duo no one saw coming, still have good aim in this wind after a year of vacation. 

“Alright. Buck - Clint, set up over there. Y/N, you’re over there.” 

“Aye Aye, Captain.”

You set up where Steve instructed. You’ve got a simple magnifier and some binoculars - you won’t have to do any shooting today, thank the Gods. Clint’s got his arrows and Bucky’s got his sniper. Steve’s waiting for a signal from Sam if need be - he won’t need to shoot today either. 

“Wanda and Sam will let us know when the cars pass the barrier. The tech cannot, under any circumstances, pass through the gate right over there.” Steve points to the giant, black coated metal gate. There’s no one on duty. You made sure to evacuate the area and any staff before. The tech these goons are bringing in is all stolen Stark Tech. And according to Happy, strict instructions are to ‘blow it to Hell’.  

“And if it does?” Bucky asks, grinning mischievously at Steve’s pointed look. 

“What’d I just say?”

Bucky laughs and puts his hands up in surrender. “Damn, Stevie. Calm thyne tits.” He goes back to fiddling with his rifle. “Blow the tires before they reach the gates but after they pass the barrier. Got it.”

“Peter, you in position?” Steve asks and adjusts his earpiece. 

You can hear Peter over your own mic. “Seatbelts look easy enough to break. I’m in position, I can easily pull them from the trucks.”

“Five minutes then.”

You all settle in. The cold has passed through the leather of your boots and your toes are paying the price. It makes you miss the rain of spring and the sprinkles of fall, when everything is drenched rather than frozen and your toes still have mobility. Your jacket is big enough but it scratches your neck every time you lean down to look through the magnifier. As the minutes tick by, you brave the cold and take it off. You’d rather conduct your part efficiently and without the constant distraction. 

“It’s almost forty degrees out,” Steve mumbles beside you. He’s looking over the roof balcony and into the trees. He’s squints and refuses your offer of binoculars. 

“So I get a sore throat.”

Steve rolls his eyes, “Tony put a heater in all our suits. You should have worn yours.”

“My suit is half nano. It’s excessive for a stakeout.”

He huffs but you ignore him, choosing to look through the rejected binoculars instead. He shuffles, and then there’s a warm weight enveloping your shoulders. It’s his sweater, cotton and baby blue, and he lifts the hood to cover your cheeks and ears. Your stomach flip-flops.

“Uh, thank you,” you say and zip it closed.

Steve shrugs lightly, “Don’t mention it.”

So you don’t. He doesn’t look cold besides or he’s just really good at masking it. It’s quiet now; you can’t really hear the quiet mutters of Clint and Bucky enough to join in and to not mention the jacket is eating at you. You opt for a casual conversation instead while you wait. 

“Soooo… how’d your date go last week?”

Steve clears his throat and turns to you, a forced grin on his face. “They, uh, they were sweet.”

“Sweet,” you repeat, nodding at nothing and cursing yourself for creating such an awkward moment. “Going on a second one?”

He sighs and his expression actually turns truthful. “No, don’t see that happening.”

For a second, you’re appalled. Who wouldn’t give Steve a second date? He’s an absolute catch and being a famous superhero wasn’t exactly a dealbreaker for many. Or maybe it was and Steve was blaming his alias once again for no fairytale ending. “Are you kidding? Who wouldn’t want you?”

The words leave your mouth too quickly to reel them back in. Steve’s cheeks turn pinker, both from your words and the chill, and he ducks his head low as he answers. “It’s my fault, really. They were sweet but I wasn’t paying much attention.”

“Mm, on your phone? Daydreaming? Were they a bore?”

Steve chuckles, “I pulled out my phone, like, once to answer a text but I was a proper gentleman!”

The tension is slowly melting and there’s a soft twinkle in his eye as he laughs. It’s been so long since he’s looked at you this way: on his own accord and not on order. “Bucky said they were, and I quote,” you lower your voice and look over at Bucky to make sure he’s distracted. “‘Cute as hell’.”

Steve gives Bucky a warm look. “Eh, it’s fine. Wasn’t the one.”

“The one,” you mock in a deep voice. “Who texted you that it was so important to ignore someone cute as hell?”

Steve hesitates and looks over the balcony as if wishing for an interruption. But the trucks aren’t near yet and Sam hasn’t given the signal. “Uh, it was Peter.”

“Oh, don’t tell him that. He’ll feel incredibly guilty if he ruined your chances at getting laid.”

Steve shoves your shoulder a bit harder than he intended and it makes you stumble back. He quickly catches you by the arm and holds you still, a sheepish smile painting his pink face. He mumbles a quick ‘sorry’, and goes back to lean over the railing. “It’s cool, he knew.”

You fake a surprised gasp, “Even worse!”

“He needed me to stop by the compound and I did. Really, it’s okay,” Steve assures and he’s speaking a little quicker. He fidgets with his thumbs and it looks like he wants to wrap up that portion of the conversation. But he looks over at you and sighs deeply, and he rolls his eyes as his upper lip tilts upward. “Ask.”

“What’d he want?” It makes your belly all warm to know he expects this enthusiasm from you.

“Wanted me around. Buck and Wanda were out getting dinner.”

“Yeah, but like, what for?”

He gives you a knowing smile, like you walked right into that trap. “You made dinner but Peter was too nice to say he didn’t enjoy it, so he texted me knowing I would like it. Knowing I had it before. He didn’t want there to be leftovers because then you’d be sad.”

You step back and shake your head like there’s a fly swarming around. It startles you. “You left your date… during dinner… to come to the compound to eat the dinner I made instead?”

“Don’t think too much about it.”

“How not?”

It’s five minutes when Sam calls it in. You groan in frustration and give Steve a look that says the conversation isn’t over. 

There are four armored vehicles and the magnifier illuminates three bodies per car. The targets will be hit starting from the last to keep the explosions out of each driver’s line of sight. 

“Target acquired,” Bucky mumbles and clicks off his safety. He closes one eye and settles comfortably as he awaits Steve’s signal.         

Clint tugs back an arrow, “Same here, Cap.”

“Wanda, you ready?” Steve’s voice is lower when he’s focused. He looks over at you, your hand up with an index finger raised, and waits. Wanda answers that she’s ready and Sam counts it down. The first truck crosses the barrier, then the next, next, and finally the fourth and you drop your hand in a fast swipe. 

“Fire! Go Parker!”

Bucky shoots the back tires of all four vehicles and Clint shoots his arrows to penetrate through the passenger doors. Peter works fast, webs slinging from side to side grabbing one passenger right after the other. Once the trucks are empty, Clint activates the arrows and you all prepare for the explosions. The fourth car catches flame first and Wanda contains the explosion perfectly, balling it up into a weak bundle of light and string. She does the same to the third and second, bundles extinguishing just as quickly as they burst. But the first car swings out of control on manual and the explosion is delayed.

“Clint?”

Clint leans over the balcony and squints, as if it would help. “I don’t know. It’s not going off.” He’s clicking the detonator repeatedly, holding it up for all of you to see. 

“Wanda, the truck! The truck! Sam!” You scream as the truck crashes through the gate and hurls closer to the hotel. The commotion is enough for Bucky to pop out from his cover and the four of you watch in horror as the truck still doesn’t stop. Clint has stopped clicking the button, but it’s no use. The truck finally explodes in an outbreak of debris and electricity. The Stark Tech reacts poorly to the strain, electric gusts of smoke fire left and right and rattle the building. It feels like an earthquake, shaking the already weak foundations and old brick. Wanda catches the bottom to better contain it and tries desperately to smother it. But the shaking doesn’t stop and the corners of the roof are collapsing. 

Steve leaps to grab and pull you away and just as quickly to catch Clint’s leg before he falls over the edge. Clint is thrown back rather harshly but Steve isn’t thinking about the abuse of strength right now - no, not while Bucky slips and hangs on to a rogue pipe. Steve crawls and latches onto his hand before the pipe gives way. He yells as he tugs Bucky up with only one arm, the other having to hold onto undisturbed brick. He won't let Bucky fall. Not again.

Bucky throws his leg up and over solid ground, and you go to help Steve pull him up. Bucky’s heavy and his metal hand pinches your skin bad but he’s safe. Wanda struggles to contain the electricity but she’s succeeding. The rumbling slows until nothing moves anymore. You collapse back in exhaustion.

“Well, that didn’t go as planned,” Bucky gasps as he rubs his face. 

“Is Wanda okay?” You mumble more to yourself and struggle to pull yourself back up. But the sudden weight of your body proves too much for the edge and in a horrible wave, you’re falling through. You practically file your nails as you try to latch onto falling brick.

“No!” You feel the scratch of someone’s fingers along your forearm and soon they’re digging into your skin, and it hurts but you figure it’s better than splitting your skull open. Pebbles of concrete are falling down onto your face and the smoke from the explosion is clogging your nostrils. You hang for a few seconds, like the person can’t believe they actually caught you. Then they begin pulling you up, lifting you to safety, and you claw the rest of the way only to tumble into Steve’s chest, shaking. 

He pulls you into his arms but they’re restless, roaming over your shoulders and through your knotted hair clumsily. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” His voice wavers and he’s on the verge of tears, it seems. His waterline is glossy and his lips are quivering. “Answer me.”

“I’m fine, hey. Steve? I’m good.”

He pulls away and his hands hover you like he doesn’t know what else to do with them. “I’m sorry. I should have kept you close. I-” His voice cracks and he swallows hard. “You sure you’re okay?”

Disregarding his words is difficult, especially when you feel a second meaning to them, but you force yourself to do so. It’s been such a long time since you’ve seen him like this. And each time you have, it was never because of anything good. “Y-yeah. I’m good, Rogers.”

Bucky and Clint look at each other, they look at Steve, to you, and back to each other. Finally, Clint breaks the silence and huffs a light chuckle. “Are we really THAT rusty?”

Present Day, 2025, 11:45pm

    The Montana skies are clear and free of passenger planes, allowing the Quinjet to swift easily on autopilot. You could never drive this thing and the building anxiety of that reality bubbles each time it makes an unsteady bounce. 

Steve’s laying in the makeshift medical wing and though it’s against protocol, he’s on a secure line with Dr. Cho. She takes her time, albeit working as fast as possible too, and her light voice is fairly calm. It settles you to hear her speak this way. 

‘I need you to use this disinfectant, Captain Rogers. Do not pour it on all at once… Good, now dig through gently and make sure the pliers are sanitized.’

Steve digs out the bullets himself and bites down on a clean towel. He’s biting down hard enough that his teeth make a squeaking sound against it. It takes every ounce of your willpower to not do it for him. The Montana skies are beautiful, at least. It’s a good distraction. 

Steve gives a rather painful yell as he finally plucks the second bullet, cursing as a stream of blood drips onto the table. He’s got such tough skin - miracle or serum - that the bullets didn’t pass all the way through. Dr. Cho moves on to how to properly bandage the wound but Steve begins to tune her out. 

Two years mucking through mud and bodies and getting patched up every other day has prepared him for whatever life may throw during this new century. Not much has changed, it seems. 

When the line disconnects, Steve can finally just relax. He focuses on the soft rumble of the engine and your steady breaths. 

     You hold your breath as you settle the Quinjet on the open field, only half of you actually trusting automatic tech. Steve coaches you the whole time too, the little shit, and promises you’ll never be doing that again. 

Steve stumbles and teeters and falls on the porch steps with a low groan. You let him fall because you know you’d only fall with him. He catches himself with the hand he’s been pressing over the bandage while the other still holds on to you. You fight the urge to crash down with him and bite your lip as you look up to the night sky. 

“C’mon, Rogers,” you swallow down the increasing worry, “We’re almost inside.”

Steve huffs a pained laugh and nods. He grabs your arm again and with his remaining strength, pulls himself up,

The inside of the cabin looks comfier than the outside. You help Steve to the couch closest to the unlit fireplace before going out back to turn on the power. There’s a thin layer of ice in the grass so just in case, you scope out the garage and make sure there are snow supplies. Not that you really know what the hell snow supplies actually look like, but there’s a shovel and you figure that’s as much as your brain is going to piece together. 

When you get back inside, Steve’s fumbling with the coffee maker and leaving tiny fingerprints of blood over every surface he touches. You don’t comment on them, just step back and discreetly wipe the counters each time he passes. 

“Figured you’d like a pot,” Steve says. 

It damn near breaks your heart how small his voice sounds. The fact he’s stumbling around the cabin making sure you’ve got your coffee fix while he’s nursing two bullet wounds damn near snaps it in two.

“Thank you,” you respond and go to lead him back to the couch. He moans quietly when he sits and again as you lay him down. “I hope you don’t think I’m sleeping here,” Steve laughs and tries to hide his wince due the uncomfortable rumble. 

You smile and touch your hand to his hot cheek. His body is working overtime fighting off infection and regenerating tissue. His cheeks are a lovely scarlet red and so is the beautiful bulb of his crooked nose. He’s a little shiny, like varnish over light paint strokes, and taking the fever like a champ. “I’ll help you to the bed in a little bit. Let’s get that fever down first.”

Steve sighs, defeated, but nods. He lays his head back on the pillow and once he shuts his eyes, you get to work. The bathroom is stocked with the simple necessities: aloe vera, vapor rub, heating and cold pads, dozens of towels, and painkillers. You pop two painkillers yourself before gathering everything and dropping it on a nearby table in the kitchen. The coffee is about done brewing so you fill up a mug with bottled water and set it in the microwave for two minutes. You dip a chamomile tea bag a few times once the water is heated. There’s no teapot - you’ll apologize to Steve later. 

Once Steve’s happily sipping his tea, you start on the medicine. You wet the small towels and lay them over his forehead and bare chest. You rub aloe vera on the other cuts he obtained from hand-to-hand and finally rub the vapor rub in the dip of his neck and just below his nose. Steve gives you this funny smile as you do so, scrunching his nose and wiggling it back and forth. 

“Vicks,” you say as you show him the small container. “Heal you right up.”

“I bet,” he laughs. “Stuff smells like what I think liquid morphine would taste.” A laugh bursts from your chest, your first real instance of calm during these last few hours. You ignore his protests and smother more across his chest. 

Steve settles deeper into the couch and returns to his tea. He’s got less sweat on his skin now but he’s still red. You go to pour yourself that coffee and return to his side. The nanotech is growing stiffer and scratching your skin but you refuse to get comfortable until Steve’s fever breaks. You’re still covered in Ernesto’s blood, the red now a hellish brown, and you try not to move your face much for risk of feeling the dry pull of it. 

“Steve,” you try, but Steve shakes his head and makes sure to meet your gaze before he speaks. 

“No. The less I know the better.”

It surprises you, makes you feel more guilty, but you understand. Not telling him the full truth would be beneficial in the long run. Still, your hands hug the mug closer to your chest. “Do you think I did something bad?”

His upper lip tugs upward, “Do you think you did something bad?”

You don’t think for long. There’s not much need to. “No.”

He nods, “But you care what I think?”

“Of course I do. You’re not just my Captain anymore - you’re my friend. I care even when I’m asking you if my eggs need more salt.”

“You trust me enough to correct your cooking?” He teases, but it’s a question disguised as another. 

“I trust you enough to tell me if I need more salt. You’re not correcting it.” He laughs and dips deeper into the couch. The bandage is bleeding through, only slightly, so you move to find the first-aid kit. 

“Hey, it’s okay. It’ll stop bleeding soon.”

You hum your disagreement. “I’m gonna keep it clean until you’re strong enough to shower.”

“You can always help me shower,” he mumbles into his tea. 

Rolling your eyes, you gently nudge his shoulder as you sit back down with the kit. “If you fall, I can’t catch you, you big lug. We’d have to tell everyone we screwed in there because you falling on top of me, injured, is somehow more embarrassing.”

He allows you to remove the soiled bandage and dab around the healing wounds. He’s bruising around the sides, multiple shades of green and yellow already, and the holes are stitched rather poorly. It makes you feel a little better about your own criss-cross work - even Steve sucks at it. 

“I’m sorry I had to go and get myself shot,” Steve apologizes and sucks in a deep breath when the towel drags a little too roughly. 

“Yeah, what the hell happened there?”

He almost mimics you in the way he shrugs his shoulders and lifts his arms in that ‘well, fuck if I know’ position, pursing his lips and expelling a chuckle. “Had my gun trained on Ernesto. Ernesto had his own on Ramirez. Then Seda came in and Ernesto ordered Ramirez to hand his over to Seda. Played right into Seda’s hands.”

You process the explanation slowly and dab his wound a few more times before unwrapping the clean bandage. “And the damn shield?”

Steve’s embarrassed by that small detail, he’ll admit it, because he truly was blindsided by Seda’s appearance. You were supposed to be holding him down after all. “In my defense! When it’s shrunk down and in your pocket rather than latched onto one’s arm, it’s easily forgettable.”

You clean around the wound softly before placing and taping the new bandage. The conversation settles and you’re both quiet for a long, long minute. He thanks you for cleaning him up by rubbing sweet circles into the knuckles of your right hand. Finally, you can’t take it anymore. It’s like a wave of irrefutable worry and rage, all bunched together with each emotion trying to outweigh the other. That goddamn riptide, sucking you in and keeping your head below water just for the hell of it. Breathing in harshly, you fail to keep yourself from stuttering over your words. “I’m sorry.”

Steve bites back a groan of pain as he leans over to take your cheeks in his palms. The brush of his fingertips lets you know that you’ve already started crying. You don’t much care about the facade anymore. “Doll, listen to me. Listen.”

“I never meant to leave you alone.”

“You never did.”

You bark out a wet laugh, sarcastic. “I should have run faster. I should have killed him all those years ago. I should have never brought you into this.”

“You did what you had to do,” he says, fiercely. He forgets his own strength for a second, only slightly diminished from the healing process, and loosens his tight grip against your cheeks. “You did what you had to do to survive.”

“I wanted to hate you,” you admit. Your bottom lip is trembling and your hands clench together over your thighs. “I wanted to hate you so much. If I did, then you getting hurt or killed on this mission wouldn’t hurt so bad. I hated you for what you did. Because it made me realize that I could never hate you at all.”

“Hey,” he tries, hands now lowering to clutch at your own. “Stop apologizing for having a heart. Stop thinking you’re not worthy of even having one.”

Your face crumbles and Steve realizes for the first time in a long time just how much you’ve been holding in. “Why didn’t you use the stones?”

Steve’s heart clenches at the sound of the crack in your voice. He hasn’t heard that crack since Clint fell to his knees without Natasha by his side. He holds onto you tighter and prepares himself for an admission he never thought he would ever have to give. “Because Peggy told me not to.”

Something confusing happens in the middle of your chest. It clenches with anger but understanding. The answer to your question was always this simple but it looks like it’s tearing Steve apart from the inside-out.

    She’s as beautiful as the day he went into the ice. All he has to do is whisper her name so sweetly, delicately, and she turns her head like she’s answering the prayer. First her knees buckle, eyes watering and blotching her vision, and she collapses on the soft grass of her backyard. Steve’s holding her the very next second, repeating that he’s real, he’s here. 

“Steve,” Peggy gasps, hands shaking as she brings them to his wet cheeks. She grips and pokes and does everything so comically that Steve laughs a wet laugh when she starts smacking him. “What is going on?”

And he tells her. Everything he can remember: the good, the bad, the wretched. He spills everything, and he spills the most delicate information of their time: he’s alive, just frozen; Bucky’s alive, just hurt; the world is saved, just broken. Whether she believes it or not Steve’s not sure, but he’s so goddamn happy to see her again that he chokes every other word. 

“And you? You’re happy?”

His eyebrows come together and he looks at Peggy like she’s speaking another language. She’s got the same red lipstick, same curl in her hair even if it’s longer now, and she’s filling out her dresses more. “Pegs, don’t ask me that.”

She detaches herself slowly from his arms, pausing their dance as she speaks. “Why not? You can’t expect me to accept that you stopped by to see me all willy-nilly after saving the universe.” Her lips twitch into a knowing smile and Steve melts. Her voice is sending him into a spiral, a world he never thought he would see again, and he realizes just how much he loves accents on women  - especially this woman. 

“I just,” he chokes out, and brushes his index finger down her cheek. “I had to see you again.”

“I get that,” Peggy says and pays no mind that the record player has stopped; she still sways gently with Steve. “But you’ve just mentioned a whole other world you’ve been a part of. You’ve got your best guy back, that Wilson fellow sounds like the life of the party, and this Agent Y/N certainly sounds like she’s been by your side through it all.”

Steve stutters in his step and holds her closer. Her stomach presses against his, and he stops abruptly. He looks down between them and runs his hand from her shoulder, down, to lay across her growing belly. “Pegs.”

She gives him the same wide and proud smile she gave him when he returned with the 107th. She lays her hand over his. “I know.” She laughs and tilts her head lovingly. “I’m happy, too.”

Steve bites his lip to keep from sobbing. He was so stupid for coming to this timeline, for ruining Peggy’s chance at happiness, for interrupting the life he already knew she created for herself. He inputted the wrong year, he suddenly realizes, and steps back arms-length from her. “I’m sorry, I was stupid to come here. I just wanted to see you and then I did, and I… I still love you, Pegs.”

“Oh,” Peggy gasps, bottom lip trembling. “Darling, do not mistake yourself, even for a second, into thinking that I do not love you too.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing for having a heart.”

He wants to argue, say he’s stupid a million more times, but he finds himself listening to her gentle words. It’s Peggy, Steve thinks. She’s always been right.

“In this world you live in, you have James?” He nods. She continues, “In this world you live in, you just lost two of your most loved friends?” He nods again. He wipes his face from forehead to chin. “In this world you live in, you have met a woman who has the same stubbornness as you; has the same self-sacrificing streak, who has your heart in such shambles that you dare call her one of your best friends?”

Steve thinks of you and how broken your smile was as you waved him goodbye, hand clenching Sam’s as Steve gathered the stones and Mjolnir. He thinks of the times you’d leap onto his back and demand a ride; the times he’s saved your ass in a firefight; how his sleep has definitely improved ever since he started calming you from nightmares - he hasn’t slept so well since before the war. He nods again.

Her eyes go soft. “Steve,” she starts and Steve knows. He doesn’t want to know. “Don’t abandon the world you’ve built for yourself. Surround yourself with the people you love. Do this for me.”

“There’s so much hate and blood waiting for me when I get back, Pegs. I don’t want to-”

“There is a difference between you not wanting to and you having to.” He drops his head and focuses on the floor. Peggy isn’t done grilling him, however, and he looks back up to grant her the respect. “You must not abandon the world you helped create. I’m not saying this to be mean. I’m saying this because I know you don’t want to.”

“Pegs.”

“I see right through you, Steve. We marched together through mud and blood before. We’ve got two years of fighting side by side under our belts. I’ve seen you at your worst, and you I. I know that face anywhere.”

“I missed you, Pegs,” Steve breathes. She cups his face with her hands and draws their foreheads together.

“The stars weren’t written in our favor. But to know that you’re alive, and that you make it, and that you actually get to live,” she bites back a sob. “I couldn’t ask for anything more.”

“It isn’t my world to begin with.”

“No, you’re a man out of time. But so is James. You won’t abandon him now, will you?”

He chuckles low and their noses touch. “Stop making me feel guilty for wanting to find you, Peggy.”

She presses a soft kiss to the side of his mouth and finally breaks away. “And you won’t abandon that sweet girl who has put up with your nonsense for the last five years, you say?”

Steve shakes his head and meets Peggy’s gaze. “I’m just tired.”

“They are too, I bet.” He turns to the door and to Peggy, and she figures it’s almost time for him to leave. “You have been the archer and the brave, Steve. I’m absolutely certain you’ve been more. You will be more.”

Steve says his final goodbyes and stops to remember the fine details of Peggy’s face. The fifties are treating her well. Steve expected nothing less. Bright lights flash around him and he’s back to the world he wanted to leave, to hide from, and he sees you - and your mouth parts in shock.

     “And you listened to her?” you ask. 

Steve smiles, although it’s hard for him to remember that conversation. “I came back. I didn’t listen to her when she said to surround myself with people who love me, and who I love in return.”

“No, you made damn sure of that.”

“Hey,” Steve chuckles. “Don’t take smacks at me when you’re down.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Sorry, it’s just too easy sometimes.” Laughing about the two years of missed chances and spoiled friendship was not on your bingo card for this week. 

“I don’t know how this is going to play out,” you admit. Steve looks so young with a somber expression: his eyebrow creases gently without wrinkling the rest of his forehead, the side of his mouth tilts downward, and his eyelashes kiss the pink of cheeks. “I decided in the moment. So I’m fuck all out of ideas on how to proceed.”

He nods in understanding. “Guess we just have to look over our shoulders three times instead of two now.”

“Simple like that?” You scrub a hand over your face and curse inwardly when you smudge your lipstick down to your chin. You ignore it. “I know we’re Avengers, but.”

“No buts,” Steve says and moves to sit up. You help him by pushing his shoulders and he accepts your help as you struggle to the bathroom. “You helped the guy and his daughter. I’m sure he’s going to be watching our backs from now on.”

You help Steve strip from his dress pants and shoes and finally remove your suit as well. The graze on your arm is covered in brown, dried blood but the wound isn’t deep. It’ll sting like a sunburn, you know that, but it’s better than being shot through. You watch Steve enter the shower and leave the curtain drawn. His bandage is soaked again but thankfully it’s from the water and not more blood. You grab a spare towel and soak it with water and soap, and rub it across your lips and chin. 

“Let me do that,” Steve calls. You strip bare and bring the towel with you into the shower. Steve takes it and scrubs over your face, gently but more rough as he gets to your eyes. It’s an innocent moment of ‘ouch, scrub softer!’ and ‘surprised I didn’t take all your lashes off’. He helps clean your wound as well and once you’re both clean, he bandages you up and you him. 

The master bedroom is the only room without electricity so you gather some candles. It’s like the two of you won’t admit you’re currently afraid of the dark or what may lie in it. They illuminate the room in a delicate orange and it’s such a peaceful color to briefly see before falling asleep, head tucked into Steve’s chest and his heartbeat thrumming gently with your breath. 

     It’s a wonder what a night’s sleep can do. Steve’s wounds are sealed and his fever is gone, but there’s a signature left behind. A pink and white patch of skin as tender as a newborn’s, a memory. Steve pours your coffee and his tea while you trace your fingers over it.

Two hours after eating a small breakfast and securing the perimeter, a soft ding startles you from the random book you’re reading. Steve’s phone shines with a message from Sam. It simply reads: ‘Clear’. Grabbing the phone and walking out onto the porch, you find Steve sitting on one of the steps he tripped over just yesterday. He’s sketching the sky and the trees, taking his time on the lines of the branches, the strokes of the leaves, and the frost over them. He looks up, studies his surroundings, and looks back down to add a detail he previously missed. He sniffs, rubs his nose, and finally notices you leaning against the doorframe. 

“Hey,” he says, soft. “Any news?”

You hold up his phone and nod. “Sam says we’re clear to fly in.”

Steve looks back to his drawing. You hesitate before speaking, knowing damn well an all clear means get your ass back as soon as possible. “Finish your drawing. I’ll pack whatever we need to.” Steve’s mouth parts but he shuts it just as quickly. Slowly, he nods. 

     There isn’t much to pack since you brought nothing but the clothes on your backs. Everything at the hotel was collected before the wedding and should have flown back with Scott and the others. It feels awkward stealing bottled water and processed foods to hoard on the quinjet, but it’s a necessity. Steve meets you at the quinjet doors, shows you his drawing, and volunteers to take the wheel. 

“You’re not volunteering. You’re ordering.”

Steve rolls his eyes, “No license, no drive.”

“What are you? A cop?”

“Don’t think for one second I won’t actually hand the wheels over and happily crash while screaming ‘I told you so’.” 

Steve steers for the duration of your flight. The next few hours are spent just enjoying each other’s company, speaking of all things and simply catching up. It’s amazing how much you two missed from one another’s lives those two years.

      The landing base is clear and it’s Sam who’s waiting for you as the Quinjet manually lands itself. He shoots you a gap-toothed smile and extends his arms, pulling the two of you in at the same time for a strong hug. He’s talking a mile a minute about how successful the mission was, how Fury is over the moon that it’s finally over, how the DEA is thinking of congratulating everyone one by one. It’s enough to distract Steve, who’s just happy to see his best friend again, but it isn’t enough for you. The large metal doors sealing the storage facility from the rest of the compound are thrown open. Bucky stumbles through and practically sprints over to the three of you. 

“Get back on the jet,” he orders, already pulling you by the arm. You all look at one another like he’s gone mad but that’s impossible. Bucky’s paranoia isn’t something to take lightly; he’s right nine out of ten times. 

“Buck, what-?”

“Rhodes couldn’t hold them. They have warrants, Steve.”

Steve hauls Sam onto the jet as well. “Warrants for who?”

“Get down from the jet without a fight and this will all go smoothly.”

There are about twenty uniformed officers surrounding the jet. They spread out in case anyone decides to run but it seems pointless to even try. Secretary Ross points his gun directly at you, proud and tall and looking just the same as you remember him. Last time you saw him was at Tony’s funeral. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” you bite, and raise your hands in cooperation. Ross shakes his head and his expression contorts into one of disgust. There are red beams coming from each gun but your friends are clean - the beams are only pointed at you.

“Agent Y/N Y/LN, you’re under arrest for multiple charges of drug smuggling, trafficking of illegal goods, the murder of Ernesto Vega and Daniel Seda, aiding and abetting drug-lord Omar Ramirez, and for conspiracy against the United States of America. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a federal court of law...”

You drone out half way through. Ross finishes up the speech but no one is listening. Sam is already yelling over your Miranda Rights and Bucky’s frozen in place. Steve’s fighting his way through to Ross, pushing through the muscle until he’s face to face with him. But Ross isn’t fazed. There’s nothing left to do but exit the jet. 

Immediately there are handcuffs slapped to your wrists. Two men drag you over to the containment car that’s enforced with so much indestructible material it’s almost insulting. You weren’t enhanced - they were doing this for fun.

“You’ve got it all wrong! Y/N! Y/N!”

You don’t fight. Conspiracy… you’re surprised they didn’t just shoot you dead. Steve’s still yelling, begging to be heard, but you try to block him out. It’s not your first time being arrested but it is your first time being charged with something you didn’t do. As funny as that sounds, it’s terrifying. 

“Steve,” you say, and Steve breaks through some more hired muscle so he’s within earshot. “It’s okay.”

His face pulls up in pain, “No, you didn’t do this! They’re not listening!”

One of the officers pushes your head down roughly and tries to shove you in the backseat. You’re still looking at Steve. And those eyes, wounded and vulnerable, haunt him even after the door shuts and the car drives away.

     There’s a privilege attached to the mantle of Captain America. Perhaps he was too blind to see it during the war or just too proud he was finally being heard and respected, but now he sees it for what it really is. It’s a mantle this country has never truly associated with the person but with the purpose. Steve was manufactured to help protect this country under government orders and when he defied that purpose, he disgraced the mantle. Seems like some people idolize the role a little too much. 

But he’s still Captain America. This reality has continued to clear his name from stunts he pulls and laws he breaks. And once Steve is able to walk away without so much as a scratch, he leaves bodies behind.

Sharon. Sam. Bucky. Wanda. And now you. All people who fought his fight and weren’t granted the quick privilege of that perceived pureness and holiness. He was always ready for combat, he was built for it, but he didn’t really want it. 

Did he?

Ripping that star off his chest was one thing. Accepting his new shield cemented his continual legacy as the Star-Spangled Man. He deserved to be in that cell with you. But if he learned anything about how the world works, it’s that cruelty doesn’t just win in the movies. All of his enemies started out friends and if he had to bet, he’d bet the reason they’re labeled as such is partially because of him. 

So he sits and listens to everyone’s ideas and plans, vetoing and dismissing one right after the other, his mind doing jumping jacks. He’s both there and not, drowning in the fact that he made it home and you didn’t. He doesn’t know how to sleep without the sound of your snoring anymore. 

He sits and listens. 

    The cell isn’t one you would expect for someone who has been charged for betraying her country. It’s modestly furnished: a black cot in the far right corner with a mini table beside it, a desk with some paper, and a door that leads to the private bathroom. All in all, the room’s size is that of a child’s bedroom; there’s no actual pens and pencils for risk of violent behavior and there’s a bulb camera that moves when you move. 

You’ve been trapped in worse. 

Countless detectives and investigators have visited already. They all ask the same questions: Why did you do it? Did Captain Rogers know? Who are you, really? 

You give the same answers: I didn’t do it. Of course, every single person knows. Who do you think I am?

Every time they leave more discouraged than the one before them, refusing to compare notes with one another in case they were in possession of gold. They all ignore you when you try to ask for Steve and his wellbeing. Their faces contort, they whisper to their partners, and they shake their heads in disappointment. One even goes as far as to threaten you, warning you to keep Captain Roger’s name out of your wetback mouth or else, until he’s escorted from the cell. Not that it really matters - the manipulated ideals of these people will always blur their search for the truth. And when the truth fails to satisfy such greedy manipulations, they choose to create their own.

There is one agent who peaks your interest. He offers you gum when he settles in the chair near the door. His name badge reads ‘Kavert’; it glares in the bright lights overhead and he makes no other attempt at small talk once he gets comfortable and opens his little notepad. 

That goddamn notepad, you think. Every single person before has prided themselves over it, scribbling little notes about your tone of voice, body movement, and vague answers. You never give much, Natasha had taught you better, so they always end up writing less than two bullet points before giving up. 

But Agent Kavert surprises you by opening up to a blank page, spitting his chewed gum in the middle, and then he shuts it closed. He offers you a real smile, one that doesn’t look practiced or forced. It lets you study him without being so guarded or uncomfortable. He seems young, not really a rookie but it’s obvious he’s spent more time behind a desk than out in the field. His dark hair is short, sprinkled grays near his temples, and his attire screams upper level. His build is lean, his gun is in the holster on his right hip, and a part of you knows he’d put up a hell of a fight if you tried to escape. 

“I was gonna comment on what lovely weather we’re having, but I don’t think you get out much.” 

You’re startled into a real laugh. Satisfaction washes over his face. 

“I think you’re wasting your time, Agent Kavert.”

He grins and moves to proudly pull at his jacket and present his badge. He sets the notebook to the side and leans forward to cup his hands together on his knees. 

You squint at him. There’s nothing interesting about you right now: back against the wall as you sit criss-crossed on the cot, sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt, hair brushed but a little greasy. Your last shower was two days ago and you figure they’ll let you have one tonight. 

“Yeah, you’re right. There’s no point in hoping you’ll tell me anything you haven’t shared yet.”

“Nope.”

He hums low in his throat and tilts his head to the left. Now, he squints at you. “I just don’t get it. How did you do it? Not show up on our radar, I mean?”

It doesn’t seem like he’s calling you guilty or innocent. Already he’s one-hundred percent different from the other agents. “I wasn’t exactly hiding.”

He sits up to lean back in the chair, “Different last name, government and Avenger protection, covering your tracks so carefully even the DEA missed you.”

“You’ve done your homework.”

“Yes, but,” he starts. He acts like he’s having a normal conversation on his front porch. “It still doesn’t make sense. How could Nick Fury miss this? Tony Stark? After the whole Obadiah situation, I expected him to-”

“It’s simple, really. Do you want to know or do you want to keep making assumptions?”

He’s watched the other agents leave by this point. Some couldn’t even make you talk. So he shuts up and waves his hand for you to continue. 

“Cool,” you breathe out. “First of all, I’m literally only telling you this because I’ve already been refused a lawyer or some crap like that and I highly doubt this is going to actual court. The publicity would be horrible.” 

He bites his lip but you catch the little smile forming. You continue, “And I have nothing to hide. I’m sure my Captain, my teammates, and Fury himself have given their sides. Am I right?”

Agent Kavert adjusts himself in the seat and nods in response. He doesn’t dare interrupt you now. 

“Good, then I’ll keep it sweet. They knew who I was. I was recruited to be an inside source, a double agent, and this wedding was the perfect chance to corner those men,” you declare, turning your hands palm up and shrugging your shoulders. “There, happy?”

“Double agent.” Agent Kavert chews over the words, rolling them around on his tongue a few more times. He’s squinting harder and you can see his brain working. The next sound to leave his lips is a heavy sigh and a feeling of immense irritation washes over you. It wasn’t enough.  “Are we going to be truthful yet, Agent?”

Chuckling lightly, you rest the back of your skull on the wall. It was wrong to assume he’d be any different from the others. “Of course you don’t believe me. You want more, they all do. I don’t suppose I have anything better to do.”

He claps his hands on his thighs and leans forward again, loud and restless. “Then let’s get started, really: Did you or did you not let Omar Ramirez, Mexican drug-lord involved with Ernesto Vega, your father... imagine that, run away from a crime scene, evade arrest, and possibly leave the country?”

“You expect me to follow all those questions?”

“It’s not the time to be funny.”

“You were enjoying it just a second ago,” you mumble. He raises his eyebrows, still waiting for an answer.  “Then let me put it simply: no, I did not.”

“Did you or did you not assassinate Ernesto Vega?”

“I would have remembered such a brilliant kill if it came from my gun.”

“So that’s a no… Daniel Seda?”

“His gun was pointed at my Captain. Yes.”

“Against orders, then?”

Confusion is written all over your face and you make sure the camera knows it too. There are only so many times you can repeat yourself. “Don’t you have Steve’s report? Scott’s?”

“We have to hear the story from you, Agent.”

“But that’s just the thing, isn’t it? You don’t believe me.”

He shrugs and quickly scans you up and down. Even if he doesn’t have the tangible notepad in his hands, he’s getting away with making mental notes. “The story just isn’t piecing together the way it should be. Why would Daniel Seda murder his greatest ally and friend?”

“Our mics have already transcribed that answer for you, sir. I’m sure of it. And I’ve got sources outside of the DEA and Avengers-”

“Like Maribel Rodrigo? Another smuggler who has operated inside the cartel, HYDRA, Madripoor…”

You cut him off, angry. “Not the full story.” 

Tone of voice: defensive.

“Then that leads me to my next question.”

“Oh, fun.”

Tone of voice: sarcastic.

He speaks with a tinge of astonishment hidden in every syllable. “Why didn’t you do it? Kill Ernesto, I mean.”

“I was disarmed at the time. The Captain and I both were,” you answer, growing more impatient by the second.

He uses his hands to speak now, finger pointing along an invisible timeline detailing the order of events. “So you admit you were going to kill him if you had your weapon.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth.”

Body movement: rigid.

“Or maybe you weren’t. Maybe my boss is right, maybe the FBI is right in thinking that you are a double agent leaning more towards your roots than our boys in blue.” He says this like its scripture; like it’s some holy conspiracy he’s just found evidence for. He wants you to plant words in your mouth and in this discussion so he can pluck the evidence from the ground and water it with fire.

You scoff hard, “I hardly ever wear blue when doing your job for you.”

“Was letting Omar Ramirez escape our job or just yours?”

Telling him the truth would mean losing all credibility, all titles, all trust in your work. You know what you’ve done and you don’t regret it. Ramirez was never the biggest fish and if you spun this right, then he was simply a fish who got his meal and promptly swam away. “You assume I let him go. What evidence tells you that?”

He ignores the question and instead asks another of his. “Why were your relations kept hidden from SHIELD and the FBI?”

“That’s a question for you know who.”

He shakes his head in disappointment. “You’re in a lot of trouble.”

“I bet I am. But this is not some precinct where you can get my team to turn on me so easily. And this is not a situation in which they’re lying for me. I trust that whatever the Captain has said is the answer to all your questions.”

“We’re gonna unravel this case. We’ll get to the bottom of it.”

You’re suddenly overcome with a wave of sleepiness. These past two weeks have been exhausting even if you haven’t moved more than five feet from wall to wall. Having to repeat yourself to people who have already written the story for themselves is tiring. “I don’t know why you guys can’t just believe the words of myself and everyone vouching for me. We got you all the evidence. We have given you more names and connections that you’ll ever know what to do with. You don’t need to unravel anything; it’s all there! But because we weren’t able to arrest the one person you wanted, that being Ernesto, you go after me. You have White but I guess he’s not talking. And you’ll believe what you want to believe.”

“I trust my gut.”

“As simple as that, huh?” You sigh deeply and cross your arms over your chest. “You know, there’s a saying the late Agent Carter used to tell all SHIELD agents when they first started out and when they came back from missions. When she retired, it was Fury who then eased our minds.” 

Agent Kavert has a harsh line creasing through the middle of his forehead and he looks deeply interested. 

“There are three sides to every story,” you recite. “Your side, my side, and the truth.” A gentle shrug of the shoulders feels like all you’re allowed to give him. “I’m not lying to you but I’m not telling you the full truth either. Just my side.”

Agent Kavert shuts his eyes and bounces his left leg. He looks conflicted and unable to formulate a response at all. He’s shaking like he’s at war with himself or with the suits on the other side of the door, but no one has come knocking yet. “Let’s say I believe you. Just for a second.”

You nod. 

“Daniel Seda murders Vega at his own daughter’s wedding. We managed to catch Marcus White and because of fault entirely, Omar Ramirez gets away. Because from what I heard, Ramirez was working with you.” He paints the picture rather mundane, but you shoot him a smile that tells him he’s on the right track. “And you and all the other Avengers were blindsided by Ramirez. You gathered all the evidence you were told to gather, worked together and played your cards right, infiltrated one of the most secure estates in the country, and fucked up so badly that you managed to let two of your biggest giants die?”

“I really think you got it spot on.”

He laughs dryly, “But it still doesn’t make sense. Once Vega was gone and Seda survived, where would you have fallen in this tree?”

He wants to retract his question the moment he sees your face fall with such a sincerity he wasn’t ready for. “That’s just it, Agent Kavert. I would have fallen.”

“And the other two? How would business work? Would Daniel Seda have been the head of it now?”

“Your answers are in the evidence we gathered. I know you guys aren’t touching it because you think I’m compromised.”

He stands from the chair and dusts off his jacket. “Your side, my side, and the truth,” he repeats. He goes to open the door but you speak quickly before he can leave. 

“They think I infiltrated SHIELD, the Avengers, and am in bed with HYDRA because they’ve been helping Ernesto’s vision all along.” Agent Kavert stops and turns back to you. “I am a double agent whose identity was kept secret to aid this country and not raise suspicions from your part. I have seen a lot of things, have done things I’m not proud of, but I’ve done it all for a reason.”

Agent Kavert looks almost ashamed. Tone of voice: sincere.

“Me and my Captain saved lives, our own as well, and we stopped three of the most notorious drug-lords who have been at large since the eighties. We got your giants for you. And the truth is, I have discovered: through all my pain and experience... that it’s excellent to have a giant’s strength; but it is tyrannous to use it like a giant.”

Agent Kavert doesn’t know if you’re talking about Ernesto, the U.S Government, yourself, or him. His eyebrows pinch together and he slowly moves to leave the room.

    It’s another week before you’re visited by someone who isn’t bringing you food or extra toilet paper. You’re picking at your cuticles when the vents above your cell begin rattling with the obvious weight of a human being. You sit dumbly on the bed, straining your ears and trying hard not to laugh as each rattle is returned with a muffled curse. The vent on the ceiling right outside your cell drops to the concrete floor. 

Ernesto’s men wouldn’t go through all that trouble to kill you James Bond style. They would have just bribed a guard. So it’s a treat when the door swings open quickly and in comes a staggering Clint, keys in one hand and his phone in the other. The screen is illuminated, showcasing what looks to be blueprints. He’s got a bandaid over his left eyebrow and dust all over his clothes.

Your upper lip twitches into a silly smile. “You’re ridiculous if you thought you wouldn’t be heard in those damn vents.”

Clint makes a noise that sounds like he’s saying ‘maaaf’ and he plops down beside you on the cot. It’s absolutely hilarious he traveled in the vents and that the team approved this when in reality, they could have just sent Scott. “Just had to get past the first line of security. Plus, the blueprints said they were wider... I figure we’ve got a good three minutes before they check the cameras.”

It’s not the first time you sit in a cell with a time crunch. 

     The Raft is nothing special. They have you all separated by rank, meaning you were in the same vicinity as Clint, Sam, and Scott. Wanda was moved to a more secure location and you haven’t seen her since they brought you in. 

There isn’t much to do in a place like this. You tried counting how many strands of hair you had but gave up once you counted two hundred; you tried seeing if the others could hear you when you yelled out to them but the cells were soundproof; you even tried filing your nails against the uneven paint on the wall. It’s like they made life in these cells purposefully horrible - like you didn’t save the world a couple times over, c’mon. 

The camera fidgets over your head where you’re laying down and after a few seconds, it stops. The red light slowly fades and turns a bright yellow. You move to stand on the bed and reach for it, but a voice startles you from doing so. 

“Don’t mess with my magic!”

You topple over the single pillow you were given and fall flat on the bed, scrambling to shield yourself from whoever intruded. “Jesus!”

“Oh, I met him. Strange lad, didn’t deserve what happened to him.”

There’s a moment where you think you must be dreaming. His hair is longer and hits his shoulders and he’s added some blue and yellow to his usual attire. But other than that, he’s alive. Truly, brilliantly, really alive. 

“Loki, what the fuck?”

“Right!” Loki claps his hands and extends them outwards, smiling.  “Ta-da!”

A few beats pass. You blink a few times just in case you’re hallucinating. Barely a week in containment… 

“I’m sorry… I’m still trying to process the fact that you’re still alive!”

He scoffs low and goes to sit at the edge of the bed. “A God never truly dies, darling.”

“Well in Greek mythology-”

“Greek mythology and I have this unsettled beef that’s been going on for about five hundred years. Do not mention Greek mythology to me.”

“Excuse me, right, I should have known that was a sensitive topic.”

Loki swipes his tongue over his bottom lip and expels a laugh. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Your restraint is gone and you lunge forward to envelope him in the tightest hug you’ve ever given anyone. He returns it, sighing into your shoulder and holding you close. You pull away just to stare at him, watching his features as they move ever so slightly. It’s really him. 

“I-” Loki tries but stutters. He’s studying you too and he almost looks sad. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“Does Thor know?” Loki shakes his head at your question and winces when you smack his shoulder. “Loki, Thor has been grieving you for months!”

“I’m planning on it!” You don’t believe him. He goes to rub his shoulder. “Gods, I forgot you had excellent aim.”

You look back at the camera and find that the yellow light is still glowing, dim. Loki’s magic is blocking footage out or putting footage in, you really don’t know. But it’s allowing you a few moments with the man you thought you’d never see again. “Spontaneous reincarnation aside, what are you doing here? How did you even know I was here?”

“I’m on this planet for five-FIVE minutes, and the television has all these reports about you and everyone fighting each other?”

“Mm, right, right.”

Loki stares at you, amused. “... Care to explain?”

Your face contorts into a hundred different expressions until you finally settle on one of gentle guilt. “The person we were after was a friend of a friend. I made a judgement call and let him go.”

“You went against orders?”

“I went against the law.”

“Even better.”

With an eyebrow cocked, you give him a judging look. “Loki.”

His eyes crinkle from the intensity of his smile and you’ve missed him, you missed him so much. “That’s what I love about you. Barely starting out as an Avenger and you’re already realizing you can do more good in your own way.”

You groan quietly and rest your head on his shoulder. He wraps his arm around your waist and tugs you closer. “I mainly did it for Steve. Wasn’t like it was a big ‘fuck you’ to one-hundred and seventeen nations for the hell of it.”

“Do you regret it?”

“No.”

“Spoken like a true anti-hero.”

“You comparing me to yourself?”

Loki chuckles and runs his fingers through the strands of hair closest to your cheek. “Darling, I’m a God. No one comes close.” He sighs, serious again. “All I’m saying is that it’s refreshing to see the young break the rules.”

“I missed you,” you softly say. You can feel the nudge of his cheek turning upward against your head. 

“Always nice to hear.”

Rolling your eyes, you move to meet his gaze. “So, no reason why you came to visit me specifically?”

Loki takes one cautious look at the camera, to outside your cell, and back to you. “I too do things for your lovely Captain.” His smile grows wider. 

“What?”

He winks and tilts his head over to the giant metal doors that are starting to pry open. “See you in a minute.” 

The alarms begin blazing; there is fog filling the room, and Steve emerges from that fog with a winning smirk.

     You look over at Clint, half selfishly wishing he was Loki on another one of his midnight visits, and quickly do away with the thought. “So how’s life without me?”

“Oh, it’s great! The flowers are in bloom, the kitchen isn’t always a mess, and my bow and arrow aren’t misplaced because you wanted to have some fun with it,” he jokes, stretching far enough that his feet dig into your thigh like he’s trying to make more room for himself.  

“Not like it’s your only bow and arrow.”

He chuckles and sits up. He does a once over of the room and adjusts the frequency on his hearing aid. “They read you your rights at least?”

You wait to respond until he finishes fixing it. You speak and sign the words slowly,  “I don’t think any lawyer in America will want to take this case anyway.”

“Yeah, you’re right. It’s a career killer.”

Trying to refrain from smiling around Clint was nearly impossible. You look to the door quickly, “Two minutes?”

He shoots up straighter as he watches your hands, “Right! So we’re currently tracking down your sister-”

“My sister?”

“Steve thinks she’s our only hope at clearing your name.”

“Why is that? I told her to get as far away as possible.”

Clint sighs and scratches the skin just above the bandaid. ���She stayed in Mexico all those years you were gone. By all accounts, Ernesto adored her. Because of that, her influence might clear your name.”

“But she stayed. All the more reason to believe she was involved as well,” you say, shaking your head.

“She’s barely out of her teens. Everything that happened, happened when she was a minor. She has a first hand account of the abuse Ernesto caused you. And Steve thinks that the Julian fellow might even come clean and admit to the arranged marriage. Shows a pattern of abuse by Ernesto to his own children. Could spin it to make it seem like you had no other choice but to follow his orders.”

You follow his hands slowly, some signs difficult to read but you latch onto the gist of his argument. You groan and lean your head back on the wall with a small thump. “They go against Ernesto and they have targets on their backs. Even my other siblings who are still involved with all of this won’t let it go.”

“Y/N… Ernesto’s dead. You know that.”

“His influence isn’t.”

There’s minimal commotion a few doors down. Clint realizes it’s time to leave. “It might never be. But we don’t get to live in the future.” He stands with another small groan and stretches as he prepares to lift himself back into the vent. “We’re living now, and it’s all any of us can do.”

“Clint?” You also stand and have to wave in his peripheral to get his attention. He turns and knows what you’re about to say even without the hand gestures. “They won’t answer me when I ask.”

His lips pull into a perceptive smile, “He’s okay. Doing what he does best - blaming himself.”

“Oh, okay, good.”

He’s had enough practice reading your lips to notice the sarcasm that drips from them. He hurries to lift himself up. “We’ve got about a million tricks up our sleeve. If Jackeline’s word or the evidence isn’t enough, we’ve always got Fury and his blackmail.”

“Yeah, half the guys who interviewed me look like they cheat on their wives, so.”

He genuinely laughs and jumps high, muttering more to himself than to you. “Up we go…”

     The team locates Jackeline just a few days after your run-in with Clint. The building saw a triple rise in security but even then it didn’t prevent undercover agents passing all the checkpoints and sliding notes with your meals. They’d leave the tray, tip their hats, and smile like they knew the cameras wouldn’t suspect a thing. 

The first note is from Bucky, with the simple message of ‘I watched a few episodes of The Crown without you… I’m sorry.’

The second comes on the same day at dinner time, this one from Wanda. ‘I think Peter is trying to flirt with your sister.’

The third isn’t slipped through with any meal, but rather through the tiny opening beneath the door. ‘Surprised we did this the legal way this time! See you soon! - Rhodey’

The final one is actually hand delivered when several guards come in to tell you you’re free to go. They’re mumbling amongst themselves, cursing the system and the privileges Avengers always get, when the smallest of the five turns to you and hands you the note. ‘I owe you one. You owe me one. Who’s counting anymore? - Joaquin’

Jackeline had been able to track down Maribel and the two of them, with such accuracy in their stories and their timelines, constructed your defense perfectly. They showed them phone records, all of the recordings from that week, had proof that you never signed a thing, and made several special deals. Jackeline promised to reveal where bodies were buried, where business was dealt with, who else was involved with Ernesto and Seda. Maribel managed to get a message to them from Ramirez, which basically cleared you from the crime they were trying to stick. Ramirez was a damn good liar, you’ll give him that, and it made you the tiniest bit sad that you’d probably never see him again. 

The tipping point was when Steve turned himself in. There was no evidence that you did anything, never signed anything, never conspired behind your teammates backs. Fury made sure not to keep a paper or electronic trail. But there was evidence that implicated Steve - the contract. No matter how badly the FBI and CIA tried to make it go away, to absolve Steve from it, he didn’t back down. It was like the story they originally wanted toppled in on itself and it was actually Steve who forced you into all of this - playing your connections and forcing your hand. The contract hadn’t been voided, still hasn’t, and they really couldn’t risk another SHIELD fiasco. So it was destroyed to protect the Stars and Stripes, and in return they promised to let you go if you didn’t tell a soul. The image you’d come to despise, that tacky red, white and blue, is starting to grow on you.

‘Let me think about that and get back to you,’ you had joked. You think they let you go sooner because they feared the truth in your joke. 

But there wasn’t anything to think about, ever, still isn’t. Steve pulled another sacrifice play and you wanted to get out as soon as possible to kick his ass. 

You leave the prison with the same clothes you had on when you entered. They smell washed and you’re thankful they allowed you to shower before you left. You ignore the looks guards and prisoners aim at you, each trying to somehow get their hits in without actually pulling their punches. This would be a media disaster either way, didn’t matter the outcome of a supposed trial, and PR was most likely struggling to prepare their defense. 

You resist the embarrassing urge to run into his arms. He’s standing right outside the gates, leaning back on the passenger side of his rusty old blue pickup, positively glowing underneath the blazing sun. You’re blinded by it, skin thanking the dangerous rays for its first touch in weeks, but it only takes a moment for your eyes to adjust. He still hasn’t shaved and his hair is getting longer, and instead of his usual tucked-in dress shirt, he’s wearing a brown leather jacket over a faded graphic tee that reads AC/DC. It was Tony’s.

You’ve only got the broken burner phone and a hair tie in your possession; it’s what was on you when you were arrested. You drop the burner in a nearby trashcan and head on over to the truck. Steve’s wide smile buckles your knees and it damn near breaks your heart. Even when the two of you weren’t on speaking terms, you still saw each other at least twice a week. Going two weeks without seeing him feels like a lifetime. 

Once you're a few feet away, you stop in front of him. There are no immediate words you know to say, so you simply shrug your shoulders and give him a look that asks ‘What now?’

“Home.”

~

TAGLIST: @dumb-ass-writer​ @justab-eautifulmess​ @supraveng​ @mycosmicparadise​ @missnighttigress​

#captainsimagines #captain america x reader #steve rogers x reader #reader x steve rogers #avengers fanfiction #avengers x reader #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #marvel masterlist #marvel fanfiction #mob fanfic #reader insert #trigger warnings listed #you x steve rogers

[star-lemonade]

Chapter 5: Casserole

Series rating: R  (AO3: E)

Warnings: polyamory, marking, mentions of pegging, smut

Word count: 5k

Genre: Smut, romance

Female Reader x A.C.E Byeongkwan, Female Reader x A.C.E Sehyoon

beta-ed! Thanks so much to @Alexing1061

Masterlist

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Chapter Index

Summary: You admit your crush on Sehyoon and after an apparent rejection, Sehyoon has to make a confession of his own.

If you don’t enjoy reading about relationships that involve more than two people, this story is not for you

Taglist: @multistan-net

The cafe was comfortably warm. While waiting in the queue you rubbed your hands. A cold had settled into the streets of the city and it would take some time inside before you could feel your fingers again.

You ordered two coffees and sat down at one of the small tables. No sooner had you settled down, the door opened and Sehyoon entered. You waved and he waved back, a little smile on his face.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

He peck you on the lips and seated himself opposite you. The long, black coat matched his dark suit and white shirt in its professionalism. He looked like the hip CEO of a startup.

“So. How did it go?”

You were on the edge of your seat, wanting to know how the talk with his boss had gone. Before he could answer, a figure appeared next to you. The waitress smiled and set the mugs of coffee down. You thank her and she left. Sehyoon sipped on his coffee, lost in some thought, but you were still waiting.

“So?”

A smile broke on his face. He leaned forward, beaming and said:

“I got a raise.”

“Oh my god! Congrats!”

You took his hands and shook them violently to release your happiness. This was amazing news for him. Although he had been at his company for years they had underpaid him. If Sehyoon had gone somewhere else, he could have made more. That was why you and Byeongkwan had joined forces and persuaded him to talk to his boss.

In your celebration you had somehow landed in his lap. Some of the other customers, but especially the two young women at the table next to yours, glared disapprovingly.

“He matched the offer I got from that other company. So, let’s get something nice to eat after I get my salary.”

You nodded and kissed him. It ended too fast, but you were in a cafe. Sehyoon reluctantly let go of you and you sat back on your chair.

“Talking about fancy dinners. Someone from work invited me for dinner with her husband. Do you wanna go with me?”

Having to spend an evening alone with her and her husband did not seem like a good time. You needed backup there.

“Sure.”

He offered you his hand and you took it. Despite walking outside in the cold, his hands were warm.

“Oh, are you cold?”

Without waiting for an answer your hand was sandwiched between his. He rubbed your hand and slowly the cold faded.

“The other one is cold too.”

Pouting, you showed your other hand. He smiled and gave it that same treatment. What a good way to stay warm.

The weak sun hung deep in the blue sky and the cold was already lurking in the shadows. An almost magical feeling hung in the air. First Christmas decorations had appeared in the shop windows and some trees in the park had been hung with small lights. You stood at the entrance of the small park and waited. It was Friday late afternoon and the street was packed with shoppers. You scanned their faces but so far you had not seen him. For some reason you felt nervous. Even though Sehyoon had expressed his delight at the thought of you and Byeongkwan going on a date, it still felt odd. It would take time to get used to.

A figure waved. You saw him on the other side of the street waiting for the crosswalk. Byeongkwan wore a puffy jacket, loose fit work out pants and a beanie. The thick scarf hid half his face.

“Hey!”

“Hi!”

You threw your arms around him and he chuckled. When you pull back he would not let you get away. He pecked your lips once and as you were about to protest, he kissed you. You moved your lips against his. His lips were wonderful. They were warm and soft, exactly what you needed right now. For a moment you forgot that you were outside, on the street with people around you.

“… I’m really happy with how the students are doing, that choreography was pretty hard for them.”

You walked slowly along the path as joggers and shoppers passed. It felt nice to spend time with Byeongkwan again. You slipped your hand between his arm and his upper body. Walking arm in arm around the park felt like a scene from a movie.

Byeongkwan had come off work a little earlier so you could meet, when it was still daylight. The sun set earlier each day.

“Well, I’m sure it has nothing to do with you being a good teacher.”

A smile tucked at the corners of his mouth and he petted your hand on his arm.

“Thanks.”

The sun was disappearing behind the buildings and you shivered, snuggling closer to Byeongkwan.

A couple passed with some delicious smelling food. That reminded you …

“Do you wanna have dinner with me?”

Just as you asked, you walked past an entrance to the park. Byeongkwan and you had completed a round.

“I thought that’s what we were going to do anyways.”

You had not actually decided anything beforehand. It had just been a vague declaration of “we want to spend time together”. On your phone you had a short list of recipes you liked.

“What do you think about this?”

Byeongkwan checked the recipe on your phone and nodded.

“Sounds good but I don’t think there are any of that at the apartment.”

You went to the store to pick up the groceries. There were surprisingly few people around and you flew through the aisles, picking out all the ingredients. Because this was an unfamiliar supermarket it took a while to get everything. You had read somewhere that the layouts of stores were confusing on purpose to keep you there longer. While in the line for the checkout you and Byeongkwan held hands like it was the most normal thing. No one was paying any attention to this and smiled to yourself because you knew a secret they did not.

Outside the store it was freezing. Byeongkwan looked around before starting to walk.

“Where are we going?”

He headed in the direction of the next subway station.

“To Sehni’s place.”

The sun had made way for the biting cold of the night and your breath rose, puffs of fog. Each of you carried a bag with ingredients.

“Isn’t your apartment closer?”

He looked in both directions before crossing the small side street. A sign at the next corner marked the entrance to the subway.

“My apartment is … very practical.”

Byeongkwan pulled the zipper of his jacket higher. His scarf was also back in his face. You hurried to the stairs that promised escape from the cold.

“I basically use it for storage only at this point.”

Indeed the air got warmer as you descended underground. The glass doors at the bottom of the stairs released a stale, warm wind from inside the subway station.

“So you moved in with Sehni?”

Your voice echoed from the tiled walls of the hallway that lead to more stairs going down.

“I mean, It would be great to have an actual shared apartment, where I have all my stuff…”

This topic was dropped, when you saw that your train had arrived and you both ran to get to the door. Inside the car was packed with people and way too warm for your thick coat. Byeongkwan unzipped his jacket and you seized the opportunity to sneak your cold hands under it and around his chest. Compared to Sehni’s broad shoulders and massive chest, Byeongkwan seemed rather petite but his body felt solid and warm. Your head rested on his shoulder and he kissed your hair before burying his nose in it. In this position the ride with the subway could have lasted forever. You loved it.

Sehyoon‘s apartment was deserted and dark when you arrived. Its owner was currently spending his evening with some friends which was partially why you were with Byeongkwan on this day instead of him. Date night was date night, today just with someone else.

The small hallway with the built-in closet opened into the open kitchen and living room with the only other rooms being the bedroom and the bathroom. The kitchen was separated from the living room with a counter that also added more space for cutting and working. On the living room side of the counter stood a small table with two chairs where you had had breakfast with Byeongkwan last time.

For dinner you had opted for something simple to make, a casserole. While you made the sauce, Byeongkwan cut the vegetables into small cubes and you watched with half your attention. He had rolled up the sleeves of his black sweater so they would not get stained and the muscles in his forearms moved as he cut. His skin was very pale against the dark fabric and even to your surprise you found yourself thinking about leaving a hickey somewhere on him. How it would look when you sucked at the skin. It would turn red and you would have done that. The thought was exciting. Now where would you put one? The neck was an obvious answer but not one you liked. A bit tacky. On his chest maybe? Not as obvious but you would know it is there. Maybe if he wore a low cut shirt the mark would be visible. Everyone could see someone did that to him.

“What is it?”

He did not even look up from his vegetables and your brain needed a moment to register that he had addressed you.

“What?”

You echoed. I think I stared. Damn. I stared.

“What were you thinking while licking your lips like that?”

“Ehm…”

The cutting stopped and he looked at you expecting an answer, but you were a bit too embarrassed to tell him. He would think it’s weird that I want to essentially bruise his skin.

“Come on, spill.” He pressed and when you reverted your attention to the sauce, he put down the knife and wrapped you in a back hug. He kissed your neck and it tickled.

“Tell me!”

Perk. It tickled.

“No!”

You wound in his grap. Tickling.

“Come on!”

You ducked your head trying to limit his excess. Your face was hurting from laughing.

“Tell me!”

Breaking out from his grasp seemed impossible. You could hardly breath.

“Okay, okay. I will tell you.”

He let you go, gently turning you towards him, but you looked down, catching your breath. You had to tell him because you would not survive another assault like this.

“I was thinking about … how I wanted to … ehm … leave hickeys on you.”

Oh boy, I said it. He will think I’m weird.

“Okay.”

You looked up at that. Definitely not the reaction you had expected. Byeongkwan did not seem particularly distressed about this and went back to cutting the vegetables.

The sauce had thankfully not burned while you had almost died from laughing. You watched Byeongkwan from the corner of your eye. His reaction has been so odd, it bothered you. You wanted to know why he was so calm about this.

When he was done with the vegetables, you stacked the casserole. The oven was hot and you opened it.

“How long will it take?”

He asked with a slightly husky voice, when you placed the dish in the oven.

“About an hour.”

You started the timer set for 50 minutes. Then you would have to put the cheese on it and increase the temperature for a good finish.

“Good.”

Byeongkwan’s hand landed on your shoulder and turned you around. His eyes were dark and his hands wrapped around your middle. Okay, so that is where this will go.

He crashed your lips together and backed you up against the counter. The kiss was desperate and your stomach clenched as his hands slid into your hair. Secretly you had been thinking about him all week, since you had decided to meet.

You could feel him, half hard, pressing against you and moaned quietly. He used your weak moment and slipped his tongue into your mouth. The counter was pressing uncomfortably against you back but you could endure it for a bit longer if it meant having him kiss you like this. It made your knees like rubber. What ever cold had remained from outside was now driven out. You felt hot. Breathing would be nice though. You broke the kiss to get some air and saw the pupils of his eyes blown out with the want.

“Come.”

He took your hand and you followed him to the bedroom feeling like a lovesick teenager. Giddy and beaming from ear to ear. The bedroom was mostly unchanged from last time except the sheets on the bed were now a dark blue.

Byeongkwan sat down on the bed and pulled you into his lap, his arms secure around your waist. His soft lips moved slowly against yours as your fingers buried themselves in his silky hair, lightly pulling at it. He moaned, low and quiet, into your mouth and you rolled your hips in his lap for some friction. You were getting a bit worked up too.

He broke the kiss and pulled his sweater over his head leaving him in a dark, soft t-shirt. You took the hint and removed your pullover. His hands were under the hem of your t-shirt immediately, gently rubbing your lower back as you continued to kiss. The feeling of his lips was addicting, you did not want him to stop clouding your mind.

“So you want to leave a mark, hm?”

He purred into your ear before kissing down your neck that you presented willingly to him. An affirmative noise was all you could muster. Coherent sentences were not possible at the moment.

“I got a suggestion as to where.” He leaned back slightly and you looked at him, head spinning with the need of wanting him inside you. You got gently pushed off his lap and you stood up with shaky legs, watching as he pulled the t-shirt over his head and opened the button of his jeans. Okay, wow. You could not decide where to look first. He had beautifully defined muscles and his pale skin was begging for you to mark it. The fact that he wanted this too had alleviated all concerns and guilt you had felt.

Your hands flew to his abs like metal to a magnet and ran down towards the bulge in his pants but never reached it because he laid back on the bed. He pulled the jeans and the hem of his underwear down exposing more of his perfect stomach.

“What do you think about here?”

His finger ran over the area that was previously hidden just under the waistband of his jeans. The thought of putting a hickey there made your mouth water and you swallowed hard. The smile on his face was down right evil as you pulled down his pants and the underwear the rest of the way. He positioned himself in the middle of the bed. You ran your tongue over the area in question, earning shiver from him, before starting to suck and bite. The way he responded made you even more wet. The sucking in of air, was followed by a higher pitched moan and his hand landed on your head. He had a hard time keeping still and shifted slightly under you. His fingers were tangled in your hair. You pulled away to look at your work. The area was a deep red and Byeongkwan was panting audibly, he looked uncomfortably hard.

“Do you want to ride me?”

It sounded more like a plea than like a question.

“yes.”

You could not get out of your clothes fast enough. He got a condom from the bedside table, rolling it on. You straddled him and rocked your hips forward along the length of his hard penis before aligning it under you. You let yourself slide down on it until he was completely inside you and your hips met. As you had not even fingered yourself the stretch was almost painful, but so good at the same time. You rolled your hips and his hand caressed your thighs.

“You feel so good.”

His hips twitched a little under you, trying so hard not to thrust up. Your hand traveled up his body and landed on his chest that you proceeded to use as rest as you lifted your hips and pushed down into him again. His arms supported your motion. A sharp pain in your knee made you stop. _Okay, then I have to do it differently. _You opted for rolling and grinding against him instead.

With your hands on his thighs, slightly bent back was the perfect angle. The pressure on your clit and g spot was making you light headed. You felt your whole body tense and you held your breath. So good. His cute moans pushed you over the edge and you rode your orgasm out while looking into his eyes.

“Can you continue?”

His voice was tense, his face and neck flushed pink. Some hair stuck to his sweaty forehead. You nodded and rolled your hips into him again avoiding your oversensitive clit touching anything. He closed his eyes and moaned again. It motivated you to push through the uncomfortableness. You let his hands guide your hips. He looked beautiful, with his pink cheeks and half opened mouth. He came with a loud, half-suppressed moan.

Thankfully the casserole did not burn while you had been in the bedroom. You turned up the heat for the last 10 minutes to get a good crust and went to the bathroom to clean yourself up.

“Here.”

Byeongkwan handed you a sweater and some fluffy pants.

“Thanks.”

The clothes smelled of the detergent that they used. You sniffed at it as you walked back to the kitchen and turned off the oven. The casserole smelled delicious.

Byeongkwan joined you not long after in the kitchen. He set the table and you placed the hot dish on it.

“It smells amazing.”

You helped yourself to some food. It was very hot and despite your hunger, you forced yourself to eat slowly. Byeongkwan’s hair was still wet from the short shower. You wanted to hug him. I guess the sex made me soft for him.

Thankfully the kitchen had a dishwasher. Washing everything by hand would have been awful. You settled down on the couch after loading the dishwasher and Byeongkwan turned on the tv. The hoodie he was wearing was too big for him and made him look very cute. He laid down and you snuggled up against his chest.

You continued the series you had watched the last time. Despite the warmth coming from Byeongkwan your back felt cold and you shivered.

“Are you cold?”

“A bit.”

He pulled out a blanket from under his head and threw it over you.

“Thanks.”

You did not pay that much attention to the story unfolding on screen. The position you were in was too relaxing. You were surrounded by warmth, secure in Byeongkwan’s arms. He stroked your hair. It was so gentle that it made your heart arche.

“Kwanie…”

You did not know what you wanted to say, so you just snuggled closer to him, if that was possible. His breathing had become very steady and when you looked up you saw that he was asleep. It’s very nice laying like this, but it won’t be comfortable to sleep here all night.

“Kwanie!”

You shook him gently. He stirred and groaned.

“Let’s go to bed.”

The sun woke you up the next morning._ _Byeongkwan was next to you, still asleep. His hair was disheveled and you wanted to pet it. He however was not the only other person on the bed. Sehyoon laid half on top of him, also sleeping. You had not noticed when he had gotten home or had entered the bedroom. Either he had been very quiet or you had slept like a stone.

As quietly as possible you stood up and opened the door. It creaked. You went to the bathroom.

When you came back, Byeongkwan had turned around and they were facing each other. His eyes were open now and he listened to Sehyoon talking. His voice was too quiet for you to understand anything but it sounded a bit husky. One hand was drawing circles on Byeongkwan’s bare shoulder, but now Sehyoon pulled him into a hug. You felt like you were intruding. _Maybe I should go shower first and give them some space? But I still gotta get something to wear. _You decided to just announce your presence.

“Good morning.”

You said and they both perked up. For a very short moment Byeongkwan was surprised and Sehyoon confused. It was only a moment. Then Kwanie beamed at you and Sehni gave you a smile that could melt ice instantly. Sehyoon looked very tired and you wondered when he had actually come back.

“I will make breakfast!”

Byeongkwan peeled himself out of his boyfriend’s embrace and got up. He collected his hoodie and pants from the chair next to the bed. Before he could leave however Sehyoon half-shouted: “Wait! What’s that?!”

“Huh? What is what?”

Byeongkwan looked down and you followed the outstretched arm too. It pointed to the hem of Byeongkwan‘s underwear. There something red and blue was peeking out. The mark from yesterday evening. Your face was instantly hot and your heart hammered in your chest.

“Wow.” Sehyoon reached over and ran a finger over the skin. Byeongkwan bit his lip. _There are no other marks on him so I guess Sehni doesn’t do this. _Yesterday the thought of other people seeing the mark on Byeongkwan was a huge turn on but now that Sehyoon was examining it, you felt anxious. As if he had heard your thoughts, Sehyoon looked at you, then up at his boyfriend’s face.

He smiled softly. “You two? Huh?”

A pout replaced the smile as he sank down on the bed again. “And you didn’t even tell me?”

He looked back and forth from you to his boyfriend.

“Ugh.. I …”

You stammered.

“Don’t make her feel bad.”

Byeongkwan lightly slapped him.

“I’m not mad, just.. I wanna know things too. Come here!”

He spread his arms and you jumped on the bed, into his embrace.

“You smell like a liquid store.”

Sehyoon laughed and kissed the top of your head. Byeongkwan joined you on the bed, embracing both of you.

“My head hurts.”

“And whose fault is that?”

Byeongkwan pecked his lips and got up. He left for the kitchen and you got to enjoy a moment with Sehyoon. You wrapped your arms around him and snuggled against his chest.

“How was it yesterday? When did you come home?”

Your voice was muffled by his shirt. Sehyoon groaned and rubbed his eyes.

“3 am, I think?”

You had been asleep then for sure.

“A friend had a bad break up and I had to take care of him.”

He tightened his embrace as if he was afraid you would leave too. So that’s why he is this hungover. Usually he doesn’t really get drunk. You kissed his cheek. Poor Sehni, he needs some extra care today.

“I need to drink something and shower. Let’s get up.”

You got some clothes from your backpack that you had brought the day before and took a quick shower. The hot water was a blessing.

Sehyoon had made coffee and Byeongkwan set the small table. There was a problem though. The table was only for two. Two chairs.

“You two eat, I will have coffee first.”

The mug in Sehyoon’s hand steamed. He leaned against the kitchen counter and watched as you sat down opposite Byeongkwan.

“I need a bigger apartment.”

Friday had become your favorite day of the week. It was the day when you spent time with Sehyoon and Byeongkwan. Either with one of them or sometimes with both. You would have movie nights and clubbing with Byeongkwan, long talks and cuddling on the couch with Sehyoon.

On this particular Friday you went to their apartment for a game night. Three was a good number to play any number of games. It was not as boring as playing with two. You did not know what game they had in mind, just that it was a cooperative one.

You arrived at the building at about half past six with a backpack. They had told you not to worry about food and drinks, but you still needed something to wear. Secretly you loved wearing their clothes. You did not know whose clothes were actually in the closet. There was no indication of who owned what. Byeongkwan tended to wear a looser fit, so everything except the suits seemed to be comunal.

Sehyoon opened the door and you fell into his arms. The thick fabric of his sweater was perfect to just sink into. Sehyoon felt warm and solid in your arms. You let your weight rest on him. He held you up as if it was nothing.

“We’re gonna play something later. Are you sure you can play like this?”

Holding onto him tighter was the only answer you gave him and he chuckled.

“How about you give me some love too?”

The pout in Byeongkwan’s voice made you smile. Being left out was not something he liked. If there was cuddling while he was in the room, it had to involve him as well.

“Okay.”

You let go of Sehyoon and moved on to the next victim. Byeongkwan was almost drowning in his clothes. The fluffy tie-dye hoodie was the cutest thing.

“Hard week?”

His voice was soft against your hair. _Had _it been a hard week? One of your colleagues had been sick since Sunday which meant all their work had to be done by other people. So in addition to your own work you also had to do a bunch of other things that you were barely familiar with. To get everything done in time you had to work over time. You had even fought your boss to get off work so you could be there on time. It was not like your boyfriends would not understand and more like you did not live for your company. You had to have leisure time too.

“Yes…. I missed you.”

“Aww. We’ll have a nice relaxed evening, okay?”

He kissed the top of your head and patted your back.

On the couch table they had already set up a board game. The map vaguely reminded you of fantasy novels.

“Here.”

Byeongkwan handed you the manual. The game they had bought was like an easier version of dungeons and dragons. Each of you played a different character with a specific skill set. You had to work together to fulfill the mission and win the game.

The time constraints of the game were what made it interesting. Indeed you lost the round.

“Let’s order some food and try again.”

Sehyoon handled the actual ordering and you decided to prepare some plates. Eating out of the container was okay, but you prefer something that was not cardboard. Byeongkwan joined you in the kitchen.

“I think, if we spread out more next round we will do better. We waste too much time by trying to go long distances.”

He nodded absentmindedly and made himself a tea. I guess the game is not where his thoughts are.

Byeongkwan studied your face. Something he did when he wanted to say something but could not quite bring himself to say it.

“What is it?”

He pursed his lips and sized you up. Is something wrong with my outfit?

“What do you think about pegging?”

It was as if he had hit you between the eyes. You were dumbfounded. Byeongkwan took a sip from his drink without breaking eye contact. He just loved making you blush didn’t he?

“Ehm..”

You were not sure what to say really.

“You know what that means, do you?”

You nodded stiffly. Why am I this speechless?

“It’s just, I have never done that.”

Good, so you can speak.

His expression softened.

“That’s okay, but do you want to?”

His eyes glittered as he waited for your answer. Byeongkwan however was not the only one who was waiting. Sehyoon had sat down on the other side of the kitchen counter and watched with eyes wide open. He looked like someone who did not want to miss a single detail.

“Maybe she needs to … see some arguments for that.”

Sehyoon offered to Byeongkwan. Arguments? Why does that sound like code??

Byeongkwan had this evil glitter in his eyes. He had something in mind. You swallowed hard. In a motion so fluid it could only come from someone with a lot of body control, he leaned forward, his arms outstretched over the counter. The position showed off his firm ass. The way he arched his back made the air catch in your throat.

Sehyoon exhaled and the sound snapped you back to reality.

“This is too much tension for me.”

Byeongkwan straigthened again and looked at Sehyoon who walked away.

“How about you get to watch?”

Sehyoon froze mid step. He had voiced on several occasions that he wanted to watch, so this really got his attention.

“What do you say?”

Without thinking about it your hand landed on Byeongkwan’s ass. A triumphant smile appeared and your face burned. Maybe that had been a bit much.

“Yes and yes.”

Sehyoon whistled and Byeongkwan kissed you.

#ksmutclub #wkcnet #story: fall season #a.c.e smut #a.c.e wow smut # a.c.e Byeongkwan smut #a.c.e x reader #kpop x reader #a.c.e fanfic #A.C.E fics #kpop fanfic #non idol au #kpop smut star writing #queue #star writing

[alch3mic]

longing. (drabble series)

ut!sans x gender neutral reader.

pining. assumed one-sided love. 

* check out chapter one and chapter two

ch. 3 (close)

Sans.. wasn't exactly sure where to look.

Of course, he wanted to look at you... but..

Being this close certainly made it hard to stare without being completely and totally obvious, so.. he settled for just lightly observing in your general direction.

Your gaze was currently fixed downwards to his chest, a small yet adorable look of both determination and frustration on your face as you attempted to carefully tug at the tie knotted around his neck. You had been doing your best to unravel the damn thing for the last few minutes but to practically no avail, another annoyed huff passing through your soft lips that lightly brushed against his skull.

"How.. exactly did you manage to do this again?" you asked, your eyes looking upward for a moment as he quickly glanced away. "It seriously looks like you were trying to practice origami, not tie a tie."

"well... ya know. just got distracted for a second and the neck thing i knew i was a little tied up," he said with a small shrug.

That at least got a chuckle out of you as you shook your head.

"Distracted by what exactly?"

You.

"just the event 'n all that," he mumbled quietly, shoving his hands into his trouser pockets and totally not trying to think about how amazing you looked all dressed up for the ceremony...

..Again..

"Fair enough," you hummed, gazing back down to resume your work on freeing him from the cloth snake coiled around his neckbones. "Guess I'd be pretty nervous too if I was giving a speech at a big function like this." 

"it's.. a little more of a comedy break than a speech really," he admitted, his eyelight naturally drifting right back to you. 

Sans had been 'strategically' placed between the state senator's long-winded and incredibly boring speech about human and monster relations, and good ol' King Fluffybun's equally long-winded but much more emotional speech about celebrating yet another year of being on the surface.

Ya know.. 

The same one that he does his best not to bawl his eyes out at, just like every year....

With a lineup like that it's no wonder they asked Sans to say a few words in between, just to make sure the crowd still had some kind of pulse.

"Is that why you've been practicing all your material on me recently?" you asked, a cheeky smile on your face. 

Yes.

Well.. that and he just liked hearing you laugh.. but..

"you're the best audience i could ever ask for, so of course i gotta use ya to practice."

There was a moment that passed where you let out a gentle hum, and he wondered if he might've laid it on just a bit to thick. Sometimes it felt like his mouth would go running off ahead before that empty skull of his could catch up. His soul just so easily supplied the words, and it felt like with each passing day his filter was letting more and more slip out.

"Glad I could help," you said, and he let out a breath he hadn't even realized he had been holding. "Although, you should've been using that time to properly learn how to tie a tie instead."

"that's why i've got you though, right?" 

Stars.. there it goes again, just saying whatever the hell it wants.

This time you glance up and grace him with such a sweet smile it nearly makes his soul stop.

..Being this close meant he could see you so much clearer.

Like how your cheeks looked just a bit chubbier when you grinned.

And.. how much your eyes sparkled under the hotel room's lights.

And.. how.. nice you smelled.

...

And how...

Being this close just..

Really... made him.. want to.. 

....

One of your fingers was finally able to wiggle inside the knot and pull something loose. 

The rest easily started to come undone and after a few more agonizing seconds, he was finally free.

"thanks," he said, letting out a small breath and lightly rubbing his neckbones as you leaned back.

He took a moment to compose his soul before reached out to grasp the tie out of your hands, but you quickly snatched it back, earning a look of surprise from the skeleton.

"Nope," you said, neatly smoothing the tie out before reaching towards him to straighten out his collar. "You had your chance and failed miserably, so now I'm going to tie it for you." 

And just when he thought he might catch a break, here you were again, just close enough to admire and yet so painfully far away. The way your fingers gently brushed against some of his neckbones sent chills down his spine, enough to almost make him rattle. His soul was practically buzzing with magic, the excess gathering as beads of sweat on top of his skull that quickly threatened to make their way down his face as he nervously glanced at anywhere that wasn't your face.

"You sure you're doing okay?" you asked, and he physically had to restrain himself from looking at you again.

"..do i not look okay?"

No... he didn't even have to see himself to know that.

His grin was tighter than usual and he was about to start sweating bullets. No doubt his face was probably flushing with magic too, so he must've looked a nervous wreck.

...One small peek at you confirmed that fact.

"..You look very handsome Sans."

.....

"..But yes you also do look a little iffy," you said, pulling his tie around for the final loop before tightening it just a bit and pulling his collar back down. "So.. won't you tell me what's on your mind?"

Oh by the stars he wished he could.

Maybe then he could finally rid himself of this torture..

....But he couldn't..

No matter how much the storm of words brewed in his mind they just quickly died the moment he looked at your face, when his soul would light up and his mind would shut down, leaving him standing there like an idiot.

"what, are you telling me we're not psychically connected at this point?" he joked, trying to cover himself with humor as per usual. "we spend so much time together i just assumed you could read my thoughts at this point."

"Riiight," you said rolling your eyes and adjusting his suit jacket. "Like I could understand anything going on in that skull of yours."

Heh.

...Right..

"But I guess it couldn't hurt to try."

...Huh..?

.....

....

...

.......

Sans swore he.. 

...felt his soul stop.

....And time... must've stood still...

....

You....

...very gently pressed your forehead to his as you closed your eyes.

....

..Your faces were so close that the distance could've been measured in centimeters.

....

Another soft breath passed through your lips and he could practically feel it dance across his face, the same eyesockets that had been blown wide just moments ago now tightly squeezing shut.

..There's.. no way you couldn't hear it...right?

..His soul..

And the way it was practically buzzing at his chest with you being so close.

.....

You were literally just..

A small adjustment away and.. 

...

He could..

.....kiss yo-

Knock knock.

..........

He inhaled sharply as you pulled your head away to look back at the door.

"It's open!"

A familiar mess of brown hair curiously poked it's head inside the door before fulling stepping inside, giving a small wave to you both before gesturing.

'Are you ready? They want to do a practice run.’

"....yeah.. i'll be there in just a sec kiddo," Sans said, trying to get a grip as he fiddled with his tie, avoiding the rather interested stare Frisk was giving him.

They gave a small thumbs up before slipping right back out the door, leaving the two of you alone yet again. 

..The silence that followed was almost.. painful.. but he couldn't think of anything to say. 

....He..

He had almost crossed that line!

He was totally about to go in for it!

He had almost..!

"Sans."

....!

"y-yes?"

"..You're going to do great out there," you said gently.

The smile that graced your face was warm as usual, your fingers reaching out to adjust his lapel one last time. 

"I'll be right in the front too cheering you on, so don't be so nervous, okay?"

"......right," he replied softly, eyelights glancing towards the floor.

.....

..Right...

.......

.....Right...

..........

He took a small hesitant step aside, and then other, eventually making a small beeline for the door.

"...thank you sweetheart," he said softly, taking the handle in hand and swinging it open. "for the tie and um.. pep talk."

"Anytime," you said, straightening yourself out as he headed out into the hallway and closed the door behind him.

.....

...

.. Despite being so close...

Neither of you heard each other's quietly muffled screams after the door clicked shut.

#longing!fic #sans x reader #sans #undertale #undertale sans #undertale fic #long post #fanfic #drabble #alch!writes #it's here! #more pain! #more suffering! #more of two idiots not realizing their very obvious and blatant feelings for each other! #yeeeeeeeee #and i cannot stress this enough #HAWWW!

[luxekook]

kings of campus compilation

⇥ pairing: ot7 x reader

⇥ genre: college au with fluff, smut & angst

⇥ summary: a series in which the reader meets (and falls for) seven members of the Beta Tau Sigma (BTS) fraternity

⇥ word count: 31.k+

⇥ warnings: 18+, cursing, chaotic energy, poly relationship, switch!reader, dom!joon, switch!jin, switch!hobi, sub!yoongi, sub!jk, sub!tae, sub!jimin, PUNS, pick up lines, arguments, nerd tingz, smut [thigh kink, noona kink, marking, oral (m + f receiving), dom/sub themes, spanking, breast worship, etc. etc.]

⇥ banner: heathy uwu @shadowsremedy​

[this will be a reposting/working document for those of you that cannot access my KOC chapter links right now uwu] [hope this works] [you can also read on ao3]

PROLOGUE

Spring of Sophomore Year - 11:52pm

“If it gets any hotter in here, we’d need jackets to enter the fucking gates of Hades.”

My stellar observation goes by unappreciated, but I’m not shocked. The music thumps heavily through the house at a deafening decibel and the only methods of communication are screaming or sign language - I had done neither.

Earlier, when my roommate Luna told me about this particular party, I had hesitations for several reasons:

This party is being held at the Beta Tau Sigma (BTS) house - a house known for its wild parties, excessive drinking, and dangerously attractive brothers.

I am not a huge fan of the aforementioned features or the trouble that always seems to accompany them.

It’s Harry Potter Weekend and I am going to miss the fucking Goblet of Fire for this.

Long story short, Luna convinced me to go with her with promises of pizza and our own Harry Potter marathon tomorrow. Her promises in mind, I square my shoulders and motion for Luna to follow me to the slightly quieter kitchen on the other side of the living room.

As we cross the crowded room, Luna tugs on my wrist and tilts her head subtly towards the corner where four very large, very attractive guys are playing a rowdy game of beer pong, while three (equally attractive) others lounge against the wall watching. Taking a closer look, I notice that the two at the far end of the table seem to be winning. The one with light pink hair takes his shot and curses loudly when he misses. Annoyed, the other shoves him out of the way, lines up to shoot, and pauses. Our eyes meet.

A shiver runs down my spine as his dark gaze rests on me. His jaw is clenched and chiseled, his lips are set firmly but wickedly full. His black t-shirt stretches over wide, solid shoulders and I can almost make out the muscles that ripple beneath. His right arm is still poised to take his shot, and I can’t help but notice how his bicep strains the fabric of his sleeve and how his large, tanned hand completely dwarfs the pong ball.

I barely remember to breathe as I realize his gaze is making his own assessment of me. I can feel his dark eyes rake over me, and it makes my skin buzz. His eyes trail over my black crop top down to my ripped black jeans, and blatantly checks out my legs.

Suddenly, his pink-haired partner elbows him, shattering our little moment. Shakily taking a breath, I turn to Luna who has an eyebrow raised at me. She grabs my hand and practically drags me into the kitchen. I sip my drink and fight the urge to look back.

The minute we enter the mostly empty kitchen, Luna whips around to face me, “Were you just openly eye-fucking Kim Taehyung, (y/n)?” I choke on my beer.

“Who?” I croak, still coughing to clear my windpipe of what I’m certain is shitty Natty Light. Rolling her eyes, Luna shakes her head at me like a disappointed parent, “Kim Taehyung. You know, the pledge master for BTS? Was just with his frat brother Park Jimin?”

She pauses dramatically, seeming to be waiting for some kind of response. I stare at her blankly.

Scoffing, Luna continues, “They were the ones playing pong just now, dumbass. The blue-haired one is Taehyung. You know, the one you were mentally undressing-”

“Okay,” I cut her off, “I’m sorry to say that I haven’t paid much attention to the members of our ‘legendary’ fraternities.”

Pretending like I never interrupted, she resumes, “-with your eyes. Everyone knows who they are. You just live under a rock that you call the library…”

I close my eyes and pray for deliverance as Luna trails off.

“Can I get you another drink?” A deep voice definitely not belonging to Luna breaks the short silence. Opening my eyes, my vision focuses on the voice’s source – a cute BTS pledge. His eyes are focused entirely on Luna, who suddenly seems unnaturally shy. She sends me a searching look, and I nod in response. Smiling, she turns back to the boy, “Yeah, I’m Luna by the way, and this is (y/n).”

“Jaehyun,“ he answers, giving me a head tilt while placing a palm on Luna’s back. He slowly guides her from the kitchen towards where the keg was in the living room. Sending a glance over her shoulder, Luna meets my eyes and I wave my phone at her as a silent reminder to update me. She winks and disappears into the living room.

Sighing, I lift myself onto the kitchen counter to give my feet some reprieve from these heeled boots and reapply my blood red lipstick using my phone camera. Satisfied, I check the time.

12:01am. Not nearly late enough for Luna to want to leave - especially now…

Suddenly, a now-familiar buzz sizzles across my skin. Drawing my gaze up from my phone, two unopened cans of beer held by long, strong fingers meet my vision. I drag my eyes up past thick wrists and corded arms. Up goes my gaze past flexed biceps, across a broad chest, and finally my eyes meet his.

He looms over me, all broad and imposing.

"Hey,” his husky voice - just slightly deeper, raspier than Jaehyun’s - murmurs, “I’m Taehyung. I brought this for you.”

Taehyung’s intimidating; his stare is direct and unwavering. Heat rolls off him in waves, and if this party was hotter than hell, that must make him the devil.

Our fingers brush as I accept his slightly outstretched offering, and I swear I would feel the reoccurring zings for the next week. “Hey, thank you. I’m, uh…” I trail off, Taehyung’s dark eyes staring at me from this close make me seem to lose all power of speech. God, do eyes that color really exist? Apparently, they do – deep brown mixed with flecks of amber, hypnotizing.

I clear my throat and try to force my last two brain cells to work together, “I’m (y/n).”

He’s smirking slightly now, the gesture pulling forth the cutest flush of pink in his cheeks, “Nice to meet you, (y/n).” And I swear he says my name like he’s caressing it, tasting it for the first time.

Damn, he’s unholy. Where is my snarky, inner bad bitch when I need her?

“Did you win your game? Seems like you might have been a little… distracted,” I smirk, there she is. I crack open my beer and revel in the emitting hiss.

A flicker of heat bursts through those brown eyes as he leans closer still, enveloping me with his intoxicating cologne. He smells like autumn woods with a hint of fresh lemon; he smells like trouble.

Taehyung sets his beer down and places his arms on either side of me - caging me in. “Things were going just fine 'til this girl came strutting through the room in some tight fucking jeans,” his tongue flicks over his lower lip, “So, yeah, you could say I got a little distracted.”

“I do not strut,” I object, narrowing my eyes at him - daring him to contradict me.

He’s undeterred, “Yeah, you do, jagi.” His eyes are full of mirth and he’s clearly enjoying getting a reaction from me, “It’s hot.”

I bristle, unsure if I should accept that 'compliment’ at face value, “Does this work on most girls? You know, the whole cornering her while you give her lame compliments thing?”

He looks surprised for a second, but then his head tilts back and he lets out one of the most endearing laughs I’ve ever heard - all unrestrained and unabashed pleasure.

Still chuckling, he tilts his head, eyes darting all over my face - lingering on my lips, “Where did you come from, (y/n)?”

Within seconds we’re making out like unsupervised high school students, right in the middle of the damn kitchen. I let out an embarrassing moan when he bites my bottom lip then sucks on it. Expertly coaxing my lips apart, his tongue meets mine in a feverish tangle while his hands grip my waist - pulling me into him.

The way that Kim Taehyung kisses is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. It’s hot and demandingly deliberate with a possessiveness that sends a ripple of electricity through me. I’m playing with fire, making out with him, but at this moment I can’t find it in me to give a single fuck.

Blazing lips suck and bite at the side of my neck and –

“(y/n)?”

The franticly questioning voice draws nearer as I open my eyes and tear myself away from Taehyung’s wicked mouth. Luna’s there, peering around Taehyung’s shoulder, and I can immediately tell that something is seriously wrong.

Shoving Taehyung away from me, I jump down from the counter and stumble - completely forgetting I was in three-inch heeled boots. Taehyung’s hands shoot out around my waist to stabilize me, “Whoa, easy there, (y/n).”

“Get your lecherous paws off her, Kim,” my eyes dart to Luna, shocked at her tone but proud of her vocabulary, “(y/n), we have to go.”

“What’s going on?” I’m at a loss, and I hate it, “Are you okay? Where’s Jaehyun? Do I need to chop his dick off?”

Taehyung lets out a choking sound beside me, but I pay him no mind - chicks before dicks, hoes before bros, besties before testes, etc. etc.

“What I’m planning is much worse,” Luna mutters with a strange glint in here eye as she pulls me away from Taehyung and levels him with an icy stare, “Listen, Kim, I know all about your little task for the pledges. Seriously, forcing them to get with as many girls as possible before they get their letters? Are you that much of a chauvinistic asshole?”

I whip around to face Taehyung, who seems to have become intensely interested in his beer, “Is this true?” He says nothing. I stalk up to him, shoving a finger in his chest, “Is. It. True.”

His beautiful, guilty eyes flicker up to meet mine, and my heart sinks.

“Fuck. You.��� My words come out as a whisper but are still vicious enough to make Taehyung stagger back.

With that, Luna and I stalk out of the party - heads held high and arms linked.

Returning to our dorm, we make a pact to avoid all frat boys and christen it with pizza. She never tells me how she found out about the stupid pledge task; I’m smart enough to know that she must have had her reasons.

But I wasn’t smart enough to stop thinking about Kim Taehyung.

I played with fire.

I should have known I’d get burned.

Chapter One

Fall of Junior Year – 8:57am

I curse every single decision that has brought me to this very moment as I power-walk across campus, sweating under the already blistering sun. Campus in August could easily be compared to a swamp given the amount of unearthly humidity, and I’m pretty sure I currently qualified as the local swamp thing.

The only positive feature in my morning has been the table of free coffee and doughnuts staffed by Student Government. The first day of the fall semester always seems to be accompanied by frantically wide-eyed freshmen and celebratory freebies. However, air conditioning is the only thing I would be celebrating today as I finally reach Tyson Hall – the destination of my 9:00am class.

As I rush to my classroom with one minute to spare, I slump into a seat in the far corner – my preferred location for people-watching out of the large windows and for getting away with doing homework for other classes.

Familiar faces surround me, an unsurprising observation given that this is our mandatory research seminar as psychology majors. I notice my friend Jenni sitting in the opposite corner, eyes glued to her phone screen.

Opening my laptop, I shoot her a text to come sit with me. Her head whips up, black braids moving every which way as she immediately piles up her things and hustles over, “(y/n), I forgot you were in this seminar! I just switched over from quantitative research because I couldn’t take any more statistics – or Dr. Harding.”

Dr. Harding is the dean of the psychology department and has been teaching here for ages. Feared by most psychology students for his tough grading and intimidating persona, he’s actually a huge softie – something I discovered by going to his office hours and seeing all 85 pictures of his grandchildren hanging throughout the room.

“He’s not that bad, Jen.”

She scoffs, “You would say that because you got an A in statistics like some sort of wizard. Besides, Dr. Newman is so much nicer.”

Jenni has an excellent point. Dr. Newman is the main reason I chose this seminar. As one of the most respected researchers at our university, she’s known for her qualitative studies on gender across cultures. I consider Dr. Newman to be a real badass woman and I lowkey stan her.

I turn to reply, but Dr. Newman begins taking attendance and class begins.

Fifty minutes later, Jenni practically drags me out of the classroom, “I cannot believe she kept us the whole 50 minutes. Is she aware that it’s syllabus week? It’s practically law to just read over the syllabus and then dismiss class. This is outrageous– (y/n), are you even listening?”

“Hmm?” I totally had tuned her out, focusing on the number of students flooding the quad. I had missed this – the rush of students heading to class, the yells of people greeting each other from entirely too far away, the buzz of excitement over potential parties…

“Unbelievable. How did I forget you have this whole weird-ass feminist crush on her?” Jenni forges forth, “It doesn’t matter. What are you doing tonight? You’re going out with us, right? Luna and I want to go to Hannigan’s.”

Since the three of us had all turned 21 over the summer, we finally could legally go to the bars in town. Hannigan’s currently holds the top spot on the list of bars that most of the upperclassman frequent. It’s a popular Irish pub downtown known for its cheap beer and mixed drinks.

It’s also BTS’s unofficial hangout – a fact that makes me slightly uneasy. After learning who the higher-ups are in BTS, I have taken to avoiding them like the plague. It was a relatively easy thing to do since the spring semester tended to be less focused on rushing and recruiting for fraternities and sororities.

But now it’s rush season, and I’m pretty much fucked. There will be no avoiding seeing BTS’s president Kim Namjoon out recruiting with his vice president Min Yoongi and his social chair Jung Hoseok. There will also be no avoiding pledge master Taehyung leading around new BTS pledges like a mother duckling. And don’t even get me started on how Kim Seokjin, Park Jimin and Jeon Jungkook will be popping up everywhere to advertise the latest BTS bash.

Sighing, I figure that the chances of actually bumping into them at the bar will be slim, given that it will most likely be super crowded and I can easily blend in.

I turn to Jenni as we keep walking towards our next classes, “Yeah, I’ll go to Hannigan’s. Are you going to come over to get ready at our place?”

Luna and I had moved into a cute little off-campus apartment over the summer. As it turned out, it’s cheaper to live off-campus than on-campus if you look hard enough. We also had it pretty good location-wise being just a few short blocks from both campus and downtown.

“Yes!” Jenni replies, slowing to a stop out front of the science building, “I’ll be over around 8 with tequila. I’ll text you later. I’ve got to go to neuro-psych lab now,” she rolls her eyes, “Hopefully we won’t be kept the whole time.”

Waving, we part ways, and I shake my head.

Tequila never leads to anything good.

Hannigan’s – 10:54pm

Fate seems to be on my side for once in my life. As soon as Luna, Jenni and I walk into Hannigan’s, my eyes are drawn to the back table where the BTS usually sits. It’s empty.

It’s practically an unspoken rule that no one else can sit there, and even though the bar is packed with all other tables accounted for, that one remains vacant – and for good reason.

Greek life essentially has a cult following around here. The Greeks provide status for those who are into that whole exclusivity thing. They also provide the best parties because of the size of their houses and because the university will never complain about one of their best sources of revenue.

I didn’t to rush a sorority way back in freshman year because I couldn’t feasibly afford it. The dues were way out of my price range, considering I was already paying for my education on my own. Luna, on the other hand, is in Epsilon Xi Delta (EXID) and consistently makes me and Jenni tag along to different Greek parties with her.

“Come on, bitches! Let’s get some drinks,” Jenni drags me and Luna through the packed room towards the bar that is already encircled by a crowd of thirsty students.

Tonight’s plan is simple – stick together, have fun, scope out cute seniors. Having already taken some shots before we left (saving that coin), we’re definitely feeling ourselves, flaunting our outfits like we didn’t spend a good hour picking them out earlier.

I had settled on a black t-shirt dress with a checkered flannel tied around the waist and some black Doc Martens. Luna and Jenni had tried to convince me to wear heels with them, but I knew syllabus week was a marathon – not a sprint. My feet would thank me later, and theirs would be crying.

As the bartender slides us our beers, the opening beats of Cocky AF by our badass queen Megan Thee Stallion blast through the speakers dispersed throughout the bar. Turning immediately to each other, we clink our beers together, take a sip, and head to the makeshift dance floor.

We squeeze and push our way through the masses until we reach a spot towards the back where the crowd has thinned out a little more. Within seconds, we’re in motion, hips swaying in time to Megan saying ‘bitch, I look good and you know that’.

Shaking out my hair, I get in the zone and lose count of how many songs we dance to. Eventually, our beers empty and Luna turns to me, “Another?“ She accompanies her shouted question with an unnecessary charade of shot-gunning a beer in case I couldn’t hear her. I roll my eyes, laughing while I nod in response.

“Save our spot!” Jenni yells and disappears into the crowd of dancers with Luna towards the bar.

I continue dancing on my own. Swaying my hips, I decide to put my hair up to try to cool off a little in the sweltering bar. The music shifts into a new song, this one slower, more seductive, a favorite of mine – Lost in the Fire featuring The Weeknd.

As Abel’s angelic voice flows over me, a pair of hands slide over my hips from behind me. I start to pull away, but then I notice – the hands are tattooed. And for some reason, that hot little fact makes me relax into the large body behind me.

Those tattooed hands tug me back even more, bringing me flush against him as he falls into time with my movements. God, this guy can dance – a rarity these days.

His body is all hard muscle and heated skin. His mouth is hot against my neck, alternating between kissing, sucking, and biting. My skin buzzes. Fuck, I haven’t felt this way since–

Turning my head slightly, I can make out the vague outline him and it confirms my sinking suspicion… He’s a BTS boy.

"Hey, noona,” he murmurs in my ear, his lips brushing over it as he speaks.

Fuck my life, I think as I shiver involuntarily in response. Spinning to face one of Satan’s henchmen, I toss my ponytail over my shoulder and jut a hip out in both defiance and defense. But really nothing could have prepared me for the sight of Jeon fucking Jungkook, the golden boy of BTS.

He somehow looks like he’s gotten even bigger since the last I saw him playing pong against Taehyung at that party – information that I cannot even comprehend. His left arm is completely tattooed, along with a few smaller ones dotting his hands. I glare at them, blaming those hands for throwing me off.

“Like them?” Jungkook waves his fingers in front of my narrowed eyes, “I got them this summer.” Smirking lazily, Jungkook makes his own perusal of me – taking extra time along the way.

His jaw flexes as his eyes turn molten, “You’re killing me, noona. Tae didn’t mention…” He trails off, swallowing hard.

I follow his gaze. Oh fuck. I had forgotten I decided to forego a regular bra tonight because I wanted to show off my piercings. Just having a thin bralette under my dress, my pierced nipples are definitely noticeable under Jungkook’s heavy stare.

Refusing to give into him, I square my shoulders, “Yeah, I got them this summer, too. But, I don’t see how that’s either your or Taehyung’s business.”

At my words, Jungkook rips his eyes away from my tits to finally meet my own eyes again, “Oh, but it really is our business. Tae said we’d like you and I agree.”

His voice is low and rough, and I swear I can feel it washing over my body, making all of my synapses fire in response.

“We?” I choked out. In full panic mode, I spin and try to leave, but I barely make it a foot away before getting stopped by a now-familiar tattooed hand wrapped around my wrist.

Luckily, a crashing sound echoes from the back table where the other BTS boys must be, and Jungkook lets out a string of curses, “Fucking hell, listen I have to go make sure no one’s hurt, or Joon will kill me. Stay here, okay? I’m not done with you, (y/n).”

His hand rushes up to the nape of my neck, pulling me into him. Our lips fuse together in a brutally hot kiss, his tongue slipping against my bottom lip for a fraction of a second.

And then he’s gone – disappearing rapidly through the fray to manage whatever trouble his frat has gotten into.

I stand there, shaking fingers on my lips wondering what the actual fuck just happened.

“Hey, sorry we took so long! This bitch cut in front of us and I swear she ordered for the entire fucking population of North America—”

Luna smacks Jenni’s arm, cutting her off, “You okay, (y/n)?” Luna peers closer at me, “Holy shit, is that a hickey?  We were only gone for 10 minutes!”

My hand flies to my neck as both Jenni and Luna grab me, dragging me to the slightly quieter back alley of the bar. As they conduct the second Spanish Inquisition, I spill the details on what happened.

After a moment of silence following my explanation, they both start talking at once:

→ Jenni: “Hell yes, girl, go off! Jeon Jungkook is fine as fuck…” → Luna: “(y/f/n) (y/m/n) (y/l/n), have you lost your damn mind…”

→ Jenni: “…I’d hit that in a heartbeat. I’m so proud!” → Luna: “…Do you not remember last semester? Are you high? Oh my GOD, did he drug you?!”

“Stop!” I slap a hand over each of their mouths, “Jesus, Mary and Joseph, you guys are impossible. I am not ‘hitting’ anything, and, no, he did not fucking drug me.”

Sighing, I continue, “It was a lapse in judgement, okay? I remember last semester more than anyone, but he’s just so powerful and I don’t seem to have any common sense around BTS.”

I take my hands away from their mouths and immediately Jenni asks, “Wait, what happened last semester?”

Luna slings an arm around my shoulder, “Come on, let’s go get pizza and a six-pack from Ralph’s. We can go out another night this week.”

“Take-out from Ralph’s?” Jenni’s eyes widen comically, “This must be major tea. Let’s go.”

Instinctively, we clink our beers together for the second time that night and chug the remainder of our bottles in true broke bitch fashion (never leave paid-for beer behind).

With that, we trek back through the door and out of the bar. We finish our night filling in Jenni with our less than savory experience with the infamous BTS fraternity last semester.

But, as I lay in bed for the night, I can’t help but wonder if Jungkook had looked for me that night after I left… Or if he told Taehyung…

Chapter Two

Habitat for Humanity Worksite – 9:26am

When I signed up to volunteer Saturday morning of syllabus week, I should have known I would end up regretting it. I almost punted my alarm clock out of the apartment window this morning, but instead settled a slightly more civil action – punching the shit out of the ‘off’ button.

Don’t get me wrong: I love volunteering. It’s been part of my routine since sophomore year when I was recruited for the all-women’s service society on campus – the Alphites. As a society, us Alphites volunteer around campus and in our local community each week. There’s something about doing service together that really creates bonds, and the girls in the society have quickly become some of my closest friends.

We sign up to volunteer for a variety of different service projects each week, and Habitat is my current favorite project to sign up for. As a nonprofit organization, Habitat for Humanity helps families build and improve places to call home. Currently, our regional Habitat is working on building a house from the ground up for a local family in need.

Disclaimer: I am in no way, shape, or form a very ‘handy’ person. Luckily for me, there are always a couple volunteers with construction or engineering backgrounds who are willing to teach other volunteers with less experience – or none, like me.

Since beginning to volunteer at the site last year, I have learned how to use a power saw, how to fasten siding, and how to mix, pour and level cement. It’s definitely empowering to learn new skills and also to see how my handiwork contributes to someone’s future home. I also feel lowkey badass when I get to use the power drill for anything.

Pulling up to the worksite, I clutch my cherished 24oz. Wawa coffee. I finally feel somewhat human as I park my beat-up Jeep Wrangler and hop out to meet the other volunteers for our task assignments.

The site leader Eddie – a burly retiree with a background in construction management – greets me with a huge grin, “(y/n)-doll, we missed you this summer! I can’t believe you abandoned us during the hottest months of the year.”

I roll my eyes, smiling at his teasing. Eddie’s like a teddy bear disguised as a grizzly – all rough edges and a heart of gold. “Missed you, too, Eddie.”

“Look at our progress now,” he continues, “Pretty impressive, yeah?” Nodding, I greet some regular volunteers I recognize as Eddie leads me around the house. He proceeds to show me what they had done over the summer in my absence – and they had done a lot. The house now had its full foundation and wooden framing with most of the doors and windows installed.

As we walk back to the front of the house to the main area, I sip my coffee and turn to Eddie, “So, what can I work on today, fearless leader?”

Letting out a patented ‘Eddie belly-laugh’, he replies, “I know you worked on the siding at our last site so I’m gonna have you work on where we started the siding on the right side of the house.”

Sweet, I could work with that. “Aye, aye, captain,” I respond with a lazy salute of my coffee cup. Before I can turn to start towards the scaffolding to begin, Eddie stops me.

“Oh, one more thing. I’m gonna need you to orient our new volunteer and let him shadow you today. Kid’s from the same school as you, I think… Mandatory service. Anyway, he should be here any minute.”

Shit, I know what ‘mandatory service’ means. It’s the first form of disciplinary action that the college issues and is usually the only form of disciplinary action for our athletes or for Greek life – a fact I actively resent. During my time in the Alphites, I have had to deal with some of these ‘mandatory service’ characters and they’ve never been much fun to be around.

“Ah, that’s probably him now,” Eddie startles me out of my thoughts of dread and doom as a black gleaming Tesla practically purrs down the block, swinging into the spot next to my Wrangler. Scowling, I cross my arms as I survey the stark contrast between this person’s shiny-ass luxury car and my dirty-ass well-loved Jeep.

The Tesla door opens. A Timberland booted foot emerges followed by a thick leg encased in light jeans, a tanned well-muscled arm…

No. Nope, it couldn’t be— Please, not today, Satan.

He stands with his back to us now, stretching out his large body. In only a cutoff t-shirt, his rippling back muscles might be enough to send me into an early grave.

I sigh in bitter defeat of the inevitable. Seriously, the fucking universe must have it out for me because I can’t seem to shake this stupid fucking fraternity.

As if the boy feels my eyes on him, he turns. His eyes immediately clash with mine as he slams his car door, clicking the lock over his shoulder. Those eyes – golden brown beneath dark brows and a wave of bleached blonde hair. Their focus is absolute – hard – as he strolls towards us. It’s almost as if he knows the maddening effect that he has on me.

I think Eddie is speaking, but my senses are on lockdown, his words muted. My thighs tighten as my pulse picks up. Get a fucking grip, (y/n). I can’t let him know that just one look from him has me thirsty and oxygen-deprived. I can’t look away – that would be succumbing to weakness.

Instead, I hold his heated gaze as best I can as his confident gait brings him closer. God, he’s got to be at least 6 foot…

The goddamn president of BTS Kim Namjoon is getting closer and I can’t help running my eyes over him.

His thighs flex and shift beneath his jeans with every calculated step. His abs are apparent under his tight cutoff shirt emblazoned with his fraternity letters.

Namjoon stops in front of us, hands stuffed into his back pockets, biceps flexing. “Nice to finally meet you, Eddie,” Namjoon takes his eyes off me long enough to greet Eddie and shake his hand, but then they’re right back on me, “Hi, (y/n).”

He drags out my name in a such a sinful way that even old Eddie does a slight doubletake. Clearing his throat unnecessarily loudly, Eddie booms, “You two know each other?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

Our differing replies sound at the same time.

“Yes,” Namjoon repeats, lips turning up in an infuriating smile, “We have several mutual friends that she’s met a couple times now. Want me to jog your memory? I’d be more than happy to do so.”

Eddie takes one look at my face and hustles off, mumbling something about support beams. I guess my inner thoughts of ‘kill, maim, slaughter’ could easily be read from my facial expression.

Namjoon opens his mouth to speak again, but I’m faster, “Listen, Kim, I don’t know who you think you are, and, quite frankly, I don’t care. What I do care about is this house and these people working on it. Don’t fuck this up for me, okay? Let’s just get through today and then you can go back to ordering around your brothers and causing general mayhem.”

I’m feeling pretty proud of my little soliloquy until I realize he’s still smiling with those blasted dimples out in full display. No, his smile has grown even wider now as he simply answers, “The semester.”

My nose crinkles in confusion, “What?”

“The semester,” he repeats, “I’m assigned here every Saturday for the rest of the semester.”

I stare at him.

He smirks back.

I stare.

His smirk begins to fade, “Uh, did you hear me?”

I stare.

“Okay, you’re creeping me out now, (y/n),” Namjoon waves his giant paw of a hand in front of my face, “How many fingers?”

I break out of my trance of denial and hiss, “What did you do? Double homicide? Serial arson? Oh my god, you were the one who blew up the science lab!”

His hand covers my mouth – it’s rough and warm and entirely disarming.

“You have quite the imagination, jagi. I’ll keep that in mind,” Namjoon chuckles, “To answer your question, I did none of the above. Now, answer a couple questions of mine: what did you do to get here and – more importantly – why did you distract Jungkook from doing his fucking job on Monday?”

I glare in response, waiting for him to remove his hand from my mouth. He takes too long, and I lick his palm. It works. He removes his hand, but from the look on his face it seems like he liked my tongue on his skin entirely too much.

Thankfully, Eddie chooses the perfect moment to yell across the site, “What are you doing just standing there, (y/n)-doll? I don’t pay you to just loiter around all day!”

“You don’t pay me at all!” I yell back, already moving towards the trailer with all the supplies to get started. Namjoon follows.

“(y/n)-doll?” his eyebrows are raised as I hand him a pair of the biggest gloves I could find, “What’s up with that?”

Taking a pair of smaller gloves for myself, I turn to look for some hammers and nails as I respond, “I’ve been here a while. He’s like my honorary grandfather at this point.”

I spot the hammers and nails tucked away on the highest corner shelf and I huff. Namjoon follows my gaze, “Need a strong, intelligent, tall young man to grab those for you?”

He’s impossible, but for some reason it draws a small smile to my face, “Yes, that’d be great.”

The smile I receive in response is so bright I wonder if it could make flowers grow, “Okay, but only if answer my questions, (y/n).”

I shrug, trying not to notice how his cutoff shirt rises as he stretches to reach the upper shelf. I catch a sudden glimpse of his abs, and I praise every god out there that hot weather can be blamed for my sudden onset of sweat.

Clearing my throat, I laugh lightly, “Fine, first of all, I didn’t ‘distract’ Jeon. I just had a temporary lapse in judgement. Besides, he came to me all on his own.” His back muscles tense up at my words, but I continue, “And second of all, there’s no juicy story of how I got here. I just volunteer here every Saturday for the Alphites.”

The sound of a hammer hitting the floor startles me as he whirls around, “You’re an Alphite?”

Namjoon’s tone is one of disbelief and it’s a tone I do not appreciate, “Yes, why is that so hard to believe?” My arms cross defensively, “I’ve been a sister since my sophomore year…”

I trail off. He’s still gawking at me ridiculously. Narrowing my eyes, I stride across the trailer and grab his chin, closing his mouth for him, “Watch out, Kim, you’re gonna catch flies.”

Spinning on my heels, I sashay out of the trailer, nose held high in the air and satisfaction held even higher. He’ll catch up. After all, he’s basically supposed to be my bitch today.

I climb up the scaffolding next to the house’s right side and assess the siding work that has already been started. It looks pretty solid and level. I should have no issue with continuing without having to make any initial corrections.

The sound of a bucket of nails hitting the top platform I’m sitting on alerts me of Namjoon’s impending presence. Saving the bucket from teetering over the edge – a safety hazard for sure – I watch amusedly as Namjoon struggles stay upright and climb up to where I am on the scaffolding. Finally, he plops down next to me – entirely too close. I can feel his stare on my skin as I steadfastly ignore him.

“Hey, jagi,” he pokes my arm, “(y/n), listen, you just caught me off guard. I mean, you don’t seem like the type to be an Alphite – that’s all.”

Fury curls up inside me for the umpteenth time that morning, as I turn to face Namjoon with a sickly-sweet smile that has him flinching back, “Then do tell, Namjoon, what type I seem to be?”

I pick up the hammer closest to me and dip a hand into the nail bucket. The sooner this siding got done, the sooner I could haul ass out of here.

“I feel like that’s a trick question,” Namjoon sighs, rubbing a hand over his chin, “I didn’t mean anything bad by it, okay? I guess I just have always thought that your society was a bunch of mom-types—”

I cut him off with a swing of my hammer in the air, “What’s wrong with mom-types, you uncultured swine? And is serving your community really such a ‘mom’ thing to do? I’m sorry. I must have missed that memo. Here I was thinking that it was public service but go off I guess.”

He blinks, “Did you just call me an ‘uncultured swine’?”

I sniff in indignation, “Get with the times, Kim. I just roasted your ass. Now hand me that piece of siding and make yourself useful.”

“You’re so weird,” Namjoon mutters, sliding my request over to me.

“So what?” I shrug, “All the best people are weird. Now, do me a solid and explain to me why you and your ‘brothers’ keep suspiciously popping up everywhere I go.”

“Haven’t you figured it out yet?” he grins, “We’re interested.”

“What does that even mean? That you’re interested?” I wrack my brain, “As in all seven of you fuckers?”

“It means, jagi,” Namjoon pauses, leaning closer, “It means that we’re going to date the shit out of you.”

Chapter Three

“It means that we’re going to date the shit out of you.”

We’re going to date the shit out of you.

We’re. Going. To. Date. The. Shit. Out. Of. You.

Those words play on a constant loop in my head for the rest of the week. After Namjoon had dropped that bombshell on me, I’d kind of freaked the fuck out, faked an immediate illness, and ran at full speed.

When I had told Luna about it later that night, she had been just as shook as me. Surprisingly enough, she had also given her full support of whatever I decided to do but “would have her banana slicer on standby and would order six more if need be”.

It appears that she had drunk-ordered a banana slicer off Amazon when the last boy she talked to pissed her off. I had apparently drunk-approved the decision. Rad.

Jenni’s reaction had been even better. We’d been in the library on Monday and her screech of “he said what!?” had led to multiple events:

An abundance of shushes from every student within a 50-yard radius

Her continued rant: “Your own personal harem! Can you say goals? Maybe I should infiltrate EXO and collect my own…”

Us getting kicked out by our ancient librarian

For the rest of the week, I had Luna and Jenni both giving me shit about the BTS boys. It had helped that I hadn’t run into them at all on campus between classes. But I had known it wouldn’t be long before my luck would run out…

Quinn Library – 2:31pm

Typically, I don’t spend my Friday afternoons deep within the stacks of the library’s quiet floor. Yet, here I sit typing frantically due to my incapability to stop procrastinating. My fingers fly over the keys of my aging MacBook in hopes that whatever spur of productivity I had going on is captured in its fullest.

General education classes could burn in the pits of hell as far as I’m concerned. If I wanted to be a psychiatrist, why did I have to take – and pay for – an art elective that I would likely never utilize in the workforce? Plus, the only class within the category that fit my schedule ended up being “Writing About Dance”.

Yeah, I’m still a tad bitter, but in all honesty the class isn’t that bad so far. It mainly consists of watching different dance performances and learning how to write about them in different styles.

Today’s assignment is to write critical commentary on videos of the university’s dance team that the professor provided for us. Sighing, I finish my review of the second to last dance video provided by the professor, take a quick second to stretch, and then open the link to the last video on the assignment page.

“Park Jimin – Final Performance Solo, Spring 2019”

Slack-jawed, I fall into wonder as Jimin moves through his routine flawlessly. He dances like it’s easier than walking to him. His movements are somehow precise and fluid all at once. I barely realize a few tears have run down my cheeks until the video cuts off, signaling the end of Jimin’s performance.

Jesus, (y/n), get it together. I laugh lightly as I dig in my backpack for a tissue. How could I possibly capture the ethereal beauty that Jimin exuded into words? Am I even worthy of commenting on such exquisiteness?

Definitely fucking not. And before I can second guess myself, I type: “Park Jimin is art in its purest form. Watching him dance is like watching the sun rise over the ocean – raw beauty accompanied by the hopes brought with a new day. His performance left me wanting for nothing except an encore.”

Boom. Submit Assignment.

As my email pings with the confirmation that my assignment is turned in, my eyes widen in realization. Park Jimin of BTS is a dance god, and he – allegedly – wants to date me? That is just ridiculously unfathomable.

Namjoon must be off his rocker.

Closing my laptop, my phone suddenly vibrates with an incoming notification from snapchat…

President_RM has added you!

Before I can even comprehend the absurdity of Namjoon adding me, my phone bursts into a series of buzzes. Cursing, I switch my phone to silent and check my screen.

minsuga93 has added you!

jhopeworld_ has added you!

handsomeJIN has added you!

JKookie97 has added you!

vantae_BTS has added you!

95jiminie has added you!

Are they serious? How did they even get my SnapChat username?

vantae_BTS has added you to a chat!

Curiosity wins out over aggravation as I swipe to open the chat.

Heart pounding, I fight the urge to chuck my phone into the depths of the bookcases winding around the room. What did those idiots want with me?

(y/n) & Luna’s Apartment – 9:45pm

“What do those idiots want with me?” the decibel my voice has risen to is shocking even to my ears.

Luna cringes, accordingly, “I can’t tell if that’s a rhetorical question…”

I steamroll onwards, “And don’t even get me started on how they could have even gotten my snapchat. It’s a complete invasion of privacy!”

“You could just ask them,” Jenni’s voice cuts through my rambling tirade.

I pause, “No, I couldn’t—”

…Or could I?

Turning on my heel, I rush into my room and head straight for my closet. Grabbing the nearest sweatshirt and pair of leggings, I tug them on and then grab my keys from my nightstand.

Whirling back into the living room, I storm past a dumbfounded Luna and Jenni, “Be right back.”

Opening the apartment door, Luna shouts, “Wait! Where are you going? You’re not even wearing shoes!”

Whoops. I glance at my feet and note that she is, in fact, correct.

Jenni bounds over to me holding my Doc Martens, “Here, babe. You’re going to the BTS house, aren’t you?”

I nod grimly and salute my two best friends as if I’m going into battle. “I won’t be long. I just have a small errand to run.”

“Well, you’re not going alone,” Luna declares, pulling on her sneakers.

Jenni snorts and shoves her feet into her beat-up Converse, “No way am I missing out on this action.”

As we head out the door, I link arms with Luna and Jenni, “Have I mentioned I love you both recently?”

“Right back at you, bitch,” Luna laughs.

Greek Row – 10:17pm

Ten minutes later, we reach Greek Row. Fraternity and sorority houses dot the street on both sides. Personally, I think of this street as home to the chaotic rich, and I tend to avoid it at all costs – except tonight.

The line to get into BTS is so long it wraps around the block. Students dressed in the latest fashions converse as they wait, huddling together in their groups. I glance down at my outfit of a worn university hoodie and leggings.

“Well, shit. We’re underdressed, huh,” Jenni deadpans, causing all three of us to burst into laughter, “Do you think they put you on the list, (y/n)?”

Pondering that thought, I shrug, “Maybe,” and begin marching past the line of waiting students towards the front door of BTS, “But I sure as fuck am not waiting in that line.”

“Hey, there’s a line here!”

“Yo, bitches! What are you doing?”

“What the fuck?”

Paying the hecklers no mind, I saunter right up to the BTS pledges guarding the door, “Hi, I need to talk to Kim Namjoon.”

The pledge on the right rakes his gaze over me incredulously and then makes the same assessment of Luna and Jenni, “You know this is a party, right?”

I don’t deem that comment worthy of a response and instead cross my arms over my chest. He shrinks under the collective glare of me, Luna and Jenni.

The pledge on the left awkwardly clears his throat, “Names, please?”

My answer barely escapes my lips before the pledges visibly straighten, looking at me with new eyes, “You’re (y/n)? Why didn’t you just say so?”

And before I can answer, the front door swings open for us.

People are everywhere. A haze of smoke looms in the air, and rap music blares from the speakers. The bass is turned up so loud that the beat seems to take over the rhythm of my pulse. That cannot be healthy.

Turning to my friends, I do my best to communicate, shouting, “I’m going to find them! Are you going to be here?”

Luna and Jenni exchange a look and nod. Jenni shouts back, “We’re going to get some drinks. Might as well capitalize on free booze! Text us when you’re ready to go.”

And with that, we part ways.

Maneuvering around the sea of gyrating bodies in the main living room area, I scan around for any signs of my seven menaces.

“Do my eyes deceive me? Or is that my future wife?” The deep voice booms from behind me.

I sigh, recognizing the voice, and turn around.

Kim Taehyung is striding towards me with his arms outstretched, smiling like the damned fool he is and looking like he just stepped off the runway for Gucci. “Come to daddy.”

An idea forms. I smile sweetly and walk to meet Taehyung halfway. His boxy grin widens and just as he thinks I’m going to let him wrap his arms around me, I grab him by the ear.

“Ouch!” He cries, “Devil-woman!”

Ignoring him, I drag him behind me towards the stairs.

“If you wanted to get me alone, you could have just asked—OW!”

My hold on his ear tightens as we arrive on the second-floor landing, “Where are your brothers?”

“I don’t know, n-noona!” Somehow the honorific coming from Tae sounds divine, but I file that thought away for another time.

Removing my hold, I corner him against the wall of the hallway, “Okay, Kim, here’s what is going to happen. You’re going to point me in the direction of your room, go find your six idiot brothers, and then report back here so I can finally understand what the fuck is going on. Got it?”

My chest heaves as my directions conclude and I realize how close together we are. Taehyung stares at me with an indecipherable expression before breaking into a slow smile, “Noona is bossy.”

“Noona is going to shove her foot up your ass if you don’t get moving,” I growl.

“Kinky,” he laughs, backing away from me and my brewing anger, “Last door on the left is my room. I’ll be back with the six idiots.”

As he thumps back down the steps, I close my eyes and count to ten, trying to steel my nerves and rein in my anger. When I open them, my eyes are met with the amused gaze of Min Yoongi.

Slapping a hand to my heart, I wait for my pulse to settle from being scared out of my wits, “Motherfuck—how did you even move that silently?”

“It’s a skill,” Yoongi drawls, nodding towards to end of the hall, “So, group meeting in Tae’s room?”

Shooting him the best side-eye I can muster, I stalk past him, steadfastly ignoring the chuckles and light footfalls that follow behind me.

Throwing open the door which Taehyung indicated was to his room, I pause, taking in the horde of photos and art taped to the four walls. The light blue wallpaper barely peeks through the absolute massive amount of artwork.

“It’s overwhelming at first, isn’t it?” An angelic voice shyly breaks through my reverie, “Tae likes to collect pictures and things he finds beautiful.”

“Ah, so that’s why we’re friends.” The joke is followed by a laugh that can only be compared to the sound of a windshield wiper squeakily moving back and forth.

I shift my eyes from Taehyung’s walls and onto the two newcomers – Park Jimin and Kim Seokjin.

Meeting Seokjin’s gaze first, I cannot help but agree that he is a very, very beautiful man. With pushed back dark hair, mischievous brown eyes and impossibly broad shoulders, Seokjin can easily be mistaken for an idol. And, oh fuck, I’m still staring.

Shooting my eyes back up to his, I crinkle my nose at his shit-eating grin. Before he can even comment, I turn and lock eyes with Jimin.

“Your dancing is gorgeous,” I blurt out and immediately want to crawl under a rock and live out the rest of my life as Patrick Star.

Yoongi and Seokjin are cackling as Jimin’s face lights up at my embarrassing compliment, “You really think so?”

“There’s no shutting him up now,” Yoongi is in tears, “Watch out, (y/n). Jimin loves his fans.”

“Shut up, Yoongi-hyung!”

Jimin looks ready to swing, but luckily Taehyung chooses the right moment to return, “What have we missed? Why is Jiminie about to fight Yoongi? I’ll put $10 on hyung.”

Gasping in betrayal, Jimin sits on the edge of Tae’s bed and pouts.

The rest of the boys file in behind Taehyung as he flops down onto his bed and reclines like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

“Hi, (y/n). Good to see you again. I’m glad you’re here,” Namjoon greets me with a slight bow, a crooked smile and wicked eyes.

He’s followed closely by Jung Hoseok, the only BTS boy I hadn’t met thus far, “(y/n)! It’s so nice to meet you in person! Wow, you look so pretty tonight!”

“Noona always looks pretty,” Jungkook cuts in, throwing an arm around Hoseok’s shoulder, “She’s bae.”

A collective groan arises from the rest of the boys. “Sit your ass down, JK,” Yoongi grumbles, “(y/n)’s going to break up with us before we even start dating.”

“Dating—!” I break off that train of thought. Other matters need to be attended to first, “No, I didn’t come here tonight to say ‘hi’ or to be your ‘bae’. I came here to get answers.”

I take my time making eye contact with each boy.

Taehyung is still spread out on his bed and Jimin has now joined him. Seokjin, Hoseok and Jungkook are sprawled out on the floor at the foot of the bed, while Namjoon and Yoongi slouch against the opposite wall of the bedroom facing me.

“Alright,” Namjoon lifts his chin, meeting my stare head on, “What do you want to know?”

Chapter Four

Taehyung’s Room, BTS House – 10:49pm

“Alright. What do you want to know?”

Namjoon’s question fills the room. The boys all stare at me with anticipation, leaning forward with furrowed brows.

I ponder my course of action for all of two seconds before launching into my well-practiced rant, “I want to know what sort of sick prank you think you’re playing, because I am not falling for it. I mean – all of you wanting to date one person? Date me? Seems fake, but okay.”

Some of the boys move to interrupt me, but I thrust up a palm, “No, please let me finish. I know I don’t really have the right to make judgements about you guys, but I have seen some misogynistic behavior from your frat. So, I feel like it’s not that far-fetched for me to think that you’re probably playing me.”

“Messy gymnast behavior? What’s that?” Jungkook whispers to Hoseok who just shrugs, looking equally as baffled.

“Misogynistic, Kook, not messy gymnast,” Namjoon pinches his nose in frustration, “It means prejudiced against women.”

Seokjin and Jimin descend into fits of laughter. Hoseok still looks mildly perplexed, and Yoongi takes a large sip of soju from a bottle he procured from god knows where within the last few minutes.

Covering his face, Jungkook dives behind Jin in hopes of further hiding his embarrassment.

“I think I know what she’s talking about.”

The room quiets at Taehyung’s interjection. He reluctantly sits up from his relaxed position on his bed and explains, “When we met at our party last semester, she found out about our old pledge tradition.”

“Oh, damn,” Jimin sighs, “So that’s why you motioned to remove it from the chapter’s history at the last meeting.”

“Yeah,” Tae looks me in the eyes, “We voted removed it, (y/n) … A little too late though, it seems.”

Jungkook peeks his head out from behind Jin’s shoulder, “We’re sorry, noona.”

Trying not to internally melt in response at the youngest’s display of classic puppy-dog eyes, I slump against the wall and slide into a sitting position on the floor. “Look, I’m not going to say that ‘it’s okay’ because it’s not. But I do appreciate that you removed it.”

The boys hang their heads, looking properly chastised.

“That’s fair,” Namjoon finally says quietly, “We know as a frat we fucked up. We’re not perfect. We make a lot of mistakes. But we’re trying to get back to being respectable and move on from here.”

“We’re trying to get back your respect,” Yoongi rubs the back of his neck, looking at me with wide eyes and more attentiveness than I’ve ever seen from him.

“But that’s the other thing,” I look away, pulling at a random thread fraying off of the sleeve of my sweatshirt, “Why does it matter so much that I respect you? Why are you all so invested in me all of a sudden? In all honesty, I haven’t said more than two words in conversation to half of you.”

“Yeah, that doesn’t really matter,” Namjoon shrugs, shifting to lean casually against the wall.

My eyes narrow, “How can it not matter?”

“Because we date as a group, (y/n)-noona,” Jimin smiles down at me from his perch on Taehyung’s bed, all squishy cheeks and crinkled eyes, “Tae thought we’d all like you, and then Jungkookie and Joon-hyung agreed and—”

Hoseok excitedly chimes in, arms swinging wildly, “And finding someone who we all like hasn’t happened in so long, and I’m so happy!”

“Yah, Hobi!” Jin reaches over Jungkook to shove the bouncing boy, “We’re supposed to be playing it cool. We have to woo her.” He winks and blows me a kiss.

Instinctively, I swat it away and then giggle at Seokjin’s indignant gasp.

“I take it back! She’s mean!” Launching into a passionate rant complete with head shaking and wild eyes, Jin continues, “Consider that kiss null and void. I have never been so insulted in my entire life, you know!”

Tears stream down my cheeks as I collapse from laughing alongside the rest of the boys. Namjoon’s dimples are out in full force as he drawls, “Hyung, that’s what you said yesterday when I beat you in Overwatch.”

Seokjin splutters over the now-renewed laughter of his younger brothers, “I thought I told you to never speak of that again!”

Trailing off in mumbles of how he needs new friends and how disrespected he is as an elder, Jin resorts to pouting in the corner.

“You’ll have to excuse Seokjin-hyung, (y/n),” Taehyung smirks at me with raised eyebrows, “He’s skated by solely on his looks up until now.”

Seokjin’s pouting intensifies.

“He is handsome,” I instinctively respond, fully focused on the beauty of Jin’s pouty lips. And when those lips break into a huge grin, I cringe at my lapse in judgement for the thousandth time that night.

“My faith in humanity has been restored!” Jin ambles back to his original spot next to Jungkook and thrusts a paper heart that he apparently had been carrying on his person for quite some time in my direction.

“Hyung,” Hoseok eyes Seokjin with a concerned frown, “Where did you even get that from?”

“That’s one secret I’ll never tell.” Jin barely finishes that sentence before a flurry of pillows, water bottles, and other miscellaneous items are thrown at him from all angles.

“I thought we agreed no more quoting Gossip Girl, Jin-hyung!” Jimin cries as he continues to hit Jin with a pillow from Tae’s bed.

Miraculously still even able to speak under the assault from the other boys, Jin replies with complete sincerity, “XOXO.”

Chaos reigns.

Watching all seven of them in - presumably - their most natural state, I sigh in amusement, “Y’all are too much.”

Somehow the boys hear me, because they all turn to face me once more with various expressions of playfulness and mirth. Jin still lies under the pile of them laughing slightly as they slowly shift off of him.

“Nah, I think we might be just enough for you, noona,” Jungkook pipes up as he plops down on the edge of Taehyung’s bed.

“Yeah? And how do you know that?” A sudden thought occurs to me, “Wait, why do you all even date one person anyway? Don’t you realize like half the campus is in love with each of you?”

“You’re included in that half, right?” Taehyung grins and then shrinks under my withering glare, “I mean, it’s a long story?”

“Oh, hold on,” I check my wrist, which noticeably has no watch, “Mhm, that’s right. It’s story time.”

Jimin snorts and then burrows under the covers in mortification.

“Cute,” Hoseok sighs, staring at me, “I want to keep you.”

And there’s something about having Jung Hoseok’s full attention and adoration that brings me to peak devastation. I pull my hood up over my head and burrow into my sweatshirt.

“Aw!” Various yells rebound around the room. I flip them all off.

“Hobi,” Yoongi teases, “I think she likes you.”

I peek out of the safety of my sweatshirt to eviscerate him with my eyes, but Yoongi just raises one brow coolly and calls me out, “Well, am I wrong, jagi?”

All eyes are on me, and the room is suddenly so quiet that all I can hear is the muffled party downstairs and the beating of my heart.

“… I want my lawyer,” I finally declare, re-emerging from the depths of my sweatshirt and crossing my arms.

“Oh, come on, noona!” Jimin shuffles across the room and kneels in front of me, causing me to descend into a panic, “You like Hoseok-hyung, right? Well, what about me? Do you like me?”

Jimin peers down at me, pink hair tussled and eyes shining. How could I ever say no to that beautiful face? That angelic human?

Must.

Deflect.

“I’ll answer your question if you answer mine. Why do you all date the same person when each of you could have anyone you want?”

Jimin deflates and sits back on his heels, frowning at my non-answer.

“But we do already date everyone we want,” Hoseok cuts in, giggling, “Well, almost.”

They’re already dating people? My mind wracks through all my knowledge of the seven boys sitting before me, but no evidence of them dating anyone pops up. “Wait, I’m confused. Who are you all dating then?”

I can’t help but feel like I’m on the outside of an inside joke as the boys all exchange looks that are all too smug for my liking.

“Seems like we did a good job, boys,” Namjoon chuckles, “People on this campus are pretty oblivious.”

“Nah,” Yoongi shakes his head, “They just choose not to see it. They want us all to be fully available.”

The lightbulb finally flickers on in my mind.

“Oh my sweet baby Jesus,” I whisper, “You’re all dating each other, aren’t you?”

Various nods answer that question. Jin, of course, being Jin, wipes an imaginary tear from his eye as he dramatically laments, “And she’s smart, too? How did we get so lucky, boys?”

“Yoongi,” I say calmly, “Please pass me that soju before I commit murder in this very room.”

Without a word, Yoongi hands me the bottle before settling down in the space next to me against the wall.

Suddenly hyperaware of my positioning, I realize I’m sitting in between Jimin and Yoongi. Jungkook, Taehyung and Hobi now sit together on Tae’s bed, while Jin remains on the floor surrounded by various pillows and debris.

Namjoon is still leaning against the opposite wall, looking way too intimidating and perfect that I’m forced to look away.

That is, until he starts to speak. “(y/n), the seven of us have always been close. We grew up together; and, somehow, we just work as a unit. We work together. It may seem odd or untraditional. Maybe it is. But, it’s who we are. And it’s how we love.”

Namjoon continues, “We don’t want to lose what we have together, this dynamic we’ve spent so long building. But, we’ve been feeling like something has been missing from our relationship lately. We’ve been looking for someone to help complete us.���

“And you think that person is me?” I suck in a jagged breath, “You really want to share me? Do you know how crazy that sounds?”

“There are crazier things,” Yoongi shrugs, taking back the bottle of soju from my grasp, “Like how Namjoon has an IQ of 148 but can’t seem to live one day without breaking something.”

Namjoon, looking affronted, opens and closes his mouth, but ultimately settles on just smiling bashfully. My heart almost explodes at such a display of cuteness.

“It’s really not that crazy, (y/n),” Taehyung interrupts my internal fawning, “You seem like a girl who’s intimidated by no one and nothing. We really, really like that. And we figured since you kissed me and Jungkook that you might be interested.”

Embarrassment washes over me. I steal back the soju from Yoongi, who just smirks knowingly.

“Besides, polyamory is actually more common than you think,” Hobi smiles in that pretty heart-shaped way of his.

He has a valid point. Who am I to be the judge of what love looks like? Who am I to criticize these boys who clearly love each other and just want one more person to love? Who am I to deny myself the opportunity to be loved by seven people?

“Can I think about it?” I ask, still fighting the inevitable for whatever reason, “I’m not saying ‘no’. I just need a bit of time to think it over.”

“Take all the time you need, baby,” Namjoon murmurs, looking like I just handed him the keys to the entire world.

“No,” Jimin groans, burrowing his head in the crook of my shoulder, “Please, please, please don’t take all the time you need, (y/n)-noona! I can’t wait that long!”

I reach up to stroke my fingers through his pink hair in an attempt to soothe the poor angel.

“Do we have permission to continue to woo you during this ‘thinking’ period?” Jin inquires, casting a look of jealousy at Jimin who is now nestled even further into me.

“Continue?” I ask, “When did you start?”

“Yah!” Seokjin exclaims, “Why does she keep roasting me?”

“I think it’s hot,” Jungkook grins at me with stars in his eyes.

“That’s because you’re a masochist, Kook,” Taehyung cackles from his perch on the bed.

“Ah, hyung!” Jungkook jumps on Taehyung in an effort to silence him, “She doesn’t need to know that yet!”

“I mean, it is pretty obvious,” I pause dramatically, dropping the pitch of my voice, “Baby boy.”

Jungkook yelps and takes off out of the room.

“Shit, was that too much?” I ask, staring at the door thrown open in Jungkook’s wake.

“No,” Tae replies, still laughing, “I think he just needs a second to calm down. I’ll go see where he went.”

Taehyung gets up from the bed and shuffles out the door in search of Jungkook. The open door allows for more sounds from the party to seep into the room.

Namjoon sighs, “I should probably check on what’s happening down there, shouldn’t I?”

“Good luck, man,” Yoongi tears the soju back out of my hand and lifts it up in cheers to Namjoon. Chuckling, Namjoon ambles over to where Yoongi, Jimin and I are crowded together and grabs the soju.

After taking a long sip, he crouches down in front of me and grasps the hand that remains unoccupied by Jimin. Bringing it to his lips, Namjoon places the lightest kiss on my knuckles. “I’m so happy you showed up tonight, baby. I can only hope that my future holds more of you in any way you choose to give me.”

Pressing his lips to my palm this time, Namjoon smiles in that completely devastating way of his and then saunters out of the room. Still gaping, I realize I never even got to say a word to him in response.

“You are so whipped for him already, jagi,” Yoongi says lowly, lips brushing my ear.

I blink. My senses are on overload. Jimin is still curled into my side, with my hand stroking his hair and his lips accidentally grazing the skin of my collarbone every so often. Now, Yoongi is closer than ever. I can feel his breath against my neck and his stare focused on my lips. Meanwhile, Hobi and Jin are slowly but surely shuffling closer to where the three of us are bunched together.

“So what if I am?” I finally answer, “Aren’t you all whipped for him, too?”

“Oh, you have no idea,” Jimin mumbles into my shoulder.

My mind explodes.

“She’s not ready for that yet, Jiminie,” Jin giggles, “I’m pretty sure she’s still half convinced I worship Satan in the basement.”

“Well, I wasn’t before, but now I am,” I jokingly eye Seokjin up and down with an amused smile.

He grins back at me. I melt. And he knows it.

“Can I kiss you?” Jin asks, the slightest smirk curving his lips, a look of hunger burning in his gaze, like he could just eat me up, “Please?”

I swallow and his eyes latch onto the movement of my throat.

Before I can reconsider, I remove myself from my sitting position against the wall, much to Jimin and Yoongi’s dismay, and straddle Jin’s lap, immediately capturing his lips with my own.

The effect is instantaneous. Various groans echo around me as Jin smiles against my mouth. His hands find their way under my sweatshirt and squeeze my hips, dragging my body even closer against his.

The way Jin kisses is life-ruining in its unhurried, yet passionate deliberateness. He kisses me like he’s claiming me, and the possessiveness of his actions send a ripple of excitement through my body. Releasing my mouth, he works his way down the length of my exposed neck, and I gasp in response.

Suddenly, I feel another pair of hands twine around my body from behind as Hobi pleads into my ear, “Can I kiss you, too, (y/n)?”

I nod wordlessly, wondering what I did in my past life to deserve such affection in this one.

“No fair,” I vaguely hear Jimin pouting, “I want to kiss noona.”

“We’ll have our turn, Jiminie,” Yoongi’s voice causes a shudder of anticipation to race down my spine.

“Oh, she likes that idea,” Jin laughs, obviously having felt the tremor that shot though me in response to Yoongi’s suggestion, “Come get a taste.”

“Only if that’s what she really wants,” Yoongi says, meeting my eyes, “Don’t feel pressured to do anything you don’t feel comfortable with, kitten.”

“Kitten?” I growl, eyes narrowed sharply in his direction.

“Yep,” Yoongi’s answering smirk is slow and antagonizing, “All cute and cuddly with a hint of claws.”

“I’ll show you claws,” I say darkly, getting up, “Stand up.”

Yoongi’s eyebrows raise in surprise, “Why?”

“I won’t ask again,” I move closer to him and Jimin.

Yoongi pulls himself to his feet, acting like it was the most physical activity he’d ever done.

When he’s finally done with the dramatics, I move closer until he’s backed right up against the wall, “Min Yoongi, I’m going to shut you up now.”

His breath stutters as I slowly move my mouth closer to his. “Please do—” I cut him off.

Kissing Yoongi is just as intoxicating as kissing Jin, but in a different way. Yoongi tastes like soju and spearmint. His body melts under my touch, completely fine with letting me lead. An idea springs to mind and I slide my hand into his hair and tug lightly. He jolts with a moan.

Bingo. I smirk before kissing him deeper. My other hand winds around him to scratch my nails down his back. This time, I’m awarded with a small whine.

The fact that I’m wrecking this boy is simultaneously wrecking me. That impact doubles when I feel a small hand begin to wind its way up my calf towards my thigh. Tearing my mouth away from Yoongi, I open my eyes to see Jimin smiling up at me, “Can you kiss me like that, too, (y/n)-noona?”

“Why couldn’t you wait your turn, Jiminie,” Yoongi sulks adorably, sensing that my resolve against any request from Jimin was nonexistent.

“Well, aren’t you supposed to be showing me the perks of dating multiple people?” I joke, “Jin and Hobi just shared. Can’t you two?”

Jimin springs up off the floor faster than anyone I’ve ever seen, “Yes! We can share!”

“Good,” I reply, turning in Yoongi’s arms so that my back is pressed against him. He hisses in a breath. “Come here, Jiminie,” I open my arms to the eager boy who all but leaps into them.

“You’re so beautiful, noona,” Jimin sighs, pupils dilated, tongue darting out to lick his bottom lip.

“So are you, baby,” I sigh, bringing a hand up to brush his cheek fondly, “So are you.”

I kiss Jimin gently, treasuring the feel of his plump lips against my own. I trace the tip of my tongue over his bottom lip and his mouth opens in a silent gasp. I use the chance to slip my tongue inside to twine with his.

Through my thoroughly fucked-out haze, I feel Yoongi’s hands settle onto my hips, grinding me slowly against his crotch. I moan into Jimin as Yoongi’s mouth sucks on the side of my neck, surely for the sole reason of marking me.

“Well, shit, JK,” Taehyung’s voice shatters the bubble of pleasure I had been residing within in the middle of four beautiful men. My eyes flutter open to take in the sight of Taehyung holding a box of pizza and a case of beer, with Jungkook right behind him. “Looks like the party started without us.”

Chapter Five

Taehyung’s Room, BTS House - 11:57pm

“Well, shit, JK. Looks like the party started without us.”

An hour ago, I would have shoved Jimin off of me and shimmied out of Yoongi’s hold. But, now? I definitely am in too deep to back down from Taehyung.

“Hmm,” I make a show of pushing my hips slightly against Yoongi’s as I turn to face Taehyung and Jungkook more fully, “Yes, it did. And you know why? Because you weren’t invited.”

Yoongi chuckles into my neck as my words detonate and land on Taehyung, who gapes in disbelief. “Don’t piss her off, Tae,“ I feel Yoongi’s grin against my neck before he places a quick kiss behind my ear.

“Yeah, Tae,” I taunt, “Don’t piss me off.”

“We leave for ten minutes. Ten! And she’s already got you like this?” Taehyung stomps over to his bed and sits in a huff, "Can I at least get a kiss, too?”

"Oh, I don’t think so,” I purr, “You see, only good boys get kisses.” Turning to Jungkook, I smile wickedly when I’m met with the cutest wide-eyed stare complete with bottom lip sucked behind his two front teeth.

“Jungkookie,” I shake Jimin and Yoongi off me and slowly turn to face the youngest, “Have you been a good boy?”

He nods frantically and gulps when my hand slips up his black t-shirt. “I’m so happy to hear that.”

“D-do I get a kiss, noona?” He asks in the tiniest voice imaginable.

“Oh, this is ridiculous!” Kim Taehyung rages from his four-poster bed, “Jungkook was just thirsting over you in the hallway!”

“Shut the fuck up, Kim,” Jungkook growls, muscles bunching under my touch. I bite back a grin over how the boy’s duality really jumps out when he’s provoked.

“Hmm, is that so, Kookie?” My hand glides into his hair at the nape of his neck to pull his gaze back to mine, “Tell me what you said, and I might still let you have a kiss.”

“What?” Taehyung cries.

“At this rate, she’s not going to touch Taehyungie for 84 years.” I hear Hoseok say, snickering. Seokjin’s squeaky laughter and Jimin’s high-pitched giggles ensue. I’m also almost certain I hear Yoongi let out a low chuckle.

“Tell me,” I order Jungkook, who immediately caves like a house of cards during an earthquake.

“I j-just said that you were cute-”

"Bullshit!”

Jungkook shoots a livid glare over my shoulder at the blue-haired boy, “And, I said that I wanted to p-play with your nipple piercings… That I bet they make you look even prettier, noona. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, baby,” I say, stroking his reddened cheeks, “You know what? I think I just might let you.”

“Really?” Jungkook looks like his birthday had arrived early.

“Really!?” Taehyung sounds like his birthday had been cancelled indefinitely.

“Really,” I confirm, whipping off my hoodie. The various curses and groans reach my ears as I toss the hoodie right at Taehyung’s slack-jawed face.

“Fuck, baby,” Seokjin hisses a breath through his teeth, "You weren’t wearing a bra this whole time?”

“Huh?” I glance down only to be greeted by my bare skin, “Oh, shit.”

“You came here. To this house. Without a bra?” A commanding voice sounds from the doorway, “Oh, babygirl, that’s a dangerous move.”

I face Namjoon, with my hands on my hips, nipples shamelessly pointed straight at him, “Dangerous? For me or for you?”

He cracks a slow smile, “Both.” God, he looks to die for tonight - black cargo-pants, tight black t-shirt, black boots. My eyes latch onto the silver chain clasped around his neck and wonder if he’d let me pull him closer with it.

An impatient hand tugs on mine. “N-noona, will you still let me touch you?” Jungkook diverts my attention from the depths of Namjoon’s dark eyes.

“Of course, Kookie,” I link my fingers through his and turn to address the problematic king on the bed, “Taehyung, move over.”

A flicker of hope sparks in Tae’s eyes as he immediately shifts to make room. I make my way over to the bed, dragging Jungkook with me.

“Jungkook, sit with your back against the headboard,” I turn to Taehyung, “You, no touching.”

“But-!”

“You’re lucky I’m even letting you stay,” I shoot him a glance, inwardly cursing at how tempting he looks sprawled out and gazing hungrily at me. Why did he have to be so insufferable?

Shifting to look at the boy practically bouncing on the bed with anticipation, I smile, “Can I sit on your lap, Jungkook?”

"Fuck yes,” he breathes out, tongue darting to wet his lower lip.

A completely diabolical and sadistic idea pops into my brain. I slowly walk to the foot of the bed. The room quiets as I lean forward and climb on the bed. On all fours, I slowly crawl towards Jungkook, holding eye-contact.

He swallows hard, eyes darting every so often to my chest. Finally, I settle onto his lap and smile victoriously at the thick bulge I feel there.

“So unfair,“ Jungkook sighs, tilting his head back with his eyes squeezed shut, "You make me so hard, (y/n)-noona.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” the corners of my mouth quirk into a small smile, “Now, do you want to play with me? Or should I ask someone else?”

Jungkook’s mouth latches onto my left nipple and sucks. His hand moves up my back and then eases around my body to cup my other breast in his hold. I jolt as he pinches my nipple without warning, a surge of pleasure swells from deep within me.

“Mmm, Jungkook,” I hum and grind my hips down onto his, craving more friction. His tongue swirls around my piercing, and my breath catches.

“Fuck,” I hear one of the boys choke out.

My eyes shoot open in search of the source and widen once I find it. Namjoon’s head is thrown back as Jimin kisses and sucks on his neck. Namjoon’s eyes remain heatedly on me as he murmurs, “Such a good boy.” Jimin and I both shiver as Namjoon’s words drip like honey off his tongue.

“Now, Jiminie,” Namjoon latches a hand through Jimin’s pink hair and tugs him away from his neck. The younger boy pouts. Namjoon ignores him, continuing, “Why don’t we show (y/n) how Kook likes to be kissed?”

At the mention of his name, Jungkook ceases his worshipping and whines, “Hyung, that’s not fair!”

“Not fair?” Taehyung’s indignant cry is immediate, “You just had (y/n)’s nipple in your mouth,  and you think this is unfair?” I look over at the irate boy, who looks thoroughly wrecked despite not having even been touched. His light blue hair is a mess, red bandana long since removed. One ring-adorned hand is pressed solidly over the bulge in his jeans. The other is thrashing wildly in the air as he articulates his point.

“Taehyung,” Namjoon growls, “Enough.”

Taehyung wisely shuts up.

A timid knock breaks the tense silence. “Hey, Pres?” A hesitant voice calls through the solid wood, “We have a situation downstairs.”

“God-fucking-damnit,” Namjoon curses and turns to me, “(y/n), baby, I have to go deal with this.”

I shrug and reach for my discarded sweatshirt next to Taehyung, “I should get going anyway. My friends are probably waiting for me.”

“But Noona!” Jungkook’s grip tightens on my hips as I tug on my top, “When will we get to see you again?”

“Jungkook, honey, this campus is only so big. Besides, you all have my SnapChat.” I cock my head, “How did you get that by the way?”

“Well, would you look at the time!” Jin lurches to his feet, “I need to go get ready for bed.”

“Kim Seokjin, I swear to god,“ I shimmy off of a pouting Jungkook, "If you step one toe out that door, I will burn your plushie collection.”

“Yah,” he exclaims, “How do you know that I even have plushies?”

I shoot him a deadpan expression and point to one of the many pictures of Seokjin on Tae’s walls. This particular Polaroid displays a sleeping Jin amongst a plethora of plushies that all seem to be the same alpaca of some sort.

“Taehyungie, you little shit!” Jin sprints to the photo and tears it from the wall. Shoving the picture in the culprit’s face, Jin rants, "When did you take this? Why did you take this?”

“Last week,” Tae answers and shrugs, looking thoroughly unapologetic, “I thought you looked cute.”

Jin huffs, “Well, that’s a given.” He turns to me, “Please leave my babies out of this.”

“Don’t worry, big boy,” I grin up at his handsome face, “I’ll just think of something else… something much, much worse.”

He purses his full lips in a mock-pout. I melt. “Aw, you’re so cute.” I reach up and squish his cheeks together.

“Don’t fall for it, (y/n)!” Hoseok yells, spurring yet another argument amongst the boys.

“Honestly,” I shake my head in bewilderment, “How do y’all even successfully date?”

“I ask myself that every damn day,” Min Yoongi smiles up at me from the floor.

Before I can respond, another knock sounds at the door. “Come on, baby,” Namjoon reaches a hand out towards me, “I’ll walk you down.”

I accept his hand and stare as it completely envelops my own. Namjoon sees my attention and gives my hand a quick squeeze.

“Alright,” I call over my shoulder to the rest of the group, “I’ll see y’all around, I guess?”

I’m faced with six grown-ass babies with varying degrees of puppy-dog eyes.

“Remember to think about what we said, noona!” Jimin begs, “Consider going out with us, okay?”

“I’m not likely going to forget that seven dudes asked me to date them,” I smile wickedly, “That only happens to me occasionally.”

With that, I walk out the door with Namjoon and revel in the chaos I left behind me.

“Occasionally?” Hoseok cries.

“I’m going to do some recon. These rivals must be eliminated.” Yoongi seethes.

“Noona wouldn’t pick another group over us, right?” Jungkook pauses, “Oh my god, she would.”

Namjoon slams the door behind us and laughs, “You’re such an instigator.”

“You right,” I nod.

Namjoon and I trail down the hallway after the jittery pledge who had interrupted us. Descending the staircase, I survey the crowd below and fail to notice anything that would qualify as a ‘situation’.

Namjoon seems to agree. “Eric, if you dragged me down here for no reason, getting an infraction will be the least of your worries…”

Eric the pledge gulps, “Pres, I swear, they’re outside.” His gaze shifts to me for a split second before returning to Namjoon, “They said they aren’t leaving until they speak to one of you. Alone.”

I huff, “I can take a hint, Eric. This is obviously ‘frat business’ or whatever.” Namjoon hides a smile behind his hand at my use of air quotes, and I do not appreciate him finding my annoyance humorous. I shoot him a murderous stare before locating Luna and Jenni from across the room.

“Bye, Joon,” I salute him and turn to head towards my friends. I barely make it one step before his hand catches my wrist.

His mouth brushes my ear as he says softly, “I’ll see you tomorrow, baby.” He gives my hand a squeeze and then disappears into the crowd with Eric.

Goddamnit. I had forgotten about volunteering. These boys are slowly but surely infiltrating my life, and I’m not at all sure on how I feel about it. My feet drag across the room until I reach my friends.

“Ready to go?” Luna questions, linking her arm through mine.

“Ready to be interrogated?” Jenni smiles evilly, assessing the mess that I am.

“Yes and no,” I groan, pulling them both outside. Starting our trek home, I field questions from both my friends. Somewhere far behind us, a girl shrieks something about being lettered, and I thank the stars that someone else has drama besides me…

(Y/n) & Luna’s Apartment – 8:45am

The infuriating sound of my phone vibrating with a number of incoming texts jolts me awake. Who the fuck dares to wake me up before my alarm? I grab my phone from its resting position on my nearby nightstand and almost fall out of my bed in the process.

“I’ll kill him,” I mutter darkly as I read the name displayed across my screen. It radiates an offensive mix of terrible grammar and narcissism.  

Worldwide Handsome 3 New Messages

“This better be fucking good.” My fingers angrily swipe at the notification, opening the messages. I knew exactly who these messages were from. When did that bastard even get to my phone and add his contact information? How did he bypass my password? What kind of sorcery?

Worldwide Handsome 8:45am: “You up, beautiful?” 8:45am: “We’re picking you up in 20!!” 8:46am: “Wear something cute!!!! ;)”

(Y/N) 8:46am: “…Did you say WE???” 8:46am: Also, when and how the fuckity fuck did you get into my phone?” 8:47am: “ACTUALLY, NO – HOW THE FUCK DID YOU GET MY ADDRESS?”

Worldwide Handsome 8:47am: “A magician never reveals his secrets.”

(Y/N) 8:48am: “You are NOT a magician, you dweeb.”

Worldwide Handsome 8:48am: “Abracadabra, bish.”

(Y/N) 8:49am: “I can’t stand you.”

Worldwide Handsome 8:50am: “15 minutes!!!”

(Y/N) 8:50am: “15 minutes until I strangle you with my bare hands!!!”

Worldwide Handsome 8:53am: “Strangle? Sounds kinky… I’m into it.” 8:55am: “I’m bringing you coffee. What kind do you want?”

(Y/N) 8:55am: “Did I say strangle? I meant *hug you tightly and shower you with praise*!!!” 8:56am: “The largest size possible, please! Black.” 8:56am: “I’ll pay you back.”

Worldwide Handsome 8:56am: “That’s more like it!!” 8:56am: “And don’t even think about it… Papa Seokjin provides all.” 8:57am: “See you in 10.”

Egad! I spring out of bed and get dressed at the speed of light, grabbing the nearest t-shirt and pair of jeans. Shoving my feet into my trusty work-boots, I stumble into the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth.

‘Man, I look rough today’ is the first thought that pops into my brain as I look in the mirror; but I quickly correct that bad thought with: ‘Bitch, you look fine. Stop hating.’

Ever since I learned about cognitive restructuring in my Behavioral Psychology class, I have been attempting to practice it in my own life. The process of challenging my negative thoughts has been so fucking hard, but it’s definitely helped my self-esteem and stress.

Throwing my hair into a messy bun, I hear my phone buzz. Shit, that must be Seokjin. Who even knew why that fucker had decided to come along to volunteering with Namjoon and me. I wasn’t going to turn down an extra set of hands though… For volunteering purposes, of course.

Six subsequent buzzes demand my attention.

Worldwide Handsome 9:08am: “We’re here.” 9:09am: “Get your sweet ass out here.” 9:09am: “You better not have fallen back asleep…” 9:09am: “Don’t make me come in there!” 9:10am: “If you aren’t down here in 30 seconds, I’m drinking your coffee.” 9:10am: “(Y/N).” 9:10am: “THAT’S IT. SAY GOODBYE TO YOUR COFFEE.”

That last text has my ass in high gear as I book it down the steps and out the front door. Barely remembering to lock it behind me, I come to an abrupt halt as I come face to face with an all-too-put-together-for-9am Seokjin.

He leans against Namjoon’s infuriatingly gorgeous black Tesla looking like he’s about to shoot a cover for Men’s Health – Construction Edition. My eyes narrow in on the large coffee cup in his hand and narrow further when he slowly brings it up to his full lips.

“I wouldn’t do that,” I warn.

He sips it.

“You’ve just declared war,” I announce and stride over to him. Attempting to pull the coffee out of his palm and failing, I decide to take drastic measures.

Slowly rising to my toes, I act as if I’m going to kiss his cheek; but at the last second, I turn and bite his earlobe.

“What the fuck!” Seokjin yells way too loudly for the peaceful early morning. Victoriously, I grab my coffee, back away from him, and take a giant sip.

Yes, that sweet, sweet caffeine…

Seokjin rubs his ear and laughs slightly, “Babe, you’re really fucking scary before coffee.”

I nod in affirmation.

“Come on,” he gestures to his car and opens the passenger door for me, “Namjoon will have my ass on a platter if I take too much of your attention, and I know you’ll be heartbroken by the loss of such perfection.”

“You’re insufferable,” I reply, fighting a smile and losing.

“I know,” he grins and leans over the open car-door between us to kiss me. “Morning,” he murmurs in greeting against my lips.

I smile and kiss him again in reply. And then I remember my coffee.

Seokjin pouts at the loss of my lips as I take a cherished sip of the best part of my morning.

As I slide into the front seat, I hear him muttering about how he never should have bought that coffee. Grinning to myself, I buckle my seatbelt and look around the Tesla. Namjoon smiles at me from the driver’s seat, and I automatically swoon under the power of his dimples.

“Buckled?” he asks, as he adjusts the mirrors and flicks on the Bluetooth radio. The distinct sound of Kendrick Lamar fills the air. I nod and watch as he puts the car in drive, his muscles flexing.

His right hand extends across the console to rest on my left thigh and gives it a quick squeeze. I’m thoroughly distracted as I fixate on the hand that has now taken up residence on my leg.

“Hi, noona!” A chorus of two cries from the backseat. My body jolts.

“Ah! Stop, I could’ve dropped my coffee!” I steady my drink before turning to investigate the backseat that I had mistakenly (READ: tragically) thought would be empty. Taehyung and Jimin grin back at me from the seats beside Jin.

“Well, why didn’t you just bring everyone,” I drawl, raising an eyebrow at Namjoon, who just sighs in defeat.

“I mean… I kind of did,” he aims a glare through the rearview mirror, “I’m taking these losers, and Jungkook, Hobi and Yoongi are meeting us there. They refused to miss spending ‘quality time’ with you.”

“I’m going to kill someone,” I mutter under my breath, “Probably Taehyung.”

“At least wait until we exit the vehicle, please,” Namjoon chuckles, “I just got new seats.”

Habitat Worksite – 9:25am

When we finally arrive at the worksite, we step out of the car and head over to where Eddie is currently handing out tasks to different volunteers. I smile at a few familiar faces I see as we draw closer.

“(Y/n)-doll!” Eddie booms and walks over to greet us, “Came here with this one, did ya? And who are these boys?” He gestures towards my harem.

“Yes, sir,” Namjoon grins, quite unbothered by Eddie’s papa bear act, “A couple that carpools together stays together. Go green!”

I shake my head at his idiocy as Eddie splutters to come up with a response. “Don’t listen to him, Eddie. He’s full of shit. We are all just friends. Now, what can we help with today?”

“Yes,” Eddie clears his throat, shooting Namjoon dark look, “(y/n), I need you out front to help me orient a group of volunteers scheduled for one of those work retreat days…”

Fuck. The last group that I helped orient was a nightmare. They were supposedly here for a day of service and team-building, but all they did was fuck around and fuck up the siding. The men in the group refused to listen to my instructions on how to properly do things.

According to their mouthy ringleader, the fact that I had a pair of tits and a vagina made me incapable of knowing the tiniest bit of information about construction, whereas their dicks apparently came with an encyclopedia of knowledge on the subject.

I had almost decked him in the face, but I settled for placing a nice call to his place of employment later that day with an unsavory report on his behavior.

Eddie notices my glowering face and quickly looks away, “Namjoon, I need you to help out Matt and Paul inside to mix and pour some cement. The rest of you can follow me.”

The boys all give varying answers of agreement.

“Grab some gloves and glasses, you two. (Y/n), meet me back out front. Namjoon, Matt and Paul are already inside. They’ll show you the ropes.”

With that, Eddie beelines away from us before I can protest my assigned role. Seokjin, Jimin and Taehyung trail sadly behind him, shooting jealous glances over their shoulders at Namjoon.

Namjoon ignores them and eyes my homicidal expression. He cautiously asks, “What’s wrong?”

“The goddamn patriarchy is what’s wrong, Kim,” I grit out through my clenched teeth and stalk towards the supply trailer.

“Well, I can’t argue with that,” he trails after me, “My mom says that toxic masculinity always ruins the party.”

“God, I love her,” My mood elevates instantly, “Please marry me so I can be her daughter-in-law.”

He laughs, looking through the bin of gloves for a pair large enough for him while handing me a smaller pair. “Where’s my ring?”

“You already have like seven rings. Pull an Ariana and give some away,” I hand him a pair of protective glasses, keeping one for myself. “Anyway, please don’t forget that you’re my ride and leave without me.”

“Forget? Babe, you’ve taken up permanent residence in my mind since Tae pointed you out last semester.”

“Oh, stop,” I dismiss him, waving the pair of gloves in his direction.

He suddenly steps into me. The my small of my back hits the edge of the makeshift work desk latched to the trailer wall. “You know, I’ve noticed you really don’t take some of our compliments seriously…” He looms over me, lips pressed to my throat, “I guess I’m gonna have to change that.”

Namjoon scoops me off the floor by my waist and balances my ass on the edge of the desk. My arms circle his shoulders on instinct and his grip tightens on my hips. When he glances down at me, he lets out a rough breath which sounds like I’m torturing him.

He kisses me, his tongue playing with mine, twining around it, enticing mine to follow. Gravity tries to drag me down off the desk and our mouths separate. Namjoon hoists me up higher with a firm hand on the back of my thigh.

His mouth slams back over mine, and I swear the way he kisses can be felt all the way down to my bones. His wide palm curves around my waist, pulling me further into him. “Damn,“ he pants, resting his forehead on mine.

BANG. A knock sounds from outside the trailer, “You better not be up to no good in there, you two!” Eddie’s rumbling voice jolts us apart and my head snaps against the wall of the trailer.

A series of obscenities pours from my mouth as I grasp the back of my head. “You good?” Namjoon asks as he lifts me off the desk and back onto the floor.

“I’ll live… barely,” I lament.

He just shakes his head in amusement, “So dramatic, babe. Come on, let’s go do some service.”

Chapter Six

Habitat Worksite – 11:25am

The rest of the morning goes by pretty smoothly much to my surprise. The group that I help Eddie orient is from a pub in the neighboring town. They’re so much nicer than the last scarring group I had to deal with, and they’re actually listening to my directions.

I’m pretty sure I have tears in my eyes as I supervise them cutting plywood like professionals – but that could just be the sawdust.

When I become confident that no one is going to injure themselves with the power saw, I recruit some other volunteers to help me transfer the cut wood inside.

As we walk into the house, I almost drop the plywood onto my foot. Jungkook is shirtless, mixing cement together. When had he even arrived? I stare unabashedly at him – The height. The build. The broad shoulders. The veined forearms. The ridged stomach. The tattoos…

Tay, the middle-aged mother of two helping me, follows my line of vision, “Oh my… please tell me you’re hitting that, darling.”

“Tay!” I hiss, my eyes darting around to see if anyone heard her. Sure enough, Jungkook is looking at us and smirking like he was just crowned king of the fucking universe. “I am not hitting anything, thank you very much.”

She makes a derisive noise, “I might be old, but I’m not blind. He’s looking at you like you’re the best thing since sliced bread.”

Jungkook hands off his mixing duties to Matt and saunters over to us, “Hey, noona. You look nice today. Do you need any help?”

“Not hitting that, my ass,” Tay mutters and shoots me a triumphant look as she walks back outside.

I roll my eyes at her antics and turn to Jungkook, “Hi, Kookie. What happened to your shirt?”

Jungkook blushes, “I may have taken it off, and then it may have fallen into the cement.”

My eyes wander around the room until they fall on a sad lump of fabric and semi-dried cement in the corner. My lips twitch.

“Noona-a,” Jungkook whines, “Don’t laugh!”

My body doubles over, shaking with laughter. Tears stream down my face as I try in vain to catch my breath.

“Is she okay?” I vaguely hear Hobi ask before I feel his hand run soothing circles on my back, “(y/n), are you crying?”

I straighten, wiping my tears, “H-he… cemen-nt… sh-shirt…” My cackles resume.

“She’s lost it, hasn’t she?” Yoongi enters the house with eyebrows raised, “It was only a matter of time. Jungkook has that effect on people.”

“Hyung!” Jungkook punches Yoongi in the arm.

“Am I wrong, Hobi?” Yoongi turns to the other boy, who’s hand is still firmly on my back.

Hoseok shoots Yoongi a dirty look, “Don’t drag me into this. The last time I tried to argue with the two of you I almost got a concussion.”

Jungkook smirks, looking way too pleased to receive such an accusation, “I seem to recall you liking it, Hobi-hyung. What was it you were screaming?”

Yoongi snickers as he leans into Jungkook, effectively teaming up on poor Hobi, “I believe the phrase was ‘harder, oh my god, harder!’” He and Jungkook collapse onto each other in fits of laughter as Hoseok turns an amusing shade of magenta.

I turn to face Hobi. “Is that how you like it?” I murmur, tilting my head to stare up at him, “You like it hard? Rough?”

Hobi swallows as his pupils dilate. His hand on my lower back suddenly clenches, crumpling my shirt within his fist. “Yes,” his voice comes out deeper than I had ever heard it.

Vaguely, I notice the other two boys have stopped laughing. Good. No one would tease my sweet Hobi in front of me and get away with it.

My decision solidifies. “Well,” I say, “Then that’s how I’ll give it to you.”

“No one will be giving anything to anyone until we finish this project,” Namjoon’s voice booms, breaking up your little moment with Hoseok.

The four of you swing to face him, blinking owlishly.

Namjoon’s eyes are shut as he pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration, “Jeon Jungkook, for the love of god, where is your shirt?”

An hour later, I found myself stuck in the backseat of Jungkook’s black Range Rover. After Hobi, Yoongi, and Jungkook had loudly voiced their opinion in front of the entire worksite that it was their turn to drive me, I had quickly jumped into the car to avoid further humiliation.

Now, I sat wedged in between Hobi and Yoongi who both refused to sit in the front next to Jungkook and also forbade me from doing so. I only agreed because I was not one to miss an opportunity to be pressed up between two hot guys. Sue me.

Glancing down at my thighs, I marvel at the way both of the boys have placed possessive hands on them. “This is so lame,” Jungkook complains for the hundredth time as he glances at the three of us in the rearview mirror. “I want to touch noona, too!”

We ignore him.

Yoongi’s slim fingers dig in slightly into the softness of my inner thigh, “(y/n),” his hushed words ghost over my neck, “Come home with us?”

“Please,” Hobi echoes from my other side. His hand is more brazen in its placement. His pinky just a fraction away from the apex of my thighs.

Perhaps I could close my legs like the proper lady my grandma wanted me to be… but fuck that. I would woman-spread however I damn well please. “Hmm,” I pretend to think about it, “No.”

“But why?” Hobi pouts, making puppy-dog eyes in my direction, “You said you were going to give it to me.”

I shrug, noncommittally, “I never said when.”

Jungkook sighs from the driver’s seat, “Ah, I love it when noona is evil.”

“We fucking know, Jungkook,” Yoongi groans, “You only bring it up a thousand times a day.”

“Hey!” Jungkook whirls around in his seat, “Stop exposing me, hyung!”

“Eyes on the damn road, JK!” Hobi grips the 'oh shit’ bar as the car begins to veer into the bike lane. Jungkook whips back around and quickly rights the car. Meanwhile, Yoongi smirks like the little shit starter he is.

“Looks like I’m not the only evil one here,” I roll my eyes, “You’re a menace, Min Yoongi.”

“Yes, I am,” the boy puffs up his chest and grins that gummy smile that he knows makes me melt, “But I’m your menace.”

“Ah, gross!”

“Ew!”

Jungkook and Hobi yell as I try not to smile at Yoongi’s rare display of cuteness and fail miserably.

“Stop trying to butter me up so that I’ll come home with you, Yoongs,” I smile and thread my fingers through his.

“Why?” He leans into me, “Is it working?”

“Not at all,” I breathe, eyes darting to his lips as his tongue slips out to wet them.

“Liar,” Yoongi moves in closer. My eyelids lower in anticipation.

Jungkook slams on the breaks and jolts the three of us forward, “We’re here!” Grumbling, I pull my seatbelt away from its death grip on my body.

“Well played, Jungkook, well played,” Yoongi comments from beside me.

“Tell that to my fucking neck,” Hobi moans as he massages the front of his neck where his seatbelt must have dug in.

“Aw,” I take pity on the poor boy and offer half-jokingly, “Want me to kiss it better?”

“YES!” Hobi’s hand flies off his neck at the speed of light and thrusts his neck out in my direction.

Jesus, Mary and Joseph, he is adorable.

I place the lightest of kisses against the growing pink mark on his skin and revel in the shudder his body emits.

“Bye, Hobi,” I place one last kiss on him and slide out of the car, using the door that Yoongi vacated from.

“Bye, angel!” Hobi cries out after me, waving furiously. So damn adorable.

Once I exit the car fully, I am faced with a pouting Jungkook and an annoyed-looking Yoongi.

“What now?” I eye them warily.

Yoongi gives Jungkook a dark look, and the younger boy backs off slightly. Turning back to me, Yoongi steps forward. “Bye, (y/n),” he says lowly, brushing a fallen strand of hair behind my ear. A light dusting of pink floods his cheeks at his own soft actions. I bite the inside of my cheek to contain my innate reaction to shower him with affection.

That time would come later, I’m sure.

“Bye, Yoongi,” I press my mouth his cheek, “Keep your menacing ways to a minimum while I’m not around, would you?”

“No promises,” Yoongi drawls, before hopping back into the car.

And just like that I’m left with one tall bashful boy.

“Oh, Jungkook…” I walk towards where he is propped up against the front of his car. His lean body slouches against the hood as his left leg props itself up on front tire. He still has yet to put another shirt on.

“I’m sorry, noona,” he speaks to the pavement in the tiniest voice, “I got jealous that I wasn’t getting to be that close to you.”

I lift his chin up with my finger, “Baby, you were the only one who had my nipples in your mouth last night, and you’re jealous of them?”

He swallows hard before grinning, “Well, when you put it like that…”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” I give into the urge to trace the muscles of his stomach. They bunch up under my touch and I smile at his responsiveness. “You know,” I continue, “You’re going to have to get over this jealousy thing if I do decide to date you all.”

“I know, noona,” the pout returns, and this time it’s paired with a devastating pair of imploring doe eyes. “I just like you. A lot.”

"Well,” I smile, “It’s a good thing that I also happen to like you. A lot.”

“Really?” Jungkook’s neck snaps up at an alarming rate, “You do?”

“Yes, you giant idiot,” I grip the back of his neck, “Now, kiss me goodbye.”

He kisses me. His teeth pull at my bottom lip in a faint bite, and goosebumps spread across my body. I bite him harder in retaliation, but it only seems to urge him closer against me, body hard, warming me everywhere we connect. His fingertips drag down my skin until they reach my waist. His hands slide up under my shirt, and he rests his palms against my skin, fingers splayed down over my hips.

His hold is undeniably possessive. And that would not do.

I lean up and kiss him harder, digging my nails into his back as I tug him against me, feeling every inch of his body respond to my touch. A groan rumbles deep from within his chest.

“Do you think they’re going to come up for air soon?” An amused voice cuts through our make-out session.

Jungkook rips his mouth from mine, “Fuck off, Hobi.”

I open my eyes and blink a couple times before focusing on the smirking faces of Hobi and Yoongi. Their heads are sticking out of the open back window of the Range Rover as they cackle in amusement.

“Hobi,” I say sweetly, “Do you need another mark on your neck today?” My hand flexes tauntingly in his direction.

Hoseok’s eyes widen, “N-no! Bye again, (y/n)!” He retreats back into the car as Yoongi continues to chuckle before rolling up the window once more.

“You can mark my neck, (y/n)-noona.”  Jungkook’s voice jolts me from my second thoughts on not going home with them.

This boy really is shameless, I think to myself as I shake my head.

“Maybe next time, Kook,” I grin at him, “It’ll give you something to look forward to.”

“For as long as there are next times with you, noona, I will look forward to them.”

My heart swells. “You’re such a sweetheart, baby boy.” The nickname has its desired effect as Jungkook’s cheeks blush and his smile widens.

“I’m baby,” he nods.

“Yes, you dork, you are,” I place a swift peck to his cheek and head into my apartment before I get any more tempted to jump back in his car and initiate a foursome.

God, what were these boys doing to me?

(Y/n) & Luna’s Apartment – 4:15pm

A few hours later, I am deep in an argument with Luna over who the best Queer Eye guy is when my phone buzzes.

[Unsaved Number] 2 New Messages

Luna notices my confusion. “Who is it?” she asks, leaning over to look at my screen.

“No fucking clue,” I reply, swiping open the messages.

[Unsaved Number] 4:15pm: “Hey, babe! It’s me! Namjoon!” 4:15pm: “Want to meet at Hannigan’s tonight? Just the two of us!?”

“What the everliving fuck?” My eyebrows rise at the completely obvious way that someone was poorly attempting to impersonate Namjoon.

“That’s how Namjoon texts?” Luna sits back, “What a letdown.”

“I don’t think this is even Namjoon,” I mutter and save the contact before swiping over to SnapChat. “Let’s see if I have this person’s Snap.”

“Oh, your mind!” Luna exclaims, running to go grab a bag of pretzels from our tiny kitchen adjacent to our also tiny living room, “That is some top sleuthing right there.”

“Why thank you, my good sir,” I nod at her playfully before focusing back on my screen. Opening the 'Add Friends’ tab, my eyes immediately hone in on the imposter.

“Oh, that little shit,” I cry, chucking my phone onto the other end of the couch.

“What? Who is it?” Pretzel crumbs spew out of Luna’s mouth as she ambles over to where I had just thrown my phone. She picks it up, turns it over, and lets out a long whistle. “Oh, fuck. What are you going to do?”

Luna hands my phone back to me, and I reopen the messages to respond.

Me 4:21pm: “Hi, Namjoon. I’ll meet you there.” 4:21pm: “9pm.”

It’S mE! nAmJoOn! 4:22pm: “Yay! It’s a date!” 4:22pm: “See you at 9!!!”

“Well,” I lock my phone and set it down on the coffee table, “It looks I’ll finally get the chance to teach Kim Taehyung a lesson.”

Luna springs up from the couch, “I’m calling Jenni. Let’s do this.”

Hannigan’s - 9:09pm

I’m nervous with anticipation.

Why?

Oh, that’s right – motherfucking Kim Taehyung thought he could pull one over me by impersonating Namjoon, and, so far, he’s nowhere to be found.

I grasp my beer tightly as I slouch lower on my barstool. Since arriving about twenty minutes ago, I had set up camp in the corner of the bar. Luna and Jenni had immediately ditched me upon arrival, claiming that they were meeting friends.

I would have believed them if I hadn’t noticed that they just relocated to a table within vision of me and were scouring the room for any signs of Taehyung. I pull out my phone and once again debate texting him.

Fuck it. I’m just about to construct a text when my phone pings with messages from the group chat:

Bee Gang 9:10pm, Luna: “HE’S HERE” 9:10pm, Jenni: “HE LOOKS SOOOO GOOD KSKSKS” 9:11pm, Luna: “HOLY SHIT I THINK HE JUST SAW YOU” 9:11pm, Jenni: “TAEHYUNG IS LOOKING AT YOU LIKE YOU’RE THE HOTTEST THING HE’S EVER SEEN. HE’S GONNA FUCK YOUR SHIT UP I’D BET GOOD MONEY!!!” 9:11pm, Luna: “NAH DUDE *SHE* IS GONNA FUCK UP *HIS* SHIT” 9:12pm, Jenni: “OMG U RIGHT” 9:12pm, (y/n): “1) YOU BOTH SUCK AT HIDING, 2) NO ONE IS FUCKING ANYONE UP, 3) MAYBE THE SECOND THING IS A LIE”

I lock my phone and place it face down on the bar.

Looking up to see where Taehyung is, I immediately lock eyes on him. He’s slowly making his way towards me with people constantly pausing him to chat. Taehyung’s all smiles, but I can tell he is a bit annoyed. That strikes me as odd – I thought he loved the attention?

The boy emerges free from the crowd, and I finally get to take him in.

Damn, he does look so good. His tight white t-shirt emphasizes his toned stomach while his overlying black leather jacket makes his shoulders look a mile wide. My gaze drops lower and take in his black pants with a black belt cinching the waist. I have to fight the urge to grab it and use it to pull him into me.

He’s almost to me when he turns his gaze to the bartender and flicks up two fingers. And just like that two beers and an annoying but hot-as-sin man appear in front of me.

“You don’t look surprised to see me,” he says as his greeting, sliding me one of the new beers. He shoots a look at the group of boys occupying the stools next to me and they immediately make themselves scarce.

I arch an eyebrow, “You do realize I had all of your SnapChats to double check the number with, right?”

“God-fucking-damn,” Taehyung plops down in the barstool next to mine, “No wonder it was so easy to convince Joon to let me do this.” He shakes his head and glances up at me beneath his blue fringe, “You still came? Even though you knew it was me?”

I roll my eyes at his cute actions, “Yes, I figured you had something important to say if you went through all that to get me here.”

He blinks, clearly still caught off guard that I wasn’t surprised to see him. “I do,” His voice cracks and he flushes deliciously, “I mean, yes, I have something to say.”

“Okay,” I nod and sip from my beer, “So, tell me.”

His fingers fiddle with the label on his beer bottle as he begins, “I know I’m not your favorite person… I’m loud. I’m bratty. I know that. But I just have to know if you felt anything that night last semester; because, I did, and I can’t stop thinking about it. I know that you probably haven’t. It’s been killing me to see you with everyone else that I love, and I just need to know if there’s a chance you might want to be with me like that, too, and-”

I clamp a hand over his mouth. His eyes snap to mine.

“Baby,” I sigh, “Is this what’s been making you act out?”

Taehyung’s head bobs as he nods swiftly.

“Now, that just won’t do,” I murmur, my mind whirring as I think of all the times I had thought he wanted to annoy me when all he really wanted was my attention.

“Listen,” I continue, pulling my hand from his mouth, “I don’t know where you got those ideas stuck in your head from, but they’re wrong. I do think about that night last semester. All the fucking time, Tae. And, yes, you’re loud, and you have a tendency to be a brat… But, it only makes me more interested.”

Taehyung’s eyes burn into mine as I lean closer, “It only makes me want to teach you some discipline.”

I watch as Taehyung’s knuckles go white as he clenches his beer. Concerned that the glass might shatter in his grip and hurt him, I slowly place my hand over his, “Relax, baby.”

“You can’t just say things like that, noona!” Taehyung moans, shifting in his seat.

“And why not?” I tease as he takes a long sip of his beer with his head tilted back and his throat muscles moving in a way that made me want to do bad things.

I blink, “You know what? Forget it. Let’s just start over, okay?”

Taehyung bites his lip, “Okay, sure.” He gestures to the bartender for another round, “Let’s play a game.”

My response is automatic. “Alright, Jigsaw. What kind of game?”

“Just a nice harmless game of ‘Never Have I Ever’, (y/n). Nothing untoward, I promise.”

My eyes narrow at his way-too-innocent smile and his archaic use of ‘untoward’. “Fine,” I arch an eyebrow, “But I have a few stipulations.”

“I would be disappointed if you didn’t, noona,” he scoots his stool closer to me, “Lay ‘em on me.”

Oh, I will, my inner hoe responds.

Out loud, I reply, “The game can be stopped at any time, and you have to explain your answers if the other person asks.”

“Done,” he grins, “Never have I ever gotten my nipples pierced.”

“That’s targeting!” I exclaim indignantly, “You’ve seen them, you prick.”

“I haven’t tasted them. At least, not yet,” his eyes squint at my boobs which are currently well-covered by a jean jacket. “Jungkook has… That fucker,” he mumbles under his breath.

These boys and their jealousy… I shake my head. How had they managed to stay in a relationship with all of this possessiveness they clearly had going on? It’s truly a mystery.

“My turn,” I grin, “Never have I ever dyed my hair blue.”

“This is really more of a teal-ish green, noona!” Taehyung tries to argue, and I scoff.

“Fine,” he relents and mumbles under his breath, “Should have brought my paint swatches.” After taking a sip of his drink, he switches gears, “Never have I ever wanted to date a frat boy?”

I sip my drink. He immediately demands clarification. I grin, “Those EXO boys are fine.”

His jaw clenches. Ooh, he does not like that answer.

“EXO?” he snarls, “Over my dead body.”

My eyebrow quirks up, “Well, that’s a bit dramatic. They seem like nice boys.”

“Nice boys?” Taehyung cocks his head, “Noona, those aren’t your type.”

He’s right. I push him further, “And what is my type then, Tae?”

“Boys that challenge you.”

He’s right again, but I’d rather not give him the satisfaction of knowing it. His ego is already inflated enough. I smile inwardly and say, “You think you have me all figured out, Kim.”

Taehyung surprises me as he breaks into a loud laugh, “No, not even close. But I’m a persistent boy so maybe I’ll get there one day.”

Just then I realize how close to one another we’ve gotten. Our sides are touching, and his hand has apparently been gripping my thigh for who knows how long. I stare at it, examining the adorning rings on his pointer and index fingers.

Are those fucking Gucci?

He must notice my gaze on his hand because he squeezes my thigh, and I smily at him. “I wouldn’t hold your breath.”

Taehyung looks at me like I’m something precious, something divine. I want to shatter that image. I want to ruin it. I want to ruin him.

“Taehyung?”

“Yes, noona?”

“Kiss me.” And he does.

Taehyung kisses me over and over. I’m honestly a bit overwhelmed it. His mouth is tender on mine, and with every exhale, he lets out the slightest moan, which almost seems like a plea for more.

He’s gentler than I remember. His mouth is warm and soft; his caresses are leisurely and unhurried.

I pull back slightly to look him in his eyes. They are dazed, unfocused.

My lips brush his ear as I whisper, “Be a good boy and meet me in the bathroom in two minutes.”

With that, I saunter away towards the back bathroom which usually tends to be cleaner due to its slightly hidden nature.

Knocking on the door, I strain my ears for any sign of a reply. Nothing. I enter the dim room and immediately catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror.

My hair is everywhere, and I immediately grab the hair-tie around my wrist.

I pause, a sinful idea coming to mind.

A knock sounds. “Noona?” A deep voice calls, and I open the door, grab Tae by the collar, and tug him inside.

“Noona, you’re feisty tonight I-” I cut him off with my mouth.

I don’t hesitate as my mouth consumes his and my body presses him against the wall. My tongue finds his as my hips grind into him. He whimpers, and it’s such a beautiful sound.

After feeling him throb through his clothes, the thought I had earlier returns.

Stepping back, I grab my hair-tie and tug my hair up into a ponytail. Taehyung whines as I slowly sink to my knees before him, “Jesus, fuck.”

“Is this okay?” I question, gazing up at the beautiful boy above me, “Do you want my mouth, baby?”

“Shit, yeah,” Taehyung wraps my ponytail in his hand and lightly pulls me closer.

Does he think he’s suddenly in charge?

I flick open his belt before tugging his pants down. His cock strains against his silky black boxers and I give into the temptation to suck on it through the fabric.

“F-fuck, please, noona,” the stuttered curse comes from above, and I smile.

I pull his boxers down, grasping his cock and stroking lightly.

And, without warning, I take the head of his cock in my mouth and suck. “Goddamn,” Tae hisses, fingers sliding into my hair. He pulls my hair-tie out and replaces its hold with his fist.

I take him as far as I can, blowing him and stroking the parts of his cock I can’t get to with my mouth.

“Shit, fuck, please,” he begs, looking down at me with wild eyes and a fucked out expression, “Don’t stop, (y/n).”

Stop? Never. The power trip is too delicious.

My mouth bobs on his cock as he bucks, trying to fuck my mouth. My hands grab his ass to control his movements as I slide my mouth off of him.

“Do you want to come in my mouth, baby?” I tilt my head to the side as one of my hands resumes its ministrations.

“Y-yes,” The boy gasps above me, his breath coming in pants, “Please, I’m so close, noona.”

“Hmm, are you going to be my good boy, Taehyung-ie?” My hand halts, and he whines, his hips straining to keep moving in my hand. I squeeze him, “Well?”

“Yes!” He moans, repeating, “I’m your good boy. I’m noona’s good boy.”

“That’s what I thought.” My mouth closes around his cock again and sucks him hard.

“Fuck.” I watch enraptured as Taehyung’s head falls back against the wall, and then he’s coming.

His body convulses above me as I swallow ever last bit of him. After he finishes, I pull my mouth away to kiss the underside of his cock, his balls, the insides of his thighs. Above me, he’s muttering my name like a prayer.

“You can let go of my hair now, Tae,” I laugh, my voice slightly hoarse. Reaching up, I lightly tug his hold from me and slide my discarded hair-tie off of his wrist. Standing, I pull my hair up into a messy bun and turn to face him.

He’s tugging his pants up and staring at me with a darkening expression, his nostrils flared. “Let me taste you, noona. Ride my face.” The tenor of his voice washes over me, tempting me with its rough words.

“You haven’t earned that yet.” I start towards the door, but Taehyung darts in front of it, effectively cutting me off.

“I just want to please you, babe. Come on,” his begging only solidifies my resolve.

“You already have pleased me, Tae,” I swipe a thumb across his cheek as he pouts.

“But I could please you even more with my mouth!”

This boy. I grab his neck lightly, “Listen, baby, I’m going to say this once. When I ride your face, you’ll be tied up across my bed at my mercy. Got it?”

His body becomes pliant under my words and my light grip. I gently shift him out of the way of the exit. “Now, I’m sure I’ll be seeing you soon, my good boy.”

The parting smile I send him is absolutely lethal, and it only grows bigger when I hear him blurt out a grumbled “holy fuck” as I strut away from him.

Chapter Seven

Quinn Library – 3:54pm

The end of September passes in a blur of studying, partying, volunteering, and spending time with friends. The month’s conclusion also includes the increasing presence of seven boys in my everyday routine.

Since giving Taehyung the suck of his life in the bathroom of Hannigan’s, I have been basically fighting off the seven of them for a moment to breathe. But, sometimes breathing is overrated when being smothered by affection.

Going from being single to essentially dating seven people is quite the adjustment. I found myself growing attached to them – something that both excited and scared the shit out of me. We haven’t discussed labels or anything, but I figure it’s only a matter of time. The boys have apparently been planning an elaborate first date for this upcoming weekend, and I feel like they’ll probably ask to make it official then.

My stomach erupts in butterflies at the thought, and I take a calming breath. No need to overthink such things.

While it might be unconventional by some societal standards, polyamory is simply a way to love. Why should love come with confines? With binary expectations? The saying ‘love is love’ gets thrown around a lot, but I believe it bears repeating.

Jenni and Luna have been nothing but supportive to me over the past two weeks. They even came with me to volunteer this past weekend because they - and I quote - wanted to ‘check out our vibe’. But, I wholeheartedly expect that the real reason had actually been for them to feel out the boys’ intentions.

Why did I suspect this? Well, because Jungkook had come up to me within the first fifteen minutes at the worksite quivering in fear over how ‘scary my friends were’ and how ‘Jenni had cornered him to interrogate him while Luna hovered behind her, menacingly holding a nail-gun’.

I had never felt more loved and supported by my friends.

My phone dings, and I quickly hasten to put it on silent, shooting an embarrassed and apologetic look around the library. It seems like most people have headphones in, and I let out a sigh of relief. No one wants to be that one loud person in the library.

Checking my notifications, I smile when I see it’s a SnapChat from Hobi in the group chat the boys created a few weeks ago. My thumb swipes it open, and I barely contain myself from announcing to the whole library how vibrantly handsome one of my potential boyfriends is.

I quickly send a SnapChat back of me and my stack of books in the library with the caption ‘send help in the form of coffee’.

Immediately, Taehyung sends a flurry of heart eyes emojis in the chat, Jungkook sends a ‘noona is so cute’, and Yoongi sends back a picture of a black screen with the caption ‘come nap with me’.

God, I would love to nap with Yoongi right now… Alone time with the older boy is so elusively precious. One day last week at their house, I had mentioned wanting to learn piano. Yoongi had just grabbed my hand and tugged me to his room. We had spent a couple hours together in the small corner of his room playing on his keyboard.

Well, he had been playing; I had been fumbling around like a buffoon - half uncoordinated in general and half flustered by how good Yoongi looked playing. His hands had been so nimble as they flew over the keys, crafting melodies I could only assume he had composed. His focus had been so fucking hot as he nodded slightly along to the tempo in his head, his eyes shooting over to look at me every once in a while.

My hand kink? Activated.

My willpower to not kiss the shit out of Yoongi? Nonexistent.

When Yoongi had paused in between songs, I may or may not have grabbed him by his shirt collar and kissed him. His blushing attempt to dodge me had been so cute; and when I had stopped trying to kiss him, he had pouted and then kissed me instead.

What a cutie…

A giggle draws my attention from my reminiscing. At first, I pay it no mind, taking it as a directive to dive back into my studies. But then, the whispering starts.

“I heard she’s fucking her way through the whole house.”

“Isn’t there a term for that?”

“Yeah, a frat rat.”

I slam my 500-page textbook closed and stand, leveling the duo of gossiping girls with a glare that could make grown men cry. It had before when I had to properly eviscerate my uncle in defense of feminism at our last family gathering. What a time that had been.

“Is there a problem?” I force the question through gritted teeth, stalking over towards their nearby table. I relish in the way they gape at me, eyes wide and pupils quivering, “I’m sorry. I’m afraid my complaint jar is at capacity. Please don’t try again later.”

The girl on the right gulps, “No-nope, there’s no problem! We were just leaving. Right, Janika?”

“No,” The girl who had called me a ‘frat rat’ just moments before crosses her arms and stands, “I do, like, have a problem.”

“Janika,” The other girl tugs on the sleeve of the one standing, “Don’t.”

“Yeah, Janika,” I smile, “Don’t.”

I can see the moment she snaps.

“You’re, like, such a fucking bitch! I don’t know what they all see in you. Oh wait, yes I do. You’re fucking easy.”

I consider myself to be a patient person, but having to endure this type of rant against my character - and against women’s sexual freedom in general - has pushed me well past my limits.

“Now, listen here, Janika,” I take another step forward, “You can keep talking your shit. I really don’t give a flying fuck what you think about me. But I really advise you to google ‘how to stop slut-shaming for dummies’ because it seems like you need a crash course.”

Janika’s face darkens, “Whatever. They���ll get tired of you anyway.”

“Yeah,” I let out an amused laugh, “I’m sure they’ll get real tired of me choking on their dicks every night.”

Letting out a gasp, Janika whirls back around to face her silent friend, “Let’s go. I don’t want to, like, be around her any longer.”

“Buh-bye now,”I wiggle my fingers in their direction as they shuffle out of the library.

Smiling in satisfaction, I head back towards my table. Without hesitation, I gather my books and belongings and head upstairs to the quiet floor. Any more distractions or confrontations would probably make my blood pressure pop off the charts.

The quiet floor, as one of my safe havens, is home to several small private study rooms. Peering into each, I start to lose hope that any would be available. Finally, the very last room proves me wrong, and I swing open the door and almost in tears over the sweet, sweet solitude.

This particular study room is tucked away in the very far corner of the library’s second floor. Not many people are aware of its location, and it seems that paid off for me today. Plopping my things down across the table in the center of the tiny room, I follow suit and drop down into one of the two chairs adjoining the table.

What a clusterfuck of an afternoon… This sadly isn’t the first time I’ve heard some comments being made about my association with the BTS boys, and I knew it wouldn’t be the last. Yet, part of me knew all along that this would be the trade-off.

After all, what are a few irrelevant opinions to seven gorgeous and loyal partners? Inconsequential - in my opinion. That is the reason why I haven’t breathed a word of the backlash to anyone.

Sighing, I flip open my textbook to where I had been before being rudely interrupted.

The amygdala plays a key role in emotion and behavior…

“Noona?”

I jump a half-mile out of my chair, slapping a hand over my pounding heart. Jimin had somehow managed to enter the room without my knowledge. Had he fucking teleported?

Holding a giant iced coffee in one hand and a cinnamon bun in the other, Jimin beams at me and ignores the fact he just scared the living shit out of me. “Hi, noona! I saw your SnapChat while I was in class, and I came here as soon as I could.”

I stare dumbfounded at the angel before me. Jimin is slightly out of breath with reddened cheeks and a sweaty brow. His black track-pants are slung low on his hips, his long-sleeve white t-shirt clings to his torso, his black duffle bag thrown carelessly over one shoulder. He must have run over straight from dance class.

Standing abruptly, I stalk over to where Jimin is still posted up by the doorway to the study room. Toe to toe with him, I blurt out while still half in a daze, “You really brought me coffee and food?”

He eyes me warily like I might suddenly jump on him at any moment. Shifting his weight back and forth, Jimin hesitantly replies, “Um, yes?“

I take the coffee and cinnamon bun from his hands, place them on the table, and then tackle him with the biggest hug. "You absolute sweetheart!” I murmur into the crook of his neck, “This made my day. Thank you, Jimin-ie.”

His hands tentatively wrap around me, pulling me closer. “You’re welcome, noona. I just wanted to do something nice for you.”

“Well, I really appreciate it, baby,” My lips brush over the crevice of his collarbone and relish in his shudder. Bringing my head up to face his, I smile widely at him, “Can I kiss you, Jimin-ie?”

“Yes,” He sighs out, eyes already closing in anticipation. I press my lips to his, still smiling softly against his mouth. His lips are plush under mine, velvety soft. My tongue swipes across his bottom lip and— Is that coffee I taste?

I pull back, “Jimin, did you sip my coffee on your way here?”

The boy looks rightfully alarmed, “I– y-yes. But only a little, noona!”

Cute.

“Hmm,” I trail my fingers down his chest, “I guess I’ll make an exception for you this time since you were the one to bring it for me.”

Jimin relaxes slightly, but his expression is strangely disappointed. I stare at him quizzically, and he blushes.

“What is it?” I lean against the table, facing him.

He clears his throat, staring intensely at the ground, “You can still punish me if you want, (y/n)-noona.”

My eyebrows shoot upwards at his offer, and then I let out a slight chuckle, “Oh, Jimin… That would be a favor to you, wouldn’t it? My baby boy wants to be punished, hm? Did dance practice make you all hot and bothered? Jungkook tells me that has been happening to you lately.”

Jimin’s face explodes in color as he mutters, “That little bitch will pay for this.”

Suddenly, the door swings open with a resounding thud, nearly clipping Jimin in the shoulder.

“Your savior has arrived!” Kim Seokjin announces loudly in spite of the studiously silent atmosphere of the quiet floor. His hands hold two steaming hot travel mugs, which I can only guess are filled with the elixir of the gods (aka coffee).

Seokjin’s eyes glance around the room as he takes in the fact that I’m not alone as he obviously had expected. “Wait, Jimin-ie? What are you doing here?” Jin’s eyes flick down to the coffee and cinnamon roll that lay on the table. “Goddamn it!”

“You were too slow, hyung,” Jimin smirks happily as he takes a seat in the chair I had previously vacated. He slouches smugly as he stares up at the fuming older boy.

“Too slow?!” Jin roars.

“Jin,” I chastise, circumventing around him to shut the door.

“Sorry, babe,” Seokjin says while still glaring daggers at the all-too-pleased Jimin. Suddenly, his expression changes into a sneaky look that makes me both want to run and jump his bones. “Well,” He waves the two coffee mugs around in the air, “I made these myself - with love. I didn’t buy that generic shit; I brewed it, baby.”

It’s Jimin’s turn again to look disgruntled, and I can’t help but laugh at their antics.

“Any and all coffee is appreciated and loved by me – the more the merrier. So, thank you both,” You say, taking one of the travel mugs from Seokjin. Kissing his cheek, you turn back to sit opposite Jimin at the table.

“She kissed me on the lips!” Jimin bursts.

“Park Jimin!” I cry as Jin splutters some sort of incoherent rant about fairness and equality.

Jimin holds eye contact with me, still leaning back in his chair like he’s the king of the fucking universe. But, he’s not; I am.

My chair hits the wall behind me with a bang as I stand, planting my hands on the table to loom over Jimin. “Do you think it’s fun to push your hyung, Jimin? Does it amuse you to be a little shit?”

I can see the moment that Jimin decides to be a brat. His eyes heat up in a challenge, and he firmly answers, “Yes, noona.”

“Get up.” The change in my tone is apparent. Jimin gulps. Getting to his feet, he stares back at me expectantly.

“Jin,” I address the older boy while still maintaining eye contact with Jimin, “What kind of punishment do you think I should give our Jimin here?”

Seokjin rounds my other side, grinning, “Well, (y/n) darling, I believe he should get spanked.”

“Interesting choice,” I murmur, turning to face Jin, “That’s what you’re going to get then.”

“What?” Jin squawks, arms waving rapidly around in the air, “But I didn’t do anything!”

“Nothing is what you should have done, Jin,” I push him against the wall, “You know better than to let Jimin rile you up like this.”

Those plump lips of his pout dramatically as he whines, “But, (y/n)…”

“But nothing,” I say and then whirl around to face the other boy. He’s still standing where I left him with his eyes glued to the pair of us. “Jimin,” I hold his gaze, “You’re going to watch. You’re not going to touch yourself, your hyung isn’t going to touch you, and I’m not going to touch you.”

His eyes widen comically, “No! That’s not fair!”

“Do you want to be gagged, too, baby boy?” I ask, cocking my head slightly. Seeing his emphatic head shakes, I grin. “That’s what I thought. Now, stay.”

Turning back to Jin, I smirk slightly as I ask, “Punishment now or later?”

Seokjin’s eyes scrunch cutely in confusion, “What?”

“You see,” I move closer to him, my body brushes his, “I think you earned a punishment, but I think you also earned helping me punish Jimin.”

A wide grin crosses Jin’s face as he glances back at the corner Jimin is stewing in. “I would be honored to help you punish him, babe.”

“That’s what I figured,” I smile briefly at him before slowly sliding my hands up his chest to rest on the nape of his neck. Holding them there, I press the lightest of kisses to the corner of his lips.

Jin’s breath hitches in his throat.

I run my tongue against the seam of his mouth, taking my time and savoring the sweet taste of him. His lips part to let me in, my tongue sliding across his. I grind against him as we kiss, moving my hips in such a way that makes him groan and lean back harder against the wall.

“What the fuck is going on in here?”

Ripping my mouth from Jin’s, I turn to face the newcomer.

Namjoon stands in the doorway holding yet another cup of coffee, his face thunderous. "What do the three of you think you’re doing? This is the goddamn library, you heathens!”

Seokjin jumps out of his skin in fright, pushing me away faster than I can anticipate. Stumbling back, I crash into Jimin – who apparently had ventured out of his assigned corner. Brat.

“The shades were open!” Namjoon continues to rant as he flicks the aforementioned item down to cover the door’s window, “Did you want people to see you?”

He reads the expression on my face correctly, “Oh, but you did, didn’t you, (y/n)?” Namjoon approaches where I’m still captured in Jimin’s embrace. Glaring down at me, he taunts, “So quick to stake your claim; but, make no mistake, they were mine first.”

Shaking out of Jimin’s hold, I straighten, raising my chin to meet Namjoon’s gaze full-on, “That’s interesting. I didn’t realize you were so lenient with your partners.”

Jimin makes a choking noise behind me. Jin stands behind Namjoon, waving a hand in front of his throat to clearly tell me to stop talking. I keep going, “Perhaps I need to teach you how to discipline.”

Namjoon flips me around, shoves Jimin out of the way, and bends me facedown across the table.

“Jin,” He says, his voice growly, “Stand in the hall and let me know if you can hear us.”

The sound of the door opening and closing alerts me that Jin followed Namjoon’s instructions without a word.

“Jimin,” He continues, “Hold (y/n)’s hands out in front of her.” Jimin ascquieces, staring apologetically down at me as he tugs my hands towards him.

“This is cute,” I say, “I always love holding Jimin-ie’s hands.”

Thwack. The stinging imprint of Namjoon’s palm on my ass burns deliciously. I arch my back, looking over my shoulder at him with a half-smile. “Do it harder, daddy.”

A breath sucks in between his lips as I utter the word I know will get him feeling as hot as me. “You’re playing a dangerous game, baby girl,” Namjoon grits out, his jaw clenched tightly.

“Oh, daddy,” I say, “Don’t you remember? I’m the fucking Queen.”

“Was that a chess pun? Nice.” A muffled voice followed by a squeaky laugh sounds through the door.

“Seokjin,” Namjoon seethes, flying over to open the door and drag the older boy back inside, “I thought I told you to let me know if you could hear us.”

I tug out of Jimin’s gentle hold, straighten back up, and then situate myself into a sitting position on the table.

I watch amusedly as Jin shimmies his way out of Joon’s grasp, “Yah! It’s not my fault I get intense FOMO. Don’t hate the player, hate the game. Besides, I only heard you because I had my ear pressed to the door.”

Jimin stifles a giggle. I let out a full-on laugh. Namjoon mumbles what sounds like a plea to some higher power under his breath.

“See what I have to deal with?” Namjoon turns to me, shaking his head. “Are you sure you want to sign up for this?”

“That depends,” I swing my legs back and forth as I stay perched on the table, “Are you going to keep spanking me?”

The boy who had just unhesitatingly bent me over to punish me now blushes and rubs the back of his neck. “I mean, probably? You have quite a mouth on you, baby.”

Hopping off the table, I laugh, “Good answer. Ten points to Gryffindor.”

“Woo!” Jin cheers, “Nice job on the House Points, Joon-ie!”

“I am in love with idiots,” Jimin sighs.

Grabbing my phone from my backpack, I let out a slight yell as I read the time. “Shit, shit, shit, shit!” I scramble to shove all of my textbooks back into my bag.

“What is it, noona?” Jimin worries, appearing next to me. “Are you late for class?”

“No,” I cry, “It’s so much worse. I’m late for my weekly Animal Crossing discord chat! Heath is gonna kill me…”

“Heath?” Jin scowls, “Who is this Heath you speak of?”

“Chill, fam,” I shrug my backpack onto my shoulders and stare contemplatively down at the three different coffees. “You can’t get jealous every time I mention a new person. What’s next? You’re gonna come for Tom Nook?”

Namjoon - who must play Animal Crossing - stifles a laugh as Jin pouts. “She has a point, Jin.”

“And so does a pencil. Big whoop,” Jin scowls with his arms folded.

“Aw, Seokjin-ie,” I coo, reaching over to pinch his cheek, “Don’t be mad. You’ll get to spend all day with me on Saturday after volunteering! What are we doing, anyways?” I level Joon with my best side-eye as I ask that question, knowing he is more likely than not the mastermind behind our planned date.

“It’s going to be great, noona!” Jimin pipes up, hugging me from the side, “You’re going to love it…You’re going to love us.” He murmurs the last part, probably not meaning for me to hear; but, I do.

God, I do.

“We’ll pick you up before volunteering,” Joon says, “Just bring yourself and a change of clothes.”

“What?” I decide - fuck it - and attempt to grab all three coffees, “No overnight bag?”

Jin, who had just taken a sip of his own coffee, spews it everywhere. “Pack one,” He gasps out in between coughs.

Laughing, I walk to the door, which Jimin kindly opens for me. “Okay, I’ll think about it. Ah, I’m so late. Jimin and Jin, I’ll punish you at a later time. Joon, you can try to punish me at a later time.” Living for their astonished expressions, I wave as best I can with three coffees in hand, “Bye, babes! Text me-e-e.”

As I make my way out of the library, it hits me that I only have one more day to prepare for this date. Fucking hell…

Chapter Eight

(Y/n) & Luna’s Apartment – 8:38am

I wake to the sound of thunder and groan as my eyes strain to focus on the rain pouring down outside my window. Hastily, I grab for my phone and scroll through my notifications. Yup, my friend Brianna - the president of the Alphites - had emailed to say that Habitat is cancelled for the morning.

What did this mean for my date? Swiping over to the group chat, I quickly type a message to the boys.

Queen (y/n), Worldwide Handsome, and 6 Peasants

8:40am, (y/n): “Yo, dweebs. No volunteering today because of the rain. Looks like our date is cancelled, too…”

I laugh evilly as my phone consequentially blows up with a series of question marks and exclamations. Just as I’m about to put a stop to the madness I’d caused, my phone screen darkens with the telltale chimes of an incoming FaceTime.

Not even bothering to shift out of bed, I swipe to answer. “Hi, Hobi,” I grin at my sunshine who looks a little pouty this morning. The metaphorical rain cloud over his head lessens marginally at my smile.

The puffy, bare-faced boy sighs and runs a hand through his wild hair. Obviously, Hoseok had just woken up, and I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to wake up next to him.

“(Y/n)? Did you hear me?” Hobi chuckles, bringing my attention back to my phone. “You weren’t serious, right? Our date is still on? We have the whole thing planned! The rain doesn’t even affect it! And—”

“Is that (y/n)?” A cry of uproar sounds from the background on Hobi’s end of the line. A thundering of footsteps commences; and, suddenly, I am faced with seven slivers of faces all crowded together.

“(Y/n)!” Jungkook rips the phone from Hoseok’s grasp and takes off out of the room. The background blurs as he runs. Faintly, I can make out blurry figures giving chase behind him. “(Y/n)! Please still come over. We have everything set up! Saturdays are always full of noona, and I don’t want to break the tradition.”

Letting out a laugh at the fluffy haired boy, I smirk, “First of all, let me just say that I’m glad you don’t subscribe to the whole ‘SaTuRdAyS aRe FoR tHe BoYs’ toxicity. And second of all, you do realize you just gave away the date plans, right?”

“Jungkook!” The shout from what could only be an enraged Seokjin echoes across the connection.

I watch in amusement as the background once again blurs. As the feed refocuses, Jimin’s beaming face greets me, and I roll my eyes at the realization that Jungkook must have tossed him the phone. Probably playing a game of ‘Monkey in the Middle’ with their eldest brother, I assume.

Deciding enough is enough, I retake control of the situation with the tried and true method of the shock factor™. “Hey, I’m naked.”

Silence falls.

Then comes the seven pairs of eyes crowding the screen that I had hoped for.

Disappointed huffs resound from the collective as I cackle, trying my best to ignore their indignant cries.

“Noona’s not even naked!”

“Why, there’s not even a boob to be seen!”

“She’s got us lookin’ like boo-boo the fool, boys…SMH!”

“Jin, did you just say ‘SMH’?” The boy opens his mouth to respond, but I decide there’s no time to discuss acronyms right now. Shaking my own head swiftly, I clear my throat, “No, never mind. Now that I have your attention, I need someone to tell me what the plan is. Am I getting out of bed today? Are we still doing the thing?”

“You can get out of your bed and into mine,” Taehyung’s words barely escape his mouth before he is pushed out of frame by at least four of the others.

“Tae, are you trying to get your name added to my punishment list?” I smirk as two boys in particular gulp, “Jimin and Jin already have the distinct honor. Isn’t that right, boys?”

“You can add my name, noona!” Jungkook gasps out, lunging once again for control of the phone. He is shoved out of the way by Namjoon.

“Oh, my little Kookie,” I laugh, “That would practically be a reward for you.”

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten about your own punishment, (y/n),” Namjoon stares me down from the other end of the phone.

“I mean, you can try it,” I shrug, “But I’ll probably either like it or turn it around on you at some point. Just saying…”

“Sounds good to me,” Joon grins, his dimples popping out, “Now get your sweet ass over here so I can spank it.”

“Right now?” I double check the time, “It’s still not even nine fucking AM. What is this going to be? Some sort of all day extravaganza? Y’all better be feeding me.”

“Yah, do you know who I am?” Jin butts in from his small corner of the screen, ”You are in the presence of Worldwide Handsome Chef Extraordinaire Kim Seokjin! Of course you’re going to be well fed - both with my visuals and with food!”

“I have no words,” I say.

Jin forges on, “Speechless, eh? I’m used to it.”

“Could the two of you stop your gross flirting for one second so that we can actually convince (y/n) to come over?”

Yoongi’s scowl appears on screen as he takes control of the phone. Jin can be heard squawking indignantly in the background.

“Gross?” I raise an eyebrow, “That’s not what you were saying when you were teaching me piano.”

“Is that a euphemism?” Taehyung yelps.

“I think so,” Jimin answers darkly.

“Wait, what’s a ‘you feminism’ again?” Jungkook mumbles from somewhere in the room.

“Oh my god,” Namjoon moans, sounding completely done, “(y/n), I am begging you to hang up and call my phone so that I can actually let you in on the plan.”

“Bet,” I say, “I’ll call you in an hour. I’m going back to sleep.”

I hang up, abruptly cutting off their whiny protests. Boys can always wait. Extra sleep, however, must seized at every opportunity.

Sinking back into the bliss of my comfy bed, I smile as I flip my phone over and promptly fall back asleep.

(Y/n) & Luna’s Apartment – 11:57am

“(Y/n).”

“(Y/n)!”

“(Y/n), for the love of Jared Padalecki, get your ass up!”

Groaning, I wave Luna off with a limp arm, still half asleep. “Go away,” my garbled words prove to be futile as she pulls the covers right off of me.

“Your entourage is here,” Luna hisses, grabbing my ankle and attempting to tug me off the bed.

“My what?” I kick at her hold, “Stop going all horror movie on me!”

“You haven’t seen horror! Horror is waking up to the furious sound of fists pounding at the front door and thinking your dark past of downloading music off of sketchy websites has finally caught up with you! Horror is pulling open the door in just your Harry Potter onesie only to be faced with seven hot and all-too-put-together dudes!”

My brain slowly wraps its away around the meaning of her words. “Oh, fuck.” I launch out of bed, flailing around for my phone.

111 Messages

34 Missed Calls

14 Voicemails

“Good god,” I toss my phone back on my bed and stalk past Luna into the living room where my ‘entourage’ is gathered.

“Okay, what the fuck,” I cross my arms over my chest as I stare down at the seven boys spread out across our second-hand sectional.

“Noona, you’re here!” Jungkook springs up from his seat and tackles me in a hug.

“Where else would I be? I fucking live here,” I mumble into his chest, annoyance slipping away with each breath.

“I told you she just overslept,” Yoongi mutters from the couch, sounding very much like he was dragged here against his will.

“Finally,” I say, pulling away from Jungkook to beam down at Yoongi, “An intellectual. Now, what about the rest of you overreactive imbeciles? Did you just come over so that you could snoop around where I live?”

As I say this, my eyes narrow on Namjoon. The boy is inspecting the teacup I had forgotten to put away last night like it’s a new archaeological find. My words fluster him, and he fumbles with the cup before it falls from his grasp to shatter on the floor.

“I am so sorry!” Namjoon yelps. The rest of the boys look on with disappointment but not surprise.

“That was my great grandmother’s teacup,” I whisper, falling to my knees dramatically.

“Namjoon, your destructive nature has gone too far!” Seokjin yells, scrambling over to me. My face is buried in my hands as my shoulders shake. I can’t hold it any longer.

I burst out laughing. “Oh my god, it’s fine, Joon. I’m kidding. It was just a cup from Target’s clearance section.”

“So evil!” Namjoon whines, “I was so worried!” Shuffling over to the hallway closet, I pull out our dustpan and broom. Walking back, I hand it off to Namjoon before he can attempt to pick up a fragment of the shattered cup.

“Don’t even think about using your bare hands, Joon,” I narrow my eyes at him, “A trip to Urgent Care does not count as a date.”

“Noona,” Taehyung pipes up, “You should join the Acting Club! Did I mention I’m the president?”

“Oh, here we go,” Yoongi scowls, flicking his eyes over to where Seokjin is rapidly turning a concerning shade of red.

Mount Seokjin erupts, “You’re only president on a bullshit technicality! Fifth years can’t be on Exec boards, you swine!”

“Yo, Seokjin, I’m really bummed about that policy, and Imma let you finish. But, let me just say that if y’all don’t leave so I can get ready, I will avoid you for the rest of time.”

Seconds tick by. I frown, “I don’t see movement. Why don’t I see movement?”

“Well,” Jimin hedges, shrinking under my gaze, “We figured you could just come back with us? It would save you a trip?”

The disobedience in this crew would drive me off a cliff. “I guess I was not clear the first time. I am going to drive myself because: 1) I can leave on my own terms and 2) I can leave an overnight bag in the car just in case. Although, that possibility is slipping away by the millisecond.”

“Alright! Time to go!” Jungkook barks, herding the boys towards the door.

As they practically run out the door, Namjoon turns back to me with an arched brow, “No going back to sleep.”

I salute him, “Scout’s honor. I’ll see you in a bit.” With that, I’m finally left in peace and quiet.

“Want to explain what that was all about?!” Luna stalks out of her room, “I need the tea!”

A full hour and a half later, I find myself in an eerily empty frat house.

“Y’all really kicked everyone out, huh?” I comment as I peer around each corner of the house. There is not a soul - besides these seven fools - to be seen.

“I mean, there are only three other people that actually live here permanently,” Namjoon counters, ever the diplomatic president, “The rest of the rooms are mainly for guests or if a member needs temporary housing.”

Humming noncommittally, I come to an abrupt halt when the dining room comes into view. All the furniture has been pushed to one side to make room for eight easels and an excessive amount of paint.

“It looks like a Michael’s threw up in here,” I marvel.

“Who is Michael?” Jimin pops up next to me with narrowed eyes. The rest of the boys file in behind him.

“My sugar daddy,” I deadpan, “He’s an artist.”

Namjoon cracks up, while Jimin pouts adorably. “I guess you know what we’re going to do now, baby,” Namjoon says, still chuckling lightly.

“We’re doing DIY Painting with a Twist!” Taehyung yells, “The twist is that there’s no wine. Namjoon said it could get ‘too out of hand’ - whatever that means.”

“What is everyone going to paint?” Hobi asks the room after a brief pause, “I’m going to make something for (y/n)! It’s a surprise.”

“That’s so sweet, Hobi,” I smile at the boy, “Thank you!”

Not a group to be outdone, the boys quickly affirm that they too had been planning to make something for me all along.

Rolling my eyes, I sigh, “Careful, I’m going to get used to y’all spoiling me.”

“Good,” Namjoon nods, “You’re learning.”

“Yes, daddy,” I tease, “Are you going to keep spoiling your good girl?”

“You’re not a good girl,” Yoongi laughs, “You’re a fucking force of nature.”

“Thank you,” I wipe a nonexistent tear from under my eye, “This is why you are currently my favorite.”

“What!”

“Wait, you have a running favorite?”

“How can I get to be your favorite?”

Five minutes later, the room is empty aside from Jungkook and I. The rest of the boys dispersed the moment they decided to make painting a competition for my favor.

“Aren’t you going to hide away, too?” I address the younger boy next to me.

“Why would I go anywhere else when you’re right here?” Jungkook shuffles closer to me, “Besides, I wanted to use a different canvas.”

“Ah, I see,” I nod sagely before pulling my long-sleeved shirt up and over my head.

“Noona!” Jungkook chokes as he takes in my slightly sheer tank top and the black bra that peeks out from underneath, “I meant your wrist!”

“Calm down, Kook,” I laugh, “I can put it back on if you want. I just don’t want to get paint on it.”

Jungkook shakes his head furiously.

He then grabs my arm gently, flipping it over so that the inside of my wrist faces up. His thumb brushes over my erratic pulse and pauses. “Are you nervous, noona?” His wide eyes stare up at me, “You don’t have to let me paint on you.”

“It’s okay, Kookie,” I say, brushing his fallen hair out of his eyes,  “Paint me like one of your French girls.”

The boy’s cheeks bloom a bright red as he flashes me a small smile, “That’s one of my favorite movies.”

My heart swells as the cuteness that is Jeon Jungkook, and I can’t resist teasing him further. “Jungkook,” I whisper, leaning forward, “I would gladly share my door with you to keep you warm.”

“Noona,” He whines, trying to pretend like he wants to get away from me. I would rate his efforts a 1/10 considering his hand is still firmly wrapped around my wrist.

“The iceberg would melt because of how hot you are…” I keep going, arching closer to murmur in his ear, “Just like the Titanic, I would go down on you for hours.”

“Noona!” Jungkook yelps, “Stop playing with me!”

“Fine,” I pout, “But the offer stands.”

“You’re going to kill me…” He mumbles. Dipping his paintbrush into his nearby palette, Jungkook begins to etch the outline of what looks like some sort of flower onto my wrist. The strokes of the brush across my skin make me shiver - something that does not go unnoticed by Jungkook.

His eyes dart to mine, and I feel like crumbling under the weight of the adoration I find within them.

“Kookie,” I glance down, breaking the intensity before it consumed me whole, “What kind of flower is this?”

He mumbles something inaudible.

“What?” My ears strain to pick up the boy who for some reason decided to answer in the language of tiny.

“A tiger flower,” Jungkook turns away to grab a new brush, his hair failing to hide his flushed cheeks. I watch enraptured as he mixes the orange and white shades to get the end result he wants.

Returning to my wrist, he leans down and lightly blows across the drying paint.

“This is unfair,” I mumble as the boy continues to unknowingly seduce me. Or did he know? My eyes narrow as his gaze flicks to mine. Arching a brow, I decide to press him, “This wouldn’t have anything to do with the matching tattoo on your forearm, right?”

“N-no,” Jungkook panics, eyes darting this way and that, “That would be Ludacris.”

Did he just— Not the time.

“Mhm,” I hum, ever the skeptic.

Jungkook swallows before once again resorting to tiny speak, “Okay, yes, it does. I’m asking you to love me, noona. Please.”

My breath escapes me in a whoosh as I stare dumbfounded at the pleading boy who once again starts to paint my wrist. Why is such a beautiful human lacking in adoration? Why does he need my affection when he has six other lovers?

“Why?” The question slips past my lips before I can catch it.

“Because,” He continues to paint, “I can see myself loving you for a very long time, and I just want to be loved back for just as long.”

The silence that falls after Jungkook’s admission feels safe and comfortable. His words swirl around my mind. And as he finishes the flower now adorning my wrist, I give him an answer I’m not even sure he had been waiting for. “Jungkook,” I wait until he meets my eyes, “I don’t think I’m in love with you yet. I’m not even sure I know what love is or what it feels like. But I can see myself falling for you. And I do know that there is a place in my heart labeled ‘Jeon Jungkook’, just like there are six other places for the rest of you… Y’all really do take up a lot of space.”

I let out a little laugh as Jungkook’s lips twitch in amusement. I continue, “It scares me sometimes. How I might fall for all of you and get heartbroken seven times over. But, I might also fall for all of you and get seven times the amount of love in return. And so I’m willing to fight for that chance. Besides, what’s life without a little risk?”

Jungkook is quiet for a moment, and then he whispers, “I really like you, (y/n)-noona.”

I lean closer to him. Our noses brush as I whisper back, “I really like you, too, Jungkookie.”

The smile I get in response is blinding, and I can’t resist pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“I’m done!” Taehyung hurtles through the doorway, lugging a giant canvas that definitely had not been in the room earlier, “I call this masterpiece: ‘My Boo’.”

Gaping, I take in the massive canvas full of swirling colors and abstract shapes. It’s honestly overwhelming and a bit dramatic, but that is Taehyung. And I love it.

“It’s so pretty!” I coo, shuffling over to side-hug Tae.

He shyly hangs his head on my shoulder, “You really think so?”

“Yes, baby,” I nod, “Of course I do.”

One by one the other boys return to present me with their art. Seokjin presents a sea of rainbow colored hearts (“Get it? I see hearts when you’re around!”). Hobi shows off his technicolored sunset (“It’s how I feel when I look at you, (y/n)! Hopeful, but at peace.”). Jimin bashfully hands over a painting of two silhouettes dancing (“It’s us.” *blushes profusely*). Yoongi gives me a black canvas with a portion of lighter blue mixed in (“You make my world brighter.”). Finally, Namjoon shuffles over with a succulent plant in a painted flower pot (“I accidentally elbowed a hole through my canvas… This is my favorite plant, for you.”).

The boys also marvel over the flower that Jungkook painted on my wrist while the younger boy beams with pride. One of them mentions ordering pizza for dinner, and the room clears within seconds as the majority flees in search of a menu.

Namjoon is the last to remain, admiring the art etched on my skin. “You know what it means, right?” He murmurs, thumb tentatively brushing across the dried paint.

“He told me,” I nod, focused on the gentle caress of his fingers.

Namjoon lifts my hand to his mouth and places a light kiss. The motion takes me back to the memory of a few weeks ago where he first had performed the action. “I hope you know the sentiment extends to all of us as well.”

“Oh, does it?” I smile, “You might have to mark me to make it believable.”

“Consider it done,” Namjoon says before pulling me closer to him and placing his lips on my neck. What an opportunist, I muse as he bites down gently. His tongue flicks before his lips once again press down on my neck. Namjoon litters my neck with small kisses. I gasp as he suddenly returns to the initial spot and bites down slightly harder, sucking and licking at my neck afterwards.

“Joon,” I breathe out as he pulls back, looking all smug and proud of himself, “I will get you back for this.”

“I look forward to it, baby.” With that, Namjoon laces his fingers through my own and tugs me out of the room towards the ruckus being caused in the kitchen.

One hour later, the eight of us are piled on the massive living room sofa.

“I think I’m pregnant,” Seokjin moans, rubbing a hand over his stomach. “The father is Papa John.”

“I told you not to race to beat Kook to the last slice,” Hobi shakes his head, “No one ever listens in this house.”

“You get me, bro, you get me,” Namjoon extends his fist to Hoseok who fist bumps him.

I survey the room from where I’m perched on Taehyung and Jimin, one leg hitched over one of theirs. “I thought we were going to watch a movie?” I furrow my brows, “Or was that just a ploy to get me to stay longer?”

Jungkook scrambles to his feet, “I’ll go get Titanic!”

“No!”

“Please, god, no!”

“Noooo!”

The crestfallen expression that crosses Jungkook’s face tugs at my heartstrings. “Aw, Kook, I really inspired you with my words earlier, huh?” His pouting intensifies as he stalks back over to his end of the couch.

“Never let me watch what I want,” He mumbles. Sensing that this is an often fought battle, I shimmy off of Tae and Jimin and head over towards the youngest.

“How about this,” I reason, “Let the group decide what movie to watch, and I’ll sit with you during it.”

“Promise?” Large brown eyes peer up at me. At my nod, his expression brightens, and he pats his legs excitedly.

Settling down on his thighs, I realize I have made a grave miscalculation.

My thigh-riding kink + Jungkook’s muscular thighs = chaos

As the rest of the boys argue between watching Die Hard or The Hangover, I shift my hips slowly to try to get more comfortable. Jungkook’s swift inhale tells me that my move wasn’t as low-key as I had hoped.

“Noona, stop moving,” He mumbles into my hair, his arms firmly circling my waist.

“Sorry, baby,” I mutter back to him, trying hard to reign in my thirst.

The boys finally decide to watch Die Hard. Minutes tick by as the movie I’ve seen multiple times before plays on the screen. I’m only half paying attention, and I’m pretty sure Jungkook isn’t paying attention at all.

His fingers have shifted under my tank top and are drawing patterns onto the skin of my stomach. “So soft,” He marvels, his words ghosting across the skin of my neck.

The effect the boy has on me is deadly, and I retaliate with one of the only ways I can. I grind my hips slowly down onto his. The heat of his body warms my own, the hardness of his cock becoming more and more apparent underneath me.

“Noona,” Jungkook moans, “You’re so unfair.”

I whisper back, “You started it.”

He scoffs, moving my hair to one side of my neck, and pauses. “Oh, what’s this?”

“Don’t even think—”

His lips descend onto my neck, cutting me off mid-sentence. “Insolent child,” I breathe out, trying to keep my shit together despite finding it so fucking hot that Jungkook’s mouth is where Joon’s had been just over an hour ago.

Keeping my eyes firmly on the screen where John McClane is steadily taking down a whole crime organization singlehandedly, I try in vain not to imagine getting double teamed by Jungkook and Namjoon. By the time the credits roll, my panties are a mess. I can feel Jungkook practically throbbing underneath me from being so hard, and I’m pretty sure my nipples could cut through glass.

“What’d you think, (y/n)?” Hobi beams over at me from the other end of the couch.

I plaster a smile on my face like I hadn’t just been imagining the whole room naked and engaged in NSFW activities. “It was iconic as always!”

The boys seem to happily accept my answer. Well, most of them do. Yoongi is staring at me with a suspicious expression. Damn, that boy is too observant for his own good.

“Well,” I decide to try to regain some semblance of self-control, “Where did I put my keys?”

“WHAT!”

“You can’t leave! It’s only 9pm!”

“You said you would would stay overnight!”

I roll my eyes upwards, at least this provided Jungkook an opportunity to tug a pillow onto his lap. “I’m going to get my bag from the car, you fools.”

The boys let out a collectively sheepish “Ah”.

“I’ll walk you, noona,” Jimin stands, making his way over to my side.

“Trying to butter me up, baby?” I can’t help but ruffle his hair, “Okay, come on.”

Jimin and I make our way to the front door where my keys lie on the entryway table. Grabbing them, I head out into the darkness of the front yard with Jimin trailing after me.

“Will you sit with me for the next movie, noona?” Jimin asks, running a hand through his hair as we trek towards my parked Jeep.

“What’s in it for me?” I joke, unlocking the passenger side door and grabbing my bag. Turning back towards the house, I shut and lock my car behind me.

“Cuddles?” Jimin answers, eyes wide and bottom lip poked out.

“Stop that,” I moan, moving swiftly past him, “Puppy-Dog eyes? That’s so unfair!”

“Is it working?” He races to keep up with me, “I think its working.”

“You’re still on my shit list, Park Jimin,” I whirl around, drop my bag to the ground, and grab the front of his shirt. Moving to a standstill with his lips an inch from mine, I say, “Or did you forget?”

Jimin gulps, his eyes dark, “I didn’t forget. It’s all I’ve been thinking about.”

I place the lightest kiss to his lips, “Good answer.” With that, I pick my bag back up and waltz back into the house. “Are you coming?” I call at the boy still standing in the middle of the front yard.

“Now I know why Kook says you’re mean,” Jimin shakes his head at me as he regains the will to move.

“You’re a fast learner,” I comment, placing my keys back onto the entryway table. “I’ll sit with you.”

“Yay!” Jimin cheers, “I’ll go tell Taehyungie!”

“What?” I screech after the boy’s departing form, “I didn’t know this was some sort of package deal! Lord give me strength…”

Rifling through my bag to double check I have everything, I notice that I seem to be lacking a sleep shirt. How is it that I could pack three different pairs of socks for one night over but forget a fucking shirt?

“SOS,” I call out, zipping my bag back up. Once again, the sound of stampeding steps is heard before the seven of them appear above me.

“Someone needs to give me their biggest and comfiest t-shirt.”

A brief pause permeates the room before all seven boys dart into action. Left all alone in the entryway, I let out an incredulous laugh at how completely whipped I’m becoming for them.

After a few minutes, I hear them congregating in the hall just up the stairs. Just as I’m about to go investigate, they shuffle down. Namjoon presents me with a pile of what must be a selection of t-shirts from the bunch.

“We all want you to wear our clothes, so we decided to make it fair and just let you pick one without knowing who’s it is,” Seokjin explains.

Looking around the room, I can tell they all think this is a magnificent idea. Meanwhile, I’m baffled why they think I wouldn’t know who’s shirt is who’s just from the style, size, and smell. However, I decide to be a nice girl and play along.

“Okay,” I grab the entire pile along with my bag, “I’ll go change.”

“I’m so excited!” Taehyung bounces up and down, “She’s going to pick mine. I know it!”

“That’s because you gave her your Ce—” As Taehyung tackles Jimin to the floor, I take that as my cue to leave.

Speeding up the steps, I make a beeline for Yoongi’s room, entering and locking the door behind me. My bag is tossed on the bed first followed by the sea of mostly black and white clothing. They know me so well already.

I examine my options:

A white Balenciaga t-shirt with “Europe 2018” embroidered in red over the heart,

A soft pink hoodie by Marques’ Almeida with long black silky drawstrings,

A red and black striped Raf Simons long-sleeved shirt with sewn-on patches,

A Fear of God white t-shirt with the iconic “FG” on the front,

A black Mastermind t-shirt with the brandname and a skull and crossbones emblazoned on it,

A black Celine t-shirt also with the brandname on the front, and

A grey long-sleeved t-shirt by Carhartt with the name in blue along the sleeve.

Making my selection, I shake my head over the careless nature these boys handle their extremely expensive clothing. I am almost certain that Jungkook had given me the only shirt of the bunch that was under $100.

Regardless, I fold the rest of the shirts before stuffing them into my duffle bag. If they all want me to wear their clothes, I will - eventually. Quickly, I change into my sleep shorts, tug on what I assume is Hobi’s shirt, and head out of Yoongi’s room.

Opening the door, I blink as seven expectant faces shine back at me. Six expressions fall as one lights up even more. “You chose mine!” Hoseok cheers, running to engulf me in a hug that sweeps me off my feet, “Oh, you look so cute!”

“Can’t. Breathe.”

“Why’d you leave your stuff in Yoongi-hyung’s room, noona?” Taehyung pouts as the rest of the boys try to pretend like they also aren’t miffed.

“Because I’m going to sleep with him?” I march over to Yoongi and hug him from behind, pressing my lips to his cheek. “Is that okay with you, Yoongs?”

The boy grumbles under my show of affection, but his hands come up to clasp over mine as they circle his waist. “I can live with that, I guess.” The eye roll accompanying his words is so evident even when standing behind him.

“You’ll pay for that, baby boy,” I whisper in his ear before biting gently down on his earlobe, reveling in the cute little squeak that emits from him in response.

“She’s still sitting with me and Tae during the next movie, though!” Jimin - ever the instigator - interjects as the group makes their way back downstairs. Yoongi and I shuffle behind them.

The eight of us decide to watch The Hangover next since that had been the runner-up before. Once again, I’m draped between Jimin and Taehyung. This time, I’m fully placed on Jimin’s lap while my legs are sprawled out across Tae’s thighs.

My legs had barely even settled onto his lap before his hands were on them. This time I don’t even pretend like I’m paying attention to the movie. I’m more entranced by the way Taehyung kneads his way up my legs from my ankles to my calves to the insides of my thighs.

Meanwhile, Jimin is snuggled into me tightly. His face is shoved into the crook of my neck, and I honestly think he might be sound asleep. With each breath, Jimin’s pillowy lips brush my collarbone. I couldn’t tell if this is my own personal heaven or hell.

Looking up, I meet the dark gaze of Min Yoongi once again. Neither of us break eye contact as I try to read the look on his face and his body language.

He is either: 1) pissed off by something I did, 2) turned on by something I did, or 3) all of the above.

My hunch is the third. Testing that theory, I slide my tongue across my bottom lip. Sure enough, his eyes track the motion instantly before returning to mine. Bing-pot.

The movies seems to take way longer than it’s hour and forty-something minutes. I blame the combination of my sexual frustration and the varying degrees of awareness of it from the boys.

As soon as the credits roll, I extract myself from the holds that Jimin and Tae had on me. “I’m tired,” I lie.

“Aw,” Seokjin hurries over to me and sweeps me into a tight hug, “Get some beauty sleep, darling. Because, in the morning, I’m making pancakes!”

I place a swift kiss to his cheek, “Sounds perfect.”

I bid the rest of the boys goodnight with similar affections. Slowly, I make my way over to the stairs, knowing that Yoongi is trailing after me closely.

Making sure to put an extra swing in my hips, I climb up the staircase like I was getting paid to do it. Finally, I enter Yoongi’s room, turn to face the boy it belonged to, and tug him inside.

“What the fuck, Min Yoongi,” I hiss before closing the door behind him and shoving him against it.

“What?”

He has the audacity— I take a calming breath.

“You eye-fuck me throughout the entire movie and ask me ‘what’?” My hands curl into the fabric of his shirt.

A small smile makes its way across Yoongi’s face as my glower intensifies, “You can’t expect me not to think about that after you announce to everyone that you’re sleeping with me.”

“I didn’t mean literally, you buffoon,” I groan, turning away to head towards the bed.

Yoongi grabs my hips, halting me in place. “I know. But that didn’t stop me from thinking about what it would be like with you. What it would be like to be selfish with you.”

“You want to be selfish with me?” I ask softly, “What does that mean?”

“It means that I know that Tae was the first to get your mouth, but I want to be the first to give you mine.”

Yoongi’s words steal the breath from my lungs and the chill from my very soul. I gasp out, “You want to taste me, baby? That’s what you want?”

“More than anything,” Yoongi groans, pushing his hips into mine. “Please, (y/n), I’ll do anything to put my mouth on you.”

I pull away from Yoongi so that I can face him. His pupils are blown out, his hair is messy, and his expression is devastating with its pleading look. After being teased by so many of the others for the whole evening, he looks like my salvation.

“Okay,” I nod, lying down with my legs hanging off the edge of the bed. “Do your worst. No, not the time for that expression. Do your best. Please.”

Chuckling, Yoongi sinks to his knees before me, running his hands up my legs and resting on the hem of my shorts. He sends me an asking look, and I nod. His fingers shake slightly as he pulls off my shorts.

Left in nothing but pair of lacy red boy-briefs, I shiver in anticipation as I feel Yoongi slip a tentative finger underneath the remaining material.

“Fuck,” He groans, sliding his finger up and down my folds, “You’re so fucking wet, baby.”

“Well, do something about it,” I command, moving my hips up so that he might get the hint to take of my underwear. His finger slides out from underneath them and he doesn’t even hesitate before sucking it into his mouth.

“Yoongi,” I hiss, getting more and more impatient.

Yoongi pulls his finger out of his mouth, “Sorry, (y/n), I just want to savor this moment.”

“You can savor my pussy with your mouth,” I say, “Or are you all talk, Min Yo—”

Quicker than I can comprehend, Yoongi slides my panties to the side and licks a stripe up my folds. I moan as he sucks and licks at my pussy like a man possessed.

“Fuck,” I grab his hair and tug him closer, feeling him moan into me.

The build up of tension and frustration from being surrounded by these boys for the entire day has me on the brink of orgasm already.

Yoongi’s mouth closes over my clit, circling it with his tongue and flicking it slowly.

“More, Yoongi,” I demand.

He listens. Still worshipping my clit, Yoongi slips a finger inside me, curling it in such a practiced way I could scream.

He adds a second. Yoongi’s fingers thrust in and out of me as his tongue continues to taste and tease my pussy.

When he hits a certain spot in me, I moan his name, and I swear he growls. Repeatedly, his fingers hit that same spot inside me and I’m panting, trying my hardest not to come. Not yet.

“Harder!” I moan. Again, Yoongi follows like a good boy, his fingers and tongue picking up the pace.

Pausing to pull my legs over his shoulders, Yoongi meets my eyes. The pinkness of his lips glisten with my juices as he sighs, “I think you might be my new favorite meal.”

Before I can even respond, his resumes wrecking me. He fucks me with his fingers, grabbing at my ass with his free hand.

His mouth devours my pussy, wreaking havoc on my clit with every flick of his tongue.

My thighs quake as my battle to hold off coming becomes too much to endure. My back arches as the pleasure builds up with each quick stroke of his tongue and every movement of his fingers.

As if he knows exactly how to ruin me forever, Yoongi sucks on my clit harshly, and I come, my thighs trapping him between them. Despite it all, Yoongi continues to fuck me, lapping up everything like a starving man.

Soon, the overstimulation hits and I relax my thighs. Pulling his hair, I murmur, “Stop.”

Yoongi obeys.

“Come here,” I sit up, extending an arm out to him. He shuffles forward and when he is within reach I launch myself at him. Kissing him fiercely, I taste myself on his tongue.

“That was so good, baby,” I reach my hand up to stroke his flushed cheek. “Do you want me to help you out?”

“No,” Yoongi shakes his head, “I would rather eat you out again.”

“You’re insatiable!” I cry, tugging out of his hold. “We’ll see…”

TO BE CONTINUED...

#luxekook #kings of campus #compilation post #tumblr plz fix my links #im gon cry

[heysoup]

Fluffy February Day 1 - Fishing

Howdy folks! I’m taking part in the Fallout Fluffy February prompt list this month, hosted by @fluffyfebruary

Every day of this month I’ll be posting my finished prompts under the community tag #fluffyfebruary and on my own blog as #fluffyfeb. I’ll also be cross posting to Ao3, which I’ll link to in each post - so feel free to follow me over there, too!

Chapter 1: A Fisher of Men

Pairing: Butch/Male Lone Wanderer

Summary: Jamie takes Butch out on the Potomac for a fishing trip in the same spot his father had taken him a year prior. What seems to be an uneventful few hours turns into anything but when they find a monster on the other end of their line. Takes place after the events of Broken Steel.

Ao3 Link

“This is fucking boring.”

Jamie shoots Butch an irritated look from where he’s sitting across from the other man in the canoe, his brows drawn together as he tries his damnedest to untangle his fishing line from the third piece of driftwood he’s ‘caught’ that day.

“No shit,” he grumbles, spitting out some mud as he tries to break the line off the wood with his teeth. He lets out a frustrated huff, gripping his rod in both hands as he raises it up and fights the urge to just chuck the whole damn thing into the Potomac. He hears Butch snicker, and he whips his head up.

“You’re like a goddamn feral,” Butch teases with a laugh, reaching over and snatching the rod from Jamie’s grip. He digs in the pocket of his jeans and pulls out his switchblade, flicking it open and carefully beginning to cut the line away from where it’s tangled in the driftwood to try and save as much of it as he can.

He kicks his boots playfully against Jamie’s sneakers, noticing how the canvas high-tops are completely soaked through from the puddle of water they’d managed to slosh into the canoe earlier as they tried ungracefully to board it from the shore. He just shakes his head, a smile on his face, knowing that if he brings up the topic of appropriate footwear to the younger man it’ll just earn him a bruised shoulder.

“This was supposed to be like… meditative or some shit,” Jamie says with a sigh. He rubs his hands over his freckled face and ruffles some of the dust out of his sun-warmed hair. Butch just gives him an incredulous look.

“Where the hell did you get that idea from?” He finishes cutting the driftwood free and tosses it behind him into their small pile of ‘catches’ – which is really just a collection of junk at this point – before reattaching the hook and bobber and handing the rod back to the other man. He leans over and grabs his own fishing pole, squinting against the reflective ripples in the water to check on his bobber. Still absolutely no bites.

Jamie shrugs, suddenly looking a little bashful. “I dunno,” he admits. He reaches back into the salvaged can of cram they were using as bait, tears a chunk out, and works on preparing his hook again. Not like it matters much, he tells himself. He can continue to go through the motions perfectly and not catch a single thing. A little bit like everything else in his life, he thinks bitterly. His fucking bad luck.

After a moment of silence, Jamie continues. “Apparently my family came from a long line of fishermen on my dad’s side. He passed down some stories about it. Told me they were tradition or something.” Jamie shrugs. “Anyway, he taught me that you were s’posed to reflect on yourself out here. Get some peace and quiet.” Jamie finally says. He sucks the excess cram off his fingers, his tongue burning at the sudden saltiness, and casts his line out again, his bobber floating a few feet from Butch’s. Butch looks up at him, snapped out of his own thoughts.

“Huh… like, Wasteland fisherman?” Butch asks, deliberately choosing not to tell him how he thinks the whole ‘peace and quiet’ schtick is a load of brahmin shit and instead focusing on the first part of what he said. He’s always intrigued whenever Jamie tells him about his family, at least after they’d learned that he wasn’t born in the vault. The idea of generations of Arroyo’s managing to survive out here long enough to pop out the rascally kid he sits across from kind of amazes him. He sets his fishing pole back down against the side of the canoe, sure that it would be fine – he hasn’t gotten a single nibble in the past three hours.

“Nah. I’m sure some of them might’ve been, but we don’t really know much about closer generations of my family. We only really knew about some of my prewar family – something about some records my dad’s dad had kept on his terminals after searching our surname through databases in some place that used to process immigrations, or some shit. The occupation listed there was fisherman, apparently.” Jamie finishes and Butch hums thoughtfully, trying to imagine what Jamie’s granddad might have looked like.

Jamie winces when he thinks of his dad and has to shake the thoughts from his head. As if his face reflecting back at him from the clear surface of the clean water isn’t enough of a reminder of what he’s lost of his family and himself to of Project Purity – he looks like his own father’s ghost and even carries his name.

Butch’s fishing pole snapping against the side of the boat brings him back out of his thoughts, and he flinches back away from the canoe’s edge, the quick motion causing him to almost tumble out the other side as the boat sways dangerously.

“I got one!” Butch practically shouts and lunges for the pole, straddling the seat of the canoe and bracing his legs against the floor as he begins an awkward tug-of-war match with whatever is on the other end of his line. Jamie perks up with a huge grin on his face, all thoughts of his troubles momentarily forgotten, and hovers over Butch nervously.

“Make sure you don’t reel in when he’s pulling on the line! And try to give it some slack!” Jamie parrots what his father had taught him on their one and only fishing trip in the Wastes months back and digs around in their mess of a canoe for the rickety net they brought with them. Butch just gives an annoyed grunt, his face crinkled in concentration as he pulls on the line.

“This bastard is fuckin’ heavy!” He complains, giving the rod a yank that rocks their canoe again. Whatever they have hooked is pulling them ever so slightly to the opposite shore and splashing like crazy beneath the water.

“Scoot,” Jamie orders. He tosses the net aside – it’s obvious that whatever’s on the other side of the line won’t fit in it now - and moves on unsteady legs to sit behind Butch, reaching his arms around the other man’s waist and grabbing the fishing pole to help him pull. What the hell are they dealing with here?

By the time they begin to make some progress in reeling the fish in, they’re about halfway to the shore and completely out of breath. Butch laughs hysterically between pulls, his eyes squeezed shut in glee, and Jamie can’t help but laugh in return. His palms are sweaty, his white-knuckle grip on the fishing pole beginning to slip.

“Is it trying to pull us out of the water?!” Butch says suddenly, elbowing Jamie to look at the swiftly approaching shore. They’re hauling ass at this point, almost as if… whatever they hooked had suddenly caught some footing in the shallower water. Jamie’s eyes widen and he immediately lets go of the pole to root around in their bags. As he does, Butch careens forward from the sudden lack of support and just barely catches himself with his elbows against the edge of the canoe. He curses, “CHRIST, Nosebleed! Some warning next time!”

Jamie has only just gotten his hands on Butch’s shotgun when they finally catch a glimpse of their ‘fish’ as it breaks the surface of the water. At this point, they’ve reeled it in pretty close and the wake left behind the huge creature emerging from the stagnant part of the river capsizes their canoe just as they crash into the sandy shore.

With a chorus of yells both men topple over into the shallows. Jamie squeezes his eyes shut and lands on his back with a thud, his arms stretched up over his head holding the shotgun out of the river. The water feels like a cold slap to his face, and he comes back up gasping for air. He looks over to where Butch has landed hard on his ass, noting that the fishing pole is being tugged out of his hands and quickly away from him. He looks and sees the fruits of their labor – an albino Mirelurk with the fishing line wrapped around one claw.

“MIRELURK!” Butch yells, scrambling to his feet and running over to Jamie. He pulls the other man up and grabs the shotgun from him just as the Mirelurk turns toward them and begins clambering over the old canoe that groans and splinters beneath its weight.

“Shoot it! Shoot it!” Jamie practically shrieks and pushes against Butch’s arm, urging him to hurry when the Mirelurk picks up speed and barrels toward them. Butch nods and fights the urge to run, taking a breath and bracing for the recoil as he lines up his shot. Jamie flinches when he hears the crack! of the rounds exploding from the gun and shattering the vulnerable part of the Mirelurk’s fragile front shell. His ears ring from the close proximity of the shot and he grimaces, about to cover them until he realizes the monster is still running full speed toward them. Shit!

He grabs Butch and tackles him to the ground, shoving them out of the way as the huge, mutated crab stumbles past them at an alarming speed and crashes hard into the shore. It lies there face-first in a mound in the sand and they watch it with wild eyes from their position on the ground, ready to book it at any hint of movement, but it’s motionless and quiet – dead.

Jamie rolls off of Butch and flops down next to him, both of them looking up at the endless expanse of bright blue sky as they struggle to catch their breaths.

“Still think fishing is boring?” Jamie snaps and Butch begins to laugh again, the sound starting as a snort and bubbling slowly from his chest before he’s full-on wheezing with laughter. Jamie sits up and looks down at him like he’s insane.

“What about this was funny?!” He asks, shaking Butch’s shoulder. He can’t help but return the grin, though. Seeing Butch happy always manages to make him smile. Butch wipes his hand down his face as he sits up, slinging the shotgun over his shoulder and hopping to his feet. He reaches down to pull Jamie up with him, a huge shit-eating grin on his face.

Jamie’s ears suddenly feel hot as he watches Butch, noticing the endearing gap between his two front teeth and the splash of sun freckles over his now sand-dusted face. He swallows, his heart racing. “What?” He repeats again, his throat dry.

“I caught a motherfucking fish.” Butch beams even more and looks incredibly proud of himself as they turn and walk over to his ‘catch.’ He kicks it with the toe of his boot a few times just to ease his own worries of it springing back to life.

“It’s not a fish! It’s a crab, they’re different.” Jamie argues and crouches down, grabbing the edge of the Mirelurk’s shell with Butch as they flip it over with a heave. Jamie doesn’t mention that technically he did catch it with a fishing pole, and that technically they are going to have it for dinner. He doesn’t want to give Butch the satisfaction, especially considering the only thing he got out of this trip is his collection of stones and driftwood that was currently crushed under their broken canoe.

“It counts.” Butch says, the grin still plastered on his face. He pulls a combat knife out of a holster on his belt and settles down on his knees in the sand, tapping the sharp edge of it against the shell. “Look at this bad boy. You ever see a white one before?”

“It’s an albino, I guess.” Jamie says, leaning close to inspect it. He lifts the claw that’s tangled in their fishing line. “What a mess, we aren’t salvaging this.” He drops it back into the sand with a thud.

“The fuck’s an albino?” Butch asks as he cuts into their prize, grimacing and holding back a gag as he begins to butcher it. Mirelurk is good meat, but it reeks when it’s fresh.

“You know, like that one story Brotch made us read in like 8th grade, Moby Dick? It was about that sea captain and the giant albino whale.” Jamie snickers and walks the few paces back to their canoe. He flips it right-side-up with some effort and drags their valuables out of the muddy water, clicking his tongue in disappointment when he notices their bags are completely soaked through. “You’re lucky he didn’t eat your leg.” He teases.

Butch looks back at him and pouts, blowing a messy curl of his hair out of his eyes. “Yeah, I never read anything ol’ Brotch assigned. Waste of time. Like it would’ve taught me anything useful out here.” He grumbles.

Jamie laughs and drops their stuff next to a rock outcropping near their canoe. It looks like it would provide some decent shelter against the wind and by the looks of their soaking clothes and supplies, they’ll have to stay the night unless they want to catch hypothermia. “Maybe it could’ve taught ya how to catch a real fish.”

“It still counts as a catch!” Butch whines.

“It’s not a fish.” Jamie shoots back in a sing-song voice, biting his tongue to hold back the huge grin that threatens to break through. Butch jumps up from what he’s doing and turns to him, his face red, but mirroring the same smile that Jamie is trying so hard to hold back.

“It. Counts.” Butch grits between clenched teeth puts his combat knife away, buttoning the sheathe into place against his hip. They stare at each other for a moment, their eyes locked in a staring match. Jamie’s grin finally breaks free.

“Does no-“he cuts himself off with a yelp as Butch lunges for him playfully. He laughs so hard he thinks his chest might burst as he takes off in a run down the beach, Butch hot on his heels as he begins to chase him.

He knows Butch’s legs are much longer than his, but he can hold his own – at least for a little while. And even though the inevitable ending is Butch catching him in a tackle, he can’t say he doesn’t enjoy it. It’s something they’ve done since they were boys stumbling around in the grey fluorescence of the vault, constantly finding their way back to each other like it was fate, and it feels like home.

#fluffyfebruary #fallout #fallout 3 #butch deloria #butch/m!lw #fanfiction #jay writes #fluffyfeb

[samthemarvelfan]

Goodbyes: Chapter Eight

Summary: Ella Monroe is the Avengers newest recruit, handpicked by Steve Rogers himself. Indebted to him for reasons unknown, Cap pairs her up with Bucky Barnes. He is tasked with training her to relearn and hone the skills that have long since rusted. Bucky is cold and distant, and Ella can’t seem to break through the wall he’s built up for decades. He sees something in her though, and it scares him to death. Has the fate of these two strangers been sealed? …or will they always be longing…

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC, feat Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Wanda Maximoff, Natasha Romanoff, Tony Stark

Warnings: ANGST, Bucky is a dick, mutual pining, self sabotage, slow burn, alcohol, flirting, swearing. I think that’s it!  Def not following a specific MCU canon or timeline.

A/N: I legit can’t believe the love from you all! Gosh my lil heart might burst! Please stick with me after this chapter and please don’t hate me! Patience is a virtue after all. Thank you for every comment, like, message and reblog. Love you endlessly. <3

Taglist: @iheartsebastianstan @jjlizz @stuckysbabe @sk493494 @lefoutoir @nickangel13 @marvelismysafezone @lilulo-12 @warmvanillafeels @heartofagamotto @ravenesque @pinknerdpanda (strikethrough means the tag didn’t work! I’m sorry!)  (strikethrough means the tag didn’t work! I’m sorry! Tags are OPEN!)

Three fucking weeks.

At this point, you were almost positive you were losing your mind.

Everyone was still in Romania, and you hadn’t had any actual contact with the team. Sam occasionally gave you the smallest of updates, usual in the form of a message that said “we’re alive.”

Gotta love that detail.

Wanda had checked on you too, making sure you were eating, as you had a tendency to forget to when you were stressed.

What drove you mad more than anything was that you hadn’t heard from Bucky. Was it really all in your head? The two of you connecting finally, and then he just vanished without a word?

Sure, maybe you were being irrational and needy. He was working; risking his life for the greater good after all. That doesn’t make it hurt any less, though.

“Miss Monroe, you’re receiving a call.” FRIDAY’s voice announced.

You jumped off the couch and ran to comm beacon in the middle of the table.

“Hello?” You ask, hopeful.

“Hey, Punchline! Miss me?” Sam’s humorous tone asked.

You couldn’t even speak, the only sound escaping your lips was an almost sob of relief.

You hear Steve chuckle in the background. “I’ll take that as a yes, meet us on the roof in 5?”

“You bet.” You reply quickly.

You pull your gray, half-zip hoodie over your head as you jog to the elevator. “Flight deck.” You announce as you enter.

The doors close and you hear and feel the rumble of the Quinjet docking. “Finally.” You whisper to yourself.

You get to the roof and see the bay doors opening as the ramp drops. Steve is the first one out, followed swiftly by Sam.

“You guys look the shit.” You jest, running at Steve with open arms.

He wraps you in the tightest hug, “Missed you too, Ella.” He laughs.

“How ‘bout me?” Sam asks. You turn to him with a smile, and he embraced you too.

“Is everyone alright? Did you...did you guys...is it done?” You couldn’t really formulate a thought, your mind still wondering how the hell they survived.

Steve nodded. “Every ounce of data we could extract, we did. That base wasn’t even close to inactive. In fact, it was the hub for HYDRA’s new order.”

Your mouth dropped, “What?”

Sam spoke, “Don’t worry, there’s a debriefing tomorrow, we’ll let you know everything we know.”

Your eyes glance behind Steve and Sam. You see Wanda and Vision exit the plane, relieved that they’re okay. You were chewing on your bottom lip, feeling the impatience take hold of you.

Where the hell is he? You thought.

“Hey Ella, listen—“ Sam said, but you tuned him out, hearing more footsteps on the ramp.

There he was, Bucky, safe and—what?

He was holding someone. A woman. Carrying her like a parent does their child after they’ve fallen asleep in the car.

She was stunning. Milky skin with gorgeous red locks. You knew who this was without a doubt, recalling her photo from the file you’d read months ago. Natasha, the Black Widow.

She was smiling. He was smiling. A real, genuine, happy look graced his face as he walked towards you all.

“Barnes, you can put me down now.” She laughed.

He shook his head, “Not a chance, Kitten. Can’t have you runnin’ off on me again can we?”

She pushed some hair out of his face, “I’m not going anywhere this time. I found what I was looking for, and I don’t intend on letting it go.” She smirked her perfect lips at him, causing him to blush.

Bucky places her gently on her feet before looking at you. His eyes looked panicked as he took in the expression on your face.

“You must be Ella! Nice to meet you, I’m Nat. Steve’s told me so much about you.” She smiled, pulling you in for a hug.

Why didn’t Bucky tell you about me? You think begrudgingly.

A smile graced your face nonetheless as you return the hug. “Its an honor, you’re a legend.” You say in an attempt to control your tone. It was true, too. Natasha Romanoff was infamous in your line of work.

“Don’t boost her ego, Kid.” Tony says walking by you.

You smiled politely, eager to escape to your room. “Well you guys must be exhausted, I’ll let you—“

“Hell no. I need a drink and I need one now.” Sam said as he walked towards the door leading back inside.

“You think you get to drink alone, Wilson? I don’t believe that’s how this relationship works.” Tony said as he completed his retinal scan by the keypad.

“We’re gonna have a ‘hey look at that, none of us died’ dinner tonight. Pizza, beer, booze, music. 8 o’clock in the lounge.” Tony said disappearing inside.

You turned around to see Bucky whispering in Natasha’s ear, both laughing like giddy fucking schoolgirls.

Are they...does he...is she... you’re brain tried to think, but it couldn’t seem to complete a thought.

You wanted to punch him in that smug face of his. He didn’t even have the balls to say goodbye to you when he left, and now that he’s back he has the audacity to not say two words to you?

“I’m always down for pizza, how ‘bout you Ella?” Steve asked, swinging an arm around your shoulder and leading you back inside.

Bucky eyed Steve with a curious look, but you couldn’t help smiling at your friend, “Is that even a question, Steve? Pizza is a main food group in my opinion, you know that.”

He and Nat were swiftly on you heels. “You sure about that Els? You look exhausted, have you been sleeping?” Bucky asks from behind you.

You stop suddenly and turn on your heel. Is he serious? The first thing he says to you is basically ‘you look like shit’ and ‘please don’t come to this party’.

“Now that you mention it, Sergeant, I haven’t been sleeping. I was worried about my friends. Wondering when and if I’d see them again, I’d hate to leave thing left unsaid,”

You grab Steve’s and Sam’s hand in each of yours and lift them, “But it looks like everyone I care about made it back on one piece.”

You turn back around and head into the elevator with everyone.

You stood in your room, fuming.

Is this really who you’ve become? This pathetic teenager pining after someone who will never be hers?

It sure seems that way.

Your stomach churns at the image of he and Nat...together.

An excessive groan leaves your lips as you flop on the bed, ready to let yourself wallow.

Your plans, however, are interrupted by a knock on your door. “What?!” You scream.

The door opens slowly, “I thought you’d have missed me?” Wanda says.

You shoot up, and smile like an idiot. “Of course I missed you, Wan. I’m so glad you’re back!” You embrace her.

The two of you had become quite close recently, and it was so nice to have a girl friend around again.

“Then why do I get the feeling I interrupted a wallowing session, hm?” She said slyly.

You raise an eyebrow at her, “Wan...” You scold.

“I know, I know—stay outta your head. But Ella, your thoughts are so loud I can barely hear my own!” She laughed.

You sigh and sit on the edge of your bed, Wanda joining you.

“I’m just mad. I’m mad at myself for acting like a love struck teenager, I’m mad at him for yoyo-ing me all the damn time. I’m just...”

“In love.” She finished your sentence.

You laugh aloud, “Wan, you have to know someone to love them. That big oaf of a man is too damn stubborn to let anyone in! Besides, I don’t think it’s me he wants.”

“What’s that suppose to mean?” She asked.

You stand heading to your closet, looking through clothes to wear for tonight.

“Nothing. Forget I mentioned it.”

Wanda’s footsteps followed you, “I know you say Bucky’s stubborn, but so are you, Ella.” She smiled softly, her nimble fingers landing on a black velvet dress.

“This one.” She says. The long sleeved, deep v dress was your absolute favorite, and also very fancy.

“Isn’t that a bit much?” You ask.

She raised her eyebrows at you. “Uh, have you met Tony? He says ‘pizza and beer’ but he means a gala... with less people.”

“Fine, but I swear to God if you don’t dress up too then I’m coming back here and putting on pajamas.” You hold your pinky out to her.

She hooks it with a smile, “Deal.”

8 o’clock comes far too fast in your opinion.

You’d spent the last two hours in your bathroom doing your makeup and hair, and you look damn good.

The dress rested a bit below mid-thigh, and fit you perfectly. You make a mental not to thank Wanda later for forcing you into it.

“Breathe, Ella.” You say to yourself as the elevator carries you to the lounge floor.

Your black heels click through the corridor, the sound softening as your ears fill with classic rock from the end of the hall.

You slowly push the wooden door open, and spot everyone mingling. Maria Hill was there, as was Rhodey, and another man you’d never met before.

“Oh shoot! I didn’t know we had a supermodel living with us!” Sam shouts.

You laugh, “Oh shut up, you’ve clearly already been drinking.”

He shook his head, “So what? I still got eyes, don’t I?”

“You look beautiful.” Steve says cutting Sam off, placing a kiss on your cheek.

You blush, “Thank you, Steve. You boys clean up pretty nice too. I don’t think we’ve ever seen each other like this.”

Steve shakes his head, “Not exactly the suit I’m most comfortable in.” He took a sip of what you assume is scotch. “What are you drinkin’, sweetheart?” He asks.

“Honestly? Anything with vodka. Then I’ll have a shot or two.” You say, taking a seat at the high top table next to him.

“Coming right up, Sam why don’t you come with me fore you dig a deeper hole for yourself?”

You hear Sam grumbling as Steve drags him away, and you suddenly feel yourself being watched.

You scan the room, and spot him almost instantly. He’s standing with Nat, her back to you, leaning on the bar.

Bucky’s eyes, though glassy from the booze no doubt, had never been more focused.

His gaze roamed your body from your feet to your face. He licked his lips slowly, before capturing his bottom one in his teeth.

Shaking your head, you look away from him. “Don’t even think about it, buddy.” You mutter to yourself. You glance at him quickly one final time and see Nat waving her hand in front of his face.

Bucky’s trance seems to get broken and he falls back into conversation with her with ease.

“Moscow Mule? I think that’s what the bartender called it.” Steve says approaching you.

A light bulb suddenly goes off in your head.

“Steve? Can I ask for a favor?” You say, squeezing the lime into your drink

He nods, “Anything, what’s on your mind?”

You let out a large breath. “Okay, please don’t think I’m immature but I’ve been thoroughly pissed at your best pal over there,” you gesture with a nod of your head.

“and I’d really like to get him back for all the shit he’s put me through.”

Steve sips his drink again, as Sam places 3 shot of Jameson on the table. “What did you have in mind?”

Bucky’s breathing stopped the moment he saw her. He didn’t think she could get anymore beautiful.

Turns out he was incredibly, outstandingly wrong.

He felt his heat racing and his blood pumping, drowning out whatever Nat was telling him about her plans for the evening.

Ella’s eyes were everything to him. They bared her soul and showed him her heart at the same time. He’d never been able to see a future for himself, until she fell into his life.

He worried about her constantly. Not being able to see her or talk to her or hear her voice for nearly 3 weeks drove him crazy. Then seeing her in the state she was in, so obviously sleep deprived and stressed. He hated himself for making her worry so much, and it was clear she wasn’t too happy with him when he got back this morning.

“Hello, Earth to Barnes? Did you hear me?” Nat said, waving her hand.

Bucky shook his head, “No sorry, what was that?”

Nat smiled slyly. “Mhm, your girls got you in a tizzy, that’s for sure.” She said, sipping her martini.

Bucky smiled shyly. “She’s not my girl, no matter how much I wish she was.”

Nat slapped his lapel, “So what the fuck are you doing fuck standing here with me?!”

“Ow! Okay, okay! Christ, shouldn’t you be fucking Banner in a utility closet or something?” He laughed stepping away from her.

“All in good time, Barnes. Now go get your girl.” She said spinning away from him.

Bucky’s eyes traveled to where she was standing, but she wasn’t there. Sam was in her spot, downing a shot Bucky was sure he’d regret in the morning.

He maneuvered around the groups of people, searching for her. The soft rock music playing poignantly through the speakers, he sees a few couples dancing.

He scoots around them and spots Steve.

Good for him. He thought happily to himself.

When Steve sways around with his partner, he sees its not a random guest he’s dancing with. Steve is dancing with a beautiful girl, a woman, Bucky’s girl.

Bucky wants to throw up and kick his ass all at once.

But then he sees Ella.

She’s smiling, and comfortable. She’s happy as she rests her head on Steve’s chest, and sways to the rhythm of the song.

The alcohol in his system doesn’t make these feelings any easier to handle. His vibranium fist clenching and unclenching.

A whirring sound get both Steve and your attention. That’s when you see Bucky standing about 10 feet away from the two of you as he watches dance.

“Hey Buck, wh—“

“Shut the fuck up, Steve.” Bucky slurs.

Your eyes widen at the words he says to his friend. Bucky is visibly shaking, and obviously drunk—probably more so than you, and that’s saying something since Sam kept the shots coming.

“Bucky, stop.” You say before your mind can stop you.

He lets out a sarcastic laugh, “Not fucking him, huh?” He spat in anger as he pushed by you, leaving the lounge all together.

Steve looked to the door, then to you. Your eyes brimming with tears as you swallowed a sob.

He looks at you with a sad smile, and nods his head toward the door. “Go get him.”

Chapter Nine: Seen

#samthemarvelfan #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes x original female character #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fic #winter solider fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x ofc #bucky barnes fanfic #mcu bucky #mcu fanfiction #bucky barnes series #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #Goodbyes

[s1cparvism4gna]

PuNK

WARNINGS: cursing

Pairings: Rafe Adler x OC

Tags: @desertvvitch, @courtenbae, @tiecladartist

Chapter 7

Rafe’s POV

“No.” I said firmly.

“And why not?” I was on a call with Nadine Ross. Since Samuel evidently had decided to take matters into his own hands and steal from me, I had to do a bit of damage control. I enlisted the help of Shoreline, a group of mercenaries for hire. Nadine was the leader and was currently fighting me to bring her men to the auction. But to me, that was unnecessary. I didn’t need a bunch of goons walking around a high class area flashing their guns at every suspicious person. The whole room was going to be full of suspicious people.

“Because I’m the one writing your checks. What I say goes. It’s either just you or nobody at all.” I was trying my best not to yell. When I looked up from my maps and books, I noticed Lyric passed out on the couch across from me, her hair hanging in her face and snoring a little. I smiled to myself and stood to grab my jacket.

“Rafe, what if—”

“‘What if’ nothing. I have it under control. Security will be tight enough and if anything goes wrong, they’ll handle it.” I said to her as I placed my jacket over Lyric’s thin frame, gently moving her hair from her face. Her thick lashes fluttered on her cheekbones as she groaned and turned in her sleep.

“Fuck…” she said rather clearly, scratching her head and pulling my jacket closer to her face. I smirked as I went back to my seat, wondering what she could possibly be dreaming about. I could hear Nadine arguing about whatever in my ear as I leaned back into my seat, just watching her sleep. She looked so peaceful. Like she needed the rest. Like she needed this trip. I hated to admit it but I needed it too. Things at work had been so stressful. Two or three days in Italy with someone who didn’t entirely piss me off seemed like a good way to wind down.

“No muscle at the auction, Ms. Ross, and that’s final. I’ll hear no more about it.” I eventually said, tired of the nagging in my ear. “I will see you at the auction.”

“Alright…” she answered defeatedly. And with that, she’d hung up.

I pulled the ear piece out and tossed it into my briefcase. I’d been working since we finished dinner and it was time I took a break. I organized my desk, putting my files and maps into a neat pile and sipped on my wine that I happened to forget about. The glass was no longer chilled but I didn’t care. It was a little something to relax. After a few sips, I reclined the seat, crossing my fingers and resting them in my lap as I threw my head back. I closed my eyes hoping that maybe I’d fall asleep. I was on the brink of drifting away when I heard a sigh. I opened my eyes just enough to see through my eyelashes. Lyric was moaning and whining in her sleep. Not the disturbed kind of noise though. More like arousal. For about ten minutes she went on like this, just shifting in her seat. I bit my lip as I listened to her sweet voice crying out softly in need. Now I definitely wanted to know what she was dreaming about. A high pitched soft moan and sharp gasp passed from her lips, causing my heart to skip and a twitch in my pants. It was absolutely inappropriate to think about but as my eyes wandered over her face, they landed on her lips. I wanted to kiss them. They looked so soft and warm and smooth. I could feel my face frowning, upset that I wasn’t the one making her sound this way. After a while, she quieted down but my thoughts did not. I wanted to dig my fingers into her wild blonde tresses, have her long long legs wrapped around my waist. I wanted her. The real her. Not the one she shows me at work. Even though I realized at that point that I barely knew who she was to begin with. I could only hope that would change throughout the weekend.

Eventually I found myself falling asleep. Not for long though. The stewardess ended up coming to wake me 15 minutes before we landed. When I opened my eyes, she gave me a kind smile. I looked out of the window next to me, blinking myself awake rather slowly as I admired the sunrise and the aerial view of Rome. In my opinion, it wasn’t such a bad thing to wake up to. I yawned and sat up in my seat, stretching my back, cracking my neck. She patted my shoulder in a motherly fashion and disappeared into the back of the plane again. I stood up, brushing the random strands of hair off of my face and sat on the couch next to my sleeping assistant. I yawned again, running my hand down her shoulder, shaking her awake gently as I whispered her name. Her eyes fluttered open and immediately her face turned a bright red. She jumped a little, startled by seeing me and I held my hands up in defense.

“It’s just me!” I said softly with a smile. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” She blinked at me a couple times as she sat up, my jacket falling off of her as she did. “We’re about to land and I, uh…. figured you might wanna see the sky view.” I told her, raising the blind that covered the small window near her head, pointing at the view. She turned around and the look on her face was priceless. She brought her fingers to her lips, concealing the wide grin that spread across her lips and gasped in wonder. The sunlight seemed to make her eyes shine a bit brighter than normal and I tore my gaze away to enjoy the view with her. It was a fantastic sight.

“This is amazing…” she said in awe.

“Wait til we actually get into the city.” I said, standing as I began to gather up my things to put them into my briefcase. She scooted to the edge of her seat and threw her arms in the air, stretching out her long limbs and I tried my damnedest not to look. She picked up her heels and put them back on her feet before leaning into the couch. I could feel her eyes on me as I got my things together. I looked up with a chuckle as her eyes narrowed.

“Did you finish what you needed to do?” She asked me.

“Uh… yeah.” I lied all too easily, sitting back in my recliner. The way she twirled a lock of hair around her finger told me that she didn’t believe a word.

“And did you get any sleep?” She asked. I forced a puff of air and ran my hand down my face tiredly.

“Actually, yes. More sleep than I would at home if you can believe it.”

“I don’t but okay.” She smirked. That time I was actually telling the truth. Normally I’d get maybe 2 or 3 hours in before I had to go to work. This time I got maybe 5. I could really feel the difference. If it were up to me though, I wouldn’t have gotten up at all. “You’re taking another nap before we go anywhere.” She told me boldly. I laughed. At least she cared enough.

“I think you missed the part where I’m your boss and I tell you what to do.” I said. But like a nagging wife, she was right. I could’ve used an hour or two more. “I’ll tell you what. We’ll both take some time to wind down before lunch.”

“What are we having?!” She damn near jumped out of her seat.

“I’m feeling like pasta.” I hummed. “With an excessive amount of Parmesan.”

When we landed at the hangar, we were greeted by a shiny black car, ready to take us to where we’d be staying. I booked a villa for us instead of a hotel. I figured it’d be quieter and not to mention there was a killer view from every balcony and patio. It was a nice 75 degrees out that morning. The wind pushed against us as we descended the stairs. The driver greeted us with a smile and opened the door for us before retrieving our bags. Lyric slid into the car and rubbed her eyes before groaning loudly.

“What is it?” I asked.

“I forgot I had makeup on… I probably look a mess now.” She grumbled.

“I don’t think so. You look good.” I told her truthfully. She stared at me as a blush tinted her cheeks.

“Thank you?” She wasn’t sure what to make of that. The fault being my own, I didn’t compliment her much. That was something that could change. The car began to drive us through the city and into the country just on the outskirts. A massive change from the big city buildings turning into rolling hills of green, some plots of land with small houses nearby. Everything looked so fresh and alive. A stark comparison to the area of New York we’d just come from. The skies were now blue and the clouds were perfectly fluffy.

It wasn’t long before we pulled into a long winding driveway, each side lined with well kept bushes of flowers. We pulled up to a two story beautifully stone built house, parts of it tastefully covered with vines and tall trees stood at its corners. There was a lovely little patio outside from what I could see. I could hear Lyric gasping as the car came to a stop. “No way we’re staying here….”

“Well I don’t feel like staying at a hotel so yes. We are.” I told her as the driver got out and opened my door. I then rounded the car and opened the door for her. Her eyes widened as she stepped out and looked around. The first thing she did was take her shoes off to walk in the soft plush grass out front. The grin on her face was something magical. I stood there a while and watched her wiggle her toes in the earth and my chest began to swell with adoration. She giggled and covered up her smile with her hands before looking at me.

“So… I can go inside there?” She asked rather childishly. I forced a laugh and nodded, shoving my hands in my pocket. She practically bolted into the house, throwing the doors open.

“And she’s off...” I chuckled as the driver began to grab our bags. I could hear her squealing from the upstairs.

“Holy shit!” I heard her swear and I burst into laughter. The house was pretty nice. Clean above all things, which I loved. The living space was open and looked cozy. The flooring was a pale hardwood and the walls, a detailed off white. Bricks molded the rounded archways and there was a fireplace as well. That bit I got excited about. I walked around, letting my fingertips grace the backs of the white couches and chairs, over the sea foam green colored pillows. That’s when my eyes landed on a massive, dark wood baby grand piano. Tucked in a corner was a beautiful Spanish guitar. ‘She’ll get a kick out of that…’ I thought as I pressed a few keys on the piano with a smirk. The driver placed our bags by the door and I paid him a generous tip, thanking him as he left us. I closed the double doors and sighed. It was going to be a long weekend.

Suddenly, Lyric appeared at the top of the stairs. “Did you see the piano?!” She exclaimed excitedly. I nodded.

“Yeah I did.” My heart was pounding from the beauty of her broad grin. “Did you see the guitar?” I asked.

“I MISSED A GUITAR?!” She began flying down the stairs to the corner I pointed at. She picked it up and her eyes seemed to light up.

“Do you play?” I asked feigning ignorance. Of course she played. You can’t be the lead singer of a band and not play.

“I play a little.” She answered coyly. I smirked.

“You’ll have to play for me some time.” I said, resting my jacket on the back of the couch and taking off my neck tie.

“You’ll have to get me really drunk. I get shy at small audiences.” She mumbled, running her thumb down the untuned strings of the instrument. The words just fell from my lips without thinking.

“You never have to be shy with me.” I said. She looked up and bit her lip nervously before setting the guitar back down. I tore my gaze from her to look down the hall. I could see the corner of a refrigerator. “Have you checked out the kitchen yet?” I asked. She shook her head no. “After you…” I gestured down the hall, stepping away to make room for her. She sauntered by and shuffled into the kitchen, me strolling behind her.

As we stopped at the bricked threshold of the kitchen, Lyric gasped. Turning around, she had the goofiest expression and let out a silent, whispery scream. I was impressed. The cabinets were all white and the countertops were a sandy granite. There was an island with a few stools and a massive refrigerator, complete with a wine cooler, stocked with the finest Italian wine. She gave an exaggerated gasp as she opened up the wine cooler and pulled a bottle of red. She looked at me with wide eyes.

“This kitchen…. I have to cook in this kitchen!” She exclaimed with an excited laugh. “Oh my god and look!” She said pointing to a massive rounded archway with double doors that led to the back. There were pillars wrapped in the greenest vines and on the bricked patio, a couple of dark arm chairs with white cushions, a coffee table was set in the middle of them decorated with a few candles and an ashtray. Along the outside wall were a few torches that could be lit on fire. Behind it was a set of bricked stairs, lined with small candles, that led into a grassy area. There was a small, rounded table near the edge where there was a magnificent view of the Italian countryside. I followed Lyric down the steps and we both stood by the edge of the grassy platform to stare at the sun still rising in the sky over the rolling hills. Further around the corner, was a decently sized pool and a hot tub. In an instant I began to think of all the things we could do. This was an unintentionally romantic place to be. If I had to be there with anyone though, I was glad it was her.

“Mr. Adler…. Thank you for taking me….” She sighed in awe, hugging the red wine bottle against her chest.

“Don’t thank me. Your research brought us here. You should enjoy it.” I said, leaning into the archway.

“No, Mr. Adler you don’t get it…. This is so much space… I…”

“If it’s what you wanna hear: you’re welcome.” I smiled. With that, I clapped my hands together and smiled. “Now. Since you’ve seen the upstairs before me, have you picked a room?” She turned to look at me with a puzzled expression.

“I was just gonna take the one you didn’t want… I mean I’m not picky.”

“Oh, please. Don’t women need their space to do…. woman things?”

“Yeah but you’re also my boss.” She told me. I stared at her a moment. Even away from the office, she tried her best to be a good employee.

“Such manners.” I mumbled. “Alright. I’ll go take a look and I’ll holler when I make a decision.”

It didn’t take long for me to choose. Both rooms were big and clean with their own bathrooms, both had nice TVs, both came with a massive window for a fantastic view of the countryside, both had decent closet and drawer space. The only difference was one had a vanity complete with a mirror and the other did not. I sighed, imagining Lyric sitting there, putting on her makeup or doing whatever it was she did to make her skin glow the way it did. I walked back down the stairs to grab my bag and took them to my room. Then I grabbed hers and laid them on the loveseat in front of her bed. Decisions made. “Lyric, I put your stuff in your room for you!” I hollered down the steps. I could hear the small pitter patter of her bare feet on the hardwood as she approached. Not wanting to swoon more than I already had, I grunted from behind my bedroom door.

“Are you sure that’s the one you want?” She asked me. I just nodded.

“I’m sure. Listen, you were right. I’m still a little tired so I’m gonna shower and take a few more hours.” I told her.

“Okay! Well… I’ll work on getting us a car and maybe do some grocery shopping.” She smiled.

“Alright. Be careful walking around by yourself. If you need me, you have my number.”

“Of course, sir—”

“You can drop the formalities, Lyric. We’re not at the office.” I assured her. I wanted her to be comfortable. Here and around me. I could tell it baffled her a bit by the way her mouth hung open. I smiled at her a moment and took off my neck tie. “Go do what you need to do.” I told her before closing my door. I pressed my back against the door and groaned. Behaving around her was certainly going to be difficult. Especially with her just being so cute. And then there was hearing her on the plane. Those moans weren’t something I could easily forget. Shaking off the nerves, I began to unpack and ready myself for a nice long shower.

#rafe adler x oc #rafe adler x reader #rafe adler #uncharted #uncharted 4 #sam drake #samuel drake #uncharted x reader #uncharted smut #uncharted 4 a thief's end #uncharted fanfic #uncharted fanfiction #uncharted imagine #rafe adler headcanons #uncharted headcanons #poc #poc ocs #poc oc #uncharted oc #ao3 author

[clan-sayeed-fic]

Let me earn your trust (Kamilah Sayeed & MC)

Previous chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21

Book: Bloodbound (property of Pixelberry Studios) Pairing: Kamilah Sayeed & MC: Amy (I do not own those characters, they're the property of Pixelberry Studios as well) Warnings: strong language, a little smut, but mostly angst Rating: Mature Author's note:  I'm not a native English speaker, I'm sorry for any mistakes (feel free to correct me).

I hope you won’t hate me for this chapter, and you’d stay here a little longer to see the ending of this story. 

~ 2000 words

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Chapter 22

Amy got out of the limousin right after it stopped by her apartment. She got out of it quickly, heading to the doors.

Kamilah and Adrian needed to stay at the gala until the end because of the scheduled Council meeting convened by Vega.

And Lily... well, she wanted to party.

That created the best opportunity for Amy to go back to their place and pack up her things. In case anyone wanted her to stay at the Council meeting, she told Kamilah that she wasn't feeling good. And as a result, she got an order to go back home immediately.

Amy had her time to think about how she should deal with what Vega expected from her. How to let go of Kamilah. Especially after they finally got close to each other more than ever before.

She knew that no matter how she would try, Kamilah would get hurt in a process. The only thing Amy wanted at that moment was to find the least painful way.

She decided to disappear without talking to anyone, leaving behind only a simple note. She knew that it would be enough to break Kamilah's heart and make her question Amy's feelings for her.

Besides, Lily knew her past better than anyone else, she wouldn't be surprised with Amy acting like that. And that would stop her friends from reaching out to her and trying to find her against her will.

That would provide safety for them.

With this thought, Amy took the dress off, putting it aside on the bed, and quickly dressed up in her casual clothes. She sent one last look at this golden color, shining on her bed before her, as she started packing up.

Since she didn't have much, it didn't take a lot of time, and she was soon done with it. She threw the backpack on the mattress and sat down to her desk, writing a note down in a rush.

For a moment, she had a deja vu that grew along with the words appearing on the paper. The note sounded so similar to something she wrote a long time before. But she didn't have much time to think about it as some noises came to her ears.

Someone was outside of the apartment.

Amy hurriedly hid the note under the pillow and made her way to the doors. At the same time, she heard a quiet knocking.

Without much thinking, she opened the door to see...

"Kamilah?" Amy's voice didn't hide how shocked she was and how inconvenient was the timing of the guest's arrival.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," the woman said with a smirk. "Am I not allowed to see how my date is feeling?"

"I mean, you..." Amy wasn't able to finish the sentence because they were already connected in a passionate kiss.

Kamilah pulled Amy further inside the apartment, closing the doors behind herself. The same doors by which she pressed the girl devouring her with ardent kisses. For a moment, they separated from each other, and the woman took a good look at her prey.

"Mhm," Kamilah hummed softly. "I hoped you would wait for me in this stunning dress," her hand gently pulled blond hair away, revealing soft skin. "I imagined how I was taking it off."

She leaned down, kissing Amy's neck, not giving her even a tiny moment to react. The girl was confused by this situation. First, she was so upset about leaving, and now Kamilah by herself was so close, touching her.

And, of course, her body had to react under this touch.

That was something Amy wanted the least. Staying there, moaning under Kamilah's kisses. Surrendering to the warmness of her body, sweet touch of her soft lips.

"Don't you remember that I'm not feeling well?" Amy tried to distract Kamilah's attention, but the woman kept on kissing her, moving lower to the collarbone.

"I thought that you wanted me here," she whispered into her skin, sending shivers all over the girl's body.

Damn it, Amy thought, and finally managed to escape from Kamilah's kisses. She jumped to the side, trying to ease her own breathing and heartbeat. To hide everything that could show the woman how much she enjoyed all of this.

"Did I do something wrong?" Kamilah's chestnut eyes were full of confusion. "So far, you didn't complain about my touch."

"Umm," Amy wasn't prepared for this talk, her plan was completely different. "I..."

"What is this?" the woman's eyes moved over Amy's head, looking at her room, which she was able to see clearly, thanks to the opened doors.

Kamilah wasn't listening to Amy's excuses. She used her vampire speed, and a moment later, she was staying in the girl's room. Her gaze was focused on the luggage lying on the bed. Facial muscles tensed.

"Are you going somewhere?" the woman's voice quiet. She wasn't blind, and her mind already created multiple explanations for the view before her eyes.

For a moment, Amy stood there speechless. Both women were staring at each other, trying to understand each other's minds, thoughts, motives. At first, the girl wanted to give up, explain everything, simply tell the truth. But Vega's words were echoing in her head too loud, and now she was given an opportunity.

"Actually, yes, I am," Amy composed herself, crossing her arms in a defensive posture.

"I see," Kamilah's voice sounded normal as she was trying to keep her mind clear. "Did Adrian plan a business trip that I knew nothing about? Or are you going somewhere with Lily?"

Despite asking, Kamilah was aware that none of those scenarios lined up with what she already deduced.

She knew it was not possible for her to not know about a trip with Adrian. Lily, on the other hand, stayed at the party, and why would she do that if they had plans for the next day. Besides, it wasn't so difficult to notice that Amy packed up in a hurry. She didn't even hide the dress, only left it on the bed.

"No, I'm not going anywhere with Adrian or Lily," Amy moved closer to the bed to zip the backpack.

She just needed to do something with her hands, which were shaking from emotional excess. But most of all, she was afraid that her face would show Kamilah the truth. That in some way, the woman will break her, making her say all of it. And she knew that Vega was a powerful man, he was responsible for Kamilah's injury once. Nothing would stop him from doing it again.

Unless Amy did what he expected from her.

"Are you leaving on your own?" Kamilah tried to figure out what was going on. "Did I forget about some trip you were planning to attend?"

Her questions made Amy's head burn with pain. Feelings were attacking her from every corner of the room. Her chest filled with anger that she had no reason to feel at that moment. Fury that caused her eyes to shine like gold.

"Oh my god," Amy threw the backpack on the floor. "It's none of your fucking business Kamilah," she looked into the woman's eyes directly, piercing with her icy stare. "You don't get to boss me around anymore."

For a moment, the full of hatred voice escaping Amy's mouth made Kamilah forget her own words.

"I don't understand," she whispered finally.

Amy sighed, not breaking out of the character.

"Of course you don't, how could you," she burst out with anger even if deep inside all she felt was despair.

Then, she saw a look on Kamilah's face. The misunderstanding mixed with genuine concern. An urge to be helpful.

"Tell me what are you feeling right now," Kamilah was never this vulnerable, never wanted this much to understand a human being. "I want to help you."

"There's nothing you could possibly do," Amy didn't drop her gaze, she was good at this, she did it so many times. But never to the person that she cared about so much. "How could you understand my feelings when you're this cold, emotionless creature?!"

She walked out of the room, toward the doors, forcing Kamilah to follow her steps.

"What happened?" the woman was shocked, she had never seen Amy in such mood. Never acting so cold, arguing so much without giving any reasons.

"You happened, Kamilah Sayeed," Amy's words were like a poison, causing the woman's heart death over and over again.

They made her feel the same emptiness she remembered from when she was turned into a vampire, over two millennia ago.

"If I ever did something...If I ever pushed you to do anything against your will, tell me," Kamilah's head was filled with conflicting feelings.

She wasn't mad at the girl for saying such things. But at the same time, she was getting hurt. And that was something Kamilah didn't feel for such a long time.

"Well, guess what," Amy's eyes shining gold with sadness this time, but for Kamilah, it looked like she was afraid of her, "it's too late for that."

The girl opened the doors wide, gesturing her to leave. She didn't know how much more she was able to handle this game, seeing Kamilah's pain. How her whole appearance was growing weaker with Amy's every word.

Kamilah made it closer to the doors, but still as far away as she could from the girl, not wanting to make things worse. The last thing she wanted in the world was for Amy to be afraid of her.

To see her as a monster.

"I am," Kamilah's voice shaky. "I'm so sorry."

And after those words, she disappeared using her vampire speed, leaving behind herself only a gust of wind that brushed Amy's hair.

She left, leaving behind herself emptiness.

The same emptiness spread inside Amy's chest. Her legs trembled, knees got weak, causing her to curl up against the wall. She was shaking, hiding her head in hands. Tears were escaping her eyes, flowing down her cheeks.

Quiet sobbing filled the apartment. It was the only sound echoing between the walls as the opposite of the loud argument that happened just a moment earlier.

Amy wiped the tears from her eyes and took a phone out of her pocket to type a message.

"I'm ready."

She went back to her room to take the backpack from the bed and put her jacket on.

Amy turned around to look one last time at her room before she left it behind.

Forgetting about the letter, which she hid under the pillow.

The note, that was her only hope.

***

Amy was sitting in front of Adam Vega in the office inside of his mansion.

As soon as her message arrived, he sent a chauffeur for her to pick her up from the apartment. And drive her directly to him. During the whole road, Amy was shaking. Not because she was scared of what was about to come. The reason for that was the guilt she felt for letting down Kamilah's trust in such a cruel way.

After a few hours, Amy found herself sitting in front of the desk. She was reading the contract with her eyes opening more in shock with each word.

That was unbelievable.

What he wanted from her was just... unbelievable.

Her throat was tightening as her eyes were moving down the pages, taking the words in. Getting to know the fate that was waiting for her.

"I can't," Amy's voice sounded so weak. She didn't hear this part of her for a long time.

For such a long time, she didn't feel as vulnerable as at that moment. Everything that happened to her during those last few months built up her confidence. It made her the person she always wanted to be.

Strong.

With friends worth her trust on her side.

She had it, she finally had it all. And needed to let go of it in a split of a second. Like her whole journey meant nothing.

Vega came closer to the desk on the opposite side of it. He reached for the pen, which was lying on the wooden surface, holding it for Amy to take.

There was no smile on his face, only a fierce look.

Amy took the pen without dropping his gaze.

And that's when she heard the words, of which she was afraid the most.

"We had a deal, Ms. Moore."

Next chapter: 23

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tag list: @onyxgaytrash @lightning-fury @scarlet-letter-a0114 @caliseds @myonlybae-joohyun

#kamilah sayeed #kamilah x mc #kamilah #bb kamilah #bloodbound kamilah #choices bloodbound #bb mc #choices bb #Kamilah bb #Bloodkeeper #BloodBound #choices fanfiction #choices fic #choices stories you play #angst

[hutchhitched]

The Vintage Joshifer Series: End of Love—Chapter 21 (Final Chapter)

End of Love by hutchhitched

Finally, y’all! A million years ago during Catching Fire promo, I stumbled into a friendship with some amazing Joshifer fans. Despite not being a full-blown shipper, I was absolutely thrilled to see an interest in writing historical AU fanfiction. For a long while, I knew what I wanted to write, but I couldn’t get the words to come. By the time I started posting, it seemed most of the Joshifer fandom had (understandably) moved on, but I still wanted to write this story and complete the commitment. After numerous delays and more stutters and stops than I can count, my contribution to @thevintagejoshiferseries​ is complete.

Big thanks to @burlesonspride​ for the banner and encouragement to join in on the fun. I know we don’t talk much anymore and you’ve moved on to other ventures, but I still adore you. There are a lot of others who deserve thanks, too, but you know who you are.

I chose the 1960s because the decade of rebellion speaks to me in so many ways. With recent events, I hope it does with some of you, too. There are so many people still struggling for political, economic, and human rights. The fight’s not over. Keep going.

Historical events in this chapter include the following:

The concert at Altamont in December 1969 became the symbol of excess and the end of a peaceful counterculture. If Woodstock was the ideal, Altamont demonstrated excess and danger and a drug culture that was out of control. There’s a lot of information on the event itself, but here are some great articles from Rolling Stone, the History Channel, Forbes, and The New Yorker.

Berkeley, California, December 1969

 “Oh my GAWWWWWWWWWD!!!!!” Brenda squealed as Jen emerged from the airport and streaked toward her college roommate. “It’s been so long. You look so good!”

 “You look so good, too!” Jen cried as she enveloped the other girl. “It’s so good to see you. I missed you so much, honey.”

 “You don’t miss me. I’m nobody. Unlike my former roommate who’s the toast of the networks. I’m so proud of you, Jennifer!”

 “Well, my professional life is great anyway,” Jen offered wryly and swallowed against the anger and pain that always lingered just below the surface since Josh’s disappearance over a year ago. “I’m happy about that.”

 “You really haven’t heard from him at all? No phone call? Not even another letter explaining anything?”

 Jen chuckled as she imagined Josh sitting down to write to her. The last time she’d seen him, he hadn’t been very interested in the written word. She couldn’t imagine that had changed much in the past twelve months, no matter how badly she wanted to hold onto the image of her former whatever-he’d-been as the guy she’d met in college and fallen in love with despite her best intentions. And now look where that had gotten her.

 “Nothing. Besides, I don’t live in Chicago anymore, remember? New York City’s a better fit, and my coverage of Stonewall made my career. He knows how to find me if he wants to hear from me again.”

 “But Jen—”

 “I looked for him, you know,” she admitted. “When I was in the Village and the protestors were marching in the streets. I saw Andre, Josh’s college roommate. He’s been part of the gay underground for years, and I thought maybe he might be there. Still an activist. Still fighting for change. To make the world better, but he wasn’t. None of his friends have heard from him since Nixon was elected, and I’m damn sure not going to call his family. They don’t know me, and I’m not going to beg him to be part of my life anymore. I’ve sacrificed enough for him.”

 Jen’s pronouncement hung in the air, and Brenda had enough grace to pretend she believed her. The silence stretched between the two women until Brenda shook her head and suggested they make their way to the cab line and head to their hotel. After all, they had a limited amount of time to get reacquainted before the alumni event they were supposed to attend.

 Jen blinked away tears as they drove through town and by campus. Memories assailed her at every corner, and she suddenly felt very old for someone who’d only graduated from college a few years prior. She wanted to kick herself for running out on Josh the night they’d first slept together, and she regretted not working through their problems when they lived together in Chicago. It had just been so easy to run or to seduce him instead. Sex had always been good between the two of them, and she liked it. She’d felt empowered when he lost himself in her or when he’d turned to her body for comfort. The problem was that he’d stopped looking to her and started hiding, too. When they’d both ignored their problems, they’d lost each other.

 A year later hadn’t dulled the ache of his absence. She’d been grieving since the election, but Josh had been for far longer. If she was fortunate—no, lucky—enough to find him again, she wouldn’t make the same mistake twice or however many times it was now. It would have to be pure luck to run into him again after all the ways fate had brought them together in the past, and she’d never been one to find four-leaf clovers. Unfortunately, last November seemed to be the end of their love story, no matter how much she wanted it to be another way.

 “You know there’s a big Stones concert tomorrow not far from here. Some of my friends are going.” Jen jumped when Brenda’s words broke through her reverie.

 “Really? I love them.”

 “I know,” her old roommate said with a grin. “Want to go?”

 “Absolutely! Wait, is this at Altamont? Woodstock West?”

 “I knew you’d know what I was talking about. Sometimes it’s hard to remember you’re in the news business and have your ear to the ground more than us mere mortals.”

 “Please,” Jen scoffed, but the wheels in her brain started turning. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to make a quick phone call.”

 With that she made a beeline for the payphones on the far side of the hotel lobby. If she could pull a few strings, she could tie this to her job and make her friend really happy. What use was working herself to death and making her way up the ladder, slapping away the roving hands, working ten times harder than her male colleagues only to get a third as far—what use was any of that if she couldn’t sometimes cash in her success for press passes at a major counterculture event? None, that’s what, so she was damn well going to call her affiliate and let them know where she was.

 After she completed her call, she made her way back to Brenda and they retired to their room to get ready for the alumni event. Jen made it through with as much grace and class as she could while attempting to stymie the rush of emotions that hit her every time she turned her head. She drank a little too much and laughed louder than she would have if she’d been acting completely like herself, but she survived. More than anything, she held onto the promise of seeing her favorite band in concert the next day. If she managed to score the press passes, even better.

 “We need to make a stop on the way to the speedway. Can you be ready to go in 30?” Jen asked when they woke the next morning.

 “What’s going on?”

 “I need to stop by the local NBC affiliate to pick up some papers. My boss is being a real stickler about my time off while I’m out here. Something about an assignment. I want to make sure we have plenty of time to get to Altamont before the big names go onstage.”

 “Why?”

 “Well, it was supposed to be a surprise, but… Because I got us press passes. We’ll be able to get anywhere with them—including backstage.”

 Brenda squealed and hugged her friend, which made Jen smile. It felt good that her hard work could help make someone else feel so good.

 “Altamont, here we come!”

 ****

 “This is a gas!” Brenda yelled into Jen’s ear. “These passes are the best.”

 Smiling, Jennifer nodded and then pointed to the crowd indicating she was headed into the fray for a little bit. Brenda indicated her approval, and Jen headed off by herself for a few minutes. There were so many people at the racetrack. The music was loud, and she needed a break. Besides, she wanted to check out the crowd in case she could use the information she gathered for a news story later. After all, she was a journalist, a damn good one, at that, and her career came first. Now that her love life was dead, something had to.

 Experiencing Altamont made her regret not taking her boss up on his suggestion she cover Woodstock. She’d considered it for a second, but she’d been exhausted from coverage of the Stonewall riots and then traveled home for a family function. At the time, she hadn’t wanted to take off on another assignment when there was plenty of news to cover in the city itself. If she had, though, she’d be able to compare the two music festivals.

 The crowd at Altamont seemed perfectly content, albeit jittery. The lower the sun dropped in the sky, the more unrest she felt. She stepped around a shirtless, bearded man on the edge of the mosh pit in front of the stage and froze. There, not even ten feet from her, was Josh Hutcherson, alive and in the flesh. The man who’d haunted her dreams and had made her weep far too often over the past year was there, cheering and whooping as the Rolling Stones shifted into another song.

 People surged around her. Frozen in place, she couldn’t drop her gaze from his face. Josh’s face. She’d imagined reuniting with him a million times, but now that the opportunity existed, she had no idea what to do or how to act or what to say. Stunned and breathless, she tried to smile, but she was positive her face held more of a grimace than anything else. And then he turned slightly, and she could tell the exact moment when he saw her. His handsome face went slack in shock, and he took a tentative, hobbled step toward her.

 It took a minute for her to realize something had shifted. Someone pushed while another shoved back, and the concertgoers pressed closer together. Squeezed between two large men, she fought for space and scrambled frantically to keep Josh in her sights.

 All hell erupted around her as men in black leather infiltrated the crowd. She saw a person fall and then another. Panicked fans stepped over the bodies on the ground, and she had to fight to stay upright at people swarmed around her. She struggled against the tightening noose, but she was losing ground.

 “Jennifer!”

 Suddenly, he was in front of her, pulling and tugging her free from the throng. He grabbed her hand and bulled his way toward the perimeter where it seemed there wasn’t quite so much danger.

 “What are you doing here?” he shouted over the noise. “I thought you were in New York?”

 She gaped at him. “How did you know that? Why are you here? Where have you been? And why the fuck did you leave me in Chicago, you shitless bastard?”

 Josh opened and closed his mouth a few times before his face broke into a wide grin. “God, I missed you,” he laughed and cupped her face in his hands. Before she could shake him off, he leaned forward and kissed her.

 Stunned, she stiffened under the onslaught, but she gradually melted into him. She’d forgotten how good he was at this, how his lips and tongue and teeth combined to weaken her knees and shatter her resolve. Then, she was kissing him back, passionate and frantic as he held her to him. She was seconds from tearing his shirt over his head when someone slammed into them. Hard.

 He broke away and glanced around them to assess the situation. “We need to get out of here,” he shouted and grabbed her hand to pull her along.

 “Wait! Brenda’s here. She’s backstage. I can’t leave her.”

 “Jen! I want you safe.”

 She shook her head and twisted to look at the stage. Everything was in chaos, but she glimpsed her roommate briefly. She waved and ducked away under the arm of one of the workers who’d been flocking around them when they’d first arrived. If the wide grin on her face was any indication, Brenda would be absolutely fine.

 “Let’s go!” she yelled but allowed him to pull her behind him through the rioting crowd and into a clear area near the parking lot.

 “Are you okay?” he asked, his hands running over her shoulders and arms and then back up to her face. “Are you hurt?”

 “I’m fine. I’m okay. Josh…”

 His lips were on hers again, warm and comforting and more than a little urgent. She wanted to lose herself in him, find comfort in a way she hadn’t been able to for so long. More than anything, she craved his skin against hers. More than she wanted to know why he’d gone or where he’d been or what his future plans were. She just needed him in a way she couldn’t explain. She only knew that she felt like she’d come home when she was with him. After all this time, he was still the person that made her feel more herself than anyone else.

 It felt like seconds and decades at the same time, but finally, their frantic make out session ended and they could look at each other more fully. She had a million questions, but the most important was the one she managed to blurt as he studied her with his hazel gaze.

 “Do you love me?”

 He raised his hand to her left cheek and traced her cheekbone with his thumb. His eyes flickered over her, and his lips curved into a smirk. “Of course, I love you,” he laughed. “I always have. I’ve been an idiot—worse, I’ve been a complete ass—but I’ve been in love with you for a decade.”

 “I live in New York. I’m not moving.”

 “I’ve already got my plane ticket back there. I was just staying with Connor through the holidays.”

 “I don’t trust you.”

 “I don’t blame you. I haven’t been very trustworthy, and I’m sorry.”

 She glared at him, but she couldn’t find her anger. His presence was a balm she hadn’t even known she’d needed. When he’d left, she’d thought it was the end of their love, but maybe tonight was really the beginning. If the last decade had taught her nothing else, everything was a gamble. Maybe she had another big one left in her.

 “Hey, Hutch.”

 “Yeah?” It felt like the world around them was holding its breath.

 “Take me home.”

 When he reached for her hand, she took it.

 ****

 The drive to his brother’s apartment seemed to take forever and not nearly long enough. She wasn’t nervous, exactly, but it had been over a year since he’d left. How would it feel to be with him again after all this time and so much pain between them?

 “Connor’s out with friends tonight. Spending the night with his boyfriend,” Josh announced as they pulled into a parking spot.

 “Okay,” she replied and sucked in a breath to hold. At least they wouldn’t have an audience for their reunion.

 “We don’t have to do anything,” he said, and she raised her eyes to his. Vulnerability poured from him, and she suddenly wanted to soothe him. She had the ability to provide him comfort, and that’s what she wanted more than anything else in that moment.

 “I want to do everything,” she answered firmly.

 He led her up the stairs to his brother’s apartment and unlocked the door. When they were inside, he tossed his keys on the table and turned to her. She went to him, and he pulled her close. His arms wrapped around her back to nestle her against his chest. Slowly, he lifted her chin and pressed his lips against hers.

 It was a chaste kiss, but it lit a fire inside her. She deepened the kiss by tilting her head and opening her mouth. Her tongue begged for attention, and he slid his against hers. His muffled grunt was matched by her lusty moan, and the thin veil of control they clung to snapped.

 “Jennifer,” he sighed. Their hands grappled with their clothing as it fell piece by piece. Frantic, she hopped onto the kitchen table and tucked him between her legs. He rubbed her quickly, just a tiny bit of prep, and then he was inside her, thrusting with his head thrown back. She wrapped her arms around his neck and hung on as he rammed into her. The table creaked under them, and she gripped him inside her tighter and tighter as he plunged erratically into her depths.

 “Fuck!” he shouted to the ceiling when his body tensed. He sank into her, and she felt a wet heat pulsing inside her when he came.

 She cradled him to her, grateful for his warmth in the chilling apartment, until he came back to himself. His mouth sought hers in a lazy journey across her cheek until they were kissing and kissing and then kissing more and more and more. She couldn’t get enough of him. He surrounded her, made her feel like she’d found everything she needed, and grounded her to the present.

 “I love you,” he mumbled against her lips. “I’m so sorry for leaving you.”

 She whimpered, both at his words, and him pulling out of her, but that turned to a forceful howl when he sank to his knees in front of her. She spread her legs further, and he leaned forward. Falling back on the table, she pressed her eyes closed and allowed herself to float. His tongue and fingers and lips and facial hair all worked to drive her over the edge, and she gripped the edge of the table as an orgasm rushed through her. Panting, she begged him to keep going.

 He took his time, nuzzling against her until she writhed under him. He prodded her legs into different positions, interspersed sucking on her clit with shoving his fingers inside her until she was wailing. She couldn’t control the sounds that poured from her any more than she could stop from climaxing multiple times as he took her apart.

 She lost track of time, of her name, of her roles and responsibilities. Nothing mattered but him on her, connected and intertwined in a way she always wanted them to be, that they’d never quite managed when they held back from each other. For the first time in ages, she felt he was completely open to her, and she responded in kind. Any inhibitions she still held fell away, and she ground against his face harder and harder.

 “Josh, I need more,” she whined, desperate for him to be inside her again.

 He stumbled to his feet and scooped her from the table. Half-carrying, half-supporting her, he walked them across the room to the ratty couch in the living room. Woozily, she glanced at the rumpled blankets and sheets where he’d obviously been sleeping and sank onto his lap when he sat.

 “You deserve so much better than a shitty couch in a rundown apartment. I’m sorry—”

 “Stop apologizing,” she slurred and kissed him. “I forgive you. I love you, too. Now, fuck me.”

 Josh buried his face in her neck and guided her thighs to the outside of his. She sank onto him and rocked her hips, meeting his stroke with hers. She rode him, then, bouncing and moaning his name, clutching his hair and raking her nails down his back as they raced to the finish. They reached it together, clinging to each other as they panted each other’s names. Her back bowed, and she dove over the edge, reaching for him, clinging to the man she’d met so many years ago, who’d helped her discover who she really was, what she believed in, and how she could fight for those principles. She didn’t want anyone else to take his place, and this time she’d battle for him as long as she needed to keep him by her side.

 When they finished, they lay together, hearts beating rapidly, and caressed every inch of bare skin they could reach. They made promises and plans, both grandiose and mundane, but most importantly, they made a pledge.

 Despite everything, there wouldn’t be the end of love. Instead, they were at the beginning.

#the vintage joshifer series #end of love #joshifer #joshifer fanfiction #joshifersource #joshiferrecs #jhutchdirectory #fyeah-joshifer #1960s

[fragmentedink-archived]

Hell to Pay: Chapter Thirty-Four

I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, IX, X, XI, XII, XIII, XIV, XV, XVI, IX, IX, XX, XXI, XXII, XXIII, XIV, XV, XVI, XVII, XVIII, XVIIII, XXX, XXXI, XXXII, XXXIII

cowritten by @lux-scriptum​

A/N: Trigger warning for grief, excessive violence, heavy drugs, implied sex for drugs, just nik being :/

The can of gasoline hit the sidewalk with a dull thud. Amara tipped her chin up, glaring at nothing in particular. This was long overdue, but Cameron had gone and stolen her thunder, burning his club down first. Still, if she was going to stay sober, she needed some sort of outlet. So. Gasoline.

Amara turned around and unloaded the second can. She lugged it up the path, and pushed her way inside Lev’s old house. The stains on the floor, both old and new, damn near made her see red. Swallowing the bile that rose up, she started in the bedroom. This was her second trip, and she’d wasted too much in the bathroom and kitchen. She was impatient; she wanted this over, and this awful reminder of every awful thing that had happened to her cousin deserved to be burned to the fucking ground.

The second can went around the living room, and then she backed out the door. The smell of gasoline followed her. For a long moment she stared in the house, more than just the acrid scent making her throat tighten.

It was overkill but she stood there and lit every match in the box she’d bought, flicking them into the house one by one until they were gone. Only when she turned away did she notice the car idling. She stared down the sedan for a full minute before she shoved her hands in her jacket pockets and headed over.

Sorin lowered the window, frowning up at her. “Arson’s illegal, you know.”

“Do I look like I give a flying fuck?” Amara leaned over. “No one lives near here anymore, and following laws is low on my priority list.”

“Noted,” Cyrus said, turning off his car. “Why did you ask us to meet you here?”

“You were on my way. I want to discuss what you owe me.”

“Amara,” Cyrus said, voice even. “I’m not going to kill anyone for you.”

“I’m not going to ask that of you. I can kill anyone I need on my own.” She straightened. “We’ll talk at my apartment.”

She hopped on her bike, gunned the engine, and took off without bothering to see if they'd follow.

---

Nik had been wandering the streets of the Obsidian Court for gods knew how long. He didn’t quite care either way. Cameron was off doing Cameron things and he managed to slip loose of Ash’s leash, and now he was free to wander.

It didn’t take him long to find the darker parts of the city, especially when this entire city was filled with monsters of varying lethality. It definitely wasn’t hard to find dealers, however, it was hard to find a dealer who would deal to him.

Fucking Cameron.

Nik finally found one in a dive, sitting in a back booth smoking and looking at his phone. It hadn’t taken much to sit down across from him. Even if Nik’s wings weren’t showing, the demon’s silver eyes were well aware of the fact Nik was an angel. “Well, you look like shit,” he observed, mildly.

“Hm, I imagine I do,” Nik said. “Hangovers.”

The demon’s mouth tilted and he put down his phone. “You’re wanting to buy.”

“Was it that obvious?” Nik asked, leaning back. “I got the cash.” Cameron’s cash, but still.

The demon leveled him a look, mirroring Nik as he leaned into his booth. The way he looked Nik over, almost curiosity more than anything else. “And if I don’t want your money?” he asked.

“I mean, I can suck your cock,” Nik replied. “I got the skills for that, too.”

“Oh I’m sure you do,” the demon said. “But what if I said I didn’t want your mouth?”

Nik felt a smile tilt up on his face and he arched a brow. “I have an ass,” he said.

The demon snorted. “Never fucked an angel,” he mused. “I think I can make the trade.”

“Poor you,” Nik said. “Luckily I can help. Provided you give me what I want.”

“Oh I will,” he said, “However. I feel like I should tell you that this product is aimed at demonic biologies. It could quite possibly kill you- and I am not so sure that I want Cameron Luain showing up on my doorstep because his cockwarmer decided to overdose on demonic drugs.”

“Hm,” Nik mused. “That does sound like a pickle, doesn’t it.”

“So you better make the fuck worth it.”

---

Cyrus parked the car and looked over at Sorin. “You going to behave?” he asked, still gripping the steering wheel tightly.

“I don’t like how she roped you into this,” Sorin muttered petulantly.

“I agreed,” Cyrus replied mildy. “I could have said no.”

“I don’t like it,” Sorin insisted, and got out of the car with a huff. Cyrus had to jog to catch up with him, grabbing his wrist. Sorin glared at the ground, baring his fangs at nothing, before adding, “But fine, best behavior.”

Cyrus held onto Sorin for an extra moment, waiting until Sorin looked up to let go. By the time he finished crossing the parking lot, Amara was already stomping up the stairs. She’s in a wonderful mood, Cyrus mused drly, taking the lead rather than have Sorin on her heels.

By the time they got upstairs to her open doo, Amara was already kicking the two people on her couch out of the apartment. Sorin all but jumped back from the curly haired blonde man, despite having a solid inch on him. Cyrus tried not to purse his lips, and held the door for the petite ginger who followed, discreetly wiping her face as she passed.

Tension lined Amara’s body, drawing her taut as a bowstring as she watched them. “Well?” She finally bit out. “Sit.”

Cyrus wrapped his hand around Sorin’s wrist, and tugged him down onto the couch before Sorin could get bitchy. Rather than sit herself, Amara started pacing back and forth. “You wanted to discuss what spell you wanted from me?” Cyrus finally prompted.

“Is it possible to bring back the dead?” Amara asked with abrupt bluntness.

“I beg your pardon?” Cyrus asked. Beside him, Sorin had gone stiff as a board. “Back from the- you can’t be serious.”

“Deadly serious. Is. It. Possible?”

“Not that I know of,” Cyrus said. He sat back. “But-” He hesitated.

“But what? What exactly would stop you from bringing my cousin back?” Amara demanded, stopping to fix him with a look so fierce Sorin growled beside him.

A thud on the door broke their staring contest before Cyrus could figure out how to word what he wanted. A moment later a very clearly inebriated angel stumbled through the doorway.

“Demon. Goth boyfriend.”

Cyrus assumed those were greetings of a sort, because they were immediately dismissed in favor of Amara.

“I’ve got drugs. Wanna get high?” He waved said drugs in Amara’s direction to prove it.

Amara scowled. “No. I’m busy, and I’m still pissed at you.”

The angel squinted at her. “Are you sober?” He somehow managed to sound accusatory and confused at the same time.

“Sober as a priest during mass,” she replied. “Is that all you want, Nik? If so you can go.”

Nik continued to stare at her. Even Cyrus was getting uncomfortable by the time Nik said, “Are you pregnant?”

“No,” Amara said shortly. “I’m not. Unlike some people, I know how to cope with death.”

What, with necromancy? Cyrus thought, but he kept that to himself.

They all watched Nik saunter across the room. “Do you want to be?” He all but slurred, leaning in close as he slid his hand under her shirt.

Without hesitation she twisted his wrist, grabbed the scruff of his neck, and slammed his face in the coffee table. He dropped like a rock and lay on the floor. After staring at him for a moment, she crouched and checked to see if he was breathing.

“I didn’t mean to hit him that hard,” she said mildly, sitting back on her heels. “Give me a minute, I have a phone call to make.”

Sorin and Cyrus exchanged a look as she pulled her phone out.

---

She should have been less hasty to react, and she knew it. Nik was grieving, and she had no intentions of telling him what she was trying to do. Fuck him, especially after calling her a liar and blaming Lev’s death on her.

Cameron picked up immediately, like he knew she was going to call. He probably did, too. “Come get your brat,” she said in place of a greeting. “I knocked him out after he offered to knock me up.”

“I don’t think he can get it up,” was all Cameron said. “Don’t kill him.”

The phone call ended with a decisive click.

“Bastard,” she muttered, standing. She looked Sorin and Cyrus over, and said, “We’re just gonna have to wait until Cameron comes to pick up Nik. Use that time wisely, witch, and think about your answer.”

She proceeded to spend the next thirty minutes with her arms crossed as she slouched in the armchair, glaring at the door until Cameron deigned to show up. She knew damn well it took half that amount of time to get there even if you followed the rules of the road.

The first thing Cameron did when he walked in the door was to look right at the witch and demon seated awkwardly on her couch. The witch met his stare steadily, not blinking, which... Amara had to give credit where credit was due. A lesser man would have broken eye contact, or at least squirmed. Cyrus simply waited calmly for Cameron’s attention to turn elsewhere.

The suspicion in Cameron’s gaunt face when he looked to her finally didn’t sway her from her stony silence. Eventually Cameron scooped Nik up. “Thanks for babysitting him. I’ll be sure to pay you.”

Amara lifted her chin just a little, just out of pure stubbornness. She didn’t owe him a goddamn thing, least of all this. She washed her hands of owing him anything when she gave him Lev’s ashes.

Silence reigned in the apartment for a full five minutes before Cyrus spoke up.

“It might be possible. With a heavy emphasis on might.” Cyrus leaned forward. “Ignoring the fact you’re asking me to break the very laws of nature, this has never been done before. Never, in the history of angelkind, demonkind, or humankind. No one has managed to bring back the dead.”

“My family has a reputation for beating the odds,” Amara replied flatly. “Figure it out.”

“Circling back, and not ignoring it, you’re asking me to break the laws of nature. Do you not understand what a witch is?”

Amara narrowed her eyes. “I know exactly what a witch is, and that’s why I’m asking you right now.”

“And why do you get to bring someone back?” Cyrus challenged. “Who says he wants to come back? DId you consider any of this? I get you’re grieving, but wedging that door open is not a reversible act. What’s to stop anyone else from doing the same thing?”

“Not my problem,” Amara snarled. Despite that, she looked away. “I don’t care about the rest,” she said finally. “But- we’ll ask him. Before. I know someone who can see ghosts.”

Cyrus sighed, and when she looked up, he was rubbing his temples tiredly. “Again, I don’t even know if it’s possible-”

“Then find out,” Amara said, and even she could hear the desperation in her voice. “Please. I have to try. He was- he was just starting to be happy, and I let him get murdered.” She swallowed, hardened her tone again. “I can describe it for you. What that demon did to him. He didn’t deserve it.”

Cyrus’ stupid stare didn’t waver, even if beside him Sorin had his head down and his fists clenched. Finally Cyus said, “I can look into it. I’ll do my best to figure it all out. I promised you a spell, and I’ll do everything in my power to find it. But this does not get out. I don’t want people lining up at my door to find out how I raised the dead, if it even is possible.” Cyrus paused, long enoughs he thought he wouldn’t go on. His hand found hers, and she couldn’t bring herself to shake him off. “Before I agree to do the spell, I want to talk to him myself. Either through a seance, or through your friend. And... are you sure he’s a ghost? I won’t be able to do anything if he’s moved beyond.”

“Lev’ll stay. Nik’s a wreck. I know him too well. He’s here somewhere. Crying, if ghosts can even cry.”

Cyrus nodded slowly. “I'll do my best,” he promised, and stood. “Is there anything else you need?”

Amara shook her head. She waited for Cyrus to gently pull Sorin to his feet and herd the demon out the door with an arm around his shoulder before she lowered her head in her hands. She’d done all she could for now. It didn’t feel like enough.

---

Cameron dropped the stone cold unconscious omega back at home, ordering the sentries to make sure he did not leave his house and could not get to the alcohol. He called Ash and told him to come babysit as well before he went back to Amara’s shitty apartment.

He hadn’t bothered knocking on the door and walked inside. Amara was sitting with her head in her hands and Cameron had the feeling she had been sitting like that for a while. “That can’t possibly be good for your back,” he said, mildly.

“Like you care,” Amara said, in a muted sort of tone.

“I don’t,” Cameron said. “What was the witch doing here.”

Amara finally bothered to look up at him. “Doing me a favor.” When Cameron didn’t say anything, she said, “He’s going to try to bring Lev back.”

The only reaction Cameron gave her was furrowing his brows. “And what makes you think that any of us have the right to play with life like that. We trade in death, our hands are too dirty for this.”

“I take what I want.”

“I know plenty of people who take what they want,” Cameron said, coolly. “Doesn’t mean any of you have the right to alter the laws of nature. Then again, you are a hypocrite.”

Amara stared at him with a blank tone that he chose to ignore. “He didn’t deserve that. We should have done better.”

“He didn’t,” Cameron said. “And we should have. But he got it and we didn’t. We live with our choices.”

“I won’t. And you can’t stop me.”

“I’m sure I could,” Cameron said, mildly, sliding his hands into his pockets.

“But you won’t. You miss him too and Nik’s a wreck. I’ll take the consequences.”

“And what about the consequences your cousin will face if brought back from the dead? Surely you don’t think he will be symptom free from necromancy.”

“I’ll figure it out,” she said. “It can’t be any worse than him watching the three of us flounder. You know he is.”

“And you’re so sure about that?” he asked dryly. “I hadn’t realized you were so well versed in the arts of bringing back the dead.”

“Then fine,” she said. “I’m a selfish bitch and I want him back. And I don’t care about anything else.”

“Well. At least you’re self aware. And what would you do if your plan doesn’t work? I’m sure you wouldn’t be happy with your witch’s failure in resurrection. Considering his magic would be derived from the very nature you plan on breaking.”

“Then at least I tried,” she said, her tone too hoarse for his taste.

“Have you considered what the ginger is going to have to say about this?”

“If Ash didn’t want me fucking with the laws of nature then he should have saved Lev when he had the chance.”

Considering Ash’s magic, his very being was tied to Nature, Cameron was sure Ash had plenty to say on the matter, and if he cared, he might consider telling him. But instead he said, “Does your witch have any idea of how to do it?”

“No,” she admitted. “He just said he’d try and figure it out.”

“How reassuring,” Cameron deadpanned.

Amara seemed tired when she said, “Fuck you.”

“Did you consider that I might have had information to give you regarding this idiotic idea of yours?”

Amara sighed. “No. I didn’t want to think about you; I don’t owe you anything.”

“Going to be hard resurrecting your cousin if you lack the key ingredients, don’t you think?” Cameron said. Even with the reading he had done, it didn’t take a genius to piece together the fact Lev’s ashes were probably going to be required.

Amara rubbed at her face. “I’d cross that bridge when I got to it. We’re still trying to figure out if it’s even possible.”

“Does anyone know? Besides you, the witch and his demon?” Did you idiotically tell Nik.

Amara shook her head. “Cin knows. He doesn’t approve either.” She looked up, leveling him a look. “I don’t owe Nik anything.”

Cameron lifted a brow. “Trouble in paradise? Are you saying Nik is no longer your best friend. I’m sure he will be hurt at the revelation.”

“He told me Lev’s death was my fault because I introduced you. As if you both didn’t make Lev the happiest he’d ever been in the 137 years he was alive.”

“Lev’s death is my fault,” Cameron said, flatly. “No one elses.”

“Fuck you. It’s Destris’ and we both know it.”

Cameron didn’t give her the satisfaction of a blink. “I’ll let you think that,” he said, coolly. He moved over to the coffee table and dropped the bottle of whiskey next to her. “Your payment.”

“I don’t want it. Take it back. I’m sober.”

“Not for long,” Cameron said, already turning around and walking out the door. He pulled out his phone, looking at the time and map. He had the feeling the witch and his lover lived in demonic territory somewhere.

----

Cyrus ran his fingers through Sorin’s curls, stifling a sigh. Reopening old wounds hadn’t been the point of seeking out Amara all those weeks ago. The conversation about Fax this afternoon, as soon as they’d gotten home, had taken a lot out of both of them. The look on Sorin’s face when Cyrus had gently pointed out Fax had moved on months before haunted Cyrus.

For the last hour Sorin had just lain there with his head in Cyrus’ lap. Cyrus had let him, giving him time to process and grieve all over again. Two steps forward, one step back. As always.

Cyrus’ wardings warned him right before Cameron stepped through the front door. The demon settled in Sorin’s armchair, crossing one knee over the other without so much as a greeting. “So. You want to bring back my omega from the dead.”

“Want is a bit of a stretch,” Cyrus replied, keeping his arm on top of Sorin to keep him from sitting up. “Coerced into it is a more accurate description. But yes, I will be attempting it.”

Cameron looked at him for the longest time before saying, “Why? I’m sure you could defend yourself from Amara just fine. And if not, you boyfriend can.”

Cyrus inclined his head. “I could,” he agreed. “But I made a promise, and I intend to keep it. I made the mistake of keeping that promise open ended, and I won’t be making that mistake again. At the time it seemed worth it, for Sorin’s sake.” He dragged his fingers through Sorin’s curls again, and Sorin hid his face against Cyrus’ thigh in response.

Cameron leaned back. “I thought witches had morals.”

“We do.” Cyrus arched a brow. “Just because they don’t line up with what you expect doesn’t mean I don't have them.”

“Oh, I don’t have morals,” Cameron said. “However, you answer to a higher power than me.”

“I expect this spell will have a hefty price,” Cyrus said. “I know I’ll be breaking the laws of nature. If I can even manage it. Nature will demand something in return. Amara will have to decide if she’s willing to pay that price. Though I’m sure she’ll not care what the price is.”

“No she does not,” was all Cameron said. Eventually he said, “And what about the price Lev will have to pay?”

Cyrus closed his eyes, grimacing. He only opened them when he knew what to say. “Part of my conditions for bringing Lev back is ensuring I minimize whatever cost there is for him. And he has to agree to it. I’m not yanking him back into this life if he doesn’t want to come. No one deserves that. If I can’t promise both of those with the spell I create, then I will not perform it, and Amara will have to live with that. You all will.”

“Are you prepared for that kind of blood on your hands?” Cameron asked.

Cyrus considered that too. He couldn’t not. Every time he thought about what he had to do, he had to face that truth all over again. “I don’t know,” he finally replied. “I’ll have to decide when the time comes.”

“And that will be your price.”

“I know,” Cyrus said softly. “It’s a lot to pay, for one omega.”

The blank look on Cameron’s face didn’t go away, even as he stared at Cyrus. Seconds stretched into minutes, until Cameron said, “You don’t even know him.”

“No,” Cyrus said. “I don’t. “But Sorin’s cousin did.” He could feel Sorin tense underneath him. “We’ve been meaning to come talk to you about him, as soon as Sorin was ready.”

Cameron’s pale gaze shifted to Sorin. “Well? Are you ready?”

Slowly, Sorin sat up, fingers clenching into fists as he stared right back at Cameron. “I don’t think I’ll ever be,” Sorin said. “But Levant is the reason Fax was killed. I want to know what he was like. Why Fax loved him enough to get killed for him.”

Cyrus could see Cameron thinking. “He cared. Too much. He was afraid, too much.”

“So Fax wanted a mirror,” Sorin said bitterly, mostly to himself.

“What else did you want to know?” Cameron asked.

“Everything that comes to mind is not something you could answer,” Sorin replied. The temperature in the room spiked as grief showed plain on his face. Cyrus put a hand on his shoulder gently, and it settled, somewhat. Sorin swallowed hard, and added a quiet, “But thank you. At least I know that.”

Cameron inclined his head ever so slightly, giving Sorin a mild, “You’re welcome,” before returning his attention to Cyrus. “How exactly are you planning on bringing Lev back from the dead.”

Cyrus pushed down his annoyance. “I don’t know yet. I haven’t even begun my research. Amara only told me what she wanted two hours ago, and I’ve yet to have a chance to figure out where to start. I may need another witch to help me, and the whole process could take months. There’s no way of telling this early.” He spun one of his many rings, thinking about it. “I’m assuming you’re going to want progress reports.”

“Yes,” Cameron said shortly, and then added, “Do you know any witches?”

“None I’m particularly fond of. Or trust,” Cyrus admitted. “Again. I haven’t had nearly enough time to sit down and plan this all out. I’m not going to dive into this head first.”

Cameron stood up, looking at the black and silver watch on his wrist. “Well. If you would like my resources, let me know.”

With that, he was gone, not bothering to shut the door behind him. Cyrus sighed, flicking it shut with a brief spell, and then leaned back, dropping his head on the back of the couch. Sorin resumed his place in his lap, sighing as well.

“You shouldn’t have agreed to that spell,” Sorin muttered. “Now we have Cameron fucking Luian barging in our house.

“I know,” Cyrus replied dryly. “Believe me. I know.”

----

Cameron spent the drive home mulling over the witch’s words, and Amara’s words. And his own words. He thought about the possibilities and the consequences of bastardizing the balance of forces outside of any of their control.

He assumed Lev would want to come back, just because Lev wanted to piece together Nik again. It only made sense, seeing as how the angel tried putting everyone back together besides himself.

Cameron made his way back to the house after parking the car, snow crunching under his shoes as he walked inside. The sentries didn’t move an inch while Cameron walked down the hallway to the bedroom where he could smell the angels.

Nik was indeed still passed out cold on the bed where Cameron had left him. Ash was stewing in his corner in the chair, heat radiating off him as his glowing green eyes snapped onto Cameron. He got up from his chair and came over to Cameron. “Your house reeks and you owe me for once again babysitting him because you can’t be bothered to deal with the mess you got him into.”

“Well I do appreciate you taking the time out of your busy schedule,” Cameron said, mildly. “I’ll make sure you’re paid.”

“I don’t want your money,” Ash snapped, storming around him.

“How about information?” Cameron said, getting Ash to stop dead in his tracks at the doorway. “I’m sure you’d be pressed to learn that Amara plans on bastardizing nature.”

Ash slowly turned around and looked at him. “Excuse me?” Ash asked, in a softness that had Cameron’s brow arching.

“You might want to pay her a visit,” Cameron said, hands sliding into his pockets. “She wants to have Levant brought back from the dead.”

Ash stared through him, eyes hard and sharp and cutting into him. Cameron waited for him to say something, to start shouting or to light something on fire, seeing as how he could feel the heat curling in the air. But Ash turned on his heel and disappeared out of the room.

-----

Ash drove straight from Cameron’s house to Amara’s shitty apartment building. He had his magic going full force, keeping his eyesight crystal clear as he started from the parking lot to her apartment. He hadn’t bothered shutting off the car or knocking on her door before barging into her apartment.

Amara was staring at a bottle of whiskey on her table, and he could tell she had been staring for quite some time. “Well I clearly cannot blame this idea on alcohol soaked desperation.” His magic wilted at the mere thought of someone being bought back from the dead.

Amara hadn’t bothered looking up at him. “I haven’t had anything to drink since he died.”

“So you finally curb booze in order to have necromancy performed?”

“Yaaaay,” she said, in the most unimpressive deadpan tone Ash had ever heard. “Got it in one.”

“This is pathetic,” Ash said. “You’re pathetic. You do not hold a monopoly on grief. You do not get to decide who gets to die and who gets to come back. You have absolutely no fucking right to bend the laws of nature to fill your own grief.”

She looked him dead in the eye. “You make it sound like I care.”

“Oh I don’t give a shit if you care or not,” Ash said. “You need to learn to handle your grief like a damned adult instead of turning your cousin into the undead. We all have lost someone,” Ash said. He had watched his entire family being slaughtered in front of him. He had never once considered fucking necromancy to bring them back. “Lev will pay the price for this. Nature will have its balance and it’ll come right out of him.”

“Cyrus will figure it out.”

Well, Ash would have to add another idiot to the list, then. “And who is Cyrus? Someone you conned into enabling your stupid plan?”

“A little bit yeah; didn’t exactly give him an out.”

“A witch?” She stared at him blankly. When she didn’t elaborate, and her blood pressure altered, Ash said. “A witch, then.”

“Who else would be able to do that kind of magic?” she said. “A stupid question.”

“Well,” Ash said, “As far as I could know you conned some angel or demon into breaking even more laws of nature. Seeing as how I am connected to nature, you bitch. So yes, someone else would be able to do that kind of magic.”

Amara gave him a thoughtful look. “Noted. If Cyrus can’t, then I’ll go to someone else.”

Ash’s magic tore through him. He wrapped flames around her neck. “You know,” he mused, “I really could have you not.”

“You say that like I haven’t been suicidal my entire life,” she said.

“Yeah? Well get in line.” He tightened the flames, but didn’t let them burn her. “Like I said, you do not own a monopoly on grief. You are not the only person who wished they were dead at sixteen years old.” Bay flickered in his mind. “And you are not the only one who has not outgrown suicidal ideation. You aren’t special.”

“I don’t care,” she said. “I’m tired of watching Nik. And I’m tired of watching Cameron pretend he’s not hurting too. They’re both ticking time bombs.”

She made it sound like Cameron hadn’t been a ticking time bomb for the last five hundred years. She made it sound like Nik hadn’t been trying to kill himself for the last nineteen years either. “Then get them in therapy,” Ash said, evenly. “This will just put a bandaid on it.”

She laughed at him. “You’re not going to convince me. The only one who could is Lev himself. But thanks for giving me the mental image of Cam and Nik in therapy.”

His magic felt like acid in his veins. It- it wanted him to push further, to make her not do this. “I could kill you,” Ash said. “No convincing involved.”

She watched him steadily. “You make it seem like you didn’t know the moment you met me that I was a selfish bitch who would do anything to get what I want.” She closed her eyes. “Kill me, if you really feel like it's necessary. Not like I can stop you.”

No, you really couldn’t, Ash thought. The temptation he had- he could feel the sharp sweetness of blood in his mouth. The hard pounding in his head definitely didn’t help matters either. But he snuffed out the flames. “I don’t kick a downed dog,” he finally said. “But I will stop you.”

Before she could even respond, if she even would respond, Ash turned back around and stalked out of her apartment. The way he slammed the front door echoed through the entire building, chasing him back to his car.

Tagging:  @idreamonpaper @incandescent-creativity @solangelo3088 @halstudies @alittleyellowdinosaur @mis-lil-red

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #wip boost #a/b/o verse #original writing #hell to pay #ch: cameron #ch: ash #ch: nik

[ahgaseda]

to kill an empire || chapter 22

⇥ synopsis : when you agreed to marry Jaebeom, the heir to a lucrative but not quite legal organization, you never expected the boy who was once your greatest rival would inevitably become your most powerful ally...

⇥ warnings : this story in its entirety includes but is not limited to strong language, recurring gang violence, mentions of drug or alcohol abuse, and explicit sexual content, and is intended for an adult audience only!

The moment you saw Hwasa opening the door of her penthouse to let you in, you fell into her arms and finally let yourself break.

You cried as she led you to her room. You cried as you crawled into her bed. You cried until you drifted to restless sleep, her hand softly rubbing your back.

The next morning, you woke with burning, bloodshot eyes. Hwasa stirred beside you, which was shocking. The girl could sleep through an apocalypse. She must have already been awake, cautious not to disturb you.

“How are we doing?” she asked kindly, reaching over and scratching your head with her long fingernails, gentle as a feather.

“Fucking shit,” you rasped, sniffling.

Hwasa rolled over, grabbing her phone and texting her assistant.

Not long after, hot tea was brought to her room.

Shame was an unknown concept to Hwasa. She lived in excess at the behest of her immeasurably wealthy mother, who had a penchant for marrying the right men. Draped in a gold silk robe, Hwasa sat across from you at the white table seated on the balcony looking radiantly gorgeous, but with undeniably sad eyes.

By contrast, you remained wrapped in a blanket, shivering against the breeze though the sun was warm. Your hair was twisted in a messy knot on your head and any semblance of makeup had been washed away by tears. You could feel how swollen your eyes were and couldn’t imagine how they must have looked.

“Take your time,” Hwasa crooned, her voice tender. “Stay as long as you like.”

You simpered. “Thank you.”

“I love you,” she reminded.

You would never know what you had done in a past life to deserve such a loyal, loving friend like Hwasa. Tears pricked your eyes again and you whispered, “I love you, too.”

She reached across the table, squeezing your hand.

Silence enveloped as you sipped your hot tea. For a moment, you let the cup warm your palm and watched the lemon slice floating. Then, you glanced beyond the glass railings at the city below. The morning was alive with energy and the bustling of life going on, as if no one knew that yours had just collapsed.

Noting you had calmed somewhat, Hwasa asked tentatively, “What are you going to do about your family’s gala next weekend?”

You grimaced. “Shit.”

Hwasa gaped. “You forgot?”

Reaching up to scratch your head, you mumbled, “Things have been crazy.”

“You know it would be a public relations nightmare if the heir to the company was not there.”

You nodded. “I know.”

“Half of our work is appeasing investors and shareholders.”

You nodded again. “I know.”

Hwasa drummed her nails on the table. She didn’t want to push you too much, all recent events considered, but she had an obligation as your best friend not to let you get yourself in deep shit. “Your in-laws will almost certainly be there. Jaebeom, too,” she reminded delicately.

The mere mention of his name threatened to bring more tears. “I can’t.”

Hwasa crooned your name.

“You didn’t see what I made him do,” you whispered shakily. The image of Jaebeom falling to his knees at your feet appeared as if you were watching it unfold all over again.

“Oh, honey,” she said, sympathetic. “You love him too much. That’s dangerous in our world.”

Panic crept up your spine. You knew Yuto would be hiding in the wings, watching and waiting to see Jaebeom by your side at the gala. “I have to do something,” you said hurriedly, setting down your cup and tightening the blanket around your shivering body. “I can’t face him again. I…”

Hwasa could feel the anger bubbling in her chest and she could no longer hold it back. Someone had put a collar on you and she was livid that you weren’t putting up more of a struggle. She startled you when she suddenly exclaimed, “What the hell have you done with my best friend?”

Blinking in surprise, you stammered, “What do you mean?”

“Now that you’ve had dick you just gonna stay on your hands and knees?”

Eyes widening, you shouted, “Hwasa!”

She didn’t relent and proceeded to chide, “My best friend was a force of fucking nature.”

Your eyes burned. Maybe you were before, but not now. Not since you learned you were the heir to a throne stained with blood, and even worse you were the child of murderers.

Hwasa commanded your attention with her tone, “Who beat the shit out of Soojung when she called me a whore?”

“Me.”

Her voice only grew louder as she dressed you down, “Who stood before an entire room of shareholders of a company worth three billion dollars and told them she would freeze hell over before letting someone else run her father’s company?”

“Me.”

“Who has always stood her ground when told that a woman couldn’t possibly handle the responsibility she will inherit?”

“Me.”

Hwasa threw up her hands and took another sip of her tea. “Finally.”

You insisted, “But Jaebeom can’t be seen with me.”

Hwasa bobbed her head in understanding. “We will deal with that. At least you got some of that stubbornness left. I was starting to worry he fucked it all out of you.”

You snorted, smiling with a laugh. “You are a mess and a half.”

Hwasa shrugged, proud of herself. “That’s what you love about me.”

“In moderation.”

She cocked a brow. “Does this mean you feel like eating?”

You let go a sigh of defeat at the roaring of your stomach, which was not nearly as loud as Hwasa had been, but the tough love was warranted. “Yeah, bring on the breakfast.”

She gleamed. “Hallelujah.”

No sooner had you put a bite of toast in your mouth did the door burst open, followed by the loud screeching of your mother. You managed to scramble to your feet and open your mouth in greeting, but she was on a rampage if you had ever seen one.

“What is this about divorce proceedings?”

You sucked in a harsh breath through your teeth, borderline wincing. Damn, word traveled fast. “Jaebeom lied to me,” you finally replied, planting your feet. “I’m getting an annulment.”

“No, you’re not,” she stated, very matter-of-fact.

You began slowly, “Mom, you don’t understand…”

She held up a finger. “No, my sweet, clueless girl, you understand nothing. You have no idea the powerful men we deal with every day in this business. You getting a divorce because your feelings are hurt is not only insulting, but it’s laughable.”

“Mother, everything I knew was a lie,” you cried out, on the verge of breaking down again.

Your mother countered, “Grow up, darling! I wanted to tell you the truth, but your father insisted on letting you maintain your innocence for as long as possible. Your father and I came from nothing. Nothing! Can you wrap your privileged little mind around that?”

It went without saying that your mother raised her voice so often you had grown rather immune to its effect, but she had never spoken to you like this before. You hesitated, unsure what to do or say. “I…”

“You have no concept of the things we have done to give you the life you’ve had. Our hands are stained so that yours stay clean, but I will be damned if I let you destroy what we have built.”

“Mama,” you whimpered, tempted to hide in her arms like a helpless child.

She softened, putting her hands on her hips, but the lines of her face were hard and stern. “This is your father’s fault. From the moment you were born you were the light of his life."

Those words opened the floodgates and you rubbed your eyes with an angry fist.

Your mother approached, cradling your face and wiping the drops with her thumbs. “You and I have been fortunate to marry men that love us. The world is not always so kind,” she whispered gently.

“I love him so much. I’m trying to protect him,” you told her, swallowing the lump in your throat. You were beginning to realize just how naive you had been, how in control you thought you were. You were new to the game and the rest of the players were working on another level far above you.

Her eyes flickered; stifled fury. “From whom?”

Your gaze shifted nervously. “...I can’t.”

Something flared in her tone as she put the pieces together. “What have you been trying to do on your own, my daughter?”

You said nothing.

“You will bring me up to speed,” she asserted, palms falling from your face. Your mother clocked a weathered glance at Hwasa, insuring the room was in total agreement that she was calling the shots from this moment forward. “In the meantime, life is going to go on as normal.”

Your heart raced. “But…”

“You are going to attend the gala and look beautiful doing so. You and Jaebeom will convince the attendees and especially the investors that you are the happiest couple that ever lived. Do I make myself clear?”

You set your jaw in dissension, shivering at the thought of being face to face with Jaebeom again, and huffed under your breath, “Crystal.”

chapter 21 ⇤ chapter 22 ⇥ chapter 23

Hey there, beautiful! If you enjoyed this, please leave a like or reblog or follow me! Or maybe buy me a coffee so I can keep writing? Or check out my masterlist here for more stories! Thanks for reading :) - Katya

This work is fictional and for entertainment purposes only, but is licensed and protected under a creative commons attribution-noncommercial-noderivatives 4.0 international license. Any instances of plagiarism will be dealt with accordingly. Do not re-post or translate without my permission.

{ copyright 2018-2020 © ahgaseda // all rights reserved }

#got7 fanfiction #jaebum scenarios #got7 scenarios #jaebum au #got7 au #jaebum imagines #got7 imagines #jaebum fanfiction

[aro-throughyourchest]

Misadventures of Magic

CHAPTER 1

WORD COUNT: 1,542

WARNINGS: Minimal Cursing

I did not mean for a single chapter to be this long

Ao3 Link

Ah... A pleasant, peaceful morning.

Not a single thing wrong.

A high-pitched scream went off in the background. Varian screamed internally.

NOT A SINGLE THING WRONG.

Ah, Varian, lying to himself again. He tried to calm his nerves and go back to planning, but Hugo’s screams of terror were getting too much to bear. The tip of the pencil in his hand snapped, and so did he.

He slammed the pencil down in frustration and spun around in his chair. “Guys, can you chill for one SECOND?! If we don’t get that totem soon, we’ll be stuck here for another, I don’t even know, a month?”

Hugo and Yong stopped in their tracks before Yong mumbled, “He started it.”

Varian resisted the urge to scream as Yong went back to terrorizing Hugo.

“If you two don’t shut up, they’re gonna kick us out!” Varian hissed.

Yong pouted, and Hugo collapsed onto a bed. Varian sighed and went to sharpen the pencil.

They didn’t say a word for a minute. Just soaked up the silence. Yong picked at the shag carpeting, and Hugo stared at the ceiling. Ruddiger ate an apple. Varian blew off the excess shaving and got back to work.

Yong looked between the two and spoke up. “I saw an ad for a magic show in the Town Center. We can go make fun of it and take a break.”

Varian muttered to himself and waved the boy off. “Magic shows aren’t as important as-“

Varian noticed how disappointed Yong looked and rubbed the back of his neck. “A tiny magic show would take our mind off this... So, why not.”

Yong lit up and rushed out the door.

“YONG, WAIT!”

Varian chased after him; Ruddiger tailing behind him. Hugo slipped Cheese, his mouse, into his shirt pocket and followed suit.

Varian skidded to a stop to say hi to the owner of the BnB before continuing the chase. Hugo did the same, and the old lady went back to their knitting.

Yong rounded a corner and then another. He slid to a stop, jumping up and down. Didn’t even look the slightest bit worn out.

Varian caught up to Yong, panting. He did not expect this kid to be that fast. “YONG-“ He gasped. “Don’t DO THAT!”

Hugo took a bit longer; he was a little less in shape than the other two. He took a deep breath. “Firecracker, what the hell-“

The boy shushed them and pointed to the stage. A purple smoke billowed from the tips of the stage’s curtains; Varian leaned against Hugo with a tired grin. This was already turning out on a bad start; the rest would be a train wreck. God, that’s going to be hilarious.

Hugo huffed at sudden lean-on but left it alone, focusing his attention on the show. A voice bellowed, “YOU HAVE COME FAR AND WIDE-“

“I’m using a deep voice! Tremble before me!” Hugo mocked in a low voice. Varian laughed, and the show continued.

”HOLD ONTO YOUR SEATS, GET READY TO MEET-“

”MARMIE & MARJORIE!“

The curtains pulled back to reveal one girl, not two. She looked out of order and clearly did not expect to be a one-man show that day. She waved sheepishly to the crowd, and the announcer, who apparently didn’t see this coming either, awkwardly declared, “Or... Just Marjorie!”

She clumsily pulled out a book from her cloak and straightened her bonnet.

Varian felt bad for Marjorie as she scrambled around, trying to do the show on her own. Hugo found it hilarious.

“ALRIGHT- UM-“ She flipped desperately through her book. “I WILL PERFORM- No, that’s another two-person spell... Oh, bother.”

She mumbled to herself, flipping through the book. Hugo snickered, and Varian hid the side of his face. This was uncomfortable.

Marjorie finally reached a page and inhaled.

“I shall shine a ball of blue light, changing the color ever so lightly.”

She grimaced, not pleased with her own choice of spell. Mouthing the words of the spell, she raised her hand and ...Nothing happened. Her eye twitched as she scanned the page. Varian cringed; Yong did the same. Hugo held back laughter, barely keeping it in.

Marjorie’s face grew red as she said something the group couldn’t hear. She hollered the hymn’s words.

“SUNLIGHT,

GIFT YOUR GLOW

SEND DOWN A RAY OF BLUE

HELP ME CHANGE THE HUE

OF EVERYTHING TRUE

EVERYTHING TRUE...”

She stared upwards at her raised hand, but still, nothing happened. Marjorie bit her lip, and the crowd began to whisper amongst themselves. Hugo decided to ruin her day a little more.

“BOO! GOT ANY REAL MAGIC IN THAT LITTLE BOOK OF YOURS?!”

Varian punched him in the arm.

Hugo grinned as Marjorie just timidly stood there. She took a breath and called, “A heckler, I see! Alright, then! Come on upstage, see if you can do better!”

‘Wait, what?’

The three gave her a weird look before shuffling up to the stage, judging murmurs coming from the audience. Okay, this was a little weird...

Varian caught Marjorie’s eye, but she quickly looked away. Odd. A lot of things were weird about this.

They arrived on stage, and she handed Hugo the book, folding her arms. “Let’s see if you can do better, pretty boy!”

He grinned and flipped through the book, finding a spell. The boy cleared his throat and mouthed the words, openly trying to mock Marjorie’s earlier performance.

She caught on and snatched the book from him; the crowd chuckled. Done with Hugo, Varian butted in, “Come on, cut it out, and let’s just go, Hugo.”

Marjorie smiled at Varian and visibly blushed, tipping off Yong and Hugo. She went back to flipping through the pages and shoved the book into Hugo’s hands again. “Here’s one! Do this spell, ‘Hugo!’”

She grinned as if she finally stumped him. Hugo read through it and scoffed, confusing Varian and Yong. He slipped a hand into his pocket, disingenuously read out the lines, pulled out an orb, and held the tiny ball of science behind his back. After finishing the chant, he dropped it, and bubbles erupted around his feet. Neither Varian, Yong, Marjorie, or the crowd noticed this.

Hugo grinned and started to hand the book back to her before going back to look through it again. “Wait, wait, if you get to choose a spell for me, it’s only fair that I do the same.”

Marjorie gulped and glanced at the crowd, tugging at her hair. He shoved the book into her hands, and she yelped, cautiously looking down at the page.

“Hugo, why are you such an ass?” Varian whispered.

He shrugged coyly. Marjorie cleared her throat and muttered the words, eyes closed. She opened an eye and saw nothing but Hugo's smirk. Grumbling, she slammed the book and yelled, “LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, THANK YOU FOR COMING!”

She stuffed it back in her cloak, teary-eyed, and the curtains closed. Marjorie shoved past Hugo and stumbled down the stage’s steps.

Yong sighed, and Varian glared at Hugo. “Goddamnit, Hugo. You are so extra.”

Hugo held up his hands. “What?”

“You know damn well what!”

Varian smacked him on the back of his head.

“Ow!”

“You really couldn’t stand not being the center of attention, could you?!”

Hugo stared down at Varian. “Well, excuse me, Goggles, I had fun. Not my fault, you didn’t.”

Yong looked between them worriedly.

“REALLY-“

They continued yelling at each other, making the stagehands and others very uncomfortable. Yong glanced around the room, noticing all this, and tried to get their attention.

“Guys...”

“Guys.”

“GUYS!”

The two turned to Yong. Yong clenched his fists and stomped toward the stairs. “Hugo’s not the only one making a scene. Let’s just GO.”

<•>

The walk back to the BnB was silent. Yong refused to say a word, and Hugo and Varian kept a bitter distance from each other.

Yong swung open the BnB’s door, let Varian and Hugo in, and slammed it. He noticed the little, old lady was still in the room and sheepishly apologized.

“Sorry, ma’am!”

“It’s fine, darlin’.”

Yong sat down beside her and politely asked, “What’re you knitting?”

“Just a sweater.“

Silently, he watched her knit. It was mesmerizing how she had all the motions down. He scooted closer, and she calmly asked, “Do you know how to knit?”

Yong shook his head.

“Would you like to learn?”

He nodded and she smiled.

“Go grab a set of needles; they’re on the counter in the kitchen.”

He hopped up excitedly and went to go get them. As he got closer to the kitchen, the screaming upstairs got louder, and Yong tensed. Dang it, why couldn’t Varian and Hugo get along? They were both really cool people!

Folding his arms, he huffed. It was getting tiring to have to keep Varian and Hugo off each other’s throats. He needed some air.

He yelled, “MA’AM! I’m going to hold off on the lesson and head out if that’s fine with you!”

The old lady called back, “It’s fine, dear! Just don’t forget to close the door on your way out!”

He smiled tiredly and left.

Not taking into account everything in this city was new to him.

CHAPTER 1′S END

Yup. Not really proud of this, and I accept all criticism and questions RN.

NOTE: I kinda mixed up the order on all this, so the water kingdom comes before meeting Nuru. My bad...

#varian and the seven kingdoms #hugo the human #varian #yong #tangled oc #tangled the series #Marjorie's Tale #Misadventures of Magic #yes the title is cheesy but alliteration is fun! #fic #comedy

[let-it-raines]

Catch Me If You Can (30/40)

298 days. That’s how long Killian Jones was away from a baseball field. It’s less than a year, only part of a season for him, but it might as well have lasted a decade as he alternated between physical therapy and spending an excessive amount of time sitting on his couch.

But then he came back and won the World Series.

It’s something no one saw coming, and it’s certainly not something anyone who knows about his arm would predict. Now it’s a new season with new possibilities, and anything could happen. On-field reporter Emma Swan will be there to cover it all even if she is not his biggest fan right now.

Asking her out live on-air will do that.

Rating: Mature

a/n: I am not a fan of the fact that there are only 10 chapters left. Like, not at all. Where did all of this time go? How are we at this point in the story? I feel like I was just writing it!

Anyway, it seems fitting that this chapter posts in a week where a lot of us have gone home to see family because Killian is going home with Emma to meet Ruth😘 Thanks to you all for being you and thanks to @resident-of-storybrooke​ for reading these words for me and checking my facts!

Found on AO3: beginning | current

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Tag list:  @stunningswan​ @eala-captian @galaxyzxstark @xellewoods @mariakov81 @ultraluckycatnd @royalswan @shey-starsfury​ @superchocovian​ @sals86 @iam2307 @ashley-knightingale @karenfrommisthaven @scientificapricot @captswanis4vr @ultimiflos @jamif @idristardis @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @notoriouscs @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog​ @cs-forlife @andiirivera @jonirobinson64 @qualitycoffeethings​ 

-/-

“Did you know that it’s Friday the thirteenth and a full moon?”

“Thank you, Alec Trebek.”

“No, seriously. That’s what it says on my phone.”

“Love, I know the date.”

“But did you know about the moon thing?”

“I did,” Killian sighs, picking his suitcase up off of the security belt and placing it on the ground while Emma grabs her sneakers. “I read about it the other day, and I am prepared for all of the haunted werewolves to come out to play.”

“Shut up,” Emma laughs before she plops herself down on a bench to tie her shoes.

It’s a little past four thirty in the morning, and JFK is nearly empty of anyone who isn’t traveling in some kind of suit. He and Emma are surrounded by people in black blazers and tailored trousers only traveling with a sleek black suitcase and their briefcase. He and Emma, meanwhile, are both in joggers with t-shirts on (Emma has on his Vandy sweatshirt over hers) and their hair tucked underneath baseball caps.

Emma got in from Detroit late last night, only taking five minutes to kiss him hello and take a quick shower before collapsing on his bed on top of the covers. The only flight they could get so last minute that wasn’t an exuberant amount of money is at the ungodly hour of six in the morning, so Killian insisted that she just stay at his place last night so that they could leave from the same place and save time. Considering they woke up ten minutes before their Uber arrived and could barely brush their teeth before they left, that didn’t exactly work in the whole saving time department.

It doesn’t help that Emma has pretty much been deadweight this entire morning until she started to wake up right before they went through security.

He, on the other hand, is wide awake. Nervous jitters run through his body, his stomach twisting in knots, and for someone who doesn’t get nervous for many things other than baseball, Killian is pretty much a wreck when it comes to meeting Emma’s family. Ruth is the last one, the final piece of the puzzle, and as intimidating as David was to meet, his mother might outrank her.

Killian both wants to spend the entire weekend sucking up to her and thanking her for taking Emma in and giving her the love she’s never had but has always deserved, but that could prove to be a bit much.

Then again, if Ruth hadn’t taken Emma in thirteen years ago, Emma would have never met David. If Emma hadn’t met David, David would have never taken her to the baseball game that truly allowed Emma to fall in love with sports. And if Emma hadn’t done that, he doubts she’d have ever gotten into broadcasting and found her passion there that makes her so damn happy.

The two of them also would never have met, and that thought sends a shiver down his spine.

It’s funny how such little things can change absolutely everything.

Everything.

So, yeah, Killian is most definitely a little nervous to meet Ruth.

“You want to go find some coffee, Swan?” Killian asks Emma as he props his foot up to tie his own sneaker. “I think the two of us are in some desperate need of caffeine.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I don’t think we’ll be able to find a coffee shop in an airport. There are never any coffee places here.”

“I don’t appreciate all of this sarcasm so early this morning.”

She pokes his stomach. “You’re the one who woke me up.”

“We’re going home to meet your family.”

“I don’t see your point.”

“You should.”

“Well,” Emma huffs, standing up and pulling up her pants so that he sees a flash of tanned skin on her stomach, “you should. Onto coffee we go.”

They both grab onto their bags and start walking down the terminal, passing gate after gate and store after store, but everything is black with the lights turned off and bars pulled over the stores. Nothing is open, not even the convenience stores, and the moment Emma realizes this, she stops walking and buries her face in his shoulder.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“There are vending machines,” he soothes. “I think they have coffee.”

“But it’s gross coffee,” she wines before wrapping her arms around his stomach. At first, Killian thinks that she’s being affectionate, but then he realizes that she’s using him so that she doesn’t have to stand on her own. He’s not sure he minds either way. “I need real coffee, and I need it in an IV.”

“Okay, Lorelai Gilmore.”

Emma laughs into his shoulder, the vibrations working through his shoulder. “You’re learning. I’m so proud, babe.”

“I might have watched an episode or two.”

Emma’s head pops up then, the bill of her cap hitting him in the chin. “When?”

“While you were gone. It was on Netflix, and it just kind of happened.”

“Good choice, twenty-nine. Good choice.” Emma’s lips brush against the corner of his jaw, and he tugs her a little closer as his hand runs up and down her back while she presses up on her toes to make contact with his lips. “I need a diet coke or something, and then when the stores open, I’m buying the biggest damn cup of coffee in this entire airport.”

“Whatever your heart desires.”

-/-

The flight is only an hour and a half, Emma sleeps the entire time despite them getting her the biggest damn cup of coffee in the airport right before they boarded, and Killian spends his time answering emails before closing out the app so that he won’t see anything else work-related for this entire weekend. It’s a conscious decision, one he’s happy to make, and it’s almost refreshing to know that he doesn’t have anything to worry about for at least a few days.

Well, anything to worry about except for Ruth Nolan and making sure that he can impress her.

-/-

The taxi they get from the airport takes them directly to Ruth’s house, so Emma doesn’t get much time to show him around, only pointing out a few landmarks. They pass the minor league baseball stadium here, the Portland Sea Dogs, and Emma tells him that she’s never actually been despite having such easy access. She was too caught up in everything having to do with New York and getting there that she never really thought about it. He teases her and tells her they’ll have to go to a game, but Emma turns him down by saying that she needs a break from baseball.

He does too.

So that’ll probably be knocked off the itinerary that Killian is sure Mary Margaret has made. Luckily, though, she and David won’t be here until early evening since they both had to be at work and school for half a day, so they’re pretty much free to do whatever they want with Ruth today.

He’s still slightly reeling from his injury and their fight and everything that came from that. He’s not angry or upset, but this is all still such an adjustment. He should be playing. He shouldn’t be here, but it’s his own damn fault that he is. He screwed up on so many levels, and owning up to it all has been a tough pill to swallow.

Hurting the people he loved nearly killed him, and he doesn’t want anyone to hurt because of him ever again.

In the blink of a bleary eye, they’re pulling up to a quaint two-story Victorian home with brown and white details and bright green bushes lining the brick-paved walkway to the front door. It’s a home, undoubtedly, one much the same as all of the ones in the city and yet entirely different in that he can see vibrant green grass and flushed trees that spread out all over the neighborhood. It reminds him of growing up in Ohio, even if they were not the ones to have the spaciously fenced-in backyard, and a little fluttering of his heart takes place as Killian takes it all in.

He’s always kind of wanted a place like this – away from everything.

“So, this is the place?”

“This is the place.”

“It’s nice.”

“Yeah, I’ve always thought so.” Emma hikes her bag up a little higher on her shoulder and turns to look at him, trepidation written across her face. “We can still turn around if you want to. There are hotels around here.”

“We’re going inside, love.” He leans down and quickly brushes his lips over hers. She tastes strongly of coffee just from the little taste that he got. He’d like to kiss her more, to have the privacy of the hotel so he can show her just how much he’s missed her the past few days of her being gone, but they’re not doing that. “Besides, I believe I just saw Ruth peeking her head through the window looking at us, so it’s too late to turn around now.”

“Yeah,” Emma sighs, “I guess it is.”

Emma steps forward and begins moving up the path, Killian following right behind her, and Emma barely gets a chance to knock on the door before it’s swinging open and Ruth is lunging forward to practically smother Emma with a hug.

Damn. Ruth Nolan is a force of nature.

Then again, she was already for being a single mom most of her life and still taking in foster children, especially one as stubborn as Emma. He can’t even begin to imagine.

He fully intends on finding out this weekend. There are a million questions running around in his mind.

“Oh,” Ruth coos, shaking Emma in her embrace. A dog escapes the front door and comes to sniff at Killian’s feet. This must be Wilby. “I have missed you so much. I think I’m going to have to move to New York so I can see you more often. Do you have room in that apartment of yours?”

“Only if the couch is comfortable for you.”

“I think it may kill my back.”

“No, it’ll definitely kill your back. I have no doubt. It kills my back. Killian’s couch is super comfortable, though.”

“Well, I hardly know the man. I don’t think it would be appropriate for me to sleep over in his apartment.”

“Who cares about proper, love?” Killian teases. “I would be remiss to not let a beautiful woman sleep over at my apartment.”

The words slip out of his mouth before he’s able to stop them, and he immediately regrets them. Ruth may not be Emma’s mom, the title something that Emma still struggles with no matter how much she loves Ruth, but she’s very much a mother figure. Yet here he is spewing words that pretty much scream in her face that he doesn’t care about proper and has been fucking Emma for months now. What a smooth start.

The pit in his stomach becomes a heavy, solid weight, one that’s going to have him breaking the wood of the wraparound front porch.

Shit.

But then Ruth is leaning her head back in laughter, her eyes shining brightly as her hair falls off of her shoulders, and that weight lessens a little bit.

“I’m not much of one for proper either,” Ruth says with laughter still on her lips. She releases Emma and steps toward him, wrapping him in a hug as well, even if this one isn’t quite as smothering. It likely helps that he’s larger than Emma. “Hello, sweetie. SoSo, you’re the infamous Killian Jones I’ve been hearing about?”

“From Emma?”

“No, my grandson. He loves you. I think he was probably more devastated about your arm than Emma was.”

“How did you know I was devastated?”

Ruth pulls back from him to look at Emma. “Intuition told me that you’d be upset over the fact that your boyfriend is injured. Mary Margaret gave me all of the other details.”

Emma’s eyes roll. “Of course she did.”

“You know she can’t keep a secret.”

Killian looks over to Emma to see what she’s got to say, thinking that this first meeting is going rather smoothly, but then Ruth’s eyes are snapping back to him and looking him up and down in a way that has him feeling rather naked under her scrutiny.

Obviously, it was wishful thinking for him to assume he was quite out of the woods.

“You’re much more handsome in person than on TV.”

“Thanks,” Killian laughs awkwardly as he reaches up to scratch behind his ear. “I, uh, appreciate that.”

Emma looks over to him with raised brows that are pinched together, probably wondering when he turned into a stumbling fool instead of someone who can charm anyone, and all he can do is shrug is shoulders at her. She shrugs back before squatting down on the porch to scratch behind the dog’s ears.

“Have you eaten breakfast yet, Ruth?” Emma asks, obviously trying to save him. “We’ve had coffee but not food, and we’d love to take you out to breakfast.”

Ruth waves her away. “Nonsense. I’ll cook breakfast for all of us.”

“You really don’t have to do that, Mrs. Nolan.”

She smiles at him. “It’s Ruth, and yes I do. I hear you’re quite the baker, so you can help.”

“Well, who told you that?”

“Mary Margaret. She’s where I get all of my information, don’t you know? Emma and David don’t give me nearly enough.”

“You know, Ruth,” Killian smiles, “I have heard a little bit about the two of them not sharing a lot of information. You practically have to drag it out of them. I would never do such a thing as keeping secrets.”

Emma scoffs but there’s that loving, playful smile. “Too soon, twenty-nine. Too soon.”

Ruth guides them inside and sends Emma off to take their bags to her old room. Killian raises his brow in question to make sure it’s okay for them to share a room, and Emma simply rolls her eyes before taking both of their bags up the stairs while Ruth ushers him into the living room.

It’s just as homey as the outside. Everything is covered in warm colors from the deep brown of the leather couch to the inviting green of the wall. Two windows sit on either side of the stone fireplace where the television is mounted, and that’s when Killian spots the myriad of picture frames on the mantel, as well as on the bookshelf in the corner of the room.

This is exactly what he’s been so excited about.

(Besides getting to spend a weekend away with Emma where she spent the last of her teenager years.)

There are a few photos of David as a child, ones of him alone and then ones of him with both of his parents. Most of them, however, everyone is a tad bit older. Killian knows that it’s so Emma can be included in all of the photos, and his heart swells a bit at the thought of Ruth being that thoughtful so that Emma doesn’t have to feel left out in any way.

A picture of David, Mary Margaret, and Emma sits in the middle of the mantle. David and Mary Margaret look much the same, if not younger than they look now, but with different hairstyles. Killian makes a mental note to tease David about his shoulder-length hair. Emma, though, is definitely a teenager here. Her face is rounder, far less angled, and he can see the tepidness of her smile as she leans into David in the picture.

“Are you looking at how cute I am?” Emma questions as she walks into the room.

Killian turns to look at her and at the shy smile on her face now, and he opens up his arm to let her walk into him so that her arm can wrap around his back while her head rests on his shoulder.

“How old are you here, love?”

“Um, that’s a question I don’t know the answer to.”

“Sixteen,” Ruth supplies, and Killian doesn’t miss the way she’s smiling at the two of them standing there. “That’s from Thanksgiving. Emma still wasn’t too sure about us.”

“I’m still not.”

Killian squeezes her hip. “Liar.”

“Nope, I’m serious. You’ve only just met Ruth, so I don’t think you can judge her character yet.”

“Oh no, darling, I can. She’s promised to tell me stories about you while we cook breakfast, and that’s good enough for me to love her forever.”

Emma groans and dips her head down. “Just let me sulk, and I’ll come to the kitchen when breakfast is ready.”

“Just like when you were a teenager,” Ruth teases.

The morning is mostly spent in the kitchen where they eat waffles and bacon, which is definitely not on his diet but he’s not playing right now anyways, and he gets to listen to Ruth tease Emma all about what she was like as a teenager. Emma’s cheeks are painted red, the embarrassment very clearly there, but she takes it like a champ and smiles and laughs along even when Ruth tells a story about Emma nearly breaking her arm while trying to sneak back into the house after meeting a guy who she wasn’t supposed to be meeting.

“Not my finest moment,” Emma admits as she bites into a piece of bacon. “And definitely not my finest boyfriend.”

The stories continue, and as the day passes on, Killian’s stomach hurts from all of the laughter. Everything about his time here just seems so…perfect. And he knows that there is no such thing as perfect, but the crisp breeze of the air with the sunshine filtering through the leaves of the trees tells him otherwise as the two of them help Ruth with some of her yardwork. Of course, he hasn’t done yardwork in over a decade, so he’s a little rusty. Ruth and Emma make sure to point that out to him every time he cuts a shrub in the wrong way or manages to screw up turning on the lawnmower.

It was complicated, okay?

And Killian definitely wasn’t aware that this is how they’d be spending the first part of their afternoon. It was not at all mentioned in Emma’s pitch of asking him to come here.

Not that he would have ever said no to helping. It’s good to feel useful when he’s been feeling a little useless lately no matter how well he thinks that he’s handling his injury layoff.

It’s decidedly different than the first time around. It likely helps that the injury isn’t as serious and that Killian knows that the end of it is in sight, even if there’s still bits of uncertainty that no one can answer and predict for him. Yet, it also has everything to do with the fact that the people closest to him know exactly what’s going on instead of him letting it all fester inside of him. Honesty is the better policy this time, even if his hand was the slightest bit forced.

Watching Emma easily guide him through Old Port with a beatific smile on her face may help as well.

No, it definitely helps.

She’s such a force of light in his life, even if she doesn’t like admitting that sometimes, but the fact almost seems reinforced after having been apart from her and facing the thoughts of what his life may be like without her in it outside of being someone who he works with.

Frankly, it would be kind of dim. She’s integrated herself so easily into every aspect of his daily routine, and while at first, he thought it really only had to do with her clothes in his closet and her shampoo bottles littering his shower, it’s more in the way that he’ll be sitting with Elsa and look over to see her texting Emma or the way that whenever he wakes up in the morning and she’s not in bed with him, his first thought is to check his phone for a text from her. It’s ridiculous and yet also…not.

She annoys him more than anything or anyone in the world, but he also loves her more than anything. It’s easy in a way that it’s never been before, and Killian wonders if this feeling of fluttering deep in his belly is what he was missing in the past.

They grab a late lunch at a quaint little seafood place, one he can tell is family-owned simply from the atmosphere, and instead of sitting inside, they settle down at one of the umbrella-covered tables outside so that they can have a view of the ocean with the salt-water breeze wafting over them.

He’s missed the water.

Of course, he’s been around it living in Manhattan and traveling to several places around the country that are surrounded by water. Hell, he’s even been back in it in the three years since the accident with Liam. But it’s been a long damn time since he’s sat and simply enjoyed getting to spend time near the water.

During the off-season, he and Emma are going somewhere that’s surrounded by water for at least a week, and they’re not going to let any outside distractions get to them. It’s making plans for the future, and that’s all that he wants right now.

(Some would call it baseball mating season, and while he doesn’t plan on them reproducing anytime soon, they can sure as hell practice.)

They get a call that David and Mary Margaret are nearly there when Emma is showing him some of the lighthouses while using a ridiculous voice that she calls her “tour guide” voice, so they quickly gather their things and start walking back to Ruth’s car since she absolutely cannot wait to see the rest of her family and refuses to have them be at her house before she can get back to her house.

David and Mary Margaret get there first because they are apparently the fastest drivers on the planet today.

And Leo practically tackles Ruth in all of his ten-year-old glory when he sees her.

That’s how Addy and Lucy are with Elsa’s parents too, and Killian imagines that being a grandparent is a hell of a lot of fun since you aren’t in charge of molding a little person into a functioning human being. You just have to give them candy and all of the things their parents don’t want them to have.

Or, at least, that’s what he thinks Ruth does.

(That’s what he does as an uncle and wishes his mom could have done as a grandmother.)

They all eat takeout dinner together from an Italian place that Emma and David swear by, and while it’s certainly not the best thing he’s ever had to eat, it’s pretty damn good. Then again, he’s had so much to eat today that his stomach very well may explode soon. He’ll have to get up and go for a jog in the morning.

But right now, it’s a little past ten at night, he’s been up for over eighteen hours, and all he really wants is to sleep. His body is dragging enough that he imagines he’ll have no trouble falling into a slumber as soon as his head hits the pillow.

He’s wrong.

Because then he sees Emma’s teenage bedroom and sees just how empty it is. It’s absolutely nothing like her apartment in New York full of throw pillows and blankets and every artificial plant known to man with a colorful paintings above her headboard. Everything here is rather…beige.

Emma walks out of the bathroom where she’s been getting ready for bed, and he watches as she rubs lotion up and down her hands and her forearms. “Why that glum look on your face? Are you still trying to figure out better ways to argue with David over soccer? Because that dinner conversation is long over. I thought Leo was going to climb on top of the table and start beating on his chest or something equally ridiculous.”

“Hm, no,” Killian chuckles, opening his knees so that Emma can step into them and his hands can find their spots on her waist, warm flesh against his fingertips.

“Then what?”

He blinks up at her, not entirely sure if now is the right time to ask, but then he sees the glint of his mom’s ring falling against Emma’s chest and is reassured in who he is to Emma. “I can’t help but notice that your room here is not quite as colorful as your room at home.”

Emma sighs, and he squeezes her hip in response so that she looks down at him and smile. “It’s kind of a stupid reason. You don’t want to hear about it.”

“I’d love to know more of your beginnings, Swan.”

“Haven’t you heard enough about them today?”

“There is never enough information, love.”

She smiles and reaches to push his hair back off of his head, her hands a magic touch as they move through the strands there. “I’m not a sentimental person. Or, I wasn’t.” Her right hand leaves his hair to find the chain around her neck. Killian’s heart stutters at that movement. “And I never trusted that I was going to stay in one place for very long, so if I had the chance to decorate my room, I didn’t. I kept everything I owned in a little box that was always ready to go.”

His heart may actually break for Emma in this moment, the sad reality of what she’s telling him something that’s hard for him to take in. He can’t imagine what it must be like for her to have lived that way.

“I think this place worked out for you, though.”

“Yeah, it did.” She smiles again, but Killian can see the twinge of sadness in the corners of her lips. “You sure you still want to know about these beginnings of mine when they’re a little bit sad?”

“Like I’ve said before, love, we make quite the team, sad backstories and all. I do, however, think that you need a little something on these walls of yours.”

“I think all of the home décor stores may be closed.”

Killian winks. “Well, I think I’ll just have to get a little creative then.”

His hand slides around her back to squeeze her ass before he’s pushing Emma back from him and getting up from the bed to walk out the door. Everything is darkened with the lights turned off, and since he doesn’t want to wake up everyone else in the house, he uses the flashlight on his phone and quietly walks down the stairs to find his way to the kitchen where he knows there were sheets of paper in the printer as well as a few pens in a cup right behind it. Emma is on his heels, questioning what the hell it is he’s doing, but he doesn’t tell her until he’s grabbing the paper and a thick blue marker.

“What are you doing?” Emma hisses.

“I’m making you some artwork for your wall.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“It’s endearing.”

“You say that about every weird thing that you do.”

“Because the weird things are endearing,” he corrects, looking back at her and smiling. “What kind of drawing do you want? I’m pretty talented, if I do say so myself, but it’s been awhile since I’ve drawn anything.”

“Just…do whatever you want. I’m going to fix myself a hot chocolate. Do you want one?”

“Does Ruth have any tea?”

“I’m going to make you the hot chocolate. It’s better than tea.”

Killian rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t protest as he starts sketching out what he can remember of the view of the lighthouse today. It’s rough, definitely not his best work, but considering his original plan was simply going to be writing her name out, it’ll have to do for quick work.

Strange things happen when he’s far past tired.

“Milady,” Killian sighs, picking up the paper as well as a bit of tape before walking the few steps toward Emma as she sits on a barstool at the island with two cups of hot chocolate, her mug piled up with whipped cream and sprinkles of cinnamon, “I present to you your artwork for your wall.”

Emma’s eyes glance over it before glancing up at him with a slight smile on her face. “You’ve got to sign it.”

He taps the corner of the paper where he’s scribbled in his number. “Already done.”

“Ah,” Emma laughs, “how could I have missed that?”

“You were distracted by the beauty of the picture.”

“Exactly.” Emma presses up over the countertop and leans forward to quickly brush her lips over Killian’s, and while a part of him wants to deepen it, he doesn’t want to get carried awhile while here. “Thank you. That is very sweet of you to do.”

“Endearing, right?”

“Sure.” She shakes her head and slides his mug over to him so that he can have some of his hot chocolate. “I hope today hasn’t scarred you for life, especially since you still have to survive tomorrow.”

“It’s been fun, Swan. I’ve been…I think it’s gotten me majorly out of my own head. I needed that. And I liked getting to see you be so happy. My only complaint is that I’m under strict instructions not to make your bed squeak. I don’t like that rule.”

Emma reaches over to slap his shoulder, but he moves it out of the way quick enough that she doesn’t get it. It also causes a slight twinge in his shoulder that reminds him that he needs an ice pack for tonight. He hasn’t gotten to put ice on it all day. So, he turns toward the fridge and opens up the freezer, grabbing one of Ruth’s ice packs, and placing it on top of his shoulder before turning back to Emma whose fingers are tracing over the drawing.

Emotion lodges in his throat again, something that’s been happening quite a lot tonight, and it’s what propels him forward to step behind Emma’s back and wrap his arms around her stomach before resting his chin on top of her head.

“I’m not going anywhere, Emma,” he promises, meaning every word. “Not unless you tell me to go. So, you can plan on hanging paintings and making plans and keeping little trinkets in more places than a box. I love you more than I know how to tell you. That’s not going to change.”

Emma audibly sighs, something that he feels under the palms of his hands, before leaning back into Killian and simply staying in that spot so that he can breathe her in.

“I love you,” she breathes out as her head tilts up so that her lips can move across the underside of his jaw. “Let’s take the hot chocolate upstairs and go to bed.”

“And your picture?”

“Yeah, that too.”

-/-

Killian’s arm tingles, the feeling nearly gone, when he wakes up in the morning and finds Emma’s body pressed around it. This isn’t how they fell asleep, not even close, and he’ll probably never have use of his arm again. It doesn’t seem to matter, though, and he flexes his fingers a bit before nuzzling his nose into the back of Emma’s head in an attempt to get to go back to sleep.

They were up until maybe two in the morning talking, sleep never really coming to either of them no matter how much they both wanted it, and judging from the dim light coming through the blinds on the window, it’s still early yet.

He desperately needs coffee. He’s probably not going to be able to go back to sleep, and he desperately needs coffee.

Slowly, Killian begins to extract his arm from Emma’s grip, stopping when she flinches, and after several careful minutes, he’s able to quietly get off the bed and step out of the room, leaving her door cracked so as not to make any kind of noise. He walks down the hallway and uses the guest bathroom before walking down the stairs and wandering to the kitchen in search of coffee.

To his surprise, David is already there sitting at the kitchen table with his laptop open and a cup of coffee sitting next to him, the smell wafting toward Killian.

“Hey,” Killian greets. David nearly jumps out of his chair and knocks everything over, and Killian can’t help but laugh at the shock on his face. “Did you really not hear me coming down the stairs?”

“I, uh, I – ” David is stuttering, obviously at a loss for words, and Killian can’t quite figure out what’s going on. He doesn’t think Dave is usually this flustered in the mornings. “I wasn’t expecting you or Emma to be up this early.”

Killian shakes out his arm, still trying to wake it up. “Believe me. I wish I wasn’t up. Do you always work this early in the morning on a Saturday?”

“No, I don’t, but my phone wouldn’t stop buzzing with emails this morning, so I came downstairs to see so it wouldn’t wake Mary Margaret up.”

“Ah, I turned off my emails this weekend for that exact reason.”

“You probably shouldn’t have done that.”

“What’s that, mate?” David coughs in response, and Killian steps forward to the table and sits down across from David, confusion running through him as his stomach twists and turns. “Seriously. What?”

David can’t look at him, not really, and that doesn’t help calm any of Killian’s nerves as he tries to figure out what in the world is going on with him this morning.

“I didn’t know this was happening, I swear. I’d have stopped it if I got one whiff of it, but there’s been an article.”

“An article?”

David turns his computer around, and Killian reads a headline that he’s always expected to see and yet has always hoped to avoid.

The Truth Behind Killian Jones: A Story Told by His Father.

“Fucking hell,” he murmurs, his eyes taking in the picture of his father that’s plastered on the screen. Killian hasn’t seen him in years, actual years, and yet he looks exactly the same. “What kind of shit is this?”

“It gets worse.”

“How could it possibly get worse?”

“Look at the journalist.”

Killian’s eyes glance toward the screen again, his gaze finding more words he didn’t want to see.

Walsh Osborne.

As in Emma’s ex, Walsh Osborne who she still works with at ESPN. Though, this article is decidedly not on ESPN’s website.

Holy fucking shit.

Killian’s got to go back to bed. This isn’t real. This is all some kind of messed up nightmare that he’s experiencing, and soon, he’ll wake up and none of it will be real. And yet Killian keeps scrolling through the article, skipping the words to instead look at pictures of himself that Killian hasn’t seen in years. His father shouldn’t have these pictures. Liam should have all of them. And yet, somehow, he doesn’t.

Childhood pictures are nothing, though, at least for right now, when at the bottom of the article are pictures of Killian and Emma standing in the airport yesterday with Emma’s arms wrapped around his waist as well as a picture of them kissing in his car from who knows when. Then there’s one that he knows is from the hallways of Yankee stadium in what was supposed to be a private room.

“Everyone knows about you and Emma,” David tells him. 

This is too much. It’s all too much, and he doesn’t know how to handle the reappearance of his father and the very public reveal of his private relationship.

Fuck.

#catch me if you can #cs fic #cs ff #captain swan fic #captain swan

[ichigopanhpff]

BNHA Fic: Blink! Ch. 26

Read Ch. 25 | Masterlist

Hark, I live!!!!! While I’m not back full time, I still wanted to post this chapter. Per usual, this is spoiler territory if you don’t read the manga and this will definitely be in the next anime season of BNHA.

With Winter Break in full swing, the U.A. students occupied themselves with their own thing; this was the only time they’d be free before jumping into their internships in the new year. The elevator dinged at the far end of the room, with Bakugou emerging from it in workout gear. He followed the sound of a rhythmic thumping and saw someone in a sweatshirt with the hood pulled over their face giving it to a sandbag with their boxing gloves. Their audible huffing breaths synced with every punch. Ren had her wireless headphones on with music pumping through it loudly. She couldn’t hear the blond boy’s footsteps approaching.

She couldn’t believe what she did in Todoroki’s room.

When the hell did she get that ballsy?!

And why did she even say that?!

Suppressing her urge to groan, it only made her punch the bag harder with a louder grunt that sound more like a growl from her throat.

She’s made her bed; all she could do was lay in it.

Upon feeling the stiffness of the sandbag hitting something solid, she stopped with a confused gaze and peered over to the other side to see a familiar person staring at her with vermilion orbs. His mouth was moving but she heard nothing.

The pink-haired girl held her index finger up and proceeded to pause her music before taking one of her headphones out, immediately apologizing.

“I’ve been callin’ you for the past three minutes.” Bakugou crossed his arms and cocked his head. “Where’s the fire?”

“There’s no fire,” she panted out and proceeded to remove her gloves to grab her water bottle on the floor to drink out of.

“Doesn’t look like it to me, seeing how hard you were goin’ at the bag.”

“Maybe I just felt like punching something really hard. Ever thought about that?” Ren replied with bite and wiped her mouth of excess water and sweat with her sleeve.

Setting the bottle back down, she removed her hood, revealing a sticky, sweaty mat of rose gold locks stuck to her cheeks and forehead. Her face scrunched up with a look of disgust while peeling her locks from her face by clumsily combing her bandaged hands through.

“You look like a drowned rat,” Bakugou snickered watching her.

“This is me on a good day,” she deadpanned and rolled her eyes. “You here to work out or flap your gums?”

“What, I can’t make civil conversation with an upperclassman?” he arrogantly retorted. “We will be at the same internship in a few days.”

Oh, damn. The internship with Endeavor’s agency.

Her, Bakugou, Midoriya and Todoroki.

What if his feelings changed after thinking them through? What if she’s misinterpreting this again like she did with Mirio-senpai’s after the fact?

It was then she mentally yelled at herself for always only thinking things through halfway. The confused boy looked at Ren as her face contorted into an annoyed expression.

“What, my company bugs you that much?” Bakugou questioned with a hint of contempt.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she quickly snipped and sighed. “Sorry. There’s just… an extremely annoying thought I’m trying to rid myself of.” The girl pursed her lips and let out a hard breath through her nose.

“Listen, I’m not the kinda guy to do this kinda shit, but y’know...” He scratched the back of his head uncomfortably before continuing. “I’ll listen… to your crap… n’ stuff. If you wanna talk,” he muttered and shoved his hands into his sweat pockets.

Ren’s eyes widened with surprise for a moment and slowly softened them with a small smile.

“And here I thought that mouth can only spew out snark,” she teased with a smirk.

He audibly scoffed and turned away, embarrassed having even thrown out that suggestion. The blond boy then felt a tap on his exposed bicep; it was from Ren’s bandaged fist making contact.

“Thanks though,” she said with a lopsided smirk and gathered her belongings before leaving. “I’ll keep that in mind. Have fun working out.”

Ren made her way to the showers to wash away all the sweat she exuded. She changed up her usual workout routine to train for a new fighting style for close range combat. Having Bakugou and Todoroki as her training partners, she’d been making adjustments to her movements to improve the speed of her takedowns. Upper body strength had long been an issue for her, having focused most of them on her legs due to her quirk. Hence, the sandbag coming into play.

Stretching out her arms to the point where she was comfortable, she quickly changed to head over to the 2-A dorms to hang out with Seri and Tomoe before their internships took them away from each other. Seri was going to intern with Mirko, whereas Tomoe was going to be with Edgeshot.

The meeting point was always Tomoe’s room; it was warm, homey and comfortable like a burrow. The two joked her porcupine quirk may have been the influence. Settling in from the wintry cold, Tomoe handed her a cup of freshly made green tea, to which she gratefully accepted.

“So did you talk to Todoroki-kun?” Seri asked and threw a chocolate mushroom biscuit into her mouth.

“So I may have kinda, sorta did a thing that I didn’t quite think through...” Ren spoke quickly in one breath and rubbed her left earlobe.

“Again?” the two simultaneously blurted out with exasperation with quirked eyebrows; she could only flatten her lips into a thin line and glared.

“Y’know, I’m feeling very attacked and sense major hostility right now,” she defensively huffed and crossed her arms. “I dunno if I wanna talk anymore.”

“If you’d stop doing dumb ass things and actually thought your actions through, you wouldn’t be here,” Tomoe harshly pointed out. “So what’d you do, kiss him?”

Ren avoided eye contact as she noisily slurped her tea. The tense silence broke with the collision of limbs on the floor.

“Please tell me it wasn’t on the lips,” Seri quickly said.

“… Cheek.”

“Revenge?” Tomoe asked.

“Something like that. We… halfway confessed to each other?”

“How do you halfway confess something?” Seri asked with a tone of confusion and threw arms hands up in frustration. “That’s like stitching two stories of different genres together without a cut scene for leeway.”

“I guess the fabled ‘unspoken mutual attraction’ does exist,” Tomoe noted and popped a chocolate treat into her mouth.

“I dunno… The timing felt right, I guess,” she shrugged. “We basically decided to figure out our stuff first and talk again when we’re ready to.”

“Wait...” Tomoe paused. “Isn’t your internship with him and his dad?”

“Don’t remind me,” Ren groaned and cupped her forehead into her hand.

“I mean, you already met his mom. Guess it was ‘bout time for his dad,” Seri reasoned half-jokingly.

“Why are you making it sound like I’m meeting the in-laws?”

“Because you put yourself in situations like these that make us think otherwise.”

“You’re not gonna let your feelings get in the way of your internship, right?” Tomoe asked in half-seriousness.

“Of course not!” Ren strongly exclaimed. “It’s all business when I suit up.”

“Just wanna make sure.”

–

Given the strict rules since the U.A. dorms had been implemented, the faculty allowed students to go home for New Year’s Eve to spend with their family with a pro hero escort. Ren was welcomed home with the aromas of her mom’s cooking that immediately signaled her stomach to growl out loud. The annual Kohaku* was playing on TV in the background while Ren spaced out by staring out the living room window, admiring the calm night as she sipped her hot chocolate. Living in the dorms was nice, but there was no replacing the comforts of home.

Her phone chimed to life with a notification on the coffee table to grab her attention back. Setting her mug down gently, she grabbed the device with her hand and immediately grinned.

It was a New Year message from Melissa. As she scanned through the email, several notifications popped off from her group chat with Tomoe and Seri. The poor owl girl was bored to death at home and hid herself away in her room while her parents entertained pompous people at their party. Ren sent an animated emoji of a random panda playing the world’s smallest violin, to which she replied with an Aggretsuko fiery rage screaming one. After a few more exchanges, Seri decided to “show face” for a few more minutes for her parents’ sake.

After dinner, she and her mom watched Downtown’s Annual No Laughing New Year’s special**, a tradition in the Takahiro household. There was nothing like welcoming the new year with laughter by seeing old geezers get their butts slapped in as punishment for laughing at dumb gags done by guest celebrity assassins and themselves. As midnight got closer, Ren started to slowly drift away to sleep; her mom, however, gave up an hour ago and turned in for the night. Had her phone not chirped from several message notifications, she would’ve ended up face planting right on the hard part of the sofa.

She unlocked her screen to see several New Year greetings from Class 1-A, with photo attachments of what they’re watching, eating and doing. Ren promptly replied her message and took a photo of her legs propped up on the coffee table with the TV screen of Matsumoto mid-slap in the background. The moment she set her phone back down, the mobile device chirped to life again.

Her eyes grew wide in surprise.

It was from Todoroki.

She opened up the message reading, “Happy New Year, Ren-senpai. I’ll be in your care again this year. Will you be on the same bus as us tomorrow?”

“His writing’s so formal,” she remarked to herself in astonishment.

She typed out her response to let him know she’ll be riding with her class and already asked ahead of time to be dropped off in front of Endeavor’s office. Before hitting send, she thanked him again for getting her a spot with his dad’s agency.

Todoroki simply answered, “You’re welcome. I look forward to interning and spending more time together.”

How like him.

She couldn’t help but grin ear to ear like a shy schoolgirl, staring at the message. For a moment, she thought to herself maybe this internship will help both of them figure out just what their feelings were for each other after all.

Victoria practically had to shake Ren awake or she’d end up missing her ride. Hastily washing up and changing into her school uniform, her mom presented her with a new red infinity scarf.

“Since you told me you gave yours away to a little kid, I figured I take my needles out and make you one,” the elder Takahiro presented with a beaming grin.

“Thanks mom.” She looked down at the soft accessory with a wide smile and put it on, feeling the maternal warmth envelop her. Was this how Eri felt when she accepted her gift? Ren gave her mom a tight hug before grabbing her belongings to head out.

“Be safe out there, okay?”

“Three of the strongest students from 1-A will be with me along with the number one hero,” she spoke into her mom’s shoulder. “I think I’ll be fine.”

Pulling away from the hug, she gave her mom a peck on the cheek before putting the shoes on.

“Love you, mom. Stay warm!”

Making her way out of her building, the gentle wintry winds of the New Year softly greeted her as she walked to the school shuttle bus waiting at the entrance. Several students from her class were already on it and exchanged new year greetings with one another. Once the bus picked up the last student, they started dropping each one off at their respective internships.

“Kick some butt, Ren-Ren,” Tomoe encouraged.

“Don’t get set on fire now,” Seri teased.

“Try not to hunt the pro hero, Seri,” Ren teased back before exiting the bus with her hero costume and bag in tow. She changed into her costume’s boots on the bus before getting off; they were much warmer to wear than her sneakers. Glancing around, she walked for a bit until she saw the back of three familiar heads. As if sensing her presence, they turned at the same time and did their New Years greetings exchange.

“You made a new scarf?” Todoroki noticed the new accessory adorning her neck.

“A gift from Mama Takahiro,” she beamed happily with pink cheeks and snuggled it into the bottom half of her face. “It’s so warm. I love it.”

“We gonna stand here all day or what?” Bakugou nonchalantly replied and turned around.

“So randomish question...” their upperclassman began. “What are your hero names? I already know Mido-kun’s...”

“Bakugou.”

“Shouto.”

Ren emitted a strange noise from her throat and stopped in her steps.

“Really? That’s what you wanna convey to society?” she flat out said.

“Well, all of my other ideas got rejected, okay?” Bakugou replied defensively.

“What was your reasoning behind using ‘Blink’ then, senpai?” Todoroki asked out of curiosity.

“I want people to think I’ll be there quickly to help,” she firmly stated.

“That’s… actually really good,” Midoriya commended and placed his hand on his chin. “Gives off reassurance, timeliness and trust.”

“When choosing your name, you should think about not only the hero you see yourself as, but how others see you. It’s very superficial, but that’s how society is, sadly. You’ve seen it all over the news with the opinion polls lately,” she lectured. “Also, using something that personal is really high risk. Think of how many people in Japan have your last name, Bakkun; and how many people have your first, Todo-kun. Anyone with a brain can look up your family registry online and do face matching.”

The tall blond boy stood stationary, reflecting on her advice and Best Jeanist’s when he was interning at his agency. He was the type to think things out clearly; never once did he consider using his surname would put his parents in harm’s way.

“Anyway, if you need some help, I’ll be more than happy to brainstorm some ideas over with you two,” she encouraged with a small smile.

The group walked on making small conversation about what they did during their New Years. Getting closer to the entrance of the agency, the group saw a tall and intimidating looking man with spiky red hair with a scar covering the majority of the left side of his face. His piercing turquoise blue eyes looked like he was staring into their souls.

“Welcome to Endeavor Agency,” the tall muscular man greeted with a smile that soon morphed into a scowl. “Was that the kinda welcome you were expecting? I’m in no mood for that.”

Endeavor scanned the four students and suddenly focused on Ren for some reason. Her hazel-green eyes stared straight into his, trying her best not to give into his overwhelming presence. Her hand gripped the handle of her costume case tightly. His gaze then broke from hers and went back to the three boys.

This was the man responsible for all of his son’s loneliness and self-loathing. Part of her wanted to punch his lights out, but the other half of her wanted to see the change in him Todoroki mentioned.

If this is what it’ll take to be a strong hero, she’ll exercise restraint.

“I reluctantly gave permission for this only because Shouto asked,” he harshly deemed. “Even though I wanted him to come alone.”

“But you did give permission, so quit complaining,” the younger Torodoki shot back harshly.

“Sh-Shouto!”

Bakugou, Midoriya and Ren looked on quietly, not wanting any part of the small family squabble.

“I’ve been thinkin’ about this since the licensing classes...” Bakugou began. “This guy’s a jerk.”

“Shouto!” Endeavor scolded. “Are you actually friends with this boy?!”

“But if this means I get to watch the top hero at work, I’ll put up with it,” the blond boy casually finished.

“I thought I told you to choose your friends carefully!” the Todoroki patriarch directed his scowl at his son, with the other party unfazed with his yelling.

“Thank you for accepting us,” Midoriya strongly greeted. Endeavor’s gaze fell on the small viridian hair colored boy with a neutral gaze. “We’re here to learn, sir!”

The tall man turned on he heels of his shoes and started walking, with the heroes in training following suit.

“’Shouto’s not me...’” Endeavor muttered out within an earshot. “That’s what you said to me.”

“Huh?” Midoriya responded in confusion.

In the blink of an eye, the four saw the tall and muscular man jump over the pedestrian guard rail to rush over to a growing commotion. The flames on his face quickly emerged and firmly declared, “Sorry to burst your bubbles, but Shouto’s the only one I want to train. You wanna learn? Stand back and watch!”

As his eyes darted back, he was shocked to see all four students jump into the fray with him with partial pieces of their costumes already equipped. Bakugou slapped on his right grenade gauntlet and tossed his case behind him with Deku slipping on his right glove. Shouto used his ice quirk to up his mobility, still holding onto his case. Blink managed to put her mask on and activated her T-batons.

“Tell us what we can do!”

“I told you to stand back!” the flame hero reiterated. “And watch!”

Endeavor blasted off at full speed, easily leaving the interns behind.

“Stay behind me and watch?!” Shouto growled out in annoyance.

“We won’t be able to if we can’t keep up with him!” Deku shouted.

The four continued to chase after the moving fireball to the best of their abilities; even Blink was struggling and shocked at how fast he was given his muscular stature.

“Guys!” she shouted and stopped in her steps and caught her breath. The three gradually followed suit and looked back at her in confusion as she kept on staring at Endeavor’s shrinking form.

“What are you doin’?!” Bakugou yelled impatiently.

“Grab onto me.”

The three boys hastily made their way over and placed their hand on her shoulders and left forearm.

“Hold on tight.”

The pink-haired girl exhaled a breath and disappeared from the sight of passerbyers and zipped down the path. While Todoroki already knew how it felt teleporting with her, Bakugou and Deku were at a loss for words.

This feeling of moving at lightning speed while everything was in slow motion frames like a film reel confused their senses. It felt like their eyes were deceiving them as the world around them turned monochromatic. The floating weightlessness of their bodies were horrifying and exhilarating. In a matter of seconds, they closed in on the back of Endeavor who was about to follow the perpetrator through a narrow alleyway.

A sudden flash of light brought them back to real time, the four heard the Flaming Hero shout “Evacuate the area!” to another hero. Gathering their bearings and footing back on solid ground, the interns went around the other way, in hopes of meeting the pro hero halfway through to assist. Making their way down the block, they saw three hoodlums with pipes and knives at the ready to attack Endeavor. They made it just in time to intercept the underlings with their own quirks while Endeavor took care of the ring leader.

However, the fruits of their efforts in playing catch-up was short lived when familiar flying feathers headed at them and grabbed the bad guys instead.

“Oh! You guys must be the interns!” Hawks greeted mid-action as he swooped his way in.

“Hawks?!” Deku and Blink called out.

“Sorry! Looks like I was just one step faster!” the winged hero casually apologized.

“I thought Endeavor might have been in trouble, so here I am.”

“Did I look like I was?” Endeavor shot back, his attention still on the glass manipulating quirk user.

Hawks slowed his flight and eased himself back on the ground. He then casually walked up to the young Todoroki.

“He did, didn’t he Shouto?”

“Wha– Uh, sure,” the bi-coloured haired boy stuttered out in midst of the confusion.

“I told you to let me know ahead of time if you planned on coming here,” the Flame Hero reminded the heroic bird with a tone of annoyance.

“I just happened to be in the neighborhood, is all.”

“Hawks!”

Blink staggered up to him, ready to give him a piece of her mind, feeling the after effects of vertigo and exhaustion from over-teleporting.

“Oh, if it isn’t my favorite former intern,” he turned and greeted with a beaming grin.

“Don’t you use thatcharm on me, you air-headedchicken,” she shot back and pointed a wobbly warning finger and slurred, “And don’tleavemeon read! I’ve been tryingto contact you forweeks!”

Blink staggered back a few steps and held her forehead into her palm, huffing audible breaths to fight the nausea. Her vertigo was worse when she teleported with more than two people compared to overusing Flicker on herself.

“Sorry, sorry,” he apologized with a lighthearted chuckle, sensing how bad her side effect was this time based on the dilation of her pupils.

“That… was meant to sound threatening, by the way,” she enunciated her words to rid herself of her current lazy tongue.

“I figured.”

Hawks walked up to the pink-haired girl and placed his hand on top of her head, knowing how much she hated it. In a short beat, her senses came back to normal. All she could do was stand there and pout with puffed up cheeks.

Todoroki couldn’t help but notice how quickly her demeanor changed from before. She looked like a bashful schoolgirl in front of a crush. He felt a sudden tinge of pain and irritation form inside him; it was the same feeling he had when he saw Bakugou pick up Ren during the Christmas party.

“It’s just...” she let out a light sigh and muttered, “Since Best Jeanist’s disappearance, it’s hardnot to think of the worst when I didn’t hear from you.”

“I didn’t mean for you to worry,” he spoke gently at her with a matching smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “But I’m here now. I’m fine, you see?”

The police arrived moments later to apprehend the villains. The lackeys screamed, “We were only following orders from the Servant of the Stars!” as their defense, while the main villain was demanding to be released. The four interns removed their hero gear and placed it back into their cases.

“That man is the source of darkness!” the bearded villain screamed. “That light he emits shall summon the darkness! And our demise along with it!”

Despite the policemen ignoring the man’s insane pleas, the words seemed to have effected Endeavor. The three boys introduced themselves to Hawks while everything was being wrapped up.

“My name is Midoriya! Pleased to meet you, sir,” the green haired boy greeted.

“Oh, you’re that kid who blew up his own fingers,” Hawks mentioned. “I’ve heard all about you from Tsukuyomi. I wanted to work with you too but...”

“Oh, is Tokoyami continuing his internship with you?”

“He’s working with my sidekicks back in my neck of the woods,” he replied with a slight tone of regret. “I’ve just been so busy lately and… I actually kinda...”

Hawks glanced over at Bakugou cautiously, who was currently glaring daggers at him.

“Feel bad for him,” he finished his thought.

“Just so we’re clear,” Bakugou interrupted the rest of Midoriya’s conversation. “I got there faster than you back there.”

“Hm, I wonder,” Hawks taunted with a light chuckle.

Once the police drove away, Endeavor drew his attention back to the winged hero.

“And what business do you have with me, Hawks?!” he gruffly asked.

“It’s not ‘business’ exactly, but...” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled something out. “Have you read this book?”

The cover read “Paranormal Liberation Front.”

“Have you heard of it? These guys have really been growing lately and they’re garnering even more attention after that civilian resistance in Deika City!” he promoted. “It’s an old memorandum, but it really foresaw our current state of society pretty well! ‘If only a limited amount of people are allowed to live freely, the consequences will fall on those who weren’t granted that right’ or so it says.”

The five looked at Hawks in confusion. What was he going on about?

“If you don’t have a lot of time, just read the section I bookmarked, okay?”

Paranormal Liberation Front… Why did that title sound so familiar? Ren thought to herself. And why was Hawks so long-winded about it? Her eyes focused on him, trying to read between the lines of what he was trying to relay to the number one hero.

“Destro’s ideals are everything we wanted!” Hawks continued on. “A society where everyone can look out for themselves! It really does fit this age!”

“What are you talking about?” Endeavor asked just as confused as he was from before.

“If we can make that a reality, then we’ll have all the free time in the world, Endeavor!” he firmly stated in seriousness. The Flame Hero’s eyes grew wide, as if he remembered something and stared at him with dubious concern. Hawks’ usual happy-go-lucky expression soon turned solemn and placed the book into Endeavor’s hand.

“Make sure you give it a read, alright?”

“A recommended reading from the number two?!” Midoriya piped up excitedly. “Now I want to read it too! Maybe I’ll learn the secret to his speed...”

“I… don’t think that book has anything to do with his speed, Mido-kun,” Ren dismissed with a nervous look.

The flying hero swiftly turned around, with several books already in his hand, beaming, “You’ll be happy to know I brought extra copies then!”

“He’s so well prepared!” the green haired boy praised.

“Where did he even fit those books in his costume?!” his former intern incredulously let out, pointing to the lack of pockets on his jacket.

“This is the era of the number two!” Hawks threw the books at the four, with them all flawlessly catching them. “It’s not just raw speed; you need to be quick on the uptake! For that, you need the ability to predict what’s in store for the new era for us!”

“You must really love this book if you’re carrying that many...” the younger Todoroki commented.

“He must be doing missionary work!”

“Midoriya gets it,” Hawks confirmed with his usual smile. “I’m recommending this book to everyone I know across the country. At the very least, I truly believe the Liberation ideology will be society’s groundwork from here on out.”

While it seemed like an innocent gesture, the pink-haired girl was suspicious of her former mentor’s words. The things coming out of his mouth made no sense, compared to how he normally is.

Something wasn’t adding up. And it was bothering her.

Immediately sensing Ren’s unease, he felt a small onset of panic rise up in his gut. She was always the type to keep her wits about and this was no exception. He trained her to be this way, after all.

Would she say anything about it now?

No, she’s smarter than that.

If anything, he secretly hoped she can help Endeavor figure out his message if he couldn’t do it himself. The Flaming Hero didn’t strike him as the type of person to figure it out quickly, after all. His glowing brown eyes made contact with Endeavor’s again and reiterated, “Make sure you look over the sections I marked. I especially recommend ‘the second one.’”

Hawks took flight and encouraged all of them to make the most of the internship before disappearing into the sky.

“He’s not that much older than us, but he really has a whole different perspective on things...” Midoriya remarked with admiration, watching him fly away. “He’s only 22, you know.”

“Only six years apart, huh?” the bi-coloured haired boy said.

“Pisses me off...” Bakugou grumbled out.

Endeavor opened the book and casually thumbed through it and muttered, “Yes… indeed.”

*Full name of the show is “Kohaku Uta Gassen.” It’s an annual NYE show where the most popular musicians are separated into red and white teams based on viewer’s votes. Each team’s score are based on their performance, costume, hairstyle, lighting, choreography and makeup.

** The “Gaki no Tsukai” series is ran by the most famous comedians in Japan, Downtown (Matsumoto Hiroshi and Hamada Masatoshi), alongside Cocorico (Tanaka Naoki and Endo Shozo) and Tsukitei Hosei. Their annual NYE is a 24-hour no laughing marathon. You can check them out on Team Gaki.

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