#used to be n just she changed if someone has the potential she will protect them n give them chances ] | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sluttywonwoo · 1 year

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too close (i might just burn you whole) || c.hv

summary: you’ve got your crush on your friend vernon under control… that is until he shows up for a costume party dressed like your favorite superhero

pairing: vernon x fem reader

warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, smut (18+ ; mdni) additional warnings under the cut

word count: 8.6k

a/n: a late birthday present for @fuckvernon <3

additional warnings: fingering, fat cock!vernon, unintentional cockwarming, praise, dacyrphilia, kink discovery, m + f orgasms, implied round two so no aftercare (but it does happen off the page)

“Are you going to tell her tonight?”

Vernon cocks his head to the side and takes a sip of his beer, feigning disinterest. “Who?”

“You’re looking right at her.”

“What am I going to tell her?”

“Don’t play dumb.”

Vernon finally yanks his gaze away from you to glare at Joshua, who had taken the barstool beside him.

“Haven’t we been over this?”

“We have, and we’ll keep going over it until you come to your senses.”

“There are no senses to come to,” Vernon argues. “I don’t want-”

“Don’t give me that bullshit about not ruining your friendship with her.”

“I don’t!”

“You really think she’s the kind of person that’ll stop being friends with someone just because she doesn’t return their feelings?”

“Well, no,” Vernon admits. “But it will definitely change our dynamic.”

Joshua rolls his eyes. “You’re just using that as an excuse to be a coward.”

Vernon clenches his jaw and brings the bottle to his lips again. “I don’t feel like talking about this right now.”

“I can tell,” Joshua mutters.

Chan joins them at the bar a moment later and orders a lemon drop.

“What’d he say?” he asks Joshua.

“That he’s a pussy,” Shua answers.

“Did you tell everyone about this?” Vernon cries, cringing at the whine he hears in his voice.

“No one had to tell me,” Chan corrects him. “You’re super obvious about it.”

“Who else knows?”

“Who doesn’t?” Joshua and Chan say in unison.

Vernon groans and drops his head to the bartop.

“Don’t worry, no one’s going to say anything to her.”

“They might, if you don’t man up and tell her yourself,” Joshua amends.

“He’s kidding.”

“I’m not.”

Chan chuckles nervously and gives Vernon a reassuring pat on the back.

“If you don’t tell her tonight you should at least tell her at Soonyoung’s party.”

“I’m not telling her, period! I’m good with being friends, you guys.”

They side-eye each other.

“So you’re good with her dating other people?”

Vernon lifts his head again. “What?”

“I mean if you’re not going to ask her out, someone else is going to,” Joshua points out, holding his hands up in surrender when Vernon glares at him. “I’m not saying that to be an asshole! I’m saying it because...” he trails off, looking at Chan who unsubtly signals Joshua to stop talking.

“What? What is it?”

“Well, because we heard Kun is going to ask her out at Soonyoung’s party on Friday.”

“Qian Kun?”

Chan nods hesitantly. “But it’s not like it’s a sure thing! It’s just a rumor, after all.”

“It’s a sure thing,” Joshua counters. “I overheard him talking to Minghao about it.”

“We don’t know if she’ll say yes, though,” Chan offers, desperately trying to keep his friend from spiraling.

“That’s true,” Joshua agrees. Finally. “He’s a good-looking guy, though.”

“Joshua!”

“What? It’s the truth!”

“Can I have a word with you over here?”

They shuffle over to the side, leaving Vernon to sulk as they bicker. He can vaguely hear Joshua muttering but he tunes out the words, not needing to hear any more about your potential prospects and his lack thereof.

The thing is, Vernon could have plenty of said potential prospects if he put himself out there. But unfortunately, he only has eyes for you. And he’s a coward.

He hadn’t always had feelings for you, that he was aware of. You were Seungkwan’s friend first. He introduced you to the group later and you’d fit right in. Seungkwan wasn’t surprised but he was a bit protective over you, constantly reminding everyone that you were his first. That didn’t bother Vernon- until it did.

He knew Seungkwan was mostly joking but after a while, he assumed you’d been a part of the group for long enough that you were everyone’s friend. The hierarchy of who knew you best or longest shouldn’t matter. Unless Vernon was at the top of it.

These thoughts never even occurred to Vernon until he started hanging out with you one-on-one. You were always fun to have around but he hadn’t realized just how much he liked spending time with you. You were funny, you liked a lot of the same things he liked, you were pretty— that wasn’t a thought you should be having about a friend. God damn it. God damn it.

That’s when he knew he was fucked. He tried to deny it to himself. He didn’t have feelings for you. That would be ridiculous. He was just confused.

He assumed it would pass. He tried to avoid you, only seeing you at group events. That didn’t last long.

You managed to corner him at a brunch thing and confronted him about why he had been ignoring you. He made up some excuse about how he’s been busy lately, lying straight to your face as he told you he hadn’t been ignoring you.

Vernon had learned to live with his feelings, peksy as they were. He just suppressed them. The healthy thing to do.

But now he was forced to make a choice. He had to either tell you how he felt and potentially ruin your friendship, or let someone else beat him to it.

“We can get ready together at my place around four and then pregame a little bit,” you suggest, your voice sounding muffled through the speaker.

Vernon’s got his phone balanced between his ear and his shoulder which makes it even harder to hear you. He’s trying to straighten up his and Seokmin’s apartment before some of the guys come over for DND but it isn’t going very well. He can’t figure out where Seokmin put the fucking Swiffer Wet Jet.

“Who else is going to be there?” he asks.

“Oh, just the two of us.”

He freezes. “What? Why?”

“Everyone else is pregaming at Mingyu’s,” you explain, and suddenly it all makes sense. “We’ll be so late if we try to get ready there. There’ll be too much going on.”

“You’re right,” Vernon agrees. “That’s a good idea.”

“Are you sure? You can go with them if you want.”

“No!” he exclaims, maybe a little too quickly. “No, um, I’d rather do what you said.”

“Okay!”

He hates that he can hear the smile in your voice, hates that he can picture the exact scrunch of your nose and crinkle of your eyes, hates that he knows just how cute you look right now.

“I know I said four, but you can come over whenever,” you continue. “And we can listen to our music while we get ready. No one else has good taste like we do.”

“Mingyu’s probably going to play trap remixes of Disney songs the whole night,” Vernon sighs.

“Either that or Justin Bieber’s entire discography,” you laugh.

“Yeah, we’re definitely making the right choice.”

Friday rolls around way too fast. Vernon spent the whole week panicking over what to say to you and he still hasn’t decided. He doesn’t even know if he’ll work up the courage to tell you at all, even if Kun is going to ask you out. Sure, he’ll beat himself up forever if that happens, but at least he’d save himself the embarrassment of rejection.

He shows up to your apartment in his street clothes, having packed his outfit for tonight in his backpack.

You answer the door with your makeup half-done, ushering him in before any of your neighbors could see you in your pajamas.

The door to your bedroom is open, faint music spilling out into the foyer.

“My roommate’s out,” you explain as he follows you inside. “She’s flying home to visit her parents so we have the place to ourselves.”

For some reason, Vernon’s heart skips a beat when you say that. You don’t mean it like that but his mind goes there automatically and he has to clear his throat awkwardly to shake the thought.

You lead him to your room and tell him he can sit on the bed while you finish your makeup, and he does so very gingerly. It’s not like he’s never been in your room or sat on your bed before so there’s no reason for him to be acting so weird (aside from the big fat crush he’s had on you for months). He hopes you don’t notice his strange behavior. Or if you do, he hopes you chalk it up to him just being Vernon.

“I was listening to our combined playlist but you can change it to whatever you want,” you offer, throwing him your phone.

It lands next to him on the mattress.

“No, this is good,” he says but picks up your phone anyway. “Can I scroll through your Twitter, though?”

“Go ahead.”

He makes a noise of contentment and settles more comfortably on your bed. He grabs your stuffed Appa and holds it close to his chest as he scrolls down your timeline, humming along to the song that’s playing on your PC.

You’re silent as you apply the rest of your makeup. Vernon doesn’t know the first thing about makeup but he knows that you’re good at it. You always look so pretty. One time you had made your eyeliner look like the wings of a monarch butterfly. He remembers being so transfixed by your eyes that you had to keep asking why he was staring.

Today, your eyeliner looks like little clouds to go with your angel outfit. You’d done it in white with a touch of glitter to make them shimmer.

“I can’t believe Soonyoung picked a costume party,” you grumble.

“I can. How much do you want to bet he’s going to be Tony the Tiger again?”

“You never know, maybe he’ll be Raja from Aladdin. Or that tiger from The Jungle Book? I don’t remember that one’s name, though.”

“I guess we’ll see,” Vernon muses, not looking up from your phone.

“I guess we will.”

He’s reading the replies to a tweet about one of your favorite animes when you get a text. He’d ignored all of the other notifications you’d received while he was in control of your phone thus far but it’s impossible to ignore this one.

Qian Kun: can’t wait to see u tn!

Vernon nearly chokes, knuckles turning white as he grips the phone tighter.

So Joshua hadn’t been fucking with him. He hadn’t just used Kun as an excuse to kick Vernon’s ass into gear. He was actually serious and was trying to help him. Go figure.

Vernon stands from your bed abruptly, drawing your attention to him.

“You got a text,” is all he can mutter as he thrusts your phone out to you. You give him a weird look as you take it but before you can say anything about it he’s grabbing his backpack and telling you that he’s going to go change.

“O-okay.”

He makes his way to your bathroom and shuts the door behind him, slumping against it as he tells himsef to get it together. He splashes some cold water on his face and runs a still-wet hand through his hair in an attempt to style it. The water does little to cool him down but he starts taking off his clothes anyway. If he’s gone for too long you’ll begin to wonder if something’s wrong but he’s still sweating and his costume is made entirely out of spandex.

He manages to wrestle the material onto his body and get the zipper up. He takes another look at himself in the mirror and grimaces. It didn’t look bad on him, but it was defintely tight and left little to the imagination.

And now he had to go back out and face you like this. Tonight was already going so well.

You’re not in your room when he comes out of the bathroom. He searches the hallway briefly before finding you in the kitchen. You’re bent over with your head in the fridge, looking for... something, but all Vernon can focus on is the way your legs look in the white tights you’re wearing. He averts his eyes as soon as he catches himself staring at your calves, cheeks burning with what can only be a mixture of shame and embarrassment.

“Do you need help?” he asks, startling you.

You jolt up, nearly bumping your head on the freezer door.

“Sorry,” he apologizes sheepishly.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

“Can’t help it, it’s part of my spidey powers.”

Your eyes light up in recognition as soon as he says that. He tries not to feel too self-conscious as your eyes take in his costume, your gaze traveling down his body and then back up to his face.

“Your costume!”

“Do you like it?”

“I love it!” you exclaim, taking him by the shoulders. “I can’t believe you kept this a secret from me!” You know how much I love Peter Parker!”

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” Vernon mumbles, trying to hide a smile.

“God, you look incredible! Do you have the mask?”

“I do, should I wear it?”

“Keep it off,” you decide. “Your face is too pretty to be hidden.”

“Wh-what?”

“You heard me,” you double down, smirking.

You’re teasing him, but Vernon can’t tell if it’s in a flirty way or a joking way. He hopes it’s the first way but he’s also too scared to confront what that would mean if it was.

“Maybe you can put it on for the group picture or something, but you should leave it off for the party, that way people can find you.”

“Good idea,” Vernon agrees. “So, what were you looking for?”

You seem to remember you’re still standing in the middle of your kitchen with your refrigerator open at that very moment.

“Oh, right. I was looking for stuff for us to drink before we go over to Soonyoung’s but I couldn’t find what I wanted. I bought strawberry soju for us tonight but my friend’s boyfriend drank it all so we only have regular.”

Vernon knits his eyesbrows together in confusion. “Joshua drank all your soju?”

“No, different friend. You don’t know her. I would’ve just said Joshua drank all my soju’ if it was him.”

“Yeah, that makes more sense.”

“I thought I had lemonade we could use as a mixer but I can’t find it.”

“We can just do shots,” Vernon suggests, laughing when you make a face. “Fine, fine, here let me help.”

You trade places with him and watch as he looks through the same shelves you had just been looking through. He is also unable to find the lemonade.

“You have gingerale,” he points out.

“Do you think that would be good?”

“Only one way to find out.”

It was, in fact, not good. But you powered through it together, neither of you willing to show up to Soonyoung’s sober.

“I’ll call an Uber,” you shout from you room where you had gone to grab your purse. “By the way, do you want me to do any makeup on you real quick? I think some dark circles under your eyes or some black eyeliner would look really good.”

“Sure,” Vernon agrees before really thinking about it. “You can do whatever you want to me.”

That’s how you end up straddling him on your bed, your face mere inches from his as you apply... eyeliner? Eyeshadow? Some sort of makeup to his eyes.

Vernon holds his breath, putting every ounce of concentration he has into not getting hard. You’re sitting right on top of him and as previously established, the Spider-Man suit is very, very thin.

Your costume doesn’t offer a lot of coverage either, something Vernon tries not to think about while you’ve got your thighs on either side of his waist. You’re warm, so warm. He can feel the heat of your skin through your tights, can feel the seam of your leotard underneath your tutu, and if he shifts even just a little bit he’d be able to feel-

“There, done!” you announce and climb off of him.

Vernon breathes a sigh of relief and takes a moment to recover before sitting back up. He’s a little stiff, both in body and in spirit, but he hopes you didn’t notice.

“Hey, the Uber’s here, but take a look at yourself first to make sure you like it.”

You hand him a compact mirror and wait patiently as Vernon checks out your handiwork. You didn’t do much but it had made a big difference. He looks exhausted. His eyes appear sunken, the dark circles you’d drawn underneath somehow making them look sharper.

“Oh my god, I look just like him,” he whispers.

“Right? I thought that would tie it all together! Very Peter Parker-esque.”

“You’re incredible, thank you.”

You laugh and stare down at the floor, seeming shy all of a sudden. “It was easy. Anyone could have done it.”

Then, your phone vibrates on your desk. You grab it immediately like you’re thankful for the interruption. Vernon purses his lips but tries not to come off as deflated.

“Shit, we shouldn’t keep him waiting,” you say.

“You’re right. Let’s go.”

You sling the strap of your purse over your shoulder and make for the front door but Vernon calls out after you before you can reach it.

“Wait! Don’t forget your halo, angel.”

He grabs the headband off of your dresser and brings it to you, smiling to himself when you bend down automatically so that he can put it on for you.

“Okay, now we’re ready,” he amends.

The drive to Soonyoung and Jihoon’s apartment doesn’t usually take long but your Uber got lost on the way so you were a few minutes late. Thankfully, you weren’t the last to arrive. That honor went to Boo Seungkwan and Yoon Jeonghan who trailed in together a whole thirty minutes after you and Vernon, much to Soonyoung’s displeasure.

He greets you at the door with Jihoon in tow, clearly already drunk.

“You made it!” he screeches, throwing his arms around the two of you.

“Of course we made it, idiot,” you tease, pushing his shoulder playfully.

Vernon pretends not to notice and he also pretends it doesn’t bother him.

“Who are you supposed to be, Soonie?” you ask.

“Tony the Tiger,” he says, sounding a little offended that you didn’t guess right away.

“Again?”

“You can’t go wrong with a classic,” Soonyoung mutters. “Right, Jihoon?”

“Right,” his best friend parrots obediently, rolling his eyes behind his back.

“Wait, what are you supposed to be?” Vernon asks, directing the question at Jihoon this time.

“I’m the box of Frosted Flakes,” he grumbles, so low Vernon almost doesn’t catch it.

“Wow, you guys are so creative,” you gush. “Nonnie and I both took the easy way out.”

The affectionate nickname catches Vernon off guard and he can’t help but crack a smile, ignoring the knowing glance from Jihoon.

“Well you guys look great,” Soonyoung assures you. “Especially you, Vernon! Since when is Peter Parker so sexy?”

“Since always,” Vernon scoffs. “Have you seen the movies?”

Soonyoung opens his mouth to respond but Jihoon nudges him in the side before he can. Headlights flash in the windows, distracting all four of you from what you’re talking about.

“Oh, I think some more people just pulled up. I should be a good host and say hello to them too. Help yourselves to drinks or whatever. You know where everything is.”

Vernon nods and claps Soonyoung on the back as he passes him. “Thanks, Hosh, we’ll catch you later.”

You follow Vernon into the kitchen, saying hi to the people you know on the way. It was quieter in the kitchen, even though Mingyu and Chan were arguing over something undoubtedly unimportant by the sink.

They stop only briefly to acknowledge you both before jumping right back into it.

“What do you want to drink?” Vernon asks you.

“What do they have?”

“All the usual stuff, and it looks like Joshua brought some nice whiskey.”

“Of course he did,” you chuckle. “Um, I’ll just have whatever you’re having. I usually like what you like.”

It’s true, you have so much in common, Vernon thinks to himself happily.

“Why are you smiling like that?”

Vernon freezes. “Huh?”

“You’re like grinning to yourself about something. What is it? Are you laughing at me?”

“No, no, I’m not laughing at you. I just… like that you trust me to make something that will taste good.”

“I mean it’s not like you have to cook it,” you joke. “If that were the case I might feel differently.”

“Very funny.”

“I know, thank you.”

You watch Vernon pour a shot of vodka into each cup, balancing your chin in your hands, elbows resting on the countertop. He finds a half-empty bottle of lemonade in the fridge and mixes it with the vodka, topping the drinks off with some ice from a cooler on the ground.

“Aren’t you supposed to add the ice first?” you ask.

“Oh, so you are going to judge my bartending skills? I thought that was reserved for my cooking.”

“I am first and foremost a hater. You should know that by now. No one is safe, not even you.”

Not even him... did that mean he was getting special treatment otherwise? Was it because you saw him as more than a friend? Or was it that you didn’t feel close enough to him to roast him unabashedly?

You had procured a butter knife from one of the drawers while Vernon was lost in thought and were now using it to mix the drinks he’s made.

You throw the knife in the sink, the clattering disrupting Chan and Mingyu’s arguing once again.

“Cheers,” you say, offering him one of the cups.

He takes it and clinks it against yours.

“Cheers.”

“If Soonyoung plays one more Justin Bieber song I’m going to lose it,” you mutter, making Vernon chuckle into his vodka lemonade.

“I’ll see if I can talk Jihoon into hijacking the playlist.”

“No, don’t do that, you know he’ll only play Bruno Mars!”

But Vernon’s already walking away to find him, saying something about ‘the lesser of two evils’.

You watch him go, unable to stop yourself from glancing at his ass and noting how good it looks in the Spider-man suit. When he’d appeared in your kitchen wearing it you thought you might melt through the floor.

You weren’t sure if you wanted to rip it off of him or jump him while he was still wearing it. You did neither of those things, of course, but it was all you’d been able to think about all night.

Peter Parker was your favorite comic book character. You couldn’t believe that was the costume he chose.

You were delusional to think you were getting over your crush on him in the first place but all of the supposed progress you had made on that went out the window as soon as he had called you angel earlier.

The other guys seemed to think your attraction was mutual but Vernon was so goddamn hard to read that it was really anyone’s guess.

Was he awkward around everyone, or was it just you? Sometimes you think there’s something there, on those rare nights you spend alone together, watching movies at your apartment or playing a card game you only kind of know the rules to. On nights like those, when you’re more touchy with each other than usual, when his gaze lingers on your lips a little too long, it’s easy to think that maybe everyone is right. Maybe the feelings are mutual.

But then he’ll start acting weird, like he was tonight, and you don’t know how to take it. Are your feelings for him that obvious that he can see right through them? Do your attempts at flirting make him uncomfortable? Sometimes he flirts back though which is why it’s all so confusing.

“I need another drink,” you say to no one in particular before turning around and trekking back to the kitchen.

You’re gone when Vernon returns to where he’d left you. It had taken him a while to track down Woozi and plead his case, longer than he expected, but he didn’t think it was that long.

Jihoon was more than happy to change the music but he told Vernon that he’d have to go distract Soonyoung in order to do so. It was like a series of side quests he had to complete to move to the next level and by the time he was finished you had disappeared.

It’s not a big place but there are a lot of people in attendance which makes it so he has to push through the crowds in his search for you. There are people inside and on the deck and in the yard so he has his work cut out for him.

“Want another drink?” It’s Joshua with two cups in his hand. Vernon takes a glance at his empty solo cup and shrugs, trading for the full one.

“Thanks. What is it?”

“Beer.”

“Cool.”

“Where’s your date?” Joshua asks, looking around.

“She’s not my date, and I don’t know,” he admits. “I left her right there and she’s gone.”

“Dude, you left her alone in the middle of a party and expected her to just sit there and wait for you?”

“I wasn’t gone for that long!”

“Did you tell her you were coming back?” Vernon purses his lips. “How long were you gone for?”

“Just a few minutes...” he mumbles.

Joshua sighs. Vernon knows he’d be pinching the bridge of his nose if he could but his hands are full.

“Go find her.”

“That’s what I was doing before you walked up to me!”

“Don’t waste time by arguing with me, just go.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Vernon nods sullenly before brushing past his friend into the next room.

He finds you in the dining room talking to someone else. He relaxes until he realizes that ‘someone else’ is Kun. Qian Kun. Can’t wait to see u tn! Kun. You’re leaning against the wall, laughing at something he’s saying and Vernon’s blood runs cold.

Before he can fully process what’s happening in front of him, he’s downing the rest of his beer and approaching you both.

“Y/n, I was just looking for you,” he exclaims and throws an arm around your shoulders. The gesture is a bit possessive for his taste, but knowing what he knows about what the guy’s going to tell you tonight, he can’t help it.

Kun gives Vernon a look, sizing him up as he takes a sip from his own drink. Vernon nearly scoffs.

“Sorry, I went looking for you but I didn’t know where you’d gone off to,” you explain apologetically.

“Jihoon made me keep Soonyoung busy so that he could change the music.” He points at the ceiling as if to prove his point, even though the music was coming from speakers on the walls. You all stop to listen to the Silk Sonic song filtering in from the other room. Vernon turns to you. “Anyway, I don’t mean to interrupt, but could I talk to you for a second?”

Kun can’t even hide the look of annoyance on his face. “We were kind of in the middle of something-”

“Yeah, sure- oh...” you trail off awkwardly. You had spoken at the same time, unintentionally contradicting each other. Vernon has to fight to suppress his smile. “I’ll be right back, Kun,” you say, taking Vernon by the hand to drag him away. “This shouldn’t take long.”

She won’t be back, Vernon thinks to himself as he follows you through the house. Unless you reject him, then you probably will be.

He almost runs into you when you stop in front of Soonyoung’s bedroom door. “Is here good or do we need somewhere more private?”

“Um, it’s still kind of loud out here, do you think we could go in there?”

“Yeah, I’m sure Soonyoung won’t mind.”

The room is unlocked, because of course it is, and you let yourselves inside. Vernon’s surprised to see Soonyoung’s bed is made, but he figures that he must have straightened up because company was coming over.

You take a seat on the floor in front of the bed instead of on it and Vernon joins you, groaning as he struggles to cross his legs.

“So, what’d you need to tell me?” you ask.

He blinks and swallows hard. He wasn’t prepared for this at all. He hadn’t even thought about what to say or how to say it... he honestly thought he would chicken out and let the night play its course without intervening. He had been acting on instinct when he saw you with Kun. Zero thoughts, just action. And now he had you alone and you were looking at him so expectantly and-

“Vernon?”

“Hm?”

“Why’d you want to talk to me? Or were you just trying to be a good friend and get me away from that guy, because I know him and he’s cool. You didn’t have to do that.”

“No, actually I did want to tell you something,” he confesses. “I’m just a little nervous.”

“Oh, is everything okay?”

Vernon takes a deep breath and stares at the floor. “Yeah, um, everything’s fine. Kind of.” He pauses again, hating the way his voice sounds. His words are coming out shaky and uncertain (because they are) and this was not how he pictured this moment going. He sneaks a glance at you and sees your expression soften.

“Take your time,” you whisper, placing your hand over his.

“I just don’t want you to look at me differently,” he mumbles. “I don’t want to... ruin our friendship- god, that sounds so corny.”

“Vernon,” you say his name again, firmer this time to get him to look at you. “I think I know what you’re trying to say.”

His eyes widen in surprise. “You do?”

You nod. “But I still want to hear you say it.”

Vernon groans into his hands. “Why! Do you want me to humiliate myself even more?”

“No, dummy, because I think I deserve to hear it. Don’t you?”

He can’t disagree with that. Even if it means risking the possibility of ruining everything.

“I think you’re really pretty,” he says stupidly, as if that encompasses everything he’s been feeling and thinking about you these past few months.

You blink. “Is that it?”

“NO- sorry, shit. I- that didn’t come out the way I wanted it to. I do think you’re really pretty, though. Obviously. Honestly, I think you’re fucking gorgeous. I think... I think about you in a lot of ways that a friend probably shouldn’t.”

You raise an eyebrow. “What kind of ways?”

“Are you really going to make me say it?” Vernon whines, hoping you can’t see the pink flush of his cheeks in the dark room.

“No,” you relent with a chuckle. “I was just being annoying. But for the record, I also think about you in ways that friends probably shouldn’t.”

“Wait, really?”

“Mhm, do you want to know what kinds of ways?”

Vernon finds himself nodding even though his ears have started ringing and he’s not sure he’ll be able to hear your response. It’s hard to focus on anything other than the fact that you like him back.

“Well, for one, I think you look very good in this Spider-man suit,” you say, running your fingers over the lycra.

“You do?”

“It’s been driving me crazy all night,” you admit. “I was going to touch myself to the thought of you in it when I got home tonight.”

“Y-you were?” Vernon is apparently only capable of asking questions at the present moment but you don’t seem to mind.

“I’ve been trying not to stare, but it fits you so well. You picked this on purpose, didn’t you? You wanted me to suffer because you know Spider-man is my favorite.”

“I didn’t think it would be so tight!”

“I’ll pretend to believe you,” you muse, and god, you’re so close to him...Vernon feels like he can’t breathe.

Just like before, he lets his instincts lead him. No thoughts, just action.

He closes his eyes and leans forward, meeting you where you were waiting for him. He presses his lips to yours lightly, savoring the surprised gasp you let out against his mouth. Your lips are so soft, just as soft as the rest of you.

You’re the first to part your lips, inviting Vernon to slip his tongue into your mouth. He’s happy to do so, and he’s even happier when you moan in response.

You start to lean forward, chasing the kiss even though Vernon hasn’t pulled away. It must still not be enough for you because, in the next breath, you stumble to your knees and climb onto his lap.

Vernon’s hands automatically attach themselves to your hips to keep you steady as you straddle him. He shifts you awkwardly on top of him, trying to keep you off of his-

“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” he mumbles, freezing in place.

He can’t bring himself to look you in the eye.

Why, god why, did this suit have to be so tight? He should’ve stopped you when you climbed onto his lap. He knows the effect you have on him, of course he’d be hard the second you started kissing him. Hell, he’s been fighting a boner the entire night. Just watching you walk around in your angel outfit was doing it for him.

Sure, you were making out with him, and you’d made that dirty comment earlier, but that didn’t mean you were ready to fuck him. He would never assume that’s where the night was going but you might assume that he was assuming because you can feel how hard his fucking dick is under you...

“Why are you sorry?” you ask softly.

Vernon cringes at himself. “Because,” is all he says before you seem to get it.

“Oh, that. I’m flattered.”

“Stop,” he whines, “I really didn’t mean to. You weren’t supposed to-”

“I know, baby,” you soothe him. Vernon doesn’t get the chance to melt at the pet name you’ve just called him because he’s still mid-panic, but he files it away for later. “But don’t worry. I think it’s really hot.”

“You do?”

You nod. “And I bet if you were able to feel me under my costume too, you’d know that you aren’t alone.”

“Wait, what?” he breathes.

You lean forward again, chest pressed against his, to whisper in his ear. “I’ve been wet since you kissed me. Probably longer.”

You’re smirking when you pull back and Vernon is left to stare at you in shock.

“See for yourself,” you say, repositioning yourself on his lap so that he has access to you. “Touch me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Are you going to make me beg for it?” you tease. Vernon goes stiff under you again, making you chuckle. “Maybe another time, then? Just slip your fingers under my leotard. I’ve soaked through my tights already.”

“Jesus Christ, I’m going to cum if you keep saying things like that,” he warns you.

“Oh no whatever would we do?” you lament. “You can just get hard again if that happens, right?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Then come on, touch me. You’ve made me wait long enough.”

“I won’t waste any more time, then,” he assures you, gathering his confidence.

He frees one of his hands by releasing your hip and brings it in between your legs, fingers trailing across your thigh in a way that makes you suck in a sharp breath. He ghosts his fingers over the material of your costume first, deciding it’s only fair to tease you back, at least a little. Then, he wiggles two of them under the elastic hem of your costume, where your hip meets your thigh.

“Fuck, you weren’t kidding.”

“I... told you.”

He moves his fingers experimentally, offering you a little friction. “Does that feel good?”

You push yourself into his touch and nod. “Yeah, feels so good.”

“I really want to finger you,” he admits.

“Oh, you do?”

“Is that okay? I mean, can I?”

“Totally, let me just—”

You stand and wiggle out of your tutu, leaving you in your wings, leotard, and tights. The wings go next. You toss them on Soonyoung’s bed and then slip the straps of your leotard off your shoulders. You hesitate, looking a little nervous all of the sudden.

“I’m not wearing a bra under this,” you say. “Is that okay?”

Vernon almost laughs at the perpostuous question but he doesn’t. He almost says ‘are you kidding me, I’ve only been thinking about this exact moment for months now, please take it off,’ but he doesn’t.

“Of course it’s okay,” is what he says instead, like a normal person. “But only if you feel comfortable with that.”

“I do, it’s just… I feel like after this we really won’t be able to go back.”

“I don’t want to go back,” Vernon insists. “I want this. I want you.”

That seems to put you at ease. So much so, that you walk back over to where Vernon is still sitting on the floor and lean down to kiss him again.

“You know, you have to take yours off too if you want to finger me,” you point out.

Vernon wiggles his fingers inside the suit’s gloves and grins. “What, you don’t want these inside of you?”

“I don’t particularly want a yeast infection so, no. I don’t. And how are we supposed to do anything else if you’ve got that thing on anyway?”

He pretends to pout. “I thought you liked the suit.”

“I do, but I can’t fuck you in it.” Vernon chokes on his own saliva when you say that but you don’t acknowledge it. “Unless there’s like a zipper for your dick or something?”

“There’s not,” he mumbles hoarsely. “Had to take the whole thing off just to pee.”

“Then off. Unless you don’t want to-”

He’s already up and unzipping the back of the suit.

It’s almost comical, the way you’re both struggling out of your tight costumes on opposite sides of the room. Vernon was able to get the zipper down but getting himself out of the material that clung to him like a second skin is a little more difficult.

On your side, you’re tripping over your tights and shouting expletives to no one in particular.

Finally, you’re both undressed. You’re left in just your panties and Vernon only had his briefs on. He’s usually a boxers guy but the spidey suit had called for something a little more snug.

You meet him back at the foot of the bed, smiling with apprehensive excitement. Immediately, his gaze falls to your boobs. He told himself he wouldn’t stare but god damn it, he’s only human.

Once he’s done being blinded by your tits he takes in all of you. The soft lines and gentle curves of your body. The fullness of your lips. The delicate flutter of your eyelashes.

You still look like an angel in the white panties you’d chosen to wear under your costume— probably so they wouldn’t show through the other material. He could feel how wet you were before but now he can see it. The cotton is completely soaked through, making the white look translucent against you.

“Okay, I know you said you wanted to finger me, but I really want to fuck you.”

Vernon almost chokes again. “What?”

“I want you to fuck me.”

He’s the one to smirk this time, pulling you onto his lap.

“I will fuck you,” he promises, “after I finger you.”

“I don’t wanna wait,” you whine as he kisses your neck.

“I’ve got to prep you first, baby. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“But you felt how wet I was earlier! I can take it.”

Vernon takes your hand and places it over his bulge, making you gasp. It’s hard to think with your warm hand wrapped around him, even through his underwear, but he pushes through it.

“I’m not trying to brag or be an asshole about it, I swear. It’s just, I really don’t want to hurt you. Okay?”

“Okay,” you repeat.

Vernon resumes kissing your neck as one of his hands travels back in between your thighs. The other rests on your stomach, holding you in place.

He slips his fingers beneath the waistband of your panties and teases you some more before finally slipping one of them inside you. You go practically limp in relief and Vernon can’t help but tease you some more.

“You were aching for it, weren’t you?” he coos. You nod. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“I tried!”

“Aw, baby. I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you.”

He adds another finger and nips lightly at a spot just beneath your jaw when you sigh happily.

“Can I leave marks?” he asks, praying you’ll say yes because he’s pretty sure that bite will turn into a small bruise.

“Yeah, do whatever you want,” you breathe. “I’ll wear turtlenecks to work. I don’t give a fuck.”

So he sucks at that same spot to make sure there will definitely be a hickey there in the morning. The idea of you walking around with visible proof of what he’s done to you makes Vernon’s cock twitch in his boxers. He sucks another hickey into your skin right below the first one, just for good measure.

“C-can you put another one in?” you plead.

How could he ever say no to you when you look so pretty and you sound so desperate?

He adds a third and finds your clit with his thumb. He tests out a few patterns to see which you like best, settling on the one that has you chanting his name like a prayer. He thinks you might be getting close with the way you’re repeatedly clenching around his fingers but you reach out to stop him just when he has you on the edge.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“I’m good, I’m good,” you assure him. “I didn’t want to cum yet.”

“Why?”

“Because I want my first time with you to be on your cock,” you explain. “Is that dumb?”

Vernon shakes his head so hard he makes himself dizzy. “No, not at all!”

“Then can we fuck now?”

“Do you think you’re stretched enough?”

“Only one way to find out.”

You had gotten your underwear off and Vernon’s underwear off before realizing you needed a condom. Now you were both searching around Soonyoung’s room for one completely naked.

“Found them!” Vernon exclaims, holding up a handful of assorted contraceptives.

They’d been in the bedside drawer of Soonyoung’s nightstand. Go figure. He lays them out on the bed and sighs loudly.

“Doesn’t he have any normal ones?”

“What do you mean?” you ask and crane your neck to look over Vernon’s shoulder.

“These are all... either flavored or textured! And this one fucking glows in the dark.”

“That could be fun,” you giggle.

“Yeah, I bet you’d love to ride a neon green dick, you little monster fucker.”

“Hey! Now is not the time to use my kinks against me.”

“Sorry, you’re right. But I think I’ll have to indulge that side of you another time when we’re not fucking in one of our best friends’ rooms.”

“Then what about this one?”

“That’s a joke, right?”

“Obviously,” you scoff. “I’m not trying to kill you.”

“Who thinks of making a peanut butter and jelly flavored condom in the first place?”

“Sick people, that’s who,” you answer, going back to sifting through the pile on the bed.

“I don’t think it’d kill me,” Vernon adds. “It’d probably just make my dick swell up really big- so maybe it wouldn’t be all bad.”

“No, because then we’d have to go to the ER and explain what happened.”

“Here, this one’s probably our best bet.” Vernon holds up the package for you to see. “Do you have any qualms against strawberry?”

“Nope. But it does make me want to suck your dick to see if it actually tastes like strawberry.”

“As much as I’d love that, I definitely won’t last if you do. And I really want to fuck you right now.” You pout. “What if I promise to buy more for us so you can try it another time?”

“Deal.”

“I’ll get a variety pack so you can suck me off to any fruit you want.”

“Wow, such a romantic.”

“You know me,” he jokes.

You gather up the rest of the condoms and deposit them back in the drawer while Vernon rips open the foil and rolls the condom on. He’s still incredibly hard despite the small setback so it goes on without any trouble.

There’s a blanket folded at the end of Soonyoung’s bed that you take and lay out on the floor.

“I wouldn’t want my friends fucking on my bed,” you explain.

“I don’t think he’d care,” Vernon replies. “He’d probably be happy for us. But you’re right, it’s the respectful thing to do.”

The respectful thing to do would be to wait until you get home, but you’ve already made it this far so....

Vernon sits on the floor with his back against the bed. He motions for you do join him and you do, slowly lowering yourself onto his lap. He’s careful to hold you up when he pushes the tip of his cock inside of you. He doesn’t want you to get overwhelmed and accidentally sink all the way down, making it even harder to adjust.

“Fuck,” you whimper.

“Is it too much?”

“N-no, feels good,” you assure him. “You’re just... fucking huge.”

He tries not to smirk when you say that. He knows he isn’t the biggest out there, especially where length is concerned, but he likes to think he’s pretty well off when it comes to girth. That’s why he was so insistent on fingering you before he fucked you. Why you’re having trouble taking just the tip. It’s certainly a stroke to his ego. Although, his ego might also be shattered in a few seconds if you don’t stop clenching around the head of his cock.

“Take some deep breaths,” Vernon tries, using one of his hands to rub your back soothingly.

It’s ironic coming from him, the guy who could barely flirt with you without having an existential crisis.

But it seems to help because he feels you relax, some of the tension easing from your form. You sink down a little further, biting your lip to stifle any involuntary noises you might make. You’re so wet, so unbelievably turned on, your arousal is literally dripping down the shaft of Vernon’s cock, but you’re still struggling to fit him.

“Are you still okay? We can stop if it’s hurting.”

You shake your head stubbornly. “No, I want to keep going.”

“Okay, well take your time. We’re not in a rush.”

“You might not be,” you mutter, “but I’m impatient.”

Vernon laughs. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, baby, just take it easy. You’re doing so good for me.”

He cranes his neck to kiss you, pulling your bottom lip from between your teeth with his own. Again, you relax a little more.

“Can you-” you start to ask, still kissing him.

He pulls away to be able to hear you. “Hm?”

“Can you rub my clit? I think that’ll help... oh, fuck.”

“There we go, angel. My angel.”

His words make you moan and arch your back which pushes your tits into his face. Instinctively, he takes one of them into his mouth, using his free hand to play with the other. He works his tongue around your nipple, feeling the other harden against his palm.

“God, Vernon,” you mumble, “can I please move?”

He releases your boobs to nod and answer you. “Fuck yes.”

He has to close his eyes as you start to bounce on his cock because it already feels too good. Seeing your face contorted in pleasure would make him lose it.

Then, there’s movement from outside the door, footsteps. Both of you freeze. Vernon’s eyes fly open to see yours wide with panic. He puts a finger to his lips and you nod in understanding.

He can’t tell how many voices are in the hall, nor can he tell what they’re talking about, but he knows they’re right outside because he can see silhouettes of their shoes blocking the light coming in from under the door.

It’s almost impossible for the two of you to stay still. You’re still so goddamn tight around his cock. And you’re still so fucking warm and wet and your cunt is pulsing around him uncontrollably-

Vernon whimpers. He fucking whimpers into your shoulder and you hear it. He can’t even focus on being mortified because he has to put all of his focus into not rutting into you and not cumming super fucking fast.

He needs whoever’s outside to leave and he needs them to leave now. Thankfully, they must hear his internal pleas- or maybe they heard his external whimper, because the voices disappear down the hall a couple of beats later.

He lets out a sigh of relief thinking he’s in the clear when he hears you sniffle, almost like you’re crying... then he jerks his head up to see that’s exactly what’s happening and panics.

“Oh my god, what’s wrong? What hurts?” He’s frantic, hands all over you.

“Nothing hurts-”

“Don’t lie to me! You’re crying! Here, lift up. I’m so sorry-”

“Vernon!” you shout.

“What!”

“I wasn’t lying.”

He cocks his head to the side, trying to understand. “But...”

“It just happens sometimes. It’s involuntary but it means I’m feeling good. I promise.”

“This has happened to you before?”

“Yeah, mostly when I’m alone.”

He wants to know more. Wants to know what it is that triggers it. But now isn’t exactly the best time so he files the questions away for later and concentrates on... making you cry harder.

It doesn’t take him long to figure out that he actually really likes watching you cry (in this context specifically). He’s never elicited such an extreme reaction from someone before.

He catches a tear on his thumb and sucks it off, making your hips stutter. You cup his face and kiss him hard. It’s messy and salty and Jesus Christ, Vernon has never been so hard in his fucking life.

“I’m close,” you warn him.

“Thank god,” he laughs, kissing you again.

He starts rubbing your clit to help you get there and you’re falling apart in a matter of seconds. You bite his shoulder to muffle a scream as you cum, sending him over the edge with you.

You’re both breathless when you finally come down from your highs. Your legs are shaky as you climb off of his lap. They’re still trembling when you collapse next to him on the blanket.

“Shit, that was good.”

“Yeah? Wanna go again?”

“Of course.”

“Give me like... ten minutes,” Vernon sighs as he lays down beside you. “Maybe fifteen.”

You laugh. “But doesn’t Spider-man have a super short refractory period?”

He gives you a look. “Not in this universe.”

happy birthday bestie i hope you enjoyed mwah <3

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lykegenia · 8 months

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So something has been bugging me for a while now about A and N’s backstories, and while I know not everyone will be as pedantic as me, as someone who loves history and has done a lot of writing, I feel that if you’re going to write a story about vampires and give them a specific time and date of origin, then there should be a certain level of research that goes into making that background authentic. I'm not saying that Mishka didn’t do any research. It just seems that in order to keep the vibe of a happy, mellow fantasy some of the less savoury aspects of A and N’s upbringings have been left out, and it's a shame. To be honest, it feels a bit disingenuous, and it feels like an opportunity got wasted.

Let me explain (long post got long, it's 2am)

Let's take A first, since the problem is simpler here.

A is the child of a Norman lord and an Anglo-Saxon noblewoman, born in the first generation after the Norman Conquest of England in 1066. A says that these were turbulent times but that their parents had a happy marriage. Which. While I’m sure a lot of unions in that time period made the best of it, I can’t help but feel this description strips away a lot of the context of what was going on at that point in history - and removes some of the complexity about A’s thoughts on love and relationships.

Basically, after he took control of the throne, William the Conqueror stripped many Anglo-Saxon lords of their lands and titles so he could give them to his Norman buddies instead - with the added bonus that it left the Anglo-Saxons without the means to raise armies against him. The sisters, daughters, and widows of the dispossessed Anglo-Saxons were then forced to marry these new Norman lords to legitimise their power, not infrequently after all of their male relatives had been slaughtered. It’s not as if Anglo-Saxon women weren’t used to being used as political chess pieces, but the years after the conquest were brutal. It’s why William had to build so many castles. The point that I’m trying to make is that even if A’s mother was content enough in her daily life, due to the power imbalance between her and her husband, it's very likely she had little choice in the matter. She may have seen a lot of her family killed for political reasons, with the knowledge that – in an age where women had very little protection outside of their paternal household – she might be next if she made too much of a fuss.

It would be fascinating to see what effect that tension has had on A 900 years later, or even to get an acknowledgement of how much times have changed, but we don’t. We don't see how their early years affected them, how they view relationships formed naturally instead of via political contracts. And I really, really wish we did. There is so much potential there.

But A is not the one keeping me up past 2 in the morning. It’s N, and the utter detachment their backstory seems to have from the period in history they lived in as a human. And it all stems from the fact that they came from the English nobility in the late 1600s.

See, the bulk of the problem is that English inheritance law at the time heavily favoured primogeniture, where a man’s wealth would go to his first-born son. Some dispensation was made for widows and other children, but the estates, assets, and most of the money had a very clear destination.

For one thing, this makes it kinda weird that N’s stepfather would have needed an heir before he could inherit, because except in extreme circumstances everything would have gone to him anyway. Don't get me wrong, this isn't the worst part of the problem, it’s just annoying when there are more plausible reasons for him marrying a woman already pregnant with another man’s child (old family friend wanting to save her from disgrace, needed the dowry to pay off gambling debts, there was a longstanding betrothal between them that would have been tricky to get out of, etc.).

No, the bigger problem with N’s backstory vs primogeniture is firstly that at the time the English aristocracy was racist af (still is tbh) and given his pretty obvious mixed-race heritage, no court would have agreed that Nate was a legitimate son (this is for a very special reason that we will be coming back to). I say Nate specifically here because primogeniture requires the eldest legitimate son. Nat wouldn’t have inherited at all, as women in that period passed from the guardianship of their father (or other male blood relative) into that of their husband after marriage, and only gained any kind of independence with widowhood. If N had been an only child, maybe they would have been treated as a special case, but unfortunately Milton exists: the eldest legitimate son who by law will inherit everything.

Now here’s the thing. Your average aristocrat in the 17th century is very obsessed with lineage and keeping the family line unbroken. He would not, therefore, send his legitimate heir to sea to be shot at or drowned before he can carry on the family name – that joy instead goes to any other sons who need their own profession, because again, they will get very little. Nat would have had a dowry, but would never have been expected to make her own living, so I'm going to focuson Nate for this next bit.

In Book 3, if you unlock his tragic backstory Nate tells you he joined the Royal Navy after Milton went missing so that he could go look for him. And, well. This is where his backstory as Mishka tells it completely falls apart. For two reasons:

1. Even in the modern day, you can’t ‘just’ join the Navy, and you certainly can’t just jump straight to being a lieutenant – it takes years of training and after a certain age they won’t take you because they won’t be able to mould you easily enough into a useful tool. For most of the Navy's history, the process was even more involved. It wasn’t an office job you could just rock up to and then quit if you felt like it, it was a lifetime commitment. Boys destined to be officers would be sent to sea as early as 12 to learn shipboard life, starting at the bottom and moving up the ranks. These were gained by passing exams and by purchasing a commission – which is why you generally had to come from wealth to be an officer at all. Once you get to lieutenant you're responsible for a lot of people, and might be tasked with commanding any captured ships alongside the daily running of yours - it was not an easy job.

2. Even as a lieutenant (one rank below Captain, with varying levels of seniority) it’s not like you can just go where you want. In the 1720s British colonies already existed in India, the Caribbean, and up the entire eastern seaboard of North America and into Canada, and the Navy was tasked with protecting merchant shipping along these seaways (and one trade in particular that we’ll be getting to, don’t worry). Nate could have ended up practically anywhere in the burgeoning empire. He would not have been able to choose whom he served under, and would not have been able to demand his superior officer go against orders from the admirality to chase down one lone vessel because he thinks another one of the admirals might be a bit dodgy. It could not have happened.

Besides these impracticalities, there’s a far easier way for the child of a wealthy man to get to a specific point on the far side of the globe to look for their lost sibling, which is the route I assume Nat took sine she couldn’t have joined the Navy (yes she could have snuck in but she’s specifically in a dress in the B2 mirror scene so). All they'd have to do would be to charter a ship and tell the captain where to go, which is the plot of Treasure Island. It's quicker, less fuss, with less chance of things going wrong. It's even possible in the age of mercantilism that the Sewells had some merchant vessels among their holdings that could be diverted for the task. Why go through the hassle of joining the Navy and potentially ending up on the wrong side of the world when you can just hire a ship directly?

If Nate does have to be in the Navy (and let’s face it, it’s worth it just for the uniform) then it's far more plausible is that, as the illegitimate son who would not inherit because of racism etc, he got sent to the Navy as a boy and rose through the ranks to become a lieutenant. When he got news of Milton’s disappearance not far from where he was stationed, he begged his captain to go investigate in case whatever happened turned out to be the symptom of a bigger problem. Like pirates.

I like this version better not just because it makes more sense, or because it keeps Nate’s situation re: inheritance closer to Nat’s and therefore makes their stories more equal, but also because it adds a delicious amount of guilt to Nate’s need to find his brother. We know his entire crew died looking for answers, because he was selfish – that’s roughly 100-400 lives lost because of him, and we know that sort of thing eats at him.

So that's one side of the story, but if Milton wasn’t in the Navy, what was he doing on the other side of the Atlantic in the first place? Well, this is where we come to the biggest elephant in the room regarding N’s backstory as a member of the 17th century English aristocracy and potentially as a naval officer: the Atlantic Slave Trade. If you are wealthy in 17th century Britain it's more than likely that your wealth comes either from the trade itself, or from the products made with the labour of enslaved people. If you are wealthy, you want to protect your assets from attack by pirates or foreign powers so you don't become less wealthy, and that is what the Navy is for.

Regardless of N’s own views on slavery at the time – and any subsequent changes in opinion – it’s likely their family owned or had shares in slave plantations in the Americas. As distasteful as it is, it makes far more sense that Milton was on a trip to check the family’s holdings when his ship - specifically a merchant vessel - went missing. From a pirate perspective, a merchant ship would make a much better target than a Navy vessel, being slower, more likely to have valuable cargo, and less likely to have marines or a well-trained broadside.

It's not surprising that Mishka left out the subject of the slave trade given her tendency to skirt around darker subjects and general blindspot for racial politics, but it is nuance that, if it was there, would create a more grounded and coherent backstory for N that doesn’t have quite so many holes. Like with A being the child of an invader and his war bride, we could get some deeper thoughts from N about their place in the world - How do they feel to have grown up so privileged when others who looked like them were regarded as literal property? How did they feel being part of the system that made it happen? Did it inform their compassionate nature? Is it still a source of guilt or someithng they've tried to make up for?

I'm not sure where I was going with all of this. It's late, my sleep pattern is fucked. The tl;dr is that giving the vampires' backstories historical context would make them feel more multifaceted and would give opportunities for character growth that are instead missed because of a desire for a more sanitized version of the past.

#thank you for coming to my ted talk #the wayhaven chronicles #twc #a du mortain #adam du mortain #ava du mortain #n sewell #nate sewell #nat sewell #it's annoying because it’s such a small tweak in the grand scheme of things #If she didn’t want unfortunate implications she could have made N from a century later when the navy was actively trying to stop slavery #A could have been from a 50 years earlier to tie his whole family’s demise into the subjugation of the english after the battle of hastings #or a century later when the two courts had mostly integrated #mishka made choices #they deserve to be given more substance than mere aesthetics #you can tell it’s late I’m using long words

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wintaerbaer · 8 months

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things we don’t say: part 4 (kth)

banner credit: @itaeewon

summary: Three years after graduating college, everything seems to be falling into place for you: stable job, cozy apartment, and a long-term boyfriend with a ring box hidden in his desk drawer. But when a mutual friend makes a remark that your best friend of nearly two decades is clearly in love with you, you realize that life may not be as simple as it seems.

pairing: Taehyung x Reader (with some VERY brief Seokjin x Reader and Yoongi x Reader)

rating: 18+ (minors dni)

genres: best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, slooooow burn, angst, fluff

word count: 11.5k

chapter warnings: swearing as usual, jin is sad and precious, alcohol consumption, one (1) instance of mild violence, suspension of disbelief as to the legal consequences of said violence, jungkook still has zero filter, feelings and bed sharing

a/n: this was a fun one >:) shout out to everyone who brainstormed, sprinted, or otherwise shouted about this fic with me and gave me the motivation to power through this (y’all know who you are, and i love each and every one of you <3)! and a massive shoutout to @jeonqkooks for the beautiful new banner!!

PREVIOUS // SERIES MASTERLIST // MASTERLIST

Read on ao3

“And Tae encouraged you to do this?”

“Yeah. Kind of made up my mind for me actually.”

You toss down a few potential dresses on Maya’s bed after spending the past several minutes raiding her closet. With the bulk of your wardrobe still at your old apartment, she’d invited you to borrow something of hers for your date with Seokjin.

You may also be sharing a couple glasses of wine to calm your nerves.

“Hm.”

“What?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“No, but I can see you thinking.”

“It’s nothing.” She holds a sparkling gold number up to your shoulders, then frowns and throws it back down. “Or at least nothing you want to hear, anyway.”

“Don’t tell me you’re on about Tae and I again.”

She shrugs. “I think you’d be great together. Sue me.”

“I could say the same about you and Kook.”

A snort rasps from the back of her throat as she coughs on her wine. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“The two of you are more alike than you think,” you say. “And I don’t think you give him enough credit. He’s a good guy.”

She purses her lips, watching clouds go by out the window. “He’s…frustrating.” Her eyelids drop, coming together in a slow blink as her focus turns back to you razor-sharp. “And weren’t you against us together in the first place?”

“Yeah, because it was just sex.”

“It is just sex.”

“Well, I changed my mind.” You take a sip of your drink, let the acidic taste roll around and coat your tongue before it slides down your throat. “If there’s a possibility you two can make each other happy, then you should have that. I think maybe love is rarer than it seems.”

“He and I are far from love.”

“For now,” you say. “But maybe someday?”

She only grimaces like she’s swallowed a bitter pill, giving the tiniest shake of her head before rushing to change the subject. “Tell me about this Seokjin guy.”

“Not much to tell,” you explain. “Joon knows him from the hospital. He’s been very pleasant when we’ve texted. Polite. I’m definitely not getting creep vibes from him.”

“Always a plus. But still, text me the address of the restaurant and a physical description once you’re there.” She pauses, tapping a finger against her chin. “Also, I have some condoms if you want to take a couple.”

“Um, no?”

“Why not? Best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.”

“See, that sounds like something Jungkook would say.”

“Well a dumbass clock is right twice a day, or whatever the saying is.”

“I don’t think that’s quite right.”

“Close enough in his case.” Her voice lowers suddenly—delicately—as if to share something confidential even though you’re the only two in the room. “But speaking of protection, did you hear back from the clinic?”

Maya had delicately suggested a couple weeks ago that you should probably get tested for STDs given that you don’t really know how many women Jace had been with and if they were being safe. It was a fair point, as humiliating as it was to consider that he may have found yet another way to rip apart your life, and so you’d gone for an appointment last week, trying not to cry as you provided the necessary samples.

“Negative,” you murmur, feeling embarrassed even though you know you shouldn’t be and that your friend would never judge you. But the fact that you even have to have this conversation at all gnaws at your own sense of self-doubt. “I’m clean.”

She presses her mouth into a line, an acknowledgment of the misfortune of the situation, while simultaneously tilting her chin in approval. “Good.”

You pick at a loose thread hanging off the hem of the dress you’re holding, a dog barking somewhere outside the window as you grasp for literally anything else to talk about. “So where are you guys heading tonight?”

“Who knows?” Maya says with a sigh, leaning back on the bed. “You know it’s like herding cats with them sometimes. I’m supposed to go over there after this, and we’re going to wing it then.”

“So one of our usual clubs?”

“I’d bet my left tit on it.”

You let out a soft laugh, feeling that maybe you’d rather be spending time with your friends tonight instead of going on a half-hearted date. But Seokjin seems nice, and you’ve already committed so you’re stuck. “Could you please just try to make sure Tae has some fun?” You chew at your bottom lip. “He’s been so focused on cheering me up, I want to be sure he still has time for himself.”

“Worry not. I’ll help him pick someone up,” Maya says nonchalantly.

“That’s not what I meant.”

Her entire body perks up, eager that you’ve taken the bait. “Why, does that bother you?”

“Also not what I meant,” you say, crushing down the tiny flip in your stomach at the thought of Taehyung taking someone home as Maya pouts. “I just want him to enjoy himself. I don’t think he’s been doing enough of that lately.”

“Without his other half there with him?” Maya mumbles. “Fat chance.”

You ignore it, knowing she’s baiting you yet again.

But your heart warms all the same.

Seokjin is the embodiment of a perfect gentleman.

He’s handsome—you can’t help but notice as he stands at your approach, introducing himself and coming around the table to pull out your chair for you with a slight bow. When the waiter appears to take your drink order, Seokjin (or “Jin,” as he says to call him) offers to let you pick the wine, so you go with a nice-looking pinot grigio (you haven’t even been able to look at reds since that night). Typical first date conversation flows as you browse the menu, order, and wait for your food, and you find that Jin is soft-spoken without being shy, confident without being arrogant. He tells you about his job as a physical therapist and how he likes to spend his weekends fishing with his brother on his parents’ boat. As you likewise share anecdotes about your publishing job and college shenanigans, Jin listens attentively with kind eyes, asks thoughtful questions, and chuckles at all the right bits.

He’s nice.

But there’s no spark.

You can sense it in his posture, too. His eyes are kind, but there’s pain behind them. He asks questions, but there’s an uncertainty lingering under the surface. He laughs at your jokes but subtly deflates each time like he’s guilty of something.

By the time your meals arrive, you’re ready to chalk it up as a loss.

“Jin,” you begin, tone aiming for the gentleness of “it’s not you, it’s me” proportions. “You seem like a wonderful guy, but for the sake of honesty, it doesn’t feel like either of us sees this going further, does it?”

Jin’s shoulders sag, the mask of obligatory cheerfulness falling away in defeat. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be!” you say quickly, not wanting him to feel bad when he was clearly trying his best to have a good time with you. “I think we both knew going into this that we were each coming to the table with…baggage.”

Jin nods, his eyes now tinged red as he murmurs, “It’s been tough.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Ah.” He smiles sadly. “We’ve only just met, and you’re clearly a very sweet woman. I’d feel bad dumping it all out on you when I’ve already wasted your time.”

“Maybe it would be good for both of us?” you suggest. “Obviously we’re both not feeling this from a date standpoint, but maybe what we need is just a friend who understands.”

A slow tip of his chin downwards as he considers. “I think I can do that.”

“And you’re not wasting my time, for the record. I just appreciate the company.”

Jin visibly relaxes at that, his posture easing with the pressure of the date now gone.

“So Namjoon told me you also just got out of a long-term relationship?” you ask, poking at your ravioli.

His chin dips in acknowledgment, voice rough as he states, “Aera.”

“How long were the two of you together?”

“Since high school.” He twists the fabric of his napkin in his hands. “She was my first…everything. Truly. I’ve never loved anyone or anything like her.” A stray thread absentmindedly twines around his finger, the blood darkening under the skin. “We made it all the way through college and my physical therapy schooling doing long distance. Spent the past couple years finally living together. We were happy.” The thread snaps, and he shakes his head. “At least I thought we were.”

You’d swear you can feel your heart literally ache with how forlorn he looks across the table as you gently ask, “I’m guessing she left?”

“I proposed, and she said no.” A strand of dark hair falls in front of his eyes, and he rakes a hand across his head one, two, three times in frustration. “She told me she thinks she’s missing out. That she already lost most of her youth to me, waiting to finish school, when she could’ve been enjoying herself and seeing what else is out there.” He slumps forward, leaning his forearms on the table and lacing his fingers together. “But I can’t understand. I spent just as much time with her, and I never doubted it. To me, she was always the one.”

A quiet settles at the table, the conversational white noise of your fellow diners taking over for the moment as you soak in the sudden sense of kinship with the man in front of you—both blindsided by the partners you thought you’d spend the rest of your lives with.

“I get it,” you tell him, feeling the need to give something in return after he opened his heart to a stranger. “My ex—I thought we were about to get engaged too. I was making all of these plans in my head only to find out that we definitely weren’t on the same page.”

Gentle eyes appraise your face. “He broke up with you?”

“He cheated.”

The words taste bitter as they drop from your lips.

“I’m so sorry,” Jin says, and you can tell by his tone and the look on his face that he genuinely means it.

You chew the inside of your cheek until a canine catches the soft corner of your lip and you taste blood. “I found a ring in his desk and then found him in bed with someone else two weeks later.”

“Wow, Y/N.” He bends in as if he’s going to take your hand before seeming to think better of it and sighing. “I can’t even imagine if I had…” A shake of his head like he’s trying to clear an intrusive thought. “Puts my situation into perspective. I feel awful even comparing the two.”

“Oh, please don’t,” you quickly say. “Your hurt is just as valid as mine. But I can tell that you’re a really great guy, Jin. And if Aera can’t see it, I’m sure there’s someone out there who will cherish that.” You smile to yourself, remembering a night not too long ago with tanned skin and old photographs. “That’s the advice Taehyung gave me, at least.”

“Taehyung?”

“Oh, sorry, he’s my best friend.”

There’s an agreeable hiss as Jin sucks his teeth with a nod. “Well, he sounds like a smart man.”

“He’s my favorite person in the whole world.”

“He must be pretty great, then.”

You can’t help but to nod your head eagerly, words rushing out of you. “He cares so deeply. And he’s so, so talented, but he has a tendency to underestimate himself sometimes,” you gush. “But he’s incredible at everything he does. And just…so resilient. I’ve seen him go through things that no person should ever have to endure, and he’s never let it make him resentful. He could be having the worst day of his life, and he’d still give you the shirt off his back. I admire him more than anyone I’ve ever met.”

“You’ve known each other a while then?”

“Since we were kids,” you explain. “It was lonely growing up in my house—my parents weren’t around a lot—so we’d hang out every day. He always knew how to cheer me up, how to make me smile, even by simply being there. Some days, we’d literally sit in my room doing homework silently for hours, and it just felt nice to share space with somebody else. I don’t know what I would’ve done if I didn’t have him.”

Jin watches you closely. It reminds you of Namjoon’s typical evaluative expression, and you can instantly understand why they’re friends. Heat rises to your cheeks as you realize you’ve been jabbering on, though Jin doesn’t look too bothered, asking, “And the two of you have never…?”

You sheepishly poke at your food again, red as a tomato now based on how hot your cheeks feel. “No, he doesn’t feel that way about me.”

“But you feel that way about him?”

Something strange churns low in your belly. You’re not sure why your usual denials catch on the back of your throat, but they stick there, holding your tongue hostage. It should come easily, the words, “No, just friends” a habit by now.

Why do they suddenly feel like a lie?

Thankfully, you’re saved as your phone flashes in the low light of the restaurant with an incoming call, Jimin’s face appearing on the screen.

You furrow your eyebrows at the smiling photo, Jin still watching you curiously. Jimin knows you’re on a date right now, and he’s supposed to be out clubbing with Taehyung, Maya, and Jungkook. Why would he be calling you? Could it be a case of butt dialing? Then again, maybe he’s just drunk.

Or maybe something is wrong.

Your anxiety wins out, and you make a quick apology to Jin, who kindly waves you off, before swiping to accept the call.

“What’s up? I’m on a date.”

“I know, Y/N, and I’m so sorry, but I think we need you at the apartment. Something’s happened.” Jimin’s voice is frazzled on the other end of the line, the discomfort in your stomach slipping straight to full-on nausea as your fingers tighten around the phone, skin stretching taut around your knuckles when he speaks again.

“It’s Tae.”

The club is loud, music pounding an earthquake into the walls and floors as a tangle of sweaty bodies surges around the dance floor. Jimin thinks to himself that maybe, just maybe, he's starting to get a little too old for this when the image of the writhing mob does more to set off feelings of claustrophobia than set him at ease. Still, once he and the others have made camp at a more secluded table in the back of the room, drinks in hand, he's still appreciative of the time out with his friends—even with Jungkook immediately scurrying off with a glint in his eye, target already in his sights.

"Ugh, look at him," Maya sneers, watching him chat up a blonde woman at the bar. "Shameless. Absolutely shameless."

Jimin can't resist a smirk. "Careful there, Maya, you sound jealous."

"Oh, fuck no!" she shrieks, punctuating this with a sip of her drink. "On the contrary, I hope this works out for him, and they get married and have a million babies and move far, far away. Get him out of my hair."

Both Jimin and Taehyung chuckle at that. "You do know you have the option of not sleeping with him, right?" Jimin asks.

"I take what I can get, and he's good at his craft. I'll give him that." Jimin chokes on his drink, while Taehyung only smiles, amused. "Speaking of getting, anyone catching the eye of either of you gentlemen? I'm happy to take on wing-woman duties tonight."

"No," Taehyung says, shaking his head. "I'm just here to make sure none of you do something stupid."

Maya rolls her eyes. "Translation: the love of my life is out on a date, and I'm trying not to think about it. How about you, Chim?"

"I don't know." Jimin shrugs. "Let me get a couple drinks in me and then see how I feel."

"Suit yourselves. But just remember that I offered when I ask one of you two to help a girl out." She tosses her hair over her shoulder. "Especially you, Tae. I know your heart is taken with your endless 'will-they-won't-they' thing with Y/N, but you could always sell the fake ex play better than Jimin here…Tae?"

But Taehyung is no longer paying attention, eyes now intensely locked on the crowd like a hawk zeroing in on prey. Maya follows his line of sight to a couple grinding on the edge of the dance floor, a dark-haired woman and a man with a distinct, bright green jacket—

"Oh my God, is that Jace?!"

Jimin's head snaps around, and even from a distance, there's no denying it. Jace tosses his head back, laughing at something the woman says, before he presses into her further, leaning back down to whisper something in her ear. Jimin quickly turns towards Taehyung, who sits terrifyingly still, eyes still zoned in on Jace and his date.

"Tae, I know you're angry. We all are," he begins, gripping Taehyung's forearm in an attempt to grab his attention. "But you cannot confront him. Not here, not now. Y/N is doing great—she's finally starting to move on. Don't undo that by poking the bear."

"He's right," Maya says, leaning in. "You're not going to accomplish anything here. It's loud, there's too many people—he'll just brush you off. And I know you care about her, Tae, but really? Not your battle to fight. Let it go."

Taehyung continues to sit in silence until Jace and the woman disappear into the crowd, and it's like a spell is suddenly lifted as he blinks rapidly at his friends. "No, you're right." He rubs a finger at the space between his eyes. "Y/N is a grown woman. She doesn't need me to protect her."

"See? A man of sense," Maya lilts. "Not like Mr. Don Juan over here about to stick his tongue into yet another college girl who thinks his immature ass counts as an ‘older man’." She nods her head towards the bar where the blonde woman has positioned herself closer to Jungkook, his hands now encircling her waist.

Taehyung quirks an eyebrow, teasing, "You’re not in college though."

Maya's jaw drops, and she puts a hand to her heart in feigned offense. "Wow! Someone's feisty tonight."

"Don't underestimate Tae when he's in one of his moods," Jimin laughs. "And don't overestimate Kook. I bet you twenty bucks he doesn't take her home."

"I'll take that action. He's got her wrapped around him already. Easy money." They shake on it, and the conversation devolves into trying to find someone in the crowd for Maya to shoot her shot with. However, in spite of her previous claim that she "takes what she can get," she finds an excuse to brush off every potential candidate ("Too short…too tall…too rich-looking?").

(Jimin suspects it may have something to do with the man who is now kissing the blonde at the bar.)

An hour later, and they're still parked at the table and on their third round of drinks. Jace has not resurfaced since they first spotted him, much to Jimin's relief, and he hopes he snuck out to a different club somewhere across town or maybe even a different country. Taehyung sports an easy smile now, alcohol loosening up his body as he laughs at a story Maya is telling about two guys who once had a fist-fight over her in this very club during college. Still, Jimin keeps an eye on their surroundings, likewise wary about what might happen if Jace spots them.

"And thankfully, the cops didn't wind up getting called, but oh God, can you imagine?" Maya howls, her and Taehyung in near-hysterics as she finishes up her story.

"Geez," Taehyung gasps, wiping at his eyes. "You're gonna make me piss my pants. I need the bathroom."

He stands from the table and wanders off in the direction of the restrooms, Maya staring at his back the whole way.

"We need to get that guy laid," she dramatically sighs.

"While he's still in crisis mode over Y/N’s breakup?" Jimin scoffs. "Good luck with that one."

"I don't get those two—I really don't." Maya rattles her perfectly-manicured nails against the table. "She's single for the first time in four years. He's been helplessly in love with her for so much longer. I don't know what he's waiting for."

"I mean it's only been what, a month?" Jimin muses. "He probably feels like it's too soon to make a move. Which is fair."

"Jimin. You're a man. You have eyes. Not only is Y/N pretty, but she has that whole—" She waves a hand in front of her face. "—'take me home to meet your parents’ energy to her. She won't be on the market for long, and you know it. She's already got this date with this Seokjin guy—and Tae told her to do it! It's like he's trying to sabotage himself! And then you have Y/N being smitten with him as always, too. I mentioned helping Tae find a hook-up earlier, and she looked like she was going to hurl."

He shrugs, tapping the side of his glass in thought. “I think they’re just scared. Imagine knowing someone for as long as they have and having to take that leap and risk losing it all.”

“You are out of your mind if you think either of them would reject each other,” Maya snorts.

“You don’t think Y/N might not want to take the chance that they fall apart? Especially after what she’s going through?”

“Tae wouldn’t do that to her,” she frigidly says, as if to challenge the very audacity of the thought.

“I’m not saying he would; I’m just saying she might be guarded.”

“So the solution is for him to help set her up with other guys at his own expense? That’s not fair to him either.”

He tilts his head in subtle agreement but adds, "Look, I want to see the two of them together as much as the next person. But maybe we need to just…let them come to it on their own? I mean, we've tried nudging them in the past, and it clearly hasn't worked. But I have faith they'll get there. Tae can be an idiot, but not that much of an id—"

His thought is cut off by screams and the sound of a commotion out on the dance floor. Hairs standing up on the back of his neck, Jimin bolts from his chair and darts into the crowd, Maya close on his heels. They shove their way through the surge of bodies—pressing back and away from the source of the disturbance—until they reach the spot where a small space has cleared out, and Jimin hears Maya swear loudly behind him.

Taehyung is knelt over Jace on the floor, his fists connecting with the latter's face and head over and over in a frenzy. Jace lies there, face bloodied and clearly dazed, his hands weakly raised in front of him in a futile attempt to shield himself from the blows, but Taehyung is relentless. His arm swings down on a repeated loop as if powered by a motor, and even though the music continues to pound above them, Jimin would swear he can hear the sound of knuckles cracking against flesh and bone. He rushes forward with Maya, both of them grabbing ahold of Taehyung's shoulders to pull him back, but he struggles against them, still trying desperately to connect his punches.

Jungkook suddenly materializes out of nowhere, a halfway-finished beer in his hand that he promptly empties over Jace’s head before grabbing Taehyung around the waist and dragging him back through the crowd. The three of them are able to muscle Taehyung towards the door, Jungkook breaking off to intercept the two bouncers who are stalking their way over as Jimin shoves Taehyung out onto the sidewalk.

"What the fuck, man!"

Taehyung's eyes are wild, his gray hoodie dotted with blood. "I wasn't finished," he says, deep voice chillingly calm.

"Are you out of your mind?!" Maya screams. "Are you trying to get yourself arrested?! Over that piece of shit?!”

“You said you were going to the fucking bathroom,” Jimin angrily adds. “How the hell did you wind up in a fistfight?!”

“I saw him. I hit him. I’m going to do it again,” Taehyung bluntly states. “Let me back in there.”

“The hell we are!” Maya exclaims, and Taehyung may have a few good inches on her, but she steps toe-to-toe with him to block his way. “He's not worth it, Tae, he's not!"

"She is!" Taehyung snaps, and Jimin notices his hands start to shake as the adrenaline begins to wear off. "She…you guys saw her that night. You saw her. In all this time, I have never seen her that broken. Never." His voice cracks, and a sheen appears behind his eyes, tears threatening to spill. "So get out of my way because I am going to make that motherfucker feel every tear I've had to wipe from her face because of him!"

"You're not." The door of the club swings shut as Jungkook joins them outside. "We're leaving now."

Taehyung takes a step forward, pleading, "Jungkook, I—"

"No, Tae, you're done." Jungkook moves to grab his arm, but Taehyung recognizes defeat and shakes him off, pulling his hood over his head and tramping off in the direction of their apartment. The others follow behind, close enough to keep a watchful eye out but with enough distance to give him space to cool down.

"How did it go inside?" Jimin asks quietly.

Jungkook pushes a hand through his hair. “We lucked out. I've worked with those guys before, and we're friendly. Gave them a quick rundown of the situation, and they're going to try and contain it, but…you know…" He shrugs. "That was technically assault."

"What that was was idiotic," Maya hisses.

"It was awesome."

"Kook!"

"What?! It was. Would've thought about taking care of it myself if Tae hadn't beaten me to it. Guy deserved it."

"At the cost of possible jail?" Jimin chimes in. "We all hate the guy, but I don't think it's doing Y/N a favor if she has to bail us out of—" He slaps a hand to his forehead. "Oh, fuck, Y/N."

The other two look at him in question, and he hesitates. "Do we…do we tell her?" he asks slowly. "She's on that date. What if it's going well?"

The three of them fall into silence, looking uneasily at Taehyung's back. He walks with his hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched and heels digging into the sidewalk. Jimin watches as he takes a kick at an empty can, sending it flying into the gutter.

"It's Tae," Maya murmurs suddenly from his left. "She'd want to know."

"Shit, yeah." Jimin presses the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to rub away the headache that is quickly developing. "I'll call her—see if she can meet us back at the apartment."

"I'm going to call Hobi too," Jungkook says, phone already out. "I've punched someone before and can guarantee—his hand is fucked up."

Jimin nods, slowing his steps so he can fall behind the others for a bit of privacy. He doesn't know how the night spiraled so out of control, but he can't shake the existential feeling that something in the cosmos has changed.

Sliding his phone out of his pocket, he takes a deep breath of the night air and dials your number.

Your hands shake as you fumble with your keys outside the guys' apartment, struggling to grasp the spare that Taehyung lent you when you decided to stay with them. Jimin had said to take your time if you had to, but the thought of something being wrong with Taehyung had you in a panic. He hadn’t given you any details either, saying that they’d explain it all once you were there.

Jin had hurried you out at the distressed look on your face after you hung up, telling you that he’d take care of dinner and to go take care of your friend (you’ll later try to have Namjoon pass along some money for your meal that Jin will steadfastly refuse). Not wanting to stand and wait for an Uber, you had half-run the twelve blocks from the restaurant instead.

Out of breath, you gasp out a, "What happened?!" when Jungkook opens the door at the sound of your scrambling, not even giving him a chance to answer before you're pushing past him inside.

Taehyung sits on the edge of the couch with Hoseok kneeling in front of him, first aid kit at his feet. From here, you can see that his right hand is littered with cuts, purple bruises already forming across his swollen knuckles even as Hoseok tends to the wounds. Taehyung doesn't look up when you walk in, his eyes hooded and fixed on his hand.

"What the fuck happened?!" You repeat, but the room is quiet for a moment more as Jungkook, Jimin, and Maya all look at each other as if they don't know what to say.

Jimin breaks first. "We, ah…" he begins from his armchair seat. "We ran into your ex."

Your heart drops into your stomach, and you immediately feel dizzy. Images of Jace flood your mind: his smile, his hands, his voice—him tangled up in your bed when you got back from the beach house.

"He was at the club," Jimin continues. "And Tae…he, um—"

"He kicked his ass!" Jungkook chirps, an unmistakable hint of delight in his voice.

A tornado of feelings rips through your insides, a blend of confusion and anxiety that has you momentarily reeling. You'd be lying if you said you didn't have any residual feelings for Jace, the tiniest part of your brain in a worry over the state he might be in right now. But it all melts away when you look down at the man who still won't meet your eyes, his purpling hand making your heart twist even harder.

"Are you okay?" you ask softly, and Taehyung finally lifts his head to look at you. His gaze is stoic, but there's a haze of emotion behind his eyes that you can't place.

"I'm fine," he says, but his voice is tight and gravelly.

Hoseok tuts, dabbing a spot of ointment across Taehyung's knuckles. "Let's hope you stay that way. I don't think you'll need any stitches, and nothing seems to be broken, but we'll have to keep an eye on this to make sure nothing gets infected." He pulls bandages out of the first aid kit and begins wrapping Taehyung's hand.

You're afraid to ask this next question, but the words fall out anyway. "Did the police come?"

Jimin shakes his head. "We got out of there quick, and Kook talked to the bouncers that were friends of his—" Jungkook gives a two-finger salute from his perch by the kitchen. "—they said they'd try to take care of it, but who knows." He pauses before asking, "Do you think Jace would press charges?"

"I don't know," you answer honestly. You've known Jace to be proud, but you're not sure if that means he'll brush this off as a simple scrap or want to save face in some way.

"If he does, I know a lawyer who might be able to help," Maya pipes up at the opposite end of the couch. "He's a…friend. Owes me a favor."

"A lawyer friend?" Jungkook asks, eyes narrowing. "Do we know him? What's his name?"

"Last name: Out. First name: Butt."

Jungkook scoffs at that, but you also hear him mutter under his breath, "He sounds like a butt."

"Well as much as I would like to stay and chat about fights and butts," Hoseok says, bandaging the last of Tae's hand and closing his kit, "Sunny and I have a meeting with the wedding coordinator in the morning so I’ve gotta go. Keep that clean, and text me immediately if anything looks or feels wrong or if the swelling doesn’t go down. I can swing by in a couple days to look at it again."

Taehyung nods silently, and Hoseok heads for the door, waving as Jungkook shouts, "Thanks, doc!"

An awkward silence sweeps the room as the door swings shut, the only sound being that of Jimin anxiously tapping his heels against the floor. Maya reads the room, looking around at each person and eventually settling on you and Taehyung. Your posture is tense as you stiffly hover by the side of the couch, shifting your feet, while Taehyung is back to avoiding eye contact.

"I think I'm going to head out too," she says, standing up and shooting Jimin a pointed look.

"Do you need a ride home?" Jungkook asks. His tone says that he's trying to be nonchalant, but his eyes betray his eagerness.

"I'm a big girl, Kook," Maya drawls. "I can get myself home."

"Would you let lawyer friend drive you home?"

She rolls her eyes dramatically, her whole head tilting back in exasperation. "Oh my God, you're insufferable. Fine."

Jungkook moves for his keys, a certain spring in his step, while Maya addresses the rest of you. "I'll stop by tomorrow. Please, please try to stay out of trouble until then. Looking at you, Tae." And then she and Jungkook exit the apartment, Maya slipping money into Jimin’s hand as she goes.

Jimin lets out a heavy sigh. "Well he's not coming home tonight." He stands and stretches his arms above his head. "I'm gonna turn in. Let me know if either of you needs something, yeah?" He shuffles away to his bedroom, leaving you and Taehyung alone.

Taehyung continues to sit still as a statue, staring at the wall, and so you take a careful seat next to him, slowly so as to not jostle the cushions too much. When he keeps his eyes straight ahead, you gently take his injured hand between both of yours. His body visibly softens as you graze your fingers back and forth across his palm.

"Tae…"

He looks at you then, and you take the time to examine his face. There's no guilt or shame in his expression, but you see a pain there that has you reaching up to rub at the creases between his eyes.

His eyelids droop down at your touch. “I’m sorry about your date.”

“It’s fine,” you say. “It wasn’t going that well anyway.”

You see a muscle jump in his jaw, concern tightening the corners of his mouth. “Did he do something?”

“Easy.” You resume your tracing of his palm. “He was very kind and respectful, and we had an oddly sweet conversation. Just realized that neither of us is in the proper mindset for it to be anything more than maybe a friendship.”

A hum comes from deep in his throat. “Alright.”

“Certainly no need for you to fight any other men on my behalf,” you say, and he shoots you an uneasy look before staring down your reflections in the dark of the TV screen.

You take it in with him, observing the shadowy duplicates who feel like they’re sitting across from you. The linked arms, the soothing press of your knee to his—your current situation may feel anxiety-inducing, but the figures mirrored in the screen look comfortable. Unified.

"Are you mad?" he whispers after a moment.

The question catches you off guard. "Why would I be?"

"I know you still care about him." Taehyung swallows, glancing down at your intertwined hands. "You wouldn't still be this upset over him if you didn't."

You let his words sink in, not altogether untrue but certainly not at the forefront of your mind right now. "I'm not worried about him—I'm worried about you." Taehyung's eyes flash at that with something akin to confusion, and you chew at your lower lip. "I've never seen you like this."

It's true. Taehyung, in spite of his mild nature, has always had a protective streak in him. One time, when the two of you were twelve, a few boys in your class had spent a week bullying you about your clothes—calling you a “spoiled, pretentious bitch”—only to come back from gym class one day to find their shirts in the garbage, cut to bits. But never—in all of your years together—have you ever known him to get violent.

"I tried to let it go. I did," Taehyung insists. He picks at his bandages, and you cover his hand with your own to still him. "I just…" His voice cracks, eyes suddenly glassy. "I couldn't stop seeing you on the bathroom floor that night."

The tears spill over, and you pull him into you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he gasps into your shoulder. He's trying to force the emotion down—you can feel it in the way his body trembles—and so you tangle your fingers in the spot where his hairline meets the back of his neck. You know it's always been a soothing spot for him, and his breathing slowly evens out as you coast your fingers back and forth, a rogue piece of your brain taking pleasure in the feel of his soft hair under your hands.

"Tae," you whisper again once he's calmed, and he pulls back to look at you, face entirely too close. Your heart stutters at the sheer amount of raw affection in his expression, and the words you were about to say catch in your throat along with your breath. Since when does being around him make you so nervous?

"I'm sorry," Taehyung murmurs, entirely oblivious to your current internal struggle. "I know this isn't about me—"

"No," you quickly say, snapping out of your inner turmoil. "Tae, you're allowed to have feelings, you know?" Your fingers absentmindedly run along his neck again. "And like you told me that night, I will be fine. I will be. It just…takes a bit of time. And I appreciate everything you've done to try and help get me there."

You try to convey just how much you mean this in your tone, lacing your words with every bit of gratitude you've built up over the past month (over the past years). Taehyung seems to understand, his thumb coming up to gently brush against your chin.

A glimpse of white bandages turns you sullen, raising your hands to delicately graze against their soft edges and chart the way they wrap around his knuckles. He winces as you touch them, and frustration crests like a wave in your chest; you hate that he’s hurting, hate that your own troubles are the cause of it.

“You didn’t have to do this for me,” you sigh, dripping with guilt.

“I’d do anything for you.”

His words are firm, and he cants forward as he says them until his forehead rests against yours, a single shared breath haunting the space between your lips.

"I just don't ever want to see you like that again," he whispers.

And it's all too much: your pulse spikes, the blood pounding through your veins at his nearness and the honey-sweet words rolling off his tongue. This time, you're the one who can't look him in the eye as you put some distance between your bodies, abruptly shifting away from him on the couch.

"You won't."

The tension settles in thick, and Taehyung gazes at you, undoubtedly perplexed by your sudden withdrawal. Just as he opens his mouth to say something, you nod at his hand. "You had an eventful day. I'm fine out here if you want to sleep?"

He slowly shakes his head. "No, uh…I don't think I'll be able to sleep. Might just stay up and watch some TV. You can take my bed, though, if you're tired."

The charged atmosphere still has you slightly shaken—your scrambled brain trying to make sense of the tingling in your stomach—but concern for Taehyung ultimately wins out, and you tell him that you'll stay up to keep him company. He doesn't argue with that, simply flips on your favorite cooking channel and drags your legs into his lap as you stretch out.

It's how Jungkook finds you as he slinks back in the next morning, smiling to himself as he drapes a blanket over your sleeping forms.

July is beginning its descent into August, stifling clouds of heat stuffing themselves into roads and alleyways, when your sign to move back into your own apartment comes in the form of Jeon Jungkook almost getting a full look at your bare ass one Saturday morning.

He immediately flips his back to you, frantically covering his face with his arms and bellowing, "I'M NOT LOOKING!" at the top of his lungs.

"Jeon, you'd better keep your eyes covered or I swear to God I'll put your nuts in a vise!"

"Is that like a kink thi—"

"Do NOT." You rush to dress yourself, giving him the signal when it's safe to turn around.

He doesn't look the least bit ashamed, the bastard.

"Not that it's necessarily unwelcome, but why were you almost naked in my living room?"

You glare at him. "Jimin is taking one of his long ass showers."

"And Tae's at work. Just use his room."

You'd thought about it, but the idea of getting naked in your best friend's bedroom had made you blush, like you'd be crossing some sort of line.

"I thought I could change fast enough," you say, not wanting to have to explain your reasoning to Jungkook of all people.

"Well you obviously thought wrong." He smirks, and you already know what's coming. "Nice bra, by the way."

You pick up a throw pillow off the couch and fling it at him. You'd been shooting for his head, wanting to smack the smug grin right off his face, but your aim is about two feet off and he catches it effortlessly anyway.

What an ass.

“No wonder Maya is always pissed at you,” you jab. “Constantly flirting with other girls.”

His demeanor shifts ever so slightly—his shoulders lower, and you can tell by the way his cockiness subtly but immediately deflates that you’ve wounded him. A pang of regret for your words hits at the sight of wide doe eyes.

“She talks about me to you?”

You wouldn’t have believed it to be possible, but you don’t think that you’ve ever seen him look so innocent, tentative hopefulness coloring his face.

“Not, like, regularly, but sometimes, sure,” you say, not quite certain how to handle this new edition of Jungkook.

“What does she say?”

Wow, those big, round Bambi eyes are really doing work.

“Just that, you know.” You scratch at your ear, not wanting to accidentally throw Maya under any buses while also honoring your friendship with Jungkook. “You’re kind of annoying sometimes.”

That clearly doesn’t make him happy, his jaw tightening with discontent as he grimaces. “Right.”

“I mean think about it, Kook,” you say, compelled to defend Maya. “You hook up with her, and then flirt and pick up other girls right in front of her face.”

“We’re not exclusive!” he exclaims.

“Maybe she wants to be?”

“But that was her idea!”

That stops you. Not once since you found out the two of them were hooking up did it cross your mind that Jungkook would ever be the one unhappy with their arrangement. He’s never had a serious girlfriend in the entire time you’ve known him. Up until this moment, you were sure he’d be a perpetual bachelor. “What?”

“She wanted to be non-exclusive.”

“And you…don’t?”

He looks away from you, crossing his arms over his chest. “I don’t know.”

No. It can’t be.

“Wait a second.”

You move to stand in front of him, taking his face in your hands so you can turn him every which way, inspecting his face. Pink cheeks, a creased brow, jawline so hard you could probably cut yourself on it.

“You’re flustered!” you shriek. Jungkook quickly uncrosses his arms to bat your hands away, reeling back to put some distance between the two of you.

“I’m not!”

“You are!” you shout, following him as he roams around the room. “Jeon Jungkook is flustered!”

“Bah, you’re insane, woman.” He swings a dismissive hand even as the two of you settle in at the kitchen island.

“You’d be cute together!”

“She’s too stubborn.”

“I can totally see it!”

“It would never work.”

“You don’t know that!”

“Hey, worry about your own love life.”

He means it to be teasing, obviously not thinking too hard about his words because the second he realizes what he’s just said, he pales. “Y/N, I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” you say, sobered. “I know you didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Still—“

“You’re right. I’m avoiding things.” You peer over at the pull-out couch, still in bed-mode with your blankets and pillows messily strewn across it. Your suitcase, meanwhile, sits off to the side with the contents tangled and half-overflowing.

In short, you’re a mess.

The guys have never made you feel unwelcome, have only ever made it clear that you are free to stay as long as you’d like, but you’d be lying if you said you haven’t felt your time here beginning to weigh on your shoulders, knowing you’re only putting off the inevitable.

You feel like you’ve been (slowly, but surely) making emotional progress, but going back to the apartment might threaten to undo all of that. Although it may have felt like it at times growing up, you’ve technically never lived alone, and you’ve grown accustomed to having your people around. In fact, you thrive on it. Being around your friends is the only reason why you’ve been doing as well as you have.

You love having someone to come home to.

“I need to move back soon,” you tell Jungkook. “But returning to the apartment is actually terrifying.”

He considers you for a moment, leaning his weight back on the granite countertop. “Do you know what helps me when I’m not confident about something?”

“Getting a stranger to moan your name?”

“Well, yes, but aside from that.” You shrug, and he grins. “I just do it.”

“Wow, Jeon,” you say, with the appropriate amount of eye roll. “Reaching real deep on that one.”

“I mean it!” he urges. “Just need to rip off the band-aid. The longer you dwell on it, the harder it will be in the end.”

That’s…oddly decent advice.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you might have a point,” you say, somewhat thrown off by this flustered, good-advice-giving version of your friend.

“And speaking of things being harder, that last bit of advice also goes for forepl—“

“Aaaaaaand it’s ruined.”

“I’m just saying it has multiple applications!”

“Yeah, it’s time for me to move back out,” you say. “I can’t live with you anymore.”

Jungkook chuckles, rubbing at his jaw. “Tae is going to be devastated though.”

Your head jerks around. “What? Why?”

“Because he likes having you here,” he says, looking at you like you just asked him what color the sky is. “The guy punched out your ex for you. I think it’s safe to say he enjoys having you around.”

You wince at the mention of the club, a nerve jumping in your chest every time you’re reminded that Taehyung almost got arrested defending your honor. Nothing had ever come of the fight, so you’re assuming Jace has chosen to just let it go, and for that, you’re thankful. You never would have been able to live with it if Taehyung had suffered serious consequences over your own personal crisis.

You’d do the same thing for him, sure. But that’s different.

“Jimin and I will miss you too, of course,” Jungkook continues. “And I’m still kind of sad I didn’t get my own shot in on that asshole that night. Dumped a beer on him though.” He smiles at you like he’d be wagging his tail if he had one.

“My hero.”

“Yeah, the mayor said I’m getting a medal.”

“Oh, really? When’s the ceremony.”

“Sunday afternoon.”

You snap your fingers. “Ah, I can’t make it. I have a thing.”

“A thing?”

“Yeah, a super important thing. Way more important than your thing.”

“You’re a heart-breaker, Y/N. My ego will never recover.” He grins again, playfully rapping his fingers against the counter as he stands to grab a drink.

“Yep,” he says, voice muffled on the other side of the fridge door. “Definitely going to miss you around here.”

As Jungkook predicted, Taehyung frowns when he gets home from work and you tell him about your plans to move back into your apartment at the end of the week, perhaps sensing your apprehension about returning to the scene of the crime. He insists he’ll come with you and sleep over the first night for support and to make sure you’re okay being back there.

“Whatever you need,” he says. “You’re not going to face it alone.”

Your apartment is pitch black when you swing the door open, the quietness hovering in the air making you feel like you're suffocating. You flick on the light, and you're struck by how much emptier the space is. Jace definitely came by at some point as all of his things are no longer present: his gaming system, his turntable, the tiny rhino statue he had picked out on your last vacation together. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot a glint of a key on the kitchen counter.

Taehyung tries to give you space by busying himself—turning on lights and opening cabinets in a seeming attempt to take inventory of what Jace left behind. He steals glances at you every now and then as you slowly move through the living room, hands reaching out to lightly brush at the furniture with no real goal in mind. This is supposed to be your home, but you feel like a stranger—the ghosts of late nights binging TV shows, giggling wildly at inside jokes, promising forever lurk around every corner.

When you take a hesitant step inside the bedroom, your breath catches in your throat and you choke on a sob. The bedsheets are still in a tangle, a relic of that night seven weeks ago when your whole world fell apart.

Taehyung senses something is wrong and bolts to your side in an instant, hands steadying you where you slump against the doorframe. He turns you in his arms, and his fingers come up to cradle your face in his direction.

"Don't look at that, look at me," he murmurs, thumbs rubbing away the tears that have begun to fall. "What do you need?"

To run, to hide, to crawl into the deepest hole you can find and scream your lungs out until the pain subsides. But you can't. Instead you focus on the brown of Taehyung's eyes, let it ease you back down until your breathing steadies and your heart rate levels.

"A shower," you finally choke out. "I need a shower."

He takes a final swipe at your tear-stained cheeks and offers up a small smile. "Okay. Where are the towels?"

You nod in the direction of the closet as Taehyung ushers you out towards the bathroom. It feels empty in here too, the single toothbrush staring you down from its holder and counter notably absent of shaving cream and hair gel. You tear your eyes away from the vanity to start the water running, and Taehyung pops up a moment later with a towel in hand and a fresh pair of pajamas he must've found in your dresser.

"Take your time," he says. "And if you need anything, anything at all, just give a shout. I'll be right out here." His cheeks take on a hint of pink when you quirk an eyebrow at him. "I'll close my eyes. Promise."

You thank him as he steps out so you can strip and get into the tub. The water is set to a near-scalding temperature and you welcome the sting, scrubbing away at your skin as if trying to erase all of the memories that are once again flooding back.

Your first date at the art museum, where he pointed to a painting of an extravagant rose garden and said it reminded him of you.

Your first kiss under the stars, the two of you losing track of time as he pulled you in again and again.

Endless Saturdays wandering around the city, not caring where you wound up as long as his hand was in yours.

Planning your someday wedding, his whispered promises of, Soon, beautiful, soon, sealed with a signature wink.

Picking out names for children who would never be born.

The tears are pouring out of you now, but you let them. One cry, you promise yourself. One final, good cry to wash it all away, and then it'll be time to let go for good.

You don't know how long you spend in the shower, but by the time you step back out into the living room, Taehyung has already set himself up with a makeshift bed on the couch. He lifts his head when he sees you and, taking note of your red-rimmed eyes, gets up to pull you into a hug.

For a moment he just holds you, arms banding tight around your shoulders before he says, "I cleaned out your fridge. Most of it was spoiled." He hesitates, pulling back to look at you. "And I changed the bedsheets." A hand rubs at the back of his neck. "I actually ran downstairs and threw them straight in the dumpster, I hope that's okay."

His thoughtfulness overwhelms you, and you'd probably start crying again if not for the fact that you don't think you have a single tear left in your body. As you gape at him, Taehyung interprets your silence for disapproval and quickly adds, "I'll buy you new ones."

You respond by wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him back into you, sinking your face into the crook of his neck as you whisper a, "Thank you."

He seems to falter for a second before returning the hug, and as you give him one last squeeze he steps back, scrutinizing you more closely. "You look like you could use some sleep."

"Yeah," you admit, eyeing the cramped set-up on the couch. "Is that going to be okay for you though?"

"Absolutely," he chimes, bounding over to the couch to settle back in. He has to bend his long legs to fit, toes pressing into the fabric of the arm. "See? Comfy." When he catches the uneasy look on your face, he says, "Honestly. Y/N. Nowhere else I'd rather be."

You give him a hesitant nod—you know it'd be useless to try to convince him otherwise. "Okay. Goodnight."

"Goodnight!" He flips onto his back, popping an arm behind his head and closing his eyes.

You cross the room slowly and, just like last time, find yourself pausing at the threshold of your bedroom. The bed is no longer a mess, fresh sheets now stretched neatly across the mattress, but as you look at it, it strikes you that you have never slept here alone. And while you may have committed yourself to moving on from this moment forward, you know this has the power to break you. Tomorrow, maybe, but right now, you're nowhere near ready for this.

You look back and forth between your bed and where Taehyung is lying, his legs now half-draped over the couch's arm, and you make up your mind.

"Tae?"

"Hmm?" He opens his eyes and turns his head to look at you.

"Can you sleep in here with me?"

He blinks, jaw dropping in surprise. "Uhh…are you sure?"

His hesitancy has you losing some of your nerve, and you have to look away. "I just don't think I can…" You purse your lips and shake your head. "You don't have to. I just—"

"No, it's okay. We can—yeah," he blurts, already standing up.

He sidesteps you in the doorway, taking your hand and pulling you into the room after him with a soft smile. "C'mon. Like I said, whatever you need."

Taehyung pulls back the covers so the two of you can crawl in. It's awkward at first, both of your bodies lying stiff across from each other. Physical affection has never been altogether uncommon for the two of you, but this—lying in the bed you used to share with your ex—feels like crossing a line of intimacy that you've never experienced with him before.

But then Taehyung laughs, reaching over to take your hand in his. "I know we’re a long way from high school, but we can do this, yeah? Not like we haven’t shared a bed before."

It breaks the tension, and you giggle back, looking down at where he's laced your fingers together. His knuckles are still lightly bruised with touches of yellow and green, and you run your free hand over the marks, smile drooping.

"I'm really sorry about this," you murmur.

"I'm not." Taehyung's forehead creases. "I'd do it again."

"Please don't," you say quickly. "If you see him again, just let it go."

He frowns and opens his mouth to respond, but you cut in. "Not because I care about him. I just don't want you getting into any trouble on his account. He's not worth it."

Taehyung briefly clenches his jaw but eventually gives you a slow nod. "Well I think my point was made anyway."

"Thank you," you say, pulling his hand up to brush a light kiss to his bruises. "I know I keep saying that, but I really can't tell you enough."

"You don't need to thank me. I know you'd do the same." His face breaks out into one of his boxy smiles. "Remember when Luna broke up with me, and I barely left the apartment for two weeks? You stopped by every day to make sure I was still eating."

You hum at the memory. It had been two weeks of dropping off take-out and commandeering the boys' kitchen to make large batch meals, even harassing Jimin to give you regular updates on whether or not Taehyung had eaten lunch. Jace had given you grief about it at the time, whining that Taehyung was a grown man who could take care of himself, especially when the two of you had just moved in and were still working on unpacking.

“And my birthday junior year of high school.” He’s quiet as he remembers, eyes fixed on some spot over your shoulder as if he’s rewatching the moments on film. “You got me those shoes I’d been absolutely enamored with.”

His old ones had been falling apart entirely, soles curling away from the fabric like orange peels in the sun. Barely even looking away from the bottle at that point, there was virtually no chance that Taehyung’s father would give him enough money to buy him new ones at the thrift store, let alone the high-end sneakers you’d always catch him subtly staring at every time the two of you wandered around the mall after school.

So of course, you’d done the only logical thing and surprised him with them for his birthday, the look of complete elation on his face making your heart leap in ways you didn’t even know it could.

A touch of joy slips into his expression too now as he picks another recollection out of his brain. "Or that time in college when I got stuck in that bathroom across campus with no toilet paper and you left class to break into the men's room and bring me some."

You scrunch your nose at that, saying, "We swore never to talk about that again!"

Taehyung laughs. "I know, but what I'm trying to say is that that's what we do. We take care of each other."

The truth of the statement hits you like a truck as you're suddenly anchoring yourself in Taehyung's eyes again.

It's as though every moment of the last seventeen years comes rushing back to you all at once—every joy, every celebration, every tear, every heartbreak. And at your side in each memory are the same brown eyes you're staring into right now.

A feeling that you're too scared to place stirs in your chest and has you panicking, and you can see that Taehyung isn't unaffected by the moment either as his lips part and he studies you with a newfound softness. When he reaches up to brush your hair behind your ear, the feeling in your chest swells and snaps, and you bury your face in his chest, tears starting afresh, as he wraps his arms around you.

"I'm here," he whispers. "I'm right here."

You press your hands into his back, clinging to him, and hope the pressure conveys what your words can't—what you don't even have a name for yet.

Your sobs subside after a while, but you stay wrapped up in each other. Right before you fall asleep, one final flashback of Jace leaks into your mind—words he had spit at you before leaving this place that night.

I've never been your priority. No one can be. Not when he's around.

It's hard work dragging yourself awake the next morning, your eyelids heavy and begging you to close them for just five more minutes.

But you realize that the side of the bed next to you is not only empty—it's cold. Reaching out to your nightstand, you flip your phone over to check the time. 10:42. The morning is practically gone.

You pull yourself out of bed and shuffle into the living room where you spot a figure standing in the kitchen. Taehyung is busy at the stove, white t-shirt tight across his shoulders as he works, humming to himself, and you stop for a moment to take him in (was he always this broad?).

"Good mood today?" you say. He turns, flashing you a smile over his shoulder.

"Morning, sleepyhead!" He catches himself, realizing he might sound a little too chipper for the occasion and quietly asks, "How are you feeling?"

"Alright," you shrug, and it's the truth. The seemingly endless crying the night before had been exhausting, but it also provided you with something of a catharsis, leaving you feeling almost refreshed today.

"Good," Taehyung says. He nods to the plate on the counter next to him. "I made pancakes."

"The chocolate chip ones?"

He places a hand over his heart and looks at you in mock offense. “Of course. What do you take me for?”

You laugh and wander over to the dining room table where a bright bouquet of lilies now sits in a vase. Pinching one of the delicate, silky petals between your fingers, you ask, "What's this?"

Taehyung glances over his shoulder again, blushing slightly when he sees what you're looking at. "Oh, I um—" He fumbles for his words. "I ran out to get you some groceries and saw the florist next door. Figured they could, you know, brighten things up in here a little."

"You didn't have to do that," you tell him softly, but he brushes you off with a shrug.

"I wanted to."

You reach for the petals again, the bright orange seeming to cast a glow on your skin like a sunset. “You know these look like—“

“The ones you used to collect on our walks growing up?” He chuckles at your stunned silence. “Yeah, I know.”

It still surprises you sometimes—the depth of his thoughtfulness and how well he knows you—and before you can stop yourself, you’re stepping up behind him at the stove. You wind your arms around his middle, pressing your forehead to the space between his shoulder blades and allowing your breath to warm the cotton of his t-shirt. It’s soft—intimate—and you feel Taehyung tighten up under your touch, his entire body going rigid.

“Y/N—“

“You know you mean the world to me, right?”

It’s a near-whisper—you sound like you’re on the brink of tears—and maybe that’s why Taehyung’s hard lines soften at the sound of your voice, turning in your arms so he can reciprocate the embrace and press a cheek to your temple. He doesn’t say a word, just holds you tight as you lean your face into his chest and inhale the comforting scent of pancake batter, laundry detergent, and honey-scented soap.

You think you could stay here forever.

Last night’s mood seems to linger in the air like little beams of light that warm your skin in the best way. You recall falling asleep in these same arms, this same scent wrapped around you—how it was easily the best sleep you’ve had in weeks.

It's different, this space between you now. Has been since the night in the bathroom. You and Taehyung may have gone through a metric fuck ton of pain over the course of your lives, but there's no denying that this breakup is pushing your friendship into a new form, molding it into a new shape.

You're too nervous to dwell on it, but damn, if you aren't going to take advantage of how good it feels to cling to him right now. You want to wrap yourself around him like a koala—draw your legs around his waist and bury your nose into the hollow space at his collarbone.

What a great way to scare him off too, your brain says, even as your heart argues, He's stuck with you through worse.

You're tempted—seriously considering dragging him over to the couch so you can snuggle him properly—when the fire alarm goes off, the pancake on the stove burnt and blackened.

Taehyung releases you in a flash, spinning to shut off the burner and pull the pan off the stove as you rush to the hallway closet for a broom. You swing it underneath the alarm until the smoke clears, and the device stops its blaring shrieks. As silence filters back in, Taehyung tips the burnt pancake into the trash, the previous moment ruined.

"That'd be our luck to burn this place down your first day back," he jokes.

You tip your head up, already thinking this may have been a bad idea and wishing you were back at the guys' place. "Maybe not the worst thing in the world."

He approaches you slowly but deliberately, raising a long finger to press at your chin until you've lowered your gaze enough to look him in the eyes. Taking your hands in his—gently, so gently—he says, "We're going to breathe life back into this place. I'll be here every day if you want me to be."

"You d—"

"I will. Or Maya or Jimin or Kook." He moves his head so you're forced to look at him even as you try to look away, confronted with the raw sincerity in his eyes. "We'll drown out the bad memories with new good ones."

His voice is CPR, pressing warmth into your chest, and just like that, the suffocating walls around you open up a bit. You can see it, the two of you sitting on the couch watching TV—or maybe you watching him play one of his games—your other friends occasionally dipping in and out as they please.

More orange lilies on the table.

You pull your hands from his and drift to the kitchen counter, picking up the glinting silver key sitting on its surface. Turning back to Taehyung, you press it into his palm, and he stares at you, eyes wide with wonder.

"You're sure?"

You nod, and he curls his fingers around the key like it's something delicate—handling it with the same care you once saw him give a baby bird that had fallen out of its nest in the park when you were thirteen.

"Every day," he promises, pinky wrapping around yours and squeezing. "Just say the word."

a/n: likes, reblogs, and feedback are always appreciated! <3

taglist is open!

#taehyung x reader #taehyung x you #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #bts x reader #bts x you #bts imagines #taehyung imagines #taehyung fic #taehyung fanfic #bts fluff #bts angst #taehyung #bts fic #bts fanfic

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emmie-tt · 1 year

Text

Eternity

Jasper Hale x Wife!reader (AVENGERS CROSSOVER)

Description: you were married with a beautiful son before he went “missing” and after he ran away from Maria she went after you only for her to send you to hydra after seeing potential. When you return from Hydra you find out what she did to Jasper and kill her. Flash forward to now you get a call that Carlisle needs help protecting his family from the volturi and you see someone you thought you never would…

Mc's gifts/powers

Mind reading: the power to sense and hear others thoughts

Telekinesis: the ability to influence and move objects without touching them

Mind manipulation: the ability to change what others are thinking

Telepathy: The ability to receive and transmit information with your mind

Energy Absorption: The ability to take and use anothers power/gift

WARNINGS: none...

MAIN MASTERLIST

JASPER AND MC'S SON'S NAME WAS JAMES

JASPER AND READER GOT MARRIED AT 14 AND HAD JAMES AT 15

MARIA KI!!ED JAMES AFTER SHE TOOK MC (JAMES WAS 5)

CARLISLE DIDN'T KNOW JASPER AND MC USE TO BE/STILL ARE MARRIED

ALICE HAS A MATE NAMED THOMAS, HER AS JASPER ARE BEST FRIENDS

MC CAN SLEEP BUT SHE DOESN'T HAVE TO

Y/N POV

A small sigh leaves my lips as my door bell rings again, with a small groan I get up and walk to my door opening it. As soon as the door is opened all the way I make eye contact with an old friend causing my eyebrows to furrow.

"carlisle? why are you- sorry that's rude, is everything okay?"

A small chuckle leaves his lip as he shrugs "i need some help, can we have a chat?"

I nod and open the move out of the way allowing him to enter my home, I lead him into my living room where he takes a seat on my couch. I sit on the chair across from him as worry slowly overtakes my mind "carlisle? what is it? what's going on?"

He looks at me and asks "you know Edward right?" earning a nod from me "well...he recently got married, to a human..."

My eyes widen "what? why- wait why am i needed?"

He sighs and continues "she wound up pregnant on the honey moon and had the baby a few days ago, we turned her shortly after the birth but the volturi have caught wind of the child and are coming after her."

My heart sinks "and your planning on fighting them?"

He shakes his head no "not if we don't have to...you see- they think she is a immortal child but she has already grown. she looks to be around 10 now, she's actually only a few weeks old...were hoping we can prove to them that she isn't a threat to our kind without a fight but we need witnesses and just in case people who are willing to fight for her..."

I nod and take a deep breath while letting my gaze drift to the fireplace in my living room, on the mantle of it rests a bunch of old pictures...I slowly zone out on the picture of my son and my husband playing...

-FLASHBACK-

I look up when I hear laughing, a smile forms on my face as I see Jasper chasing James. I set the dish down and wipe my hands off on my dress skirt before making my way outside.

As i'm about to walk out the door I grab our camera and continue out. I snap a few pictures of my boys as they play around with each other. I set them on the rail of our porch and admire them, as I get lost in my thoughts I feel arms wrap around me causing me to jump

I look up and see Jasper looking back at me with a smile "well hello their darlin' "

I smile and turn around in his arms "hi cowboy" I say earning a chuckle from Jasper, he kisses my forehead then my nose and finally my lips before I hear a small southern accent yell out "mama!" I look down as his small arms wrap around my skirt

I smile and lean down picking him up as he cuddles close to me, I turn back around admiring the view as I lean back against my husband wondering how I got so lucky

-FLASHBACK OVER-

I snap out of the memory and wipe my eyes quickly when I hear Carlisle say my name again. I look up at him "i'll help..."

He smiles softly and gets up walking over to me and gently hugging me "my family thanks you...i'll wait for you to get a bag packed okay?"

I nod hugging back for a moment before getting up and heading up to my room and grabbing a bag, as I throw things into the bag and go through my closet my eyes land on an old photo album.

With shaky hands I grab it and walk back over to my bed and sit down. As I open the album tears immediately spring in my eyes as I see my old wedding photos, I continue going through the album when Carlisle comes into the room "everything okay?"

My head snaps up and I nod as he walks over and sits next to me, his eyes land on a 15 year old version of me holding a newborn baby, he looks back at me "is that..?"

I take a deep breath and nod before closing the book and placing it in my bag "my son...james.."

He watches me with pity in his eyes as I zip my bag and sling it over my shoulder, we both make our way downstairs and out to his car. As I get situated Carlisle glances over at me before staring forward again and starting the car, his mind was stuck on the picture of the baby, he looked so familiar but he just couldn't put his finger on why...

-TIME SKIP A FEW HOURS-

After a long dreamless nap I feel myself being shaken awake, I open my eyes and look over at Carlisle "were here"

I nod and stretch slightly before glancing around, i'm amazed at the beautiful house and all of the greenery, when I go to tell Carlisle my thoughts five people make their way out of the house

I sigh and get out of the car, Carlisle gets my bag out of the back seat as the child along with Edward and i'm guessing his wife approach me. I smile at Edward who smiles back

My eyes land on the child who is staring at me obviously confused, I slowly kneel down in front of her and smile "well hello there...i'm y/n what's your name sweetheart?"

She smiles back while giggling softly "i'm renesme...your accent is very pretty"

I smile and giggle softly as well "thank you" she makes eye contact with me and cups my face softly causing me to flinch slightly before allowing her to do whatever it is

My eyes widen slightly before allowing them to flutter close as I watch her memories. After a minute I open my eyes and look at her with amazement "you, young lady have an extraordinary gift..."

She smiles and looks back at her parents who are also smiling, she looks back at me with a confused look again "what are you?"

I giggle and stand up "i'm a hybrid...vampire and super soldier"

Her eyes widen and she looks back at her parents again, Edward nods and chuckles softly at her look of surprise, the door opens again and I look up to see a short dark haired girl who is smiling and makes her way down to us. "hi! i'm alice!"

I smile softly at her and make a noise of surprise when she pulls me into a hug "oh- hi! i'm y/n"

A giggle leaves her lips as she pulls back "i know, i can see the future. we are gonna get along well"

I nod and smile as she grabs my hand and leads me into the house...the house that is full of vampires...my nerves spike as I glance around making eye contact with random red eyes before my eyes land on a pair of wide yellow eyes

-FLASHBACK A FEW HOURS-

JASPERS POV

As I sit on the couch watching as Renesme introduces herself and shows her memories to all the vampires who are arriving, I hear a small gasp and my eyes snap over to Alice who is frozen. Me and Thomas make our way over to her with concern

She snaps out of it and looks at me as a large smile graces her face "your wife...she's alive..."

I stare at her confused "what?"

She continues smiling "she's alive and- and she is gonna be here soon to help. your gonna get your wife back jasper..."

Before I could say anything she walks away leaving me confused

-FLASHBACK OVER-

Y/N POV

As I take in his face and slowly realize who i'm staring at Alice smiles squeezes my hand and whispers "go...go see your husband"

I don't say anything and nod before slowly weaving my way through the crowd towards the person I thought I would never see again, the man i've loved since 1858

I stop in front of him and look up at him as tears slowly make their way down my cheeks "my jasper..."

All the sudden my feet leave the ground and i'm being pressed against his cold body. My arms wrap around his neck as my legs wrap around his waist

The feeling of being in my husbands arms after so long brings the most amount of comfort i've felt in a long time...a comfort that I can only hope is permanent...

TAGLIST

@cherrybb-ily @rayliz793 @min-jianhyung @bunnymysteriously @angelgirl45367 @lovelybeardedsuit @mortallybitchybird @titaniatube @angelsincident @golgi-aparato @jovialwolfsoul @caityrayeraye @mkaybaby4 @iara-ximena17 @bluecrazedandbeautiful

I'm sorry it took so long to get this out!! I'm happy with how this turned out, feedback and ideas for other parts are always welcome!!

#jasper hale #jasper hale x wife!reader #jasper hale imagine #twilight #twilight x reader #twilight saga #the twilight saga #vampire!reader #super soilder!reader #hybrid!reader #jakesl-t #neytirisl-t

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quest-for-pluto · 1 year

Text

G.O.A.T. Avatar Fic Recs:

One of us (Neteyam x Human/Avatar!Female!Reader) —Multi-chapter, eventual NSFW

Author: forever--darling

Status: Complete, 8/8

Summary: neteyam sully was the next olo'eyktan and for years had been focused on his training and his responsibilities only. he had never accounted for you to become one of them. when you got your avatar body and ended up in the forest alone, being brought to the village and offered to be taught the ways of the people wasn't what you expected. let alone it being neteyam, future olo'eyktan becoming your teacher.

In Love With The Enemy (Lo’ak x Female!Avatar!Reader) —Multi-chapter

Author: vandnana

Status: Ongoing, 3/?

Summary: during the time when jake became toruk makto, you were quaritch’s youngest and most valued soldier, the daughter he never had. but, pandora changed you and you died during the final battle, betraying quaritch and wishing that you had been able to do more. now, you have been reborn again, as a na’vi, tasked with quaritch’s new military avatar crew to kill Jake Sully. taking advantage of this second chance at life, you help the Sullys and fall in love along the way.

On this fateful night...two hearts danced (Neteyam x Human!Female!Reader) —One shot, NSFW

Author: arachine

Status: Complete, 1/1

Summary: in omaticayan culture, a young na’vi male does not yet become a full fledged adult until he passes one of two rites of passage: 1) choosing an ikran, and 2) carving a bow from the wood of Hometree (and/or choosing a woman). reader is now 20, and the only man she’s ever loved is expected to choose a wife soon. one day when she overhears a rumor concerning neteyam and the first woman in line to betroth him, reader is struck with grief, ultimately venturing off deep into the forest where she knows nobody will follow her—somewhere forbidden. however, unbeknownst to her, a certain someone follows her trail…

Fire Of Souls (Tsu’tey x Jake’s sister!Reader) —Multi-chapter

Author: pandorafairy

Status: Ongoing, 4/?

Summary: N/A. Slow burn, Enemies to Lovers.

Something sweet ~ (Human!Neteyam x Human!Female!Reader, Modern AU) —One shot, probable eventual NSFW

Author: maxlonz

Status: Potentially Ongoing, 1\?

Summary: basically Neteyam doesn’t like sweet things, but for you, he’ll make an exception <3. Enemies to Lovers, mature themes.

Tìtunu (Tsu’tey x Human!Female!Reader) —Multi-chapter, eventual NSFW

Author: hinataashoyos

Status: Complete, 4/4

Summary: Perhaps the Sky People had injured Tsu'tey beyond repair when they had hurt him and pushed him from their enormous metal bird. That is the only reason he can think of to explain why the one person who has captured his thoughts so wholly is you, the little human demon that is constantly lurking around the Omaticaya camp.

Tìsom (Tsu’tey x Human!Female!Reader) —One shot, NSFW

Author: hinataashoyos

Status: Complete, 1/1

Summary: Spin-off of Tìtunu, but can be read separately. Tsu'tey is a strong mate; he is cautious, considerate, and protective, and he always provides for you. And yet, human/Na'vi relationships come with a learning curve. That learning curve comes with surprises regarding certain biological urges.

Mountain Dweller (Kiri x Rotxo) —Two shot

Author: k-roi

Status: Ongoing, 1/2

Summary: A moment of distraction during a lesson with Rotxo leads to one of the best questions of her life. If only they could just be less awkward about it.

Tacenda (Neteyam x Metkayina!Female!Reader) —Multi-chapter

Author: cherrycxla

Status: Complete, 25/25

Summary: Tacenda - Things to be left unsaid; matters to be passed over in silence. Or:

Tsa'tvayi gives Neteyam a purpose, while caring for his family as if they were her own.

The Sully’s in American Public School —Headcannons

Author: pandorafairy

Status: Complete, 1/1

Summary: N/A.

Lo’ak and Tsireya (Lo’ak x Tsireya) —One shot

“Tell her” (Lo’ak x Tsireya)—One shot

Author: pandorafairy

Status: Complete, 2/2

Summary: These are actually seperate posts but I suggest reading them together. The first one is Tsireya comforting Lo’ak after Neteyam’s death, and the second one takes place a little later on, when Lo’ak confesses his feelings to Tsireya.

Star Girl (Lo’ak x Avatar!Female!Reader) —Multi-chapter

Author: lovemyavatar

Status: Ongoing, 9/10 (with bonus scenes!)

Summary: Eywa isn’t supposed to choose sides. she maintains the balance of life. so, a question arises. are you worth saving?

Push (Neteyam x Female!Omaticaya!Reader) —One shot, NSFW

Author: lovemyavatar

Status: Complete, 1/1

Summary: you love teasing the Olo'eyktan's oldest son, but how much will he let you push before he snaps? Childhood friends to rivals to lovers. Enemies to lovers.

Will continue updating…

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footballffbarbiex · 5 months

Text

Like A Lamb To Slaughter

player: Dominik Szoboszlai words: 1089 warnings: male competitiveness, swearing, threat of public sex, omegaverse concept (mentions of being in heat, mating, knotting).

A/N: I had previously noted that this would be an A/B/O fic but having looked into this (as everyone's version of this universe is different with only the traits of the alpha/beta/omega being the same), I found out that using that terminology could be also used as a slur. So I will no longer be referring to it as the above and now refer to this as omegaverse instead. Apologies to anyone who may have been offended by this usage, I'm hoping context is key in the way it was used.

Dom is everywhere you look, no matter where you are in the room.

You know why he’s following you like a predator stalking its prey, and in many ways, this is exactly what he’s doing and it was a matter of time before you fell victim to him. It feels as though every time you look up or glance around, he’s there, eyes fully fixated on you, burning into you with as much heat as what is pooling in your belly.

Coming here tonight was a mistake and you know it but you needed to get out because staring at the same four walls of your home was making you feel stir crazy. Getting dressed up and looking as good as you felt as the night went on gave you a mood booster but this changed when you stepped into the room. You’d had sneaking suspicions of certain men because of their attitudes, some could only be matched with Alphas. But watching their eyes rake over you as you passed by, seeing that change in them both terrified and aroused you - something which you knew would be oozing off you in thick scent waves.

You stand with someone from the physio department, and you’re trying to immerse yourself in the conversation but your senses are heightened by everything tonight. You thought you were over your rut. You’d managed to call in sick because of it, thankful that this is now a protected status within the workplace, which is more than could be said for another trait which is beyond a female’s control. Going into heat is an experience like no other. Having a period or simply being aroused is nothing compared to this and while most of the fellow Omegas in the offices are on blockers, you haven’t been so lucky this time thanks to being unable to obtain your prescription and having only worked at Liverpool FC for the past three months, this wasn’t a great start.

“Haven’t seen you for a while,” comes Joe’s voice in your ear. It’s a welcome relief from thinking about where Domi is but in a way, it’s only made it worse because you know he has the nose of a bloodhound.

“Oh, so you’ve been looking for me?” You ask, mouthing an apology to Chelsea before turning to look at the Liverpool defender. Joe was beautiful. His body was incredible, his flirting skills were off the charts and had your secret not been in place, you would have happily considered Joe.

“Can you blame me?” he reeks of Alpha so this little conversation isn’t surprising. He’s one of many who have stepped up to the plate and it’s a matter of time before he ends up walking away with his tail between his legs like the others.

“She might not, but I can.” Joe’s frame tenses up as the sound of his Hungarian teammate's voice reaches your ears.

“I was just -” Joe begins to explain himself but if you can smell the difference on Dominik, then Joe should be able. It’s a warning.

“You were just leaving.”

“Actually, I wasn’t.” Joe digs his heels in and straightens up. You hated this about Alphas, hated the need to prove themselves for a potential mate. Though there’s not much of a difference between them, Joe gets bragging points for being that much bigger. And as of recently, you knew just how much bigger Joe was in comparison.

“You don’t want to play this game Gomez,” Dominik clenches his jaw, the muscle in his jaw popping and even though you didn’t want to be in the middle of this pissing contest - though you wouldn’t have minded being between the two of them under very different circumstances - you couldn’t deny your arousal to watching the way your mate begins to put Joe in his place. “You won’t win. I do not lose.”

You know they can smell it before you feel the wetness pools at your slit and Dom’s eyes snapping to yours, finally breaking contact with the Englishman, confirms your suspicions.

“I will fucking claim her again, right here if I have to.” He growls, and again, your pussy clenches at the thought of him laying you out in front of everyone, making them all watch as he claims you in ways that only your mate can. Your heat may have passed, but the aftermath of it lingers. You’re still fertile and you’d get on your knees and beg to feel his knot if it meant abandoning this that’s going on now. “I will make you watch as I fuck her, just to make a point.”

Your arousal is only increasing, your underwear sticks to you now as you move from foot to foot, mostly to feel the way your thighs rub together at the top and in turn, rub against your clit to give some form of friction. Images continue to flood your mind because you know that Dom will do as he’s threatened. He’s not against public sex - you learnt that the hard way when Marco came sniffing. And while he never made Marco watch, you’re certain he could hear every lewd sound of his cock thrusting into your sopping wet cunt, every moan that escaped your lips and every plea to feel him cum within you.

You wonder in this moment how he would react to knowing that you would only be more turned on watching the reactions of every man who couldn’t take his eyes from you. You could imagine the way Trent would no doubt struggle to not palm his cock through his trousers at the sound of your moans. You wonder if Virgil would be able to control himself as he hardens or if he’d losing himself in his thoughts about taking at least one of your holes. Dom, when in this mood, would ensure that he marks you to make sure that no one, not his own team, not any other player who comes into contact with you, would consider this again.

The one thing you’re confident in, is the knowledge that he loves this tame game of cat and mouse. He loves watching you think you can get away with leaving your scent in places where others can come looking. When Dom fucks you in the way that makes you forget everything, makes you feel as though you would positively die if he wasn’t close to you like that again.

You may not be doing it yourself, but you’re certainly leading the lamb to the slaughter.

#dominik szoboszlai one shot #dominik szoboszlai imagine #dominik szoboszlai smut #dominik szoboszlai x reader #dominik szoboszlai drabble #dominik szoboszlai blurb #dominik szoboszlai fanfic

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genderfluid-insomniac · 1 year

Note

Could you do a fluffy HC or oneshot of "there is only one bed" with Itadori/sukuna, Sanemi, and itto? sorry ik they're all from diff medias but thank you so much!! Love your writing sm!!! <333 and pls take your time on these!!

a/n: I decided to add in Dehya in anon because I have a feeling that you'll like it!

"there is only one bed" with sukuna/itadori, sanemi, itto, and Dehya

Itadori/Sukuna

He and Sukuna have an agreement that since they both like you (which was an entertaining conversation for the student to have with someone who’d never expressed interest in any mortal so he straight up said no first) have a truce to protect you from anything that could harm you but Itadori is always a gentlemen first so he offered the bed to you.

You didn’t want your boyfriend to sleep on the uncomfortable floor so you objected and insisted he take the bed and you’d sleep with a blanket and pillow on the ground. This went on for a solid couple minutes before Sukuna had had enough and made himself known, yelling to “just share the bed, you dumbasses” and muttering how useless Itadori was.

You could tell he intentionally didn’t insult you which the pink haired boy just sighed at the name calling he was used too and got changed into his pajamas.

It got cold for whatever reason and you started to shiver before being pulled into his strong arms, you were very warm and comfy that night to say the least.

Sanemi

The wind hashira’s has a soft side for you and offers up the bed for you, saying that no matter what you said he was going to take the floor and it’d be a bonus “training exercise” incase he ever needed to sleep on the rough ground.

You end up forcing him to sleep with you by arguing what if a demon gets between the two of you then he’ll be leaving you in potential danger and almost immediately your lover is cuddling you to get more of your warmth.

All in all it goes over well and doesn’t have another issue with it since you always politely ask for him to sleep with you, if you ever are sleeping apart it’s not by choice and it most likely won’t last long because the man secretly worships you.

Itto

Like Itadori he is quite the gentleman and will offer the bed to you without question but isn’t as stubborn if you offer to share the bed and will get blushy stuttering about how he doesn’t wanna make you uncomfortable.

You insist that you won’t and he gets ready for bed which doesn’t take long given that he’s basically shirtless anyway and sleeps shirtless too, as you both get ready Itto asks you why you are so still and if you’re okay.

He isn’t sure what’s wrong and shrugs it off before going to sleep unaware the reason you’re so tense is because this beautiful gorgeous bare chested Oni in front of you is merely inches away from you, you didn’t think it could get any worse.

As if the universe is taunting you, Itto rolled over and wrapped his strong red striped arms around you so were both basically cuddling now and eventually after mentally calming yourself down snuggled back into him into sleep.

Dehya

She may be a mercenary but she’s still polite and offers some excuse that she’s slept in worse places so you can take the bed. Upon hearing that if she won’t then you’ll sleep on the ground laughs loudly before admitting defeat and saying you could both share it.

Both of your might be seemingly fine on the outside but on the inside you both are freaking out and screaming from embarrassment because of how close you were to the other.

Soon enough Dehya can tell you’ve fallen asleep and dreamily stares at your soft expression, cursing her for gaining romantic feelings for someone she was hired to protect and puts an arm around you for safety.

Both of you will for sure wake up flustered and apologizing in case you made the other one uncomfortable but secretly very happy that you slept well and hoped this could happen again.

#yuji itadori imagine #itadori x reader #ryoumen sukuna #sukuna x you #sukuna x reader #sanemi x reader #sanemi shinazugawa x reader #sanemi shinaguzawa #arataki itto x reader #dehya #dehya x reader #arataki itto

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soulofapatrick · 1 year

Text

In A New Light - Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: You end up on your dad best friend’s doorstep and see him a new light, unsure if he feels the same

Words: 2.1k

Warnings: age gap (reader is 23 and Joel is 40); no outbreak

Notes: dedicated to @chaotic-mystery as she gave me the courage to post my first dbf!Joel content

Y/N’s POV

I just had to get out of work, feeling a lump forming in my throat as I drove. I don’t care where I end up, taking turn after turn without really thinking about it until I’m pulling into a familiar driveway… not my driveway. Looking around I recognise the row of blooming flowers, a vibrant array of reds, yellows and pinks and I know exactly where I am. I am sat in Joel Miller’s driveway. My dad’s best friend and Sarah’s dad. The man who has been a constant presence in my life, offering me all the support and care whenever I needed it.

I’m here now so I might as well go in, it’s too late to pull out as the light in the hallway is turning on so I climb out of my car and make my way to the bright front door. I knock softly and almost instantly, as if he was waiting, the door swings open and I’m facing Joel. He’s sees me, his expression a mixture of surprise, concern and empathy as he sees how close I am to crying, I can feel my bottom lip trembling like a pathetic child. My arms are wrapped around myself as I can’t help but feel self-conscious now that I’m here, his usually bright eyes softening as he takes me in.

Joel doesn’t seem to hesitate with his next actions, those strong arms reaching out and swiftly pulling me into a well needed hug, his touch warm and the strength in his arms that are wrapped around me back give me a sense of protection and comfort. It’s been a good year or so since I’ve hugged Joel and now… now I can feel just how solid he is and it makes me see him in a new light - not just as my dad's best friend, but as someone who could potentially be more to me. It’s a dangerous thought but I swear I can feel a touch of electricity, a spark of attraction. His fingers comfortingly running up and down my back sends shivers through me, the warmth radiating off of him feeling more intimate and igniting a flutter of butterflies in my stomach.

I have to pull away when I register how good he smells: a mix of musk and some woodsy notes as well as vanilla that captivates my senses. I don’t want to look into it too much and get my hopes up but I swear there’s a subtle change in his expression. His usually gruff demeanour softening even more and the lingering gaze those honey eyes burn through me. It’s as if he’s trying to convey the question of me wanting more than a friendship with him and my heart skips a beat in response as I have to misreading this. I’m tired and stressed from being yelled at by my manager, I’m being delusional.

Then he’s offering me a gentle smile, eyes crinkling at the corners and he’s speaking, voice deep and soothing but somewhat gravelly, “Why don’t you come in Darlin’? I’m sure I can spare us a beer or two, Sarah’s out with her friends tonight.”

I’m nodding, unable to ignore the flutter of excitement as I step inside his home. I’ve been here a thousand times but it’s like I’m looking at it in a different light as I’m toeing my shoes off and following him down the hallway to his living room. It’s a bright and open space, with a plush sofa and armchairs; a coffee table in the centre with books piled haphazardly and a mug or two. The walls are a warm cream colour, a large flat-screen TV mounted to the wall facing the sofa with different gaming consoles below probably bought by his younger brother - Tommy. The bookshelf in the corner is Joel’s, filled with different genres of books; music book and some wooden hand carved sculptures I know are made by him. It’s cozy and inviting, and I head for the sofa when Joel puts a hand on my arm gently, making me look up at him.

“Go grab whatever clothes you want from my room darlin’, I’m sure you want out of that uniform.” My face flushes and I know he sees it as he’s chuckling, a deep rumble in his chest before he presses a kiss to my temple and adds, “Now go on girl, don’t be shy.”

I take the stairs two at a time, never having been in Joel’s room and I’m struck by the simple but rugged charm of the space. The walls are adorned with a few framed photographs, mostly variations of him, Sarah and Tommy but there is one of the three of them with me and my dad. My dad… Joel’s best friend. Fuck, that’s complicating it all but if I have feelings for Joel, I have feelings for Joel.

Shaking my head, I move to the sturdy wooden dresser that’s against one wall, a few personal items scattered on top: his wallet; watch and some keys as well as some papers from his work as a contractor. I quickly pick out a pair of black sweatpants and a long sleeved grey teeshirt, turning to the bed and throwing them on there so I strip down. His bed is neatly made with a simple, comfortable looking mattress and duvet. The clothes are comfy, smelling faintly of him and adding to the intimacy of the moment. I can’t stop myself feeling a little more at ease, appreciating his thoughtfulness and care, making the new ache in my chest a little more poignant.

As I head back downstairs my heart races as I catch sight of Joel sitting on the couch, waiting for me, sipping on an ice cold beer. The warm glow of the living room lights accentuates his features, making him look even more handsome and alluring. He’s ruggedly handsome with a strong jawline and a five o’clock shadow that adds to his masculine charm. His short, dark hair is tousled in a way that makes him look effortlessly attractive.

His hands, weathered from the years of hard work, grip the beer bottle with ease as he takes a sip, his adams apple bobbing slightly when he swallows. My gaze shifts to the coffee table, where there is another beer waiting for me, a small gesture that makes my heart flutter but it’s not the beer that has my attention. It’s the way Joel’s honey eyes light up as he sees me, a soft smile playing on his lips. There’s a warmth and tenderness in his gaze that I haven’t noticed before, sending a shiver down my spine again. It makes me fully realise that yeah, my feelings for Joel - my dad’s best friend - has evolved into something more than just friendly admiration.

As I approach the couch, the air between us seems to change, feeling charged with unspoken tensions and I can’t stop myself flushing under his gaze. We sip on our beers, silently finding solace in his presence. He reaches across to where my arm is on the back of the sofa, us facing each other, and he touches my hand lightly before withdrawing it, as if telling me it’s okay to tell him what’s wrong. Suddenly, I’m pouring out my frustrations about my manager’s unreasonable expectations and his constant yelling at work. Joel listens attentively, his soft eyes fixed on mine with sympathy and his strong, rough hands grip the beer bottle, drawing me more and more into his rugged charm.

Joel’s expression changes from sympathy to indignation as he listens, his jaw clenching and eyes narrowing in anger, a protective instinct it seems from his stance. He leans closer and I catch a whiff of his intoxicating scent mixed with the aroma of beer, causing me to stutter as my heart races at the surge of attraction towards him.

As I finish my well needed rant Joel reaches out and gently places his hand on mine, a comforting gesture that sends shivers down my spine and looking into his bright eyes it’s as if the tension between us is palpable. I don’t think I’m imagining it this time when I see the same desire reflected in them, making me act without thinking and leaning in to kiss me passionately. He’s taken aback at first, but as soon as I start to pull back he’s moving into the kiss, lips moving against mine with a hunger that matches my own. The kiss is electric, igniting a fire within me that I never knew existed, the taste of beer on his lips adding to the intoxicating experience.

We’re pulling apart too soon, both breathless, our eyes locking in a mixture of surprise and longing. It’s a moment of vulnerability, as we both realise that our feelings for each other go beyond friendship, “Shit Y/N, you’re my best friends little girl… I can’t… we can’t…”

“Joel.” It’s like the whisper of his name breaks his resolve as he’s pulling me back. The kiss is filled with longing, a culmination of the unspoken tension that has been building between us for years. His hand gently cups my cheek, his thumb stroking my skin as our mouths move in sync, keeping the kiss. My heart races as Joel responds eagerly, his other hand finding its way to the small of my back and pulling me closer. Our bodies press against each other and I can feel the heat and strength of him, heightening my senses. The kiss is just as intoxicating as the first but it’s full of a mixture of familiarity and a newfound passion.

Time seems to stand still as we share this stolen moment, lost in each other. There are no words, just raw emotions causing through us. It feels like a dream, and yet, it’s so achingly real. I can feel the fireworks exploding in my chest, a rush of adrenaline surging through me.

Eventually, we have to break the kiss, our lips parting but our foreheads still touching, breaths ragged and mingling. We gaze at each other, eyes filled with a mixture of surprise, desire and anticipation. It’s a moment of silent understanding, a realisation that we’ve crossed a line that we can’t go back from, and that we both want to explore this new chapter. Neither speak as he manhandles me so we’re cuddling on the couch.

His strong arms wrapping around me, pulling me close to his chest and I can feel his warmth against my back as I snuggle in, relishing in the safety and contentedness his embrace holds. We talk softly, sharing stories and dreams, as I trace the lines on his rough palms with the pads of my fingers.

The atmosphere is serene as there’s a sense of comfort and familiarity in his presence. Despite the romantic tension that comes with this newfound territory there’s something strangely domestic about it all, as if we’re going to slip into a routine of being together. I feel a sense of intimacy and closeness that I’ve never felt before and it’s both thrilling and comforting at the same time. I can feel his steady heartbeat against my back and I feel a flutter in my chest, the way his fingers are gently tracing circles on my skin making me shiver.

I’m tilting my head back, resting it on his broad shoulder, to look up at him and our eyes meet. There’s a silent understanding between us, a shared desire and without a word, he’s leaning down and capturing my lips in a soft and lingering kiss. I respond eagerly, fingers curling into the the soft curls at the nape of his neck, the world around us fading away until it’s Joel and me, lost in the moment again.

As the night wears on I can feel myself getting drowsy and Joel’s arms tighten around me protectively, I let out a contented sigh as I nestle closer to him, feeling the warmth he’s emitting against my skin. The comfort of it all letting me drift closer and closer to sleep, feeling grateful for the idea of being able to face the future together, we’ll have to talk about what we are exactly and how we’ll tell Sarah and my dad in the morning but for now I have Joel in this moment of domesticity. So, with a sense of peace I surrender to sleep, knowing my heart as found its home in Joel’s arms.

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idiotwhowritesshipstuff · 1 year

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hi! I have a request can I request for Yan! Akane (dra) & Kanade (sdra2) with a childhood best friend? Like would they be more iffy over their behaviors if reader was their childhood friend? Or would they not care? Anyways that’s all!^^

OOOOO I like this request there's a lot of potential with these two and a childhood friend.

Note: The banner for Akane Taira is different depending on if she's yandere or normal Akane, Kanade's banner never changes as she's always yandere also I just wanna say making a banner for Kanade was a doozy as I originally gave her a more vibrant background like her illustration but then I remembered she much prefers rock and metal music so I went through 3 different variations of rock and metal backgrounds before settling on the current one. Also debated on going for her default sprite or a more smug one but I thought the blank smile was the best one to use

Doing these two in one request is interesting as they're very different yanderes.

Due to how long these are they are being put under cut, I'm a bit out of practice with yanderes but I think these turned out pretty good and I hope you like them

Mod Monaca

TWs: Child abuse, allusions to suicide, murder (I mention the murder of a pet in Kanade's portion) and Kanade Otonokoji (That's a trigger right?)

Yandere! Akane Taira and Kanade Otonokoji x Childhood friend reader

For you to be a childhood friend of hers you had to be one of the children at the orphanage she was raised in. You were probably someone who took care of children there after being beaten and abused by the caretakers.

Akane's feelings for you started after you tried to treat her wounds after she got a beating from the matron for accidentally slipping in front of her. Your treatment wasn't perfect, you had no medical expertise and you had nothing but a first aid kit you snuck from the adults in the orphanage but it meant the world to her that someone cared about her enough to try and heal her despite lacking the proper means to do so. From that day onward, you were the person most dear to her in the entire world.

She would follow you around as much as she could, often doing chores for you even if she was injured in an effort to get close to you. It's easy to dismiss her clinginess as her simply being attached to the one kind person in the hellhole you two had to call home.

When Utsuro saved you two from the orphanage, despite her immense gratitude to Utsuro, you were the first one in her life to do anything to save her so she stuck with you and simply remembered Utsuro like the Voids did, a savior who appeared one day then never came back.

Akane is an obsessive and possessive type of yandere, she puts you on a pedestal above all people and she believes as the Ultimate Maid and your oldest friend, only she can be by your side and serve you. She scoffs at the idea of someone trying to take her place by your side as she's a master of household chores and she has been working for you ever since you two were small children, even if you didn't realize it.

Whether or not she hides her true self from you depends on how you respond to her possessiveness, if it disturbs you she will completely hide it from you after getting on her hands and knees to apologize over disturbing you. She is deathly terrified at the idea of you rejecting her, she believes it's worse than death if you reject her so she may go on an "I'm sorry" tirade depending on how poorly you react to her being possessive and calling you "Y/N-sama".

If you're neutral or even accepting of her possessiveness she wouldn't hide it, this is her ideal scenario as she can be by your side and show how much she loves you and protect you from people she deems are out to hurt you or you two's relationship.

Honestly, Akane doesn't necessarily need you to feel romantic love for her, so long as you stay by her side forever, she won't mind if it's as a friend even if that part is a bit disappointing.

If you find a romantic partner or best friend who isn't her, she'll be filled with rage, she has enough control to not be overwhelmed by it and act blindly but she'll make it clear from day one that she doesn't like them. She would sabotage your relationship with this new person by doings things like outshining them with her household talents and athletic abilities in subtle ways to show to you that she is better than them, sabotaging get togethers and dates to ruin your image of them and digging up dirt that'll make her hatred of them appear justified, she is willing to blow information out of proportion to justify it to you, she'll take the knowledge you delighted in teasing someone in grade school and say you were a cruel bully who delighted in the pain of your peer caused by verbal abuse. To be clear, she doesn't believe that but she wants you to believe that so she'll pretend as though she does and may even have the information hit a little close to home just to make it clear she's on your side here though she would never be completely on the nose as the orphanage hurt her as much as it hurt you.

She would resort to murder if you still stayed with them through all her sabotage efforts. She'll use her expert cleaning abilities to either make it look like an accident or like they mysteriously disappeared. She would hate seeing you in pain over what happened to them but she'd simply make it up to you by treating you like royalty to make you feel better.

Her ideal world with you has you being successful in whatever endeavor you choose and you have her by your side as your partner and maid. Akane's low opinion of herself makes it so she wouldn't be able to see herself as anything higher than your romantic partner and personal maid but just because she thinks lowly herself doesn't mean she will allow anyone else to be higher than her in your personal relationships. She'll let you have friends outside of her but don't try to replace her, she will never let that happen.

You never stood a chance in life the day Kanade Otonokoji decided you were not under the category of "Irrelevant person". She probably met you in school when she wanted nothing more than Hibiki's love but you made her crave the love of not just her sister but your love too.

There's no clear event that sparked her feelings for you, she simply decided over time that she didn't just want her sister's love and attention but your love and attention too, she didn't think that was possible but love is a strange thing so she would welcome the change, with her talents and abilities, adjusting her plans to include another person is no issue whatsoever.

If you somehow weren't, she would make you become friends with Hibiki. It's non-negotiable, she'll figure out every single of your interests and use it to make you and Hibiki bond, she'll even lock you two in a room with no one but each other if she has to, all in order to make you two get along and allow you to join their duo.

She'd love watching you and her older twin sister interact. She's not particularly picky over what you two do together but she does find it extremely amusing if you try to "defend her" from Hibiki's bullying. Much like she does with Sora, she'll assure you that the teasing and bullying really doesn't bother her (as it really doesn't), but she'll definitely love the fact you care about her enough that you'll argue with a close friend to defend her honor.

Much like she did with Hibiki, she'll cater which talent of hers she uses most to what your interests are. If your love is music and your love is pop music, she'll have you join her and Hibiki's band, Melody Rhythm, if you love music but not pop music then she'll still be by your side as a guitarist in your endeavors and encourage Hibiki to be a good friend and help out too despite the different genre. If you love art, she'll join you whether it be digital art, oil painting or sculpting. To not exclude Hibiki, she'll encourage you to help make promotional art and album covers for Melody Rhythm. If your passion is in athletic activity, she and Hibiki will be your personal cheerleaders through games and competitions.

Canon makes it clear what she wants with the person of her affections, much like with Hibiki, she'll kill everyone closest to you all in the name of having you dependent on her. She would love to have you in a puppet state like her dear sister and nothing in the world will beat having you and Hibiki by her side in a puppet state, waiting for her to have them do something with that adorable blank face.

She would hide her true self from you very thoroughly in order to maintain her image as a cute and caring girl who despite her shyness is always willing to help you through all the mysterious tragedies happening in your life. The only thing that would ever get her to break character is if someone actually managed to seriously see through her true intentions with the two closest people in her life or if you somehow got the idea you could question her or even accuse her of any of the bad things happening in your life. Kanade can easily repair her mask the second the issue that caused her to break character is gone and dealt with.

Your future is bleak, you will never escape Kanade for the rest of your life no matter how hard you try. She is a highly talented and well connected serial killer who has no limit to what she'll do. Whether it be a beloved pet, your parents or even your favorite teacher from 2nd grade, she'll kill anyone who gets in her way of having you all to herself.

#danganronpa x reader #yandere danganronpa #yandere danganronpa x reader #tw yandere #yandere tw #yandere akane taira #akane taira #akane taira x reader #yandere akane taira x reader #kanade otonokoji #kanade otonokoji x reader #yandere kanade otonokoji #yandere kanade otonokoji x reader

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dr-spencer-reids-queen · 1 year

Text

Birthright: Part Two

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.9k

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there is any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated

You two get back in the car and head back to the station where everyone else is eagerly waiting.

"Karen recanted her story," you sigh.

"Do you think she's lying?" Rossi asks you.

"I know she is. Something happened to her. I felt the pain she endured, and she is trying to push it down so she doesn't have to think about it. She just refused to admit it happened."

"She couldn't open that door. Afraid she could never come back."

"Exactly. Right now the only person she's protecting is the offender," she sighs.

"We just told her that this guy could still be out there. She wasn't even concerned. She wasn't scared at all. Why?"

"Maybe she's got nothing to be afraid of," Rossi says, and you know exactly where he is taking this.

"Where are you going with this?" John asks.

"Why can't someone let a case go? In your gut, you know the son of a bitch is still out there."

"You're right. She doesn't blink. The only way she'd move back here is if she knew for a fact that it was safe. That means the offender who did this either moved away or he died," you say.

"You know who this man is. He grew up here. He was in his mid-twenties back then. He left after you found his last victim," Rossi tries to jog John's memory. "He might have gone to prison, he could have joined the military, moved away, and sold his property. He was reckless in his personal life, maybe a drinker. He would have had arrests for DUIs. This is your case, John. He was meticulous, so he may have had two areas of control, both private. One to torture and one to confine them. It could have been a workshop or a barn."

"December 13th, 1980. Robert Wilkinson," John says, suddenly remembering.

Emily looks through the different files of potential suspects when she comes across his file.

"He has three DUIs. Spent a few days in jail."

"Well, he's dead. He was twenty-eight when it happened. He fell into his combine harvester."

"When was this?"

"December of 1980. Right when the killings stopped. Sounds about right when Karen moved back. He was survived by a widow, Mary Wilkinson. I know her personally."

"Looks like you're coming with us. Y/N, I'd like for you to join us," Rossi says.

"You got it," you nod.

The three of you leave the police station since John knows where Mary lives. She isn't expecting anyone to come over, so when she sees the old sheriff at her doorstep, she is a little taken back by it.

"Sheriff Caulfield."

"Hello, Mary. May we come in?" Mary nods and opens the door for you three. "How have you and your son been?"

"He's married now and doing just fine. I know you didn't make a house call to see how I'm doing."

"We're investigating a case, and it's led us to Robert."

"Well, he's been dead for twenty-seven years. What could he have done?"

"He murdered five women in 1980," you say. "I'm sure you remember it."

"I'm sorry. I haven't thought about him for a long time."

"You were a young widow, and the sheriff said you had to raise your son by yourself. It's hard to believe you wouldn't think about him from time to time," Rossi states.

"I've never felt sorry for myself. I moved on."

"You remarried?" you ask.

"I moved back here with my parents. I stayed here for a bit while I was pregnant. Robert was mean when he drank. He begged me to come home and said he'd changed."

"Did he?"

"I don't know. He died the day I went back."

"Do you mind if I talk to her alone for a bit?" John asks.

You and Rossi nod in understanding, and you leave the house to hang out by the car. It would take too much time to explain to John what you can do, so you opt to tell Rossi when you get to the car.

"She's definitely caged in, but not as much as Karen was. She wants to hide something, maybe to protect her son?"

"She wasn't surprised. She didn't even ask why we thought he did it. She suspected him. He was a drunk. She got pregnant and left him."

"He could have felt abandoned. Might have had the same thing with his mother. Either way, he can't handle it. It's his stressor. He starts killing. He couldn't touch his pure wife, so he had to find disposable girls, but the killing stopped when he died."

"So, who is doing it now?"

"Would you believe me if I suspected the son?"

"Why?"

"Well, the kid grows up without a father. Naturally, he wants to know why. Mary might not have told him about Robert, but a kid gets curious. When he figures out who his dad is, he could have the same urges."

"Or he could have repulsed him and fought to be nothing like him."

"It's just a theory, Rossi. It's a possibility."

"That it is."

John picks this moment to come out of the house and joins you two by the car. Mary doesn't want to speak to you anymore, and you're not sure what he said to her that would make her not want to talk. You can't force her to say anything, and you only came out here to talk to her. The only thing you can do is head back to the station and hope that someone has something.

However, when you set foot into the police station, you know that something bad happened. You can feel it radiating off of JJ.

"There's been another abduction."

"Her name is Tara Ricker," Sheriff Ballantyne says. "Her family called this morning. She didn't come home last night. We're still trying to locate the vehicle."

"Well, we know he kills after he takes another victim, so we're running out of time here," JJ sighs impatiently.

"Alright, what do we know?" Hotch asks everyone.

"This is a copycat considering Robert is dead. He has the same MO and the same dump site, which he could only have gotten through someone else since it wasn't released into the public. It could be a friend or a family member of Robert. Say, his son?" you say and look at Rossi.

"Are you suggesting there is a genetic predisposition to killing?" John asks you.

"It's one factor, along with psychology and socialization," Hotch answers. "If you have a combination of genetics and a son who grew up without a father searching for his own identity, it could be a stressor."

"I remember Charlie Wilkinson when he was fifteen. He killed a neighbor's cat. He put it in a bag and hit it against a tree."

"How old is he?"

"Mary was pregnant with him when Robert died, so twenty-seven. That makes him roughly the same age Robert was when he started killing."

The phone rings, and you answer it knowing it's Penelope. You put her on speakerphone so everyone can hear her.

"Hey, do you have something for us?"

"I just found the reason why Karen was lying."

"Why?"

"She got pregnant by Robert."

"Mary didn't want to protect her son, Karen did. We need to talk to Karen right now."

Rossi wants you to come with him when he talks to Karen, and you think that's a good idea. She is going to be very emotional, and you think it's best if you're the one to help calm her down and guide her through her memories.

When she sees you two at her door, she becomes angry and caged off, more so than before. She clearly doesn't want to remember what happened, but you're not here to protect her feelings. Young women are getting hurt, and she is the only one who can help right now.

"What are you doing back here? I told you before, I don't know anything," Karen says to you.

"We know that he burned you, Karen. All of the other victims had the same burn marks as you. We know that you were raped by Robert, and we know you have a son because of it."

That seems to soften her tough facade, and she slumps her shoulders in defeat.

"Stephen doesn't know the truth."

She opens the door wider to let you and Rossi in, and she takes you to the living room where she sits on the couch. You opt to stand, but Rossi takes a seat next to her.

"You never told him about his father?" you ask.

"I made him out to be a hero. I said he died in a motorcycle accident."

"Why did you decide to have the child?"

"I couldn't make my baby pay for what his father did," she says, her voice cracking with emotion.

"Is Stephen drinking again?"

"Yes. He just got out of jail for a DUI."

"Has he been hostile or gone for long periods of time?"

"Why are you asking me these questions?" she glares slightly at Rossi.

"You lied about your past because you're protecting your son. You're scared that he could be hurting these women, aren't you? We need to talk to him, Ms. Foley."

Just then, the front door opens and Stephen walks in.

"Mom? What's going on?"

"I'm David Rossi and this is Y/N with the FBI. We're investigating the disappearance of four women from this area," Rossi introduces you two to him.

"Yeah. A girl over at the Monroe farm. I heard about that."

"Do you know something about it?" you ask.

"I don't know anything."

"Does the name Robert Wilkinson mean anything to you?" Rossi asks, and Karen's eyes go wide in fear.

"Please, don't."

"No, it's okay," Stephen assures his mother before turning to you two. "Is this about what he did to my mom?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You thought you could keep it a secret? I've known for a long time that Robert Wilkinson raped you."

"What?" Karen whispers in horror. "Why are you saying that?"

"You never got married. You never dated. You cried yourself to sleep every night. I knew someone hurt you really bad. Then one day, I was cleaning out the garage and I found that article about the man who died in the farming accident... Robert Wilkinson. There was a picture of him, and another article about women disappearing and being found dead. When you walked in the door and saw me holding that picture, the way you looked at me... I knew."

"That was ten years ago. You knew I made it all up? You knew?" Karen sniffles.

"They were really great stories."

"Honey... I wanted you to believe he was a good man. You're the only good thing that came out of it."

They hug, and you let them have their moment. Stephen pulls away from his mother and turns to you and Rossi, wiping his tears.

"So, what, you think this old case is connected to the new murders?"

"Yes, we do," you nod.

"Wilkinson's dead... and I'm not. Mom, you think I did this? If you thought that I could turn out like him, why would you--why would you ever even have me?"

"I never regretted my decision--never. I'm sorry, Stephen. I don't want to doubt you."

"I didn't kill anybody."

Stephen walks off angrily, and Karen follows after him apologizing profusely.

"He's not lying," you say to Rossi. "I feel it. I see it. He's telling the truth. Look, you can handle this here. I'm better off looking for Charlie, Robert's other son."

"Yeah, I got this."

You grab the car keys from him and head out to the car to meet up with the rest of the team. Half of them went to Mary's house and the other half went to the place where the recent missing girl's car was found.

The car was clean as if nothing bad ever occurred there, but the CSI unit is dusting it for prints, but you know they won't find anything. The car has been in that spot since last night, and only until the news of Tara Ricker gone missing, did someone speak up about the car.

It's frustrating because four girls went missing, and no one seems to know anything. This is a small town, someone has to know something about something.

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

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asirensrage · 7 months

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💞A different type of rec list ask game, to rep your own fics and other authors you enjoy.💞 Spell out your user name with fic recs. If the letter correlates to one of your fics you rec it (no duplicates use a different fic for repeat letters.) If you get to a letter you don’t have a fic title for you rec one you‘ve liked from someone else. 💖Send this to someone who might need a little love on their own fics or just like spreading the love.💖

Oooo this sounds fun! Thanks anon! I'll only use my fics that are posted on ao3 instead of some of my unposted WIPs and the numerous amount of oneshots on this tumblr...

A - A Bet's A Bet - Ao3/Tumblr : Demon Slayer fic. Tengen x Kyojuro x you - Modern!AU. A night at Laser Tag goes from potential disaster to something incredible.

S - Serendipity - Ao3/Tumblr : John Wick fic. First impressions tend to range between mundane and interesting. For John, it's always been on the side of interesting. Fortunately, the same can be said for Toni.

I - It's Always Darkest Before the (Second) Dawn - Ao3 : HP/Shadow & Bone Crossover. Locked away in the Little Palace, attempting to hide her magic from the probing curiosity of the General, Hermione searches for her way home. Circumstances lead her to make a deal with the devil but even the best-laid plans don't always go the way you want... ON HIATUS

R - Roots Run Deep by Vulpecula_et_Anser on Ao3. Naruto fic. [...] Sakura realizes she can live up to her namesake in one of two ways: float through life as a pretty thing, riding whims like the breeze...or become someone mighty and immovable, protecting the weak from the storm. She makes her choice. (Ridea's Note: Sakura is badass and hilarious in this. Highly recommend)

E - Empty Halls to Echo - Ao3 / Tumblr : The Punisher!AU! Billy has to take the stairs. He finds something unexpected.

N - Noise Complaint - Ao3 / Tumblr : Jack Reacher Movies. Charlie at her door is never a good thing...but at least he's effective when it comes to dealing with the noise above her.

S - Snowed In - Ao3 / Tumblr : Sons of Anarchy. It's the last time she does Gemma a favour. Especially now that she's trapped with someone she can't stand.

R - Rebuilding A Home by thatmagickjuju / @thatmagickjuju : Four Brothers fic. After learning about the death of Evelyn Mercer, Detective Olivia Friedman of the NYPD returns to her hometown, hoping to pay her respects. But after events begin to happen and an old flame starts to ignite, can she handle being back home? Secrets unravel, feelings emerge, and the truth is all that can be heard. (Ridea's note: I love this fic. Olivia fits so well and the tension in this is perfect.)

A - A Study in Intimacy - Ao3 : Divergent fic. Eric makes a different choice at his Choosing Ceremony. It changes everything. - An AU to The Art of Seclusion.

G - Gonna Smoke You Out - Ao3 / Tumblr. The Punisher fic: No good deed goes unpunished...

E - Echoes by YanderexBabydoll / @seijorhi - Tokyo Revengers fic. There’s a sadness that hangs thick and heavy in the air around you. Grief and pain etched into the very foundations of this house. But you’re broken, too – hollowed out with emotions still too raw to touch. Maybe that's why you were drawn to it. (Ridea's note: I've reread this fic at least 4 times. It's the best type of spooky.)

Also be sure to check out my tag #other people's stories and #fic rec on my tumblr for more recommendations and some fantastic writing by others!

#fic recs #my fic #other people's stories #go check them out #i have so many fics and so many recommendations #but my username is only so long #asks #anon

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thetempleofthemasaigoddess · 11 months

Text

A seal-skin around my shoulders (part 9)

Elendil x Selkie!reader

This part includes a section from Elendil's POV, rather than reader's.

*****

You could leave that very night, as the hunters prepare for the imminent expedition, potential new elders begin gathering supporters before the election, which should take place in ten days and where every adult Selkie will be allowed to express their opinion, and the rest of the tribe leaves you alone out of respect for your mourning. It would be easy; you would just need to wait for darkness to fall, and slip away in seal-form, swimming as fast as you can towards the beach, towards Númenor, towards the life you have chosen and the mate you know you will love forever. The idea to leave without saying farewell fills you with sadness, as well as a bit of shame, but you cannot risk your friends trying to stop you; if you are careful, and discrete, you will reach land before anyone realizes you have left.

But you do not.

Exhausted and despondent as you are, you do not even think about taking advantage of the solitude you are afforded after your grandmother's death to leave the tribe and return to Elendil; you cry yourself to sleep, grieving and feeling more alone than you had thought possible, and when you wake up it is too late, because it is a new day... and a storm is brewing on the surface.

You feel it; you can all feel it, in your heart as well as in your body, because the Sea is your home, the abode the Great Father has created for your kind and so many other creatures, the source of your being and the sparkle of your life not less than your mother's womb was, a source of security and nourishment, and you can perceive any alteration in it on your skin, a song as old as time itself that every Selkie can perceive and recognize. The Sea has a personality of its own, and a temper that can change as quickly and unpredictably as that of the most spoiled children; and today, for some unknowable reason, the Sea is angry - livid, even.

You feel it inside you. The chill in the water, unexpected for this season, and the rapid movements of the banks of albacore and pollocks, as if the fish themselves had perceived a looming danger and run in search of a sanctuary; the Great Father's fury has been aroused, and there is no telling how long it will last once unleashed, and what destruction it will cause.

This does not mean, however, that you are helpless in front of your creator's ire; for centuries Selkie have lived in submerged tunnels and grottoes and built their tribes around them, and the cave you have lived in ever since you left the one your grandmother raised you in -and that soon will be occupied by someone else, maybe another child that leaves their parents or a couple that plans to raise a family in it. it is a common, natural occurrence, and one your grandmother, practical and gruff but generous as she was, would approve since after all she has no use for the cave anymore, but you are more than ever determined to leave the tribe soon, before you see someone else occupy a space that for you will be hers, and only hers, until the end of time- is smaller and perhaps less cozy than the house Elendil has welcomed you in, and that you have soon learned to consider yours and to feel safe and at ease in, but it has protected you from many storms and seaquakes, and there is no reason to fear this time will be any different. You all will take refuge in your own abode, and the caves will shelter you until the Great Father calms His ire and peace is restored under the Sea.

You are not afraid; not for you, at least, but on the other hand terror fills your heart when, feeling the currents shift on your skin while you help the other women of the tribe gather algae and small mollusks to eat until a new hunting expedition can be organized, you realize the direction the tempest is heading to, the place it will hit with the violence of an invading army.

Númenor. Armenelos. Home.

Elendil.

He is fine, you need not fear, you remind yourself as you tell the others that yes, of course you are all right, still grieving for your grandmother but otherwise tranquil. The expedition he has taken part in is probably still on the other side of the island, dealing with the rebelling barons, and even if they were at Sea, your beloved's people boasts the best mariners and navigators on Land; surely they will realize a violent storm is approaching and make sure to avoid it, either taking refuge in the nearest port or turning back to wait until it is safe to sail again.

Yes; they will. They absolutely will, you could wager your life on it. But then, you reflect as you bend to grab a few little crabs -not your favourite food, but they will fill your belly until better prey can be hunted, and whose carapace you will smash with a rock to find the tender flesh- why do you feel more and more anxious every passing minute, and you cannot help picturing Elendil's ship caught in the storm, the combers destroying the keel as if it were made of glass, the men falling in the cold water, doomed to drown...

No. It will not happen. Not now. Not after everything we have gone through. O Great Father, please calm your ire, and if you really are the One they also revere under another name, please have mercy on him, make him come back home safe...

Unfortunately you receive no other answer than the roar of the waves, and soon the scouts swim back to the tribe to announce that the arrival of the tempest, even more violent than expected, is imminent. Despite the absence of an elder, the tribe quickly, efficiently prepares to brave the storm; provisions are stored in the empty caves, tools and other possessions likewise put aside for safety's sake, children pulled away from their games by parents. Soon, everyone is safe in their home, patiently waiting for the danger to pass....

... except you. You, who tarry until you can and then some more, swimming aimlessly hither and thither, silently praying for a grace in the end you have to accept will not be granted, your mind and heart full of ominous presages...

"(name), what are you doing out here? Go home, get yourself to safety!" more than one Selkie urges you as they swim you by, but you do not listen -which, according to your grandmother, has always been your worst fault- and instead, followed by many disbelieving eyes and while already the storm is raging around you, you leave the tribe behind and swim, faster than you have ever done in your life.

Towards the surface. Towards Númenor. Towards him.

You have never faced so strong waves, the ice-cold ice almost freezing the blood in your veins; more than once you find yourself at the mercy of the strong currents, almost swept off like a fragile leaf caught in an hurricane. Even though the Sea has always been your home and there is no stronger swimmer than a Selkie, you could get hurt, or lost, but you do not care, you just need to know he is safe, and you have no idea how you will make sure, but that does not matter, you tell yourself as you swim upward, the strain already making your muscles ache, the current pushing you away from your destination, only he matters, he who you have met when you were at your lowest and whose love saved you from destruction, you need to somehow make sure he is all right, otherwise you will have nothing left to live for...

Finally you reach the surface, your head rising above the waves as hail falls from the abyss-dark sky; the beach, the same where you have met Elendil and returned to in happier times, is empty, which was to be expected... but unfortunately the same cannot be said for the blue expanse all around, and when your eyes finally make sense of the scene in front of you, beyond the rain curtain and the mayhem of the thunders hitting the waves, a desperate scream escapes your lips.

There is a ship in the water, a large, solid vessel with sails of the same white as a gull's wing, violently tossed around by the squalls and pushed in open Sea every time she attempts to reach the harbour, or even just the beach to seek shelter from the storm. In the few moments you spend observing her, the ship is twice on the verge of capsizing, if not for the ability of its crew, but the tempest is getting more severe by the minute, and they will not be able to resist until it passes. Any minute now, the vessel will be destroyed, and it will be the end for all the men onboard...

It is Elendil's ship. You are sure of it, since you have visited him many times at the end of his day's work, and while he could only show you it from the harbour, since it is forbidden to civilians to board the vessels of the Sea Guard, your lover had told you about her with the same enthusiasm of a man who introduces his fiancée to the family, telling you about the different types of sails, and the shape and the materials of the hull, and the other components of the vessel he was so proud to serve on. You would recognize her even among a thousand others, and you cannot be mistaken: the ship in front of you, whose crew is undoubtedly doomed to perhaps the worst end a Land-person can meet, is the one composed by Elendil's friends and comrades... and your lover himself.

Terror and frustration tear a new scream from your throat. Are Númenoreans not said to be great mariners and navigators, including the captain of Elendil's ship, who according to him has served in the Sea Guard for thirty years? Why did they decide to set forth right on time to meet the most violent tempest of the year? Were they so desperate to return home as quickly as possible, maybe to report the failure of the ambassadors' mission and that the rebelling lords are on the warpath? Or are Land-people so uncapable to read the signs of the Sea, and the storm caught them unaware?

Whatever the reason for that absurd decision, they are in danger, all of them, your lover included. The largest sail has already been ripped by the wind, and the hull is missing a few pieces; the efforts of its crew notwithstanding, and unless Ulmo decides to intervene and deliver them from danger, the ship will sink and its crew will die attempting to reach the shore...

And then, a moment later, your worst fears become reality, in front of your eyes. A huge wave raises from the Sea's jagged surface, and violently crashes down on the vessel, shattering her in a thousand pieces.

"Elendil!" you scream, terror and anguish breaking your heart. So engrossed you are in the fate of the ship, you almost forget to keep yourself afloat, but as soon as you re-emerge from under the squalls and you contemplate the wreckage of the ship floating on the surface and a few seamen calling to each other and trying to swim ashore -too small and blurred through the screen of the rain, unfortunately, for you to recognize your lover from where you are- you quickly understand there are only two options in front of you.

The easier, as well as the more selfish, one: swim closer to the wreckage, find Elendil and pull him away, leaving his unfortunate comrates to their doom.

And the other one...

Each second you hesitate to wonder what to do, floating among waves thrice as tall as you as thunder and lightning chase each other in the dusky sky above, is one you waste and that could mean Elendil's end, since your lover is strong and an excellent swimmer, but unlike you he cannot breathe underwater. You need to find him as soon as you can and carry him to the beach, you are sorry for his friends but you cannot help them all, this is the right thing to do even though he will feel guilty for the rest of his days and probably you will as well, but... but...

In the end, and despite how dangerous it would be to waste more time, you decide to do what Elendil would be proud, and not only grateful, of you for. You dive, swimming back towards home, and even though you could find the way even if you found yourself at the other side of the Sea, the currents push you back, making it harder than ever to keep your direction; it is as if you were trying to open a door that ten other people are pushing to keep close on the other side, you think frustrated, and while it is exhausting, even dangerous, to keep going as the Sea rages around and against you, the urge to find a safe place to wait for the storm to end does not even touch you.

You might cry of relief when finally the caves of your tribe appear at a distance, but the hardest, most desperate part of your little plan begins now. There is no one around, obviously, since only a madman would swim around when it is so dangerous to do so and everyone has had ample time to reach their abode and comfortably wait for the Sea to be calm once more; and maybe yes, perhaps you are mad, but you do not care, because the people of Númenor are Elendil's people, his friends and comrades, and given that you plan on living among them for the rest of your life, should you not feel some kind of loyalty, of devotion, towards them? And what would your lover feel, knowing he is the only survivor of the ship's sinking? He would know you would not have been able to pull them all to shore, but still...

This is the right thing to do. Of course, that could also mean that you have lost your only chance to save Elendil, and that he has drown while you fought to return home; obviously you would rather have him feeling guilty, but alive, and knowing he would be proud of your choice would not console you from his loss, but now it is too late to go back, and you can only pray the Great Father will keep His hand on your head.

"Come out, please!" you start calling as you reach the cave of your grandmother, close to a few who host numerous families and the most influent members of the tribe "Please, all of you, come out! I need to talk to you!"

You are forced to almost shout to make yourself heard above the roaring of the current; fortunately, sounds travel faster in water than in air, and your voice easily reaches even the farthest caves, even though it takes a while before a few heads poke out.

"(name), what are you doing? Go home, it is dangerous!" someone urges you, but you ignore them.

"Please, I have something very important to tell you all! I need your help."

Finally, slowly and gradually -one of your friends, and then a couple, a pair of hunters, an older woman, your grandmother's apprentices with their mates- the tribe gathers around you, most of its members clearly unhappy at having left the safety of their caves during such a terrible storm. The hunters press to know why you have summoned them, but you wait, hoping against hope that the whole tribe will answer your call... not to mention do what you want to ask of them.

"Well? In case you have not noticed, (name), the Great Father is raging, and I would like to be back in my cave before the storm hits us." one of the hunters gruffly points out; most of the Selkie around you appear unhappy and resentful, and you are not your grandmother, you have never spoken in front of the tribe before and you do not have her ability to command attention and respect, but you are doing this for Elendil, and for the future you plan to spend by his side, so you gather your courage and let your heart speak for you.

"I know I can ask nothing more of the tribe, and of each of you; you have done already so much for me, using the Call and going on Land even though it was so dangerous, to make sure I could come back." you begin "I am so grateful, and I do not want to put any of you in peril, especially in the middle of such a terrible storm, but... but I have to tell you that I am going to leave very soon. In truth, I was going to leave last night, without telling anybody, and live the rest of my life among the Land-people. I have fallen in love with one of them, the man who was on the beach the night you came to take me, and I want to share the rest of my life with him."

An astonished silence meets your revelation; you search your friends' eyes with yours, and since they appear too appalled to protest or leave without listening to another word, you push forward.

"His ship has been destroyed after being caught in the storm; the man I love and his comrades will not be able to swim to shore, and will probably drown. I could swim to the surface, find him and save him; but... I do not want to leave those other men to die, even though I do not know most of them. I cannot help them all by myself, and the more I tarry, the more of them are doomed to drown. I want to save them; I need to save them, as many as I can."

Silence again; more appalled than enraged or indignant, and a few of them exchange unsure grances as if they were actually considering your plea, but it is not enough, and Elendil and his friends are running out of time.

"Please." you conclude; tears are not visible under the Sea, but that does not mean one cannot cry "I beg you, help me; let us help them."

***** (Elendil's POV)

Drowning is not an unusual fate for a member of the Sea Guard. After all they are seamen, and it does not matter how capable a swimmer one is, how solid the ship they are serving on, how experienced the captain and the navigator, how winning and well-tested the strategy they use in battle, the danger of falling in the Sea, slowly sinking under the surface until the lungs are filled with water and any trace of warmth is long forgotten, is ever-present, lurking, and accepted. It is a bad death, the older seamen relate -with the knowing air of someone who has experienced more than one death and come back to discuss the virtues of each of them- slow and agonizing, as the poor soul struggles to breathe and swim as the reflection of the sun above him gets dimmer. There will be no body for friends and family to cry on, but the fish will feast on his flesh.

An horrible death, surely; and Elendil had accepted it, he was aware of the danger and he embraced it, on the day he decided to enlist in the Sea Guard and even before that, when as a young boy he contemplated the immense mass of water that surrounded his home and felt that, more than a source of food and a mode of transport for goods and people, the Sea was his calling, his destiny. And it still was, years later, as he little by little started to explore waters far from his home and learned to respect its innate, unrestrainable power. He can rely on his experience as a seaman and on his strenght as a swimmer, and even hope in luck and coincidence, but his future has not been in his hands ever since he has stepped foot on the bridge for the first time.

He has accepted it; and now that the end seems imminent, so close he can almost feel the breath of Mandos on his neck, Elendil finds that he is not afraid - or rather, not primarily.

He really thought they might make it. The ambassadors, pleased with the successful conclusion of their mission, had insisted they set sail for Armenelos as soon as possible, disregarding the captain and the navigator's opposite opinion; the storm they had hoped to avoid taking advantage of the favorable winds proved to be faster than them, and hit the ship with the violence of a crashing mallet. Some had prayed Ulmo to deliver them; some -mainly, but not only, the youngest seamen- had frozen in fear, unable to help or do anything to try and avoid the approaching doom; others, like Elendil, had tried their utmost to save the ship, following the captain's orders to keep the vessel afloat and sail towards calmed waters. It had been all for nothing, and the blue of the Sea and the pitch black of the sky had toppled over in front of Elendil's incredulous eyes.

He must have fainted for a while, because the next thing he remembers is holding with what he knows is his last strenght to a piece of wood that might have belonged to the ship's bow, next to a man with a deep gash on his head, and who has already lost consciousness because of the blood loss. The remains of the shipwreck are all around him: men attempting to swim to safety and to simply keep floating while waves as high as buildings raise an crash down all around, pushing them farther and farther from the coast.

He is chilled to the bone, exhausted and while he cannot see any blood, his left side hurts too much for it to be only a bruise; he doubts he will have the chance to see it treated, or that the wound will be the cause of his end. Everything around him is chaos, flotsam swept around by the current and his comrades fighting a losing battle for their survival. They cannot hope to reach the shore, nor to be succoured by other vessels.

He is going to die; but Elendil is not afraid. Rather, his heart is full of sadness, of an undefinable melancholy made of powerlessness as well as the thought of everything he will never be able to do. Make a carrier in the Sea Guard and become a captain with his own command, sail to Middle-Earth and explore lands no other seaman in Númenor has ever set foot on...

And then her. (name). He cannot stop thinking about her, and it is both comfort and heartbreak at the same time, which is appropriate, in a way, given the unexpected way the woman has entered his life, and her own nature, so full of contradictions: part of another race, and still so human in her emotions and desires. Stubborn and proud, but fragile and caring with those she trusts, ashamed to need help and at the same time ready to offer hers; Elendil has never blessed any day like the one he met her, and he knows that they could overcome whatever issue they would have to face, as long as they did it together. He loves her, he loves her desperately, and he had really thought they could be all right - he knew now that the strenght of (name)'s feelings matched his, and that would be enough to help them overcome any obstacle.

Clearly he was sorely mistaken, and the knowledge that the impediment itself is not due to them is only partly a consolation. Where is (name) now?, Elendil wonders as he orders his arms not to give up, holding to the wood as if he really thought help might come as the rough waves toss them around and the screams of his comrades surround him. Has she already returned home, and is now anxiously waiting for him hoping the storm lets his ship pass, or is she still with her people, taking care of her grandmother, completely unaware the Sea she hails from and considers her home is going to lead him to death?

(name). (name). Oh, my love, what would I give to see you just once more! I am so sorry. I thought about dying in battle, I thought about your people forbidding you from returning, but I never expected this... I am so sorry, and I pray you can go on living without me...

The man next to him, an older seaman who just a few days ago has praised Elendil after he had correctly identified a complex maneuver as the ship reached the harbor, slips under the surface, still unconscious, and Elendil tries against all hope to grab his arm to lift him again above that pathetic buoy that will sink within minutes in any case, but he cannot, and even though they barely knew each other Elendil cries in his heart for the man, and all the others who have already drown or will soon, even though the shore, their home, is so close they can glimpse it through the curtain of rain. So close, and still beyond their reach, and now Elendil is really crying, for his comrades, and for the woman he loves, and for himself as well...

When they appear, at first he does not even see them, even though he is one of the closest in the direction they are swimming from, faster than a frigate, smaller than even the most fragile half-sails, but cutting through the squalls as surely and easily as a knife slicing through butter, unheeding of the storm and the hail and the cold.

At first Elendil, flabbergasted, thinks they are a band of people, men and women, completely naked; a moment later, he convinces himself he must be mistaken, and the ones quickly approaching are a herd of seals, graceful in their grey-brown fur, bright eyes and small fins propelling them onward, and then, with joy and disbelief exploding in his heart, he realizes they are neither, and both.

They are Selkie, and they have come to help, and the beautiful seal-woman almost flying on the Sea's surface at the head of the group and towards him is his beloved, his (name), who is keeping her promise to return to him, when he needs her the most just like she did when they first met.

She reaches him, and Elendil knows he would have recognized her even had all the seals in the world decided to meet there; she is beautiful, even in that half-animal, half-human state, and while the snout and the fins are a novelty, her eyes are the very same he has fallen in love with.

"Hold on to me!" (name) urges him, and Elendil could not say whether she is actually uttering those words or just barking, and he is perceiving the meaning in his heart; what matters is that he understands, and obeys, grabbing the slim but strong body and hiding his face in the soft, warm fur. A moment later they are moving, the Selkie swimming more surely and determinedly than any vessel towards the beach, that gets closer and clearer by the second, carrying him with her.

"What about the others?" Elendil wishes he could ask, worried for his comrades despite the relief to see himself safe, but he needs not worry, because clearly (name)'s tribesmates did not simply come to see her off. He just has to look around him to see the Selkie succouring the other seamen, limbs halfway between arms and fins supporting the men and carrying them ashore. The man who had grabbed the same plank as Elendil is pulled afloat by two females who he will later learn were the apprentices of (name)'s grandmother, while three of the tribe's hunters take care of the captain, a burly man who at first almost instinctively tries to fight them off before realizing the Selkie are trying to help.

"It is a miracle." he mutters to himself, and Elendil does not know whether they really have to thank Eru, or Ulmo, or simply the woman who would not yield and let the Sea claim the man she loved, and maybe he does not care, and being grateful is enough.

Soon all the men are brought ashore, and they attempt to assist those who are wounded or need to be revived; others, unhurt but still stunned, contemplate the masses of flotsam swept by the currents, the miserable remains of what that morning was one of the best ships of the Sea Guard's fleet... or their saviours.

The Selkie hurry to complete their task, making sure the seamen are alive and safe on land and then immediately returning to water, pulling their seal-skins above their shoulders and disappearing under the surface, fully seal once again. "Thank you all!" "May Ulmo bless you!" some of the Númenoreans call out, and a few of the Selkie smile, but do not tarry, and soon they are swimming again and diving to return to their home. All of them, except one.

(name) is still next to him, anxiously checking the wound on his side; it is not bleeding anymore, which is not necessarily a good thing. "You need to clean it and stitch it, as soon as you can." she says, and he smiles; she has never been so beautiful, and he has never wanted to kiss her as much as now.

"I will, do not worry. I suppose this is all because of you? You convinced your friends to help us?"

"I did, and believe me, I did not think I could. The storm is almost as dangerous for my people as it is for yours, and we are taught to keep away from Land-people; and when I told the tribe I meant to leave them to live here with you... well, they were not happy. But they agreed to help me, as a farewell gift." (name) explains; there is a vague melancholy, but no trace of ruefulness or uncertainty, in her "Had my grandmother been there, it would have been much easier; or infinitely harder, I cannot say."

Which means her grandmother has passed away. Elendil wants to tell her how sorry he is, and embrace and hold her to comfort her, and he will, as soon as they can do it in the privacy of their home.

"You need to leave, now; some of my comrades know you, they might recognize you." he urges her - he forces himself to; maybe as a result of all the salt water he drank, he can barely whisper, let alone talk, and every single muscle and bone in his body is begging for mercy. He has never felt worse, but at the same time he is elated, because he is alive, his beloved has come save him, and from now on no force on Arda will ever keep them apart... "And... you will return, right? Once it is safe?"

The young woman smiles; the seal-skin of her grandmother still covers her, wider than a blanket and infinitely more precious, and for some reason she appears... blurry, out of focus, as if his eyes could not decide what they are looking at exactly, either a beautiful naked woman or an handsome specimen of seal, her sweet shining eyes full of emotion. But whatever she is, she is his; and this for Elendil is more than enough.

"Tonight. Here. Do not be late, you heard me?"

"I will not." he promises, and he kisses her, rapid but fierce, before she slips behind a few rocks to dive unseen, last of the tribe who for her sake has risked capture and violence to help a race they had always been taught to fear and distrust.

It might be the beginning of something new, a new friendship between the two people that will in time learn to live in harmony, sharing the Sea and its resources instead than hunting and battling each other. It will not, probably, and that will remain an isolate episode that the very men on that beach will come to question, telling themselves they had been succoured by other inhabitants of the city, and trauma and fear had made them imagine otherwise. Selkie do not exist, after all, and those who dared to suggest otherwise would be considered mad... if not completely insane.

"Did we... Did we really see them?" one of the seamen asks; no one answers, and a few men glance doubtfully at Sea, where the storm is still raging, destructive and violent but now innocuous. (name) has quickly disappeared under the surface; Elendil smiles and slowly raises, the wound on his side hurting a bit less than he feared.

"Shall we look for shelter, until rescuers arrive?" he respectfully suggests, looking at the captain, and the men, tired but relieved, get to work.

TAGGING @starlady66 and @elvenenby.

#The Lord of the Rings #The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power #The Rings of Power #Rings of Power #Elendil #Elendil the Tall #Elendil x reader #Lloyd Owen #Bellona's stuff

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tojikai · 2 years

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Saturo won't confront, but he will def feel some way about it. He will either havs internal damage or he will show signs of being jealous but not in a agressive way..Like more passivs. I feel that he will compete with Suguru in a non obvious way. But idk for the next chapter, I feel that Y/N will start to reject him or finally push him away. And it will break him as he continues to see another man try to heal her meanwhile he can't even get close to her anymore.

Saturo finally realizing he cheated will change up alot of things I feel. The guilt now is even way bigger. He also knows there is a high chance he will not be forgiven which is breaking him, let alone even see her. Gojo might be "inlove" with Rie, but how he reacts to Y/N's rejection will determine who he really loves in his heart. I mean to me it is already a big telling when he feels that he needs to be with her 24/7 and also protect her. Also wow...how easily he lies to Rie is also for me a big telling that he really isn't that weak for her.

As for Rie, she isn't stupid. She is realizing now that she really isn't the only one in his heart. She is realizing now what goes around comes around. Before Gojo was lying for her to sneak around with her, now Gojo is lying to her to see Y/N. Jealousy already looks ugly on someone else, let alone someome who has no right to be jealous when they only stole someone elses love. Her accusing Y/N for attention seeking with her self harm is really low blow. I can understand the jealousy, but not this one. No one in their right mind would accuse someome of attention seeking for self harm, it is almost like she is making excuses for herself to save her and Gojo from guilt. Because like I said Rie isn't stupid, those marks were caused by the pain they put her through and she knows that.

As for Suguru, love him but I do not see him as a potential Y/N lover. If Y/N really wants to move on from Saturo, it would be best to not associate herself romantically with someone who is close to Saturo and also will remind her of Saturo. As much as everyone loves Suguru, it really isn't difficult to understand that he will mtl just end up being a rebound or a second lead. I also have no clue how these two will develop without having Saturo in their conversation all the time.

As for a next potential lover, love Nanami butttt BRING BACK OUR SOFT BOI TOJI ❤ Toji would be so perfect for Y/N, especially with how you write Toji 🥲

But I honestly do not feel the *tragedy* thing is going to be Y/N again...I have a high feeling it is Gojo. With how he is now in the chapters, it is making me wonder how much more guilt, shame he can take and especially when all his friends and Y/N pushes him away..How much more can he take. Even if Rie is there, it is obvious he is desperate to be with his friends and to resolve things with Y/N. He goes out of control when things do not go his way which just makes me more curious how we will be when rejection from Y/N happens. He is so used to her being soft, it will be a big change when Y/N pushes him away and distance herself. Also he has not learned what Y/N went through fully, how those cuts were made and why. He really still has no clue what pain he puts her through her. It will really break him once he finally learns.

I know he is an ass of a character, but Gojo is making me worry with every chapter. Not only is his guilt and shame are getting bigger, but people who he loves are starting to deny and turn their backs at him. Shoko, Suguru, and Y/N are a big part of him. Deep infatuation can not match a friendship for a lifetime. Deep infatuation can not match true love from friendship. He will break as he already is starting to realize he is only hanging by a tiny thread with his friemdship with them. Because their is nothing more painful than being isolated and ignored by your own friends who you thought would always be there for you.

yeah, i agree. the fact that satoru knows that yn would probably never forgive him for what he did will make his shame and guilt continuously grow. i mean, any person who knows that they'll never be forgiven by someone will always have an ache in their heart. i once read in my philosophy class that when a person hurts someone, it is their own soul that gets damaged, i think that relates a lot to how satoru is feeling :(( and OMG soft boi toji i miss him smmm 😭

#🍭—kaitalks #f: permanent mark

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tommyspeakycap · 3 years

Note

Shelby!Sister getting poisoned whilst at dinner with the whole family?

changed it up a bit; reader is roofied at one of Tommy’s fancy ball type parties and there’s one particular gentleman around to help her out.

Good Team

Tommy had, since you were merely a little girl, endeavoured to introduce you emphatically as (y/n) Shelby, with your surname stated soaked in ferocity and warning. You are a Shelby. You are his little sister. He makes sure people know this. He makes sure they’re aware. He sees it as a pre-warning, the kind that lets them know that you are very very important to him without actually saying those words. He sees it very much as a pre-warning for grievous bodily harm had any trouble befell you at another persons discretion. It was made incredibly clear from the moment you were born that you were so far from off limits to the enemies that it didn’t even need to be spoken.

However, it was a relatively occasional occurrence that this message was not accurately conveyed no matter how clear your elder brother was about the matter.

You were usually so cautious and so careful, but you were in your brothers own ballroom with his own supplied champagne and you had very few worries of such a simple business gathering for Christmas. You were adorning an extortionate dress that Tommy had made for you with a beautiful fur shoulder wrap, cheeks dusted with a champagne blush and a gorgeous smile as you mingle with rich business people and rich couples who were born into money. They were amazing at times to ogle at, coming from such a poor background. It was hard enough to adjust to your new life flaunting pretty dressed and walking around with a purpose and a job that had significant purpose.

But it would be safe to say you weren’t so worried around these people. You should’ve known better.

You keep blinking, squeezing your eyes shut to try and find vision again that wasn’t restricted by blurriness. The heels on your feet didn’t aid you much in the way of keeping your balance as you stumble into a long hall. You don’t remember where you last saw Tommy and you can’t remember where the glass you were holding had gone. You don’t know much, but you know you have to find one of your brothers.

Heavy footsteps behind you send a rush of hazed adrenaline through your veins, forcing your legs to move you faster, your arms scratching off paintings lining the walls as you attempt to use the wall as a stabiliser.

“Someone’s ‘ad a bit much, eh?”

Your eyelids flicker as you try to keep them open against the light that makes you feel like your head is exploding. “No, no I- there’s someone trying to get me!” You hiss in a slurred whisper with arms that flail somewhat aimlessly as you attempt to point out the person behind you. The man with his his on your biceps steadying you leans around to get a good look behind you. “Mhm, there me no one there love.” He says, confused. You can only vaguely make out who the person is that holds you up and it’s someone you know your brother only invited so as to attempt to talk him into taking on more Blinders for distillery protection.

Alfie Solomons wasn’t entirely the most trustworthy person that surrounded your family. Him and Tommy had a bit of a tendency to betray each other, no matter how expected it always was. The London gangster probably wasn’t the best person for you to bump into and definitely not the most reliable, but he was who you had ended up with and although it could have been him that drugged you, it didn’t seem incredibly likely. He told Tommy and Grace when greeting people at the front door; “No need for the fucking niceties eh Tommy? I’m here for the free booze mate yeah?” and walked on through with a pat on your brothers back.

Despite the fact you didn’t have much trust in him, you really holed that he wouldn’t pass you off as being overly drunk and leave you alone. You feel dreadfully unwell. Alfie looks down the hall, then back at you and with a sigh, he slips his strong arm around your waist and pulls you into his side for your stability. “I think you’re right, Shelby.” Alfie mutters under his breath, barely loud enough for even you to hear. “Something‘s just not right.” He turns to you, using his arm that wasn’t wrapped around you to lift up your eyelid. Beyond the terror in your eyes in huge pupils. “You’ve been drugged,” he states, his voice still low. “Better find those brothers of yours.”

That brings you some form of relief, but the terror still remains. It’s a scary situation, to know what you want to do with your limbs and know exactly what you want to say, but to be unable to speak or walk or even hold up your head. Your heart hadn’t stopped racing and you were drenched in sweat. It’s a shock you didn’t recognise you had been drugged before hearing Alfie say it.

His arm is tight around the waistline of your expensive ballgown, keeping you steady against him as he walked as quickly as he could manage while supporting your weight. He only vaguely knew the way around Tommy’s huge country house, but he did know where the man’s office was, and he’d likely have a maid in waiting there who Alfie could send to fetch him once he got you there. As you both rounded the corner into the corridor that would take you to Tommy’s office, there a man dressed like a waiter standing seemingly waiting for you. “Mister Shelby sent me to collect his sister when he heard she was overly inebriated.” The man spoke. Alfie furrowed his eyebrows tightly, but nodded and walked you closer to him. You want to protest, but your mind still won’t coordinate with your body and the most you can do is grumble. “She’s a bit hard to deal with,” Alfie admits, “So a tip you should really know for the future?“ He pauses, moving as though he’s going to pass you over to the arms of the other man. Alfie leans in until he’s only a few inches away and whispers a warning “I fucking hate liars,” before sharply drawing back his head only to but it forward forcefully into the man’s face.

He stumbles back and Alfie takes that opportunity to grab the front of his suit jacket and throw him behind the two of you with a kick to his ribs a few times for good measure. He wraps his arm back around your waist and continues on down the hall as if nothing had ever happened. “Could tell by his-fuck!”

A yelp leaves you as your legs tangled when you attempt to bare your own weight and instead clatter to the floor with a thud. Alfie grunts and you fight to open your heavy eyelids to see that a man had dove out at him from a doorway along the long hall and there were now two of them and two of you, except they were both conscious and had full control of their own bodies, whereas it fell upon Alfie to fight for both of you. The Londoner truly does not know why he has put himself in this situation for anyone, never mind for a Shelby he had only met a handful of times. But every time he had met you, you were incredibly sweet and kind to him. He knows that they’ll stop attacking him if he allows them to take you and do as they please with you, but something in him prevents him from doing that. There’s a part of him that encourages him to spit the blood from his mouth and stand in front of where you lay in and out of consciousness on the fell, ready to fight for you like he had something to lose if he couldn’t protect you. Tommy would never know Alfie was there with you if he walked away now, but something in him wants to be there. Wants to fight for you.

And so fight he does, throwing punch after punch, trying to take on two at once. Alfie managed to take the blonde assailant out of the game by cracking the wall with his blonde head of hair, leaving him out cold and potentially dying on the floor. When he does that though, his moment of glory is short lived before the other appears behind him with an arm tightly around his throat. Alfie squirms and grunts, kicks and scratches attempting to get him off, but the attacker holds on despite the blows. Alfie thinks he may well have to accept his fate.

Then he clocks you again on the floor, except this time your hands and trailing up your leg, hiking up your dress and he is utterly confused at your behaviour, thinking that it must be the drugs acting weird in your system. That is, until your dress reaches your upper thigh and the London gangster feels what he thinks may be butterflies when he spots the holster and gun that had been well hidden by your long ballgown. He would laugh, grin even if he wasn’t being strangled nearly to death. He watched with blurry vision as you try to steady your hands enough to point the gun at the attacker that was too bury trying to hold Alfie Solomons down to notice your movements. Alfie squeezes his eyes shut as you move your finger over the trigger and he hopes to God your heads are steady enough to shoot the right person.

The bang goes off and very suddenly he can breathe again. He notes that’s a good sign. He scrambles away quickly, turning around to press his foot onto the bullet wound in the shoulder of his attacker. “I will come back for you.” He growls in warning, pressing his foot harder to elicit a scream before he nods and turns back to where you stand. He wipes the blood off the bottom of his shoe on the carpet before he steps forward to swoop your gun off the floor to slip it back into your thigh holster, and then he helps you back up. Except this time, he opts to sweep you off your feet and into his arms bridal style.

“Good shot.” He notes. You breath a chuckle with hooded eyes in response, but can’t manage anything else. If you hadn’t been severely drugged, Alfie might’ve kissed you.

He makes it to Tommy’s office with ease, ordering the maid to get your brother immediately. Alfie lays you down on the soft couch in the office, placing you carefully on on your side for safety in case you’re sick. He uses the not blood tinted side of his handkerchief to wire some blood splatter and sweat from your face gently, and offers a gentle smile. “We make a good team, Solomons.” You hum with words slurred and jumped, but he understand what you said nonetheless. “That we do, Shelby.” He rumbles back in response.

The moment is as any moment of yours often is, interrupted by your elder brothers storming in. Immediately, Alfie is ripped from your side by Arthur slamming the him roughly against the wall with a loud clatter and bang. John goes to stand by Arthur’s side, and Tommy takes a knee beside you. The patriarch places his cool hand against your forehead before dipping down to place his ear just above your lips. “She’s breathing.” He concludes, “What the fuck did you do to her?” He sneers through gritted teeth as he takes steps towards Alfie.

“And why the fuck and you covered in blood.” Alfie sighs heavily, rolling his eyes and flaring his nostrils at the proximity of the three Shelby brothers. “Funny story, you see Tommy.” He grumbles discontentedly, “Seems as though someone tried after your sister right under your fucking nose, mate. Drugged her drink, removed her from the crowd. I found her wandering the halls all fuckin’ disoriented yeah. Now I don’t like a man who targets a woman, much less has to fuckin’ drug her to achieve it.” Alfie shrugs. Tommy narrows his eyes, but something in him believes what the Camden Town Gangster is saying. Alfie doesn’t have much in the way of necessity for taking you and it wouldn’t make sense for him to have the opportunity to but instead to bring you here. Right to them. “Doesn’t explain the fucking blood.” Arthur hisses, slamming his back against the wall again.

Alfie holds up his hands. “You’re little sister isn’t such a damsel as you make her out to be, Thomas. She has a fantastic shot. Some cunts-“ Alfie’s words drop with pure venom as the reminder of the man nearly strangling him to death reenters his mind, “Came after her. On that note, you’ll need a carpet cleaner and some body bags just along that hall. Don’t let the missus see that mess.”

Tommy paused for a moment, his eyes not leaving Alfie’s even when he speaks. “John, check that corridor.” He orders, making his younger brother grunt in annoyance but do as told nonetheless. “Arthur,” He grumbles, placing a hand on his shoulder, “Take our sister upstairs and get Polly.” Arthur is hesitant. Tommy might believe the words that Alfie speaks, but Arthur despises him and the only thing he hates more than Alfie is the thought of Alfie’s hands on you without any of them being there to help you, protect you. He knows that he and a Tommy are asking themselves the same question. How could something like this happen to you right beneath their noses. How had someone managed to get to when they were so close, literally right in the same room in an event organised by them. Arthur couldn’t answer the question, but could probably have killed Alfie in his rage at that moment. “Arthur,” Tommy repeats more firmly, “Go.”

This time, he listens. But that’s not without a warning glare at Alfie, who simply offers a smirk in response. “And you,” Tommy says finally, turning his attention to Alfie, “Fuck off.”

Alfie chuckles, but begins to walk past Tommy to leave the office when the smaller man grabs his arm in a vice like grip that makes the tips of his fingers tingle with the strength of it. Alfie feigns the urge to fight back in reaction to the pain. Tommy leans in close to his ear with a low snarl, “You don’t just help people. I don’t care what the reason was eh, but don’t you ever go near my sister again.”

Then he lets go and Alfie simply shakes off his arm and walks away. He hasn’t listened to Tommy Shelby any time in the past, and it appears as though today will be no different.

#alfie solomons x shelby!reader #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons prompt #tommy shelby x sister!reader #shelby reader #shelby!reader #peaky blinders blurb

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invisibleanonymousmonsters · 3 years

Text

This Game of Yours

Father of Mine – Part 1 and Part 2

Jason was beautiful.

And somehow that scar that went from the right corner of his mouth up to his temple only made him that much more beautiful to Y/N.

Those blue eyes were the same color of water on a stormy day in the Irish sea. And somehow Y/N knew they held the same tempestuousness.

The white streak weaved with his jet black hair so naturally that Y/N would’ve believed he was born with it.

His shoulders were so broad, making his 6’3 height feel even more imposing. He had a presence. People noticed every time he walked into a room. It made Y/N wonder how he was ever able to sneak up on people as Red Hood.

He was wearing a black hoodie underneath his black moto jacket.

Y/N knew Jason didn’t give a shit about fashion. Yet he was well-dressed without any effort – more so than most of the models Y/N had shot throughout her career.

Not being able to control herself any longer, Y/N raised her camera and took a photo.

Jason stopped surveying their surroundings and his gaze snapped to her.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

But his growl didn’t scare her in the slightest.

“Anyone who’s by me when I have a camera is at risk of getting their picture taken. No one is safe. Not even you,” she answered his question unapologetically.

Y/N was working on a personal passion project for her next show. Her collection would be about the poverty and crime of Gotham. Half of the photos would show the heaviest crime areas of the city. And the other half would expose the lifestyles of the wealthiest people in Gotham.

Why did so many suffer from the same system that helped the rich get even richer?

When Bruce found out Y/N was going to Crime Alley and the Bowery by herself, he was visibly upset.

But he realized that Y/N would do as she pleased, so his plan b was to give her protective detail.

However, Y/N didn’t know that Jason had volunteered, almost immediately.

Instead, all she heard was Jason grimly telling her, “You’re lucky you haven’t been fucking murdered yet.”

She had only responded with a roll of her eyes.

“I’m not your escort so you can take my picture. I’m here so you don’t get raped or murdered.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you have a way with words?”

His only response was a glare.

Jason loved playing this game. The game of pretending to be irritated with her when actually he was absolutely infatuated with Y/F/N Y/L/N.

“The easiest way to stop getting your picture taken is to always be the one holding the camera,” Y/N added with a smirk and wink.

Jason didn’t answer, only thinking what a shame it was that no one got to photograph her.

Suddenly, the sunlight hit the top of his head perfectly, creating a halo around that thick and messy hair of his.

Y/N snapped another photo.

“Will you stop?” He warned.

It only succeeded in making her laugh.

And that just excited his heart even more.

“Jason, you were born to get your photo taken.”

There was no joke underneath her words, only sincerity.

“Whatever,” he mumbled.

Jason had a hard time believing that. His skin was riddled with scars. And he was convinced that she’d be singing a different song if she saw his chest, with its thick autopsy scar amongst the so many others. The absolute last word he’d use to describe himself was beautiful. Strong and imposing? Yes. But never beautiful – or any other positive adjective, for that matter.

“I’m not kidding. If you ever want to stop the whole vigilante thing, you can easily become a model.”

Y/N had noticed it as soon as Jason took of his helmet that night. His domino mask had done nothing to prevent her from noting the obvious.

It didn’t take long for Y/N to realize Jason wasn’t like his “brothers.”

“Brothers.” What a strange word.

Should she consider all of them as hers?

Only Damian was actually related to her – and technically he was only her half-brother.

Y/N had watched Jason get on his motorcycle and leave the cave that night she’d almost died.

She’d agreed to stay for dinner and get to know everyone. And a part of her brain was excited to get a better read on the masked man that sat by her bedside as she’d recovered.

“He’s not staying?” Y/N had asked Bruce as he guided her to the stairs that led back up to the manor.

He only shook his head, but she noticed the disappointed expression.

Soon she found out that Jason was the black sheep of this strange family that had taken her in.

Dick was the one who told her about Jason’s dark past. All of it seemed unbelievable: murdered by Joker and brought back to life from a mysterious pit. Only to return to the family who appeared to have replaced him and never sought vengeance on Jason’s behalf.

But it was true; Y/N had seen no lie in Dick’s eyes when he filled her in.

Suddenly there was yelling coming from around the corner.

Without hesitation, Jason shoved Y/N behind him.

He reached for one of his guns and then realized that he didn’t have any.

Y/N was rather vocal about hating them, claiming they made her extremely uncomfortable.

Her expression alone as she said it was enough for Jason to swallow his stubbornness and leave the things at home.

Bruce was rather taken aback by the gesture. Nothing he’d ever said was enough to get Jason to do that.

A gang of young men came marching around the corner like they owned the place…because they did. This was their territory.

Jason immediately recognized them as some of the Russian mob.

Despite pulling Y/N behind him, they still caught sight of her and looked her up and down without an ounce of shame.

“Hey, beautiful. How you doing?”

“Продолжай идти, придурки,” Jason growled at them.

He was outnumbered. But there must’ve been something about his body language that made the gang realize they shouldn’t pick a fight with him. Maybe it was the muscles or his height or that he looked like he wouldn’t even blink before murdering them.

So they just…walked away. Some of them mumbled threats or insults at him. But they realized they shouldn’t even so much as look at Y/N.

A split second before they were gone, Y/N took a picture of Jason.

“Really?” He asked.

She shrugged. “You look like a different person when you’re protective.”

Y/N was beautiful.

Jason watched as she passionately explained her work to a potential buyer.

He recognized the man as a local politician – luckily, one of the few that hadn’t been corrupted from this shitty city.

Y/N had the intimidating energy of her father, but the kind eyes of her mother. At least, that was what Bruce had told everyone, and they all took his word for it.

She wore a stylish white jumpsuit that made her look like a 1980s villain and black stiletto heels.

Jason watched as men cowered in her presence, hating the fact that she proudly stood taller than them. She was just one less woman they could intimidate or manipulate – and they couldn’t stand it.

But Jason loved watching the emasculation in real time.

The bastards didn’t deserve her anyway.

Dick was one of the very few men Jason knew who didn’t blink at a woman towering over him. In fact, his older brother had a track record of preferring it.

“Surprised to see you here,” Bruce said beside him, catching Jason watching Y/N.

“Well, I was her personal bodyguard through all this. Figured I should see if it was worth me wasting my time or not.” Then he tossed back his champagne and slammed it on the tray of a waiter passing by. “Plus, free alcohol.”

Bruce just quirked an eyebrow, silently telling Jason that he knew he was lying.

“Are you buying something?” Jason asked, trying to change the subject.

“I have been strictly forbidden,” Bruce sighed.

Jason chuckled.

He knew if Bruce had his way, he’d buy every single on of Y/N’s pieces.

“I have to know,” Bruce began. “What exactly is holding you back?”

Jason finally ripped his gaze away from Y/N to give Bruce a questioning look.

“What are you talking about?”

“Y/N. You care about her.”

“All of us do,” Jason brushed off. “Even the demon spawn.”

Bruce knew there wasn’t a chance Jason would admit his feelings – especially to him.

“Not that I think you care…but you have my approval.”

Little did Bruce know, Jason did care.

Jason had convinced himself that their rocky relationship and past fights meant that Bruce would die before he let Jason be anywhere near his daughter.

And Jason could hardly blame him.

He didn’t deserve to be loved. He lost that right after he died and came back a monster. And that was the story Jason told himself over and over again.

So he would love Y/N from afar. And hope she would pick someone who was worthy of her love.

“She’s basically my sister,” Jason groaned in fake disgust.

It was quite the performance.

Bruce narrowed his eyes. “We both know that isn’t what’s stopping you. And you’ve made it clear you don’t consider us your family.”

“Whatever, Bruce.”

Jason walked away, having enough of the subject.

“What was that about?” Clark asked as he joined Bruce’s side.

“Jason refusing to let himself be happy,” Bruce sighed.

Clark already knew what Bruce was talking about. He’d seen Y/N and Jason dancing around each other for months now. He’d never really seen Y/N take an interest in anyone before, so it was all new for Clark.

“Don’t worry. Y/N won’t let him get away with it for much longer,” Clark said through a smirk. “She gets what she wants.”

And Bruce believed him.

“It doesn’t bother you – the two of them together?” Clark asked with genuine curiosity.

“Jason reminds me every day that I’m not his father. And I’m hardly Y/N’s.” A soft smile formed on Bruce’s lips. “He’ll look after her. And she…I think she’d be good for him. I just want them to be happy. Both of them.”

——

Jason headed home rather early.

He’d never actually went to say congratulations or even hello to Y/N.

Every time he was about to go over, someone else stole her attention. He didn’t want to get in the way of her talking to potential buyers or even just friends.

Jason was just about to make himself something to eat when there was a knock at his door.

He froze.

Very few people knew where his apartment was.

Jason grabbed a gun and tiptoed to his front door.

With a peak through the peephole, he let out a irritated sigh.

Jason whipped the door open, “You’re lucky I didn’t shoot your head off.”

“Maybe don’t own guns and you wouldn’t have to worry about shit like that,” Y/N snapped back.

“What are you doing here?”

“You come to my gallery opening and don’t even say hi?” Y/N accused as she stepped around him and into the apartment, not waiting for an invitation.

Jason eyed the paper bag that was in one of her hands.

“By all means, come on in,” he called sarcastically as he slammed the door behind her.

Y/N started searching through his cabinets. “Where are your glasses?”

“The one to your right. What are you doing here?”

Y/N had the brightest and almost mischievous smile as she pulled a bottle of champagne from the paper bag.

“I brought this as my thanks for you making sure I don’t – and I quote – ‘get raped and murdered.’”

Jason glared at her.

Here was the game again.

Y/N being charming and hilariously provoking..and Jason pretending like he hadn’t fallen for her.

She poured them both a glass. They weren’t flutes or coupes, but she couldn’t care less.

“We’re chugging these, by the way,” Y/N informed Jason as she handed him a glass.

He sighed, but obediently clinked his glass with hers and tossed it back.

Barely giving them a second, Y/N immediately refilled them.

“So, why didn’t you come over and say hi?” She repeated.

“Didn’t want to bother you,” Jason mumbled with a shrug.

She narrowed her eyes at his answer. “You’ve never bothered me before, Jason.”

Now he felt guilty.

Jason bowed his head. “I should’ve come and talked to you,” he agreed. “Your work…it looked – it’s amazing, Y/N. Congratulations.”

Apparently Y/N hadn’t expected such a sincere compliment from him, and she was stunned to silence.

“Thank you,” she managed to whisper once she’d recovered.

She cleared her throat, trying to maintain her edge. “And really…thank you for being my own little security detail.”

If Jason was healthy about expressing is thoughts and feelings, he would’ve told her that it was the highlight of his weeks. That he looked forward to her calls or texts, telling him that she was going to photograph another shady area. “Be there or don’t. I’m going no matter what,” she’d text him with her usual snark.

But Jason didn’t express his thoughts and feelings.

He kept them bottled up – with the same energy he used to keep Y/N at a distance.

So instead, Jason said, “If it wasn’t me, one of the others would’ve done it.”

Y/N winced slightly at that.

‘You’re such a fucking asshole,’ Jason told himself.

“You know…we can see each other even you’re not my bodyguard.”

Jason was impressed by her boldness. But she didn’t know what she was doing. She didn’t understand that he wasn’t good. He couldn’t play the loving boyfriend role. She belonged with someone like Dick or Clark – or literally anyone but him. And Jason was willing to be an asshole to make sure she understood that.

Y/N took a step closer to him, invading his personal space.

Without breaking eye contact, she threw back her second glass of champagne and then placed it on the nearest counter space.

She stepped even closer.

This was simultaneously Jason’s worst nightmare and most desired dream.

Her eyes moved from his eyes to his lips.

But before she could make her final push, Jason took a step back and cleared his throat.

He looked down at the ground as he said, “You should go.”

When he looked up, he expected to find Y/N heartbroken or embarrassed.

But she was neither.

No. She looked irritated.

Not because she wasn’t getting what she wanted, but because she was sick of his games.

Y/N sighed and stepped back. “Fine.”

Jason rubbed his face in frustration as she grabbed her purse and started for the door she had walked through only minutes ago.

She opened it and paused.

“You know what? No. Fuck that,” Y/N snapped before slamming the door closed.

She whipped around and strutted back to him with purpose.

Jason was suspended with both fervor and awe.

Y/N grabbed his face and pulled him down to her lips.

All self control went out the window. Jason couldn’t continue his game. It was all over for him.

He kissed her back almost immediately. How could he not?

Y/N bit his lip slightly, making him hiss in surprise. It was his punishment for making her wait all this time.

Eventually they needed a moment to breathe.

But Y/N didn’t let go of his face when their lips finally parted.

“Choose your next words very carefully,” she breathed.

He swallowed nervously. “You’re kind of fucking terrifying. You know that?”

Her smile was pure evil.

Apparently this was the right response.

“Are you done being an idiot?” She asked.

He nodded quickly.

Her hands moved down and then lingered on his neck, tracing the bottom lines of his jaw.

She smiled again and then looked him up and down.

“What?” He questioned.

“Nothing,” she laughed. “I’m just…I’m not used to being shorter than men.”

“Is that the only reason you like me? Huh? My height?” Jason goaded.

“Of course not,” Y/N scoffed. “It was the whole ‘I look like I could murder everyone and I can, but deep down I’m a big softie’ that did it for me.”

Jason’s grip tightened on her waist. “Oh, yeah? You’re one to talk…”

“Me?!” She yelped. “I couldn’t kill anyone, even if my life depended on it.”

“Maybe. But your terrifying in basically every other way.”

Y/N laughed at that.

Jason couldn’t stop himself from smiling at the sound

“So…still want me to leave?” She asked.

And this time, she would if that’s really what he wanted.

“Fuck no,” Jason answered, almost threateningly.

Then, for good measure, he picked her up by the back of her thighs and carried her to the couch, before he started to kiss her once again.

Y/N knew things weren’t always going to be this simple.

Jason had his demons.

And honestly, so did she. They were nothing like his. And maybe they were silly in comparison. But she wouldn’t be the perfect partner. Just like he wouldn’t be.

They’d drive each other crazy. But it would be the good kind of crazy.

------------------------------

+ Childhood

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