#I love him to bits but also Ho Ly Shit we cannot sleep like this man

[euclydya]

curly got himself spotlit and we are Suffering for it .

[wizkiddx]

too early

this is a lil fluffy blurb after the state of his ig stories the other mornings I also realise I am VERY late on this but hey ho

tomhollandxreader

fluff + implied smut

It was simply too early to function. Too early to think. Definitely too early to have any logical thought or attempt any form of comprehensible communication. That’s why when the frankly obnoxious chimes of the default iPhone ringtone reverberated through the previously peaceful room, the reaction of the two inhabitants was delayed to say the least. 

It took at least 2 cycles of the noise for you to be pulled from your deep sleep into a semi-conscious state, at which point as a reflex you just rolled over hoping to muffle out the noise with your head pressed downwards. Yet, the pitch of the ringer was just at that ‘sweet spot’ where it was impossible to even try to drown out - one that physically reverberated through your skull. It made you groan whilst growing a lot more consciously aware of your surroundings - particularly to the deadweight of a boyfriend you were currently trying to hide your face into - his strong chest still proving no match for the incessant alarm noise. Fed up and angry for being disturbed, you unpicked your arm from the weird sleeping position it had somehow ended up in , curled weirdly under your right boob, and then shoved at Tom’s side multiple times - rocking him back and fourth. 

With a sleepy and incomprehensible word falling off his lips, he then jerkily and suddenly craned his neck up - you felt the movement against the top of your head.

“Turn your fucking phone off” Grumbling into his side, you reworked your legs to try and get comfy again - more than ready for him to decline the call and the two of you to go back to bed. Tom was still incredibly confused and disorientated from the haze of sleep, taking him moments for the cogs to start turning as he stretched over to his bedside table and grabbed the vibrating device from hell…. maybe a bit dramatic but you loved your sleep. 

With a mutter ‘shit’ as he winced at the phones brightness, Tom pressed his eyes closed, building up the bravery to face the offensive blue light again. It took a couple of blinks for him to be able to focus on the screen, but when he did his eyebrows furrowed even more at the name and he swiped to unlock the phone - which due to the lack of speed surely was about to ring out. 

“-ello?” The hoarse and croaky sound of his voice reverberating round in his chest had you instantly arching up, looking at him with a puzzled and puffy eyes. You couldn’t hear the voice on the other end, but tried to get the drift of the situation purely from reading Tom’s facial expressions in the low light of the bedroom.

“You’re late Holland”

“I’m-I’m late? It’s like-“ Tom cut himself off with a cough to try to clear the morning voice, whilst simultaneously looking over at the bedside to read the clock that said 5:37 am. “It’s 5”

“No it’s 5:40 and we agreed to be at the gym at half past”

Ah. Tom realised. He might’ve forgotten about the fact he agreed to an early morning training session before the morning shoot for Spiderman. 

“Oh shit um I-“

“Overslept? Yeh could tell mate. Just get your ass down here I’m waiting on your fucking door step and it’s fucking freezing”

“Sorry I’ll be right down.”

With that Duffy instantly hung up, the automated tone allowing Tom to throw his head back in sheer desperation. Because he knew he had your pouty eyes to face.

“What the fuck did you do?” Of course, your sleepy eyes were still managing to pierce Tom’s soul as he sighed, feeling your chin lying on his sternum, knowing the disapproving way you were looking at him. 

“I-“ Opening his eyes and trying to soften you up by cupping one of your cheeks with his hand, thumb gently stroking up and down your cheek. “I might’ve forgot I’ve got a PT session.”

“In the middle of the night?” The look in your big y/e/c eyes was so close to making Tom leaving Duffy on the doorstep all morning- instead opt for a blissful start to the day with you cradled in his arms. 

“Before the morning shoot… you go back to sleep love, you won’t even realise I’m gone.” Sighing, Tom lugged himself into a sitting position, forcing you to slide off his body and curl up in the now emptiness of the bed. Honestly, there was nothing Tom would rather do than crawl back up to you and fall asleep in your arms, yet he knew that realistically tomorrow was his day off so that was very soon on the itinerary. Also he just would feel exceptionally crappy if he didn’t get a work out in today, because even if it didn’t feel like it at this very minute, exercise was one of his happy places. You were probably the happiest but the gym made a close second or third place.  But finally and most importantly, he was not getting out of this because his shrt tempered and incredibly bulky PT was waiting impatiently at the doorstep. 

The issue Tom had though was perhaps just how quickly you agreed,  he felt like no sooner had he told you to lie back had you already started to collapse into the pillows. So, after throwing a heather grey top and his simple nike hoodie on he couldn’t help but lean back over the bed to dust your cheek and nose with light kisses. 

“You’re not missing me?” He spoke with a pout, while you groaned slightly, eyes fluttering open. 

“I love you, but …. I love my bed more” Your sleepy grin completely had Tom enchanted, even in the dim light of dawn, he wanted to memorise every little detail of your face. 

“Could the bed have made you cry out its name like I did last night?” The glint of mischief was infuriating, a dirty smirk on his face.  

“Maybe you do have you some uses” Sniggering, you pulled at the tufts of his brown curls at the base of his neck, enjoying the way he leaned further into you at the action. “Anyway you absolutely cannot leave like that.”

“Am I just too sexy in my joggers?” Feeling incredibly self fulfilled, at what he thought was a compliment Tom smiled, leaning back up and starting to edge toward the bedroom door. The small beam of light from the hallway that reached through the door even more illuminating the state of him, as if backlight just to exaggerate his stupid look even further. It had you giggling incessantly, even though you were currently being deprived of sleep, it was all worth it to see the absolute birds nest on top of his scalp - the way his brown curls extended and stretched out in every direction, similar to if he had been fried with electricity. The only possible cause for anyone to have the audacity of their hair doing that, only had a single explanation - and the truth of it had you biting your lips slightly, the memory of last night washing gloriously over you. 

“Nope… you still have sex hair you idiot and I’d prefer for Duffy not to know the intimate details of our Friday nights.”

[chenle-dressed-in-black]

baldrs, neos, and kangs~  pt.1

     NCT mafia au with my own oc named Kang Sooyoung, who is a young girl born into one of the coldest mafias of them all. She’s trying to live on her own and cut ties with her family, but with everyone either looking out for her or waiting to kill her, it’s a lot harder than it sounds. 

     relevant people in this story who will appear a lot (every nct member appears at some point): johnny suh, dong sicheng, nakamoto yuta, and kim doyoung

warnings: language

word count: 1.6k

m.list

series m.list

     Sooyoung picks up her phone each time it rings, which is admittedly a bad habit she should start working on. “Hello?” 

     Her cousin, Gwen, mouths a question at her. Who is it? She’s sprawled across her purple velvet, four-poster bed. Her bare feet hang off the side of the bed lazily. She looks like she doesn’t have a care in the world, so nothing new there.

     “Are you even home?” It’s Sicheng, but Sooyoung should’ve expected that. “You’re not, are you?”

     He sounds irritated, which puzzles her. Gwen makes a face at her across the room. Sooyoung’s confused silence is enough to propel Sicheng into an exasperated explanation. “We’re going to the new Chinese restaurant tonight. You promised we could.” 

     “Oh.” She feels like shit. Gwen shakes her head and theatrically puts her hands on her forehead in feigned disapproval, but not surprise. Her thick, wavy hair doesn’t move with the gesture. “I completely—”

     “You forgot.” Sicheng steals the words right out of her mouth flatly. “You’re with your cousin, who’s having an emotional breakdown, so it completely slipped your mind. You’re really sorry, but we can do it another night next week.” 

     Sooyoung frowns, but she’s hopeful. “We can?”

     “No,” he deadpans. “I’m going home next week like I do every year the first week of spring.” 

     Gwen gracefully stands up, walking over to her cousin, who’s standing in the middle of the room on a plush fake-animal rug. Holding out her hand for the phone, she waits until a reluctant Sooyoung gives it over. Gwen takes a deep breath. “It’s not Sooyoung’s fault my boyfriend dumped me, Sicheng,” she says in a perfectly calm, sultry voice. “You know she’ll make it up to you.” 

     There’s a huff. “I know you’re family, but I don’t understand why Sooyoung is the one who has to solve all of your problems.” 

     “I’ll let that slide, lover boy.” Sooyoung’s eyes goes wide at that comment, but Gwen just shrugs her off. “I’m giving the phone back to the nice Kang now.”

     Sooyoung claws at the phone, shoving it back up to her ear. “I promise we’ll find another time. I’m not blowing you off.” 

     “Okay.” He’s clearly impartial at best and deeply upset at the worst. “Whatever you say. Gwendolyn should learn how to solve problems herself. She’s supposed to be the one who looks after you.” 

     Sicheng is gone before she can say anything. Sooyoung tosses the phone onto a plush chair, flopping down onto her cousin’s bed. She screams into the blanket. This marks the third time she has postponed the restaurant outing with him. Neither time before was intentional. The first time, Gwen came down with the stomach flu while her parents were off doing a black-market bypass surgery in Indonesia, so there was no one else but Sooyoung to take care of her. When Sicheng heard, he offered to bring soup and stay to help, but Gwen said she would rather die than let that boy see her with sweat matting her long black waves to her forehead and laugh at her with his dyed hair and evil eyes. 

     They don’t get along well. Obviously. Anyway, the excuse Gwen used to keep Sooyoung in the clear this time was the same as last time. Except she was the one who dumped her terrible boyfriend. That didn’t stop her from sobbing into Sooyoung’s shoulder all night, though. 

     Now, the third time around, Gwen’s not-so-ex-boyfriend cut ties with her again. Trouble and bad consequences are stray dogs she shouldn’t have fed. They follow her everywhere. Sooyoung was honestly not completely sure what was happening between Gwen and Yuta. She dumped him, but then he showed up at her apartment in sobs and begged for one more chance. She agreed, of course. Gwen’s parents reached out to Sooyoung immediately, urging her to convince their reckless daughter to leave that troublesome Neo boy once and for all. So, Yuta ended things with her again, apparently. She isn’t sure how Gwen and Yuta can even keep up. 

     It’s also Wednesday, which means that Sooyoung cannot go to her apartment. Sicheng knows everything about her, but not this. “No wonder he hates me,” says Gwen wistfully. “I’d hate me to if I were him. Me and my relationship problems are such a cock-blocker.” 

     “He was really upset.” Sooyoung sighs. “I feel bad.”

     “Of course he’s upset. The love of his life keeps ditching him for her rash cousin. And Sicheng has to spend his week being told he’s a coward for not killing more people.” 

     “I wish you wouldn’t make a joke out of his feelings. It’s really not fair,” replies Sooyoung. “I’m not what most people would call , ‘emotionally available.’”

     Gwen snaps her fingers. “But you should be, because we both know that Johnny left to go all Neo City. He’s not coming back, sweetie. I love you, but it’s the truth.” 

     “We don’t know if that’s what happened,” she says weakly, because she knows that is exactly what happened. 

     “You need to let him go.” Gwen puts a gentle hand on Sooyoung’s shaking shoulder. “The way Sicheng has. Johnny’s ignoring the most wonderful girl he’ll ever know and ditching the most annoying best friend he ever had. I’ll tell you what’s going on: Johnny Suh is an asshole.”

     While she makes self-destructive choices in her own personal life, she is extremely gifted at advising others. Right now, Sooyoung is being reprobated by the offender. “You’re one to talk about letting go.”

     Gwen drops her brown hand, returning it to her side as her expression goes cold. “At least I’m not delusional.” She’s staring hard at her cousin, black eyes afire. “I’m trying to help, but you wanna deflect everything to me.” 

     “Maybe someone should!” Sooyoung, who never yells, is screaming at the top of her lungs. “All you do is tell me to get over Johnny, but you’re still sleeping with Yuta!” 

     “If you don’t truly let him go soon,” says Gwen slowly, “I fear how much he will hurt you, in the end. Look what he’s done to you already. I can’t even blame him for this anymore; it’s just you.”

     The way she stays so collected after being insulted makes Sooyoung want to scream even louder. Does nothing bother you? That’s what she wishes she could yell, but suddenly she feels afraid that she won’t be able to control whatever comes out of her mouth if it opens again. She’s taken aback by herself. Before she can think once about it, Sooyoung is spinning on her heels and running out of the apartment. 

     Once she is gone, Gwendolyn stands in the middle of her bedroom for a long time without moving an inch. She’s stunned, frankly. That didn’t seem like Sooyoung at all. If anything, the person she who just screamed at her reminds her of Hyeyoung. And, for god’s sake, that is not a good thing. A buzzing sound yanks her out of her thoughts, sending her over to the nightstand. Her eyes take over her face. It’s Hyeyoung who’s calling her, which only has one explanation: somebody died. 

     “What happened?”

     But Gwen isn’t the one who asks, which worries her more, for some reason. She’s already looking for shoes. “What are you talking about?”

     “She’s not homeless, is she?” Hyeyoung inquires manically. “No way, because you’d let her stay with you. So what’s going on?” 

     Having secured a pair of combat boots, Gwen is tearing through her messy walk-in in search of her favorite leather coat. “That’s a great question. Here’s another one: why the hell did you call me?” 

     “I miss you, too, cousin.” 

     Gwen’s heading for the door now. “Answer the question.”

     “Sooyoung passed out in the middle of the street.” There’s accusation in her voice that Gwen doesn’t like one bit. “It looked like she was having a hard night and I’m betting you know why.” 

     “Where did you take her?” asks a jogging Gwen. “. . . Unless you left her there.” 

     “Of course I didn’t!” cries Hyeyoung. “I brought her home, obviously.”

     As she is about to reach a taxi, she cannot resist. “You mean your parents’ house?” 

     “Where else? That’s Sooyoung’s home! You need to watch out before—”

     With a carefree laugh, Gwen says, “Don’t threaten me, darling.” 

     She hangs up before Hyeyoung can scream into the phone like a death-metal vocalist. Someone is calling her name behind her; she spins. “Sicheng?” 

     He stops running once he’s caught up to her. “I need to talk to Sooyoung.”

     The taxi has already been taken by another passenger and it speeds by. Gwen’s heading toward another with him on her tail. “She’s not here.” 

     “Was she lying earlier?” he asks, his nose wrinkling in confusion. “But I heard your voice on the phone.” 

     And he trusts Sooyoung, but Sicheng doesn’t need to speak for either of them to know that. “We got into a fight and she left.”     

     “Is she at her apartment? I really need to see her.”

     Gwen is unphased by his urgency, since she matches it. “She’s at my aunt and uncle’s. Apparently she fainted in the street. I’m going to see her right now; this is all my fault.” 

     Sicheng, who does not commonly pass up a free opportunity to make a jab at the contentious girl, only asks: “Can I come with you?” 

     Opening the backseat of a taxi, Gwen shrugs. “I can’t stop you.” She scoots over to make room for him. After a few minutes, she clears her throat. “I need you to promise me something, though.” 

     Sicheng nods for her to continue.

     “As soon as we know she’s okay, you have to help me get her out of there. Hopefully before she wakes up; Sooyoung is gonna freak the fuck out if she sees her family. I don’t know how much she’s told you about what happened—”

     “Sooyoung didn’t tell me anything about why she left.”

     “Trust me on this,” Gwen pleads. “The faster she’s out, the better.”

     “Okay,” he declares, meeting her eyes. “I’ll help you.” 

series m.list

[mind-the-margin]

That Night

This year has been a bit of a brutal awakening for me. Up until now, I’ve kind of bumbled through life, tripping over my own feet and keeping quiet and getting the fuck on with all the hard shit. I was woken, rather rudely in May.

Now, I’ll warn you that there’s quite a bit of doom and gloom, although maybe not as much death as I would have liked. My humour is dark to reflect the utter void that exists in place of soul but hey ho!

I don’t quite know where I should begin so I’ll just start somewhere in the middle and fumble around in the dark- as I am used to.

On 25 May 2018 at approximately 11pm I consumed 100 aspirin tablets. I wasn’t thinking straight but the only conviction I had was that I did not wish to live. I did not want to live. That wasn’t the first instance that I had planned my death, but it was the first time I had actually gone through with it. To be honest, some part of me must have realised that it wouldn’t be my only attempt because I had bought a shit load of other drugs as well. (All perfectly legal I feel I must stress.)

This story is equally about my first and most pathetic love as it is about me. See, I told this person, let’s call him Bob, at about 12am that I had overdosed and that I was dying. Bob decided he was tired of hearing about death, so he simply turned off his phone and went to sleep.

My naivety coupled with my unconditional love for Bob led me to the belief that he was maybe driving to come see me. That he was so desperately worried for me that he loved me, and he would show it. Poor Alisha, I was so horribly wrong.

At around 2am I realised that I was dying. My ears were ringing so loud it felt like they were weeping blood. My eyes were weeping themselves and I had thrown up a little. I remember that the last time I ate was a Kinder Bueno- what a beautiful last taste. Months later, I cannot bear to eat the chocolate without feeling nauseous, although this may also be attributed to the fact that it was mine and Bob’s “thing”.

Fuck Bob- I feel that it is important to stress how much I wish I could hate him for that night.

My head was spinning both clockwise and anti-clockwise. I could not stand up straight. I don’t know how but I made it down the hallway and knocked on my friend’s door. She opened up and asked me what was wrong, I was trembling from head to toe. I thrust the empty pill bottle into her hands. She asked me what was wrong, I told her I had taken the whole bottle.

I remember crying on her floor, realising that death was ugly and that I didn’t want to go out this way. I remember feeling so hopeless and so so lost. I was so lost. Overwhelmingly so. I had my phone clutched by me, so sure he would call or text or do something, anything.

I don’t remember much but I remember how much the silence twisted uncomfortably in my stomach like the jagged edge of a dagger.

We got to the hospital at around 3am, all thanks to A and none to the two ambulances that never arrived. I remember I needed shoes and F got them from my room but in my daze I was only fixated on wanting my trainers. What a strange thing to be focused on when your insides are screaming at the havoc you’ve wrought, when you’re dying.

We were sat in A&E for ages. I threw up a lot. Sorry to both A and F who had to witness that and the countless strangers in the waiting area. I remember seeing an emergency doctor and she kept asking me what happened. My mind was so convoluted, I could understand her but it was like I had forgotten how to speak. I had been on the verge of passing out for about an hour and I was focusing on staying awake.

They took my bloods and my blood sugar, and I was fed some anti-nausea medicine through a drip. I was taken to the recess area where several doctors monitored me, I had 32 grams of aspirin in my bloodstream. It was 6am I think, when F left. I was so tired but I couldn’t sleep and I was so exhausted after being grilled by everyone.

I texted Bob, I told him it would be best if we broke up. I was still in the danger-zone. The full extent of the danger I was in was probably best realised by my friends. I was still texting and acting normal, even when they did not know whether I would live, or whether my organs would fail, or my heart would give up or I would internally bleed.

Sometimes, I wish I had given my phone to A so she could’ve explained it all to Bob in a way he would have realised the gravity of the situation.

He didn’t come. I begged him and still he didn’t come. He didn’t call. He aired all of my calls. I think the girl he claimed to have loved died that night. I died that night. Even afterwards, when his excuses had ran out he did not come.

He said a lot of things in anger, things I do not know why I had already forgiven him for. I was in the hospital for 5 days. I missed him, I couldn’t sleep and I cried at night when I thought the nurses were not watching me. Everyone in the hospital was awfully nice to me, I guess they all knew why I was there. It felt like there was this constant itch I couldn’t scratch, but in some ways it was nice.

Amna stayed with me until Sunday night I think, until the doctors were sure I was out of danger. I was very much out of it for the first 3 days or so. I remember waking up really groggy and seeing my friends at the foot of my bed. The doctors had tried to convince me to tell my parents but I was adamant they couldn’t know. They still don’t know.

This is the worst secret I have had to keep.

My friends called, the few that I had told. And some came to see me. I was very weak and just tired of life. I felt grimy holed up in that hospital. The irony doesn’t escape me.

I went home after having had a psych evaluation. The Crisis team had arranged to meet me very few days to make sure I wouldn’t try offing myself again. I was on bed rest for a week but it only lasted a few days before my impatience and the monotony made me feel insane.

I never know how to end whenever I tell people about this. People tend to ask, “do you regret it?” or want me to express my newfound desire to live. I’d be lying if I said either of those things, and I often lie so people would just leave me alone. The truth is that recovery is not that simple and healing is not pretty. It’s not scented candles and journal entries. It’s more like burning pictures of Bob (this only happened once but I kind of want to redo it since I think he deserves worse). It’s crying at 3am and being unable to sleep; it’s antidepressants that make you numb as fuck; it’s breaking down when you remember that night again and again; it’s feeling so fucking lost, like you’ve lost everything.

I lost a lot of people, my first love being one of those. But the person who cared most is the one that left the biggest loss, me. I lost myself and I don’t know whether I’ve even managed to gather all my pieces and tape them together yet, but I know that there so many pieces that are missing.

I’ve been getting bad again lately. And fake friends don’t really help so I cut everyone off and deactivated a lot of my social media. But you know what? As much as I am afraid of never completing myself, of never recovering fully. I know that I’m the most important person in my life. And I don’t need people like Bob to have my back because those kinds of people are only ever invested in themselves and all they do is take and take.

All I’ve done for the longest time is give and give and give until my rivers run dry and I am left to die thirsty. I am done giving. I am done crossing oceans for people who would not even cross a puddle for me.

[fiftyeightminutes]

Anon Requested: “sun/mun - love”

Love — I’ll write a drabble of my character admitting they love yours

I have an anon who sent a few different prompts in one ask, but I’m going to post them all separately because that shit would just get ridiculously long if I didn’t.  Ahhhhhh yes fucking yes I am all about this shit gimme soft Sun all day every day.  Takes place in a Whispersless future because I cannot figure out any other way this shit plays out.  (Also holy fuck this is almost 3000 words??????)

---

Clearing her name hadn’t been easy.  But after taking down Whispers and BPO, Sun was pretty sure she could do anything. After a while away, she finally came home to Seoul.  When she arrived, Nomi helped her get a burner phone so she could contact Detective Mun.  Sun hadn’t been positive it was a good idea, but she didn’t really have any other options. Who else believed that she was innocent?

Luckily, despite all the odds, Mun was still willing to testify on her behalf.  And not just about the embezzlement.  He argued that given she had been the only one to see who had truly injured him, Sun’s actions had been an attempt to apprehend her brother. (Otherwise, why wouldn’t she have just killed him?  She had the motive and opportunity, after all.)  The fact that he was willing to testify against Joong-Ki at all was enough to cause a commotion in the court room.  No one else had dared.  But Detective Mun’s record was spotless, and the court had no reason to question his reputation.  In the end, justice prevailed.

(When it is announced that Sun is finally a free woman, she can feel her other selves celebrating behind her.)

---

Sun doesn’t see Mun for a little while after that.  Her first few weeks of freedom are mostly spent partying at all hours of the night, when the other members of her cluster are awake.  She was the last of them to be truly free, and now that she is they cannot contain their joy.  (Sun loses track of the different kinds of alcohol she tries on each of their lips. If they know how to do one thing, it’s party.)

After a while, though, even they get tired and crave normalcy.  As much as she loves her cluster, Sun in particular needs her alone time.  She likes routine, and she wants to get hers back.  So after a day or two of fixing her sleep schedule, she goes back to waking at sunrise to do Tai Chi.

It’s there, on the roof of her building in the early morning light, that Mun finds her.  She doesn’t hear him walk up, so lost in her routine that she is almost startled when she turns to find him there.  (Almost.  It’s not like she hadn’t exactly gotten used to people appearing from the corner of her vision the last couple of years.)

“Detective Mun,” Sun says warily.

He grins.  “Please.  You can call me Kwon-Ho.”

Sun’s not sure how to feel about that, but she nods in acceptance anyway.  “Kwon-Ho.  May I ask why you’re here so early?”

“I wanted to talk to you,” Mun replies.

“At six in the morning?” Sun quips.

Kwon-Ho shrugs.  “You haven’t been answering your phone.”

At that, Sun laughs.  “I don’t have that phone anymore.  I haven’t gotten a new one yet.”  (Her old one had been blowing up with calls from the press as soon as she was released.  Sun hadn’t bothered going out to get a new one because the only people she had wanted to speak to didn’t exactly need phones to find her.)

“Oh.”  Mun’s smile falters for the first time.

“I wasn’t avoiding you, if that’s what you think,” Sun says.  She’s not sure why she feels the need to tell him, but she wants him to know all the same.  “I was getting too many calls about things that I would rather leave behind me.”

He nods in understanding. “We don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.”

Again, not sure exactly why, Sun finds herself shaking her head no.  “We can talk.”  She walks over and sits down on one of the steps, leaving a space for him.

Kwon-Ho joins her.  “Thank you,” he says.

It is Sun’s turn to shrug this time.  “So what did you want to talk about?” she asks.  (Sun has never been one to mince her words.)

“Actually, that is what I came here to say.  Not just thank you for talking to me now but – for everything.”

“What did I do?” she asks. (If anything, Sun thinks, she should be the one thanking him.)

“At the gala, after Joong-Ki….”  Mun trails off.  The end of the sentence doesn’t need to be said.  “It would have been easy for you to use the distraction to escape.  You didn’t have to draw attention to yourself at all.”

“I was there for a reason.”

Mun nods.  “I know.  But you didn’t know I was going to be there.  Whatever your plan had been, that must have put a bit of a dent in it. You must have known that if you acted after what happened that you would take the blame.”

“I could not let him get away with another murder,” Sun says, not even thinking about it. Kwon-Ho stands here before her now, but at the time she (and her cluster) had been sure he was dead.

He tilts his head a bit in confusion.  “You didn’t kill him, though.  You walked away.”

Sun’s jaw clenches a bit. She’s still not sure whether or not she regrets that decision.  Part of her knows it was the right one to make, but a piece of her (maybe the Wolfgang piece) still wants to avenge her father.  She takes a deep, calming breath.  The choice was already made.  Dwelling on it wouldn’t change the past.  Sun accepts that she must take whatever punishment the law decides to give him as justice enough.  (The piece of her that is Will feels proud.)  In the end, all Sun says is, “He learned his lesson.”

Kwon-Ho nods in acceptance. “Well, thank you.  Your interference meant that he could not ensure he finished what he started.”  He thinks for a moment.  “And thank you for not killing him.”

She takes another deep breath.  Neither of these feel like things he should be thanking her for.  Sun accepts them anyway, the subtle influence of one of her cluster telling her to forgive herself.  (Maybe all of them.  It’s hard to tell who this comes from, but it’s strong.)  “You’re welcome,” she says.

They sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes.  Sun’s hands are resting by her sides, and after a bit Mun tentatively puts one of his on top of the hand she has between them.  He looks up to meet her eyes, wordlessly asking if this is alright.  In answer, Sun turns her hand over in his so they are palm to palm.  He twines his fingers through hers, and she gives his hand a small squeeze in return. After looking at their hands for a few seconds, he leans forward and kisses her.

---

Without really discussing it, they fall into an easy relationship.  Sun finds that Kwon-Ho fits easily into her routine.  He rises early to meet her in the mornings on her rooftop.  They do different exercises – she sticks to her Tai Chi while he does push-ups and sit-ups – but they both enjoy each other’s company as they work out.  Some days, if he has time before his shift at work, they spar.  Sun still wins handily, but his form continues to improve each time.

At first, she looks for new jobs while he’s at work.  She’s not exactly sure what she should be looking for at this point.  She’s only ever worked for her father’s company, which doesn’t exactly have the prestige it used to.  But it doesn’t bother her that much.  That was never the life she wanted for herself, anyway.  In the end, her teacher convinces her to go back to fighting professionally.

If Mun isn’t working a late shift, they often eat together.  Sometimes they cook, but often Kwon-Ho brings take-out to Sun after she has spent a long day training.  After they eat, if they haven’t already sparred that day, they usually try to get a match in.  And many nights, they fall straight from their fights into her bed, moving together with a different rhythm then.

On one such night, after everything, they lay there naked on top of her sheets.  Sun has just finished smoking a cigarette when Kwon-Ho looks at her contemplatively.

“What is it?” Sun asks eventually.

He chuckles.  She’s always able to read him, whether it is his fighting or his feelings.  “Sometimes, your fighting style changes.”

For the first time in a while with him, Sun is guarded.  Kwon-Ho senses it, and she can tell he does.  (He may be getting pretty good at reading her, too.)  “I’ve been trained in many styles,” she replies cryptically.

Mun shakes his head.  “Sometimes it almost becomes…untrained.  I’m not sure how to put it.  I know what it feels like to fight you, though.  But sometimes…sometimes it feels like it’s not you I’m fighting.”

Sun feels both Wolfgang and Will appear behind her.  They know they are the culprits, but they are also both wary of what Mun may do.  BPO may be gone, but they did not survive this long without playing cautiously.  Their guilt and anxiety are on the periphery of her mind, but she does her best to block it out.  Neither of those emotions will help her here.  Out of the corner of her eye, Sun sees Riley appear.  This is a member of her cluster she is more grateful to see. Riley gives her resilience and trust.  (And love.)

She steels herself. Sun briefly considers lying. (Lito doesn’t appear, but she can almost hear him offering in the back of her mind.)  But despite the danger, she finds herself wanting this thing with Kwon-Ho to work.  And if that is going to happen, she knows he will need to understand who she really is. Sun gives Riley a nod.  Will and Wolfgang each put a hand on her shoulders.

Mun looks over his shoulder, vaguely toward where Riley is sitting cross-legged on the floor.  “Sun?”

“The reason you sometimes feel that way is because there are times when it is not me you are fighting,” she finally says.

His head whips back around to her.  “What?”

Rather than answering directly, Sun tries another tactic.  “You never asked where I went when I left the country.”

Kwon-Ho begins to look suspicious.  “I didn’t think it mattered.  You did what you had to do to avoid Joong-Ki’s men.”

She shakes her head.  “I didn’t run away from Joong-Ki.  He’s never scared me.”

“Okay,” Mun says slowly. “Where did you go, then?”

“London,” Sun answers. Then thinks about it.  “At first.  A few other places around Europe after that.”

He raises an eyebrow. “No one here knew where you were. Why did you have to move?”

She is glad he understands that it’s not the destination specifically that was she was getting at. “I have another family.  More of a family than Joong-Ki ever was.  And they needed me.”

“They?” he asks.  Sun can see the thoughts racing behind his eyes. “Do you have children?”

Wolfgang laughs behind her, and she can’t help but grin a bit herself.  “No.  They’re not my blood.  But they are part of me all the same,” Sun replies.  She knows it’s not really an answer, but it’s still the closest thing to the truth she’s ever said out loud.

“I don’t understand,” Kwon-Ho says.  “Did you learn to fight on the streets over there?”  It’s a joke, but she can tell he’s making it out of nerves.

“Sort of.  But more accurately, I was with someone else who already knew how.”  Sun takes a breath, then amends.  “I am always with someone who knows how.”

Mun sits up, away from her. “Is there someone else?”

“No,” she says immediately. “Not like that.  I mean it more literally.”

“What?”

Sun knows she’s not doing a great job of explaining this.  There are others in her head offering to say the words for her, but she politely turns them down.  She wants to do this herself.  (Needs to.) “I have seven other selves.  Not past lives.  But alive and breathing, just like me.  We are like you, but not quite.”

Kwon-Ho’s brow furrows. “What do you mean, like me?” he asks tentatively.

“Human.”

He laughs.  She can tell he is still confused, but thinks this is some kind of joke.  “You had me worried,” Mun says.  “What is really going on?”

Sun shakes her head.  “This.  This is really going on.  You are human.  I am something else.”  She swallows hard.  “I am sensate.”  She pauses, giving him space to talk if he wants.  But he is speechless, unsure whether or not to take her seriously anymore. “Do you trust me?” she asks.

“Of course,” Kwon-Ho replies without thinking.

“Then trust me with this. I am not lying to you.”  He nods.  “There are others, like us.  But we are born in groups.”  Sun smiles to the people he cannot see.  “Clusters. No matter where we are in the world, we share our first breath.”

“And these…other sensates? How do you find them?”

“Your cluster finds you,” she says, her small smile widening a bit.  “You begin to feel the others.  I can see through their eyes.  I hear what they hear, taste what they taste.  I could no more stop being part of them than I could stop breathing.”

“I…I don’t know what to think,” Mun says after a few moments.

“What did you think before you knew?” she asks in reply.

“That you are strong. Amazing.  More skilled and disciplined than anyone I’ve ever fought. But you fight with a grace – you avoid hits if you can.  Until sometimes you don’t.  And you take a hit and give me a grin that doesn’t seem to fit on your face and your movements become much more aggressive.  You’re not watching me as carefully, instead reacting later and hitting harder.”

It’s odd, hearing this described through someone else’s eyes.  To Sun, these scenes play out differently.  She is sparring with Mun as normal when Wolfgang appears, itching for a fight.  (He doesn’t get to as much now that they’re safe and he’s with Kala.  He doesn’t miss the danger, but he still longs for the rush.) In those times, Sun steps out and lets Wolfgang take over for a bit, getting out his violent energy in one of the only healthy outlets he has.

Sun looks over her shoulder now to see Wolfgang still standing there.  His face would be unreadable if she couldn’t feel his thoughts. It’s okay, he thinks.

“That is one of them. He is the reason I had to leave.”

“Wait, you can…he can…fight through you?”

“We can all move through each other.  Not all of us fight with our fists, but I need each of them as much as they need me.”

“If you can do…that…why did you need to go to London?”

She and her other selves grimace simultaneously.  “There are always people who will hate what is different.  Some of those people found Wolfgang.  They blocked our connection.  So we had to go get him ourselves.”

After a few moments, Kwon-Ho nods with acceptance.  “Okay,” he says.

“Okay?” she asks.

“Yeah,” he says, still clearly nervous.  He starts to ramble.  “I mean, I have more questions.  But I think I understand.  These people are part of you.  And I love you, so okay.”  After he says it, he smacks his forehead.  This is the first time Sun has heard him say the words out loud.  “That’s not how I was going to tell you,” Kwon-Ho says apologetically.

Sun leans forward and kisses him fiercely.  Part of her cannot believe how lucky she is.  This man, despite everything, still wants her.  Still loves her.  (She’s not used to this.  No one outside of her cluster has ever accepted her without question.  Not once.)  “Don’t apologize,” she says afterward.

He grins up at her, still a bit sheepish.  “Why not?”

“Because I love you, too.”

[aeranethwrites]

To all the new followers and people who liked/read my superbat drabble: You are awesome <3

Anyway, have a continuation? I’m a sucker for reactions

“Clark Joseph Kent, I cannot believe you bothered to show up to work!!”

“Um. H-Hi, Lois.”

“Gah!! I could just-!” While Lois pantomimed strangling the soul right out of his body, Clark adjusted his glasses and tried to not listen too much to the whispering.

Who was he kidding, he was both ‘curious and obscenely nosy’, as Bruce liked to put it.

“Braver than he looks, if that’s real-”

“Actually sleeping with Batman, holy shit-”

“How did Batman pick that up? I’m surprised Clark didn’t faint at the sight of the Bat.”

“-cannot believe we spent all these years one cubicle from each other, and you have the audacity to keep something like this from me- hello? Clark?!” Lois snapped her fingers impatiently, and Clark blinked several times.

“Sorry. Spaced out.” Lois pinched the bridge of her nose. She breathed very slowly.

“Smallville,” she growled. “You have one- just one- chance to tell me that this was a hoax. That Jimmy saw something completely fake, that some other weirdo in a bat costume was hanging out on the rooftop, and you gave him the friendliest hug on this side of the Atlantic.” The whole floor was quiet, everyone holding their breaths. While also trying very hard to pretend they weren’t listening.

Clark sighed very quietly. “It’s my fault,” he admitted. Lois sucked in a breath- “If I was going to kiss my boyfriend, I probably shouldn’t have done it on a building full of photographers.” Her jaw hung slack, and the whispers exploded back in. Then Lois snapped out of it and began shaking him back and forth, spluttering incoherently.

“Enough!!” The floor quieted. “Kent!” Perry snapped. “Office! Now!”

“Yes, sir,” Clark said meekly, gingerly squirming out of Lois’ hold. She sputtered quietly as he shuffled into the open door, eyes still huge.

Perry walked stiffly to his desk, indicating Clark sit. Clark sat, watching him pace for a few moments. After a long while, he turned around, eyes sharp.

“I almost told Jimmy to hell with that picture,” he finally said. “If that kid wasn’t so damned positive that he was the real thing. If it were anyone else, Kent- anyone, I would have thrown them out on their asses.” Clark winced.

“I wouldn’t do something like that.”

“That’s just the thing. I know you wouldn’t. You never have before, and if you were about to start, it damn well wouldn’t be with Batman. He may not do PR, but he’s still the kind of person that gets the message across.” Clark nodded absently. He really was. “Still, all exclusives aside…” The editor sighed, rubbing at his forehead. “Seriously, kid? Batman?” Clark shrugged awkwardly. “How long has this been going on?”

“... Some years, now.”

“How the hell did that happen?” I met a man in Taiwanese prison, then followed him across Asia and fell in love. Clark coughed, adjusting his glasses.

“Through Superman.”

“That’s it?”

“It’s… a long story. Essentially, through Superman.” Perry eyeballed him for a long moment, then harrumphed.

“I guess asking for an interview is too much.”

“Batman wants his privacy, and I won’t break that.”

“Uh-huh. I don’t suppose you talked with him about this mess.”

“We did.” Clark grimaced. “I think he’s more upset with himself for not noticing Jimmy sooner. But he doesn’t want me to retract anything.” Perry raised an eyebrow. Clark sighed. “He… knows my career is important to me. He respects that. Said if nothing else, exposing him as a gay superhero will be beneficial.”

“I didn’t think he cared about that sort of thing.”

“He cares a lot more than you’d think, sir. Believe me, if you knew him, you’d wonder what he ever saw in me.” Perry scoffed, leaning against his desk.

“No, I wouldn’t.” He shook his head to himself. “You’re not allowed anywhere near this story. Neither is Lois, for that matter.”

“She’s going to strangle you.”

“Probably. It’s too late to take back either way.”

“I understand. Batman does, too.”

“Good. Go find Jimmy when you can escape the mob. He’s probably still hiding in a closet and having a crisis. Like you do sometimes, only more dramatic.” Clark snorted very quietly.

“I’ll find him.”

“And- Clark,” Perry called, before Clark could go out the door. “... Be careful, kid.”

“I’m always careful.” Perry’s expression bordered scathing.

“No, you’re not.” Clark could only shrug sheepishly. He went out the door anyway. “... Batman,” Clark heard him mutter to himself. “The goddamned Batman.”

Lois peered at him over the top of their shared cubicle wall as he returned to his desk. He sighed. “Neither of us is allowed near the story,” he recited.

“What?!”

“Sorry, Lois.”

“If I could just get five minutes alone with-”

“Lois.” Clark frowned. “Please respect his privacy. He’s not a story, he’s someone that’s important to me.”

“Clark-”

“Please,” Clark repeated, softening his voice. “As a friend.” The reporter faltered, visibly wavering. Clark almost felt bad, but there was very little else that would throw Lois Lane off the scent of a good story.

“... The second you break it off, he’s mine,” Lois finally growled.

“We’re not going to break it off.”

“Oh? Long-term, then?”

“Lois.”

“Fine, fine.” Lois waved him off. “Fine.” She still didn’t leave. “... So is your boyfriend a good kisser? Just out of friendly curiosity.”

Clark sighed.

Bruce was the center of attention the moment he stepped foot on the Watchtower. He expected it, but it didn’t make it any less irritating.

The main hall immediately went quiet as he walked through. Mostly because Flash had switched off the main monitor so quickly along with the conversation dying off. He ignored it, along with the stares that followed him. Everyone was gathered around the blank screen, watching him intensely.

“... Hey, Bats!” Flash attempted. “Hey! Buddy. Pal. W-What’s happening?”

“Probably crime,” Batman replied flatly. “Where’s my monitor view?”

“Oh, that’s- that’s a bit on the fritz. There’s, uh, some weird connection that keeps popping up, best to not mess with it-” Bruce pulled a remote from his pocket and switched it back on. The show continued playing.

“-right here in Smallville, where Clark Kent was raised. How did you two know each other, Miss Suzanne?”

“Oh, you know, we’ve been best friends throughout our childhoods. That’s just how small towns are, though, you know? He’s basically my brother.”

“You dumped milk in his lap in sixth grade and called him a stupid dork.”

“Shut up, Pete!”

“Annnd back to you, Jeff!”

“The Daily Planet reporter that’s been sweeping the headlines as a topic himself, Clark Kent, has so far declined comment on his relationship with the world-famous hero Batman-” Another click and the monitor switched back to his crime watch. Bruce rolled his eyes as he went up the walkway to his station. He settled in to get some actual work done.

The League followed him to the computer.

“Sooo… on the topic,” Lantern began. “Is it true?”

“Yes.” Bruce frowned at the screen. “There’s definitely crime happening.”

“... No, Batman. We mean-”

“We mean,” Hawkgirl cut in, “that we are only curious if this ‘Clark Kent’ is spreading false rumors in an attempt to damage your public image.” Batman paused. He’d been planning on ignoring them, but the question rankled.

“And just how would me having a boyfriend damage my public image?” he challenged, bristling.

“Whoa, whoa, that’s definitely not what she meant,” Flash insisted hastily. “Not what she meant at all. Look, we just know Kent is close to Superman, and he does a lot of coverage for the Justice League. She was just asking if he might be going rogue on us.”

“What else would I mean?” Hawkgirl muttered. Green Lantern raised an eyebrow. “... Oh.”

“... No,” Brucefinally grumbled, turning away his glare. “He’s not going ‘rogue’ on us.”

“So he’s not lying?” Wonder Woman confirmed. Bruce had the feeling of being tricked, though he couldn’t say why.

“... He’s not lying.”

“Oh-ho, Bats!” Flash cheered, clapping his shoulder. “Good on you! Rooftop makeout and everything!”

“Congratulations,” J’onn offered. “He seems very nice.”

“He’s pretty cute,” Hawkgirl acknowledged. “In a dorky way. I wouldn’t have guessed that was your type.”

“So how long have you been dating?” Flash asked eagerly, leaning into his space. “Is he dating Batman, or does he know your secret identity?? How’d you guys meet? Did Superman hook you up? Wait, does Superman know about you two? I mean, I guess he knows now, but did he before?” Bruce sighed harshly.

“All of you have better things to do.”

“Yeah, but we wanna talk about you and your cute boyfriend!”

“I have a question, too,” Lantern added. “If you two were a secret, why’d you end up making out on top of the Daily Planet? You know, the building full of reporters with cameras on hand?”

“Oh, let him live a little,” Hawkgirl scoffed. “Some people like showing off.”

“Yeah, sure, but not Batman.”

“What not Batman?” Kal wondered, entering the hall. Batman felt somewhat vengeful as Lantern turned around.

“We were just asking the Bat about his voyeurism.” Kal choked for a moment.

“Excuse me??”

“What else do you call him making out with his boyfriend on a building of reporters?” Hawkgirl returned.

“W-Well, that- I mean-”

“It’s your fault,” Bruce informed him. There was a moment of silence as everyone stared between them. Kal’s mouth moved silently for a moment.

“M-Me? What did I do?”

“Suddenly he’s upset about some Watchtower gossip you shared with him. Something about supervillains constantly flirting with me and other women.” Wonder Woman’s face twitched violently. Kal coughed awkwardly as Flash and Lantern looked busy studying anything else.

“Well, I just- You know how often we talk-”

“You know he’s sensitive.”

“Yes,” Kal ground out, groaning. “Yes, I- do.”

“He took risks he wouldn’t normally and we got caught.”

“And you’re mad at me for it, I get it.”

“I’m not mad, Superman,” Bruce replied patiently. “I don’t blame either of you. You’re a weak man for gossip and he’s prone to bouts of jealousy. Do you really blame him?” Kal rolled his eyes to the heavens while Flash muffled a snort.

“No, Batman,” he intoned. “I don’t blame him. You’re a wonderful man and anyone would be lucky to have you. How can he stand not having you to himself twenty-four hours a day?” Bruce waved him off, returning to his work.

“That’ll do.”

“So you’re done?”

“For today.”

“For the month.” Bruce hmmed.

“The week.”

“Fine.”

“Then I’m going back to work.”

“So am I.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.” There was a long silence. Kal cleared his throat, then finally left. Bruce shook his head to himself as the League quietly dispersed. Flash lingered, leaning against the console.

“... You two really are close, aren’t you?”

“We’ve known each other too long,” Bruce replied. Flash chuckled.

“I guess he really did introduce you two, then? How long ago was that, anyway?”

“Why do all of you care so much about me having a relationship?” Bruce frowned at him, baffled.

“Well, it’s- I don’t know. You’re just… You’re always such a hardass. John was in the Marines and even he thinks you’re over the top.” The speedster shrugged. “It’s just nice knowing you’re human, I guess. You never seemed to notice anyone or show how much you care about things. It’s nice to know there’s a soft, squishy heart under all those layers of darkness.”

“He’s the squishy one,” Bruce denied immediately. “He’s composed of eighty-seven percent sunlight and rainbows.” Flash grinned hugely.

“Awww. And you love him just like that, don’t you?” Bruce muttered some Kryptonian swears under his breath. He hoped Kal was enjoying himself.

“... I like my privacy,” he finally said, when Flash still wouldn’t go away. “And it’s for his safety. Along with his family’s.”

“Yeah, but everyone knows he’s Superman’s BFF.”

“People like the Joker didn’t have a reason to care about that before.”

“... Point. Hey, so did Superman introduce you? Can I at least get the footnotes on that story?” Bruce held back a sigh. Still, of the rest of the League, Flash was… least suspicious. Just overly friendly. (He seemed to attract the type.)

“Superman didn’t introduce us,” he admitted at length. “We met before him.”

“Whoa- seriously??”

“It was a long time ago, we were still teenagers.” He shook his head to himself. “We had a habit of getting into trouble together, diving headfirst into mysteries. He wanted to take on the world through writing, I wanted to take on Gotham with my fists. We were together long before Superman came into the picture.”

“... You’ve known Superman for a long time,” Flash finally said. “Wow. You don’t have to answer, but have you ever considered getting married?”

“You ever consider not gossiping about the number of people that want to get into my pants?” Bruce retorted. Flash coughed awkwardly, but didn’t retreat. Bruce sighed his troubles to himself, but leaned back in his chair. He pulled off his left glove to give a lazy wave with it, flashing gold in front of the speedster.

Flash choked. Bruce slipped his glove back on. So he’d been feeling a little sentimental that morning, was all.

“Tell Wonder Woman that no, we’re not breaking it off anytime soon,” he said. “Even so, she really isn’t my type.” With that, he returned to work. He could feel Flash staring.

“... So how did you guys meet Supes, anyway?”

“It’s a long story,” Bruce answered pointedly. Flash got the hint at least, holding up his hands. He left with that, probably to gossip more.

Bruce’s handheld buzzed a moment after, and he glanced down.

Fine. You’re not sleeping on the couch tonight.

“I love you, too,” Bruce muttered in Kryptonian, rolling his eyes. He still sighed softly after a long moment, absently rubbing at the hidden ring. So, maybe it wasn’t so bad, letting the world know that Clark Kent belonged to him.

They’d deal with the consequences together.