#ah shoot it four past midnight now

[mishalikessoundsandcolours]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY FAVOURITE KEYBOARD CAT GUY!!! IT'S ALMOST OVER BUT I MANAGED TO SPEEDRUN SOMETHING!!!

[i-smoke-chapstick]

‘COME ON EILEEN!, [PART THREE]

-GOTHAM!VICTOR ZSASZ X READER-

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ; Victor isn’t going to let anyone touch his girl. Especially not Jim Gordon.

⋆ tags/warnings. GOTHAM!victor x female reader. This is a 4 part fic. AGE GAP ROMANCE! (reader is still in highschool). Some angst with a happy ending. Gaurd dog Victor. PROTECTIVE VICTOR! Reader is sad. Victor just wants to protect her. Like, you're his world. You just realized it. Set during season 1. Violence.

⋆ 'PART ONE, - 'PART TWO, - 'PART THREE, - 'PART FOUR,

♫ “You're grown (a grown up), So grown (so grown up), now I must say more than ever.” Come On Eileen by Dexys Midnight Runners

You listen to his confirmation and brighten up. You can sense the strange lack of wit in his words, and it frightens you in the same way it excites you. He believes in you. You repeat it like a mantra in your head. This hitman, sadistic homocidal maniac, as Jim eloquently put it, believes in you more then Jim ever did. Believes you’re worth more than everyone elses horrible secrets.

You think about what you said. You don’t even believe in yourself. Be an assassin. You didn’t even know how to shoot a gun until a few hours ago. You think Victor must be joking, but you read no humor in his tone. That dry sarcasm that flits into his speech was completely erased. Devoid of anything at all, except sincerity.

You turn to look at him, about to speak- about to ask a million questions. Would he take you under his wing? What about school? What about Jim? What about the people you’d have to kill?

Surprisingly, none of that seems to matter. And your voice dies on your tongue. You realize he’s been looking at you this whole time. When you meet his gaze, he doesn’t flick his eyes away. He’s lost in his own head, and you understand he’s thinking too. You’d trade an arm and a leg to find out what he was thinking. Regret for believing in you? No. Victor is shockingly honest. You’d learned that in the past few hours too. When your form was horrendous, he’d let you know. There was no sugar coating with him.

His brown eyes are distant, far off. You shift under his gaze and realize it makes you uncomfortable.

But not in a bad way.

No, it’s in the type of way you felt back home, when a dumb crush you had stared at you. The feeling of being mutually noticed and scrutinized. A pit drops in your stomach. What the hell was he thinking?

You two stare at eachother, and look into eachothers eyes. His ever longing gaze falls to your lips, and you slowly start to digest whats about to happen.

Your faces inch closer and closer together. Your high on adrenaline, on the idea your worth something. He’s inexplicably high on you.

A glove hand comes up to your face, cradling it. The city lights hit his eyes just right, you realize. The cool leather on your face makes your breath hitch.

Your not sure what’s happening, if this is a weird fling for him. His mouth is shut tight, and the lines in his forehead crease. You’re sure he’s going to kiss you in some strange turn of events-

His glove hand is placed over your mouth.

You give a short noise of surprise, muffled by his hand. Your eyes widen from there dazed state, and the moment is ruined. Of course he wasn’t going to kiss you. What were you thinking?!?

You stare at him, bewildered. Silently asking for an explanation. After a few seconds, he takes his hand off your mouth, and brings his finger to his lips. He’s shushing you. He nods down, and you follow his gaze to the stumbling men of Maroni. Ah. So that must of been what he was thinking about.

You feel your heart beating out of your chest. Show time. This could be the day you die.

“Okie dokie,” he whispers. “Time to boogie.” He says casually, repositioning himself off the ledge. You give him a slow nod.

The sound of Maroni’s men is loud. They laugh, open mouthed- obviously oblivious to your presence. Your heart beat slows down, and you realize- this is what you were made for. You wanted a purpose- you got it. If you make it out of this alive, you could be an assassin. With Victor, you try to brush that last part out of your mind.

You refocus yourself. You could be more than a resource. No, you could do more. Prove to Jim what happens when you don’t treat people with at least a little mutual respect. No wonder Penguin was asking for favors in return. He knew his worth. Something you lacked knowing, until now.

You follow in Victors footsteps like a baby bird, ready to leave the nest. You throw your legs back, and settle yourself onto the rooftop.

You and Victor share a gaze, and you flash him a smile.

Something in his eyes dies a little bit.

“You ready?” You ask him, as if he’s the rookie. The ghost of a grin on his face is lef, but it quickly dissapears, and your eyebrows furrow.

“…You’re staying here.”

Scilence passes over the two of you.

You physically recoil.

“What the hell are you talking about?” You whisper, trying to internalize his words. Again, theres no humor in them. You damn near choke.

You feel heat rising in your body. Anger. Memories of Jim telling you to stay behind.

Victor just nods at your words, repeating himself.

“You’re staying here.” He reaffirms, voice more gruff, as if he’s impatient. Your mouth drops a little at the audacity. His eyes suddenly look terrifying. Is he trying to scare you? Or is this just how he looks when he’s pissed? You flinch under his glare.

“You said- No, Falcone said, I have to go with you?!? You- you saw! I’m a good shot! I can do this!” You speak, and remember how you sounded begging to Jim to help more. Childishly, your voice rises from a whisper yell into something much, much louder- and his eye twitches.

He flinches in anger, roughly nodding down to Maroni’s men, as to tell you to shut up. You feel scolded.

Betrayl rips through you. So he didn’t think you had what it takes. What would Falcone say? Or was this Falcone’s plan all along? Have Victor leave you here, teach you some fucked up lesson about what happens when you trust people who just want to use you for what you have to offer. Would he kill you when he gets back? Have some other goon on stand-by to finish the job while Victor did the real killing? Were you just an organized collateral? Good for one bit of information, and then sent to die.

The more existential part of your anxiety is soothed, when Victor takes out a pistol. The same one pointed at you earlier. His finger is no where near the trigger, and he hands it to you.

You stare at him, shakily taking it from his hands.

“Protect yourself until I get back. Remember what I taught you.” He speaks, just below a whisper. His gaze is torn off you, unable to look at you and your damn sad puppy dog eyes. He knows what he’s doing.

You watch in scilence as he turns on his heel, pulling two more signature pistols from his suit jacket. He dissapears from the rooftop, and leaves you in your own sulk.

You want to cry, but nothing comes out. You stare at the pistol for a few moments, fiddling with the trigger.

No. You think. I can do this. I’ll prove it.

Before you find it in yourself to stop, you’re following in Victor’s footsteps again, down the stairs of the rooftop.

The lights of the warehouse are dark. You attempt to stick to the shadows. There’s no sight of Victor, and you assume he must be outside, taking care of the men out there.

It’s a big empty space, and you’re surrounded in darkness. You feel your heart hammer beside yourself, and the grip on your gun is shakey. You hear numerous gunshots from outside, and your suspicions are confirmed. You know he can take care of himself, but a strange protectiveness wells up in you. You hope Victor’s okay.

You’re brought out of your thoughts when you feel a grip on your neck. You’re pulled into a tall body, back whisked against it. There’s a knife to your throat, and a quiet rat-like voice fills your ears.

“Falcone’s got rookies doing his dirty work now, boys.” The nasally tone chuckles, and you feel sick. Your breathing speeds up, and you hear the other shallow laughs of at least three other men.

Remember your training. You affirm. WWVD. What would Victor do.

You feel the knife gear up to slice your throat wide open, and you kick your head back. It sends the man flying behind you.

In an instant, you forget all about how these are people. Parents of your “friends”. Your fingers clench around the pistol, and you turn around, shooting directly at the man, just like a stop sign. He falls to the ground instantly, brains blown out.

He looks like the student you saw, face beaten in. You don’t care. You still have something to prove.

The other men look stunned, and your chest heaves. You point your gun wildly, shifting from one to another. They put there hands up. You realize they are unarmed. Idiots, you think. So egotistical, thinking men in numbers and pocket-knives would be enough to save them. They truly didn’t believe they’d get caught anytime soon.

You hear them beg for their lives. You just snarl. No, you think. You definitely could be an assassin. You definitely could be a killer. You were not an informant. No, you had a job to do. A real job; by order of Carmine Falcone. Zsasz and Gordon be damned.

You shot them all dead.

There bodies twitch underneath you, and you don’t stare in horror. No, this feels a hundred times better than a stop sign. You feel useful. First hand. You did this. You did something. And you’re proud.

Watching the bodies on the floor, you hardly realize the flickering lights of a single police car. You don’t hear the call of,

“GCPD! Put your hands up!”

You catch your breath, and feel your fingers only tighten around the gun. You whip around, still in position. No, you’re protecting yourself.

Your vision is blurry from the strong sudden flourescents of the lights. You squint, and make out a single cop. Or rather, a single detective. Jim fucking Gordon.

He stares at you, and he seems a bit bruised himself. Scuffs on his forehead and a bloody bruise on his cheek from fighting. You look at the gun pointed at you. The guns pointed at eachother.

You must look scared. Your previous confidence is replaced with something vulnerable. Intimate. You’re sure you look mousy, hair ruffled, blood sprayed, cheeks pink. Your body is small underneath Jim’s, and you struggle to look him in the eye.

“Y/N. Put the gun down.” He states, firm. He looks at the bodies on the floor. You don’t flinch.

“So you can arrest me?” You fire back, “So I can end up in Blackgate with all the people I helped put in there?”

He doesn’t falter, still in position. But he doesn’t speak.

“Think about it Jim. What I just did,” You nod to the bodies. “I helped! I did more than you ever let me believe I could! And if you arrest me, I’m going to die in that prison, Jim. You know that!” You speak, earnest. It’s true. Sooner or later, everyone would connect the dots. Find out who you are. Criminals would have a bounty on your head for exposing them. Best case scenario, you’d get beat to death in prison if you were lucky.

Theres something sad in Jim’s eyes, dissapointment. You feel tears pool in yours.

“You need me!” You plead with him, “Put the gun down! Let me walk! And I can keep helping you!”

He shakes his head.

“You really think Falcone’s ever gonna let you come back into the precint? Ever let me see you again?” Jim’s voice is breaking. You register his words. “Y/N, you belong to him now. You’re a criminal. You made your choice.”

You gape at him, trying desperately to push his words out of your head. Tears flow freely down your cheeks, and you feel him closing in on you. Subconsciously, your hand begins to drop the gun. Jim breathes a sigh of relief at you, through sad eyes. Gotham’s hero. You think, bitterly. Your only friend.

The gun has almost completely slipped from your hands. You’ve already lost. You faltered.

Until you hear the click of a gun. And look up to hear a familar voice.

“Hey Jimbo.” Victor speaks, gun pressed to Jim’s temple. Jim pauses, but his grip on his pistol doesn’t. Victor speaks through gritted teeth, turning to press it harder into his head. “Drop it. Now.”

His voice is low, and threatening. Ah, you get it now. This is the sadistic homocidal maniac.

You can’t register anything thats happening clearly. Jim reluctantly drops the gun on the ground, hands going up in surrender. You heave a sigh of relief.

You realize, Victor is not yeilding. You thought he’d run with you. No. He keeps his gun pointed firmly at Jim. And you feel panic rising inside of you. You don’t want your only friend…if you can still call him that…dead.

“Victor.” You breathe, and he doesn’t look at you. His gaze is hard, eyes wide in alert as he focuses the gun further into Jim. “Victor, please.”

You plead with him. Jim is deadly silent.

“Victor, don’t kill him. He’s the only friend I have.” You beg, and Victor’s eye twitches, as if the sentiment makes him even angrier. He finally looks at you.

“I told you stay on the rooftop.” He grits out.

“…You also said I could do this.” You nod, to the bodies around you.

You two argue like a lovers quarrel, Jim stares intently, holding his breath. He’s realizing the extent of your feelings for eachother before even the two of you do. He makes a mental note. Zsasz has a weakness, and it’s you. The quiet, desperate, small girl he met that faithful day on campus.

Thankfully, before Jim can internalize just how useful this information is, a gun hits him square in the head, knocking him out. You whisper a quiet thank you to Victor, who had opted for roughly knocking him unconscious. For now. Victor thinks. He’ll kill Jim for pointing a gun at you. Eventually. When your officially his girl.

He grabs you by your arm, pulling you up. The sounds of more police sirens ring out. Jim called back up.

You look at Victor, trying to think it through. Why did he protect you? Why didn’t he let Jim arrest you?

Before you get the chance to ask, he’s dragging you along, sneaking through a back entrance. Hes silent the whole time, and you catch a glimpse of the five fresh cuts littered into his forearms.

When the two of you finally cross over, running hand in hand into an alleyway, he pushes you back into the building. It’s still dark outside, and the only thing you can make out is the glint in his black eyes from the streetlamps.

He looks at you, scanning you over, just like he did when you met him. Which you can’t seem to believe was just this morning.

You bite your lip, and search his eyes.

They are worried for you. Protective. A dark gaze connects to yours, and you swallow.

You get it. You get it now.

He’s in love with you.

[erimeows]

Knowing (NSFW)

The night that Vogler gets voted off the board, Wilson drives back up to Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital in the pouring rain to go celebrate with Chase, Foreman, and House in the latter’s office. Wilson, whose position was conveniently reinstated by Cuddy and the rest of the board, brings a bottle of whiskey in for the four of them to split between the shot glasses he knows House keeps in his desk drawer.

They stay there, making fun of Vogler and chatting away until half past midnight. Chase and Foreman excuse themselves around the same time. 

“And then there were two,” Wilson chimes with a half smile as he screws the lid back onto the glass whiskey bottle and slides it under House’s desk. He doesn’t drink much- hardly drank any of it tonight- so he figures House will get more use out of it than he ever will. “How are you feeling?”

“Think they’re going home together?” House hums, totally ignoring Wilson’s question. House is shaken due to that day’s happenings and just refuses to admit it to anyone- even himself. It makes sense that he won’t acknowledge it. “I could’ve sworn there was some tension recently.”

“I think that has more to do with the fact that you had them at each other’s throats than it has to do with what you’re implying,” Wilson scoffs and shakes his head.

Wilson looks toward the window. House has the blinds open for once. Finally, even if it’s only for tonight, House isn’t closing off the rest of the world.

Wilson stands from where he’s sat in front of House’s desk so he can go to peer out the window. Rain continuously showers over the building and trickles down the window in big fat drops to shroud their already-foggy view of the city. 

“Ah, you’re no fun,” House feigns a pout and lifts himself from his spinning chair so he can slip his big coat over his shoulders. A few awkward seconds pass. Wilson waits for House to inevitably make his exit with a sarcastic farewell, but the exit never comes. Instead, House uses his cane to walk until he’s standing next to Wilson. He leans against the window and stares out at the city rather than at Wilson himself. Meanwhile, all Wilson can stare at is House. “Why are you still here? Shouldn’t you be going home to your wife? She might get lonely without you. Poor thing.”

Wilson rolls his eyes at that. He doesn’t want his wife- he wants House. His marriage has been over since it started and at this point, he’s just waiting for Julie to serve him with papers. 

“I’m an oncologist, House, it’s not like she’s used to having me home at this time of night anyways. The only reason I’m not working right now is because I just got hired back.”

“But you could be home with her if you really wanted to,” House points out- ever so excited to correct someone, even if it’s Wilson- no, especially if it’s Wilson. The man is sadistic; always seizing the opportunity to point out somebody else’s flaws if it draws attention away from his own. By pointing out the fact that Wilson should be home with his wife right now, he draws the attention away from how he refused to keep his head down with Vogler and got Wilson fired. “And you could also be pounding that hot nurse you had lunch with if you really wanted to. I bet she’d light some candles at her apartment and put rose petals on the bed to make it real nice- a contrast from the dead bedroom you’re probably suffering from with Julie right now. So, why are you here with me when you could be with either of them? Or anyone else, for that matter.”

“You’re right,” Wilson shrugs. He knows better to engage with House by arguing. That’s exactly what House wants, so he refuses to play into it. He puts his own jacket on and shoots House a sharp glare. “If you’re going to be like this about it, though, I’m going home.”

Wilson goes to leave, only to feel a hand on his shoulder. He turns his head to see House standing there with an unreadable expression (because even after all these years, this man is still an enigma).

“But do you want to go home to her?”

Wilson gulps and looks down, avoiding House’s prying gaze.

House reaches up to grab Wilson’s chin- to make Wilson look at him. Wilson does what he knows House wants him to and makes eye contact. Icy blue burns into light brown at the same time that Wilson’s cheeks flush pink. 

He’s had feelings for House since… Well, he doesn’t know when. One day, their friendship was just that, and the next, Wilson found himself with a notebook full of the man’s favorite things; found himself stealing glances and dreaming of things that he shouldn’t have been. Casual outings with his best friend turned into him spending his afternoons in preparation, trying on different outfits and mulling over which one would impress House the most. Peaceful nights with his wife- wives, over the years- turned into early mornings with him knelt on the floor of his bathroom, praying to God for House’s health, for House’s happiness, for House’s work, for House. Things changed so fast he couldn’t see it coming, let alone stop it.

Wilson remains lost in thought until House clears his throat, impatient. He recenters himself and meets House’s eyes again. Clearly, House reciprocates. Wilson isn’t oblivious to that. Wilson is the only person House spends time with, the only person House is interested in, the only person House has decided not to shut out. Wilson is the only person House has loved since Stacy.

But, whether or not House actually wants a relationship, Wilson has no idea. House isn’t the kind of man to hesitate. He would’ve made a move by now if he wanted it. Then again, he clearly returns Wilson’s feelings. So, if it’s not a relationship, what does House want? For them to stay in this limbo forever, wanting each other so desperately but never doing anything about it?

Wilson eyes House up and down. Still, his expression remains unreadable, but Wilson can tell that he’s tense with the way he taps his cane against the floor and purses his lips. 

“You know Julie and I haven’t been doing well. Why would I want to go home to her right now? And why does it matter to you?”

At that, House’s face falls. Wilson has successfully backed him into a corner and it’s apparent he doesn’t like it. 

“No reason.”

House backs away from Wilson like he’s on fire and retreats to his desk to gather his things. Wilson follows, unable to notice how House puts extra effort into facing away from him to hide his reddening cheeks.

“You never ask questions without a reason- you never do anything without a reason,” He argues.

“I can’t help but notice that you’re still here,” House grumbles and points up at the analogue clock on the wall. It’s almost one in the morning now. “You said you were going to leave two minutes ago, so leave.”

“You’re the one who stopped me,” Wilson shrugs. With each of these tense, awkward interactions, he feels as if he and House are getting progressively closer to something big. But then nothing happens, and he’s left disappointed like he is every other time. “You should be getting home, too. It’s late.”

“Ooh, so we can leave together,” House smirks and clacks his cane against the floor again. “I love it.”

Wilson flinches at a crack of thunder that booms through the sky.

“Are you sure you should drive in this?” He asks in reference to the downpour outside.

“What, are you gonna offer to chauffeur me to my place and then make that drive all the way back to yours?”

“No,” Wilson answers with a shake of his head. “I was gonna ask if I could drive us both to your apartment and stay with you tonight.”

“Wow, you’re really trying to get in my pants, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, obviously,” Wilson snaps. House blinks in what Wilson assumes is surprise. “You’re not a genius for figuring that one out; I’ve only been interested for a decade. So what?”

House pauses, standing behind his desk and staring at Wilson with a twinkle in his icy blue eyes. The tension in the room becomes so thick that it’s palpable until House walks towards the door of his office and utters one sentence.

“I don’t sleep with married men.”

Then, he shoots Wilson a wink and a smile before gingerly exiting the office, leaving nothing more than a confused and disappointed oncologist. Wilson sighs and looks at the clock again.

It’s one in the morning. He should be getting home.

~

A few months pass. Wilson moves out of the apartment he shared with Julie, which she doesn’t question. He also gets together with a lawyer and gets her served with divorce papers. Unsurprisingly, she doesn’t question that either, and when he goes back to the apartment for the rest of his things, he’s not shocked by the fact that there’s another car in his parking space and a pair of men’s steel-toed boots by the front door. 

As much as Wilson could complain about acquiring a third alimony payment, he’s so relieved that it’s over that he doesn’t think to do so. Instead, he makes copies of all the documents pertaining to the divorce, storms into House’s office, and throws them down onto the diagnostician’s desk. 

House, who was sitting in his chair and bouncing his tennis ball on the floor, glances up at Wilson with a half-smile.

“What’s this? STD test results? I knew your panty-peeling ways would catch up to you eventually,” House jokes before picking up the stack of papers and staring down at it. Upon reading the words, his eyes go wide. “You really did it…”

“I’m not a married man anymore,” Wilson smirks. “What now?”

House tilts his head. His small half of a smile morphs into a large, cheshire grin.

“I don’t sleep with people who know me.”

“Really? That’s it? Not ‘I’m not gay’?” Wilson sputters. House must be coming up with excuses to avoid the inevitable at this point- either that or just trying to fuck with him for the fun of it. They love each other, and they both know they love each other, but that was never the problem. It’s always been House and whatever reservations he has back in that complicated head of his. “That’s your reason, that you know me?”

“Yes,” House nods and tosses the copies of Wilson’s divorce papers into the trash can next to his desk. Then, he starts spinning in his chair like a child and tosses his tennis ball in Wilson’s direction. Wilson barely catches it. “And I’ve never confirmed or denied the thing about being gay- I like to keep people on their toes, keep ‘em guessing.”

“You like to keep people on their toes, huh? That’s one hell of an understatement. What about Cuddy? Or Stacy? And I’m pretty sure you’ve at least considered Cameron. You know all of them.”

“Sure I do, but they don’t know me,” House explains and crosses his arms. “You, however, do.”

“And you don’t sleep with people who know you- you won’t risk being with me even though we have these feelings for each other-” Wilson pauses, pointing at himself as he puts it together. “Because you’re afraid of being known.”

“No. I just know better than to mix being known with the terrible thing that is my sex life. Why are you so insistent on making this a me problem?” House demands. While it’s apparent that he’s trying to maintain his composure, Wilson has known the man long enough to tell that he’s frazzled as he looks for his cane. Upon locating it, House grabs it from where it fell onto the floor at some point and gets up from his chair. “Is it because you don’t want to admit that it could be you?”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” Wilson huffs. He throws his hands up in frustration and furrows his brow in anger. House starts to walk like he’s going to go past Wilson and to the door of his office, so Wilson blocks his way by moving in front of him. House shoots a glare that would work on just about anyone else- that would make Cameron or Chase or Foreman or any of House’s clinic patients turn their backs and walk away- but Wilson hasn’t been friends with House for over a decade by walking away from him. “You just admitted it was you and the weird prerequisites that you have for your sexual partners!”

“Well, you’ve had three failed marriages and you’re the only common denominator, so are we going to sit here and pretend that I’m the problem in this relationship?”

“I know I’m not perfect, you idiot- we’re both the problem!”

“Listen, Wilson, we’re at work and I’m sure you’ve got a ton of dying bald little freaks to save,” House says with a harsh tap of his cane to the floor for emphasis. 

“You’re fucked up.”

“I know. We both are,” House says and leans down to Wilson’s ear, daring to nip on the lobe. A flash of heat tears through Wilson’s spine. He can’t remember the last time he was so enthralled with someone; was it during his marriages? No, he would’ve remembered. Before House? Or was it always House? He’s so close that Wilson can smell past the cologne he wears and the shampoo he puts in his hair to get the scent of him, just him. Wilson knows his eyes are wide as House whispers in his ear. “Now get back to work. Or, if you’re just going to spend the rest of your shift thinking about me anyway, go home where you can fantasize about what I’m like in bed without getting interrupted.”

House, thinking he’s won this, side-steps as smoothly as he can given his infarction and goes to take another step forward so he can briskly escape this tense situation. Wilson, however, doesn’t intend on letting House escape. He’s always been good at surprising House, which he does yet again when he entangles his fingers in the loose ends of House’s hair and moves closer until they’re chest to chest. He waits for House to push him away, to say something, to tell Wilson that he doesn’t want this for some other stupid reason he’s come up with to push Wilson away for the millionth time.

Silence ensues. House doesn’t speak, just remains perfectly still with his back pin straight and his icy blue eyes trained on Wilson. He’s just holding his breath, watching, waiting for the oncologist to make the next move. Wilson enjoys the moment for what it is; being this close to House and being able to touch him isn’t something he’s ever gotten to partake in. 

House’s hair is peppery in color and a little coarse, and the ends are grown out so he has a couple small curls at the base of his neck. He’s long overdue for a hair cut. Wilson runs his fingers through it and revels in the sensation of his chest against House’s. 

He wonders what it would be like if they were at House’s apartment and not surrounded by the staff of the hospital walking by. He thinks about what this would feel like without the layers of clothes between them. He imagines what House would sound like if they weren’t standing here at Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital staring each other down- if they were in House’s queen-sized bed, mouths on each other’s, hands roaming bodies and sweat staining House’s dark blue bed sheets.

“Tell me you don’t love me, or that I’m ugly, or that I have too much baggage. Tell me something- anything- about me that’s so bad that you don’t want this,” Wilson commands. “Tell me that I’ve put on too much weight since my second divorce, that my savior-complex is annoying, that I’m a serial cheater, that I always put your empty cereal boxes back in the pantry after I finish off the bag, anything. Please.”

“It’s not-” House starts with a quizzical expression, only for Wilson to quickly interject.

“Not about you or your fears. Give me a good, valid reason you don’t want me, and I’ll stop. I’ll leave, we can go back to being normal friends- hell, you can choose not to talk to me ever again- and that’ll be the end of it. But I’m not going to walk away knowing that you want me just as much as I want you. I can’t do that to us, House.”

“I…”

House looks anywhere but at Wilson now; the clock on the wall, the cane in his hand, the floor, Wilson’s stupid pink tie. He can’t do it and they both know that. Wilson isn’t surprised. What he is surprised by is how House kisses his forehead so tenderly. Wilson almost doesn’t believe it’s him doing it… and then it’s his nose, and his cheek, and finally, House is kissing him on the lips, slow and sweet.

Wilson hesitantly kisses back. It doesn’t seem real, but it is. It must be real if the large hand squeezing his waist and the stubble brushing against his chin are anything to go off of. He pulls away just enough to whisper against House’s lips.

“We’re at work. Shouldn’t you stop now?”

“Yes,” House breathes, even as he goes in for another kiss, and then another, as if he’ll die without; as if he’s drowning and Wilson is his only source of air. Wilson accepts it, craves it, allows himself to be taken in and kissed until he’s out of breath and his lips are bruised. It quickly escalates into something that he knows he’d get fired for at any other hospital. Briefly, he worries about people walking past and seeing this through the glass door of House’s office until he realizes that he wants them to see. He wants them to see that no, his devotion to House isn’t meaningless- that their relationship does mean something, that House can and will feel love for the right person, and that Wilson is the only one worthy of said love. “I should.”

“But you’re not going to?” Wilson laughs.

“No, I’m not,” House says and dips for another peck between sentences. “Fuck, I don’t think I could stop this even if I wanted to.”

“Then shut the blinds, lock your office door, and bend over the desk.”

~

A couple more weeks pass. Some days, they sleep together. Some days, they don’t. Regardless, things are the same as they always have been minus the sex.

Wilson should be disappointed. He wanted House to open up and he wanted them to connect, to have a real relationship. But right now…

Well, he can’t bring himself to be disappointed when they’re like this, having just finished. 

He’d seen House naked many times before; it’s hard not to when you’re friends with someone for so long. He can’t even count the number of times he’s accidentally walked in on House jerking off or pinned to his couch by some random hooker. He can count the number of times the pain has been so bad that House has needed help with things as basic as getting dressed or getting in and out of the shower. It was never like this, though, with House underneath him, back arching off his bed. The older man’s icy blue eyes are shut with his lashes fluttering against his cheeks. He’s flushed dark pink from his head to the center of his narrow chest, which rapidly rises and falls with every labored breath he takes.

The mattress they’re on is an old, creaky piece of shit that creaks when Wilson carefully rests his weight on top of House. They’re covered in sweat and cum and god knows what else.

“Look at me,” Wilson pleads. House does just that, forcing his eyes open enough to meet Wilson’s. His pupils are blown wide and though it’s clear he’s drowning in their shared pleasure, Wilson can’t read much else. Is House just as enraptured by Wilson as Wilson is by him? Is House hoping he’ll stay after they clean up? “You’re beautiful… So beautiful.”

“And you’re cringeworthy. We’re in my bed, not The Notebook,” House references with a half-hearted roll of his eyes and a playful smack of one hand against Wilson’s shoulder. “So shut up and get off of me.”

Wilson does as told and rolls off of House, onto the bed. He’s learned where House keeps everything so that House can just lie there and let Wilson clean the both of them up on nights like this. They never have sex at Wilson’s as Wilson is living in a hotel following the divorce and has yet to settle into a new place of his own. 

He settles on his side next to House with his head on one of the pillows. There used to be one, but Wilson noticed after the first night he came over to do this, House bought another. Still, he hasn’t asked Wilson to stay the night. Wilson wonders if House even wants him to. Then again, there’s a lot of things he wonders about House. 

Wilson stares at House, who is still on his back, staring up at the ceiling. He already has his boxers back on which makes Wilson self conscious enough to grab his from the floor and put them on as well. 

Wilson wishes he knew what was running through the man’s mind right now. He’s quiet, contemplative, and serious in a way that’s out of character for him. Usually it’s awkward enough that Wilson leaves, and they pretend this never happened (until the next time it happens), but Wilson is growing weary of this cycle they’ve created over the last few weeks. Instead of quickly dressing himself and leaving, he gets back into the bed and pulls one of House’s large blankets over the two of them. House’s eyes widen. His gaze flickers to Wilson; questioning, cautious.

“There’s more I wish I knew about you,” Wilson softly murmurs. “More I wish you’d tell me. Things I’d ask about if I thought I could actually get an honest answer out of you.”

House furrows his brow.

“Like what?”

“Will you answer me honestly?”

“Depends on what you wanna know,” House answers.

Slowly, as if approaching a wild animal, Wilson worms his way between one of House’s arms and his body so he can rest his head on the man’s chest. House tenses at first before relaxing his muscles and wrapping his arm around Wilson’s body to return the affection.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about this… A few months ago, you lied to me about that transplant patient- Carly Forlano- you lied to all of us.”

“Who was that again?” House questions. 

Wilson doesn’t know if he’s serious or not.

“That business woman who came in with a ton of problems and ended up in congestive heart failure despite being perfectly healthy. You lied-”

“I like to call it ‘spinning the truth’.”

“So? What was wrong with the patient that met the exclusion criteria for the transplant list anyway? We both know that Chase figured it out and ratted to Vogler and Cuddy during her surgery.”

“She was taking Ipepac,” House says after a long pause, to which Wilson blinks up at him with confusion written on his face.

“You mean she took it once? There’s no way one use would cause that kind of damage to someone so young unless-”

“She said ‘maybe three times a week’. She was bulimic- or, is bulimic- who knows,” House shrugs as much as he can do so considering that Wilson’s weight is on top of him. Still, the expression on his face is unreadable. Wilson remains baffled; why would he lie for her? Why would he take the chance with his medical license by lying like that? Did he have some sort of personal connection with her, or was it just for the sake of solving one of his cases? Just to prove to himself that he was right? “But when bulimics give you a number for the amount they’re purging, it’s usually much more than what they’re actually willing to admit out loud, so I’d bank on it being at least once a day.”

“She’s a smart woman; smart enough to know the kind of damage that could do to her heart, and she did it anyway,” Wilson huffs. He knows everyone copes with stress differently, but he also remembers being very frustrated with that patient while she was in their care. She would use her cell phone during important texting and prioritize her many business calls over her health. Worst of all, she tried to rush herself out of the hospital to get back to work, assuming nothing was seriously wrong and that it was just a random one time health scare at first. If not for the staff’s insistence that she stay, she would’ve died from heart failure. “So why the hell would you grant her the transplant? Better yet, why would you lie to everyone to get her that transplant and risk your job- your medical license? You said you thought you were doing what’s right when we talked about it the first time.”

“I did, because that’s what I thought, and I still think that.”

“Why?”

“Would you believe me if I said I saw a bit of you in that patient?”

At that, Wilson gets off of House and sits up in the bed to stare down at the man, whose expression is unreadable as ever. 

“House, I’m not-”

“I know you’re not bulimic, but you’re great at making the worst possible choices for yourself at every turn and ruining your otherwise very accomplished life. That’s another form of self-harm in itself,” House says, sitting up as well. Wilson doesn’t miss the wince that momentarily takes over the other man’s face as he grabs his leg in pain from performing the motion. “Going into oncology even though it makes you miserable, jumping into three marriages that you knew weren’t going to work out, beating up that guy over a Billy Joel song at a bar during an important medical conference, allowing me to befriend you-”

“-you bailed me out of jail, what was I-”

“Staying as my friend even after the conference, allowing me to seep into your personal life and ruin aspect of it, and better yet, your professional life, too!”

“I still have a job and a good reputation, so-”

“Sure, because you got lucky with Cuddy pulling the plug on Vogler, which you had no way of knowing she would do. If that hadn’t happened, your little gesture of voting to keep me on staff even though you knew you’d get canned too still would’ve played out the way it was supposed to. You would’ve been fucked.”

“And what you’re saying is?” Wilson sighs. 

“Everyone else in my life; they’re sane enough to not want to deal with me the way I am but crazy enough to try and fix me. You, on the other hand, are sane enough to know I can’t be fixed but crazy enough to stay with me anyway. Even though you’ve made the mistake of getting to know me, you’re still here,” Silence. Wilson isn’t sure what to say, so he tentatively reaches out. House holds his hand and intertwines their fingers with a bittersweet smile. “Nothing to say?”

“Well… What’s so bad about knowing you?”

“Being known is simultaneously one of the best and worst things that could happen to someone. When it works out, it’s great, and when it doesn’t work out, it’s not… And let’s not pretend I’m not a huge asshole. It’s a miracle you’re still friends with me after all these years.”

“That’s all it is?” Wilson asks, to which House nods. “I don’t get it, then. We’ve been friends for a long time, House, you know I can take whatever you can dish out… Unless… Are you afraid I’m going to leave?”

“We could be naive enough to sit here and assume that things are always going to be this way; that we’ll always catch each other when we fall, but people fall out of love. People turn their backs, and they let each other fall. People grow and change and before you know it, your best friend becomes a stranger, and you don’t know them like you thought you did,” House drops Wilson’s hand and turns around to toss both of his legs over the side of the bed. Again, he winces from the pain caused by his infarction. It looks like he wants to stand to leave the room for something but can’t gather the strength to do so. “We’ve both had it happen to us before, and you know it’s real. You’ve been through three marriages and I’ve ran through plenty of relationships in the last few decades. You’re just making the worst possible decision for yourself yet again by throwing yourself into the pits with me.”

“But that’s my decision to make. Whether or not we do anything about our feelings doesn’t change them. There’s no stopping this, at least not for me,” Wilson insists and rushes to stand up so he can go around the side of the bed and offer his hands.

House refuses to take them, refuses to accept the help. The older man fumbles around until he manages to retrieve his cane from where he abandoned it on the floor earlier. Instead of using Wilson as leverage, he uses his cane and stands from the bed to walk towards the door of the bedroom. Wilson follows him into the kitchen in wait of a response.

“You’re not scared at all?”

“Of course I’m scared! I’m terrified. I’ve seen our track records with relationships, but… If it means that I get to be with you, I can be scared and still put my best foot forward, to try and make this work. I’m in love with you, Greg House.”

House walks towards the fridge without a word. Again, Wilson follows in wait of a response, this time wrapping his arms around House’s waist and resting his chin on the man’s shoulder from behind.

“You’re persistent.”

“So? You’re going to give me a heart attack if you keep making me wait on you. Seriously, it’s been over a decade of this nonsense with two weeks of confusing sex stacked on top of it,” Wilson scolds. House just looks back at him as if he’s not sure this is real. “So? What do you say?” “I say… I’m in love with you too, James Wilson,” House chuckles, reaches into the fridge, and grabs a beer for each of them with a large grin. “Good luck.”

[cuttinqlines]

IN THE MIDNIGHT HOUR II

                             IN THE MIDNIGHT HOUR II

(richard ramirez [ahs 1984] x reader | mainly implied xavier plympton x reader)

trigger warning; drug use, toxic relationships, mentions of abuse, toxic characters, xavier is portrayed as a major piece of shit for the first few installments, glorification of a serial killer, knives, etc.

disclaimer: i do not support the real richard ramirez in any way, shape, or form. this is simply based on the fictional version from ahs 1984. no disrespect is intended in any way. please, feel free to click off of the fic if you don’t enjoy this type of content. any hate will be ignored.

word count: 2,467

a/n: sorry this took so long. im a depressed piece of shit lmao. 

taglist: @kuollut-talven @felicityofbakerstreet @bitchcraft1398 

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IT HAD ONLY been a few days since your run-in with the self-proclaimed ‘Night Stalker’ yet it felt like years had passed. The memory of the event was constantly running through your mind, seeming to occupy your every thought. It was as if your mind was filled only with visions of dark hair and piercing dark eyes. It had gotten to the point where it was consuming you, distracting you from anything that wasn’t the thought of him. It was impossible to focus. You weren’t exactly sure that you wanted to. The part of you that desperately longed for the dark stranger to reappear and tear you away from your dilapidating life was overtaking you. You had almost wished that you would have given in to his demands that night. Almost. Something had been holding you back that night and something- someone- was still holding you back, tethering you to the place you had grown to despise.

Letting out a sigh, you stared at yourself in front of the bathroom mirror, attempting to shake away the thoughts that continuously plagued you. The ghost of a bruise still showed underneath your eye, barely noticeable with the makeup that you had delicately applied over it. You looked better than you had in the days before, but you still weren’t keen on leaving the confines of the four walls of your bedroom, let alone your apartment. You hadn’t left the house since that night. You were sure everyone thought that you were spiraling- He had probably twisted the story into that narrative. You turned away from the mirror, leaning against the base of the sink. It was time to face the situation at hand. You could already feel the silent judgment of Montana. She had told you so.  “Fuck.”

It shouldn’t have mattered that much to you- what everyone thought. It’s not like they had too much room to judge. They were your friends, sort of, but they didn’t rule you. They weren’t the end all be all. Still, you couldn’t help but feel nervous at the thought of facing them. It had been days of voicemails, knocks on the door, and missed phone calls. You had gone ghost. They wouldn’t have expected anything else, though. It wasn’t unlike you to disappear. You were used to disappointing everyone. 

After a few more minutes of anxiety and deliberation, you laid out a pretty white line, snorted it down, and got ready to head out the door. At the very least, you could show up to aerobics and casually run into everyone. By the time you got there, you were sure you could figure out how to gloss over all of the problems that kept on appearing. 

****

The Aerobics studio hadn’t changed much in your week of absence. The faces of the instructors were still plastered on the walls, yours still included much to your surprise. The chairs strategically placed throughout the lobby were occupied by young adults, laughing at something one of them had said. The ambiance was peaceful and you suddenly wished that you would have shown up for work in the last week. The thought quickly diminished as you thought back to the bruise that had been occupying your face. There was no way you would have shown up with that. You wouldn’t have given him the satisfaction. Stepping up to the front desk, you leaned against the counter lazily. 

“Hi. Do you have any classes with vacant spaces open for today, Janice?” You asked the receptionist a bit awkwardly, looking at the wall behind her as you spoke.

The woman looked up, purposefully making direct eye contact. She looked you up and down, judgement written all over her face.  “Yes. The instructor position for the class you teach at 6:30, (Y/N). If you want to keep your job, I suggest you get prepared for it and go teach it.” 

You couldn’t help but cringe at her tone. The attitude dripped off of it like poison. Truth be told, you had thought that you had already been fired. That is generally what happens after you drop off of the face of the planet for a week. “Right- I’ll just go ahead and get set up to start, then. Thank you.”

“You’re lucky that you showed up today. You’re really pushing it with your delinquent behavior. Shape up or ship out, sweetheart. This is the last time you’re getting exceptions. You’re really lucky that Montana covered your classes for the week. Now, get moving. It’s 6:20. Studio 3.”

Janice hardly gave you time to react, as she stood up and began to push you towards the direction of the studio. Her cold touch caused an unpleasant shiver to shoot through your spine. Your mind instantly drifted to your unwelcome house guest, though the shiver he gave you was not exactly unpleasant- You mentally scolded yourself for obsessing over the ‘Night Stalker’, before practically bursting into the studio. 

It felt as if a million eyes landed on you from the moment you opened the door. The never-ending stares seemed to burn holes into your skin. One pair of eyes, in particular, seemed to stare the deepest. Xavier. You flickered your gaze to meet his, the other people in the room disappearing into a sort of tunnel that consumed the sides of your vision. Your heart caught in your chest. You wanted to tear your eyes away, but there was something stopping you. Something about Xavier always seemed to hold you back. His gaze was pleading, an apology seeming to spill out of it. 

 “(Y/N)! I thought you were going to be out for a while! Xavier said that you were like super sick or something.” Montana’s voice rang out, casually. “So happy you’re here though. Teaching this class has been such a drag.”

At the sound of the young woman’s voice, your head instinctively jerked towards it. You plastered a pained smile onto your face. “Yeah- thanks for covering for me, Montana. I seriously owe you one. Being sick was a major drag. Probably worse than teaching this class of Cyndi Lauper obsessed boys.” 

The blonde let out a laugh. “Well, since you’re back, I’ll let you take this one. And maybe take your man out when you’re done. He’s been such a buzzkill lately.” 

Montana gave you a wink, patting your shoulder affectionately. With a final wave to you and Xavier, she slipped out the door and disappeared down the hall with a flash of blonde hair. Not wanting to waste any more time, or give Xavier the chance to talk to you, you flicked the boom box on and let the sound of Billy Idol’s voice fill the room. 

****

The entirety of the class went by uneventfully. Billy Idol’s soothing tone seemed to temporarily soother your anxiety, making it easier for you to ignore the pained glances that were becoming more and more inescapable. You left the music on as the class drew to a close, turning the volume down to a soft, but audible hum. You didn’t bother to look as everyone made their way to the door. Instead, you moved towards the front of the room, letting yourself face the large windows that looked out towards the city. 

You watched as people leaving the last few classes of the evening walked down the sidewalk, off into the night. Some faces were familiar, regulars that always seemed to be in aerobics class. Other faces, unfamiliar and new. They all seemed so happy, as if their lives were perfect. You wished that you could get a taste of that feeling. You continued to admire the citizens of Los Angeles, lost in your thoughts. Then, in a sudden flash, there was a single face that stuck out in the crowd. Unmistakable dark hair and piercing eyes that could have belonged only to the face that you could never forget. You locked eyes with the man, causing a sinister smile to appear on his face. He moved closer to the building. Your heart skipped a beat. He was headed towards the door. Your eyes were still locked with his, nothing could-

“(Y/N)... Can we talk about what happened the other night? Please… I didn’t mean for it to go so far.” Xavier’s voice hit your ears, soft and pleading. 

You broke away from the ‘Night Stalker’s’ gaze, slowly turning to face the man that you had once felt so strongly for. You leaned against the windows behind you, pressing your nearly bare back against the cool glass. Xavier took a few steps closer, leaving only a few inches between your faces. You couldn’t help but flinch as he reached out to tenderly touch your face. Hurt flashed across his face briefly, but his hand still gently came into contact with your soft skin. You let your eyes flutter closed and sucked in a sharp breath. “I- I can’t do this,” you whispered, hot tears pricking in the inner corner of your eyes. So many different emotions were running through your body. The urge to run away from him had never been so heightened. 

He grazed his thumb gingerly across your jawline, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I’m so sorry, Please. I just wanted it so badly and I thought that was the only way. And I didn’t want anyone to find out. The way you looked at me when you did- I lost it. I thought you would tell everyone. I thought you would leave me. I’m so sorry.” 

You had yet to respond to him when a cutting voice interrupted the scene unfolding before you. “Well, well, well. What do we have here?” The deep voice questioned, sinister laughter etched into his tone. 

“N-?” You began, eyes flickering open. You met the dark haired man’s eyes, looking directly past Xavier. He was already staring at you intensely, the usual smirk plastered on his face. 

“Richard.” He corrected, moving his eyes from you to the other man in your company. Xavier had moved away from you by this point, looking at Richard with a suspicious glare. Richard simply continued to smirk at him, looking more and more devilish as time passed. “My little angel, didn’t expect to see you so soon. What a pleasant surprise.”

“Okay. Who the fuck are you?” Xavier demanded, his hand wrapping around your forearm in a protective manner. You instinctively recoiled to his touch. You shifted your weight from one foot to another, watching as the two began to go back and forth. 

“I’m the devil’s favorite prodigy. It’s more like ‘who the fuck are you?’” The other man taunted. His eyes locked on the contact point of yours and Xavier’s skin. An unreadable emotion flashed across his face, but was quickly replaced with his usual infuriating smirk. “I’ve decided I’m here to collect her. Truth be told, it wasn’t originally in my master and I’s plan, but it seems like I stumbled in at the perfect time, with you harassing my girl.”

“Your-? (Y/N), are you fucking this guy? We get into one fight and you’re off giving it out to this creep?” The blonde questioned, his tone demanding and incredulous. His voice rose with every word that he spoke. He was red in the face by this point. You could tell by the clench in his jaw and the way his hand tightened around you that he was angry. The smug expression of Richard definitely wasn’t helping his reaction either.

You tried to ignore the fear that had begun to creep into the back of your mind, your mind flashing back to his closed fist accidentally ramming into your face. You looked up at him with your tear stained face. Words were failing you. You didn’t exactly want to say that Richard had broken into your house, pinned you against a wall, and sparked something inside of you that made you feel so many fucked up things. Was it really more fucked up than what you felt about Xavier after everything that he had done? You weren’t so sure any more. Xavier seemed to take your silence and lack of denial as a ‘yes’ to his questions. Disgust took over his face, his hand tossing your arm away as if it had suddenly turned into some sort of cursed object. 

He scoffed at you, shoving you away from his body. “I can’t believe you would do this to me. Maybe you deserved that.” He spat out venomously, angrily gesturing to the hardly hidden  bruise underneath your eye. 

You flinched as his hand raised. Something seemed to click into place for the dark haired man as he watched the two of you, your reaction triggering the darkest part of him. You hardly had time to react further, before Richard was in front of you. His left arm pressed back against your body, gently shoving you behind him. His right hand was adorned with his blade, ready to slash at the man before him. “You did that to her? For your sake, I hope you say no. I’d hate to have to kill you right here. It would really throw a wrench into the master’s plans and we both hate that.”

Your hand reached out slowly, tugging on the edge of this sleeve, beckoning his eyes to meet your eyes. He complied, looking over his shoulder quickly. You shook your head at him, a silent plea for him to drop it. He was already acting psychotic enough to have the police called on him and you were sure that would be the last thing that he wanted. He looked back to Xavier, who was staring at him incredulously. “Get the fuck out of here or die,” The dark haired man spat out.

Xavier gave you a pointed look, before shoving past the both of you and storming out of the studio. You knew he would show up at your apartment later, demanding explanations for the psychotic interaction that just went down. You would figure out a way to avoid that later. For now, your full attention was on Richard. He turned towards you, dark eyes studying the every feature on your face. His hand hovered over the side of your neck, before gently pushing your hair to the side. His fingers softly trailed down the side of your throat, traveling down your chest. Like a phantom, they grazed the length of your body, sending a shiver down your spine. Your heart skipped a beat in your chest. You softly bit down on your bottom lip, eyes staring straight into his. “You’re mine now, little angel. I’ll kill for you. I’ll die for you. But you have to be mine forever- That’s the catch. Will you sell your soul to the devil?”

“I will.”

[jmnjmnjmn]

Bad days mean nothing to me | Idol!Seokjin x NonIdol!Reader Story

Pairing: Idol!Seokjin x NonIdol!Reader Keywords: established relationship, ldr Word count: a little over 900 Warnings: fluff, stress, ldr at times Masterlist

Sliding her finger across the dimmed screen of her phone, Yn moved the blue dot from right to left. As she let go of it the sound of the message rang through her earphones.

“Yn-ah, are you awake?” her boyfriend whispered into the microphone before breaking into a light giggle. “Yn-ah, it’s early in the morning,” he continued, barely stopping himself from laughing again. “Yn-ah,” -he took in a deep breath- “happy three hundred days,” he whisper-yelled, probably trying to keep his noise levels at the minimum since it was so early.

Yn’s smile grew wide beneath her crisp white face mask.

“It’s already been three hundred days,” she thought to herself, shaking her head slightly.

She scrolled through the messages they had exchanged after Seokjin sent that voice file. So many emojis, so many heartfelt words. She wished she could show him how happy she was to be his in person but there was no way that could happen. They were in different cities right now - him down in the south, shooting some show for BTS, her up in Seoul, doing nothing special.

On some days more than others, the couple saw the differences between their lifestyles. On those days, days like today, those differences were just too much to handle for one or the other. This time it was Yn that had a hard time coping with being away from each other on yet another anniversary. She smiled hearing her boyfriend’s voice once more through the voice message but at the same time, she couldn’t help to feel a tinge of sadness pick at her heart as she made her way to work that morning.

“I miss you,” she typed into the text bar and pressed sent.

Jin gritted his teeth, reading the message from Yn. He missed her too. Terribly.

“Seven o’clock,” he said to himself. “I’ll see my girlfriend at seven o’clock,” he hummed while packing his belongings into his trusty black backpack.

Earlier the group’s manager let them know they will be wrapping up their activities sooner than expected and Jin felt ecstatic upon finding out that he was going to make it back to the country’s capital before midnight. However, he decided to keep the good news from Yn and give her a surprise visit as soon as he arrived back in Seoul.

At two in the afternoon the shooting was over. At four-thirty everyone was fed and well-rested, ready to take the almost three-hour drive back to Hanam-dong. About quarter to seven Jin was already in his car, showered and changed with a bouquet of flowers on the passenger’s seat. Seven sharp he pressed the buzzer on Yn’s front door. He did it again and again until he heard footsteps and inaudible words on the other side of the door.

“What-” the girl’s voice got caught in her throat as soon as she laid her eyes on the person in the corridor. “I- I-” she stuttered.

“Surprise,” Jin exclaimed, lowering the bundle of roses to reveal his smiley face.

“Seokjin-ah,” Yn whined, making all the joy leave the man’s expression in an instant.

“What? What?” he asked, stepping closer to her as he realised her eyes were beginning to water. “What is it?” he grabbed her shoulders, rubbing them comfortingly.

The sudden proximity, the warmth of his touch, his smell, the mere sight of him, all of it made Yn realise how overwhelmed she had been the past couple of weeks. Now that her person, her sweet loving boyfriend was right in front of her she felt it all starting to tear her apart.

“Seokjin-ah,” she whined again before breaking into tears.

Jin took a step forward, making her walk back into the apartment. The door closed behind him with a loud thud but he couldn’t care less about making noise right now.

“Why are you crying?” he asked, putting his hands on Yn’s wet cheeks.

“Bad week,” she sniffled. “Very bad week.”

“Very bad week and no boyfriend to complain to?” he cooed, instantly regretting his actions as the cute voice only made the girl in front of him cry even harder. “Ah, baby,” he groaned sadly and kissed the corner of her lips chastely. “Come here,” he wrapped his arms around her, letting her hide her head in his chest as her hands snaked around his torso. “I’ve got you,” he murmured in a low voice, his breath warming her heart up little by little. “I’m here,” he stroked her hair, taking in the shape of her body that melted right into his so perfectly. “You can cry all you want. I have broad shoulders,” she exhaled a weak chuckle at his comment and lifted her face to rest it against the crook of his neck. “Yn-ah, listen to me now,” her ears perked up, ready to take in his words. “Everything will be alright.”

“How can you know that?” she muttered into the fabric of his shirt, still feeling sad and tired but not so hopeless anymore because how could she when he was so close.

Seokjin pushed onto her shoulders, putting the tiniest amount of space between their chests. He guided her head up with his hand so they were looking each other in the eye. With one palm spread across her back and the other caressing her cheek he smiled as if he knew something very important that she didn’t.

“Because” -he paused to put a strand of hair behind her ear- “with you, all bad days mean nothing to me,” he confessed, shaking his head. “When we’re together all bad things mean nothing.”

Masterlist

[ktheist]

finale — show me yours & i’ll show you mine

➙ muses. seokjin x college student / gamer!reader ft. best friend! taehyung

➙ genre. best friend’s brother au. university au. working au. fwb au.

➙ word. 2.1k

➙ index. 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | finale | side story 1 |

➙ synopsis. 

“show me yours and i’ll show you mine.”

x

“be nice," taehyung mouths across from you as he sits next to mina.

the red handprints on his cheeks becoming more apparent with each passing minute. it was half-believable to say taehyung fell face first in the snow, got stuck there for more than two minutes and voila, sported a red face upon your return to the kim’s.

but now, you’re just lucky no one’s pointing out the very obvious palm shaped mark on his pudgy cheeks as he stuffs his face with food.

“oh, mina, do you have any plans tomorrow? you could stay over and spend christmas morning with us," mrs kim asks as she passes the bowl of the roasted potatoes seokjin’s been boasting about.

“o-oh,” the brunette stammers, holding the fork with both hands as if citing a prayer of hope, “no, i couldn’t intrude on you any longer.”

“no such thing, we’re all family here.” mrs kim waves a dismissive hand and even that brief gesture feels warm, “___’s mother and i have known your mother since we were kids and i watch you two grow up with my boys - you’re basically  daughters i never had,” she shoots you a smile, eyes crinkling in the corners.

not seeing the remark coming, you end up almost choking on the mushroom soup you’re just in the middle of enjoying.

“i can’t say i’d love to have tae as a sibling but here we are,” you jest, half-heartedly while laughter erupts from everyone at the table.

if there’s a god, please don’t let mrs kim find out i fucked her oldest son.

“i heard yuukal co is interested in your flower arrangements and wanna buy exclusive rights to have you deliver them to the company whenever they have an event lined up?” namjoon chirps up, dimples digging into his cheek as he digs into his 

“the secretary of yuukal co was an acquaintance of mine in college, that’s probably why.” the brunette says shyly, pushing her hair to the back of her ear.

“so, you’re not planning on going back to college?” 

but it’s your voice that makes her blink once and stare at you like you’re some tricky math question.

“what- oh,” she shakes her head, as if shaking away the trance that delayed her response, “i don’t know, my major has nothing to do with what i want to do so i’m thinking of taking another year off.”

you nod casually. understandingly. “i’m sure the college has plenty of spots for people who actually wants to be there, i guess.”

it’s not a new low. but it’s a kind of low you never usually stoop to.

no one seems to notice though, as mina laughs. obviously uncomfortable by your remark, “haha yeah.”

“taehyung got offered a job at the company he interned in last year,” with a smack on the aforementioned boy’s back, seokjin proudly announces.

and just like that, taehyung takes the spotlight to himself.

“oh my god, that’s wonderful news. kim taehyung, when were you going to tell us?” mrs. kim is the first to say something, eyes brimming with anticipation as she looks at him, waiting for him to tell everyone at the table more about it.

but the fact of the matter is, kim taehyung is torn between working a nine-to-five, subsequently making his parents proud or going professional as a full time gamer.

he breathes out an ‘uh...’ before his lips curl into a forced smile.

“surprise?”

x

some time after dinner, you end up drinking and playing card games. mrs kim already went to bed and it's a hour past midnight and all four of your find yourselves in your house to not disturb the kim couples.

the grinch is playing in the background because you, taehyung and mina won against namjoon and seokjin who wanted to watch frozen.

“frozen is so unchristmasy,” taehyung complained.

though, at one point, you did backtrack a little - only a teensy bit - and sided with seokjin who looked like he just won a lottery when you casually say, “i mean frozen’s got that wintry feeling and christmas is in-”

“oh girl, not you choosing a man over your best friend,” taehyung started tickling your sides as giggles erupted from your lips while trying to beg for forgiveness.

 “okay! okay! i’m grinch team all the way!”

“is that allowed? yah! you can’t say that after converting to team frozen!” seokjin’s rebuttal sounded every bit casual.

in retrospect, him joining taehyung’s ticklish assault would have felt out of character had you not fucked behind taehyung’s back nor kissed like you were star crossed lovers just hours ago.

“two against one! not fair! seokjin- ah- hahahaha!” 

one good thing came out of it though: you ended up sitting next to seokjin. it made you a little too conscious of him - of his cologne, of his thigh that brushes against yours with every movement you make and pretend like it’s nothing and of the ghost of a touch of his pinky finger that lingers on your knee when he seemingly places a hand on his own knee. 

still, it’s the closest you could ever be in public and it’s enough to tell mina to back off.

she doesn’t seem to notice but her compliments are equally distributed to everyone in the room. she seems to be the giggly drunk. giggling at every single thing everyone say.

somewhere deep in your heart, you feel the guilt gnawing because of your uncalled for hostility.

“i better get home,” she starts to stand at 3:07 am and you wave a dismissive hand, “no, it’s so late. stay over. please. you promised to make me your special hot chocolate in the morning.”

she objects at first like she turned down mrs kim’s invitation to spend christmas morning at the kim’s. and that’s how you know your views have been blinded with jealousy to see mina for who she is - a cute, lovable girl who’d be the heroine of every romance novel there is.

“oh thank you, thank you!” her arms flail around before they wrap around you in a drunken hug.

you laugh, hugging back.

x

the memories of how you huddled together like children and fell asleep in the living room, is hazy but when you wake up - the time on your screen displaying a 6 something am - you find a blanket draped over your body.

the light from the kitchen pours over the living room but not enough to wake the slumbering bodies there.

seokjin shoots you a smile when he sees you ambling over to the dining table with hair pointing in every direction, eyes squinting trying to block out the light while holding the blanket around your shoulders.

“you’re working? jinnie, it’s christmas,” you whine, head resting on his shoulder, feeling your heartbeat skip at the small contact.

he chuckles, bumping his cheek against your head before you hear the sound the keyboard again.

you stay like that, blanket curled around your body, seokjin typing away at his laptop.

that is, until his velvet voice cuts through the silence.

“so... i reckon that red handprint on tae’s cheek isn’t because he fell face first in snow.”

“it was because i slapped him in the face,” you wave your injured hand that’s now wrapped with a panda printed band aid instead of the duck ones seokjin used in the beginning.

he takes your hand, making sure not to apply too much pressure on the injury and kisses the top of your hand, “why would you do that?”

your cheeks warm at the gesture but you clear your throat, trying to play it cool, “because he told me we looked good together after all that shit he put us through.”

silence lulls in once again.

it feels like the longest you’ve ever gone with your heart palpitating inside your chest and unspoken words hovering over you but not quite reaching the who they’re supposed to reach.

“do we?” seokjin muses.

“do we... what?” you ask despite having an inkling of what he means.

“look good.” he turns to you, one arm on the table, thumb brushing against your pinky finger.

“i don’t know- we never even took selfies together.” you shrug.

“i think our selfies would look cute,” he pauses, naturally pouty lips curling into a smile, “so cute that the guys in your dm’s would be devastated to know that you’re dating me.”

“i can’t... do this,” the words slip out of your mouth like a waterfall like it’s bound to pour out of your heart through your mouth at some point, “because taehyung was... right. i don’t have a love language - even if i did, it’d be being jealous of every girl that talks to you. lashing out at those girls even though it’s completely understandable why they’d have heart eyes when they talk to you because you’re just that amazing... and... and... you like me? why?”

seokjin’s eyes look like someone personally plucked stars from the sky and trap them in those dark brown irises.

no- actually, he’s looking at you like you’re the star and he’s the moon that shines silver white rays just to have you notice him.

“who’s to say i don’t get jealous?” he cups your face, brows furrowing like you’re a math question without a solution and he’s going mad trying to figure you out, “i get so jealous at the thought of guys sliding into your dm’s, let alone make a pass on you but then i thought ‘if she’s not looking at me then i just have to try harder to make her notice me’ and i might or might not’ve reciprocated mina’s passes to make you jealous...”

you feel the corners of your lips tugging into a smile as you smack his chest lightly, “ass.”

that earns a chuckle from the man before he goes on, “but i’m not even sure what my love language is either, last i used it, i ended up getting dumped because apparently i’m too boring.”

“you’re not boring...” red flashes in your vision as you spit out the word, offended, “your dad jokes are bad but that’s what makes them so lovable. you’re so tall but you’re a literal walking teddy bear. you have biggest, kindest heart... and you’re so hung.”

something devious and prideful flashes across his eyes for the briefest moment before he asks ever so softly, “yeah?”

“yes.” you take his hands and grip them tightly, wishing the touch would convey your feelings.

“isn’t that kind of your love language?” his thumb feels callous against your skin as he rubs circles on the back of your hand. but that’s what makes this feels real - an affirmation that you’re not dreaming, “so... show me more... show yours and i’ll show you mine.”

you’d want to say you share a deep, passionate kiss to seal your promise for each other. but when you open your eyes - not knowing when you closed it - you’re staring at the white ceiling with neon starry stickers tacked up on it. 

and seokjin?

he’s nowhere to be found.

the morning air sends shivers down your spine as you pull your blanket over your head, trying to tune out taehyung’s voice.

but the universe seems set on kicking your sleepy ass of your bed when the door swings open with a bang! 

“get up! get up! it’s christmas!” the tall boy literally screams in your ears before hoisting you over his shoulder like a sack of potato and setting you down on the toilet in the bathroom with a “you better wash your face by the time i come back!”

you do as told.

eventually.

since the presents are all set under the christmas tree at the kim’s and you’re not looking to upload a christmas morning story in mismatched pj’s, you change into a cute totoro onesie.

mr and mrs kim got mina - she thanked you for letting her stay over last night even though you woke up to an empty house, she even has different clothes on than last night - new kits for the florist.

taehyung almost hugged you to death when he unwrapped his new ps5 that he’s been dying for.

namjoon got a new pair of gucci loafers from taehyung and booked an interrogation slot with their mother because-

“kim taehyung, where did you get all this money?”

you suspect he’s going to reveal his gaming channel to her where he got sponsors from to buy namjoon those loafers.

and seokjin gifted you with a heartshaped necklace as well as a new pc set for taehyung and a signed book of namjoon’s favorite writer that he’d been talking about for ages as well as an all expense paid trip for his parents to thailand.

“thanks for the necklace,” you lightly bump seokjin’s elbow as you come to stand next to him at the sink. he’s washing the mug he used for hot coffee.

he steals a glance at his family and mina in the living room. they’re laughing over taehyung having his head down, sitting on his calves like he’s asking for the forgiveness of a lifetime after confessing that he didn’t want to work a nine-to-five and wanted to go pro.

then his eyes find yours again. the glint in them makes your heart stop before he leans down, lips brushing yours ever so gently yet very seokjin-like.

you think your heart just burst as you freeze in your spot, staring up at the man with slightly parted lips and warm cheeks like a high school girl whose crush very obviously hinted he likes her back.

he raises a quizzical brow at your reaction before realization settles on his face and his lips curve into a smirk, “what? did you think last night was all a dream?”

x

taglist.  @aretha170 @scalubera @ambersaesthetics @heyjiminnie @hyuck-me @fanfuckingfic @fangurl-ontgeside @bri-mal @waves-and-woods @rjsmochii​ @kimmieloveswho​

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

A Place To Call Home: Halloween

Summary: A casual Halloween night out for some drinks between the reader, TJ and Cody becomes anything but when the reader thinks she may have been drugged at a bar. When she calls Jensen for help, their relationship takes a fundamental change...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x foster daughter!reader

Word Count: 6,100ish

Warnings: language, drinking, drugging, angst, fluff

A/N: This part takes place after the Jensen’s Day timestamp. Enjoy!

______

“Trick or treat!” said Allie after your dad answered the front door in a batman t shirt. 

“Well aren’t you the cutest little Elsa,” he said. He dropped a few big handfuls of candy in her bag and then a few more. He tickled Colin and got a laugh from him. “Colin you are the most adorable baby Yoda ever cutie and I gotta say...you ain’t a half bad Mandalorian, kid. You almost look tough or something.”

“It’s cause I’m a badass,” said TJ as he stuck out his chest.

“It’s cause you’re a nerd,” said your dad. You walked inside, Colin giggling as your mom stole him away without a second glance. “Nice costume though.”

“Y/N picked it out off some website or something,” he said. He sneezed and your dad shut the door. “God my allergies are killing me lately. Ragweed is horrible this year.”

“I know. De and I have been popping allergy meds the past few days,” he said. “You get it the worst.”

“Yeah but I started taking it like a week ago to build it up. I think it’s helping. Also, a bounty hunter and an adoptive dad? Mmm, peak man crush right there, babe,” you said, your dad rolling his eyes as TJ kissed your cheek.

“And what exactly are you supposed to be? A curtain?” teased your dad as you spun around.

“I thought I’d go another route,” you said. You took off your robe and he went wide eyed. “Soldier...girl?”

“Oh my God. You’re Solider Boy. That is so fucking cool!” he said as he looked you over.

“Jay, fuck’s a bad word,” said Allie. 

“And we don’t repeat bad words, do we,” said TJ. “De’s got some more candy for you somewhere I bet.”

She took off up to the TV room and your dad walked around you.

“What do you think?” you asked. “Look real?”

“Okay that’s like good. Like real good. It’s just like mine from the show. Like even the shield looks the same.”

“It’s from the show. Kripke sent it to me. I know it’s a little big for my back but I couldn’t not use it,” you said. “I took a long shot and asked him on Twitter about it and he just like sent me the thing. He was really nice.”

“Good,” he said as he looked you over. “I am impressed. You guys might win your costume contest thing at whatever bar you’re going to.”

“I just want to go drink,” you said, TJ throwing an arm over your shoulders. “We’ll be back around eleven, midnight?” 

“Go have fun. Mom and I’ll watch the babies tonight. Pick ‘em up in the morning,” he said.

“We didn’t pack bags for them,” you said. He stared at you and shook his head.

“You live a quarter of a mile away. We shall survive without you for one evening,” he said, pushing you both out the door. “Go have fun with Cody. I’ll see your hungover butts tomorrow, okay?”

“Don’t have to tell us twice.”

“Cody,” you said at the bar a few hours later. He finished off his drink and shook out his head. “Can you check on TJ? He’s been in the bathroom awhile.”

“Yeah. Order me another gin and tonic?” he asked.

“Can do,” you said. You hopped off your seat and paused for a moment, getting your bearings before you walked over to the bar. “Gin and tonic and another...graveyard…”

“Graveyard smash?” asked the girl behind the bar.

“Yeah. Another one of those. Oh and a bottle of bud,” you said. You handed over your card to pay, tucking it back in your shorts pocket. You brought the drinks over to the table, finishing off your margarita and the last of TJ’s old beer before you started sipping on the Halloween mixer. 

It took about thirty seconds before you realized what you’d done.

“Fuck,” you said. You pursed your lips and took out your phone, biting your bottom lip before you dialed.

“You better be drunk calling me,” chuckled your dad. “What’s up, kiddo?”

“The guys are in the bathroom and I just drank from a glass that nobody was watching,” you said. You shut your eyes and felt a little off, not sure if it was because of the already decent amount of alcohol in you or something else. “What do I do?”

“Go to the bar and sit there and don’t move. The boys will be back soon,” he said. You tried to move but felt wobbly and sat back on your seat. “Y/N, don’t hang up on me.”

“Dad, I don’t think I can walk over there,” you said. “I’m drunk but...shit I fucked up.”

“Where are you?” he asked.

“Um, the uh...the place to the right of Jared’s.”

“Okay. Sit there. I’m gonna call…” he said as you stared down at the bathrooms. “Y/N. Answer me.”

“I think something’s wrong,” you said. “The boys are taking too long.”

“Cody is a police officer and TJ is tougher than he looks. They’re probably throwing up or something,” he said.

“TJ said he felt funny,” you said as you stared at his glass. “What if it was in his drink?”

“I don’t know but whatever you do, do not leave your spot,” he said.

“But it’s TJ.”

“Y/N I’m having a hard enough time not freaking out right now. Please do not move,” he said. 

“Hey! Soldier boy!” said a guy walking by in a homelander costume. “Nice suit.”

“Can you do me a favor?” you said, the guy smiling as he leaned against your table. “My husband and friend went to the bathroom a long time ago and didn’t come back. One’s the Mandalorian and the other one is a zombie. Can you check on them for me?”

“Yes I can very drunk girl,” he chuckled. “I’ll be back.”

“Y/N, stop putting the phone down,” said your dad in your ear.

“Homelander’s going to look for the boys.”

“Your boys or The Boys?” he asked.

“Should I have clarified?”

“Just...I’ll be there soon. Don’t-”

“Boys!” you said, Homelander wandering back over with a very pale looking TJ and a wet Cody.

“I think your friends were puking in the alley,” said Homelander.

“Thank you so much,” you said. “You’re so sweet.”

“Mind if I get a pic? Your costume is kinda perfect,” he said.

“Not at all,” you said. You hopped off your seat and felt better. “Ah, okay. Just drunk.”

“Hm?” said TJ as you hung up your call and the other guy gave him his phone. “Hey there’s a starlight over there too.”

“Starlight! Come get your pic taken with the Seven, girl!” you shouted.

“She’s drunk,” said the homelander guy with a laugh. 

“After three of those graveyard smash things? Oh for sure,” said TJ.

Half an hour later you were onto another drink and TJ was fanboying over star wars with another guy in a Mandalorian outfit. Cody was talking to the starlight chick who was maybe in a relationship with the homelander guy. They were at least mutually pining for one another if they weren’t already.

“Morris. Come on. I’m drunk and even I can tell Kayla Starlight over there is dying for you to ask her out,” you said. He shrugged and you cocked your head. “Oh come on.”

“She’s been my best friend since I was like four. Like, I can’t fuck up twenty something years of friendship if she’s...how fucked am I?” he asked as you smirked.

“So fucked,” you laughed. “Trust me. I was besties with my husband for years before we finally talked about it. Sometimes you just gotta-”

“Why the fuck haven’t you been answering your phone?” you heard your dad say. You spun around and gave him a smile.

“Is that the guy that played-”

“Walk away kid. Now,” growled your dad. 

“See ya around, Y/N,” he said, Kayla disappearing with a wave with him. TJ spun around and your dad shot him a dirty look.

“What’d I do?” asked TJ.

“You three are glued to your phones yet tonight for some reason, you seem to have forgotten they exist. If you’d read a text then you’d know that she called me half an hour ago saying she thought she’d been drugged.”

“What?” Cody and TJ said, both of them staring at you.

“Fuck, Y/N I thought someone took you,” said your dad. You opened your mouth and he shook his head.

“She’s just drunk,” said TJ. 

“Well thanks for the update. You could have answered your phone,” he said. He glared at you and shook his head. “Don’t ever do that again.”

He left the bar and you slid off your seat, jogging outside, telling the boys you’d be back in a minute. There were a lot of people out for a Friday night and it took a second to find him in the crowd. 

“Dad,” you said. You caught up with him as he walked down the sidewalk. You tugged on his arm and the man spun around, very much not your father. “Sorry. I thought you were someone else.”

“Nice costume,” he said and you stepped back into another body, your head swimming. “You gonna puke? Alley’s over there.”

You turned your head and jogged around the corner, spitting up your stomach with a big heave. You wiped off your mouth and sighed, getting up to your feet. There was a shove on your back and you got pushed further into the darkness, falling onto the dirt and gravel. You spun around on your bottom and saw the guy from before.

“Be more careful, kid. You’re tripping there.”

“You pushed me,” you grumbled as you stood up, picking up a rock in your fist as you went.

“You’re on something. You got that look in your eye,” he said. You narrowed your eyes and he walked forward, close enough for you to whack him in the head with the rock. He swore as he fell down and you ran back onto the street, jogging away until you got to a street corner and saw a familiar back of someone’s head.

“Dad,” you said, tugging on his jacket, relieved to find it was him this time. “Dad, there was-”

“I don’t want to speak to you right now,” he said. You swallowed and stared at him, his face hard.

“Dad. I-”

“You never hang up the phone with me when you call me like that ever again, do you understand?” he said. You stared at him and his jaw clenched. “Of course you don’t. You’re drunk.”

“Dad I’m not. I-”

“You smell like vomit,” he said with a scoff. You turned around and saw the man from before hanging back, shooting you a look. “Go back to the bar, Y/N.”

“Dad-”

“Would you just go?” he shouted. 

“Dad don’t. I need-”

“For fucks sake. Just go away.”

You let go of his arm, tears welling in your eyes. 

“Grow up,” he said. You stepped back, watching him walk across the street.

“D-Daddy,” you said. He stopped in the crosswalk and looked back at you, his gaze following yours over to the man. The man saw him look at him and took off back towards the bars when he saw your dad scowling. Your dad jogged back over to you, tensing when you took a step back from him. 

“No one’s gonna hurt you,” he said. He stepped closer and you squeezed your eyes shut. “Y/N. What’s wrong?”

“I feel funny and I’m drunk and I’m scared and I’m scared of you,” you breathed out. “You were gonna leave me alone.”

“Y/N-”

“You said you wouldn’t leave me alone,” you said. You stumbled over to a nearby wall and slide down it, your head in your hands. “Don’t leave me alone. You promised. You said so.”

“Okay,” he said as he sat down beside you. He kissed the top of your head and you heard him shudder. “You’re okay, munchkin, I promise.”

“How are you feeling this morning?” asked the doctor that walked into your room. 

“Tired,” you mumbled. TJ and Cody were there in their own stalls, still in their costumes, your dad out in the hall talking to someone.

“Your blood alcohol content was up there,” he said. “Especially you, Y/N.”

“I want to go home,” you groaned.

“You’ll be discharged shortly,” he said. You grumbled and half an hour later you were signing something that you could leave.

“Y/N,” said your dad as you walked away from the nurses station. You glanced over your shoulder, glancing down until he came over. “We need to talk about last night.”

“No we don’t. We got too drunk. I fucked up. Lesson learned,” you said. You started to head out and he grabbed your shoulder. “Jensen let go.”

“Y/N,” he said, spinning you around. He opened his mouth and you crossed your arms, shrugging him off. “I made a mistake.”

“I had to beg you to help me. I called you daddy I was so scared,” you said. He shut his eyes and you growled. “Look at me.”

He snapped his eyes up, his eyes a little red already but you were too angry to care.

“The only other time I’ve ever called you that, I thought you were dead on that road. I thought...I thought there was absolutely...I was drunk and maybe drugged and your reaction was to get pissed at me, at us, for not answering phones. A man tried to attack me and I got away because my dad told me to grab whatever I could if I was ever in that situation. There you were, the safest place in the world, the safest I could ever feel after something like that happened and you told me to go away. I was terrified and you could see it on my face and you left me. You made me beg for you to help me. I don’t know who the fuck you were last night but you were not my father. You’re Jensen again until he decides to come back.”

“Y/N,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“Congratulations. You’re just like every other foster father I ever had.”

He stared at you and you turned around, walking past both TJ and Cody.

“Y/N,” said TJ and you kept walking. “Y/N. Jensen, she didn’t mean that.”

“Yes, I did. Let’s go TJ.”

One Week Later

The doorbell rang and you rolled your eyes, TJ walking past the couch and away from the door.

“TJ, can-”

“Tell him yourself,” he said, going to his office and slamming the door. You glared at it before going to the front door. You opened it quickly, your dad standing there in his raincoat and swallowing thickly.

“Is this about work?” you asked.

“No,” he said quietly.

“Then get off of my property.”

“Y/N-” he said as you slammed the door shut in his face. He rang the doorbell again and you ripped it open. “Honey-”

“I’m not your honey or kiddo or tall munchkin or anything, Jensen. This is me telling you that I want you out of my life,” you said. He lowered his head and you heard him sniffle. “I don’t give a fuck about if you cry. Get out of our lives. Stay away from my family.”

“I’ll do whatever you want me to,” he breathed out, forcing his head up. His eyes were red and puffy, face tired like it’d been that way for days. “I’ll do whatever you want. I promise.”

“You humiliated me,” you said, stepping outside and pulling the door shut. “I thought you loved me.”

“I do,” he said. “I love you so much you-”

“You don’t even know. Boo fucking hoo,” you said. He stepped back and looked small, rain dripping down on him now. “The real world sucks. Get used to it.”

“I made a mistake. Please,” he said. “Y-you don’t have to forgive me. You can...just let me try. Please. We’ve always tried. P-please let me try.”

You stared at him, watching him look down, watching him debate getting on his knees.

And it dawned on you what you’d done. What you’d said.

“Y/N, Y/N, honey,” said TJ. You looked up from the floor of your bathroom, your dad knelt down on your other side. “Honey, look at me.”

He grabbed your face and you felt wet tears streaming steadily down your cheeks.

“What happened?” you asked. “I was on the porch and now I’m here?”

“You were talking to your dad outside and he said you just...fell over crying.”

“Something’s wrong with me,” you said. You shut your eyes and TJ looked around.

“I’m gonna call the doctor,” he said. “Jensen can you keep an eye on her?”

“Of course,” he said. He kept his distance and you sniffled, opening your eyes. He looked down when you met his eyes and you started to cry.

“I’m sorry,” you said. You grabbed his arm and sat up on your knees, giving him a big hug. “Dad I’m so sorry. I love you. Please forgive me. Please. Please. I’m sorry. I want to be your daughter. I want my dad back. Please.”

“I wasn’t going anywhere,” he said. He relaxed and felt like himself again, your head resting on his shoulder. 

“Uh, guys?” asked TJ. You lifted your head up, TJ holding up his phone. “Y/N, I think I know why you freaked out on Jensen so bad.”

“How would the doctor know that over the phone?” asked your dad.

“There’s a recall out on a certain allergy medication warning people not to take it according to this headline,” said TJ. 

“Why would-”

“It’s not allergy medicine. It’s an antipsychotic drug. They mixed up the pills during manufacturing. Apparently if you give those to people that don’t need them, it fucks with their heads,” said TJ.

“You take them too,” you said as TJ nodded, your dad quiet. “Dad you and mom do-“

“I think we all better go to the hospital and get checked out. Right now.”

“How do you feel?” asked your mom a few hours later.

“My head feels normal again,” you sighed from your hospital bed. You opened your eyes, her hand running over your head. “Did I fuck it up. With dad. I think I broke it. That thing we had and it’s never going to fix back the same way.”

“You were on a very strong antipsychotic without you knowing. We are lucky all you had was some anger and a few delusions. It could have been much worse,” she said. “Daddy’s not mad, sweetie.”

“Mom I’ve never seen him like that. I was so…”

“Wasn’t just you,” he said as he rounded the corner into the room. He was out of his clothes and in a pair of pants and a plain t shirt now, holding up the bracelet on his wrist. “Why’d I have to get all the crying? I would have rather have been pissed off like you got.”

“Your test came back positive?” asked your mom.

“Yeah. So far that’s Y/N, me, TJ, Cody. The younger kids don’t seem to have it thankfully since they take the kid version. They want you to get tested though,” he said.

“But mom’s been normal,” you said as you sat up.

“Well…” he said as she rolled her eyes. “Mom’s been a little...aggressive in-”

“Don’t need to know,” you said. He chuckled and he took a seat on the opposite bed, your mom heading out. They hooked him up to an IV to clear out his system and he took a seat beside you on the bed. You looked down, getting a bump on the shoulder. His hand as on his lap, palm facing up and you smiled.

“Thatta girl,” he said as you rested yours in it. “Gonna take more than some antipsychotics to tear us apart.”

“You are the greatest foster father I’ve ever had and arguably the kindest human being I’ve ever known,” you said. He was quiet and you took a deep breath, looking across the room. “You protected me, even when you were being affected by this. I want you to forget everything I’ve said from Halloween night on. It wasn’t true. Not a second of it.”

“Was the daddy part true?” he asked. “The accident.”

“I expect you to protect me when TJ’s not around. I expect it when he is too to be honest. I spent a long time protecting myself. I was scared on that road. You couldn’t protect me. You couldn’t protect me from watching you almost die. I know how life works and that parents are not invulnerable. They get hurt. They get angry. They make mistakes. They’re human. But I’ll always be your child and on a rare occasion, I’ll need my fucking daddy to tell me it’s okay and I’ll believe him. I’m sorry for hurting him so badly.”

“You are still as ridiculous as the day you walked in your room and told me not to bother with you,” he said, tucking your hair behind your ear. “You can hurt me. You can destroy me. You can ruin me beyond repair. You’re the only thing that puts me back together though. Heals the wounds so I forget they existed. I’ve been broken before. More than you know. I am sure I will fall apart again too. But these small creatures I call my children fix all of that. The girl who ran away, who was afraid of me, she just told me I make her feel safe. I protect her. So I’m sorry but I won’t forgive you since there’s nothing to forgive. You weren’t yourself and neither was I yet you still pushed past it and realized this wasn’t normal for us. Maybe some people fight and some families would have let it go but we know we don’t stop trying in this family. Even when we’re all a little off. I’m proud of you.”

“For what?” you said quietly. He fixed your hair again, playing with it for a moment. He tickled the back of your ear and you giggled. “Dad.”

“Giggles never hurt either,” he said. He threw his arm over your shoulders and pulled you in close, kissing the top of your head. “You’re not that scared kid anymore, Y/N. You’re never gonna be her again. You’re strong. Even now, I know this will bother you for a little while but it won’t change anything. We’ll be even better if that’s possible.”

“You were begging me at the house,” you said.

“Could have gotten that new bronco you’ve been looking at. Sounds like you lost out,” he chuckled.

“Dork,” you said as you hugged him.

“I’m sorry for how I acted that night at the bar too. I’ll never do it again. I promise to not leave your side if you ever call me for help. Not for a second.”

“Dad you don’t have to apologize.”

“I’m bigger than you. I get to force this apology,” he said. “Am I forgiven?”

“Always,” you said. You saw a guy go past in the hall and you went wide eyed. “That’s the guy from the alley!”

“Hey,” said your dad with a smile as you got up. He walked out with his IV, you on his tail as the guy turned around with his doctor. The man looked at you and shook his head. “You’re the dickhead that tried to hurt my daughter aren’t you? I thought that was you.”

“Ew,” you said, looking at the infected cut on his head. Your dad moved forward and you caught his arm. “Um, maybe we can call the police?” 

A security guard at the nurse’s station got up and the man sighed, your dad narrowing his eyes.

“I was only gonna kill him a little,” he said. The man stared and your dad cocked his head. “I’m hopped up on anti-psychotics buddy. I can be very creative.”

“Dad,” you said, dragging him back into the room. “Let the police handle it.”

“I did get a little too happy about fantasizing over that,” he said as he sat down. You rolled your eyes and took a seat, laying back on the bed.

“Am I too big for a cuddle?” you asked.

“Nope, especially not in the hospital,” he said. He sat back and you rested your head on his shoulder. “Where is that husband of yours anyways?”

“I think he’s on the phone with the lawyer trying to sue or something,” you said. “Let him wander the halls and get it out of his system.”

“Excuse me?” You both turned to look at the door. “Hi. I’m Morris Harrison with Richmond...Solider Boy?”

“Homelander?” you said as Morris shook his head. “Uh, hi?”

“Hi. I uh, I’m a lawyer at Richmond and Associates and we’re working the class action against the pharmaceutical manufacturer. I got a call about more cases,” he said, handing over a business card. 

“We’ll be getting the family lawyer in contact with you rest assured,” said your dad. He nodded and looked away. “You okay?”

“Morris this is my dad, Jensen. Dad this is the nice boy from the bar you shouted at,” you said.

“To be fair, I was mentally impaired...and I mean come on, Homelander? Gotta be careful of those,” he smirked. 

“I was actually gonna be…” he said, shaking his head. “Sorry.”

“You and Kayla were gonna be Sam and Dean! Oh yeah. Now I remember,” you said. 

“I like the new friend,” chuckled your dad.

“I’ll see you guys around sometime. Maybe a little less drinking this time?” said Morris.

“Yeah. Text TJ. We’ll get together,” you said. “Oh. I gotta ask. How’d the Kayla situation work out?”

“We have our sixth date tonight,” he said. You grinned and he rolled his eyes. “You’re alright drunk girl.”

“Later Homelander,” you said with a wave as he left.

“He was nice,” said your dad. “Did I really shout at him?”

“Yeah. I think he’s a fan so thank you for being nicer this time,” you said. 

“Well...at least you made a few new friends out of this experience?” he said. “Silver lining?”

“I will take a quiet, happy day for now,” you said.

“Me too, kiddo.”

Three Days Later

It was after ten when you slipped inside your parents house. It was a little dark, your siblings all at sleepovers. You poked your head around a corner, your dad in the kitchen mixing two cocktails together. He lifted his head up, cocking his head.

“Y/N?” he asked as you stepped out from around the corner. “What are you doing here?”

“I know you and mom got the house to yourselves so I’ll only be a minute,” you said. 

“Uh, what?” he said as you walked over and gave him a hug. He returned it and ran his hand over your head. “Y/N. I know you didn’t mean what you said. You can stop apologizing. Please.”

“I know,” you said. 

“Alright then,” he said. “I’ll take free hugs anytime.”

“Dad.”

“Yeah?” he asked as you squeezed him hard. He returned it and you smirked as you looked up. “What are you up to?”

“Can I show you something?” you asked. He nodded and you pulled him with you towards your old room, back to being one for guests. You walked him inside and sat him down on the bed as he watched you. You went over to the closet and turned on the light reaching up top into a shoe box. You took it down and walked it over, handing it to him.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“My dad’s kinda sappy and he writes me these letters,” you said. He rolled his eyes but smiled, putting his hands on top. “I started writing back. I put them in this box and figured one day you’d find them. But I know it wouldn’t hurt for you to maybe peek a look now after everything.”

He nodded and smiled, freezing when he took off the lid.

“Y/N...how many letters is this?”

“A boxful?” you said. “I maybe write them with more...frequency than he does. They are dated and hopefully in order.”

He picked out the first one and shut his eyes. You bit your bottom lip and he took a deep breath.

“This is from four days after your seventeenth birthday.”

“Every time I went to therapy I wrote one. Some are for mom but your names are on the envelopes.”

“Why does this one say dad?” he asked, holding up the first one. “I wasn’t dad for years.”

“Oh we both know you were my father the first day I stepped foot in here,” you said. “I could pretend to a piece of paper. It was safe. It wouldn’t hurt me. I started calling you dad in my head a very long time ago. I just didn’t say it in case you didn’t want me to be your daughter in the end.”

He put the envelope back in the box and carefully put the lid on, tucking it by his side. He wiped off his face with the back of his hands and looked up at you.

“Next month you turn twenty eight. You’ll have been with us for a hair over eleven years. This last year...the accident...TJ and his dad...now this...you’re the adult more lately than I am.”

“Dad I’m almost twenty eight like you said. But my head still feels...younger. You’re fifty one. But you still probably think of yourself as a twenty year old kid.”

“You are learning the secrets of adulthood after all,” he said, wiping off his face again. “Y/N...I have this fear when it comes to you. It’s only you. I understand why. But it’s a fear I’ve lived with for quite a long time. It’s a fear I thought came true earlier in the week.”

“She was a bitch that didn’t know better.”

“Don’t call yourself a bitch,” he said, sounding young, shaking his head. “You’ve always been tougher than me. I put on a good act but I’m...I’m privileged and I’ve had an easy life and even that seems hard sometimes. I couldn’t be you. I’m not strong enough. I’m not strong enough to erase the fear that I had, that lingered.”

“What are you afraid of?” you asked as you sat down on the bed.

“I have always loved you. But there was a time you didn’t love me and it took a while before it was unconditional. I’ve always had this fear that I would fuck up and hurt you, make you not love me anymore and that’s selfish of me. I know it is. But I can’t lose you. It just...I was broken last week. Like somebody ripped part of my soul out and it was gone forever. I’ve dealt with grief and death and heartbreak and nothing has ever hurt like that. The drugs did all that I know but...I would have done anything to get you back. Anything. And this girl, this amazing young woman, she writes me letters. She’s been writing me letters for eleven years. I never had to be afraid of you either, did I.”

“No,” you said. “But it’s okay. Boys are allowed to get scared too.”

“Your parents did a pretty good job with you,” he said.

“Yes. I think the four of them did too,” you said.

“I didn’t raise you.”

“Yes you did,” you said. You shoved a hand in your pocket and pulled out an envelope, handing it to him. 

“Another for the box?” he asked.

“I already snuck today’s in there,” you said. “This is different.”

“What is it?”

“Just open it.” He untucked the flap and laughed, pulling out the sheet of paper. “TJ thought it was cute.”

“An IOU to tag along whenever I’d like when you go out drinking,” he chuckled. “I’m gonna need several hundred more of these while you’re at it.”

“How about like three?” you said.

“I will settle for you calling me if you think you’re in trouble,” he said. You nodded and he rested his head on your shoulder. “Even drugged up you still did that.”

“Well, the drugs didn’t kick in really until that night. Having allergies sucks,” you said. “You get the runny nose and itchy eyes and the crazy stuff. So not fun.”

“Nope,” he said, giving you a hug. “I was totally gonna have sex with mom all night but now I got all these letters to read.”

“Oh God, gross,” you said, shuddering as you stood up. He laughed and lay back on the bed, giggling as you shook yourself off. “I don’t need to hear about your nasty sex life.”

“I have an incredible sex life. Like so much-”

“Goodbye father,” you said as you walked out of the room.

“You don’t even want to know how often if I’m being honest,” he said as you walked quickly to the front door. He cracked up and you groaned. “Night, kiddo.”

“Night, dad. Enjoy your letters.”

You woke up around three in the morning, rolling over in bed and catching a few texts on your phone. You lifted your head and saw they were from your dad, a smile growing across your face.

I read the last letter first. All I gotta say is you never have to worry about me going away, no matter how much you scream and shout. You’re stuck with me forever, kiddo. Not even strong medication can tear that apart. Nothing can. 

Also, for the record, I get to be the sap in this relationship, not you. Box full of cards. Do you know how hard it is to one up that? Do you? Keeping me on my toes kid. I’m sure I’ll come up with something though.

Love you tall munchkin.

“Something wrong?” mumbled TJ. You put your phone down and shook your head.

“Not at all,” you said. You tucked in close to his side, TJ rolling to his own and tucking your head under his chin. He hummed and rubbed your arm, kissing the top of your head. “Love you.”

“Love you too, honey.”

________

A/N: Read the Dads timestamp here!

[imnotwolverine]

The Accidental Family - Chapter 7

Henry Cavill x OFC - multi-chapter

< Chap 6 | Chap 7 The Accidental Family 

Disclaimer: fluff and mild bit of angst

Word count: 1.790

Author’s note: Okay, this was so much fun! And, I know it’s a little early, but let me hereby send you my well wishes for the new year. May the new year be accident-free, healthy, happy..and hopefully involving some much missed hugs with friends and family!  ❤️

(Link to my Masterlist)

--

How much can change in three months? Apparently everything. Just three months ago Henry had been the lead actor in a successful tv hit-series, father to a brood of children at home whom he barely ever saw in between shoots. Then, one unfortunate accident on his motorcycle later, he forgot about the life he had led the past 5 years, the scars beneath his hairline reminding him that it wasn’t a dream; this was real. One day he was a single man, the next he was a husband and dad.

And now here he lay, in bed, four kids sprawled atop him, a slight sheen of sweat covering his hairy chest as he woke from a restless dream, his limbs all tangled with his children who were still fast asleep. 

It was the end of summer and they sure felt like tiny little furnaces, their hands and feet poking awkwardly in his ribs and thighs. 

Not that he’d ever complain. 

They had been the most happy little outcome of one not so happy accident; where he had dreamed and wished and hoped for a family five years ago, here it was. All feet, clingy, sweaty hands, and drooling, snotty noses that prevented him from moving, even if he wanted to.

Trying his best to reach out his right arm, he blindly searched for the soft skin of the other adult in this bed; another happy outcome of the accident. A wife, her fingers entangling with his as she slowly sat up a little, Piper, one of the twins clinging to her neck like a little koala bear.

‘Hey,’ She murmured, squeezing his hand.

Henry grumbled something indiscernible, Phoebe’s chuckle warm in Henry’s heart as she slowly shook her head, falling back into her pillow. All the while, Piper could not give a damn about her mother waking up; she remained completely knocked out, arms hooked around her mom’s neck as she dreamed about becoming an elephant trainer..or perhaps an equestrian - the strong headed little girl hadn’t quite decided yet. 

‘We need a bigger bed.’ Henry yawned, trying his best to stretch out his legs, only to be welcomed with groaning children and even meaner hands fisting into his chest hair. ‘Ooooph. Okay. Max. Maxxy-max. Wakey-wakey.’ Henry tried.

‘No.’ The youngster said, smiling with shut eyes as he kept his hand firmly fisted into his father’s chest hair.

‘Yes.’

‘No.’

‘Well, what I say goes. And it’s a yes from me.’

Max finally opened his blue eyes, his lips jutting out in disagreement. ‘But you told us we could be in bed ALLLLL day.’

‘I said all morning. Since you all slept the whole night through, the lot of you. But now it’s time for some food. And Kal needs a walk - as do you.’

‘But he’s a big dog,’ Max whined, splaying out his limbs, hitting little Cole smack-bang in the face.

‘WAAAAAAAAA.’ The young one cried, but Max didn’t care, continuing undisturbed:

‘..and big dogs can take care of themselves.’

‘Ah, so you did listen yesterday. Haha. Now..Is this you telling me you’re going to make us breakfast? Are you a big boy?’

‘No!’

Henry snickered as the young boy shot an annoyed look at Cole who was crying his eyes out. Cole seemed to have an endless supply of tears - and every single little thing could get the toddler to show just how good he had gotten at crying. 

‘Pfft dadddyyyy.’ Max sighed.

‘Yes?’ Henry smirked as the boy let go off his chest hair. 

‘Only if its pancakes.’

The other children also blinked open their eyes; ‘PANCAKES?!!!’ 

--

Yawning with mild exhaustion, Phoebe shuffled into the kitchen, being welcomed by the smell of pancakes, freshly ground coffee and something sticky that was now dragging behind her slipper.

‘Shit,’ She mumbled, looking down at the sticky wrapper that had stuck to her slipper, smearing something honey-gold over the kitchen floor. ‘dammit.’

Looking up, she wanted to ask Henry for a wet cloth to clean up, only to notice that he had totally zoned out, slightly melancholic eyes staring out at the kitchen island as he leaned into the kitchen counter.

‘Babe?’

Henry looked up, blinking away his thoughts.

‘You okay?’ Phoebe kicked off her soiled slipper, walking with one bare, one slippered foot towards him, the children all somehow keeping it relatively quiet at the kitchen table as they snacked on their favourite breakfast.

‘Yea..’ Henry’s melancholic eyes wrinkled as he forced a gentle smile, hiding what was going on being those crystal blues.

For a moment Phoebe felt her heart sink at the sight of this. She knew there could be relapses. That it was still very likely that Henry would become overwhelmed, forget again or decide this life was not for him.

With a hesitant hand she touched his arm, his eyes looking down at where her fingers traced his skin, burning him with the gentlest of touches.  

‘I could have died that day.’ He said softly, looking at the long trail of honeyed residue that had smeared out over the kitchen floor. He sighed. ‘I could have never woken up. Left you alone in this mess.’

‘Hey..where’s all this coming from?’ Phoebe quickly looked at the kids sweetly munching on their pancakes, their faces messy with powdered sugar, before hinting they’d best have this conversation in the hallway.

‘No, no. It’s…’ Henry sighed and opened his arms for her to melt into, her body eagerly doing just that; she could never get enough of his hugs, especially now she had to savour every moment she got with him - the gnawing fear of him leaving her was present everyday, especially now the kids were back home. It wasn’t easy to fall into a life of taking care of four very demanding kids. Let alone suddenly having a wife.

Even if he might have always wished for it, it could still be too much. Would he tell her if it was too much? 

‘Feebs..don’t worry. I just, I mean. I was thinking, this morning, in bed, with the kids in our bed, I...’ He sighed and let his hand trail over her cheek, brushing a rough thumb over her smooth skin, some blond hair catching between his fingers. He looked at the gold in his hand, twirling it a little through his fingers as he felt his wife’s arms tangle around his back, pulling herself even closer to his chest.

Perhaps it was better that he lost the Witcher gig. Had to look for a different career. Perhaps he could be..home more. Could..

His eye caught the movement of one determined four year old climbing off his year, mug of juice precariously held in chubby little fingers. Anddd…

‘Sam!’ Henry called out for him, but it was too late, blue eyes looking up from his little task of walking over to his mom and dad, to miss the slipper that his mom had discarded in the sticky residue, his little mouth making a comical little “o” as he tipped forward, plastic mug falling from his fingers and…

Henry snorted out laughing as the juice flew all the way up to Phoebe’s legs, her lips letting out a little squeak as she quickly looked around.

In moments the calm kitchen was chaos again, the other kids wanting to leave the table, Sam crying out loud for thinking he had done a bad thing, Phoebe trying to clean up the mess and Henry squatting down to console the crying wee one.

‘Hey hey hey - it was only an accident. I’m here...daddy’s here.’ He wrapped his large paws around Sam’s little shoulders, pulling him in for a hug that was eagerly accepted.

Sam snottily nodded into Henry’s shirt; it was like laundry day never ended with four kids ruining every piece of clothing one could own. But, in that moment Henry didn’t care, his arm lifting up Sam before he looked back at Phoebe, who was now rinsing out the juice-soaked cloth, her midnight blues looking back at him with curiosity.

‘And in case you wondered; I’m not going anywhere mama-bear.’ He stepped in and waited for Phoebe to dry her hands before he could lean in for a kiss. 

Phoebe hung the drying towel back on it’s hook, mischievous eyes looking back at him.

‘You better not. Memory or not..you did kind of knock me up with four kids.’

‘Mommy..what’s knocking up?’ Sam blinked up at Phoebe, who now used both hands to grab Henry’s jaw and pull him in for a kiss. Henry half chuckled into the kiss, his face leaning back again so he could look down at Sam, Sam’s mouth and nose a mess after something that must have been close to inhaling the marmalade he had smeared onto his pancake.

‘Matter of fact..I think I can’t remember, either.’ Henry’s face kept a playfully unabashed facade and Phoebe couldn’t help but gasp. 

‘OH! No you…’

‘Maybe mommy could refresh my memory when we have some alone time again? Hmm?’ Henry cheeks turned up in a most mischievous smile.

‘And accidentally get me knocked up..again? Hmm? You want that?’ Phoebe laughed as Henry shrugged indifferently, not minding the idea one bit - what else was he to do with all this free time? Leaning forward she kissed him again, Sam squealing now he felt it was just a bit TOO much mommy-and-daddy-PDA for the moment.

‘Who said THAT was an accident?’ He grinned, before swiftly adding: ‘Later?’ Henry winked, carefully putting Sam back down on the clean floor. Clean for now.

Phoebe laughed and pulled him back in for another delightful mommy-daddy snog, shirts covered in kiddy drool, marmalade and what not.

‘Mmm..Sounds like a plan. I’ll make sure to ..refresh your mind.’

--

Henry tugged down his shirt to be somewhat presentable after having spent most of his Sunday stretched out on the couch, reading. He wasn’t sure who’d be at the door, but he had a hunch it were the neighbours who wanted to apologise for the slightly too loud birthday party they had yesterday. 

Honestly, he hadn’t minded it one bit; he enjoyed a little bit of life in his ever quiet house. 

Turning the lock, he swung open the door, expecting the apologetic face of Rita or James..but it wasn’t either of them. Instead he was greeted by a very different apologetic face, golden locks making his heart do a confused little flip in his chest. 

Biting her lip, the blondine - Bee, was it? - shyly shuffled on her feet. 

‘Hi.’ 

Henry quickly straightened up, scolding himself for looking so terribly disheveled in his sweatpants and wrinkly white t-shirt. 

‘H-hi..Bee.’ 

‘Remember me?’ She smiled - she didn’t wear any make-up and he liked it.  

‘Of course. Ha..Eh..’ Henry felt a slight blush creep up his cheeks. ‘Want to come in?’ 

Bee smiled. ‘I hope I don’t interrupt any..-.’

‘Oh no. Please..’ He stepped away to let her inside and blabbed on: ‘I was rather bored actually. Home alone..the usual. It’s nice to see you, I thought -’

Bee halted before him, raising her eyebrows as she waited for him to quiet, his cheeks turning an even deeper shade of pink. And Bee? She laughed. Of all the scenarios that had played out in her head, this one was the sweetest, funniest, bestest thing that could have happened. For a moment she didn’t scold herself for getting much too drunk three months ago. For a moment she thought that perhaps this one tiny accident in one bathroom stall at an after party, was the start of something good. 

‘Tea? Wine? Eh...’ 

‘Oh! No wine...no..wine.’ Bee quickly followed Henry out into what she learned to be the kitchen. And what followed next was the most life changing cup of tea she ever had. 

--

The End

(For now. I maybe kind of enjoyed writing about these two and their kids a bit TOO much 👀😸Would you like to read more, dear readers?)

--

General Tagsquad: @harrysthiccthighss @tumblnewby @magdelen69 @thereisa8ella @mary-ann84 @darkbooksarwin @summersong69 @madbaddic7ed @luclittlepond @maroonmolly @just-a-normal-fangirl18 @hell1129-blog @agniavateira @tillthelandslide @elinesama

@tryingtoliveonmywishes @ceilingfann @do-youseeme

[itsybiggy]

you’re my midnight moon

Part 3/3: does time heal all wounds?

word count: 2323

Thinking about doing a bonus chapter with smut, let me know! Hope you like the fluffy angst!

You starred down at the note. It had been brought here the other day and had it done nothing but haunt you ever since it arrived. It was an invitation to the festival that was taking place in two months. Each district had one in each of the walls and anyone was free to go between them. It would take a while to prepare and all of humanity was helping. But this invitation was from Armin. More of a letter than a formal invitation, but he wanted you to go to the festival with him.

To reconnect, my old friend.

Old friend.

Suppose that was less awkward than old lover. But even then you and Armin had not even been lovers then. Both not having time and being too shy to go that far in your relationship.

Still, this was an opportunity to make amends for your past. For abandoning him. So you wrote back.

Dear old friend...

______

Despite the fact that you lived in the same district as Armin, you had managed to barely see in in the months leading up to the festival. You didn’t exactly do this on purpose, it seemed that your mind was attempting to protect yourself. When you would see him in the market, a bar, just out in town, you conveniently remembered what you had to do at home, go somewhere else. You ignored when you felt his gaze on you. You never engaged with him. You felt like a mole, hiding from the sun itself.

Sasha had come one day, filled with questions. She spared no time opening you up, though if anyone could it would be her. You cried together for your fallen comrades, for the awful memories, and your once lost connection. Your connection that was quickly rekindled after that day. Her kind, but at times brash words had given you the confidence to have this closure with all of your old friends, most of all Armin of course.

Which brings us to the festival

The town square in wall Cana was alive with all spurts of sights and sounds. Hoards of drunk soldiers and civilians alike sung their new bar songs; written about humanity’s victory.

“On the ground were their heads

As our mighty scouts caught them dead

Swinging their swords they cut those bastards down

Some say there were no blades just Levi’s frown

Our mighty scouts they slayed the beasts

So now we feast!

For the Titans are gone let's have some fun!

And humanity has WON!!”

The thick smell of well missed meat filled the whole district. Families had opened their doors with warm, home cooked meals inside. Food stalls were set up, with no charge. It truly felt as if humanity was at peace.

In the midst a group of soldiers in particular, more jovial than most, some say they saw hell more that Levi himself.

“SASHA SLOW THE HELL DOWN!” Connie smacked the back of her neck, effectively shooting the peace of meat she was choking on, out of her throat.

“Ah!” Jean leaped out of the way of the projectile meat “you didn’t even chew it you monster!”

Sasha looked like she was about to cry as Mikasa held on to her, keeping her from picking up the steak from the ground. “I couldn’t help it, I haven’t had cow in so long.”

“So savor it you idiot.” Eren rolled his eyes, Armin chuckled.

You were a few steps away from the group, your slow body separated yourself from the happy group. You didn’t want to rain on their parade. Though, you honestly wanted to join it. You had made up as much as you could with all of them...except Armin. Sasha was the only one who took it well enough. The rest of the group said they would need time to fix your friendships. Which was understandable. So, you just let them be content tonight without having to worry about you.

Armin didn’t seem to get the “Ignore me” memo. Shooting glances at you when he thought you couldn’t see him. It made you uneasy.

It made you scared that old feelings started to bubble up.

Armin Arlert had the uncanny ability to make you feel like a giggling school girl with what seemed to be only a look. Not that you audibly or visibly made any indication that he did so. But it was impossible for you to think of anything else but: <em>if your simple dress looked ok, was your hair a mess in the humidity or was your face just a tomato at that point?</em>

You tried to keep your head on the cobblestone road, as you tried not to meet any of his gazes. But also because you had stupidly discarded your cane. You didn’t need it most of the time, but if you were going to be walking for long periods of time you definitely did. One small miss step would leave you face planted on the ground unable to get up.

“Hey (y/n), come-“ With your eyes glued to the group you didn’t notice Eren being the first one who noticed you trailed behind. And so when he had went to playfully slap your back, ushering you forward it had taken you by compete surprise. So of course your back and legs give way, and you face planted on the stone road.

“(Y/N)!!” They all shouted, they had already turned around when Eren began talking. They rushed to your side, and helped you as you attempted to get up.

Eren looked quiet panicked as Mikasa begun swatting at him to be careful with my weak form. He swore he didn’t know the strength of his hit.

“I’ve got it, I’m fine. It’s ok.” You batted their hands away and attempted to ease Eren. You could feel warm blood as it was trickling from your chin and knees. But you couldn’t get up, only on all fours. Humiliatingly unable to move past this point, tears threaten to leave your eyes. Once again, you stared at the cobblestone in compete defeat. “I....I can’t move anymore...help.”

Strong arms lifted your body from the road. You were unable to even look at who they belonged to but the soft, familiar smell flooded your nostrils.

“I’ve got you.” Armin said, one arm under your bleeding knees, the other held your back and shoulders. “I’ll go get her cleaned up, we’ll meet you guys later.” He said and before You could even protest he walked from them.

Silence....awful, deafening, horrible silence.

It was almost impossible to tell what he was thinking. His face was blank, you could only detect the blush creeping from his neck to the tips of his ears. Quickly after seeing that, your face matched his.

<em>Did you want to talk to me or should I start?</em>

As if he heard your thoughts “Let’s get you clean and then.. we can talk.” His voice was soft and wavering. You could feel his nervousness, it was clearly heard in his voice.

So per his request you both were silent as he set you down at a table, a distance away from anyone. Families and soldiers were still clearly visible, but their singing and celebration muffled in the distance. He left me for only a second to the well nearby. He took a knife to his shirt and tore the bottom. You were glad it wasn’t more than a normal day shirt. But it still had made you feel guilty. Flowey and light blue, it was still a nice shirt despite its simplicity. He dipped a part of the shirt into the bucket which he had drawn and returned to you. The wind whipping his shortened shirt revealing his very muscular torso. You quickly averted your eyes.

He knelt down and lightly wiped the dried blood from your legs before dabbing the wound. Subconsciously your leg twitched, causing him to come down a bit to hard. A sting shot through the wound which caused you to wince.

“Sorry!” He quickly lifted his hand, panic in his eyes “I was trying to be gentle.”

“You were! Don’t be sorry...maybe if you held my leg in place it would help.” looking into his blue eyes, you desperately tried to imprint them once again into your mind. He looked away soon after the offer, embarrassed.

Still, red in the face he nodded. He placed his left hand on your calf, his finders gripping softly onto your soft skin. His right hand resumed cleaning the bloody scrape. “Does that feel better?” He asked, eyes fixed on your leg.

“I uh, still think they are shaking.” You took his hand and placed it in the back of your thigh. He lifted your dress so he had better access to your knee. “There I’m still.”

Except now it was Armins hands who were shaking. He finished one side before moving to the next. You easily noted how his hand was significantly higher on this leg than the other.

“All clean, you should wrap them when you get home though. here let me help you down.” He held out his hand, but you were not ready to let this tender interaction end.

You pointed to your chin, which still had some blood on it. “Uh could you get this too.”

He gulped and nodded. You scooted forward on the table and spread your legs so he could come close enough to reach your face. He stepped in between them and lifted his hand to cup your face steady, like your leg, to softly clean your face. Your eyes stared at the table, but his seemed to be going from your cut to your eyes. You could feel with certainty when his blue eyes looked into yours. You continued to stare down, but now because you could not meet his with yours so filled with tears.

Here he was, perfect and soft. Caring for you so tenderly, as if you hadn’t completely broken his heart. Left without an trace, an explanation. You didn’t deserve his kindness.

“All..um done.” He stepped away from you, held out his hand to support you.

“Thank you Armin. You took it and stepped down carefully. When your feet hit the cold stone you continued to look at it while you stood there. Finally , unable to contain your self, you looked up fully sobbing now.

“Armin I’m..” your face went in your hands as your trembled “I’m so sorry. I should have ne-“

He interrupted you before you could continue.

“There is one thing I’ve always regretted. Not telling you how the world can be so beautiful, but I was so lucky to have something, someone beside me who was more beautiful than a sunset creeping over the mountains, or a meadow wildflowers, the star filled night sky or even the ocean. And that was you, is you.” You looked up to meet his love filled gaze, completely star struck at the words that came out of his mouth. The world seemed to slow as he continued.

“I’m so sorry that I didn’t fight harder to keep you by my side. I just, I wanted to ask why you stopped loving me, and plead for you to stay but I just let you go.” He looked to the ground, seemingly ashamed for what you thought as innocence, it was you who was to blame.

You stepped into his arms, clinging to him for support. Your legs were weak now, but you also needed him to hold you. His arms had the gift to make all your worries disappeared. “Armin, I-. It’s not your fault. It was me. After we became scouts and then we were separated, my entire force was wiped out. My friends all gone. I was struck with the realization that life for us so fleeting. And it hurt so bad to see them go, I couldn’t and didn’t even want to imagine seeing you die. And I didn’t want you to hurt if I ever did.” He held your shaking, sobbing body as you struggled to continue.

“I pushed everyone away including you, only to save myself from having to lose you. And I still did. It hurt me so much and every day I regret it. I’m so sorry Armin. But seeing you again, I- I can’t leave you again. I still love you I never stopped. It was too late when I realized that life is fleeting so it is important to find something you live and hold onto it rather than push it away.”

“Armin Arlert I love you”

Calloused hands lifted your face to his, strong arms lifted you from the ground, soft lips kissed yours. You could taste his salty tears, they mixed with your own. You could feel his love, his hurt, and his relief.

You grabbed onto his silky hair, arms wrapped around his neck. He held your body close to his. You wanted to feel him, closer, connected. Your tongue slid across his lips. He eagerly tilted his head and opened his mouth to yours, now you could taste him. His lips were so soft, so tender parted from you to look at your face. A smile spread across his.

“(Y/n) (l/n) dance with me, we don’t need any music, just you and me. Come on.” Tears rolled down your faces as he recited the words you had so many years ago.

And as if on que your little world opened up as you begun to hear the tune of the festival music. He carried you closer to the music, but just far enough away where you both could stay in your own world.

He set you down, placing your feet on top of his as you both swayed with the music. You stayed like this, dancing, lips parted for a millisecond only to connect again. This tender moment you shared will not easily if not ever be forgotten.

Yaaay all done! Repost, like, send some love if you enjoyed! We need more Armin content!!!

[publickoccurances]

Headcanon: Companions on a night out with Sole at The Third Rail (romanced and just friends).

Cait: Cait spends the night doing shot after shot, between each she’ll have a pint of whatever is on tap. Usually some musky beer that is no ones business to be drinking. But it’s cheap and gets you pissed so why the hell not! She acts as Sole’s wingman, trying to get her buddy laid any opportunity she gets. Hell she might even get herself some action. Though that opportunity goes straight out the window as she’s being escorted out by Ham and ten guys from the Neighbourhood Watch. All because she broke some guys hand after he grabbed her arse? Sole tries to sweet talk Ham into letting Cait back in but when that fails ‘Fuck it! Screw ya shitty boozer! Come on Sole, I know a party we can crash!’ And of course, this so called party will be in fact crashing into some random persons hotel room and inviting the rest of the guests in for a drink/drug fuelled night.

Cait (romanced): Now Cait sometimes misses the single life when her and Sole find their way inside The Third Rail of an evening. But all it takes is a few drinks and to find herself staring at that perky arse of theirs and she’s game for the night. She’ll spend the night having a good few drinks, laughing as Sole tries to keep up with her. She had always warned them that you should never try and keep up with an Irish. It never works. But she always stops them before they take it too far. Because how are they gonna have their fun in the alley at the end of the night if Sole can’t even stand up?

Codsworth: Ah yes, The Third Rail. Not Codsworth’s place of choice. Yes he’d much prefer they spend the evening at somewhere with... well somewhere a little bit cleaner perhaps? But Sir/Mum wish to spend the evening socialising in this... quaint?... bar. Then Codsworth would certainly try his best to be positive! Though, the comments from Whitechapel Charlie were not helping. Somehow being called as soft as buttered scone does somewhat dampen ones spirits.

Curie (for the sake of it Synths can get drunk): Curie was always up for experiencing different human social interactions. A very popular one seemed to be going to an establishment and consuming a beverage which was actually poison to the human body? So she shall try! It doesn’t take many drinks for the buzz of the alcohol to go to her head. And before anyone knew it she was prancing around the place befriending the many drifters that were dotted about. Even offering some free medical advise if she liked them well enough! Of course Sole had to keep a close eye on her. They would feel extremely guilty if anything were to happen to Curie while drunk. Though in the moment Curie didn’t quite understand why her friend was trying to stop her from dancing on top of the table?

Curie (romanced): It was a different story when Curie had her loved one to keep an eye on while in this rowdy establishment. She would stick to non-alcoholic beverages for the evening. She just wanted to make sure Sole was safe and well. Though it did make her giggle at how affectionate Sole would get after a few drinks. She couldn’t complain about the gentle kisses pressed to her cheek, nor the sweet nothings whispered in her ear. No, she was quite smitten on her tipsy lover. But no sex while under the influence of alcohol, she would stick to her guns with that. She was far too responsible.

Danse: The Paladin was not one for letting himself loosen up. Not even for an evening. So when his good friend drags him into The Third Rail he is none to impressed with the state of the place, nor the people in it. He sticks strictly to water for the evening. Keeps interaction with the patrons to a minimum. Though he can’t help but be ever so slightly mesmerised by Magnolia as she sings her set for the night. Now she was quality entertainment. And easy on the eyes. But despite the encouragement from Sole, he would stick to his seat and not approach her. But the thought would cross his mind more than once.

Danse (romanced): It would take many days of Sole pestering him before Danse would agree to a night out in The Third Rail. When there he is extremely defensive of Sole, shooting a look that could kill at any patron he thinks may be showing any kind of interest in his lover. Half way through the night it would become too hard for him to hide his jealously anymore. So he would take Sole firmly by the hand and march them back to wherever it is they have decided to spend the night. And Sole of course knew this was exactly how the night would end, that’s why they made a point of being a bit flirtatious with strangers. They loved how it would wind up Danse, and how it would result in their cheek pressed firmly against the mattress more than a few times for the remainder of the night.

Deacon: Deacon was no stranger to The Third Rail. Oh yes. He’d spent many a good night in this place. It was definitely a good thing that a few of the regular patrons were no longer able to recognise him. Though it didn’t stop him from trying to seduce them all over again. What? It was in his nature! Part of who he was! Or that’s what he was trying to tell the disgruntled ex-lover who actually did see past his disguise this time. He walks back over to Sole, stupid grin on his lips despite the fact he’d just been splashed with a glass of vodka. “Yeah. Maybe we should head somewhere with fewer people that have seen little Deacon.” He’d joke. However, maybe it would be best if they hit another joint for the night.

Deacon (romanced): Oh a night with Deacon would end up a blur. The amount of times he would suggest body shots was terrible. But the amount of times Sole agreed to do them was even worse. Eventually Ham would have to kick the two of them out for essentially being naked in the middle of the bar. Not that it bothered Deacon, because he swiped a bottle of whiskey on the way out and he intended on them drinking it, even if they did end up on the curb for the night.

Hancock: Of course the Mayor of Goodneighbour would know The Third Rail well. He and Whitechapel Charlie were good ‘mates’ at this point. Which meant free drinks for Hancock. Which meant free drinks for everyone because he was the mayor of this damn town! Fuelled by a mixture of drinks and chems Hancock would keep the party going until the sun rises. And by the time the sun did rise, he was far too gone to realise and so the party would carry on right into the next evening. It wouldn’t be until he finally passed out of exhaustion that the party would end. And god damm, where the hell did he leave his hat???

Hancock (romanced): Goodneigbour was his town. So as far as he was concerned, The Third Rail was Hancock’s fine establishment. And that meant it was Soles fine establishment. So when he ordered everyone to leave so he and Sole could have the dance floor to themselves for Magnolias set, that meant everybody would leave. And the couple would spend the night being surprisingly tender, dancing slowly to the music.

Macready: Macready had spent so much time in this damn bar he was over it. Every night out he had there Sole would be pulling him off some cocky Gunner who had come in running their mouth. Whitechapel Charlie wasn’t exactly a fan of the Gunners himself, so he never called Ham down to break up the fights. In fact he would sneak Macready a free drink for the entertainment. To which Macready would tilt his hat and let out an accomplished sign. Ah yes, what a life.

Macready (romanced): Macready is a bit more easy going when out drinking with his lover. Though sometimes when he looks at Sole (usually after a few glasses of whiskey) he’ll tear up ever so slightly. Though he would never say it, it’s because Sole has the same eyes as Lucy. Kind eyes. Eyes filled with hope. And damn did it make him emotional. But this moment of weakness never lasted long, he’d usually excuse himself for a cigarette when it gets too intense.

Nick (again for the sake of it Synths can get drunk): It had been a long time since Nick had allowed himself to have some fun. Work as a private eye was demanding. And god did he know it. He was still as mysterious as ever when he had a scotch in his hand. Swirling the liquid around the glass ever so slightly as his eyes scanned the room, hat tilted. Life was good right now, quiet. He liked it when things were quiet.

Nick (romanced): Now Ol’ Nicky wasn’t one for public displays of affection usually. But when the clock struck midnight and there were a few glasses of scotch in the system, how could he not admire his lover? Nick was smooth in the way he spoke to Sole, poetic almost. He liked to keep up his mysterious detective bravado even with his love. Though Sole saw straight through it. And when Sole stole his fedora at the end of the night, Nick just lets them. Hell, that’s love right there surely?

Piper: Piper loved The Third Rail. It was the easiest place to get people to talk for the paper. A few drinks made everyone loose lipped. Including herself. It took three or four vodkas mixed with Nuka Cola for Piper to be stumbling over her words as she tried to compliment Magnolia. God damn it, why couldn’t she just ask her if she wanted a drink?? Every single time she came in here she tried, and every single time she bottled it at the last minute. But all the embarrassment was forgotten when she’d look over and see her best buddy Blue challenging a local to a drinking competition. Well she had to watch this. ‘I’m gonna put twenty caps on the other guy!’ She’d shout as she walked over. ‘Sorry Blue... but look at the size of him. I reckon he can handle his liquor better than you’.

Piper (romanced): Piper really was one for letting herself go all out when on a night out with her Blue. She knew she didn’t have to worry. Blue would keep her safe, and she’d make sure they were safe. And god she just loved the way they looked as they danced to the music playing. Damn it they just looked so good in that dumb vault suit. She’d of course join her lover in the dancing. And drunken dancing always resulted in drunken kissing, which always resulted in drunken touching, which always resulted in them stumbling back into their hotel room for the night. She loved the way her back would hit the mattress as Blue would kiss all over her. It was the best way to end the night for sure.

Preston: Preston was more of a sophisticated drinker. Being a Minuteman was a 24/7 job. Despite whether he wanted to or not, he knew very well that he couldn’t get wasted every time Sole convinced him to accompany them at The Third Rail. He’d always limit himself to a glass of wine, keeping an eye on his friend. Preston would always make sure to wonder up the stairs every half hour and check in with Ham to make sure no flares had been set off in close proximity. To which Ham would always reply ‘we’re in Goodneighbour pal, you really think these folks are gonna be asking for help from you lot?’

Preston (romanced): God damn a drunken Sole would stress Preston out. He found himself repeating ‘drink water for the love of all that is holy’ at least five times an hour. But despite how fed he sounded, he actually quite enjoyed looking after his drunken lover. After all, it made him feel rather manly when he’d have to carry Sole to bed at the end of the night. And he always knew he could have his fun when the hangover would hit Sole the next morning, he thoroughly enjoyed teasing his hungover lover.

[virgo-myself]

Sapphire Waters: Part 3

genre: black swan au

pairing: bts!maknae x fem!reader

summary: You ran to escape your dead future. If only you could have seen that your future departed the moment you stepped foot in that river.

Your head was practically pounding when you finally came to. However, the headache wasn't the only thing you found to be out of the ordinary.

At your first attempt to move your hands to your temple, you found yourself restricted to do so. Something, or rather someone, had bound your hands together above your head.

With a single tug, you knew you weren't going anywhere by sheer force of strength or will. The heaviness of the chains that bounded you to the wall of the cave were proof enough. A wracked sob escaped your lips, and you found yourself wishing you were truly dead.

"Don't worry, we'll take good care of you."

The softness of those words echoed in your mind, and a small whimper lodged itself in your throat. Just the thought of those words sent spiders down your spine, and you couldn't even begin to imagine what kind of horrible creature said them.

"Jimin-ah," one of the voices you heard before called out, it's voice bouncing off of the cave walls. It was the same voice who practically claimed to have caught you first. The youthful sound forces your head to jerk in the direction it came from.

"She's awake."

Damn this cave, and damn whatever being that decided darkness could be this dark. You were still practically blind in this cave you sought refuge in. If this was the kind of refuge you knew would await you, you'd have taken you chances with your father's soldiers.

"Hmm," something fleshy clasped the side of your face. It felt like a hand, only, colder, and less...human. You shuddered and squirmed away from the feeling, but it was the same airy voice that had shushed you. The same voice who had claimed that these three creatures would, in fact, "take care of you."

"Please," you murmured, "let me go." Even these words were a challenge for you to squeeze out, but you forced them out nonetheless. If these beings were intelligent, perhaps you could bargain for your life.

"You came to us...remember?" The melodic voice continued to hold your face in his one "hand." You could practically feel the claw-like fingernails pressed against each cheek are he squeezed you gently.

"I-I'm sorry--I didn't mean to," you pleaded," but I won't tell anyone! I swear! Just please let me leave."

You could barely recognize the whiny, pleading voice as your own. Is this what you've stooped to? Begging for your life to three monsters who could, for all you knew, bend and snap you like a twig if you so much as annoyed them.

"Shh shh," the voice hushed you once again, and it was then that you realized that you were crying. The tears ran past your eyelids and soaked the creature's claws. You whimpered and the force around your cheeks suddenly vanished. Your cheeks felt hot and blotchy, and you swallowed a loud sob when the cool air of the cave kissed your wet cheeks.

"Why would you ever want to leave us?" The voice was deep and quiet, and you could feel the hot breath of the third and final creature (to your knowledge) against the conch of your ear. You whimpered and did your best to shuffle away from the intrusive visitor so close to you. Too close.

"You belong to us now," the youthful voice stated. It sounded sure of itself and strong--dangerously strong.

"Please--," you started, but suddenly shrieked when a hand jerked you forward by your chains. Weren't they been attached to the wall of the cave?

You fell on all fours and you couldn't mask your now shaky voice as you started to whimper. Whatever types of torture these creatures had in store for you would surely not be in your favor, and yet, you couldn't will your muscles to move from their current position against the stone of the cave floor.

Another sharp tug sent your limbs into a scramble as the creatures yanked you forward again. Your knees scratched against the cold stone and you yelped in pain. It was the kind of pain that willed your muscles to finally work, and you staggered to your feet. Your wrists burned as the chains rubbed your skin raw, but you knew better than to complain or cry any more than you already had.

After what seemed like eternity marching deeper and further into the black abyss, the constant tugging forward stopped. The air felt much colder, much damper. You could hear the small waves of water ahead, and a sudden twinkling reflection from the black waters made your heart jump. Your eyes shot upward, and you finally saw the source of the reflection. The moon!

The ceiling of the cavern that laid before you was so grand and tall that you could just barely make out a corner of the moon above through a small hole from above. Given the right timing, you were sure that both the sun and the moon would pass by this opening every day.

You gasped in awe and shock at the sudden light source, however small it was, and sent a silent prayer at finally able to see once again. However, that prayer fizzled into dread when you could hear the chains loudly pile onto the hard ground.

You eyes followed the chain from your wrists and snaked its way forward and a few feet from where you stood now. You gasp was now one of simple shock and horror.

The first thing that caught your eye about the three men ahead of you were the black feathers that protruded from their back. Their wingspan must've been large, given the very size of the forelimb at the base of their shoulder blades. The feathers were sleek and bountiful, and dare you say, beautiful.

From where you stood, you could just make out the skin of the men. What caught your eye were their hands and bare feet. You had never seen anything quite like it. Trekking up from their knuckles to the middle of their forearms was something more akin to dark black with silver veins and tendons. Their feet were the same, stretching from the ends of their toes and across their feet like tiny rivers of silver.

Their silver veins or bones (you weren't quite sure which) stretched all the way up and slowly disappeared beneath their long, black shirts they each wore loosely with a pair of dark trousers. No wonder you couldn't hear them--their feet were free of loud boots against the rocky floor of the cave that caused their echoes to be nonexistent. Their clothes looked to be lightweight and free of any restraint, and their wings...their wings.

Your mind began to frazzle and your heartbeat could suddenly be heard in your temples as you sank to your knees in terror. They looked like birds, but only, not completely. They had hair on their one head each, they had human hands and feet, they had two orange eyes. Orange eyes...

The glowing of their orange eyes sent a shudder down your spine, and one of the men quirked his head in wonder. His hair was very messy as it curled around his ears. His eyes glowed like the dying embers of a fire, and you hated the way he stared at you. The eyes of him and his two companions almost reminded you of the way a bird's eyes stared at it's prey from above the ground, only now, they were the birds, and you the prey.

"Hm...she seems to be taking it well," the curly-haired one snickered, his smile wide and boxy as you recognized the deep, rumbling voice as the one from earlier who breathed against your ear.

You couldn't find your voice. You couldn't find your footing. You could barely find your thoughts as your eyes flickered between the three men--the three creatures--that stood before you.

The one who spoke, with the deep voice and dark, messy curls, seemed very nonchalant about his statement regarding your state of being. If this was you "taking it well," you couldn't even begin to imagine how others could have taken to seeing these three.

The one in the middle seemed the most concerned and sad with your reaction the moment you sank to your knees. He had taken a step forward when you did, but had decided against approaching you. Surely you looked as terrified as you felt. His hair was also dark, almost blue-black, and stopped about halfway at his ears and draped into his face. His features were softer than the other's, with plump lips and pillow-like cheekbones.

The one on the far left of you, slightly behind the other two seemed to stare at you with fascination. It was this type of fascination you'd feel looking at the skeleton of an animal for the first time, and it made your stomach roll. It was as if he were ready to study every inch of you, and you could do nothing but cower under his gaze like an insect beneath a magnifying glass.

Out of the three, this one seemed younger. His hair, like the others, was midnight black, and much longer than the other two. The ends of his hair grazed the back of his spine, and he kept a great deal of it trapped in a piece of leather at the crown of his head. Still, a few stray pieces fell into his eyes as he flicked them out of his face to study you a bit more. His jawline was sharper, as well, and he could just make out every time it clenched when his amber eyes found a new place to look at you from.

"Shut up, Taehyung," the one in the middle spoke quietly, shooting a glare at the one on the far right. He simply rolled his eyes at the gesture and settled his stare at the water to your right. Taehyung...? They had names?

Your mind wandered back to before you fainted, and you then remembered the hushed whispers of the three creatures as they spoke to one another. Jiminie. Tae. Kook. Names.

You gulped down air and did your best not to stare into their orange eyes. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn't stop shaking under their gazes. Their eyes were unlike anything you had ever seen. Granted, you hadn't seen much, but to have the eyes of...what? Birds? An animal's? It make your skin crawl.

"What--," you began, and their features perked up at your meek voice, and all eyes burned into your figure. You gulped.

"What do you want from me?" You finished.

Your stomach dropped and your throat closed up when the three men's lips pulled up into small smiles. Some gentle, some anything but. Your eyes locked with Jimin's orange orbs, and you swear you saw them glow for a moment, shining brightly with mischief and something that made your stomach curl.

"You."

[j0elmill3r]

a brief inquiry into online relationships

prologue - chapter i - chapter ii - chapter iii - chapter iv - chapter v - chapter vi - chapter vii - chapter viii - chapter ix - chapter x - chapter xi - chapter xii -chapter xiii - chapter xiv - chapter xv

chapter one

"friends don't lie and it all tastes the same in the dark"

Featuring: Chris Evans, Jaeden Martell, Katherine Langford, Jamie-Lee Curtis, Dodger Evans

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: None, but if there is, please let me know and I'll add them in!

A/N: Thank you all for reading this series so far! It's getting going now, and I hope you all enjoy this series because I'm really into it and I have it all planned out for each chapter. If anyone wants to be tagged, please let me know by asking through my inbox or my messages! Feedback and comments are always appreciated!

--

You sat in your dad's trailer for the rest of that day, scrolling through your phone and looking at random TikToks you would show him later, only to have to explain to him what it meant.  He wasn't too up to date on technology, he didn't even have Instagram you were convinced that he barely knew how to use Twitter. But who were you to judge your dad's lack of technological knowledge? 

-

"Y/N, come on, get up," You groaned as your dad shook you awake, almost rolling you off of the bed. "Y/N." He dragged out. You sat up and rubbed your eyes, shooting a pissed off glare at your dad. Chris chuckled and shook his head.

"What the fuck is going on? It's like," You paused to check your phone for the time, only for your face to fall as you saw that you had been asleep for the past 6 hours, meaning it was 9pm. "Alright, nevermind." You mumbled.

"C'mon, I told Jaeden you would be meeting him at 9:30 so you could hang out with him," Chris said, ushering you to sit up and get out of the bed. "Go and brush your hair, you look like you were dragged through a bush, honey."

"Wow, thank you for the compliment, do you ever wonder why you don't have a girlfriend?" You asked him, standing up and walking into the bathroom and brushing your hair. Chris laughed and shook his head, fixing the bed up from where you had been sleeping.

"Because I'm so goddamn good looking that no one wants to be with me because they'd be upstaged?" Chris said, leaning against the door frame where you were standing. You laughed as you put the hairbrush down.

"If that helps you sleep at night, you can believe that all you want. But just remember that there's one person you can never upstage in the beauty department," You pointed at your dad as you grabbed your phone from the nightstand, taking it off of charge and sliding it into your pocket. Chris stood waiting, his arms crossed over his broad chest. "It's me. Obviously." You pointed out. Chris nodded and chuckled.

"Ah, you got me there," He admitted. You smiled over at him and then stuck your tongue out at him. "Alright, go, I got stuff to do, have fun, but not too much fun." Chris said, pushing you gently and pointing at you glaringly before he shut the door. The trailer door shut behind you and as you looked out over the lot, you let out a heavy sigh, knowing that any one of the trailers in front of you could be Jaeden's. But, luckily for you, you saw that he was walking towards you. His hands were shoved into his pockets, obviously he wasn't used to the Boston weather patterns and that it was very rarely warm any month after August.

"Cold?" You asked him, getting his attention. Jaeden looked up at you and laughed, nodding.

"I didn't think it would be so freezing, I'm not particularly used to the cold," He said, watching you as you walked down the steps to meet him, a small smile on your face. 

"You get used to it after a while, I mean, it's only October and to be honest it only gets worse from here," You told him as you walked to his trailer, your jacket held close to your body as the wind cut through you like a knife.  "What has my dad told you about me?" You asked him as you entered his trailer. Knowing your dad, he had probably already embarrassed you.

"Nothing bad, all good things, I promise," He said. You smiled over at him as he turned his TV on. "From what your dad said, he told me that your favourite movie's The Lost Boys, and I've never seen it before so I thought we could watch it together." Jaeden said. You giggled and nodded. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad, I mean, he knew your favourite movie. There was something about Jaeden that just made you feel so comfortable, you felt like you could be yourself around him.

"Yeah, but I'm kind off offended that you've never seen it before," You said. Jaeden laughed and shook his head, looking back over at you as you walked over to the couch, sitting down. "Like come on! It's one of the best 80's movies ever, it's up there with The Blues Brother." You pointed out. Jaeden sat down beside you and pressed play on the movie.

"I haven't seen that either," He said, looking up at you wearily. You let out a huff and shook your head. For someone who was appearing in a lot of movies, his taste appeared to be God awful. "I'm gonna have to spend all of my time showing you some great movies, aren't I?" You asked him. Jaeden nodded and smiled, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth. 

"Would you hate me if I said I haven't seen any of the Star Wars movies?" Your jaw almost fell open as you turned to him, a look of pure shock written on your features. "I just haven't gotten around to it yet." He admitted.

"Haven't gotten around to it yet? They've only been out for like 41 years!" You exclaimed. "I can't believe this, I considered you a man of taste." You feigned offence. 

"Well, I apologize, Y/N," He said, making you laugh. "I promise, once you show me all of the other hundreds of movies you're probably gonna wanna want to show me, we can watch Star Wars."

--

The night went well, you finished The Lost Boys and arranged another movie night with Jaeden and said you would watch 'The Blues Brothers' the next time. You didn't go back to the house since it was nearly 2 am by the time you had finished, even though the movie finished at midnight. You had spent the other few hours of the night showing Jaeden pictures and videos of Dodger, and you promised you would bring him to set one day. If you were to be honest, you were the happiest you had been in a while last night. 

"How was it?" Your dad asked, giving you a cup of coffee as you woke up from sleeping on the couch. It was 7 am and you only had about 5 hours of sleep, and you still had to drive home to take Dodger out and give him his breakfast. Chris sat down beside you and put his arm around you, smiling as you groaned and put your head on your dad's shoulder.

"It was good, we watched The Lost Boys, he said you told him that it was my favourite movie," You looked up at him, your eyebrows furrowed and your face scrunched up. Chris nodded. "How did you know?" You asked him.

"I made the mistake of letting Scott babysit you when you were four, he let you watch it and you were oddly fascinated with it," He told you. "Realistically, you should have been shit scared of it." Chris laughed and remembered the confusion he felt when he saw that you were sitting there watching the movie quite the thing. Scott looked more scared of the movie than you did, and he was way older than you.

"Can I bring Dodger here today? I promised Jaeden that I would let him meet him," You said, putting your shoes on and finishing your coffee. Chris nodded and then grinned, crossing his arms over his chest.

"So you're making promises to him?" He said suggestively. You rolled your eyes and let out an annoyed sigh.

"I told him he could meet the dog, not marry him, dad. And anyway, we're just friends," You assured your dad. Chris nodded skeptically and hummed, chuckling. Across the lot at the mansion, everyone was beginning to gather. Jaeden was standing with Katherine, feeling oddly nervous for some reason. 

"So what are you trying to say, that you like Chris' daughter?" Katherine asked him. Jaeden sighed and nodded, he felt like an idiot. He had only hung out with you once and he felt like he was head over heels for you, what a fool. Last night was the most fun he had had in a while, and all you did was watch a movie and hang around. 

"Is it that obvious? I saw them bump into each other yesterday and they both had the puppy dog eyes about them," Jamie-Lee piped in. 

"If Chris ever finds out he'll kill me on the spot, I guarantee you that," Jaeden said. Speaking of the devil, Chris came towards them, completing the set. Jaeden's face fell, noticing that you weren't following behind your dad. 

"Where's Y/N?" Jaeden asked Chris. 

"She's gone back to the house to get ready and bring Dodger to set," Chris told him. Jaeden nodded. Back at your house, you had cleaned up and showered, changing from your pyjamas to actual clothes. You then took Dodger a walk before getting him into your car, taking his leash and driving back to the set. You took him to your dad's trailer and waited for them to call break. "Y/N?" Dodger barked and ran to the front door to greet his dad.

"Hey, how's your day going?" You asked your dad. Chris went to the bedroom and sat Dodger on the bed.

"It's going good, but better now my two favourite children are here," Chris said. "Wait, I just noticed that my colour scheme matches Dodger's." He pointed out. You pulled out your phone and videoed them sitting beside each other, their colours matching very ominously well. 

"Wow, you are that fashionable you stole the dog's combo? That's amazing, dad," You said, a sarcastic smile on your face. 

 --

At lunch, Jaeden had gotten off earlier and asked if you could bring Dodger, and he needed his afternoon run anyway. Waiting in the yard of the mansion, Dodger sat beside you looking up at the ball in the thing you used to throw it for him. 

"Hey," He said, appearing behind you. Jaeden was still dressed in the school uniform, and you couldn't help but laugh. "What?" 

"Nothing, I just didn't take you as the uniform kinda guy," You said. Jaeden snickered and smirked at you with a small shake of his head.

"I'm not, I just can't get changed yet. If I could I would, school uniform's are really uncomfortable," Jaeden said. 

"Tell me about it. I mean, it could be worse, I've been wearing then everyday for the past 10 years," You told him. "Look, Dodger, who's this?" Dodger spun around to say hello to Jaeden, who crouched down and pet your dog, trying his hardest to not get any dog hair on him.

"Hi buddy," Jaeden greeted your dog. "Can I throw his ball for him?" He asked you. You nodded and handed him the ball launcher, watching as he threw the ball for Dodger, who chased after the ball.

"Thanks for last night, by the way," You said. Jaeden smiled at you. "I brought Blues Brother's on DVD for tonight if you're still up for it." You told him.

"Yeah, of course. Who else am I gonna watch all of the supposed 'superior' movies with?" He asked you. You giggled and if your face in your hands. The sound of your laughter made Jaeden's heart soar, he would do anything to hear you laugh like that all the time, it was like music to his ears any time he heard it.  Dodger came back with the ball, dropping it at your feet and sitting back, looking up at you expectantly. "Guess he's looking for this." Jaeden handed you the launcher and you got the ball in the top part.

"Alright Dodge, you ready bubs?" You moved back a few steps before launching the ball halfway across the extensive yard. Jaeden watched you, impression written on his features. "Keep looking at me like that and I'll throw you across the yard like that." You threatened him playfully. 

"You would never," Jaeden challenged you. "You'd have to catch me first." He said.

"You think you can outrun me?" You asked him. He grinned at you before running off from you, running down to where Dodger was. "Jaeden!" You yelled, starting to chase after him. He apparently didn't care that he was supposed to be entirely clean, but there wasn't any rain, so he probably wouldn't get that dirty. You laughed as you chased after him, catching up to him slowly but surely. You didn't see him, but your dad was watching you, a smile on his face at the sight of you seemingly happy. 

--

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[drwcn]

discordance!verse part 7: an interesting morning in jingshi, Lan Wangji is shameless, much to the shock of Wei Wuxian. rated M??T??

in which wwx is lxc’s husband through political alliance, and there is an affair. 

[8] | [7] | [6] | [5] | [4] | [3] | [2] | [1] [synopsis] OR

see [discau tag] or [discordance navigation page] for all installments  

(~10 days before part 5/6)

Wei Wuxian wakes up slowly, warm and comfortable. The first thing he sees is the green bamboo shoots past the white tulle curtains, just outside the window, and the droplet of dew glistening under the morning sun. It had rained some time during the early hours; he recalls drifting to sleep listening to the muffled pitter-patter against Jingshi's roof, Lan Zhan curled at his side…

Lan Zhan is still there, fast asleep, as though he hasn't moved an inch all night. He is pressed against Wei Wuxian's shoulder, one arm thrown across his chest, every even breath a gentle breeze across his neck.

Even in sleep, Lan Zhan is a vision. That peerless face which others find cold and intimidating, is relaxed and open. Thick lashes kiss pink flushed cheeks. Soft full lips part minutely, still a bit swollen. Long silk hair runs like ink between Wei Wuxian's fingers.

He releases a soft affectionate huff, pulling the covers more securely around them both. Wei Wuxian closes his eyes, ready to indulge in sleep for another couple more hours. He doesn't know why they don't do this more often, it's so nice…

Wait!

His eyes snap open, all thoughts of sleep vanishing instantly.

Fuck! We slept in!

There's a very good reason why he and Lan Zhan never wake up warm, coddled together in a patch of morning sun like two aristocratic cats: it's because Cloud Recesses' rules are fucking nightmares - and also because he and Lan Zhan are technically, technically in an illicit affair - but mostly because of Cloud Recesses’ rules. Lan Zhan always has to get up at a quarter before mao-shi to sneak back to hanshi so he could continue the charade of having woken up in the bed he definitely didn't sleep in.

Judging by the angle of sunlight spilling into the room, it must be at least si-shi by now, a whole two shichen later than when Lan Zhan is usually up and about…

Oh ffffffuuuck -

Dap, dap, dap!

There are three polite knocks at the door. A disciple's hesitant voice echoes from the other side.

"W-Wei-jun? Are you in there?"

He can hear the anxiety clearly in their tone. Because of course they must be frantic! Lan Zhan's secretarial disciple would've gone in to bring him his breakfast, like he does every morning, and discovered Hanguang-jun's bed and sheets as cold as ice and Lan Wangji himself nowhere to be found.

It's been at least four hours, Cloud Recesses must be having a full blown panic attack by now!!

Wei Wuxian jolts up from bed and is torn between feeling sorry and amazed when that exaggerated movement only manages to elicit an incoherent grumble from Lan Zhan.

Oblivious to Wei Wuxian's impending meltdown, Lan Wangji curls a little deeper into the covers, but does not wake up. 

No time to worry about that, Wei Wuxian yanks the covers over Lan Wangji's head to cover him and pads across the matted floor to the clothing rack. He can't answer the door even if he wants to; he's completely fucking naked.

Wei Wuxian is just about finished with the ties of his second layer of robes when the disciple speaks again,  

"Wei-jun?! Are you in there?! Many apologies for disturbing you…but - but it's urgent! Please, could you open the door?"

For the first time since the death of his husband, Wei Wuxian is glad for his widower status. As the previous Sect Master's yishu 遗属, it would be bad etiquette for lower disciples to barge into his private residence without invite. Not that any of them would be capable: the seal Wei Wuxian placed on the inside of the door last night is an invention of his own. He's confident that no more than a dozen cultivators of their time can break it without expending serious spiritual energy.

Thank goodness last-night-me had the foresight to do that…

Though, he does wonder why it's a bunch of disciples and not someone like Lan Qiren knocking on his door. His nerves calm by half a fraction. If they're coming to me, perhaps they haven't directed this particular issue to higher authorities. Probably doesn't want to give the grandpas an impromptu stroke by declaring Lan Zhan missing…

Wei Wuxian shrugs on his outer layer, and in the calmest, most put-upon voice he can manage, he answers, "What is it? I am feeling poorly this morning."

"Begging your pardon, Wei-jun, it's just…Hanguang-jun, uhm, we can't find Hanguang-jun."

Glancing behind his shoulder, Wei Wuxian winces as he sees Lan Wangji stirring, turning onto his back and shoving the covers out of the way.

"Ah, yes, Hanguang-jun," replies Wei Wuxian, channeling his inner Lan Qiren and attempting his most authoritative tone of voice. "Sect Master has informed me that he’s gone on a…a meditative trek. It's been some time since he's been able to cultivate in peace. He will be returning shortly. No need…no need to worry the Elders."

Through the thin walls, he hears a collective sigh of relief.

"Thank goodness. Forgive us for disturbing you, Wei-jun. If you're feeling unwell, should a healer be sent for -"

"No! No, that's quite alright. I'll be fine. Return to your studies. Do not dally." Wei Wuxian quickly dismisses the disciples. 

Ear pressed against the door, he listens to their footsteps walking away until he can't hear anything but the sparrows chirping in the woods. Letting out the breath he’s been holding anxiously in his chest, Wei Wuxian pads himself in relief.

Crisis averted.

When he turns around, Lan Wangji is sitting up in bed, staring dazedly at him.

"I slept in. It's very late, isn't it?"

The sight of him like that, blankets gathered at the waist, pale chest bared and hair unbound, immediately steals from Wei Wuxian the breath he’d only just been able to catch.

Hanguang-jun is truly the Light Bearer, he laments, mindless of the smile that overtakes him. Even the sun seems to be drawn to the good Lan Zhan. Streaming onto the bed from the window behind, morning sunlight enshrouds his entire being and condenses into a soft halo around him, as if to remind the world that this man is blessed by the gods.

Yet this god-chosen man, destined for immortality, has given himself over to Wei Wuxian last night, delivered into his hands, with pure trust and a small smile in the dark.

Wei Wuxian feels the back of his neck heat up from the memory. Get yourself together, Wei Wuxian, you flagrant degenerate, it’s practically midday. 

"Wei Ying, I…" Lan Wangji averts his eyes as Wei Wuxian takes a seat beside him, holding his clothes ready for him.

"Ah, Lan Zhan, don't be embarrassed." Wei Wuxian chuckles, reaching out to twirl a strand of Lan Wangji's hair around his finger teasingly. "So you slept in, happens to the best of us." 

Leaning forward and pecking a chaste kiss to his forehead, Wei Wuxian hands him his robes and says, "Alright, come on, let's get up. You have to work, and I have to assist my venerated Hanguang-jun. A bath and some breakfast - I told the disciples I'm not feeling my best, they'll probably send whatever I ask for. Nobody ever has to know our Sect Master was sleeping the morning away."

The tip of Lan Wangji's ears turns pink, but instead of accepting the garbs the other man holds out to him, he shifts closer and winds his arms around Wei Wuxian shamelessly. "Yes perhaps, but I am not entirely to blame."

This time, Wei Wuxian does blush. He draws his head back, aghast. "L-Lan Zhan! H-how could you say such a thing in broad daylight!

"Is it not so?" Lan Wangji rests his chin against his lover's shoulder and pivots his head almost accusingly.

Wei Wuxian sputters. Why you shameless little - you - I -

Memories from the night before come rushing back: Lan Zhan's earnest open face when he asked Wei Wuxian to indulge him, climbing onto his lap and whispering into his ear exactly what he wanted. Wei Wuxian is used to Lan Zhan taking charge. It’s been that way since the two of them became intimate. He’s thrilled, more than thrilled, to share those stolen moments with Lan Zhan. In fact, it always does funny wonderful things to him to see the disciplined Hanguang-jun let loose the way he does when they’re together.

But to have his Lan Zhan laying under him, arching and trembling and falling apart for him, his name uttered by those heavenly lips like an answer, a spell, a prayer…How does any reasonable man come back from that?

Oh my god…I - I deflowered the Second Jade of Gusu… Wei Wuxian realizes with a jolt, suddenly hot under the collar. It's not that the implication didn't occur to him yesterday, but the weight of his actions had not fully sunk in until now. It's probably not a coincidence that Lan Wangji, who has never overslept a day in his life, fails to keep to his rigid internal clock after Wei Wuxian spent most of the night having his ways with him.

When did they even go to actual sleep? It couldn't have been any time before midnight. Wei Ying, Wei Wuxian, you fool, you absolute idiot, how could you have done this?! You should've been more careful!!

…Lan Zhan had been so careful with me…

"Wei Ying," Lan Wangji calls his name, arms still locked around him. "You told them I'd be gone for a while yet, yes?"

Wei Wuxian frowns, not sure where he's headed. "Yeah?"

Lan Wangji shuffles closer, one of his hands travelling across the front of Wei Wuxian's robes until he finds the knotted sash. Blinking innocently, he says without a shred of pretense, "I do not doubt your skills, but my memories of last night are a little vague. Perhaps you ought to demonstrate for me again, as a reminder?"

For a long, long moment, neither of them move, Lan Wangji's request apparently having shocked Wei Wuxian into petrified silence. He does nothing but stare back at him, so much so Lan Wangji begins to wonder if he went a little too far with the teasing. But then Wei Wuxian's expression shifts, something raw and hungry flashing across his face. The next moment, Lan Wangji is flipped over onto his front, the covers yanked off exposing his pale bare form, every inch a perfection. 

Lan Wangji shivers, more reactionary than actually cold. He can feel Wei Ying's gaze on him, heated and appreciative, and as much as he doesn't want to give him the satisfaction, he squirms under the scrutiny.

"Wei Y-"

But the weight of Wei Ying's body is suddenly flush against his back, and Lan Wangji notices with a start that while he is thoroughly bare, Wei Ying is mostly dressed and does not appear to be in any hurry to change that.

Does Wei Ying really intend to take him while fully clothed?! Somehow the thought doesn't bother him, not in the least. Rather, it spurs him on, sparking the desire that simmers just beneath his skin. 

His hair is swept to side; Lan Wangji groans as a pair of lips press a hot, open mouthed kiss against his neck behind one redden ear.

"One would think, Hanguang-jun, that requesting physical intimacy in the middle of the day counts for misbehaviour."

The needy kiss transforms into a sharp bite.

Lan Wangji suffocates a groan, shuddering as the kiss trails between his shoulder blades and lower. For a few minutes, all he can focus on is the touch of hands and lips and tongue mapping out the planes of his body and wringing from him wonderful pleasures that he would not otherwise so easily relinquish.

"As the once disciplinary officer of Cloud Recesses," continues Wei Ying, lifting Lan Zhan by the hips and pushing him onto his knees. "Please enlighten us the appropriate consequences."

Wei Ying sounds very much like a cat savouring its play time with its poor prey before devouring it alive. Although Lan Wangji would never admit it out loud even under duress, he can confess to himself in the safety of his mind that this fate is exactly what he wants.

The Wei Ying of last night was careful, gentle, and steadfast despite being nervous.That Wei Ying had held his hands, lacing their fingers together, and whispered sweet lovely things as he brought them to their heights and back. Lan Wangji wasn't lying when he said his memories were a bit fuzzy; the entire experience had been…a lot.

However, Wei Ying in the morning is a whole different beast, and Lan Zhan aches just imagining what waits ahead. He wants him, by god, he wants him.

"One would think, Wei-jun," Lan Wangji manages to grit out, "that as someone who holds the highest running record of punishments received during his guest disciple days, you would be more than acquainted with Cloud Recesses' method of discipl - ah!"

The cry is ripped from his throat before he could help it. Panting, Lan Wangji writhes against the sheets and marvels a little at just how readily he receives what Wei Ying gives him.

But Wei Ying's tone loses its playfulness right away. "Lan Zhan -" The hand that threads through his hair is light and the following kiss on his left shoulder is tender. "- are you - are you hurt? Was I -"

Perhaps that cry sounded more distressed than he actually was. Lan Wangji turns his head to meet Wei Ying's worried gaze and melts a little. Blood is roaring in his ears and he is hot all over, but the warm cocoon that envelops his heart has nothing to do with lust.

Wei Ying presses another soft, comforting kiss against the shell of his ear and then another against his temple. "Say something, should I stop?"

Stop?! If this endearing idiot even thinks about stopping now Lan Wangji will absolutely smack him out of pure frustration.  

Catching his breath, he pushes back against Wei Wuxian and is immensely satisfied when the other man shudders in response. Reveling in the knowledge that he is the only one to ever see Wei Ying this way, he does it again. This time, the hands gripping his deviant hips are no longer gentle.

"Are you going to make good on my punishments," challenges Lan Wangji, batting his lashes, infinitesimally coy. "Or were those merely empty threats?"

The speed at which Wei Ying's eyes darken with desire almost makes Lan Wangji regret his impertinence. But then he is being thrust forward without warning, the unexpected motion hitting that spot inside him that makes his toes curl and his vision go white, and he instantly regrets nothing.

"W-Wei Ying…"

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he is aware that he is being objectively loud, but it really isn't his fault. Who in their right mind would expect him to be silent when he is being railed into the bed like both their immortalities depended on it. He just hopes Wei Ying has the good sense to cast a silencing talisman (lucky for them, he did).

Lan Zhan moans into the sheets, his eyes rolling back. How on earth is he so wrecked so quickly?! What is Wei Ying doing to him? In this position, he is completely at his lover's mercy, but he doesn't want to fight it, not at all. Clutching the wooden headboard, Lan Wangji surrenders the last bit of his self-control and submerges under the waves of sensations and sounds and bliss.  

~

Lan Zhan is quiet afterwards, soaking in the bath Wei Wuxian prepared for him. Wei Wuxian wipes himself down perfunctorily, changes into fresh robes and then proceeds to meticulously tidy the bed. The sheets are…probably not salvageable. He'll have to burn them or bury them, because there's no way he can hand them over to the disciples on laundry duty in the state that they're in. Even he can't talk his way out of that one.

When he's sure there is no more incriminating evidence of their activities, Wei Wuxian rounds behind the screen to find Lan Zhan exactly where he'd left him.

Eyes closed, he looks so young. It's not fair how everything must fall to him now. Lan Zhan never complains, but he must be exhausted after all that's happened since the end of last year.

His heart squeezing tightly, Wei Wuxian picks up a wash cloth and sits down by the tub. Lovely eyes flutter open just as he runs the warm towel over the round of Lan Zhan's shoulder.

"Are you alright?" He asks softly, wiping a bit of dried spent from Lan Zhan's chin. "Was I too rough?"

The tip of Lan Zhan's ears turns pink again. He shakes his head, taking Wei Wuxian's hand and caresses his knuckles. "No, you were perfect."  

Still, something nags Wei Wuxian in the mind of his mind. Their hands still clasped together, he shifts closer and searches Lan Zhan's face. 

"Lan Zhan, what brought this on? Last night and this morning. You know I don't mind being the …uhm…" Blushing, he clears his throat, suddenly thin-skinned. Damn it, Wei Wuxian, get it together. "You know I don’t mind being the way we were before. Love it in fact, can't get enough of it even. I don't want you to think I expect you to - uhm - return the favour... as it were."

Lan Zhan's eyes are serious but also bright and earnest with understanding and intent. He thumbs the blush on Wei Wuxian's cheek, curling his fingers around his nape. 

"I'm yours now, Wei Ying." He says, voice hushed but resolve firm. "Do you understand? No more nonsense about finding me a proper husband, or a wife to bear me heirs, or any talk of that kind. Even if the Elders bar me from marrying you on the account of you being my brother's widower, I'm yours, and you're not allowed to abandon me. I won't have it."

"Lan Zhan..." The back of his throat grows unbearably tight. Wei Wuxian feels as though he could cry. He remembers their conversation back in Qishan when he saw Lan Zhan with little Wen Yuan and the ensuing row they had afterwards. It was perhaps the first and only time Lan Zhan lost his temper with him. He'd been so angry, so hurt, that Wei Ying would even suggest he should marry another.

Wei Wuxian, if you truly want me to be with someone else, then what, tell me, are we doing now?!

Wei Wuxian squeezes his hand, pressing a heartbroken kiss to his palm, then another, then another. He feels horrible with himself. How could he not realize earlier? Is this why Lan Zhan had been so insistent?

"Lan Zhan, my good Lan Zhan, you didn't have to - I won't leave you, Lan Zhan, I promised you, I won't. You have me, you'll always have me, you didn't have to -"

"Wei Ying," Lan Wangji interrupts him, seeing his self-deprecating tendencies are once again leading him down the wrong line of thought. "I want you, want to be with you. Last night was not solely to drive home a point. Even if I did want to make a point, it would only be part of the reason, minimal at best, and certainly would not account for this morning.” 

Wei Wuxian blinks, swallowing thickly. "And the real reason?"

"Well, surely it's very telling." Lan Wangji inches closer. The angle of the round tub makes it awkward but he doesn't care. A smile playing at his lips, he whispers into the other man's ear and delights at the way Wei Ying pulls back with a scandalized cry.

"Lan Zhan!"

Wei Wuxian is sure that his entire face is on fire. Who would've thought the esteemed Hanguang-jun could be such a lethal combination of imaginative mind and dirty mouth?!

But Lan Wangji only chuckles, nuzzling his neck. "Thank you for being so obliging, Wei Ying. I hope I was not too much of a burden."

I’m going to cry, thinks Wei Wuxian, I’m actually going to cry. Inside his chest, his heart has swelled so incredibly that he feels it will burst any second. "Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, my good Lan-er-gege," he chants, over and over, peppering the lightest and sweetest of kisses along Lan Wangji's face. "You can't say things like that without warning! My heart can't take it!"

"Mn,” Lan Wangji purrs.“You'll live."

"Lan Zhan, ah Lan Zhan, what am I going to do with you?" Wei Wuxian sighs,  holding the other man by the curve of his jaw and smiles that sunshine smile.

"Stuck with me, I'm afraid. Hasn't anyone told you?" Lan Zhan peers at him through hooded eyes. "Us Gusu Lans, we're rooks."

"Rooks?"

"Rooks mate for life."

At that, Wei Wuxian pulls Lan Wangji impossibly close and silences him with a deep, long kiss.

-

[part 8]

yishu 遗属 - family that is left behind through death. 

[whirlybirdwhat]

light up the sky (with you)

read on Ao3 For @soccersarah01 ily!!!

no warnings apply 

-

Ace is so tired.

He’s so, so tired.

He wants to go back to sleep.

But someone is shoving at his shoulder and being an annoying pest.

“Ace!”

He’s just going to ignore it.

“Ace!”

Ignoring it-

“AceAceAceAceAce!”

“What, Luffy!” Ace snaps, eyes flashing open as he stares at his little brother who is currently staring down right over his face. No wonder his voice sounded like it was in his ear.

“Ah! You’re awake!” Luffy cries happily.

Ace is still lying down, so, so tired. “No shit, Idiot.”

A snicker to their left, and Ace glances over to see Sabo, looking just as tired as Ace, giggling quietly. “I told you he wouldn’t be happy that you woke him up, Loof.”

Luffy pouts. “But you both gotta get up! It’s almost time!”

That has Ace sitting up. “Almost time for what?”

Luffy only giggles, and Ace and Sabo share a twin look of oh no.

This was just going to be like the snake incident wasn’t it? When Luffy had a surprise and got eaten instead.

Ace really wants to go back to sleep.

But –

Luffy is excited, smiling bright even as the world outside darkens further into night, and Sabo is laughing as Luffy tugs at his hands and Ace’s, urging them out the door. It’s a kind of mischief, getting up in the night to look at a surprise, and well –

Ace has never been the one to turn down an adventure.

He lets Luffy tug them out the door and down the trunk of the tree, all of them giggling and laughing as shooting stars fall overhead and light their way through the forest.

An adventure with his brothers.

How could Ace sleep through this?

-

Its three hours by the time they stumble to the foot of the mountain, to where Fuusha Village is lit up by lantern lights and bonfires.  Ace’s eyes dazzle at the fire, and next to him, Sabo’s mouth drops in awe.

Never has he seen anything so beautiful. There are people laughing, chattering, drinks running free and other children playing in the street. The lights string across each street as the smell of sweet food engulfs the air.  Even the docks are lit up, the sailboats surrounded with lantern lights, and some even setting out to see dressed in dazzling colors of paper lights. They paint the sea in glimmers of shining colors, and oh-

Ace has never seen anything so amazing.

“Shishishi!” Luffy laughs in front of them, straw hat lit up like a crown by the lantern lights behind him. “C’mon! C’mon! Makino’s waiting!”

Luffy doesn’t wait for them to respond, and instead grabs Ace’s and Sabo’s hands in a rubbery grip and pulls.

Ace doesn’t mind. He’s too distracted by the lights and joy, and the way vendors press free food into their hands and pat their heads, a smile on every face. A festival for the village, their own private tradition.

(Ace has never seen Goa lit up in fire and lights before. Fuusha Village is already better than that place.)

A festival. The bandits never brought Ace to one, even if they did occasionally string up pretty lights around the hut.

It’s beautiful.

With Luffy pulling on them, the cobblestones flash beneath their feet and they soon stand in front of the Party Bar, where laughter and music echoes loudly from within. Luffy, still laughing, pulls them inside the swinging doors, into the midst of the party.

“Makino!” He cries without hesitation, and lets go of his big brothers’ hands to fling himself at the woman. Makino, carrying a tray of drinks and glasses filled to the brim, isn’t even bothered and hugs Luffy with ease.

“Luffy!” She says, pressing a kiss to his head. “You made it! And you brought your brother’s too! Sesesese!” Ace doesn’t have time to get out of reach (which, to be fair, isn’t exactly possible when your brother can stretch) before he and Sabo are drawn into the hug as well.

Makino’s arm wraps around all three of them, drinks still held high in the air, and a kiss is dropped on all of their foreheads.

Ace puts on a show, but his face is burning red and he doesn’t try to get out of the hug.

(He never will, not with Makino. Makino’s too kind for that.)

Eventually, however, Makino lets them go to smile at them. “Are you boys ready?” She asks, a twinkle in her eye.

“Ready for what?” Sabo questions, matching Ace’s confused face.

She turns to Luffy. “Sesesese! Luffy!” She admonishes. “You didn’t tell them?!”

“Shishishi! It’s a surprise Makino! C’mon! Do you have them? Do you?”

Makino laughs, and finally puts the plate of drinks down at a table of chorusing party-goers. “Alright, alright!” She laughs, and pulls six thin sticks from a pocket in her skirt and spread them for the boys to see. “Here you go – go wait outside for me okay? I’ll bring the matches over.”

“Yes yes yes!” Luffy cheers, grabbing the sticks and running out while Ace and Sabo follow a bit more confused, each giving a nod and tip of the hat respectively to Makino on their way out.

They find Luffy standing by the shore, holding two of the sticks in one hand, the other four held out in the other. Waves lap over his bare feet, and he’s smiling wide as he stares at his brothers.

“Here!” He says, jutting the four sticks out. “C’mon, c’mon!”

Ace raises an eyebrow, but still takes two of the sticks for himself, curiously looking at them. They are metal on the bottom, but som sort of rougher material on the top. Odd.

Luffy’s waving them around like swords, challenging Sabo to a duel that Ace can’t help but join in, all three of them splashing around in the shallow waters and sand, with the festival lights bright behind them.

Then – Makino shows up, and it’s like magic.

“Luffy!” She says, match lit in her hand. “Let’s show them how its done!”

“Shishishi! Yeah!” Luffy holds out the stick, and Makino lights it on fire.

Except – it’s not a fire that erupts.

It’s sparks.

Ace’s eyes dazzle.

A sparkler!

(He’s never had a sparkler before.)

A real sparkler!

It’s only moments before one of his own sticks – sparklers – is lit, and he’s running around with Luffy and Sabo, drawing figures in the sky in dazzling light.

Ace is laughing, wild and happy, his brother’s next to him as they sword fight and dance and play with sparkling light. Water kicks up by his feet, the sand soft, village soft noise behind him, and Ace is so so –

Free.

The smile stretches endless on his face as he waves his sparkler around, the ships lining up off the coast.

Then – all at once, the sparklers reach their end and the town goes dark. The lanterns dimmed and the bonfires covered – or maybe put out, Ace can’t tell – for only a moment. He and Sabo pause, confused, as Luffy excitement only grows.

Overhead, the stars wink, bright and beautiful, shooting across the sky like rockets. They stretch endless over the sea, the dark village making them seem as bright as if they were in their tree house.

“Wha-“ Ace starts to ask but is cut off by a loud BOOM!

The sky bursts into dazzling color, bright and beautiful, as sparkling as the stars and the sparkler that Ace just held.

Fireworks!

Ace gasps with Sabo as Luffy cheers, and soon they are wading out into the water to watch the fireworks paint the sky in colors of gold and red and rainbow.

Makino holds Luffy on her hip, his toes just brushing the waves, and they laugh and point to the gleaming sky.

Fireworks!

(Ace has never seen them so close before, only occasionally watched from the hut as they boomed to life over the coast. The sailboats, previously decorated with lanterns, are now dim and launch the fireworks high into the air with whistles and noises and beauty. It’s amazing.

Ace wants to be as bright as a firework someday.)

Sabo’s hand and Luffy’s find their way into his as they all stare at the lights, the tide pulling at them but their feet solid even against the cold waves. He’s no longer tired, even if it must be past midnight by now. Instead, he is wide awake, bright, and happy.

How could he have even possibly thought of sleeping through this adventure?

Holding Luffy in one hand, Makino manages to light the rest of the sparklers, and in the pull of the tide, Ace watches the world light up, side by side with the people he loves most.

Thank you, he thinks, for this adventure, Luffy!

[farouchelyoptimistic]

HyunJi: Cold Nights

The afternoon sky starts to shift into a darker hue as the day starts to die down. The breeze starts to get colder as it dances through the leaves and bushes, the rustling sound calming and relaxing. The grass blows into different directions, swaying to the playful wind that blows around the high altitude. The symphony of the cricket sounds and the chirping of the birds come into a melodious harmony that delivers a calm to the heart of any listener.

The view from the top of the hill oversees the distant city from below and afar. The lights that powered the cars and the buildings flickered and tangoed looking like magical glitter that gleamed and sparkled. The city was busy and rowdy from within, sometimes even suffocating. But from a significant distance, it looked almost magical and ethereal.

Yea Ji smiled as she hugged herself, rubbing her hands over each of her thin arms as the air gets cooler. She was standing by the edge, watching over the busy city below her. She didn't know she'd enjoy looking at it from afar when she felt otherwise whenever she was within it. Sometimes looking at something from a different angle, from a different perspective, makes you see the beauty you've hardly seen on something existing. She lets out a breath, turning around.

The sight of Soo Hyun releasing a choked cough, followed by a little fall on his behind with his brows furrowed and face crumpled made her laugh. She walks over to him, giggling, a hand over her mouth. He chuckles when she helps him up, pulling on his arm to get him back on his feet.

"Are you sure you can do it?" She asks in a chortle. She eyes the pile of wood he had been trying to light up for the past fifteen minutes.

"Of course. I learned this in the military, I make a mean bonfire." He defends, squatting back on his knees, trying to rearrange the pile. She only chuckles, nodding her head playfully with a smirk on her face. "Uhuh."

Soo Hyun looks up at her, eyeing her. He reaches for her hand and pulls her closer. Reaching for the other one, he places them on either side of his shoulders as she stood behind him. "There." He pats her hands.

"Stay close to me, because you're my lucky charm." He glances up at her before he continues to attempt lighting the firewood. She chuckles, nodding her head, lightly squeezing his shoulders. When the fire finally starts to come alive, she smiles, feeling the warmth.

"There you go!" He proudly clasps his hands, pushing himself up. He turns around and smiles at her, holding her hands to pull her closer, wrapping her arms around his torso. She giggles, looking through his eyes. "See, I told you. You're my lucky charm." He says as he wraps his own arms around her, pulling her impossibly closer, pressing a quick warm kiss on her lips.

He smiles at her, marveling at the sight of her face under the darkening sky. It glowed like the sun that had been slowly setting before them. He was beyond happy, beaming at the moment they are sharing right now. Filming the drama together was a dream come true, fulfilling, and satisfying. Sure, they had spent the majority of it together, taking all of Moon Young ang Gang Tae's scenes, but never like this.

They made it a point to be professional, careful with their interaction with each other. Almost everyone probably knew what they had, but still, they were cautious with the gentle touching and the meaningful exchange of looks. Longing for each other, of course, they had a few slips here and there, touches, glances, gestures that they considered their normal. It made manager Ryu's head ache, following the bts camera like a hawk, especially when they both get too carried away to be wary of the eyes that were on them.

She chuckles as he pulls her closer, his hands rubbing her back. She tilts her head, admiring his face that looked at her with so much love. Her heart warmed. She was happy. So happy. The role she portrayed was difficult and challenging, it made her pull out a whirlwind of emotion. She was prepared for the aftermath, when the drama ended, she readied herself for the rollercoaster of trying to flush Moon Young out of her system. But these past few days, after all the extra work and shoots, she was surprised she had barely had any traces of her character left. She was just herself, happy, a little tired, but definitely happy.

The man in front of her who looked at her like she was the world was mainly the reason. They both took a self-proclaimed 'work break' together, spending most of it with each other. The two years he'd been away at the military had them missing and longing for each other at proportions of extended heights. Now, they were basically together again, with no time limits or restrictions. Now, both of them free, they planned to spend a lot of time together before they both delve into the mountain-high pile of work waiting for them.

They enjoyed their privacy. They loved the serenity and tranquility of spending time with others, trapped in the four walls of either's home. They could sit all day on her couch, watching a movie or just plainly staring out the window, talking and tangled in each other's arms and they'd be ultimately happy. The midnight drives made both of them calm yet ecstatic. The freedom they held as they zoomed through the empty roads while the rest of the city slumbers gave them a certain level of thrill. Ending it with a kiss or two at the side of a road, concealed by the tinted windows was their version of romance at two in the morning. And with its simplicity and worldliness, they found happiness.

"Omo." Soo Hyun turns to the sky before them. As the afternoon dies down, the sky transforms into an interlude of different colors. From a blue to light orange, swiftly transgressing into a hue of yellows then to darker blues and purples until the sun completely vanishes. He holds Yea Ji closer to him as she rests her head on his chest, arms still around him while he takes a photo of the beautiful mid sunset sky with the other hand. He keeps a photo to remember the moment by, so when he sees it again, he'll recall how warm she was in arms. Yea Ji on the other hand embeds the moment in her mind, burying it deep in her memories to have something joyful to remember on days when she'd go deep down her thoughts. To her, the best camera was still her eyes.

"So beautiful." He muses. Yea Ji nods with a hum. She looks up at him only to find out that he was staring at her instead of the sky. She immediately feels the warm rush of blood towards her cheeks, looking away as she giggles. When he raises his phone in front of them, he smiles, tilting his head against hers. After a couple of shots, she presses a warm kiss on his cheek for the last one. The perfect photo only saved for them to admire, hidden from the rest of the world.

"Do we have food?" She asks, playfully raising her eyebrow. He feigns a shocked expression, unleashing the actor in him. She giggles. "Of course." He gently lets go of her, running to the tent they had successfully built an hour ago. He bends in, pulling out a small bag from the inside.

"We have. . ." He pulls out a cup of instant noodles. "Ramyeon." He pulls out another. "Ramyeon." And then grabs a thermos of hot water. "Ramyeon, ramyeon, ramyeon." He lets out a coy smile, wiggling his thick brows, making her burst in laughter. "Kajjima." She muses.

"I made sure I was prepared. That's how much I love you." He says playfully, carefully trying to prepare their food. She only chortles, making a face of fake disbelief. Soo Hyun immediately rides on, acting out his shock. "Waeh? You don't believe me?"

She giggles as she watches him match towards the edge of the hill. Heaving his chest and huffing his breath as he brings his hands around his mouth.

"Saranghae! Seo Yea Ji!" He yells at the top of his lungs. "Saranghae! Sarangh---" Yea Ji laughs as she covers his mouth with her hands, stopping him before someone with superhuman hearing could hear him and figure out it was no other than Kim Soo Hyun's voice. They'd be in our trouble if that happens.

"Kajjima!" She laughs, pressing her palm against his lips. He only laughs, holding her hand. "Waeh?" He innocently asks, eyes wide and nonchalant.

"Someone's going to hear you." She chuckles, but he only smiles. "Ani. Don't worry. I made sure we're safe here. Nobody is going to see nor hear us. It's just you and me against the world." When he makes a heroic stance she only throws her head back and laughed.

"Come on, let's eat ramyeon, ramyeon, ramyeon." He teases as he held her forearm. She chuckles, playfully hitting him.

Meanwhile, at the bottom of the hill, far down, manager Ryu jolts up in his seat at the sound of Soo Hyun's faint yelling. It was barely audible, but he could hear it alright. He grunts, rolling his eyes as he palms his face.

"Ah, chincha. He's driving me crazy." He cranes his neck, looking around outside of his car. Good thing there was nobody around. He had been doing a significant job of trying to keep their relationship a secret. He adored both of them, treated them like his siblings, sometimes even his children. And he understood their desire to keep things hidden, the industry was vicious. But, it made his job a tad more difficult.

He'd been following the bts camera like a vulture waiting for its prey during the entirety of filming. The two were considerably cautious, but there were times that it was massively inevitable for them to get carried away. So as usual, he had to intervene right before the camera catches Yea Ji's gentle acts of concern, or even Soo Hyun's impulsive waist grabbing to lay his claim on his woman in front Daniel Choi. Manager Ryu couldn't help but shake his head at how much jealousy was radiating off of Soo Hyun that day, which of course made his job extra hard that day.

"I can't believe I have to stake out here all night. Good thing those kids are generous." He grumbles as he leans back on his seat, grabbing the pack of snacks Soo Hyun has offered him before he went out to pick up Yea Ji with another car. Manager Ryu found it amazing how much effort the young guy puts into spending time with his girl. He remembers all the private bookings and secret dates from years back. He was happy they had made it stronger up until now. It was a privilege to be taking care of Yea Ji now. He got to keep a closer eye on her, but she was also another job he had to keep.

She was booked and hired here and there, and he made sure he personally takes care of her. Especially when it was part of his job to filter the questions thrown at her during short interviews. She was too honest for her own good, he feared the day when she would unconsciously outright admit the relationship. It would lead to damage control of immense proportions.

He sighs to himself, chuckling to himself at the thought of the sneaky couple who have managed to go camping unseen. Love did bring all the creativity in people.

"Aish, chincha. It's freaking cold." Soo Hyun smiles at the sound of Yea Ji's silent grumbles as she sat by the threshold of the tent.. Nope, it didn't come out from Ko Moon Young. She was long gone from her system. That was purely from Seo Yea Ji, who hates the cold. He knew she was starting to get frustrated at the cool air that froze her skin. The cold always made her frustrated.

Fixing the firewood, he stands up. He walks towards her inside the tent and crawls in. He grabs the thick coat he packed for her. Sitting behind her, his legs on either side of her, he wraps her with the coat. He then wraps his arms around her, squeezing her warmly. Automatically, she leans back on him, feeling his warmth.

"Are you still cold? Hmm?" He leans over to her, looking at her. He smiles and presses a warm kiss on her face. Then proceeds to smother her with kisses, on her cheeks, on her forehead even on her neck. She giggles as the warm blood rushes to her face, flushing it red, heating it up. "Are you still cold?" He playfully asks, still pecking her with his lips. "Kajjima." She chortles, the wide smile in her lips never fading.

He hugs her even tighter, pressing his cheek warmly against hers. He rubs his palms against her arms, up and down, squeezing and holding her close. Swaying them slightly from side to side, he hums a silent song as they both admire the dark sky speckled by the bright stars. This was the always they longed for. To be always in each other’s arms. An exchange of words wasn’t needed, they basked in the comfort of the silence they shared, their hearts beating to a synchronized beat. To be with each other, in any form, was their always. 

“I love cold nights.” Soo Hyuns mutters. Yea Ji only responds with a low grunt, rolling her eyes as he lets out a chuckle, making her grin. “Waeh?” She asks in a soft voice, burying her head on the crook of his neck. He lets out a breath, pulling her closer than she could already possibly be. “Because I get to warm you up.” She giggles, shaking her head as she reaches for the side of his face with her hand, caressing his face with her thumb. 

They didn’t plan on staying the night. It was too risky to drive away together in broad daylight where people can recognize even the back view of his car. But, they wanted the full experience. It was essential to utilize the tent they so studiously set up. They had planned to at least nap for a few hours, just until midnight. If they weren’t down by one in the morning, it was manager Ryu’s job to summon them. 

“This is nice.” Yea Ji hums as Soo Hyun hugs her close to his chest, radiating his warmth even through their thick coats. He smiles, cuddling her even closer, running his hand up and down her back. He rests his chin on top of her head, keeping her small body encased in his, making sure she was all warm. He always makes sure she was happy, and that involves keeping her insulated at all costs. 

“What should we do next time?” He muses, his voice low and groggy as sleep starts to visit them. She had always had trouble sleeping, her insomnia massive in a lot of proportions. She was slowly getting better though, resulting from all the changes she started to employ to better herself. But whenever she was with him, she always had the best slumbers of her life. Not only because he provided her with warmth and comfort, but also because his presence brought her the calm her body needs. He was her anchor, her lullaby. 

“I’m good with anything as long as I’m with you.” She says, the massive sweetness making her own cheeks swell red. He giggles, humming a loud ‘hmm’ as he hugs her tighter, snuggling her. “I like the sound of that.” He says. 

“Maybe we should eat ramyeon by the Han River?” She lets out a low groggy chuckle, he does too. They knew it was probably going to be the riskiest date they would go into, but the excitement about it almost makes them want to consider it. “Manager Ryu is going to have a fit.” She says in a silent voice, grinning. “He’ll probably resign on the spot once I tell him we’re going to the Han River just to east sausages and ramyeon.” He says, making both of them chuckle. 

As their laughter dies down, and sleep starts to draw over them, they dive into the comfort of the silence. He brings his hand up to the back of her head, leaning to press a kiss on her forehead. “Let’s sleep for a while.” He whispers, earning a silent hum from her. 

[atmilliways]

On the 4th day of Dethmas this writer gives to thee…

Dec 16 - Taking photos for the holiday cards!

Charles has perfected his Dethklok management techniques: it's all about compromises.

And equal distribution of kisses.

Cute holiday Polyklok time!

Five Middle Fingers & A Manager In A Pear Tree

They’d ganged up on him. They always did, of course, but this time there was a lot less “do it or we’ll grumble and call you a robot and maybe talk about pummeling you with absolutely no follow-through” and surprisingly more “pleeeeeeeease Charles?” It was hard to say no to all five of his boyfriends at once while trapped in the center of a group hug getting puppy dog eyes from all directions. 

And anyway, it was Christmas. 

“Fine,” Charles sighed. “I’ll pose in the holiday card photo with you this year.” 

A near deafening cheer went up all around, and Toki leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek. 

“And you’ll get really sloppy with us before the picture, right?” Nathan asked excitedly by his ear. 

“No. Sorry, Nathan, I will, ah, not be doing that. I’ll still have work to do that afternoon.”

This produced a quieter chorus of boos, but he could tell they weren’t particularly surprised or annoyed from the lack of actual complaints. One of the benefits of entering into this relationship, it had turned out, was that these gruff, brutal men didn’t whine about being told no quite as much as long as they knew that, at the end of the day, they would still get his attention. It was sweet, actually, but Charles would never risk telling any of them so. 

Skwisgaar rested his chin on Charles’ hair from behind with a sigh. “I guess that ams all the Christmas vacations we can gets out of Mr. Works All The Times Guy.”

“Workaholic,” Murderface corrected. “The word you’re looking for isch workaholic.”

Charles repressed a smile. “Yes, William, thank you.” Murderface beamed proudly at the morsel of praise. 

“I know what words I am wants to using,” Skwisgaar mumbled, but Charles leaned back slightly against him and he declined to press the issue. 

“One little hit before the picture?” Pickles wheedled.

“. . . Fine, one hit. But nothing over twenty percent THC and don’t mix anything else in.”

Pickles’ eyes lit up. Charles almost never agreed to get any amount of high. “You got yerself a deal there, chief!”

“Okay,” Nathan announced, “now we all gotta go and let Charles get his stupid work done in time for tomorrow. One goodbye kiss each. Except for Toki, he already did his.”

“Hey!” the rhythm guitarist protested. “That’s no fairs, that was just a cheek kiss but now you guys wills alls do the tongue kiss!!”

Pickles nudged him. “Dood, how ‘bout we each get one cheek kiss and one tongue kiss?” 

“Good idea, Pickles,” Charles said, and saw the drummer light up even more at the compliment. Almost immediately, four kisses from four different directions landed on his cheeks almost in unison. 

At the beginning of this . . . understanding between the six of them, things like this had made him flush bright red every time. The mortifying ordeal of being known, he supposed—of suddenly being aware that the people around him cared for and wanted him. Now that he’d had some time to get used to it, there was a warm glow in his chest whenever he thought about how surprisingly in sync they’d all become, even when they were trying to talk him into ridiculous things. 

Murderface lingered the longest; as the others pulled away, he angled Charles towards him and went for it. He was definitely getting better at kissing. The thing he was doing with his tongue, for example, Charles knew he had learned from Skwisgaar and it was . . . very effective. When he pulled away, Charles’ first impulse was to try and follow him, which earned a gratified chuckle. 

Next, Toki leaned in, and he liked to nip playfully. Charles met him on the same terms, enjoying the back and forth of it, and then Pickles joined them for a brief threeway kiss before Toki was done and Pickles was pulling him down like a whirlpool, arms thrown lazily around his neck. He tested warm and smokey, like an aged whiskey

Charles was expecting Nathan next, if they were going in clockwise order . . . but Skwisgaar tapped him on the far shoulder and suddenly Pickles was spinning him to hand him off to the lead guitarist. Skwisgaar dug his long, agile fingers into Charles’ neatly combed back hair, and kissed him so thoroughly that by the time Charles was released his glasses were askew. 

Not to be outdone by his bandmates, Nathan spun him around again with an impatient growl and dipped him like they were in a goddamned ballroom, albeit not actually dancing. Although his grip seemed secure, Charles automatically grabbed fistfuls of the front man’s t-shirt to keep his balance, and when Nathan pulled him back up his fists were pressed hard between their chests. Charles was, at that point, slightly weak in the knees from all the attention, and glad to have thought ahead to find handholds so he wouldn’t embarrass himself. 

“Mm,” Nathan grunted, licking his lips. “Okay, band hug’s over. We’ll see you later tonight, right?”

“I’ll do my best to clear the schedule,” Charles managed to say in a level voice. He unclenched his fingers and began to smooth the black cloth down where he’d pulled at it. “But I get the impression that you boys wanted me to, ah, prioritize that photo shoot.”

“Oh well, yeah, that. Obviously.”

“Ja, obsvkiouslies”

“Is a very important picture times!”

“Yeah, we gotta schpread all the holiday cheer to our regular jackoff fansch becausche their livesch are scho bleak and empty without us!”

“Yeeah, and there wouldn’t be no Dethklok cheer without you, dood!”

Charles felt a smile creeping across his face. It was an unfamiliar sensation after too many years of being married to his work, but he was starting to find that he liked it. “Okay, so I’ll, ah, try for tonight. Which room will you be sleeping in?”

“Probably nots ours,” Toki said, indicating himself and Skwisgaar since their bedrooms were in the same wing of the haus. “It’s always colder there, gives Pickle the shivers this times of years.”

“My bed frame is schtill broken from lascht week,” Murderface admitted. Charles made a mental note to speak to a Klokateer about having that fixed for him ASAP. 

Pickles shrugged. “Nathan’s bed’s the biggest, that’s got my vote.”

“Cool, we can listen to my choice of music while we’re going to sleep,” Nathan said with a grin, as brightly as his deep, gravely voice was capable of. 

They wandered off, already taken up in casual argument about other metal bands and the relative merits of listening to them—but as they went, each took the time to touch or bump or brush past Charles on their way. Just a little physical reminder that while they might be going elsewhere for now, he was still part of the group. The door to his office closed, and Charles circled back around his desk to sit and get back to work with a new lightness to his step. If he buckled down, he saw no reason he couldn’t be done for the night and able to join them by midnight at the latest. . . .

Twenty-four hours later, Charles looked over the holiday card proofs with a wry smile. On the count of one, two, three, say ‘metal!’ the guys had all reached suddenly behind him to grab his ass with one hand and flip the camera off with the other. Seems there had been a secret theme that they’d forgotten to fill him in about. 

But they all looked so genuinely delighted in the resulting pictures—a series in which Charles himself reddened steadily while the band practically collapsed from the hilarity of it. They were good shots. He would just . . . have someone in the graphic design department photoshop a more composed image of himself into the center of it all. 

Yeah. 

And he would keep the originals, obviously.